#very hard to think of any of my Victors being into this at all

[thevalicemultiverse]

Hey VD...... I found this piece of fanart someone did and....... Let's just say it makes me nauseous just looking at it.....🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢

Victor: [pause] I...on a technical level, that's very well done. On an emotional level, I think I'm screaming.

[auroralwriting]

𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦

pairing: finnick odair x victor!reader

summary: your stylist must hate you, putting you into a corset so tight. thank god finnick odair is there to save you

warnings: female reader, finnick and reader are friends with implied feelings, mentions of capitol people being awful people, finnick being a sweetheart, no use of y/n

: ̗̀➛ masterlist

If there was one thing you were certain of, it was that you hated Capitol parties. They were always extremely extravagant, filled with the most obnoxiously unaware people you had probably ever met. Being a Victor was nothing less than a major pain in the ass. You lived, but you also lived with the pains of the Capitol and Snow breathing down your neck every five seconds.

It wasn't uncommon for Victors to be invited to parties in the Capitol. It was actually rather unusual for them not to be invited. After all, they were the real Capitol stars. So, here you were, drinking some bubbly liquor that tasted incredibly awful in comparison to any other drink, fake smiling and laughing with some socialites who wouldn't leave you alone for more than two minutes at a time.

Their stories were very unimpressive. Dull and lifeless, like how someone stepped on a bug while shopping, or how another ate so much they had to throw up six times. Stories from the Districts were always better. Folk stories or real, it really didn't matter. At least they were interesting and not about something stupid like fashion or gossip.

The worst part of the whole night was that your stylist must've hated you. You wore some long, pirate-esque, flowy skirt with the most painful heels that had ever been made along with the tightest corset you'd ever worn. It was squeezing all of your insides in all the wrong ways. If you turned the wrong way or breathed too hard, it really hurt. You were sure if you bent over, you'd crack your ribs. It was torturous to be wearing such a thing.

You managed to laugh at all their jokes, share stories back and forth, and pretend to be interested just long enough to tolerate the pain. But now it was becoming a little bit too hard to manage. It felt like you could no longer breathe normally. You were all too aware of your breathing. If you stopped thinking about it, there was a chance you'd stop completely, at least, that's what you convinced yourself. Your fake smile seemed harder to keep up as a socialite finished their story.

"Honestly, isn't that just the most terrible thing you've heard?" You fake laughed, nodding along as best as you could with your circumstances and disinterest. "I mean, I couldn't imagine anything more awful that a broken heel!" How ignorant. Ever heard of The Hunger Games?

"I would have thrown a fit it if were me," another socialite said, seeming very remorseful.

A different one nodded, "Truly the most nightmarish ending to your evening."

As you stood there, you wondered if it could it be possible that the corset was getting tighter. There was no possible way it could have been, but it sure felt like it. The squeezing was becoming incredibly unbearable. Every little breath ached your ribs and sides. You were positive there would be bruises in the corset's place tomorrow. Maybe the injuries you'd sustained during your Games a few years ago weren't so bad seeing as you were sure you were about to suffocate and die right there on Snow's courtyard.

"The only nightmarish ending I can think of is leaving this party without a lovely lady on my arm." It was like the heavens had graced you with Finnick's presence. If you could have released a breath of relief, you probably would have. "Good evening, ladies, gentlemen," Finnick turned to you, giving you a small smile. You returned it, strained, but you returned it.

Oh, sweet Finnick. He was your best friend. His presence was so comforting no matter where you were. It was times like these you wondered how he could just waltz over when you needed him the most. You weren't sure how he did it, but you were damn thankful that he did. You were hoping he would get the hint that something was wrong without needing to raise all hell to make it obvious.

"I can't see you having a hard time leaving without a gorgeous, lucky woman on your arm," the first socialite said to Finnick. She must've hoped it was her. "After all, you are our Golden Boy."

Finnick chuckled, smiling with those gorgeous teeth of his. "Well, someone has to keep the standards high."

"I'm sure you won't have trouble leaving here with a lucky man, either, darling." Your eyes shot over to the third socialite who had addressed you. You could barely breathe, let alone speak anymore.

"I'm sure I won't." Your voice felt strained. Did it sound strained? You hoped it didn't. The last thing you wanted was to look like you were suffering.

Finnick, however, could sense the tone in your voice from a mile away. You were his friend, after all. Probably his best one if he was being honest. The sharp nod you gave, the raised, airy tone to your voice were all very worrisome signs. His eyes searched your face for answers you tried to hide from any prying eyes. However, the way you tugged down at the bottom of your corset was.. something. Were you anxious, uncomfortable, upset? Finnick couldn't place it. There were just too many missing details. He knew something was wrong. It was like putting together a puzzle without looking at the picture on the box.

The conversation continued onwards. Eventually, you found yourself leaning into Finnick's hand that moved to softly rest on your lower back. You couldn't decide if it was for comfort or in case you passed out from lack of oxygen. You assumed it was for comfort. The good news was that if your face turned blue, you'd match the shades of your outfit for the night. If you considered that good news. Maybe it wouldn't look all that displaced after all.

Only one singular minute had passed and you quickly realized that not even Finnick's welcomed gesture would be enough to help you. You felt yourself begin to panic, the worst possible thing you could do in this situation. The more you panicked, the more your breathing would increase. That would only cause yourself more pain and frustration, not to mention it would double your anxiety. What a horrible domino effect that would be.

Keeping your cool was becoming impossible. You tried to hold as still as a statue to keep from moving and upsetting the corset more, but it was proving very difficult. Holding your breath wasn't really an option here, so the only thing to do was try and remain calm.

When the first very sharp pain radiated through your ribs, you knew you were done for. You sucked in a very noticeable breath, thankfully, only Finnick had heard. The conversation had continued, but the words had fallen deaf to your ears. It had been long forgotten amid your growing panic.

"Ah," Finnick said, abruptly pausing the conversation, "we completely forgot, but we're meant to meet with the president. If you'll excuse us." Finnick was pushing on your lower back, now. He guided you through the crowd, up some stairs and into one of the first open rooms he could find. The moment you were inside, you pressed on your stomach, trying to give yourself comfort, but ultimately failing. "What's wrong?" Finnick quickly asked, approaching you with worry in his expression. "Sweetheart, talk to me."

Now you were positive you couldn't talk. Your head felt dizzy and your tongue felt numb. You shook your head, tears brimming your eyes as you scratched at the corset. Finnick's eyes were darting to your hands and back to your face over and over, trying to understand what you were trying to convey to him.

You opened your mouth, trying to find words, but all you could manage was an awful wheeze. Your lungs and throat burned like fire. You were sure your face was turning red. Finnick's eyes widened as he quickly grabbed your shoulders, turning you around so your back was facing him. You felt his hands on your back again, but this time, they had a mission. Finnick grabbed a hold of the ribbon of your corset, not so much as grunting as he tore it apart.

The moment the ribbon tore, you gasped, sucking in as much air as you could as you fell to your knees, holding the front of the corset to your chest as you heaved, the air feeling so incredible that you took note to never take breathing for granted. Finnick was by your side in a heartbeat, hand on your back rubbing soothing circles on your now exposed skin. "It's okay, you're okay. Slow, deep breaths. Don't rush, nice and slow." His voice slowly worked the panic out of your system, your inhales deep, but exhales shaky and unsteady.

"I couldn't breathe," your voice was soft, almost as if talking were still too much to handle, "every breath hurt."

Finnick nodded, "I know, honey. I know, it's alright now. You're okay." You looked up to Finnick, watching his expression. He no longer looked panicked, but he still looked just as worried as before. "Do you need anything? Water?"

You shook your head. "Sit with me? Please?"

The two of you sat against the couch, sitting on the floor looking utterly exhausted. It was obvious the night had worn you both out, from the socialization to your near suffocation. Your head fell over, leaning on Finnick's shoulder as his head rested on top of you own.

"Do you want to go sailing tomorrow?" Finnick quietly asked. "I heard the waves will be perfect. You can bring that book you're reading and we can have lunch."

"That sounds nice," you hummed, "I'd like that a lot."

After a few more quiet minutes, you realized both of your absences would start to look rather suspicious. You both knew that it was long past time to go back to the party, but the silence you shared was too nice to give up just yet.

"Thank you for saving me," you thanked, looking over and up at Finnick.

He shook his head with a soft exhale, "You don't need to thank me. I'm just glad I got you up here in time." Finnick slowly stood up, holding your head as he stood so you wouldn't fall over. He held out a hand to help you stand up.

"Wait, I can't go back out there like this." You could. The Capitol people would love it. Seeing you holding the corset onto your chest to cover yourself. You knew deep down that the position you were in would make the people go wild for you. It was the kind of attention you weren't looking for. The kind of attention you never looked for.

Finnick didn't hesitate to take off his poet shirt, leaving his upper half bare, besides his shark tooth necklace. He didn't even need a second thought. The moment you started to speak, he knew what you were going to say. It was an easy choice for him to make. He would do anything to protect you.

Denying Finnick's kindness wasn't something he'd let you turn down, so you accepted. Finnick turned around while you put it on, only turning back around when he heard you fumbling with the sleeves. He helped roll them up so they weren't as long, while you began to tuck it into your skirt.

"You'll get cold," you commented worriedly, remembering what the chilled breeze had felt like on your own skin not too long ago.

"Then stay with me and keep me warm," Finnick replied, a small smile on his face. You chuckled airly, smiling back at him. "You look beautiful. They'll think we both just did a small wardrobe change. And that's what we'll tell them if they ask. I doubt they will. Capitol isn't all that observational."

You looked at Finnick, biting your bottom lip, "I wish we didn't have to go yet." You wished you could stay in this room with Finnick all night. Unfortunately, that was no option.

He seemed to agree based on the way his smile turned lopsided. "Just think about all the fun we'll have tomorrow. The waves, the wind, us. I'll even bring us some coconuts to crack open."

"And my book," you insisted. "I'll read it to you."

"My favorite activity," Finnick nodded. He held his hand out to you, "C'mon, honey. Let's get this night over with." His offer was easily understood, even if he didn't say it. Let's get this night over with together.

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

If we get another Hunger Games book, I think it will be about Annie’s games

Allow me to explain:

Sunrise on the Reaping spoilers ahead!

First of all, I do think that we’ll be seeing a third book to close off this recent run as a prequel trilogy, though I also understand the arguments that the SotR epilogue could arguably function as a goodbye to the characters.

In my opinion, the most likely people we would learn more about in another book, considering how much we already know about everyone else in all 5 books combined, are Mags, Joanna, and Finnick. But we essentially know Finnick’s story; if there was a book for him individually then I can only see the games being a small section of it, and we know enough to know that if we had dedicated and detailed descriptions of what he was put through in the aftermath from his perspective that the book would have to cross the line into adult fiction, a line the franchise already very closely presses against and arguably bends out of shape. I think that this most likely removes him from the running as an option for a POV, and I also think that Joanna is an unlikely candidate simply for how similar her story is to Haymitch’s, leaving Mags as the most likely character that we have more to explore about (I discount Wiress and Beetee on account of how much more we learned about them in sunrise). However, if we were going to have a Mags book I think it would have been written before SotR to keep this series chronological - especially because arguably a lot of the propaganda themes could have been applied to the little we know about her as well.

Of the main cast of victors introduced to us in Catching Fire who go on to remain important characters but who we don’t already know intimately, then, all of whom have been the most likely candidates for further exploration imo, we have to look at Annie. We know very little about Annie’s games, to my recollection, except that she went into hiding after her district-mate was killed and won mostly due to her swimming ability when the arena was flooded by the gamemakers. But you know what we’ve learned from sunrise, if nothing else? We’ve learned that everything we know about every single game except the ones we witnessed firsthand from inside the arena are most likely being lied about. Not knowing any differently, we fell for the Capitol propaganda; we believed that the broadcasts were accurate. Now that we know for a solid fact that, like Haymitch’s, any one of these, probably most to all of them, have been tampered with, we know nothing.

The order of Haymitch’s days and his interactions with others were completely altered in the “highlight reel” and presumably, based on how the audience appears to respond, during the full broadcast as well - at least to an extent, if not quite so much as this. Even if there was more truth to broadcast, which we can cast doubt on now that we also have hard evidence the “live” broadcasts of reapings aren’t actually live, we can safely assume plenty of edits, tampering, and ‘card-stacking’ goes on (remember Plutarch says of the reaping that the footage only wasn’t fully tampered with because there wasn’t enough time, so he just shuffled the deck instead). With this in mind, did Annie really spend the entire games hiding after her district-mate died? I’m not convinced she did.

If Annie was hiding for a large portion of her games, the camera probably wasn’t showing her off that often; there wasn’t much to watch. And if that’s the case, it would be really easy to keep reusing footage of her hiding at any given point, say immediately after the other tribute’s death for example, and either using various short clips far enough apart that no-one questions them or combining this with subtly tampered footage to make it seem as though hours have passed with her barely moving. After all, Annie is from a career district: would the gamemakers not be doing everything they could to drive her out of her hiding place and into the action, to force her to fight? And especially since we now know how embarrassing it was for the gamemakers that they couldn’t reach Wiress’ hiding place, it seems incredibly unlikely to me that they’d let that ever happen again. After the secret spot was found in the 49th arena, they’d be forever making sure there would never again be anywhere accessible to the tributes that was inaccessible to cameras, sponsorship drones, and gamemakers. So why would they leave Annie alone?

But what if they needed to make it look like Annie hadn’t moved? What if they couldn’t let anyone see what she was actually doing? What if part of the trauma responses we see in Annie are a product of punishment after the games, as well as the experiences of the arena itself?

One of Haymitch’s first thoughts when he finds the massive tankard of water under the arena is to wonder if the gamemakers intend to the flood it. Now this I think, in part, was potentially a painful hint to the dry cistern at his house considering the volcano of the arena being about to erupt, but it also made me think immediately of Annie’s games. If this is indeed going to be a trilogy of prequels then, although clearly they don’t immediately follow on from each other, there have to be clear threads that weave them. We saw a lot of threads weaving SotR to Ballad so I’m not going to go on about that here, but it’s true that Mags, the water, and even the beheadings that Haymitch and Annie both witness could be a strong thread to carry between Sunrise and a potential future book that focused around Annie.

Did she flood the arena herself? Did the gamemakers flood it to hide something she’d done, maybe an attempt to break it, forgetting in their panic that she would likely be the only survivor of such an action?

A book exploring Annie’s games would also give us strong potential to explore Mags’ and Finnick’s stories in more detail. Although we know that Finnick was her mentor, Mags would also likely have been a presence for both of them at this time. Annie also won her games at 18, which gives us a new perspective as someone who would have aged out of the reaping of she’d made it through that final year, and more political insight into a career district would be a new and interesting endeavour to learn about. Insight into career districts would carry plenty of weight in the propaganda themes, in the reframing of narratives, and in the exploration of conditioning and manipulation, as well as overcoming it.

