#wish I could have seen it today but the only showing was at 11 and I worked at 12

[camscendants]

I ushered the final Taylor Swift showing :(

[vxsellie]

‧₊˚┊simple living things﹗

a hunger games!au ellie williams fanfiction.⌇ 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭 𝔦

summary. reaping day. something ellie is rather indifferent towards, wanting only to return back to the warm embrace of nature. meanwhile you're the complete opposite, today being one that'll determine your fate, as well as your placement in your family. this chapter follows the alternate experiences that the two of you go through.

content warnings. depictions of dead animals, domestic abuse, implications of slavery (avoxes). if you see anything else that i missed, pls let me know!

total wc. 10,815

notes!! she's here!!! chapter one of this beauty!!! i've proofread this at least fifty times and i'm still not happy with it, but! here's the reminder that this fic is formatted and meant for ao3, not tumblr (hence why it's so goddamn long). anyway, i advise you read it there rather than here for that reason. it's updated sooner and i actually make sure that it's intelligible. the link is right here ↓

𝜗𝜚 series masterlist ⸝⸝ playlist ⸝⸝ ao3 𝜗𝜚

11:46.

DISTRICT SEVEN.

“Again?” Ellie’s groggy cavil is muffled against the crook of Cat’s neck. Her freckled face is buried into the warmth of the woman’s bare skin, chasing the comfort her proximity provides.

Cat huffs an airy laugh, her fingers absentmindedly running along an auburn scalp. “We’ve gone over this.”

“Yeah, but,” Ellie props up on her elbows to frown at her, “You went last year.”

“It’s a good thing if they’re asking me to attend again, Ellie.” Cat reminds her as she’s done at least fifty times by now. Despite her dwindling patience, Cat’s eyes are filled with naught but fondness as they clash with a pair of viridescent irises. Ellie continues to frown at her, adamant in her show of defiance. Cat continues to fiddle with her choppy hair as she speaks. “The Capitol is extremely picky with their stylists. It’s an honor to work for them, not to mention being chosen by them.”

Ellie has to swallow back the words that crawl up her throat and threaten to spill. Words of which vocalize her personal repugnance for the Capitol. She and Cat have gotten into plenty of fights regarding this topic and she refuses to cause another — especially considering the news she’s been trying to avoid facing all morning.

“I won’t see you for, like, a month.” Ellie grumbles before flopping back down onto Cat’s chest. She turns her head so her ear is pressed against her ribs, the gentle thudding of Cat’s heartbeat almost soothing enough to distract her from the world that envelops them.

Their bare bodies are pressed flush together as Ellie continues to listen to the repetition of her palpitating organ. She can feel Cat’s fingers toying with her hair, the soft caresses providing a sense of calamity. Her chest rises and falls, Ellie’s head shifting alongside each breath she takes. The intimacy it takes for to be near someone in this way — especially for Ellie — is oftentimes overlooked and seen only as crude or lustrous. However, in this case, they’re simply enjoying one another’s presence. Nothing vulgar about it.

Oh how Ellie wishes she could stay like this forever. In this little oasis of solace she’s founded for herself. Waking with Cat in her bed whilst morning sunlight filters through the window and casts golden hues over hardwood flooring. It’s nigh impossible to imagine that in only a few hours they’ll be separated for an indefinite epoch as Cat is escorted off to the Capitol while Ellie remains here.

She shuts her eyes, arms tightening around Cat’s waist as she wishes to cherish what little time she has left with her. Cat doesn’t dare cease playing with her hair, delicate fingers toying with the strands. 

Comfortability, domesticity, safety. That’s what Ellie feels when she’s near Cat — like nothing in the whole world could reach her. Like they’ve left the horrors of their District and are now floating through the cosmos all alone. Just the two of them. Though she knows better than to voice that to Cat, having found out the hard way that she doesn’t feel the same.

What they have is impermanent, said Cat when Ellie questioned her on fidelity, it has to be, she’d said. Even now, Ellie is unsure what that was supposed to mean. But she didn’t pry any further, for fear of damaging the fragility of what relationship, or lack thereof, they’d formed. Ever since, Ellie has learned to keep her feelings locked away in a hidden corner of her mind, making sure they never come forth to have the dust blown away. 

“Ellie!”

They both jolt to attention as the bedroom door flies open, doorknob slamming against the thick wooden wall behind it. Ellie sits up and narrows her eyes at the perpetrator, only to roll them once she comes to realize who it is.

“What do you want, Riley?” Ellie grumbles, flopping back against Cat as Riley enters the room. 

“I want to know why you’re still in bed.” Riley responds, stepping over the clothes on the floor with an upturned lip. Half of them are Cat’s from the night prior. Riley seems to instantly realize this, likely because she’s known Ellie well enough to know that she doesn’t wear Capitol-made dresses. Riley puts her hands on her hips, frowning at her best friend who remains cuddled up against her– Cat. “The Reaping is today and you’re still in bed.”

“It’s in two hours.” Ellie is quick to point out.

“I don’t care if it’s in twenty hours, you’re getting out of bed.” She says, picking up Ellie’s discarded clothes from the floor and tossing them at her. They land where her legs are tangled with Cat’s underneath the thin plaid blanket that’s draped lazily atop them. Riley begins to walk out of the room with a pointed expression before calling over her shoulder, “Oh. And these are Marlene’s orders, by the way.” Then she shuts the door.

Ellie sighs heavily, not yet ready to get up. If anything, she cozies even closer against Cat’s bare chest as she once again listens to the comforting thumps of her heart.

“God, she’s so demanding.” Cat scoffs. “I don’t understand how you put up with her.”

“I barely can.” She responds, causing Cat’s eyes to widen at the unexpected concurrence. “But she’s taken care of me since I was a baby, I owe it to her.”

Cat’s initial shock instantly dissipates. “I don’t mean Marlene, Ellie. I’m talking about Riley.”

Ellie sighs once more, her lips thinning. She knows that Cat and Riley don’t exactly get along. Well. Okay, that’s a major understatement. They literally despise each other. In every aspect that Cat admires the Capitol, Riley loathes it. They butt heads all the time, only ever speaking when it’s absolutely necessary and, even then, it oftentimes ends up in fighting. Ellie tries her hardest to keep them as far apart as possible, hating when they speak ill of the other.

“I don’t want to talk about that right now.” She mutters, having to force herself to sit up. The plaid blanket falls from her shoulders, pooling around her waist. The cool air chills her and goosebumps instantly begin to adorn her fair skin. She quickly reaches to the foot of the bed to grab the clothes Riley had tossed her way. Cat remains in bed as Ellie stands to get dressed, pulling on a frayed hoodie and worn jeans. “I just don’t want to have to choose between you two, that’s all.”

As she laces her shoes, it’s hard not to take notice of Cat’s lack of response. Ellie lifts her head to see the frown that’s plastered onto her features, the sight of it causing her to sigh. She walks over to the bed, shoes lightly padding across the old wooden floor. She leans one hand on the mattress beside Cat’s head, her other coming up to lift her jaw. She presses a kiss to her lips.

“You know where I keep the key.” Ellie whispers, pulling back only slightly as her hand remains on Cat’s chin. “You can get back to sleep and leave whenever you want, yeah? You need rest.” 

Cat nods, “Okay.”

With one final kiss goodbye, Ellie leaves. On her way out the door, she grabs her backpack from under her desk, swinging it over her shoulder before shutting the door gently behind her. Not yet ready to part ways with Cat, she stands in the hall for a few long minutes, using this time to straighten out her thoughts. 

After the Reaping, Cat will be gone for an indefinite duration as the stylists are taken to the Training Center alongside the two tributes. Not to mention, if the opportunity is provided, she knows Cat wouldn’t hesitate to stay to live in the Capitol forever. And everyone knows how much they love her there. It’s truly a matter of time before she’s promoted to a full-time Capitolite. The mere thought sends a chill down her spine.

Ellie heaves a sigh, mentally cursing anything and everything that relates to their fucked up government before she turns to walk down the hall. Her shoes thud against the floor as she attempts to calm herself, the repetition of her stride mocking that of Cat’s heartbeat. Nigh tauntingly. 

Turning a corner, she spots Riley standing in the kitchen. Her back is facing her as she peers out the window at the passerbyers that straggle down the street. District seven isn’t usually this busy, most citizens at work by now. But it’s Reaping Day and therefore one of the few days of the year that everyone gets off work. Parents cater to their kids, teens get into mischief with their friends, pets are walked through the neighborhood. Though, regardless of how one’s morning is spent, everyone will be amassed in town square by two o’clock. If not, they’re to be imprisoned.

