#top ten moments before disaster etc etc

[rbtlvr]

Look At Them Rn

[tokiro07]

Uh oh, just as I was wondering last chapter on how the story would cram Top, Tatiana, Kururu, Enjin, Backs and Rip into less than 18 chapters, it immediately got to Rip. On a different note, the occultist of all people is the first member of Under to know about the loops, color me surprised.

Also, does this mean there is only 62 safe penalties remaining iirc since passing penalty 98 last loop would awaits all sorts of world-ending level disasters.

So apparently it was supposed to be 15 years skipped, not 16, slight translation error, so if they skipped 26 the first time, that means they've skipped 41 so far, yeah?

Out of the 101 penalties, it's the last two that are the problem, Revolution and Ragnarok, so we have 99 total really

So that leaves us 58, unless I'm doing the math wrong

When you say 18 chapters, I assume you mean until we hit the four year mark? Cus that actually gives us 19 as of this week, since the four-year mark is officially 192 (assuming an average of 48 chapters per year, which is typically the case), and...yeah, that likely means that we're going to have a lot more time than I've been projecting this time. The fight with Sun alone took five chapters the first time (with some spillover before and after for the lead-up and aftermath), and I expect no less this time around with even more moving parts to account for

Even if everyone going forward only takes two chapters to recruit and develop (assuming that they're given more importance than Yusai who got a third of a chapter), that's two shared between Rip and Latla, four once we get to Top, six at Tatiana, eight at Kururu, ten at Enjin, twelve at Backs, fourteen at Haruka, sixteen at Juiz, eighteen at Andy, and twenty at Ruin (twenty-two if we insist on getting Lucy too)

Assuming that the fight with Sun takes exactly as long as it did before, that puts as twenty-five, then we have to consider the possibility that we'll also have a fight with Luna that would probably take another two at least

To help balance things out, I'm going to actually suggest that we're going to get at least thirty more chapters to give the bigger moments more breathing room (Andy and Juiz returning, the fight with Ruin, etc.), possibly as much as another full year past the four-year mark, landing us at up to 240

I'm not going to say definitively that we're getting within that range, but I am saying that there's pretty much no chance we're stopping right at the four-year mark as I've been suggesting for the past three

[borreloadsavagedragon]

11, 16, and 20

oh god, I’ll do my best!!!

11. number of fandom-related words you've filtered

3! And they are all names for the same one ship bc this community loves to make new names out of nowhere for everything omg

I’ve mentioned this one in particular before vaguely in character ask games but I don’t wanna always bring it up, the tag and filtering system does all it has to for me and ygo is one of the few communities that actually does tag accordingly usually, Twitter is the raging exception but Twitter rewards witty captions versus tags and I love obstacle courses 

I’ve gotten vagued about and subtweeted enough for sharing the ships I do like, I’d hate to be someone who bashes something of value to someone else and make them feel insecure about their favorite things by subtweeting them because I do know many who do love the pair 

16. you can't understand why so many people like this thing (characterization, trope, headcanon, etc)

I had to think on this one bc the only things I could honest to god think of were a handful of ships and I really don’t wanna go that route dbshhsjs

I will literally read anything that isn’t like… too much into dead dove territory 

BUT

Some Fanon inside jokes can be annoying once they’re super overdone, ygo jokes I come across aren’t too bad outside of the TCG (ygo players reading jokes and draw good card memes are so bad, stop making them 733627472738 times) but like… even in our small franchise corner, some of them are overplayed

Like Yusei drank milk once and now his figure has to have a glass of milk, we did that

NSFW for literally ten seconds but

(also stop making the stereotypical rival characters into domineering or nasty tops, it’s weird)

20. part of canon you found tedious or boring

oh my god ok, here it is, the one question I can go full hater on

Ok so I LOVE protags usually, I'm rarely a protag hater, but I hate when shows go out of their way to make protags solve EVERYTHING even when it’s really not appropriately theirs, like shows that need to find reasons to keep protagonists in the episode or in the frame, or to remind us that it’s the protag’s world and the cast is just all living in it

Like it’s definitely my fault being so involved with Shonen shows that I don’t get to see the latter happen a lot since Shonen is like the BIGGEST offender of this trope but I still wanna complain!!!!!!

God I lowkey wanna talk abt Arc V for this but we’re just gonna… *brushes show off of desk into a lock drawer* 

That’s a can I cannot open

So let's talk Zexal II, aka the part where I get to talk about the worst duel in the entire franchise because I can’t even rewatch these episodes for my analysis without wanting to slap my computer shut, it makes me that angry 

Uh

Some Spoilers since I know you're still watching

😭😭😭

Like this comes from a place of someone who fights off Yuma hate in the TCG community regularly

But in my whole ass I feel like Heartland and Kaito’s duel is an actual disaster

It's also honestly a little bit of character assassination as a treat for no reason but we'll touch that in detail in the paper

And letting Yuma and Astral take this duel over is just an egregious slap in the face lmfao

Especially how the show chooses to handle Kaito passing out and everything following when he finally returns to consciousness that just makes him essentially a step up from background character

Yet people deadass have the nerve to say Kaito has the most favoritism, bitch where lol

Extremely unsatisfying to watch someone who's been an established threat for the ENTIRE show not be able to dismantle the last standing figure in their life who’s been a source of great pain to them and someone who has never dueled up until this point at that! And not only does he NOT get to take the dub, it's literally his second last duel in the entire show and while the last duel is INCREDIBLE, making this a moment of glory for the protags is weird!

Idk, I stand firmly that this part is unwatchable, just a very badly done way to backseat Kaito to shift the focus onto the original duo, and that in theory is cool, but there are so many better ways to do it

But shonen isn't shonen without some dramatic hero comeback

Shonen is such a love/hate relationship

[oknowkiss]

a year in fic!

thank you to @wolfpants for the tag! what a fun idea. see here for their incredible work (340k in a year and each word a banger, like, how!) no pressure tagging @geesenoises @eveningstruggle @corvuscrowned @sorrybutblog @saintgarbanzo @academicdisasterfic @mintawasalreadytaken @vukovich and you!

Rules: Share 1 line from each fic you wrote this year. In 2022 I wrote: ~250k words over 15 fics (lmaooooo) 

JANUARY - FEBRUARY

UNPOSTED WIP that I worked on every day for two months and have not touched since, to be posted TBD in 2023 || Drarry || 40K at the moment

Harry hopes when he goes his eyes are open, like Fred’s were, so that the people who are with him then will look down into his face and see not anger or grief or pain, but a constellation of stars, never setting.

MARCH

big hands, i know you’re the one || drarry || 887 || M

The day Hogwarts realised Draco Malfoy, reformed Death Eater (and was that kind of hot, now? Now that he wasn’t trying to kill them all? Sort of a bad boy thing?), had really quite big hands was an unmitigated disaster.

APRIL

any day now || drarry || 17K || E

Draco is aware he comes from a long line of extremely intelligent wizards who somehow, with very few exceptions, haven’t made a single smart decision between them.

scarhead || drarry || 2K || E

He scratches absentmindedly at the scabs on his chest as he imagines them -- his observers -- wandering through the world, their pockets full up with gold and his secret.

a licence to kill || drarry, past-nottpott, past-dramione || 11K WIP || M

The Department of Magical Licences, Permits, and Assorted Permission Granting (or, as it’s more commonly referred as, and always in grumbled utterance: the DOMLPAPG) is located on Level 1, just to the left as you exit the lifts.

MAY

acts of service || drarry || 5.6K || E

Draco had fucked him three times that night –- first in the hallway, to remind Harry what he’d been missing; second in the kitchen, now that Draco knew how much he’d been missed; third in the bedroom, face to face this time, rough and in love –- so when Harry woke up on Monday with a raw throat they both figured it was because that’s where Draco’s cock had been.

jesus, etc || drarry, charlie/draco/harry, charlie/draco || 1.5K || E

They drink at the table where Harry once found it easy, being in love. Where he kissed the tender expanse of Draco’s open palm.

JUNE

the complete idiot’s guide to losing your entire mind || drarry || 10K || E

They weren't to go to Harry's flat, because it was “a cry for help” and made Draco sad.

in between two tall mountains (there’s a place they call lonesome) || drarry, past-hansy || 8K || E

He rests a hand on top of Harry’s, intertwining their fingers so he can lift them up and turn his mouth to the palm, and when he kisses it Harry smells rich like ancient pines and beds of thick moss, and the taste of his skin is lovely, warm despite the rain.

SEPTEMBER

eager for the sky || drarry, background ronarry || 35K || M

Draco had imagined this moment often, in so many permutations, trying to prepare himself for how it might feel, to rehearse in his mind so as not to make a total wang of himself in the actual doing of it. He’d accounted for a variety of extenuating circumstances, but what he hadn’t anticipated was the kindness of Potter’s touch.

the july tree || drarry, hinny || 52K || E

Harry wondered sometimes if being raised in an environment of constant withholding hadn’t developed in him a deep, gnawing avarice, as though instead of a heart he’d been given the Room of Requirement, a space that could never be filled.

OCTOBER

the long ways || drarry, harry/omc || 10K || M

“I should go,” Draco says.

“You should,” Harry says. “Or we could get a last round, before you run out of my life forever, again.”

NOVEMBER

100 beats per minute || drarry, harry/omc(s) || 14K || E

“Ten a day, I figure.” Potter shrugged. “On a circuit weekend? How hard can it be.”

“You tell me.” Draco looked pointedly at the spot on the table where Potter’s lap would be, if he could see it.

DECEMBER

fest fic! watch this space

soon to be posted self-indulgent WIP || drarry, harry/charlie, harry/bill || 10K and counting || E

“Nasty habit of yours, surviving,” Draco says. He puts a hand on Harry’s throat and squeezes, as though testing the veracity of his musculature. “Like a cockroach.”

[seiyasabi]

Enceinte

(This is a Yandere Amajiki x Pregnant Female Reader story :)) Please proceed with caution!

TW: Stockholm syndrome!, mentions of abuse! (not you), mentions of dub/noncon! (not you), !mentions of unsafe abortion! (not you), pregnancy!, !!!mentions of a suicide attempt!!!! (not you), captivity!, !lactation kink!, !breast milk drinking!, no sex but NSFW themes!, etc..

I hope you guys like this!) 

Tamaki’s large hand rubs your back soothingly, attempting to alleviate your current backache. He’s taken you on a ‘playdate’ with his friend’s darling, and the four of you are sitting in the jovial blond’s living room. 

“Everytime we see her, she just keeps getting bigger and bigger!” Mirio cheers, “How far along is she now?” He talks about you as if you aren’t there, causing you and your previously unwanted husband to become uncomfortable. The blond is definitely not a Yandere anyone would want; he’s controlling, sadistic, misogynistic, entitled-all things you’re happy that your Amajiki isn’t. It’s just another reason why you gave into him a year ago. 

“Mirio, pl-please don’t talk about (Your Name) like she isn’t here. You know it makes me uncomfortable,” The brawny man’s eyes flash with a dark emotion, causing you to lean in closer to the indigo haired man’s side. His friend scares you, and you can’t help but pray for his darling. The poor girl is always covered with bruises, littered with painful gashes, and just the thought of your friend being hurt by that monster brings a tear to your (colour) eyes. 

“Ah, it seems I forgot. Sorry Ama,” Your husband freezes up with further discomfort at his best friend’s use of your nickname. His blue eyes land on your rigid form, a small smirk on his thin lips, “How far along are you, (Nickname)?”

Your left hand is on your round stomach, your son kicking lightly at your touch, “We’re about seven months! I’m set to give birth in a few months,” A small smile is on your lips at the thought of your future child. Amajiki’s free hand places itself on top of yours, causing you to look up and give him a full on grin. Seeing that he was smiling at you as well, you place your head on his shoulder. He always knows how to make you feel better. 

“See, (Friend’s Name)? This could be us if you weren’t so stubborn,” Your husband interlaces your fingers together, squeezing reassuringly. He knows that his friend’s actions are somewhat triggering, especially because you know the things he’s done. Mirio lets out a wicked laugh, looking at the both of you with cruel eyes, “(Friend Name) here and I were pregnant a few months ago, after a long night of love-making,” Amajiki holds you even tighter, trying to stop your terror-filled shakes, “But someone was selfish. Someone decided to take a handful of pills, and now your mini Tamaki won’t have a friend. But don’t worry,” His large hands grip your friend’s thigh harshly, “We’ll try again. That’s the point of women, eh, Amajiki? Our own personal baby-makers?” 

Your teary eyes find (Friend’s Name)’s, your hand covering your mouth. You hadn’t seen her for a month, and you now know why. You also now know why her hands are covered with mittens, why her throat is wrapped with a shock collar, why she-

Tamaki stands up quickly, his hands gently guiding you onto your swollen feet. He wraps a protective arm around your waist once you’re fully standing, and he starts to guide you to Mirio’s yellow front door, “Ah, I-I think it-it’s time we go home. (Your Name) i-is sleepy, so-”

“Don’t worry about it, buddy! I totally understand. After all, good Darlings get nice privileges, and (Your Name) is one of the best Darlings I’ve ever met. She knows her place,” He stands to his feet, standing a good five inches above your very tall husband, “Come on, (Friend’s Name), let’s walk them out.”

The (Hair colour) girl struggles to her feet, her broken foot in a boot. She hobbles to the door in her house-wife esque frock, drawing a laugh from the sunny man. The sight hurts your heart so bad, that you have to look away. 

Once the other couple reach their front door, Mirio draws a large keyring filled to the brim with different coloured keys from his pocket, before inserting each one into the ten locks present on the painted wood. Once all are unclasped, he holds the door open with a boot clad foot. 

“You two have a good day! I’m sorry for (Friend’s Name)’s behaviour, I’ll be sure to straighten her out once you leave,” You hear her barely muffle a sob, making your lip quiver with your own sobs. Once outside, you hear the door slam shut, and hear a series of locking mechanisms go into place. 

“He’s gotten worse,” You hear Amajiki mutter, which is enough to send you into a breakdown. His muscular arms wrap you in a tight side hug, his own tears dripping onto your (hair/head). 

You cry for your friend and the person she once was. 

He cries at the monster his best friend has become. 

-

Tamaki was right, you ended up taking a nap the moment you got home. 

When you awoke, your back hurts even more than before, along with your milk filled tits. Massaging your sore chest, you sit up with a bit of trouble. At your last appointment, your doctor said your son was a big fella, and cautioned you against doing anything besides resting. This caused the already doting Amajiki to take up every chore and task you have. 

Right now, you can hear and smell him cooking your favourite meal, causing you to stand onto your wobbly feet. With one hand on your tummy and one on your back, you waddle towards your personal chef of a husband.

He’s currently leaning against the grey granite counter across from the stove, and when he sees your form struggling towards him, he rushes into action. Tamaki quickly sweeps you off of your feet, and brings you to your kotatsu couch. Gently placing you onto your preferred spot, he helps you place a few pillows behind you to help give you better back support. 

“Bunny, what are you doing out of bed? You could’ve hurt yourself,” He’s improved on his nervous stutter since you’ve fallen for him, warming your heart completely. 

“I’m sorry, Ama. I woke up with a backache and wanted a massage, but then I got hungry-” He loves listening to you ramble, you’re the most precious person he’s ever known. Especially when you ‘talk’ to your son. Sometimes he’d listen in and hear you coo about the cute outfits you found for him, or how his Daddy is a super cool hero, or how you can’t wait for him to come out so you can pinch his chubby cheeks, or- “Are you even listening?” He glances up, taking in your adorable pout, causing his face to go red. 

“Of course! I’ll give you a backrub after dinner, okay? Then we can take a shower,” You nod, allowing him to hurry to the kitchen to grab your food and utensils. 

He comes back at a lightning fast pace, he uses a few tentacles to juggle the (bowls/plates) along with the (chopstick/spoons/forks), side dishes, and toppings. 

“Go ahead and eat, okay? I’m sure you and (Son Name) are starving,” Giggling at his overeagerness, you give in to his demand. 

-

“-Is this pressure good? Let me know if it’s not,” Amajiki’s massive hands knead your aching shoulders, and rub down your pained spine. His thumbs massage the area around your ribs, trying to loosen your muscles to allow you to relax. You’re currently shirtless, clad in only your bra and your comfortable joggers.

“Mhm, you always know how to make me feel better, Ama,” He practically preens at your words, smooching the bare skin of your upper back. 

The massage continues, easing the pain in your back. Now, the only thing ailing you is your sore breasts. 

“A-are you okay, Bunny? You tensed up quite a bit,” You turn your head enough for him to see your comforting smile. 

“Yes, I’m okay. It’s just, uhm, oh man, this is so embarrassing,” Both of your hands cover your face to hide your flushing cheeks, sending Tamaki into a mini panic attack. 

“What is it? Is the baby giving you trouble? Do I need to take you to the hospital?” Seeing his panic, you try to turn to face him, but require his assistance to do so. His clammy hands grip yours as he brings you toward him. 

“No, Tama, it’s nothing serious, it’s just…” You look down in shame, “My, uhm, my breasts hurt,” Your voice trails off at the end, causing your husband not to hear you. 

“Wha-what was that?” Small tears group in your eyes, as your shame overwhelms you. 

“My boobs hurt! Please don’t make fun of me by making me ask again!” Seeing your distress, he quickly brings you into his embrace. 

“No, no, it’s okay! I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you the first time, I swear! I’ll help you, Bun, there’s no need to cry. Here,” The indigo haired man unclasps your bra, allowing your tits to fall out somewhat harshly. Yelping at the ache, Tamaki tries to soothe you by holding your larger breasts up, alleviating the pain, “I’m sorry!”

“It’s okay,” You smooch his forehead, his entire face is bright red, “Please help me, I need you,” Your wet eyes and much larger breasts make your husband look away, trying not to become aroused. 

“Oh-okay,” His warm hands gently squeeze your teats, testing to see if that was enough pressure. A small moan leaves your lips, telling him that what he’s doing is helping. 

His hands knead your sensitive chest in a rhythmic fashion, slowly quelling the pain you were once suffering. 

Just when you fully relaxed, disaster struck. 

Two streams of thick milk spray from your teats, coating the front of his black shirt. You gasp, covering your mouth with both hands. 

“I’m sorry Ama! I-I didn’t mean to! It just-” Without missing a beat, the indigo haired man suddenly latches on to your nipple. His lips suck vigorously, trying to drink all of your yummy milk in one go. A loud moan leaves your lips, as you try to detach him from your leaking tit, “Wha-what are you doing?” A keen escapes your throat when he tweaks your other nipple, dripping your milk onto your joggers. His own moans vibrate against you, sending a flash of arousal to your pussy. 

Once he has his fill of your right breasts, he lets go with a small gasp, “Do-do you feel better Bun-Bun?” Now that you thought about it, yes, yes you do. So, you nod your head, mouth slightly agape. 

“Please, ‘Jiki! Please milk my other titty too!” He doesn’t say anything, before he latches on to your left nipple. Whilst he sucks, he lets his tongue flick your leaky teat, triggering a little more milk to spray out. You both moan, one of you in absolute lust, and the other in relief. The heavy, aching feeling of your breasts slowly fades away, leaving you feeling light and happy. 

Your hand runs through his soft locks, a sigh of pleasure going through your nose, “Thank you, Ama, you’re so good to me. I’m sorry if it doesn’t taste good-” He quickly releases your left nipple to kiss you on the lips. 

“Your milk is delicious, Bunny. I don’t think I can ever go back to cow’s milk ever again!” He fondles your enlarged chest, playing with your sensitive nipples, “I love you so much, (Your Name). Is it okay if I nurse with our son?”

You flush at his words, “Bu-but my milk’s for (Son’s Name), won’t he go hungry?” He shakes his head no, kissing you on the lips once more. 

“I asked your doctor for breast milk supplements, you’re going to have more milk than he’ll need! Please, Bunny! Please let me have more!” You can’t say no when he asks you so sweetly. Smiling at him, you nod. 

You know you should be upset that those ‘extra vitamins’ weren’t truly vitamins, but you can’t bring yourself to care. After all, he loves you so much that he wants to drink from you! 

So, when he reattaches himself to your right nipple, you pet him sweetly. 

[realcube]

BABYSITTING WITH HIM

characters ♡ oikawa, tendou & sakusa

tw ♡ children, cursing & mentions of arson

TŌRU OIKAWA

♡ he is pretty much a professional babysitter, or so he thought

♡ which is why he accepted when you asked if he could help you take care of your nieces/nephews for the weekend

♡ i mean, he takes care of his nephew all the time so how hard could babysitting possibly be? it was basically a free pass to spend the day with you 

♡ however, he began to regret his decision as he sat on your couch and realised that he wouldn’t be able to get even somewhat intimate with you when there was constantly an annoying little boy clinging to his arm, asking him if he had any games on his phone

♡ “sorry, kid.” oikawa smiled, clenching his jaw to hide the rage but it wasn’t very effective, “i’ve not got any games. maybe you could go play with your toys or something.” 

♡ he let out a sigh, making the mistake of thinking that would be the end of their interaction

♡ “can’t you just download some?” the boy retaliated

♡ you snickered, watching as the energy visibly drained from oikawa, yet he still wore his frighteningly bright grin

♡ “i’ve not got any storage.” 

♡ “then delete some of your apps or photos.” the boy said with a shrug, then proceeded to point at oikawa’s home screen, which happened to be a picture of him and you in front of an ethereal sunset, “start with that one. you both look like dorks.”

♡ you and oikawa’s unified gasps of offence were enough to show the boy that he was able to do exactly what he intended; piss y’all off

♡ hence, with a final mischievous snicker, he dashed off

♡ “i hate kids.” oikawa muttered, inspecting his homescreen to see if he really did look like a ‘dork’, “what is his problem?”

♡ “what if our kids turn out like that?” you joked 

♡ his eyes widened momentarily, turning to look at you with an uncharacteristically sheepish expression, “our w--”

♡ “mr kawa!” a cry could be heard from the kitchen so without hesitation, you both hopped to your feet and rushed over there as quick as you could 

♡ once you both reached the area the yell came from, you were fortunately not greeted by anything gruesome 

♡ instead, you both got to behold two children trying to reach the top shelf with the power on friendship; the taller boy was standing on a chair, while the toddler held it still 

♡ however, his grip on the jar of the Nutella must’ve loosened at some point as it now lay dejectedly on the ground, half spilled across the tiles and the other half drenching the toddler, not that they seemed to mind though 

♡ in fact, it looked like they were having the time of their — albeit, short — life

♡ the container was only plastic, hence you didn’t have to worry about shards when you darted over to the poor, chocolate-covered baby and scooped them up into your arms, “are you guys, okay?!”

♡ “yeah.” the boy chuckled, noticing that holding the toddler was transferring the chocolate onto you too

♡ “if you wanted nutella, you could’ve just asked.” oikawa sighed, helping the boy get down safely from the chair before putting the object back at it’s intended spot at the dinner table 

♡ “you could have gotten seriously hurt! i thought you would know better than to do something like this.” you scolded, becoming even more furious as the baby continued to playfully slap your face with their grimy hands, “please don’t do that again.”

♡ before they boy got the chance to do anything besides murmur a vague apology, oikawa interjected, “they won’t get the chance.”

♡ and he was right

♡ after cleaning everything up (including the child, which took forever), you didn’t let either of the rascals out of your sight until your duties as babysitters were complete 

♡ “i think we handled that pretty well.” oikawa mused, gathering his stuff along with you as you both got ready to leave

♡ “yeah, maybe we should do this again sometime.” you suggested, but it was followed by a few second was complete silence

♡ until you both burst out laughing 

♡ “yeah, never again.” you agreed

♡ “the kids can take care of themselves.” oikawa said with shrug, offering his hand to you, before you both strutted out of the disaster house

♡ ever since then, it was a common inside joke between you to, when in the vicinity of a kid causing mayhem or being a nuisance, whisper to each or exchange a look that says, ‘it’s a great day to not be babysitting.’  

SATORI TENDŌ

♡ at first, you thought that asking tendou for help babysitting would be a bad idea bc he is just as hyperactive as the damn kids sometimes so he’d probably not be the best influence 

♡ and you knew this bc one time you happened to run into him while out in the park with the kids and you asked him to watch them for literally a minute so you could run to the bathroom but when you came back all you almost had a heart attack because tendou was teaching them fkn tricks on the monkey bars 

♡ however, you then realised that if the kids were busy committing arson with uncle tendou, then they wouldn’t be bothering you 

♡ so here you are, playing monopoly with your boyfriend, a seven year-old and a one year-old

♡ well, it was less like monopoly and more like debate class since none of you could agree on the rules

♡ “well, uncle ten,” the older sibling began, in a very matter-of-factly tone, “if i burn your property down, then i  don’t have to pay you for landing on it.”

♡ “but then you also go to jail.” you pointed out

♡ “not if the police don’t catch me.”

