#there's obviously a cornucopia of cracks in her heart

[fairestfall]

Create your Muse’s heart!

Tagged by: stolen from @xxsacrificiumxx​

Tagging: @heartxofxthra​ (for Eidrin), @crystaldrain​, @sifanstarmariner​, @hersylver​, @urskekyagvi​, @skeksis-tongues​, @skeksisthree​, @fourfingerprintonhearts​ (for Tae), @missionfails​, and you! 

[ilguna]

Ethereal - Chapter Six (f.o)

Summary: Five years of watching your trainees die, you’re sick of it. She will prevail, she will win.

Word Count; 2.7k

Warnings; swearing, DEATH MENTION

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

–

You slap Finnick’s knee suddenly as you stand up. Your eyes grow wide, mouth falling open as you watch the scene unfold. Finnick jolts awake, “What? What’s the matter?”

“Look!” you motion to the tv.

On the tv is a scene of your beloved tributes. Both of them asleep underneath a tree, Paslee is propped up against the tree because he’s supposed to be taking watch after he just switched off with Annie. You weren’t bothered that he fell asleep, because it’s been a smooth couple of days.

It’s day four inside of the arena for them, day two for you. Time moves differently inside of the arena, you’ve always known this.

Him and Annie have been very good inside of there. Dotting their i’s, crossing their t’s. They’ve come across only one other person inside of the arena and that was earlier today. It was the teenage girl from twelve, which Paslee had wiped out almost immediately. They came face to face with her, and she was obviously so hungry to stay alive.

But Paslee acted quickly when he saw her eyes dart to his knife, and he finished her off quickly. Him and Annie had backed away from the body like it held some sort of plague, and found shelter a mile or two away from where it had happened.

This year, the arena is much bigger, and it’s much more beautiful. It’s centered towards agriculture, there’s plenty of apple trees littered around, some ruins of a house near the dam that sits just along the forcefield. There’s paths that were there before the games, people had walked those paths every single day.

You can take a guess that this place has been preserved to keep it in such a pristine state. Everything inside of there is so green and perfect looking. It’s rained only once inside, and that’s when you watched Annie grin and dance around in it for a little bit.

It’s old though, from before the rebellion. You can tell each time one of the tributes will come across the dam. How they examine the cracks, but you wonder if they realize that the spider web that it’s formed in, is no good luck. If they’re smart, they would choose the other side of the arena to stay in.

Anyway, Paslee is currently asleep against the tree, and Annie is nearby, maybe a few inches away from him. They’ve got all their things on the left side of Paslee, his arm is around it, and the knife is just barely still in his hand.

“Oh my god.” Finnick gasps, sitting up on the couch.

The careers stand over your tributes. Not directly, but a foot or two away. They stare, and laugh, and conspire. You listen to their amplified whispers–thanks to the gamemakers–about how they’re going to execute this.

“Fuck.”

The boy from one then leans over a stick and some torn up shirt wrapped around it. The girl from the same district strikes a spark a couple of times with a firestarter that was probably hidden somewhere in those boxes at the cornucopia.

The flame starts, and the boy holds it up.

There’s a sickening grin on his face, and he holds the flame near Annie’s hair, with a whisper of, “See the resemblance?”

“They’re psychopaths.”

Annie moans slightly at the light, throwing an arm over her face, as she turns away from them. The careers freeze where they are, and you watch as Annie’s eyes open, and how she is very much wide awake.

“So do we set them on fire or what?” the girl from one asks, “Or their things?”

“We wait here, see if they wake.” The boy answers, “Heat up the blade and then brand them awake.”

They all agree on that, and you watch as they sit down near her.

One look to the clock on the side of the screen, you can see it’s three in the morning for them, but for you it’s only one.

“We need to get to the betting area.” you tell Finnick, grabbing your jacket and pulling it onto yourself, “The sponsors will be waiting.”

You and Finnick grab your things that you’ll need for when you get down there. And just before you leave the apartment, you take one more look to the tv to see a tear well up and then dribble down her cheek.

You can’t stop jamming the button when you get in the elevator. Tapping your foot impatiently as Finnick paces the little area. When the doors open, you’re met with your competition.

“Oh!” Cashmere smiles, “We’re heading to the same–”

“Get out!” you yell at her, shoving her back as you press the button that keeps the doors shut. After that, it’s a much faster ride.

When you finally hit the base floor, you take off out the door. Finnick is hot on your heels, never passing you up. Your feet slap against the cement flooring painfully hard as you continue to try to run faster. Pushing the little energy you have in your body, out.

You slide around the corner, grabbing Finnick before he falls, and then you make the last part of the trek to the room. Finnick reaches the door first this time, and he presses himself against the wall when he opens it.

You guys make it just in time to see that Paslee and Annie are now very much awake, there’s an orange blade millimeters from Paslee’s face.

And then, he grabs his little dagger, and presses it blade to blade, getting it out of his face as Annie rises to her feet. She just barely gets her own sword into her fingers and swings.

The girl from one was reaching out to grab the boy to move him out of the way. Now, there’s three fingers missing from her hand. She lets out a scream, which has to have woken anyone that must be near them.

Finnick stands behind you now, and you watch as they battle it out.

The girl from one is tough, and even though she’s bleeding profusely, she swings the sword, and when it’s proving useless, she tries to use her right hand–which seems to not be the dominant one–to throw knives.

Annie just barely dodges out of the way.

At some point, the girl from two throws the torch, Annie’s and Paslee’s backpack catches fire, and snakes up the bark of the tree. The flames rise, the swings become tighter, and they’re catching each other’s swords.

And then Paslee makes the final swing at the boy from one, catching his throat in it.

His district mate’s eyes widen, her mouth falling open in surprise. The district two’s fall short, and they go to catch him.

Annie uses a fire blanket to put out the fire on the backpack, but it’s charred and you wouldn’t be surprised if there are a few ashes waiting to burn what’s left of their things.

Then, they take off in the woods. The girl from district two begins to follow but she started too late. Annie and Paslee are quick, and they manage to dodge as many branches as possible. But they can’t avoid the thorns, or the tiny leaves and branches that snap at their skins and leave marks.

Annie is the quickest, weaving in and out of places, Paslee follows behind her without question. She doesn’t slow down until she reaches the stream of the dam, which is almost more than a mile away from where they had started.

This is when they begin to gasp for air, Annie is dousing the backpack in water, trying to breathe. Paslee tries his best, but moving for him eventually becomes a pain, and you watch as the water runs red. He’s got a cut on his body somewhere, and it’s deep enough to keep a steady flow of blood.