Ellie slows her movements, footsteps now inaudible before she jumps out at Riley, causing the other girl to shriek. She nearly drops the glass in her hands as she whips around to scowl at Ellie. “You scared me!” She reprimands her, frowning.

“Yeah,” Ellie laughs, “That was the whole point?”

Riley rolls her eyes at this. “Whatever.”

She leans forward to set the glass back on the counter, a light clink sounding throughout the space as she does so. Ellie had expected it to be a glass of water or some other form of drink. Instead, it’s a vase holding an array of flowers that Ellie has built the habit of collecting on their daily outings. At first, it annoyed Riley the way Ellie would stop whatever she was doing to pick a flower and stuff it between the pages of her journal. It would interrupt the flow of their expedition. Though, with time, she’s grown used to it and even finds herself taking notice of pretty flowers in Ellie’s absence.

“Are you finally ready to go?” Riley asks, turning back around to face her friend with her eyebrows raised. Ellie gestures down to herself — dressed and obviously ready. Riley chuckles, rolling her eyes fondly before brushing past her.

The two of them exit the small wooden home and begin their journey toward the treeline. Four buildings down, they pass Riley’s house. After graduation, they’d chosen this neighborhood due to its proximity to the woods and the fact that two houses were simultaneously for sale closeby. And here they are, three years later, still fleeing to the foliage every morning.

The low hum of conversation isn’t foreign to District seven, but it’s rather uncommon way out here. To get this type of commotion, you’d usually have to be closer to town where the markets are. That’s where most people spend their time, trading supplies. The circumstances aren’t nearly as dire as in District twelve, but they’re certainly not as wealthy as the Capitol. Starving to death here is rare, but not at all impossible. 

“So,” Riley speaks up after a few minutes of comfortable silence before turning to Ellie with a regaled expression, “You’re sleeping with Cat again?”

“I never stopped sleeping with her.” Ellie says pointedly. 

What she doesn’t say is, It’s just grown more common as you’ve grown more distant from me.

She sighs. “I’m not gonna give you shit for it because you already know how I feel about her. But I want to know, is she going to be a stylist again in this year's Games?”

“Ugh,” Ellie groans, “You know I’m not allowed to go around telling people. She’s technically not even supposed to tell me. We could be arrested for disclosing information about the Games prior to their airing. We could be made into Avox for it. And, I don’t know about you, but I quite like my tongue.”

“Yeah, so does Cat.” Riley adds with a disgusted expression.

Ellie laughs, slapping her in the arm. “Gross!”

“What’s gross is walking in on your best friend naked on top of some Capitolite.” She grumbles. 

“We weren’t even doing anything!” 

“Yeah, luckily!” She replies with a laugh before another repulsive thought dawns on her. “Oh, and you didn’t even lock the door!”

To that, Ellie has no excuse. “Well– Okay yeah, fine. That’s definitely on me.”

Riley grins at her victoriously as they continue down the sidewalk. The air is practically buzzing with activity. With naught else to occupy their time, the people of the lumber District naturally swarm toward the woods. It’s in their blood. Even more so for Ellie and Riley, who spend their mornings in the woods even when they should technically be applying for jobs.

Yeah, the two of them have received that lecture from Marlene more times than anyone could count — that they’re adults and should therefore be forming some sort of a career path before they’re rendered undesirably old to any future employers. But, unbeknownst to Marlene, the two of them do have a job. Perhaps not a formal one, but it’s enough to keep the bills paid and water running. And, to a pair of girls in their early twenties, that’s more than they could ask for.

See, Riley and Ellie have built a routine. One where they awake at dawn, meet up at Ellie’s house for breakfast, then walk to the woods and spend the following few hours there. They cut trees, chop wood, hunt animals, etc. Then, at noon, they head toward what’s known as the Hob — basically a black market for those desperate enough to trade their hard earned quarry for a bit of cash. It’s located inside an abandoned paper mill, packed full with hundreds of buyers meandering about the derelict space. Every District has their own version of a Hob, well, perhaps not the richer Districts, but twelve is sure to have a huge one that would make seven’s dull in comparison. That thought alone is enough to ease Ellie’s conscience whenever she feels guilty for the illegality behind her line of work. If any of the Peacekeepers in her District found out about the Hob, all participants are sure to be hanged or, at bare minimum, given a whipping — both of which would be public as to make an example of the persecutors. To imagine Ellie hanging from a noose or tied to a pole whilst everyone else watched, while Marlene watched? It makes her stomach churn. So, habitually, she simply ignores the lack of validity to her actions. Plus, there's no malice to her intentions. She’s just a young woman who wants to put food on the table. Is that so much to ask for? She thinks not.

Anyway. Riley and Ellie basically run that place. Everyone knows them there, recognizing the two women the instant they enter the mill. They always have the good shit — perfectly chopped wood alongside undamaged game — and are willing to be paid less than others because they tend to have a higher quantity and manage to amass a large sum in spite of their lowered payment. However, seeing as everyone is off work today, it’s rather awkward to see the people of the Hob out on the streets. Because they all know better than to acknowledge the illegal trading they participate in religiously. 

Ellie walks silently beside Riley, the unspoken tension in the air doubling in size whenever they recognize someone. The Peacekeepers are large in aggregate today as well, managing to make this impossibly more nerve wracking. The town square is packed full with Capitolites who are setting up for the Reaping, hence everyone now on this side of the District as they look for something to busy themselves with. And, as said before, the woods are evidently everyone’s collective first choice.

“You nervous?” Riley asks as they enter the woods, the familiar scent of pine and dirt wafting toward them. The air is chilly, yet not unbearably so. It’s a nice medium that Ellie finds herself enjoying. She turns, raising a brow in inquiry. Riley digresses, “For the Reaping.”

She shrugs, “Not really. The Hunger Games are morbid, yeah, but they’re a fact of life. If I get Reaped, what good will it do to have worried about it that morning? I feel that fate is predetermined. Whatever happens, you can’t change it so you might as well live regularly until it’s foisted upon you.”

“Um, wow?” Riley gives her a peculiar look. “Since when did you get all philosophical?”

Ellie huffs a laugh, “I’m just saying.”

“I agree that the Games are morbid.” Riley shakes her head with a sigh, dry leaves crunching under their feet as they trek further into the woods. “But why should we have to live in fear while those in the Capitol live in ignorant bliss? It’s immoral and dehumanizing.”

Ellie agrees with her, of course, though she finds herself glancing over their shoulder fretfully before turning to frown at her friend. “Be quiet, Riley. Peacekeepers are fucking everywhere today.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She huffs. “But I mean it.”

“Yes, I know you mean it.” Ellie rolls her eyes. “And I mean it when I say I don’t want to see you punished for your brutal honesty. Truly, it’ll be the death of you.”

Riley laughs before they fall into another comfortable silence. 

Despite the wordlessness being one of easement, it’s foreign to them both. As of late, Riley has been progressively growing more and more distant, causing an awkward rift between the pair. They still go about their usual routines each day and share moments of fond laughter, but it’s different. Only a few months ago, there’d not be a single second of silence as the two would oftentimes end up talking over the other in a coveted rush to share random information. Even after a day’s work had finished, they’d frequently wind up at one of their houses for the night — watching television, feasting on game, or just sharing the space. It got to the point where it was more rare to be without the other than with them.

But now, Ellie feels as though they spend more time in silence than in conversation. Take present for example. Had this happened in July, one of them would undoubtedly be rambling on about something. Though, as it turns out, that’s not currently the case.

Ellie has yet to bring it up to Riley, fearing she’ll say something she’s not ready to hear. She hasn’t even a guess in her mind what could have brought this upon them, but whatever it is, it’s drastic. Hence why she’s recently been hanging around Cat more often, using the woman to both distract herself from her childlike friendship issues as well as make herself feel better. Because Cat always knows how to comfort Ellie, even when she’s not entirely aware of what the problem is.

They continue to walk through the woods, their footsteps nigh inaudible as they’ve grown skilled at adapting to nature. After a few minutes of trekking through the foliage, Riley stops and turns around expectantly. Ellie instantly removes her backpack and crouches to the ground as she sifts through it. She pulls out an axe — which barely even fits inside the bag — and passes it to Riley, who takes it gratefully. Ellie then hands the bag to Riley, who positions it on her back with a few shoulder shrugs.

Where they stopped wasn’t randomized, though. Not entirely. Because, a few yards away is a fallen tree, hollowed out in the center to create a tunnel-like log. They walk over to it, Riley tossing the axe back and forth between her hands. Ellie crouches down and reaches into the log, feeling around the dampened bark until her fingers brush against the coveted items. She pulls out a bow and quiver, adding them to her newly emptied shoulders. 

