#this is straight up blonde slander

[abreca]

Percy Jackson things for you ✨

Today is the season finale and one only can imagine how tall Walker Scobell is going to get by SoM, my wishes is that they give Leah a stool so she can tower over him.

[chaotic-toasters]

It's Different With You

Frida Maanum x Reader

------------------

"Y/NNNN," Frida whined quietly. "Y/NNN- Y/NNN—"

"What, Maanum?" You groaned, rolling over to face your girlfriend as she poked at your sides. "It's too early."

"Morning, elskling," she smiled, wiping the frown off your face with a kiss to your jaw. "It's 10:30, and I missed you. I've been up since eight."

You rubbed your eyes. "But I'm right next to you?"

"I wanted to talk to you," the Norwegian blushed as you reached over and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Besides, we have to get ready for training."

You pulled her into you, wrapping your arms around her and burying your head i to her neck. "No. Sleep."

"Elskling—"

"What time is training?" you murmured.

"At 11:45, w—"

"What time is it now?"

"Ten thi—"

You grunted. "I only need twenty minutes."

"But babe—"

Your girlfriend's protest fell on deaf ears. You were already asleep, snoring into her neck like a baby.

------------------

"Hey, Katie, hey, Stina," you smiled at your's and Frida's best friends as you walked into the changing room, hand in hand. "How's it going?"

"Good, thanks," Katie raised her eyebrows. "Had some fun last night, Frida? Ye' look tired."

"N-no!" Frida stammered, hiding her face into your shoulder. "I just—"

"She woke up early instead of sleeping in like a sensible person," you snickered, setting your stuff down in your cubby. "Now she's tired."

"Be quiet," Frida complained, smacking you on the back of the head. "I needed time to get ready."

You looked at her strangely. "Why? You look pretty as it is."

Kyra fake gagged. "Get a room."

"You're sweet, Y/N," Steph smiled approvingly, side-eyeing Kyra. "Ignore this little pest, her single ass wouldn't know what love looks like."

"Hey!"

-----------------

"Elskling! Elskling!"

You jolted at the sudden yelling, head whipping around to where your girlfriend was charging straight at you. "Frida? What's the matter?"

"Be my partner!"

You were a sucker for that face. Her eyes wide and innocent, dimples on full display as she grinned.

"Okay, okay," you agreed, kissing the top of her head. "Come on, my love. Don't keep the gaffer waiting."

As the two of you passed the ball back and forth, working on first touches, Frida started talking about what she and Stina had been up to over the weekend.

You totally zoned out, half-focusing on the ball and tunnel visioning at Frida. Some of her blonde hair had fallen out of its ponytail, perfectly framing her face and making her look even better than usual. She used her hands as she talked, muscles flexing in her training top as you shamelessly ogled her.

"-abe? Babe?" Frida snapped her fingers in front of your face. "Are you listening?"

"What? Yeah," you shook your head, blinking rapidly as you realized everyone was taking a water break. "I was just thinking about something."

The Norwegian squeezed your hand. "You know you can talk to me about anything, right?"

You practically melted, hand shaking as you grabbed your water bottle from the cooler. "Y-yup."

"Oi! Lovebirds! Kyra's right, get a room!" Katie shouted. "Disgustin'!"

"As if you don't do worse with Caitlin!" You fired back. "She asked you a question the other day and you almost fainted."

Katie tackled you to the floor. "This is slander!"

You wrestled about, pulling her into a headlock. "It's only slander if it's not true. But it is."

She growled, trying to wriggle free. "Yer' a little shite, Y/L/N."

"No I'm not!" You scoffed. "Frida, tell her I'm not!"

Frida said nothing, averting her eyes.

"Frida!"

--------------------

"You're so mean to me, Frida," you whined, sitting down in your cubby. "I compliment you all the time and then you don't back me up."

"I'm sorry," she pressed a kiss to your lips. "I still love you."

You grunted. "Hmph."

"I love you," she kissed you again, pulling you closer. "I love you."

"Y/N, what have you done to Frida?" Stina joked. "Frida hates PDA. She didn't even want to hug her exes in public when they dated."

"I don't know," you smirked. "Frida, what's with the sudden change?"

Frida blushed, mumbling, "It's different with you."

Your shit-eating grin grew impossibly bigger. "Want to share with the class?"

Frida's face turned even redder. "No."

"Are you su- OW!"

Frida glared at you, hand dropping from the back of your head. "Just because I love you doesn't mean I won't smack you for being stupid."

You sulked. "Awww."

Does this make sense? I think not

[achaotichuman]

Recently I delved into the depths of my docs to find the first fanfiction I wrote for ACOTAR that never saw the light of day.

Obviously it's horrible writing, but I like the premise and since I am addicted to piling more projects on top of my scheldule I rewrote the first chapter and redid the plot for it.

Originally these events take place a year or two after the war with Hybern, and everything is the exact same EXCEPT for somethin Tamlin is doing.

I changed it so that this is a fic of what would have happened if Tamlin didn't give over that drop of power to bring Rhysand back.

Anyway, here's there rewritten chapter. Tell me if you guys like it!

“Be happy Feyre.”

The words nearly tumbled out of his mouth. The carefully loving words that wrapped like ivy around his throat, choking him, those last cords of love that had twisted into something else. That had made him soft for her. He had offered his heart like ripe fruit on a silver platter for her to take and now look at where he stood. 

Bloodied, gore and guts clinging to his armour like a second layer of skin, mud caked on his legs and arms. Hair a mess, dirty and disgusting. His people, his armies, whom he had gone to his knees to earn the trust of them back, after she twisted their minds, undid their memories, stared in every personal thought to create a new story for all of them. One that fit her narrative. 

The damage she had caused, the things she had taken. What she had done, what she had cost not just them but all of Pryhtian. Destroying the Courts she had saved not even a year ago. 

Now, on her knees, holding the man who had assaulted her night after night after night whilst she vomited, cried and danced and laughed, and been drugged. She screamed his name whilst she cling to his lifeless form. 

The good for nothing bastard Lord was finally dead. Tamlin should have breathed a sigh of relief. 

Instead every High Lord stood around awkwardly, as one after the other they had willingly handed over their magic despite what this man had done to them. Despite how much they all hated him. They did it for his grief-stricken mate who screamed for them to help. To bring him back the same way she had come back. 

But he was dead for what he had done. Giving over power to remake the Cauldron, the mother had taken his very soul with the magic, the price paid to put the world back together. 

Truly, who were they to defy her?

Tamlin stood up straight, when Feyre stared up at him, eyes filled with tears as she saw his stone-cold face. 

“Please,” She screamed, “Please I’ll do anything!”

Green eyes cut from her to the other Lords. None made eye-contact with him. All looking elsewhere, anywhere, the grey-red clouds above, the torn battlefield layered with bodies on decaying bodies, the rivers running red with blood. Some of them, no doubt reminded of Amarantha’s reign of terror by the bloodshed, looked to the muddy ground. 

But none dared look in his eye, all knew what she had done to him. Her reasons for doing so. They also all knew what he had done to her. 

But staring down at her now, thinking back on all of it. 

Thinking back on the slander of Court, the destruction of his people. The lying, the scheming, the pure hatred. 

Then there was one final thought that struck true. 

What would they have all done if it had been him dead on the floor and not Rhysand?

The image of his bloodied mother, his dead brothers, even as cruel as they were, flashed before his eyes. 

“No.” He said. Standing tall and true, “I will not hand over my magic.”

“You fucking monster!” A girl with gold streaked blonde hair lunged at him from out of nowhere. Morrigan. 

She didn’t get far, from where she was knees deep in the mud. A flash of gold and a short-sudden scream from her. She was pinned to the floor with golden threads. Not painful, but certainly startling, and no doubt humiliating. 

Tamlin couldn’t find it in himself to care. 

Feyre stared up at him. Her wet blue eyes boring into his own with a deep-cut grief that would have broken him just a few weeks ago. 

Now. 

Now all he felt was mild pity, and a distant sadness, for the girl who had been killed under the mountain and never brought back. 

“Who's to say the real Rhysand would even return?” Tamlin said, voice mockingly kind, “When the first time we brought a human back, she was not the same at all?”

Feyre’s saddened eyes turned wrathful, her beautiful face twisting into a deadly scowl. All that hatred, focused solely on him. 

“You were what led me to my death! And now you refuse to even help him!” She screamed, the pain and grief tearing through her, along with the emptiness of where her mating bond used to be no doubt fueling her rage. 

“You led yourself to your death as did he.” Tamlin said, perfectly calm and stoic. She wouldn’t get a rise out of him. Not anymore. 

Tamlin looked to the others, “Think about all that male has done to us. Think of what his mate has brought down upon our lands. And maybe rethink tossing your magic carelessly at whatever dead corpse lays before you.”

“He is not a corpse!” Feyre shrieked. Her cries and screams becoming distant. Vague. As weariness bore heavy on him. For the mortal, the living, unfortunately exhaustion was a natural occurrence. 

Tamlin’s eyes went down to Rhysand. Least he’ll never be exhausted again. 

The thought was cruel, and maybe he was a horrible man for feeling relief. Staring into that lifeless face, knowing he was dead forever. Gone. Bound to never bring him misfortune again. 

“You are a heartless male.” A seething voice said somewhere near him. Tamlin looked towards where a limping Illyrian with blue siphons hissed, looking like he wanted to tear the High Lord to shreds but his own limitations and injuries prevented it. 

A cold, humourless smile broke out on his face. The Spring Lord looked down upon Feyre. 

“Give him your own magic.” He said, tilting his head, “Why don’t you hand over those drops of power you claim to make yourself so, so powerful?”

She was silent, as tears continued to stream down her face, he couldn’t stop himself from saying, “Oh right, you can’t.”

He would leave after this and never see her face again, he hoped, but he didn’t bite his tongue to prevent the final blow, “Our magic is the only thing holding you together. You claim yourself so powerful. Above the rest of us entirely. The self-proclaimed High Lady of the Night Court, equal to the most powerful in all the Earth. But you really aren’t. You need our magic to survive.”

Tamlin looked back at Rhysand, and didn’t hide the relief on his face, “You can’t bring him back without us.”

The Nightmare was gone. Now all that was left was the cleanup. 

Feyre screamed, whether it was an insult, her hatred or simply incoherent, he didn’t know. He winnowed away. Back to Spring. 

It was time for a cleanup. 

And he had plans to make things right in his Court. In Prythian in its entirety. 

***

I probably will not continue this fic since I have so much I need to write already, but I think its fun to go back and reflect on my old ideas and rewrite to compare to how my form was before and how it is now.

[minjix]

twinkies → Vinnie Hacker x foreign!reader (blurb)

summary: in which you try Twinkie’s for the first time.

warnings: twinkies slander because that shit tastes like chemicals in solid form :/ + swearing <3

masterlist

“Okay, and open your mouth,” you did, with extreme caution. You trusted Vinnie wholeheartedly, but not when it came to the guessing game.

Two days ago you had a arrived to land of ‘opportunities’, and your blonde haired boyfriend was on a mission for you to taste everything he loved, which includes twinkies.

"wait!” He exclaimed loudly, scaring the shit out of you. “Before you try,” his voice became quieter as he turned to camera mounted on a tripod. “Guys, this is my favorite snack and if my s/o doesn’t like it, then we’ll probably break up.” You laughed at his joke, your hand reaching out to grasp his, “now I’m worried.” You whispered with a sly grin.

He gave your hand a firm squeeze before leaning down to kiss you on your forehead. You turned away from the camera when you felt your face heat up. “Don’t be, it’s delicious.” He reassured you, and you trusted him.

He once again asked you to open your mouth and took a bite when he asked you to. The texture reminded you of cake, but then the flavor hit you. “What the fuck,” you grabbed the bucket which was beside you, grasping it blindly as the blindfold was still around your eyes.

You began to spit out the remains of the disgusting food he gave to you. Unbeknownst to you, Vinnie stood beside you, watching the whole ordeal with wide eyes and a gaping mouth.

“What the fuck,” he laughed in confusion as you tore your blindfold off, “why’d you spit it out?”

“Because it was disgusting Vinnie,” you stared at him with wide eyes, “what even was that?” You could hear his friends laughing at the scene before them in the background

“Twinkies!” He exclaimed, “they’re delicious!”

“Coming from an American,” you said with a blank face. “It’s tasted like straight up chemicals, Vin.”

Shocked he laughed, “no it doesn’t,” he grabbed the twinkie, the one you had taken a bite out of, thinking that maybe it was faulty one, but when he took a bite he hummed in satisfaction, “so fucking good babe,”

You stared at him, disgusted, “you’re delusional,” you chuckled when he wouldn’t stop smiling even though his cheeks were filled with the cursed sponge cake .

The blonde haired boy and laughed and leaned down to kiss you whilst still eating the twinkie, “gimme a kiss,” his voice was muffled.

You quickly put your hands on his cheeks and turned his face away, “I love you, but that’s disgusting.”

The blonde haired boy laughed which ended up with him nearly choking on the cake, “love you too,” he gasped.

[ilguna]

From expired medicine number 66 with sejanus pls 😌

☼ forget-me-nots (Sejanus Plinth) ☼

warnings; swearing, bombs, blood, ehh gore, death, death mention, starvation mention.

wc; 11.1k

prompt; 66. amnesia au

notes; slow burn, all they get to do is hold hands. also coryo slander.

--

“What’s the matter, pretty boy? You in the wrong cage?” One of the other tributes asks, eyes on a blonde Capitol boy dressed in bright red. He’s standing at the back of the truck, hand reached up to hold onto a bar to keep from falling over.

You let out a breath through your nose, giving a look to Marcus, who seems just as unimpressed as you are. Leave it to someone from the Capitol to think it’s a good idea to jump in the back of a truck with a bunch of teenagers that hate his guts. He might be untouchable anywhere else, but here it’s fair game.

“No, this is exactly the cage I was waiting for.” The blonde boy tells him.

The tribute jumps to his feet, hands encircling the Capitol’s boys throat, proving your point. He slams the boy back, forearms pinning him against the bars. The Capitol boy is quick though, bringing his knee up to the tribute boy’s crotch. You watch as he doubles over, releasing him.

“He might kill you now.” The girl from the same district coughed, wafting straight into the Capitol boy’s face. “He killed a Peacekeeper back in Eleven. They never found out who did it.”

“Shut it, Dill.” The boy from Eleven growls.

“Who cares now?” Dill asks.

“Let’s all kill him.” A tiny boy grins. “Can’t do nothing worse to us.”

A few of the other tributes murmur in agreement, taking a step forward to close in on the Capitol boy. The truck hits a bump, the heels of your feet rise, and then fall flat when it comes down harshly. You sway into Marcus, and he uses his free hand to steady you.

“Not to us, maybe. You got family back home? Someone they could punish there?” A girl from the corner asks. She’s wearing a colorful dress, which has since been turned dirty from the cattle car they kept you in on the way here. She crosses the small space, wiggling herself between the tributes and the Capitol boy. “Besides, he’s my mentor. Supposed to help me. I might need him.”

“How come you get a mender?” Dill asks.

“Mentor. You each get one.” The Capitol boy says.

“Where are they, then?” Dill challenges. “Why didn’t they come?”

“Just not inspired, I guess.” The colorful girl says, turning her back to the rest of you.

The truck turns into a narrow street, where the cement must not be completely flat, because it hits a bump every second. It makes a wide turn, before you’re jostled back, as the car begins to move backward into a dimly lit building.

Your face twists, as a new smell invades your nose: a mix of rotten fish and old hay. Your hand tightens on the bars, unable to see through the darkness. The sound of two metal doors opening fills the air. You think you can see a Peacekeeper opening the back door of the truck, and then the ground beneath you turns into a slope.

You’re able to hang on for the first couple of seconds, watching as the tributes in front of you tumble out. Your fingers slip when you try to adjust to hold on better, afraid of where they’re sending you. You hit wet cement, and continue to slide, until you hit a drop.

A scream rises up your chest, clogging in your throat as you hold your breath. You fall for what feels like forever, and land hard at the bottom. The heap breaks your landing, but a shooting pain flies up your back. You hiss, face twisted as you reach back to grab your lower back.

A pair of hands grabs you beneath your arms, pulling you out of the way of another tribute coming down. Marcus places you on your feet, where you hunch while the pain subsides. When you can’t feel it anymore, you stand up fully, looking around to see where they’ve dumped you.

It’s another cage, only bigger. There’s a stretch of sand, with rock formations in the middle that twist high in the air. A shallow, dry moat separates the island and the row of metal bars on the far side. And beyond them are the faces of small Capitol children, their eyes wide at the sight of the group of you.

You begin to wander away from the pile of teenagers and hay, as they pull themselves out to be on their feet. Marcus moves with you, letting you decide how far you want to go. The faces on the other side of the bars begin to multiply quickly, filling with adults, too.

They begin to shout, pointing at the Capitol boy, attention shifting from the rest of you, to him. You glance over, finding that he’s standing taller now, expressionless as he stares where he should be. In no time, the audience begins to call out to him, asking him why he’s in here with you. One of them must recognize him, because the crowd grows thicker.

“It’s the Snow boy!’

“Who’s that again?”

“You know, the ones with roses on their roof!”

A smirk creeps to the corner of your lip, a laugh making its way out of you. You begin to walk again, around the Capitol boy, like a wild animal pacing their lunch. “Snow, huh?”

His eyes snap to you, slightly wide. 

“Do you like to play games, Snow?” Your words have an edge as they leave your mouth. You stop when your back is partly turned to the Capitol people. “Because it looks like you do.”

The other tributes have caught on, beginning to surround him. The two tributes from Eleven, the boy that suggested you should kill him, and a few more, coming to build a circle around him. He notices this almost immediately, eyes darting between each of you, like he can’t decide which one of you is more dangerous. 

His breathing is picking up, chest growing and shrinking. He really didn’t think this through, did he? He thought he’d be able to come in here and do whatever he wanted. A dribble of sweat begins to run down the side of his face, heading for his jaw. He’ll be so fun to tear apart.

“Own it.” A soft voice says.

It’s his girl tribute, sitting on a rock. Snow takes in a deep breath and turns to see her, where she’s fixing a white rose behind her ear. The same one that he’d brought to the train station for her. 

He holds his hand out for her, she smiles slightly, taking his hand. You watch as he bows, and she gets up like a lady. When he raises his head, he asks, “Would you care to meet a few of my neighbors?”

“I would be delighted.” She says, as they begin to walk off together.

He leads her up to the bars, where the people are gawking. You roll your eyes, taking several steps back as you pivot to take a look around the area. There’s not many places to hide if you wanted to. Which means that the cameras will reach you at almost any point in here. 

Snow and his girl tribute—Lucy Gray—introduce themselves, going around the crowd, talking to the children. You manage to find a nice spot behind a rock that’ll block their view, which Marcus joins you behind.