It cuts back to the boy from district one, just in time for you guys to watch as he sputters, blood spewing out like a fountain. The boy from district two has to wipe his eyes free of what had just landed on him. The girl is sobbing over his body, begging him to stay with her.

And then the cannon goes off.

Thirteen left in the arena.

“No!” Cashmere yells, you turn to look over your shoulder, watching her fall to her knees, “No!”

“They’re alive.” you can feel the adrenaline leaving your body, turning to Finnick, “get a sponsor, see if they’ll send that healing cream, Paslee’s hurt.”

He nods, kissing you briefly before heading off to where he needs to be.

Annie catches a hold of herself and she spreads the things out of the bag briefly, dousing the bag for the final time, and then she whispers the things that aren’t damaged, back to herself. She counts the things, throws the bad stuff into a bush, and then splashes water on her face.

She gets water ready to drink, since their bottles are left at the camp that is now up in flames, and the home of one dead body.

The hovercraft comes, taking him away.

“You killed him, Paslee.” Annie tells him, brushes his hair out of his face as she puts some water on his forehead too, even though he’s basically laying in the middle of the stream.

“The boy from one?”

“You didn’t hear the cannon?” she asks, he shakes his head.

“My heart is pounding in my ears.” he tells her, “I couldn’t hear a thing.”

Annie takes a sip of the water when she’s sure it’s safe, and then she passes it on to Paslee, “You’re bleeding.”

“He nicked my arm with the blade.” Paslee sits up to drink the water, and basically drinks the rest. When he goes to say sorry, Annie waves it off.

She moves around to check his arm, “You’re lucky that it wasn’t the burning part, then your skin would be scarred and bubbling.”

Finnick comes back, “It’s being sent. Did I miss anything?”

“They’re recovering from the run. They see the injury.” you tell Finnick, “The boy is dead.”

“Good.” he says it loud enough for Cashmere and Gloss to hear.

You take his hand, taking in a deep breath, before relaxing your body. You lean your head against his shoulder, watching as the camera suddenly goes back to your tributes after it was panning around the arena. Then, the music from the sponsor gift starts.

Annie perks up, and Paslee’s eyes begin to search the area around them, “There!”

Annie gets up, reaching up for it, and cradling it when she finally gets it in her arms. She pops it open, and uses the moonlight to read the little message. All it says it to use it generously.

“Thank you.” Annie says, the camera goes to the direction she’s facing, and then she goes over towards Paslee.

They apply it to his cut, Paslee groans in pain, but settles and sighs when it starts working. Then, they put it on all the little cuts they acquired while running through the forest.

You remember the healing cream that you used when you were inside. After you had been attacked by the bear when you were retreating. Finnick had put so much in, begging for it to work quickly because he couldn’t stand to see you in pain.

It left a pink scar for a while, that eventually faded to match your skin tone. However, it was all washed away when you had that full-body polish when you had won the games. Or so you thought.

They wanted to get rid of the scar, but Mags gave them a flat out no, and you hadn’t even realized that it was still there until a couple months later. When Reed had accidentally come in while your back was facing him, and he pointed out the scar. You spent the rest of that day just staring at it in the mirror. Giving yourself a terrible pain in the neck from the struggle.

You wonder what Finnick thought of it the morning after, or the night during you two had gotten together. If he was surprised that the four claw marks are still very much there, if it was your decision, if you were ever bothered by it. They’re a line of bumps on your back.

They don’t hurt, they’re just… there.

Annie and Paslee pack up their things after that. Annie mumbles something about getting away from the dam, and then after that she helps Paslee to his feet. Then, they begin downstream, heading to a new place to stay for the night.

At least they’re alive.

–

Five days later for you guys, twelve for the tributes, you’re down another six tributes. Both Paslee and Annie are going to strong, and you’re unfortunately proud to say that at least two of the kills belong to Annie. You don’t know the exact number, because you’re not around all hours of the day to watch anymore, but she’s doing well.

Two days later from when the careers attacked them, the boy from five was killed, thanks to the tributes. The girl from one was feeling… angry and she decided to go hunting by herself. Stumbled upon him and mutilated his body, left the bloody mess there and returned to the cornucopia.

Three more days after that, Annie had found the girl from six that was camping nearby to the dam, and took her out. Paslee was out hunting during that time, and he made sure to go back to their camp and wait for her to make sure that she was alive. She came back with a few scratches, used a little bit of the healing ointment cream to start the healing process a little faster, but not finish it off completely.

Later on that day, the cameras had flipped to the boy from eleven, and all of you had the displeasure of watching him choke to death on a berry that he was allergic to. The mentors wanted to send him epinephrine, but they didn’t have the sponsors, or the money to do it themselves. They watched their last tribute die.

Four days later, Annie would get her second kill of the boy from seven. She was caught in the crossfire of the boy from eight and seven. So, she stood back and watched as the boy from seven threw his hatchet, lodging it in eight’s chest, and then she swooped in and finished it off.

Lucky for your tributes, there were things left over on both of them. The eight tributes were teaming up, and so while they were seperated the boy took half of the supplies. Annie decided to just take the entire backpack and she met Paslee back at camp, where they relocated again. Nearby to the dam stream, but not anywhere near close to the dam itself.

They also keep moving because they are so immensely paranoid of what might happen if the careers come around them again. They hope that you’ll be able to send the healing cream again, but they know they can’t count on that. In the meantime, they pick berries, hunt rabbits and squirrels, sing songs and wait it out.

They mainly want them all to kill each other, narrow down the numbers and then go after whoever might be left. Then, when it comes to it, they’ll fight each other. Winner gets glory.

Today, you and Finnick head off to Laurel and Pleurisy to discuss the winners outfits. There’s only nine people left, two are yours which leaves seven.

Actually, you forgot to mention one of the deaths that happened this morning. The girl from nine had fallen from a tree and broke her neck when she hit the ground. So there’s six left to defeat.

“Paslee or Annie?” You ask.

“Annie, she has a better chance of winning.” He tells you, “She’s got more survival skills, it looks like.”

“They’ve both killed two people each,” you say.

“And yet, Annie is the only one that’s taking charge.” Finnick’s eyes slowly turn to you, “Reminds me of someone I know.”

You scowl, “I was not like that.”

“You were bossy as all hell, (Y/n)! If you weren’t bedridden then you would have been all over it.” He grins and you roll your eyes.

“I wonder how you would have survived if I weren’t there.” you take Finnick’s hand, swinging it.

“Just fine, I hope.”

[wonderwomanfantasy]

Kissing Friends

 I saw Kisses and Sero in the same sentence and I blacked out for three hours now here we are. 