Anyway these are just some thoughts I had, but does anyone agree? Does anyone have alternate theories on what might be in store for us with another book? I’d love to hear any thoughts

EDIT: sorry I just posted this and realised I forgot to say that this idea was partially inspired by a video by stillfrombrooklyn on tiktok, who didn’t theorise a new book from this perspective or go into all the same details I have but did question whether what we know about Annie’s games is actually true and raised theories about the footage of her hiding being fake.

[imsogonesposts]

Take Me Away, To You

|| ao3 || Finnick masterlist || requests are open!! || an: based on the song "the very first night" by taylor swift ||

summary: When life in the Capitol gets to be too much, Finnick is there to help you through the hardships, and you with him. (wc: 1,959)

warnings: mentions of Finnick's forced prostitution, finnick gets a nightmare, i think thats it!!

You first met Finnick Odair at the annual Capitol party that was held to celebrate the newest addition to the Hunger Games victors. To celebrate you being the latest victor, winning the 68th Hunger Games at 16. 

Frankly, you would have rather been anywhere else than at the party celebrating you. Hiding under the covers in your bed trying to will the nightmares away sounded slightly more appealing than being in President Snow’s mansion for the party. After all, he was the reason you had these nightmares in the first place. Why you were forced into the arena, why you couldn’t close your eyes for too long without being transported back into that arena.

It was obvious to anyone looking hard enough that you weren’t enjoying yourself at the party. Not with your forced smiles or stiff posture. Except no one was looking hard enough- except for Finnick. 

“You don’t look like you’re having much fun,” he said as he walked towards you.

You could only shrug.

“Yeah, well, I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep in god knows how long, so-“ you shrug again as Finnick lets out a small chuckle. 

“Fair point, sweetheart. I’d congratulate you, but this doesn’t exactly feel like the type of thing worth congratulating. Trust me, I’d know.“

You nod your head as you finally begin to recognize who you were talking to. 

“You’re Finnick Odair, aren’t you?” You asked with a small laugh. 

Finnick nodded his head in response, his smile faltering the slightest bit, barely noticeable to anyone not paying enough attention. But you were. “The one and only,” he smoothly replied.

“Does it get any easier?” You suddenly ask before pausing. “The nightmares, the memories, just…everything?”

You could see something in Finnick soften at your question. In his eyes, his posture, the way he looked at you. Almostlike he wished he could pick you up and go back to a time when you were never part of the Hunger Games. Never part of the cruel hand you’d been dealt. 

At the end of the day, you were both just kids, you didn’t deserve what you had been put through. And so, he told you the honest-to-god truth. 

“Some nights are easier than others,” he whispers solemnly, “but some nights are worse than others too. I mean, hell, my games were three years ago and I still wake up screaming sometimes.”

“So basically I’m traumatized for the rest of my life?” You ask, half jokingly, half serious. 

Finnick slowly nodded his head yes before picking up a napkin and writing something down on it, before handing it to you. 

“Here,” he said softly, “it’s my number. When you get set up at your place in the Victor’s Village, it should have a phone for you to use. That’s my number, so feel free to call me anytime you can’t deal with everything. I, uh, I’m not always home…the, uh, Capitol keeps me busy, but I promise you if I’m home, I’ll answer. Night or day, alright?”

You nod with a smile. “Thank you, Finnick, that’s very kind of you.”

Finnick could only smile back. A boyish smile that almost made your insides warm. “Us victors gotta look out for each other, right?” He asked, placing a hand on your arm, lightly squeezing it before releasing. “It was nice meeting you,” he says as he walks off. 

“You too!” You call out, holding the napkin close to your chest. 

***

You never realized just how many parties you would be forced to attend as a Hunger Games victor, even if you absolutely loathed them. 

However, there was always one person there who helped to make the parties the slightest bit more bearable. And that, was Finnick. 

True to his word, anytime you had called Finnick over the phone due to nightmares, PTSD, or just needing someone to talk to, he was there on the other line, talking to you until you felt better, calmer. And in turn, sometimes when the nights became too dark, too regretful, too fearful, Finnick would call you as well. 

Through your phone calls, you and Finnick became fast friends, and it was nice to have someone in your circle who knew exactly what you were going through. 

It was especially nice when that same someone promised to stick by your side during the overly-stuffy, overly-bright, overly-loud parties, so long as you wanted him to (you always did).

“Do you wanna get out of here?” Finnick whispered to you as he handed you your glass of champagne.

“Are we even allowed to leave?” You questioned as Finnick glanced around the room before taking your free hand in his. 

“All the other victors seemed to have left,” he whispered, leaning so close to you, that you could feel the ghost of his breath on your lip. He squeezed your hand, as if waiting for a response. 

“We won’t get in trouble, right?” You asked as Finnick shook his head no. 

“I wouldn’t let anything bad happen to you, sweetheart,” he responded, and something about the way he looked at you made you know he meant it, with everything inside of him. 

And so, you nodded your head yes. 

“Okay,” you whispered as he broke into a wide smile, gently pulling you behind him as he made his way to the exit. 

***

That very same night, you had stayed in Finnick’s hotel room to spend the night. Nothing had happened between the two of you, you had only talked until the both of you were too tired to say anything intelligible anymore before falling asleep. You on his hotel bed, and him, ever the gentleman, on the pullout sofa bed. 

That night, you had awoken to screaming. 

As you shot up in bed, fumbling to find the on switch for the bedside lamp, you saw Finnick’s shadow getting up and walking to the hotel room’s kitchen. When you finally got the light on, you were met with a slightly trembling Finnick attempting to pour himself a glass of water. 

“Here, let me,” you said, getting out of bed and walking to the kitchen to pour the water for him. 

“I’m sorry I woke you up,” he whispered as he took the, now full, glass from you. 

“Don’t worry about it,” you stated truthfully, looking at him as he drank the water. 

His trembling had gone down slightly, but you could see the red rim around his eyes. It was obvious it had been a rough night for him. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” You asked as Finnick only shrugged. 

“Same shit that always happens,” he replied before setting the glass down in the sink. 

“Do you wanna sit, stand, lay down?”

“Sit,” he replied as you slowly put your hand in his, giving him just enough time to move away if he didn’t want to be touched right now. Instead, he only looped his fingers through yours, allowing you to walk him to the bed. 

As you and Finnick sat down, you heard him mumble “I’m sorry for waking you up,” as you began to cover him with the blanket. 

You shook your head no. 

“No, no, none of that. I’ve probably woken you up thousands of time, don’t worry about it.”

Finnick let out a small smile as he reached for your hand again, lightly squeezing it. There was a fluttering feeling in your stomach at his hold. 

“You wake me up too many times,” he joked, his eyes gleaming the slightest bit. 

You squeezed his hand back. 

“You practically asked for it. You said I could call you whenever I want,” you replied with a smile. 

“Yeah, and I regret it every night,” Finnick joked, a fuller, happier smile creasing his face as he raised his hand, gently brushing a strand of hair away from your face, behind your ear. His fingers slightly grazing your face, sending small bolts of electricity down your body.

“Goodnight,” he whispered, dropping his hand as he lay down on the bed, facing the wall. 

“Can you even go back to sleep?” You asked as Finnick nodded his head yes. 

“If you’re comfortable with it,” Finnick started before taking a pause, “would you mind staying. Here? I think it’d help me sleep better. You can put a pillow between us if it’ll make you feel better.”

The way he asked the question almost sounded like he was scared. Scared to go back to sleep despite his earlier calm demeanor. Scared to face the horrors that plagued his dreams once again. Scared that he had made you uncomfortable. 

“Yeah,” you whispered as you moved to turn off the light. “Yeah, I can stay here.”

***

Truthfully, you never intended to fall in love with Finnick Odair. Sure, he was a (very) attractive guy, that much was obvious. But you never planned for what the two of you had to ever be more than a friendship. Until one day, you began having feelings for him that crossed the friendship line and had entered the romantic line. 

And luckily, he had had the same realization for you.

“You look beautiful tonight,” Finnick whispered to you as he pressed a kiss to the side of your head.

The two of you were on your way to another of the Capitol’s parties. This time to celebrate the winners of the 74th Hunger Games, Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark. The “star-crossed lovers,” as the Capitol liked to call them. 

“And you look handsome,” you replied with a smile, moving to adjust the tie wrapped around his neck. 

He kissed your forehead as you attempted to fix his tie. “I love you,” he murmured against it as you smiled up at him, momentarily breaking your concentration to look up at him. 

“I love you too,” you replied with a smile before refocusing on fixing his tie.

Finnick places his hands on your hips with a sigh as he rests his forehead against yours, looking at you with nothing but love in his sea-green eyes. 

“I wish he could run away together,” he whispered to you. “Run away from the Snow’s stupid parties, from the Hunger Games every year, from our responsibilities. I wish we could have more moments like this. Moments to ourselves, moments just for us.”

His words almost stun you. You had always wished for the same things. For a quiet life with Finnick, one without phone calls when he was away, him asking if you knew just how much he missed you, one without the nightmares the two of you still occasionally had. One where you and Finnick could be just that. You and Finnick.

“Finnick,” you softly whisper as he shook his head no. 

“I know it’s stupid. To wish for something that we’ll never be able to do or have, but baby, I wish nothing more than for me to be able to give you a normal life one day. A happy one. Just us.”

It was as if Finnick had looked into your soul and said the very things you were too scared to ever voice aloud. 

“Maybe one day,” you whispered to him as you placed a hand on his arm, lightly squeezing it. “If they can let two people win the Hunger Games, then maybe one day, maybe soon, we could get a normal life to ourselves.”

Finnick wished he could pick you up and keep you safe in his arms as he took you away from the Capitol, from Snow, and from the Hunger Games. But for now, your words would have to suffice. 

“Soon,” Finnick whispered back as he moved to kiss you, his hands gently holding your face as he did. 

Soon couldn’t come fast enough. 

[reccyls]

Victor's Main Route: Mad Love Chapter 25 + His POV Story

< Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Epilogue >

If life were a fairy tale… After the loss of Liberator and the four executives, the fall of Nox Liberator would have been over in an instant.

Members of Nox Liberator, officially designated a terrorist organization, were detained at a rally early in the morning. All members were arrested, including those connected to the bombing incidents. They were detained at the Tower of London, awaiting trial. Furthermore, a large quantity of weapons and bombs were discovered hidden beneath their meeting locations. Their complicity in various crimes, ranging from extortion and nepotism to human trafficking, was uncovered one after another. The scope of the investigation was beyond Scotland Yard’s capabilities, and the case was abandoned. However, the nobles behind those acts had already been discovered and condemned by Crown. Furthermore, Ben Brown, known as Liberator, was discovered having died of suicide in his residence outside of London. After learning of his demise, members of Nox Liberator cried out in anguish, with some choosing to take their own lives as well. Without Liberator to lead them, the group collapsed entirely, and the curtain closed on the case of Nox Liberator.

(But that doesn’t extinguish their will.)

Victor, as well as the rest of Crown, knew that well. That was why the remaining members of Nox Liberator were being monitored very closely still.

(Currently, they seem too upset over Ben’s death to be able to think about anything else…)

But as sorrow morphed into fury, it could lead to further incidents in the future.

(Ben and the other executives were using the members of Nox Liberator to make their own desires come true.)

Although the executives worshipped Ben and generally agreed with his vision, They saw the commoner members of Nox Liberator as disposable, going as far as to harm and even kill them. Ben incited Nox Liberator to act because he was deluded that it would ‘free’ Victor, And thus allow Victor to guide and liberate him.

(Even though a republic means that the people have a say in the government, the common people weren’t a part of the ideals that Ben and the executives were working toward.)

There was a mastermind and nobles, and then the commoners and the poor. Although Nox Liberator claimed to want to establish a republic government for the people, The fact that there were such a stark divide between the group’s members made me think they were doomed to fail from the very beginning.

(But this is reality.)

Differences in thought caused by differences in station led to discrimination and inequality. Victor knew that, which was why he worked so hard to create a future where everyone, regardless of position, could be happy. My hands stopped moving, and I looked over my finished work while sighing. Victor’s report was finally ready.

…

A calm had settled over Crown’s castle after everything had come to a finish. Nothing should have been different than before, but the atmosphere felt lighter, somehow. As the sun began to sink, I made my way to where I needed to go: The office that I had so frequently visited over the course of this past month. I knocked on the door and entered, but Victor was nowhere to be found.

(Is he out on business?)

I placed my report on his desk, and couldn’t resist the urge to review it once more. The report was about everything I had experienced since meeting him. And the last few lines were the single conclusion I could come to, after having come to know him.

This report contains Crown’s most important secret. The person it is about probably doesn’t want any trace of this report to remain in this world. And so, I leave the matter of what is to be done with this report to the person in question. Even if this report is buried in the dark to be forgotten by the world, I will still remember. Because I love you.

(This is less like a report and more of a love letter…)

I wrote of how I started to know him, how I fell in love, how I realized that he had been protecting me for so long, how I wished for us to have a future together, and how I wished for his happiness above all else. To someone on the outside, this report which contained neither his name nor ability seemed to be one long love letter.

(But he still wouldn’t want this to exist.)

I knew how Victor was determined for his existence to die without leaving even the slightest trace in the annals of history. So that was why I left the decision of what to do with this report up to him. I picked up a piece of scrap paper and found a pen, intending to leave a note with the report. But I couldn’t bring myself to put down the note which said “Thank you for everything.”

(Even if he tells me to my face to leave, I don’t want to.) (I want to stay with Victor… but…)

The girl who dropped her glass slipper and was found by the prince was still a noble, even if she was covered in soot and ashes. So was the girl revived after eating a poison apple, or the girl who woke after a century of slumber. Unlike me, they were princesses. I agonized over whether or not to leave the note, when…

???: Vic, it’s me. Are you there?

The door swung open, revealing a familiar face.

William: What are you doing here, Kate?

I hurriedly hid the note behind my back, and William continued as if he hadn’t noticed.

William: Oh, right. This is the promised day, isn’t it?

His tone was serious.

William: You’ll stop working as Fairytale Keeper and return to your old life. Are you going to go along with that?

Kate: I…

I hesitated to answer. My heart knew what it wanted, but my brain knew that reality wasn’t so sweet.

Kate: If I get rejected because of the difference in our social status, I’d have to leave…

Unable to look William in the eye, my gaze dropped.

William: Who do you think would reject you?

Kate: …The people around him, or just people in general, I guess.

Giving me a glance as I mumbled, William sat down in a chair.

William: Have you met Victor yet?

Kate: No, not today…

He crossed his legs and a smile rose to his lips.

William: You should speak with him either way. William: You know better than anyone else where he’d be, don’t you?

