#that maybe watching two people fucking die at the circus

[phoenixkaptain]

I don’t want to get into a debate on whether or not Tim’s parents were actually abusive, but I do want to state outright that it doesn’t really matter, because Tim didn’t trust his parents.

What do I mean by this? Well, the beginning of Tim in comics is A Lonely Place of Dying (I’ve talked about it ad nauseum at this point) and one thing you may see people mention is what Tim says about his parents in it.

These are both from Batman (1940-2011) #441

Alfred asks, basically, “You do have parents, don’t you?” And Tim’s body language as he talks about them is strange to me.

Tim scratches his face. This is the only time Tim touches his face in these comics. And his eyes, he stops looking at Alfred, who he’s talking to, and looks at Dick, all the while changing the subject.

Is he lying? No. He’s uncomfortable. A part of this is that this interaction takes place before Tim tells them who he is, which Tim doesn’t want them to know. This is just the first time we see any hint of uncertainty on Tim. Interesting.

More interesting is, in the same issue

“I never told them, but for years I kept having the same nightmare over and over again.”

This is pretty clear cut. He doesn’t tell his parents things. He doesn’t tell them important things. And, well, it’s probably because he doesn’t talk to them very often

These two are from Batman (1940-2011) #444

First things first, Bruce brings up the subject. This isn’t the first time, post his introduction, that we see Tim and Bruce talking. They talk in #443. But Bruce has to broach the subject.

And Tim is avoidant. He says they don’t call often, and he isn’t bothered by it, or he doesn’t appear bothered by it. He doesn’t say what they’re fighting about, nor does he actually say what they’ll do if the trip doesn’t help. He’s very offhand about the whole thing. He almost treats it like he isn’t talking about his parents, but just two people in some circumstances he happens to know about.

Tim cuts Bruce off by pointing out the computer. He doesn’t want Bruce to finish, he doesn’t want Bruce making a promise he ultimately won’t keep, he doesn’t want Bruce to focus on him.

Tim’s relationship with his parents, especialy his father, is, from what I know, always presented in this detached way. Even in Young Justice, when Tim talks to his father, he does so through a newspaper. He doesn’t make eye contact, which is a strange thing because Tim always makes eye contact.

(That’s part of why Tim is a bit unnerving in his introduction. He is always making eye contact. Always.)

Tim doesn’t trust his parents. Why doesn’t he? Because they’re busy. Busy with work, busy with fighting, busy with each other. He doesn’t tell them things. He doesn’t tell them about his nightmares, he definitely didn’t tell them about his vacation week roadtrip, and he doesn’t tell them about Bruce.

Does that make them abusive? I guess not. Not in these issues, anyway. Down the line, I think his father especially crosses the line, but at this point? They’re mutually ignoring each other. Tim talks about his parents in a detached way, as though it doesn’t effect him. And, maybe it doesn’t. This was 1989, not exactly the pinnacle of mental health awareness with proficient knowledge of how absent parents effect the children they’ve not been raising.

Or, Tim used Batman and Robin as a proxy for affection, which is why he feels so strongly towards them and why he tells Alfred they mean everything to them and why Tim is unafraid in the face of his own death but panicky in the face of Alfred’s death. Batman and Robin are just his hyperfixation, something to obsessively focus on and keep track of to keep his head above the water, something he’s been obsessed with since he was three and saw Batman for the very first time, something he says himself he’s followed since he could read to the point that he listened to news reports on the off-chance Batman and Robin might be mentioned at the age of nine.

Who knows? ¯\ _(ツ)_/¯

[alchemillalost]

The Season 8 Destiel Meta Post Nobody Asked For (and why I think the writers had a Destiel endgame option in mind for season 8)

Okay, so here's the long version of this post that almost nobody wanted, but I'm writing it anyway. This is LONG. I'm sorry. And I want to start with it seems like s8 is polarizing, but I rather liked it, and I think it's because I live in the (delusion?) truth of this theory. Stay with me if you want to Believe too. I think Season 8 was written with two possible outcomes in mind; and with an endgame Destiel being the more likely of the two that the writers anticipated. Sounds insane, I am aware. You will need to stick with me here and extend some trust, but I promise I can show my work.

We need to set the scene: It's 2012. We are launching headfirst into the height years of tumblr fan culture. Gangnam Style grips the nation. Destiel is huge in fanfiction & tumblr land. However, interestingly, we're about two years past show's peak. Already once SPN was slated to end with S5's natural arc conclusion, but it didn't-- it was renewed because it was making the CW money, simple as. They have pushed on into the Sera Gamble era with Seasons 6 and 7, which have their respective flashes of brilliance, but all-in-all generally struggled to find footing in the post-Apocalypse Supernatural verse that was never actually planned for. It's pretty evident that the writing and plotting isn't nearly as tight as S1-5, simply because 1-5 was all mapped out from the get go.

It's been interesting returning to the fandom after a decade, because I'm finding a lot of people now who really liked Season 7. No hate, to each their own, and maybe it was just the circles I was in at the time, but in the moment S7 wasn't received well at all. It felt like they kept inflating the "big bad" to heights that sometimes struggled to get fully fleshed out (which, to be fair, continues to be a writing problem going forward). And while watching S7 in Netflix binge-mode it doesn't feel quite so bad, at the time having a year's worth of your fave TV show where Sam and Dean are systematically and pointlessly stripped of everything that gave the show its signature personality was nothing short of torture (killing Cas, the Impala, torching Bobby's place, killing Bobby), all in the name of more man-pain. All of that punctuated with a lot of filler episodes that felt like more misses than hits, the absolutely insufferable Amy Pond plot, and dick jokes just because the writers thought it was funny.

Everyone's opinions on S6-7 aside, though, Supernatural wasn't landing financially for the CW either. Season 5 aired on Thursday nights, which is a fairly well respected time slot for established and successful shows, but with Season 6 and 7 we see a demotion to Friday night, 9 PM ET. This is basically the kiss of death for a cable TV show. You sent your shows to Friday night to die. The CW was looking to the future with newer shows and the writing was on the walls that this circus was probably wrapping up soon.

However, in true Supernatural fashion, it wouldn't fucking die. Honestly, and I can only speculate here, I imagine such a die-hard and still-growing fanbase coinciding with a huge spike in social media + ease of access to fan spaces with the surge in commonplace smart phones/laptop computers is probably what kept performing CPR on this show.

So along comes season 8. The show is being passed to Jeremy Carver and Ben Edlund as a returning writer to head up the show. Other people have discussed the Sera Gamble era in depth, but what you need to know here, basically, is that the Carver/Edlund mind are ones that a) have not shied away from queer themes and b) are a lot of those Destiel classics. We're talking Ghostfacers, The End, My Bloody Valentine, On the Head of a Pin, The Man Who Would Be King (Carver), and Free to Be You and Me, Point of No Return (Edlund). Essentially, Sera's philosophy tended to be "strip it back to just the Winchester brothers" and Carver & Edlund were generally more open to having the surrounding cast of supporting characters. And these two definitely don't shy away from Dean & Castiel's relationship.

Here is where my theory gets a little speculative: I believe this is the point where where SPN was given one last hail mary by the CW. New writers and a Wednesday night slot, you have one more chance to make this work, otherwise you're getting the axe. It was renewed pretty late, in early May of 2012 (compare to S6 being announced Feb 2010). S7 had barely scraped its renewal in late April the year prior, too.

Okay, so let's put ourselves in that position for a moment as showrunners sitting down in the Supernatural writer's room in May of 2012. There are two things that might happen: 1) you just might pull it off, and you do such a good job you pull the show from the proverbial grave or 2) you don't pull it off, and you need to make sure the show ends on a satisfying note that wraps things up neatly. And you need to write and film a season that, until you get the yes or no from the CW, can do either and both or neither, and you may need to pivot in one direction or the other pretty quickly while you're filming the back half of your season.

Enter the Destiel endgame theory, which I believe was their scenario 2. Time to introduce the exhibits from the season.

General: Flashbacks. I wish they'd explored Purgatory more too, but it would've taken up too much time if they might have to fast-track a series finale later. (Also Amelia should've been all made up in Sam's head to cope with losing Dean but again, different post. Maybe it became a time constraint to explore too much too, if they thought the show might be ending.)

The evidence:

8x01 We Need to Talk About Kevin & 8x02 - & What's Up Tiger Mommy? We get flashbacks of Dean tearing Purgatory apart to find Castiel. When he finds him, he makes it clear he's coming back to Earth with him.

8x03 - Heartache- This episode focuses on the love between an immortal being and a human.

8x05 - Blood Brother - Benny/Queer Dean discourse deserves its own post. You can take or leave this one for this post's theory.

8x07 - A Little Slice of Kevin - 1) Dean is clearly hiding a boner when Cas gets out of the shower? 2) We introduce that Dean is deeply upset that Castiel didn't make it through the portal-- to the degree he's faked an entire memory because he'd rather it be his fault Cas is gone than have been abandoned by him

8x08 - Hunteri Heroici - Castiel wants to join Dean as a hunter; we're beginning to establish Castiel's genuine desire to spend his life with the Winchesters. This is then juxtaposed when Naomi forces him to stay away at the end of the episode, further telling us this is Cas' desire vs. Heaven's.

8x11 - Larp and the Real Girl - This is mostly a fun episode, but it's an example of queerness being gently nudged to the forefront of plots without immediate dismissal or being the butt of a joke-- rare for SPN at the time.

8x13 - Everybody Hates Hitler - Ah, the Aaron "He was my Gay Thing" moment. Dean leans all the way into the flirting. Does not give the "don't swing that way" speech, gets flustered, is at a loss for words. He appears disappointed later when he was wrong. This has little precedent on the show when Dean's been perceived as gay, he usually dismisses it very quickly.

February 11, 2013: Supernatural is renewed for season 9, a week after Everybody Hates Hitler airs.

Per these estimates, 8x18 is the next episode to be filmed post-announcement, beginning 2/12.

8x16 - Remember the Titans - A Forbidden Love plot. You can take or leave this one for this theory.

8x17 - Goodbye Stranger - OK, here is our inflection point for editing, in my opinion. The last month of eps, more or less, have been pretty trials-centric or one-off. This episode airs 3/20/2013. At this point, we know we're getting a season 9, but we've been building with all of the above, and this ep was filmed pre-S9 announcement... so much so that we have an "I love you" in the original script for the infamous crypt scene. I fully believe it was filmed and edited out in post.

Second, Castiel turns the walls of Naomi's office/lobotomy lounge the bi pride colors during the crypt scene. Someone on the crew at Supernatural literally tweeted that morning to be on the lookout for special choices in Naomi's office. It was very intentional. Why else pick these colors and declare they're intentional? (I have searched up and down for this tweet but it was rare i was there i remember it [the tweet] all too well please trust me)

UPDATE: Tumblr hive mind found it and it was Jerry Wanek saying they were… crosses? In the intersecting lines in the windows? (that's how lines work? lol) And it was amidst a spell of saying fans were reaching in their analyses, and though some of his replies have that tinge, it's not direct about the color commentary. I never saw the back half of that saga or forgot about it, didn’t mean to misrepresent anything! Either way I’ve been corrected but that office is still bisexual and you can’t tell me otherwise

And don't get me started on the "unicorn" stuff, that one person you'd throw everything away for (but I understand this can be interpreted in many ways) However, the season is renewed, we've picked the path they never thought they'd actually pull off-- now we've got to backpedal this Destiel just enough to not impact our precious CW bottom lines, but not piss off our faction of fangirls who watch to ship.

8x20 - Pac Man Fever - Charlie tells Dean she thinks Castiel seems "dreamy". Charlie is very gay and would only say this to elicit a reaction from Dean, we don't really get much of one. Again, lack of a "speech" on his sexuality.

*Note 8x18 Freaks & Geeks and 8x20 Pac Man Fever are filler eps, I think they could've been pulled if we needed the extra time to sprint toward a series finale*

8x21 - The Great Escapist - 8x23 Sacrifice- We hit a real fast escalation toward the season finale from here. I actually think this overarching plot was more or less always the idea for the ending, but how exactly it was executed depended on the renewal status.

The Alternate Series Finale Ending (That I believe they thought they'd have to do when they wrote it): If they hadn't gotten renewed, we are set up for Sam to close the gates of Hell and Metatron to use a spell to close Heaven using the heart of a nephilim (product of human + angel love), the bow a cupid (an angel that arranges love in humans), and the grace of an angel in love with a human. Hell and Heaven shutter up, Sam dies, and Dean is left with a human Castiel who has, for the better part of the season, already been "testing out" being a hunter alongside Dean and has literally moved heaven and earth to have this. He will not have to be the immortal doomed to love a human, as in 8x03, or have the forbidden love of 8x16; we receive resolution on those subjects for our heroes that the monster-of-the-week characters did not. They resolve their feelings for each other, because if we kept Dean's crypt "I love you" and we establish Castiel's grace was in love with a human... well, what else is there to say? (Oh, yes, and they did exactly this and pulled the Destiel trigger in S15 when it was all ending.)

The Actual Ending (That I think they got surprised about the renewal and had to do): Backpedal. Edit. Only drop little subtext again. We just need Castiel's Regular Grace TM for this spell. We can keep selling merch and con tickets and get views if we appeal to the widest audience possible, and we're not taking risks now that we've performed a literal miracle rescue from a Friday night 9 PM slot.

And once we start Season 9, we get a LOT of being hit over the head with Castiel & Dean's Heterosexuality TM, so much so it's awkward and even out of character. (Human Cas sighing about boobs in early s9? Like please. Get real.) It's a HARD left turn, but it makes more sense if you consider it all in the context above. I just don't think they'd have gone in so hard on the bullet points I listed if they had thought Season 9 was in the bag.

TL;DR: I think we might've had Destiel in 2013, but if we had, we wouldn't have also had the rest of the seasons. Whether or not that's a good thing is up to you, but I think it was a combination of a lot of external factors, capitalism, and, well, it being 2013, sadly. I think they were cowards about it, but at the same time, even the writers probably weren't pulling every string, they also needed to answer to other agendas. Television is a medium that is rife with the push and pulls of a thousand factors that aren't the pure story. Idk how to really wrap this, but this has been over ten years in the making so enjoy the fruits of my brain rot.

[icameheretoreadstuff]

Kinktober day 4 - Hate sex

Pairing: Buggy x F!Reader Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Hate sex, swearing, Stripping, threats, Unprotected sex, Big dick kink, choking. Summary: You hate him, but you want him so bad. A/N: Masterpost & links are pinned on my tumblr. I just began writing and this is what I came up with ;)

You came inside an empty circus tent with a guy on a fancy chair. You had two henchmen gripping hard on both of your arms, "hands off, Fucktards!" you barked. They backed off after they saw your death stare, "Here she is boss" the other guy said to the man sitting on the throne. "leave" Buggy said and his voice was stern which made you so turned on. You saw the henchmen walk away, and then you two were completely alone. You turned around from where you saw him sitting. "Buggy the clown" you grinned "what the fuck do you want?" you said as your face turned serious. He didn't say anything. "You're the asshole who destroyes town" you said as you walked slowly over to where he sat.

He sat in the shadows, so you couldn't see him clearly. he just chuckled at your response. "fuck you, I hope you die a horrible death" you barked "What If you die first?" he asked "Wouldn't that be sad?" he said as his head tilted. "shouldn't you start crying or something now? plead for your life?" he changed his position, leaning his elbow on the right side of the armchair, staring at you. "You want to kill me? go right ahead jerk" you said like you didnt care. "Why don't you start telling me how you want to kill me" you asked him, he didn't answer, but you could se he was grinning. "Cause I know how I would kill you" you grinned. "shoot you in the head, dead in seconds" he anwerd in a low voice. "Pin you down and chop your head off" he laughed of his own reply.

You caught him staring at your body as he licked his lips, and then he leaned back in his chair. He was staring at you and your body liked it, you felt electricity shoot around in your body, making your breath a little uneven for a second. You looked up at the tent and exhaled silently, trying to tell your body to stop liking the way he was staring at you. You started to get images of things you wanted him to do to you and you to him, but you shaked them off and looked down from the roof. "You have hurt so many people, you suck" you said and looked around you, trying to see an exit, just in case. "There's no escape, don't worry" he chuckled, then his face turned serious "you're safe here" he said and grinned "Until I decide youre not" He leaned forward to the light and winked. "What If I don't want to escape?" you said, waiting for an reaction.

He shoot up one of his eyebrows as he smiled and shaked his head, but curious about where you were going with this. "What If I want to be here and cause you unbalivable pain?" you grinned "That would be so much fun to see you squirm!" you fake laughed for a second and then fake dried a tear away from your eye, then you gave him a deathstare. But he just grinned and continued to watch you, intrigued by you. "Maybe you would cry?" you said unsure and walked closer to him. "Maybe your entire mood would change, just before I kill you?" you said and tilted your head to the side as you placed your foot between his thighs.

He didn't react, he just looked serious at you- He continued to stare at you after a second, then the corner of his smile tilted a little. Your top was showing off your tits, He couldn't help but stare as he licked his lips dry and stared at you lips. You started to slowly take off the strap on your singlet. "Maybe you would beg for your life?" you said and your heart started to pound of how close you were standing him. He looked at your naked shoulder, wanting to touch it, maybe playfully bite it. He smelled suprisingly good, which was so wrong.

You hate him? what the fuck is going on? He smelled like something sweet? You were shocked, he of all people in the world, HE was the one who was turning you on? You leaned closer to his ear and licked it playfully. He hummed in response and shifted his eyes on you. "Maybe" he whispered, his voice was raspy, which made your clit ache. "Maybe you would even plead?" you whispered into his ear and playfully took a bit of his ear. "But you hate me?" he asked confused but with a smile on his face.

You walked a couple of steps back and threw off your shirt at him. Your bra was still on but his head fell back "Why dont you tell me more?" he asked you, daring you to continue. "What If I killed you with a knife I was hiding?" you winked. "You don't have any knives on you" he reasured me. "that you know off" you grinned. "You can't cut me, darlin" he said in a raspy voice, he should shut up because your body got shivers everytime he talked like this. "Shut up" you whispered. You opened your zipper and slowly dragged your skirt off to your hips and stopped just above your clit, so he could see your thong. "I could snap your neck" you winked at him, "You could try" he flirted as he changed his position, feeling his boulder revealing him.

You let your skirt fall down, like a puddle on the floor and stepped out of it. He hummed as he stared at your thong. "I could stab you in your eye" you chuckled, and walked closer and straddled him. His body under you felt so good, his boulder was big and warm. Your hips couldn’t help it and automaticly thrusted to feel some friction. You couldn't fight it anymore, you hated his guts but he was turning you on so fucking bad you just had to go along with this. You smacked him hard, which he gave you no response and then you kissed him hard. His lips was so warm. He kissed you deeply back and his hands held you tight around your waist, feeling his boulder causing you to moan, his toungue felt so unbalivable good against yours. He looked at you and his breaths was deep and slow, his chest rising as his boulder sent more and more vibration to your clit. He started to smile like an idiot "Im gonna fuck you." you said simple. He grinned at your response. "You're gonna fuck me?" he chuckled "I think you want to do more than just fuck me darling" he winked.

You couldn't help yourself so you went on instinct. Your hand felt like a magnet to his boulder, feeling his big boulder made you so wet. "You like what youre feeling?" he said in a low raspy voice as he stared into your eyes. "You want to see my cock?" he said as he licked his lips "suck it?". His strong boulder was turning you on so bad, you just wanted to get on your knees and fill your mouth up with his big cock. "I'm going to fuck some sence into you" You said simple and opened his belt and opened his zipper, "then I think youre gonna have to fuck me more than once, if that's your plan" he flirted. "Even then" he said and shaked his head and chuckled. You stepped off him and dragged down his pants in one movement. He just grinned when he saw the look on your face. His large dick bounced out of his pants. His throbbing dick was teasing you, making you so horny you felt your body start to shake of excitement.

You looked up at him, not breaking the eye contact once. You wanted to see him, hear his gasp and sounds, you wanted to see this asshole enjoy himself. You wanted to make him cum so good. You wanted him to make you feel good. You grabbed his dick and tried to inhale his length into your mouth in one try but he was too large, you took your free hand and jerked him off while trying to suck him. All the sounds you were making was driving him crazy, he began to hum and trying to hold back moans, but failing. "Maybe I will get decent orgasm out of you" you saidand walked off him and took off your thong and bra, throwing them at him.

He shaked his head "shut up and just fuck me already" he said in a low voice. "shut up" you barked and sat back down ontop of him and slowly placing the tip of his length outside of your clit. "Youre not gonna kill me so stop acting tough" he said and panted slowly, He grabbed your thighs and placed his hands slowly on your ass. "I hate you so much" you said as you placed his length inside you, trying to let his cock fill you up. He was so large so it started to hurt a little but It felt so good at the same time. You began to ride him slowly, It hurt but felt so good. "you are so funny" he grinned and began to choke you lightly.

You moaned and started to ride him "I hate you" you moaned, He grunted as he leaned back and stared at your movement. "Youre kinda cute thinking you stand a chance of killing me!" he grinned and spanked your ass with his free hand. You grinned and chocked him back. "I got you just where I want, asshole" you grinned and moved your position a little better, moved your legs so you got more controll. You placed your hands on his shoulders.

You grabbed his hat and threw it away and then you ripped open his vest an his shirt underneath, revealing his muscles underneath. You grinned at him when he threw off his jacket. His hips began to move up and down slowly. His tie was still on him so you grabbed it and started to ride him back while grinning. You both had an perfect rythum going on and it was annoying as hell. "Fuck you so much" you said as your eyes rolled back in your head. Your body was on fire, and his body felt so good around you.

His hands moved slowly down to your hips. He was so warm and was now completely naked. He moaned and moved his hands up to your tits and pinched them lightly and the other one he moved down to your clit and began to move his finger on your upper clit in circles. His head flew back and his hips started to thrust harder up into you. "I hate you so much" you moaned and gripped tighter around his tie. "Y/N" he moaned, and moved his hands on your hips and spanked your ass with his other hand "Fuck you" you said and moaned back, feeling orgasm coming close.

Suddenly he grabbed your hips hard and began to thrust hard up into you, "hate you" you continued to say while he was thrusting so hard into you until you hit climax. "Fuck" he moaned and slipped out his length out of you and climaxed. He panted while he grinned "what now?" He asked you. You just sighed and shaked your head in defeat, defeat if his dick. You looked at his cock and grinned. "Oh fuck it" you grinned and crashed your lips into his. "Your Dick is too good"

[sevs-corner]

Just finished watching CoD: MW3

Spoilers rant ahead + to my alternate AU fic idea (Officially calling it the Tf 141: Betrayal AU)

OG Link:

I ALREADY KNOW MY BEST MAN SOAP DIES

ITS ALL THE PEOPLE TALKED ABOUT IN THE ALL THE MW VIDS

but *aggravated + depressed sigh* seeing it first hand- it felt so unjust and rushed.

Look, I can accept a fav dying- but when it just happens just like that, in a quick flick of the hand out of nowhere without even a lick of reassurance of vengeance in his honor?

Imma bout to combust and write my own fucking ending ‘cause the whole game’s plot was dogshit compared to the first two😭✋

The way they had so much untapped potential— imma ‘bout to lose my non-existent left and right nut to this whole ass circus shit show

Anyways, so about that AU… which is this one btw

I plan the MC (you/reader) to join Makarov during the his escape, where they were already giving info to help the Konni group help Makarov escape. Making that as your first op and the second one being the airplane one.

Slowly, the team would notice your disappearance at crucial moments, going radio silent after certain missions until Laswell connects the dots. Seeing your location, before going off the grid, always close to their next ops of targeting Konni group and Makarov’s people.

At first they were in denial, you- their loyal friend in arms- would never do this to them… right? You would always do extra missions on the way, saying that—

“If i’m still capable- of course i’m lending a hand!”

Until they caught you in their records room with Laswell’s laptop, broker phone in hand with eyes as wide as deer caught in headlights.

“Sergeant,” Price starts off with a shuddered breath, “hand over the phone.”

Seeing you hesitate only but confirmed their worst thoughts.

“Now.”

Their hearts broke as you turned away, pushing the shelves of papers onto them as you made your escape through the only exit.

Only for you to be stopped by Soap himself, who looked no further than a man who had just watched the love of life die in front of him. Arms wrapped around your midsection, you fought to escape his hold and he made only a slight effort, wanting to know-

“Why…why did you do this..?”

Finally thrashing out of his- albeit half-hearted- hold around your stomach— you could only know throw him a sad smile, a quite teary-eyed look for someone who just betrayed them, him.

“It doesn’t make sense,” he tells himself, as he fell to his knees, watching you round the corner of the hallways with sirens blaring around their base.

From your reaction, something must have happened… but what?

Was it the extra missions that you took? You never got injured or tortured, they went the extra mile and always made sure you were ok when you got back home— back in their arms.

“Johnny,” Ghost coughs out as he helped Price and Gaz out of the room, “locate ‘em.”

Even Ghost still was half-hearted, unable to accept the laid out truth in front of them.

To think that it was one of their own being the reason for Markov taking the upper hand against them these past few weeks ever since his release.

“…on it LT.”

And to that, they begged- no, wanted answers from you and you only.

And thus begins the betrayal arc and how you have to somehow still leak info to the team while acting as a double spy to Makarov…

Who unfortunately had a very close eye on you.

MWAHAHAHAHHAHAHA YANDERE MAKAROV IS THAT YOU CALLING ME? MAYBE WMAHSHSHEHSHJW

[002yb]

have u thought about an same age au or an age reversal au?

~Age Reversal~

As the result of his parents’ debts, Jason is essentially sold into the Maroni crime family as a sub-level grunt after both his dad and mom are gone.

Everything with Zucco and Haly's Circus still goes down, only it's Jason who's made responsible for cutting the trapeze wires.

Only Jason can’t do it. He won’t.

The assignment already gives him pause; it makes his stomach turn. It's when he sees the Grayson family that he knows he can't go through with his task though

It's because he sees how Dick's parents are. They’re so good. Loving and caring and warm and present and Jason doesn’t know that kind of love, not really, but he knows what it’s like without and he can’t do that to a child

Dick witnesses Jason's insubordination/betrayal. Like he eavesdrops on Zucco giving the order and he's there to watch as Jason contemplates going through with it, but in the end Jason walks away and Dick is still scared, but relieved because his family is okay

The direct disobedience gets Jason into hot water (a beating, gun to his head, threats made)

Maybe Dick tries to help

Maybe Mary and John also get involved to protect their son/their family/friends/home

Jason being given a second chance. He's handed a gun, only he uses it against Zucco's men while telling the Grayson family to run

It's a violent scuffle that ends with two gunshots

Despite Jason's efforts, Dick’s parents still get killed and Jason can’t stop it; he tries to and gets brutalized for it - pistol whipped and stunned and made to watch as two bullets pierce John and Mary in their chests

Everyone hears the gunshots

Jason is shell shocked by the brutality. He wants to rush over and help (put pressure on the wounds, cover the kid’s eyes, anything), but he’s dragged away

Bruce gets there after the Maroni family gets away

He sees the damage and breaks for Dick; the scene is painfully familiar - so is Dick's reaction (scrambling to stem the blood loss, but the bodies are already still; bloodied hands and chilling screams; cries, screams, wails of anguish)

Jason hears them - he might break down a bit too from regret

Everything carries on as normal. Bruce takes Dick in. Dick becomes Robin. And he has a vendetta against Zucco and the Maroni family, sure, but also? He comes to recognize that there are a lot of people like Jason - troubled people in troubling circumstances that leads to troublesome things. He wants to help with that, too.

Jason gets pushed further down the Maroni line

He can’t even be trusted as a drug runner, so they use his body in a way he can’t fuck them over with

Because Jason is the one getting fucked 👀

And I don't know where this is going, but I guess Robin!Dick would come across Jason again years later. Maybe while Batman and Robin are dismantling a human trafficking ring and Jason is one face among many. Or rather, maybe he's hidden away in even worse circumstances as punishment for daring to go against Zucco and the Maroni family.

Jason escapes to the bowels of Gotham during the cleanup as police and forensics sweep through. Dick looks for him, having recognized him, but his attention gets pulled away because there's still work to be done.

Robin finds Jason on the streets later though. And Jason is tired. He's beaten down and wants to die, but then there's Robin badgering him at every opportunity. Because Dick is fond of Jason on principle, given how Jason tried to save him and his parents despite his tragic circumstances. Jason is good; Dick wants to be good to him.

Thus starts Jason's adventures of being stalked by Robin as he tries to put the pieces of his life together. With Dick's help. //u///

Somehow it's easier to imagine Dick being more content in Gotham with Jason there. And oh, Jason. He's got this brat so many years his junior mooning over him and he just - he doesn't know what to do with it? He feels especially pathetic when Robin!Dick flirts and gets playful with his teasing and Jason flusters? What the hell. Jason is OTL

Just Jason learning to find safety and comfort in Robin and Dick being Dick.

This idea has good bones but my mind has drawn blank LOL. Forgive me, anon. This was fun though!