Sero x reader, reader x Kirishima(not really)

word count: 1,500(about)

warnings:  jealousy, cursing, a smooch (scandalous I know)

Summary: Sero liked you, a lot actually, but he can’t ask you out because he knows who you like and it isn’t him. but that doesn’t mean that he couldn’t enjoy hanging out with you. 

it was supposed to be a group date. Bakugou flat out refused, Mina had put off her project and only had tonight and tomorrow to finish it. Kaminari had gotten a date(a Date Date) with Jirou and Kirishima had just straight-up canceled last minute without any explanation. 

So it was just you and Sero. Which was fine, you loved hanging out with Sero, he was funny and nice. But it always with other people, you liked Sero too much for your own good, and you had a tiny crush on him and you weren't sure how hanging out with him one and one would go.

Sero sat awkwardly across from you at the pizza place “It sucks the others couldn't come,” he said testing the waters.

“yeah but fuck them, we can still, have fun without them,” you said cheerily.

“still, it sucks that Kiri just ditched us,” he said watching your face carefully. You scowled.

“yeah that jerk better have one hell of an explanation for that,” you scoffed. Sero deflated a little, he had a big crush on you but he had heard the girls talking and overheard someone say that you had a crush on Kirishima. It sucked knowing you liked his best friend, especially when Kirishima hardly gave you the time of the day. Still, he was going to enjoy his time alone with you.

You ordered the pizza and the conversion quickly devolved into a pointless argument about how many holes a straw had one or two. Then you were talking about movies through mouthfuls of breadsticks and pizza. Sero was fun to talk to even if he was an idiot who didn't know jack about shit.

“you are a moron how dare you defend the Despicable Me movie” you whisper shouted.

“The first one was fine!! the minions were shit but that doesn't take away from the first movie at all!”

“it doesn't matter if the first one was good or not- it opened the door for minions! If that movie never was we would be in a better timeline.”

“Minions aren't that bad-”

“get out,” you said pointing at the door. His face split in an ear to ear smile as he laughed at your antics.

“but if I leave now who is going to pay hmm?” he asked quirking his eyebrow up at you

“I don't want your grubby minion money,” you shot back a little surprised. Sero was normally the type to pull out a calculator just so he could split the bill perfectly, but it almost sounded like he was planning on paying for you, almost like a date. Then when the check did come, he snatched it from you before you could take it.

“I can pay Sero,”

“relax I got it,”  he insisted. You had really only planned to go out for pizza tonight, but that would mean that the night was over and that you had to go home now.

“There is this really cool thrift store a couple blocks down if you want to go check that out,” you offered casually.

“hell yeah,”

the thrift store was practically empty which was perfect. There was no one to judge you and Sero as you goofed off you dug through the books and nick-knacks presenting the weirdest things to each other. Sero found a porcelain doll with cobwebbed cracks along the body and a missing eye. You placed the doll down and prayed that it wouldn't come alive and kill you. 

You found frog salt and pepper shakers, they were admittedly less terrifying and helped take the edge off the obviously haunted doll. You looked through the clothes passively while Sero debated  weather or not he should buy barbie and the twelve dancing princesses VHS tape.

Then you saw something that caught your eye. The looked like regular white leggings, but then you saw the roasted turkey, cornucopia, and cranberry pattern that covered the pants. “are those thanksgiving pants?” Sero asked in quiet awe.

“What else can they be?” for a moment you stared at the pants, there was no price tag. You gently put the pants back on the wrack.

“my eyes burn”

“agreed,” 

“who would ever wear that?” 

“someone with far more confidence than me,” Sero said shuddering like the Thanksgiving pants actually scared him. 

“I bet Kirishima could pull them off,” you giggled putting the pants back on the rack. Sero tensed, although you didn’t notice. 

The two of you left soon after that. You wandered around aimlessly looking in shop windows and making light conversation. You had gotten over the initial buzz of hanging out with your crush and were comfortable in Sero's presence. It was getting late, and the sun had set. But you didn't want to go home. So you just kept finding excuses to stay a little longer

“Ice cream?” you asked pointing again Sero excepted, and again he insisted on paying for your food. You squinted at him trying to figure out his game. 

“what are you trying to pull here Sero? Do you think I'll help you with your homework if you buy me food or something?”

“no nothing like that, come on let's take a selfie, show those losers what they're missing.” you hid most of your face behind the ice cream but you let Sero take his picture.

 You ate the frozen treat and found yourself at a small park. It was the kind with a big open grass field dotted with trees flowers and benches. You sat in the grass and ate in silence.

“The sky is pretty tonight,” he mentioned you looked up. It was an inky blue dotted with dazzling stars. A breeze ruffled your hair and shuddered you really should have brought a jacket or something.

“you cold?”

“a little,”

“you know penguins cuddle cuddle for warmth,”

“Are you asking me to cuddle?”

“if you want to be warm then yeah.” he opened his arms half-joking. You called his bluff and leaned into his chest. Sero jumped and almost pulled away.

“what's wrong Sero?” you asked looking up at him. His shuddered and wrapped his lanky arms wrapped around you.

“Nothing,” he said looking back down at you. Your body was warm against his, you were so close your breaths mingled together. Sero's heart was wild in his chest this had to mean something right? You couldn't just snuggle up to him if you didn't like him right? He turned away and silently prayed that you wouldn't see his blush. Both of you sat silently waiting to see if the other would pull away. Neither of you did.

“you know It's almost a good thing that the others didn't come, how else would we cuddle?”

“I'm sure you would have just ended up cuddling with Kirishima,” Sero scoffed.  Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. You didn't know what Kirishima had to do with any of this, and you didn't understand the edge that had come into Sero's voice

“uh okay- if Mina was here she would probably insist we all cuddle together for maxim warmth or something,” you said changing the subject. He chuckled lightly, you could feel his laughter reverberating against your back.  

“(y/n) can I ask you a question?” he asked stealing his nerve. you nodded. it was hard to look you in the eye but he had yo know.

 “Do you love Kirishima?” he blurted, the thought of that brought you up short.

“No of course not- I mean yeah we're friends, but we're- just friends,” you explained quickly. 

You rolled your head back to looked up at him, trying to read the emotion on his face. at the same instant, he looked down at you. Your lips were less than an inch away from his.

You weren't sure who leaned in first. But suddenly there was no space between your lips. You wrapped your arm around his neck deepening the kiss. Sero cupped your cheek and sucked on your lower lip gently making you shudder. You pulled away just to catch your breath.