I thought hard about the places Victor would usually be around this time, but my mind came up blank. Seeming amused, William continued speaking.

William: Kate, do you like fairytales?

Kate: I do. But why do you ask?

His question surprised me.

William: If life were a fairytale, what should you do to be happy?

Don’t do bad things. (+2/+4)

Believe in people.

Wait for a prince.

Kate: Don’t do bad things?

William: I’m sorry to say, but there are many people who are very happy to do all sorts of wicked deeds. William: If life were a fairytale, achieving happiness would be simple.

He raised his index finger in front of his lips and grinned.

William: Don’t do what you shouldn’t.

Kate: What I shouldn’t…?

William: Don’t enter the forbidden woods. William: Don’t open doors that should remain shut. William: Don’t discover secrets that should have stayed hidden. William: Don’t fall into a forbidden romance.

(Oh…)

I recalled the words Victor said to me the night I first arrived here.

Victor: If you wish to return to your old life after this month is over… you must not let them steal your heart.

Crown was made up of Cursed Ones, each fated to meet a tragic end. To fall in love with them would not lead to the blissful happily ever after that young maidens dreamed of.

(I was warned from the very first day, but he completely captured my heart.)

When I let out an ironic laugh, William put his hand down.

William: But that’s not necessarily a rule you must follow to achieve happiness.

Kate: Huh?

When I looked up at him, he laughed.

William: Because this isn’t a fairytale, Kate. This is the story of your life.

-----

After parting ways with William, I returned to my bedroom to find the suitcase I had been in the middle of packing missing.

Kate: Wha-!?

The clothes he had gifted me, my precious music box, that opal brooch. I had packed them all away in that suitcase, which had vanished into thin air.

(No way… where could it be…?)

I frantically looked around my room, searching for my belongings.

Kate: Ah…

Sitting on my desk was a note written in familiar handwriting.

Kate: “I’ve helped myself to your suitcase. If you want it back, you’ll need to find me!”

I burst out of my room after reading Victor’s message. But no matter how much I searched…

(I can’t find him anywhere!)

I ran all over Crown castle and the palace. I even returned to his office to look in his bedroom, and he wasn’t there either.

(He isn’t at any of his usual haunts. Is there anywhere else…?)

I wracked my brain for an idea, any idea at all. I had never expected that I’d be running around the palm of his hand on my very final day. Running through my memories, I checked off places he could be. Until at last, I realized there was one more place I hadn’t searched yet. I ran out of the castle to catch the first carriage I came across.

-----

I arrived at the ruined church. Careful not to step on any rubble, I made my way inside. However…

(He’s not here…)

All I saw was moonlight pouring in on the cracked altar at the church’s center.

(If he isn’t here, then I don’t know anymore.)

Holding back my tears as my shoulders shook, I took a step closer to the altar. The note I had been carrying all this time slipped from my fingers and drifted to the floor. But before I could pick it up, a hand reached out to take it.

Kate: Vic… tor…

After reading what it said, he turned his dark gaze to me.

Victor: Do you mean it?

I was overjoyed to find Victor and be able to see him again. But the inner conflict that I couldn’t put into words before swirled in my chest again. Tears filled my eyes again, for a different reason than earlier.

Kate: I don’t want to cause any more trouble to you than I already have.

That fear had always been lurking in my heart.

Kate: The longer I stay with you, the more I start wanting.

I wanted to be with him, I wanted him to love me, I wanted him to be happy. It was so easy to let my emotions get the better of me.

Kate: But most of all, I just want you to be happy.

I could no longer hold back my tears. Against my wishes, they rolled down my cheeks.

Kate: I love you, I love you so much I don’t have enough words to tell you how much. Kate: But that’s exactly why I can’t be by your side. I have nothing I can offer you.

Through my unending tears, Victor smiled sadly.

Victor: Those aren’t the words of the person who had given me the one thing I could hold onto, even after I had given up everything else.

He whispered softly as his thumb gently wiped away my tears. And then–

Victor: I just canceled the lease on your apartment today.

Kate: Huh?

Victor: I have a resignation letter for your position at the post office too. Both of them only need your signature to be finalized.

Kate: What?

Victor: Your suitcase is in my room. I plan to bring over the rest of your things too, once you agree.

Kate: Umm…

I was so confused by what was happening I forgot I was supposed to be crying. His hand moved from my cheek to my neck and collar, stroking gently.

Victor: My fated end is to “bring destruction to those I love.” Victor: If you choose to live with me, there is no other end that awaits you other than ruin. Victor: But, if, even despite that, you choose to meet that destiny with me… Victor: The darkness will gladly welcome you.

Victor: But if you choose to meet that destiny with them… Victor: The darkness will gladly welcome you.

Realizing that it was the same thing he said to me a month ago, my lip began to tremble.

(Why did I never realize until now?)

Victor had always been waiting for my choice.

(So now-)

His hand was still resting gently against my neck. I clasped my own hands around his. I was choosing my destiny of my own free will.

Kate: Even if destruction is all that awaits me, if it’s with you, I could think of no finer heaven.

Affection filled his gaze as he smiled, pulling loose the ribbon of my blouse.

Kate: Whoa!

He pushed me down onto the altar, laying on top of me.

Victor: I can no longer let you go. Victor: I love you, Kate.

Instead of replying to my beloved, I wrapped my arms around his neck.

(If life were a fairytale…)

William’s words echoed in my mind.

(But he was right. This isn’t a fairytale.) (This is the story of the life that I choose.)

Victor: Don’t think about anything else.

Kate: Ah…

He had a wicked smile on his face as I told him what William had said to me earlier today.

Victor: In that case, this is how our story goes.

With his hand gently cradling my head, he began to speak.

Victor: Once upon a time, the grim reaper was saved by the words of a young girl, and resolved to bear his duty to his last breath. Victor: But after encountering that girl again and saving her life, he realized that there was something he could not give up, and began to watch over her from the shadows. Victor: And on their third meeting, the reaper finally came to take her.

He smiled.

Victor: He wished, with all his heart, that this was destiny.

Smiling back at him, I continued our tale.

Kate: The girl gladly took the reaper’s hand, and began to walk a path of destruction with him. Kate: Until death itself came to part them, they would remain together, unchanging.

His soft, smiling lips descended, and I let my eyes slide shut.

Victor: For as long as I love you, I wish the end will never come. Victor: All I wish for… is an eternity with you.

And so I shared a kiss with the reaper.

This was the story that had already been written since the day we first met. A story known as destiny.

His POV Story: A Vow with Destiny

If life were a fairy tale, it would be easy to achieve happiness. All we had to do was make up our minds. I looked at the suitcase and documents that I had gathered in my room, and smiled. It was Kate’s promised day, and I had chosen not to let her leave.

(Well, if she says she wants to go back to her old life, then I’ll have to accept it.)

I remembered how she cried last night.

Kate: I love you, Victor. Kate: I have always loved you, and only you.

I had been awake then, and remembered how hard she had clung onto me. That was when I made my choice.

(I will never let you go.)

Although I had originally pushed her away for the sake of her happiness, her feelings changed everything. Her body, and her heart. I would take it all. What I had chosen to do last night was how I wanted to make that clear.

Victor: But I don’t think she got the message…

My shoulders slumped. But as I thought back on my actions up to that point, I realized something. I had never, not even once, told her I loved her. Last night would have been the perfect time. But I had been so nervous and giddy to spend the night with her that I had let myself get carried away. The night passed and morning came, and by the time I had woken up, Kate had already left. The only thing left in my room was my shame.

(And I call myself an adult…) (It’s all because you’re too adorable, you know…)

In order to turn things around, I spent the entire day avoiding my work and putting together a plan to get rid of any obstacles between us. I had obtained a resignation letter for the post office for Kate, as well as a document to terminate the lease for her apartment. And I arranged things so that both her employment and her lease could be immediately ended once she signed both agreements. Then I broke into Kate’s room, stole her half-packed suitcase, and left a note for her. Once I received her permission, I planned to move the rest of her things into my room.

(This is probably a bit extreme, but it’s the best way to show her I’m serious.)

Words were not enough to respond to the love she had shown me over the past weeks. So I decided to take action, instead.

(Speaking of which, where is Kate now?)

I could have put together as many plans as I wanted, but nothing could begin without the lady of the hour. So I left my room and made my way to my office. And there, sitting in a chair, was William. Although he didn’t know of the existence of this secret passage, he didn’t seem particularly surprised.

(I shouldn’t have expected anything else from William…)

William: If you’re looking for Kate, she just left.

He laughed lightly and stood up as he read the expression on my face. Then he pointed to my desk.

William: She left a report for you. She was afraid you’d kick her out, you know.

Victor: I’d never…

As I picked up the report, he continued to speak with an amused grin.

William: Hey, Vic. If life were a fairytale, what should you do to be happy?

I didn’t even have to think.

Victor: It’s simple. Just make a choice, and see it through. Victor: Even if it leads to you being hurt, or hurting others, you must be ready to face your fate.

Perhaps my answer pleased him. He turned around.

William: You had better go find her, quickly.

And with one last laugh, he left the office. Alone in my office, I began reading the report Kate had left. As I read through page after page, I relived the memories of the month we spent together. It was more like a love letter than it was a report.

Victor: …I am loved, aren’t I.

(But unfortunately, I couldn’t let this love letter-report continue to exist.)

The risk of the queen’s secret being revealed was too great. And I did not wish for any record of my existence to remain in history.

Victor: …Just like how you said you won’t forget me, I will remember this too.

After committing the report to memory, I threw it into the fireplace.

Victor: I will remember every single word.

Memories lived on forever within the heart.

-----

After running here and there in a frantic whirlwind, Kate left the castle and took a carriage. I heard about her actions from the head butler, so I went after her, guessing that she was headed to the church of our memories.

(There she is.)

Just as I was about to call out to her as she approached the altar, A small note slipped out of her hand. I quickly picked it up before she was able to, and she lifted her tearful face to meet my gaze.

Kate: Vic… tor…

After reading what it said, shame at my own foolishness flooded through me.

Victor: Do you mean it?

Kate: I don’t want to cause any more trouble to you than I already have.

(When have you ever caused me trouble?)

I was about to tell her exactly that, but she cut me off.

Kate: The longer I stay with you, the more I start wanting. Kate: But most of all, I just want you to be happy.

A tear slid down her cheek.

Kate: I love you, I love you so much I don’t have enough words to tell you how much.

Those words came so easily to Kate.

Kate: But that’s exactly why I can’t be by your side. I have nothing I can offer you.

(You’ve given me so much, and yet…)

I brought my hand to her face so I could wipe her tears away with my thumb.

Victor: Those aren’t the words of the person who had given me the one thing I could hold onto, even after I had given up everything else.

(If I don’t tell her now, when?)

Victor: I just canceled the lease on your apartment today.

Kate: Huh?

Victor: I have a resignation letter for your position at the post office too. Both of them only need your signature to be finalized.

Kate: What?

Victor: Your suitcase is in my room. I plan to bring over the rest of your things too, once you agree.

Kate: Umm…

I let my hand drop from her cheek to her neck, running my fingers across her skin. It was time to tell her something important.

Victor: My fated end is to “bring destruction to those I love.” Victor: If you choose to live with me, there is no other end that awaits you other than ruin. Victor: But, if, even despite that, you choose to meet that destiny with me… Victor: The darkness will gladly welcome you.

(I have been waiting for you to choose me since the very first day.)

She put her hands around mine.

Kate: Even if destruction is all that awaits me, if it’s with you, I could think of no finer heaven.

Her words filled my heart with warmth, and I tugged at the ribbon around her neck.

Kate: Whoa!

I pushed her onto the altar.

Victor: I can no longer let you go. Victor: I love you, Kate.

Instead of a reply, Kate wrapped her arms around my neck.

Victor: Don’t think about anything else.

Kate: Ah…

I could tell her mind was on something else. She told me about a conversation she had with William.

Victor: In that case, this is how our story goes.

I cradled her head, reflecting on the story of our lives.

Victor: Once upon a time, the grim reaper was saved by the words of a young girl, and resolved to bear his duty to his last breath. Victor: But after encountering that girl again and saving her life, he realized that there was something he could not give up, and began to watch over her from the shadows. Victor: And on their third meeting, the reaper finally came to take her. Victor: He wished, with all his heart, that this was destiny.

Kate smiled and continued our tale.

Kate: The girl gladly took the reaper’s hand, and began to walk a path of destruction with him. Kate: Until death itself came to part them, they would remain together, unchanging.

I slowly lowered my lips to her smile.

Victor: For as long as I love you, I wish the end will never come. Victor: All I wish for… is an eternity with you.

My “destiny” smiled, and then she laughed joyfully.

[myanmardoesnotexist]

Analysis of Why Valentino Cares So Much

So, I know I write a lot of fanfiction, but perhaps my favorite thing about Rosquez is the psychology of Valentino, specifically his bizarre fascination with Marc (This is outside of shipping goggles btw). As the years go on, this fixation with one specific rivalry has become increasingly more clear, and I kind of just wanted to dive into why I believe Valentino Rossi cares so much.

To me, it comes down to two things:

#1: Marc was the first to really win (in Valentino's eyes)

With Stoner, Lorenzo, and Sete it was a rivalry for sure, and there was anger, but Valentino seemed to view it as sort of a game he could control. And he did control it, he came out the victor both to the public and on track. When they eventually got over their rivalries years later, it was Valentino being a 'benevolent king' with the vibe of sparing his enemy. Even if they beat him in the championship, ultimately Valentino won the game of relevance and importance in MotoGP. With Marc it was slightly different. Valentino got the entire racing world to turn against Marc (in a way he never had before with other rivals), and yet somehow it didn’t work. Marc kept on winning, he brushed off the hate, and he’s well on his way to matching Valentino is championships next year. Even if Marc's reputation never recovered, even if we know that Marc was very hurt by this, none of it matters because he is the more relevant one now. Marc is still riding, is on the currently best team (a team that Valentino failed to bring a championship to) and each year more and more people view him in a better light.

On top of that, Marc's name is up there with Valentino's as one of the legends in MotoGP history. Stoner, Sete, and Lorenzo are all brilliant drivers and some of the greats, but that top list is Agostini, Doohan, Rossi, and Marquez. Valentino is arguably still more legendary than Marc, but he will never be able to escape from the younger man. Their names are up there together forever, and to Valentino that is a first with a rival. He cannot look at any of it and say that he won, so it must mean he lost.

#2 Marc was the first to actually hurt him personally.