[foreveralwaysanauthor]

Scattered Screams (Part 6/12)

January 21, 2023

Notes - I had nothing to do yesterday other than visiting my great-aunt so I ended up cranking out the final 13 pages I needed to wrap up the end of part 7. Needless to say, my hands are tired today, but I’m still powering through!

In this world, your mind must be stronger than your emotions. Otherwise, love may be your downfall.

Once things begin to calm down, we bring our little celebration to the roof. The city sparkles with glowing parties being thrown in almost every building and bursting fireworks coloring the sky in glittering arrays of light. It feels as though the whole place is lit up just for us and, in a twisted way, it is. For a fleeting moment, I try to imagine myself as one of the Capitol citizens, celebrating a new season of a reality television show on the rooftop of my luxury apartment, but the reality of everything smacks me in the face with the icy wind. Despite being the middle of July, the wind is merciless at night, sending a chill down my spine so cold that I find goosebumps sprawling across my arms that take forever to disappear. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be in the Capitol or in the Games or even in this fucking tower of doom. I want to go home. I want to sit by the lake with my friends and family or explore some of the long-abandoned hubs that are just a kayak ride away - I want to be anywhere but here. A majority of the people in this city are rooting for my demise and I’m witnessing it firsthand. No wonder the other tributes aren’t out here… maybe they figured that out before I did.

Leaning against the frigid railing on the outskirts of the rooftop, I try to keep my emotions in check, try not to let my burning eyes get the better of me. I have two more days of freedom - if this can even be considered freedom - and then my fifteen years of life could very well come to an end. If only Juliet had more sway with what her father and the Gamemakers did… maybe then I’d live to see my sixteenth birthday. It’s only a month away, give or take. I’ve lost track of what the date is by now. This circus of bullshit started with the reaping on the fourth of July, but I’ve lost track of everything being here. I guess that’s what the people who created the Hunger Games built the Training Center for - it distorts our perspectives of time and disorients our mentalities. It’s effective. It feels as though I’m stranded in the middle of the ocean with nothing but a pool noodle keeping me from drowning. As soon as I stop kicking, my lungs will fill and I’ll die.

Sucking in a deep breath, I try to force positivity through my veins. It’s about as effective as a child covering their ears and singing obnoxiously loud so they don’t hear what someone has to say, but it’s enough for the stinging behind my eyes to subside at least a little. A few deep breaths calm my nerves as the icy metal bar in my grasp rids my hands of the panicked sweat that has gathered. I glance back to where the others have congregated, but none of them seem to notice anything wrong with me. Good. They've all gathered on the other side of the roof and the roaring wind mingling with the bursting fireworks makes it impossible for any of them to hear whatever I say or do even though I can hear their faint laughter and segments of conversations when the noise quiets enough. I’m grateful for it as it’s given me time to think about everything going on around me without interruption. As a myriad of fireworks illuminates the sky, I glance around the city’s skyline and listen for the random bursts of music from roaring parties and watch the shimmering fireworks explode in the distance. 

For the first time since my arrival in the Capitol, I can see it for what it is: a glowing façade for the horrors they’ve created for the rest of Panem. The city crawls with people just waiting to see blood splattering on their screens while the rest of our nation suffers for the Capitol’s entertainment. As hard as it is to push past the idea that everyone in the Capitol is celebrating the demise of twenty-three children, I find myself forcing a smile onto my face as Mack rests her arms on the railing beside me and hands me a shimmering green drink. For now, I can focus on the drink that swirls as though a nearby galaxy has fallen into the glass and smile as though nothing in the world can harm me since, for the time being, nothing can. 

Mack sighs beside me, a soft yet calloused hand falling on mine and squeezing, “You don’t have to act happy all the time, Vivien. You know that, right?”

“I know,” I tell her, taking a hesitant sip of the drink I’ve been given. It’s pointless to lie to someone who has known me my entire life, but I can’t find it in me to match her gaze just yet. It would break me and I know it. “But the second I stop pretending is the moment I admit defeat, and I’m not ready for that yet.”

Mack nods, a short hum of understanding separating the air between us. She’s been in this position before, she knows what I’m going through. She won’t push me more than she sees necessary. I watch her gaze turn toward the skyline through the corner of my eye and when I spare her a glance, I watch her eyes flicker toward each boom that erupts in sparkles. Turning my gaze back to the city around us, Mack asks, “You want to tell me how long you’re planning on pretending my daughter isn’t talking to you every second of the day?”

Although my eyes widen in surprise, I’m not exactly taken aback that she’s figured it out by now. I’m not the best at controlling my expressions, so I don’t doubt she’d seen me smile or roll my eyes at something Mick had said to me at one point or another. “You knew?”

“Earlier, you told someone to shut up when nobody said a word to you.” Mack’s chestnut eyes meet mine as she smiles my way and says, “If that wasn’t enough of an indication that Mickie was helping you, your private session definitely was. I highly doubt you would have been the one to come up with the idea of throwing a knife at the Gamemakers.”

I can’t hold back the airy chuckle that passes my lips, “Actually, that was the one thing I came up with on my own.”

“Really?”

The shrug I offer is a lame attempt to downplay the situation, but it gives me a chance to swallow another mouthful of green apple juice before I explain, “They were all too interested in getting drunk, and very few of them, if any, were paying me any attention, so I got a little mad and threw the last knife I had at them.”

Instead of reprimanding me, Mick’s mom laughs and shakes her head, “I guess that’s one way to catch their attention.”

My smile no longer feels forced as Mack’s arm comes around me, but as I lean my head against her, I find my mind wandering. “How did you know about the glasses?”

“I was curious a few months ago when my daughter came to me, asking if required medical objects, such as glasses, had to go through inspections before the Games,” Mack explains. I can hear the smile in her tone. “When she wasn’t with you, she was down in the basement working on a project she refused to let us see. After a while, she stopped working down there and, as the reaping grew closer, she spent more time training you instead. I figured everything out when I first saw you at the reaping.” 

My confusion is evident as I ask, “How?”

Mack chuckles, “You had worn those clunky, old glasses for years despite me and my husband offering to replace them many times. Then, somehow, the morning after Mick walks you home with some purple thing sticking out of her back pocket, you show up to the reaping with a pair of fancy new spectacles. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what happened.”

I suppose she’s right, it wouldn’t take much to put two and two together when you see a person every day. “Does Mr. Birch know about the glasses?”

“He does now,” she replies. “I wasn’t sure if that was what you wanted to tell us, but I wanted to discuss the possibility with him. Does Makana know that we know?” Before I can answer, I hear Mick’s soft voice say, “I do,” so I relay the message to her mother. “Where is she staying?”

“I’m with your family, Vivi,” Mick tells me. “I brought all of my tech and I’m staying in your room. Hope you don’t mind.”

It doesn’t surprise me that she is. After all, I had made a statement to my parents the day I left about Mick taking up my space because she’s so sentimental and sappy over things like that. It doesn’t come as a shock to me that they allowed her to do just that. “My parents are letting her stay with them. She brought all of her tech with her.”

“I’m not surprised,” Mack claims with a smile. “She’s been talking with Miles this whole time, hasn’t she?”

Mick hums in my ear and I nod in confirmation, “She has.”

Mack smiles knowingly, “I bet both of them are glad Riven, Royce, and I have teamed up so quickly.”

“Very,” Mick claims and, like the jabberjay I now feel I’ve become, I respond as such. “But I think everyone knew you and Royce would be adorable together anyway, so it was only a matter of time.”

“Yeah, I am not saying that,” I mutter under my breath.

Mack eyes me curiously as Mick taunts me so her mother can’t hear and tell her off. Mack doesn’t get the chance to question me as a piercingly shrill squeal slices through the air like a sword. We both turn to the voice and watch as Juliet dashes across the rooftop to wrap her arms around Royce’s stylist, the two blondes excitedly sharing words we can’t hear as the others from District 6 fill the rooftop. Royce shakes his head as he talks with the mountain of a mentor who keeps an arm wrapped around the younger male’s shoulders, but Kona, the short mentor with a quick mind and an even faster mouth, pipes in with a comment that has both of the men laughing. For once, the girl tribute, Lotus, makes an appearance, but with the distance she keeps between herself and the others of her group, I wouldn’t be surprised if she returns to their floor before any of us have gotten the chance to say hello to her. 

As the others approach our group, Mack takes hold of my hand and guides me over to where everyone is congregating. Mack and Brady know the mentors from District 6 pretty well already, which is evident by how quickly they’re wrapped in hugs and brought into conversations. I stand off to the side, watching them interact with ease until Royce comes over. His smirk is infectious and I find myself smiling as he says, “You’d swear they’ve known each other forever.”

“To them, it must feel that way,” I reply as I offer him a sip of the green-apple-flavored juice Mack gave me earlier. 

He takes the glass from me and takes a drink before handing it back to me with a curious smile on his face. “I know this is going to sound weird, but that tastes like what your hair smells like.”

Confusion floods my face as I pick up a braid and take a long, slow breath through my nose. I never really paid attention to what my hair smells like after a shower, but he’s right. I do smell like apples. Quirking an eyebrow in Royce’s direction, I question, “How do you know what my hair smells like?”

Instead of fumbling over his words and hastily letting out an answer, Royce chuckles, “In training the other day, you whipped me in the face with your hair when you turned to talk with Riven. I guess you could say I got a pretty quick whiff of it.” My instinct is to tell him that I’m sorry, but he quickly places a hand on my arm and says, “Don’t apologize. It didn’t hurt.”

A solid hand lands on my shoulders, keeping me from saying anything as I peer up at Riven. “Hey there, lovebirds,” he announces with a smug smirk that I’d love to smack off his face as he hands Royce a drink over my shoulder, but I resign to simply rolling my eyes at his choice of words. “Are you two ready for your interviews?”

Royce shrugs and gives Riven a quick nod as he sips his drink, but I scoff, “Are you, Mister Open-Mouth-Insert-Foot?”

“Says the one who can’t control her facial expressions to save her life,” Riven teases, nudging me to the side as he slides into place next to me. He’s not wrong. Every emotion I have, be it annoyance, joy, or rage, is almost always on full display. It’s not something I’m particularly proud of, but I do my best to bury my emotions when necessary.

“How are you going to handle an interview in front of millions of people when you can’t even control what comes out of your mouth when our boss comes around?” I snip in return.

Riven chuckles and shakes his head, “Unlike you and your uncontrollable face, Pip, I know how to hold my tongue. I just choose not to. I should have my interview in the bag.”

“You are such an ass,” I scoff, shoving Riven away by the arm as he smirks down at me.

Royce lets out a laugh that borders between nervousness and mild humor, dragging the teasing session Riven and I have perfected to a screeching halt. “You guys argue like Butchy and Carrie.”

The aforementioned stylist makes an appearance with her arm looped around Juliet’s and a glass of green juice in that same hand, delicately wound curls framing her face as she beams proudly at the mention of her name. “That may be,” she comments, “but unlike us, these two genuinely get along behind it all. Butchy and I have a much harder time acting friendly.”

Juliet giggles, nudging Carrie with her hip, “At least you’re trying to work things out, right?”

With a roll of his eyes that I’m almost positive doesn’t go unnoticed by the Capitol-born stylists, Royce scoffs, “And it’s working out just as well as a car would if it had a lawnmower engine under the hood.”

Carrie blissfully ignores the eye-roll if she saw it and places a hand on Royce’s shoulder as she says, “Let’s hope, for everyone’s sake, that we’ll get there eventually.” Royce nods, but I can see the poorly hidden skepticism in his eyes as he averts his gaze from his blonde stylist. Carrie’s smile is blinding as she turns to me and reaches out a hand for me to take, which I hesitantly do. “I met Mick last year, very briefly. She talked you up quite a bit.”

“She was a great sister,” I reply with a smile, unsure of just how much she knows about last year’s tributes.

A glimmer of something flickers in Carrie’s oceanic eyes, but it disappears before I get the chance to decipher it. Instead, she hums softly and sends me a quick wink as she says, “I bet she was.”

Her demeanor sticks out to me as she releases my hand and turns to Riven, introducing herself with dramatic, yet elegant, Capitol flair. Royce told me during our lunch breaks that he had his brother, Miles’, stylist from last year and that she had helped his brother in more ways than one during his Games. At first, Royce didn’t always have a lot of nice things to say about Carrie which was probably due to how much time he spent with Butchy - the mentor that didn’t particularly like the blonde stylist. However, there were a few times over the last few days that I noticed him warming up about the blonde in our conversations. My guess was that she was growing on him, showing him a side of her that she probably only ever showed Miles - the casual, non-Capitol side. Sure, she was still very much a Capitol-born woman, but the way she was dressed so casually and the way she carried herself certainly didn’t emulate the way I had seen many Capitol people behave. Even Juliet still clings to the flashy fashion and sparkly lifestyle she was born into, but Carrie seems far more relaxed in what looked like simple black pants that shimmer when the light hits them and a pale aqua hoodie with little stars glimmering in golden thread. Carrie’s outfit isn’t too far off from something I had seen Della wear to work and, for a moment, she reminds me of my friend Acer - someone who looks half-Capitol, half-district. 

From how much Royce seems to know about Carrie, it wouldn’t surprise me if she had been visiting District 6 since the previous Hunger Games came to an end. That would explain her more muted style and the desire to appear as a friend, wearing something we would see our friends and family wear at any given moment. Even if my assumptions aren’t her intention, the idea is there and, I have to say, it feels… welcoming, in a way. I appreciate it. As she and Juliet share a laugh at something Riven said, I turn my gaze to Royce and find him smirking ever so slightly at the pair. I bet, underneath it all, he actually likes Carrie, but he just doesn’t realize it yet. He may not see it yet, but the smile he’s fighting so hard to hide doesn’t seem to go unnoticed by his stylist as her smile seems to widen once she catches his gaze. They sort of behave like the twins when one tries to make the other laugh after they get caught doing something stupid - one of them hiding their amusement under the guise of frustration. It’s kind of cute.

As soon as the stylists’ gazes fall back on me, I force myself to pay attention to the conversation once more, pushing my train of thought to another station as Juliet proudly declares, “Tomorrow, we’re going to be working together to make sure we’ve got everything ready for the interviews with Caesar Flickerman.”

“We decided that it would make things a lot easier if we’re able to get everything sorted out in the same place, at the same time,” Carrie declares, blue eyes flitting between me and Royce as she uses her hands to gesture her words. “So, Royce, you, Butchy, and I are going to spend most of our day with Julie, Riven, Vivi, and their mentors on their floor while Kona and Pluto help Lotus on our floor.”

Royce glimpses between me and Riven and smiles, “Sounds like we’re in for a fun day.”

I don’t try to hide the smile that bursts onto my face as I let out a small chuckle and nod. With how much Royce claims his stylist and mentor argue, it should be a lot of fun trying to get them to behave themselves for long enough to help us out. Hopefully, they’ll work better together if they have more people around, telling them off for acting like children. Who knows, maybe with Mack and Brady there to steer them in the right direction, they’ll put their differences aside and act civil for more than a few seconds… Okay, yeah, I know it’s highly unlikely, but the idea sounded nice.

Carrie and Juliet bring their cups to the middle of our little circle and encourage us to do the same, a celebratory clink teetering the shimmering liquid in everyone’s glasses toward one side as they tap together. Riven begins the chant of our district numbers that, in turn, causes the others along the rooftop to follow suit, his lopsided smile and unrelenting pride for our districts infecting those around us. Unbeknownst to us as we cheer for our districts, Riven makes his way behind Royce and me and latches our hands together before lifting them as high as they can go. I glance back at Riven and roll my eyes as he releases us, but Royce’s grasp on my hand doesn’t allow the punch I so desperately want to land on his smug-ass face. Instead of fighting Royce’s hold and smacking Riven silly, I turn my gaze to Royce with a chuckle and find him already smiling back at me. 

The amusement in his caramel eyes makes me smile and, for a fleeting moment, it feels as though my brain short-circuits and everything slows around me. Royce’s laughter floods my brain, the genuine kindness and happiness in his expression warms me from the inside and spreads through every fiber of my being, and his fingers squeeze mine subconsciously, holding me in place as our arms swing back down between us. As I watch a series of fireworks explode in the distance, illuminating Royce’s curls in a halo of glittering gold while he laughs at something Juliet mentions, a flock of butterflies begin rioting in my chest and only confirm what everyone has been teasing me about since I first met Royce. I have to force myself to look anywhere but at him as the realization sinks deep into my skin. Maybe Juliet and Riven were right… I really do need these glasses.

The rest of the celebration seems to go by in a blur as I find myself incapable of paying attention to any conversation around me. I’m practically attached to Royce’s hip since he won’t let go of my hand, but every time he looks my way and smiles, all of my cares swan dive off the edge of the roof. The few times I’m not enraptured by Royce’s talks of books and the people back home that he misses, I’m being teased from across the roof by Riven who seems intent on wiggling his eyebrows suggestively at me. Riven’s teasing ways earn him more than one discreetly aimed middle finger, but he brushes me off as he always does, with a deep, theatrical bow and a cocky, lopsided smirk. Thankfully, nobody else seems to notice how attached Royce and I have become, but if they do, they don’t care enough to bring it up. When Royce releases my hand, it’s only because his group is ready to head back inside. It’s only once he disappears inside the dome with his stylist and mentors that I feel the sweat that had formed between our hands and the icy cold wind that I had managed to ignore while he was by my side. 

The walk back downstairs once we’ve cleaned up after our little party feels like it takes forever as Riven walks behind me, mimicking kissing noises so softly that nobody else can hear. I endure his teasing until we’re back inside the apartment and tell everyone that I’m heading to bed. Brady stops me and takes my face in his hands, worriedly mentioning how red I’ve become as Riven cockily evades their gaze and slips down the hallway practically unnoticed. I insist that I’m fine and, after mentioning how exhausting it was to climb those stairs after being in the breezy mid-summer air, Mick’s parents allow me to escape to my room where I then have to deal with Mick’s unrelenting questions and teasing until I take the glasses off, turn them toward myself at arms-length, and flip her off before settling them on my nose once more. She doesn’t keep up the ‘teasing big sister’ act for long before wishing me a good night and telling me she’ll try to join me as early as she can for the training I’ll have to suffer through early the next morning.

I set my glasses aside and change into some fuzzy pajamas before sliding into bed far earlier than I normally would, but to my dismay, I don’t get much sleep. It’s a fact that will probably be my downfall when our personal training begins, but it’s my own damn fault. If I could control the thoughts and made-up fantasies that keep me staring up at the ceiling and slapping myself in the face with a pillow half the night, I would. I want nothing more than to force myself to sleep, force the sudden rush of feelings and mixed emotions that have flooded my system to the darkest caverns of the deepest ocean, but that seems impossible no matter how hard I try. Eventually, around two in the morning, my thoughts are replaced with nonsensical dreams and I’m only woken from my slumber when Riven practically drops his body weight on me and immediately asks how I slept.

As soon as my face is no longer smothered by pillows and I no longer have a mouthful of the blankets I had tossed and turned in all night, I groan, “Like shit, thanks for asking.”

Riven snickers as he bounces over me and fills the space next to me on the mattress, “Figured as much. Bet you had some pretty nice dreams though, right?”

“Can we not do this before I literally have to spend all day with him?” I plead as I force myself to sit up against the headboard. “It was hard enough trying to get any sleep last night.”

Riven’s smug smile disappears and I find the sincerity in his eyes as he softly questions, “This is really bothering you, isn’t it?”

“We’re going into the Hunger Games the day after tomorrow, Riv,” I remind him, pushing my mess of baby hairs and loose fringe out of the way and sighing heavily. “My feelings can’t follow me into the arena no matter how much we intend on acting like a couple. It will only make it that much harder to deal with if he dies in there.”

I almost feel the need to apologize as Riven deflates, his hazel eyes falling on the delicate patterns that have been woven into my satin pillowcases. “I didn’t think it would go this far.”

“Neither did I, but here we are.”

“Sorry for pushing this on you, Pip.”

Instead of letting him wallow in whatever thoughts are flooding his brain, I give Riven a light shove and smile in his direction. “It was a bit of a joint effort,” I laugh softly. “Besides, you always seem to know things about me before I know them myself, so I guess it was only a matter of time before something like this happened.”

Riven nods and, even though I can see the understanding in his smile, I can tell by the look in his eyes that he’s not going to accept that I don’t feel this was his fault. Hoping to distract him from everything, I grab one of the satin pillows from behind my back and slam it into his face with a smile. Just like he would during one of our all-nighter work sessions at his place, Riven wrenches the pillow out of my grasp mid-smack and sits up before slapping it on the top of my head and leaving it there like one of those fancy sun hats the mayor’s wife and Bissette would wear during beach parties they would host on the lake. I send him a hearty glare that we both know I don’t mean in the slightest and his smile finally seems to meet the glimmer in his eyes. He taps my hand with the back of his and I latch onto his awaiting palm with a grin as he tells me, “You know I care about you, right, Pip?”

“Of course, Riv,” I confidently reply as I pull the pillow from my head and drop it on my lap. “You know I care about you too, right?”

“I do,” Riven states. “Far more than I deserve most of the time.”

“That’s not true,” I insist, my head shaking so quickly that I’m afraid of whiplash. “We’re family and family loves without it needing to be earned or deserved.”

Riven pauses, watching me with an expression I could take years trying to decipher and never find an answer to, but it disappears as a smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “Good.”

The confusion that washes over me must be evident on my face as I ask, “What brought that on?”

Instead of giving me a direct answer, Riven simply smirks, squeezes my hand, and says, “Just making sure.”

I don’t get the chance to interrogate him any further as a soft rap on the door alerts us both that our time for loitering around in the peace of my spacious quarters has come to a close. I tell the person they can come in as Riven releases my hand and leans against the headboard beside me. The door opens enough for Halo to poke her head into the room, her shimmering golden wig lilting precariously to the side as she leans in enough to see us. “Oh, good,” she says once she spots us both sitting together amongst the myriad of tangled blankets and pillows. “I was just about to go wake you, Riven. We’re ordering breakfast and it should be here in about half an hour or so if either of you wants to wash up.”

Riven brushes it off quickly as he pushes himself to his feet with a stretch, “I shower at night, normally.”

As I slide out from under the warmth of the blankets, I sigh, “Well, I’m going to take a quick shower and I’ll be down in a little bit.”

Halo nods, quickly latching a hand onto her slipping wig as she ducks out of the room and scurries off down the hall. Riven makes a swift departure, telling me that he’s going to watch some television while he waits for the food to arrive and, as soon as the door closes behind him, I put my glasses on and pick something from the closet to wear once I’m out of the shower. My shower doesn’t last long and I tug on an outfit I hope won’t be ripped from my skin as soon as Juliet gets me alone. By the time I enter the expansive dining room, Riven and Juliet are talking softly with Mack and Brady about something I can’t hear, but they quickly switch topics as soon as they notice my presence. As odd as that is, hunger wins out over curiosity and I start shoveling food into my mouth as soon as I have some food on my plate. If their conversation is anything I need to know, they’ll tell me. I trust them.

Halo joins us after a while and, even though she hadn’t been eating many meals with us over the last few days, she joins the conversation about our interviews with ease. She tells us about how busy she’s been with schmoozing the Capitol’s finest sponsors, but I know for a fact that Juliet had already secured most of them just by being one of our stylists. After a while of forcing down as much food as I can manage just to add to the caloric intake I’ll need before the Games start, Juliet takes me down the hall to her room and tells me that I need to change into something similar to my interview outfit and unzips a black bag that holds a pale purple gown. A pair of plain, black shoes are left on the floor for me to slip on and Juliet allows me some privacy to change before coming back in the room to lace up the back of the dress. I watch her in the mirror on the wall as she strings the laces through the holes in the back of the dress, her silent scrutiny causing the room to feel overwhelmingly quiet. 

“You know,” she says with a smile as she brings the delicate strings together in a knotted bow, “this dress suits you far more than it did me at my graduation from the Academy.”

“This is your dress?” I ask.

“It was,” Juliet confirms as she comes into view. “It was my first official design. Well, that and Carrie’s graduation gown, of course.”

“You and Carrie are pretty close, huh?”

“We grew up together,” she explains, adjusting my hair as she sees fit. “When my father became president, she was the only one of my friends to really stick around and treat me as the same girl they had known for years.”

“Is that why you two want Royce and me to work together this year? Because you and Carrie are close?” I question as Juliet takes the dress bag away and drapes it over the back of a chair in the corner of the room.

“Partially,” Juliet says with a shrug. “You see, when we both became stylists last year, we realized just how awful the Hunger Games truly are and tried to discourage people from watching it after the fact by using our popularity with the people. This little show between you and Royce in the Games will hopefully encourage the people to push my father to stop the Games with enough time to get you two, and possibly Riven, out of the arena.”

“We’re all making it out one way or another,” I tell her plainly. “If it comes down to the three of us, we won’t kill each other. The Capitol will just have to be okay with having three victors.”

Juliet’s eyes meet mine and her glittering smile nearly blinds me as she lets out a sigh of contentment and cups my face in her hands, “There’s the spitfire I’ve been waiting for.”

Everything about this interaction has taken me aback and I can’t help asking, “What?”

“Everyone talks about this fiery attitude and unyielding defiance you have,” Juliet claims as she releases my face, “but you’ve been very docile and tame with me the last few days. I wanted to see what would push you to take charge. Now that I know you’re very family motivated, we can use that and blend in a little romance with your new beau and we should get a perfect interview.”

For a moment, I’m confused. If Juliet wanted to see me all fired up, all she had to do was ask. She didn’t need to get my hopes up about getting out of the arena or having her dad stop the Games altogether. She didn’t need to make me think we actually have a chance of winning. The idea begins to fill me with rage. Out of all the people in the Capitol, Juliet has the most sway when it comes to the president because she’s his daughter. She knows that I know this and got me all worked up over nothing just to see me acting a certain way. All of a sudden, I feel like digging my neatly trimmed nails into her skull and shaking it like a rattle in a baby’s hand, but I manage to take a deep breath and conceal my rage under a clipped question, “So, were you just lying about getting your dad to stop the Games?”

Juliet presses a hand to her chest and adamantly shakes her head, “Of course not! I know for a fact that my father wanted to stop the Games, especially after I rallied so hard to get him to agree to stop them if he has the chance, but we didn’t have enough time between the Victory Tour, my father’s trip to the districts, and them opening the last arena as a tourist spot to get him to sign off on canceling the Games. Now the Games have started and there’s no way to call them off.”

“But we aren’t in the arena yet,” I try. “Can’t he just call it off now?”

To my dismay, Juliet shakes her head as she sits on the edge of her bed. “I thought the same thing, but he says that the original decree for the Hunger Games says the Games start once the last chariot is inside the tribute center after the parade, making it impossible to stop the Games once the parade is over and the tributes have been shown off to the people.”

I can’t stop myself from muttering, “That is so fucked up.”

Juliet scoffs, “Tell me about it.”

A knock on the door stops our conversation before we can spew any more hatred toward the Games and the Capitol that created it and Juliet tells whoever it is to come in. As soon as the door opens enough to allow him access, Riven leans against the doorframe with a smirk and laughs, “You look like one of those cake toppers at that ritzy bakery in Pixel Square.”

My middle finger flies high in his direction and Riven chuckles as I tell him, “You’re such an ass.”

“I am, but that’s beside the point,” he shrugs. “I came to let you know that your boyfriend is here with his stylist and mentor. I’m going to train with the three mentors for a while so you guys have time to figure things out.”

As Juliet waves off Riven’s statement and tells him to have fun, I feel a sliver of panic stab at my chest, and the thought of running flashes across the forefront of my brain before I smother it as quickly as possible. If I’m going to be spending the next who knows how long with Royce, I need to grow some balls and act as though being near him doesn’t make me feel like keeling over. Until further notice, we are nothing more than friends who have to act like we’re in love. He doesn’t need to know that I feel anything other than that. I take in a swift breath as Riven sends me an encouraging smile and dips out of the room, closing the door on his way out. The room around me feels much cooler as the tips of my trembling fingers run cold and my impatiently tapping foot feels like I walked barefoot over a frozen lake. There isn’t much time before Royce walks in, but I try to keep myself as level-headed and calm as possible, sipping the bottle of water Juliet had offered me and taking deep breaths to steady myself as I wait for the room to gain two more occupants.

Eventually, the door swings open and Carrie parades into the room with a rolling trunk in one hand and a metal box with her name engraved on it in the other. Royce trails behind in a hoodie and sweatpants, sighing heavily as he has to step over the things Carrie dumps on the floor so she can hug Juliet. I shake my head as the two stylists talk to each other and flit between topics so quickly it makes my head spin. Royce nears me with a smile and looks ready to say something, but I quickly hold up a hand and say, “If you’re going to tell me I look like a cake topper too, you can fuck right off.”

Although his eyebrow quickly rises into the curtain of curls that grace his forehead, Royce chuckles, “I was going to tell you that you look beautiful, but now I want to hear the cake topper story.”