“What’s the plan here?” You murmur, eyeing the other tributes, who are scoping out the land, themselves.

“Survive.” Marcus has his arms crossed, leaning on the wall across from you. “Wait it out.”

“For how long?” You ask, you wrap a hand around your stomach when it rumbles. “I’m starving here, Marcus.”

He tilts his head, “What do you want to do? Eat one of the other tributes?”

“That’s not funny.” You tell him.

“They won’t give us food, (Y/n), I told you this.”

“I didn’t think that they’d keep it from us completely.” You hiss. 

You take in a deep breath, closing your eyes and tilting your head back. It’s been three days since the last time you’ve eaten. A small portion of bread and oatmeal, which was on the morning of Reaping Day. If you’d known that your name was going to be pulled, you would’ve eaten more.

You sigh, “I’m sorry, I know it’s not your fault.” You push your hair back. “And you’re hungry, too.”

You peek out from behind the rock to see that the pair have moved over to the cameras, having an exchange with the reporter, you presume. You watch them through squinted eyes.

“So, do you know my mentor? Says his name is Coriolanus Snow. He’s a Capitol boy and clearly I got the cake with the cream, ‘cause nobody else’s mentor even bothered to show up to welcome them.”

“Well, he gave us all a surprise. Did your teachers tell you to be here, Coriolanus?”

Snow steps forward. “They didn’t tell me not to.” The crowd laughs. “But I do remember them saying that I was to introduce Lucy Gray to the Capitol, and I take that job seriously.”

“So you didn’t have a second thought about diving into a cage of tributes?” The reporter asks.

“A second, a third, and I imagine the fourth and fifth will be hitting me sometime soon.” Snow says. “But if she’s brave enough to be here, shouldn’t I be?”

You scoff, Snow turns his head slightly to find where the noise came from. Brave, as if you all didn’t end up here by chance. By their hands. 

“Oh, for the record, I didn’t have a choice.” Lucy Gray says.

“For the record, neither did I.” Snow says. “After I heard you sing, I couldn’t keep away. I confess, I’m a fan.”

Lucy Gray moves her skirt to show off the color, as the audience erupts into applause.

“Well, I hope for your sake the Academy agrees with you, Coriolanus.” The reporter says. “I think you’re about to find out.”

As if on cue, the metal doors nearby squeal against the concrete, as if there’s not enough space to allow them to move. A group of four Peacekeepers march out, heading straight for the Capitol boy.

Snow turns back to the camera. “Thank you for joining us. Remember, it’s Lucy Gray Baird, representing District Twelve. Drop by the zoo if you have a minute and say hello. I promise she’s well worth the effort.”

Lucy Gray holds out the back of her hand to him, which he takes and presses a kiss to. After that, he waves to the audience once, before joining the Peacekeepers and leaving the exhibit. The doors shut tightly behind them.

They dumped you in a fucking zoo.

Lucy Gray mingles around the bars for a few more minutes, before she comes down the moat to join her tribute partner. The crowd thins out considerably, now that they don’t have a source of entertainment. You disappear behind the rock, lowering yourself to the ground. Marcus doesn’t move from where he stands, looking down at you.

You pull your knees up. “Do you think our mentors will show up?”

“It won’t matter.” Marcus says. “They can’t do anything for us. All they’ll do is bring more people to stare.”

You rest your head back. “Right.” For the first time in days, you feel at peace enough to relax, the drowsiness coming in waves. You sigh, letting your legs down. “Will you wake me if something happens?”

“I will.” Marcus nods.

His confirmation is good enough for you. You settle on the cement, shoulders square with the rock. It’s uncomfortable, but your body doesn’t seem to care, focused on the idea of being able to sleep. The moment you shut your eyes, you’re practically done for, as the chatter of the Capitol people acts as perfect background noise for you to doze off to.

When you wake, it’s on your own accord. There’s a pain in the side of your neck, due to sleeping with your head at an angle. You squeeze your eyes, face twisting as you reach up to massage the area. When you look around, you find Marcus standing nearby, face hard.

You stretch, letting out a groan. It must be getting dark out because the artificial lights on the other side of the rock have been turned on. There’s no telling how late it is. You wonder if they’ll even bother to turn them off when the zoo does close.

You push to get to your feet, swallowing the nausea that rises with the movement. It’s due to hunger, but it’ll pass soon if you take it easy. Marcus looks over when he sees that you’re on your feet, his face smoothing out briefly.

“Anything big happen?” You ask, arms above your head. You can hear your upper back pop, relieving the pressure.

“No, but we have a familiar face in the crowd.” Marcus says.

“Like who? Snow?” You sneer, coming out from behind the rock. 

You squint through the white light, holding a hand up to shield your eyes. The tributes that you’re in here with have spread out to keep from getting in each other’s space. You look up to the bars to see that the crowd has grown again, peering down at the group of you. 

To humor Marcus, you search for the blonde boy that belongs to Lucy Gray, yet you come up blank. A joke begins to form on your tongue, as you turn your head to tell it, you hear your name being shouted from the other side of the bars. You glance back at the crowd, eyebrows together, wandering away from your partner to find who it is that knows your name.

You make it all the way to the moat before you see who it is. He’s crouched, hands wrapped around the bars, forehead pressed to them. His brown hair and brown eyes are unmistakable. You used to stare into them everyday when you were friends, before he moved away to live in the Capitol.

Sejanus Plinth is dressed in the same bright red uniform that Snow was wearing when he came into the truck. He looks just like he did when you went to school together, only older now because it’s been ten years. He still wears that innocent look on his face, which is unsurprising. His heart is big enough to house dozens of people.

“(Y/n).” Sejanus shifts on his feet, leaning away from the bars as he turns to a black backpack at his side. He opens it up, reaches inside, and pulls out something that’s wrapped. It’s reflecting the light. “Please, take it. Marcus won’t.”

“Sejanus.” His name is foreign on your tongue. “I don’t even know what it is.”

“It’s a meatloaf sandwich.” He says, holding it out between the bars. “Please, I know you’re hungry.”

He’s right, your stomach begins to hurt at the thought of the sandwich, but you don’t move from where your feet are planted. You glance behind you, to Marcus, who’s still standing against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. He’s determined to stay there.

He was Marcus’s friend, too. The three of you were very close during grade school. If there was one of you, the other two would be following close by. That is, until the Plinths upgraded from District Two to the Capitol, due to their loyalty during the Dark Days. In many people’s eyes, the Plinths are a bunch of traitors. 

Including Marcus’s.

You would think the same, if he weren’t a child at the time. And especially not now, with you being stuck in this situation. With Sejanus being on the other side of the bars, maybe he can help, beyond just giving you sandwiches. If all the tribute mentors are wearing these red uniforms, that means he might be one, himself.

So, you move forward, crossing the moat and climbing the hill that’ll lead you to the bars. You don’t lower yourself to his height right away, looking between the faces behind him. With your presence, they all seem to shuffle a step back, unsure if you’re one of the hostile tributes or not.

You breathe through your nose, amused. You grab onto the bar with one hand, using it as support as you get down. Sejanus is still holding out the sandwich for you to take, which you do so carefully, setting it on your knee. 

Sejanus nods, happy that you’re trusting him. “I tried to get any of the other tributes to come over but they won’t.”

“Can’t blame them.” You say, not being able to focus on his face when the people behind him peer over his shoulder. “I wasn’t going to, either.”

You jerk forward, a threat to the Capitol people. A few of them let out gasps as they return to where they’d been standing, hiding behind Sejanus. When your eyes make their way back to his face, you find his face screwed.

“Marcus doesn’t want to see me, does he?”

“No, he doesn’t.”

“But he knows that I’m sorry? You know I’m sorry, right?”

You shrug. “Doesn’t change the fact that he’s angry. Or that we’re both here in a zoo cage.”

Sejanus swallows.

You’re tired of this conversation already. “I hear that we get mentors. Where’s mine?”

“I am.” He says. “I’m your mentor, and Marcus has Florus.”

“Oh, how fortunate.” You shake your head. “Did you ask for me?”

“No, I was assigned.” Sejanus says, glancing behind him. His face lights up as he raises a hand to wave someone over. Your eyes shift in that direction, finding the Snow boy coming your way. He weaves through the crowd, and stops two feet away from the bars. 

“Trouble?” He asks, paying no attention to you.

You scoff, “Great, you’re friends with Snow.” You grab the sandwich with one hand, pulling yourself to your feet with the other. By then, the blonde boy has his eyes on you. 

Sejanus looks between you two. “Do you know each other?”

“Of course not.” Snow says first, face twisting, seemingly disgusted by the idea.

You laugh, it’s venomous, “You know, I think I do pride myself in not hanging around Capitol scum.” You spit, holding out your hand that has the sandwich. “Give me another, Sejanus. I’ll see that Marcus gets it.”

Sejanus doesn’t need you to tell him twice, grabbing another. You don’t break the eye contact you have with Snow, which is growing tense by the second. 

“Capitol scum?” He repeats, smiling. “That’s funny.”

“Is it now?” You steal the second sandwich from Sejanus’s hand before it’s fully through the bars. You look over Snow, taking in how big he is. “For a Capitol boy, you look pretty starved. You belong more in here than you do out there.” You take a couple steps over so that you’re directly in front of him. “Except, you wouldn’t last ten seconds before getting ripped apart.”

You look at Sejanus to find that he’s holding out two plums. You pluck them from his hands, giving a nasty look to Snow before you go back down the hill with your winnings. There are several pairs of eyes that watch you return to the rock that you and Marcus have claimed. You return their stares with pressed lips. 

You step behind the stone, Marcus following you. When you hold out the two sandwiches and plums, he shakes his head. “I don’t want that.”

“If we want to win, we need to be strong.” You tell him. “Take one.”

He sighs, irritated, but grabs one of each. You sink back to the ground, unwrapping your sandwich, resting the plum in your lap. The moment that you sink your teeth into the soft bread, every ounce of self control leaves your body. It’s perfect, delicious, and gone within a minute. The plum, too.

Once Marcus has finished his sandwich, he wipes his mouth, sucking the ketchup off of his finger. “Who’s your mentor?”

“Sejanus.” You tell him, “You have someone named Florus.”

“As long as I don’t have him—I don’t care who I have. They won’t make a difference.”

“That’s what you think.” 

—

“Get up!” A voice shouts.

Your eyes pop open as you fly into an upward position, looking around to see where the danger is. Your eyes land on Peacekeepers, dressed in grey uniforms, standing next to the steel doors that are swung wide open.

The other tributes are shuffling toward the Peacekeepers, hardly awake. You rustle in the hay to look at Marcus, who’s already getting to his feet. A yawn escapes you, holding out your hand. Marcus takes it to pull you to your feet, steadying you when you stumble a step.

“What’s happening?” You murmur, rubbing your eyes.

“No idea.” Marcus says, walking away. You follow him, briefly looking at the bars to see if there’s an audience, finding it empty. The zoo must not be open yet.

On the other side of the building is a truck, similar to the one you rode here on. Marcus steps inside first, and then turns to give you a hand, pulling you inside. The two of you choose a spot in the middle, where you grab a rod and try not to touch anyone if you can help it.

Once you’re packed inside, they slam the doors shut. The car jolts forward a moment later, and then they begin to take you through the streets. You sigh, watching the blur of buildings and people on the sidewalk. Occasionally, you glance at the people around you, taking in details in increments to avoid setting them off. The last thing you’d want is to cause a fight in here.

Your eyes linger on the boy from Eleven and the way he hovers over Dill, feeling a need to protect her. It’s the same for Lucy Gray and her tribute partner, who she seems to be close with. Last night, you weren’t the only one to take a sandwich, soon after, Lucy Gray went to have one too. When she decided that it was good, she told her friend… Jessup, that’s his name. She told Jessup to grab one too, which then prompted the rest of the tributes to follow.

For now, you can’t find anyone else that sticks out in your mind. You’re sure that they’ll reveal themselves as time goes on, all you have to do is wait until then. You know that you should keep a distance from Four and Eight, at the very least. They have previous experience with weapons, much like you.

The truck comes to a hard stop. A Peacekeeper comes out to stand on your side of the truck. You look down at him, finding a pair of handcuffs that he has gripped in his gloves. 

“We will take one district at a time. When you step out of the truck, hold your hands out in front of you, palms up.” He instructs. “District One.”

The boy and girl get up from where they’re sitting. The doors open, allowing them to step out. They don’t bother shutting the doors again, letting you take in the amount of Peacekeepers they have on standby in case something goes wrong. The tributes get handcuffed, and then led inside of the building by four Peacekeepers that have a tight hand on them.

“District Two.”

Marcus moves first, stepping out of the truck. He turns to help you, which you accept when you jump off the ledge. On the ground, the two of you turn to the Peacekeeper, holding out your hands as you were told to. The steel is cold against your wrists, he squeezes the cuff, tightening it as much as he can. He repeats the process for Marcus.

With that, he instructs you to move forward, heading inside of the building. The floors are polished, reflecting the dull sunlight, and with how big and empty the hall is, the sounds of your shoes echo. You move down several hallways, until you spot the open wooden doors with a Peacekeeper standing post outside of the room.

When you step inside, you can see that the boy and girl from One have each been sat at their own table. There’s a cement slab on top of it with a metal loop, where the handcuffs are fed through to keep them in place. You grind your teeth, looking at Marcus to see that his face has hardened.

“Girl, sit down.” The Peacekeeper tells you. 

Biting your tongue, you decide not to tell him your name, just listen to the directions. You sit in the folding chair, scooting it up slightly to close the gap between you and the table. You hold up your wrists, he unlocks the one side of the cuffs, guides the open side through the loop, and then closes the cuff on your wrist again.

He crouches down, reaching for your feet. Your face twists, feeling him pull up the bottom of your skirt just high enough, before the coldness encases your right ankle. When you give it a pull, you can hear the rattling of chains on the cement. You look over at Marcus, raising your eyebrows. The Peacekeeper secures your left ankle before getting to his feet.

If anyone had any plans of escaping this afternoon, they’re going to have to rethink it.

Marcus sits at his table unprompted. Right as his shackles are being double-checked, the pair of tributes from Three come through the door. It goes on like this, all the way around the circle, up to Lucy Gray and her tribute friend.

While this is happening, you take the time to look around the room you’re in. It’s classically wealthy, with the columns, the arched windows and the tall ceilings. The best you can compare this building to is the Justice Building at home in Two, but even that’s lacking in several departments.

Halfway up the wall, you find a balcony. You sit back in your chair, forearms resting on the edge of the table. There are faces up there, staring down at you. From what you can see, they’re all wearing the red uniform that Snow and Sejanus were wearing yesterday.

“Eyes up.” You murmur to Marcus.

Out of your peripheral, you’re able to watch him tilt his head back to see what you mean. He straightens up in his seat, hands curling in to form fists.

A door slams, the people on the balcony jump and turn to see where the noise is coming from. “Stop eyeballing your tributes and get down there.” A feminine voice orders. “You only have fifteen minutes, so use them wisely. And remember, complete the paperwork for our records as best you can.”

The first person to come down the spiral staircase is none other than Snow, heading straight for Lucy Gray. When he passes in front of you, a laugh leaves you at the sight of his determined face. He’s quickly forgotten when you see Sejanus bouncing your way, a smile spread across his lips.

“Hey, Marcus.” He says, but he doesn’t get a response. Sejanu takes a seat in the chair across from you. “(Y/n), they’re just having us do interviews today.”

“I’m sure that’ll be easy.” You say. “Considering you know everything about me already.”

He swings his bag into his lap. “I still have to go down the list.” He pulls out a piece of paper and a pen, setting it on the table. His hand dips inside again, and when it surfaces, he has a pair of sandwiches. “I hope you’re hungry.”

I am, you think. All you do is give him a smile. “Thank you, Sejanus.”

“One more thing.” He says, bringing out a clear container. He opens the lid, revealing a slice of brown cake with a fork inside. “Ma made it. Help yourself.”

You nod, “What’s on the paper?”

“Just the basics so the Capitol can get to know you better.” He says, reaching for the pencil. 

You manage to grab one of the sandwiches, unwrapping the paper. With the limited mobility your hands have, you have to lean forward to take a bite. The bread crunches under your teeth, meaning it must’ve been toasted. The roast beef inside is cold, and it must be freshly bought. You hum, closing your eyes.

“I can fill it out, just correct me if I come across something wrong.” Sejanus says. 

You listen as he reads out the list and his answer to them. Your name, district address, your date of birth, hair and eye color, height and weight, and any disabilities you may have. You give him the answers when he pauses to look up at you, for the most part, he nails them.

“Family makeup. If I remember right, you’ve got your mom and dad and two sisters, right?” He asks.

“Mom’s dead.” You tell him, balling up the paper when you finish your sandwich. “One of my sisters is sick, she probably won’t last much longer.”

Sejanus’s hand stops, face twisting as he looks up at you. “(Y/n), I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.” You tell him, pressing your lips together. “Do you need their names or is that it?”

“That’s it.” He says, voice quieter. “You’re not married, are you?”

“Nope.” 

“Do you have a job?”

“Not legally.” You sit back in the chair. “I help out in the warehouse and earn money for it, but I’m not supposed to be in there.”

He nods. “I’ll put you down as no.”

“Thanks.” You murmur, looking at the paper. “That’s the last question?”

“It is.” He says.

“Five minutes.” A woman announces, she’s wandering around the room.

“You should give the other sandwich to Marcus.” You tell him. 

“He won’t take it from me, only you.” Sejanus shakes his head.

“I don’t have pockets, so I can’t give it to him later.” Your eyes wander away, finding his mentor, Florus. “Why don’t you hand it to Florus?”

“He’s not having very good luck with Marcus, either.”

You sigh, “All I’m hearing are excuses.” You roll your eyes, looking over. “Marcus, there’s an extra sandwich. You should take it.”

“Excuse me.” Florus says, eyebrows drawing in. “I’m trying to interview him.”

“Looks like you’re havin’ a lot of luck.” You smile at his blank paper. “I can’t smuggle it out of here, and you’re the only one that has pockets between us.”

Marcus looks at you, but nods. Sejanus seems pleased with this, handing the sandwich over to Florus, who begrudgingly stuffs it into one of Marcus’s pockets. You turn to the cake, digging out the fork.

“It’s carrot cake.” Sejanus says.

“I’m sure it’s good either way.” You stick the fork into the icing. “Your mom always made the best sweets.”

“She’s gotten better.” He says. “I’ll tell her about your ma, I’m sure she’ll be apologetic.”

“Don’t make her feel too bad.” You place the bite into your mouth. The sweetness explodes across your tongue. You can’t remember the last time you were treated to something so good. All your money goes to your sister’s medicine, you can’t get sweets like this anymore. “It’s not her fault.”