With Marc he clearly felt in some way personally betrayed. He liked Marc, this is almost undeniable. He was proud of him, he cheered him on, they hung out, honestly Marc was almost an unofficial VR46 student with the way their relationship was in those early days. Yes, Marc represented a passing of the torch, but Valentino almost seemed okay with it at that point. Until he became competitive again and found out that Marc doesn't just look up to him or admire him, but wants to beat him, point blank, and will ride on the limit to do that. This came in 2014, but honestly I don't think is was as prominent because Marc had such a dominant season it was hardly a real fight. 2015 though, it was Valentino really fighting for the title. And he probably expected Marc to bend the knee, to be on his side. Maybe not help him, but not impede him in any way. But they had their friction throughout the year, and the fact that Marc was racing him just as hard as he races everyone else got into Valentino's head. Because Marc was supposed to be on his side. So if he's not, he must be against Valentino and for Jorge Lorenzo. There is no in between.

So he lashed out, he let paranoia hit him, and yet somehow he still didn't get satisfaction. Because even though he did his best to hurt Marc, the other man barely seemed to flinch (which we all know isn't true, but to Valentino I think it is). And that would be particularly rough, because it would mean Marc didn't care. That all of that friendship was one-sided on Valentino's part, that he was the one used, which to someone like him, who always has control, would be new and very very uncomfortable. And so he created this narrative that Marc never liked him, Marc never looked up to him, everything was a lie and a manipulation, and he is a villain with no heart. Because I think to Valentino it is impossible to even act like he doesn't still care. So if Marc can do that, it must mean all of it was fake.

To me these two reasons are why Valentino can't seem to let go of this one particular rivalry, and seems so viciously angry about it ten years after the biggest incident happened. His crazy brain fascinates me, and even if you look at it through a purely platonic, non-shipper lens, its one of the most interesting relationships in MotoGP.

[judesmoonbeauty]

2025 Mystery Bag Prologue: Lucky Man Competition

This is a fan translation only. Please expect grammatical errors and translation inaccuracies. This is a full translation. Creative liberties are taken for characterization and smoother translation process. Cybird owns everything. Re-blogs are appreciated, but please do not post my translation elsewhere. Thank you for your support! ☾.

It’s the end of the year, it's condemnation, after condemnation, after condemnation.

The busy Crown members also seem to get worn out by the end of the year.

Roger: Ah- I’ve worked hard this year. I don’t feel like lifting a finger anymore.

Harrison: I get what ya mean, the end of the year’s…..gotten worse.

Harrison: Well, Jude’s seems crappier though.

Jude: Those damned average employees makin’ stupid mistakes durin’ the shittiest busiest time.

Ellis: It's true that the busier you are, the more mistakes you make and the more work you have to do.

Alfons: I’ve also been rather busy what with attending parties with Elbie, greeting people, drinking parties, and caring for the cat!

Elbert: I didn’t ask him to care for the cat….but, you saved it. Thank you.

Liam: We’re all exhausted. But we’ve finished our duties for the year, so now we can take it easy to our heart’s content.

William: I agree with Liam.

William: That’s what I want to say, but at times like this,

Victor: My cutie Crown members are all gathered together ~~!

William: This man stirs up a perpetual storm at Crown.

Jude & Harrison: I’m dyin’.

Victor: This is a marvelous and amazing event. Let’s APPLAUSE!

Liam & Ellis: Yay! Clapping!

Jude: If it’s somethin’ stupid, I’ll sink ya in the sea today.

Victor: You’re the stars of 2025! The Lucky Man competition will be held in the UK, WHOOOOOO!

Jude: Tch.

Ellis: Jude, your blood vessel’s about to burst.

Victor: I see, I see! I’m delighted you’re so happy that your blood vessels could burst!

William: This is the first event where Jude is so excited about it that his blood vessels pop, isn’t it?

Victor: This is a project her Majesty has been working on for many years, and it’s being held for the first time.

Victor: Here, let me explain the rules. They’re simple.

Victor: The person who runs the designated course, and reaches the goal first will be chosen as the Lucky Man.

Victor: The Lucky Man is said to be brought to various events throughout the year for good luck.

Alfons: Essentially, it’s a race to determine first place.

Victor: It’s exactly that!

Victor: First, there is a qualifying round. Those whom make it through, will be able to participate in the final match. This means that everyone has an equal chance to participate.

Victor: It’s fun, it’s exciting! Now, all of Crown should join!

Jude: How stupid. Why should I be runnin’ ‘round in this cold ass weather?

Harrison: Yeah, I’ll pass too. Gimme a break, I’m already exhausted.

Roger: I agree. If there were some benefit like money or something, I wouldn’t hesitate to think it over—

Victor: What if, Her Majesty would grant any one wish to the one chosen as the Lucky Man?

Alfons & Roger: Anything?

Roger: Her Majesty’s really stepped up. Victor, I’ll join.

Ellis: Roger’s participating? Guess I will too if that’s the case.

Ellis: Jude?

Jude: If yer sayin’ “anythin’” then that changes thin’s.

Alfons: Just look at everyone declaring their participation one after the other. Elbie, what of you?

Elbert: …..I don’t compete very often.

Victor: Ahhh! Come to think of it, Kate said something like this,

Victor: “The Lucky Man is amazing! I respect anyone tries their best at anything” —

Elbert: Victor, I’ll join too.

Alfons: For cash. I’ll participate too. I adore reveling in drinking sprees.

Liam: Me too, me too! Win or lose, it’ll be a great memory.

Liam: C’mon, Harry you too! I’m sure Kate will come to cheer us on.

Harrison: Don’t hit my arm, Liam. Good grief, I get it……I’ll tag along too.

Victor: Now, that just leaves William. Although I don’t think I need to ask.

William: Of course, I’ll join. The real pleasure of one’s life is to enjoy everything.

Victor: All of Crown, including myself will participate by entering the qualifying round.

Victor: Crown, the townspeople, and the rest I’m certain —

[Transitions to Vogel]

Darius: — Apparently, an event like that is taking place. We three Vogel’s have announced our participation as well.

Nica & Ring: ….Huh?

Darius: Ahaha, your surprised looks are exactly the same.

Darius: It’s at times like this I think you really are twins.

Nica: Your eccentricities are nothing new Dari, but is there any reason for us to participate in this?

Darius: Do you really feel I always say such outlandish things?

Darius: Simply put, choosing a Lucky Man seems amusing, doesn’t it?

Nica: That’s it? Just the king’s whim.

Nica: So, why does my little brother look so happy?

Ring: Oh, um….

Ring: ….Because I’ve always wanted to get excited along with a large group of people.

Darius: See, my lovely Ring feels the same way. Don’t you think?

Nica: Fine, I enter too. Frankly, a wish that’ll come true sounds delicious.

Darius: You’re such good boys Nica and Ring. Oh, just one thing….

Darius: Usage of our abilities are prohibited since we cursed are currently confidential information.

Nica & Ring: Verstanden [Got it] • Understood.

Darius: I wonder who’ll be chosen as the Lucky Man? Hehe, I look forward to it.

[Story Set Master List] Dividers: @.adornedwithlight

Tags list: @sh0jun @theimaginativelyreticent @sapphire-323 @velisle @nateko @greatwitchsongsinger @injudescoat @aeyumicore @complexivelovely @drachonia @cosmowgyral @lunaaka @rosalyne08 @8the-perfect-lie8 @voydsoul

[vampiradelmal]

Run for Your Life

Bowers Gang x Reader

Summary: fem!reader is being hunted down after discovering who’s been making the kids in town go missing

TW: Murder, blood, implied rape, violence, weapons, death, some small gore I suck at writing. Don't expect this to be amazing. note: as I finish writing this I realize how much I despise dark themes. oh well, I already wrote it. Also, yeah the title is stupid. It's okay.

“: ̗̀➛did you really think we would just let you off the hook so easily?‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ”

Seeing them shove that body into the quarry was the beginning of the end.

Perhaps it wouldn't have been if you had simply made a break for it as soon as you saw it, but how could you? Seeing the mutilated body of Chase Foreman was quite the sight to see, a sight so mesmerizing that your feet had cemented themselves to the ground. Any will to run or scream was paralyzed as your mind screamed at you to escape.

It was only after Belch Huggins had thrown Chase’s body off the edge of the cliff that you found the strength to turn around. But when you did, you were immediately slammed to the ground by Patrick Hockstetter’s hard chest.

"Didn't your parents teach you it's rude to spy?"

Patrick's sarcastic, shrill laughter of joy rang through your ears as he kneeled down beside your body, his knee pressing between your thighs. A large rotting Cheshire grin was on display before your very eyes, the smell of cigarettes assaulting your senses.

Your mouth opened pathetically, ready to sputter out any excuse to spare your life as tears threatened to spill out. Patrick, however, wordlessly put his fingers to your lips, softly shushing you in an oddly soothing way—as soothing as someone like him could sound.

"Don't fret, little bitch. I'll make sure to finish you off quickly. But what's the harm in a little fun?"

His dimly lit face turned up, looking behind her. The moonlight revealed the dirt and blood smeared across his face, casting a sinister glow on the deranged psychopath. Panicked footsteps crunched against dirt and gravel. A shadow came over Patrick and his grin vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

"Just make this quick, Hockstetter." It was Belch Huggins' worried voice coming from behind her. The crunching of dirt and gravel signaled a third presence.

"What's the fun in making this one quick?" Victor Criss mused as he knelt down behind you. He leaned over your shoulder before abruptly gripping your neck, pulling you back into his chest as he observed your face. A choked sob escaped your lips as you gasped for air, while his fingers tightened around you. "She's a looker. Got a pretty mouth too..." Victor trailed off, his tone filled with dark intent. Another shrill giggle came from Patrick as he climbed on top of your body, watching your eyes roll back into your skull.

"I like the way you're thinking, Vic." Patrick suddenly tore Victor's hand off of you, making the blonde grunt in irritation "But if I'm gonna fuck her, I want her to be awake." He looked down at you with that same grin, grabbing your jaw as you pathetically gasped for air. "Isn't that right, little bitch? You better look me in my eyes when I'm inside you."

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Henry stood over the boys, watching with disinterest as Patrick eye-fucked the witness to their crime.

"Yeah, yeah." Patrick brushed off Henry's comment. "You're one to talk, Bowers. All high mighty 'cause you never stick it into our girls, huh?"

Henry's eyes trained on Patrick as his nostrils flared. His hands jutted out, lifting Patrick off of you by his collar. "Don't fucking talk to me that way, you goddamn pervert. One more word and I'm making you the next kid on a poster."

Patrick only grinned at Henry's empty threats. "You wouldn't dare get your pretty little hands dirty. That's my job." He had made it a point to get in Henry's face, enjoying how Henry's eyebrow would twitch in irritation. If there was one thing Patrick was good at, it was getting under Henry's skin. His comments had challenged Henry's masculinity, and for this crime, Patrick would pay the price.

It had all happened in mere seconds. Patrick’s body was slammed down, his head violently bouncing off the ground before hitting cold earth. Gasping sharply, he tried to recover the breath Henry had knocked out of him. Henry loomed over Patrick, straddling him with clenched fists. Patrick’s defiant laughter rang in the tense silence, his breath ragged as he laughed at Henry’s pathetic attempt.

Without hesitation, Belch lunged forward, ripping Henry off, while Victor rushed to Patrick’s side. Despite their lack of genuine concern for each other, the gang all understood their unspoken rule: no turning on each other.

Henry kicked and flailed like an enraged toddler as Belch manhandled him. "Get off of me! I ain't gonna hurt 'em!" He shouted, shoving Belch away and kicking dirt in Patrick's direction. The dirt hit Victor in the face, causing the blonde to sputter, spitting out any dirt that got into his mouth.

"What the fuck?" Victor complained, wiping his mouth repeatedly. The blood on his long-sleeve had now smeared across his lips, a stark contrast between his pale skin and the crimson streaks. Henry's rage had moved from Patrick to Victor, sneering at the smaller blonde.

On that cold earth, you laid there motionless, watching the boys through your peripherals. You felt a strange sense of joy when Patrick was thrown to the floor, and an even greater relief washed over you when the boys left you behind to break up the cat-fight. Your body was flooded with fear and adrenaline, and your mind went into overdrive, thrust into a survival mode you had never felt before.

Without a second thought, you pushed yourself off the ground, sprinting into the woods surrounding the quarry. Your absence hadn't gone unnoticed, and as soon as you made it into the woods, shouting ensued. Twigs and leaves crunched under your feet, drowning out the sounds of the boys chasing after you.

The boys you had known since childhood—whom you watched grow up as you went from playing with toys together to wanting to play together—were now hounding you like rabid wolves.

As you ran, a gunshot went off. You flinched violently, causing the bullet to only graze your flesh. Instinctively, your hand shot up to grasp your barely bleeding cheek in shock. "What the fuck!?" you screamed, your legs pumping faster.

Glancing over your shoulder, you noticed the distance in between you and the boys widened, giving you the advantage momentarily. Ducking under thick foliage, you followed a mini trail that would lead you to the barrens. With limited light, you ran blindly through dense woods. Branches and logs snapped against your face, pulling at your clothes, and threatening to trip you as you raced forward.

The shouting continued to follow you, except now it had split. Wicked voices bellowed at you from the surrounding trees, and with the dim light you could hardly tell what was coming from where. Your head tilted up, trying to gauge the sky from the trees, but it was entirely pitch black aside from the twinkling of stars and a melancholy moon.

"I'm coming to get you, little bitch!"

This time the voice was right beside you. Whipping your head to the right, you saw Patrick Hockstetter running, a wild grin on his face as he tried to swoop in closer, weaving through trees to get on your path. You swerved to the left, only to be greeted once more.

"You can't run forever, slut!"

It was Victor Criss this time, his baggy clothing whipping through the wind as he grasped a knife tightly in his right hand. He was weaving in towards you, both boys working together to trap you in between them. Your legs were aching and sweat drenched every inch of your body, but you couldn't bring yourself to stop.

Victor swiped his knife at you, nicking you in the stomach. A gut-wrenching scream followed as you felt the blade run across your tender flesh. Your hand immediately pressed itself against the bleeding wound, trying to stem the flow. Patrick's laughter drowned out your screams, his voice filled with eagerness as he closed in on you. His arms reached out, desperately trying to latch on.

“Fucking grab her already!” Henry’s voice roared from behind Patrick, filled with a frenzied intensity. His eyes locked onto you like a mad bull. He drew the pistol from his belt, aiming it in your direction. Fueled by a surge of adrenaline, your cramping legs pushed harder, desperately propelling you forward.

The bullet darted out, intent on killing. You instinctively shut your eyes but it never came. Victor's body collapsed on your left, abandoned as the group continued the chase.

"Fuck!" Belch wailed, maneuvering past Victor's corpse.

"Nice aim, moron!" Patrick taunted Henry with another shrill giggle. Henry only roared out in frustration. Your eyes were wide, body racked with fear and oddly enough, guilt. But you kept on going anyway, better Victor than you.