Fighting to cover the blood that rushes to my cheeks, I look down at the embroidered designs that flow down the length of the skirt, running my hands over the soft material and taking in a slow breath before meeting Royce’s gaze with a roll of my eyes. “Riven was being his usual, ass-y self and said I look like something they’d put on a cake in one of the fancy bakeries back in Three, that’s all.” 

Royce shakes his head as his eyes flicker over me and the dress, “You look far too beautiful to be something a baker would shove onto a cake.”

With a breathy laugh, I glance in the mirror on the wall and take in my appearance. It’s a far cry from how I normally look. With my hair held up by Bissette’s stick and Juliet’s dress clinging to the skin I normally keep under loose shirts and baggy sweatpants that are covered in stains from spending too much time in the workshop, it feels as though my reflection isn’t my own. I don’t look like me anymore. “Are you sure we’re looking at the same person?”

“You could wear a trash bag and still look beautiful,” Royce claims. Although I desperately want to believe him, it’s hard to do so when I know what I normally look like. All he’s seen me in are the clothes the Capitol has provided me with and it’s just about the furthest thing from my usual attire. Without the fancy clothes and Juliet’s expert hands making me look like something off the cover of a Capitol magazine, I’m just a techie from District 3 - not the pretty princess that could captivate the country by winking at a camera. I’m brought back to the present as Royce’s smiling reflection offers a hand for me to take. Despite my confusion, I slide my fingers into his waiting palm and he lifts my arm above my head, making me spin in a circle until I find myself facing Royce instead of the mirror.

Peering into Royce’s deep, tawny eyes is like looking into a mug of hot coffee, watching freshly poured cream swirl the rich, dark brown liquid into shades of golden, honey brown, but his gaze doesn’t stay on mine for long as Carrie pipes up that it’s time for Royce to change into something similar to his interview outfit and has to practically drag him off to Juliet’s bathroom so he can put on whatever is in the bag she passes him. Once it’s just me and the two stylists, Carrie takes me by the hand and parades me over to the bed where she deposits me next to where Juliet has settled before dropping into the space on my left. While Juliet seems calm and collected with a mischievous smirk gracing her face, Carrie’s piercing blue eyes have an all-knowing, almost cautionary gleam in them.

“Um, hi,” I hesitantly offer, glancing between the pair of long-term friends as they stare me down.

Carrie is quick and precise, snatching my hand in hers and squeezing it as she quietly informs me, “Royce is my boyfriend’s little brother and, while he and Julie have told me enough about you to make me like you, I don’t want you to hurt him.”

If I wasn’t already confused, I certainly would be now. Royce and I already promised we wouldn’t hurt each other and, while I’m unsure of just how well he intends on keeping that promise, I have no intention of hurting him once we’re in the arena. Before I get the chance to say as much, Juliet cuts in, “Wait, we’re interrogating Vivi?”

Carrie leans forward so she can see Juliet past me, “Yeah, why wouldn’t we be?”

“Because I thought we were doing that to Royce,” Juliet states, a clear look of confusion on her face.

“Why would we interrogate Royce?” Carrie questions.

As though it was the most obvious thing in the world, Juliet answers, “So he knows not to mess with Vivien’s feelings.”

“It’s the other way around,” Carrie claims. “Vivien needs to not mess with Royce’s feelings.”

“Did you see the way she looked at him last night?” Juliet asks Carrie. “She’s the one that’s in love.”

“No, I’m pretty sure it was the other way around,” Carrie insists.

Deciding to put an end to the conversation before it gets any more intense, I pipe up, “Guys, Royce doesn’t like me like that and, as far as he needs to know, I don’t like him that way either.”

Juliet latches onto my statement, dissecting my choice of words with precision as her eyes shine knowingly, “But you do like him?”

Instead of answering, I sigh, “I don’t see how that’s important right now.”

Carrie snatches my face in her hands and stares into my eyes for an almost uncomfortable amount of time before gasping theatrically and looking past me to Juliet, “She totally does!”

Carrie releases my face in favor of taking hold of Juliet’s hands and, with a roll of my eyes, I listen as the blonde stylists fall into a rapid-fire conversation that revolves around my love life. I can’t get a word in, their words batting back and forth like an intense game of Pong, but I hope that Royce can’t hear a word from the bathroom. It’s hard enough knowing that everyone around me somehow could tell that I liked Royce before I knew it myself, but the fact that he could potentially overhear them rambling about it when I have to spend the foreseeable future with him. He could hold something like that over my head in the arena. Today is going to be hard enough, acting as though I don’t already have feelings for him. I don’t need to be constantly scared of him using my feelings as a weapon against me.

Taking in a deep breath, I sigh, “Can we not do this right now?” Thankfully, the conversation drags to a stop as the two blondes turn to me, bright eyes staring into my soul as I mutter, “It’s bad enough that we have to go into the arena the day after tomorrow, but this is only making it harder for me to think about the possibility of him getting hurt.”

For once, silence fills the air as Juliet and Carrie turn to each other in quiet contemplation. My chest clenches at the idea of either of the people I’ve formed a bond with getting hurt… or worse. Riven has been like another brother to me for years now - the thought of losing him is enough to make my eyes sting. He helped me learn the ins and outs of our lab, showing me the secret tunnels that lead from the janitorial closet to almost anywhere in the building, teaching me how to hack into other workers’ computers to force them to play games with me, and showing me how to override the monitoring drones so they’ll bring us snacks and drinks whenever we want. Riven has gotten me out of trouble more than once. He’s a very selfless person. Even when his dad passed away, he was still looking out for others and putting their needs and emotions before his own. When Mick died in the arena, he was the one I ran to first. After that, I spent most of my time in the lab, working until I passed out at my computer. Riven had to carry me home from work on more than one occasion, letting me crash at his place from time to time since it was far closer than my family’s house. He has always been there for me and I don’t know what I would do without him. 

Then there’s Royce. Our first meeting was an accident, in a way. I was using a radio Mick had given me, trying to find a way to communicate with Mick’s parents, to see if maybe they had gotten her out of the arena ahead of time, but instead, I found Royce’s signal. He and his younger brother - Bentley, as he had told me many times - were trying to find Miles just as desperately as I was to find Mick or her parents. I wrote down his frequency on my hand and talked with him for a few hours on the first day alone. We both clung to the idea of having a friend in a similar situation as us. We talked almost every day for a while until Mick’s parents came home. I broke that day, spewing out things I don’t remember saying, but when they told me later, in private, that Mick was alive and they were going to be working on a way to find her, I knew I had to help them in some way. After that, I practically lived on the radio, talking with Royce and Bentley about possibilities and working with them to check every possible frequency for our missing loved ones. However, once everything calmed and our families were reunited, my conversations with Royce grew further and further apart before becoming practically nonexistent. Now, here we are, pretending we’re in love and hoping the Capitol won’t force us to kill each other in the arena. 

My thoughts are pushed aside as both of my hands are taken by the blondes on either side of me. Carrie’s intense blue eyes have softened drastically as she says, “It’s like Romeo and Juliet.”

“What’s that?” I ask.

Juliet is the one to answer, “It’s a book I was named after. It’s a love story where two teenagers from opposing families fall in love, but they both end up dead at the end.”

My head quickly whips to Carrie with wide eyes, but she quickly smiles and reassures me, “I just meant that you’re both from opposing districts and you’re falling in love, I didn’t mean you’ll both end up dying.”

“Let’s hope not,” I sigh.

“You won’t,” Juliet claims, patting my hand with a grin. “Besides, if it comes down to it, my dad used to be the Head Gamemaker and I remember him saying that he always makes sure there’s an escape exit somewhere in the Games. If you’re able to find it, you could use it to make sure all three of you make it out safely.”

“Do you have any idea where it would be?” I ask.

Juliet shakes her head, “I wish I did, but I do know what the arena will be.”

“What is it?” Carrie quickly presses.

Juliet glances at the bathroom door and stands as she says, “We should wait for Royce to join us before I say. For now, let’s see your model walk, Vivien.” She gestures for me to join her and I push myself to my feet, allowing her to position me where she wants me. She adjusts my shoulders so they’re rolled back and tilts my chin up slightly before telling me to walk to the far side of the room and back. By the time I’m back by her side, Royce is opening the door to the bathroom and flicking off the light. As soon as he enters the room, Juliet tells us that the new arena is set to be a cruise ship somewhere in the ocean and I try to look surprised about the news despite already knowing. Carrie discusses that it feels more geared toward District 4, being on the water and all, but it feels like fair game to me. I know that most ships, at least the ones going across the lake back home, operate on tech alone and only need a captain if they’re going over dangerous waters. If Riven and I can find a way into the ship’s operating system like Mick and Miles did with the security system in the last arena, we can make it a far more even playing field.

After a while of discussion, Carrie stands and starts working with Royce on his posture and we start going back to practicing for our interviews. It doesn’t take long for us to begin correcting ourselves before the two stylists get the chance to, and once they decide we’re ready, they begin working with us on how to play off of each other. Since Royce will be going after me in the interviews, he has to play up certain aspects that I touch on in order to really sell our faux romance. It’s easy to answer mock questions from Juliet and Carrie about my home life and how I must feel now that I’ve been reaped after Mick tried so hard to save me from the horrors of the arena. It feels almost natural.

Then, to my dismay, Carrie asks a question that I could potentially get from Caesar Flickerman himself, but I hope I don’t, “A certain little birdie tells me that someone has caught your eye since your arrival here in the Capitol. Could we maybe hear a little about that?”

I try not to stiffen as I catch Royce becoming almost as rigid as a statue out of the corner of my eye. Instead, I suck in a quick breath and smile as I reply, “Well, I don’t want to say too much as I’m sure he doesn’t quite feel the same way I do just yet.”

“You never know,” Juliet tacks on. “Perhaps he cares just as much.”

Nodding hesitantly, I allow my smile to turn into a more shy, reserved grin as I sigh, “Sadly, I don’t think it will matter after tomorrow.”

“If you win the Games for him and come back to the Capitol as a victor, he’ll have no choice but to fight half of the young men and women in this country for a chance at your hand,” Carrie tries, a thinly veiled sentiment in her words that doesn’t take me long to figure out. She’s baiting me. Carrie, of all people, would know just how many people throw themselves at someone just because they’re famous. She wants to see how devoted I am to my potential relationship with Royce.

I meet her gaze with saddened, truthful eyes and shake my head, “I wish it was that simple, but you see… he’s going into the arena as well.”

All at once, my mini-interview comes to a close as the two stylists cheer for how well I’ve convinced them of my acting. They both tell me how proud they are of me and how gracefully I’ve handled their pestering questions before telling me that I should be all set for my interview, so long as I’m ready for Caesar to throw in some questions, begging me to tell him who the mystery tribute is since I’ll be making it obvious that it isn’t Riven. Carrie mentions that Royce will have to pick up wherever I’ve left off, bouncing into the hopeful romance after his backstory segment has passed. Before long, I’m ushered to sit as Royce is pulled to fill my place, standing with them in the spot I had vacated and staring off into space as they begin to repeat the process with him. It takes him a while to snap out of whatever thoughts are clouding his mind, but once he’s back to normal, the process flows quite easily. Royce gets the hang of teetering off of what answers I had given in my mock interview pretty easily. Clearly, memory was something of a strong suit for him. We take a break for lunch after Royce’s work is done, changing back into the comfortable clothes we had worn into the room before making our way to the dining room where Royce’s mentor, Butchy, is sitting with Riven, Mack, and Brady and a buffet of foods has been set out for everyone.

When we finish eating, Royce, Riven, and I are ushered to the living room by our mentors while our stylists take off to pick up our interview outfits so they can tailor them before the end of the day. Our mentors don’t have much to do now that Juliet and Carrie have figured out what our interview personalities will be and Riven already has no intention of being anything other than the protective, but humorous idiot he is, so they turn it into a bit of a questionnaire instead. Their first questions revolve around the sponsors and what they could give us that would be beneficial. 

“Weapons would be helpful in any scenario,” Riven claims, sending me a smirk. “Very helpful if you send some knives to Vivien here.”

“Fuck you,” I say with a roll of my eyes.

Royce is quick to grin and add to Riven’s statement, “Yeah, especially if there are any wine bottles in the arena.”

“Oh, haha,” I say blandly. “Fuck you too.”

They both laugh as though they had shared the most hilarious joke known to mankind, but I find it hard to not at least smile along. After a while, Royce brings up the arena being a ship and it seems as though none of our mentors knew. I’m surprised at least Butchy doesn’t know already since I had told Kona already, but I guess she did promise not to tell anybody about it, so I suppose I shouldn't be too shocked. Mack and Brady talk it over with Butchy for a while, discussing the options they now have since they have the advantage of knowing the arena ahead of time. In the end, they ask us how we know, but when we tell them our source, they seem to accept that what we’ve told them is true. We spend maybe an hour talking about the potential routes we could take in the Games before the stylists come back and we go our separate ways. Carrie and Butchy take Royce back to his floor to change and get his outfit sorted out for tomorrow while Topaz whisks Riven off to his room to tailor his suit for the interviews and Juliet pulls me back to her room to get into the dress I have yet to see.

Once we’re in the privacy of her room, Juliet strips me of my dignity and covers my eyes with a blindfold before slipping me into a dress that I’m not allowed to see until tomorrow. All I feel is the silky fabric of the inside of the dress on my skin and the weight of the dress as it settles onto my body. The dress is held up by thick straps that cling to my upper arms and is closed against my spine with strings that are tied into a bow at my tailbone. Juliet hums to herself as she works with the dress, softly singing songs to herself that I’ve never heard before. When she deems her work done, she helps me into the shoes I’ll be wearing. Thankfully, the heels aren’t nearly as high as the ones I had seen Juliet wearing, but they’re not exactly flat on the floor either. I could wear them, but probably not for long.

I feel Juliet move away before she asks, “How does it feel? Too tight? Too loose?”

After taking a few steps and cautiously sitting on the edge of Juliet’s bed, I shake my head and stand. “It feels perfect.”

I can practically hear the beaming smile in her voice as she says, “I have to say, you look stunning.”

“I wouldn’t know,” I joke, waving a hand in front of my covered eyes.

Juliet lets out a snort that I never recall hearing before and she takes my hands in hers, “Well, let me just say, you glimmer like a freshly polished jewel, and I, of all people, would know what that looks like.”

There’s no way for me to tell if what she’s saying is the truth, but I suppose I’ll find out tomorrow, so I thank her all the same. Juliet helps me out of the dress and hides it somewhere in the room before telling me to take my blindfold off and change back into the clothes I had worn earlier. Once we’re both ready, we head down to the living room where Mack and Brady are sitting almost as though they’ve been waiting for us. They don’t say much to us other than expressing their gratitude for telling them about the arena, but I can tell they have something else on their minds that they don’t tell us. We wait for Riven and his stylist to come join us before ordering food for dinner. We take our time eating and talking, none of us really wanting to leave the table and call it a night. At least we’ll get tomorrow night to spend with each other before we’re sent into the arena. After dinner, we take a few hours enjoying each other's company in the living room before retiring to our rooms, but Mack and Brady stop by my room, wishing me a good night and telling me to try to get as much sleep as possible before going to their own room.

I stare at the ceiling for a while, waiting to hear something, anything from Mick since she had said she’d get up early today, yet hasn’t said a word to me since last night. For a long time, all I hear is silence, but just as I’m about to take the glasses from my face and force myself to sleep, I hear heaving breaths followed by a panted, “Viv, are you still up?”

“I am,” I tell her. “Where were you today?”

“Training the rugrats,” Mick sighs heavily, trying to catch her breath. “They woke me up at the ass-crack of dawn so I could teach them everything I’ve taught you. Abby said something about you telling them to ask me, but they sure as hell didn’t ask. It was more like they demanded.”

I suppose I had told them to ask her at our meeting, but I didn’t think it would take them this long to get the question across. Oliver absolutely would have either procrastinated asking or been too nervous to do so, but Abby has always been one to want to know everything, so I figured she would have asked Mick the day I left. Maybe my leaving hit them harder than I thought it would. I bet Mick is exhausted from them pestering her all day. I can almost imagine her laying back against my mattress, staring out the window at the starry sky as she tries to let the tension release from her muscles. “How did it go?”

“Good,” she breathes. “They were eager to learn once they loosened up a bit. I’m just relieved my parents and I got you this new mattress last year. My body took a beating today with those little terrors and it feels like I’m resting on a cloud right now.”

If there’s one thing I love about Mick, it’s that she’s always been predictable. Predictable, stubborn, clingy, selfless, strong, open-minded, caring, sentimental, and sappy. Mick is an open book and I love that about her. She’s the closest thing I have to an older sister and she knows I look up to her just as much as she cares about me. I’m going to miss her. I smile up at the ceiling as I sigh, “Well, I guess that means you’re working really well with them.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” she chuckles. “I’m exhausted.”

“Me too,” I tell her.

“How did everything go? I haven’t rewatched the footage yet.”

“Great,” I say with surprising confidence. “I actually feel ready for the interviews.”

“Good,” Mick breathes. “I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks, Mickie.”

“Anytime, gremlin child,” Mick says, a smile detectable in her voice. “Now, tell me all about the day you’ve had.”

So I do. I tell her everything that happened during the day and she talks me out of the rising stress and anxiety that settles in my chest by telling me all about how everyone back home is doing. It takes a while of talking and exchanging stories for me to feel the exhaustion of the day and, more than once, Mick has to remind me to take my glasses off despite my insistence that I’m not tired. Eventually, she tells me off for still having the glasses on and bids me sweet dreams before I take the glasses off and set them aside for the night. I fall asleep before I can even think of anything to keep me awake and, when I’m awakened, it isn’t by Riven flopping on my bed, Mick screeching over the glasses that I’ve overslept, or Halo rapping on the door. Instead, Juliet is pushing the curtains away from the window while the prep team fawns over my slumbering form.

My anxiety from last night begins to build as they pry me from my blankets and begin working on making me look pretty. Maybe, if they work hard enough, they’ll make me look so good that nobody will care about the nonsense that will tumble from my mouth so fast nobody can make out a word. Juliet does her best to keep me calm, softly chatting with me while the others do what they came here for. We only take two breaks - one for breakfast that I hastily scarf down while Gleam works on detangling my hair, and another when lunch rolls around. My team works on me until the late afternoon, turning my skin into glowing satin, painting all of my nails with intricate designs, and stenciling glimmering patterns on my arms that I only notice during lunch when I first bring a fork to my mouth.

I try to decipher what color my dress will be by the shimmering strands that Ambrosia helps Gleam weave into my hair, but as more colors are added and more tiny braids are formed, I give up and allow them to work while they gab with me. The braids are twisted from behind my ears into a crown around my skull and pinned at the nape of my neck while my bangs brush my eyebrows and the rest of my hair drapes across my back and shoulders. The colorful strands they’ve added to my hair only show when I move, which I surmise is the theme of the outfit I’ll be wearing if the hair and glimmering patterns on my skin are anything to go by. Much like how Riven and Mick’s dad tuck pencils behind theirs and just forget they put them there in the first place, I worry that I’ll forget Bissette’s hair stick once it’s shoved into place above where my glasses will sit, tangled into the braids that nest there. Once they deem themselves done with my hair, the prep team erase my face with a thin layer of makeup before drawing my features back out with different colors. The gold around my eyes makes them stand out more than they already do, the false lashes they attach to my already lengthy ones reflect light when I blink, much like the party ball Mick has hanging in her bedroom window, and the pale pink they line my lips with is much like my natural color, only with a shine to it that catches the light in a way I could never achieve no matter how often I lick my lips. To top it all off, they cover me in a sheen of golden dust that matches the shine of Bissette’s stick and the glitter by my eyes.

Then, Juliet comes in with my dress still disguised by a lengthy black sheet. With a smile, she orders, “Close your eyes.”

With a smile and a roll of my eyes, I do as I’m told, waiting for the silken fabric and the weight of the dress to fall on the straps that settle just a few inches off my shoulder. I take Mink’s hand as I step into my shoes and feel the fabric of the dress shift around as the others adjust it to my new height. I try not to jump as something cold graces my neck and is clasped under my hair, but Ambrosia giggles and tells me it’s only the necklace my mom had given me before my departure from District 3. I hear the rustling of fabric and feel the dress move as they make their final adjustments, then the room is silent and it almost feels like a room of children who know they did something wrong and are trying to cover it up. Before I get the chance to question them, Juliet takes my hand, turns me to the side ever so slightly, slides my glasses into place, and tells me that I can finally open my eyes.

When I do, I’m taken aback by the creature before me. Although it still looks like me facially, everything else looks like it came from some other world where skin glows, eyes shine like gemstones, and they make their clothing from only the finest jewels. My crown of shimmering hair makes me look almost like the pictures of ancient goddesses I had read about in a book years ago. The silken, emerald dress I’ve been laced into drapes over my body like a satin curtain, the straps on my arms crossing across my chest and weaving together at my waist. From where the bodice meets the skirt, fabric flows to the floor in a circle around me. The skirt is made of long, thick pleats that drape around me with tiny, glittering gemstones weaving intricate patterns down to the floor. I swing my hips from one side to the other, watching as the dress comes to life and a shine of rainbow color sprawls across the once emerald fabric, illuminating it like the flicker of a hologram.

Turning to Juliet with wide, excited eyes, I watch as she beams back at me and softly says, “Spin for me, Vivien.”

Much like I would on the icy ponds back home during the winter months, I tuck my arms close to my chest and spin, quickly bringing my gaze back to the mirror as the dress comes alive before us all. I look at Juliet through the mirror and whisper, “It’s gorgeous.”

“Yes, you are,” she says in return, placing a hand in mine as she comes into view. “It isn’t the dress or the hair that makes you beautiful - you already were.”

Once she sees my expression shift and I suck in a sharp breath, Juliet dismisses the prep team by thanking them for all of their assistance and telling them they did a great job. I thank them in kind, awkwardly accepting their air kisses to each of my cheeks and the praise I definitely doubt I deserve. As soon as they leave and the door shuts behind them, Juliet cups my face in her hands and tells me to breathe. “How?” I manage to squeak out. 

“You’ll be fine,” she says softly.

“I don’t do well with crowds,” I tell her. “I’m going to trip or something stupid like that and make a complete fool of myself in front of the entire country.”

“No, you won’t,” Juliet says firmly, taking my minutely trembling hands in her warm ones. “You just have to act like everyone you see out there is a friend of yours. Someone like Riven who you aren’t afraid to joke around with.”

I can’t look back at Riven during my interview. The cameras would be focused on the back of my head if I did. I can’t exactly look at Mick’s parents, either. They’ll be off to the side of the stage I can’t see. The only people I’ll be able to see apart from the crowd of spectators are the stylists and Caesar himself. I find Juliet’s calm, collected eyes and softly ask, “You told me the day we met that we’re friends, right?”

Julilet grins, “I did. We are.”

“Can I look to you when I need it?”

Without a moment of hesitation, Juliet beams and nods emphatically, “Of course. I’ll be on the main platform with all of the other stylists. You’ll be able to find me pretty easily, so find me when you need me.”

I nod, but there isn’t much more I can say as Mack comes to the door and tells us that we have to go. At least I have a plan, more or less. I suppose it’s more of a straw to grasp at, but it’s something and I’m more than alright with that. We meet the rest of our district crew by the elevator and I see just how dressed up everyone is. Riven’s stylist, Topaz, has been hard at work making Riven look like someone other than the mountainous dork he is. His hair is neatly styled - something I had never seen before - and the emerald suit with glimmering designs threaded into it changes his eyes from hazel to a shade of green. Although I would never tell Riven that he looks anything more than halfway decent, I bet he could probably pick any woman out of the crowd if he wanted to. He looks incredible all dressed up like that. I wish I could have seen him like this for a different reason.

The look in Riven’s eyes tells me he’s thinking something similar, and his dig of, “Look what someone scrubbed off the shower wall,” is filled with just as much fondness as my taunt of, “Says the walking green bean.” As soon as we’re close enough, Riven pulls me to him and keeps me close enough that I can faintly hear the beating of his heart under the suit and its many layers. We’re separated by the elevator dinging its arrival, but Riven clutches onto my hand before I can even think about boarding without him. If his mind is racing as much as mine is, he doesn’t let it show. Riven is steady and sturdy like a concrete wall while I’m fluttering like the invasive ivy leaves that grow on that wall, clingy and shaking with the slightest breeze. Once the elevator opens, our group goes its separate ways. Juliet and Topaz head for their designated waiting area where they’ll be introduced with the other stylists for the Games. Mack and Brady stay back long enough to give us both tight squeezes before leaving, but only I earn a kiss on the forehead from both of them which Riven doesn’t seem to mind missing out on.

Some of the other tributes have arrived before us, but almost none of them pay us any mind. Before we get the chance to evade them, Jade and Erica come to pay us a visit. Jade, unlike her namesake, is in a nearly see-through, holographic gown that catches the light like a diamond. Her hair has been touched up with a ring of sparkles clinging to every strand like a halo, but her previously jaw-length hair has been flipped to one side and shaved on the other. It suits her. Erica, on the other hand, looks as though she can’t wait to tear off her pale blue dress. Her hair has been pulled back and curled into tight ringlets and every step she takes seems to require her to tug at the bust of the dress so it will actually cover her.

“You two look great,” Erica says as she hitches up the front of her dress once more.

Riven nods deeply as I softly say, “Thank you.”

Jade hums, “With those outfits, you almost look like siblings.”

“It’s not the first time we’ve heard that,” Riven chuckles.

“I bet,” Erica says with a smile.

Although she doesn’t seem to mind the little bit of small talk we’ve had with her, Jade decides to get straight to the point, “We don’t have much time to talk before tomorrow, but we’ve made some observations we figured we’d clue you into before the Games start.”

I peer up at Riven and find him nodding their way. To my surprise, he says, “Anything could be helpful, I suppose.” 

For someone who seemed so against us teaming with the trio of girls, Riven seems to have put that aside for the sake of learning something useful. Although I have to say, It could just be a ruse. You never know with him. I turn to the girls and smile, “Yeah, what do you know?”

“Don’t trust Five,” Jade states quickly, quietly. “I know they’re usually close with your district, but they were talking about how to skin people when I got to training on day one.”

“Also,” Erica begins, “the girl from Four is very good with knife-throwing, but she doesn’t know when to keep her mouth shut. She tried to join us, but we turned her down after she tried to badmouth you guys. I wouldn’t be surprised if she has it out for you after you told her off.”

“Most of the Careers are shitty this year and she’s one of them,” Jade shrugs. “I wouldn’t exactly call her a threat. If anything, she’s a minor inconvenience that probably won’t make it out of the bloodbath.”

“That’s reassuring,” I hesitantly offer. “The fewer targets we have on our backs, the better.”

Riven hums thoughtfully, “I overheard the pair from Twelve and they don’t seem very optimistic.”

“When do they?” Erica shrugs. “With lower districts like mine and theirs, the chances of getting sponsors are slim to none, but they also have a terrible mentor, so I guess their morale is very low anyway.”

Before Jade has the chance to add anything to the conversation, she’s called over to line up by the wall. She turns back to us with a grin and says, “Guess I’ll see you guys in the arena tomorrow.”

“Guess so,” I say with a nod.

“Well, good luck,” she tells us, allowing the rest of us to wish her the same before she takes off.

Erica turns to us as soon as Jade is far enough away and whispers, “I don’t want to be all negative and shit, but be careful with Lexi around. She seems nice and all, but there’s something about her that just doesn’t feel right.”

“Why are you teaming up with her, then?” Riven asks.

Erica nods back toward Jade, “Jade trusts her, so I’m trying to put it aside, but I’m not one to ignore my intuition, so I figured I would warn you both just in case. There’s just something… off about her and I don’t know what it is, but she’s skilled with an ax and doesn’t seem to care about what happens to herself in the arena. In my opinion, that makes her more deadly.”

She’s right; if someone acts like they have nothing left to lose in the arena, they could be a lethal force to reckon with. Riven and I thank Erica for her advice as we’re called over to the line they’ve created on the side of the stage. Erica nods in return and wishes us good luck before disappearing over to where the boy from her district is waiting. By the time the other districts have joined the line, I’ve calmed down significantly but I’m not entirely sure I haven’t already turned numb. This is my last day of freedom and I’m spending it smiling like an idiot for the cameras and playing the lovesick fool that I am for the entire nation. I don’t feel the rage I’ve previously directed toward the Capitol, the spiking fear of embarrassing myself in front of everyone, or the panic at the idea of everyone back home taking one look at me all dressed up like this and ranting about what a little doll I’ve become - an empty-headed plaything for the Capitol’s finest assholes. Instead, all I feel is the desire for this night to be over with. Thankfully, it won’t take long before it’s my turn with Caesar, but then I‘ll have to sit through everyone else’s sob stories and the characters that have been created for themselves while I sit there looking like a husk of myself.

As the tributes in front of us begin to move, Riven squeezes my hand and whispers, “You’ve got this, Pip.”

At first, it feels as though he’s trying to reassure himself more than he is me, but the sincerity in his voice and the firmness in his grasp soothe me all the same. Maybe he’s right. Maybe I won’t make a fool out of myself on stage. With Riven by my side, I should be able to make it through the night and play my part for the cameras. It won’t be hard to act like I’m head-over-heels in love with Royce - I already am. None of Caesar’s questions will make a difference as long as I play my cards right. Royce will play his part long after I do and I’m sure he can handle himself better than I can.