See, they can’t exactly be caught carrying weapons through the District or the Peacekeepers will know they’re hunting illegally. So, as an alternative, they hide the weapons deep in the woods where nobody else would think to look. Fairly smart on their part, Ellie thinks.

“So,” Ellie muses as they begin walking through the woods once more, “This morning, you said you woke me under Marlene’s orders. What exactly did she say?”

“I talked to her last night.” She explains, swinging the axe back and forth. Had Ellie not done this with her a million times before, she’d likely be fearing for her life. But that axe is quite literally an extension of Riley’s arm, moving as though it’s a part of her. It's, admittedly, rather impressive. “She told me to make sure you’re awake at least an hour prior to the Reaping.”

“Ugh, she doesn’t trust me to do anything.”

“Can you blame her?” She laughs. “You were nearly late to the Reaping last year. Had you arrived less than five minutes after you had, the Peacekeepers would have placed you under arrest.”

“I think my timing was impeccable.” Ellie argues, pointing her chin up in an act of superiority. 

As she does, something in the trees catches her eye and she suddenly stops in her tracks, Riley quick to do the same. She nocks an arrow, the head instantly pointed in the direction of the movement. After a few seconds of tense silence, a squirrel chitters before ignorantly traipsing across the branch. She releases the arrow and it lands right in its eye, so as not to damage the meat. It hits the ground with a thud. Ellie grins widely as she walks to retrieve the corpse as well as the arrow.

“Talk about timing.” Riley whistles, following close behind.

“What did I say?” She responds, positioning the squirrel to hang from her belt. “Impeccable.”

“Yeah, maybe in terms of your aim, but not in your vigilance.” Riley points out.

“Whatever.” Ellie waves her hand to dismiss the accusation. “Shut up and go chop your wood.”

Riley laughs but obliges, turning to leave the scene. Ellie can’t even listen to her footsteps depart, as she’s rather adept at masking their boistry. But she can tell when she’s gone, though, because the atmosphere alters — shifting from one shared between lifelong friends to one of solitude in the middle of nowhere. And yet, despite the latter being far less preferred by many, Ellie relishes in it. The lack of eyes on her is comforting rather than eerie. 

She treks through the trees until she finds a slightly elevated patch of land, allowing her to look down on the forest below her — though, only by a couple feet. But any altitude is better than nothing. She crouches behind a bush and nocks a second arrow, waiting for something to pass by.

Ellie manages to shoot a few more squirrels and a couple of rabbits throughout the following hour they spend in the woods. She then lets out a three-note whistle as she stands to her feet. She’s brushing off her jeans when the same whistles tune is repeated back to her a few hundred yards to the East. Riley. 

They’d come up with this tactic a few years back, where once one of them had finished up for the day, they let out a whistle to let the other know of their completion. Then, if the sound reaches the other, they’ll return it.

They split up like this because Ellie requires quiet in order to hunt whereas Riley tends to make quite a bit of ruckus during her wood-chopping. Ellie’s still gathering her things when a twig snaps a few feet away. She doesn't need to look up to know who it is.

“What’d you catch?” Riley asks as she approaches her from behind.

“Nothing good.” She admits. “Just squirrels and rabbits.”

“That’s not bad, though.” 

“Yeah, animals are so scarce today due to all the people’s proximity to the treeline. I could sometimes catch the sound of their talking. Even from way out here.” Ellie says as she finishes packing up and turns to face Riley, who’s holding an armful of chopped wood. “Here, turn around.”

Without question, Riley does. Ellie unzips the bag and holds out a hand for a piece of wood. Riley passes it back to her and she loads the wood one-by-one into the pack. She then adds the axe and zips it — well, partially. A few inches of the handle remains sticking out, though it’s doubtful anyone will question the contents of the bag. Not when so much is going on today.

They head back to the mouth of the woods, making sure to return the bow and quiver into the hollowed log on their way by. In minutes, they’re emerging from the trees and walking back through the streets, which appear to have grown even busier in their absence. They’d walked in silence the entire way.

“Welp.” Riley says once they’ve reached Ellie’s porch and she’s returned the bag — which has tripled in weight with the addition of the axe and wood. “See you at the Reaping?”

She sighs dramatically, “I guess so. Not like I want to go anyway.”

“Marlene would fucking kill you.” Riley laughs and Ellie joins in, imagining the enraged expression on Marlene’s face had she not shown up. She couldn't get away with it regardless, though. Riley was right when she said the Peacekeepers would either imprison or hang her. It’s happened to someone before — an old man ripped from his home and put in an icy cold cell for the rest of his short life. He’d apparently used the excuse of saying he was in a wheelchair, but that wasn't enough for the District’s law enforcement as they claimed he could easily be wheeled to the square. So, yeah, maybe the jokes of Ellie not showing up shouldn’t be pondered on but so much.

Once Riley has left, Ellie grabs her key from the top of a nearby windowsill. She notices that it’d moved a few inches to the left. Cat. She unlocks the door and enters her home, almost screaming to see the silhouette of a woman standing in her kitchen. Though she quickly regains normalcy when she recognizes the person’s frame.

“Fuck, Marlene.” She curses, putting a hand to her chest as she — as subtly as possible — slips the bag from her shoulders and places it on the floor next to the door. “You scared me.”

Marlene is wearing a dress, a nice one. The neck is in a deep V shape that shows off her collarbones and shoulders. The sleeves come to her elbows, the skirt to her mid-calves. It’s a soft maroon color, complimenting her dark skin and brown eyes beautifully. Ellie would accolade her for it had she not known it was for the Reaping and thereby the Capitol. However, being aware of that fact rather mars the beauty of her accentuated appearance.

Marlene turns to face her with a frown, “What were you two doing?”

“Seriously?” Ellie groans, walking over to grab a glass cup from the cabinet over Marlene’s head, having to shift around her to do so. “I was hanging out with my best friend before we witness two people being shipped off to die. Do I truly have to walk you step-by-step through everything I do?”

“Yes.” She begins filling the cup with faucet water, Marlene looming like a shadow over her shoulder. When Ellie doesn’t respond, she frowns. “Whatever. I don’t even care what you guys were doing, I just seek the consolation of knowing it was safe.”

“I’m an adult, Marlene. When will you–”

“Was it safe, Ellie?” She repeats, tone growing more agitated. 

“Yes.” She replies, the lie coming easy to her now. After all this time of being untruthful, it’s nearly second nature to withhold the truth from her mother-figure whenever she’s pestered on this recurring topic. She has a great poker face, too.

 She raises her brows as she takes a sip from her glass, peering at her from over the rim.

“Was it legal?” She questions and Ellie nearly spits out her water. Marlene scoffs at her reaction. “Okay, so I got my answer.”

“I didn’t even say anything!”

“You didn’t need to!” She crosses her arms and gives Ellie that disapproving mom expression that could make anybody feel remorse. Ellie places her glass on the counter and holds her gaze, trying her hardest not to falter under it. “I assume you saw how many Peacekeepers are here, Ellie.”

“I’d be an idiot to not notice them.” She grumbles defiantly, sounding far more childlike than she’d care to admit. Marlene always manages to bring this side out of her — a scorned child who has no choice but to agree with everything she says. Despite how hard she tries to be mature and release herself from Marlene’s iron fist, it’s so far been proven impossible.

“So what were you thinking? I don’t care for the details of what you guys go out doing everyday so long as it’s legal.” She says. “You know that. It’s one of my only rules for you.”

The acknowledgement of their daily repetition is enough for Ellie to stiffen, not having realised Marlene even noticed their outings. However, now that she’s thinking of it, it makes sense. They've been doing this same routine for three years now. You’d have to be a fool to not notice. And Marlene is no fool.

“I know, I just–”

She pinches the bridge of her nose, cutting Ellie off with a sigh. “Just go wash up. I don’t want you smelling like a dead animal for the Reaping.”

The closeness in her comparison of the miasma to a corpse is nigh to laughable. Except it’s not. Because Marlene is unnerving. She cares for Ellie more than anything, yes, but she’s absolutely terrifying in her vehement need to protect her. 

But Ellie is an adult now. She doesn’t need protection.

Despite this, she follows her orders and trudges off to the bathroom, making sure to scoop up her backpack on her way down the hall.

She discards the bag of wood and lays the dead squirrel and rabbit corpses out on her bedroom floor. Normally, she’d place them in the kitchen to ready them for gutting but that’s, clearly, not a viable option. If Marlene were to see the quarry from their expedition, she’d absolutely lose her head. First, she’d force Ellie and Riley to get a job, and likely a boring one. She’d forbid them from using the forest for income. And, in those two short acts of discipline, Ellie’s life would be over. The woods are her home; her place of solace. Without it, who is she?