With ringing ears, you weaved through dense foliage and never-ending trees, feeling as though you were in a relentless loop. The constant barrage of Patrick’s taunts and Henry’s angry roars only added to your despair. You wanted to give up. To just collapse like Victor had on the cold earth and rest. God, death just seemed so tempting.

Something you feared for years suddenly seemed so desirable. And wrapped up in these thoughts of sweet death, you had hardly taken notice that Belch Huggins had swung his axe at you, lodging itself into your shoulder blade.

"Fuck!" You bellowed as the blade was pulled back. Your left arm dangled pathetically, blood oozing out as tendons strung your arm to your body. Immense pain took over and you collapsed, screaming as you cradled your arm.

The three boys stalked towards you, watching you intensely. Your sobs echoed through the trees, birds scattering out of trees hearing your screams of agony.

"Fuck, just kill me already!" You pleaded, tears streaming down your face. Belch solemnly crouched down beside you, a look of guilt on his face.

"Don’t take this personally…" he mumbled, glancing down at your bloody arm. Your eyes locked onto his, and you whimpered softly. Despite the situation, you couldn’t help but remember Belch’s kindness from long ago—how he had always been a big sweetheart, even back in kindergarten when you’d share a nap blanket. What happened to that kind soul?

Your eyes lowered to your arm, bile creeping up your throat until you couldn't help but pathetically keel over and vomit. Henry scowled, letting out an annoyed scoff while he panted heavily.

"Good going, tubby." Patrick sneered at Belch. "I can't enjoy her rockin' body when her arm is all fucked up. That's why we wait to cut them up after I've already dumped my load." The psychopath scoffed at this inconvenience, disregarding your dying body as just another dumpsite.

"Shut the fuck up," Belch mumbled, shooting a glare at Patrick. His attention moved back towards you, noticing how you were starting to fade away. He removed his flannel, gingerly put it over your body. He especially was trying to cover your arm. "I really didn't mean for this to happen," he whispered as he covered you.

Henry scoffed, "Don't tell me you're sweet on a dying girl."

Patrick snickered, nudging Belch. "The guilt getting you again, big guy?" His taunting laughter filled your ears.

Your eyes slowly rolled up to stare at the burly axe-wielding bully. With a small scoff, you groaned softly again. "Just fucking kill me..."

"If it's what you want," Henry grumbled, beyond annoyed that he had to run for so long. "Fuck, that's what we've been trying to do this entire time. Dumb bitch." He cocked his gun, aiming it at your head.

"Any last words?" Patrick cooed, his eyes glinting with a twisted excitement. His gaze darted back and forth between you and the gun, a dark smile stretching across his face. The anticipation in his voice was almost palpable.

You forced a sneer, even as your vision blurred to white.

"Yeah, fuck you," you rasped, your voice trembling.

The gunshot rang out, its echo a brutal punctuation to the silence that followed.

[seeker-of-stories19]

𝙒𝙝𝙮 𝙈𝙞𝙜𝙪𝙚𝙡 𝙣𝙚𝙚𝙙𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙎𝙚𝙠𝙖𝙞 𝙏𝙖𝙞𝙠𝙖𝙞 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙍𝙤𝙗𝙗𝙮 𝙣𝙚𝙚𝙙𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙬𝙞𝙣

I have had this in my drafts since before part one was released and I never finished it, after part two I came back to it because we didn’t know the Sekai Taikai victor yet. Now I feel like we all know how it’s going to end but I thought this might still be interesting to post before the final episodes drop.

I love both characters and I really believe that Miguel losing is just as important as Robby winning for their respective story arc in the series so these are some of the reasons I think the narrative would make more sense if this was the outcome. While I don’t think this is actually going to be the result of the tournament I feel very strongly that Robby being the victor makes the most sense to the show so I’m going to lay out some of the reasons I think this would be the best ending.

- Robby is the underdog and the original karate kid was all about the underdog story. Miguel hasn’t been the underdog since the first season but Robby has gone through so much shit throughout the series, specifically in the tournaments, and constantly gets mistreated and stuck in his own head. Even in season one when Miguel had more of an underdog story he was still the instigator with Robby. He’s been through constant trauma, incarceration, homelessness, struggling to pay his moms bills, physical abuse, sexual assault, mental health issues etc. and has yet to get a major victory. Even in part two you can see how they reinstate Robby’s role as the underdog repeatedly (specifically in relation to him struggling to manage his emotions and insecurity which has been an ongoing battle for him through the series) before Miguel gives him the confidence and support he needs to step up.

- Robby is the best fighter in the series, he’s able to master incredibly advanced moves like the two legged kick after only training for a couple months and he holds his own with many opponents who are bigger and more experienced than him. He’s also able to fight off all of Cobra Kai at once in season four, only getting taken down when he turns his back. In my opinion Robby is the most talented and skilled fighter but the least consistent as he is so vulnerable to his emotions, still we’ve seen that he can win when he finds balance which is what his whole arc and a lot of the show is about.

-Robby’s kicks are his go to move and they’ve specifically stressed kicks as being important in the Sekai Taikai, both earlier in the show when Robby Miguel and Hawk are talking about how high the contestants kick and again when they get there and Robby and Kwon do the kicking competition. Not to mention it’s how Robby beat Kwon both times. Even in the teasers for part three you see Robby practicing his kicks and many of his significant moments in the series have been centered around kicks as well.

- Robby also has the strongest ties to both dojos, with so much of the show being everyone coming together I feel like Robby being Johnny’s son and Daniel’s first student he would truly represent victory as a combined dojo better than any of the other students.

- Finally Cobra Kai has tried really hard to bring Johnny’s side of the story to light and I think after him being so haunted by his loss against Daniel Cobra Kai ending in the opposite way with Robby following a different path and ultimately winning would be a really great full circle moment.

Now for the second part of this post here are the reasons I want Miguel to lose. (I know this sounds mean but it’s because I think it honors his character journey and storyline better.)

- Miguel has already won a tournament, and backed down from the second one because there were other things that were more important to him. I feel like that was a very important moment for him, especially after how far he was willing to go to win the first tournament, that showed him wanting to find himself outside of Johnny’s influence and that karate wasn’t the most important thing in the world. Which again shows that he had grown a lot since the first tournament where he hurt Robby.

- Miguel feels like the tournament is his only chance at Stanford which I personally think has a lot more to do with how desperate he is to win, it’s about his future dream at least as much if not more than it’s about karate. But Miguel could still get into Stanford without winning the Sekai Taikai (and even if he doesn’t get into Stanford he’ll go to another really good school.) To me this is important because Miguel has been set up with other possibilities while Robby hasn’t. Miguel realizing that is a significant moment because he apologizes to Robby and makes sure he knows he is on his side. This is a massive moment after the ups and downs in their relationship and it marks so much growth for him in being able to look past his own wants and care enough about Robby to put him first.

- Growth is what makes characters and stories interesting and there’s been a lot with Robby and Miguel over the course of the series. I feel like Miguel winning would take away from some of the significant moments in his story where he has to start building an identity and future for himself outside of Johnny and karate but still using the lessons he’s learned. Miguel fixing things with Robby and coming far enough to cheer him on would be a better end to the series than anything else with them both having satisfying well rounded ends to their respective character arcs and their overall dynamic.

Now having heard about the leaks it doesn’t seem like this is the ending that we’ll get which is very disappointing and (again in my opinion) a very unsatisfying and poorly thought out choice. I don’t have very much faith in the writers and while there are obviously many things I love about the show there are also some major issues I have with it such as Miguel’s unrealistic recovery, how Robby and Johnny’s relationship is handled, their general inability to write good romantic relationships, the whole Johnny and Carmen plot even before the baby, and Robby being sexually assaulted without it being addressed.

At this point I’m incredibly nervous for the final episodes but still somewhat excited and there’s always fanfic to fix things. Now that I’ve finally finished this I’ll share it and hopefully someone finds my rambling interesting.

[rosiecqtt]

Jealousy, Jealousy

Summary; Your back in the capital for the 75 annual Hunger Games waiting for the opening parade ceremony to begin when one of the victors, namely the male from four, comes over to talk to you which sparks certain emotions in Peeta.

Notes; Okay so I’m thinking of maybe perhaps writing a rewrite fic for the Hunger Games because, like a lot of others, I am once again in my Peeta Mellark phase. This is a little snippet from that said potential fic. Read it and let me know if you’d be interested in more? Let me know if you think its lacking anything or has too much, any feed back would be great. 

Word Count; 3.3k

Warnings; It is the Hunger games, so mentions of violence and death. It gets a little spicy at the very end, Kissing and hickeys mostly.

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

The last several days had seemed like a blur, and now here I was. Back in the capital dressed in an elegant costume waiting to be paraded for all of Panem to see, literally. Cinna had walked me to the elevator, but he had more things to attend to before it started so he had left me to travel down alone.

The elevator all too quickly arrived at the ground floor of the Remake Center, which houses the huge gathering place for the tributes and their chariots before the opening ceremonies. I'm hoping to find Peeta or Haymitch, or both, but they haven't arrived yet. So I once again find myself alone.

Unlike last year, when all the tributes were practically glued to their chariots, the scene is very social. The victors, both this year's tributes and their mentors, are standing around in small groups, talking. 

Of course, they all know one another and I don't know anyone, and I'm not really the sort of person to go around introducing myself. Back in twelve, I was often teased in school for not being more social, but eventually, I grew to not mind so much. 

 Instead of mingling and trying to find allies, I just stroke the neck of one of my horses and try not to be noticed. 

It doesn't work.

 The crunching hits my ear before I even know he's beside me, and when I turn my head, Finnick Odair's famous sea-green eyes are only inches from mine. He pops a sugar cube in his mouth and leans against my horse.

 “Hello, Y/n,” he says, as if we've known each other for years, when in fact we've never met. 

“Hello, Finnick,” I say, just as casually, although I'm feeling uncomfortable at his closeness, especially since he's got so much bare skin exposed.

 “Want a sugar cube?” he says, offering his hand, which is piled high. 

“They're supposed to be for the horses, but who cares? They've got years to eat sugar, whereas you and I ... well, if we see something sweet, we better grab it quick.” he says with a flirty wink.

Finnick Odair is something of a living legend in Panem. He won the Sixty-fifth Hunger Games when he was only fourteen. So besides Peeta and I, he is one of the youngest victors. He was from district four and was a Career, so the odds of him winning again, were in his favor. I had to admit that he certainly was extraordinarily beautiful. He was very tall, probably six foot two. He has a very athletic build, with golden skin and bronze-colored hair, and those incredible eyes.

I find it hard to form an argument against how beautiful he is. But I can honestly say he's never been someone I would want to be with. Maybe he's too pretty, or maybe he's too easy to get, or maybe it's really that he'd just be too easy to lose.

 “No, thanks,” I finally say, refusing his offer of the sugar. 

“I'd love to borrow your outfit sometime, though,” I say attempting to tease him as my eyes scan his elaborate outfit. 

He's draped in a golden net that's strategically knotted at his groin so that he can't technically be called naked, but he's about as close as you can get. I'm sure his stylist thinks the more of Finnick the audience sees, the better. 

“And you're absolutely terrifying me in that getup. What happened to the pretty little-girl dresses?” he asks. He wets his lips just ever so slightly with his tongue. Probably this drives most people crazy, and I can’t deny that it didn’t raise a blush to my cheeks.

 “I outgrew them,” I say simply looking back at the horses. 

Finnick leans closer to me and takes the collar of my outfit and runs it between his fingers. I look up at his face my eyes watching him closely, trying to calculate his next move.

“It's too bad about this Quell thing. You could have made out like a bandit in the Capitol. Jewels, money, anything you wanted.”

 “I-I don't like jewels, and I have more money than I need.” I stutter out flustered at his close proximity.

I clear my throat and take a step back “What do you spend all yours on, anyway, Finnick?” I say. 

“Oh, I haven't dealt in anything as common as money for years,” says Finnick.

 “Then how do they pay you for the pleasure of your company?” I ask, genuine curiosity seeping into my voice. 

 “With secrets,” he says softly with a charming smirk. He tips his head in so his lips are almost in contact with mine and my face grows hot. 

“What about you, girl on fire? Do you have any secrets worth my time?”.

 “No, I, uh I’m an open book,” I whisper back. “Everybody seems to know my secrets before I know them myself.” I lie hoping he will back off. He smiles. 

“Unfortunately, I think that's true.” His eyes flicker off to the side and I find myself letting out a breath.

 “Peeta is coming. Sorry, you have to cancel your wedding. I know how devastating that must be for you.” He tosses another sugar cube in his mouth and saunters off as anger fills my chest.

 ‘How dare he’. I think bitterly to myself. Did everyone truly think that I was simply faking my love and adoration for Peeta? Did I really come across like I was some horrible bitch using Peeta to make myself look good? A wave of sadness washed over me and I started to question if maybe everyone is right. 

 Peeta's walking up beside me snapped me out of my thoughts. He’s dressed in an outfit identical to mine and my blush returns full force as my eyes scan his body.

 “What did Finnick Odair want?” he asks, a strange tone to his voice. I turn to face him, a frown evident on my face.

 “He offered me sugar and wanted to know all my secrets,” I say.

 Peeta laughs. “Ugh. Not really.” 

“Really,” I say with an anxious laugh.

Peeta hums in response, watching as Finnick walks up to some other victor he seemed to know. He clenched his jaw tightly and looked back over to me. I thought it was strange but chose to not comment on it as the parade music began signaling for everyone to mount their chariots. 

“Shall we?” He says turning to me and stretching out a hand to help me into the chariot. 

I smile and gratefully accept it, climbing up and pulling him up after me. “Hold still,” I say, as I reach up to straighten his crown. He smiles down at me, and I return it glad that I don’t have to be here alone.

“Have you seen your suit turned on?” I ask him as I step back to make sure the crown is perfectly straight. “We're going to be fabulous again.”, I said teasingly, mocking the strange capital accent.

 “Absolutely we are”, he said with the same one. “But Portia says we're to be very above it all. No waving or anything,” he says more seriously. I nod, Cinna having said something similar.

“Where are they, anyway?” I asked eyeing the other chariots, they had set our costumes ablaze at last year's chariot ride but they were nowhere to be found.

“Maybe we better go ahead and switch ourselves on,” Peeta suggests noticing the panic growing on my face. 

So we do, and as we begin to glow, I can see people pointing at us and chattering, and I know that like last year we are going to be the talk of the opening ceremonies.

 When we’re almost out the door I crane my head around once again looking for them, but neither Portia nor Cinna, are anywhere in sight. 

With a frown, I look up into Peeta’s blue eyes that no amount of dramatic makeup can make truly deadly, and remember how, just a year ago, I thought he was prepared to kill me. I spent most of my entire time running away from him during the game, when in the end he was pretending to hate me all along so that he could protect me, which then created our start-crossed lover's story. I smile at him warmly and grab his hand without a second thought.

 We will go into this as one this time.