“wow” Sero whispered

“yeah wow,” you agreed. Then he went back to kissing you. This time it was totally him who leaned in first, but you kissed him back so passionately that it didn't matter. his tongue slipped past your lips dancing with yours and exploring your mouth. You shifted against him getting a better angle at his lips before you thought better of it and pulled away again.

“maybe we shouldn't make out in public like that,” you said shyly.

“Right, sorry. Guess I got a little carried away- but I've just wanted to do that for a long time you know?” he apologized.

“Yeah me too,” you admitted.

“then maybe the next time we all plan a group date you and I can ditch the others, make out somewhere besides a public park?”

“That sounds great,”

[vvvhq-blog]

“ We are proud to announce the winner of our Eleventh Hunger Games! He is from District Seven! Join me in welcoming Remington Wallen ( Taron Egerton ) “

The Before:

Seven wasn’t always a poor place and Remington’s family would have been middle class if they had lived through the Dark Times. His mother died giving birth to him. An only child Rem had no one to look after him during his formative years as the Dark Times of the rebellion stole both his father and uncle away from him. His father fought and died on the side of the Capitol. Meanwhile his Uncle Smith fought with District Thirteen during the war. He was never confirmed dead, but he never came home either. All Rem was left with of his family was a severely worn family Bible which had belonged to his mother.

Rem was left in the care of a sort of orphanage Seven’s Mayor had set up for the influx of orphans after the war, but that was a lose term for what the place was. They fed and housed their charges, but nobody really looked after those children. There were so many other concerns within the District that needed handling that the kids often were left behind. Despite this Rem had many friends growing up and was a cheerful young boy. He was also quite bright in school while he was allowed to attend. Reading was one thing he loved and excelled at above even the older kids in his classes.

However, in the orphanage once you were old enough to be reaped you were old enough to work. So, while they still housed him, Rem went to work in the lumber yard at twelve years old. He excelled as this just as he had at his schooling. Quickly he learned to swing an ax with precision -if only so he could be done with his work and get back to his books. The books which Remington loved so much were few and far between, but he re-read them over and over until their already worn spines were all but crumbling. 

Then came the year of the 11th Hunger Games and sixteen-year-old Remington’s name was drawn. He was not necessarily young to go into the games which were already proving to be a brutal sideshow event for the Capitol’s enjoyment. Going into the Games Rem was uncertain of his standing but was determined to make it home alive. Rem’s desire for a better life in Seven was a huge part of what drove him to victory. A hard worker by nature, Rem trained and learned as much as he could during the short time allotted before going into the arena.

The Games:

In the Capitol Rem did fairly well for himself. They ate up his boyish charm and rugged good looks. His sally sob story of growing up an orphan certainly didn’t hurt with tugging at the heart strings either. Rem’s district partner, Ashlyn, was eighteen, but much less built for the Games than Rem was. She was a sweet and shy girl. Likable yes, but Ashlyn had not spent a day of her life doing hard labor in the lumber yards or the mills. Her family owned a printing press making paper before Ashlyn and her sister Beech had been orphaned the summer before due to a sweating sickness that had swept through Seven. Rem learned that Ashlyn had been struggling to take care of herself and her sister ever since. He empathized with her and did what he could to help her; though, it did not amount to much in the end.

Their arena was vast and almost entirely flat. The tributes were raised up into a cotton field out of an old history book. Rows and rows of the prickly fully bloomed cotton blew in the slight wind of the arena and in the center of their field was the cornucopia. Beyond that there was a vast dilapidated plantation house, old looking huts at one far end of the fields far from the house, as well a building for some type of storage, and a barn with some exterior horse stalls that had hay piled high beside them. The buildings were in various states of decay and looked like one good gust of wind could knock them down. All in all, hardly anywhere to hide. 

Ashlyn was killed in the bloodbath. She tried to run. Rem had suggested it. He thought if she could get away then they could meet up again after, but after grabbing his pack and sword Rem turned and saw her. Ashlyn was slumped in on of the plantation fields with not just one arrow, but two protruding from her back -both were lung shots possibly having shattered pieces of her ribs as well. The archer was Rem’s first kill.  

Through the following days, Rem continued to fight with a ferocity whenever he encountered another tribute and did not shy away from the killing blow. He was angry. Ashlyn had not deserved to die like she had, and he did not deserve to be there. None of them did. The best he could do was end it quick. At night Rem kept to the edge of the field -where he assumed the dense trees indicated the arena’s boundary- and made no fires so he didn’t alert other tributes of his location. Sponsors sent him a heavy blanket on the second night after watching him shiver slightly through the first night. He was able to trap small animals for food in the mornings and evening. 

On the fifth day something strange happened. Rem was only just waking up when the wind started to blow furiously kicking up the cotton burs and sending the spikey seeds flying. He immediately tried to take cover under his blanket, but the storm of wind only grew in intensity until the blanket was ripped from him by the wind. Shutting his eyes against the torrent of wind, Rem grabbed blindly for his bag and his blade before taking off at a run. He’d already calculated there must only be a few of them left and this must be the Game makers pushing him in. So, Rem cracked his eye open just enough to be sure he was heading towards the plantation house. He did his best to stay low, but the cotton seeds cut his face and arms as he made his progress toward the house. 

It was mid-morning by the time he made it and the wind died down. There were two other tributes that he could see immediately -both girls- arguing in hushed tones outside the front door. After watching the girls for a few moments though, Rem noticed another boy peaking around the corner of the plantation house.

He focused on that boy instead of the girls for the time being. Rem snuck around his flank trying to take him by surprise, but right as he was about to strike the boy turned. He had a sickle shaped blade and the two of them struggled for some time. They seemed evenly matched until the boy feigned right and went left leaving Rem only one choice. He grabbed the flat of the blade as it came at him. Then with his sword and his hand he tried to force it back, but when he didn’t let go the other tribute wrenched it back from Rem’s sweaty palm. As the blade slipped from his grasp it cut into his palm, but also sliced off his ring and pinky fingers at the second knuckle. 

All Rem could do was bite his tongue and not scream. The sound of their scuffle must have drawn the girls because the boy did not have long to celebrate his small victory over Rem. Meanwhile, Rem took the opportunity to flee. With his profusely bleeding hand he still managed to scramble up the exterior of the plantation house and onto the roof -because well Seven was full of trees after all and he’d climbed trees with less hand and foot holds. On the roof Rem had a brief respite to bandage the wound to the best of his ability, if only to stop the bleeding. While below the girls took out the other boy and then turned on each other as expected leaving just Rem and one of them. The only thing was she hadn’t seen where Rem got to.