“I wish we hadn’t moved away.” Sejanus swipes some of the icing off the corner of the container. “It’s harder to make friends here than it is there, but I have Coriolanus.”

“Snow?” You ask, looking to your right. He’s three tables over with Lucy Gray, leaned forward to talk. “He doesn’t look like much company.”

“He is.” Sejanus sighs. “How is it in Two?”

“Worse.” You shrug. “Or the same, depending how you look at it.”

“You said you work in the warehouse, at least you have the job lined up.”

“It’s district work, it’s always going to be available. It’d be a different story if I was a blacksmith but they won’t take me until I’m eighteen.” You say. “Or rather, they wouldn’t.”

He frowns, “I’m really sorry you’re here, (Y/n).”

“I know.” You murmur. “Nothing that we can do about it now.”

A whistle suddenly blows, making you turn your head to the woman by the door. She drops it, allowing it to hang over her chest. “Time.”

You look back at Sejanus. “When’s the next time I see you?”

“I can visit tonight.” He says.

“That would be great.” You drop the fork into the container. “Thank you, Sejanus.”

—

The Capitol people standing on the other side of the bars is an irritating sight, especially since they’re holding food with seemingly no intention to give it to any of you. It’s gotten to the point where the tributes around you don’t bother to go up anymore, knowing that they’re all going to take a collective step back.

They don’t really matter to you, anyway. You have Sejanus, and as long as he’s feeding you and trying to keep you company, you don’t need them. You’ll suffice just fine with one of your old friends. As for Marcus, he wants to be left alone, but you won’t let that happen.

He’s currently laying on his bed of hay. Last night, the Capitol had released a couple of bales into the enclosure. While the tributes fought over them, you and Marcus sat back and watched, slightly amused. When he decided that he had enough, he went and grabbed the last bale from two tributes, throwing them away.

He split the hay with you, but you wanted enough to act as a pillow to rest your head on. You’re fine with sleeping on the cement, because it feels like your bed back home. Except, that one is a little more broken in, and you don’t wake up several times throughout the night. 

Marcus ate the roast beef sandwich from Sejanus, and even admitted that he was glad you had Florus give it to him. He doesn’t want to forgive Sejanus for what he’s done, even though you’ve tried to explain the fact that it’s not necessarily his fault. He was only a child at the time they moved, and he has no choice but to mentor tributes now. It’s just bad luck that it’s the two of you and not anyone else.

You push to get to your feet, kicking the hay into a pile once you’re upright. You wander out from behind the rock, curious to see where the tributes have moved and what the bars look like. The crowd has surely tripled in size since the last time you looked. They’re still up there, holding food.

There was a pair of twins in the corner earlier, a boy and a girl. They’d brought lunch for their tributes, but they’re gone now; replaced by Snow and Lucy Gray. You wander, arms crossed over your chest, looking for Sejanus. He must be coming through the crowd now, because you find his dark hair a second later, when you’re doing another sweep.

You immediately start for him, crossing the moat and climbing up the hill. Your arms fall, as you crouch to join. “Hello.”

“Hey.” He murmurs. “Did Marcus eat?”

“Yes he did. He says that the sandwich was good.”

“Ma sends her regards. She’s been upset since I told her.” Sejanus pulls out two eggs and a couple wedges of bread. “For an egg sandwich.”

“I told you not to make her feel guilty.” You tell him, holding out your hand. He places them inside. “Are the eggs raw?”

“No, hard boiled. I just didn’t peel them.” He says. “And I couldn’t help it. I told her what happened to your ma and she asked about the rest of your family.”

You nod. “I see.”

“(Y/n), they might be implementing new rules.” He laces his fingers. “They’re thinking about letting the Capitol citizens sponsor tributes. Which means that you’ll need to gain their favor somehow.”

“I’m not a circus animal.” You tell him. “Unlike Lucy Gray, over there.”

“I know, but if you could come up with something with Marcus, then Florus and I might be able to pool together. We could feed you and give you water, at least.” Sejanus says.

You shake your head. “These Games never go on longer than a few days.”

“That’s because they didn’t have food to eat in the past.” He reasons. “Now we’re able to feed you and they’re taking suggestions for different ideas.”

You sigh, looking at the sandwich components in your hands. “I’ll try to brainstorm with Marcus, but he’s pretty set on not participating. It’s a fight just to get him to eat food, Sejanus.”

He reaches through the bars, placing one of his hands over yours. You look down at it, and then up at him. With his other hand, he grabs onto the bars, leaning forward. “I want you to live, (Y/n).”

“I do too, Sejanus. It’s just not that easy.” You tell him.

“Well, they’re going to have you do an interview on television. That’ll be your chance.”

Laughter erupts around you, making you break eye contact. You follow the gaze of the crowd, and find a mentor a few feet away. She’s sitting on a towel or blanket, a picnic displayed in front of her. On the other side is a tribute, you think the girl from Ten. The mentor holds out the sandwich, the tribute reaches for it, and the mentor pulls away.

She turns to give the crowd a smile before taking a bite out of the sandwich. You roll your eyes, sighing. The tribute’s face drops, no longer hopeful, as her hand slips between the bars. You watch as she grabs the knife on the blanket, leaning forward to grab the front of the mentor’s shirt, and then slitting her throat.

The crowd screams in shock, the sandwich is dropped from the mentor’s hand as she reaches up to her throat, pawing at her neck. The tribute lets go of her, giving her a shove for good measure.

You get to your feet this instant, Sejanus’s hand falling from yours. You clutch the food to your chest as you turn to the hill, wanting to put distance between you and the scene. Sejanus grabs you, pulling you back down to the ground.

“Help her!” A voice shouts. “Medic!”

“Sejanus—”

“Put your head down.” He tells you, you lower to your knees.

“Is there a doctor? Please, someone help!” The voice belongs to Snow, who’s holding the girl mentor in his lap. She reaches up to grab his shirt, choking on the blood. Snow turns to the crowd. “Come on!”

The Ten tribute leans through the bars, snatching the cheese sandwich into her hands, raising it to her mouth. The sound of metal slamming into concrete fills the air, as the Peacekeepers burst through the far side of the enclosure, raising their runs, presumably aiming for the district girl.

She manages to take a bite of the sandwich, before the bullets are fired, piercing her body. You duck your head, squeezing your eyes shut, as Sejanus presses down on your back to keep you down. Another round of screaming, no more shots fired.

You sit up, Sejanus’s hand retreating. He opens up his bag, showing you the bread and eggs that he has inside, all meant for the tributes you’re trapped with. You know what he’s asking, so you lift the bottom of your skirt to create a bowl, letting him dump the food inside so it doesn’t go to waste.

The people have begun to flee the area, Sejanus rising to his feet. He leaves his backpack behind, holding a single wedge of bread. You get to your feet with shaky legs, turning to look at the Peacekeepers, where they have the others lined up against the wall, hands on their heads.

You carefully step down the hill, breathing slowly to keep from panicking. You glance over your shoulder at Sejanus, to find him sprinkling the bread over the Ten girl. His lips are moving, whispering the prayer, before a Peacekeeper grabs him by the back of his shirt, yanking him away.

You make it all the way to the wall. When they take notice of you, they grab the underside of your arm, pulling you to stand next to Marcus. They don’t tell you to put your hands on your head, letting you tremble.

They wait for the zoo to clear out, and as soon as the last person has left, they begin to search each one of you thoroughly. When it’s clear that you’re not hiding any weapons, they brandish the shackles. They go down the line, slapping the metal on your wrists, tightening the cuffs, and then moving on to the next person.

And when the last restraint is secured, they leave. The doors scraping on the cement before slamming shut. 

—

The Peacekeepers work silently as they direct the truck to back in as far as it possibly can into the alleyway without damaging the bricks. When it comes close enough to the doors, they hold up a hand, making it stop. A few of the Peacekeepers gather together briefly to speak, before turning to the line of you. 

They bring you up to the long truck bed, where they make you get down so they lock you to it. You start by crouching, but as the minutes tick on with no sign of movement, you tuck the skirt beneath you as best as possible so that you can sit. The heat from the metal burns through the fabric, and it feels like there’s nothing under you at all.

Marcus is placed a few feet away, where he shifts on his feet, opting not to sit. The two of you share a long look, where you raise your eyebrows and he shakes his head. Neither of you have a clue what’s happening. The Peacekeepers haven’t said so much as a word to any of you.

They just gathered you up, they sent someone to retrieve the body of the Ten girl, who had been slumped against the bars all night. Since the incident yesterday, no one has been allowed to visit the zoo. Except for Snow, where he briefly spoke to Lucy Gray before leaving.

There’s a large metal structure attached to the truck bed in front of you. You have to tilt your head all the way back to see what it is. It’s a crane, it seems. A metal hook hangs off a chain, swaying in the air from the small breeze. It’s so hot out that it isn’t that much of a relief. You’ve been baking in the cage all night. Forget the food that Sejanus has been giving you, there’s nothing you wouldn’t do for a cup of water.

Machinery begins to whirr, the hook slowly coming down at you. You look over your shoulder, curious to see why they could possibly need the hook. You can’t find the Peacekeepers, only the faces of the tributes behind you, who are avoiding eye contact, or staring at the ground.

The chains and hook begin to curl on the ground, when suddenly it stops. A Peacekeeper grunts, there’s a hard stomp on the truck, making it vibrate. It’s quiet for a second, as the sound of something dragging across the uneven surface is all you can hear, until there’s a violent gag, followed by desperate coughing.

As you turn to see, a closed fits smacks the side of your face, causing you to jerk away. You lean as far as the shackles will allow, looking up at the Peacekeeper. You realize quickly that it wasn’t done on purpose, because he’s clutching a pair of handcuffs between his gloves. They’re attached to a pair of wrists, and furthermore, a body.

The rancid smell of a decomposing body hits your nose, making you sick. You bury your nose in the cloth on your shoulder, deeply inhaling to rid the assault. Tears pop into your eyes, which you struggle to blink away. The Peacekeeper reaches down to grab the hook, sliding it between one of the chain links. 

He lifts a hand, indicating to lift the hook. A moment later, it does. The Peacekeeper keeps a hold on the body, setting it straight, making sure that it won’t come loose. It isn’t until he twists the body to get a look, do you see that it’s the dead girl from Ten. In the open air, you’re able to see the bitemarks along her skin, a few chunks missing from the rats that were nibbling on her all night. 

A gag rises, you turn your head to the other side of the truck, teeth grit tightly together while you try to calm your stomach. It isn’t a full minute before they’ve decided that she’s up high enough in the air, which is when the Peacekeeper leaves the truck, jumping down.

They wrap up the area, closing the door to the enclosure, getting in the vehicle. They drive out of the alleyway and down the streets, where a few pedestrians stop where they stand to stare. You drop your head, lips pressed together.

The car comes to a stop a few short minutes later. When you peer around the front of the truck, you can see the grey uniform of Peacekeepers. There’s hundreds of them too, perfectly in place. Your eyebrows twitch, lips parting. This can’t possibly be for the twenty-three of you, can it?

You look back at Marcus, who’s on the inner side of the row, making it impossible for him to see. “Peacekeepers, hundreds of ‘em.”

A few heads rise, eyes landing on you. Marcus’s face contorts, “Why?”

“No idea.”

It’s quiet for a few seconds, and then the beginning notes of the Capitol anthem cuts through the silence. The Peacekeepers straighten, finding their places. 

“Gem of Panem,” A male voice starts. “Mighty city, through the ages, you shine anew.”

The next three minutes are filled with the lyrics to the anthem. They’re vaguely familiar, you haven’t heard them in a couple of months, at least. They used to have you chant it every morning at school, but it fizzled out because it took up precious learning time. Now, they play the instrumental to allow the teachers to talk over it.

The applause that follows after the final note is thunderous, coming from far down the street. You can’t see anyone, though. Only the Peacekeepers, standing still as they wait for their cue to move. A heavy feeling weighs in your stomach, as the thoughts of what may be waiting for you begin to claw.

“Two days ago, Arachne Crane’s young and precious life was ended, and so we mourn another victim of the criminal rebellion that yet besieges us.” A powerful voice says. “Her death was as valiant as any on the battlefield, her loss more profound as we claim to be at peace. But no peace will exist while this disease eats away at all that is good and noble in our country. Today we honor her sacrifice with a reminder that while evil exists, it does not prevail. And once again, we bear witness as our great Capitol brings justice to Panem.”

There’s a slow, deep drumming that starts. The Peacekeepers move forward, as if drawn to the sound. The truck doesn’t move until they’re a good fifteen feet ahead, it jolts, you catch yourself by placing your hands on the metal bed. The scorching heat licks your palms so aggressively that you jerk back, chains rattling, cuffs digging into your wrists.

For a good stretch, you can’t see anything, it looks like any other road. And then, you spot the stands, the people dressed in black on the left, mourning. On the right, it’s the same, but there’s also a choir of the mentors in red, standing together. You search quickly for Sejanus, yet you’re unable to find him.

Behind the truck is another army of Peacekeepers, marching in sync. The car continues down the avenue until you’re out of sight completely. And instead of stopping at the end of the street, like the Peacekeepers, it continues moving. You expect it to bring you back to the zoo, but you’re going in a different direction.

The wind caresses your skin from the car picking up speed. It temporarily cools the burning on your shoulders, but not by much. The group of you are brought across the river, where an amphitheater stands. The truck comes to a stop out front, and it stays here for the next thirty minutes, until the brigade of Peacekeepers show up.

After that, you’re brought off the truck, one by one, with two Peacekeepers flanking one tribute. With you being so far up, it takes them fifteen minutes before it’s your turn to get freed. They line you up numerically, in girl-boy order, and make you wait an additional half hour while the mentors get here.

They step off the bus, instructed to stand next to their tribute. Sejanus comes out with a grave look on his face, eyes on the ground. He lets out a sigh when he squeezes between you and the boy from One.

“I’ve got nothing for you, I’m sorry.” Sejanus murmurs. 

“It’s fine.” You whisper back. “They fed us last night and this morning.”

When all tributes and mentors are counted for, the Peacekeepers remove the bars from the entrance, swinging open the large doors to reveal a grand lobby. Inside, there are boarded-up booths and old curling posters from wartime. The Peacekeepers lead the way through the lobby, to the turnstiles.

Two soldiers stand at turnstiles on opposite ends, feeding coins into the machine to allow you to pass through at the same time as Sejanus. As soon as you step through, a cheerful voice says, “Enjoy the show!”

There’s a long cement hallway leading to where you’re going, lit up by only the red emergency lights. It’s too dark for you to walk with sure steps, so you reach over to Sejanus, chains rattling as your hands wrap around his elbow. He briefly glances over, where you give him a small smile. 

He places his free hand over yours, squeezing your fingers. He doesn’t let go, either, not until you’ve made it to the end, where you walk into the sunlight and onto a giant field. Your pace slows considerably, eyes sweeping the area, wondering why this is so familiar.

“Where are we?” You ask.

“The arena.” Sejanus tells you.

You stop, wanting a moment to take in just how large it is. What should be a healthy and green field is now dead and dried up. There’s a scoreboard hanging over the opening you just came through, with thousands of seats circling the arena behind it.

If this is where you’re going to come to fight in a couple short days, then you’ll have no issue hiding, at least. No matter where you go on Game day, you’ll be safe as long as you’re careful.

The Peacekeepers move off to the side, letting you spread out. Sejanus begins to lead you away immediately. “Did you come up with anything for the interview?”

“No, not with Marcus.” You sigh. “He’s dead-set on figuring it out on his own. I figure that I can play the sick sister card, maybe earn some sympathy.” 

“That could work, but they’re looking for talent.”

“I don’t have much of that.” Your feet come to a halt, you pull away from Sejanus’s arm. Your fingers are warm from where he’d been holding them. “You don’t need to worry about the interview, I’ll have that covered. It’s not a half-bad idea. People like to help the poor, and that’s all the districts are, right?”

Sejanus’s mouth turns downward, but he doesn’t object. “Right. I just wish I could do more.”

“You’re already doing enough, I couldn’t have asked for anyone better.” You say, “I’m sorry about your friend.”

“Arachne? I could hardly call her that. She was closer with Coriolanus than me.” Sejanus shakes his head.

“Still, it’s hard losing someone in your class.” Your eyes land on a stray eyelash laying on his cheek. “Don’t move.”

You reach over, hand resting on the side of his face just long enough for your thumb to swipe away the eyelash. You hold it out for him to see, before brushing it away.

“Thank you.” He says.

“You have to keep up your appearance.” You laugh. “Mine doesn’t really matter anymore.”

“That’s not—”

An explosion shakes the arena, the fiery blast throwing you to the ground, head cracking against the cement. Through blurry eyes, you’re able to make out Sejanus in the smoke, hovering over you, before the black blotches eat away at your vision completely.

—

“Follow the light.” The woman tells you, clicking on the flashlight.

As you adjust the pack of ice against the side of your head, you listen to her directions, eyes flickering to keep track of the light. When she’s satisfied, she clicks it off, dropping it into a pocket on her lab coat. There’s a badge hanging from her neck with an old picture of her and her name.

Magnolia Peacescape. Her occupation is a veterinarian.

Your eyes land on her again, squinting suspiciously. The Capitol couldn’t even afford to give you a real doctor? They had to insist on someone who works on animals?

“What’s your name?” She asks, grabbing a clipboard.

“(Y/n) (L/n).” You murmur, attention shifting to the Peacekeepers who are dragging tributes into the zoo cage.

“How old are you?” She asks.

You open your mouth to speak, the number on the tip of your tongue before it slips away. Your face twists as you search the open air as if it’ll have some answer. All you come up with are blanks, you resort to staring at Magnolia.

She looks up from the paper. “How old are you?” She repeats.

“I’m not sure.” You admit. 

Her face contorts, she reluctantly looks away to write something on the paper. “District?”

“Two.”

“Who’s your mentor?” Her pen pauses.

Once again you have nothing, so you shake your head at her. “Am I supposed to know?”

The wrinkles on her face are deepening with every passing second. She licks her lips, looking over at the Peacekeepers briefly, before turning back to you. “Honey, what’s the name of the boy you came here with?”

Your eyes fall to the cement as you try to picture his face, or any features that may belong to the boy that she’s referring to. When that doesn’t work, you try to conjure up details about him, like his name, his age, his height. All of which she’s withholding.

“I’m sorry…” You murmur, trailing off.

She sighs, “Wait here.”

Magnolia Peacescape lowers the clipboard, pulling it against her chest. She walks over to one of the Peacekeepers standing by the metal doors, beginning to speak very quickly, none of it that you can hear over the moans of pain. The tributes are spread out through the enclosure, varying in how hurt they are from the bombing.