♡ you burst out laughing, meanwhile tendou kept his business face on, “good point, but watch this.” tendou spoke as he rolled the dice, though no matter what if he got a number between four and seven, he would end up landing on somebody’s property

♡ he got a four

♡ picking up his piece, he moved it across each square individually and once he was due to land on your property, he knocked his piece over

♡ “whoops, i slipped.” he chuckled, though his friendly aura immediately dropped as he looked you dead in the eye and said, “i’m suing.”

♡ “you can’t sue me because you tripped!” you yelled 

♡ “i guess i just fell for you.” he said, resulting in the kids both making gagging noises before he stuck out his hand, “100 monopoly dollars, please.”

♡ “like i said,” you tried your best to stay strong and not laugh at his shitting pickup line, “i’m not giving you any money, you fell!”

♡ “i guess we’ll have to take this matter to court then.” tendou said, tapping the shoulder of the one year-old who was currently chewing on a 500 bill which you quickly had to confiscate 

♡ “judge, do you think (y/n) owes me 100 monopoly dollars for poor health and safety conduct?”

♡ “yes.”

♡ “that is the only word they know how to say!” you cried, begrudgingly handing over the money 

♡ “thank you, angel.” tendou cooed, adding your singular bill to the pile he had already stored up; the winner of the game had already been decided 

♡ and although you and the seven year-old kid both cried later after getting your asses kicked in monopoly (the one year-old cried too but they were just hungry), you all went out to get food and actually had a pretty good time

♡ it became a routine for tendou to help you babysit whenever he got the chance and y’all would always play table top games

♡ also when tendou got accepted into culinary school, he’d teach/show the kids what dishes he has learned to prepare and let them help by stirring the pot, adding spices etc etc

♡ and even when he moved to Paris, on special occasions, a box of chocolates would suddenly appear at the kids’ door and all the little pieces would be shaped and moulded into some of their favourite characters or made out of their favourite flavours 

♡ and at one point the kids even insisted that you teach them how to make chocolates so they can send some back to uncle tendou <33

♡ they weren’t the best, but when tendou received the misshapen, slightly stale chocolates at his apartment, addressed from you and the children, he cried

KIYOOMI SAKUSA

♡ his first response when you asked if he could help you babysit was ofc ‘ew no 🤢’

♡ needless to say it took a lot mansplain manipulate malewifing to convince him to come over 

♡ but once he did, obviously he was in his full protective gear; there was no way in hell he was going to catch whatever germs the little goblins have

♡ honestly he almost sprayed a chid in the face with hand sanitizer when they came running up to him with open arms, trying to give him a hug 

♡ which was unusual because the kids don’t tend to be overly friendly with new people, but you just brushed it off and figured that sakusa must’ve been an exception

♡ during his time babysitting, sakusa spend most of his energy trying to avoid the children at all costs that it basically became a game of tag, with you helping the child try to reach sakusa, and him hiding

♡ but honestly you couldn’t complain since the whole time the child was playing, they were safe with you rather than playing with fire 

♡ until later you were reminded of their odd fondness for sakusa when they insisted that sakusa carry them to their bedroom when it was their nap time

♡ and as you were shifting through the books, looking for a story to read, it hit you why they seemed to be so familiar with sakusa

♡ it’s because he looked exactly like the prince in one of their favourite story books; same hair, both tall and they even had similar moles to each other

♡ upon noticing this, you immediately showed sakusa and was quite amused

♡ in fact, he found it so cute that he gave both you and the toddler a lil’ kiss on the cheek, as a parting gift — mask off and everything

♡ he ended up reading the story and the kid fell into deep slumber by the time he reached the second page

♡ letting out a sigh of relief, sakusa slumped onto the ground, allowing his own eyes to flutter shut for a moment, “what a day.”

♡ you shuffled over to you could lay down beside him, “indeed it was, prince sakusa.”

♡ “shut up.” he teased, poking your rib slightly before absently intertwining his fingers with your own

♡ next thing you knew, you were both awakened by the sound of a grumpy toddler...

[procrastinatorproject]

Fic writer review, thank you to @thelaithlyworm  for the tag <3

how many works do you have on AO3?

Ten? Oh no, it’s actualy 12 now!

what’s your total AO3 word count?

86,468

how many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Grand total of 1: Star Trek: Picard - although my latest offering might branch a bit into other Trek as well.

what are your top 5 fics by kudos?

“Passengers”

“And a Barrel of Gagh”

“CMO’s Log”

“Preparations”

“Game Night”

Which is actually kinda interesting. I wrote Passengers, Preparations, and Game Night while the fandom was still a lot more active (especially in the Aramis in Space corner), so that makes sense. The CMO’s log has had chapters added every few months, giving it probably the most exposure of any of my fics. Barrel of Gagh, though? I think I’m gonna attribute that to Thimblerig turning it into a truly, TRULY brilliant piece of podfic. Also the fact that it’s whump involving a character played by Santiago Cabrera. ‘tis A Thing..... :D

do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I really try to! I love talking with people in the comments and just... thanking the people who found the time and energy to leave comments. But especially in the last few months I have gotten very bad at keeping up with the comments and now there’s about two dozen that I have neglected to reply to for a painfully long time 🙈

But I will get there! Because I love that kind of interaction!

what’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

So far, none of them have had angsty endings. Angsty middles, yes, but not endings. I’m just a sucker for everyone being happy in the end. Or at least on the way to being better, and supported and cared for on that way.

do you write crossovers? if so what is the craziest one you’ve written?

I haven’t yet, but I’m definitely not opposed. One of the threads of my 200k unpublishable whump scenes takes place in a continuity that has existed in my daydreams for... I wanna say six years at the very least, probably longer. It’s mostly straight-up Star Trek, but with the twist that it involves the Wraith, the telepathic, hive-minded alien race from Stargate: Atlantis that suck the life force out of you with their hands? Or, well, at least a variation thereof.

I once typed up the world building for that particular setting and it took me three hours to try and make it all make sense. So it’s... involved. But not necessarily “crazy”. And I’m not sure I’m ever actually going to publish any of the stories I have set in it (not least because that would envolve finishing any of them and bringing them into a form that is interesting to read for anyone but me...)

have you ever received hate on a fic?

Nope.

do you write smut? if so what kind?

Hm, not yet. I do enjoy reading smut, but only under very specific circumstances. I think I may eventually try my hand at smut, but the inner prude is still very strong. Writing about Rios and Xyr making out (which, honestly, was really tame, all things considered) made me melt in a puddle of blushing embarrassment, so full-on smut is probably beyond me at the moment. One day!

have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of. Though litigating that in a fandom like ours would be... tricky. ST:Pic is way too small to steal stories outright. But similar or the same ideas pop up all the time. And it’s a complete coincidence. Reading the book that recently came out and that has a kinda similar setting to a lot of my stories (pre-season 1, early in Rios’s history as captain of Sirena, dealing with original characters, holo shenanigans, friendship with Raffi, etc.), I was struck by just how many elements, both scenes or story beats and little details, were similar to things that have cropped up in my writing. And it is entirely coincidental, because I am beyond certain that the author doesn’t read fanfic. Just... for legal reasons. Not to mention I wrote a bunch of the things I saw parallels to while the book was already in production, and some of them are only in my drafts.

So there is a ton of convergent evolution going on in this particular section of the fandom, and trying to litigate who came up with certain plot ideas or character beats when would be a sysiphean disaster. Some things are clear and whenever I use any of them I give credit where I can, but people will have very similar ideas. It just happens. So no, I haven’t had either a full-on story or “an idea” stolen, and I might change my tune if it ever does happen, but so far, I’m trying to practice equanimity, so I’ll be better at it should I ever need it.

have you ever had a fic translated?

Sadly no. My dad keeps complaining that all my fic is in English so he can’t read any of it, but honestly? I’m kinda glad for this very convenient excuse. Maybe if I ever feel like I want to practice my interpreting skills, I will give translating the stories into German a shot. We’ll see. Otherwise, if anyone feels inspired: Have at it! Just let me know, okay?

have you ever co-written a fic before?

Not quite. I have a draft of off-the-cuff worldbuilding that I wrote on Discord with @curator-on-ao3 and that I would love to turn into an actual short fic (letters from a conference on holo-ethics), but I haven’t gotten around to it yet.

what’s your all time favorite ship?

I don’t really do shipping.

what’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

I WILL NEVER ACCEPT DEFEAT!!!! One day, I will write the next installment of Star Trek: La Sirena! I have so many ideas for that continuity and those characters. I’m not going to abandon them!

what are your writing strengths?

Hmmmmm. Probably detailed worldbuilding? Ask me something about, say, a technological or cultural aspect of Star Trek and chances are, I have thought about it in the past or will come up with three different sets of intricate lore within half an hour. (Things like... the architecture of San Francisco, or Will there still be taxi drivers? or the treaty between IKEA Intergalactic and the Borg Collective, or the Universal Translator, or Emergency Services or Why There Are Very Few Ambulances On Earth Anymore etceterah etceterah...)

I’m also good at slapping together off-the-cuff plot ideas (if, say, you need an explanation for how Seven and Agnes ended up stranded on a desert island, I could probably give you three different scenarios pretty quickly. Just don’t ask me to make them poignant or actually write them.

I’m also very, very good at beginnings.

what are your writing weaknesses?

Everything that isn’t a beginning. Especially endings, or rather: finishing something, but also just... keeping momentum.

I think my dialogue is somewhat samey and not distinct enough between characters. (Also my witty banter is... let’s just say it doesn’t come to me naturally...)

And I also struggle with keeping things brief and to the point. I can write you 30k of whump covering a span of three hours, but fitting a whole story in the same space? Much more difficult!

I have also avoided writing full-on action so far, but where it has crept in it has always been a struggle and been workshopped a lot with the indefatigable beta.

Otherwise, I don’t know. My self-perception is always a little warped, so I’m not sure what other people would say my weaknesses are.

what are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

Oof. Well. I have used Spanish sentences in my fic and done the thing where they’re translated in the end note, but I’ve mostly done it sparingly. I’ve also done the ‘“What do you want?” he said in Spanish.’ It’s tricky. But I will likely keep doing it in some instances, even if it’s a bit annoying.

(It also really helps to have a native speaker of Spanish as a beta, even if it’s Spanish from a different region than you’re character.)

Speaking of regional: I’m also torn about the whole “phonetically writing out accents” issue. Some people love it, some people hate it, I’m really unsure because I’m not a native speaker of English, so I’m not even sure I’m consistent in my narrative voice’s regional quirks. So far, I’ve mostly gone with describing that an accent is happening, and only writing out when phrasing actually differs from standard English. Like Ian (Scottish) saying “dinnae” but not writing “I” as “ah” as you’d see on, say, Scottish twitter.

Though it can be a very useful tool if, for instance, you want to indicate a characters accent getting stronger as they get tired or upset. 🧐

Anyway, I don’t think there is one right or wrong answer here and everyones milage will vary.

what was the first fandom you wrote for?

Published? ST:PIC

Actually first? Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter. Pretty much simultaneously, though I did write more for LotR. On graph paper, mind, with my fountain pen turned upside down so I could write smaller. I still have folders worth of those stories that I urgently need to digitize before they fade and I lose them forever...

what’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

I’m going to quote @thelaithlyworm here: I Love All My Children Equally! I honestly couldn’t say. They are different and I love them for different reasons but I love them all.

Thank you for the tag! ❤ I’ve kinda lost track of who all has done this already or has already been tagged, so feel free to ignore me! But I tink I’m tagging @curator-on-ao3, @aini-nufire, @29-pieces, @flowers-creativity, @highfunctioningflailgirl, @cristobalrios and @the-goofball. And anyone else whom I forgot or who feels inspired to do this!

[drivingsideways]

hi, I've been going through your jtbc life tag, and seeing your commentary on how the writer lacked in some parts, how differently would you have written it had you helmed it?

How delightful. This no-name fic writer unencumbered by entertainment industry realpolitik would:

1. Write the elder Ye sibling as a woman. Why not? Are women not allowed grief and misdirected rage? Are they not allowed to shake the world? I submit that they are. I don't think there needs to be too much change to Ye Jin-woo's role/ characterization for this to work. The love story between the siblings remains absolutely the same. 

2. HOWEVER. I would not go into a pointless red herring plot about possible murder. Ye Seon-woo and Ye Seol-hee find out about the funds misappropriation; unfortunately Director Lee passes away before he can take any action. With Deputy Director Kim in line for the job, and also their PRIME SUSPECT, ER star doctor Ye Seol-hee gets into battle mode.

3. Meanwhile! Sungkook stalwarts ( and People Who Have Had An Unspoken Thing Between Them for twenty odd years , two marriages, two divorces, and two kids betwixt them) Chiefs Joo and Oh are in the process of figuring out What To Do About the Problem of CEO Gu Seung-hyo. Chief Joo and CEO Gu clash very publicly, and Chief Joo's MORAL COMPASS and (unfortunate!) popularity with the staff make him a front runner for director's post because the Kim Tae-Sang subplot gets resolved a little faster. But! CEO Gu knows Chief Joo would be a total disaster and he thinks Chief Oh would be an acceptable compromise? So he's trying to figure out how to get an in with her, because they seem to be A Team, and she speaks her mind but doesn't do any real politicking; ffs, she hasn't even put her name on the list. How now?

4. Hello, junior NEUROSURGEON Lee No-eul of the sunny smiles and unfortunate taste in friends, but BETTER taste in mentors i.e Chief Oh's special fave. Lee No-eul is his in! She seems a sensible sort- they end up sitting having a  meal together at the cafeteria when she walks up and introduces herself and they actually have a particularly good conversation about the govt’s latest regulations re: health insurance- and she adores her sunbae.

5. But how to? Enter Kang Kyung-ah, who LUCKILY has befriended Lee No-eul, VIA Ye Seon-woo, whose love for Lee No-eul could be seen from SPACE, Gu Seung-hyo thinks, but to which No-eul remains charmingly oblivious. But that's not *his * problem, he just needs No-eul to latch onto the idea that Chief Oh should be the next director.

Isn't it time this hospital put women in leadership roles, Kang Kyung-ah asks No-eul over coffee and chatter about kittens. CEO nim was honestly surprised not to see any names in senior management. Of course, the field at the moment was narrow, this was probably something they needed to work on, but Chief Oh has the chops, doesn't Dr.Lee think so? Dr. Lee does think so. Perhaps Dr. Lee should tell her sunbae that then, and y'know, drop the hint that CEO nim would be very happy to see her name on the list. (It would be great drama if this becomes a point of contention between Ye Seol-hee and Lee No-eul rather than you know Romantic Problems Caused By Best Friend Falling For Known Enemy)

5. Chief Oh knows she has the chops. But- there's Chief Joo to consider. She loves him, but god, the man needs to learn to work around things to move them forward, instead of being the tree that won't move. Plus it's a LOT OF WORK, and it's not like she's not already STRESSEDT. Alright, whatever, she's gonna do it.

6. Well, Chief Joo thinks it's a brilliant idea, and really wants her to win, but wait, WHAT, you don't think Gu Seung-hyo needs to be taken down entirely, he just needs to be kept in line? HE HAS SEDUCED YOU WITH HIS CHARM AND HIS PROMISE OF BETTER EQUIPMENT FOR NEUROSURGERY. ARE YOU GOING TO BE SELLING VITAMIN SUPPLEMENTS NOW, IS THAT WHERE THIS IS GOING? (How could you betray everything we've stood for all these years?? How can you betray everything we’ve been to each other all these years?)

7. I feel this would be a great time to bring things to boiling point with a nursing staff strike? Kim Eun-ha was a fave minor character that I would have liked to see more of, and I think her whole cause of better pay/ working conditions for nursing staff would be a great crisis point to really go all out with Our Golden Trio, as Seung-hyo, Chief Joo and Chief Oh take different positions on this, while the directorship remains in the air. 

7. So, well, it's VERY difficult and there's PINING like crazy, but like, when push comes to shove, THEY ARE THERE FOR EACH OTHER OK? He votes for her of course (though he doesn't tell her that), and she brokers a decent compromise for the nursing staff AND gets him a budget for those rural clinics he’s been dreaming of, but oh no, can she ever forgive him for Things That Happened and Oh No Can He Ever Forgive Me For Crossing Sides etc. The Pining (TM) reaches such stratospheric levels that even Ye Seol-hee takes time off from fucking things up to notice. [”How Sungkook’s Hospital betrayed it’s staff by breaking the first ever strike” reads the top online story for a week ]

(What's going on with them, she asks her bestest friend Lee No-eul, who shrugs, philosophically, pats her hand and says, not something you'll understand, you have to know what Real Romance is for that. Hmmph, says Ye Seol-hee, and grumps for a week, but No-eul also notices that these days Seol-hee keeps running off to take calls in secret and it turns out that secret is firebrand reporter and giraffe Choi Seo-hyun? Oh! thinks Lee No-eul, that's adorable, and she tells Seon-woo , and they both look at each other and burst out laughing, and Seol-hee finds her life even more UNBEARABLE thanks for nothing)

7. The point is, Gu Seung-hyo thinks, the point is, Chief Joo and Director Oh are there for each other, their bond wasn't something that even his interference (for admittedly selfish reasons) had broken, and y'know what, he's not a kid, he's emotionally aware enough to admit that he'd really like something like that for himself. What would that even be like, he thinks, as he cuddles Nighty, to know that you weren't alone, and that someone would love you despite your fuck ups or for them, even? And FINE, he wasn't immune to the attraction of deeply moral men who worked 48 hrs straight and fell asleep in supply closets, and NEITHER was he unaware of the way he maybe sometimes found himself taking a little extra care of his appearance on the days he had a meeting with Director Oh, but none of this could be allowed to matter, the point is that they'd never see him as anything but an outsider, and anyway, the way things were going, he'd probably have no cause to see them every single day--

8. "Gosh, listen to this man making us reveal our age," Director Oh says at the farewell dinner they organize for him. It surprises him that it's dinner, that the restaurant is cosy, warm, instead of business-like. It doesn't surprise him in the least that the low, warm lighting accentuates the twinkle Chief Joo's dark eyes as he replies, or that it makes the red of Director Oh’s lipstick headier than the wine they’re drinking. It’s their favourite restaurant he finds out, a small joint that serves Ethiopian food, they’ve been coming here for twenty years, and everyone knows them and they know everyone, and oh, y’know, when he’s in town and not so busy, would he like to join them for their weekly dinners here? 

9. But WHAT ABOUT THE ROMANCE you ask, every kdrama needs a romance, not just subtextual OT3! You’re absolutely right! Not to worry, Kang Kyung-ah is totally on the job! “How adorable is Ye Seon-woo!” she tells Lee No-eul on one of their many dates where they don’t discuss Gu Seung-hyo at ALL, “If I were ten years younger I’d totally hit that!” No-eul laughs, but is also a little embarassed, that’s like her best friend ok, and then Kyung-ah adds, “Not that he’s got eyes for anyone but you!” and No-eul goes, what? and Kyung-ah goes “what?” and then No-eul has a whole ten days (while the Ye siblings are on their seaside vacation) where she’s trying to figure out if a) it’s true and b) what she feels about it and c) then that gets VERY clarified when she finds out that Seon-woo MIGHT DIE and when they are back she’s like, listen up Seon-woo, if you have plans of dying without surgery, just gonna tell you that’s not on the cards, and Seon-woo is like, do you have an alternate plan? and Lee No-eul, neurosurgeon extraordinaire and a woman who knows what she wants, is like, you betcha, we gonna get married and have five kids, and Seon-woo is like *swallows *, “If you say so”, and she’s like “I do.”

FINI. 

[jjaybank]

a knight in faded cut-offs ~ jj maybank

words: 1,745

warnings:swears

requested:yesss :)

A/N:request from anon - Hii can I request one of JJ x Female Reader? The reader doesn’t have a car so she takes public transportation (taxi, bus, Uber, etc). She oversleeps and misses her ride and gets really stressed out about it. JJ sees her stressing and offers to take her to wherever she was going on his motorcycle. Then when they get there, he asks her out before she goes inside or something like that :)

Hi angel, I’m so sorry it’s taken me so long to get to your request! I will do better.

tagging some beauts (i hope thats okay): @bricksatanakinswindow @socialwriter @tomfreakinghollandneedsaoscar @downbytheouterbanks @maybanksbaby @pixelated-pogues 

 lmk if you wanna be tagged in my stuff (and also if you don’t x) ﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

You wake with a start, catching yourself freefalling through a dream.  The kind that makes you come round with a jolt and that sick feeling in the pit of your stomach.  You roll over in bed, rubbing sleep from your eyes and yawning into a stretch. Sunlight streams through your shutters and over your bedsheets, illuminating your bedroom in a soft glow. Which you languidly realise is pretty unusual.  The sun is usually only just coming up when you wake for work. Fuck. 

Your heart lurches into your throat and that sick feeling hurtles through your body again as you realise you must have overslept. You scramble around in your bed sheets, eventually shaking your phone onto the floor.  You reach for it desperately, jabbing at the screen.  It’s dead.  You must have forgotten to charge it overnight.  You roll your eyes and groan in panic, jamming the charger into the port.   You race around your room, throwing on your work uniform and frantically pulling a brush through your hair.  You throw the shutters open in haste, anxiously trying to gauge the time by the state of the traffic.  You squint at the fuel station across the street.  You recognise a few of the usual suspects picking up their morning paper and coffees, which relaxes you momentarily because it means that surely you’re not that late.  You curse when you stub your toe on the foot of your bed.   Your phone finally lights up with life and you grab at it while attempting to pull your shoes on one handed.  7.29 AM.   Fuck.   Your eyes dart to the window just as your 7.30 bus rolls on past.  A tirade of swear words cascade from your mouth as you grab your bag and dash for the door. It’s a beautiful day and you hate it. When the weather is bad the bus is always running late, and you are left to wait in a downpour.  But on this gorgeous, bright, sunshiney day here you are sprinting after your ride which has no intention of stopping. You give up on the chase as the bus rounds the corner of the street, resorting to throwing your middle finger up at the retreating vehicle.  Cars beep at you as they whizz past and you smile sarcastically, dipping into an over the top bow as you catch your breath.  You sigh in resignation as you slump against the pole of the bus stop, your mind racing as you consider your options.  You watch the people in the fuel station; a woman filling up the tank of her van, a group of youngsters grabbing sweets on their way to school, a blond guy kneeling beside his dirt bike checking a tyre.  You catch his eye for a moment across the road before you pull your gaze away and down to the tarmac.  You spare a glance for your phone and notice its already dropped back down to 1%.   You work on the other side of The Cut, a half hour bus ride away so you definitely aren’t going to make it on time by foot.  You have neither enough charge nor the cash for a taxi since you usually rely on your bus pass.   You are already on strike two – one more misdemeanour and you’ve got the sack which, given your financial situation, isn’t really something you can afford.   Fuck! And this time you say it out loud – in fact it’s more of a scream. Your outburst catches the attention of several people, including the blond. His head whips up from where he has been focussed on his bike and his brow furrows at your clear distress.  You cover your mouth sheepishly, waving a general apology to the vicinity.  You bury your face in your hands, the disaster of a morning running through your mind. You’ve probably only been awake for around ten minutes and it’s already one of the worst days you’ve had in a long while.  You are considering heading home to charge your phone and risk a call to your incredibly unforgiving boss, when a bike skids to a halt in front of you, sending small stones skittering over your barely tied laces.   You look up in despair, literally how could this day get any worse?   ‘Bad morning?’ It’s the blond guy from the fuel station. You watch in bewilderment as he dismounts from his dodgy looking dirt bike.  You look up and down the street – it’s broad daylight and there are commuters here, there and everywhere, if he’s a kidnapper then he’s a pretty shitty one. You look back to him and he’s watching you expectantly.   ‘Well?’ he probes, shifting against his bike so that he’s leaning against it with a certain air of confidence.   ‘I- uh,’ you stumble over your words and roll your eyes for the hundredth time since you woke, ‘yeah, “bad” would be an understatement.’   You laugh dryly, rubbing the toe of your shoe into the ground. He catches you off guard by flashing the brightest of grins and patting the seat of his bike.   ‘Need a ride?’   You narrow your eyes at him suspiciously. ‘Why would you do that?’ you ask, baffled as to why the guy would go out of his way for someone he’d never met before.   He scratches the back of his neck bashfully and his vividly blue eyes meet your sceptical ones.   ‘Are you in a rush or nah? Just tryna get in that good karma.’ He laughs, shaking his head and moving to straddle his bike again.   Your heart thumps against your chest as you weigh up your options.  You really need your job.   ‘Wait!’ You step forward and his head snaps back around, a small smirk playing over his face.  You stretch a hand out towards him and he takes it warmly, passing you the helmet that’s been sitting on the handle bars.   ‘I’m Y/N’ you say, shooting him a brief smile as you secure the helmet on your head.  He helps you settle down on the back of the bike before he slips in front of you. ‘Nice to meet you, Y/N,’ and you can hear the amusement in his voice, ‘my name is JJ, I will be your captain today.’ You can’t help but snort in laughter.   ‘Please hold on tight and keep hands and feet inside the vehicle at all times.’  You wrap your arms around his waist tentatively in response.   ‘I do hope you enjoy your journey today to- wait, where are we going?’ He spins around in his seat to face you, and for some reason you can’t help but match his wide smile.   ‘Heywards,’ you respond, ‘you know it?’ ‘Oh, boy do I!’ He laughs out loud.  ‘Yeah, I get now why you don’t wanna be late.’ ‘Yeah.’ You groan, resting your helmet clad head against his back as he turns back around to start up the bike. The engine rumbles beneath you and before you know it the wind is pulling at your hair as you take off down the street and across the Cut.  You can’t help but enjoy the feeling.  The sun on your skin, the feeling of the boy’s muscles moving against you, the taste of the salt in the air as you pass through the harbour.  If you weren’t so worried about being fired then it would feel kind of magical.   The pair of you let out a whoop of joy as JJ overtakes the bus, each throwing up your middle fingers at the driver as you pass. You really hope he doesn’t recognise you or tomorrow morning will be awfully awkward.   You feel a weird sense of dread as JJ brings the bike to a skidding halt outside Heywards.  And it’s not because of the hour, you’ve made up plenty of time racing across the Cut clinging onto him for dear life.  You pout a little as you return the helmet.   ‘Thank you, JJ.’ and his face splits into a grin at the sound of you saying his name.   ‘It’s nothing.  You should miss the bus more often.’ You laugh at his brazen comment and catch the kind twinkle in his eyes.  You can feel a blush creeping up your neck as his gaze lingers on you for a moment too long. Movement in the shop breaks the moment and you step away from the bike quickly, running a hand through your tousled hair.   ‘Well, I better get going’ you grimace, gesturing towards the shop with your thumb.   He nods, his face twisted in thought. You offer a tight-lipped smile which he returns reluctantly. ‘Thanks again.’ You barely make three steps when you feel a hand wrap around your arm.  You jump a little but find yourself biting your lip against a grin as you come face to face with the boy again.   ‘Hi.’ He beams sheepishly. ‘Hi.’ Your stomach does a flip. You notice his tongue run delicately over his front teeth as he smiles down at you.   ‘I was just wondering if you’d maybe wanna call me sometime? Y’know, if you ever find yourself running late again?’ He surprises himself with how nervous he is, but his words are dripping with charm none the less.