The voice of the crowd rises into one universal scream as we roll into the fading evening light, but neither one of us reacts. 

I simply fix my eyes on a point far in the distance and pretend there is no audience, no hysteria. But I can't stop myself from catching glimpses of us on the huge screens along the route, and we are not just beautiful, we are dark and powerful.

 We are the star-crossed lovers from District 12, who suffered so much and enjoyed so little of the rewards of our victory. We do not seek the fans' favor, grace them with our smiles, or catch their kisses. 

We are unforgiving. And I love it. Last year I craved the attention of the audience, knowing deep down that they loved Peeta more than me. I was desperate to gain the fan's attention in order to save myself. But not this time. This time I don’t care because I know I won’t win, nor do I care if they want me to. Peeta is the one who should have more fans. This time he will be the only one going home in the end. 

As we curve around the loop I hold Peeta’s hand tighter. I try to keep my gaze forward, not wanting to meet the faces of the other tributes, but I find it hard to not glance at all the others in front of us. Thankfully the ride goes by quickly and soon I find myself back in the training center but I dare not move until the doors close behind us. It seems Peeta thought the same thing because as the doors do finally close we both let out a long breath. 

Not letting go of my hand Peeta helps me off the chariot then jumps down beside me and together we walk towards our newly appeared stylists. Cinna and Porta are waiting on the far end of the room seeming very pleased with our display during our ride.

Haymitch has made an appearance as well, only he's not standing with them, he's over with the tributes of District 11. I see him nod in our direction and then they follow him over to greet us. 

I know Chaff by sight because I've spent years watching him pass a bottle back and forth with Haymitch on television. He's dark skinned, about six feet tall, and one of his arms ends in a stump because he lost his hand in the Games he won thirty years ago. I'm sure they offered him some artificial replacement like they did Peeta when they had to amputate his lower leg, but I guess he didn't take it. 

The woman, Seeder, looks almost like she could be from the Seam, with her olive skin and straight black hair streaked with silver. Only her golden brown eyes mark her as from another district. She must be around sixty, but she still looks strong, and there's no sign she's turned to liquor or morphling or any other chemical form of escape over the years.

 Before either of us says a word, she embraces me. I know somehow it must be because of Rue and Thresh. Before I can stop myself, I whisper, “The families?” 

“They're alive,” she says back softly, understanding what I meant before letting me go with a soft smile. 

Chaff throws his good arm around me and gives me a big kiss right on the mouth. My eyes grow wide and I jerk back, startled, while he and Haymitch laugh. Peeta watched Chaff with a clenched jaw, giving him the same strange look he gave Finnik earlier. 

I open my mouth to say something about it to him but the Capitol attendants are firmly directing us toward the elevators. I get the distinct feeling they're not comfortable with the camaraderie among the victors, who couldn't seem to care less. 

As I walk toward the elevators, my hand still latched tightly with Peeta's, someone else rustles up to my side. A girl pulls off a headdress of leafy branches and tosses it behind her without bothering to look where it falls. 

Johanna Mason. From District 7 Lumber and paper, thus the tree. She won by very convincingly portraying herself as weak and helpless so that she would be ignored. Then she demonstrated a wicked ability to murder. I admired her greatly and in the games last year many people assumed that I was following in her footsteps with my meek attitude. But unlike Johanna I was not as skilled at killing, just the hiding and playing dumb bit. 

She ruffles up her spiky hair and rolls her wide-set brown eyes. “Isn't my costume awful? My stylist's the biggest idiot in the Capitol. Our tributes have been trees for forty years under her. Wish I’d gotten Cinna. You look fantastic.” She says with a wink. 

My face flushes and I feel Peeta’s grip on my hand tighten further and I find myself growing increasingly curious as to why. 

While we wait for the elevators, Johanna unzips the rest of her tree, letting it drop to the floor, and then kicks it away in disgust. Except for her forest green slippers, she doesn't have on a stitch of clothing and my face grows hot at the realization.

 “That's better,” she says plainly, very unbothered at the fact that she was naked and surrounded by people. 

We end up on the same elevator with her, and she spends the whole ride to the seventh floor chatting to Peeta about his paintings while the light of his still-glowing costume reflects off her bare breasts. When she leaves, I let out a breath I didn’t know I had been holding and. I watched as the doors close behind Chaff and Seeder, leaving us alone.

We both remain silent for a moment before he looks over at me with a smirk. 

“What?” I ask nervously turning to face him as we step out on our floor.

 “It's you, Y/n. Can't you see?” he says.

 “What's me?” I say confused. 

“Why they're all acting like this. Finnick with his sugar cubes and Chaff kissing you and that whole thing with Johanna stripping down.” He tries to take on a more serious tone, trying to mask the one he's had since Finnick had spoken to her, but he was unsuccessful 

“They're playing with you because you're so ... you know.” 

“No, I don't know,” I say. And I really have no idea what he's talking about.

 “It's like when you wouldn't look at me naked in the arena even though I was half dead. You're so ... pure,” he says finally. I blush, my face turning red again at the implication. “No, I am not!” I exclaim. 

“Yeah, but ... I mean, for the Capitol, you're pure,” he says, firmly. ”And honestly, it's very attractive." He said 

I paused at that, glad that he was behind me, and could not see the blush that seemed to darken my face. I felt his warm hands wrap around my waist as I tried to think of something to say to defend myself.

“I know we are engaged, but no one seems to understand that you are mine, Y/n” Peeta says softly, resting his head on my shoulder as he holds me against him. 

“They don’t respect that you are mine, and I don’t know how to show them that you are”. He said. “But I can show you,” he whispers seductively into my ear. "Yeah?" I ask softly, not trusting myself to be able to say anything else at this moment. 

“Oh yeah, will you let me do that sugar cube?” He asks gently, teasing me with that nickname. I know he was alluding to Finnicks offerings and I couldn’t help the amused smile that fell on my face. I remained still as his hands moved across my waist only to stop and rest on my hips. 

I nervously chew on my bottom lip and nod softly, growing both excited and nervous to see what he had planned. Suddenly his behavior since my encounter with Finnick all made sense. He. was. Jealous. Soft, affectionate, and kind Peeta, my Peeta, was jealous, and it was oddly very attractive. I felt a soft, wet kiss on my neck that snapped me out of my thoughts.

 “I need an answer sweetheart,” he said placing another kiss on the opposite side of my neck.  suck in a deep breath and lean further into him, “Yes”, I say breathlessly and I feel him smirk against my skin. 

 He kisses my neck once again, and I melt into his embrace. He pulls away and looks into my eyes, his pupils were dilated and his breathing was heavy.  “Hold tight then,” He says seductively before spinning me around. I gasp at his sudden movements and cling to him as he backs me up against the wall in his room and pins me to the door with his hips. I gasp and he takes that as an opportunity to kiss me deeply, letting his tongue explore my mouth. I soon find myself pressing back against him and matching his hungry kisses that seem to devour me. 

I wrap my arms around his shoulders and he holds my waist tightly, pushing himself closer to me and I can’t stop the moan that leaves my lips. “Peeta”, I say breathlessly as his mouth leaves mine and he opts to kiss my neck. 

He hums in response and moves his hand up to my neck to where the buttons of my top sit. He starts to undo them, and I let him. Once unbuttoned he pulls it down my arms and rids me of it, leaving me in just my bra and pants. He stares at me for a moment, his eyes taking me in before he moves in closer. His lips press against mine, sending a jolt of electricity through my body. I let myself get lost in the moment, in the sensations he's making me feel. I feel my body melting into him and I reach my hands up into his blonde hair, tangling my fingers in it to ground myself.

He slowly kissed down my neck, nipping and sucking as he went. Dark red and purple marks decorated my skin as he went, successfully marking me ask his. Usually, he was gentle and sweet and though this wasn’t the first time they had kissed, it certainly seemed like the most intimate and hungry. 

He spent what seemed to be hours littering my chest and neck with his marks, successfully marking me as his, and he probably would have continued if Effie, Hamitch, and the others hadn’t gotten back and called for them. 

Pouting I looked up at Peeta, my eyes glassy and my pupils just as dilated as his. He chuckled softly and gave one last kiss to my swollen lips before resting his forehead against mine. 

“Hopefully now you’ll remember and understand that you’re mine Y/n,” Peeta said.  I smiled at him my heart racing in my chest as I looked up into his blue eyes. I nodded as I whispered, "I do." He leaned in and kissed me one last time before disappearing into his bathroom to quickly change. I stood against the door for another moment trying to process what had happened. 

After several seconds I laughed to myself, “Wow”, I whispered to myself as I looked around his room for something I could change into myself so as to not seem suspicious to everyone else. “Just wow”. I whispered shaking my head. My nickname in the Capital was the Girl on Fire, but it seemed like I wasn’t the only one who burning. 

[evermarch]

When do you think Peeta decided that he would try to help Katniss go home and not win himself and that he would risk his life and die so she can back home to her family?

i know y’all are used to my long rambles, but i’m sorry anon…this one’s gonna be short: the minute he said goodbye to his family.

okay, fine. you came to me for a reason, so i’ll give you a little more. so, any belief peeta has that he SHOULD win disappears sometime between his name being called and the moment he and katniss shake hands. because once he’s over the initial shock, and no one volunteers for him (especially notable this year), he follows the train of thought that we see throughout the series—nobody loves him or needs him like katniss does prim. and anyone with a heart, but especially anyone whose heart already beat for katniss, could see that there is no justice in a world where these sisters are not reunited. he, like katniss, doesn’t consider that looking for justice in a system without none is a threat to the survival of that system.

but when his mother says that there is a chance of district 12 having a victor, and that “she’s a survivor,” what little sliver of hope he has that he COULD come home evaporates. not that he had much to begin with—he has so little self worth largely because of his mother. and anyone with a parent whose words cut like hers knows that, no matter how objectively or otherwise wrong the parent is, their word on your ability is the final truth. to have that be her last words means that not only has she written him off, but that, even in a games without katniss, he would have no hope of living.

when they leave the justice building, he’s not just crying because he’s saying goodbye to his home and any chance of a future. he’s crying because, even if he did survive, no one he’s leaving behind believes he’s worthy of living over the girl next to him. not even the few people who are supposed to believe that he is. and even if he were to return, he’ll never be able to forget how they left him. so what is there to return home for anyway? worst of all, he knows that they’re right. because he’s watched her more closely than anyone and knows she’s not just more worthy of winning than him, but more so than anyone in all the districts of panem.

by the time he’s on the train, he’s said goodbye to the life he had and to the flimsy hope that he’d someday be worth something if he’d been allowed to live a little longer. so, he decides to devote his remaining days to making his death mean something. and, at the table, when he looks closer into her grey eyes than he ever has before, it’s not hard to picture how to do it.

he doesn’t see that, in choosing her to live, he’s making the very same choice she did. to do the radical thing. the very same choice that makes her worthy of his sacrifice. he doesn’t yet know that it’ll be the choice that makes her pull out the berries, which is the most radical thing of all.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

If it’s alright, I have a question about Vil and Epel’s relationship. I understand that the accent changing plot line is just a cultural politeness thing that didn’t carry over outside of Japan, but the other parts of changing Epel’s behavior don’t quite make sense.

Why exactly is Epel being forced to call macarons his favorite food? And act very soft-spoken? I can’t see how these fit in with the politeness aspect of the table manners, no abrasive language, etc. It just doesn’t give a very good impression, especially in combination with the unfortunate implication of giving Epel a Southern accent for the “change your accent” plot point.

Before I get to responding to the questions posed by this ask, allow me to explain for those who may not be familiar with this controversy! This is so we can all go into reading this post from the same starting point.

I've made titles to denote the explanation of background knowledge and to denote responding to the questions actually asked to me! If you're already familiar with the Vil-Epel-accent debacle then feel free to skip the first section!

Disclaimer: I’m speaking on these concepts as I personally understand them. However, I am not a native Japanese speaker so I’d advise that you consult additional resources with a better understanding of the language and culture. Two resources I enjoy are Yuurei and MysteryShopTLs, who have both also addressed Epel’s accent and how it was localized.

The Accent, EN vs JP

It’s well-known that Epel is a character with a heavy accent who has been explicitly told by Vil, his dorm leader, to alter the way he speaks. In EN, Epel speaks with what appears to be a southern (as in, “from the southern United States”) accent. Therefore, when Vil tells him to stop speaking in the accent, it feels as though Vil is shaming him for his southern roots and culture. This has also led to fans (especially of the EN-only sphere) thinking that Vil believes Epel’s accent is “unrefined” and “makes him sound uncouth/uneducated”, which is why Vil tells Epel to cover it up. I have even received asks conveying as much in the past (here is one example).

In the original JP, Epel speaks in a way that does not closely resemble any real-world Japanese dialect but rather a blend of them. If you ask a native Japanese speaker, they would likely tell you that it is difficult to understand what Epel is saying and that it sounds as though he is speaking rudely or too casually. People could genuinely take offense to the accent because it can be mistaken as something else entirely. This is obviously very different than the real-world accent (which many people can still understand and wouldn’t perceive as rude) that Epel was localized to have. The decision to give him a southern accent, then, does not completely carry over its original JP connotations into EN.

What remains the same in both EN and JP is the reason Vil provides for telling Epel to adjust the way he communicates. As he says in EN, “Speak properly" to which Epel immediately assumes the command comes from a place of elitism/classism and Vil thinking Epel's manner of speaking is beneath him. Vil responds with, "Stop misinterpreting my instructions. I have nothing against your home or its dialect. What I object to is your attitude. Being proud of your home is all well and good, but there is a time and a place for that. The way you address your superiors is entirely unacceptable." (Keep in mind that before this, Epel was the one instigating a fight with Vil and subsequently got his ass whooped for disrespecting an upperclassman. As the victor, he declares that Epel must do as he says--that's the "culture" of NRC. The weak obey the strong, so if Epel wants to do whatever he wants, then Vil challenges him to beat Epel in a fight. Until then, the loser must obey the winner. Epel agrees to these conditions.) This may be a little hard for western English speakers to wrap their heads around, but MANY Asian countries, Japan included, run on a hierarchical system which is embedded even into their languages. Japanese, for example, has honorifics to denote the relationship between the speaker and the listener, as well as variations on the same word depending on the context ("boku", "ore", "watashi", "atashi", etc. are all valid ways to refer to oneself, "onii-san", "onii-sama", "aniki", "kyodai", etc. are all ways to refer to a brother, whether blood-related or not). In some cases, it's considered rude to call others by their first name unless you know them well, and even then it's not common to see a first name without an honorific. This is not as strictly adhered to in English, which is perhaps where a cultural disconnect occurs. What Vil is referring to in his instructions to Epel is what is known in the world of linguistics as "code switching", or changing how one communicates to suit the situation. Part of code switching is changing one's "register", or the level of formality you use. So for example, I could use a colloquial/casual register when I speak with my friends, but I may shift to a more polite and formal register when I speak with my professors, a boss, or an older relative. Vil, then, is critiquing Epel for not speaking politely to his seniors (something which is expected in Japanese culture, but not expected among those in similar grade levels in western cultures).