Most are covered in soot and smell like smoke from the fire. Their clothes are ripped or burned at the edges, exposing their skin. From what the Peacekeepers were saying, a good number of tributes were injured, but not as severely as the pair from District Nine, who were caught in the fire for an extended period of time.

And of course, a few of them died in the attack. Like the tributes from Six, who got caught by shrapnel, and the two from One, who had tried to escape the arena but got shot before they made it out of the entrance. There was one tribute that managed to escape, though, and that’s the boy you came here with.

As for the mentors, they don’t say much about them. You heard in passing that a pair of twins had died and three mentors got hospitalized. You couldn’t get any more than that, because they pushed you inside of the zoo.

“She needs to go to the hospital!” Magnolia’s high voice suddenly cuts through the noises. “She has a concussion.”

“We aren’t authorized to take them out of the exhibit.” The Peacekeeper drones. “If you have a request, you need to submit it to Dr. Gaul, she’s overseeing the mentoring program and the treatment of the tributes.”

She shakes her head. “So I’m going to have to go through that process for each one of them?” She motions to the cage. “They don’t have time for that.”

“It’s your only option.”

She waves her hand in the air, turning away, coming back in your direction. You move the ice pack the wrong way by accident, making the throbbing come back full force. You wince, pulling it away from your head as you fix your holding.

Magnolia grabs it from you, pats on the ice to make it flat, and then presses it against the dressed cut. “Keep it there until it melts.”

“Thank you.”

“I haven’t done much to deserve that.” She says, looking down at the clipboard. “It says here that you have two sisters, what are their names?” When you don’t respond, she takes a deep breath. “And your mother is dead, can you recall from what?”

You blink, “My mom is dead?”

She writes on the paper. “This is information we gathered from the interview that took place with your mentor.”

Your eyes wander away, thinking about your mom.

“Do you remember the interview?”

“No.” 

Magnolia sighs. “(Y/n), you’re eighteen years old. Your mentor is Sejanus Plinth, and the boy you came here with is Marcus. He escaped early this afternoon.”

Your face twists.

“I suspect you may have anterograde and retrograde amnesia. It’s caused by head trauma.” She stops long enough to write something on the clipboard, then clicks her pen and slides it into her pocket. “From what Mister Plinth told me at the scene, it would make sense. I’ll make a request for them to admit you to the hospital, but I can’t treat you any further. I don’t have the equipment.”

“Amnesia.” You mutter.

“I’ll be checking in on you as much as Dr. Gaul will allow it.” She presses her lips together. “You need to rest and take it easy. If you have any allies, I would suggest asking them to watch over you.”

With that, she walks away, heading to the next tribute. You stand there for a moment, watching as she begins to assess them. And then you turn away, to two piles of hay behind a rock formation. You wander toward it, lowering the ice pack, blinking away the tears that appear in your eyes.

—

In the three days that… that veterinarian visited, you were never actually taken to the hospital. Despite the numerous requests she made, and the notes stating that your memory is gradually getting worse, the doctor—the one in charge of the Games—never had you admitted. 

You weren’t the only one, the tributes from District Nine, who were in much worse shape than you, were neglected. They died sometime during the night, and their bodies were retrieved in the early morning yesterday. A few hours later, the rest of you were packed into two different trucks, separated by gender, with bars, where you were paraded through the streets for what you assume was another funeral.

When they got you together again this afternoon, you were afraid that more people had died, but the Peacekeepers said something about a second interview with your mentors. Which might as well be your first, because you can’t recall a single thing that happened the last time.

The two chairs on either side of you sit empty, their tributes long gone. You know that one of them is dead, but the boy you came here with is still missing. The Peacekeepers have questioned you five times in the past few days, demanding to know where he could’ve possibly gone. Each time they come around, you have to tell them that if he did mention a plan, you don’t remember due to the bombing.

You don’t remember anything.

A group of students dressed in bright red uniforms come down the spiral staircase on the far side of the large room. It really is nice here, with the tall ceilings, the engraved pillars and the arched windows. You haven’t seen anything like it before, the closest building that would come to this in District Two is the Justice Building, but even that’s too worn to compare.

A boy with curly brown hair comes in your direction, with brown eyes so wide that you can see into his soul. He sets his book bag on the ground, settling in the chair across from you. Without saying a single word, he leans forward, placing his hands on top of your shackled ones.

“(Y/n), I’m so glad you’re okay.” He says, face twisted with worry. “When I saw the amount of blood…”

The veterinarian… fuck what was her name? She kept telling you that you needed to be testing your memory, but it’s so hard when you can’t recall the smallest detail. She must’ve told you this boy’s name easily over three dozen times, and how he meant something to you. He’s your mentor of course, you know that much. He’s supposed to be beyond that.

“How are you feeling? Ma made a couple of cold cut sandwiches, you must be hungry.” He says, taking his hands away, opening his bag. “She told me that Doctor Peacescape saw all the tributes.”

Peacescape, that’s the veterinarian’s last name. Whether or not it’ll stick in your mind this time is a complete mystery. Just like the rest of the names, faces and events that should be ringing a bell but don’t.

The boy places a wrapped package on the table, presumably the sandwich. He sits back up in his chair. “It looks like she’s treated you well, the cut on your head is healing nicely.”

You stare at him, face contorted as you struggle to dig through your mind for his name, a significant memory, anything.

“Are you alright?” He asks.

“I’m sorry.” You murmur, beginning to shake your head.

“You don’t have to apologize, it’s not your fault. They suspect it was rebels from the districts that placed the bombs.”

“That’s not why I’m apologizing.” You say, “The veterinarian…” You grit your teeth, you just heard her name. “Peacescape, that’s it. Doctor Peacescape diagnosed me with some amnesia disorder due to the concussion. She tried to get me admitted to the hospital but the um… the head doctor for the Games denied her requests.”

The boy has visibly paled. “You don’t remember anything?”

“I mean, I remember some.” Your eyes drift away, to the empty desk to the left, where your tribute partner should be. “There’s a lot of gaps in between.” You look back at him. “I know you’re my mentor, but I don’t know your name. And I know that the boy I came here with ran away in the bombing, but there’s no picture of him in my mind.”

His head has lowered, staring down at the sandwich. He doesn’t say anything for a long minute, thinking to himself. You reach as far as the handcuffs will allow you, which isn’t much. Still, you’re able to place a couple fingers on top of one of his hands.

“Peacescape said you mean something to me. I don’t think she was referring to the fact that you’re my mentor.”

He breathes out, defeated. “I used to live in District Two. Me, you and Marcus went to grade school together.” 

Your eyebrows draw in, waiting for there to be a hint of a memory. “Marcus?”

“The boy that escaped.” He says.

“And what’s your name?” 

“Sejanus Plinth.” 

A part of you wishes that the memories would suddenly flood in at the mention of his name. Like the dozens of times before, there is no reaction, nothing magically clicks. It sits there, at the front of your mind, where it’ll stay for the next few hours until its spotlight is gone. Then, it’ll fade like everything else.

“Sejanus, I’m sure we’re great friends.” You tell him.

“I’m so sorry, (Y/n). You shouldn’t be here.” He’s back to holding on to your fingers, tears appearing in his eyes. “You and Marcus should be at home.”

“There’s nothing we can do about it now.” You shake your head. “How far are we into the process?”

A tear slides down his cheek, he wipes it away. “Dr. Gaul has approved the sponsorship program, so we need to get you support from the Capitol.”

You nod, “That’s vaguely familiar.”

“Well, they’re still doing the interviews for that, it’s on a voluntary basis now, so it’s no longer required.” He sighs. “If you don’t want to, you don’t have to.”

“I feel like I don’t have much of a choice. If that’s a factor that’ll help me win, I should do it.” You press your lips together. “Did I have any ideas?”

“You said you wanted to gain sympathy by telling them about your sick sister.” Sejanus murmurs.

“My sister is sick? Which one?” You ask.

“You didn’t say.” He says.

You tilt your head back, looking at the balcony above. You could honestly scream from how stupid this is. It makes no sense, how could you forget a detail that important? Or the fact that your mom is dead? Why is this happening to you?

“I’ll think of something else.” You tell him, closing your eyes. “I can’t use that anymore because I don’t remember.”

“It’s okay, (Y/n), you don’t have to.” Sejanus says.

A whistle is blown, you jump in the chair, yanking your hands toward your head to cover, but they don’t even make it halfway before the cuffs dig into your skin harshly, halting the movement. You squeeze your eyes shut as your hands begin to tremble.

A hand is placed on your arm, squeezing your shoulder. “You don’t have any pockets, so you need to put the sandwich in your shirt somewhere. I’m out of time.”

You breathe out shakily, leaning into the table to hook a finger around the inside of your shirt. “If you can wedge it there.”

He does, and no matter how hard you jostle, it keeps in place, giving you hope that it’ll make it back to the zoo enclosure. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He says, getting to his feet. “Okay?”

You have to force yourself to nod, raising your head. He doesn’t move from where he stands, waiting for your confirmation. “Okay.” You breathe.

--

this was part of my 3k celebration!!

[jadewolf22]

Shoot An Arrow Through My Heart Pt.2

Fem!OC (Adriella Selmy) x Brienne of Tarth 

Series Warnings: Men being disgusting, mentions of abusive siblings, gore, death, violence, detailed mentions of murder, mention of parent deaths, slander towards women, fighting (physical & verbal), harsh language, smut, fluff, hurt/comfort, ect... (Let me know if I missed any!!!)

A/n: This fic mixes scenes from the show and book but follows the same timeline as the show. Character ages are from the show. I have no clear vision for this story so try to bear with me here. Not sure how long this series will become; might just keep going until I get bored of it.

Word Count: 2,179

Adriella rode for three days straight with no food nor rest. News of Lady Catelyn’s party returning to Riverrun was in the forethought of her mind. If Brienne was with them Adriella would not risk stopping and allowing the company to move on again before she could reach them. Her ass and legs ached from the constant harsh riding but she would not slow her pace unless her mare showed signs of tiring. She was desperate to learn what had become of her friend, the thought alone keeping her awake through the long nights. A sigh of relief fell from her lips when Adriella, at last, came within sight of Riverrun. Pushing her horse just a bit further, Adriella approached the bridge, eyes scanning nervously for any sight of the tall blonde she sought. She paused on the bridge when her eyes caught sight of three bodies hanging over the side of the wall. Adriella only looked at them long enough to assess that they were not Brienne before attempting to shove the sight from her mind and move on.

“Who goes there?!” A bannerman called from the ballister overhead, nearly scaring Adriella out of her skin.

She looked up, using her hand to shield her eyes from the sun as she responded, “ My name is Adriella Selmy.”

“What is your business in Riverrun, Adriella Selmy?” the bannerman questioned, his tone indicating that he did not believe she was who she claimed to be.

“I am looking for a friend.” Adriella answered honestly, “Last I’d heard she was traveling with the Lady Catelyn.”

“You’ve arrived just in time it seems.” the man told her, a smug smile playing on his lips as he looked down upon her. Only now did she regret choosing a corset as her armor rather than a proper breastplate, “The Lady and her party arrived just before you. They’re still unloading in the courtyard.”

“Thank you.” 

With a snap of the reins in her hand, Adriella rode through the gate, dismounting in the courtyard where a large sum of people were gathered, chatting in soft tones and unloading tents and knapsacks from horses. Stones crunched beneath Adriella’s boots as she navigated the crowded courtyard, her eyes sharp as she searched for the one face she longed to see. Relief washed over her when she finally spotted Brienne, standing tall and stoic among the soldiers. Without thinking, Adriella ran to her, heart pounding with a mix of desperation and hope; hope that her sight was not making a fool of her.

“Brienne!” Adriella’s voice cracked as she called out.

Brienne turned at the sound of her name, her expression shifting from surprise to disbelief when she caught sight of Adriella. Without hesitation, Adriella threw her arms around Brienne in a fierce embrace, nearly knocking the blonde warrior to the ground. 

“Oh, thank the gods, you’re alright.” she breathed, arms tightening around Brienne’s shoulders.

“Adriella? You—what are you doing here?” Brienne’s voice wavered as she gave Adriella an awkward hug in return, completely unused to this sort of affection.

Adriella pulled back slightly, locking eyes with Brienne. “After what happened to Renly, I went looking for you. Cain said that the others were saying you’d murdered him, but I didn’t believe him. I couldn’t believe you’d do something like that, not after everything. I thought maybe someone else killed Renly and you to make it look like you betrayed him.”

“You think I would have done such a thing?” Brienne asked as her face hardened, lips pressing into a grim line, as if she hadn’t heard Adriella confess her worries.

“No!” Adriella’s voice rang out with conviction. “I knew it was a lie, Brienne. You wouldn’t betray someone you swore to protect. That's part of why I came. I had to know what really happened�� I had to know if my fears were real… If you were dead…”

“I’m fine.” Brienne practically deadpanned, still in utter shock that Adriella seemed to care so much for her. Sure, the two of them had become close, but Brienne couldn’t believe that anyone—let alone someone like Adriella—would actually care to know if she was alright.

“What happened that night?” Adriella questioned, pulling back a bit to look Brienne in the eye, another act the blonde was still attempting to become accustom to, “I saw Renly’s body… and Emmon Cuy and Robar Royce… I thought you were with him?”

Brienne hesitated, then let out a heavy breath. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

Adriella shook her head, “You’re not a liar, Brienne. I have no reason to doubt anything you say.”

Brienne swallowed hard before speaking. “It was Stannis. He used dark magic—a shadow that took Renly’s life right in front of me… I couldn’t protect him… Emmon and Robar came in when I screamed. They thought I’d killed Renly and so they… they attacked me… They would have killed me if I hadn’t killed them first…” when Adriella stayed quiet Brienne seemed to take it as a sign that she didn’t believe her and tried to pull away, muttering, “You must think I’ve gone mad—”

Adriella’s chest constricted at the fact that Brienne thought she didn’t believe her, tightening her grip on the woman to keep her from pulling away. “I do believe you, Brienne.” she said firmly, “This world is full of horrors that defy reason. I know you would never betray Renly.”

“Adriella, I—”

Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Lady Catelyn, her eyes taking in the scene with quiet curiosity as the two women practically jumped apart. “Brienne,” she greeted with a nod, her gaze shifting to Adriella. “And who might you be?”

Brienne straightened, her tone taking on a rare warmth despite the conversation with Adriella not moments ago. “This is Adriella Selmy, my lady. Ser Barristan Selmy’s niece. She’s a fierce fighter, and a good friend. If there’s one person in this world that you can trust, it’s her.”

Lady Catelyn’s eyebrows lifted slightly in recognition, glancing at Adriella again, studying her features closely in search of a resemblance. “Ser Barristan’s niece, you say? That is a name that carries great respect.”

“Thank you, my lady.” Adriella said, inclining her head respectfully. 

Lady Catelyn returned the gesture, her face impassive but her tone kind as she spoke, “If you are anything like your uncle, I would be glad to have you in my service. Brienne has already sworn herself to me, and I could use another strong sword at my side.”

Adriella’s expression remained steady as she replied, “I appreciate your offer, my lady, but I will not swear myself into the service of another. I choose my loyalties, and they are not given lightly. As long as Brienne stays, so will I, but my oath is to my own honor, not to any lord or lady.”

Lady Catelyn regarded her thoughtfully before giving a slow nod of approval. “A woman who keeps her own counsel is a rare thing. You’re welcome among us, Adriella.”

With that, Lady Catelyn turned and moved away, leaving the two women alone again. Brienne looked down at Adriella, her expression softening again. “You didn’t have to come all this way just for me.” she said meekly.

Adriella smiled up at her, nudging her in the ribs playfully. “And leave you to deal with all this alone? Never. Besides, without you, there’s no way I would be staying back at the camp with all those men. Who would protect me with you gone?”

Brienne allowed a rare smile to tug at her lips as Adriella let out a light chuckle, the two of them following Lady Catelyn into the castle. The Lady stopped for a moment to speak with her father while the two women stood guard outside before showing them to one of the castle's many rooms.

“I do hope you ladies won’t mind sharing a room,” Lady Catelyn said gently as she led the two into a room, “With the castle so full we do not have many to spare and I do not think either of you would wish to sleep amongst the men.”

“We got along fine in Renly’s camp, my lady, but the gesture is appreciated. And who are we to turn down a small comfort such as this when it’s presented to us?” Adriella said in thanks, inclining her head towards Lady Catelyn. Again, the lady returned the gesture before leaving the two alone to get settled. 

Adriella and Brienne both took a look around the room. It was spacious enough with a large bed, a chaise lounge with a small oak table before it, a small bookshelf, a decent sized wardrobe, and a chair off in one corner. The two looked to each other with the same question in their eyes, the ocean blue meeting cold iron; who was going to take the bed? 

“You take the bed,” Adriella decided, settling the argument before it could even start as she moved to set her knapsack down on the chaise lounge, “There’s no way your frame is going to fit on this thing.” 

As much as Brienne wanted to protest, she knew Adreilla was right. Her monstrous frame was far too large for the piece of furniture so, reluctantly, she moved to the bed and began to unpack. A silence fell between the two as it came time for supper, neither of them sure what to say to the other. It had been easy to speak freely with each other before, to talk of past experiences and such but now, to Adriella, it seemed as though she was no longer with the Brienne she knew. This new Brienne was stoic and quiet, never speaking unless spoken too first, and giving the most basic of responses. She was a shell of the woman Adriella had met almost a week prior, but Adriella understood why. She too knew what it felt like to witness a loved one die, though the death of her parents had not been near as horrific as Renly’s. Even so, no one-especially not a nine year old girl-should have to watch their parents die, struggling to breathe as their throats slowly swelled shut… Adriella understood the want to shut down and build up walls so tall and thick no one would ever see how much she hurt inside, to relive the moment again and again, looking for a way she could’ve changed the outcome even when there was nothing that could have been done. Adriella wanted to console her friend, but she also knew that no words would help ease the ache, especially not when it was still so fresh. And so she let Brienne be, hoping that she would come to her when she was ready. 

When it came time for supper, the two ate with Lady Catelyn at the high table, overlooking the hall. The atmosphere there was no different than the dining tent in Renly’s camp. Here most thoughts of war were drowned out by ale and thoughts of home. Singers took turns belting out one ballad or another, some of them sweet and cheerful, others melancholy and grim. Adriella watched the men and serving girls quietly from her pace at the table, only looking away to tear off a bite of bread or cut a portion of her meat. At one point, she stole a glance at Brienne, frowning at the sight of the woman’s plate, still nearly as full as it had been an hour ago, her drink practically untouched. 

“You need to eat,” she said as she sipped on her ale, her voice firm though still gentle, “Starving yourself will help no one. Least of all Lady Catelyn and yourself. How can you expect to defend her if you do not keep yourself at full strength?”