As I take my seat and watch as the others file in, I hear Mick for the first time today, “We’re all here watching, Viv. You look incredible.” I grin at the nearest camera and hum in acknowledgment. “Good job. All of Three is rooting for you two tonight. Just remember to breathe.”

As Caesar makes an appearance, earning the crowd’s attention in his pale pink suit and matching hair, I hear my family distantly cheer in my earpieces that they see me in the background. For a moment, it feels as though they’re right behind me, encouraging me, but I’m snapped back to reality as Caesar begins chatting up the crowd. Riven’s thumb presses into the back of my hand as I take in a deep breath. My entire family may not be here, but Riven is and, even though he doesn’t share my blood, he is my brother and I can tell he’s just as nervous as I was earlier. I’ve gotten numb to it now, but he’s only just starting to feel anxious. I know I can’t help Riven relax much before it’s my turn to take center stage, but I know my performance will take the Capitol’s eyes off of him, so I give his hand a squeeze and send him what I hope he takes as a comforting smile before turning my attention to my surroundings.

Despite the moon glowing brightly in the sky, the City Circle is brighter than a summer’s day. An elevated seating area has been set up for the more prestigious guests with the stylists commanding the front row. Juliet and Carrie are sitting shoulder-to-shoulder and can probably be seen from space with how bright their outfits are. A large building to the right of the stage where the Gamemakers sit on a balcony. I wonder if they still despise me for ruining their drinking session. Television crews have claimed the other balconies, but there are a few cameras pointed our way from the ground, making it easier to tell which ones are pointed my way. Crowds have filled not only the City Circle, but also the streets that feed into it. Everyone across the country is watching us. People will be filling community centers, schools, and old stadiums to watch the show on whatever screens are available. We’ll be broadcasting live to all of our friends and families back home. I hope they enjoy the show.

With only four people ahead of me, I don’t get much time to think. Caesar calls Jade to the stage and I pay little attention as she plays up her sly, observational behavior. Her fellow tribute, Onyx Cutter, has about as much personality as a cinder block; his entire personality hinging on the fact that he’s big and strong. Obviously, he worked more on his muscles than he ever did on his knowledge. It feels like forever before his buzzer finally goes off, but it takes even longer when the brainless pair of rocks from District 2 take to the stage. Collectively, they might have the same intellectual level as a goldfish, but only like the little cheese crackers, not the fish. Comparing them to fish would be an insult to the fish. Neither one of them seems to have much of a plan for the Games other than getting stuff from the Cornucopia and staying with the rest of the Careers, but some of the crowd cheers for them all the same.

Before I know it, they’re calling my name and I have to pry my hand out from Riven’s clutches in order to meet Caesar at center stage. I shake his outstretched hand and he beams brightly my way as he begins the interview, “So, Vivien, it must be very interesting to come to the Capitol and see some of the technology from home. Have you found anything interesting here so far?”

This isn’t what I was prepared for, but I have to laugh, “Well, I was certainly surprised when I found out the mirrors in the bathrooms here have televisions built inside them!”

I’m not too surprised when the crowd roars with laughter, but I see Juliet and Carrie smiling my way when I glance in their direction. Caesar laughs, “Oh, I’m sure that was quite the surprise!”

“I’ll say!” I chuckle.

Caesar’s smile feels more genuine, more friendly, as he says, “Now, Vivien, I must say, when I saw you and Riven in the opening ceremony, my jaw was on the floor. You two were glowing brighter than the stars! How did it feel?”

I don’t bother hiding the hesitance in my smile. With any luck, it will earn me the Capitol’s favor. “Once I got over feeling like I was going to fall out of the chariot, it felt amazing.”

This earns me another round of laughter from the crowd. Good, I’m winning them over. Caesar chuckles, “Well, you certainly didn’t show it.”

“I read a lot about it in the letters Makana had written for me last year,” I mention solemnly. “I suppose she prepared me for it in a way.”

Caesar takes my hand in his again and his voice takes on a much more serious tone, “Ah, yes, Makana Birch. The young lady who volunteered in your stead last year. Even though we all love Miss Kona Birr, I know quite a few people were a little disappointed when it was found that Makana was not last year’s victor.”

“I know I was,” I mutter just enough for the microphone to pick up my trembling voice. Faintly, I hear Mick telling me to lay it on thick and I press a hand to my chest as I take in a shuddering breath and allow my eyes to water as they’ve wanted to for days now.

“Oh, you poor thing.” Caesar’s hand releases mine and he wraps the arm around my shoulders, but still allows the cameras to catch my every emotion in full display. “Now, you said you had letters from her? What did they say?”

“Most of them were just her getting out her thoughts and telling me how much she wished I was there with her,” I tell Caesar, “but a few of them told me about how she fell in love with this place and the people in it. Now that I’m here for myself, I see what she meant.”

“How so?” Caesar asks, sounding genuinely intrigued by my statement.

As I delicately swipe a finger under my eyes, careful not to knock my glasses off as I glance at Juliet and Carrie who nod discretely. “You see, Caesar, I think I’ve fallen in love just the same way Makana did.”

“How is that?” he presses as he shifts back enough to see me again. “With this city or with the people?”

I find it in me to chuckle softly, “A bit of both, actually. This city is amazing and so much more magical than I thought it would be, but I think there’s one person in particular who I have developed feelings for even though I shouldn’t.”

People in the crowd gasp at the idea of a forbidden romance with a tribute and I hear pockets of murmured guesses fluttering through the masses as Caesar moves so he’s grasping my hand once more. “A secret romance?” he gasps. “Do tell!”

“Well,” I begin, reciting what I had said in practice with Juliet and Carrie, “I don’t want to say too much as I’m sure he doesn’t quite feel the same way I do just yet.”

“How could anyone not adore a gorgeous young lady such as yourself?” Caesar asks rhetorically. “I bet, if you tell him now, he’ll have no choice but to fight hordes of men and women for your hand once you come out of the arena.”

I spare a quick glance over my shoulder toward where Royce is sitting before turning back to Caesar with a saddened gaze, “Sadly, I don’t think it will matter much once I go into the arena.”

Caesar’s eyes seem to widen as though he’s caught on to what I’ve said and it seems like some of the crowd has as well as they let out shocked gasps. However, this is Caesar’s stage and, as much as I’m sure the crowd wishes they could pester me for more information, Caesar asks, “Could it be that he is the one who volunteered in place of your younger brother?”

“Riven is more of a brother to me than anything,” I softly tell Caesar with a shake of my head. I quickly force my eyes to shine with saddened truth as I add, “But you are right in guessing that he’s going into the arena as well.” I hear gasps of shock and shouts from the audience encouraging me to let them know who the mystery tribute could be, so I quickly gush to them the way Juliet encouraged me to, spilling my heart out like a leaky faucet and keying everyone into exactly who the person is. “You see, he’s just so sweet and kind, and we got along so well in training that I got attached really quickly. We’ve been spending a lot of time talking about our families and we have a lot in common, especially with how we’re going through a lot of the same mental games with being reaped again and not having anyone to volunteer for us, but-”

As the crowd gasps as they piece together who I’m talking about, I make a show of my eyes widening in shock as I cover my mouth with a quivering hand, acting as though I wasn’t meant to spill my guts to the crowds of people all over Panem. As the buzzer goes off, telling everyone that my turn is now over, Caesar tries to diffuse the roaring crowds, but his gentle words fall on deaf ears and he has to work to encourage them to quiet down. Once they’ve calmed enough, Caesar wishes me the best of luck and I slowly make my way back to my seat as the cameras in the area follow my stumbling steps and focus on both my face and Royce's. Riven rises from his seat and takes me into his arms once I’m close enough and whispers words of encouragement to me before pulling off his suit jacket and bringing it around my shoulders. He softly asks if I’m alright once I’m seated and I hesitantly nod, encouraging him to make his way to where he’ll spend the next few minutes. If anything I should comfort Riven, it’s the fact that I’ve effectively taken all the attention off of him. 

I’m still in a daze through the first part of Riven’s interview, but I know that he has the crowd enraptured from the get-go. He takes full advantage of his role as the protective older brother, mentioning his recent orphan status for sympathy and talking about his bond with me and my siblings to make the crowd fawn over him. Once I come back into focus, I realize Riven is telling funny anecdotes about the animals he’s taken in, specifically a story about Noodle the snake and his feline companion, Chip, who liked to carry Noodle around in his mouth like a toy which the snake actually seemed to enjoy. Every story earns Riven roaring laughter or fawning sighs from the audience who seem to cling to his every word. I have to smile at just how enthralled Riven has made the citizens of the Capitol. He had always been a great storyteller. By the time the buzzer tells everyone that Riven’s turn is done, the crowd is in love with him and seems distraught at the thought of him leaving so soon. However, Riven gives a theatrical bow that encourages the crowd lining the streets to cheer for him as he turns to Caesar and shakes his hand once more before returning to his seat.

Riven smiles the entire way back to his seat before collapsing into the chair next to me and taking my hand back in his as Serena from District 4 takes her place with Caesar. “How did I do?” Riven asks under his breath.

“Incredible,” I whisper to him.

Riven turns to me with a nervous, tilted grin, “I don’t remember a word I just said.”

“Neither do I,” I giggle softly. Riven finally seems to relax as I smile his way and sigh, “I guess we’ll have to find out from the others how we did.”

“I guess so,” he chuckles. “I think you took most of the attention off of me, though.”

“Then you went and made them all fall in love with you,” I tease slyly. “You’ll be fighting off everyone in the Capitol with a stick when we get back.”

“You say that as though you won’t.”

“I won’t.” 

“Bullshit.” I meet Riven’s gaze, but he shakes his head before I can argue with him and quickly adds, “Royce’s eyes have hardly left you since he first saw you and I can spot many others in the crowd who have yet to look away. You are all anyone is going to talk about for a while to come.”

“I don’t see it,” I tell him with a shrug as the buzzer goes off once again.

“You will soon enough,” he mutters under his breath. I don’t get the chance to question Riven further as Serena makes her way back to her seat, sending me a squinted glare as she passes my seat. After fighting the urge to lunge across Riven and deck the redhead in her prissy, poodle-like face, I force myself to rest my head against Riven’s arm and watch the other tributes as they go through their interviews. 

The male tribute from 4, Weddell Black, nearly falls off the stage in a drunken daze before cackling proudly about things nobody seems able to decipher and practically collapsing on the stage in a puddle of his own vomit and drool that takes a while to clean while Weddell is hauled off the stage, presumably to sober up. The pair from five, Volt and Elektra, seem far more ruthless than the Careers this year, but their sullen and hostile approach to the questions Caesar tried to give them does nothing for the crowd who seems just as uninterested with the tributes as the tributes are with them. I’ll be the first to admit I’m not entirely worried about them in the arena since it’s unlikely they’ll gain enough favor for sponsors, but they sound lethal enough to put on my list of people to be careful of if the time comes. Lotus Cooper is next and, although she’s very meek and softspoken, her answers to Caesar flow easily and lightly. She didn’t do much in training - keeping to herself at the stations nobody else occupied like fire-starting, knot-tying, and camouflage - but it’s the unassuming ones you have to watch out for sometimes. Lotus finishes her interview with patience and grace, thanking Caesar for his time before returning to her seat. 

As Royce’s name is called, my head rises from its place against Riven and I watch as he glides to center stage and takes his place beside Caesar. Most of his conversation hinges on his attachment to his brothers and how it feels to take the place Miles had been in the year before. I know being asked such questions must be just as hard for him as it was for me, but he handles everything so well that I almost forget what’s to come. My earlier answers will no doubt bring his interview into uncertain territory, forcing him to answer questions about the feelings of a girl he barely knows and expecting him to be fine with it. As Caeser begins questioning Royce on how he felt hearing those words from me, I feel Riven’s grasp tighten on my hand as my gaze falls to my lap.

“I was certainly surprised at first,” Royce answers calmly. I hear the hesitation in his tone. He wants to say something more, but won’t. Why? I’ve put him in this uncomfortable position of faking feelings for me, he should be able to either keep going or stop it altogether. He has the option, the opportunity to either publicly turn away my affection and claim he doesn’t see me that way if he so desires. Just rip off the bandage, Royce. I’ll be fine. 

Caesar chuckles somewhat nervously, “Why am I hearing a ‘but’ in there somewhere?”

“Well, I guess I’m just so relieved Vivien feels the way she does,” Royce states. “I’ve been wanting to ask her out since I first ran into her at the Remake Center, but I just didn’t think that, with everything going on, she would want to.”

Even if his words are some made-up story to make our little love story plausible to the Capitol, my head still snaps up to find Royce and I meet his caramel gaze for the first time since the topic first came up. His shy smile and beet-red face make his words feel that much more real and I feel my heart sink and soar at the same time. I have to remind myself that Royce doesn’t actually feel that way toward me and that he’s just putting on an act for the Capitol. As he continues to ramble on with Caesar, Royce blabbers about his feelings and how complicated it could be, especially in the arena. As the buzzer sounds once again and Royce returns to his seat, sending me a quick glance on his way, I allow my emotions to show through - surprise in my gaping mouth, realization in my widened, flickering eyes, and embarrassment in my blushed cheeks. As Royce sits and Caesar talks to the crowd about the situation at hand, I try to play the part of the shocked, saddened little girl. As I think of how ridiculous this whole thing is, the reality of our situation hits me like a smack in the face. We’ll be in the arena tomorrow. All this time, I’ve been worried about my interview and my feelings for the people around me. My feelings will mean nothing inside the arena. Tomorrow could very well be the last day I spend on this earth and I’m stuck spending it with my emotions on full display for the nation to see. I hope they can’t easily decipher the fear in my eyes as I come to realize that I’ll most likely be in a wooden box on the way back to District 3 by the end of the week.

[notebookmusical]

Hi! I'm so glad you had fun! Oh that's so interesting about your accent. I've heard about people losing their accent. It actually reminds me a little bit of Taylors country accent and if it was more of an act and if she will do it for Debut TV. I hope so..even if it's just a little bit. I do actually like hearing her baby voice unlike some people. I guess I have a California accent.

So I think I mostly agree with your choices. I read that they are cutting out Damian's song and they're also adding a song by Renee featuring Megan Thee Stallion. I haven't heard it yet but I think it's out now. I know it's to probably appeal more to audiences that don't like musicals but I do like Megan so it's fine. Maybe it's a girl power type song and I'm sure it's in the credits anyway. Either way, I don't like listening to a musical soundtrack before the movie so I won't find out until I watch it. I don't know why..i guess I like being surprised by the songs, so if I see Wonka, this will be the case. I am curious to see how the music will be in that one. But Megan was also in a scene in another musical called Dicks the musical which I haven't watched either so I find it interesting. That one was more a parody of musicals I think but Nathan Lane was in it so that's something. Also I keep forgetting to listen to Renee's music! I think her deluxe album came out recently so hopefully I will soon.

I haven't listened to Sabrinas yet either but I definitely will..maybe on Christmas day. I saw a video of her performing the new years song and I was intrigued. It was almost like sexy..and different than I expected, but I liked it. I also forgot that Laufey has Christmas music too so I will play that as well and Kelly Clarkson has new Christmas songs too. But I totally know how you feel about the two weeks in between. I also feel that way from Christmas to New Year's Day. I always thought it would be weird to have a birthday close to Christmas honestly but yours isn't that close. I can't believe it's so close already..I hardly ever feel in the holiday spirit anymore. But I also wanted to ask you what are some of your favorite Christmas movies?

I love Lana! I would recommend listening to Born to Die. That's her first album and where her overall vibe and aesthetic come from, and why she was so popular on Tumblr back in 2012. That's how I found out about her and a lot of other artists back in high school. Yes..I have been on Tumblr for like almost 15 years lol. My sister and I were actually just talking about this. Like there are a lot of people on here who are two or three years younger than me and it doesn't seem like they're into Lana. Instead they're more into Lorde or Halsey which became popular a few years later. I still like them but that was past my high school years so I was never obsessed like with Lana. I also found Marina and the Diamonds, Arctic Monkeys, and the 1975 kinda and I still like them. So I do find it interesting a 15 year old would like it so much now but I was also 15 so maybe it makes sense. Anyway I would also recommend Ultraviolence and the album Norman fucking Rockwell. Honeymoon album has a more cinematic sound if you're interested in that. She also released two albums close together in 2020 like Taylor. I'm not sure if it was that back to back, but the albums are sort of a pair to me and it kinda matches a more stripped down Folklore style too. Her newest album is also good but overall I think her newer albums have gotten slower and some people don't like that vibe. She always has one or two songs like the old Lana though. I can always give you some song recs too if you want.

Thats one of my goals for this next year for sure..to read more books on my shelf. I'm still working on a list for now. I'm not sure if I will be able to finish Night Circus in January though just cuz it seems a little long so maybe I will move it to a different month. I also don't know when I will read Chloe Brown..maybe in February cuz it's a romance but thanks for letting me know. If I like that one, hopefully I can read the rest of the series. What are some of your other reading goals? Do you have a list of books you wanna read for next year yet? Also what were some of your favorite books of the year? Sorry that I was just kinda rambling about memoirs for a second there. I do remember liking Crying in Hmart but I think I was listening to an audiobook or something that I never finished. I think I remember reading it around this same time last year actually cuz I told myself I would finish it before the year ends but I just didn't. I definitely wanna finish it before the movie comes out though. Maybe I will try to finish a book I'm in the middle of now by the end of the year but I just have to make time for it. I forgot to ask you..what is your favorite sitcom? Mine is..no surprise, and a basic answer..Friends and the Office! Which is why I got their memoirs haha. I also really wanna finally start watching Abbott Elementary eventually next year.

I have seen both the movie and musical bootleg of Once. I saw the movie way before and am not as familiar with the musical. I think they made some small changes though so it does make me wonder about a La La Land musical. Falling Slowly is one of my favorite songs ever though. I also liked Begin Again with the same writer or director. This was not a musical but it did have some music in it and all of his films do. I also enjoyed Sing Street and I think he has a more recent film I haven't watched. But even Sing Street was on Broadway I think and that had changes too but I'm not really sure. I loved all the songs from Sing Street. They were all pretty different but music connects them and I like them all. I will pretty much watch any movie with singing or songs in it.

I mostly still love Taylor and always will but I do think parts of the fandom have to do with it. She was still my top artist mostly cuz she put out two long albums I played a bunch. I don't know why it feels different cuz I didn't feel like it leading up to 1989 or anything so maybe it has to do with me more than Taylor. I've actually had a dream where I met her recently and another where she revealed some rep vault or it could've been TS11 track titles. Lol those were probably way off but I am still excited for it! I hope you have a good weekend and holiday if you wanna take your time to reply! It was actually funny cuz I was scrolling my dash when I saw your reply to my ask come up yesterday. It made me realize how long my messages really are lol so sorry for that or to all of your followers haha. But it also made me laugh and I just couldn't reply until now. It's been a long time since I have made a new friend in general and that could be part of it too so I always appreciate you replying. I guess you are an easy person to talk to.

hello friend!! sorry this is late :( — guess who is sick again :/ i hope you're having a good weekend!! merry christmas, if i don't speak to you before that 🤍

i think debut tv will sound very weird without her accent, but then again maybe it won't! i'm torn because sometimes with the rerecordings, things don't sound the most ... natural (like the laugh in hey stephen / the end of stay stay stay) so we'll just have to see! ugh i loveeee her little baby voice. i was out grocery shopping earlier and heard her version of last christmas and was so excited about it!

i don't know how i feel about all of these changes! i'm trying to keep an open mind, and i will say that i always thought the mean girls score was weaker than what i was hoping it'd be (like legally blonde) but it is quite fun! i listened to part of the credits song, and then got distracted and then never went back to it! i've heard of dicks the musical, but haven't seen it yet (which should not be a surprise)! i think my friend saw it and said it was fun though!!

i rewatched white christmas last week, and i also have a soft spot for holiday inn (both musical + movie)! and i loveeeed love actually! i know some people think of little women as a christmas movie too, so little women 2019 must be on my list! and then i ironically / unironically love the christmas prince netflix films; they're so awful! what about you? do you have any favorite christmas movies?

i listened to some of born to die yesterday and was like "ah yes, i do remember listening to this one back in the day and liking it"! i've also been on tumblr for far too long :) i do like lorde and halsey! and i liked some marina stuff that was popular at the time — my tumblr favorite was definitely the 1975 + taylor! i listened to some of Did You Know That There's a Tunnel Under Ocean Blvd when it first came out, and i really liked margaret! you know i'll always take recommendations from you 🤍 even if it takes me a while to get through!

i'm almosttttt done with my night circus reread! i'm hoping to be able to be done with it by tuesday, and then finish les mis by the end of the year and that'll be it for me! i haven't thought about my 2024 reading goals toooooo much but that'll be my first blog post on my book blog for the new year, so i'll have to start thinking about it soon!! i think i mostly just want to work on reading arcs/gifted books/books already on my physical tbr, but we'll see! some of my favorite books this year were: conversations on love, half a soul by olivia atwater, when broadway was black: the triumphant story of the all-black musical that changed the world by caseen gaines, the missing of clairdelune by christelle dabos, and the seven year slip by ashley poston — on a whole i think this year was kind of a mediocre reading year, but that's okay! what about you? what were some of your favorites this year?

i've never seen friends or the office! i think my favorite sitcom would have to be schitt's creek! a lot of my friends love abbott elementary so i've been thinking about starting it too!!

i've been meaning to watch begin again but haven't! i didn't realize it had the same writer + director as once! and yes!! sing street had a very short stint on broadway; i hope it makes its way back someday, i really loved the cast recording and what i heard of it!

i'm with you; i do think the fandom noise unfortunately has soured some of my feelings towards her at times. but i still love love love her music; i just need to distance myself from her + the fans! omg that dream must've been so cool! do you remember any of the titles? and no worries; i can always put my responses under a read more :) i love chatting with you 🤍!! hope you're having a good day! xx

[finallymothman]

I can and will elaborate (stoned. If you read the whole thing and can more or less understand me? Props to you, I'll kiss you on the mouth)

Qualifications: I have watched this movie over 3000 times, and I'm autistic and I said so.

I'm literally rewatching this right now with my girlfriend and I'll just keep a running tab from the point in time the grasshoppers show up. While Hopper yells at Molt the way that only older brothers can, lemme give a few quick ones

Building: special interest

creative, out of the box thinking

Maybe he's ADHD too but that bug is not neurotypical

(Dear GOD what is wrong with Thumper)

Standing up for Dot: black and white morality, strong sense of justice

He's kind of gullible. Like yes this is a movie for babies, but Atta does not have to try very hard to convince him that she's not, ultimately, making fun of him. He also doesn't get that people cheer when he's Gone, not that they're cheering For Him. Also similar for the kiddos. He's really literal when the kids are kinda ragging on him from the beginning

I feel like when he was growing up he said he wasn't like "other bugs"

Tbh there is also a case for Dot, but I feel like that is the vase for all "later bloomer" stories

While we're waiting to see Flik again, we're doing the circus scene, I'm going to see if I can find any examples of him having sensory issues. I think it could be argued that he was sensory seeking??? And I feel like he does something with his hands consistently when he's excited that could be a subtle stim

God I love Francis

"Try not to look like a country bug. Blend in." I promise you, neurotypical people do not have to tell themselves to Blend In. Out Loud. "But Casper! This is a movie for babies!" OK! And? That's still his personality, even if they made him transparent enough for babies to understand.

Additionally, he is very literal and upfront with his whole everything. Like he's just genuine. And not that you have to have a high-masking/high-functioning blend with ADHD to present in the way he does. And, granted, he's also in a pretty desperate situation that the theatrics are kinda warranted when he asked the circus bugs to come back to Ant Island with him.

I would also like to make the statement that I think this is very much "undiagnosed high functioning autist through their own eyes"

Nobody really likes him, but he has great intentions, and even some big fuck ups are forgivable because they really were just accidents and you're so gosh-darn accident prone and who knows what could be the root cause of all that and your social difficulties and- ohhhh how was it not caught sooner?? type deals, you know?

and "They're just waiting for me to screw up"?????????????? Excuse me????

In the wrods of my good friend Mogan (Mo + Logan) "The plot of the movie is just "a small village sends their most autistic citizen to hire some assassins to get rid of their local despot, he returns with an improv group""

I feel like the average joe would not think to buld a bird, but ants don't have guns so really what's their alternative

While the story is preoccupied with the grasshoppers again (creepy fashy motherfuckers) -- I actually got distracted talking about a creepy af deleted scene where you watch the grasshopper die that Hopper buries under the grain

Anyway back to Ant Island here we go

Actually I think this is where the hand stimming scene pops up

"Thank you for finding them, Flik"

"Me?????" that is so mecore

Though I do think more autistic behavior would be for him to have told the queen and Atta about the circus bugs but just continued with the bird plan. However I totally understand that he was scared they would react exactly the way they did, but he also didn't give them the chance to react any other way by not telling them the truth

THE COLLECTIVE GASP JFC

Can I just say how stupid it is that they just drop his plan when they kick him out for lying? Like, they have I think one or two days until the grasshoppers come back, can you not just stick to the plan and deal with the personal shit later? They are going to KEEEELL you guys.

Also I have such a visceral reaction to seeing the grasshoppers walk out of the fog, it will never cease to freak me out. It's so creepy.

I don't think there are many other big moments that feel relatable with Flik in the tism sense for the rest of the movie, I'll reblog this again if I think of more, Dot is being chased by Thumper

Flik from A Bug's Life is autistic

[jangofctts]

Thing for Trouble (boba fett x fem!reader x din djarin) (part one) (part two) (part three) (part four)

Rated: explicit 18+

word count: 7.6k

warnings: threesome, smut, thigh riding, oral female receiving, handjobs, unprotected sex (dont be a deadbeat, wrap that shCMEAT), light choking, throne fucking, vaginal fingering, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, creampies, pet names, sub? din? more likely than you think (also lmk if I missed any tags!)    

a/n: yall im sorry this is such garbage but kjkwejh here we be. I hOPE YOU ENJOY THE CIRCUS. thank you to everyone who’s encouraged this so COME GET YALLS MANDO MEAT  

There isn’t much when he it comes to Tatooine and fun things to do. There’s pod acing, drinking, Sabaac tourneys, more podracing, gambling and scavenging. Unless there’s a festival or some wild event, you’re stuck with boredom and whatever you can scrounge up for fun in the palace. 

Now, don’t get it wrong—if you had it your way, you’d spend every waking hour trialing behind Boba, but you don’t want to smother. Fennec too—while you enjoy her company, you know that half of the reason she sticks around is Boba’s order for your protection. Kinda ruins the fun when you know she probably only tolerates you because she’s being paid to. Eh whatever—doesn’t stop you from tagging along on as she runs errands in town—besides, today you actually have a reason to be here instead of loitering like a lost puppy. 

Fennec tells you to be safe and com her the second trouble rears its ugly head and disappears into the weapons shop—muttering about her prized rifle being jammed or something. You don’t know, all you hear is that you have the entire afternoon to yourself to hunt down your oh so elusive prize. Star cherries.    

The markets are always vibrant. Jam packed with people from each and every corner of the galaxy, hundreds of booths and stalls selling their wares that varies from foods to jewelry to even bounty services. Tempting as is it is to peruse the sparkly rows of dainty necklaces and rings or inspect the vast array of beige ponchos and manilla undershirts—you have a purpose. A once a year chance you refuse to let go to waste.   

The shabby booth is tucked near the end of the street, the mountain of the little red fruits looking comical compared to the withered old lady who sits beside them. She flashes you a gap-toothed smile, the crowfeet wrinkles surrounding her eyes scrunch with the movement. “Ah! I was wondering when you’d show, dear.” 

“Hello, Mrs. Feraan,” you greet, bending at the was it to kiss her wrinkly cheek. The old vender was one of the first kind souls you met here when you arrived on Tatooine. In return for a couple compliments or an offer to be the lab rat to test her new recipes for pie or tarts, she hooks you up with the best of the cherries—handpicked with love. “How’s business today?”

She waves her hand in dismissal, her silver rings glinting in the sun. “Same as always, child.”

Eventually you work your way through the pleasantries and a couple, long winded tangents. The sort that only old people can flawlessly spin and keep you engaged. Trials and tribulations to earn your prize—you don’t mind sacrificing a couple hours.

Finally you’re allowed to walk away—cherries in hand and exceedingly eager for your sweet snack. Unfortunately, suffering through Mrs. Feraan’s old childhood laments is not the only bump in the road you have to face.       

Granted, it is your fault—not looking where your feet are taking you—

Your temple crashes into something agonizingly hard. You swear you hear a quiet bonk when your skull collides with the mystery material and fucking hell—you probably have a concussion from the force of it. 