She then heads into the bathroom and takes a bath, scrubbing all the dirt and grime from her skin before redressing into something a bit more fancy — though it’s definitely not Capitol material as everyone else typically aims for. She’s simply wearing a nicer pair of jeans and a flannel. The collar and buttons make it fancy. Kinda.

When she returns to the kitchen, she’s still drying her hair with the towel. Marlene looks her up and down and frowns, though she says nothing. 

See, if one is Reaped today, they’re taken to the Capitol. As such, they’re traditionally expected to wear their nicest clothes to the Reaping, just in case their name is drawn. But Ellie cares naught to make any lasting impressions on the Capitol, so she doesn’t give a shit what she wears. The sole reason she’s wearing even a button up is to please Marlene enough so she’s not forced into something else. 

Because, when she was fourteen, she tried to wear a t-shirt to the Reaping and was instantly reprimanded. As punishment, she had to wear something Marlene picked out. Needless to say, never again will she do that. Even now Riley laughs at her for the outfit, though Marlene insists it was the most distinguished Ellie had ever looked. She begs to differ.

“Okay, you ready?” Marlene asks.

Ellie shrugs, “Yeah.”

They head down to the square, the entirety of District seven doing the same. The waves of people grow larger and larger the closer they get to the square until it’s practically a tsunami of them. Once they reach their destination, they pause and turn to each other. Marlene looks down at Ellie, a glint of something unreadable behind her gaze, almost as though she wishes to say something to her prior to parting ways. But instead of voicing whatever it is that’s weighing on her, she just pats her shoulder and walks away.

The crowd is sorted by generation. Everyone between the ages of twelve and fifty are required to be within the crowd as their names are among those able to be Reaped. The younger kids are positioned closest to the stage whilst the older crowd is near the back. Ellie stands with her age group, picking at the peeling skin around her nails as she awaits the ceremony’s exordium. 

The stage before them has been added purely for the Reaping, as it’s not usually present. Atop it resides a podium, a table with a bowl of tiny slips of papers, and three chairs at the back of the stage — one for the District’s mayor, one for the escort, and one for the mentor of this year’s tributes. Camera crews are perched like buzzards atop the neighboring buildings, readying themselves to document the coming show. Each District is going through the exact same procedure. Tonight, each footage will be broadcasted across all televisions in the country.

About twenty more minutes pass, the square growing supplementarily crowded with each passing second. When the clock strikes twelve, three people are in their corresponding chairs. Ellie hadn’t even noticed their arrival. 

The mayor, whose name she doesn’t know despite having heard it repeated throughout her entire life, sits in the far right chair, his jaw set as he overlooks the citizens. The District escort resides in the center chair, a Capitol woman with bright blue hair and a smile that’s so pearly white that it’s almost inhuman — Ellie doesn’t know her name either. The only person whose name she’s sure of is the man sitting in the left chair. That’s Joel Miller. The victor of the 56th Games. Word is, he’s not a pleasant man. Though, Ellie supposes no sane victor would be. Returning from a murderous arena after all other twenty-three tributes have fallen must be the emptiest feeling known to man. She has a deep respect for Joel, despite never having properly met him.

The mayor steps up to the podium and begins reading off his script. The story of how their country came to be. Ellie tunes it out, instead glancing around the crowd for Cat. It takes her an embarrassingly long time before she remembers that she’s absent from the ceremony due to her being the District seven stylist this year. Ellie turns back to the stage just as the escort steps up to the podium.

“Happy Hunger Games!” Says she. “And may the odds be ever in your favor!” 

The slogan has grown old and worn out by now, everyone having heard it an indefinite quantity of times. Ellie wouldn’t be surprised if she mumbles it in her sleep. 

Once more, she finds herself tuning out the rest of the woman’s speech. Despite her lack of listening not resulting in anything beneficial, it makes her feel better. Like she’s showing the Capitol that they don’t control her. Not like the Capitol gives a fuck if one measley twenty-one year old is tuning out the speeches. But whatever. It makes her feel ameliorated and that’s all that matters.

“Here we go.” The escort says before diving her hand into the bowl of names. The glass sphere is packed full with slips of paper, each one reading a citizen’s name. The entire square is holding their breath as they await the name. The entire country is — as every District is being Reaped at the same time. The woman pulls a slip of paper from the bowl and reads it aloud with a grin. “Riley Abel.”

Ellie’s heart drops to her stomach, body frozen in place as the name is spoken. The world feels far away as she watches Riley walk up the stage and stand beside the escort. Riley’s chin is held high, her eyes dullened; they lack the vibrancy that Ellie adores so much. She’s the epitome of strength, standing on that stage as she’s set to be broadcasted across the entire country. 

Ellie knows that expression though. Riley isn’t sad or mourning. She’s pissed.

Fuck. She should have done something. But it all happened so fast. And now the escort’s hand is diving right back into the bowl for a second tribute.

“Aaaand,” She sing-songs before lifting her head joyously, “Ellie Williams.”

11:46.

DISTRICT 4.

“Again.” Your mother’s tone is sharp as a dagger as she thumps the end of her cane against tiled flooring, demanding more, more, more from you. Her voice is tinny, filed through an intercom overhead. To your left is a one-way mirror that scales the entire 20ft wall, through which she pedantically watches your every movement. Though you’re unable to see her, she sees you. And that fact in itself is enough to make you vigilent.

Sweat coats your skin as you reposition yourself, squaring your shoulders and planting your feet in preparation. Your expression is hardened, purposefully so under your mother’s gaze. Her scrupulousness is nigh to tangible, made palpable by the heavy weight on your shoulders, the stiffness in your muscles, the tell-tale feel of her eyes scanning you. 

Then, in a flash of flickering blue, holographic opponents begin to charge at you. These humanoid figures are translucent in visibility, but their hits land just as genuinely in spite of their pellucidity. You’ve been fighting them all morning — another cause of the fatigue in your bones.

A few sessions prior, you’d been permitted the use of weapons. Your mother had instructed you to train with each one interchangeably. She wished to see which you were best and worst at — which ended up being throwing daggers and a trident, respectively. The daggers allow you close-combat, which you’re rather skilled at, as a product of these training sessions, whereas the trident’s weight is off balanced and leaves you fumbling with it for a few seconds prior to use. She soon grew bored with the weapons, though, and instructed you to fight bare handedly. Just to be sure you can. 

There are currently three holograms presented to you — one with a burly build, one with a dainty build, and one that resides between the two. 

The muscular opponent is the first to strike, swinging a right hook toward your jaw. You dodge it, ducking easily under its arm. Whilst straightening back up, the smaller figure grabs you by the hair. Your head is yanked backward. You whip around, snatching the figure by the wrist and throwing its body over your head onto the floor. It lands with a hard thud before you bring the heel of your boot down onto its throat. With a light puff of air, the hologram disintegrates.

One down, two left.

Without a moment’s pause, you spin around to face the other two diaphanous forms. The intermediate combatant surges forward, arm reeled back in preparation for a punch. You swerve out of its way, the figure staggering forward as it misses you by a mere three inches. You kick it in the back of the legs, sending the hologram on its knees. You’re positioned behind it, pulling it into a headlock. 

The sounds it makes is eerily human as it coughs and sputters, blue fingers grasping with desperation at your forearm. You’re used to this though, the cruel personification behind these lifeless things. You snap its neck with a deafening crack. It disappears.

Two down, one left.

When you turn around, the burly one is already behind you. It’s at least three times your size, but you’re undeterred. You stand upright and ready your fists. 

With a grunt, it charges toward you. You sidestep, but it anticipates this and turns in unison. You back away, putting yourself out of reach, your arms coming up to block your face. It swings and you duck subsequently. While crouched, you grab its left calf and pull, lifting the leg uncomfortably high. The oversized figure hops awkwardly on its right limb. You then hook your foot behind the ankle of the remaining leg it’s balancing on, sending it plummeting toward the ground. 

You’re quick to position yourself atop it, straddling the hologram’s chest. It thrashes beneath you, squirming around like a trapped insect. It’s only a matter of time before it throws you aside due to uneven weight advantages. But you had surprised it and therefore withhold the ascendancy. So, while you still have the upper hand, you lift your leg and drive your knees into its neck. With a gag, the hologram vanishes.

Done.

Your chest aches with exertion, lungs fighting for air as you pant. As such, you remain with your knees on the black matted floor in an attempt to catch your breath. You’ve been killing these things on repeat for the past three hours, your mother having woken you at seven in the morning to train. 