“I’m fine,” Brienne grumbled, eyes transfixed on the table as she reached for her water, taking the smallest sip before setting the goblet down again, “I’m just not hungry.”

“Eat.” Adriella said again firmer this time, turning to look at Brienne, “Your body will thank you later.”

Brienne growled, her hand clenching into a fist as she repeated, “I’m not hungry.”

“If you think I’m going to sit here and watch you starve you’re sorely mistaken, Brienne.” Adriella had had enough. Sulking in silence she could allow, but she would not let her friend ruin her health over a man who held no love for her, “You will eat of your own accord or I will force the food down your throat right here in the middle of the hall.”

“Adriella—”

“Choose.”

Brienne pondered the demand a moment before sighing in defeat, slowly tearing into her meal under Adriella’s watchful eye. Adriella hated to be so stern with Brienne in her grief, but she had seen it destroy one too many people. If she had a chance to save others from its grasp, she would.

[mrtwizz]

Snow On The Beach [Part Three]

Alternative Title: Xavier and Tyler annoying Y/n for five thousand words straight

Wednesday Addams x Fem Reader slow burn series

Warnings: Xavier and Tyler slander, mentions of murder, hinted underaged drinking, just typical Wednesday stuff

Word Count: 5.2k

Summary: Wednesday and Y/n seek out more information about Joseph Crackstone, Y/n is pining after the Addams girl. And Wednesday is beginning to enjoy her presence? That's impossible, Y/n is just interested in the murder investigation...right?

Part One, Part Two, Part Three

Quick note: I used the word to describe the reader's skin as 'pale' but I'm referring to the way skin pales when there's no blood in the body. I explain that in the fic but I wanted to clear that up before you read, this is an inclusive fic and is not targeted at white people. this fic is targeted for whoever wants to read it.

Eugene, Wednesday and Y/n make their way around the old building, all dressed in pilgrim garb. 

“Eugene, give me your retainer.” Wednesday demands, looking at the lock to the meeting house. 

“What? Why? Your teeth are really good, not as straight or white as Enid’s but-” Eugene begins to ramble.

Wednesday cuts the boy off, “Hand it over.”

The girl sticks her hand out, gesturing for Eugene to put his retainer in her hand.

Eugene takes it out and wipes it on his sleeve, “What if Mistress Arlene catches us?” 

“Hive code, deny everything.” Wednesday responds. 

“That’s not hive code!” Eugene exclaims, clearly not used to the girl’s mannerisms. 

“What’s the deal with this Crackstone anyways?” Y/n asks, watching as Wednesday picks the lock. 

“Stop talking, keep watch.” Wednesday says to Eugene, handing him his gently used retainer back. 

Y/n follows Wednesday into the old meeting house, she lets Thing out of her bag and moves to stand in front of a creepy statue of some dude. The dude Y/n assumed to be Crackstone, looked like every other ugly middle aged white man she’d ever seen.

Thing tugged at the hem of Wednesday's dress and gestured over to a painting. 

“The Old Meeting House, 1625.” Wednesday read out loud and studied the painting. 

An old oil painting depicting a man, presumably Joseph Crackstone, standing over a fire gesturing out to a crowd. As Y/n looked closer she could make out the details of one of the girl’s faces, the girl stood out. She was dressed in a darker dress, and without a bonnet to cover her hair. And if Y/n stared at the girl's face long enough, it resembles that of a blonde Wednesday Addams.

“Wednesday…she kind of looks like you.” Y/n mumbled, not looking away from the painting. 

“This is the girl from my vision.” Wednesday said, referencing the vision she had the day of the Poe Cup, “She’s even holding the same book. The black one she had outside Crackstone’s Crypt.” 

The girl with black braids moved to where a dusty book sat in a display case next to a dagger. Y/n held open the glass so Wednesday could grab the book. 

“This is the book,” Wednesday’s usually flat voice held something akin to excitement, “Codex Umbrarum.”

Wednesday turned to Y/n, “That’s Latin for ‘Book of Shadows’.” The fair skinned girl opened the book only to be bitterly disappointed, “Great, it’s a fake.” 

She slammed the book shut, “I don’t know who Etsy is, but I doubt she was an outcast settler.” 

Y/n would have laughed at how out of touch Wednesday was with the current world, except the door swung open.

An angry Arelene stormed through, holding an unwilling Eugene by the ear, “Just what the fudge are you two doing in here?” 

“Mistress Arlene, how now?” Wednesday pretends to be pleased by the red haired woman’s presence, as if she weren’t doing what she was told not to do. 

Y/n realized that Wednesday was a little too good at lying her way through things, and probably just as good at manipulating others to do her bidding. 

“How now, indeed.” Arlene sneers, “I proclaimed the meeting house is under repair. I know thoust heard me.” 

Eugene spoke up, “I told her the door was unlocked, and that you were dying to learn more about Crackstone.” 

“Yes, and this display case was already open.” Wednesday lied. 

“That book’s a replica.” Arlene said, not believing their lies. 

Wednesday’s sharp tone came back, “You don’t say.” 

“The original was stolen last month, during the two o’clock witch trial.” The woman informs.

“It was probably the only authentic thing you have in here, yet you still charge $29.95 a ticket?” Wednesday questions. 

Y/n thought that Wednesday made a good point, almost thirty dollars a ticket? That’s absurd. 

“Hold thy tongue. I’m reassigning the three of you, to fudge churning duty.” Arlene spits out. 

“The original meeting house, the one in that painting, where is it?” Wednesday demands to know. 

Arlene huffs, “How the hell should I know? I only moved here from Scottsdale in April.” 

Y/n and Wednesday snuck out from under Arlene’s watchful eye before they both could go mad. Wednesday directed their walk towards the coffee house, claiming she needed help finding the Old Meeting house. 

Wednesday stood, staring at a corkboard with all sorts of clippings attached to it. While Y/n shifted her gaze between the corkboard and to Wednesday’s side profile, noting the slope of her nose. And the way her eyelashes were so long they almost looked like they were fake, but Y/n knew better of the girl to assume they were extensions. 

“I thought you two were supposed to be at Pilgrim World.” Xavier Thorpe’s voice came from behind the pair. 

“Deserted it while our sanity was still intact.” Wednesday spoke, moving over to the counter where a little brass bell sat. 

“Oh yeah? Want a coffee?” The boy leaned against the counter,”It’s one of the many perks of this wonderful assignment.” 

Y/n rolled her eyes at the pitiful boy’s futile attempts at flirting, “We’re here for Tyler actually, need his help with something.” 

Xavier’s expression fell, “Y/n, you know he’s bad news.” 

“Yup,” Y/n brushed him off, hitting the little bell on the countertop. 

Tyler came from around the back and there was immediate tension between the two boys, “You rang?” 

Xavier scoffed and walked off, “Want the usual?” 

“And some help,” Wednesday turned to open and place her map on the table, “You know the original pilgrim meeting house, the one for the 1600s?” She turned to face Tyler, “Do you know if it’s still around?” 

“What’s left is out in Cobham Woods, but it’s pretty much a ruin.” Tyler glanced at Y/n, who stood at Wednesday’s other shoulder. 

“Show me.” The girl orders. 

Tyler stutters before pointing on the map, “There, but, look it’s kind of sketchy. Squatters and meth heads used that place as a crash pad. My dad had to clear it out every couple of weeks.” 

Wednesday turns her focus from the boy to the map, “What’s this about?” 

“Nothing.” She grabs the map and refolds it. 

“You’re becoming obsessed with this monster in the woods thing.” Tyler notes. 

“Would you rather I develop an obsession with horses and boy bands?” Wednesday asks sarcastically. 

Y/n let’s out a huff of air that could be considered a laugh at the mental image of Wednesday Addams in a One Direction tee-shirt. Wednesday turns to look at the other girl as the two begin to walk out, “Thank you for your help.” 

“Hey listen,” Tyler says, causing Y/n to turn around, “the ruins are kind of tricky to find.” 

“Wednesday and I are big girls Tyler, I bet we can find them ourselves.” Y/n flashes a fake smile, all while just so happening to flash her elongated canines in the process. 

“I know my way around the great outdoors.” Wednesday adds. 

“Don’t tell me you were a Girl Scout.” Tyler jokes. 

“I could eat Girl Scouts for breakfast,” Wednesday deapans, “actually, I have an uncle who went to prison for that.” 

Y/n laughs at Wednesday’s absurd family history, and the look on Tyler’s face as the two turn around for the second time to leave. The two pass Xavier who looks at Wednesday longingly as they exit the building. 

The duo make their way out to the forest where Tyler had told them the original Meeting House had been. The forest was eerie, and the worst part was the crows that cawed from above. There was a thick layer of fog that surrounded the trees and made it difficult for Y/n to navigate, but Wednesday seemed to have no problem in doing so. 

They eventually made their way to what was now the ruins of the old house. Wednesday sat her bag on the ground, allowing Thing to once more leave its confides, as she walked further into the ruins. 

Y/n looked around as Wednesday turned to face her and Thing, “I was expecting more too.” 

“Who are you talking to, little girl?” An old man with nappy white hair and scruffy beard spoke from behind her. 

While Y/n clutched at her undead heart, though Wednesday seemed unphased. 

Instead she turned to speak to him, “Use the words ‘little’ and ‘girl’ to address me again, and I can’t guarantee your safety.” 

This enraged the man, “This is my place. Get out.” He hollered. 

“Thing, a hand here?” Wednesday addressed her trusty appendage. 

The hand scurried from his spot on the ground next to Y/n, and up the man’s leg to his beard. He tightly grasped the beard, causing him to shriek. The man wrestled the hand as Wednesday looked around some more. 

Y/n wondered how Thing was able to have, for lack of better words, the upper hand to the man with two hands and full body. She then realized that she should stop questioning logistics when it came to the Addams family, and that chances are there are either no answers. Or the answer would make even less sense than what is going on. She watched as Thing seemingly dragged the blond old man out of the ruins. 

“There’s nothing here.” Wednesday comments. 

Thing signs to the Addams girl, “No, I can’t just touch something.” She walked and looked around, looking for something she had to have missed, “My visions seem to happen spontaneously.” Both girls look back at Thing and his furious signing, “I would rather dye my hair pink than ask my mother for advice.” 

Wednesday sounds appalled by the suggestion of asking her mother, and Y/n notes to not bring up her mother in any conversation. 

Thing touches the ruin by his fingers, “Oh, you want me to prove it to you?” Wednesday slaps a stump of wood, not looking away from the hand. 

“Wednesday, do you think that’s the best idea?” Y/n asks, watching as she touches things. 

The girl disregards her concerns, “No.” She throws both hands against the wall, “Nothing.” 

“Ah I bet this will give us some real insight.” She says sarcastically, holding a bag up, before dramatically throwing her head back. 

Y/n becomes to feel more on edge, an uneasy feeling sinking its way into her gut. Telling her something bad was going to happen. 

“My visions are about as predictable as shark attacks.” Wednesday grumbles, picking up her bag and moving to leave the ruins. 

As she touches the gate her body goes rigid and her head throws itself backwards, throwing her mind into yet another vision. This time Y/n is quick enough to catch her body as it spins and falls to the hard ground. 

Y/n sat there as rain began to pour, soaking the three of them. Until Wednesday woke from her trance with a start, sitting straight up. 

“Y/n, Thing, I saw her! The girl from my visions. Her name is Goody Addams,” Wednesday recalls, “and I believe she’s my ancestor from four-hundred years ago.” 

Y/n hears something from beyond the ruins, and Wednesday must have heard it too. Both girls get up from the mud and walk to the destroyed wood. 

Y/n looks past the wood between the cracks and into the woods, “Must’ve been the old man from earlier.” 

She looks again only to come eye to eye with a beast, she lets out a horrified shriek and stumbles back into Wednesday. 

“Come on, come on!” Wednesday exclaims, wanting to follow the man killing beast. 

The two run until the paw prints become footprints, and Wednesday crouches down to examine them.  

“The monster’s human.” Wednesday voices what both girls had realized. 

The footsteps of another come up behind the girls, “What the hell are you doing?” 

The voice belonged to Xavier, he had impeccable timing didn't he? 

Wednesday quickly stands and faces the boy, “We were following the monster.” 

“You saw it?” Xavier is standing under an umbrella, “It’s here? Do you have a death wish or something?”  Y/n shrugs, “I can’t really die, so.” 

“What exactly are you doing here?” Wednesday’s attitude suddenly switches, she’d realized his perfect timing as well. 

“I overheard you two saying you were going to check out the old meeting house. Guess you’re lucky I showed up when I did.” Xavier spoke, looking out past the girls. 

“We did learn one thing, the monster is human.” Wednesday informs the tall boy, “Its tracks turned from monster prints to human ones.” 

“Show me.” 

Both Y/n and Wednesday turn to where the prints had lied only moments prior, now being completely washed away from the downpour.  “Rain washed them away.” Y/n states the obvious. 

Xavier scoffs, “I know what I saw, and Y/n saw it too.” Wednesday defends. 

“I’m trying to keep an open mind.” Xavier says, trying not to smile. 

“How big of you.” Wednesday mutters. 

The three of them begin walking, “I do think you guys were right about Rowan.” 

Y/n turns to the boy, “Why the sudden change of heart?” 

“I texted him again today. I said maybe we could meet over spring break, and go snowboarding like we did last year.” Xavier states, “This time he texted right back, said he wouldn’t be able to make it.” 

“Only you never went snowboarding last year.” Wednesday says, following the trick Xavier played on ‘Rowan’.

“And the mystery continues.” Y/n adds. 

“Part of me wanted to blame his recent weirdness.” He pauses, “I didn’t want to think something bad had happened.” “The cover-up is always worse than the crime.” Wednesday states, causing both Y/n and Xavier to look at the girl. 

“Now I need you to be honest with me,” Xavier stops, making the two stop with him, “why’d you go out to the old meeting house in the first place?” 

“I was trying to learn more about Crackstone, and Y/n didn’t want me going alone.’ Wednesday states, “Figure out how he’s connected to this.” 

“Yeah, you were trying to use your psychic abilities, right?” Xavier looks at Wednesday.

“What makes you think I have any?” Wednesday pretends to not know what he’s talking about. 

“Lucky guess. When did they start?” The boy presses. 

“About a year ago.” Wednesday turns so they can keep walking, “When they happen, it feels like I’m touching live wire. I usually enjoy that sensation.” She remarks, causing Y/n to look at her. 

“Yeah, but you can’t control it, and that freaks you out.”  Xavier continues, “My dad’s a psychic.”

“Vincent Thorpe.” Wednesday says, “My brother’s his number one fan. Watched his Vegas Special so many times that I’m surprised it’s not imprinted on his eyeballs.” Wednesday speaks of her brother with a peculiar sort of fondness. One that only someone with a younger brother could truly understand. 

“So I’ve lived with the self-described master. And the first thing he’ll tell you is that psychic visions can’t be trusted. They only show you one part of the picture.” Xavier explains. 

“I saw Joseph Crackstone in front of me, as clearly as I’m seeing you or Y/n now.” Wednesday stopped walking, “He gathered all the outcasts in the meeting house and burned them alive.”

“Okay he was a sadistic asshole. So what? It was four-hundred years ago. It’s got nothing to do with now.” Xavier spoke like every guy that never paid attention in a single history class Y/n had ever attended, which had been far too many. 

“But what if it does?” Wednesday questions, “You saw Rowan’s drawing. Crackstone was standing in the quad.”

“You’re creating a story in your head, and using visions to back it up.” Y/n rolled her eyes at the way Xavier spoke to the girl in front of him, “They’re telling you what you want to see.” 

Wednesday is appalled, “Are you mansplaining my power?” 

Xavier rolls his eyes as he scoffs, “All I’m saying is my dad, the expert, would warn you that psychic ability isn’t rooted in logic. It’s triggered by emotions. And let’s be honest, emotion isn’t your strong suit.” 

Wednesday looks to where Y/n stood behind her, “I believe Rowan was right. Something bad is going to happen, and I need to stop it. Starting with that monster.” 

Wednesday turns to face Xavier momentarily, “Whoever it is.” Before quickening her pace. 

Y/n sat with Enid as she got ready for her date with Ajax. 

Enid turned to Wednesday who was trying to write her novel, “Too much?” 

Wednesday turned to glance at the shirt the blonde werewolf held up and sighed, “I feel like you just napalmed me, Enid.” 

Enid ignores Wednesday’s comment and turns to Y/n with another option, “So glad I have my date with Ajax tonight. Get my mind off of that trainwreck of an afternoon. I literally think I have PTSD. I didn’t even get to do my dance routine.” 

“Oh no, what a pity.” Y/n laughs at Enid’s dramatic behavior. 

“What kind of twisted psycho would want to sabotage such a life-affirming event?” Enid asks nobody in particular, the girl was really just talking to herself. 

Wednesday stops typing once more, “You’re going to be late.” 

Enid panics, “Is this outfit good enough?” 

“I already told you three times it was perfect.” Y/n tries to comfort her best friend. 

“Wish me luck.” Enid picks up her light pink coat. 

“If he breaks your heart, I will nail-gun his.” Wednesday says. 

Enid hugs Y/n before heading out, “Tell me everything.” 

Y/n continues to lay in Enid’s bed, not wanting to listen to Bianca go on about whatever happened to her today. Not after such a long day, instead she listened to Wednesday type away at her novel. 

An hour later Enid came back to the dorm, sobbing. Both Y/n and Wednesday do their best to console the distraught werewolf. But with little luck, she ends up crying herself to sleep while laying her head on Y/n’s lap. 

Y/n found herself laying back on Enid’s bed, ignoring the burning sensation in her hips and lower abdomen as she did so. She technically didn’t require blood flow, but her heart still beat like it did when she was alive. She remembered back in the 50s when that witch had made it possible. Y/n can’t quite remember how, too many years had passed.

The witch had made it so her heart could beat. Blood didn’t flow, but it beat as any regular old heart would. It was a sensation that Y/n didn’t require but she missed, she also mimicked breathing so much so that she believed that she needed to.

Y/n yearned to be human for so many years, she once would have done anything to go back to that fateful night and save herself. She would have saved herself from all of those lonely years, and would have married whatever man her parents suited. She thinks about how unhappy she would have been married to a man, a loveless marriage just like her parents’. 

Y/n drifted to sleep thinking about how horrid her life would have been had she not been killed that fateful night. She wakes once to the sound of Wednesday speaking to Thing as the two of them try to sneak out of the dorm. But Y/n decides to ignore it as Enid snores loudly, still using her thighs as pillows.

The next morning consists of getting up, and watching Wednesday as she puts up a board with photos that look like they're from a crime scene. Y/n doesn’t say anything as she watches the girl ‘decorate’ her side of the room, soft music that Wednesday must have put on playing as she does so. 