You hold up your phone with a smirk. ‘Dead.’ You shrug and find yourself enjoying how disappointed he looks. ‘But maybe I can give you my number?’  He perks up immediately at your suggestion, rummaging in his pocket and pulling his phone out triumphantly.  You shake your head at his eagerness and type your number into his contacts.  He watches you walk into the store, waving briefly as Heyward shoos him away.   ~ Your day runs pretty smoothly from then on. Heyward even praises you for being a little early that morning.  He does shoot you difficult questions about why you were talking to JJ Maybank, however.  You kind of like that the boy’s reputation proceeded him.  When you finally get around to charging your phone later in the day you have two texts from an unknown number.  You smile to yourself as you open them quickly.   Y/N, it’s your knight in shining armour. I really hope the rest of your morning isn’t so bad. It really was nice to meet you. - JJ

You feel warm inside at the thought of the boy thinking about how your day was. You scroll down to the next message.  

You planning on running late tomorrow too?

And you were seriously considering it. ____________________________________ my requests are open x

[tibby]

hello dearest tubular tibby. this is a big question but when do you think glee went wrong? like, what was the point of no return? and what would glee have been like if it was written by you? i would pay a lot of money to see glee: a tibby production and i dont have a lot of money. Sending you lots of love!

a year ago, i probably would have told you that it went downhill after season one, but revisiting season two has made me a lot of fonder of it than i was ten years ago. i still prefer s1, but i do think s2 - for the most part - does manage to keep the campy charm of season one, while balancing it out nicely with more serious topics. most of the musical numbers are good (rocky horror is one of their best, if not THE best theme episode they did), it has some of the standout episodes of the show (the substitute, furt, the sue sylvester shuffle, silly love songs, blame it on the alcohol, sexy), the cast were solid all around, and ryan murphy’s favouritism towards lea and darren had yet to impact the show too much. i think some plots weren’t handled as well as they should have (as a quinn stan, i have a lot of feelings about how all of her storylines could have been written so much better, but the lucy stuff would have been such a good way to delve more into her insecurities/body issues/obsession with perfection - instead, it was just a weird fatphobic mess), but i think stuff like santana’s sexuality and burt’s heart attack were pretty decent for glee. like, yeah, burt’s near death is intercut with finn singing losing my religion over a sandwich, but the weird mix of heart and humour is what made glee work, and you can’t expect more from a show that often covered hot topics with all the subtlety of a hand grenade.

and i’m an unapologetic riverdale stan, i love that show because it’s ridiculous and dramatic and over the top and illogical. because riverdale is self aware about that. and glee, for all its many flaws, was pretty self aware about that too in the beginning.

the problem started when the show got too caught up in its own fame.

season three continued to bring us ridiculous plots mixed in with serious ways, but it was no longer a perfect balancing act. it no longer felt as if it was fun but also touching, it just felt....messy. i’m not sure if i could pinpoint the exact moment it fell apart, because s3 was just a disaster that i erased from my memory as much as i could...but, i don’t know, maybe on my way? shoving regionals, karofsky’s suicide attempt (intercut with blaine singing cough syrup), finn and rachel’s near wedding, and quinn getting hit by a truck into 42 minutes was just...Bad. and it’s the kind of thing glee s1 might have just managed to pull off, but in s3, it just meant all the plots fell flat and lacked the emotional punch they could have otherwise delivered. no longer did glee have that spark that made us willing to overlook stupid plots and contrived relationships. it suddenly just became an overly complicated disaster that tried to shove as many social issues as it could into every episode to get people talking. also, if you didn’t care much for blaine/klaine and rachel, then every episode started to feel like a marathon. characters who had been there since the start were pushed aside, and boring/tacky/underdeveloped characters like sugar, the irish guy, and the christian guy were shoved in.

but i STILL think glee would be looked back on fondly had s3 been it. it absolutely was beginning to fall apart, and a lot of us fell out of love around this time, but their final few episodes made us love it again. paradise by the dashboard light is hands down the best new directions performance, and their overall nationals performance gave everyone a chance to shine. plots were wrapped up, the glee club won, and we were treated to an adorable montage set to tongue tied by grouplove. everyone was happy, they had their futures ahead of them, and people were teary eyed at the thought of saying goodbye to our kids. curtain call, fade to black, play them out. a ridiculous teen drama that existed in the only years were it really could have to make the kind of impact it made and get away with the stuff they did. nothing else like it, let us cherish the memories we made.

but then it continued. and nearly every new character felt like cheap replacements of the original cast, and plots were handled with less care than ever before but things were more serious, they ran out of songs to cover, there were constant and needless guest stars...it was no longer a show about a group of underdogs triumphing over adversity by singing avril lavigne songs. it was a shoddily stuck together mess of recycled storylines, unhealthy relationships, increasingly bad song choices, and matthew morrison’s greasy hair. glee, put simply, was no longer fun. and it didn’t have enough heart to redeem the lack of entertainment. we stopped tuning in, and those who kept up only did because of characters they had fallen in love with during season one. it had become exhausting, and we decided to cut our losses from one of our first big show betrayals and leave.

(sidebar: i do think that the quarterback might be the best episode of the entire show, but i think it’s an outlier and really...can’t be counted with the rest. it exists solely because of a real life tragedy, and real life emotions were going to make it entire something else entirely. it can’t really be included in the chart of “good glee” and “bad glee,” because it wasn’t about the show. it was about cory, and i don’t think it should be included in my overall opinion of when the show jumped the shark.)

i’ve tried watching some of the “better” episodes of the later seasons to see how i felt, but that charm was long gone. no matter which characters they brought back, or what plots took place, there was just no more enjoyment in glee. the spark that made season one shine despite everything had completely gone out. it had dimmed a bit over season two and three, but could still shine through sometimes. not anymore.

all that said, i don’t think i could ever write a show like glee, let alone glee itself. glee was not a show that could have been made before 2009, and it isn’t a show that could be made now. RIB’s insanity and jackassery might have brought about the show’s eventual downfall, but it’s also what made it work at the start. too much of a good thing - or rather, just enough of a bad thing. glee influenced riverdale and riverdale influences me (SPRINGFIELD, coming soon!) but that show was one of a kind. if i were in charge, but the general tone and vibes of the show got to remain the same, i guess my biggest thing would be less of blaine and rachel and brittany and kurt, more of quinn and mercedes and tina and santana. both as characters and their various dynamics. but that’s also just my personal character/ship preferences at work, as opposed to anything constructive. glee: a tibby production, would just be a lot of quinn character study (because she will always be my number one) in which her family, body image, religious guilt, relationship to motherhood both as a mother and child, sexuality, view of sex, etc were all properly explored.

but that’s a whole other thing.

[ilguna]

Belamour - Epilogue (f.o)

summary: they say the odds tend to favor those who need them. well, they were wrong.

warnings; swearing, death/murder mention.

wc; 10k

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

–

After you won the Hunger Games, you were fully convinced that you would never get a moment of silence ever again. Elysia didn’t tell you until after you’d arrived in District Four--back when you had just come home from the games--that you’d be busy for weeks after. Your life wouldn’t return back to normal immediately, it would be gradual.

On top of all the celebrations that you were required to attend, like the Banquet with all the expensive people in and outside of your district. In your opinion, that was probably the worst to attend, and it was only slightly better because Finnick was there to help you. Then there was a holiday where entertainers from the Capitol and food was provided for everyone. And finally, the first Parcel Day, where families would all receive their own package of food for bringing home a tribute. The best part? There’s one Parcel Day for every month.

Not to mention, you spent every waking moment with Finnick. If you weren’t with Finnick, you were with some Capitol reporters that came around regularly to check up on you and your family. For a while, it seemed like they weren’t going to leave at all, which started to get Reed irritated. 

He just wanted to have a get together with Caspian’s family to finally have a small celebration between you all, but it was practically impossible when you were constantly being hounded. Finnick felt the same way, it made him squirm but he never said anything that might turn the reporters away. Reed was a whole different story.

And even after his meltdown, they didn’t consider leaving you alone until some dumbass made the mistake of trying to surprise you from behind. In return for flipping the reporter onto their back and nearly killing them after, you were then signed up for the best therapist that Reed could find.

He says that it isn’t permanent, but you need to be going every week for a while. The Hunger Games did a number on you, and it was only obvious when you had literally treated the reporter like another tribute inside of the games. In the end, you bruised Mox’s rib and nearly broke Reed’s nose.

You felt horrible for a while after, but they weren’t mad at you. It’s not your fault, you didn’t ask for any of this, it just came along with the already-shitty package. You’re just lucky that the reporters weren’t allowed to say anything on it. Otherwise, the image that the Capitol constructed for you, would be completely ruined.

So, really, you spent about a month and a half after the games, celebrating and trying not to look too terribly bad in front of the reporters. It wasn’t at all glamorous, you woke up every morning feeling worse than the last. When everything cooled down, you told Reed, Mox and Finnick that you’d need a while to yourself before even considering being around others. 

Finnick felt the same. You guys spoke when you could, but the conversations weren’t very long. By the time you came around to each other again, you’d already been moved into Victor’s Village, right next to Mags. Finnick is placed next to Anchor. The houses are huge, with more bedrooms than you know what to do with. If you really wanted to, you could fit Naida’s entire family in here. And she has five kids, one girl and four boys.

The house would be an absolute disaster, of course. But you’d still be able to fit their entire family, and maybe even Finnick’s, if you’re squeezing. Finnick only has a younger brother, Orion. Since your winning of the games, you’ve got significantly closer with his family. A lot more than you had been originally.

You thought that you were close before, when he’d bring you cookies and walk you home from school in the rain. That was really nothing, compared to this. At least once a week, you two meet up to have lunch or dinner or something, just to keep you all close. And once every two to three weeks, your two families and Naida’s will meet up in your house to have dinner.

Fifteen people, all sat at one table. When it comes to cooking, practically everyone is working together. The younger kids are all playing together in one of the spare bedrooms, and even then, there’s still people left over, with no clue what to do. It tends to be you, Finnick and Alyssum that are left alone the most often. Either in your living room or out front. The house can be quite loud a lot of the time.

After the two of you won the games, it hasn’t been the exact same as it was before. You knew that there would be differences, you’d already seen it when you had gone home for the first time with your family. The way that the neighbors, the ones you’ve known for years, would shut their curtains and for good measure, their blinds too. It made for a lonely neighborhood. 

You can’t just ask them why they have the sudden change of heart, but you suppose you could guess. As if you’ve been repeating to yourself for months now, you’re the fifteen year old girl who won the Hunger Games with one fourteen year old boy. He was the youngest victor, together you found out that you’re the youngest pair to win together. You once lived in poverty, and now you’re practically royalty. 

People are just waiting for you to stop being humble, but it’s hard to forget your roots, especially when they’re deeply embedded. You remember the nights of eating dinner by the candlelight, and the cold winters and sweltering summers. You remember the stomach pains when you had to give up your dinner for Alyssum.

You wish you could tell all of them that you’re the same. You’ve always been the same person, and you don’t have the slightest intention of changing. Not as you get older, not as your money starts piling. You’re still the same girl who used to go to The Square for soaps and ugly dresses and beat down shoes when there was no other place to go.

Maybe it isn’t you who’s changed, it’s the people around you.

Sounds like something cheesy, straight out of some romance novel.

Well, back to what you were saying about being fully convinced that you’d never get a moment left to your thoughts ever again; there’s about to be a rinse and repeat. You’ve managed to survive a couple of normal months, and it’s just about to get hectic. The winter Victory Tour is here.

The Victory Tour happens six months after the end of the Hunger Games. So, not only do districts have time to mourn and heal from the wounds of their tributes being killed, they’re now forced to reopen those wounds. And you’re going to be required to rub it in their faces.

The only reason why the Victory Tour takes place so long after the actual games is because it’s a reminder that the districts can’t fully escape the games. Sure, your tributes might have been killed in the summer, but just because it’s winter, doesn’t mean you get to have a moment of peace. What kind of ridiculous thinking is that?

It just means you’re about to spend another couple of weeks away from home. About a day in every district, starting in District Twelve and ending in District Four, since you skip over your home district. So, it would technically go from Twelve, Eleven, Ten, etc all the way to Five, then it would be Three, the career districts, and then a celebration at home. Again.

Needless to say, you hope that you’ll never have to celebrate another thing ever again in your life after this. You’re tired of the big dinners and the pats on the backs. You just want everything to return back to normal.

“Think we should head back, yet?” Finnick asks, skipping another rock across the water. He’s knee-deep, pants rolled up to keep them from getting wet, but he doesn’t care anyway. You’ll be taking a shower when you get home.

“Probably.” you tell him, but neither of you move. Finnick rubs his thumb over a smooth gray stone, showing it to you.

You barely look over in time to catch that it’s the shape of a heart. Instead of doing something romantic, like handing it to you, Finnick straight throws it, not even trying to skip the rock. It soars through the air, going pretty far into the water. When it lands, it causes a minor splash. You’d say that’s swimming deep, you wouldn’t be able to stand up anymore.

“Can’t wait until this is all over.” you say.

“Tell me about it.” he skips another rock, it hits the surface once, twice, thrice, four times before it sinks, “I just keep thinking about how the other kids at school are reacting.”

“Reed was actually considering homeschooling me.” you tell him.

He pauses, looking over at you, “You can’t do that, then I’d be at the school by myself.”

You give him a small grin, “So? Won’t it be like before, when we didn’t really talk?”

“I hope not.” Finnick laughs, “We’re in it for life, we have to be. Plus, you live on the same street as I do, so there’s no avoiding me.”

“I can try.” you push yourself up from the rock beach, crossing your arms over your chest, “I think we’ll grow sick of each other eventually.”

“If they keep pushing us together, I do too.” Finnick holds out a rock for you. You take it, weighing it in your palm before skipping it. It dies after bouncing twice.

He throws his last rock, this one goes the farthest so far. When it sinks too, he brushes off his hands and turns around, getting out of the water. You pull your dirty tennis shoes on again. Finnick dries his feet with his towel, throws said towel over his shoulder, then slides his feet into his sandals. After that, you’re on your way back.

“At least we get to see our prep teams again, I missed them.”

“I didn’t.” Finnick makes a face, shaking his head, “Too touchy for my liking, even before we won.”

“Gross, wish I could give you mine instead.”

“No, you don’t.” Finnick makes a face, and then the two of you laugh.

The walk to Victor’s Village is far, since you and Finnick purposely tried to find a spot that would be hard to find, if anyone came looking. You don’t think anyone has, but then again, you won’t know until you get back to the houses. You and Finnick fill the silence by talking about what you think will actually happen when school gets started up again. You guess sashays to wear, and finnick bets on crowns.

And sure enough, when you get back to the village, you’re able to see the cars parked on the cobblestone pathways. There’s cameras being set up outside, and two separate nervous parents waiting. For Finnick, this would be his mother, Laoise, who comes rushing down the steps immediately.

“Where have the two of you been?” she asks, then doesn’t wait for an answer as she starts yanking Finnick towards his house. 

You wave him goodbye before heading towards your parent, Reed. He’s not upset, as far as you can tell. You head inside with him to see that your prep team definitely is. Cleo lets out the biggest whine you’ve heard come from her, and Leo sighs loudly to let you know that he isn’t happy. Beth, on the other hand, starts towards your bathroom to get a shower started.

You’re not allowed a single conversation with Anchor, or Elysia who seems to be bouncing back and forth between houses. You’re drowned in water, hair washed swiftly just to make it shiny and clean-looking again. You smell like fruit and flowers at the end of the shower, being swept right into your bedroom after.

This is when they start to work like they did beforehand. Cleo gets to work on your nails, Leo heads right in with fixing your eyebrows and plucking every little hair, washing your face down, and starting over to make sure you’re to his liking. While Beth, as usual, takes her time with drying and styling your hair to make sure that it looks good enough. Out of the three of them, she’s luckiest since her job isn’t that hard.

Cleo’s going on about how the entire Capitol is excited to see you again. This is when you remember that you’ll be visiting the Capitol again. You bite your tongue, since you’re not excited. You wonder if this means you’ll be onsaughted by reporters again, going back to weeks of non-normalcy.

“Laurel doesn’t want to see you until you’re fully dressed.” Cleo says, raising from the floor, “I’ll grab your clothes.”

She leaves the room, Leo and Beth pack up their things, “You’ll be wearing warm clothes tonight. I wouldn’t get used to it if I were you. You’ll be in dresses for the entire tour.” Leo says.

“Great.” you give him a smile, “Thank you, both.”

Cleo comes back in a moment later, and has you getting dressed immediately. Obviously they’re going for cool tones, because they place you in thick white pants and a long-sleeved, light blue shirt. After that is the jacket, the second that it’s zipped up, you can feel yourself start to sweat. It’s safe to say that you won’t be feeling the cold outside. They place you in warm shoes too, and you’re forced to stand still while they readjust.

In the end, they take the jacket off and tell you that you’ll be wearing it later. For now, you can go ahead and see everyone else downstairs. You take your time going down the steps, not really in a hurry. There’s no way you guys are going to be on time as much as you had wanted to earlier.

“There she is!” Anchor stands in your hallway, motioning to you.

Laurel comes out of your living room, looking over you from head to toe, “Where’s the jacket?”

“With Cleo, she said I could wear it later.” you say, “How do I look?”

“Like how you should.” she says, and then moves on. If you could take a guess, you think she’s annoyed that you did make them behind schedule. Finnick’s probably receiving the same cold treatment that you are.

Elysia comes in through the door, holding it wide open. Behind her is the camera crew, who come in and make themselves comfortable in the living room. Soon, the downstairs manages to crowd. The camera crew, Elysia, the prep team, your siblings, Anchor and Laurel. With the amount of people in the house, the volume starts to increase. 

You reach for your pinky to find that the ring is missing. In the middle of instructions from Anchor, you turn without a single word and head up the staircase. If you’re going to do this, you’re going to need the ring. If Anchor is bothered, he doesn’t say anything, he just lets you go.

In your room, you shut the door to muffle the sound and get some privacy. If you heard Elysia correctly, you should have five minutes or so before you present your hobby to the camera crew, which they’ll be editing and showing the public later. When it came to picking one out, you and Finnick were pretty stumped.

The choices were obvious, you were going to rock, paper, scissors to see who would get fishing or knots, when Mags came through with some ideas. Most of them were stupid, Finnick can’t play a guitar and you’ve never really liked gardening. Then Anchor suggested a two part skill, photography and modeling.

You wanted to shut down the idea, especially when Finnick was all for taking the pictures. If you have professional pictures of yourself, people are going to think you’re vain. So, Finnick switched the roles and decided that he could be the model and you could be the photographer. 

It took some practice, the first couple of pictures that you’d taken with the Capitol-bought camera were horrible. But as time went on over the few months, you managed to get a hang of it. And Finnick decided that he liked to model a lot more than he thought he did. And just like that, the problem was solved.

While Finnick’s living room is covered in pictures of himself that you took in various places, your living room has cameras and a few scenery and portrait pictures to show. Needless to say, this is another example of how you and Finnick have been complimenting each other since the beginning. 

You find your ring where Beth had placed it to get it out of the way during the bath. You pick it up and slip it on. By the time you get downstairs, they’re ready for you to start talking about yourself and not shut up until you’ve covered everything. After, you’ll narrate from notecards that Elysia wrote for you.

You think Anchor might’ve told Reed and Mox that you were overwhelmed or something, because it’s clear there’s been a change. Elysia is gone completely, Laurel and the prep team stand in the dining room, away from where you are. The camera crew inside of the living room is spread out enough to give you breathing room. The only people standing close are your brothers.

Just before you’re on camera, you stand taller and give a smile. Once they give you the cue, you go ahead and start explaining your hobby. The cameras, the pictures, how Finnick is your partner in crime with this. You make sure to explain what you do exactly with the pictures. When you’re done, you read the notecards as peppy as you can, then they push you out so they can get the living room by itself.

Reed and Mox aren’t excluded from the event, they’re actually pulled on camera together, which leaves you to hold onto Alyssum for the time being. You expected her to be pretty alert, but in the end, she lays her head on your shoulder while you sway. As soon as they’re done, things start moving quickly.

You hand Alyssum over, and Anchor comes back around with instructions. Laurel pulls the jacket onto you, which has you feeling like a furnace again, but you don’t complain. You nod and him and try to pay attention the best you can. All you seem to remember now is that you need to look as excited as possible when seeing Finnick.

Elysia then stops you in front of the door, tells you to be careful, and then opens the door. You step out, ignoring the sound of the door shutting behind you when you go down the steps. A smile spreads over your face at the sight of Finnick, who looks just as ridiculous as you feel because of how bundled you are. Especially since he was wearing shorts in freezing cold water just a couple of hours ago.

“Finnick!” you shout, opening your arms up wide.

Finnick hugs you tightly, pulling you flush against his chest. He presses a warm kiss against your cold cheeks and laughs, “Missed me that much?”

“Of course!” you laugh too.

Everything you’d been building up to today, is over just like that. It was only to get an outside shot of you and Finnick greeting each other for the first time during the Victory Tour.

The goodbyes to your family and friends takes place outside. Finnick says goodbye to his parents and his brother, Orion. You say goodbye to your brothers, sister and Naida’s family, since they wanted to see you one last time before you go. Everyone from the Capitol piles into their cars, the Capitol people take off first. You, Finnick, Elysia and your mentors get into the last car. You wave goodbye to your brothers before you go.

At the train station, you wave goodbye and board the train. Elysia doesn’t stop the grind there, as she gets you guys into the dining room to have supper. The prep team doesn’t join you guys when you eat. You and Finnick have to take it easy, since the food is so unbearably rich. Even with you trying to make sure that you don’t eat too much, you still manage to feel pretty nauseous after.

After that, you’re left to your own devices. Laurel and Pleurisy disappear, Elysia says to be ready to get up early tomorrow, and your mentors head straight to bed. It leaves just you and Finnick as always. For a while, you two just stare at each other as if you don’t have a clue on what to say.

Then, Finnick gives a smile, “Sleepover?”

You grin, “Oh, hell yeah. I’ll just take a shower first.”

“Meet you there, then.” Finnick says.

You two split, with Finnick going to his own room. In yours, you go ahead and pick out your pajamas, and then shut the door to the bathroom to make sure that Finnick won’t accidentally walk in on anything. With the ring in a safe place, you step into the shower to wash off all of the prep team’s work. Once the water starts running clear again, you step out.