She was relentless in her search for him. Obviously, she knew he was there somewhere. It was just the two of them left. Rem waited until she had moved off towards the hay bales to tear them apart in her furious search. Then he took his chance and came down the back side of the plantation house into the kitchen. It was as good a place as any to finish things.

Taking a spool of string from his pack Rem rigged it across both doorways into the kitchen. Then Rem took up a casual spot in the kitchen to wait for her. It was only a matter of time before she stomped angrily back towards the house. No matter which way the girl entered she would be tripped up for just a moment -and she was. It was just long enough for him to gather the momentum for the swing of his blade. Rem had done it. He decapitated the girl there in the kitchen. Blood sprayed his face and the room as the loud thunk of her head hitting the decaying floorboards seemed to echo through the otherwise silent room. 

Rem had survived the 11th Hunger Games. 

Post Games:

Rem was crowned in the Capitol and presented to the public as the Eleventh Victor. After the formal crowning, Rem was expected to make a few public appearances before he was allowed to go home to Seven -to rest before his victory tour in a month.  His train ride home was a sobering experience. There were only two passengers, Rem and his escort.  Of course his escort was so pleased with herself for finally bringing a tribute back -as if she’d had any hand in it. Though, when the train pulled in at the station in Seven it was deserted except for one small blonde barefoot girl with big tears in her eyes. Rem’s gut wrenched at the sight of her. 

He took Beech with him to Victor’s village. It was still so freshly constructed, only ten years old now, and all the houses were kept in impeccable shape. Rem told her to pick a house and whichever one she chose she would be welcome in whenever she needed anything. 

Unfortunately for Rem, it was not the happy ending the Capitol promised their Victors. There was the money they promised, the ease, and comfort, but it all came at a price. Rem’s sanity quickly began to deteriorate in the wake of his victory tour. Through the whole thing he drank compulsively. The only time his escort was truly able to control his drinking was prior to his speeches when even in the delirium Rem understood. It was important he appear fine -put together and adjusted even. But, he could hardly stand to look at the families of the tributes who had died in the arena especially the ones he’d killed. 

Home again, Rem allowed himself to sink into his own self wallowing. His nightmares and hallucinations left him paranoid without alcohol and so he drank to be numb. Though, even with the drink he could still be triggered into a flashback. Quickly realizing himself to be a danger to others, Rem became a shut in. The only person allowed inside his house was Beech because he had promised. 

Beech brought a much needed light to this horrifically dark period of Rem’s life. Her intuition in regard to Rem’s many moods allowed her to navigate him flawlessly. She was even the one who brought his own Bible back to his attention. It was something Beech had never seen before and she asked Rem what the book was. Rem didn’t tell her. Religion was a dubious subject of conversation in Panem. He wouldn’t have put Beech in danger to save his own neck. So he sent her own her way for the day and sat down to read. With a glass of rum in hand Rem read through the first chapters of Genesis until he fell asleep.   

That day was the beginning of a two year long healing process for Rem. Steadily, but slowly he got better. Being able to talk to God was like a revelation for him because Rem had always been a religious Christian yes, but the Games changed him in such a way that he had felt God had forsaken him. The nightmares, flashbacks, and hallucinations were all a part of his Earthly punishment before the hell-fires, but Beech handing him his mother’s copy of the Bible felt like a sign. 

During those first two years Rem did not mentor a single tribute and District Seven saw no more victors. When he did finally return to the Capitol the people of Seven thought for sure things would change. This was of course despite the fact that Rem was still over all mostly shunned within the district due to fear of him. But, their tributes had a mentor now! They did, but it was not entirely what they bargained for. Maybe Rem returned too soon or perhaps it would have always been the result, but the Capitol made Rem a different person. Of course he did do his best for his tributes. He would eventually bring home a victor.  

However, Rem quickly created a brand for himself. He had been angry in the Games and it had fueled his killing. Now he had a controlled anger and it was righteous. Rem became something of a rebel toeing right up to the line with Aldrich Snow’s patience before retreating. On the other hand, his drinking at home had slown down exponentially, but in the Capitol he drank and flirted with anyone who came his way. He wasn’t just a ladies man, but a man’s man as well. It was a brand he sort of fell into as an eighteen year old victor without any thought for the consequences down the line.

Note: Remington does have persistent PTSD. Though his only current symptoms are as follows; Nightmares, Flashbacks (visual and auditory), & difficulty sleeping

Remington Wallen is penned by Ally

[iwonderwhenyousleep]

Bromeo and Dude-liet

A/N: Hello! so this is based off the prompt, QUICK I NEED A ROMEO AND I KNOW YOU KNOW THE LINES- oh you thought I was Juliet? Nah man I'm playing Benvolio, that dude is Juliet. Captain Swan with a good old helping of Captain Charming. Hope you like it! Please fave/review if you are so generous! Thanks!

Read at ff.net here.

Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time, nor am I William Shakespeare.

"Sorry!"

"Move!"

"Out of my way!"

In her haste, Emma Swan managed to bump into nearly every single person in the crowded hallway. She flew down the stairs, paying no mind to her hair which was falling out of the intricate braid that she had spent twenty minutes getting just right. Her mind was singularly focused and she could feel her time slipping away. Finally, she spotted her destination and ran into the men's locker room. Her eyes roamed the room, skipping right over all the half-naked boys who were staring at her like a ghost. She spotted the mop of dark hair she was searching for and began to elbow her way through the crowd to get to him.

"Jones!" She shouted, gaining the attention of every other male who had not yet noticed her presence except the one person whose attention she needed most. She yelled his name again, directly into his ear this time, and wondered why he hadn't heard her, or if he was simply ignoring her. "JONES!"

Thankfully, he turned around that time. The source of his temporary deafness was explained as he took headphones out of his ears. "Swan? What are you doing in here? This is the boy's locker room!"

She just rolled her eyes and forcibly grabbed his hand, pulling him in the direction of the doors. "If I see something I haven't seen before I'll throw a dollar at it," she said. She was in no mood to waste any time. Already she was ridiculously late and could not spare a single second. They broke into the crowd of the hallway and Emma resumed her elbowing and running.

"Swan! Swan!" Killian was growing visibly more frustrated with his captor by the second. Most people would have seen the look in Emma's eyes and shut up and followed her, but Killian Jones did not back away from a challenge. "EMMA! You're going to dislocate my shoulder!"

At this, the ice in Emma's mind cracked and she turned to look at her captive. "We are going to the theater. And that is not a request."

"The theater? Why?" Much to Emma's horror, he had stopped running. He was obviously going to demand an explanation before going any farther.