Unbothered by your probable brain injury, you’re far more concerned with the cherries spilling onto the ground and so, as you flail and dramatically topple over—the brunt of your fall is cushioned by your shoulder. Something pops and yeah, ok, maybe you just tore a ligament but—kriffing worth it for the cherries you miraculously saved from their dusty graves.     

Your temper flares as you spot the dirty brown boots pointed in your direction. Maneuvering yourself up so you don’t also get trampled by the crowd, you bare your teeth and put on your best impression of a terrifying force of nature despite the fact you’ve been knocked flat on your ass. “What the fuck—“

The words shrivel up and die upon your tongue as your eyes slide up the stranger’s legs, broad shoulders sporting the shiny armor that twinkles in the midday suns. They then settle on an all too familiar helmet. Well, sorta—you’re familiar with a certain red and green one, not the equivalent of a wearable disco ball.

You squint as the stranger’s head dips to look at you crumpled at his feet. You dust yourself off and point an accusing finger. “Fuck is your problem standing in the middle of the road?”

The stranger quirks their head. “You ran into me—maybe you should watch where you’re stepping.”

The raspy voice is a striking sound. Mellow and silky even as it passes through the vocoder and dresses it in static charm. Some of your anger melts away—maybe this is the friend Boba was talking about—it’d make sense. They’re wearing the same type of armor…  

You shake your head and shove down your pride. You don’t think Boba would appreciate you chewing his ear off. “Sorry—you’re right.”

As you readjust your clothes and precious cherries you introduce yourself with a tiny smile. Yet just as you're about to ask him his name he interjects with a step forward. You flinch away but all he does is sweep back a strand of hair from your forehead, revealing a little nick in the skin. You hiss as his fingertips scrape against it--great, an actual head wound. “Are you alright?”

Maker—here you are, after yelling at him and he finds it in him to be compassionate. You wave away his concerns. “Y-yeah--peachy.” 

He apologizes with a dip of his head and words soaked in regret and fuck--now you feel bad. You wrack through your brain and search for last ditch attempts to fix this little mishap and settle with a half baked idea. It’s dumb--but hey, if it works, it works.  

“Seriously, it’s fine. But I mean, if you’re so worried, how about you walk me home and we call it even?” You propose, sticking out your hand to seal the deal. If your assumptions are right, he’d just be tailing you the whole way home anyway. “I’m headed towards the palace, so if it’s not too much out of your way then—“

He hesitates and interrupts by taking your hand. “Alright. Deal.” 

You smile. “Lovely.” 

On the return trip, Din is quiet—tells you his name and responds to your conversation fillers with interested hums—but other than that he remains on the silent end. Intriguing with a rounded softness unlike the armor he wears--a man of mystery much like  a certain someone who awaits you back home. Well--Din is less grumpy--by a long shot...but still. It’s easy to spot some of their shared similarities.  

                                        -=-=-=-

Upon arriving at the castle you part ways with Din before he reaches the throne room--you’re not too excited about showing off your new battle scar yet and while it was an accident, making an entrance with Din will make it far too easy to link the injury with him. Besides, you don’t wanna risk scaring off your new friend if Boba decides to showcase that tightly sealed lid of anger and brutality. 

Instead you take the long way around the palace. Soon, muffled voices carry through the long corridors, growing louder as you work your way back from the kitchens. You round the corner, catching glimpses of Boba and your new friend through the pillars that prop up the low ceiling. You don’t meant to spy, but you do so anyway, hesitant on interrupting.     

That is...until Boba cocks his head to the side and settles his eyes onto the pillar you hide behind. “It seems we have a little shadow with us today.” 

You suck in a breath as your heart skips in a thrumming pace. Boba addresses you by name and crooks his fingers in a lazy motion for you to step out into the light—revealing yourself to the small party of two. “Come here, little one.”

The low light catches off of Din’s helmet with a glittering sparkle when he swivels his head. The tiny, warped figure of yourself reflects in mirror-like pieces of smelted beskar as his shoulders pull tight with recognition. You bite the inside of your cheek to keep the smile that threatens to crack across your face at bay. Boba is no fool—he excels in the subtleties of shifting eyes and clenched fists to hide anxiety or closely guarded information—sickeningly familiar with your own quirks and tells, but—  

There’s no reason to reveal Din’s little secret—not yet. Boba called him a friend but you truly have no clue what the depths of that word entailed. Friend could mean anything from a casual acquaintance, to an old childhood bond, and or anything in between. You sigh and brush past him, mentally congratulating yourself for keeping a cool mask of indifference etched into your features. If Din wants to open that can of worms then so be it—you weren’t the one offering to walk random people home. 

You step onto the dais and slide your free hand into Boba’s outstretched palm. The worn leather tickles up your forearm and locks over your elbow, silently demanding you to sit on his lap. There’s plenty of room to both sit on the throne but no—Boba prefers you tucked against the cool metal of his cuirass. You grunt as the bowl of star cherries you cradle dangerously dips when Boba adjusts your weight over his thighs.  

His fingers pull back a strand of your hair, tucking it behind your ear and then spider along your jawline. The ends of his mouth quirk as Boba pinches your chin between his forefinger and thumb, capturing your undivided attention. “I don’t like it when you lurk in the shadows, little one. You’re allowed to listen.

You huff. “I know—but lurking is fun.”

Boba releases your chin with a scoff. “Foolish, girl.” You dip your chin with a sheepish grin as heat rushes to your cheeks. You briefly forget about the tiny nick adorning your right temple, the only thing you were trying to keep hidden—but Boba is all too quick to notice. “What is this?”

He pushes your hair out of the way of the cut, inspects it, then curls his fingers around your jaw to demand an answer. You refuse to let your eyes wander over to Din—what a dead giveaway that would be—and instead muster up enough courage to hold the weight of his stare. 

“I tripped at the markets,” you say—not a complete lie. “It’s just a little scratch—no biggie.”

Boba squints in suspicion and grumbles a soft hm. You feel his chest rise and fall with a deep sigh—he won’t argue about it right now. Not a battle worth his while when you’re keen on keeping the full truth behind a wall of teeth and anxieties. Boba’s hand falls away, gestures to Din who still stands stiffer than a stature, then lays it over the golden armrest. “I’m sure you’ve noticed our guest—“

Din tips his head in acknowledgement. 

“The rightful ruler of Mandalore,” Boba continues. “Din Djarin.” 

Din Djarin…despite already knowing his name (or half of it, at least) you like the way it rolls off the tongue—like how it’s seemingly made to be repeated and carved into the walls of some ancient script. Your knowledge on all things Mandalorian is…limited to say the least but you know enough about the rumors. 

“Isn’t Mandalore supposed to be haunted?” You don’t mean for your words to be a pointy jab to the ribs but regardless, it strikes a tender chord within the Mandalorian. You wince as Din shifts his weight and clenches his palm—a long story. “Sorry—I—I’m sure your home is lovely, all I know about it are dumb ghost stories about evil wizards and laser swords.” 

The blood under your cheeks burn red hot. Great. Not only are you a complete bantha brain, you’ve also managed to sound like an impudent child. Boba soothes a thumb over your thigh as you curl into yourself—bastard. He thinks this is funny.        

“It’s not my home,” Din responds, albeit tentatively. “Never been.”

Your brows furrow. Alrighty then.  

Boba snorts and shakes his head. He mutters something in Mando’a and lazily waves his hand, dismissing the line of conversation entirely. It was turning into a dumpster fire anyway—   

With a slow exhale, you remove yourself from the discussion and instead tuck your head under Boba’s chin. The beskar is cold against your cheek but it feels nice against the sweltering midday heat.  

Their conversation fades in and out as you rest your head over Boba’s cuirass, listlessly picking through the bowl of fruit for the ripest ones. You sigh—the next cherry you bring up to your lips is intercepted as Boba’s hand clamps around your wrist and redirects it into his own mouth. You don’t find it in you to be grumpy about the stolen treat when Boba’s tongue slides over your sticky fingers. Still holding your wrist captive, he sucks the tip of your thumb into the warm heat of his mouth and curls his tongue around the digit. Your index finger is given the same treatment before your hand is returned. The beginnings of arousal spark to life below your belly, and fuck—that shouldn’t have been so…so…hot. 

Din’s smoky baritone fades into background noise as the entirety of your attention zero’s in on Boba’s mouth. You purse your lips and suck in a shaky breath, then return your hand to the bowl to fish out another fruit. You don’t need any guidance this time around as you bring the cherry to his mouth—the crimson juice spilling down your palm and part of your arm as his teeth pierce the fragile skin. You breath hitches as Boba dips his head, catching the bead of liquid running down your arm with the tip of his tongue, then swiping s a slow trail up, and over the lines of your palm. He plants a careful kiss there, then breaks away. 

Before you have the chance to reach for another one, Boba plucks a cherry from the bowl and rests it against the seam of your lisp, inviting you to partake in this little game he’s created. A wicked smirk curls over his mouth as you accept—the tart flavor of the fruit spilling over your tastebuds as you chew and swallow. A little wine escapes you as his leather-clad thumb rolls over your bottom lip, bushes past the barrier of your teeth and seats the digit into your mouth—all the way down to the third knuckle. 

You hardly notice the moment Din’s voice tapers off into silence—much too enraptured with the taste of leather and the smooth feel of it over your tongue. You gag slightly when Boba’s thumb reaches the back of your throat, then retreats just as slow. The string of saliva that still connects the digit to your wet mouth, drips over your chin and part of your lip, eliciting a jagged, echoey breath that crackles through Din’s vocoder. 

Boba grins—something that better belongs on a sneering jackal just about to pounce on unsuspecting prey with needle sharp talons, rather than his face. His eyes drift up to address his guest. “Do you see something you like, Mand’alor?”

Din’s head jerks, averting his gaze to anywhere but the throne. He murmurs a weak apology and shifts his weight to his other leg—acting as if he were to look at you a second time, it’d burn him to a crisp or force him to confront Boba Fett’s wrath. Obviously, neither thing would happen, but Din still remains unsure with his foothold in this situation.   

“I see how you look at her,” Boba drawls—not an accusation, just a statement brought to light. Boba’s hand drops to your thigh, the warm weight of it resting just past your knee as Din swallows his nerves and returns his gaze. “It’s alright—a pretty little thing like her is bound to turn heads.” 

A blush hotter than wildfire licks up your cheeks as Din nods in agreement. “She’s beautiful…you’re a lucky man.”

Boba’s grip on your thigh hoards you closer to his chest. He is and he’s fully aware of that fact, but there’s no need to admit such a thing when it’s so blatantly obvious. A lull in the conversation creates a palpable tension—nervous energy and a choice to let this is fade into nonexistence or…or breathe life into that flickering ember of unsaid desires.     

Your heart leaps into your throat when Boba shatters the silence and addresses you. “You’re awfully quiet, princess…what do you think?”

He’s placing whatever this is into your hand and leaving you to call the shots. You’ve always been a troublemaker and there’s no will or way as to why you’d stop now. You look between your lover and Din as a smile curls over your face. “I think…if he’s so interested—why not give him a show? After all, he did bring me home—he deserves some reimbursement for the trouble.”

Boba’s shoulders jolt with a chuckle. “How chivalrous.” You shiver as he strokes the back of his finger down your cheek. “Fine, as you wish, little one—go play.” 

Giddy excitement bubbles through your chest as Boba offers Din to take a seat on the edge of the dais. Din still has an option to escape, to slip through the cracks and pretend this never happened—but stars, you hope he stays. Din takes a step forward, then another—and another until he’s standing before the throne. He studies the raised edge and gingerly takes a seat. 

You abandon your bowl of cherries onto the forearm of the throne and slip off Boba’s lap. You drift over to Din, his gloved fingers clenching and unclenching as they rest over his thigh plating. He’s purposefully avoiding your eye as you kneel beside him—still locked onto that niggling fear that this could be some sort of trick or test in resolve.      

Smiling sweetly, you skate your hand over his knuckles—guiding his large palm to your waist and then under and up your loose shirt and bra. Din mutters a curse as you place his palm over your breast. “I’m glad you stayed.”

Pleased with his reaction, you peel off your shirt and bra, breath hitching as Din pinches your nipple between his forefinger and thumb. “Same—I think…”

With a bit more bravery backing his movements, Din pulls away briefly, shucks off his gloves and encompasses both your breasts. They’re warm and calloused, riddled with silvery scars that stand out against his brown skin, a storybook of past battles—won and lost—all equally important to the fibers of his being that stitch him together into a whole. His hand whispers down the length of your ribcage, no doubt feeling the thrum of your heart beating wildly against the cartilage and bone. It tickles over the swell of your hips then—        

“You said you wanted to give him a show,” Boba drawls behind you, a sharp twinge of hostility lacing his words. “So enjoy the show, Mand’alor, ’nd keep your hands to yourself."

Din recoils at the verbal reprimand and drops his hands speedier than a flash of lightning. You frown and throw a glare over your shoulder. Bastard. Boba quirks a brow and runs his thumb over his lip, the edged sparkle in his dark eyes taunting you into challenging him. You huff and turn a cold shoulder. 

“Sorry, Din,” you purr, scrounging up any and all back up plans to keep you both entertained. “Seems my king isn’t as generous I thought.”

Din withers a bit at the catty remark, keeping his lips sealed tight as Boba growls your name in warning. You don’t pay him any mind. 

You puff up your cheeks and release the air in a steady stream, as your eyes scrape over Din’s armored thigh. Ok—you can work with that. It wouldn’t be breaking any rules…not technically. You step away, paw at your waistband and let the breezy fabric pool over around your ankles, your underwear quickly joining the pile. 

Now bare, you return to Din’s side, his careful inhale distorted into choppy static as you straddle his thigh. He lifts both hands, intending to grab at your waist, but pauses midair. No touching. You lips tilt with a smirk as he clenches his fists and pins his hands to the cool stone instead, an attempt to curb that urge to reach for you. His shoulders knit together when you mold your hand in the gap between his shoulder pauldron and cuirass to give yourself some sort of balance—obviously not used to a soft touch.  

You lower yourself and hiss through clenched teeth. It’s fucking freezing. Goosebumps rush up each limb as the wet warmth of your cunt meets the frigid beskar—the chill much colder than you initially expected. It’s one thing to touch the beskar with an open palm and another thing entirely to feel against such an intimate part of yourself. Din’s visor drops to look between your legs as you give your hips an experimental roll. 

It’s different. You’re used to hardened muscle and fabric, or your own fingers while pleasuring yourself. Your breath hitches as Din’s thigh twitches, the smelted seam of the cuisse bumping against your throbbing clit. 

“Sorry,” Din mumbles, “Didn’t mean—“

“It’s ok,” you smile, rocking your hips to ease into the sensation. “Just surprised me.”

The pace you set is slow, careful not to overwork your nerves as your arousal blooms and metastasizes like simmering coals low in your groin. With each lecherous pull of your cunt against his thigh, the beskar begins to warm to the temperature of your skin—the wetness between your thighs abating the friction and making the surface slippery. A low gasp escapes you once you find the right ridge and angle that just grinds perfectly against your aching clit. Your fingers dig into the cowl of Din’s cloak. 

“Shit—feels good.” Like your voice and little moans jumpstart Din’s ability to move, his large hand drifts to the front of his trousers—an already sizable bulge tenting the dark brown fabric. You squeak as Din's leg jolts for a second time, a burst of dizzying ecstasy wracking up your spine with the choppy movement. 

You suck in another raspy breath as your attention drops to his hand that cups his cock and palms himself through his trousers. You chew your bottom lip and clench your fist gripping his cowl, still gyrating your hips over the beska as Din hooks his thumb into his waistband and pulls them down, slow as molasses. 

Fucking hell—he’s bigger than you initially imagined. Flushed a rosy brown, and half hard already, twitching as Din wraps his fingers around the thick length. Din lifts his head, gauging your interest or disapproval—but kriff—who the fuck would ever be unhappy with that sorta heat he’s packing? You bite your bottom lip, scouring your brain for ideas to convince Boba into letting you taste Din—but your plotting is abruptly cut short. 

Boba sits up and off the throne, his presence looming over your shoulder as he lowers to one knee. You shiver and arch your neck, exposing more of your vulnerable throat as Boba runs the fingertip of his pointer finger down the side of your cheek. “Are you enjoying yourself, princess?”  

You nod, eyes fluttering shut as Boba opens his palm and cradles your jaw. You groan and roll your head back onto your shoulders as Boba snakes one hand around your hip and jolts you forward and down—disrupting the slow rock with a catastrophic interference. Unrefined bolts of plasma shoot up your spine as desire licks up thighs—you need more. 

Boba dips his head and nuzzles into the crook of your neck. You grunt when his teeth sink into your flesh, worrying a bruise into your skin. Boba laves his tongue over the throbbing area, then licks a wet trail up to the shell of your ear, all the while you continue to grind on Din’s thigh. Boba nibbles your earlobe and whispers your name—the sound sweeter than any symphony could ever hope to make. Like smoke over deep water or the surging crackle of energy just before a thunderstorm high up in the mountains. 

“You’re allowed to touch…” he says with a rough chuckle. “Go on.”

Your noise of agreement is quickly muffled as Boba interrupts you with a feverish kiss—all open mouthed and breathless as his tongue curls around yours. Your chest heaves for precious air as Boba retreats just as abruptly as it began. With a satisfied smirk ghosting over his lips, he taps you below the chin and returns to his throne to continue observing.         

Dropping your eyes between Din’s legs, his cock, hardened to its full glory and held casually in his  calloused hand, is truly a sight. Your pulse thrums in your ears as Din rolls his wrist and pumps his length, the velvety skin shifting over what looks like fucking beskar underneath. It strains towards his navel as you watch with wide eyes, mesmerized with the way he touches himself. 

Rolling your bottom lip between your teeth, you touch your hand to his wrist.  Din shudders like your skin is made of sizzling embers that’s broken off the tail end of shooting star—like you’re something too luminous and dangerous to be handled by someone like him. You lift your gaze, smiling into that darkened void of the visor and gracing him with a toothy smile. “Will you let me touch you, Din?”

He nods and utters a breathy yes. 

Fuck yeah.    

Din sucks in a stuttered breath when your hand circles around his thick length. His hips jolt into your palm as you slide your fist to the base then all the way back up. Precum beads over the tip, dribbling down and coating your knuckles with sticky wetness. It eases some of that friction as you fall into an easy rhythm, matching your rocking hips with each pump of his cock. 

Din’s stuttered moans fill the small space between you, dragging you closer to your release that’s suddenly so close. He whines as you abandon his length to chase after your high, your arousal leaking from your center and dripping down the sides of the beskar. Din takes his cock into his hands, fisting himself to your little show of breathy wines and rough jerking of your hips over his thigh. 

Din says your name attached with a broken moan and it’s over—    

Everything seizes up tighter than a jaw clamp as your tumble off that jagged peak of searing, white hot pleasure. It’s raw, sparking off like a blade to metal, burning you from the inside out as you cum. Your cunt clenches around nothing, your thighs shaking as you curl inward as if he punched you in the fucking gut. It feels like he did. Maker—the cool beskar against your throbbing clit is like you’ve been thrown to the mercies of an electrical surge. 

It doesn’t help either that Din is still pumping his length, hips stuttering as he brings himself to his own euphoric high. The air in your lungs seizes when a fragile groan, light and airy passes through the vocoder. Din rocks his hips into his fist, once—twice and then he’s throbbing and cumming into his hand. Hot ropes of his release splatter up his chest plate and parts of your thighs, his helmet nearly knocking into you as he hunches foreword from the intensity of it.     

Too exhausted to keep yourself upright, you smash your cheek against his cuirass, involuntarily twitching as the last little waves of pleasure prickle through the rest of your nerves. You whine as you watch Din move his hand to collect some of your wetness coating his thigh. He brings two fingers stained with your slick to the lip of his helmet, pushes it up with his thumb just far enough to sink the two digits into his mouth. He groans out a quiet fuck, and repeats the action, swiping his fingers through the mess you’ve made and feeding it to himself. Your cunt clenches as you catch a sliver of his pink tongue that twists between his thick fingers.   

He groans and rolls his head back onto his shoulders. “Please—can I taste you? Fuck—I-I need my mouth on you.” 

Stars—the mere idea of it stokes the dwindling flames into a blaze of want. You look up at Boba and puff out your bottom lip. Pouting and begging hardly ever gets you what you want under normal circumstances—Boba Fett is more stubborn than a rancor—but you hope just this once he’ll be lenient.   

Boba holds out his gloved hand—summoning you to his lap without a lick of protest on your end. Din however makes a sound akin to a whimper when you leave him. Boba gathers you in his arms for the second time, the leather a strange sensation as it spiders down your ribcage and around your hips. You can feel his hardness poking into your backside once you settle against him—his chest plate a cold shock to your naked flesh. You shiver and bury your nose into the crook of his neck, poking your tongue out to taste him. Boba’s cock twitches under you as your teeth sink into him with a cheeky nip.   

“Is that what you want, little one?” Boba rumbles in question. His right hand glides lower, grabbing a handful of your thigh and squeezing. You groan and keen out a whine of affirmation. 

Boba cocks his head towards Din. “Well? You’ve got your wish—don’t keep her waiting.” 

Din shakily stands—hesitating with removing his helmet for enough time that you notice the silence that follows. The vocoder crackles as Din sighs. “Do you trust her?”

“With my life.” Boba states it without a second thought. Your heart twists, golden light spilling from  your lungs and staining your insides with devotion and fuzzy affection. You press a soft kiss over Boba’s jaw.   

“Is she…” Din speaks a word in Mando’a you have no hope to decipher—either no direct translation or he’s purposefully left you in the dark. 

Based on the way Boba almost imperceptibly tenses, you guess the latter. Boba responds with a grunt and an unsure dip of the chin. The answer is complicated—that much you can gather…you push it to the back of you brain for now. 

Din nods, inhales, and steels his nerves. Plastering his hands around the shiny helmet, he tugs it off with a slow reveal of dark, patchy facial, plush lips and wavy brown hair that falls around his olive skin. And oh, his eyes—soft chestnut brown eyes that hold such ache within them—lost things, broken bones, wearing his wounds like decoration upon his chest. Forged in the flames of war, risen from the ashes with murder and mercy rolled into one.      

You wish him a kinder future. One that doesn’t end with pain and a blaze of an unchecked wildfire—the same way how all heroes end up as martyrs.  

Though—right now—you can be the beginning of softer things for Din. You smile and invite him closer, a vortex of anxiety peppered with arousal as his eyes flit over your naked body. He sets his helmet to the side with care and drifts to the foot of the throne—fuck, he’s broad. Why hadn’t you noticed that before?   

Your mental berating is severed when cool air meets the wet heat of your cunt as Boba hooks your thighs over his knees, spreading you wide as far as your hips allow. Din’s unfiltered moan at the sigh of you, sends a volt of electricity through every vein. Din lowers himself to one knee, and then the other, shuffling between yours and Boba’s legs. 

“Can I touch?” He asks, soft brows raising in question. 

Boba lazily raises two fingers in a motion of permission. Your chest tightens at the sight of Din’s boyish grin—warm palms settling over the sharp bend of your knees. His thumbs trace soothing circles over the skin and right as Din decides to swoop down, Boba catches him by the hair atop his head and yanks. Din grunts—the long, arched line of his neck a tempting sight as he swallows. “No marks.” Din’s jaw clenches, but nonetheless, he agrees to Boba’s command. 

Boba hums in satisfaction and untangles his fingers from the mess of Din’s soft curls. Din’s brows pinch together for half a tick but smooth out in the next breath. No use being irritated—especially right now.   

As directed, Din leaves not a scratch. Instead he scrapes the blunt edges of his teeth along the insides of your thighs, threatening to catch soft flesh between them—but he knows better than to act on the urge. He laves his warm tongue over each freckle or blemish he finds, leaving no patch of skin undiscovered as licks a steady trail to his prize. Din mouths a warm kiss over the crease of your thigh, and smooths his calloused hands over your hips, settling for a moment to trace little circles with his thumbs onto the soft protrusion of bone there. Seemingly satisfied, he then shifts them closer to your aching cunt. His hot breath fans over your cunt as he uses his thumbs to glide through your folds, almost curious with his exploration. He makes a little hum of appreciation low in his throat when the pads of his thumbs part your soaking folds.    

You whimper and bury your face into the crook of Boba’s neck, his warm palms a much needed comfort as they tickle down your ribcage, then sweep back up to cup your tits. You cry and arch— Din’s tongue is scalding—like liquid velvet as he dips the tip of his tongue from the base of your cunt all the way up to your clit. Din sucks on the little bundle of nerves, rolling his tongue until you’re crying out, molten pleasure zipping through your abdomen. He grunts as your fingers tangle into his hair—kriff. 

Fuck, you need more.   

Arching into his mouth, all thoughts are transfigured and molded into a vicious loop—beginning with those adoring brown eyes, the color of freshly tilled earth and the warmth of sunlight over dappled aspen leaves in the balmy summer afternoons. It ends with soft lips—rose petal pink with devotion crystallizing in his mouth like sugar—madness and uncertainty and lovesick desire is all that he is and you’re not sure if you’ll come out of this unscathed.    

He sinks two deliciously thick fingers into your clenching hole and curls them, only to retract them a moment later to shovel more of your wetness onto his tongue—as if simply using his mouth wasn’t enough for him. Like he needs to savor every drop of your arousal like the golden ambrosia the gods feast upon in their palaces of cloud and endless twilight. 

That frenzied desperation lingers on the edges of his movements like he’s afraid you’ll fade away like a hand through fog—but you’re going nowhere. You’d stay here, suspended in time forever if the choice were up to you. 

You whine and arch off Boba’s chest plate as Din strokes and curls his fingertips, plucking little gasps and moans from you easier than breathing. He zeros in on that little spot that makes your leg go all jittery and forces out high pitched mewls that echo through the throne room. You’re careening towards another high, the sensitivity of your last orgasm amping up the influx of pleasure. 

“Stars—Din. Close—I’m so close,” you gasp, pulling his hair tight enough that you know it must sting—at least a little bit. He makes no sign that it does, just groans and buries his tongue into your dripping hole, licking alongside his fingers that shovel more of your wetness into his mouth. 

Your release zips through your body like a flash flood—quick and fatal that leaves you gasping for air and struggling not to let your head dip below the waves. Your high seeps into each limb until they feel heavier than lead. Fuck—it’s so hard to work through the muddled thought and remember where exactly you are. You groan and toss your head back as Din keeps going.    

“Another one—let me—“ He moans, opening his mouth as wide as it’ll go so he can devour more of you. You can feel the mixture of saliva and your own arousal dripping down your cunt and over your thighs, some of it pooling on the throne or onto the floor. Your thighs shake as Din pushes you towards another high.        

You squeak as Boba’s palm sweeps up your sternum, locking his fingers around your throat in a loose hold. The tip of his nose nuzzles into your cheek—silently demanding a well earned kiss as his hips rock into your ass, grinding his cock for the barest scrap of friction. You moan into his mouth as Din doubles his efforts, raw and bordering that serrated edge of overstimulation and ecstasy.  

Goosebumps rush over your arm as Boba places his lips right beside the shell of your ear. You feel the sticky heat of his breath fan over your throat and shoulder, and the way his lips skim your ear when they move to form the syllables of his words. “Such a filthy princess…”

You clench around Din’s fingers and moan a half garbled, “Boba—“ 

His weathered palm encompasses the entirety of your breast, rolling your pebbled nipple between his forefinger and thumb. “If only you could see yourself…dripping all over my throne and another man’s tongue.” Boba clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “Depraved creature—cum for your rightful king.” 

Wildfire chars your insides as it begins in your core and sweeps through your body. Tears prick the corner of your eyes as you buck and squirm in their arms—no mercy as the prickly waves of your orgasm make you hypersensitive to each touch. Even the hold on your hip, while innocent in nature, is blistering as if you suffered from a fever. You shudder as a salty tear rolls down your cheek. Boba catches it with his tongue as your ears pick up Din’s raspy praise—thanking you while spattering reverent kisses up your thighs. 

Struggling to keep your eyes open, you do spot the apparent wetness soaking through the front of Din’s trousers. Fuck—he—he came again while eating you out. You whimper and rest the back of your head over Boba’s shoulder.  

Your belly flinches under his scratchy facial hair as Din travels up, seizing and worshiping every inch he’s freely given before intercepted. He catches your nipple between your teeth, tugs a bit then moves to the other, lavishing equal attention with adoring lips and sweet whispers. When he reaches your collarbone, you’re boxed in against his chest plate and Boba’s. A blush blooms under your cheeks hotter than stare fire as Din gingerly sucks your earlobe into his mouth and breathes out a muted moan of your name—committing the very essence of you to his memory for the rest of his days. 

Your heart squeezes tight like a clenched fist when he mumbles another thank you. Plucking up a smidge of courage, he risks planting a kiss right on the corner of your mouth. You blink—despite the sweetness of the gesture you wince as Boba snarls a curt phrase in Mando’a. Din peels himself away with a minuscule frown and slinks away.          

Yet before you have the chance to remedy the situation of wounded pride and territorial jealousy—Boba tightens his hold on your hips and flips you both, so that now your back is smashed against the seat of the throne, a bit crumpled and sorta folded in half. Your hips hang off the edge as Boba holds the majority of your weight, grinding his clothed cock between the apex of your thighs. 