In the Harveston Sledathon event, we get to venture to Epel's hometown and hear how the locals speak. Indeed, we get more instances of people who speak in the same way Epel does. It's the Harveston dialect, which is so distinctive that it basically sounds like a whole different language. (There are also languages like this in real life; consider Mandarin and Cantonese; technically they are both "Chinese" but Mandarin and Cantonese speakers would not be able to comprehend one another even if they use the same written language). However, it's notable that Marja (Epel's grandmother) and the mayor of Harveston are able to code switch flawlessly into a more standardized tongue. They explain that this is a skill they have developed because it helps in communicating with tourists/visitors to the village and for whenever they travel to the nearby city to sell their wares. This reinforces Vil's point that there is a "time and place" for certain ways of speaking, which Epel needs to consider.

Macarons and Soft-Spokeness

Accent thing aside, some English-speaking fans take issue with Vil's stern treatment of Epel, particularly in instances in which Vil seems to be exerting significant control over his underclassman's behaviors. (Japanese-speaking fans largely do not hold the same sentiment.) Examples of this include Vil forcing Epel to state that his favorite food is macarons, as well as making Epel present as soft-spoken even when he's just among his peers. I will now be addressing both of these points. TO BE CLEAR, I am NOT trying to defend Vil but rather I'm just going to speculate about why the circumstances are the way that they are and/or why perceptions of his attitude may differ.

Starting with macarons! It is stated in Epel's official profile and by Epel himself in his Birthday Boy vignettes that his favorite food is yakiniku (Japanese grilled meat). However, macarons are also listed as his favorite food, and this is notable because he's the only character with two foods listed instead of just one. In the aforementioned Birthday Boy vignettes, Epel is quick to qualify his love of meats with, "Well, I do have one thing I like even more. It's, ah, macarons." When asked what he likes about them, he says, "They're... cute. And sweet! And they come in lots of different flavors." His voice here sounds hesitant, so it's not clear whether he's being entirely honest or not. He even admits in a whisper that, "[Macarons] are not very filling, but still." Epel again complains about macarons being good but not very filling when he has some in the City of Flowers/Fleur City. To this, Azul asks, "Why do you look so unimpressed, Epel? I thought macarons were your favorite food. [...] But was my intel mistaken? Would you prefer something with a stronger flavor profile?" Epel insists he is fine, and Azul responds with, "Excellent, then my intel bears out." This creates some confusion over whether Epel actually likes macarons or not. I doubt that the information Azul has on others is inaccurate. Plus, Epel states of his own free will to the player (who is interviewing him) that he also likes macarons. This leads me to believe that while Epel doesn't outright hate macarons, he does like them alright (but still prefers grilled meat more). The only thing he seems to have an issue with is how unsubstantial macarons are as a food item.

Now... why does Vil make him state that macarons are his favorite food instead of grilled meat? It's sort of touched on in Epel's Ceremonial Robes vignettes. In them, Vil chides Epel for his poor table manners and asks him to state his favorite food. Epel responds with grilled meat/barbeque, which earns him a smack from his dorm leader. (Vil actually smacks Epel multiple times in these vignettes as punishment, which ended up being another source of ire in the English-speaking part of the fandom; such a thing is more common in Asia and its media, so it's not seen as too outrageous in Japan.) "Do my ears deceive me?" Vil says. "I could've sworn I heard a word unfit to be spoken in this noble dorm. I will ask you again. As a student of Pomefiore–a dorm founded upon the tenacity of the Fairest Queen–what is your favorite food?" From this dialogue, it can be surmised that Vil's reasoning for drilling the macarons in as Epel's favorite food is because it is something that is more befitting of the regal "image" of the Fairest Queen and the dorm made in her honor. Vil seems to regard grilled meat as an inelegant food which does not suit the Fairest Queen nor Pomefiore.

The second thing the asker brought up is Epel's soft-spokeness. I guess I'm a little confused by this??? Soft-spokeness is a part of being polite; it ties back to volume control (ie "indoor voice" being softer than "outdoor voice"). I also don't recall a specific instance of Vil chastising Epel for NOT being soft-spoken at all times. He allows Epel to be loud sometimes and raises his voice himself. I feel like volume is not something that Vil harps on as much as other things like cursing or speaking politely to the correct authority figures (unless, of course, volume is important to the level of politeness required for the current conversation). I could be wrong on this though, so please let me know if you know of any specific instances of Vil being mad about Epel speaking loudly that I may have missed! What I do find odd is how... consistently (?) Epel tries to keep polite even when Vil is not around to monitor him. When Vil and Epel first met, Vil makes it clear that there is a "time and place" for Epel's accent, and it's not when addressing seniors. So... by the logic, shouldn't Vil be okay with Epel acting more relaxed or rowdy around first years or more casual settings in general? Why does Epel need to maintain the facade of being polite even when not in the presence of his superiors? Why does Epel seem to even act fearful about word of his misbehavior/rudeness getting back to his dorm leader and even make others swear they won't divulge the incidents to Vil?

One theory I'll propose is the entirety of book 5. Vil was insistent then on having Epel in the NRC Tribe. He wanted to weaponize Epel's cuteness, which he believed could compete with his long-time rival, Neige. This probably fed into Vil's demands for Epel to appear and act dainty and innocent, traits which Neige effortlessly possesses. Vil literally even refers to Epel as his "Poison Apple" that will help him defeat Neige. After book 5, Vil seems to have eased up on his rigidity. However, I will caution that this explanation may or may not align well with vignettes and/or event stories, which do not always work in a cohesive timeline with the main story.

Perhaps a more all-encompassing explanation is... this is probably because Vil is just very strict about how his dorm members present themselves at all times, since they are expansions of Pomefiore and of himself as the leader. Both the macarons and Epel's attitude are reflections of the dorm he (a celebrity who is very aware of the public eyes on him + his reputation) is affiliated with, and Vil won't have them poorly represented. He is the dorm leader, so he has the "right" to rule and impose his ideals as he sees fit. It's a similar situation to Riddle forcing the Heartslabyul students to follow silly, nonsensical rules (because they're tradition) or risk a scolding or a beheading. And again, Epel is following along because (as established in book 5), he has agreed to submit to Vil’s orders until he beats Vil in combat.

At the end of the day, I don't think Epel being forced to call macarons his favorite food is a huge deal. Is anything that big lost in claiming you like something that isn't your actual favorite food? It's not like Vil is forcing Epel to claim he likes eating something that would actually harm him (like, if Epel had an almond allergy or something).

What's more dubious is how VIl governs Epel's attitude and temperament at seemingly all times (to the point of eliciting some apprehension from Epel). Given the most generous reading, maybe it's Vil's way of teaching Epel maturity and how to keep his voice down since Epel had zero of it and acted loudly brazen when he first enrolled. It doesn't help Epel if he's quiet and well-mannered in very limited social situations; it has to be "generalized" or expand to other scenarios for Vil's lessons to truly be instilled in him. (Like... what would happen if Vil DIDN'T hold Epel in check? His classmates would not be able to understand Epel's speech, and he might get into trouble by picking fights with others.) This is a life skill that Epel lacks, unlike his grandma and the Harveston mayor, and Vil's teaching it to him via "tough love" (though whether you approve of his methods or not is up to interpretation). Recall that Vil also teaches Epel to embrace femininity as its own strength and to disregard outdated gender norms--this could be considered another "lesson". I doubt that anything Vil imposes is done maliciously, but rather comes from a place of wanting others to be better and to shine their brightest, even if that path is difficult or painful. Epel, as the rebel in this circumstance, of course does not enjoy being told what to do and misbehaves in small ways. There’s a limit on how much he can misbehave though, as it would hurt his pride to be reminded of his failure to one-up Vil. He's like a kid that doesn't want to be caught cussing or acting out by his parent. It can be seen as immaturity and an unwillingness to change or to grow up, but it can also be seen as someone who wants to freely be able to express themselves or to be their "truest" self. Epel is rowdy and headstrong, and it's difficult for him to repress these parts of himself. Given the least generous reading, Vil is oppressing and stifling Epel in many ways that extend beyond what his dorm leader position should reasonably allow him to do. In fact, a popular fan translation for book 5 is "The Beautiful Oppressor", as Vil is frequently shown limiting the liberties of his NRC Tribe members during their training arc, not just Epel's.

Which is the truth here? Why do those in the English side of the fandom decry Vil's actions and side with Epel whereas the Japanese side see little issue with this?

I wager that this predominantly comes down to, again, cultural differences. Many English-speaking fans are based in the west (particularly the USA and Canada, where the EN servers first launched), places which emphasize individuality and self-expression. Of course they would be more likely to take Epel's side, as he's the one trying to be himself and stand out in his own way. Meanwhile collectivism--an ideology which stresses conformity with a group--dominates in the east. They are more likely to see no problems with Vil's actions because, to them, he is acting in the ways he is to "guide" Epel and show him how to best "fit in" with Pomefiore and at NRC. I believe the whole "being soft-spoken" thing also ties back to cultural differences; speaking loudly is something else that can be considered rude in Japan, so it's entirely possible that Vil encouraging Epel to be soft-spoken is another element of politeness that did not translate well to English (as the western world tends to be much louder and more animated in their conversations).

What it boils down to is that the way Vil and Epel's relationship was written did not work well for a western audience, whose values and perspective is VERY different from the original audience TWST had. It appeals far more to a Japanese fanbase than a western one, and has resulted in many misunderstandings or anger about Vil's character because of this.

I'm not sure if I managed to adequately explain everything, but I hope that this at least helps you to see from a different perspective!!

[arotheosis]

It’s all Whirred Up (NSBU Swap AU concept)

Essentially I started thinking about what it might be like if the action heroes were the ones in the real world, and the video world characters were the action heroes. I tried my best to switch things up so it feels different enough, although I’m still a little unsure about some character roles.

Will I ever actually sit down and write this properly? Who knows

In an old strip mall in Lake Elsinore sits one of the last remaining video rental stores in the country: Slater’s Video Superstore.

With the rise of streaming and digital media, however, the store is on its last legs. Its last week in fact, and its employees prepare to close down and find a new road to take in life.

Steven “King” Skin is a Princeton student with a bright future in politics. He’s nearing the end of his gap year, and wondering whether he really wants to go back to school after all. He works on the finances of the video store.

As he almost mindlessly balances the the store’s financial spreadsheets, he watches on one of the video store screens: Liv Skyler, master thief. Her name is whispered amongst criminal circles like a legend, because she can steal without even leaving a single trace behind.

Victor Ethanol is a young man with a dream of pursuing Formula 1 racing, but working several odd jobs to provide for his family. He does occasional maintanance/ plumbing work for the businesses in the strip mall, including the video store, which he visits frequently.

Trying to get him to take a break from working so hard, his brother Shaun asks if he wants to watch a movie. The movie’s protagonist? One Wendell Morris, former biker gang member who has become an informant for several underground organizations. He’s the black sheep of the Morris family, and their falling out is shrouded in mystery.

G13 is a young hacker who got caught attempting to access classified files, and was sentenced to community service. He’s supposed to be cleaning trash around the strip mall, but he mostly stays inside the video store using the crusty old public computer they have, since he’s no longer allowed to use any at home.

While attempting to bypass the many blocks on that ancient desktop computer, he sees a trailer for an old movie. It depicts Usha Rao, more commonly known by both her allies and enemies as Grandmother. She’s the head of a widespread criminal organization, and despite her sweet seeming appearance is someone to be feared. She’s been alive longer than anyone knows, she’s seen everything and knows everything, so if you mess with her family you cannot escape her wrath.

Working over by the more adult section of the store, is Jack Manhattan. After suffering through a grueling divorce with his wife and losing custody of his two children, his life is essentially at a standstill. He is very vocal about how much he prefers not being tied down, and talks about having many partners, but it’s clear that in reality he is not dealing with the separation well and is very lonely.

Unable to even look at the more unsavory content in front of him without thinking about the love he lost, he switches the channel only to see a movie starring crime investigator Paula Donvalson. While many overlook her based on her wild and sporadic personality, the crazy deductions she makes are more often than not entirely on the money, and the FBI begrudgingly hires her for many of their cases.

Jennifer Drips is a woman who does not stay in one place for far too long. Drifting quickly from town to town, she never sets up roots, but leaves a trail of lovers behind her. She is currently staying in a crappy apartment near Lake Elsinore, and working at the video store for some extra cash before she moves on.

On a screen behind her as she’s packing up the store’s inventory, plays a movie led by Russel Feelds, a mechanic developing gadgets for every organization under the sun. A self described lone wolf, he has no loyalty to any side, as long as you can pay his prices.

Greg Stocks is a wealthy man who owns nearly every storefront in the strip mall, except for the video store. He heads in every day attempting to make an offer that Slater will accept, but even as the store is close to shutting down, the video store owner remains stubborn.

Walking by the front of the store he sees, on one of the display TVs, a film about a man known only as Dang. Dang is the world’s deadliest assassin, and his methods are all just as strange as the man himself. After every kill he leaves behind his calling card, the word “rashab”. No one has deciphered its meaning yet.

[viljily]

why I think meljay has more potential than jayvik (I view them as platonic friends) and my thoughts on season 2

Mel is a strong and developed character, and so is Jayace. They look very good together, people love them and listen to their opinions. While Victor is more closed off and oftenly irritated unlike Jayce.

Jayce shows Mel a love that requires nothing in return and a genuineness that keeps her interested and makes her think about giving herself a chance at love.

Jayce respects Mel, and in turn Mel respects Jayce they have an equal relationship.

Mel is one of the few people Jace looks to for care and support in times of crisis. While Victor and Jayce often share misunderstandings.

Jayce didn't stay with Victor out of great love, but simply out of guilt. I'm sure that if he had been a little selfish, he would have let himself stay with the love of his life.

Jayce and Victor shared a dream, while Mel and Jayce shared a sincere romantic love.

I am very disappointed with the second season, especially the last three episodes, because I thought we would see further development of the Meljay as a couple, I would have liked to see their relationship getting stronger and stronger.

I really expected Jayce to defeat Victor and come back alive to his family, Cait and Mel.

Also I'm really angry at Jayce's behavior towards Mel when he found out she was a mage.

Instead of hugging his girlfriend after being where the fuck she was, asking what happened to her, he blamed her for saving only him and not everyone (especially Victor 🤡).

Mel loves him dearly and saved his ass for the second time and this is how grateful he is?

Okay, he apologized afterwards, but after they didn't even interact in any normal way. Jace just left her alone, and I understand that the war was hard on Jayce, but that didn't stop him from thinking about Victor.