Finnick’s got his spot next to the wall all sorted out. He’s got a blanket laid out, a pillow and then a second bigger blanket to actually use. Obviously he banked on your shower idea, because his hair is wet too. You slip the ring into the bowl at your bedside and then fall back onto your bed.

“Tired?” Finnick jokes.

“Compared to you, yeah.” you look at him, “They’ve got to do a lot more with me than you. You heard Elysia, you get to sleep in.”

Finnick scoffs, “You think I sleep?” he tries to keep a straight face after, but it doesn’t work. The two of you crack up.

“Anyway, I’m going to bed.” you tell him.

“Sounds good to me.” Finnick says, settling in next to the wall.

The two of you lay in silence for a while. Despite feeling completely exhausted, you can’t bring yourself to fall asleep. You curl yourself up, rock yourself, spread out, roll over but there’s nothing that works. Finnick falls asleep faster than you do, you can hear his heavy breathing.

You eventually settle for staring at the ceiling, feeling a sense of deja vu. It’s exactly like how you’d tried to fall asleep the night before you got home. Only then, you were nervous and excited and now you’re just… upset? You just want to be back to normal. You get that you’ll be mentoring again in the spring/summer, but for now, you should be able to relax.

You think you fall asleep sometime in the middle of the night. You wake up to Elysia rocking you and telling you it’s time to get started. She helps you get dressed into something comfortable, and you decide to leave your ring on the bedside table. When you leave the bedroom, Finnick is still sleeping comfortably next to the wall.

He won’t have to get up for a couple of hours. He’s only got so much that needs to be done, while you on the other hand have to go through everything the Capitol did initially. Your skin is going to be sore for the first time in a long time. You were just getting used to finally looking like the other girls in your grade, too.

Your prep team is already in the dining car when you get there. You assume your regular spot and watch as the team slowly comes to life. It’s obvious that they never have to get up this early, ever. You watch as they drink cup after cup of coffee, and then popping brightly colored pills into their mouths as they go.

Cleo does the most out of all of them, which solves the mystery as to why she’s so energetic. In no time, she’s looking awake and chatting with Leo animatedly. You eat quietly and try not to engage in conversation with them just yet. You wonder how they’re going to rebuild you if Finnick’s sleeping in your room.

You finish your breakfast, and figure that if you’re going to wake up Finnick in the process, you might as well bring him something as a gift. With the help of Elysia, you pack a plate full of foods that he enjoys. Cleo and Leo try not to be loud--Beth isn’t ever a problem--but they end up waking Finnick anyway.

“Here.” you set the tray onto the floor, “I’ve got to get started.”

He’s tired, but at least there’s no bags beneath his eyes, “Have fun.”

“Thanks.”

Beth shuts the door the most of the way, and then they all turn on you like a pack of wild dogs. You’re stripped for the most part, and they start with waxing your legs. Finnick occasionally talks to you on the other side of the door, enjoying his breakfast. By the time you’re being bathed the second time, Elysia comes around to collect Finnick.

They’re all unusually quiet during this, even Cleo. You guess that the coffee and weird pills didn’t do their job good enough. They shower you one last time, try your skin and then lather you in the healing lotion. Immediately, you begin to feel better. You thank them for their efforts, get dressed and meet everyone else in the dining car again. It’s lunch time.

Elysia lays out the plan for you guys during this time. For the Victory Tour, you’ll be starting in District Twelve, which is another day’s train ride from here. By tomorrow afternoon, you should be there. She outlines the protocols and tells you what you should expect from the district, there’s not a single nice thing she says after that.

“It’s not all that bad.” Anchor says, he’s finished with his lunch already, just occupying a spot to keep you all company, “They’re going to be upset like they are every year.”

You share a look with Finnick, though. As much as Anchor and Mags can try and comfort you two, you think they’ve forgotten who the two tributes died to. You killed the boy, drowned him unfairly in water he doesn’t know how to swim in. And Finnick killed the girl a couple days later. You don’t know if you can even consider that self-defense.

In fact, the more you think about it, the more you begin to realize that every stop you’ll be making over the course of the next few weeks will be completely miserable. You and Finnick got an even split of murders, both of you have six, which in total makes twelve. Almost every stop will have one tribute you killed.

Anchor says that the districts are going to be upset, but that’s such an understatement. They’re going to be pissed, the only one that might be a warm welcome is going to be District Three, because of Verda and Blaire. Otherwise, you’re absolutely hated.

Finnick recognizes this too, his face is twisted, the two of you stare at each other for a moment. You wonder who’s going to be the one to point this fact out, but neither of you speak. You just let the topic drop, he goes back to picking at his sweet roll.

“Alright well, I’m going to take a nap. Wake me when it’s supper.” you say.

A few of them bid you a goodbye, you drag your feet all the way to your room. Really, you’re not all that tired, you just don’t want to hear Elysia call another district dirty and ungrateful again. In your room, Finnick’s belongings are gone, so there’s no chance that you’ll be interrupted.

Instead of laying down, you find yourself heading towards the chair that you’d first occupied on your way to the Capitol during the summer. You sit in it, sinking into the plush cushion, and stare into the room. It’s a moment before you remember that magazine from your first time around.

You open up the nightstand drawer and find that there’s a new issue. And right on the front is a picture of you and Finnick that you took for the victory tour. 

Inside is probably your worst nightmare. There’s information about yourself, all spilled out onto the page. Your birthday, your age, stuff about your family, how both of your parents died… it just keeps going.

Finnick’s page isn’t nearly as bad as yours. In fact, when you read over it, you’re sure that the Capitol publishers purposely did this. When you begin to feel sick, you rip it into shreds and throw it into the bathroom garbage can so that you don’t have to see it. 

This is when you decide that it’s a good time to fall through on taking the nap. You pull the blanket above your head to shield yourself from the light. It takes some time, you still toss and turn but sticking to the idea works. The next time you wake up is to Elysia at the door, telling you that supper is ready.

Even after catching a look at yourself in the mirror, you decide that you could care less. You’re going right back to bed after this, you’re fucking exhausted. Everyone is sitting at the table when you get out there, and spirits seem to be pretty high. The prep teams carry most of the conversation.

You pick at your food in the beginning, not entirely hungry since you just woke up. You squint, each as much as you can, and sit at the table until you decide that it’s an appropriate time to get up and leave. You and Finnick are reminded that you’ll be up early tomorrow by Elysia. After that, you’re free to go.

Finnick stays at the table, but you go ahead and leave. You change into proper pajamas and roll over. You don’t fall asleep as quickly as you had hoped. In fact, you’re stuck thinking about the families of the kids that you had killed in the arena.

District Twelve, Tassel and Fodille. Tassel being the thirteen year-old boy that you had killed, and Fodille being the twelve year-old girl that Finnick had killed. You could try to play it off as self defense with Tassel, but you knew exactly what you were doing when you turned your back to him. It was bait, you wanted him to step out so that you could kill him. And it worked, you just didn’t expect him to jump on your back like that.

As for Finnick, you can’t imagine what he’d done to get Fodille to go after him. Or maybe he just came across her and decided that he might as well kill her.

Either way, in the end, you wake up screaming. For a good second, while you stare off into the pitch black room, you’re sure that you’ve died. But the moment you take in a deep breath from your nose, you’re reminded that even that would be a dream. Your throat is sore, your cheeks are soaked. You reach for a pillow and bury your face in it, sobbing, wondering how long you’ll have to suffer like this.

You’re so fucking tired. You miss the period of time when you didn’t have nightmares or worried about people approaching you from certain angles because you might accidentally kill them in a fit of blind arena flashbacks. 

You scream into the pillow, and then throw it across the room. You watch as it hits the only glass frame in the room, knocking it off the wall. You get up from the bed, take your ring from the bowl and go to the bathroom. You don’t bother to turn on the light, but you hesitate putting water on your face.

It wouldn’t be a bright idea, especially not after the nightmare, but you do it anyway, multiple times. Even after the cold water, you still feel stuffy, so you go to leave the bedroom. Just as you step on the carpet near the door, a searing hot pain goes right through your foot.

You stifle a scream, gritting your teeth as tears reappear in your eyes. Your hand falls against the wall, holding all of your bodyweight, while the other cradles your foot. Even in the darkness, you can see the dark liquid coming from your foot. You struggle to find the lightswitch, and find yourself blinded in yellow light when you turn it on.

It takes a while of blinking for you to be able to see, and when you do, you’re not surprised. The frame had shattered, giant glass and small glass shards are all over the carpet. In your foot is a pretty big one, around it are much smaller pieces. Blood comes out of every one of them, staining the white carpet red.

Now is the time to start looking for the help call button. You go over the one panel near the door, squinting and rubbing your eyes. The pain in your foot is distracting, the light is hard to see through. You end up pressing the red one and hope that it works.

It does, it’s only a matter of seconds before the door is opening and you’re met with multiple Capitol attendants at the door. They take in the scene, the glass, your foot, the disorientation in your face. And without a single word, two of them help you so that you don’t have to walk on the foot, another goes to clean up the mess.

They take you into the main room and sit you on a chair, “Would you like for us to wake Elysia or one of the mentors?”

You shake your head, eyes trained on the first aid. You’re pretty sure that you’re going to need stitches, “No, can you just tell Elysia when she gets up?”

They agree, bring around the medical expert. They sit in a chair opposite to you, prop your foot onto their thigh and gently get to work. They pull out each individual shard, starting with the smallest, and working their way up to the bigger ones. You close your eyes and dig your nails into your hands when they start pulling out the worst one. You try not to move much but you still end up curling your foot.

You were right about the stitches, the person numbs your foot first and then works on the needle. Since you can’t feel it, it’s easier to watch them go through it. You bleed a lot, and even with the stitches, they wrap a bandage around your foot and have to half-carry you back to your room.

In the hallway is Finnick, he’s shirtless and has got his arms crossed over his chest. He looks over you, the two Capitol attendants, and then down at your foot. The serious expression on his face drops, as well as his arms, “What happened?”

“Broke a frame and stepped on glass, had to get stitches. I’ll be fine, you don’t need to worry about me.”

“She can stay in my room.” Finnick insists, holding his arms out for you.

You don’t argue, letting him hold onto you, “Thank you, can you tell Elysia that I’ll be in his room, too?”

“Yes, of course. Call if you have any more problems.” they say.

Finnick brings you into his room, which is almost a mirror of yours. His bed is unkempt, he was obviously sleeping. You wonder if it was your screaming and sobbing that woke him up, or the Capitol people helping you that did it. Either way, he shuts the door and helps you to his bed.

“I can sleep on the floor.” you tell him.

“There’s a hammock.” Finnick says, motioning to the corner.

Your eyes follow, and you find that he’s not lying. A white-roped hammock hangs in the corner of the room. He throws in a pillow, lays a blanket down as a base and then helps you into it. It’s a lot more comfortable than you thought it would be, and you laugh when he throws another, softer blanket on top of you.

Before he goes to lay back down, for the first time in months, he presses a gentle kiss to your lips, “I’m right here if you need anything, okay?”

“Yeah, thank you.” 

He lays down in the bed, back turned to you, blanket pulled over his shoulder. You lay your head against the pillow and stare at the ceiling of his room. Your foot throbs painfully. Even with how he set you up comfortably, you don’t fall asleep. You go over the different scenarios in which everyone will have to work around your hurt foot.

During your daydreaming, you manage to doze off. Before you know it, Finnick is shaking you awake, telling you that you two should eat lunch real quick before you get ready for District Twelve. It’s the afternoon, they’ve let you sleep in considerably. Finnick helps you out of the hammock and lets you lean on him while the two of you make your way to the dining car.

Everyone is at the table already, dressed and ready for what Twelve will have to offer. Before you can even get halfway into the room, all eyes are on you and Finnick. Suddenly, the topic is on your hurt foot.

“Let’s see it.” Laurel says, motioning for you to head towards her.

Finnick helps, you lean against the table with one hand so Finnick can go and sit down and start eating. You watch as Laurel unravels the bandage to take in the damage.

“Well, I’ll certainly say that I’m surprised.” Elysia says, sitting up a bit on her chair to see over the table.

“What happened, again?” Anchor asks, looking right at you.

“I uh--” you make a face, “The Capitol attendant didn’t tell you?”

“They didn’t tell us much of anything.” Cleo says, sipping on her coffee, “Did you get any sleep last night.”

Leo huffs, “That’s going to be hard to cover up.

“Well, what happened?” Laurel presses, looking at you now. If she thinks that your foot looks bad, she doesn’t say anything. 

“A glass picture frame broke by the door last night.” you decide that you’ll keep the fact that you broke it, to yourself.

“How?” Cleo asks.

You open your mouth, going to come up with some bullshit excuse, but Elysia has her own reason.

“I bet it was how hard the train braked last night during the refuel. Did any of you feel it?”

“I did.” Cleo and Leo say at the same time.

“Makes sense.” Pleurisy says, “They should’ve nailed it onto the wall better. What’re you thinking, Laurel?”

“She’s going to have to use numbing cream and wear flats for the rest of the trip.” Laurel turns to an attendant, “Can you clean and rebandage her foot?”

You get a new place to sit, away from the table, while your foot is reprepared. At least you’ve gotten yourself out of wearing heels, but you can’t imagine that the pain in your foot is nearly worth it. Plus, you’ll still be walking funky, so there’s no doubt that someone is going to point it out.

You have to eat quickly because you’re behind schedule. This time, you manage to feel just fine, which means that you won’t have to take a ten minute breather to make sure that you won’t puke. Cleo, Beth and Leo work together to make you look nice. They pull your hair down, making it look nice with as many products as possible.

Laurel comes around with your clothes. Since it’s snowing in District Twelve, you put on a dark purple jacket, black pants, snow boots and a hat to keep your ears warm. You think it’s overkill until you finally look outside. Even Finnick is dressed up to be warm, and he hardly ever gets cold.

The train gets dark for a long moment as you pass through a tunnel. When light comes back, you can see that District Twelve has tall walls. As soon as you can see into the district, the first word that comes to mind is ‘gloomy’. You immediately feel bad for the people because they have to stand outside while you receive plaques for murdering their tributes.

You and Finnick are brought into the main room, you’re on more of a time crunch than you had originally thought. Laurel applies the finishing touches here, fixing stray hairs and helping you walk in the boots with your hurt foot. Right as you pull into the train station, Elysia tells you that there won’t be a ride through the city, so there’s nothing to worry about there. But there are cameras at the station, waiting to see you two.

And just like that, the doors open and you’re exposed to said cameras. You hold onto Finnick’s arm tightly, trying not to make your limp super noticeable. Even with the numbing cream, you can feel the stitches oddly move. You’re really afraid of accidentally tearing them.

You’re directed into a car by a couple of peacekeepers. Making sure to thank them, you head inside first, Mags follows, then it’s Finnick, Anchor and Elysia. On the way to the Justice Building, Elysia gives you the cards to read off of, just in case you forget some lines.

From the car, you’re inside of the main building. You hardly get a few steps inside when you can smell a particular scent that must be exclusive to their district. As well as see all the dust that has collected onto tabletops they have not used in months. You can at least smell something cooking.

There’s a few seconds before you have to go outside and face the families of Tassel and Fodille. It really hits you now, you take deep breaths and try to ease the panic attack that’s rising. But it’s coming, and you don’t know how to stop it. With the anthem already playing, you’re fucked.

“(Y/n), breathe.” Finnick says, making you face him, “Tell me one thing you smell.”

“The dinner.”

“Two things you feel.” he says.

“You touching me and the stitches.” you take a deep breath.

“Three things you hear.”

“Your voice, the anthem and my heartbeat.” it’s loud in your ears, almost louder than the anthem that’s playing outside.

“Your heartbeat is constant, it’s not going away.” Finnick says, “Focus on it, okay?”

You nod, sniffing. He gives you a small smile. Microphones are clipped to your bodies so that you’ll be heard. Finnick offers his arm and you wrap your hands around it, just like how you did on the chariot ride. The mayor of District Twelve is introducing you when the doors open.

“You’ve got this.” Elysia urges.

You two move forward, the applause from Twelve feels apprehensive. You walk together, you rely on Finnick to find the right spot on where to stop. He does, and you’re finally able to take in what the district looks like. You were right about the gloomy idea, because this does not nearly radiate the same energy that District Four does.

The space in front of the Justice Building is packed with people, all who don’t look thrilled that they have to entertain you two. There’s been two stages that have been constructed for the families of Tassel and Fodille. You don’t want to look. You have to.

Tassel’s parents are pretty young, but they don’t have any other kids, Tassel was their only child. His parents are straight-faced and angry, no doubt at you. Fodille’s family isn’t much better, she only has a younger sister that has to be half the age that Fodille was… so many six, seven?

The clapping dissolves, the mayor has to give a speech in your honor. You hate standing here and awkwardly staring into their district like this. You killed Tassel, you killed their only son. There’s a number of circumstances that go through your mind, none of which you like.

Two girls hand off large bouquets of flowers to you and Finnick. You make sure to thank them, and then Finnick is reciting the customary reply. It’s nothing interesting, just a thank you. You say your part next, which is practically a repeat of what he just did.

The last part is up to you and Finnick, since it’s your personal comments. It might have been approved by Elysia, Anchor and Mags, but that doesn’t mean they weren’t any less specially structured for their tributes. Unfortunately for you, you and Finnick came to the agreement that you two would switch on and off for who starts first and who goes second.

You clear your throat slightly, staring at Tassel’s family, because everything that you had written down, doesn’t come to mind. You open your mouth, draw your eyebrows in and breathe out. 

You can’t say anything staring at them like this. You close your eyes, and find it much easier this way, “Last night I dreamt that I had been perched in bushes by a pond, watching as two older tributes came around to gather water. I barely moved, but made noise nonetheless. The boy came to investigate, thought that he’d heard something but turned his back to me. I thought it was the perfect opportunity.

“I jumped onto his back, arms and legs wrapped around him and thought victory was mine because I had the high ground. How would he get away from this? He couldn’t possibly. When he reached for his sword, I pulled his hair and went to go choke him. I didn’t take into consideration how clever the boy was, as he fell backwards into the pond on purpose.

“I wasn’t worried for a second.” you breathe out all the air you’re holding, “But I panicked when the water washed over me, when I realized that I didn’t know how to swim and I couldn’t hold my breath for long. I panicked when the boy held me in place to make sure that I would die. I wanted to cry when I thought about how I would be breathing in water in no time.

“It was worse when he wouldn’t let me go, no matter how desperate I was. I thought it was unfair, how he could be so big and so much stronger than me. It was an unfair advantage that I hadn’t taken into consideration. When I opened my mouth to breathe, unable to hold my breath any longer, I inhaled water. The boy let me go, and left me in the darkness of that pond, to sink to the bottom and drown.”

You open your eyes, looking at Tassel’s family, “I died in the dark, cold and in pain, worried about how my family would be able to pay for funeral expenses.” you shake your head, “I have been waking up to this nightmare for weeks. Since the end of the games, I have not slept soundly since. Your son’s face haunts me, and I know that means nothing to you, and I’m sorry. It’s not a proud moment of mine, his face never escapes me in my happiest moments.”

It’s done it, his mother is crying, burying her face into her husband’s shoulder. His father nods once at you, but you don’t think that’s good enough. You could give this speech a hundred times to them, apologize over and over, but it will never compare to what it feels like to lose family. Especially not a son that they had raised.

Finnick gives his rehearsed speech to Fodille’s family, which turns out to be just as emotional. You two are given big plaques to accompany your bouquets. You listen to the clapping of the district, which somehow sounds louder than the first time around. The mayor wraps up your appearance, and then you’re brought back into the Justice Building, where everyone is waiting.

Elysia praises you guys, hardly making a comment on how you went off-script. Anchor gives you an approving nod, and suddenly you’re being readied for the dinner. You get washed completely so that you’re a blank canvas, and the prep teams work back up from there. Cleo and Leo are excited to be attending tonight’s dinner, and all the future ones too. You don’t see the big fuss.

They keep with the purple theme. They place you in a dress that reaches your calves, and a pair of black flats with white socks after more numbing cream is applied. Laurel comes around for finishing touches, which is when she pulls a black cardigan over your shoulders to keep you extra warm. You thank her.

“Try not to play with the ring too much, okay?” Laurel says, standing you in front of the mirror so that you can see yourself. You’ve begun to get used to the fact that you’re pretty unrecognizable after every makeover, “The Capitol is starting to take notice.”

“Okay.” your hands drop, you smooth out the dress, “Are we ready to go?”

“Yeah, make sure to smile.” she says.

The prep teams head out first, Elysia counts every step, and warns you guys to count too. Next is Laurel and Pleurisy, who look good naturally and have big smiles on their faces. Anchor has Mags hold onto him so that she’s able to move quicker and so that they don’t fall behind.

“How are you feeling?” Finnick asks.

“Tired, what about you?”

“Hungry.” he says, and the two of you grin.

You start walking.

It’s a rinse and repeat for every district. Your speeches start to blur, as does the faces. District Eight is hard for Finnick because both of the tributes died to him, that night he wakes up sobbing. You hold your breath and the next time you’re fully able to breathe is District Three, where Verda and Blaire’s families are more than forgiving. You can’t thank Blaire’s family enough, when you leave, you think that you’ve finally come to peace with Blaire’s sacrifice.

After your visit in District Two--which had ended badly, the word ‘traitor’ is what you’re labeled as there--Finnick comes up with the idea of making your own training facilities. 

“What the hell do you mean?” you ask, looking at Finnick. He’s sitting on his bed, sprawled out and staring at the ceiling. You’re in his hammock.

Finnick sits up, “Think about it, we get a building, invest our own money into it. We get families in on it, advertise it quietly, start training kids to be prepared. If we can win at fourteen and fifteen, other kids can win at fourteen and fifteen, maybe even younger!”

“They just need an opportunity.” you say, he nods, a grin is spreading over his face. “We’ve got a problem though, your mom is going to say no, and my brothers would never approve of it.”

“I’ve got a solution to that too. What if we ask Anchor and Mags to put their names down? But only us and Anchor train the tributes, since we’re the youngest.”

You smile a bit, “You better be the one to suggest it to them.”

“Okay!” he agrees, getting up from the bed, “Let’s go now, then.”

Mags and Anchor approve the idea almost immediately, and for the rest of the night, you’re subjected to laying out the plans with them. Mags has got years worth of money built up, and decides that she’ll take on the bulk of the expenses. Anchor agrees to be a trainer, as do you and Finnick, on top of being mentors. 

“You know this means you won’t be home often, right?” Anchor says.

“At least we’ll be in the same district.” you tell him.

Conversation keeps moving. You point out that there’s an expensive building on the rich side of District Four. It’s big, and you think it served as some sort of hotel or warehouse. It’s going to need repairs, but you write the address down anyway and hand it off to Mags.

Finnick says that you two will start advertising it as soon as you get back home, there’s no doubt that there’s going to be some takers. No one wants their kids to die in the games, and if they’ve been preparing for years, their odds increase. By the time you reach District One, you’re feeling better about everything, and take District One with a brave smile.

The Capitol is the same way. You and Finnick stay in the Tribute Center, on your regular floor. The following night, you’re brought to the stage with Caesar to be questioned on how you and Finnick were feeling during the tour. He keeps it going smoothly, there’s not a moment you feel uncomfortable.

“And finally, what are your plans for the future?” he asks, sitting back in his chair, “Two young mentors, next summer will be your first time with tributes. What are your thoughts?”

“Our plans are secret.” you say outright, which has Finnick smirking. 

The audience likes this, all on the edge of their seat. No matter how hard Caesar prys, neither you or Finnick say anything. To admit the idea of illegally training tributes could mean big trouble for District Four. 

“You have to give me something.” Caesar says, “To give us something.”

Finnick gives him a fun smile, “Let’s just say that District Four just inherited the best mentors they could ask for.”

The interview ends, you and Finnick are brought to a large banquet. There’s music, soft chairs, tables with more food than you could ever imagine. The floors are polished, the ceiling is dark. You and Finnick are on camera the entire time, so you have to work together if you want to do anything. You two find your spot at the dessert table, and continue to sample the cakes, cookies, cupcakes, puddings, among other things. Finnick and you bet on who will get sick first, and you end up losing.

Eventually it gets out that you’re stationed at the dessert table, because people start coming around. You take pictures, and exchange names and conversation. You try to be polite and friendly, you’re just glad that they move on relatively quickly to allow others get their say.

Finnick enjoys his second slice of raspberry cheesecake, you get a cold bowl of ice cream and find a new spot to stand. You silently wish they served dishes like this back home. You wonder if someone has a cookbook, you’ll start cooking like this if you can. You’ve got the money for the ingredients, you just need the recipe.