“Don’t forget, princess—” Boba barks, slithering a hand up the column of your throat. You breath hitches as he lightly presses his palm down. “—what belongs to me.”

Reaching between you, he slides his gloved fingers through your slick folds and sinks two of them inside of your clenching center. You jolt as his thumb scrubs over your clit, still sensitive and edging towards too much. 

“You want me to fuck you here?” He asks, shifting his hold to grip your jaw instead—the rounds of his fingertips digging firmly into the flesh and bone. “Say it.”      

You gasp and scrabble weakly at Boba’s shoulders as he grinds the heel of his palm into your clit. “Please, Boba! Please fuck me—I need it.” 

Boba folds over you, his breath fanning hot and hungry against your cheek. He devours your mouth with a discordant edge, like he’s trying to prove to the entire galaxy you are unmistakably his despite the fact you’re already wound so tightly around his fingers. Boba wrenches himself free and tears at his robe and trousers to free his thick length, leaking and flushed a rosy brown at the tip. He doesn’t keep either of you waiting as he removes his fingers and replaces them with something bigger.       

You both groan as he lines himself up with your entrance and sinks into you, a delicious stretch that leaves you shivering beneath him. “Fuck—so wet for me.”

The first roll of his hips makes an obscene noise that showers shame down your throat, but it’s quickly kicked to the back of your brain as he slams back into your cunt—obliterating all thoughts save for him. Boba’s lip curls over his teeth as he claws at your thighs and yanks them over his shoulder, crushing you even further between the throne and the weight of his body. Each stroke is a liquid fire, tearing you apart at the seems while at the same time stitching you back together and leaving your body begging for more. Like this, it’s as if he’s reaching the deepest part of you, pounding into your cunt and hitting every nerve with deadly precision. Your legs prickle with the stretch as you squirm beneath him, stuck with the brunt of rough thrusts and violent stamina with nowhere to go.   

“Bein’ such a good girl for me." He hums into the juncture of where your neck meets your shoulders. He sucks a mark there and tangles a hand in the hair at the nape of you neck, forcing you into a steeper arch. “Maker, you look so fuckin’ pretty stretched around my cock.”

Your walls clench tight around him as you dig your nails into the fabric of his cowl. You voice cracks with airy moans—attempting to work through the haze of lust and respond. All that tumbles from your lips is a pathetic whine of his name—so close to that precipice again.    

The friction of each thrust scraping against your clit, the way he fills you and the possessive hand curled over your throat. You wiggle an arm between your bodies and rub the little bundle of nerves in a frenzied half-circle. You wheeze as Boba increases the pressure over your throat. 

“Tell me who you belong to,” he demands as devastating ripples begin to spark through your core, a live wire an inch away from a puddle of water. “Tell me—“

“You! It’s you—“ You sob, desperate for another release only he can give. “I’m yours—“

Boba snickers and gives your throat another squeeze. “Cum on my cock.” 

There we go. 

You seize and cry out, violent shivers forcing your back to arch high off the throne and into his chest plate. It tears through your being, quick and deadly through your core, spreading to every nerve and shredding through it with molten pleasure. Boba’s voice is a gravelly scrape that vibrates next to your ear, sprinting towards his own deserved euphoria. Your climax still boiling through your blood, is dragged out as Boba continues thrusting—an endless echo that leaves you incredibly oversensitive sore. For the next few moments, his thrusts are too sharp, the grip he has on you too abrasive—but then he’s cumming too. A couple more rough jabs and then he’s seating himself deep inside your cunt, his warm release coating your insides with thick ropes. 

You’re panting breaths fill the air between you, settling like fresh snow over a silent wood. By the time Boba pulls out, leaving behind a sticky trail of his cum and your arousal over the throne, you’re toeing the line of hazy unconsciousness. 

“Such a good girl,” Boba praises, threading fingers through hair and tracing the lines of your face. The the soft drone of his voice mixed with Din’s gentle baritone, murmuring something you don’t catch, casts a dreamy haze over your reality. You’re not afraid that this could back fire and blow up in your face—to move inches from two serrated blades, each seeking for a taste of blood and flesh, is always a risk. But yet, the calloused hands and the sweetness of brown eyes reach through chaos and silence to offer you salvation. You take it with a smile. 

You should invite Din over more often…you think, as you slip into content sleep. 

taglist: @goldafterglow @djxrxn @velvetmel0n @steeeeeeeviebb   @stargazingcarol @ohiobluetip @anxiety-riddled-mando @absurdthirst @thesoftdumbass @huliabitch @max--phillips @silverfish-kingdom @krissology @teaofpeaches @pettyprocrastination @nelba @beskars @jango-fettish @corrupt-fvcker @maybege @auty-ren @legally-a-bastard @bigdickdindjarin @thesparkleslugs @cryptid-candy @mandowhorian @pascaliprincess @mitchi-c @vesperstalksclones @cmakars @cptnbvcks @whewchiles @leias-left-hair-bun @astrochellie @angryares @rise-my-angel @stardust-galaxies @phoenixhalliwell @samhollandssweaters @blue-writes-a03 @hdlynnslibrary @darthadeline @calamity-queen @luxurybeskar @justanotherblonde23 @book-hoardingdragon @fahrenheit-not @princessxkenobi @skdubbs @ben-is-a-hoe @3strogen @chasingdreamer @weebblossom @bobaandthefetts​

sorry if I missed you AH!!!!

[taechaos]

Freaky Idea

Pt. 2 of New Idea

pairing: Stepbrother!Taehyung x Fem!Reader

genre: oneshot, pseudo-incest, smut

synopsis: The last guaranteed day you have with Taehyung is spent with his choice of adventure. You learn a lot of things about the history of freakshows, and how much of a freak your brother is as well.

warnings: mention of murder and somnophilia, riding, manipulation

word count: 3.8k

When Taehyung agreed to being your slave for a month, he wasn’t lying. He was attached to your hip throughout the whole time span, obeying your every command without complaint. You didn’t deem him forgiven, but you can’t say you don’t enjoy his company and compliance. The whole month was a bliss for you.

The first week, the morning after the… event, you had him prepare breakfast for you and your mother walked in on him cooking an omelette for you. She was perplexed, and with her morning drowsiness asked, “You’re home?” before smothering him with a hug. Your father gave him the minimum acknowledgement, and it went by quickly with your mother being surprised every time she saw him in the morning.

The second week, he drove you around and paid for your every need. You don’t know how he has so much money, but you wouldn’t be surprised if he sells drugs or had robbed a bank. You decided to reward him by kissing his cheek every time he bought you clothes and jewelries per your request. He realized he enjoyed spoiling you, and took you shopping in different malls for 7 days straight.

The third week, you met his friend. You had insisted, and he gave in after a short while of you begging because it was difficult to say no to you and rules are rules. His terms were: 1. You're going to act like his girlfriend, and 2. You sit on his lap. Maybe you didn't get it, but his friend Namjoon didn't seem dangerous enough for you to be behaving the way you were forced to. Sitting in front of a burning barrel in the middle of nowhere, Taehyung and Namjoon smoked weed together while you watched them. The conversation was fun, and you wanted to see him again. Taehyung didn’t allow you to question the ordeal. Rest of the week went by a breeze.

Fourth week was relatively calm as well, and now Taehyung is on his final day of slavery. It’s somewhat melancholic for you because you don’t know if he’ll vanish once the clock hits 12. You’re sitting on the kitchen counter, swinging your dangling legs while your step-brother inspects the fridge to find you something for lunch. The two of you woke up late this morning, well, afternoon, and you don’t know why you feel so exhausted and sore. You’ve been feeling this way for a whole month now, but you’re growing somewhat used to it. 

“This bitch is empty,” Taehyung grumbles before closing the fridge and standing up straight. When he notices your soft pout, he slithers his way between your legs. “What’s wrong princess? Are you tired?”

“Will you be here tomorrow?” you blurt without beating around the bush and peek at him under your lashes.

His brow ticks as he tilts his head. “Did you want to do something?”

“Well, no,” you drawl, “I just wish… you were here more often.”

"You know I can't stay away from you for long," he counters your worries, "especially if you allowed me to…"

"Stop." You distance yourself by pushing him away; you don't want to think about what he was implying. You made it explicitly clear that anything remotely sexual wasn't allowed to be brought up when you were around, and he’s been sticking to that rule until now - to your knowledge, at least. 

“Stop teasing your sister, Taehyung.” your mother enters the kitchen while tying the knot of her robe, now checking the fridge herself. 

He rolls his eyes before turning to her and retaliating, “I didn’t even do anything.” You giggle to yourself and bite your fist. “Did I tease you?” he asks innocently with his neck craned in your direction.

“Yes, he doesn’t even make me breakfast,” you joke with a grin. 

“The fridge is fucking empty!”

“Language,” your mother warns strictly before taking out a box of frozen pizza. “And it isn’t empty. Could you turn on the oven for me, love?” You nod and arrange the heat to 200 degrees while Taehyung scoffs, “I can’t survive in a house with women.”

“Man up,” your step-father butts in monotonously. “You have to rely on your mother to cook to this day. When will you move out? Act your age Taehyung, you’re 21.”

The light-hearted atmosphere dims with the presence of Taehyung’s father. There’s a distinct contrast between your two parents, and you can understand why your step-brother is so rebellious around them. The only thing holding them together is their dedication to religion. 

He only huffs and crosses his arms in response as his dad grabs a carton of juice and a glass from the cupboard. It’s tense in the room until Taehyung leans into your ear and whispers, “I’m only here because of you.”

A light blush tints your cheeks at his sweet confession, although it also makes you guilty. He later convinces you to eat with him in your room, and it’s comfortable in your bed as you chomp on the slices hungrily. 

“Is there anything you want to do today?” Taehyung asks as he chews on his pizza.

“Let’s do something you want for a change,” you answer after swallowing. 

Though he hasn’t been showing any lack of interest around you, you are aware that you haven’t been doing anything fun by his definition. You’re worried that you’ve bored him throughout this whole timespan of being together.

A smirk grows on his face and there’s that glint of mischief in his eyes that you’ve missed. Fair, the last time you saw it was before he traumatized you, but you try not to think about it much like you ignore the constant ache between your legs. 

“There’s this circus,” he begins slowly, “I hear it’s interesting. Would you want to come with?”

You know he’s leaving something out, his cautious tone and aura implicit he knows something you don’t. But you nod anyway, because you still stupidly trust him.

Taehyung’s car is old and retro, but he must have upgraded the engines for how fast he is driving. You like admiring his side profile as he holds the steering wheel, but the view is much more interesting when he catches you looking. It’s a far location, and you’re out of the city by the time he parks his car in the woods. How did he memorize the directions when it took an hour to get there?

“We’re here,” he announces before shifting the manual stick gear with a screech. You exit the car and he is not gentle with the way he slams the door closed, so you do the same. You can see hints of red colors between the cracks of the thin trees. 

“Is it open?” you question apprehensively. The sun hasn’t set yet, but it should be getting dark soon in the evening. 

“Hasn’t been open for a century. You wouldn’t believe the amount of history this place has.”

He takes the lead in his steps, and you follow behind though your gut doesn’t approve. The path isn’t long, and only then do you see the circus when Taehyung moves aside. It’s run down, worn out colors in the curtains, broken glasses on the ground and the circus barely holding itself up. There’s a huge cannon in the middle of the stage, the tip balancing itself on the ground. It’s kind of creepy, but Taehyung doesn’t leave you in the dark for long.

“A lot of crazy shit happened here, you know,” he piques your curiosity, “the clowns were fucking freaks. Any type of physical disorder landed you in here, whether you liked it or not. Even for babies,” he picks up an idle shard of glass, “these were jars. They had deformed fetuses on display on a stand, but the wind must have fucked it up.”

“Deformed fetuses?”

“Yeah, like, conjoined and some other stuff.” You grimace at his description, although it stirs empathy in you. The 20th century sounds inhumane. 

“Are these real stories?” 

“Yeah. And the cannon: they rocketed people from this very bad boy,” he points at it before standing under.

Your stomach sinks as you panic, “It could fall on you!” You pull at his hand and the force makes your chests meet. He smiles down at you before pecking your lips. You stammer, a little mad as he chuckles before walking to a wooden wheel. He makes a star pose after stepping on the metal stand, stretching out his limbs to fit the whole circle. 

“This was the Wheel of Death; they threw knives at targets on this. I think they only targeted females actually...” He nods at you to replace him as he hops off. You go along with his idea and climb on the stand, though it creaks weakly. He takes out a pocket knife from his pocket and you’re about to yell before he hurls it at you. It lands above your shoulder and you immediately scold, “What the fuck, Tae?! Why would you do that! I could’ve died.”

He shrugs with a bright grin, clearly unbothered by your stressing. “My aim isn’t too bad.” He walks over to you and collects his floating knife. “Besides, when have I ever hurt you?”

You bite your tongue and purse your lips with a glare. 

“See?” he whispers. “You can’t even name one time…”

He’s teasing your silence, how you can’t even dare to voice the specific night. You haven’t even told your parents and slept with him right after, and he finds that so interesting: that you trust him with your life. 

“You actually can’t? Wow, I didn’t realize I was such a good brother,” he grins lopsidedly before snapping his fingers. “On with the tour.” He is enthusiastic as he struts past the circus. You shake your head with a sigh but follow him regardless. “So there were sword swallowers, acrobats, strongmen, anything that drew attention. They had a shit ton of accidents and deaths, but you would die if you got boring as well.” Taehyung holds back a bush to let you pass; the place he’s leading you to is a lot more crowded with sages and trees than the previous path. “Once the initial attraction wears off, you’re a goner. They couldn’t survive in that society with those deformities, so it was suicide either way.”

“That is so cruel,” you mumble sympathetically. “This place was like a fractured fantasy.”

“At least they lived for a bit… up until someone ended it.” When he pushes away the woodruffs, you’re met with another rundown site with a few… cages? “This is the trailer. Where they stayed and got ready for their shows. Some were held against their will, and slept with the animals in those cages.”

You gape at your surroundings in shock. The trailer is missing one side of the wall, and the rest have been vandalized with random phrases written in spray paint. You don’t give much attention to the torture cages, because the trailer has a lot more to show. It still has couches on the incomplete hardwood flooring, and Taehyung plops on one. The fabric is torn and dust rises the moment he’s on the seat. “That’s so dirty, Tae,” you pull a displeased face.

“Don’t be rude to the past occupants. Their ghosts might still be around.” He wiggles his fingers as if imitating a monster. He then pats his thighs, beckoning you to sit on his lap. You begrudgingly do so, and he wraps his arms around your waist before pulling you flush against him. “Any theories on how this shitshow ended?”

“Police intervention?”

“Something like that, I guess. One of the acrobats went nuts and shot everyone, so the place was shut down.”

“What?” you widen your eyes at him. “Why did they do that?”

“He was going to be replaced, so he got rid of the competition. Very chilling,” he casually states. “There must be some bullet holes in the walls, but we can check that out later.” His head snuggles into your neck while you’re still processing his words, but you go blank when he starts leaving feather light kisses on your neck. “Right now,” he murmurs, “I just want you to ride me.”

“Ride you?”

“Don’t act innocent, you know what I mean. You said I could choose what we did today… and I want to fuck here.”

“Taehyung… I specifically told you we aren’t allowed to do anything sexual. You hurt me last time as well,” you frown at the mention. 

“I asked you if I ever hurt you earlier. Did you say anything?” he asks condescendingly.

“No…”

“Why are you saying I hurt you now? Don’t tell lies, baby. Besides,” his hand slides down to your thigh as he speaks in a low, sultry voice, “I’ve been loosening up your cunt. You don’t even wake up at night anymore. It won’t hurt this time, I promise.”

You had an inkling, the stupid inkling that you tried so damn hard to brush aside. “You fucked me in my sleep?” you force out, your mouth suddenly feeling dry. “And you brought me here just to–”

“Christ, no,” he cuts you off offendedly, “I’m not that sick in the head. I didn’t plan it, but I can’t say I wasn’t hoping. It’s not like I’m going to rape you.”

“You did it once!”

“I was on a lot of drugs then! I’m clean now,” he huffs in irritation. “I’m sorry about that, and I know my apology is long overdue or whatever, but give me a break. I’ve been into you since I was like 16.”

You turn to look at him - really look at him. There’s not a trace of guilt on his face; the roots of his messy teal hair have grown out; the beauty of his naturally downward lip corners; you don’t know what to think. Your mind is a mess because you don’t know what to make of his confession. He has manipulated you countless times, coerced you into doing things you would never do, and for once you reflect on his personality. This could be one of his schemes in order to get you to do what he wants, and ironically, he was supposed to be doing that for you. Through all of your scrambled thoughts, you only muster a meek “really?”

“Yes,” he affirms, “that’s why I want to be intimate with you.”

Lies, lies, lies, you think before gently pressing your lips against his. Despite your attempt at kissing him softly, he doesn’t cooperate by instantly sucking on your nether lip with vigor, his hands immediately meeting at your hips to gently rock them against his crotch. He bites your lip before swiping his tongue against it, coaxing, “Suck on my tongue.” The awkward angle from where you’re kissing him makes him turn your body to completely face him, your knees landing on either side of him on the uncomfortable chair. It doesn’t matter, because you’re starting to forget the whole setting, just about everything except for him as arousal begins to seep in. Heat pools in your stomach at the switch in mood, and he’s enjoying your compliance as he quietly moans into your mouth. 

While you’re busy relishing in his swirling tongue, he starts tugging down your pants and you help him without looking. You sit up to push it down your ankles and throw it on the floor along with your panties. “What’s gotten into you?” he chuckles breathlessly before leaving wet kisses on your lips and pulling away to take off his wrinkled shirt. 

“What do you mean?” you ask, equally breathless.

“I don’t know, you’re just… so hot when you’re horny.” His boyish smile grows on your flustered face as he says, “Take off your shirt. Wanna see those pretty tits again.”

You bite your lip to suppress your insecurities, but it doesn’t help when you’re left in your bra as you cover your chest. “Don’t be shy now,” he teases knowingly and removes your arms before unclasping the garment. “Take out my cock now.” His tone is gentle with encouragement. You unzip his jeans timidly, but your eyes grow in wonder at the outline of his erection. “I’m so hard for you,” he assures you in a whisper and takes your hand in his to rub himself. “You’re so pretty, and sexy. I fucked you every night because you’re just so irresistible. You understand, don’t you, baby?” 

“I… Yes,” you agree and finally push down his briefs. His throbbing cock stands proudly and you’re intimidated by the size until he murmurs, “I won’t hurt you.” He lightly touches your bare pussy, slick with your arousal as you shudder. He coats your vulva with all of it, giving special attention to your clenching hole as he inserts a single finger. “Does it hurt?”

You shake your head, and you’re confused by the lack of pain and the desire for more. It feels good and that is a surprise for you as you sink down lower on his finger. He curls it, adds another finger and stretches your walls, emitting a moan out of you. You’re liking it, and you don’t know why; he was so cruel the last time that you were convinced something would go wrong now. Nothing does, and if anything, his fingers make you feel the best you have ever felt though it is not enough. “More,” you beg and he replaces his fingers by pulling you to the head of his cock. He’s staring right at you with hooded lids as he rubs it up and down, making you release a needy whimper. “Please, Taehyung.”

And like the slave he was meant to be, he shoves it in with a grunt. Your scream catches in your throat at the initial sting, but it’s worth it when he screws his eyes shut in pleasure and bites his lip to hold back a groan. He looks angelic under you, although he is anything but. You realize he is waiting for your cue to move, and it flutters your hearts because he is more attentive to you this time. Rather than letting him take the lead, you act on your instincts as you roll your hips. It’s unsteady at first, the foreign position making it difficult for you to adapt to so fast. His audible quick breaths encourage you to take your time in angling your pelvis comfortably, and when an involuntary moan leaves you, you place your hands on his shoulders before sticking to the current stance and going up and down on him. 

“Oh shit, you’re doing so well,” he praises you between gasps, supporting your body with his hands, “feels so fucking good. My good girl.”

It gets to your head, how much he’s enjoying your motions. He meets them with thrusts of his own, perfectly hitting your cervix and blinding you with pleasure. What is it that makes you feel so wonderful in this situation? Is it the touch, or the complimentary fact that you’re the only person Taehyung wouldn’t get bored of? 

Could it be that you’re two of the same?

Maybe he’s the one desperate to please you, you think as he massages your breasts, flicking your hard nipples with his thumbs so graciously. The eerie silence is broken by both of your loud moans, ecstasy sensually building up in knots in your stomachs. Sweat accumulates on your forehead, your hair sticking to your face but not hiding the sight of his erotic expression. You arch your back and grind down on him, and he’s limp on the loveseat as he takes all that you give him so submissively.

It’s your turn to use him, and you actually start understanding what makes him so rash and impulsive in hopes of receiving this amount of serotonin. It’s worth it, the release of control and morals to be with him. “Taehyung, h-how did you do it?” you moan. “Every night, what did you do?”

“I,” he tries to catch his breath, “I used my fingers to stretch you out. One finger, then two, then three.” He groans and thrusts into you fast and hard, “I fisted you at some point, and you came in your sleep, and then on my cock. Moaning and whining every fucking night, like some filthy whore.” You mewl at his crude words. He’s so obscene with you, and you clench your walls in response. “You like being my whore, hm? Little freak.”

“Yes, yes,” you confirm in a whimper, nodding your head as you pass the dominance onto him. He’s fucking into you while you stand on your knees, eyes rolled back with drool about to drip from the corner of your mouth. He starts to rub your clit and kisses your neck for you to tighten around him over and over again; it’s heaven in an empty graveyard. It’s so fucked up, yet he can’t stop. You’re panting as he manipulates your body to mold with his. “I’m close.”

His hands fall on your ass, greedily kneading it as your hips begin to stutter, your orgasm climbing up just as your energy is falling down. It hits you like a truck: the peak of pleasure, accompanied by a silent scream, nails digging into his skin as your muscles tense. “Fuck,” you breathe once his thrusts begin overstimulating you, but it’s not for long as he shoots his load inside you with a groan. He’s twitching as his erection becomes flaccid, and you feel it as he pulls out. 

“Bet it didn’t hurt,” he jokes while you recover from your climax. You’re leaking with his cum and he uses his shirt to wipe you clean, making you shake from how sensitive you are. “I’ll buy you the pill on the way home.”

“Thanks,” you plainly say and stand up to pick up your clothes. You’re trembling slightly and a little achy, but it’s nothing compared to losing your virginity. 

“What? You gonna give me the cold shoulder now?” He’s only in his loose pants and has his shirt thrown over his shoulder. He buckles his belt while you put on your bra. 

“Why did you make us act like a couple in front of Namjoon?” After hearing his confession, the interaction before bugs you.

“What do you mean?”

“Is it because you didn’t want him to think I was single? Because you like me?”

“No, he’s a convicted felon. Crazy motherfucker killed his ex’s new boyfriend,” he reveals with a scoff. “Besides, if you like me, you’d like him as well.”

Putting your shock aside, you realize one thing: Taehyung doesn’t want to be replaced. Does that mean you hold power over him? Or will he do anything at any cost to be in your life?  Regardless of your internal monologue, you only reply with, “who says I like you?”

It’s a joke, and he knows it. As promised, he buys you an emergency pill and another shirt for himself on the way home. His days of slavery are over, and you wonder: where will he be tomorrow? Maybe take his father’s advice… 

[fanmoose12]

Levihan Week 2021

Day two: Confessions

Summary: Confessions are to be made in the right place, in the right time.

"Confessions are to be made in the right place, in the right time."

It was an advice that Erwin once gave him, during one of the rare instances when the late Commander allowed himself to shrug off his heavy duty and act like a normal human.

Back then, Levi didn't understand the meaning of his words, didn't realize how this philosophical remark could be related to his question about “that red-haired lady that visited our barracks with Dawk today”.

But time went on, and the words refused to leave Levi's mind. Watching his fellow scouts, his friends and subordinates, he couldn't help but remember Erwin's wisdom.

Confessions are to be made in the right place, in the right time

The more Levi thought about it, the more he started to believe that it was a universal truth. Blurt out the wrong thing to the wrong person or in the wrong time, and you create a misunderstanding, tension or even a conflict.

Blurt out the right thing to the right person but in the wrong time, and you can very well destroy the relationship that was so treasured.

Levi saw examples of this everywhere - drunken soldiers slurring the admission of their love to their equally drunken comrades, heavily injured soldiers whispering the words of love on the verge of death, forever breaking the heart of the subject of their affections, angry and tired soldiers screaming out those dangerous three little words in the moments of frustration and resentment.

Love made people stupid, it made people reckless. It was dangerous and unwelcome in their line of work. He couldn't allow his heart to grow attached to someone else, couldn't let his eyes wander in the search of them during battles, couldn't let someone else's voice and laugh distract him from his duties.

Levi scoffed at the soldiers who waxed poetic about love, he rolled his eyes at the displays of affection, he pitied the fools who dedicated their hearts not to the indestructible idea of humanity and its future, but to a single, mortal person.

And then, out of nowhere, in the midst of battles, losses and rare moments of peace, he himself became that very same fool. During battles, his eyes searched for the shrieking idiot, his heartbeat slowing down only after he saw them alive and well. During late evenings and sleepless nights, he sat in the stuffy, dusty laboratory, listening to unending ramblings about titans, the outside world and the hopes of bright future.

He was more focused with them by his side. He slept better when they were curled up around him. Even his food was more delicious when they shared it with him, shamelessly stealing bits of his dinner.

It wasn't love, Levi had tried to assure himself. Love was dangerous and stupid, love was making people weak. But this— this bond, this comradery, this friendship, it wasn't making him weak. It was making him stronger, it was making him fight even harder, to ensure that this hell would end with both of them still alive. This bond, it was making him feel so... happy.

Love made people do stupid things when their other half was injured or in danger. But Levi's person, they were strong. Almost as skilled as was he, and twice as smart.

On the battlefield, they were quick and graceful, invisible, they did not make him worried. Whatever danger they were facing, they always managed to defeat it.

But then, then Kenny came back into his life and then they went after him straight into that fucking cave, and Levi's heart had stopped, it almost crushed when he heard their scream and saw them fall.

And blood, there was so much blood on their shirt, in front of his eyes. And that's when Levi realized - he became attached, he fell in love.

Confessions are to be made in the right place, in the right time

It was the first time he remembered these words in a very long time. He thought he would never need this advice. But that night, when they returned from that cave, when Levi stayed by their side, watching them hiss and wince as doctors bandaged their injured shoulder, he almost blurted it all out. Scared out of his mind, he wanted to grab their face and scream at them how he almost lost his shit during the fight, how even the thought of losing them was making him absolutely terrified. He wanted to press their forehead against his and whisper, so quietly than only two of them would hear, how much he loved them.

But they had a battle waiting for them first thing in the morning. Both of them were exhausted, both of them had too much on their minds. It wasn't the right time and it wasn’t the right place.

So he simply gripped their healthy hand and said, "You looked like a fucking amateur back there, four-eyes. Try to focus next time, alright?"

The answering laughter was quiet, but cheerful. It mended Levi's heart.

Then there was Shiganshina, and Levi's previous fears started to look like an overreaction. He thought he was afraid before, he thought he was close to losing them before, but last time, he could at least see them twitch and groan out in pain, he was somewhat comforted by the knowledge that there were people looking over them.

But now, now, there was no one. There was an explosion, a big, thundering explosion, and after it, there was nothing, nothing at all.

And Levi— Levi couldn't go there and check if someone was still alive. He couldn't even stop and make sense of what he was feeling. Everything was moving too quickly, and he could only follow that swift flow, trying his best not to get drown in it.

And, as he continued moving, never faltering, his eyes were wet - with sweat, with blood, with tears - Levi couldn't spare a second to wipe all of it. He could only continue marching forward.

Confessions are to be made in the right place, in the right time

It wasn't the right place, certainly not the right time, but his desperate, relieved "Hange!" could probably count as a confession. It certainly disclosed the feelings that otherwise he would never let out.

But the current kept moving forward, and both of them were struggling to keep their head afloat. There was no time for words of love, no time for being stupid and reckless.

After the utter disaster that was Shiganshina, they returned home, and the place was right, but the time wasn't, as both of them were still dealing with the losses they've endured. Dumping even more revelations onto them seemed unwise, cruel even, so Levi stayed silent, remained at their side, loyal and faithful.

When they finally arrived at the sea, it seemed like the place was right, and the time was right. And as Hange dragged him from one end of the beach to the other, shoving seashell after seashell into his face, Levi even prepared a romantic, touching speech, the kind of soft confession that his love deserved. Something along the lines, "you're more precious than the sea in front of me".

But that peaceful day was over before he could master the courage to let the truth out in the open.

And after that, after that, the time and the place were never quite right. He could not confess in the midst of thousands official meetings, strategy planning and war councils. He couldn't confess when they had to meet with the Marley volunteers, he couldn't confess when they went to explore Marley itself.