"Walk and talk!" Emma rushed out and grabbed his hand and pulled him in the direction of the backstage entrance to the stage. "We need a Romeo and I know you know the lines."

Killian's arm started to go up to scratch behind his ear, but he thought better of it considering the speed at which Emma was pulling him. "What do you mean, you need a Romeo?" For the first time, he noticed what Emma had on. She was wearing a floor length Renaissance dress, complete with a corset. His eyes went wide as he realized exactly what he was being dragged into.

"It's my drama final. Will Scarlet is currently in the boys dressing room puking his guts out into the garbage can." Killian was stunned into silence until they finally made it to the theater. Emma shoved the door open as forcibly as she burst into the locker room. They headed to the boys dressing where he saw for himself that she was not lying. Scarlet looked absolutely miserable. Emma's hands flew to Killian's shirt and she started to pull it off.

"If you wanted to see me shirtless, lass, all you had to do was ask." Killian put his arms up and smirks, falling into his flirtatious façade. But, he would be lying if he said his heart rate hadn't dramatically increased because of the person whose hands were now unbuttoning his pants. This was enough to crack his cocky facade. "What are you doing?"

"Getting you into the costume."

"Emma, I don't know about..."

His protests were sharply cut off. "Listen, Killian. If you don't do this, I'm going to fail drama and then I will never get into drama school. Not just that, the rest of my group will fail too. I know you know all the lines because you're always quoting this scene to me. Now, everyone else is already on stage, so there is no backing out. You have to do this. Please do this." The "please" caught him off guard. In that moment, Emma was giving him a choice. This was by far the most desperate and vulnerable he'd ever seen Emma. She was really panicked, that much was written all over her features. And, to tell the truth, he'd do anything to see her smile.

"Alright, love. Let's get me into that costume." As he was being stripped to his underwear by the woman who occupied practically his every waking thought, he had a little time to actually realize what was happening. He was about to play Romeo to the girl of his dream's Juliet. And, of course, there was only one scene that she could have been referring to. If he was lucky, he'd get to kiss Emma Swan. Obviously, this was not how he'd anticipated their first kiss happening. He'd held out hope that it would happen eventually, but realistically, Emma's walls were sky high and the very real possibility that he would never get that chance haunted his nightmares. But now, if he was lucky... he wouldn't have to live the rest of his life wondering what her lips felt like against his own.

When he was finally into his costume, Emma grabbed him just as forcibly as before and shoved him toward the wings of the stage, shushing him to not making noise so as not to ruin the current scene. He watched as actors from another group took theirs exits as their scene from Julius Caesar finished. Before he knew what was happening, he was being shoved onto the stage.

He turned to the ladder that was being used as the makeshift balcony, expecting to see Emma up there in her finery. But that is not what he saw. His eyes went wide with shock before he could stop them. His cheeks flared red. He cursed the entire world for giving him even the tiniest bit of hope that anything could have ever happened between him and Emma, on stage or off.

On stage, right where he had assumed Emma would be, stood his best friend. David Nolan. He was wearing a slightly more ornate dress than Emma had on, and a giant wig that added six inches to his six feet. His face was covered in white powder, giving him the complexion of a ghost. For his part, David looked less shocked and more mortified to see Killian on stage instead of Will Scarlet for all of three seconds before he got back into character.

Another few awkward moments before Killian finally managed to break through his shock (and disappointment) and began the monologue,

"But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun. Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, Who is already sick and pale with grief, That thou her maid art far more fair than she: Be not her maid, since she is envious; Her vestal livery is but sick and green And none but fools do wear it; cast it off. It is my lady, O, it is my love! O, that she knew she were! She speaks yet she says nothing: what of that? Her eye discourses; I will answer it. I am too bold, 'tis not to me she speaks: Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven, Having some business, do entreat her eyes To twinkle in their spheres till they return. What if her eyes were there, they in her head? The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars, As daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven Would through the airy region stream so bright That birds would sing and think it were not night. See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand! O, that I were a glove upon that hand, That I might touch that cheek!"

It was David's turn to speak, albeit a short line. "Ay, me!" Two things happened then. First, Killian finally found the humor in the entire situation. Specifically, the cornucopia of mocking material that was just handed to him on a silver platter. He was never, ever going to let Dave live that falsetto down. He prayed to any god that would listen that someone was recording this. Liam would never believe this situation if he didn't have evidence. Hell, Killian wouldn't believe it if it weren't true and happening to him. Second, he was exceedingly, tremendously grateful that he had spewed Romeo's lines to Emma time and time again in an attempt to woo her and not Juliet's.

"She speaks: O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art As glorious to this night, being o'er my head As is a winged messenger of heaven Unto the white-upturned wondering eyes Of mortals that fall back to gaze on him When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds And sails upon the bosom of the air."

"O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name; Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, And I'll no longer be a Capulet."

The rest of the scene went by about as well as the beginning, once Killian got past his spot of giggles. Finally, David mercifully nodded at Killian to indicate that they had reached the stopping point in their scene. The lights went out and David hissed out, "Dude, you need to help me down!" Killian did as David had bid and offered him his hand as any true gentleman would for a fair lady. They exited into the wings and Emma was there waiting for them. Killian had expected to find her in stitches laughing at the fact that he and David had just performed what was the most famous love scene in all of literature. Instead, she just looked appreciative and wrapped David in a hug. But, David was having none of it.

"Seriously Emma! This is who you get to replace Scarlet?!" David whisper-yelled. His hands had already started to reach for the laces of his corset. Oh my god he is wearing a corset! Killian just couldn't keep his laughter in any more, and ran into the dressing room so his roaring laughter wouldn't disturb the other performances. Emma and David followed him and once the door was shut, Killian couldn't keep it in anymore. Within seconds there were tears in his eyes and he was actually rolling around on the floor. "Watch it Jones, or I'll really give you something to laugh about."

This threat only succeeded in making him laugh harder, Emma finally joining in. "Oh, come on David. Lighten up. It is pretty funny."

After taking a few deep breaths, Killian finally was able to ask the questions that had come to him once he saw what he had actually gotten himself into. "Okay, so explain a few things to me. Why is Dave here in a dress and playing the stunning Juliet to my dashing Romeo? And, Emma, if you weren't Juliet, why are you in that costume?"

"This is how Shakespeare put on the plays. Our piece was authentic." David spat through his teeth, then turned to Emma so she could get him out of the dress.

"What David is trying to say, is that Shakespeare worked with all an all male theater company, since women weren't allowed to act. So, I, as director, wanted to make our piece as if it was really being performed in his time period." She explained as her hands worked deftly on the strings tying David into the dress. "David here drew the short straw when we were casting. And I am in this costume because the Twelfth Night group needed extras for their scene."