Anchor and Mags come around to check on you and Finnick, and then suggest that you get real food into you besides all the sweets. They warn you to stay away from the drinks that’ll make you puke up your food, and wish you good luck on your next round of fans. You and Finnick go to a table with soups that warm the throat and make you feel hungrier than you were before.

When the music picks up to something more upbeat, you decide that it won’t hurt to dance once. You try to follow what Elysia had taught you two, but give up halfway through and decide for a more traditional dance from Four. It works, you and Finnick have more fun than you were before.

“Had you come up with that idea earlier into the victory tour, I can’t imagine how giddy we would have been throughout the whole tour.” you say, letting Finnick spin you.

“It would have been criminal.” he laughs, you join, “District One seemed like a pretty bad place to begin with.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” you agree. Considering that Trink and Lennox were the last two tributes that could have won. Their families weren’t very thrilled to see you two, either.

At this point, you don’t really care. How are they going to significantly affect you? Do they think them glaring at you is really going to do anything? The only time you’re afraid of Lennox in your nightmares is when he’s choking and beating you to death. If you could go back and do it all again, you’d kill Allio in his sleep and move on with your life.

He was stupid and egotistical. It’s his own fault that you’re alive and he isn’t. The Hunger Games is a fight to the death, a survival of the fittest. It’s an embarrassment to him that he had trained for years and still wasn’t fit enough to win. Him, seventeen, you, fifteen.

After dancing, you and Finnick take a break and wait for Elysia to come around. She picks you two up around midnight, the two of you go around and say your goodbyes and collect the prep teams, stylists and mentors. After that, you all get into separate cars to get back onto the train on time.

The prep teams are drunk and go to bed immediately. The rest of you stand around for a little while, talking about how tomorrow will go. Just before you go to bed, Elysia presents you with a recipe book straight from the kitchen. You thank her, bid everyone goodnight, but find yourself with Finnick in your room, going over what you’ll be making.

In the morning, you’re prepared for cameras again. You make sure to give a big smile and wave when you see Four again, glad to be home. Unfortunately, you’re not allowed to see your family until dinner. Everyone is brought to Mayor Burrula’s house to get ready for tonight’s celebration.

You’ve never been inside of his house before, but it’s huge. Three floors, the third is where you’re brought. You’re prepared, just like you’ve been for every evening for the past couple of weeks. You’re dressed in a knee-length, navy blue and silver dress. You’re still not allowed heels, so Laurel settles for leather sandals and begs you to not do anything that might make your foot bleed.

When you’re done, you have about an hour to wander around the house. You don’t exactly feel comfortable, but Finnick goes right ahead. He holds onto your hand and brings you through each and every floor. On the second one, you come across Mayor Burrula’s twins.

They’re both eighteen now, seniors. Ameer and Mirza are the most popular in their grade, and considering that they’re both boys, they’ve got a bigger voice than you could ever have with Finnick. It’s an easy business opportunity, and it doesn’t take long before Finnick catches on. Neither of you mention it, instead you take the hour to get close to them.

When the hour is up, you’re brought around to be with your teams again. Elysia reminds you what you’re supposed to do, you and Finnick are fussed over for the final time. Once again, everyone slowly descends down the stairs and outside, where the district is loud with whistling and clapping.

The prep teams, Elysia, the stylists and finally, your mentors all leave. In the end, it’s just you and Finnick standing there.

The tour is almost over.

Finnick offers his arm to you, “One last celebration.” he says.

You slip your arm into his, leaning over to give him a kiss.

“One last celebration.”

[loststarsabove]

My thoughts and opinions on the slew of recent trailers and announcements that no one asked for, but I needed to process all this information. These are just my opinions so don’t hate me.

Marvel:

WandaVision - Not very interested in this and it looks a little too trippy for my taste, but might watch it anyway to see Jimmy Woo and Monica Rambeau (and Billy and Tommy?)

The Falcon and the Winter Soldier - Easily my most anticipated of Marvel’s offerings. I was disappointed that it was delayed but it looks like it will be worth the wait! The trailer was epic. It looks like an action movie. I love Sam and Bucky, and their relationship and banter. Also I can’t wait to see my girl Sharon!

Loki - Not sure what to expect from this one and the trailer did not make things any clearer, but I’m just thrilled that Loki is getting his time to shine away from the Thor franchise.

What If? - Now that I’ve seen the full trailer I am actually quite excited for this! Also the animation looks gorgeous.

Hawkeye - I am not a fan of Jeremy Renner or what they did to Clint’s character in the MCU - hopefully this series will correct some of that. However the dog is adorable, Hailee Steinfeld looks really good as Kate Bishop, and I’m interested to find out what Yelena’s role in the story will be. 

Ms. Marvel - From the brief clips we have it looks like a cute, heartwarming, and inspiring story. It has jumped to the top of my list! 

She-Hulk - I’ve hated Bruce Banner in everything after The Avengers so I hope his involvement in this show is minimal.

Moon Knight - Not interested at the moment.

Secret Invasion - I was never one of those fans who felt like this story had to be adapted for the MCU and I liked what they did with the Skrulls in Captain Marvel, but I’m 100% for it now that Samuel L. Jackson and Ben Mendelsohn are involved!

Armour Wars - Finally giving Rhodey a leading role after playing pivotal supporting roles in a gazillion movies is long overdue. Sounds like an interesting premise. Will definitely watch!

Ironheart - Not very familiar with the character so I don’t have much of an opinion at the moment. Will probably watch though.

The Guardians of the Galaxy Holiday Special - For some reason I have the feeling this is just going to be a Star Wars Holiday Special parody/rip-off.

I Am Groot - Will probably be cute.

Black Widow - I’m over it at this point. Was never really into it. Should have come out years before Endgame. Will only be watching for Yelena Belova.

Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings - Admittedly was not familiar with the character prior to the announcement. I like Michelle Yeoh and Awkwafina though, and I’m interested to see what the movie does with The Mandarin (after the disaster that was Iron Man 3). No real opinion until I see the trailer.

Eternals - Would not be interested in this at all except for the fact that I like Gemma Chan, Richard Madden, and Kit Harrington. The cast is massive and star-studded to the point of feeling bloated.

Untitled Spider-Man 4 - Not sold at all on the multiverse/spiderverse, but the previous MCU Spider-Man films are among my favourites and I thought they both sounded like crap initially. Will definitely reserve judgement until I actually see the movie. As much as I adore Tom Holland’s Peter Parker, my wish for this movie is that we see a move towards more classic Spider-Man comic elements (The Daily Bugle and Peter’s photography, a mere mention of Uncle Ben, Harry and Norman Osborn, etc.)

Doctor Strange and the Multiverse of Madness - Not really interested right now.

Thor: Love and Thunder - Will likely not be watching. An unpopular opinion but Ragnarok was my least favourite MCU movie.

Black Panther II - Right now I am just eagerly awaiting any announcement regarding their plans for where they are taking this franchise. 

Captain Marvel 2 - I loved the first movie, Brie Larson, and Carol Danvers. Kamala Khan and Monica Rambeau appearing in this makes me so happy! Hopefully Goose will be back! The Ms. Marvel tv show seems to imply that Captain Marvel is famous enough as a superhero to have merchandise, so I hope this movie explains when and how that happened (presumably during the 5 years after the snap that we didn’t see in Endgame).

Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3 - Very torn about this one. I really loved the first two movies, but my enthusiasm for the franchise has admittedly soured due to controversies involving certain members of the cast and crew. Will watch it, but not particularly bothered either way.

Ant-Man and The Wasp: Quantumania - I am truly upset by the decision to recast Cassie Lang, perhaps to the point of being irrational. Hopefully I get over it because I have been looking forward to this movie for so long. The plot sounds good and I am anticipating much family cuteness.

Blade - Never saw the original movies and only know the character from Spider-Man: The Animated Series.

Fantastic Four - We all knew this was inevitable. Just give me a comic accurate Susan Storm and a teenage/young adult Johnny Storm (because if we don’t get Spideytorch content then what’s the point?) and I will be happy.

Untitled Deadpool - Not the biggest Deadpool fan, but the second movie was amusing. Will probably watch out of curiosity. 

Untitled X-Men/Mutant movie - Not sure how they are going to integrate Mutants into the already very established history of the MCU. If they do go ahead with this movie I hope that it focuses on different characters from the 20th Century Fox X-Men franchise. Personally I don’t want to see Erik and Charles played by anyone else after Ian McKellan, Michael Fassbender, Patrick Stewart, and James McAvoy.

Star Wars:

Obi Wan Kenobi - We have Hayden Christensen! This is not a drill! Honestly I am so happy! He was absolutely incredible in RotS and he truly deserves all the love he’s been getting over the years. As exciting as a reunion between his Vader and Ewan’s Obi Wan will be, a tiny part of me is frustrated because I thought Episode IV implied that their encounter on the Death Star was their first encounter since Mustafar? I’m sure they will find a way to make it work, however. Deborah Chow is an amazing director. I hope they cast a young Luke :3

Andor - Definitely my most anticipated Star Wars project after Obi Wan Kenobi. Really excited to see more of life in the Rebel Alliance, and loving the sound of the “nail-biting spy thriller” angle. Glad that Genevieve O’Reilly is back as Mon Mothma. Keeping my fingers crossed for Jimmy Smits. 

The Bad Batch - The animation looks stunning. Always interested to see more of the early days of the Empire.

Ahsoka - I don’t want it

Rangers of the New Republic - Not a lot of information except that it’s “culminating in a climatic event” with other stories, which sounds ugh. Reserving judgement until we learn more and see a trailer.

Lando - Awaiting more info. No word yet on whether Donald Glover or Billy Dee Williams will be back, but we can’t go wrong if either one (or both) are involved.

The Acolyte - Sounds like it could be interesting. Glad to see other time periods in the Star Wars universe being explored.

Star Wars: Visions - Will probably watch for pretty anime animation.

A Droid Story - Sounds like it will be cute, and I love droids so will probably watch. 

Rogue Squadron - Unless it’s an adaptation of the EU Rogue Squadron, I’m not particularly interested. If we’re getting Corran Horn, Mirax Terrik, Tycho Celchu, and Wes Janson, however, then I am 100% onboard!

Untitled Taika Waititi Star Wars - Not a fan of Ragnarok as has already been established, nor did I like aspects of his episode of The Mandalorian. Can’t imagine that I will be interested.

Other:

Fate: The Winx Saga (Netflix) - This looks like a cheesy guilty pleasure at best and a dumpster fire at worst. I wish that Prince Sky’s hair was longer. W.I.T.C.H. would have translated better into live-action if they wanted to adapt a mid-2000s era cartoon.

Batwoman Season 2 (The CW) - This looks like a huge improvement from season 1. Judging from the trailer I think they made an excellent decision by bringing in Javicia Leslie. The character dynamics all look really interesting. My most anticipated CW show along with Superman and Lois.

[fyrapartnersearch]

Looking for some sci-fi shenanigans!

Obligatory long post ahead warning: this post is quite long and I know it may be intimidating to some readers but please don’t let it put you off if you’d still like to rp with me :)

Hello ladies, gents and fellow rpers. After having a writing blast and seeing how I’ve got room for some more partners I’ve decided to come back in search of some partners who are interested in what I’m looking for.I’ve got a good ten or so odd years of rping experience under my belt but any potential partners do not necessarily have to have the same experience, they simply need to fit under these three things:

-third person only with correct spelling, grammar and punctuation.

- at least one small (no less than seven lines) paragraph per post as well as being willing to write more if the situation calls for it. Please do not contact me intending to give me only small paragraphs with each response as the above is simply the bare minimum I’ll accept if there’s not much going on in the rp that warrants a full paragraph.

-no one liners, one worders, script talk, poorly written sentences or just laziness in general.

This isn’t terribly much to ask for as picky as it sounds.

An important thing I shall mention is that NSFW (i don’t fade to black nor do I care when the smut happens. Just please don’t leave me once the smut has happened like lots of people seem to unfortunately do) and dark themes are a thing that occur in all my rp’s so I require you to at least be eighteen before you reach out to me. I will not accept anyone younger than 18 since I myself am in my early twenties. Underaged characters are also a no go as well. Please know that I’m in the eastern Australian time zone but almost any time zone Is compatible for me as I am awake at very odd hours. Another important thing I shall add is that you must be able to post at least once or more a day and if I don’t get any response after two weeks then I shall simply move on (only exception is if you notify me beforehand as to why you may not be able to post for a while. I’m not that vicious).

I only rp as male characters, as it’s simply my preference, I do MxM or FxM pairings. I will not double and I do not play multiple characters. I don’t do sub/dom dynamics when it comes to any aspect of the relationship. My characters are also non human (they’re aliens since this is a sci-fi rp after all) but what species your character is doesn’t matter to me at all as long as it’s not some god modded Mary Sue. Please remember that alien simply means a creature not from earth. Aliens can have fur, scales, feathers, etc, depending on where they come from. An alien with fur or scalies is not a furry or a scalie and please do not refer to them as such as it’s rude to label someone’s character as something they’re not. I will not write with someone who will insist that the theory of chimpanzees and humans unable to crossbreed should apply to hybrid characters regardless of whether they’re alien/alien or human/alien. This is fiction, not reality. Please also do not control my characters or dictate their actions. My characters are also premade and only have descriptions, I don’t do face claims or pics. I also do not care if you make a character up on the spot.

Please remember that this is a sci-fi rp and that I will not accept requests to do fandoms or any genre that doesn’t fit within the category of sci-fi. i will not accept a character that has no place in a sci-fi rp either like a dragon,harpy,demon, elf or some other fantasy creature.

All aboard the galactica!:

The galactica was a first class explorer ship led by only the greatest of military leaders and alliance figures. Many cadets dreamed of the day that they would one day either get to work onboard the ship whilst many more longed for the day that they’d be chosen as it’s next captain. To be the leader at the helm of the ship was considered the greatest honour and duty one could ever have befall them. Not everyone is content with having the responsibility of an entire fleet on their shoulders nor are the first few days, months or even years of being captain easy. To top it off, not everyone always agreed with the captains choice of their chosen protégé. As a wise man once said, one must be a follower before they could become a leader. When disaster strikes, will the remaining crew members be able to accept their new dynamic, or will it all fall to chaos?

(Important point of notice: I will be playing the character chosen to be the next captain of the galactica, you can either play as my character’s rival or a friend who has turned a bit cold from jealousy. I’m also open to you being the one who was chosen to be the next captain.)

Precious one:

It was supposed to be a simple job with a end goal that would benefit just about everyone: escort the snobbish prince/princess of lektora to their new home on their betrotheds home world and return home to malgor to have a secret celebration with the other knights, guards and castle staff about how they’d be free to live in peace once more whilst the king and queen were too busy praising themselves for all they’d accomplished in life. Sadly, not everyone seems to be happy about the two main planets of power coming together as one and an unknown party has sought to stop it. What was once a simple journey to and from one place has become a quest that will cause views and hearts to change with each passing day and moment as two people fight to survive and figure out what went wrong before it’s too late.

(Important point of notice: I do not mind who plays what. Just let me know who you’d like to be :))

Academy days:

*the galaxy alliance and military defence force academy was one of the most respected training academies in the known galaxies. Men, women, aliens, humans and all of those who were in between went there to study, train and, one day if they passed the mentally, emotionally and physically gruelling years of tests, fly and be put in their own squadron. There were approximately six spots to fill on any team and the cadet who suited that spot the most would be given the title of pilot, squad leader, second in command, engineer, gunner and navigator. Each team was similar but unique in what they did. Not everyone gets along though and rivalries grow high during that delicate time between graduating and being put on a team. What happens when the top student and the lonesome outcast with a temper clashes?*

(Important point of notice: I’m also open to this being a story about new recruits on a space ship who still have a fair few things to learn before they can consider themselves official crew members.)

First day on the job:

Everyone at the space academy remembers graduation day. The day where they became recognised as the very things they strived to be whether it’s a pilot, an engineer, mechanic, a simple Jack of all trades or even a commander if they worked hard enough. Everyone also remembers the few days after the big Moment as well. Days where one is expected to take to whatever rank they’ve had bestowed upon them almost immediately and the responsibilities that came with it as if they’d been born to do it from day one. Some things are easier said than done though, especially when trouble finds ways to manifest in forms that many would not suspect to be of any cause for concern.

(Important point of notice: I will be playing the newly graduated commander of a small crew. You are free to play as either a crew member of any rank or even a trouble making character like a criminal or something similar that gives my character a run for their money. Possibilities are endless)

Runaway royalty:

The life of a Royal was simple yet complex at the same time. They were weighed on hand and foot and never had to lift a finger to do anything provided there was a maid or servant nearby willing to do whatever task it was the royal had for them. They were expected to grow into decent, respectable leaders who could ruler a planet fairly without struggle. For many royals, they were content to follow this regularly repeating path of “destiny” that their ancestors had set them on. All but one it seems. What happens when a sheltered prince/princess takes their chance on the world beyond the walls of their castle for a chance to see the universe itself?

(Important point of notice: you will be playing the prince/princess. I’ll be playing the non Royal character they run into.)

Worlds apart:

War. War was a terrible thing that brought nations to their knees and saw many people lose their lives and freedom. Many people and aliens liked to think that all the major wars were over and done with, that they’d never have to relive the horrors that once fell upon them. To put it simply: if no one hears about bad happenings, then it’s not their problem that needs to be taken care of nor does it exist. Sadly, it does not seem to be the case for everyone. A stranger from a planet so far away that many do not believe it to exist turns up on the doorstep of an alien who is forced to realise that war could very well be just around the corner once more.

Forced:

“there’s no such thing as a bad person. Only bad choices.” Is a saying that is older than time itself. For many who are forced into a position where they have no other choice but to put their morals aside and do as they’re told, this is all too true. A space farer is captured by criminals and forced to choose between death or working as the criminals captain’s personal assistant. That means every order has to be obeyed and every rule must be followed or consequences will be dealt by force. As time passes and life go ons, the captured spacer starts to see his predicament in a different light.

(Important point of notice: I will be playing the captured spacer. You will be playing the captain.)

Forbidden romance:

aliens and humans are forbidden from associating with one another in any way that isn’t political. Whilst the two races have put aside enough of their differences to coexist in their own little pockets of space, not everyone is accepting of the idea that the two different species could live together as one, let alone ever simply just coexist peacefully together without insisting that alien planets and human planets are to be kept seperate. To trespass on the strictly human or alien occupied planets is a crime that few dare to commit. What starts out as a simple act of one sided rebellion and show of courage turns into an unanticipated adventure.

(Important point of notice, I shall be playing the alien. I’m open to this also being an alien X alien pairing.)

The hunter and the hunted:

bounty hunting was one of the few illegal professions in the galaxy that made any trouble you got into for participating in the act of killing or kidnapping someone for worth it depending on who it was you’d been given the task of tracking down. Many bounties were more profitable alive of course since it cut back on many of the legal troubles one could face if caught with a dead body. A galaxy renowned bounty hunter has been tasked with taking down one of the roughest and most wanted criminals known to man and alien with the orders to return them dead or alive. Will they succeed or fail like many before them have?

(Important point of notice: I shall be playing the criminal. You shall be playing the bounty hunter.)

Space criminals and the law:

humans and aliens have been living amongst each other side by side ever since humanity dared to venture beyond the Milky Way and made first contact with aliens. With the solar system no longer being man’s only playground other planets were quickly colonised under the new alliance between extraterrestrials and Homo sapiens. Whether you were an alien, human or a hybrid did not matter in the known galaxies. All that mattered was who you were. Not everyone took to the integration very well (there were numerous protests on both sides) but most people were willing to share in the hopes of peace. Not everyone had good intentions though……

Trouble in the alien kingdom:

the planet of (insert generic planet name here) was one of prosperity, hardship and wealth. The kingdom of (insert generic kingdom name here) was ruled by a king and a queen whose heir was betrothed to a rival planet in the hopes that a political marriage would prevent another war from happening. Only problem was that no one could see the rival planets true plans….all but one. Unfortunately no ones going to listen to a deranged commoner who probably may not even be telling the truth. What’s one to do when no one will listen?

Exile:

The wind howled as thunder crashed and shrieked all around the abandoned cargo ship. Rain pelted the metal hull, turning the ground into a cold, treacherously slippery and muddy shallow river. The ship itself had crashed into the planet countless centuries ago and was slowly being reclaimed by the environment. Plants grew from cracks in the floor as moss and vines decorated the walls. A figure sat miserably hunched in what was once the cockpit of the ship, their only shelter from the raging elements outside but not from the storm that raged inside of them. The figure leapt to their feet as the sounds of footsteps in the mud drew closer and they held their breath. Who would dare to venture out here on such a miserable night?

War of the worlds:

humans and aliens were never meant to coexist peacefully with one another. There was too much fear, Too much misinformation and too much bias on both sides for such a thing to have ever been successful. It was the humans fault that the war had started. They were the ones who’d shot down the alien ship that had been packed with specially chosen diplomats that represented each alien race known to the galaxies they dwelled in that had been on their way to earth to negotiate a truce and a plan for peace. They hadn’t even hesitated to shoot the ship full of aliens yet they’d been surprised when war had been declared on the spot. Two races. Two worlds so different yet the same fighting one another for what was either a mistake or intentional murder.

Rehab:

The UGWP alliance (unite the galaxies for the protection of all worlds and for peace alliance) portrayed themselves as calm, charismatic and kind men and women who held only the thoughts of a life together with all species living happily together. They advertised campaigns for inter species jobs, provided information to the public about human/alien interactions and encouraged diversity amongst planets. Their rehabilitation program for troublesome fellows was considered to be a god send to try and cut down on the amount of space related crimes. No one ever questioned what went on beyond the closed doors to the facility, if they did, the UGWP would have their darkest secrets revealed. Something they strove to keep under wraps. When the arrival of a particularly wild prisoner occurs, the threat of their first failure and first escaped prisoner is lurking around the corner.

(Important point of notice: in this rp idea I’d be playing said prisoner, I don’t mind if you choose to be one as well.)

Academy days:

the galaxy alliance and military defence force academy was one of the most respected training academies in the known galaxies. Men, women, aliens, humans and all of those who were in between went there to study, train and, one day if they passed the mentally, emotionally and physically gruelling years of tests, fly and be put in their own squadron. There were approximately six spots to fill on any team and the cadet who suited that spot the most would be given the title of pilot, squad leader, second in command, engineer, gunner and navigator. Each team was similar but unique in what they did. Not everyone gets along though and rivalries grow high during that delicate time between graduating and being put on a team. What happens when the top student and the lonesome outcast with a temper clashes?

Captured:

Space criminals have been around ever since advanced technology allowed others to travel and live in space as if they were living anywhere else. They’re often cunning, tricky to catch and more often than not are clever at disguising themselves whenever those wanted posters come up. It takes skill to be on the wrong side of space law and true talent to get away with it. The galaxy’s current most wanted man has finally been captured by an alliance captain and his crew. Will he beg for mercy? Will he be given a trial before being thrown into a cell to rot or will he be given a chance to turn himself around with some hard labour?

(Important point of notice: I’ll be playing the criminal for this one. You will be the alliance captain)

Enslaved:

imagine living the life of one of the most successful people on the run that could exist. Galaxies trembled at your name. You and your crew swam in wealth and the going was good. Mutiny, sadly and sometimes not sadly, exists on its own accord. One man reflected on this as he was forced to his feet. A collar attached to a chain and electromagnetic handcuffs prevented his escape as he stood for all those who cared to glance as they walked by in the market to see. No one wants to have their only life’s purpose to be to serve another……only sometimes people don’t get that choice.

(Important point of notice: I’ll be playing the slave/servant. You’ll be the master/mistress.)

Betrothed:

for as long as there has been civilisation and leaders, there has been arranged marriages. Arranged marriages, or betrothals as they were more often called, consisted of pairing two people together and making them get married in order to secure ties to another land or another planet. Political marriages benefited everyone but the married pair it always seemed. After all, you couldn’t possibly be happy being married to a complete and utter stranger? How does one who is betrothed build a life of love and prosperity when the one who bears the rings of their union is not the one who also bears their heart?

(Important point of notice: this can go two ways, either our characters are betrothed to each other or one character is betrothed. The idea has endless possibilities)

Invasion:

march 18th in the year of 6079 was the day that the aliens invaded earth. They’d been planning the take over for some time as they came prepared and easily took out Earth’s defence forces. No one knows exactly why the extraterrestrial beings from the outer worlds came to the humble blue and green planet the humans had existed on for millions of years nor did they seem to have any true intentions known other than conquering the planet and taking it for their own. This has led to the belief that all aliens must be the cruel monsters the humans stories have made them out to be. What happens when the actions of one alien puts that to the test?

(Important point of notice: I’m open to having this idea turned around and having the humans invade an alien world to take over.)