Frayed hair clings to dampened skin as sweat traces lines down your face. It drips from your chin onto the floor beneath you. Your pants and tank top are soaked, causing you to feel gross and sticky. You yearn for a shower.

You oftentimes have to remind yourself that your mother means well, that she’s pushing you so hard because she cares. But, at times like these — where your body is on the verge of collapse — you find yourself questioning her morality.

“You’re getting slow.” Comes her voice through the speaker system, as though on cue with your thoughts. A tap of her cane against the floor is heard prior to that singular word you dread so vehemently. 

“Again.”

It's truly no shock that you’re growing amble considering how long you’ve been at it. But to protest your mother’s orders would be a death wish. You’re still catching your breath as you push yourself to your feet, fully expecting another hoard of holograms to appear. 

Though, in their stead, a spear materializes before you. It’s equally as holographic as the figures you’re fighting, blue and crackling, but it kills them just as viable as you would.

As you lean over to pick it up, something kicks you hard in the base of your back. The force of impact sends you to the floor. Your elbows take the brunt of your fall, causing you to feel rather grateful for the mat. Still in a heap, you whip to face the perpetrator. A hologram; a singular female figure with a lean build. 

You should’ve known better than to let your guard down.

You glance at the spear concurrently, the weapon lying at a perfect distance between you two. Without vacillation, you hurriedly crawl toward it. The figure notices and kicks you hard in the face, its shoe slamming into the bridge of your nose. You land hard on your back as a wave of pain shoots through you, warm liquid tracing down your face. 

By the time you regain your sense, the hologram is thrusting the stolen weapon toward you. You roll out of its way, though the blade manages to slice your bicep. With a reverberated thud, the spearhead burrows into the mat where your head had just been.

You push to your feet, tugging the spear out of the cushioned floor. Now armed, you turn to the hologram. It doesn’t have a face but if it did, you’re sure it’d be glaring at you. The two of you circle one another like vultures, the hologram waiting for you to attack whilst you wait for the perfect angle. Then, once you’re positioned to your liking, you strike. You throw the spear at the diaphanous form. 

The blade whizzes through the air too fast for it to dodge, too fast for anyone to dodge. Your aim is undeniably precise as the point wedges right between your opponents eyes. With that, it disintegrates alongside the spear.

Even once the combatant has elapsed, you remain in that position — chest heaving, brows furrows, fists balled. A metallic taste fills your mouth as your nose continues to bleed down your face, getting past your lips. Your bicep mocks it, crimson tracing down your arm.

You await your mother’s reprimand via the intercom. Instead, you hear the door click open and her cane tap against the floor with every other step. She remains in the doorway, not wishing to enter the abhorrent room. She stands expectantly until you walk up to her.

“Your fatigue impairs your ability to fight.” She tuts, wrinkled lip upturned in distaste. You don’t respond, lowering your head as you wordlessly accept her criticism. “Had you been in the arena and those figures sentient, you’d likely have been long gone. Debility is no excuse for inadequacy. L/ns don’t lose.”

You nod, knowing better than to defend yourself.

She goes through each of your performances, telling you how every one was worse than the last. A few times, she mentions your brother, comparing the two of you in a way that makes your chest cave. Ruben wouldn’t have gotten his arm cut, Ruben wouldn’t have had his hair pulled, Ruben wouldn’t have hesitated when she added a child hologram into the mix.

Once she’s had her fill of castigation, she waves a hand to dismiss you. 

Your first course of action is to shower. Since your mother woke you so early, you were unable to change or eat prior to training. You enter the bathroom, peeling your sweaty clothes from your skin before stepping into the cool water. Your presence tints the liquid pink with blood as your arm and face stain its cleanliness.

You stand in the shower for a long time, relishing in the feel of the water as you allow your mind to roam. Though, despite how hard you try not to think of it, your thoughts continuously lapse back to your mother’s ceaseless mentions of your brother, her favored child.

See, Ruben won the 67th Hunger Games when he was only thirteen years old, becoming a legend in the Capitol and the light of your parents’ lives. He is the Capitol’s favorite victor, deemed the most attractive man in the country. Anyone would die to get a moment of his time, of his attention. People who the Capitol favor, idolize, and center their entire lives around are known as a ‘Capitol Diamond’. And Ruben is the shiniest of them all.

Your father won his Games two years prior to Ruben when you were only six, so you never knew him all that well. The memories you do have of him are rather bitter, invoking flashes of flailing fists and deafening shouts. Though, acting as a warm blanket to the chill of your father’s acerbity, Ruben appears in your memories like a deity. He’d cover your ears when your parents’ shouting bounced off the marble walls; he’d argue with your father whenever he’d hit you for breaking something trivial; he’d always take your side, even if you did technically break that vase. As a child, Ruben was an angel sent from above. But, now that you’re older, you know better than to deem him as such.

Anyway. Ruben and your father’s triumphs earned them both irrevocable places in the Capitol as diamonds as well as homes in District four’s Victor’s Village — leaving you and your mother to live alone in the house of which you were raised. In fact, your entire lineage is among the victors, aunts and uncles and cousins all diamonds of the Capitol and residents of the village. Well, most of them. Some of your relatives moved to higher Districts after their Games, seeking as much proximity to the Capitol as possible.

A L/n has never lost the Games, not in the entire seventy-three years they’ve been running. The mere thought of someone in your family failing to prevail is something unprecedented. 

You step out of the shower and wrap yourself into a towel, grabbing a suture kit from the cabinet under the sink. You pop it open and sit on the closed toilet seat before threading the needle. You’ve stitched yourself up plenty of times, the damned holograms annoyingly good at what they’re made to do — challenge you. 

By the time you’ve finished and your bicep is newly adorned in neat stitching, it’s one o’clock. You only have a short bit of time before the Reaping. As you put the kit back into the cabinet, a second thought dawns on you. 

Fuck! You think, eyes widening almost comically. Mister Alden will be here in ten minutes.

You tighten your towel around your body before padding down the hall to your bedroom. It’s overlarge, making you feel small. The walls are white with golden mouldings, the floors are made of marble tiles. To some, your family’s mansion would be a dream come true. Though, to you, it feels more like a prison than a home. It has ever since your brother left.

Your mother had an Avox lay your Reaping outfit out on your bed. It’s blue — as most clothing made for District Four is. It’s made of a deep navy satin, jewels embedded into the fabric. It’s absolutely gorgeous and you hate it.

Though, your personal thoughts on clothing matter naught. You once tried arguing with your mother on how extravagant your clothes were, saying it was ridiculous when people in lower Districts struggle for food. That comment earned you a week with minimal food. She said that if you pitied the peasants so greatly, she’d gladly treat you like one, claiming empathy to be far more valuable than sympathy. You’d never made another comment on your clothes again after that.

Though, you both knew her anger was rooted far deeper than your mere clothing preference. It was rooted in the underlying criticism you’d made in regards to the governing of your country — the unfair hierarchy of Districts. You never made a political comment after that, either. Not aloud anyway.

You pull the dress on, something symbolic always laced within the act of holding your tongue. 

Each curve and stitch is made specifically for your body, fitting perfectly. Trading fish in this gown will make for an odd sight, but you haven’t a choice. Mister Alden should be here any minute and the Reaping begins in less than an hour; multitasking is your only option.

The halls are just as pristine as your bedroom, walls decorated with fine art and the tile floor kept sparkling. Thanks to the unpaid Avoxes — which are former criminals whose punishments are to be made into servants for the Capitol. You live in the Districts, but your family is so cherished by Capitolites that you’re permitted to have an abundance of your own servants. Despite the fact that your mansion is tended to by over twenty Avoxes, you’ve never spoken to a single one. Not due to your own ignorance, but because their tongues are removed and they’re unable to speak.

One of them holds the door open for you on your journey out to the docks. You thank him shortly, though he doesn’t respond. 

Your house is beachfront, back porch providing a wooden path down to your own private piling dock. It’s unnecessarily fancy for your mother to inherit — who just happened to marry into a wealthy family — and you, who hasn’t even become a victor yet. And, if you’re never Reaped, you’ll have never deserved an ounce of what’s been given to you.

The path to the dock is a downward slope. Your house is built on a rocky cliff, hence the path’s existence. You hike your dress up as you rush down the wooden trail, though as soon as you do, you hear your mother’s past lectures ring through your head. “Never above the ankles!” She’d once said, slapping your hand with a stick to force you to drop the dress. Instinctively, you lower it.

You walk down to the dock, happy to see that it’s empty, Mister Alden not having yet arrived. Though, once you’ve reached the end of it, you hear the low hum of his boat’s motor putting through the salty water. He coasts up to the wooden structure. You reach out to catch him as the motor comes to a halt.