The giggles hadn't quite left Killian's system, but he had managed to move to help get David out of his. Once David was able to get out of the dress on his own, Emma excused herself from the room to allow them privacy to put their real clothes back on and so she could do the same. The sight of David in his normal clothes, but still in the powdery white makeup was enough to get Killian laughing again.

"All right that is it. I am out of here!" David huffed and stormed out towards the exit of the theater.

"Dave, wait, I'm sorry..." While that was a bold faced lie and he actually did not regret a thing (How does one not laugh at something like that? Physically impossible! he thought to himself) he did not want to upset Dave anymore than he already had. When David was out of sight, Killian just shrugged and mentally made plans to make it up to him later. He followed the path that David had taken to exit the theater and found Emma waiting for him just outside.

She turned to Killian and threw herself into his (very) willing arms. Killian seized the opportunity and pulled her as close as he dared, inhaling the scent of hairspray and stage makeup. "I wanted to thank you, Killian. For coming with me in the first place. If you hadn't..."

"It was the right thing to do. Besides, now you owe me so big." He chuckled, still holding onto her until she loosened her grip and he followed suit. "But, I do know one way you can make it up to me." He raised his eyebrows to the sky in his signature move.

She surprised him yet again, and instead of slapping his arm or just rolling her eyes, as he had expected her to do, she raised her own eyebrows and responded, "Will this make us even?" She leaned in towards him, coming closer and closer until there was no distance between them. Their lips met and Killian knew in that moment that he was so screwed. There was no coming back from this. Her kiss was like a drug, and now he was a total and complete junkie.

She pulled away far too soon for his liking. "I was just going to ask for a picture of Dave in that costume but this is much better."

A devilish grin lit up her face before she leaned in and whispered, "Don't worry, I recorded one of our rehearsals."

[waveswordswhispers]

Please, Come Back

Shinsoukokuweek Day Five: Feline/Hunger Games

I... Don’t know where this went.

Atsushi and Akutagawa have always stuck together growing up in District Twelve.

Both are orphans.

Both are just trying to survive.

They've always just barely gotten by, Akutagawa able to fend off bullies and people trying to steal what little they posses and Atsushi the one who is able to pick pockets and somehow find food and water for themselves.

They've been lucky, they've never been picked during the reapings and Atsushi prays it stays that way, it's Akutagawa's last year to be eligible for the reaping.

Next year, he'll be free.

They're separated because Atsushi's two years younger but Akutagawa still manages find him in the crowd, shooting Atsushi a reassuring smile as the representative from Panem rambles on.

It'll be fine.

"Now," the representative trills on her sickening sweet voice. "Let's do the boys first, shall we?"

Atsushi clasps his hands together and prays, not Akutagawa, not Akutagawa-

"Atsushi Nakajima."

Atsushi breathes a sigh of relief because it's not Akutagawa but then he realized it's him.

His knees nearly give out and he's shaking so bad he's amazed he's actually still standing and oh god, the keepers are making their way towards him, he's going to die this year-

"I volunteer." Akutagawa's harsh voice cuts through Atsushi's panic, his voice not even wavering.

The representative titters nervously, making another speech and Akutagawa meets Atsushi's gaze, his face white. Atsushi wants to sob, scream, cry because no.

Anything he tries to say gets stuck in his throat and as Akutagawa's escorted to the stage, white noise fills Atsushi's ears, vision blurring.

He doesn't even hear the female's name, he's only aware that Akutagawa's standing on the stage, expression blank, fear radiating off of him.

When the representative hefts Akutagawa's hand in the air, wishing the two reaped good luck, Atsushi throws up.

"Akutagawa!" Atsushi charges in as soon as he's allowed to see Akutagawa, painfully aware of every second ticking away from his five minutes. "Ryononsuke," he sobs, locking his arms around Akutagawa. "Why?"

Akutagawa smiles tensely, returning the hug.

He doesn't reply, just quietly holding Atsushi and they stand there, rocking back and forth as Atsushi's quiet sobs echo in the empty room.

"Chuuya and Dazai are going to teach me," Akutagawa says as Atsushi counts down to the two minute mark. "They'll teach me how to survive."

It doesn't reassure Atsushi at all, Dazai and Chuuya may have won back to back Hunger Games but Akutagawa isn't them.

He's a little gruff towards people, a little rough around the edges but Akutagawa's kind, soft and especially soft hearted.

He isn't a killer.

Atsushi feels his tears stop, he's almost exhausted but he pulls away a little, to uncurl his hand, revealing the small bracelet he's always worn on his wrist, the silver threads twined together with tiny tigers molded into the bracelet.

"Here's your token," he chokes out and Akutagawa shakes his head.

"I can't take it, it's the only thing that you have from your family." Atsushi grabs Akutagawa's hand regardless, slipping the bracelet around his wrist.

"It's always brought good things to me one way or another," Atsushi replies, letting his hands drop when he takes a step back. "I hope it does the same for you."

Akutagawa's expression is unreadable but he surges forward, pulling Atsushi into another crushing hug and Atsushi feels tears forming in the corner of his eyes again.

"Please," Atsushi murmurs as the door opens, tears still falling, not willing to let go quite yet. "Please, come back."

Akutagawa dips his head down and Atsushi's not sure whether he did it in the heat of the moment but he kisses Atsushi, kisses him hard and grasps Atsushi with all his strength.

"I will," he whispers, tone full of determination and what else he says is cut off as the keepers rip Atsushi from him and drag him out, the doors closing with a finality.

Atsushi watches Akutagawa get onto the train from a distance, he can't bring himself to say goodbye directly to Akutagawa and he can only lift his hand to wave, his arm weighing so much more than it really is.

Akutagawa lifts his hand in return, silver glinting on his wrist and Atsushi bursts into tears, not caring about how he looks in the front of everyone else.

He feels like he's missing a piece of himself.

He probably is.

With Akutagawa gone, there's no one stopping anyone from beating Atsushi up and taking what he managed to scavenge to survive but at least Yosano takes pity on him, letting him stay in exchange for helping her out at her clinic.

Atsushi watches the small television Yosano has dutifully, watching, waiting, searching for any sign that Akutagawa's doing well.

When Akutagawa finally shows up on he screen, he's dressed in black with red streaking out from behind and Atsushi realized those are flames, Akutagawa is literally on fire.

He looks untouchable, fierce, and regal.

He looks well.

It's a short appearance, barely five minutes long but it's enough to give Atsushi some solace.