“When I suggested giving your side of the room a makeover, I didn’t have Ted Bundy’s Pinterest in mind.” Enid says, looking at the pictures. 

Wednesday turns to face the girl, “Still not as creepy as your stuffed unicorn collection.”

“Is this why you snuck out last night?” Y/n asks, getting up from her position on Enid’s bed. 

“Thing and I made an un-sanctioned trip to the county morgue, to copy the files of the monster's victims.” Wednesday speaks as though this were a normal trip for her. 

Enid shudders with disgust, “Okay there are so many levels of ‘ew’ in that statement and I don’t even know where to begin.” 

Wednesday’s head shakes ever so slightly, “I need to get inside its head. Discover any patterns or anomalies. I’ve already made a big discovery.” She begins to take pictures off of the black cork board. 

“Turns out, all of the monster’s victims have had body parts surgically removed.” The dark haired girl makes her way to where Enid and Y/n stood. 

She hands pictures to Y/n, “The first one a kidney, the second a finger,” 

Enid begins to feel faint as she looks at the pictures of severed body parts in Y/n’s hands, “Wednesday, I don’t feel so good.” 

“Third, a gallbladder.” She puts a finger up silencing Enid and moves back to her board. 

“And the bearded man, from the meeting house, two toes.” She slaps another picture on top of the small stack in Y/n’s hands, “Do you understand what this means? These murders aren’t mindless.” She goes back to the drawing board once more, continuing about her discovery passionately, “He’s collecting trophies like a seasoned serial killer. It’s quite impressive, actually.” 

Y/n is so focused on Wednesday’s rant she doesn’t notice as Enid’s body sways and her knees give out from beneath her. 

Both Y/n and Wednesday turn and look down at a now unconscious Enid, “Thing fetch the smelling salts. Again.” 

“What even is the gallbladder?” Y/n murmurs, staring at the pictures in her hands. 

Later that day Y/n and Wednesday sat next to one another in Botany with Ms Thornhill. 

“While most plants rewards their pollinators with sweet nectar, many carnivorous varieties turn to sexual trickery. Or deception.” Ms Thorhill talked about plants while Y/n looked at the purple flower in front of her. 

She could feel the eyes of Xavier burning a hole in the back of her skull, but she didn’t care. What she didn’t realize were the glances that Wednesday Addams stole every once and while. She studied the way Y/n’s face changed when she was paying attention vs when she was daydreaming. Wednesday realized she enjoyed the girl's presence more than she should, and chalked it up to Y/n being interested in her investigation and aided it. 

“The orchid produces a pheromone that mimics a female insect, luring the males in. Now, once the plant is pollinated, what do the male insects get in exchange?” Thornhill asks.

“Nada,” Bianca answers, “just like all the guys at the Rave’N.” 

A few kids stifled laughs, “Okay, okay. I know you’re all excited about Saturday. Which is why I haven’t assigned any homework.” 

Students cheered at the prospect of not having any homework, “But I do still need volunteers or the decorating committee. Anyone interested, come and see me up here.” Ms Thornhill finished. 

“Not gonna volunteer? That’s your strongest suit. Y’know, disco balls, spiked punch, and too drunk teen outcasts. Sounds like your kind of crowd.” Y/n teased Wednesday, who looked less than excited about the dance. 

“I’d rather stick needles in my eyes.” Wednesday responds, causing Y/n to smile, “I’ll probably do that anyway.” 

Both of them turn to grab their things, “Or you could invite someone, have some fun?” Y/n tried not to let her teasing tone drop, masking the twinge of hope she had. 

Wednesday ignores Y/n’s comment as they pack up the rest of their things, instead the scratches on Xavier’s neck caught her attention. He was her prime suspect of her investigation after all, she wouldn’t be caught alive thinking about something other than her investigation. 

“Don’t look so glum, I’m sure someone else will ask you to the Rave’N!” Enid tried to cheer Y/n up. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I don’t even want to go to the dance.” Y/n lied, though she was not as skilled of a liar as she thought she was. 

“Whatever you say.” Enid mumbles. 

Later that day Bianca catches Y/n as she was in the library, studying between classes for an upcoming exam. 

“Hey, Y/n.” Bianca greeted, sitting next to the vampire. 

“Hi, Bianca.” Y/n greeted the same way, feeling weary of the siren. 

“Well, seeing as neither of us have dates to the Rav’N. And I’m assuming Enid already has a date, the two of us could go together. As friends, of course.” Bianca asks, well no not asks she says. 

“Oh! Well, how do you know I don’t have a date?” Y/n asked. 

“Because a certain pig-tailed goth asked Xavier. He told me all about it already.” Bianca said, not thinking about sugar coating it for the girl. 

“Oh, well it’s up to Wednesday who she goes with.” Y/n responds, sounding defeated. 

“We can go together, baddest bitch duo.” Bianca says. 

“Yeah, you’re right. We can go together.” Y/n responds, ignoring the ache deep within her soul. 

“Great, sounds like a plan. I’ll leave you to your studying.” Bianca gets up and leaves. 

Y/n didn’t know what game Bianca was playing at, but she decided she would go along with it anyways. After the conversation she had with Bianca, the studying she had once been doing was long forgotten.

Y/n packed up her notebooks and pens and made her way to her safe place, Enid’s dorm. Even though it was shared with the same girl that made her soul ache in ways she had never felt it ache before, it was still the most comforting place for her to be. 

“Oh my God! Wednesday Addams is going to the Rave’N!” Enid squeals as Y/n enters the room, unannounced. 

‘Jeez rub it in some more universe.’ Y/n thought to herself, before plastering on a smile. 

“My stars, Hell must have frozen over.” Y/n joked, letting her presence be known. 

“You know what you need now?” Enid asked. 

“A bullet to the head.” Wednesday responded coldly. 

“No! A dress!” Enid cries out. 

“I already have one.” Wednesday deadpans. 

Enid looks at the girl horrified, “Not the one you showed up here in, that thing was a fashion emergency not even lightning could resuscitate.” Enid turns to Y/n, “Back me up here.” 

Y/n puts her hands up, “Hey don’t drag me into this.” 

“Whatever, Thing?” Enid turns to where the hand sits on the music stand. 

Thing responds by putting his thumb up.

“You need something that screams, ‘First date. Stand back bitches! I have arrived!’.” Enid exclaims, “And I know just the place.” 

The next day after classes Enid drags Y/n and angry Wednesday to Jerricho to find dresses for the Rave’N. 

The three stand in front of the frilly and pink boutique, ‘Hawte Kewture’. 

“What kind of dystopian hellscape is this?” Wednesday asks, horrified. 

“Our first group shopping spree!” Enid squeals, excited, “Y/n and I have them all the time, but this is the first one with you! The dance committee’s suggesting all white to match the theme, but that’s not gonna fly with us.” 

Y/n adjusts her sunglasses in the reflection of the shop windows. 

“Well, I have more pressing business to worry about than a stupid dress, for a dance I don’t even want to attend.” Wednesday says, turning to face the other two girls. 

“But I thought we were bonding.” Enid says, clearly upset. 

“I feel I’ll only slow you two down, you’re gazelles. I’m a wounded fawn. Cut me loose and go run with the pack.” Wednesday looked over as Yoko and Divina walked into the brightly colored shop. 

“You sure?” Y/n asked, knowing damn well that Wednesday Addams did not want to go shopping. 

Enid laces her fingers with Y/n’s and drags her along into the shop. Y/n was immediately overwhelmed by the different fragrances hitting her nose and the soft noise of some pop songs that were on the radio. 

“You alright?” Enid asked, seeing Y/n scrunch her nose up. 

“Oh, yeah just a lot of different smells. They don’t all compliment each other.” Y/n mentions, moving to look at the racks of dresses. 

Quickly Enid begins to find dresses to try on, Y/n moves between the racks. Gently touching fabrics she thinks would feel nice against her skin. 

Minutes later Enid returns, putting dresses back on the racks before shuffling through more. Shopping was Enid Sinclair’s superpower, she might not have been able to wolf out. But she was a God at finding just the perfect outfit for any occasion. 

Y/n mindlessly looked at dresses, not really caring for any of the ones she’d seen. 

Enid gasped as she saw a light blue dress, she grabbed it to look at it better.

“Try this on, now.” Enid demanded, shoving the dress into the vampire’s arms. 

“Okay, miss bossy pants.” Y/n teases, moving to the dressing rooms. 

Y/n takes notice of the way the silk material feels between her fingers, the pale blue glinting in the harsh lighting of the dressing room. She quickly takes off the purple pin-striped uniform that was issued to her at the beginning of the school year. Y/n had since taken it into her own hands and changed it, made it more her. 

Her first years back at Nevermore, Weems had gotten mad and punished her for the altercations to the uniform. But after the second year she had decided it wasn’t worth the fight, and allowed the ‘young’ vampire to express herself within reason. 

Y/n carefully slipped the dress on, and zipped it up before looking in the mirror adjusting the straps so it fit properly. She stared at herself in the mirror, taking in the dress. Then taking in the way the dress looked on her. It perfectly complemented her skin, which had paled over the years from a lack of blood flowing through her veins. 

She had decided that this was the dress and quickly changed back into her school uniform. She left the dressing room with the dress in hand, she found a pair of white heels to go with the dress and purchased the items. 

Enid had messaged her letting her know that she stopped by the Weathervane with Yoko and Divina.   

[azrakaban]

Masked pt 1 - Draco Malfoy

This is a 5 part mini fic, hope you enjoy <3

next part

Summary: Draco attends a masked ball... but leaves with more than he anticipated.

A/N; If you can't tell, this is based off of the classic Shakespeare play Romeo and Juliet! Idk when and how this came to my brain but I hope you guys enjoy it. Also: NO PANSY SLANDER IS TOLERATED IN MY COMMENTS. PANSY IS BAE AND I LOVE HER SO KEEP YOUR MOUTHS SHUT PLEASE <3

Key info: This is set in Draco's sixth year, so when Voldemort was actively back. Also in this one shot, Theodore and Draco hate each other, whereas in other one shots they're friends

The plot of Deathly Hallows happens after the golden trio's year leaves Hogwarts, so basically the equivalent of their 'eighth' year. The seventh year is just Voldy doing his thing.

Mini Playlist for you guys:

-Love Story (Taylor's version) - Taylor Swift

- Wanna be yours - Arctic Monkeys

- Line without a hook - Ricky Montgomery

- My Blood - Ellie Goulding

- Set fire to the rain - Adele

- Don't blame me - Taylor Swift

- Hits Different - Taylor Swift

- I'm yours - Isabel LaRosa

- Love me or leave me - Little mix

- Only love can hurt like this - Paloma Faith

- Shameless - Camilla Cabello

- Daddy issues - The Neighbourhood

- Total eclipse of the heart - Bonnie Tyler

- Wildest Dreams (Taylor's version) - Taylor Swift

...

Third person POV:

The Malfoys and the Notts hated each other. It was a rivalry that ran deep and long since both families could remember. It was rumoured that the dispute had started with Cantankerus Nott's publishing of 'The Pure Blood Directory' in the 1630's, which featured a small jab at the Malfoy family. The Malfoys, indignant, retaliated, leading to a fourty year dispute.

Needless to say, the only reason the families were ever civil to each other was for the sake of the dark lord. Although even this was strained, and the families tended to go out of their way to avoid each other.

So you can imagine the reaction when the Malfoys turned up to The Dark Lord's ball at The Nott Estate.

It was a dark November Saturday night and the few Death Eaters that that had re-emerged when The Dark Lord rose once again were gathered at a masked ball, hosted by Nikovos and Helyre Nott, accompanied by their son and daughter, Theodore and y/n, twins.

your pov:

As you entered the hall, you pulled the mask down over your eyes, standing to survey the guests before your parents made a beeline for the dark lord and Theodore headed for his friend from Hogwarts. Having been home schooled for your safety, you had never experienced Hogwarts. Your understanding of people your age came from forced 'playdates' with other Pure-Bloods.

It had taught you to be nice to the right people, but you yearned for a true friend. One your parents hadn't pre-approved, a genuine friend.

Unfortunately, you didn't see an end to the monotonous life your parents forced upon you from a young age. You were stuck attending the balls, feigning interest in every new idea presented the Death Eater Meetings you rarely attended. You were usually the only teen there. In reality, you didn't remember a single meeting, having either fallen asleep, zoned out or excused yourself.

Pulling out of the memory with a shudder, you walked through the people filling the hall, heading straight for the drinks table. You grabbed a drink quickly. Non-alcoholic of course. You couldn't stand the substance, having an extreme intolerance to it.

You sank down onto a seat with a view of the drinks and leaned back against the wall, sipping your drink. You zoned out entirely and didn't notice the atmosphere tighten when three masked figures walked in. They spread out and vanished from view, dispersing through the crowd. The atmosphere relaxed and the crowds babble resumed, conversations resuming and turning back to their companions.

It was as you came back to reality that you noticed the blonde haired boy standing by the drinks table throwing back a glass of some liquid. As you watched, he sighed and refilled his glass, downing half his glass in one gulp. You couldn't see the rest of his face, just his mouth, set into a hard line. The mask covered the rest of it.

"You know, if you keep staring, I'll start to be self-conscious." He said, looking over to you and quirking his mouth up a little. "Not staring, just wondering if I've seen you before." You said.

He smirked. "You haven't, I can tell you that Princess." He said, coming over to sit beside you. "Or do you prefer Miss Nott?"

You flipped him off, not giving him the satisfaction of a serious response. "Actually, I prefer Princess." You said, matching the smirk on his face. "And shouldn't I know your name if you know mine?" You said, actually turning to look at him.

"I'd really rather you didn't. " He replied, watching the people dance. You looked to them and your eyes softened, watching the couples dance. He looked to you. "Beautiful." You turned and smiled at him. "Yeah, they are."

"I wasn't talking about the dancing."

You blushed, thankful for the mask covering your cheeks. He stood, setting his glass on a nearby table and outstretching a hand to you.

"May I have this dance?" You calmed your sudden blush and took it.

"You may."

He gently tugged you to your feet and brought you into the circle of dancing couples. His hands rested on your hips and your arms went around his neck, gently swaying to the music. You moved through the motions of the dance, him spinning you at the right times, you moving your feet in time with the beat.

The dance ended and you found your faces close to each others, mere inches apart. You could see the pale blue colour of his eyes, the dark lashes surrounding them and his lips... oh god, his lips. He swallowed and his eyes flickered to your lips for a second. Your faces moved closer, the distance between you growing shorter...

"Y/N!" Yours and mystery guy's eyes snapped up to the source of the yell. Your father came running towards you, his expression thunderous. Your mother came running after him. "Nikovos, calm down, I'm sure its a misunderstanding!" she said. Mystery guy looked back to you and locked eyes with you.

"Tonight, midnight, west balcony." He said. You were instantly confused. "Wha-?"

"Y/N!" Your father yelled again, finally reaching you and pulling the two of you apart. "What in the Salazar do you think you're doing dancing with the Malfoy boy?" he spat, eyeing mystery guy with a glare.

The Malfoy boy. Oh hell.

You looked back to mystery guy. "You're Draco Malfoy?" You said, although you already knew the answer.

"Yes princess. This seems to be new information to you though... perhaps your parents are keeping you too isolated from the real world?" He drawled, smirking at your parents. Your father seemed to be seeing red. (Little inappropriate, given it was a Slytherin ball, but okay Mr Nott - that was an author comment, not part of the story lol x)

"Move yourself far away from her before I make you. And I won't hesitate to snap each of your fingers while doing so." Said Theodore, appearing at your side. You turned, seeing an expression of stone set into your brother's face.

"Ah, but you see Nott, I'd rather keep my fingers for doing other things." Said Draco, rolling his tongue in his cheek. He winked at you from under the mask and you nearly died.

"YOU WILL DO NO SUCH THING!" Your father whisper yelled, a few onlookers starting to watch.

"Were you talking to me or your son, Nr Nott?" Said Draco, smirking once again.

You met Draco's eyes and they had had a glint to them that matched the mocking smile aimed at your father. He was enjoying this, you could tell, and it was nearly frustrating. Nearly. It was more fun watching Nikovos get mad. Your mother's feeble attempts to get him to calm down had done nothing, so she resorted to a different tactic.

"NIKOVOS! You will calm down this instant! We are in the presence of the dark lord, and this sort of behavior is unacceptable. Theodore, go find your friends again, and do not grace me with your presence unless you have something useful to contribute. Nikovos, Yaxley is looking for you, go speak with him. Y/N, go dance with Mattheo, you need the distraction. And you boy..." She finished, turning to Draco. "... You stay away from my family." She said, glaring at him from behind her feathered mask.

"Oh don't worry Madam, I'll stay far away from your husband and son. Be sure of that." Said Draco, turning to walk away.

"I assume your father will be hearing about this?" Said Helyre, almost taunting him. Draco lifted his head a little and halted, but didn't turn.

"No, I don't think he will. I think I'll keep this our little secret." He said, before resuming his walk and being lost from sight. If you were honest, you weren't sure if that was directed at your mother or you.

End of Part 1! If you enjoyed please leave a like, reblog or comment <3

Next Part

[dozing-marshmallow]

If requests are open... Chris and reader watching Heathers the original release together?

Ooo! I haven’t actually watched it until today, and it was worth the watch! I hope you have a good time reading this as I did watching the film! This took me the entire day to write since there was so many good scenes to choose from.🥲

Spoiler warning to those who haven’t seen it!

WATCHING HEATHERS: ORIGINAL RELEASE WITH CHRIS MCLEAN

“Yo Chris.” You approached him one evening,“You wanna watch a fun nostalgic movie that involves childhood trauma as a plot point, the idiocy of teenagers in love and girl power?”

“As innnn?”

“Heathers!”

He recognised the film, but his response didn’t demonstrate that,“You know I can never see that name the same way after meeting Heather.”

You knew it wouldn’t,“I don’t think anyone can, but lucky for us, this film isn’t about her.”

“Of course it isn’t, no one with a brain would centre a movie around something like her.”

“Chriiiis.” You pout, setting the disc into the DVD player. You weren’t on tv so there was no need for him to be so destructive.

“What? Can’t I tell the truth?” He asks in a sassy manner,“Producers don’t want someone controversial leading their movie, the public would tear it down before it’s even released! Then again, it is a good way to ensure people will watch, even if it’s not for the reason they were hoping for.”

The film opens with a blonde girl tying her hair back in a red scrunchie with a feminine song elegantly lacing the girls’ beauty and image. The clothes, the hair, the camera quality pull Chris in to reminisce.

“I remember those times! All the gals loved keeping their hair fluffy and in scrunchies!” A shot of the girls stepping on the flowers brings him to ponder,“Can’t remember if they loved mallets though.” 

“I thought they would have the colour coded everything.”