He couldn't confess before they went to retrieve Eren's stupid ass. Although, he wanted to, desperately so. But when he grabbed their shoulder before they boarded the airship, he could only tell them, "Don't die. I'd hate to be in charge of this circus."

He didn't know if his true meaning was clear enough, if his voice was tight enough to translate his curt words into their intended point.

Don't leave me alone. I don't know if I can do this without you.

It only went downhill from that. He had no time to speak with them after they came home, he had no time before he went to the forest with Zeke, the place and the time just weren't right.

When Zeke had escaped, when the explosion had almost killed him, Levi thought that he had lost his chance. He had hesitated for too long, and the moment was lost forever. But the explosion didn't kill him, Hange saved him.

And this time, the place was right, it was perfect, a quiet, dark forest where nothing and no one could get to them.

Maybe, the two of us just should live here together. Right, Levi?

He wanted to say yes, wanted to scream "let's leave this fucking hell behind and grow old together". He wanted bury his face in their neck and whisper "I love you, more than anything".

But he didn't.

The place was right, but the time wasn't.

The place, the time, they were never right.

After they got out of the forest, things were spending up and up, leaving Levi behind and unable to catch up. He was always at the back, watching but not doing anything, too weak to even talk. And they were at the front, leading everyone towards their noble goal.

As he watched them move forward, leaving him to fight the Yeagerists, discussing plans with their allies, as he watched them slip through his fingers like a morning fog, those words were at the tip of his tongue, ready to spill out.

But Hange never stopped, they had no time to hear him out.

And then, Hange finally stopped. Then they decided to become the one that was going to be left behind. And in the process, they left behind Levi.

He thought about it so much, for so long, he was carrying these feelings for almost a decade. But he never figured out just what words to use to explain the matters of his heart.

Confessions are to be made in the right place, in the right time

He was so focused on these words that he forgot about the most important thing. Confession had to be done right as well. But he had no time to ponder and search his mind for the fitting words. He had no time, Hange had no time, and in that last moment, when his heart was breaking and his mind kept chanting "please, don't leave me, not you, please, not you", the only thing he could get out was, "Dedicate your heart."

The confession was clumsy, too roundabout, but his feelings probably were clear enough. He hoped so, at least.

Before they went, before they left him alone, Levi wanted them to know, wanted them to remember just how loved they were.

As he sat in that plane, his mind going crazy with grief, he remembered the words spoken to him in the middle of the night, by a man who refused to feel the pain of loss, who shut himself away from affection and love.

Confessions are to be made in the right place, in the right time

Perhaps, Erwin was wrong in that regard, Levi realized. Perhaps, there was no such thing as right place and right time. There could only be right person.

And Levi had just lost his.

[capricorn-stark]

Protégé

pairing: red hood!jason todd x robin!reader, slow burn 

warning: swearing

a/n: for context, this is somewhat loosely based off of Battle for the Cowl (2009) which I definitely recommend as a read! 

There was something about falling that you would never, ever get tired of. 

Ever. 

Probably.

With the wind whistling in your ears, your hair floating up in a million directions, and your limbs seemingly weightless as the buildings and lights blurred into one endless streak of color, the rush of adrenaline that ran through your body right before your grappling hook shot out and you landed quietly on the concrete was about a million times better than any sparring session back at the cave. 

You grinned as you straightened, rather proud of the fact that you had actually managed to land so smoothly without nearly paralyzing yourself. Again.The landing was something you had been working on for a while now.

You could practically hear Bruce’s voice ringing through your head after your little stunt, lamenting on and on about how you had more important things to focus on during patrols, and you let out a sigh as you ran down the backway of the nearly empty streets. 

The heavy man who had been bound up with a decently made gag and one of Bruce’s fancy tech pieces (Batcuffs, maybe? Something else with Bat smacked in front of it?) grunted beside you. 

“What? Not like you had someplace to be.” You grabbed the back of his rather tacky-looking spandex suit to drag him along back to where your mentor was supposed to be.

Despite your (many) disagreements and his (many) criticisms of your hand-to-hand combat skills, attitude issues, and pretty much everything else relating to you, Bruce had actually still allowed you to go off on your own tonight. It might’ve been because he wanted a few hours of nothing but beating up petty criminals by himself for stress-relief, it might’ve been because he had started trying out that whole independence thing with you a little more (even though you were still only permitted to be about five blocks or so away), it might’ve been plot-convenience - but either way, you appreciated the gesture.

It didn’t take long for you to pull your new friend over to what should’ve been your rendezvous point with Batman, letting the man drop with a dull thud and a grunt of protest against the concrete as you glanced around for the other man. You weren’t particularly concerned by the fact that the Bat himself wasn’t there yet - after all, he was the goddamn Batman. He’d show up eventually. In the meanwhile, you decided to go over the information you had gotten on the criminal with you. 

Just for the sake of it. Bruce would make you go over it anyways.

“Drury Walker, thirty-two years old, found him trying to mug someone in a back alley and make an escape. Called himself…” you paused, looking down at his sorry-looking outfit for a few moments while he looked up at you with murder and vengence in his eyes. “...Killer Moth.”  

“Killer Moth?” A completely new voice repeated in disbelief, causing you to immediately whirl around to face them in a fight stance, heart racing at a million miles per hour. The guy in front of you had his hands up in the air, his face concealed with some sort of red knock-off Iron Man helmet. He was gonna get copyrighted by Marvel Studios. “Shit, sorry,” he started at the sight of you, still leaning up against one of the walls. “I was supposed to make a wholeass dramatic entrance, but you said his name was Killer Moth and that-” The man made a noise that was either a sharp cough or a laugh of some kind. “-sounded so fucking lame I couldn’t help myself.” 

Despite the fact that you were definitely in some sort of major trouble with this new guy, he really did have a point. Even Killer Moth himself would’ve been embarrassed by how trash his name was, if not for the fact that he looked like he was on the verge of an aneurysm - understandably so, since the new guy had produced not one, but two guns out of apparently nowhere. 

“And let me guess,” he continued, pointing one of them at your head, his tone still all-too light and easy. “You must be the Bat’s brand-new Robin.” 

Now this is where most people would've shut up and proceeded to be complicit with the dude holding two guns. But Batman hadn’t seen reason and made you his (sort of) partner because you were like other people. Hell no.

“Do I look like a traffic signal to you?” It had been the very first of your amendments with Bruce. You would not be fighting crime looking like a literal traffic signal or, at best, a clown from Haly’s Circus. And the tiny green shorts had to go. “Or Robin Hood?” The guy had a rather awkward pause where his gun sort of dipped. Killer Moth was looking between you with wide eyes. “Do I?” 

“I guess you kinda got a point.” You huffed and he raised his gun again, getting more in-your-face as his already angry-looking helmet somehow managed to look angrier. You weren’t exactly sure how a helmet could convey so much emotion. “But you work with Batman. And I heard you went by Robin.” 

Okay, so you couldn’t make him change the name, but you had agreed it would be more of an honorary thing.

“It’s complicated.” 

Using such a phrase as an excuse to escape from situations you didn’t want to go into was one of the many things you had learned from Bruce in your five months of training. Somehow, that seemed to trigger the guy further.

“So you do work with Batman.” 

Before he could do something actually insane, you had managed to push the gun pointed at your head away from you, using his brief second of surprise to take it out of his hands, kick him in the chest, and round back on him with it in hand. 

“And what about it?” 

As cool as you thought you might’ve sounded didn’t cover for the fact that you were still nerve-wracked about what was happening right then. Especially after the guy started to dramatically slow-clap like some sort of evil thespian in a high school drama. 

“Not bad, Robin. Not bad.” He looked at the gun in your hands and grinned. “If you weren’t Batman’s new replacement sidekick, I might’ve believed you had the balls to use that thing.” 

Now, you were an excellent fighter. You had to be, after your excessive training with the guy who had literally mastered about every martial art in existence during his (give or take) five year-long mission to find himself. Plus, some personal experience. But fighting someone like this guy? Built like a tank and padded up in a whole lot of armor and packing an assortment of knives, guns, and even a damn taser you got a first-hand taste of?

You fought hard, but about five minutes and another round of the taser later, you saw the knock-off Iron Man helmet staring down at you before the world went black.

~*~

You woke up in what you assumed was the self-dubbed Red Hood’s safehouse of sorts. 

“How the hell did he rope you into this shit?” he demanded with what you could only assume was him glaring at you through the helmet. Probably some expression that made someone look all angsty and annoyed - which was fair, since he had been trying to drill you for information you straight up refused to give while bound (way too tightly) to a chair for quite some time now. Rather rude. “Let me guess. You watched your parents die.” You stared at him before shrugging.

“Nope.”

“Oh, so they just went ahead and died somehow. Untimely accident caused by some psycho bitch in a Spirit Halloween costume.”

“…nope.” 

“They abandoned you as a child.”

“No, they didn’t - does divorce count?” 

Red Hoodlum’s hands kept clenching and unclenching while he stood there, staring at the wall behind you in silence. From the way his chest kept rising and falling, you were tempted to believe he was practicing breathing exercises amidst his rather violent twitching. 

“Divorce - what the hell is your trauma supposed to be? Why did he pick you?!”

“Hey, just because my trauma doesn’t include people dying doesn’t make it any less traumatic,” you scoffed in response, knowing you were absolutely right about that. Your middle school guidance counselor had said so (and it’s true, ladies and gentlemen, trauma comes in many forms!). “Kinda rude to assume it didn’t affect me somehow.”

He seemed rather abashed at that and you heard him clear his throat a little. 

“...right, yeah. Sorry.”

“Apology accepted - can you loosen these ropes a little? It’s starting to kinda hurt.” 

“Do I look ten? That’s the oldest trick in the book, I’m not gonna-”

“I’m not going to run, just loosen the ropes a little.” He still looked like he didn’t believe you. “Come on, I don’t think I can outrun your guns.” As in his literal array of guns tacked up to the wall behind him, not his gigantic biceps. 

And you weren’t too worried about being held hostage by him, either. You figured you had ten minutes tops before Batman burst in through the doorway, ready to give you a lecture on why straying from the specifically designated parts of Gotham he had let you traipse around was a terribly stupid idea. 

“No.” He was already walking towards the door, because apparently, he had enough of trying to interrogate you. 

“Hold on, I feel like my wrists are actually about to start bleeding or something - where are you going?”

“Keep talking and I’m gonna get the duct tape.” 

“Is that a threat?” Sounding more confident than you actually felt should eventually make you more confident. Eventually. 

The Red Hood sucked in a breath, stopping by the doorway and turning to face you, reaching into his pockets to get what you assumed was either a gun or duct tape when you both startled from a sudden crash. The man in front of you was already whirling around with two guns positioned to shoot when you heard the familiar voice of someone else.

“Hold your fire, soldier. I’m not here for you.” A pause. “Or I wasn’t, but now I kind of am.”

Apparently, Batman was too busy to save you. Now, you got Nightwing. 

And as much as you liked Nightwing, that still kinda stung. 

[princessphilly]

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Word Count: 5118

CW: angst, smut but not super filthy smut (medium filth?), bad language

Dress and shoes that Nina wore in this chapter

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Only three more chapters and an epilogue left

Nina fidgeted as dug into her pocketbook for her keys to her parents’ house. It was time for Sunday dinner, the one meal a week that she wasn’t responsible for cooking and therefore, Nina never missed it. Cooking was not her forte and Nina had no problems with that. However, this Sunday dinner, she needed to talk to her family about their lives changing.

The smell of roast chicken filled the house and Nina took a deep sniff as she opened and closed the door. Aryanna and Dad were watching the late game aka hate-watching the Ravens vs Saints. The Steelers were playing on Monday night this week. 

“Heey sweettart,” Vernon said, getting up to give his oldest daughter a hug. 

Nina hugged her father back, holding him close for a second. “Hi Dad.”

“Oh no!”

Nina ended the hug, turning with her father towards the tv. Lamar Jackson had just run for a 20-yard touchdown. They all groaned; the Steelers needed the Ravens to lose as both teams were running neck to neck for the AFC North crown. As Nina got absorbed into the game, the situation with Sidney was still in the back of her mind. 

Nina had talked to her mom earlier in the day, explaining everything to her mother, well everything but the sex. Tracey had listened with an open ear before telling her daughter not to make a decision over her potential happiness just because of how it could affect her family. Tracey had reminded Nina that Jason, while he was at UNC now, had been a 5-star tight end prospect and they dealt with the media when it was time for him to sign with a college. 

After talking to her mom, Nina had taken a nap before coming to sunday dinner. As she watched the game, waiting to eat, Nina hoped for courage. However, she kept it to herself when it was time to eat, instead listening to Aryanna talk about school, her dad talk about his new position at work which meant that he wasn’t going to be going out on the road as much anymore. Nina shared some stories about her clients while Tracey talked about the switch to travel nursing over working in the hospital. But when it was over, Nina gulped and summoned her courage.

“So, I got news,” Nina started once dinner was over and dessert was served. She looked down at her glass of water. Before she could continue, Aryanna piped up. “Let me guess, you’re breaking up with Sidney Crosby because you’re a punk.”

“Aryanna!” 

Nina glared at her little sister while Tracey reprimanded, “That was rude, little girl.”

“Sorry,” Aryanna muttered.

“Anyway, before I was rudely interrupted,” Nina said, “I have news. After thinking about it, talking to Sidney, and going over the pros and cons, I’ve decided to give him another chance.”

Tracey smiled as Aryanna shouted yes. Vernon looked at his daughter and carefully said, “Are you ready for it?”

Nina grimaced. “As ready as I can possibly. Are y’all?”

“We only want you to be happy, sweetie,” Tracey consoled. “Plus, I saw those pics of you two. He’s smitten.”

Nina groaned while Aryanna laughed. Vernon added, “We were already planning to move soon anyway. We’ve been looking at homes in South HIlls and we just closed on a house in Mt. Lebanon.”

“Oh wow. When was I going to find out,” Nina said with a smirk. She knew her parents had been thinking of moving for a while but the market had been super hot for a long time. Before she had moved into her current apartment, Nina had heard of the different arguments her parents had about moving to different areas. But before they could find somewhere, someone else would snap it up.

Tracey grinned. “We weren’t going to say anything until we closed because of how long it took to find somewhere. It’s taken almost two years and we even saved enough to offer forty percent as a down payment. It’s a fixer-upper though but it has a bigger backyard for my garden and the schools are better.”

“What are you going to do with this house,” Nina asked before taking a bite of her sweet potato pie. Fuck, she wished she could bake and cook just so she could make herself sweet potato pie all of the time. 

Vernon replied, “Probably sell. There are people looking to buy even though this area isn’t that great. ”

“I guess it’s settled. This is exciting though.”

Tracey snickered before looking at her husband. “I hope you are still excited when we need you to help pack, Ni-ni.”

Nina looked to her right before taking out her phone and sending a quick message. Free monday? 12pm?

She received a quick response. Yup, just tell me where to meet

Vernon casually commented, “I’m also looking at it this way; this is a practice for when Jason is in the NFL and becomes famous.”

“Good point,” Tracey said. “I can start practicing telling people no even more now.”

Nina laughed. “Looks like I have nothing to worry about then.”

The conversation switched to the Steelers game tomorrow night as they finished dessert.

**

Honestly, Sidney was a bit surprised to get a message from Nina so quickly. He had fully expected her to wait until Wednesday and he had been preparing himself for the worst possible outcome. As a competitor, prepping for each game meant learning his opponents’ strengths and weaknesses. Nina wasn’t his opponent but Sidney was now very aware of the power she had over him with just one look, let alone her touch or words. 

Nina had asked to meet somewhere that wasn’t at their homes. Sidney suggested lunch but after looking at his schedule, he asked if Nina could maybe meet him at the Pens offices and then get lunch after. Fidgeting in the smaller conference room, Sidney began to worry that Nina wouldn’t show up when the clock showed that it was already five minutes past the time they agreed to. But then, Nina wasn’t the most on time person either so Sidney rationalized to himself, he should worry if it was fifteen minutes passed and she still wasn’t here. 

Then outside the door, Sidney saw Nina talking with Evelyn, one of their PR mavens. They were having an animated discussion and Sidney smiled softly. Nina opened the door and grinned at him. “Hi Sid, sorry for being late.”

Evelyn waved at Sidney and he waved back. After Nina walked in, Evelyn peeped in and said, “I was just catching up with Nina since it’s been a while since she’s been here.”

Sidney nodded as Nina replied, “thank you so much for the advice, Evelyn, I will definitely use it!”

Evelyn waved goodbye before closing the door firmly. Nina chose a chair directly across from Sidney and sat down. There was a brief pause before Nina giggled. “Oh my God, you looked like you were about to die before I showed up.”

“Well, I had to remind myself that you’d show up but part of me still was worried because of everything in our last conversations,” Sidney replied. 

The aura in the room turned serious as Nina bit her lip and folded her hands together. “Yeah, those conversations,” Nina started. “I like you a lot, Sidney Crosby, but… I hate this circus that surrounds you. I know that it’s something you can’t control but I hate it. But I realized, especially after talking to my mom, there’s nothing I can do about it now. My life’s forever changed.”

Sidney cleared his throat but Nina stopped him. “Let me finish, Sid because I can already tell you’re ready to make promises you can’t keep. So let me save both of us the headache.”

Sitting back, Sidney leaned in his chair. “What are your plans, pretty girl?”

“You have to get over being super private and claim me publicly. You want me to be yours, Mr. Crosby? Then you have to let the world know we are together. No are they or aren’t they bullshit.”

Nina glared at Sidney when she was done. Sidney flushed; part of him hated the idea of letting the world know more than they really needed to know about his personal life. At the same time, he already knew he was going to do whatever Nina asked him to, in his own way. “You know I don’t use social media,” Sidney began before trailing off. Then he smirked. 

Nina casually said, “you’ll find a way.”

“I already figured it out,” Sidney drawled. “What else do you want, pretty girl?”

“No more surprise meet ups with people from the team, let me know ahead of time. Just like I’ll let you know ahead of time whenever I decide you should meet my fam.”

Sidney actually blushed while Nina arched an eyebrow. “I know I’m amazing but that was a bit uncomfortable when I think back. At least you didn’t abandon me to talk to your teammates and let me fend for myself.”

“I’m sorry, Nina,” Sidney apologized. He felt really bad now: he had been so excited that he really didn’t think about how Nina would have felt. Nina shrugged; it wasn’t that bad to be honest because Sidney stayed at her side, introduced her to everyone, and made sure she was included. But that didn’t mean she wanted him to continue doing that. 

Nina smiled at Sidney and asked, “what do you think, Sid?”

Sidney scratched his jaw as he thought of his reply. It was relatively simple but it would also be life-changing for him. He finally said, “Yes, it all sounds good. But I have one thing?”

“What’s that?”

Sidney smirked as he looked Nina up and down. Nina rolled her eyes as she smiled. She could guess where his mind was, right in the gutter. But Sidney surprised her when he said, “Then let me spoil you.  I have no problem claiming you publicly, but I want you to let me treat you like I’ve been wanting to treat you.”

Nina gave Sidney a bashful smile before looking to the side. “I’ll never say no to purses and shoes but I don’t want you to buy out the store-“

“I already know that, sweetheart,” Sidney firmly said, “but let me treat you like you deserve.”

“Okay, okay,” Nina conceded.

Sidney pushed his chair back, making space. Then he patted his lap. “Come ‘ere.”

Nina got out of her chair and sat on Sidney’s lap. “You know where we are,” she hissed even though she had obeyed him. 

Wrapping an arm around her waist, Sidney smiled. Smelling her coconut-vanilla scent, he realized how much he had missed her. “I know, I’m not going to do anything inappropriate, pretty girl. Just missed having you close to me.”

Sidney kissed the back of Nina’s neck, causing her to shiver. “Watch the postgame of our next game, Nina. Now, what do you want for lunch?”

“Um, honestly, I want Chipotle. I have to get back to work in about an hour so nothing fancy,” Nina replied. 

Turning so that she was facing Sidney, she placed her index finger over his lips when he opened his mouth. “I forgot to add this earlier but I’m also going to say this now. I’m not quitting my job anytime soon. I’m going to finish my Ph.D. and if I decide to stop working, it’s because I plan to teach full-time. So, if you expect I’ll be waiting at home and living for you, now you know that’s not going to happen,” Nina stated. 

Sidney opened his mouth to reply but the door opened. “Hey, I’ve been looking for you, Sidney!”

Nina squeaked in surprise and Sidney sighed. It was Brian Burke and Sidney was sure that it was probably something important but this wasn’t quite the moment where he wanted to see him. 

Brian smiled. “It looks like you two have made up.”

Nina weakly waved. At first, she was going to move off of Sidney’s lap but his hand around her waist made that impossible. “I’d introduce myself but I figure I interrupted,” Brian continued. 

“It’s okay, I was on my way to get lunch,” Nina replied. 

Sidney added, “With me.”

“Don’t forget, you said you wanted to help with more planning for our pride game this season,” Brian reminded Sidney.

“Ohh, the pride game! You’re getting more involved in it? That’s awesome,” Nina exclaimed. 

Sidney blushed as he smiled under Nina’s praise. 

“Would you be interested in being involved, Nina,” Brian asked.

Nina paused for a second, her eyes wide. “Um, sure.”

“I can get your contact information from Sidney,” Brian asked.

Nina nodded as Sidney rubbed his hand up and down her back. Sidney said, “I’ll let you know,” as Brian closed the door. 

Placing a hand over her face, Nina sighed. “Wow.”

“It’s fine. Look, your first volunteer project,” Sidney kidded. 

“I need to eat.”

**

The game against the Isles had gone well. Sidney had tallied two assists and a goal in a 4-2 win after having a four game slump. Normally post-game interviews were a necessary evil but he was a bit nervous this time. Not because he knew they were going to ask about getting out of his slump, but because of what he was going to say. 

The first couple of questions were easy softballs. Then Sidney was hit with the question that opened the door. 

“Sidney, great breaking your slump. There were rumors that your personal life was affecting your game on the ice. What do you think about that?”

Sidney looked at the reporters, all ready for him to give a cliche. Instead, Sidney admitted the truth. “My personal life was affecting my game on the ice. But we’ve fixed our issues and I’m glad.”

There was a pause, as if the reporters didn’t know where to start. Sidney looked at one of the PR interns to the side. The intern gave him a slight smile and a quick thumbs up. Sidney decided to continue, “We prefer to keep our relationship private for now but she means a lot to me and is very important to my life. I will not be answering any more questions about my relationship at this moment.”

Luckily, the rest of the questions were about hockey but Sidney knew that his statement was going to be a big part of what everyone was going to talk about. Once back in the locker room, Geno gave Sidney a big grin. Tanger said, “You did it?”

“Yeah but I’m serious, I’m not going to answer a bunch of questions about my personal life,” Sidney replied. “Now though, every time we struggle, the dumbasses will start talking about it.”

Tanger grimaced as Geno said, “Fuck them.”

Guentzy laughed as he stated, “I agree with Geno. Fuck them.”

Sidney laughed as he pulled his shirt off before pulling off his pads. Sitting in his crocs, hockey pants and pads, Sidney pulled out his phone. There was just one message from the only person who’s opinion mattered to him, wow😍 .

Sidney replied back, made it official for u but in the way u wanted 😁😏

😘🥰 part of me can’t believe it but i’m happy u listened to me, was Nina’s reply. 

Sidney texted, only 4 u, before finishing getting undressed so he could take a shower.

**

To be totally honest, Nina thought her life would have exploded the minute that Sidney admitted that he was seeing someone in the post-game conference after the Isles game. It wouldn’t take much to put 2 and 2 together, especially when she went out with Sidney and the Malkins to a popular Shadyside restaurant the day after. But things were relatively calmer. 

There were still the nasty looks from other people, especially women when Nina was out by herself, running her everyday errands. But there were also people who seemed to defer to her and it felt so fucking weird. Like, if she wanted to, Nina felt like people were ready to let her do whatever she wanted because she was now Sidney Crosby’s girlfriend. 

Nina bit her lip as she waited in line to pay for her groceries. Then someone bumped into her and it was Ron. “Hey Nina, long time no see.”

“Hi Ron,” Nina replied with a strained smile. 

“Not everyday one sees their ex. Look at you, shopping like the rest of us. Your man ain’t ordering groceries for you.”

Nina resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She could feel the eyes of other people at Weis and she knew there were people looking for something to gossip about. Nina definitely didn’t want to give Ron the satisfaction of a reaction. She merely replied, “I have my own life I have to take care of on my own.”

“Oh wow, because I remember the way you two were looking at each other that time we went out on a date. Makes me think you were cheating on me with him,” Ron goaded. 

Nina gave him a blank look. “We were long over, for almost three years, before I went out with Sidney. But you had two other women when we were a couple,” Nina stated with a shrug. “Anyway, it’s my turn to check out. Bye.”

Nina tuned Ron out as she checked out. The cashier commented, “That guy seems like a dick.”

“You live and you learn,” Nina replied with a smile as she paid, unaware that someone had uploaded video of that encounter to the internet.

**

Sidney gulped down his protein shake, home after practice. The season was starting well but he felt like the team could be better. Sidney wanted another cup, one more cup and he felt like this was the year. Then his phone buzzed and he saw it was his mom.

“Hi Mom,” Sidney said, sitting on his sofa. He had some time before he needed to get ready for tonight and it was always good to talk to his mother.

Trina chirped, “Hi Sidney, how are you?”

“I’m doing good, short practice today before our game against New Jersey tomorrow,” Sidney idly replied as he turned his tv on. Flipping through Netflix, he chose an episode of How I Met Your Mother. 

He could hear his mother’s smile through the phone when she teased, “Your father told me you told the press that you are seeing someone last week. Is it that girl you kept talking about over the years?”

Sidney giggle-honked before admitting, “Yes, it is. I’m finally dating Nina.”

“Are you sure it’s a good idea? This is something totally different for you,” Trina asked, concerned. Her son had a relationship with Kathy but this situation with this new girl was something totally different. Part of her was worried that since Sidney had wanted this girl for so long, that he was diving into this without really thinking about it.

Sidney replied, “You sound like Nina.”

“Hmm, I do?”

“Yep, Mom, you did,” Sidney said, “Nina wasn’t sure if it was a good idea for a long time but I managed to convince her it was.”

Trina was still feeling skeptical. From what she knew, this girl was from the area, a fan of the team, a different race, and had worked for the team for a period of time. It was possible she could be playing the long game. “Is she there with you now?”

Knowing her son, Trina was convinced that Nina was already living with her son. Her son, when he decided he wanted something, went all out to get it. She was surprised when Sidney said, “No, she’s at work, then she has class.”

“Class,” Trina asked, her tone perking up. This sounded interesting. 

Sidney informed his mother, “Nina decided to get a PhD in rehabilitation science this year. She works as a physical therapist.”

“That sounds interesting, isn’t that how you met her,” Trina idly said. The door opened and Troy stepped in. Trina put her finger to her mouth to shush her husband. 

Sidney scratched his head, wondering where his mother was going with these questions. “Yes. Nina works somewhere else totally different now. But she’s looking into becoming a professor after guest lecturing at, I think, Pitt.”

Trina raised her eyebrows. That was interesting information. Switching the conversation to more mundane subjects, Trina filed that information in the back of her head. It sounded like this Nina was a bit more well-rounded than she thought. 

Sidney sighed when he hung up on his mother. That conversation felt like one thing but he could sense there was another undercurrent. Then he received a picture message from Nina and his mind went straight to the gutter. Sidney sighed; it was going to be a long night.

**

“You look very nice.”

Nina smiled as she replied, “Thank you,” to the guest. 

It was kind of last minute, this dinner that Nina found herself invited to. It was thrown by Nathalie and most of the top brass of the Penguins were here as well as Sidney, the Letangs, and the Malkins. Because Sidney had gone public with their relationship, Nina had found herself suddenly invited. Luckily for her, Nina already had an appropriate cocktail dress for the occasion. 

Her dress was black with an asymmetrical one shoulder with a bow but it came to just above knee level. Nina’s heels were gold, an impulse purchase several months ago that she was happy to have. The outfit was classy, understated, and definitely Penguins colors. 

Sidney seemed to like it as well from the way his arm stayed possessively around Nina’s waist whenever possible. At least it wasn’t a public event; the possessiveness would have looked bad. But because it was informal and in a private room at PPG arena, Sidney was able to get away with it. 

The length was a blessing and a curse. A blessing that it meant that Sidney couldn’t try to do any funny business during dinner but a curse in that the more he touched her, the more Nina wanted him. By the end of the night, it was obvious that Sidney was getting close to losing his cool and Nina was loving it. 

As soon as they got into the car at the end of the night, Sidney pounced. His lips touched hers, demanding and devouring as he kissed her. Then abruptly, Sidney let go. “You'd been torturing me all night in that little black dress. So sexy, the way it showed off my pretty girl’s body.”

Sidney already knew that Nina was perfect in every way anyway. However, as soon as he saw her step in with that black dress and gold heels, it took every ounce of media training and self-control for Sidney not to strip it off of her and fuck her right there. Right now, he was glad that he hired a car after this event. 