The next time Akutagawa makes an appearance on screen, it's for the interviews and when he strides onto the stage, there's the certain confidence he has that has always awed Atsushi along with another more dangerous feeling.

His designer has done a good job again, a suit that accentuates his figure and compliments his unusual hair colour and makes him especially handsome, more so than usual. Atsushi can hear the crowd whisper among themselves as he takes a seat, face set in a polite, cultured smile that he must have practiced for hours in order to master because Akutagawa's smiles are always awkward, funny, warm and soft.

Atsushi dislikes this smile. It's not Akutagawa.

Akutagawa answers all the questions cordially, playing along easily and Atsushi can tell he's already gaining popularity with the crowd.

It's good in a way, more sponsors to help him when enters the arena but it also paints a bigger target on Akutagawa's back.

As Akutagawa gives his last reply to the standard questions with a flourish, the interviewer leans forward, pointing at the bracelet on Akutagawa's wrist, glinting in the bright lights of the Capitol.

"That is such a pretty thing," the interviewer trills. "From your parents?"

Akutagawa smiles, his mask cracking a bit as he shakes his head. "No."

"Significant other?" the interviewer teases, leaning back, giving the crowd the typical 'we've discovered a secret' look. The crowd lets out pleased shouts.

Akutagawa seems to ponder for a second and he tilts his head, staring at the camera.

"Of sorts."

The crowd goes wild and Atsushi flushes, clapping his hands over his head as Yosano raises a questioning eyebrow.

"You've got some explaining to do," she sings jokingly but Atsushi knows she's kind to enough to not press.

Akutagawa concludes the interview gracefully and disappears.

Atsushi only has time to turn on the television for a short moment because there's been an outbreak of sickness that has overrun the clinic but he catches sight of Akutagawa's score.

Nine.

Almost perfect.

Atsushi's glad.

The day the games start, Atsushi's sitting on a chair, watching the screen with bated breath.

As the platforms rise up, he sees Akutagawa tensed up on the one furthest from the camera.

The horn signifies the start of the games and right way, it turns into a bloodbath.

Akutagawa grabs weapons, a backpack, anything he can get his hands on from the Cornucopia.

The Careers get to work, gutting anyone they can confront but Akutagawa avoids them, slipping off into the woods, seemingly teaming up with the tributes from District Ten and the male tribute from District Eleven.

Atsushi loses count of how many tributes die that day but he's so, so relieved Akutagawa's not among them.

It's a quick but brutal game, tributes dying daily from both other tributes and the Arena itself.

Akutagawa's been trained well, it seems that Chuuya and Dazai both upheld their promises to train him well and he's raging through anyone who challenges him almost unopposed, save for the Careers who obviously have more honed combat skills than he does.

Atsushi cringes every time Akutagawa has to fight, can barely keep his eyes on the screen when Akutagawa gets hurt, and he has, only to be saved by medicine from sponsors.

Akutagawa's lost most of his group except for one other, the male tribute from District Eleven and even he's quickly mowed down by the last remaining male Career from the Third District, leaving Akutagawa and two others.

For days, Akutagawa groups with the remaining two tributes and they play a cat and mouse game with the Career, constantly moving and setting up traps in hope of killing the Career without direct confrontation with no avail so far.

Atsushi's afraid that they'll have to take more risks as the situation becomes more dire and the Capitol hungers for more entertainment.

Finally, when the all the remaining tributes and Akutagawa are cornered to a small space within the arena due to the controllers burning sections but there, the other two tributes and Akutagawa fight desperately for their lives, the career cutting down one with ease while facing more resistance from the last tribute from District Nine and Akutagawa.

Atsushi screams when the Career stabs Akutagawa in the stomach, Akutagawa just a second too slow to dodge the attack.

The Career lets Akutagawa fall to the ground and turns on the remaining tribute, raising his sword menacingly.

The tribute, Tachihara Michizou, Atsushi thinks he's called, stands his ground and somehow manages to kill the Career but sustains fatal injuries as the Career falls.

Atsushi thinks that'll be no winner this year until he realizes that only one cannon has sounded, which means only one tribute has died.

Which means Akutagawa is still alive.

It's a waiting game now, to see who dies first and honestly, it's not looking good for either one but Atsushi selfishly wants Akutagawa to live.

Akutagawa's eyes slide shut first and that's when Atsushi lets out his first real cry of anguish and the cannon sounds a second later, thinking Akutagawa is gone but when Yosano shakes him fiercely, demanding he looks at the television, he sees Tachihara's eyes wide and unseeing and realizes Akutagawa's the surviving one.

He cries tears of joy, burying his head into his knees and Yosano pats his back understandingly until he's calmed down.

Akutagawa's coming back.

It's a while before Akutagawa gets back, presumably time for healing his injuries and for whatever closing ceremonies the Capitol has for the victor but Atsushi's filled to the brim with anticipation when the train appears.

He hasn't had much time to check the television so he doesn't know how Akutagawa's doing but he's excited to see him again.

Chuuya gets off first, sighing tiredly, his red hair a mess, signalling he's just woken up. Dazai's next, his flippant attitude apparent as he waves carelessly at the crowd, grabbing Chuuya by the wrist and tugging the shorter man towards their shared residence.

Akutagawa finally appears, looking slightly gaunt and exhausted but when he spots Atsushi, his face lightens up right away.

Atsushi runs towards him but Akutagawa walks slowly, almost as if it pains him to move and he stops halfway, whipping out a handkerchief and coughing violently into it.

When he stops, he whisks the handkerchief away as fast as he can, but not before Atsushi spots the blood on it.

Atsushi halts and finally looks at Akutagawa carefully.

There's an air he can't quite describe around Akutagawa, one that's familiar though and as Atsushi ponders, glancing at Akutagawa's eyes that hold a haunted look, he's struck by how similar Akutagawa holds himself.

He holds himself like Dazai and Chuuya.

While they may have won the games, Chuuya and Dazai often saw themselves as murderers none the less, even if it was for their own survival and they carry the weight of the lives they have taken on their shoulders everyday, hanging over them like a cloud.

Although Akutagawa is back, Atsushi suspects a part of him is lost among the death, blood and terror that he suffered through and he might never be the same again.

Physically and mentally.

Atsushi smiles shakily and Akutugawa takes the last few steps and embraces him.

"I'm back," Akutagawa murmurs, his voice cracking.

Atsushi closes his eyes and wraps his arms around Akutagawa, mindful of Akutugawa's wound and squeezes gently.

"Welcome back," he replies, pressing his head into Akutagawa's shoulder. "Welcome back."