His boat is small, just big enough for one man to fit in. It’s made of metal with only one seat at the helm, situated beside the tilling outboard. 

Your family has bought from mister Alden all your life. When you were a kid and it was Ruben’s job to retrieve the fish, you would traipse behind him. You’d hobble behind him, small legs having to run in order to keep up with your elder brother's long gait. Then, once at the dock, you were rendered useless. You’d peer over mister Alden’s boat, nosily searching his belongings. You watched as Ruben would speak to mister Alden shortly, pay him graciously, hoist the net of seafood over his shoulder, then head back inside. Due to this, mister Alden watched you grow more than your own father had. And even though his presence is short and biweekly, you know the old man rather well.

Well enough to know that he has three grandkids and the oldest of them is a twelve year old girl whose first ever Reaping is today. 

“Oh, what a lovely outfit.” He smiles, crows feet creasing. He remains seated as you moor the boat to the cleats. The metal is so hot from endless days spent in the sun that it burns your hands at the touch. You don’t dare wince, knowing how fast mister Alden would rush to your aid. You’re sure he has enough on his plate what with his granddaughter. “I can carry the fish inside, if you’d like. Wouldn’t want you staining such a stunning dress.”

“It’s okay.” You’re quick to assure him, offering your hand to help him out of the boat once it’s tied off. He takes it, the man nigh senile in his old age. His hand shakes slightly as he steps onto the dock. “I can get the fish, mister Alden, I don’t mind.”

He smiles kindly, “You remind me so much of your brother.”

You don’t respond. You know he’s only saying that out of kindness, he has to be. Your mother ceaselessly reminds you of how different the two of you are. You try to ignore the comment as you lean over the boat to pull the huge net of fish from the creased hull. They’re blue in color, almost mimicking that of your dress, though their scales shine silver in the sunlight.

“Did you ever hear the story of Ruben’s first Reaping?” Mister Alden asks as you drop the net onto the dock, pausing to converse with him for a while despite knowing it’s a bad idea with your lack of time. “He only attended two Reapings, that poor boy. But his first one, I’ll never forget. It was the first time I met your mother, too, the nasty woman. He was out here retrieving fish, as our exchanges always seem to fall on Reaping Day. He was only twelve, but so determined to carry the fish all on his own. I offered my help at least a hundred times, to which he refused each one. He was strong, though, for his size. He managed to carry them all the way to the porch before the net caught on a twig and the fish fell all the way back down the pathway. Every single one.”

Your eyes widen. You recall this, though the memory is rather blurry to you as you were only seven at the time. That, and also because most of your memories with Ruben are tainted, not to be trusted in your bias. 

“What’d my mother do?” You ask, unable to help your childlike curiosity from rearing its head.

“Well,” He chuckles, though it lacks any sense of humor. “She wasn't happy, that’s for sure. Ruben instantly began to cry when he saw the effects of his mistake. I tried to assure him that it was okay and I could always deliver more fish, but he said that’s not why he was sad. He wasn’t mourning the loss of the fish. Instead, he was terrified of what your mother would do to him.” Mister Alden shakes his head, grey brows turned in an expression of dispirit. “No child that small should fear his own parent so vehemently.”

You frown. In every aspect where your mother lacks morality, mister Alden has a myriad of it. The old man is practically overflowing with sympathy at all times. He’d always treated you and Ruben as his own, offering comfort whenever you seek it and kind words whenever you forget they even exist.

Just as he’s about to continue his story, your mother’s voice is heard. It’s shrill as she shouts your name. Chills trace down your spine at the sound. Mister Alden gives you a pitying expression before you pass him a small pouch of coins for payment, lift the net over your shoulder, and begin the trek back up to your porch. The sound of his motor starting up carries through the air as you approach your mother.

She’s wearing a baby blue dress, just as fancy as yours — if not more. Her usual wooden cane has been swapped out for a fancier golden one. Her hair is done up in a neat braid, gold heeled shoes adorning her wrinkled feet. 

She shoots you a scowl before entering the house, dropping the door on you despite knowing you’re carrying a huge weight of seafood. It slams into your side, the corner of it landing on your stitched bicep. You wince, struggling for only a moment before an Avox rushes to your aid and holds it wide for you. You don’t dare thank her in front of your mother.

You enter the kitchen, placing the bag of fish onto the marble counter.

“We have less than twenty minutes before the Reaping!” She spits, rage evident in her tone as she watches you set it down. “Your feet are dirty and bare, your hair is matted, and you reek of fish!”

“I didn’t—” You begin, though you’re quick to stop yourself, remembering her order of not speaking unless asked to do so.

A sharp pain shoots through your cheek as she slaps you across the face for having spoken out of turn. You lower your head, mouth now sealed shut. She turns to give orders to the Avoxes — instructing two of them to put your hair up, one to put your shoes on, and three to gut and clean the fish prior to your return from the Reaping.

They’re quick to do so, rushing around to oblige.

You’re directed to a stool, two servants doing your hair into some intricate design whilst another crouches in front of you to slip on your shoes. They’re a pair of silver heels that match the jewels on your dress. In record time, the other two complete the updo, holding out a hand mirror for you to examine the design. Two thin braids wrap around the crown of your head, a neat bun resting at the nape of your neck. It’s beautiful considering how little time they had.

“I love it.” You whisper, quiet enough only they can hear it.

Your mother approaches you, thankfully not having heard your words of thanks. She circles around you, looking at the hairdo before she tuts, “It’ll do.”

The journey to the town square is only a few minutes. Though, as you walk beside your mother in deafening silence, it feels like an eternity. Everyone knows who the two of you are, the entirety of the Capitol fond of your family lineage. Their eyes are wide as they watch you and your mother pass through the streets. See, due to your partnership with mister Alden and your large quantity of Avoxes, neither of you ever leave the house unless it’s mandatory, which only adds to the peoples’ astonishment. Not to mention your unnecessarily extravagant clothing. Most people are only wearing plain gowns or linen shirts whereas you two look like you’re about to meet a monarch. It’s humiliating.

Your mother loves the attention, basking in it. You, on the other hand, feel as though it’s rather embarrassing.

You reach the square and part ways with her, wordlessly joining your respective age groups.

Your shoulders are set and your chin is raised as you know everyone is staring. Their gazes feel like spiders crawling all over your body. You fucking hate it, the prestige. Especially since you didn’t do anything to deserve it. You were just born into the family. To you, nothing makes you any different from the people living in the hovels of your District. Even in other Districts. The only thing that separates you from a starving child in Twelve is chance.

Mayor Marriott steps up to the podium and she tells the story of your country’s origin. You already know it by heart, having been taught by your father to memorize it at a young age. Her hair is platinum blonde, younger than most District mayors, though she’s just as strict. Her father was the mayor before her, causing her to take over the career. You oftentimes wonder if she hates lineage inheritance just as much as you do. You doubt it.

Following her speech comes the District escort. You know her by name, you know everyone in the Capitol by name. That’s Alice Reymond. Her hair is bigger than her head, her eyes adorned by lashes longer than her fingers. Capitolites are fucking weird, looking more like disfigured abstract pieces than human beings.

“Happy Hunger Games!” Exclaims Alice Reymond. “And may the odds be ever in your favor!”

She goes on to tell a speech on how much of an honor it is to serve as this District’s escort. Though every escort says that, you’re sure she means it more so than any others. Escorts are paid based on how many victors their District is able to produce. And, what with your family’s abundance of them, you’re sure she’s swimming in more cash than even District One’s escort is. However, more importantly, the bragging rights must be immeasurable.

Behind the podium of which she stands, mayor Marriott watches with a piercing gaze. Her blue eyes are intimidatingly sharp as she overlooks the crown. Though, the man sitting in the mentor’s chair has a gaze even sharper than she. 

Ruben. Your brother.

He’s tasked with training and keeping the tributes alive each year. He’s rather good at it. And, even when he fails, nobody blames him. How could they when he’s so perfect? You tune out Alice Reymond’s speech, taking in the sight of your brother after having not seen him in years. The closest you’ve gotten to talking to him is watching interviews on the television. 

His features are almost a perfect copy of yours — the same nose shape, same hair and eye color, same lips. But he’s got a certain look to him that erases any sort of similarities you two happen to share. A certain Capitolistic look. His eyes are highlighted with golden eyeliner, all the wrinkles in his face surgically removed. The brother you’d cherished all those years ago no longer exists. In his place sits the shell of a man. A Capitolite and thereby not your brother.

“Here we go!” Alice Reymond grins, yanking your thoughts back to the Reaping. She then begins digging her inhumanly long fingers through the bowl of names. She pulls out a slip of paper and smiles widely before calling it out. “Remy Wilson!”