I think the Meljay relationship was thrown under the bus

Jayce, who I loved as a character, would never do that to the girl he loves.

Jayvik is just fanservice for little girls who like to dream about gay relationships. Meljay is a canon couple who were perfect for each other. Well as always we see that true love in the media is constantly being sacrificed for more views and fans.

That's all I have to say.

[honey-minded-hivemind]

🖤Dark AU, Post Three, A Better World...

(Warning! This post mentions death, dying, gore, yanderes, and implied drugging. Do not read if this upsets you! You have been warned...)

• You weren't sure what you were expecting on being back with your team. You'd expected maybe some crying, or a lecture, or even being banned or kicked out... Not everyone being older, clingy, and seeming to harbor something dark within...

• Recovering is hard. Your abdomen had been cut open before you had... and while it had healed some after you and your friends came back... it hadn't healed all the way. So that meant your... "team"... had to bandage it, stitch the deepest parts closed, and then would not leave you alone. This would have been fine in any other scenario. Needed, or wanted, even. But everyone here just seemed off, somehow. Desperate. Darker. More dangerous. It's like when you and the others had ... they just snapped. And that wasn't good.

• Right now, you're sitting at breakfast with your friends, as well as the beings who appear as Logan, Victor, The Professor, and Scott and Jean. You feel small whenever their piercing gaze crosses over you, as though it's peeling back your skin and trying to see what's underneath, trying to find out why you won't give in. It feels heavy, intense, too much. You do your best to ignore them... even if that means having to try and drink the smoothie they made. The color is light, the scent sweet, and it makes your stomach growl. But you don't trust it. You don't trust them.

• Kurt seems to have no such qualms. He's busy trying to drink his own smoothie, sitting on the same side of the table as you, his tail wrapped around your ankle like a hand seeking comfort (or a chain keeping you attached). You can't blame him. You know that... You know you should have been more careful. That you should have planned harder, or waited one more day, or just done anything else differently to save you all from... His tail squeezes tighter, and his eyes soften at you. He reaches under the table and grabs your hand, giving it a light squeeze. You breathe out, trying to think about something else.

• Kitty sits on Kurt's other side, nervous. You smile lightly at her, trying to ease the tension, and she smiles back, timid. She drinks some of her smoothie, and you hum lightly as you peer at yours again. Pietro already went through two, but you understand. He has a fast metabolism, and he honestly needs every bit of nutrition and food he can get. You're worried. He's just been... he's been too quiet. Where Kurt clings to you or Kitty hugs the three of you as tight as she can, Pietro just keeps watch, guarded, his spine tense and his eyes on edge. You want to talk to him, to try and get to the bottom of what exactly is bothering him, but... you don't want the adults to hear.

• "Is your drink alright, dear?" You snap back up, jumping slightly. Right. You got lost in your thoughts again... You stare at the Professor, trying to shove down any surface worry or fear. "It isn't too acidic, is it? It's a berry mixture, but we tried to use the ones you liked." "It's okay. I'm just not very hungry, I guess..." "My dear, I insist you please try to eat a little. You need the nutrients and vitamins to get better."

• You can see Logan shift, ready to get up and "help" you. You don't know what they'd do, but you aren't sure you want to test the waters right now. You sigh, but take a sip. The cloying taste of sweet berries fills your mouth, and you feel your stomach tighten with pain when you think of not swallowing. You tentatively gulp it down, and feel a bit better. You don't like the way everyone stares at you, with too soft, too dark eyes, watching and waiting... You take another sip, and Pietro pats your arm. You lean into the touch, deciding you need comfort more than you need to be guarded right now.

• "You doing alright, bud? Just, take it easy, okay? You're fine, we're safe, okay?" he says, whispering softly to you. You nod, not wanting to talk about it. The conversation goes up again, but you let it turn to white noise around you, only listening for keywords or any hints of what secret the adults could possibly have...

• "Hang in their, mein freund. Ve vill be okay," Kurt whispers. You smile, more a grimace than anything, but you stay huddled between your friends. You feel safe here, if only with them...

• If he's being honest, Kurt doesn't know how to feel about all of... this. His mother, his sister, his whole family, they're all older! The world is strange now, speaking of peace and friendship rather than war and violence. The adults keep saying they are okay, that they are safe, that no one will hurt them, that none of them will leave them. He... he doesn't want to be left alone. He can't stand the idea. Kitty leans into his side, and Reader squeezes his hand again. He sighs. He is here. He is safe. They are all safe. God has delivered them, and He has brought them home. Kurt, he... he felt scared, when they had been captured. When they were experimented on, tortured, kept locked away and hidden, with no way for their family to find them. He felt so, so lost. So afraid. So alone. But his friends were there. Reader was there. And they had been willing to sacrifice themself, to be the scape goat, the sacrificial lamb, the one who took all the punishment, all so he and Kitty and Pietro would be safe. Then they gave up their own life, all so they could escape, or try to... He... he felt grateful to them. Grateful for them. They were like a blessing, an angel in disguise... Maybe... maybe they were...? Or maybe they were someone blessed, who helped others, who was beloved by God and His Heaven...? Kurt didn't know for sure, but... he couldn't let them get hurt. He had to keep them safe. They were his friend, they were family, and he couldn't bare to see them suffer again...

• Kitty thought she was taking all of this pretty well. Okay, they're in, like, the future. Surprise, everyone they know and loved was older! And scary! And... well, okay, so far were only taking care of them. Which at times felt scary, but no one was hurting them, or being mean or rude, so it was good? Right? She... she didn't know how to process all of this. Seriously, what had happened?! She thought all of them were goners, had died, and then they're back (not unharmed but they're alive!), and then they're captured by their team (their family) and brought back to the Institute. So, all is well, right? One would think that, but... she isn't sure. Sure, the others act the same, they say they love them, that they missed them, but... but then why? Why does she feel so scared, so wary, of them? Like they'll pop out of the shadows or keep them caged? They're their team! They're their family! They wouldn't do that, would they? She tells herself they wouldn't, that they care, that they wouldn't do all of this for them if they didn't... But Reader is wary, too... and they're her friend, one of her best friends... She wants this to be good, she really does. She doesn't want to be scared anymore! She doesn't want to be hurt anymore! She doesn't deserve that! Kurt doesn't deserve that! Not Pietro! And not Reader! They're all funny, and sweet, and brave, they're all nice (when Pietro isn't pulling a prank war)! So who should she trust? Her friends, or their family? She... she's not sure she can choose... but the moment something is wrong, she will get them out, and they won't ever be hurt again...

• Pietro has seen better days. Felt better too. What. The. H*ll. He and his friends survived H*ll on Earth. They put up with the secret, evil scientists and government officials and generals and soldiers, they took beatings, they were pushed to their f*cking limits, and then they DIED. What. Does. He. Do. How do they even begin to recover from this? And Reader... Look, he trusts them, with his life, he might add. But they just, they lied, to him, to Kurt, to Kitty, all so they could go sacrifice themself so the three of them could escape. How does he even begin to deal with that? How does he forget it? He doesn't want to accept it. He wished it hadn't ended like that. Why, why, WHY would they DO that?! They were supposed to escape together, no man left behind, but they let themself get caught and they DIED. He. He's just so... he's so sick. He's upset. He's scared. He's scared for them... Why would they do this? Don't they know he cares, that they care, that they love them, that they'd miss them? Do they think themself worthless? Does Reader hate themself? Do they know what they did? Do they know what they've done? He doesn't know how to talk to them about this. He needs to. He doesn't want them hurt ever again... he can't lose them ever again... they... they scared him... they let themself die for them, for him... He just wants all of them to be safe... He doesn't to hurt them, he doesn't want to make them cry, but if they can't save themself too, then he'll make it so they are. Even if they means... even if it means finding other means to do so...

• You're glad when breakfast is over. You feel tired, but honestly... you really want to just hug your friends and forget for an hour. But when you do wake up... you need to have a talk... You just hope they'll listen.

( @sugar-soda @vivid-bun @danniloversugar @weebwholovesuchihasasuke @ainsellshadewalker @thewickedweiner @hermesserpent-stuff @crowwithguns @opossumdaydreamz @tydye-goat64 @foundfamyanderes )

[mwoolf-art]

UNDER THE SAME ROOF

Kabru x Reader

Part 1

CW: NSFW/Soft Smut, MDNI

Notes: This started out as a ramble, sent it to a friend so I could get her opinions and this is technically the first fic I post anywhere that isn't a Discord server with my friends, so enjoy.

You two are friends, not really close at the beginning at least until you accidentally caught him stressing about something when he was alone and he thought nobody would see him unmasking and he was mortified when he saw you there and he would try really hard to both make you change your mind on that slip up he had and make sure you wouldn't go around talking about how you saw him losing it over him losing control over a situation he had planned out until you took him to a secluded place to talk things out and laugh about how silly it is for him to believe that you would think any less of him for catching him like that (not like it didn't make you feel more interested seeing more to him than just the perfectly nice pretty boy facade he puts up daily,) naturally he starts feeling more safe around you and you started to see more of him in your life.

And then you essentially had him move into your place with the intention of looking out for him after noticing his bad habits of not taking proper care of himself and it gradually made you worry about him and his own health, even if he tried to refuse at first but he gave in upon seeing how serious you were about it, you helped him move his own things and very verbally said "Damn, you live like this?" Upon seeing the disaster that is his place, he was definitely not staring daggers at you after hearing that.

From then on it's difficult for him to not be a part of your life and become acquainted with every single one of your friends or him taking you to hang out with his friends more frequently than before, and with the two of you naturally coexisting under the same roof also meant you arguing with him about his tendency to not pick up after himself and making sure he remembers to eat, while he scolds you over your bad sleeping patterns which ends with you laughing over how stupid the argument is because that's the reason you two are now roommates after all.

Just friends and roommates, nothing more, nothing less. With the two of you occasionally having silly little brawls that usually end with him pinning you down on the couch, but never go far from that and always end with the two of you just having a hearty laugh. (Not like Kabru has thought about just flat out taking you right then and there and make you writhe under him and memorize every single reaction you have over every little touch and tease.)

And the two of you will more often than not cuddle while watching movies or just enjoying a silent moment together. (Not like you have fantasized about having his mouth against yours and have his curls under your hands only to separate from the kiss and see him completely dazed and breathing heavily.)

Nope, absolutely nothing more than pure platonic friendship, there's nothing going on between the two of you.

Neither of you would get upset seeing someone else flirt with the other; Neither of you wanted to possessively get close to the other to keep that third person away from what you both thought was a simple good friend. You were just close friends who happened to know each other's weaker sides, darker thoughts and less appealing traits.

This was just another moment where the two of you were just jokingly wrestling each other after a small discussion over Kabru forgetting to have breakfast again and you not getting enough rest again, with the result being one of the occasions where you ended up being the one pinning him on the couch.

"Not fair, the back of my knee bumped against the couch." He complained while you laughed triumphantly on top of him.

"If it makes you feel better, you managed to drag me down with you... But I'm still the one on top and the victor!" You laughed again.

Which proved to be the wrong move since he now had entangled one of your legs with his and was firmly holding you against his chest,  "which still shows that without a slight disadvantage you would have lost, like always."

You writhed against him trying to free yourself from his tight snake like hold. "Hey! You sore loser let me go!" "You're not getting away without getting some rest first I can get something to eat later."

Yep, there was no getting away from this even if you tried to complain he would refuse to move unless you took a nap on top of him... not like you minded being this close to him and being held by him like this. The only thing to do was accept your defeat and close your eyes and before you knew it you were completely out with him following not long after.

The sun had already started to set when Kabru opened his eyes, your weight on top of him reminded him of what had transpired before he had fallen asleep, his eyes lazily traversing the structure of your sleeping face while one of the hands he was using to keep you in a tight embrace lifts up to gently caress the top your head.

It was much easier to have you like this while he did his best denying anything he may or may not feel for you, the person who took a single glance to his real self and didn't think any less of him, even if he thought it was funny how you thought he was being silly for trying to hide his more unpleasant side while you would obviously hold back your very own frustrated reactions. Like when you lost in a game against one of your friends, he could tell how much you wanted to stomp and roll around and cry tears of blood but you pretended to be happy for them winning, "sore loser" he chuckled to himself. Sure he was familiar with your reactions he still had a lot to figure out when it came to you in specific, which it's why he specifically memorized how you would act when you were genuinely upset or overwhelmingly happy, how you would kick your feet while reading your favorite books, how you would look like a scared deer when you were caught of guard, or how you would move around while deep in thought, or how you would look at him when he talked about a new person you had never even heard of.

He was in too deep when it came to you.

His mind kept going until it was abruptly stopped by soft noises and slight movement coming from you. Were you awake? No, you were still deep in slumber. He moved the leg he had tangled up against yours.

A soft moan.

His eyes widened as realization set in.

His leg was pressing against you...

More specifically his leg was pressing against your crotch and you were moving against it in your sleep. You were getting off on him in your sleep and he didn't know what to do, he could just let you continue and revel in the sweet noises you were making while occasionally moving his leg so you could get what your asleep self was seeking and take care of himself in the bathroom after waking you up. But he fears that would mean he was taking advantage of you in your sleep and it might lead to you breaking up your ties with him and not feeling safe around him.

He couldn't let that happen, he would hate himself for that. He had to wake you up and take the brunt of the embarrassment later.

"Hey," he shook you gently trying to wake you up, but your soft moans and whimpers continued to sound and dance in his ears while the friction of your body against his was making him start to get aroused.

"Hey, y/n wake up" he said a bit louder while still trying to get you to wake up. Your movements were starting to get a bit more erratic.

"Hey seriously, wake up!" your eyes slightly open fighting off sleep in a complete dazed with a blushed aroused face.

"Kabru...?"

Gods he wanted to have that face immortalized in his brain just to be able to recall it later for himself.

The flushed darkening look on his face was slow to register in your mind, why was he embarrassed? No, worried? You two were getting a lot closer just a moment ago...

The feeling of drowsy sleepiness slowly letting you go while your mind was starting to take in what was going on. He's worried about something... This is not a dream?

Your body finally came to a halt as you finally registered what was going on.

You were getting off to him in your sleep and having less than friendly dreams involving him and he was trying to wake you up.

Your face doesn't fail to show how mortified you were over the things your asleep self was doing just a moment ago becoming a raging red as you got off from him.

"Kabru-! I'm-"

You could not muster up the words you needed to apologize to him, what could you say to make up for this?

The only thing that you could do was to get up and run away to your room and try to hide from the embarrassment you were feeling in that moment.

This was it, the friendship you held so dear to your heart completely destroyed by your own stupid horny fantasies, while all Kabru could do was to lay on the couch and hide his face with his own hands trying to process everything that just happened and miss the weight of your body against his.