“What do you mean?”

You explained,“As in, they were gonna wear the same thing just in their colour, and have their hairstyles identical too.”

“Ohh, yeah, I think that was in the musical.” He recalled,“Speaking of which, if I end up liking this movie, we’ll totally go watch that too.”

Hearing that potential chance to see it made your heart skip a beat, disguising it with,“It’s crazy coincidence that all three of these girls happened to be named Heather.”

“I for one hope they end up like Heather.” So in other words, he wanted them to suffer tremendously.

You’re introduced to the sore thumb protagonist, Veronica, who was being ordered by red Heather to forge hot and horny, but realistically low-key note Kurt’s handwriting and we’ll slip it onto Martha Dumptruck’s lunch tray. The note will give her shower nozzle masturbation material for weeks.

Chris’ eyes ran corner to corner,“How did she say that with a straight face?”

“Welll it’s clearly not their first ploy, and you’ll be surprised to know that’s how teenage girls talk.”

“I have experience, (Y/N).”

The camera pans on an unconventionally attractive girl in sweatpants and a pink hoodie getting her lunch tray. Must’ve been the Martha the girls were planning on upsetting.

“Beth? I didn’t know she was in this film.” Chris chirped.

Your mouth drops at his attempt to slander another one of his contestants,“Chris, you know that’s not Beth! Beth has longer hair and she wears glasses!”

“Scissors and contacts exist, (Y/N).” He pats your back, treating you like a simpleton,“Wouldn’t be surprised if she did them herself for the film.”

Heather pulled Veronica with her on a poll protocol, featuring a question about five million dollars given two days before an alien explosion. She began the poll by a table with a girl named Courtney sitting there.

“Oh, great.” Chris groans,“It’s already a nightmare that three girls are named Heather, now there’s someone called Courtney? Who’s next, Harold?”

“Huh? Chris, Harold is a complete anomaly with Heather and Courtney. I thought you were going to say someone like Tyler.”

“My badd.”

There was a montage of teens from different cliques having individual screen time to answer Heather number one’s question.

“This scene has to mean something, right? I am betting you a hundred bucks that these question protocols are some sort of motif and have a deeper meaning.” Chris confidentially proposes.

“Alright.” It was pointless, but whatever made him happy.

“Uh.” He pauses the movie,“You’re supposed to hedge now.”

“What?”

“Y’know, if I end up being right, you give me a hundred dollars instead.”

What is this man on,“No? If you end up being right, you get to keep your hundred bucks.”

“But whyy? Come on (Y/NN)...it’ll be fun! Live a little.” He rested his head on your shoulder. If that was meant to convince you, it backfired.

“I’m good.”

“Booo! You’re boring! Bo-ring!”

“Chris, a hundred dollars doesn’t even equate to a dollar in your eyes, why are you so bothered?”

The movie focuses on Martha again, clearly in a trance from the letter she was misled into believing was written by her presumed crush. Chris waved at the screen,“Hi Beth!” As music in the background played, with the enhancement of a woman breathing like she was having an orgasm.

You pre-flinched at the motion of Martha getting up and appearing to be walking over to the Jock table, forged letter in hand, anticipating the next few seconds to be nothing, but ripping insults and a confused girl with her heart broken, returning sulkily to her table in confusion and tears. Meanwhile, Chris was sitting up in his seat, smiling.

And your guess was correct: the second that guy, Kurt saw the letter, the dreamy music was replaced by a jagged cruelty of laughter escaping him as he passed the letter to his mate, where he also started laughing. The Heathers were gracefully infected by it too and so was Chris. Feeling humiliated, Martha stomps out of the cafeteria.

“Oh dear. Poor girl.” You verbalise your pity, leaning more towards Veronica’s reaction.

“She’ll be fine.” Chris coughs,“As far as Beth knows, he’s just trying to deny how much he loves her.”

You don’t try scolding him anymore,“Let’s hope she doesn’t turn out to be a yandere.”

“A what now?”

The guy you and Chris questioned the relevance of was revealed to be named Jason Dean. You didn’t pay attention to the problem those jocks had with him, but you couldn’t connect the reason to the utterly random choice on Jason’s part to take a gun out and fire it. Twice.

“What the hell!” You exclaimed.

“What’s the big deal? I do that all the time.” Your boyfriend shrugs lightly.

“Not funny.”

It transitions back to the scenery the Heathers were in the beginning, with their mallets, their balls, the grass and statues.

“God they won’t expel him, they’ll just suspend him for a week or something.” The one in yellow claimed.

“He used a real gun. They should throw his ass in jail.” The leader Heather levelled more logically.

“So it actually happened?” You thought aloud, seeing that Veronica was now not only on the same ground as the others; she possessed her own mallet in blue,“In the beginning, I thought this was place was meant to be a metaphor.”

“A metaphor for what, (Y/N)?”

“...Sisterhood?”

He shakes his head in disapproval.

No way, they were actually plotting on killing Heather Chandler- After the disastrous party at Remington university where Veronica blows it and potentially foreshadows the bad dust forming between her and the rest of the Heathers, Jason crawls in through her window and stayed the night with her, topless. In the morning, they mixed something together with cleaning liquid and orange juice to bring for Heather, Jason’s “family recipe” for her hangover.

After indirect peer pressure, Heather takes the cup from Jason and right after consuming it, the damage instantly kicks in. To Heather’s horror, her gagging became more and more tyrannical to the point of her clasping her hands around her neck and gluing her eyes shut. She wheezes out an incoherent statement, before she falls face first unexpectedly into her glass table, motionless pink robed body landing on a bed of broken glass shards and her flowers, magazines.

Where that scene was meant to be silent, Chris revived an equal reaction of Kurt’s in the beginning- Hilarity.

You were still processing it. You didn’t think they would kill the leader off so early. You thought it would be one of those things where the protagonist would have started off with the lower ranks, saving the leader for last. Not in this story.

“Ahahaha!” In your partner’s fit, he shakily grabs the remote,“I’ve...I’ve got to see it again!”

He rewinded it a few seconds back. Since he knew what was going to happen, his relentless laughter ran in prematurely and lasted longer.

“Chris, come on.”

“One more- one more time.” He repeated, readying to hold onto his stomach again.

You rewatch Heather fall into the glass table. How did he not get bored? 

He rewinded it again.

That’s where your patience ran too,“Enough, Chris!” You asserted, trying to grab the remote from him.

He still had that large smile on his face as he holds it away from you,“Wait (Y/N), maybe she won’t fall down this time.” You both know that’s not possible, as she disproves his statement for the fourth time,“Nope!”

“Can we move on now please?” You screech.

“Augh, fine! Let’s have it your way then.” He throws the remote to the floor and latches his arms folding,“Remind me to never watch anything with you again.”

“I won’t.”

“Uh uh...” Chris chuckled, watching the note Veronica forged as Heather’s suicide note be present in the teacher’s hand to be shared around the class so they can “feel its pathetic beauty for yourself”.

“Isn’t that like...a major piece of evidence at the crime scene though? How did she get a hold of it?” You were thinking too deeply about it.

“I don’t know dude, but it seems that no one really liked Heather to take her death personally.” His enthusiasm profound,“Isn’t that similar to the situation for our Heather? Chick was so despicable, her own parents wanted her gone!”

“Do you see how everyone else is dressed in black and she came in navy?” You pointed out Veronica’s standing out funeral attire.

“I’d have done the same.” Chris retorted,“You won’t get a dime of respect from me.”

You scoffed at the prayers Heather’s guests made over her death bed, most of them not even being about her,“The amount of disrespect at her own funeral.”

“Could never be me. The world would die with me.” Of course Chris needed a time of the movie to stroke his ego.

Two days after an atrocious “double date”, Kurt and Ram were coming to school early  for some promised fun with Veronica; in reality, they were going to mask a double suicide. They? Why, yes! Jason was waiting behind a tree, with his gun loaded and the two notes Veronica forged the night before, confessing their dying sorrow of the love they felt for each other, that could never be revealed to an uncaring and ununderstanding world.

“Hi Veronica.” Speaking of the devils, they had smugly arrived to the told meeting spot, behind the school.

Chris rubs his hands together deviously, the performing girl requesting them to strip,“Ooo here we go!”

“You do know she’s not actually going to-“

“I know (Y/N), I wasn’t talking about that. I was referring to the part where their bodies fall to the ground helplessly in blood. What kinda sicko do you take me for to think I’d want to see high schoolers have a sword fight with their dicks?” God, he was actually offended.

“Sorry.”

“You’re forgiven.”

“I was kind of hoping you could rip my clothes off me sport.” Veronica flirtatiously played.

“Girl’s got serious game!”

“She’d have to, to be able to fool those guys.” 

Baam! After Jason’s chasing steps terrified Kurt to return back to where he once successfully fled from, Veronica finally pulled the trigger to send his nearly naked body falling to the ground. Despite Chris getting what he wanted, he was unamused,“So he had enough sense to run the first time, but was paralysed the second time? Seriously? She didn’t even have the gun ready!”

“One more dead body to add to your collection.” Gruesome words, but it cheered him up.

Unnecessary to inform, but they were real killer bullets used on Kurt and Ram that day. When Veronica wrapped her head around it, Chris made it known that he took much pleasure in her screaming at her boyfriend in his car that she never wanted to kill them, while he was trying to unveil the intention that she did. The start of their crumbling relationship.

You shake your head in disbelief when the movie cut to their funeral and how their corpses wore football helmets.

Who names their child Kurt or Ram...?

“It was chaos, fucking chaos!” Veronica ranted, distressed from the next day event that happened in school. It was bad enough that teacher Pauline was attempting to use the second tragedy that week to liven things up as a positive thing, it was broadcasted.

“What are you talking about, huh? I mean today was great! Chaos is great. Chaos is what killed the dinosaurs, darling.”

“I like him. He gets it!” Chris too acknowledged the similarity he held with the male protagonist.

He started laughing from shock when he blew up his radio with his gun. That was the breaking point for Veronica to furiously get up and declare the end of their relationship.

...You know when you’re uneasy seeing something, but your mind forces you to keep watching to see the end of it? That’s what was happening to Chris when Jason grabbed Veronica back down and tried to convince her to stay by forcefully kissing her.

“Oh jeez...I am highly uncomfortable.” Chris lets out, turning his head away from the screen.

At least Jason could manipulate Heather Duke into taking the place of leader to carry out some petition (which Chris bragged that he knew the poll in the beginning would be significant to the plot) that would need all students to sign. After failing to persuade Veronica though, Heather leaves, not before taking pride in how ruthless she’s become.

“You know, I really love the colour symbolism here. That one started off as jealous of the first Heather’s power, so she wore green, cuz green is like a symbol for envy, and now that she’s embodied Heather Chandler’s position, her change of colour to red symbolises how her character developed for the worst.”

“Good observation.” The closest Chris will get to complimenting you.

Out of nowhere, Jason descends from the stairs, in his signature waistcoat.

“He’s back.”

“Or rather, she’s back.” Chris appropriately clarified as Jason took Veronica into his arms, fooling you into believing they were rejoining as a couple.

“So... Are they back together?” The second Chris asked that, Veronica hastily rejected his embrace and stood her ground otherwise,“Haha, guess not.”

Chris huffed in annoyance when Jason kneeled by Veronica’s bed, with Moby Dick in his hand.

“I’m super confused, do you like this guy or not?” You called out on him, not noticing you were taking some of his annoyance as yours.

“I do! But it’s nagging me that he’s everywhere!”

After snatching the largest kitchen knife you’ve ever seen, Jason sprinted to Heather Duke’s room where said girl was asleep in her bed and locked the door shut to prevent any witnesses (i.e. Veronica) from interrupting his ploy.

“That’s why you don’t leave your bedroom door open at night!” Chris raised his voice at the tv like the characters could hear him.

By this point, the priest is fed up with leading these constant funerals for popular teens. No one was taking it seriously anymore either- Hell, the guests were wearing lab coats and 3D glasses.

“Out of all the death beds, I think I’d rather die in her one.” Chris trivialised her funeral with his liking to her unusual coffin of a replica of green gunk in a bathtub.

Veronica stands at the back of the ceremony, a Heather dressed in all black joins her. It wasn’t until she sneered about the smaller number of people at this Heather’s funeral that you’re alerted it’s the former leader Heather.

“Plot twist!” Chris declares, downing his entire glass of wine.

“No way...” You’re stunned,“Do you think she actually survived or Veronica’s hallucinating?”

“No idea.”

Turns out it was all dream.

“Oh good because she can’t be going to sleep in tights.” All that Chris was concerned about, Veronica writing her last entry.

“She’s dead!?” Chris regurgitated on his popcorn at the sight of Veronica’s body hanging from the ceiling,“Duuuude! I thought she’d have main character armour!”

You yell when Jason theatrically talks like his ex girlfriend could see,“Look at how he’s reacting to it! He’s acting like she’s not dead! Deraaaanged!”

“That’s probably the most relatable scene yet.”

You flip your head to him,“Sorry?”

“Ohhh listen listen, he’s going to take right after his old man!” Someone regained their composure,”Blowing up the school. Respect. Only so little of us could pull that off.”

“No, what did you say just then?” You probed him, refusing to let him off the hook so easily.

“Huh? That Veronica’s dead?”

“After that.”

“...He’s going to blow up the school?” You can’t tell if Chris genuinely forgot or was playing dumb, but never mind, you lost motivation to interrogate further. Attention is his life source.

Jason reads and reveals,“We students of Westerberg High will die today, our burning bodies will be the ultimate protest to a society that degrades us.”

“So the entire time, they were signing up to die?”

“Sound familiar?”

“You’re kidding. So he went through the difficulty of planting the bombs in the boiler room, just to blow himself up outside the school?” 

He’ll finally be with mommy. Chris’ whining disappointment didn’t stop an ashy, bleeding, wild haired Veronica(who by the miracle of God didn’t actually die that scene) to go back inside, like she didn’t witness her crazy ex kill himself moments ago. She stumbles upon Martha, in a wheelchair and as the rest of the school leaves, the both of them decide to stay together, inside, smiling, marking an implication that they may bloom into something tender.

What a bittersweet hour and forty three minutes.

“Oh! That’s it. Well... That was dark.” Chris firstly begins his thoughts by underlining the conspicuous theme of the movie,“No joke, it was really messed up. But you know my vibe.” He sniffled, flicking a teardrop from his eye,“I loved it! See, this is a perfect example as to why the eighties were the best! You don’t get a lot of dark colourful movies like these nowadays, everybody’s so boring and sensitive and unoriginal.”

You added onto that, from another aspect,“I think we were desensitised to a lot of things that happened though. Still can’t get over how Veronica’s mom thought she’d off herself because she couldn’t get some job at the mall.”

He sighs,“What can I say? We were bound to see it one way or another. A fine film that shows a stupid world that’s still accurate today.” That pessimism didn’t go well with Chris gaining satisfaction from stretching his stiff arms out,“Overall, it was sick! Ten outta ten, would watch again. It just feels a tad bit weird watching it all happen as a grown man. I would literally close my eyes at some points, and every time, I would be confused if it was still the movie playing, or if you switched it to Total Drama.”

On the topic of his show...“When you think about it, Jason is the alternative Trent and Veronica is the alternative Gwen.”

Lightbulb moment. Uh oh.

(Sorry if it feels incomplete, there was a lot of things I had to take out to avoid it being too lengthy 😞 If anyone’s interested, though, I’ll publish some of the things that didn’t make the final post, but would have been great to have :))

[starrynightarchive]

🥑🍄🔪🦴🧩

(you can't show me ask games and expect me to choose ONE)

welcome to my inbox venus. fancy seeing you here after the boop war that i lost in.

⇢ you accidentally killed somebody, which mutual(s) do you text for help?

easy. @spiderbends

⇢ share a head canon for one of your favourite ships or pairings

chuuya has myoclonic epilepsy!! give that man a fucked up nervous system your honour no way his body is pristine after using corruption left and right. back in his pm days, dazai used to accompany him to his appointments <3 he never hovers when it comes to this, but always gives support in his weird autism creature kubrik stare way. he also reminds him to take his meds. chuuya is not forgetful, but dazai brings his meds with him always. just in case he forgot to take it before their missions.

⇢ what's the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project?

i answered this question already but hm. I'll just give you a random fact i learnt during research for a fic. did you know that people used to sell cheap moonshine claiming it was absinthe back in the days? they put it in cheap bathtubs and colored green with copper salts. They were poisoning their customers without knowing it. lesson learned: don't buy counterfeit alcohol kids

⇢ is there a piece of media that inspires your writing? 

right now? bsd. honestly whatever anime i'm watching. and if i really like a person's writing style, that makes me temporarily go insane and experiment with mine. for example markus zusak's book thief inspired me to write my dazai&death dynamic study fic.

⇢ what will make you click away from a fanfiction immediately?

answered this one too but hm. if the grammar is really bad. mischaracterization to the point that they are straight up slandering the character. see i can excuse some amount of ooc content but if you are getting the essence of the character wrong..... for example I've seen so many popular fics with homophobic kunikida, borderline abusive kunikida etc. like. fuck you. that's my emotional support blonde workwife. he would never.

[chiquititaosita]

Monster Trio catching Latina S/o dancing to cumbias while doing chores on deck and joins her

Songs will be included at the end of the post :)

Crack fic, fluff, Established relationships, Y/n is just in her ✨señorita✨era, slight nsfw it’s suggestive. Zoro being a dacryphiliac, slight racism mentioned in sanjis (angst)

Luffy

Song- “El Chico Apartmento 512 ” by Selena

-Luffy was going to get you from waxing the Sunny’s deck, but it turns out you beat him to it.

- you’ll be shaking your hips little by little. Just humming to it.

- you’re just moving your feet to the beat. It’s all muscle memory.

-“ Hey y/n I just wanted to see if- OOOH LEMME DANCE WITH YOU!” He’ll run straight towards you to dance with you.

-you’ll feel relived when it’s just him. you find it funny over the fact. You finished cleaning the deck at 5:12 pm when the song has number 512

- if he finds you singing along. He’s gonna be terrible so terrible y’all will get a warning from a cranky zoro who can’t nap in peace 😭

-“what? I liked the song!” luffy will pout.

-either that or he won’t care. He’ll just be on his way to play with ussop and chopper

-“it doesn’t matter we can’t let you or zoro get arrested because of some cumbia.” Sanji explained as he was serving you a drink and appetizers.

- That was until he saw a angy y/n with her eyes twitching, and your delicate skin shivering. this was one of the rare times luffy or sanji has ever seen you mad like at all. We don’t tolerate Selena slander

-“y/n Chan is right behind me isn’t she.” Luffy just nodded silently. as you kicked his back, and slapped him with the chancla.

”never turn off my shit again unless I ask you to.”

-you let him go and just continued your chores.