The crowd murmurs lowly, looking around for the owner of the name. A pause. Nobody steps forward. Then, two Peacekeepers suddenly storm into the crowd and rip a little boy from his parents. The boy, Remy, is frozen in place, unmoving. The Peacekeepers pull him up to the stage. He’s crying, as he stands on the elevated space, trembling under the gazes of the District. Of the country.

He can’t be older than twelve. His cheeks are rounded, his big brown eyes even rounder. His skin is pale with a rosy nose, his wavy hair is an ashy brown that forms a messy crown of innocence around his head. Ruben is watching the boy closely, likely examining whether or not he’ll survive the arena. The answer is obvious, though. This child won’t be making it out.

“And for our second tribute,” Continues Alice Reymond. She pulls another paper from the bowl, her eyes widening slightly as she reads it. A great, pearly smile splits across her face before her spider-like eyes land on you. Your heart sinks.

You already know what she’s going to say when she calls out your name.

[post] notes!! While dual POV will be in this story, this is the only time I'll be showing two perspectives of the same event. This chapter followed Ellie and the reader both experiencing the reaping. It was needed for the plot but grew repetitive at the end, I promise this is the only time that'll happen 🤞 Also, this was a shit ton of exposition & I apologize for that, but the backstory of both characters are very needed. You def needed to see Ellie's relationship w everyone around her as well as have explanatory bg with the reader's family and everything. Also x2, I hope the amount of dialogue in Ellie's pov made up for the lack thereof in the reader's pov. I hate reading huge paragraphs of straight monologue so I try to refrain from writing it, but sometimes it's unavoidable (bc reader literally has nobody to talk to) Anyway, hope you enjoyed!!

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[words-4u]

as you wish - j.l

wc: 1.5k

a/n: down horrendous for jordan i’m going through it

warning: 18+ smut, swearing

you were jordan’s favourite thing in the world and they would do anything for you. so when you first got together and you wanted to take things slow, it wasn’t an issue.

but then four months passed, five months, six months and the most the two of you have done was dry hump. jordan would never rush you or push you into having sex but they wanted you, all of you, so bad and they were losing their mind with lust.

what jordan didn’t know was that you were just as horny as them. you constantly thought about how good it would feel to have their head in between your thighs but you were nervous, that’s what it all boiled down to.

jordan had mentioned previous partners, a couple fuckbuddies and one serious relationship, which you didn’t mind because of course people wanted them, how could they not?

you, on the other hand, have had zero sexual experience, the kind that actually matters when you enter university and kissing a classmate behind a bush when you were 11 doesn’t count in your books.

so month after month you held off on having sex with jordan because you were unsure of what to do but your desire for jordan has now outgrown your silly little fear.

you sat alone in jordan’s room as they finished their last class of the day. you had plans later that evening with some friends to catch a movie but until then you decided to kill some time by reading in jordan’s room since it has the best natural lighting.

you were so immersed in your book, you didn’t notice jordan come in until the bed dipped and they were kissing your neck.

“oh hello,” you said bringing a hand into their hair as they smushed their face into your neck.

“sorry, you just look so good on my bed reading… the secret diary of anne boleyn?” they asked peering into your lap where the book laid faced down.

“leave me alone, you know how much love history!” you chuckled as jordan sat against thier headboard and pulled you into their lap.

now straddling them, you toyed with the back of their necklace as they peered into your eyes.

“what?” you said in a hushed tone.

“nothing, you just have really pretty eyes,” jordan continued to stare into you with their intoxicating eyes. you started to get shy under their gaze so you broke it by leaning in for a soft kiss.

there couldn’t be a more perfect moment than this one. it felt like the two of you were the only ones in the world. you often felt that way with them but today was different.

“jordan, i-i think I’m ready,”

it took a second for what you said to register with jordan but once it did, their eyes widen a little.

“are you sure?”

you nod in confirmation. “i want to have sex.”

that statement went straight to their dick making it twitch in their pants.

“say that again,” they said as they moved you off their lap and onto the bed hovering over you.

“please fuck me,” you said grabbing their neck and kissing them with a certain passion. jordan had found a comfortable spot between your legs.

“as you wish,” they whispered as they bucked their hip into yours.

you lifted their sweater a little, hands roaming their flat and hardened chest, before jordan took it off completely. you held yourself of using your forearms and enjoyed the view. you’ve seen jordan shirtless plenty of times but knowing they were going to fuck you in a few minutes made the view so much better.

“i think you’re wearing too many layers,” they smirked which prompted you to take off your shirt and bra with no hesitation.

“you’re so fucking gorgeous,” they muttered before encapsulating a nipple into their mouth. a sinful noise left you as their tongue expertly swirled around your breast. their hand showed the other the same amount of attention, rolling the nipple between the pads of their fingers.

impatience got the better of you and before you knew it, you took jordan’s hand brought it down to your core making them cup you. jordan lifts their eyes up at you and you nod. you moved your hands down your body slipping of your jeans and panties along with with it. jordan’s fingers ran through the wetness that had built up, a moan echoed around the room as they circled your clit slowly.

“i’m going to take such good care of you babe, just relax,” jordan whispered in between kisses.

you listened to them, focusing on the feeling of their fingers now teasing your entrance.

“please, please just fuck me,” you begged, making them slip a finger into you, your hands moved to hold onto their back as they gradually increased their pace of thrusting their finger into you, making you moan their name.

“fuck,” you groaned, throwing your head back as they curled both inside you before kissing your lips one last time and making their way down your body once again.

you watched with lust-filled eyes as they kissed down your stomach and hovered over your core, hot breath fanning over your dripping centre.

“is this ok?” they asked kissing your inner thighs, you hastily replied with a breathy ‘yes’ to make them continue. their mouth soon sucked on your clit, back arching and an even louder moan erupting from the back of your throat while they ate you.

with the feeling of them pumping their fingers inside you, combined with their tongue swirling around your clit and them moaning against your core at the taste, it didn't take long for you to reach your orgasm.

“uuuh, jordan!” you yelled out, a rush of euphoria washing over you. you shook as you came down and jordan came back up you body. their face covered in your juices and you felt almost embarrassed.

“look at you,” you laughed hiding your face behind your hands.

jordan shook their heads, “don’t be embarrassed. that was the hottest shit i’ve ever seen.”

they slowly removed your hands from you face and kissed you sloppily. you definitely tasted yourself on their face.

“see? you taste so good,” they smiled smugly.

with a quiet laugh, you pulled them down for a full kiss, tongue immediately pushing into their mouth as they echo your laughter.

it quickly turns into a moan, as does yours when they grind their hips into you before they reluctantly tear themselves away, a small smirk appearing on their face. 

jordan unbuckled his belt getting rid of his jeans and reached over you to grab a condom from their nightstand drawer.

“so just have those in there?” you asked eyeing the the small plastic squares.

“bought them a month ago. i was feeling hopeful,” they responded sheepishly which made you laugh a little.

“presumptuous… but safe. i’ll let it go for now.” you watched as they sit back on to their heels to slide it on.

they are sweet with the way they checked in with you again, hand returning to your cheek. they smile when their fingers run over your lips. you nod, quietly giving your consent once more, and they help you to spread your legs wider so that they could fully lay between them.

they dragged their cock through your folds, catching your earlier orgasm on the tip to slick the way, and with a deep breath, they pushed in.

touching jordan this way, feeling them this way, is something you've been thinking about since the first time they kissed you.

they were sweet in the way that they went slow as they patiently waited for you to adjust and feel comfortable, and it's not long before they’re completely inside you.

they leaned down to kiss you, lips caressed yours softly at first before it shifted into something a little more heated, more passionate.

"you're doing so well for me, babe," they said against your mouth, and the words make you sigh in response, hips once again rocking into you. "you feel so good. does it feel good for you too?"

“so good,” you told them truthfully, hand running down their back. “you fit so well.”

you felt their mouth split into a grin against yours, and you couldn’t help but let out another groan when they pulled out slightly before pushing back in.

jordan looked so beautiful pressed against you, damp hair resting on his forehead. you reached up and pushed the hair out of their eyes and trailed your fingers down their cheek as they continued to slide in and out of you.

you pulled them close and whispered some encouragement as their thrusts became erratic and they let out a deep breath. they felt even more amazing inside of you as their cock filled you with their release, coating both of you with slick warmth as they continued to move.

they gradually slowed their movements, panting in utter relief and pleasure as they came to a halt, resting inside of you with a few lingering twitches. you wrapped your legs around theirs, holding them close for a moment as you soaked in euphoric thrill.

“how was that?” you sighed making yourself comfortable in the bed. jordan joined you, putting an arm around your shoulder pulling you into them.