The chosen:

The galaxy alliance had chosen its newest crew to serve and protect the known galaxies. Five young cadets who’d graduated at the top of their classes and would hopefully mark the start of a new generation of spacers and heroes. The leader of the new crew has yet to be decided and tensions are high because of this. Can differences be put aside and acceptance shown? Or will nothing but chaos ensue?

The Walking wounded:

when one worked as a galaxy defence force member, they were on the frontline of everything. Every battle. Every loss. Every victory. Every struggle that the force went through they had to be there and follow the rules. You could not kill an unarmed person regardless of whether they were hostile or not. You could not turn down a plea for help even when there was reasons to suspect something was amiss. In simple terms: you simply couldn’t do anything that would make your morals be questioned. What happens when even the captain says to leave all those rules and everything you were taught by the door when faced with someone who seems to be the exception to the rule. What’s the right thing to do not by them but the entire galaxy?

Stowaway:

the galaxies were once a place of freedom and exploration. A place where you had no limits as to where you wanted to go. Now thanks to new laws, permits are required to access certain systems, quadrants and galaxies. Problem is, this permit is unobtainable by the average civilian so many have taken to learning the art of boarding another’s ship and hoping for the best. Discovery is more or less a matter of life and death. What happens when someone is unfortunate enough to be discovered?

Monster:

aliens. Aliens were terrifying beasts that were the monster in every bedtime story the humans told their children to keep them home at night. Many mothers wept when their sons and daughters applied to the space military in order to keep the extra terrestrial scum away from the galaxies they’d claimed as their own. When a human ship crashes on an alien world so far away from human civilisation it may as well not exist to the aliens and a crew member is found lost and alone by a wandering alien, will their fate be decided by a monster? Or a benevolent being?

(Important point of notice: I will be playing the alien in this scenario. I’m also open to the characters situations being swapped around so it’s the alien who crashes.)

On the run:

even on the most modern of planets, life on the lamb can be difficult. There’s authorities to avoid and even more rules to break in the game of survival. No one takes pity on those who have done wrong to the point that they have their face in the paper. Even if it’s not your fault will anyone give you shelter from the harsh cold winds of reality and a biased opinion. What happens when someone does take a chance on a poor wayfaring stranger? Will the wrong doer be turned in or given a new lease on life?

Disgraced:

when one entered the royal guard they took upon themselves an oath that bound them by blood and courage to the dedication of the protection of their king, queen and the kingdoms heirs. They were sworn to protect them from any harm whilst at the same time not allowed to use their position or power to hurt anyone else. When one breaks that oath, they are sent away in disgrace and branded as a traitor who must swear to never return. Life on the run changes people, sometimes for the better…..or for worse.

Space pirates and nobles:

space was a vast starry and endless sea that many voyaged across for the purpose of research, leisure or finding ones destiny. Like any real ocean, it was filled with dangers. The most feared of all was space pirates. Bands of blood thirsty cut throats and scandalous troublemakers whose sole pleasure in life was to steal, kill and take others prisoner against their will. Only pirates dare to do what other criminals would not. When a merchant ship is robbed by pirates what fate will befall the nobles onboard?

Healing wounds, growing love:

winter on the planet of malgor is one that is feared for its extreme weather. Snowstorms could appear out of nowhere and many a traveller had frozen to death whilst trying to make their way from one village to another. It was also a time where people were at their most vulnerable, relying on the winter harvest to feed every mouth that had been born and raised in the kingdom meant no mercy was spared for poor wayfaring strangers. When a kind soul finds a wounded outcast and decides to bring them home, they discover a threat that’s lurking just beyond the borders of their place of protection.

The knight and the heir:

royals could be spoilt. There was no denying that. A life of good food, wealth, the knowledge that they’d be pampered and weighed on hand and foot by servants was more than enough to turn even the most well mannered child into an insufferable brat. The knights tasked with the protection of the future royals knew this all too well. What happens when one particularly gruff, no nonsense knight refuses to bow to the whim of their future ruler and shows them what it means to be a true leader?

The last of a dying breed:

long ago, in a time when nobles, governments and space Pirates ruled the starry seas of space, there was a terrifying race of aliens that were considered to be the most dangerous creatures to have ever lived. When the great wars started up again due to rising tensions, the humans destroyed the planet these aliens lived on to ensure the battlefield was even. The aliens were furious at the death of an entire race and very quickly turned each and every human occupied planet into a warzone littered with their bases and encampments. Only in very small pockets of the universe does this war not exist. What happens when the last member of the species shows up on a small backwater planet?

(Important point of notice: I will be playing the alien who is the last of their kind, you are free to play as a human or the story can be made to suite a scenario where you are also an alien.)

Harden my heart:

once upon a time, there was two friends who were the best of friends that anyone could have ever seen. Two people who had each other’s backs through thick and thin. Two people who supported each other endlessly even if their morals weren’t entirely inline with each other’s. Two friends who swore to never leave each other’s sides. Alas with the time of great growing came changes, the two friends bond had severed and they’d gone their separate ways in life. What happens when they run into each other many years later?

(This idea is one open to brainstorming, anything is possible.)

captain on deck!:

captains weren’t meant to fall in love with their subordinates. They were supposed to be well refined leaders who only mingled with those of a similar status. They represented the people they worked for after all, therefore they had an image that had to be strictly maintained towards the public in order to not be disgraced in any form. Behind closed doors however…..feelings were allowed to be a little more free. Secret lovers were frowned upon but one could take the risk if they were careful. After all, the captains word was law.

yes sir!:

order.serve.fight.lead.mourn.sleep.eat.rethink your life choices and repeat. Such was the ways of a military lifestyle on a world where war seemed to be a permanent occurrence and the leaders of every world trying their best to outspite one another with their relentless attacks that it made one think of how they could improve the boring daily routine they endured each and every day. In the army, you have to be tough if you want to be a leader. You had to be charismatic, strong, cold, incapable of doing anything that would sway you to possibly turn the other cheek and let your comrades be hurt. However, even the most stoic and battle hardened leaders can get lonely despite the fact that attachments to ones comrades outside of anything but friendship are forbidden by an unspoken law.

I need you:

space is a cruel mistress to even those who are experienced with charting her waters. Space, although beautiful, is often the grave of many brave explorers, soldiers and other space faring strangers. When a stranger comes to scavenge parts from a newly crashed ship in the hopes of finding something useful, they come across a familiar face. Old feelings stir and clash with one another when the crash’s survivor awakens and finds out who their rescuer is.

Sooooo….. about those pairings. What has two stars next to it is what I’m going to play if we choose the scenario:

1: enemies to lovers or rivals.

2: **captured criminal** x prison guard or other prisoner.

3: two soldiers from seperate sides falling in love.

4: **academies bad boy/outcast** x top student

5: **low ranking ship crew member/second in command/captured space criminal** x captain.

6: **commoner/rogue/knight/street rat** x prince/princess/king/queen

7: **slave/servant** x master

8: army superior x **lower ranking soldier**

9: married person X unmarried person

10: stowaway x captain

11: nurse x **injured soldier**

12: human x **alien**

13: bully x **victim**

14: old lovers/friends finding each other again.

PLEASE DO NOT APPROACH ME IF:

1: YOU GHOST AT THE DROP OF A HAT.

2: YOU ARE NOT WILLING TO PUT EFFORT IN TO MEET MY REQUIREMENTS.

I’m open to discussing and potentially mixing these ideas up till we get something that we both like. If you want to learn more about a certain idea tell me the name and I shall expand on it.

The only platforms I rp on are discord,telegram and google hangouts. I will not rp on any other platform other than the ones listed. If you do not have any of those then unfortunately we cannot rp. When you reach out to me requesting for an rp via one of the below platforms In the opening message tell me what idea you liked, why you liked it, give me a little introduction about you and you must put 123 somewhere in your message so that I know you’ve read all of my post, don’t just put “hi wanna rp”. Make it interesting.

My contacts

Discord: crankypurplespacecat#6187

My telegram: Tiberionwars

My hangouts: lleo52560@gmail.com

I look forwards to meeting potential partners.

[cringeyvanillamilk]

Who are your favorite top ten black clover characters and favorite ships? Talk about them. (why I feel like I've sent you this already, hmmmm)

ALRIGHT! It’s time for the last half of the question! This was hard because there aren't many ships in Black Clover that I’m passionate about, but I’ll try my best~! I’ll also keep this short!

Here are my top 10 Black Clover ships!

1. Magna x Luck

Out of all the ships that I felt the strongest emotions or most attachment towards, it would have to be Magna and Luck. I personally found the ‘bros’ or ‘best friends’ ships to be the most versatile to work with! While you can ship them platonically as the greatest best friends, there are always other romantic tropes that I absolutely love that are associated with this type of ship. Friends to lovers, mutual pining, slow burns, etc!! I really love how fun and entertaining their dynamic is in the anime! I can’t help but laugh when these two are together~!

2. Asta x Leopold

I’m telling you, when Asta called out all the nobles during that party, Leopold experienced his first bisexual awakening. I found his quick interest in Asta to be very endearing!! The fact that another royal is enchanted by Asta is hilarious to me! There’s a lot to like about this pairing! Firstly, they both radiate dumbass energy. Same vibe? Same vibe! Secondly, I also love how Asta seems like he has the most brain cells between the two. I never thought Asta having the most brain cell in a pair is possible but here we are-! Thirdly, Leopold’s obsessive rivalry with Asta is adorable!! He has to be so loud about this interest in Asta!! He practically forced his way into being Asta’s rival and that's GOLD!! This pair is just so fun and entertaining! It even checks my royal + peasant trope! I love that dynamic so much!!

3. Asta x Yuno

Okay this was my very first ship!! I always thought Asta and Yuno’s dynamic was the perfect image of what a healthy rivalry should look like! They completely subverted my expectation of what I thought their dynamic would be and I’m honestly glad! Their relationship is full of pure support and love! The way Yuno always teases Asta is also cute! You can tell he has no malice behind his words and Asta’s reactions are always hilarious to watch! I can honestly see why he’d continuously tease him-! Asta is just a cutie-! I also love their competitive attitudes and how they use each other as a motivator! This ship is just full of great vibes and I’m here for it!!

4. Zara x Julius

I bet no one saw this one coming-! This ship is where it’s at!! I like how Juilus, a noble, had so much respect towards Zara, a commoner, because he showcased true heroic traits of a magic knight! There’s so many endless possibilities for this ship, but too bad Zara is d e a d. SMH. They could’ve been Clover Kingdom’s ultimate power couple!! There’s so many things I want to see between these two! Zara possibly pranking Julius with his rainbow stink bug and Julius pranking him back with his time magic, Juilus helping Zara take care of young Zora like a second father, expose the corruption inside the purple orca together, and maybe have a family dinner together!! I’m hungry for this type of content for this ship! This ship is full of pure goodness!!

5. Yami x Charlotte

This is such a cute ship!! If I were to ship Yami with someone in the anime, it had to be Charlotte! There are just so many hilarious interactions between these two that I can’t help but root for this couple! I honestly think Charlotte mostly carries this ship. Her outbursts and overthinking really brings this ship to life!! It’s used as comedy and I enjoy it every time!! Charlotte is just so awkward with her crush on Yami and Yami’s obliviousness is not helping her situation either! This dynamic has all the entertainment one needs to be satisfied!! But what I really like about this ship is the reason behind Charlotte’s infatuation towards Yami. Yami saved her from her curse in the most frank way possible, subverting the stereotypical charming prince saving the damsel in distress trope. Yami was not charming nor romantic in his speech, which makes this moment very memorable to me! I think it’s sweet that Yami’s words captured Charlotte’s heart and in turn broke Charlotte’s curse. I just really like this ship! Yami’s unabashed personality also contrasts so much to Charlotte’s easily flustered personality. That’s hysterical! If these two were a movie genre, they’d be a romantic comedy. 

6. Nebra x Zora

I would like to thank @thespiralgrimoire for this juicy ship. This ship has all that spice!! It has two bad bitches who also have a soft spot for each other. What else can you ask for? This is technically a crack pair but I don’t care!! This ship has potential and I will continue to make content between these two! This ship is not only hot, but there might be some nuance between the two with one being a classist noblewoman and the other being a vigilante commoner! So many lessons for these two to learn, especially Nebra!! This ship is a 10/10!!

7. Gauche x Grey

Bless Grey for being a potential romantic route for Gauche. This guy needs someone who’s not Marie in his life and thankfully Grey exists!! This ship is very soft to me!! Grey’s shy feelings towards Gauche are just so cute!! I like their dynamic a lot! I also like the idea of Gauche being a bit of a tsundere towards Grey because he is used to showing his softer side to only Marie. It makes this ship even more cuter!

8. Mereoleona x Gordon

Listen. I will die for this crack ship. I’m not lying when I say that there is potential behind this ship! Not only do we have the loud jock x quiet goth ship, but they could also help each other’s weaknesses! Gordon can help try to soften Mereoleona up and Mereoleona can help Gordon be more loud! It’s a win-win situation!! Also they make a wacky and cute couple!! I think they just look perfect for each other lmao.

9. Nozel x Fuegoleon

Honestly, I don’t really ship these two extremely hard, but thanks to all the hilarious content surrounding this ship, I ended up liking this ship a lot more than before! The fandom really makes this ship very entertaining and it’s all thanks to them that this ship made it on my top 10!! The dumb Fuegoleon and stressed Nozel dynamic always makes me laugh!!

10. Finral x Nozel

Shout out to my boi @dapperrokyuu for this crack ship. Thanks to her ideas, I ended up falling for this disaster duo! The quote below is what I put in the description of my comic for these two. It basically summarizes the appeal of this ship and I still stand by it lmao.“She brought out the idea of what if Nozel developed a crush on Finral, who at the time doesn’t know he’s bi. Just imagine Nozel internally suffering as Finral carry on his day with no idea that Nozel caught feelings for him. This rare pair just has comedy and spice!!” 

[klarolinedrabbles]

What are some of the tvd to fandoms greatest hits so to speak... I was only in it for a short time and then jumped out because I couldn't stand to

Oh, well allow me to be your guide. This will be under a read more because I already know, I’m gonna write a whole essay. Shout out to my ride or die @hellsbellschime.

I don’t think any overtly crazy happened during the good!TVD years. No wait, I’m lying.

The year the spin-off got announced, I believe it was tvguide, that posted an article with like info tidbits for currently airing shows. And one of them, was that Hayley was pregnant with Klaus’ kid. I remember this shit so clearly, man. Everyone was so confused. And then they were like SURPRISE, APRIL FOOLS. Because it was in fact April 1st. So ha-ha we all had a laugh, great. Fastforward to what, late April? Episode 4x20 airs, and it’s exactly what happened???

That whole day btw, the day the backdoor pilot for TO aired was just insanity. I’ll say that about a lot of days in this answer, but that day was really just something else. Like we were delirious, that’s the only way I can explain what happened on here. It was a nightmare but also one of the funniest night’s I’ve ever spent on here. I gotta go back for old time’s sake and reblog some of the shit from that night because we all snapped. And not in the good way. 

The TVD 100th. Now, we knew Joseph was coming back for that episode so they hype was real. Because up until that point, we’d gotten a huge load of nothing in regards to Klaroline. They released a trailer, a short one, that’s still in my favorites folder on youtube to this day. I rewatch it all the time because it’s iconic. And there was literally .002 seconds of Klaroline. It’s Caroline standing and then Klaus says “hello, caroline” and everyone lost their shit so much when it dropped that ‘hello caroline’ trended ww on twitter. 

THE DAY THE NETWORK THAT AIRED TVD IN AUSTRALIA AIRED A PROMO WITH THE KLAROLINE KISS IN 5X11. ICONIC. I literally woke up, logged on at around 11 AM my time, and my dashboard was on fire. It was the BEST. We didn’t know wtf to do, it was amazing. 

Paleyfest. Ohhhh buddy, lemme tell ya. So TVD/TO got chosen to have the CW panel’s at Paleyfest that year. Everyone was on a bit of edge because TO to that point was what, almost done with S1 and Klaroline had been given the mega cold-shoulder despite being the very thing other than the Mikaelson’s that got used to lure people in? After the pregnancy plot from hell, everyone was ready to peace tf out, but we got halted because it was a ‘ohh of course it’s gonna continue’ then they tried to nip Klaroline in the bud with 5x11 and no one was having it. So Paleyfest was where we were gonna get some ANSWERS, DAMMIT. I live on the east coast and the festival was held in the west coast so I wasn’t awake when it was happening. I remember making a post about how ‘going to sleep, and hoping when I woke up the answers were good.’. So I went to sleep, woke up a few hours later like 2-3 AM my time, and checked my blog and the first message I had was ‘don’t wake up stephanie, everything is a mess, stay asleep where everything’s fine’ I—

The gist of that was, they basically set JoMo up to be the bad-cop in shutting down Klaroline. He gave this long answer that made absolutely zero sense. The girl who asked the question about Klaroline, who was like 13 at the time, got called a bully for even asking a question at an event she paid to be at. A mess. And JP was like NO CROSSOVERS, ORGANIC, BLAH BLAH. And Paul was sitting next to her going “why can’t the show’s just intersect”, he was right and he said it. 

I can’t remember if this was S1 or S2, but somebody tweeted something and Carina replied ‘when you’re found dead in your basement with klaroline written on you this is why’ or something like that, that was a ~fun~ night. And then like half an hour later she was like “I’m sorry, I’ll never tweet about Klaroline again just leave me alone” if you’ve ever seen this fandom refer to ourselves as basement dwellers, this night is why. 

NARDUCCI. Can’t forget him. Talk about a man who just didn’t get it. And I don’t mean Klaroline, he just didn’t get anything, nothing in his head has ever clicked, I’m convinced. He used to pick fights on twitter repeatedly. Admitted once that he missed his flight because he was on twitter…arguing with a fan. AND ONE DAY, he decided to just—snap. Went on this hours long tirade against the Klaroline fandom, essentially calling everyone stupid because no one was appreciating the ‘art’ of the show. So when I say it lasted hours, I mean that. Now, you’d think, that he would be done, right? WELL, apparently that wasn’t enough, so the next day, he continued. I remember because I was in this gc on whatsapp, and I remember Erika sending a message to the gc going “omg, Narducci vs KCers round 2″ when I tell you I screamed. The man went on a two-day rampage against this fandom and it was insane. 

S6/S2 of TVD/TO was not a fun time. I can genuinely say it was borderline a chore to come on here during that time. It wasn’t fun, every day someone was in argument with someone from production on twitter. Truly the worst year of the fandom, imo. So S7/S3 rolls around and that’s where shit went nuclear. 

Hillary and I, are minding our own damn business, when someone come’s to us with information regarding the new seasons. This was post-SDCC, so it’s like the lull of September, waiting for the seasons to start in October. And we get approached with information, talkin bout how Caroline’s gonna be pregnant with Alaric’s twins in S7. When I tell you we didn’t know wtf to do. And we had to like wait on confirmation about it but then we found out it was legit and we were pissed. Literally ask us if we wanted to be in the spoiler game, the answer is no tf we did not. And she and I basically spent two days complaining. LIKE UGHHHH WE DON’T WANNA DO THIS, BUT ALSO THIS IS DISGUSTING, WE CAN’T JUST LET THEM SPRING THIS ON EVERYONE, BUT AGHH WHY US. So we chose collectively, as a duo, because das my other half yo, to blab. 

That went over as best as anyone could hope for it to go. Now, flashforward yet again, this time to around late Novemeber/December. I had been sent word that something was going down. TVD/TO lost their Thursday slots and got bumped to Friday’s, so a plan was going on, and they made one. We’d heard that they were rearranging something mid-season because they were gonna make a crossover work, publicly we found out it would be Paul and JoMo that crossover back-to-back. THEN ONE NIGHT—I call it black friday bc  that day was a fucking mess—, a friend of mine was friends with an SCer, I wanna say, and she was hearing word that the crossover did have Klaus and Caroline interact via phone call, but that it was very definitively an ending. Because they spoke about Camille and Stefan, etc, etc. Like a closing of the book type thing. So okay, we were like devastated, everyone on twitter was losing their shit. Everyone was pissed, and @-ing the writers all these crazy, sad things, we were a wreck. Ask Hillary about this night because she, I remember, describes it as ‘logging on and reading what everyone else had and not understanding why tf everyone was mad about it’. It was the first and last time that our roles were reversed, and bless her for it. 

SO WE’RE SITTING THERE, it’s Saturday, and we kept getting more information and we were like…something isn’t right here. So we did a bit of digging, spoke to a few people and waited it out. LO AND BEHOLD, everything we’d heard about the phone call was false. There was a phone call but the CKers and SCers were so mad about what was actually said in it, that a few of em, ring leaders of the feeble minded, made up a version and passed it around their fandoms as legit till it eventually worked it’s way over to us. So we all jumped the gun on fake information, lmfskdnknsks. Rumor has it, you can still hear Hillary yelling ‘I told you so’ at me through our group chat. 

So all was well, I couldn’t tell everyone why not to panic, just that they didn’t need to. Until, this account popped up called tvdspoiler or something on twitter, also saying false information about the phone call. Sending everyone into a panic yet again. I remember this because I was at  kmart with my mom, and the kmart by my house was in a basement so I had no cell service. I was able to send like a couple of messages, and was basically like ‘tell everyone to chill, I’ll clear it up when I get home’ did that in like a couple of hours cause then I had to leave to the midnight showing of the force awakens with my friends. So that day was chaotic, but fun. It was the first time I reached 99+ messages on my inbox, lmao. 

So that all happened like a good while before we actually saw the episode. But cut to a few weeks later. I woke up at 1 AM my time to drink water, was on tumblr trying to go back to sleep. I checked my inbox and there was this bizarre message talking about ‘got some scoop’ and they were like ‘Finn dies in 3x17, Aurora gets put into some weird sleeping spell in 3x18, Camille and Davina die in 3x19, Lucien dies in 3x20′ and I quite literally laughed??? Literally who wouldn’t. Like who tf would ever believe TO had the balls to do all of that when they never killed anyone off. AND, WHO WOULD BELIEVE THAT SOMEONE WOULD JUST STOP BY, SHARE IT AND LEAVE. So I sent a screenshot to Hillary and was like ‘yo did you get this because wtf’. We often got duplicate messages. And we often got messages of people who were pissed about the two previous times we, from the klaroline fandom of all places, had legit info that wound up being true, that they were just waiting for us to fuck up. So we used to get messages of people pretending they were sharing info, and it was just antis trying to make us look stupid. 

SO, Hillary says ‘just answer it because it’s obviously fake’ top ten moments before disaster. I answer it and am like oh haha, and where did that info come from. And they came back like a minute later, saying ‘I have a source’ THEN THEY ELABORATED. They mentioned that Lucien drags Freya and Vincent to Mystic Falls to do this spell with some bullet and etc. So at that point we were like fUCK because that same day we’d found out was in 3x16, which ended with Lucien and this white-oak bullet, having kidnapped Freya. And that’s when we knew, that someone showed up in the middle of the night, spoiled the whole back-half of TO S3—and then left.

The back-half of S3 was so fun??? Every week the info just kept coming true. On the wikia everyone hated me, probably the most anti messages I ever had was during that time, honestly it was great, 10/10 would recommend. 

THEN, at some point in our blog history, Hillary had been getting quite a few messages about PT. And she had this fucking line in one of the messages about Phoebe’s pronunciation with her accent for the show, or lack thereof. And she said “weeches and woves will always have a place in my heart” SO THEM PHOEBE TWEETED IT. THAT EXACT LINE, and we were like was she...? So we shrugged off okay. A few days later, she tweeted “hellsbellschime enough, there’s plenty of other things to watch on tv, I hear mad men’s great.” And I—

THIS WAS ON SOME RANDOM ASS SUNDAY. Like I was lounging around, waiting for the new episode of game of thrones and then WHAM, chaos. AND AS IF THAT WASNT ENOUGH, Leah joined in too. Putting a target on my friends back...about her blog that no one was making them read. You can’t make that shit up. And Jenn actually replied to Phoebe’s tweet and got a reply back, and she was all “you’re right, I’m sorry” and then deleted the original tweet, which I still have a screenshot of btw. And then Leah showed up in Hillary’s inbox with this ridiculous three part ask about how she shouldn’t criticize women in the acting industry because of how hard it is for women in that industry which is true, but it doesn’t make you exempt from criticism??? So not sure where she meant to go with that one.

SO THERE WE HAVE IT, our fandom’s greatest hits. I’m sure I can elaborate and insert more, but I’ve been typing for a good 40 minutes. 

Told ya, I wrote a whole dissertation, lmaooo.

[ivyveil]

Truth or Drink

the one where it's worth a shot, but is it worth the truth?

A/N: Hi! This fic is based off of this video series by Cut (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=auBSJIJ_C_8) . I fell in love with the idea and I thought I would do a piece on it. I hope you enjoy! 11.4k

It hadn’t seemed real until you were there.