Sidney didn’t even do anything in the car other than keep his hand on Nina’s thigh. The difference was that he told Nina every filthy thing he planned to do to her once he got her home. Nina wiggled on the seat, her legs shifting as Sidney whispered what he planned to do to her. It was insane, what he could do to her with his words. 

Nina had expected Sidney to push her against the wall when they got back to his place but instead, he just guided Nina to the kitchen before taking out two glasses. Picking out a wine, Sidney poured two glasses. 

“I’ve missed you in my bed but I’m patient,” Sidney stated, his hands palming Nina’s ass before giving both cheeks a smack. Then Sidney picked up the glasses of wine and passed one to Nina.

Nina smirked. “I’m not,” she said as she took a sip. 

“Can’t be patient for me, pretty girl?”

Nina shrugged as she took another sip. Then she delicately licked a drop that was on her lower lip, causing Sidney to visibly grunt and shudder. “Maybe,” Nina finally replied. 

“Good.”

Sidney sat down in a chair and patted his lap. Nina sat on his lap, the hem of her dress riding up. “Did you have a good time?”

“I actually did for something that was pretty last minute. Don’t ask me if I remember everyone’s name yet.”

“That’s okay,” Sidney reassured Nina. “No one expects you to remember everyone, yet.”

Nina snorted before taking another sip of her wine. Idly, Sidney added, “Fuck, I love this dress.”

“Maybe if you move your hands higher underneath it, you’ll get a surprise,” Nina taunted. Licking her lips, she winked.

Unable to resist a challenge, Sidney moved his hand higher and higher. Then he whistled when he realized Nina’s surprise. “You went commando all night and didn’t tell me?”

“I’m lucky this dress was lined so well that no one could tell,” Nina admitted. “But it was worth it.”

“How,” Sidney asked as his hand touched Nina’s pussy. She was already wet.

Nina smirked. “Because I knew if you found out tonight, the look on your face would have been priceless.”

Sidney ignored that statement as he stroked Nina’s core with his fingers. Rolling her clit with his fingers, Sidney hissed at the idea that Nina was here, with him tonight. His pretty girl, perfect in his lap. "I love how wet you get for me, pretty girl."

"Only for you, daddy," Nina moaned as she clutched his shoulders. Sidney growled at her words, her pussy clenching harder on his fingers. 

Suddenly, Sidney picked Nina up and placed her on the table. Nina smiled as she hiked up her dress and spread her legs. Sidney licked his lips. “We’re gonna see how many times you cum for me tonight, pretty girl.”

“Fuck, I can’t wait,” Nina moaned as his mouth met her core.

**

Sidney woke, at first disoriented because someone else was in his bed and curled up on top of him. Then he realized it was Nina and he relaxed. Her head was on top of his chest, one arm on him as she slept on her side. Carefully extracting himself, Sidney went to the bathroom. After relieving himself, he watched Nina continue to sleep, now curled into herself. Sidney took a quick picture, it was so cute. However, after taking the picture, he checked his messages. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chanted.

Nina opened her eyes slowly, her body deliciously sore after last night. Stretching out her arms, she sleepily asked, “What’s wrong, Sid?”

“Seems like someone has something against you, pretty girl,” Sidney said, suppressing his fury. 

Nina’s eyes snapped open, sleep now forgotten. Sitting up, she queried, “What happened?”

“There's a video of you with some guy at a market.”

Grimacing, Nina sighed. “I ran into Ron while getting groceries. He was being a jagoff asshole.”

“You don’t look bad at all, PR thinks you handled it perfectly.”

Nina got off the bed and walked over to Sidney. Wrapping her arms around him, she pleaded, “Fuck him and fuck whoever took video.”

Snuggling into Sidney’s chest, Nina nipped one of his nipples. “Plot your revenge later, Sid. It’s eight am and I know you have a maintenance day today. Come back to bed.”

“‘Come back to bed?’ You know this is my bed,” Sidney joked. His anger was going away each second that Nina was pressed against him, her lips giving him little kisses and bites on his upper body. 

Nina looked up at Sidney, giving him soulful eyes. “Please, daddy?”

Trailing her hands around his neck, Nina murmured, “I’ve been so good. Please?”

“Fuck, how can I say no,” Sidney groaned as Nina giggled. Picking her up, he tossed her on the bed. 

Scooting back, Nina spread her legs as Sidney settled in the middle of them. “I love the way you fuck me, Sidney.”

Sidney smirked, his brown eyes smoldering as he crouched over Nina. “Oh do you?”

“Yes, I do,” Nina hummed, her fingers tugging on his chain. “You should do it again.”

Sidney settled between Nina’s thighs, pulling her legs around his waist. His lips lowered to hers in a gentle kiss. Slow and drugging, enough to make both of them red hot for each other, full of promise. Pulling away, Sidney nipped Nina’s lower lip. Nina sucked her lip into her mouth, her brown eyes meeting Sidney’s. Cupping Nina’s chin, Sidney reminded her, “How do you ask, pretty girl?”

“Please fuck me, daddy,” Nina asked, her body arching towards his. “Make me yours.”

“Good girl.”

**

Nina tried hard not to feel self-conscious as she made her way to the ice-level with Aryanna, Catherine and her children, and Anna with Nikita. It had been a week since that awful article with video from her interaction with Ron. It had been set up to make Nina look like a gold digging whore and it hurt to have guys, guys she had only gone out with once or twice, say things that made her seem horrible. Nina hadn’t admitted that part to Sid when he was in a fury about it. Lauren had reminded Nina that men tend to be assholes about women that they couldn’t have and that Nina was way beyond their level even before her current relationship. 

Even though Nina had distracted Sidney that morning, by the afternoon, that article was off the internet. A radio host had mentioned it and then within an hour, issued an apology for talking about it. However, it was forgotten pretty quickly as more people cared about the Steelers potentially staying undefeated with a game coming up against the Browns.

Nina smiled as they reached the ice. The team was doing warm-ups and Sidney was in the midst of his pregame rituals. She actually had more enjoyment from watching Aryanna react to watching the guys on the ice. Tanev gave the glass near them an ice shower while Geno and Kris had greeted Nina and Aryanna while saying hi to their families. Then, very unexpectedly, Sidney broke one of his traditions and came over. Giving the glass a small shower, Sidney waved at Aryanna before smirking at Nina. Nina smirked back before giving Sid a little wave. 

As people took pictures of Sid waving to her, Nina smiled. She could live with this, maybe. ‘No, that was a lie’, Nina thought as they made their way to the family box. She was going to have to live with this now, it was too far gone to go back. And she didn’t want to.

[1ddiscourseoftheday]

Mon 15 Feb ‘21

Nothing wakes you up like a “hope everyone is doing alright!” from Louis! But how are YOU, he was asked. “Really good thank you! Motivated”, he said and “I've been doing a lot of thinking about my next record. It's going to be special! No concrete plans because I don't need that pressure while I'm writing. I'm sure I will have something out this year but unlikely that will be the album. Who knows though!” What song is the best bridge to the new record- “Great question. Walls, only the brave, kill my mind, copy of a copy,” (FUCK YES LT2 is gonna be SO GOOD and the callout to fan fave OTB? yes) and about a studio version of Copy, “Still in two minds. Maybe one day,” but new merch will be “soon” (that...word....) Anyway so exciting, love that he’s working and writing and thinking about when that stuff will be heard- the post time (roughly 9 am PST/ 17 GMT) is exactly his usual ‘I am working and here I am to provide some bi weekly fan service’ time, and Louis being back in work mode sounds like GOOD NEWS FOR US! Maybe we’ll even get to see his 29 year old face someday! Anyway he wraps it up and signs off with “Just want to acknowledge everyone who has helped with Defenceless. These moments make me immensely proud and reinforces with your support we're unstoppable.” We’re Unstoppable, Stream Only The Brave, OMG Louis, Next Record, I’m Excited, I Love You, and Clifford (um?) trended.

Nothing like Louis tweets to put everyone in a good mood! Wellll… not that good though. Yesterday’s complaining that not every person who worked on DWD specifically named Harry in their thank you notes did die down, but only because they were eclipsed by people complaining that Olivia Wilde did write about him. She posted a pic from set (Harry as Jack perched atop a very stylish vintage convertible) with a long caption applauding her supporting star, praising him for being willing to set aside his ego and allow the film to be “female-led” and Florence Pugh to shine, adding “he didn’t have to join our circus, but he jumped on board” and praising...his driving??! Uh, that is NOT what most people say… Anyway other than it being a lot of praise to merely say hey this guy was a decent human and that part about his driving skills reinforcing that they’ve probably never spent a non working second together off set, a perfectly normal and professional post-shoot post, but the tabloids are here to make everything ridiculous, never fear! First the Daily Mail posted a story last night about how Olivia had been photographed “returning to ex Jason’s house” “bearing Valentine’s gifts,” (1, those would be the post filming gifts most likely, 2, Jason is in London) and that Harry was “nowhere in sight” (now THIS I believe!). But then! Today Page Six reported that Olivia was seen (and pap pics were dutifully produced) moving her suitcases into “Harry’s house” and the Daily Mail CHANGED THEIR ARTICLE so it now says she’s packing up her things and moving in with Harry! Lol sure. Given that that house actually belongs to Jeff and Harry was rumored to be flying back to the UK today I actually find it plausible she might be planning to stay there for a bit post filming (ETA, OH! or bringing her stuff over to fly to the UK, where her kids are! IE share a private plane ride YOU KNOW WHAT this makes GOOD SOLID SENSE) but just as likely this is sheer nonsense. I guess with filming over we’ll have to live without the high key ridiculousness of “Harry is designing dresses for their wedding”, there was really nowhere to go but downhill from there. Oh well; anyway Joni Mitchell tweeted about the one year anniversary of Harry covering her song, Big Yellow Taxi! Very cool.

A tattoo artist posted a pic of Zayn’s arm showing two brand new pieces-- a large script reading ‘ICARUS’ and one of the NIL cover faces (red). Also partially visible, another unseen tattoo, fully healed- is it a lioness with Gigi’s face? (yes it’s pretty much as weird as you’re picturing) Ztans speculate that it’s a reference to Khai’s birth, which we were told by Gigi reminded Zayn of a lioness’ birth in a documentary they had watched, and tbh WHY NOT I would believe he would get that tattooed on his body, the weirdo.

[type40thiefoflight]

Ghosts Season 3 thoughts on each episode:

Episode 1:

I see a bad moon rising, I see evil on the way

Humphrey is trying so darn hard to be a good husband, other than not learning French

I bet she really does know English and is just fucking with him

Ha, I was right!

Stop ignoring Humphrey!

Cap and Fanny are friends now, awesome

“Is it your oral skills?” Thomas!

This wouldn’t have happened if you’d learnt French, dude

Please don’t let Barclay die on the property

Ooh the ruff’s on, he’s gonna die!

All these vocal warm-ups are giving me drama class flashbacks

Oh my god Humphrey for husband of the year award

Stupid deaths, stupid deaths, they’re funny ‘cause they’re true! Stupid deaths, stupid deaths, hope next time it’s not you!

More evidence of my “Thomas gets turned on by being ridiculed” theory

Wow, that’s some laugh there guys. Glad they appreciate puns though.

Oh, Barclay’s fine. At least he won’t die on the property.

Are you the Butt Ho?

Her name is Sophie! Was that said anywhere in the episode? My hearing’s not that great.

Episode 2:

Pat worked at a bank and Robin shit bricks on his first mammoth hunt

Julian died of a heart attack, maybe drug o.d?

Now we know the woman’s name was Katie (It is Katie, right?)

New guy! Wow, Robin’s desensitized to death

Good to see more of Heather

Who wore it better, Mike or Julian? (It’s Mike ‘cause he's got rainbow Crocs)

Robin watches soap operas? (I think that’s what he’s talking about)

I don’t trust Lucy

Rachel has at least two half siblings courtesy of Julian sleeping around

Kitty gets jealous very easily, I’m guessing she didn’t have any friends when she was alive and now she doesn’t know how to share

The sign behind Robin and Mary says Conservative ’94 but in S1, ep. 2 Julian’s death day is March 18th, 1993

Humphrey is great at improv games

Don’t talk to me, my Bavarian circus, chickens, or 13 sons ever again

The only other people in the room with Alison and Lucy are the ones who are actually related to “them”

Oh, never mind Julian’s there too

He should have stopped trying at 69

Nice they acknowledged the sitting vs touching things problem

Yeah, Mary, fennel’s a laxative

Pat was a regional dance finalist

Dance Break!

I wish everyone who headcanoned Fanny almost going on the Titanic a very congratulations.

Love is an onion

What is love if not onions persevering?

Aw, Mary’s praying for the woman with the trial.

Why is Thomas’ cravat suddenly tied with the bow underneath the wrapped part? Oh wait, his collar’s just not covering it for some reason.

Julian taught Robin chess

Kitty the Dance Machine

Of course The Captain thinks banana splits are delicious

“There are times when one must go against the grain, make one’s own decisions rather than simply following others.” Is that foreshadowing for a coming out I smell?

Episode 3:

Is Mary saying Alfred or Humphrey?

When a wolf eat your eye like a big pizza pie, that’s amore

Do I want to know Cap’s idea of horseplay?

You’ll never be able to get it up, huh?

Get Out 2, Fumigator Boogaloo

I love how the ghosts immediately have no idea what to do without Alison

Hand-nocuulars, the latest advancement in espionage technology

Firm blows, Alison

Dip it again!

Tom I love you but you’re full of shit

Pat has asthma, no wonder Kitty’s dance party wore him out

They really dumbed down Mary huh?

Canned food didn’t agree with you because it had lead in it, dude

Ghosts getting scared of the dark and a ghost story is hilarious.

Friend pile!

Wait why is Pat in with Mike and Alison? Also sleeping on your side like that with an arrow in can’t be comfortable.

When I said you were full of shit I didn't mean it literally.

I went to Venice and all I got was this stupid t-shirt (and food poisoning)

Thomas does his best work when he’s not actively trying

Two bros, chillin’ in an alcove, zero feet apart ‘cause they’re not straight

They get badges!

Soon may the boiler man come to bring us hot water by tons

Episode 4

No, Cap, we are not calling it CocSoc, I don’t care how funny it is

“I know Fanny better than any of you!” Sure, Jan. (Julian’s face though!)

Autistic Cap back at it again with the need for clarification of instructions

Julian and Robin are such a wonderfully chaotic duo

Oh Robin don’t do that

Yeah Robin knows

Cap talks to his pillow? Get this man better friends

Wait, did Fanny and Mary...? Oh, it was just her reaction.

Robin, why are you immediately pointing to someone I ship Fanny with?

Pat, dreaming of a woman with a guy’s head is pretty bi, dude.

Humphrey?! The other person I ship her with?! It’s just his body, but w/e still 2/3 canon.

Good for you girl!

Wow, Julian upped his jerkiness this episode, or we’re just seeing it more

Wait, can Humphrey’s head feel when Fanny and his body do stuff? That’s uh, not great.

We got Fanny’s age! She’s 60.

Thomas’ ire for Byron strikes again

Fanny plus one whole Humphrey! Oh, never mind.

So Cap, who are you imagining the pillow as?

Episode 5

Cap likes Dorothy! I guess you could say he’s a good friend of hers?

Does everyone genuinely like Kitty or do they just tolerate/placate her?

Kitty’s sister’s name is Ellie, now I know who to sic the demons on

Lord Bummandbach’s balls are the most magnificent in the county

Pat’s also a musical theater guy, further proof Patcap is supreme

Elenore’s lucky she’s dead and a fictional character or I’d kill her myself

Dude, you’re bitching that your mom framed your stuff? That’s a good thing, dummy.

I love Alison’s red top this episode

Didn’t Mary’s husband get killed by a tractor or something? Maybe her dream is her subconsciously blaming herself for his death by manifesting him pointing and accusing her. Or it could represent the townspeople accusing her of witchcraft.

Mike trying to Shane Madej his way into seeing ghosts is hilarious

Kitty is very kind but way too forgiving and naive about Ellie’s intentions

Julian is constantly slightly tipsy from dying with champagne in his system, that explains some things

Julian has been drunk and horny for 27 slutty, slutty years

Who’da thought a ghost show would actually be scary? WTF, Mary?

I wish Elenore a very die by my blade

Episode 6

Thomas, leave Humphrey’s head alone!

You kick Humphrey? You kick his head like the football? Oh! Oh! Jail for Thomas! Jail for Thomas for one thousand years!

Kitty got to ride in a canoe with someone!

Mike still can’t say “wedding”

I still don’t trust Lucy

I was right not to trust her

Awkward walking while on the phone, very relatable

Go Mike! And go Julian for using your powers for good.

Is Fanny going to be a detective?

Kitty’s very sweet but still too trusting.

Fanny Button, Ace Detective to the rescue

How did Humphrey not get bounced back over the gate before telling Alison about Lucy?

They sit together for dinner?!

Improv dinner party!

Extra thoughts:

I would have liked the Fanny/Humphrey plot to be an actual side plot building off of their interaction in the season 2 finale rather than another “Fanny temporarily falls for someone then abruptly changes her mind” joke.

They really seemed to connect after Humphrey told Fanny about his arranged marriage to Sophie and had common ground of both being in relationships that they were sort of stuck in and couldn’t connect to the other person.

Fanny and Humphrey’s head would have been better than her and the body, not because it can’t consent (it does have a “mind” of its own and the two are definitely two entities now) but because he can’t. That’s his body and he can feel what it feels but has no say whatsoever in that because they’re separate.

The only way a Fanny/Humphrey or really anyone/Humphrey relationship, especially a sexual one, wouldn’t be weird is if the ghosts found a way to permanently reunite his head and body so there aren’t any consent issues between the two of them.

Ghost clothes and whatever they had on them when they died reset unless they’re actively touching them. If someone picked some threads from Humphrey’s coat and used them to sew his head back on, that might solve the problem assuming they both agree to be reconnected.

[jq37]

The Report Card – Fantasy High: The Seven Ep 6

Bitches Be Shopping

What is up y’all. A little late but let’s jump in with episode six of The Seven where our girls have just received a LOT of information, Sam most of all who got put into a little vision coma that she’s just now waking up from.

She explains the vision to her friends (as she interprets it, the other Eidolons didn’t die, just became part of the natural forces of the world) and then the bear that Penny made on a whim last episode (who is Russian, named Koda, and somehow a trained circus bear) gets into a fight with Katja with their friends buffing the two to make things more interesting because these are still idiot teens, life or death situation or no. Yelle decides to be the adult and tells them to knock it off and get back on mission.

That means Katja needs to call her dad since he’s knows the guy who’s the best lead to getting to TK ( Talcidimir Tallbreeze who I’ll call Tal). She actually manages to get her dad this time who is inside a giant snake on his hell mission. Katja asks what he knows about TK and he says she’s a sorcerer but also has a spell book so maybe she’s multiclassed. Sam and Ant desperately want to know if they boned and Katja absolutely is not interested in that knowledge. Yelle decides to just ask which makes her dad a little annoyed since he’s kind of in the middle of something (literally) and that annoys Ant, Ost, and Sam who--respectively, accuse him of gaslighting Kat, cast Command on him, and cast Bane on him to aid the Command spell. 

Mr. Cleaver fails the save and Ost commands him to tell Katja the truth. He admits that he did hook up with TK and he regrets it (note: it wasn’t like he cheated. It was just a casual hookup that wasn’t fulfilling it seems). Ost demands he apologize for not being there for Kat and Sam berates him for being at the top of the world and not lifting up his daughter too. For his part, Kat’s dad seems genuinely apologetic and promises to do better. 

“You don’t need to be the best father, you just need to be there,” Katja says, making her dad break down crying. 

Yelle, who has no daddy issues, is a bit less aggro and says that everyone makes mistakes and he can start making it up right now by helping with the Tal situation. She also gives them the tip that a cold spell will probably get them out of the snake lickety split.  She is on the money with the snake tip and Mr. Cleaver gets them all invites to a masquerade ball Tal is hosting. It’s being held on the Rumbosa which is this city-sized leisure ship. Mr. Cleaver says he’ll be back as soon as he can and, in the meantime, she should take care of her friends, “even the first 2 that were terrifying to me.”

The girls give Katja the axe they took as a birthday present (it was apparently her birthday the day before which Rekha just decided and Ost/Izzy refuses to accept without a fight because she *knows* Kat’s bday) which is identified as the Axe of Sundering (it can shatter objects, people, and sometimes concepts like halving movement). The two unnamed potions Yelle found are also ID’d as a Potion of Fly and a Potion of Gaseous Form. She distributes the Heath Potions to people without heals. Ant’s new arrows bypass some resistances and let her treat whatever she hits with the first one like it’s her favored enemy. 

According to their invites, the ship they need is docking in the city of Gravalvia soon (a very old city in the Baronies) so they need to figure out a plan. They have some downtime, during which:

Zelda tries to hype up the team.

Zelda tries to see if Ost is OK wrt dad stuff and Ost has a Full Breakdown after badly pretending she’s fine. 

While Zelda, Ost, and Penny are being Emotional and Sam is trying to literally cool them down with her powers, Ant and Yelle keep watch and experience emotional stability as the Adults Of The Party 

Anyway, after a night of rest, they head to the golden city of Gravalvia which is this very cool, very pretty city with mosaics and fountains and I assume columns. They get there and there’s a dramatic fight happening in the square which is halted when one of the fighters realizes that the country he’s fighting for doesn’t exist anymore. And now, it’s time for what we’ve all been waiting for. Shopping Montage! Let’s go girl by girl.

Katja and Ost

Kat asks for help from Ost with getting fancy for this gala since she’s never really done anything dressy before (and she had no mom to help--Kaaaat) and Ost is happy to oblige, dressing them both like “Jersey trash”. Kat, of course, still wears her Khakis underneath.

Antiope

Ant decides to get a vibe for what people here wear and picks something that will blend in but be forgettable so she can be stealthy. Classy blue dress and mask.

Penny

Penny...OK, I absolutely cannot describe what happens here in any way that will do justice to the scene. I am going to tell you what matters to the plot. You have to watch this yourself if you want to see the entire table have a collective breakdown. 

While looking for a costume, Penny runs into a halfling who is a member of the Society of Shadows--Laertes. He wants to know why she hasn’t responded to their invitation yet. She says she’s really eager to join, she just wasn’t sure how to respond (and also, she’s kind of in the middle of something). He says she can join by just messaging back and then her loved ones just have to sign waivers to have their memories wiped of her and she’s good to go. Say what now? asks Penny. She didn’t realize this was like a full Men in Black situation. 

He says it’s ultimately her decision and leaves.

Of course, I left out the parts where he ate a handful of Candy Heart’s remains, became violently ill, almost projectile vomited into Penny’s mouth, and she tried to kiss him despite him being a full adult. It’s A Lot, ok?

Also, we don’t find out until later but Penny picks a sexy duck costume for reasons that make more sense if you watch the scene but not *much* more sense. She also burns one of the healing potions on this dude as he is bar

Danielle

Danielle tries to get some info on the guests at the party and gets the names Lawrence LaDuc, Princess Autumn, and Duston who is the playboy cousin of Tal. She also hears some dude saying some colonize and plunder the earth BS and casts Heat Metal on him, fully mercing the dude. Ice cold. 

She tries to play it off like it’s the Curse of the Forest and when that doesn’t work and people start coming for her, she wildshapes into a dragon wyrmling and starts roasting people, killing 1 and dropping 2 to zero. 

Unfortunately, one of her party members is a known dragon hater and uses her new arrows to snipe her right out of the sky. Ant is horrified once she realizes what she’s done but Yelle says it’s all good. It’s NOT all good, says Ant, I STABBED YOU. You’re allowed to be mad! Yelle says she’s just really good at compartmentalizing but what Ant’s getting here is that Yelle doesn’t really believe that her feelings matter which echo the fears of her moms. 

Sam

Sam uses a combination of Mantle of Inspiration, glamour magic, performance, and good old flirting to get herself some killer clothes and also start a spontaneous musical number Giselle style.  

Brennan says she looks resplendent and, honestly, when does she not?

They reconvene, Zelda in a classic hoop skirt. Yelle realizes she never got a costume and just whips out a Met Gala level, autumn themed, Queen Mab-esque costume with Druidcraft which she could have done this whole time so I guess that’s why she was cool spending her shopping time getting gossip and playing Poison Ivy. 

They get to the ship and the way this works, everyone has to make an entrance and the really rich people (including Tal) are on a dais up top watching everyone come in. They all have to give fake names for the night since it’s a masquerade and they have to do Performance or Persuasion checks to see how impressive they look going in. 

Before they go in, they plan a little. Penny wants to look for TK. Sam wants to find Dunston. Ost wants to talk to the bouncers. Yelle wants to see if there are plants she can manipulate (there are btw) and for any exits. 

A quick rundown of how these all go:

Katja aka Mere (which means both mom and horse): 16 

Ant aka Midnight Huntress: 18 

Penny aka Penny Duckstone: 13

Zelda aka Madame Goodparty: 2 (Poor Zelda)

Sam aka Songbird: 22 (but she takes a hit to entrance save Zelda from totally flaming out)

Ost aka Stanley Gucci: 13

And Danielle, who never hogs the spotlight and is embarrassed to admit that maybe she does want to be the center of attention for once in her life with a Natural 20, gets a 29, absolutely bringing down the house as Empress Anima. As she walks forward she feels a voice say to her, “You got this. I love the name. You wear it well.”

Tal seems very impressed by her and a lady in a rabbit mask (Coeliabranca who I’ll call Coel if she comes up more) comes down to bring her up to the top with the high rollers. As she leaves, Sam casts Fly on her, just in case and holds the Concentration. 

Ost and Kat go talk to the bouncers and Kat decides to pretend to be her mom to get access to the area Yelle is. She rolls low and is told, “Hey, aren’t you already up there?” Kat is like, fuck and Ost saves her by using her charm earrings to get an entourage of guards who will let them through and do what she says. Once up there, Kat doesn’t see her mom which I can imagine she has mixed feelings about. 

Sam finds Dunston who is talking about Fantasy Bitcoin and seems like a real “Step on me mommy” type you know? Like, I feel like he’s into findom. Anyway, Sam charms him and his hangers on and learns about a procedure called a Phlebectomy that involves something going into their nose and then they feel better. Sam is rightfully horrified because, as I said, she is Most Likely To Survive A Horror Movie and can sense BS when she sees is. It’s apparently all the rage with the rich people here which is, como de dice, concerning seeing as they’re surrounded by them but we’ll get to that. Sam takes advantage of Dunston’s proclivities and gets him alone, knocks him out, steals him clothes, and pretends to be him (a *very* good scene by Sephie). 

Penny sees a gnome gnome boy (Lysander Higgins) shining shoes and finds out from him that there is a copper earth genasi woman here. In a very Cinderella move, she asks what shoes she was wearing. Then, she makes out with him which like, sure. At least it’s not a grown adult man this time. Before she gets her kisses in, she does tell the group what she learned. 

Up with the rich people, Yelle is introduced to Tal’s friend who is into Eidolons because of the name she chose. Between the shoes and her knowledge, they confirm that it’s TK! Yelle asks what she knows about Eidolons and she says that 7 is a very powerful number.

We cut to Ant who is patrolling the room as the sun sets and she suddenly hears a little beeping. It’s coming from a small crystal that was in Preston’s shirt (which she still has on her because???). Guests start dripping goo from their noses and transforming into monsters. Ant realizes that some kind of spell is happening triggered by midnight and this beeping. Hope these costumes are battle ready cause it’s fight time baybee!

Superlatives 

Danielle: Most Likely to Be on The News for Murdering Fantasy Jeff Bezos

I cannot imagine what was running through Yelle’s head when she decided that, having just rolled into a foreign country, her next move was to start using lethal force on anti-environmentalist colonizing capitalists. Like, she’s not *wrong* per se but she is wild--in all senses of the word.  

Random Thoughts

Kat keeps saying yesterday was her birthday which Ost/Izzy (and the rest of the group to a less vocal degree) are simply not having because maybe her dad would forget her birthday but her girls absolutely would not.

“You’re great because you stayed,” is the other killshot Kat line to her dad.

At a certain point Sam says, “This is so unhealthy,” to I think Yelle and like, if SAM is telling you your coping mechanisms are unhealthy, get thee to therapy.

OK, so someone, presumably Anima’s spirit, talks to Yelle as she makes her grand entrance which seems like info they should get to Talura ASAP, right? Cause that’s evidence they’re not dead-dead, just changed in form. But also Anima, girl. Don’t talk to Yelle. Talk to your rampaging sister!

"That's my secret, I stay in initiative."

Just a process note, notes are taken for the next ep and I am working on getting that recap up ASAP. As a battle ep, it will be in the abbreviated style that I did for last battle ep. 

In this episode, Penny rolls a Nat 1 (which she rerolls) and one of Brennan’s NPCs rolls a Nat 1. Ant rolls 2 Nat 20s, Yelle rolls 1, and Brennan says that one of his NPCs gets a 20 which sweeps him entirely into Sam’s dance number.