Zoro

“Piensa en mi “ byGrupo Mojado

-Zoro would be napping and bopping his head along to the song playing.

-he’d just be bored, without you again missing you in your presence. He goes to see what you’re doing and you’re dancing with a teddy bear

- he couldn’t help but blush and smile. “Oi, if you wanted me to dance with you should’ve asked me.”

-“AHH! How long were you standing there!?!”

-“ a few seconds.” he rolled his eyes as he walked over to you after leaning against your door entry way.

-he began dancing with you. “Like this right?” He mumbled. And you nodded in reply.

-THE FACT HE REMEMBERS HOW TO DANCE CUMBIAS WHEN YOU TAUGHT HIM IS SO ADORABLE

-“what is guy saying it’s pretty catchy.” He asks as you both continue to dance in your sleeping quarters.

-“ Piensa en mi means think of me and llorar por mi means cry for me.”

-“you think you can cry for me right now?” He whispered huskily as he threw onto your bed.

-“ZORO!”

Sanji

Song- “Chiquilla ” By A.B Quintanilla III Y Los Kumbia Kings

- now this would happen when you’re helping sanji clean up the kitchen and the dining area. Since you always help him wash the dishes. you and your music playing.

- When you started putting up the dishes that were ready to dry, you saw a familiar blonde cook hum along to the song.

-he then lit his cigarette and puffed out the smoke, chuckling lightly as he is watching you dance while cleaning like a true Hispanic mother waking you up around 7-8 am blasting cumbias.

-“ Oi! Luffy I thought I told you I don’t want you in my- Y/n! MEROLINEEE!!! What are you doing?! washing dishes!?” He was so shocked and you giggled at him placing the clean dish down embracing him. He couldn’t help but feel bad, but relieved at the same time.

-The crazy captain was driving the poor guy to insanity Lowkey.

-“helping you so you can have more time to relax. You overwork yourself corazón.” You stood on your tippy toes to kiss him if you’re short.

- he just sighed happily at you. “Since you’re the one insisting on me having this time of relaxation, would you care to have this dance with me mon amour?”

-“why of course. this song reminds me of you heavily.” you giggled at the fact that the song does indeed remind you of sanji. talking about how you have him trapped in thoughts just by seeing you and only you.

. “This song reminds you of me?” His eyes widened a bit as you took the cigarette out of his mouth back onto his acrylic ashtray. you nodded

-“it’s a cute love song that’s why, talking about how I stole your heart.” it really reminded of how society won’t like y’all mostly because of racism. you were surprised about how much he wanted to pursue you. In which he succeeded.

- So far everyone’s been supportive. I mean yes y’all have had people give you weird stares at you in public. but that didn’t matter to sanji, he’ll literally kick in a bitch. Like this one time someone told you to go back into your own country.

THOMP

-and of course it was an old person. He got him real good and defended you countless times

- nah but that’s when you knew he was the one. Because sanji really did keep his word. And he always will.

-“you really have captured my heart my darling.” he grinned as he spun you around. Mans was good at dancing.

-“since that day I have confessed my feelings to you, you have never been out of my sight. I knew I just have to protect you. I’m sorry you have had to go through so much. Mon amour.”with the most beautiful hair, pretty (colored) orbs. A beautiful smile. And a kind heart.If only you could understand how lucky Sanji is to have someone like you.

-“I promise to do my best to protect you with all of my life, and strength that the oceans let me, just to be by your side.” He whispers that type of shit into your hair when you’re dancing with him. you hugged him as the song ended

-“Any special Request for dinner tonight?”

-“you.” You’ll smirk at him, he’ll carry you bridal style and let’s just say the dish tonight was cafe con leche 😏😏

[werepuppy-steve]

gay pirate brianrot (our flag means death)

just straight up vibes, mate

the chain - fleetwood mac

sweet creature - harry styles

could have been me - the struts

here i go again - whitesnake

love is gone (acoustic) - SLANDER, dylan matthew

let me follow - son lux

achilles come down - gang of youths

till forever falls apart - ashe, FINNEAS

i found - amber run

achilles heel - j. maya

pierre - ryn weaver

partners in crime - set it off, ashe costello

motion sickness - phoebe bridgers

arms unfolding - dodie

sea of love - cat power

hello hello - elton john

ready now - dodie

love like you - caleb hayes

this will be (an everlasting love) - natalie cole

abcdefu (angrier) - GAYLE

would you go with me - josh turner

if i ain't got you - alicia keys

ship in a bottle - fin

underground - cody fry

one (mono single version) - harry nilsson

simply the best - billianne

miss missing you - fall out boy

burn butcher burn - joey batey

in case you don't live forever - ben platt

never love an anchor - the crane wives

inkpot gods - the amazing devil

ruin - the amazing devil

i guess i'm in love - clinton kane

chicken tendies - clinton kane

like real people do - hozier

seven - taylor swift

our prayer - the beach boys

hallucinogenics - matt maeson

crazy on you - heart

locomotive breath - jethro tull

high on a rocky ledge - moondog

messa da requiem: 2. dies irae - guiseppe verdi, berliner philharmoniker, carlo maria guilini, ernst senff chor

sonata in e major, k. 380 - domenico scarlatti, khatia buniatishvili

gnossienne no. 5: modéré - erik satie, olga scheps

concerto for recorder and viola dagamba in a minor, twv 52:a1: I.grave - georg philipp telemann, hille perl

II triello - ennio morricone

perfect day - lou reed

träumerei (kinderderszenen, op. 15) - robert schumann, ronny matthes

2 arabesques, l. 66: no. 1 in e major - claude debusy, peter frankl

rêverie, l. 68: rêverie - claude debussy, jean-yves thibaudet

avalanche - leonard cohen

miles from nowhere - yusuf / cat stevens

go to hell - clinton kane

back to december - taylor swift

mine - taylor swift

break my stride - matthew wilder

viva la vida - coldplay

blackbeard's ghost - jesse rice

back to black - amy winehouse

change (in the house of flies) - deftones

we'll never have sex - leith ross

make up your mind - florence + the machine

everybody loves me - onerepublic

the captain's daughter - alison krauss & union station

easy on me - adele

hoist up the thing - the longest johns

gimme! gimme! gimme! (a man after midnight) - abba

right where you left me - taylor swift

super trouper - abba

soldier, poet, king - the oh hellos

raise hell - brandi carlile

ocean blue - moniker

no choir - florence + the machine

leggie blonde - flight of the conchords

little lion man - mumford & sons

rolling in the deep - adele

pirate song - ben barnes

i love you like an alcoholic - the taxpayers

hello my old heart - the oh hellos

a pirate's life - joel fry

to death we go - joel fry

hurts like hell - fleurie, tommee profitt

lay all your love on me - abba

judas - lady gaga

the moon will sing - the crane wives

this side of paradise - coyote theory

shrike - hozier

enchanted - taylor swift

the night we met - lord huron

dear wormwood - the oh hellos

iris - the goo goo dolls

favorite crime - olivia rodrigo

the foundations of decay - my chemical romance

curses - the crane wives

matilda - harry styles

if i could fly - one direction

welcome home, son - radical face

the mary ellen carter - the longest johns

sweet disposition - the temper trap

like ships need the sea - emily hearn

[lemonhemlock]

Cersei fooled her husband and the entirety of Westeros with the paternity of her children for decades, used her pussy power to straight up usurp the throne for House Lannister without anyone being the wiser, and succeeded where Rhaenyra failed (putting her sons from a different biological father on the throne).

Cersei murdering and destroying as quickly as possible Robert and Ned and paving the way for her son’s coronation to go unchallenged VS Rhaenyra choosing to alienate herself in Dragonstone knowing HER ENEMIES are literally in King’s Landing with her sick father and instead choosing not to do anything about it. THEY ARE NOT THE SAME.

And unpopular opinion but Cersei is much more admirable and impressive than Rhaenyra for asserting her sexual and reproductive autonomy. Cersei is the queen consort and married to a man similar to Aegon IV, an incredibly muscular and large man who regularly rapes and beat her and hates her. Rhaenyra is a princess, the heir to the throne, she has a dragon, the king, her husband, and her lover unconditionally support and protect her. Of course she can do whatever she wants. Is it really defiance and rebellion if you are allowed to break the rules ? Rhaenyra has never been in the same situation as Cersei or Daena the Defiant.

always here for the cersei galaxy pussy brain supremacy 🙏 so often in the fandom i see takes about how dumb or delusional cersei's plots are, rarely do i see some heartfelt appreciation for our one true queen's successful machinations 😪

i have to do a re-read before i can elaborate a proper critique, but i will say this, though: as a police procedural / detective story, AGOT isn't really where it's at. catelyn's reasoning for thinking cersei & jaime pushed bran out of the window is not really convincing (she discovers a blonde hair in the tower? be serious, george. i had no idea the lannisters were the only blonde people in westeros). ned's reasoning for thinking joffrey can't possibly be robert's son is not really satisfying for me (they wouldn't know about recessive genes back then, but they would know that some rarer traits like blonde hair sometimes manifest back into family trees after some generations). it's never said how stannis found out about their affair (did renly know as well? i can't remember, i'm inclined to say he didn't). or littlefinger. or varys. or jon arryn. or what kind of proof they could have possibly produced, other than "because i say so"?

the author just doesn't bother with those questions and wants us to believe they simply knew, the consequences of which is unforgivable cersei slander 😤

anyway, agree with the rhaenyra comparison: she only wishes she could be as based as THEE queen!

[novankenn]

"Jaune Gets a Gun AU" Eddie Valiant's Toon Gun

Inspired by the posts of @howlingday

Jaune and Ruby continued to wander about the gun show. Jaune's head was swimming with all the models, variants, and types of weapons he and Ruby had perused. Out of the corner of his eyes, Jaune caught sight of something very familiar.

Ruby was busy chowing down on a whistle-dog when she noticed that Jaune was not by her side anymore. She scanned the crowd around her until she saw the familiar and distinctive mop of blonde hair. Scarfing down the rest of her snack, she made her way over to the small, out of the way booth that Jaune was standing before.

Ruby slowed her approach as it was obvious by Jaune's body language that he was getting a little heated with whomever was in charge of the booth.

Jaune: This isn't yours! It belonged to my Grandfather Eddie Valiant!

????: Eh, whatever, kid. I gots it, and I can sells it!

Ruby closed enough to see around the edge of the booth, and stopped dead in her tracks. She blinked twice and then pinched herself. Looking about herself, she noticed no one else at the show was paying any attention to the commotion, as her first friend of Beacon was literally arguing with...

Jaune: How did you get it?

????: Eh, from somewhere. Don't matter, kid, without proof, what you are accosting me of is slander.

Ruby: Jaune?

Jaune: You want proof! Here's the proof!

Jaune reached forward faster than the weasel could move and ripped open a small compartment just below the oversized gun.

Ruby's eye bugged out as she witnessed the six dressed up bullets start to move, yawning and bending as if they were just waking up.

????: What in Sam hill... Little Jauney! Ain't you a site for sore eyes!

????: I ain't seen you for a dog's age, youngin!

Jaune: Hey Whiskers. Good to see you too, Stogie. Good to see all of you.

Weasel: Eh? No touchin' the merch!

Ruby: Jaune?

Jaune: Merch!? This belongs to my family! It was given to my grandfather by his partner before some low life dropped a piano on his head! This is a Family Heirloom!

Weasel: Not happening, Kid. Youse got no...

Jaune: Listen here, if you don't return this to its proper home, not only am I going to start bouncing off these walls, I'm also going to kick you in the...

Ruby: Nose!

Weasel: Eh, what? Nose doesn't rhyme with walls?

Jaune: No, but this does!

Ruby winced as Jaune caught the Weasel with a kick straight in the crotch that launched him straight through the roof.

Jaune: Guys, you ready to go home?

Whiskers/Stogie/Buckaroo/Chief/Rebel/Bandido: (Yip and Holler)

Jaune smiles as he closes up the box and tucks it under his arm.

Ruby: Jaune you're not...

Jaune: Nope. Going to send this home to Mama Valiant. Where it belongs.

Ruby: Good.

Jaune: Good?

Ruby: There's been enough weird stuff going on today... and seeing that just makes it weirder than normal...

(Just having some fun, doubtful that it is as entertaining as @howlingday's stuff, but felt like trying again. Hope you enjoyed)

[miku-meeku]

Gurl, Variable Barricade was literally the first otome game I played.

I'll give you a quick run down, our MC Hibari is an independent girlboss who's just awful at romance. She's from a powerful family so she expects an arranged marriage but her grandfather was like 'LMAO, no. You have to choose from these 4 trash men instead and your gonna live with them for a while'.

So for our 4 love interests are as follow, marriage fraud who is Ichiya Mitsumori who is also the ultimate male wife, the gold digger which is Shion Mayuzumi (material girl), submissive and bully-able Nayuta Yagami and finally gambling addict Taiga Isuguri (personal fav)

The game is very much a sort of rom com, our lovely Hibari has to pick one of them to be her husband which is hard when everyone seems like they would be a dead beat spouse. It's dangerously hilarious, like girl I was laughing every 10 mins

Also to me Taiga is definitely Whitney, hands down no arguments. Shion could be Robin since ya know, Robin doesn't do jack shit and is only there for eye candy, Nayuta is Kylar mostly because he would just straight up do anything Hibari says to the degree that if she said she wanted him to be her dog he would woolf, Ichiya is... I can't really see him as Sydney, well atleast corrupt Sydney, idk he wouldn't fit

Anyways play Variable Barricade

i feel like literally only one character suits one of the LIs in DoL and its just Whitney BAHAHHAHAHAHHAHA

Shion is too pretty to be Robin (no offense Robin) but then again, I did a lil digging (cuz blonde boys makes me drop my pants) and wowie this mf doesnt do anything other than loiter, hes just like me frfr- and Robin also doesnt do anything other than loiter (sorry for Robin slander, ily Robin)

Nayuta's dog traits and obeying yada yada does seem to fit Kylar's but this guy is too happy, he reminds me of someone that I can't pinpoint HMMM,,, you think if i color his hair black, he'd look more like a happy version of Kylar,,,

and the one who doesn't fit anyone is Sydney BAHAHHAHA, I read a lil abt Ichiya and they literally have nothing in common, rip Sydney

anws its actually kinda funny, back then i always look away from bad boys until recently with Whitney cough, TAIGA LIKES BRITISH ROCK BAHAHAHAHA ISNT THIS JUST WHITNEY FR, i wonder if he sounds like floyd from twst since hes voiced by nobuhiko okamoto or is using more of his bakugo voice instead (i really love nobuhiko okamoto sm)

honestly would love to play this game to immerse myself in romancing a Whitney look-a-like but....

no money

no nintendo switch

im poor sobs

goodbye japanese whitney voiced by nobuhiko okamoto

maybe one day in the future...

[skydigiblogs]

sky and co's seeker thoughts (ch 2)

ough, okay, quick thoughts on chapter 2. will try to be brief but i'll likely elaborate on these at a later point once i finish the whole novel (which, yeah, i am still gonna force myself through even though i am disliking it; i did the same for next, and it'll keep me occupied at work lmao)

so, first thing's first: i really do not like the worldbuilding of seekers. there's a lot going on that makes me very uncomfortable. that is:

everything to do with nation x. introducing it and describing it only through its low GDP, state-sponsored terrorism, and dictator, is uh. hm. it just doesn't sit right with me to strip a nation down to strictly these things, because unfortunately even if you call it "nation x," those characteristics have real world geopolitical connotations. to put it lightly, guys that feels a bit racist of you.

following on that, uh, hey, you know what also doesn't look great? SoC is introduced as "A militant organization that is considered to be the right wing of the code cracking team." SoC is described as a terrorist group itself (and i genuinely can't tell if this is the writer trying to write it so that this is supposed to be slanderous).

and one of their top execs is also the only person of color we have in the novel. right, right, cool, um. hey. like i love marvin's characterization so far dgmr, he is an actual person, but i really hope seekers tries to do anything to counter the fact it literally described SoC as a right wing, terrorist group??

final worldbuilding note: i don't like the fact that seekers hinges on us believing that the fuckin metaverse took off enough that there's a crypto rivaling the USD. this is the only worldbuilding note i am willing to let slide, since it is, at the end of the day, in service of giving us more of a reason why digimon can affect the real world at all (since, afaik, digimon can't realize in the real world, only hololize). other series like CS and GG did it just fine without this shit but i will let it slide for now. i may not be so kind on it in the inevitable essay about the whole thing.

i fucking hate sad white boy (leon). just straight up thumbs down i hate everything about him and how he is used narratively. this is because he is described as a blonde, blue eyed man with a tragic past whose fit physique is thanks to him working out to bury that "weakness" (his trauma). he has a savior complex and is an american and god holy fucking shit i hate him.

reason why i hate sad white boy number 2: sad white boy in chapter 2 is, by the end of it, almost explicitly meant to represent an ideal of his that is in conflict with eiji. that's to say, sad white boy is "justice," and eiji is "freedom." this is practically handed to us in chapter 2-9. i am aware that takemikazuchi mode exists so i know obviously at some point these two have to make amends, but seeing how chapter 2 ended with eiji crying over sad white boy martyring himself to save him (we'll get back to THAT in a sec), implying that he would even consider relenting his idea of "freedom" for sad white boy is. hm.

reason 3: following on that last point, sad white boy is by definition privileged. seekers isn't hesitant to point this out, which i do like! what i don't like, however, is that them doing so feels hollow after sad white boy's martyring at the end of chapter 2. this is especially so thanks to the fact that it's also coming after loogarmon's dark digivolution, which, in the text, feels like the narrative trying to condemn eiji for his resentment towards leon (something which, for a kid like eiji who has lost so fucking much makes sense!).

(side note: i know in general digimon has a habit of using dark digivolution as a way of like, condemning certain emotions. i would love to unpack that in a longer essay, to be honest.)

i love eiji though. dumb little shit.

still not sure what the narrative wants me to think about the police though. by the end of it i'm probably going to have a lot of notes about it. certainly feels sour on the reading palate considering what police actually do though. yesterday i mentioned how much i hated the narrative putting a line about colonialism right next to a scene that, at least imo, felt like it was trying to paint the digipol as the good guys. like, irl, cops function as an extension of colonialism, so it just. idk.

tl;dr: savers i miss you. savers please.

(for context: i started my rewatch of savers because i wanted to see how DATS was treated in terms of portraying police. savers pleasantly surprised me considering it quite explicitly showed that the government can and will enable genocidal behavior. like, kurata wasn't a "bad apple," he was enabled by the impatience of the japanese government and a LOT OF TROOPS.)

(also savers did the privileged character clashing with the more hot-headed/loose main character thing way better than my experience is feeling at the end of chapter 2 with eiji and sad white boy.)