The set was more professional than you had expected. Considering how much time you had spent with Harry’s old circle of friends, you had anticipated a low budget, maybe with the setting being a friend’s house. But it was genuinely in a production studio warehouse, with props and expensive equipment. You kept forgetting that Harry was doing much better for himself now.

They even had a snack tray, for Christ’s sake.

A sizable crew of people milled around the outskirts of the set, their shoes crinkling up the paper that cascaded down two poles, creating a white wall and floor in front of the camera. The director’s seat was empty and the camera was given a wide berth.

A wooden table had been set up in the middle of the paper floor, with three bottles of alcohol, two glasses of orange juice, and two shot glasses on top. The set-up was cute, probably ‘aesthetic’, but regardless, it sent shivers down your spine. Two chairs sat beside the table, angled out towards the expectant camera and muttering crew. Waiting for you, waiting for him.

It hadn’t seemed real until he showed up.

In a sweater colored with muted hues of greens and tans, and sunglasses pulling back his hair, Harry looked unbearably familiar. In an unsettling way, like you had watched a movie starring him at 3 am and woke up the next morning, dusty and vague memories of him coating your tongue and settling against your pillows.

It even fell down to the way he was walking, how his stance lingered more on the left than the right, and how his eyes swept the room. And how he could make you feel like the only one in the world, when his eyes landed on you and he smiled. He smiled as if you both had a secret no one else could understand, because that was partially the truth.

His boots sounded crisp on the paper. He was clipping his microphone against the collar of his shirt, ducking his head down momentarily to eyeball whether it was right. Which was a reminder of how this was all to be made public, how you two were to broadcast your conversation to countless of strangers who never asked for it, but would readily comment.

And that hadn’t seemed like something Harry would normally be willing to do, but to be fair, you hadn’t spoken to the man for almost a year.

It hadn’t seemed real until it was.

The two of you didn’t properly acknowledge each other, not in the way you would’ve if the meeting had been a casual one. Not riddled with anticipation and nerves.

Instead, you two chose to settle in the chairs and keep your attention on the objects around you. There had been smiles exchanged but the air was still thick, feeling like starch against the back of your throat. You both invented itches on your arms, a sudden interest in how your sleeves were rolled, etc, and ignored that the other was doing the same.

Harry shifted the shot glass so it was closer to him, as if anticipating the inevitable slosh of drunken choices he’d make soon. It was more likely than not, that you two – usually fairly private – would rather drink than confess anything.

“Looks like whiskey, vodka, and-” Harry opened up the third bottle, grasping onto the lid as he held up the bottle to his nose. “-maybe tequila?”

He glanced over, eyebrows raised as he tilted the bottle, presumably for you to smell as well. Perhaps there was hope in his eyes that you two could proceed with grace and without properly acknowledging the iceberg of problems between you.

The fact he could sit there and treat the situation so casually, was so frustratingly Harry that you weren’t sure how you had expected anything different. It had been a long while since you had been near him, but he still knew how to try and make you feel at ease. Like he could still read your mind as well as he had a year ago, that he could feel your discomfort and wanted to make amends.

The problem had been, and still was, that he tried to make up for whatever had gone wrong, without fully acknowledging what had actually gone wrong to begin with. His words never laid out flat what the issue was, and so you had often been left dissatisfied, searching for a resolution that he wasn’t offering.

You sniffed the bottle, because of course you did, wrinkling up your nose as you nodded. Tequila. Some strangled noise came from your throat, and Harry was clearly expecting it, for he giggled and plugged up the bottle again.

You hated tequila.

“Thanks fo’ coming, by the way. Didn’t think you’d agree to it,” he confessed, his fingers lingering on the sides of the bottle as he feigned interest in organizing them. As if a straighter line of liquor would wash away the tension, how quiet you had been, and how strangely surreal the next half hour would be.

Shifting in the seat, you crossed your legs and flexed out your foot. Getting comfortable in a situation that was anything but was not your forte by any means. It was your job as an interior designer, for Christ’s sake, to make every environment graceful and cozy.

But the tension between you two had another layer on top, which was your inherent nature of despising the something not being positioned correctly.

In this case, it was the fact you were even in the room.

“No problem. Sounded interesting. Thanks for-” you paused, unsure of what to say but feeling as though you ought to thank him back, “-thinking of me?”

Harry let out a laugh, unexpected by you, and apparently from him as well. Not that you had anticipated a change, or were even trying to notice, but his nose still wiggled when he smiled.

For the first moment since your friend had dropped you off in the parking lot ten minutes prior, you felt settled. Perhaps not confident enough to last through the list of questions without a single tear, but confident enough that you were both in the same situation. You and Harry could make it work and be alright.

It was a situation set up with the consent of each of you, after all, although that didn’t take away the nervous butterflies and worms writhing around in your chest.

Harry poured each of you a shot of whiskey, holding out the glass like a sense of a peace offering. Alcohol had never been your safe havens, but you figured it was alright to pitch a tent for a day.

You accepted it gratefully, making sure your fingers wouldn’t graze against his as you took the drink. Knocking it back felt like a rude awakening, but a necessary one, to approach what was coming.

The wall of paper rustled behind you, and the director popped his head around the corner. His name-tag read Chris, and you recognized the name as one of Harry’s newer friends, not one of the friends who would recognize you, which was a relief.

Chris was the reason Harry was doing the show, it seemed, as voluntarily airing past relationships was slightly out of character for Harry. His sense of duty towards his friends seemed to outweigh his typical cloak of privacy, and you couldn’t say you were altogether surprised. It didn’t clarify why he had asked you to be the ex on the show, though. He had a handful of others who were more likely to generate “viral content” with their outlandish drama, you knew, yet he had asked you.

“Thank you both for getting here on time. We can go ahead and get started if that’s okay,” Chris clasped his hands together, strutting past the table and towards his director’s chair. He was wearing plaid pants that swished against his legs as they moved, and that was the only noise in the room for a few seconds. Harry and you looked at each other, a bit uneasy that the moment had come upon you both so quickly. He quirked an eyebrow, as if to say there was no reason to delay it any longer. You took a deep breath and nodded.

“Okay, here’s how it’ll work. Martha will put these cards on the table. One of you will read out the question and the other will answer. If the person answering chooses not to, that person will have to take a shot. Easy enough. If you wanted to elaborate with your answers, we encourage that as well. And if you need to take a moment, let us know, but the camera stays rolling.”

It was a lot of information at once, and you found yourself nodding without comprehending as Chris rambled on. Your mind, ever the traitor, was stuck on how a week ago Harry had texted you. It was truly out of the blue, since your break up hadn’t resulted in a good, or even shaky, friendship, and you had felt certain he had deleted your number.

Hey, it’s Harry Styles. Know you probably don’t want to hear from me, but I have a favor to ask. My friend is doing a new Internet series where exes get together and talk about their relationship, and he wanted to know if I would be willing. Thought of you. Interested? Xxx.

At first, you weren’t sure. The situation seemed like a disaster waiting to happen, if you were being honest. Darkened skies and trees blowing enough to the point their trunks swayed in the wind - that sort of disaster.

There was something about seeing his face that would send you spiraling off, bubbling anger and frustration swelling up your chest when you stumbled on his Instagram those few times. And then those times when you looked him up. And then those times when you took a screenshot the particularly good photos and went back to them when you were in a pit of self-despair. But only those many few times.

“Sounds good,” Harry was saying, and you chimed in with similar agreement. Martha, presumably, moved forward and put the cards on the table. There were a sizable number of questions, enough to keep you two interested in the game and not to be tempted to drink on every one.

Which had been your plan.

“Alright, just introduce yourselves to the camera and then go ahead,” Chris gestured outwards, smiling, before settling back in his seat.

Chris’ facial expression shifted into something more serious, the friendly facade morphing into a professional stare, which made you feel incredibly aware of how awfully slouched you were. You felt like you were in front of your parents, or a teacher, like you were a kid again and had to present yourself well.

Sitting up, you turned towards the camera. It was a large, black pit of emotionless indifference. It was going to record everything and wouldn’t have the decency to look away, if tears were to fall or if blood were to be shed.

Which didn’t feel too melodramatic, if you were being honest.

Harry introduced himself as Harry, an art teacher, and gave a gentle wave paired with one of his charming smiles. You followed suit, opting to just fold your arms against the table, as you introduced yourself as an interior designer.

The truth extended a bit beyond that for the both of you, with Harry also owning a popular photography Instagram working to introduce inner-city kids to film tech. And you were working with the local homeless shelters in the area to improve structural efficiency, as well as beginning your line of eco-friendly furniture.

But the two of you had become wrapped in the other’s threads of intimacy when you were merely an art teacher and an interior designer, and it would be easier to hark back a year ago if you were no longer attached to today’s version of yourselves.

Perhaps it was a hope for the past to emerge once more.

“How long did you two date?” Chris prompted.

“Two and a half years,” Harry answered.

“And how long ago was that?”

Harry looked over at you, raising his eyebrows silently asking you to be the one to answer. You knew he knew, that the wounds were still fresh and it wasn’t some ex-relationship lost in the foggy realm of his mind. So, you obliged, replying steadily and only taking your eyes away from Harry’s for a brief moment.

“About a year ago.”

And then, abruptly, it was simply you and Harry.

The crew faded away, when you two settled in against the backs of the seats and looked at each other. Harry seemed to be toying with some type of smile, probably more out of discomfort than genuinely finding humor in the situation.

“Should I go first?” Harry offered, reaching over towards the pile.

“Yeah, go for it.”

You shifted your legs once more, crossing them so the other was on top. Your fingers rested on the edge of the table, curling against the wood and waiting for Harry to speak.

“Describe how you feel about me right now.”

Harry began chewing on his lip, not harshly, but enough for you to pick up on his nerves. His eyes shot over to the bottles, thinking you’d immediately cop out, but you began to respond.

“I feel like...” you sighed, dropping your gaze from his inquisitive eyes as you collected your thoughts, “I feel like you’re an ex. And that’s not saying a lot but that’s the best way to describe it.”

You nodded, satisfied with your answer.

“Is that a bad thing?” Harry asked.

You shrugged.

“It just is. Feels like an ending brought back up.”

And it did. You had grown a lot since you two had left the other as a broken shell, and meeting up again felt like a continuation that wasn’t supposed to be. Unnatural was a word to describe how your eyes settled on the small parts of him, deciphering what was different now, yet there was a thread of normalcy in how you two could understand the other like an instinct buried deep away.

“Ah, it’s the bad sequel,” he mused, with a grin that deepened against his cheeks when you laughed. With a smirk to himself, he put down the card in the discard pile.

It felt a bit easier than you had expected, to sit across from him. The bitter words you two had left stewing in the other’s mind had apparently evaporated for the time being. Texting Harry back your confirmation while drunk and alone on a Friday night could maybe be chalked down as a good life decision, if the goodwill carried on throughout the video.

“What about you?” you prompted. You weren’t sure if that was allowed, if the game permitted for you to turn the question onto him. But you were intrigued by the ability to ask him whatever, to find out the depths of Harry you never thought you’d be privy to again, under the guise of something that could be easily excused.

“Me?” he asked, needlessly, for there was no one else you could be asking.

“I feel kinda the same,” he spoke as if it were a question, but continued on with building confidence, “I dunno much about yeh life anymore. Remember how we’d go out on the fire escape ‘n just talked-” you smiled at that, because it was one of those things that couldn’t be remembered without being cherished “-but I also remember how we fought. Especially on tha’ last night. But it doesn’t feel bad to be here. Not wha’ I expected.”

You nodded as he spoke, already feeling the analysis of his word choice kick into gear in the depths of your brain. Nothing he said rose red flags, though, and to a sad extent, you understood him. It hadn’t been as painful as your friends had tried to convince you it would be when you were leaving the apartment that morning.

“Alright, my turn?” you looked over to Chris, who nodded towards the pile. It seemed a bit ominous, with Harry being the one to potentially answer now. Because you had control over what was said a moment ago but now it was truly up to him. It made you nervous

“Did you ever have the chance to cheat on me, and did you?”

Time almost seemed to stop, an unbearable delicacy in the way your eyes held contact with his own. An impressive acknowledgment that whatever he said, and especially the moves his body would make, held the potential of ripping a shred into the both of you.

“I had a chance.” Harry nodded slowly, and his fingers began to twist around themselves on the table. “With...with a mutual friend.”

You nodded, not even needing him to go on further. You knew who it was.

Melanie.

You valued female support and girl love for one another, but Melanie was just a straight up bitch. In the ways that men never could see, because the complexities of female language would twist around the way she eyed women up, the way her lips would curl around each false compliment, as if snapping its neck. Her words had a double meaning that only girls could decode, a simple system that carved knives down their back as she manipulated situations to her fancy.

She was in a ‘game’ no one else was playing, but she was in it for blood.

Perhaps insecurities could be an excuse, maybe there were lingering traumas in her childhood that had morphed her into the beast she was today. But it was easier for you to shut down those ideas and accept her in the monstrosity she had become, one way or another, and keep your hand firmly in Harry’s whenever you all were out together.

She had a thing for Harry.

She would sidle up next to him in the booth, when the lights were low enough to mask her demon-slit eyes and let him be blind to the venom-soaked tongue that flicked out of her mouth with two prongs.

(You were being dramatic, but that’s neither here nor there).

She would be cuddly with him, and Harry would insist to you that they were just friends. When his phone went off with her name splashed on it for the fifth time in ten minutes, he’d make up excuses. Say she was interested in his record collection, that she had sent him a link to some obscure new photography magazine that Celtic porn stars had created downtown. It was nothing incriminating but Melanie had her code, and it seemed only you knew how to read it. He was protective over her, almost, and it had bugged you to no end.

You never called him out with direct accusations, though, because you had never thought of him as the cheating type.

You’d always assumed Melanie was in it for the attention and would stop before any buttons could slip out of their hold.

It seemed you had assumed wrong.

“When was it?” you found yourself asking, the question bursting through before you could have enough time to address whether you wanted to know.

“A week before we broke up.” Harry had the decency to look unsettled, clearing his throat and glancing around the room. “I was taking her home after that night out, the one when we went to tha’ bar and we fought so yeh left early-” you nodded, so he cut to the chase, almost gratefully “-and she wanted me to kiss her when we reached the door.”

“Did you?”

Harry shook his head, his lips pursing together as he swallowed.

“No, didn’t.”

You nodded, feeling a swoosh of satisfaction dipping into your lungs. Even though you couldn’t call him yours anymore, the fact that you both had stayed honest made you feel better.

Made you realize that even though your break up felt like exposed film, negatives that could never be altered into something bursting of color, you two still had the foundation of respect. The pictures were still beautiful, even if you couldn’t see what they were.

“You?”

Glancing up from the card to Harry, you noticed his head was tilted down, his eyes up. He was the one who was unsure, now. The delicacy remained and your head tilted to the side as you replied evenly.

“No, never.”

“Ever had the chance?”

You paused, letting the question sink in.

“I guess from random guys at bars ‘n stuff, but I always said I was with you.”

Harry nodded, leaning back somewhat, as if the answer had lightened some burden.

“Was never sure about Shawn, to be honest. Thought he had a thing for you,” Harry confessed with a shrug, a light smile on his lips. His eyes were still honest, still serious, still had the heaviness that you felt in your soul.

You weren’t sure what to say, with the bright lights and the rolling camera, so you just put the card down and nodded up at him.

It was his turn now.

Another card drawn.

“What do you miss the most about us?”

“Our friendship.” Your answer was immediate, no thinking required. “We had so much respect for each other. I remember feeling so in awe about how persistent you were - like the time you crashed the governor’s party to debate school board funding?”

Harry grinned at that, his eyes crinkling more than usual at the memory, as you continued.

“We knew everything about each other, always had the other’s back, and now we just...”

Your hand waved off towards the crew, although it was meant more as a general ‘nothingness’ gesture, but Harry nodded. He almost looked relieved. A more permanent smile was on his lips, and you knew there was one on yours. It was impossible not to look back on that aspect without a consuming sense of fondness, an adoration for what had been.

“Feels weird tha’ I see still yeh face everywhere now, but like...I don’t even know how your family is doing,” Harry said and he glanced up at you, a slant to his eyebrows that spoke more than he could on camera.

“He’s fine,” you murmured, and Harry’s eyes glimmered somewhat. You could tell he was happy for you and you wondered if it were your imagination misleading you when he readjusted on the seat, and his hand went out on the table. Not close enough to be against yours, but it was possible he was trying.

“Did tha’ fucker kick you out?” Greg yelled towards the street, as if Harry were lurking behind a streetlamp watching you shuffle on the doorstep. The street echoed quietly back Greg’s words, without a reply, not even an indignant shout from the neighbors.

“No,” you sniffled, and Greg’s attention was brought back to you. He opened his door wider so you could step out of the rain, looking once more up and down the street, as if still unsure of Harry’s location. Then, he stepped inside as well.

“I just needed someplace to go. C-can’t stay at the apartment. Everything’s j-just a mess right now, y’know?”

Your eyes had kept on the floor, but Greg lifted up your chin with his fingers. He was staring at you in some odd type of way.

Somehow comforting, you supposed, but not having spoken to Greg in forever, you weren’t particularly sure if it was judgment or sympathy he was feeling towards the situation. He hadn’t seemed to approve of Harry the one time they met, but the entire evening hadn’t gone well for your family, so it was impossible to tell.

“I understand. Stay as long as you need, ‘kay?” His answer surprised you and also didn’t. You knew he wouldn’t have let you past his doorstep if he was still angry.

It seemed the pain left by Harry was enough to forgive the harsh dispute that had cracked open your ribcage first, the fighting that had stirred up your temper to high enough levels to really go at it with your boyfriend. Or ex, now, it seemed.

“I’m sor-”

“Don’t.” Greg’s voice cracked at the end, and you blinked in surprise. “We’re family. Beyond the blood or marriages or what-fuckin’-ever, that’s what we are. I love you, and that’s not going to change. All that shit doesn’t matter right now, ‘kay?” You nodded.

And that was the first conversation you had with Greg in all twenty-five years of your life, that didn’t end with screaming. It was the first time since you could remember that your half-brother hugged you and told you he loved you.

It was the first step the both of you took towards healing.

“And I have no clue how your pet fish is getting on,” you replied, as if your drama with your half-sibling would appropriately compare to Harry’s fish episodes.

You two had bought a pet fish, about a year and a half ago, for one of Harry’s projects – back when he was paying for all of the supplies but was still determined to get the kids what they needed – but Goldie kept dying, and every one of Goldie’s descendants died, as well, none lasting a month and most not seeing it through a week.

Harry laughed.

“No more fish, actually. Decided to stop trying,” he explained, and your lips formed some sort of tight smile. At least, you hoped they had succeeded in doing that, and there wasn’t some sort of disfigured grimace that would be captured on camera.

A feeling of something close to comfort draped over your shoulders as you moved to pick up the next card. The questions had been easy, almost too easy, and you were falling into a lull of belief that you could take on all the twists and turns of the segment. Being honest wasn’t feeling hard.

But it seemed like God suddenly had a call to take, or the Goddess of the Moon had her attention elsewhere, for the easy questions came to an end.

“Do I ever pop up in your head when you masturbate?”

Several of the crew laughed at your reaction. Your jaw had dropped slightly, eyebrows furrowed at the card as if the ink could apologize and scramble into a more appropriate question. You hadn’t expected that at all.

Nor did you expect the familiar swooping feeling in your stomach, because you had the all-too-vivid memories of being with Harry. Knowing his moans, the grip he prefers, the words that, when murmured against his throat at the right second, could send him over the edge.

Harry didn’t seem to mind too much, only looking like a deer in headlights for a moment, before he reached out towards the bottle of tequila, an unsure chuckle mixed with a light hysteria coming from his lips.

“Gonna need to take a few shots for that one,” he joked, shaking his head, before drawing his hand back in. Your heart started thumping rapidly.

Inhale. Exhale. You could feel your cheeks burn, even if the red wasn’t noticeable it was still felt, and the light-headed spin within your mind increased.

But it was going to be alright, you weren’t going to die, despite feeling it in your heart that it could possibly happen, once your friends saw the video in a few weeks time. Telling it to yourself over and over, you blinked at Harry and your face squinted together, in a ‘hell, you gotta answer’ type of way.

Harry was looking at you, his eyes a shade more serious than before. A flicker of confusion registered within the green, as if he weren’t accustomed to seeing you calm down so quickly (despite your anxieties not being apparent to the rest of the room, it seemed as though Harry hadn’t lost his knack for picking up on it) but he persisted on.

Fuck. You realized he was actually going to answer.

It wasn’t that you minded. The thought of him using the memories of you two wasn’t a slap in the face by any means. But it was more the confrontation of it that you were struggling to break through, escaping the ocean waves of wanting to know, while definitely not wanting to know. The waves were lapping up against the sides of your neck as you looked around, but no land was in sight.

You two were there, and the threat of drowning was imminent.

“I mean, yeah. Together almost three years, we had some good times.” His voice quietened by a fraction, as if the words would remain private. A cheeky grin still dug into his lips, a flush sort of pink dusting his cheekbones as he shrugged. But you know what he meant, beyond the clothes draped against half-done canvases and wallpaper samples.

You both knew how it felt.

“An apartment...all to ourselves,” Harry whispered, his fingertips stretching up against the bare mattress towards its edge. The sheets lay, arranged as if by a Greek sculpture, around your legs and Harry’s waist. His arm was around you, his palm laying on the small of your back to cuddle you in closer. He felt warm, smelled like coconuts. His chest rose slow, his breath evening out.

The empty space was now, indeed, yours. Your mind had been whirling ever since you first saw the structure with ideas for patio design and kitchen layout, but Harry had managed to distract you for a quick “house-warming party for two, love, gotta do it right” that had lasted all afternoon.

The sun was dipping lazily against the skyline, streaming golden and orange rays down into the home. Because it was a home now, with Harry and you in it.

“You still awake, love?” Harry tapped his fingers against your back, and you lifted your head sleepily. It felt like a thousand pounds, with your eyes fluttering closed while your mind was trying to open them. Harry chuckled.

“Tired yeh out?” he teased, and you managed to peep your eyes open enough to roll them properly, before propping your head up on his chest.

“Just sleepy. Had a long day moving in boxes. And then again tomorrow...but you’ve got work, yeah?”

Harry made an affirmative noise, soft and gentle as he looked down

His hair had just grown long enough for him to be satisfied; curls caressing his collarbones and laying against the mattress like an angel’s halo. You didn’t have to open your eyes to see it, the image was painted across the skies of your eyelids after a year of admiring him.

“Gonna be another long day tomorrow,” you mumbled around the upcoming yawn, and you felt Harry brushing your hair back. His fingers got caught, at times, against the messier curls, and he would untangle them. You’d do the same for him, if the positions were reversed, but your eyes only felt real when they were closed. Like the genuine rest would start when you weren’t looking around the room, wild ideas forming upon the walls.

You and Harry spent the rest of your first night in your first apartment cuddled. He didn’t even bring out his camera when the sun hit your cheeks just right, instead feeling in his heart like the moment was best at the time it was happening. Never to be seen again, never to happen again, it was yours, and you were his.

“Had some good times,” you agreed, gesturing for Harry to pick up the next card. It sent your heart racing once more, the thought of Harry turning the question on you. The words were in his eyes, anyway, and it went beyond crude nights spent alone with lube and memories, and into something deeper. Something about whether you treasured those times still, whether they had been tarnished by an ending.

The truth was, you did. On the romantic nights when your bed felt empty, an ocean of sheets and cold pillowcases, with that itch of needing something to bring you higher, that you recalled the good times. It felt like in public eye, you had to maintain the appearance that you and Harry weren’t compatible, that something tragic had occurred, something was wrong within the relationship, and it was irreparable. And perhaps that was true, but your feelings had a nasty tendency to not align with the truth. Contradictions galore, your mind would go to Harry and feel something deeper than an ending.

Harry gave a short nod, cleared his throat, and picked up the next card. The opportunity of waiting allowed for you to glance around the room, making eye contact with one sounds-person who seemed particularly apologetic in the way they smiled.

“How long did it take for you to get over me?”

Before you could even think, he put the card down and shook his head.

“I know this,” he claimed, and your eyebrows rose in surprise, “You hooked up with Shawn two months after we broke up.”

It was what you had been trying to avoid in the conversation earlier, how the topic of Shawn had elicited jealousy and concern from Harry, and it was not entirely unfounded. You and Shawn had ‘hooked up’, but not to the extent Harry was perhaps expecting. Shawn had kissed you after a particularly rowdy rendition of Love Shack during karaoke night. It had ended there, because the guilt welling up in your throat felt like bile and you needed some air immediately.

It still felt wrong, even when the person you thought was ‘right’ was across the city, wanting nothing to do with you.

Harry finding out about that night wasn’t a surprise, since your friend group was still, a year later, overlapped in a few areas. What was a surprise was how Harry had taken that one kiss as a sign of you officially Moving On, as if a Facebook relationship status change and a quick peck could alter almost 3 years of passion and commitment.

Three months ago.

The night had begun with dark purples and blues around your figure, the way your curtains draped against empty windows and the pillows were untouched on one side of the bed. Your friends were blowing up your phone, rattling against the side table persistently, trying to call you out of the depressing apartment and into the club life they were thriving within.

You had already decided to join them but didn’t have the fancy of responding yet. The outfit needed to be perfect, you wanted to feel like you were alive through someone else’s light for the night, before making it official. It was a process of shedding who you had been the week prior and stepping into the greasy, sweaty club as if it were an ocean of opportunity.

Through this endeavor, you found yourself deeper in your closet than you typically were. And that’s where it was, a small brown case with a white tag in the corner, gold stitching around the edges. The tag read “Harry” and your heart made a distant noise, six stories below, as it crashed through the floor.

The moment quickly altered itself, adapting a more serious tone, and the thoughts to color-coordination drifted off like smoke from your mind as you crouched down. Picked off the lid. Looked inside.

There were Polaroids. Dozens of them, stacked against each other and looped together with multi-colored rubber bands.

Photos of you, photos of him, photos of the two of you together. Some were dirtier than others, some made you blush as you fingered through the stack, but others made you pause. Like the one where you were snuggled against Harry’s neck, with Harry’s smug smile peeking out in the corner. It was taken on your first anniversary with him, when the two of you were so broke you had to spend the celebration cooking each other mac’n’cheese with flowers from the Dollar General out on the table.

Or the one where Harry was laid out on the bed, his hair curling against the pillows, shirtless and sleepily looking into the lens. You remembered taking the photo, standing up with your feet on either side of his hips, his hands wrapped around your ankles to hold you steady. You had taken your time getting the position right, making sure the light fell across Harry’s chest like cage stripes along the butterfly. Harry seemed absolutely smitten that you wanted to take a photo of him, cheekily asking, “Lookin’ good, hm?” in between shots.

You cried that night.

More than you had in months, you cried over what was lost. Even the happy moments made you cry because of their fleeting nature, how quickly they had become distant. You cried because you felt like you were mourning all over again, with the box of photos you had forgotten about in the back of your closet.

Your heels were kicked off, your dress was splotched with mascara from wiping at your eyes, and you sat against the closet wall, your knees brought up to your chest.

Within the tears held the question of what it all meant, why you hadn’t felt cried out over the entire situation. Why there were wracking sobs echoing against the walls, why the apartment suddenly seemed like a graveyard and you were a tombstone.

And within the tears held the question of whether you had let go at all.

“I’ll take the shot,” you gestured towards the vodka bottle, and Harry’s body stilled, somewhat unnaturally, somewhat in shock. He was obviously stunned at whether that was confirmation of you genuinely having gotten over him within two months, which he had said more as an accusation than a sure fact. But you couldn’t find it in you to confirm or deny. It just was, and no matter what the truth had been or was still, you weren’t going to touch on it.

“Alright,” he muttered, and with how his head was turned away as he kindly poured you what would be your second shot, you couldn’t distinguish whether he was still shocked or had made the leap to upset. And you weren’t sure which you wanted him to be.

It was bitter going down, searing your throat a bit, and you shook your head immediately, feeling the racks of shudders going down your spine as you powered on through the shot. Several of the crew members laughed at that, and your head tilted up, leaning back into your neck as you cringed.

“Fuckin’ hate that,” you whispered, eyes squeezed shut, and you heard Harry chuckle quietly.

“Alright, your turn, love,” he gestured towards the stack, and on came the next question.

“Is there anything you want to apologize for?”

The silence extended beyond the two of you, into the scope of the room and surrounding the walls like a thin layer of lace. The itchy kind.

“I didn’t know how to talk to yeh. About what I was feeling, ‘n stuff. Figured we’d be okay, no matter what.” He took a deep breath in and his eyes settled on a particularly dark knot in the wood of the table, eyebrows furrowed as her continued. “I’m sorry for tha’. Shouldn’t have assumed yeh knew.”

“Knew what?”

“How much I loved yeh. How much I wished I could’ve solved things, early on before they got to be too much.” He was choking up at the end, nodding quickly and blinking his eyes. It took a moment before you realized he was close to tears, at the memories and at the loss.

You couldn’t say you felt any different, with your own throat closing up around your words.

“We tried our best,” you said, feeling your lips wobble around the smile as if unsure. Harry shrugged, like he didn’t quite feel the same but wasn’t going to argue. The emotions ebbed upon you both quickly and remained, a wave over your heads that didn’t return back to the ocean like it should’ve.

The final fight between you two could have been avoided. It was the cumulative frustration over months of miscommunication, of Harry always being at work, of him putting his school kids first, of you needing someone there with you, of you never knowing how to speak the words of that question, of both of you deciding to be stubborn instead of empathetic. It was a disaster, a war zone marked by scowls and hot tears and rattling doors.

“You can’t take one day off to fix this?” Your voice was shattered, glass shards etching themselves into the walls. It was quiet, as it always was when Harry had something to say but refused to get the words out. He’d just shut down again, seethe in his frustration, never confess to being pissed off, as if denial in itself could create a false reality where you were Okay.

“I’ve got work,” he said it pained, as if he were powerless.

Perhaps you’d been privy to too much of his loveliness, saw too much of his bright sun, because you no longer believed in that. You knew he could do so much, that perseverance was nothing compared to his willpower, and yet you were never on the receiving end of his dedication and work, just an observer.

It was watching him fight for everything but you that sealed the deal, in the end. You had enough empty spots in your heart from people who had left without a second thought about commitment, who took your love for granted and assumed it would last for miles (and it had, which was the worst bit). You couldn’t allow for Harry to make his mark like that. He didn’t have that power over you like he had for others, you had decided.

Which was why you moved in with your brother the next day. Which was why Harry showed up the next night, still in his work clothes, with his teacher’s briefcase in one hand and your apartment key in the other.

“The fuck is this?” he spat, once you had stepped out onto the porch. The streets were slick with rain, the tree branches were weighed heavily upon one another, and Harry’s eyes were the scorched lightning setting it all ablaze.

“I’m done.”

“What yeh mean, done? Done with wha’? Done with us?”

A stunned silence.

“I said we’d work it out.”

He was trying to speak patiently now, talk down as if you had simply forgotten the way he had made you feel cozy and warm again, with promises and soft smiles, before leaving you once more.

“I asked for you to stay.”

“When have yeh ever needed someone to stay?”

It was blunt, harshly spoken, his eyes unfocusing as he furiously blinked the rainwater from his vision. You didn’t move back, you never invited him beyond the porch gate, somewhat afraid of what you’d do if he came closer.

“In the past two years, not once have yeh ever asked for me. Never asked for my advice, n-never told me yeh needed me. What the fuck ‘m I supp’sed to do with that? Know magically that this one time is when you’re actually gonna open up, genuinely gonna talk things out? Not just take whatever path yeh want, without thinkin’ of me?”

“I asked for you to-”

“Stay. Yeah. You asked for me to stay.” He sighed and whipped his head to the side, attempting to sniffle discreetly. You knew that his hay fever was acting up, and you knew he was trying to pretend it wasn’t. A sub-drama within the original, a dialogue stupidly unspoken.

“And you didn’t.”

“What would I be stayin’ for?” It was a serious question,

“For us? To make it work, to talk about what we haven’t-”

“Okay, fuckin’ fine. Talk. Tell me what yeh want me to know.”

You opened your mouth and closed it several times, unable to know what to say. It was a contradiction of overwhelming emotions and the realization that you had no idea. Everything had piled up on each other and digging through the past had no effect on the future, at that point, and you felt as though you had made your mind up the moment you left your key out on the dining table, a night bag stuffed with your everyday things, and your mind blank, to stop yourself from surrendering to him once more.

You’d never forget how he looked, at that moment. In his loose button-up and jeans, with paint on his knuckles and his hair piled in a bun, he looked helpless.

“I’m waiting.”

After a few more moments, he shook his head.

“I’ll move in with Liam next week.” It was a shuddered statement, as if he had come up with that plan on the way over. And that was the way you two ended, because the cliff had been seen for miles and neither one of you pulled the damn car over.

He paused, his body shifted back towards the gate. His hands were by his side, limp, already having given up far before his mind had, your apartment key loosely between two of his fingers.

A minute later, you were back inside. Sliding down the back of the front door, letting your hands immediately rack through your hair, your vision blurry with the loss and the lack of focus, now that he was gone. Because you were gone, and everything was right, but it felt like devastation.

“Our best,” Harry repeated, but that didn’t even sound like enough.

The studio was silent.

“Kiss on the mouth or take a shot each.”

Approximately thirty seconds later, two shot glasses hit the table. You had downed your third of the day, as Harry scrunched his face as he got down his second. Neither of you had hesitated, both realizing that it would bring the level of discomfort to excessive levels. Perhaps if you two were at a friend’s house, wine bottles being passed around in front of the fire, a brief kiss wouldn’t have been seen as much of anything. But not for a camera. Not for the Internet.

The crew was amused how the two of you were on similar tracks of mind, and if you were sober you wouldn’t have found it as funny. But when Harry had his face all squishy like a boy who just ate a lemon, you couldn’t help the giggles that manifested themselves against your lips.

“Okay,” Chris interjected, and it was the river of smooth liquor that kept you two from jumping at the interruption. You had almost forgotten about where you were.

“Just a quick question,” Chris continued, “One we’re asking all the couples.” He paused for dramatic effect, perhaps waiting for the right camera shot, before asking, “Do you feel you have closure?”

The director was bent forward, as if he were brought to the edge of his seat by something that wasn’t surprising in the slightest. Of course neither of you felt you had closure, and of course neither of you would confess to that. Whether the lack of a proper good-bye still haunted your bedposts was another ordeal, one you didn’t feel particularly keen to jump into.

“Uh,” Harry spoke with the stumbling eloquence you had somewhat missed, “Um-well, I-” his eyes flashed over to yours, and then to the side of the table, “Drink. I’m gonna drink.” You gestured with your hand to the bottles, as if inviting him to it, not quite expecting anything less.

His cheeks were flushed as he poured himself another shot, obviously quite upset that he had to further his count. He was an embarrassing lightweight, which you knew, and Chris most likely knew as well.

But Harry must’ve felt more comfortable with risking himself getting drunk on camera, than answering the question, or else he would’ve just confessed that you never let him have the opportunity for closure. And he had treated you similarly, it was a relationship destroyed like frayed clothing, feathering off near the end and getting caught in every sort of mechanism known to mankind.

You never quite understood metaphors.

Harry took the drink in one swoop, without a second thought, and despite you hoping he’d be the one to pour you a shot again, he was obviously needing a moment or two to adjust. So, you poured your own, saluted Chris with it, and drank.

Another truth avoided, and you were feeling like the haze of life had descended upon you. Warmed up and ready to strike.

It hadn’t occurred to you much, at the time, how drinking could speak volumes louder than an answer, one you could elaborate on. But no man ever said vodka brought him sense, so you continued on with the game, under the assumption that the shot glasses would be there for you if all else failed.

“Your turn,” Harry reminded you gently, nudging the cards closer.

You drew.

“Would you be with me again?”

There were flecks of gold in his irises, which felt cliche and overrated, but you were struggling to find anything else in his eyes. There they were, gold and glistening, and the gold was shifting around as Harry glanced away.

It didn’t quite sink in, the implication of his stance, how heavy the air became to everyone sober in the room. Harry nodded slowly at the question, more in the process of thinking over his answer than the nod genuinely being a response.

He started biting his lip again.

“I’m gonna have t’ drink.”

Particles of the air shifted in that fraction of a second. They turned on their sides and pierced the nothingness surrounding them until there was an invisible knife pricking against your chest. It felt hot and unwelcome, and under the gaze of the entire crew, you were speechless for a few seconds.

“I can get why not,” you mumbled after a while, your fingers fixing your hair, the collar of your shirt, anything but how tightly wound the rope was around your neck. “If it didn’t work once, probably wouldn’t work again.”

“Just don’t know who you are, now.” Harry was nice enough to cover his true intentions as he poured the shot. The glasses clinked as they were rearranged and you noticed they were no longer in a straight line. Perhaps Harry was done with easing your tension, maybe this was it. The real pair, the couple of exes with nothing but honesty, a year too late.

“I’ve changed a lot,” you agreed. “Us ending definitely showed me where I needed to work on myself. Took a while, definitely took a while, but I’m getting better.”

Harry, his lips still pursed and his eyes squeezed shut from the nasty aftershock of the shot, managed to nod. When he was able to focus again, he spoke.

“Exactly. I think what was important for the two ‘f us to learn was tha’ we had areas to work on. And we did do tha’ work, but we can’t relive the past. No take twos.”

His words had become a touch more slurred, his head was nodding more from a gradual lack of balance than a genuine agreement. But Harry’s lips were still poised in a smile, in the dopey way his heart would grow whenever he was pleasantly warm.

You couldn’t say you were feeling that sort of happy high, tipsy warmth and giddy love, but you certainly were trying to keep yourself more put together than he was.

“I’ll go, then.” Harry’s hand reached out for the card, accidentally knocking one out of place. Shuffling them back, he drew up the top one again.

“What should I change about myself for future relationships?”

You were shaking your head before Harry was even finished with the question. Which wasn’t altogether impressively fast, because his speech was slower than normal. And he seemed confused by the words - perhaps more apprehensive - and each vowel was elongated.

There was no way you felt you had a right to answer. It had been too long since the break-up. If it were six months ago, maybe, you would’ve jumped through rings of fire to be able to tell Harry what you thought about him. But the truth was, you felt like you were a million miles away from how you both had coexisted a year ago. It was likely life had done Harry the same justice, and any advice you had that wasn’t founded in bitter resentment would simply be irrelevant.

In addition, if the question had been the other way around, there would’ve been no way Harry would’ve answered. There was a possibility you would’ve just died on the spot if he did - it would’ve been hurtful, to hear what he found was such a fundamental flaw within your character that it simply had to be changed in order to make anything work with another person. Some self-problems were designed to be discovered by the individual, not by their angry exes.

“Why not answer?” Chris spoke up.

“Can’t tell him what to do, he’s perfectly fine. Was both of us that made it not work, y’know?” your words felt like syrup in the way they glided from your tongue.

“Yeh gotta drink,” Harry reminded you, a sloppier grin appearing on his face. He leaned forward, resting an elbow on the table and putting his forefinger and thumb around his lip. Sparks of fire ignited in your chest, from his eyes and how they consumed you. Once more, you were reminded how Harry could make you feel like the only person in the room, and how addictive feeling special could be.

“Know I do, Haz.”

You readied the glass and popped back open the bottle, feeling like that noise would forever be associated with this video, with your heart racing and your fingers moving restlessly.

“Called me Haz, just then.”

You simply nodded at his observation, not bothering to look up at see his reaction. A momentary slip of tongue, but it didn’t mean much. A nickname was all, and you refused to think about it for longer than that.

You drank and then quickly picked up the orange juice. Harry, at the same moment, seemed to realize there was a chaser next to the bottles, and picked up his own glass. There was a momentary break so you both could ease down a little, not feel the punch of alcohol and postpone the gentle sway of future regret and public restroom vomit.

“You ready to continue? Just a few more questions,” Chris gestured towards the last two cards on the table, and you nodded, bleating out a question.

“Who’s turn is it?”

“Yours,” Harry answered, pushing a hand down and moving the cards towards you. You snapped finger guns at him, humming with your lips to indicate that you were impressed by his memory.

It all felt smooth. A gradient of emotions, piled on top of another until the feeling was general existence. And it was nice, sitting across from Harry, seeing him after so long, knowing he was doing okay and he had been trying to improve. The harsh feelings were still there, but they were concealed by the concern of catching up, with the hopes of appearing fine on the camera would translate into actuality.

“Do you think I’d be a good wife?”

Harry’s head dropped down to his hands, his palms supporting his forehead as he moaned something unintelligible. It was a quick change of atmosphere but nothing grossly out of place for two drunk people, as the alcohol had a way of gliding over the rough patches.

You weren’t sure about marriage, in how/if it would come into your life. The topic had come up now and again during your relationship with Harry, especially when he had proposed the idea of moving in together. But the conversation was usually vague on both sides, more in the tone of possibility than probability. It simply wasn’t a major point within the way you two interacted, there was no planning or waiting for a one-knee-kneel and velvet box.

“’F course yeh would,” Harry moaned, and your eyes scanned his face, but the majority of his head was still tucked away.

“Fuck, thought yeh’d be mine, didn’t I?”

Silence.

A blank silence, a blanket of nothing cloaked your mind and your tongue. The thought had never crossed your mind, that he would be planning on proposing. He had never seemed the type to want to settle down quickly. Sure, in the deepest corners of your mind, you had thought what it would be like to take on his last name, or to have him take on yours, and to hold a ceremony to make your love ‘officially’ public, to have the societal relationship cemented by expectation and the ring to physically prove it. But it hadn’t felt realistic.

But there he was, sitting across the table from you, drunkenly confessing he had planned on making you his wife.

And all you could feel was the wet clothes on your skin again, the heavy rain that drowned away your relationship, the sopping weight of an apartment key left behind, the hollow carcass of an apartment that became too empty too soon, the rough edges of Polaroids with scratched handwriting left behind.

Near the end, you had started to think he wasn’t fully committed to the idea of your relationship. That there was a chance he was still looking - not actively, not by any means - but looking in the sense that if someone were to stumble along, someone who made his heart feel like it were floating a million miles in the sky, he would leave. Like he wasn’t completely tied down to you, because he simply was never there. That sense of loss before it had even manifested had brought you towards the edge of neediness, shoving you into desperation without knowing the language of asking for reassurance.

It felt logical at the time. If he wasn’t going to work at the relationship, if there weren’t signs of him planning in the future to cement your love more firmly, that meant he was losing interest. That he would leave, like so many others had, and you were going to be lost in another forest with dense trees of ‘not enough’. So you had lashed out before he could, you had burned the bridge before he had even set foot on it.

Your fear had brought you further away, until the crumpled bedsheets and pillowtalks had faded into sullen silences and avoidance, all while he had thought everything was going to be okay.

Harry lifted his head and dropped his hands onto the table. He looked at you warily, sensing the silence had extended beyond what could be a good thing. His hair was disheveled. His eyes were wet and the golden flecks were magnified.

“Oh.” It was all you could think to say.

Harry sniffled, his eyes batting away briefly as he raised a hand to wipe under them. A curl of hair shifted around the edge of his sunglasses as he moved, falling against his cheek. He brushed it behind his ear.

You were sitting as more an observer than an active member of the moment. It still felt surreal, amplified by the sensation of being drunk and feeling like nothing had a consequence, yet understanding at the core of yourself that this very much had a consequence.

“I’m gonna pick the next one,” Harry whispered, as if the microphone wouldn’t pick it up. You felt a flash of anger at how this moment would be exploited, because you knew it would, and his tears would become a part of the Internet. Floating between particles would be his confession, his vulnerability you hadn’t seen before.

He picked up the last card. You held your breath.

“Do you still love me?”

Despite the studio not having made any noise, a deadly quiet resettled itself into the air like a thick dust, gripping away the oxygen from your lungs. It seemed to affect Harry too, for when he was reading, his voice broke at the end. As if cut off by something other than his choice. His eyes went up to the ceiling, praying for you to not answer.

Your hands were in your lap, your fingers curling around the other nervously as you continued to sit through the worst drinking game of your life. Nothing could’ve saved that moment and it seemed the crew knew that as well. Many of them looked away, others couldn’t tear their eyes off of your quivering lip and wide eyes.

Any response seemed it had the potential to break him, but you couldn’t have him not know. He must’ve known anyway. People can’t wash away their first love like a stain, those kinds of relationships were never meant to fully end.

“Don’t think I’d ever stop. Just who we are.”

Harry’s eyes moved from the ceiling to meet yours. Underneath his eyes was a fine shade of pink, as he was trying to hold back the onslaught of hot tears, and after a moment you realized your eyes must have been the same.

The edges of your vision were clouded, the bottles on the side of the table had been washed out with a visible slur.

He looked at you silently, his lips moving without making a noise. It was clear he was trying to ask you again for confirmation with his own words and not the ones written on a card.

But he was still Harry and the words didn’t come out.

Do you love me?

“We grew up together, y’know? In all the adult ways,” your voice wobbled and a few tears slipped out, painting a fine line down your cheeks. “Can’t not love that. You’re a part of those moments, cherish them and I’m cherishing you.”

Harry made an odd light noise, somewhere between a whine and a noise of agreement. He was clearly caught between lines of emotion, unable to lift his intoxicated head above the waves. The drowning had begun.

You had accepted your fate a while back in the game, but it seemed it was only now that Harry realized the long-term impacts these questions could have. His hands were still on the table, palms down, the card between his fingers. You gently reached forward and plucked the card, placing it on the stack. As if that would help ease his pain.

And it was painful, there was no way around it. The immense loss you two had suffered, alone and unable to grieve with the other, irreparable slashes down your hearts caused equally by yourselves as by the other. It had just been a fuckery. The endings always were.

“Do you love me still?” you whispered, the whole spectrum of concentration you had left in your veins solely resting on the slope of his brow, how his eyes gazed into yours, and settled somewhat. Like it was comforting for him to see you.

Your head tilted to the side as you waited, and in the fog of your mind, you realized you had started holding his hand at some moment. Your fingers were wrapped around his outer palm, but he slowly turned his hand over. Threaded your fingers together. Moved his thumb against the side of your hand in slow, small movements.

His heartbeat could be felt through his hand, a steady rhythm like a song you used to play on repeat for days. You had forgotten what it felt like to dance to it, but your heart remembered the tempo.

“I thought I didn’t, but now,” he paused, a sudden hilt in his throat stopping him from continuing momentarily, “Now I’m not sure.”

No one spoke.

No one moved.

His eyes scanned your face. His lips were slightly pursed, in thought, and his eyebrows were low. His thumb continued moving against your skin, as if it would be a comfort to you, but you knew it was mostly for him.

Chris cleared his throat softly, and whispered something to one of his assistants.

“Okay, you two,” he spoke louder to the two of you, but you were the only one to look over. Harry’s eyes stayed on your face, before dropping to the table. Harry’s thumb moved against your skin once more, slowly but with enough pressure that it was clear he had done it consciously.

“I think we’re good, that’s a wrap. Gonna run through some clips, check audio and lighting, but then you’re free to go.”

You nodded, swallowing against the sudden lump in your throat, trying to snap back into reality.

His thumb stopped moving.

You looked over at your hands clasped together, wondering what it would feel like to no longer be holding onto Harry, now that the video was over.

The camera turned its ugly head away, the red light on the edge powering off like a suction of tension being lifted from the room. Chris and a few other of the crew started talking at normal volume, perhaps writing over the moment the best they could by avoiding looking at you two.

Harry sat back and cleared his throat, reaching his free hand up to wipe away at the growing collection of tears within his eyes. His hand began to untangle from yours, as you readied yourself to move on, to get over him again, to feel the impending loss with each step towards lot where your friends would pick you up.

It almost hurt more, losing him a second time.

Perhaps that was why you did it. Maybe it was the instinctive reaction to not ache again, to protect yourself by removing the hurt.

His fingers were barely in your palm when you reacted, leaning forward again to lock your fingers around his. Firmly, with your eyes flashing up to him, a question in your eyes but not yet on your tongue. Harry looked at you, confused but more wary than anything else, before his gaze settled back on your joined hands.

“I would like it if we could go somewhere and talk.”

You hadn’t been able to ask him to settle down to have a serious talk for the past three and a half years, but the words slipped out as naturally as if you were asking him for the time of day. Harry’s confusion deepened before he realized that yes, you had spoken and yes, you had asked for him. Asked for him, after being so vulnerable and stripping away your false sense of brutal independence in order to get together with him for a half hour.

His soft smile indicated his answer was yes, but he accompanied it with a verbal confirmation, a nudge that he was headed in the right direction. Harry was hardly ever shy, but the rosy flush on his cheeks was only partially from the drink, and mostly because of your smile back at him.

Maybe you two wouldn’t talk things out and find that elusive ‘resolution’ nestled between the vast gap where closure was supposed to take root. Maybe you two would flare up in old arguments again and end up storming out, thunder and lighting booming again in your hearts and bitter resentment welling up in your throats.

But at that moment, Harry squeezed his hand around yours, and you felt your chest slowly rise up, the butterflies, forgotten but not gone, stretching out their wings.

Maybe you two could not let go, this time.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed! This has definitely been a dear piece to me. Let me know your thoughts here, and check out the rest of my works if you’d like!