“are you sure you’ve never had sex?” they joked prompting you to playfully smack their chest.

“i’m so happy we did… finally. i love you, j.”

“love you more, y/n/n”

[landwriter]

Desperate Measures | Dream/Hob | 1.2K | G v silly and fluffy, literally 90% air, dream attempts a romantic gesture, hob is a sap and forgetful, human au, part text fic

for @domaystic drabbles, Day 6: Under the Same Umbrella

---

Dream woke up to 26 texts from Hob. He put on his glasses and began his morning read. It’d replaced Times for him. The editorial quality, he thought, was far superior.

Hob (7:19 am) heading out, gave you a wee forehead kiss and you didn’t even stir. sleeping bloody beauty. love you disgustingly much x

Hob (7:26 am) couldn’t find my umbrella anywhere can you take a look if it’s not too much of a bother? feel like i’ve gone mad

Hob (7:30 am) christ it’s bucketing down!! standing under the eaves just to tell you how much it’s bucketing down

plants will be happy at least so will my goth boyfriend ;) hope your writing goes well today love. extra atmosphere!!

Hob (8:42 am) nevermind don’t look for it remembered that i left it in my office told johanna she can use it since i’m at the archives all day anyway glad i’m not the only one who’d forget their own head if it wasn’t screwed on :) :) :)

Hob (10:11 am) you should’ve seen the look lisa gave me when i showed up had to dry myself off in the men’s w half a forest of paper towels there goes my carbon offset from walking i said christ you’re probably still in bed asleep warm dry!! lucky bastard

wish i could come back already and drip puddles all over you

Hob (10:37 am) if this keeps up i’m going to look like mr darcy in the rain on your doorstep tonight don’t worry i promise not to propose marriage while insulting you xx although i do love you most ardently

...elizabeth

Dream smiled, read them all again, contemplated, and then sent his reply.

Dream (11:01 am) Sir, I appreciate the struggle you have been through

Hob replied moments later.

?? you sound like a customer service agent wait you’re quoting the film you can’t reject me if i’ve not proposed to you!! yet!!!

Dream snorted. 'and I am very sorry I have caused you pain' went the line. They’d watched it last weekend. Hob had cried, and Dream had privately decided that if Hob proposed, he’d say yes. Even if it was poorly done. It wouldn’t be, though. Not if Hob was doing it. He sent a second text.

...and I am very sorry you were drenched by rain.

Then he got out of bed and shuffled into the kitchen. His phone buzzed anew as he made tea and toast. He smiled at the sound. On their first date, Hob had warned Dream that he had a bad habit of annoying boyfriends over text. Dream, on his first date in six years, had wondered what it might be like to be so effusively charming that you could have enough boyfriends to form habits around them at all. He hadn’t known what to say, and Hob had ducked his head, grimacing a little, and said, “Just tell me to piss off, please, if I do? I know I can be a bit much.”

Dream believed it, because the man was telling him about his habits with boyfriends after one date. Not that he minded. And three months in, Dream had yet to tell him to piss off.

Turns out, a bit much was exactly what he’d wanted. Needed, in truth. Someone to tether him to the real world. His phone had become a modern-day lodestone in his pocket, a comforting pull of Hob-ness that would always point him back to life whenever he’d emerge, blinking and disoriented, out of the mire of his work. Work that he loved - creating worlds out of nothing, writing stories that would change people - but, coming on the age of thirty with nothing to show for it but recurring wrist strain and an upmarket flat that never had any guests, work that had also made him spend so much time apart from the rest of humanity that he was sometimes unsure how to rejoin it.

The tipping point had been when his eldest sister had found out that he hadn’t spoken to anyone else in between two of their regular dinners. Which were monthly. It had been mortifying. She’d smiled sadly, which was excruciating enough, and then gotten the gleam of a plan in her eyes, which had been far worse. “I’m setting you up,” she’d said. “I know just the guy. We go way back. I think you’ll like him.”

He had. Now, when his phone buzzed, he found himself frowning if it wasn’t Hob. (An exceedingly rare occasion.) But this time it was, of course. Four short messages sent one after the other:

hahahaha ok fine that was v good enjoy your day x

Five hours later, not even the curtain of rain awaiting him outside could douse the anticipation in his belly. An idea, he knew, was a powerful thing. Dream didn’t have an umbrella - Hob always shared with him, and would’ve apologetically nicked his if he had - so he would make the first leg of the journey as Hob did. He intended to go and get something nice, but once in the cold downpour, his resolve failed him almost at once, and he ducked into the first shop that had umbrellas in the window.

“Hiya,” said the girl at the counter without looking up from her phone.

Dream ignored her, blinking the rain out of his eyes, belatedly registering all the merchandise had a unifying theme and that he’d made a terrible mistake, borne of sheer desperation.

“Would you happen to have any other umbrellas? In black?” he asked. Hidden behind the counter, perhaps. If only you knew to ask.

The girl looked at him with an air of disbelieving reproval only accessible to teenagers and the very elderly. “You could try Boots, you know. It’s just down the street.”

Dream looked out the window. Rain torrented down. Commuters hurried past with their sensibly coloured umbrellas. From places exactly like Boots.

“Or we’ve got rain ponchos,” she added. It sounded like a threat.

“Nevermind,” said Dream quickly. “I’ll take it.”

“Enjoy your visit in London, sir,” she called out as he left.

He stepped outside and flicked open the umbrella with slightly more force than necessary.

Dream waited a few paces outside the archives, wanting to surprise Hob properly. Two separate pairs of tourists had thought he was their London Ghost Tours guide, and he was beginning to regret not holding out for longer, drenching be damned. Then Hob emerged, striding out and immediately stopping to pull out his phone. He was smiling at it. Dream smiled too, in anticipation.

A moment later his own phone buzzed loudly in his coat pocket, and Hob looked up in surprise.

“Oh my god,” he said. Then he said it again.

“I heard you needed an umbrella,” said Dream. He’d had the line already, since he got the idea. It had been very dashing and romantic in his head. It was somewhat undermined by the dreadful costuming choice that had been forced upon him.

Hob looked between Dream and the umbrella, bafflement melting into a happy laugh. He ducked underneath, pecking Dream on the lips. “I’m not sure I needed one quite this badly. Did you rob some poor tourist?”

“Unhappily, I paid for this.”

“Oh no,” said Hob, pulling away and pretending to inspect him for injury. “My poor darling. Your dignity.”

Dream sniffed. “I will recover.”

“Here,” said Hob. “I’ll carry it for you. You’ll only be guilty by association, then.”

They began walking, a bobbing Union Jack in a sea of blacks and greys. After the chief sin of ugliness, it was also a little small for two grown men, but Dream found he didn’t resent that at all, as Hob tucked him tightly into his side to keep them both dry. People gave them a wide berth. Tourists could never be trusted with umbrellas.

“You’ve rescued me, you know,” said Hob, nuzzling into his cheek.

“It wouldn’t do to have you dripping puddles all over the floors,” said Dream.

“Even if I looked terribly handsome, all wet and ardent?”

Dream bit his lip and smiled a little. “Perhaps you can be wet and ardent in the shower. Instead.”

Hob laughed again. It was Dream’s favourite sound. “Much warmer than the rain anyway. Deal.” Rain drummed down on their private nylon ceiling. “I was thinking chicken tikka masala for dinner?”

And so they made their way home, and although the rain never let up, Dream was so content and warm that he might’ve sworn they were walking in the sun.

[lokisprettygirl]

Under his influence (Post Avengers! Loki x female reader)

Read chapter 11 here // Series Masterlist

Chapter 12

Summary : Your relationship with Loki is growing, your mom tries to play a matchmaker again.

Warning: 18+, Soft Smut, mention of psychological torture, angst, insecurities, self deprecating behaviour, anxiety and overwhelming emotions

"Captain? " Loki called out for Steve as he was about to step out of the training room so he turned around and looked at Loki "May I have a word with you?"

"What is it?" Steve crossed his arms as he questioned.

"I wanted to discuss that statement you gave about me, that I was pretending to be you to steal the scepter" Steve chuckled as loki said that,

"Loki loki, everything is out in the open now, you can drop the act and your lies..it was probably something you did before you disappeared" Steve turned around to leave again

"But what if I'm not lying? What if I wasn't there? What if it wasn't me? Steve halted in his steps as he thought about it "Give it a thought"

Loki walked out , leaving Rogers to contemplate over his words. How could it be possible? He saw the exact doppelganger of him and only loki had the ability to do that. The doppleganger did seem a little different though.

Loki was supposed to be at some gala with other Avengers in the evening and the thought saddened you, mainly because you knew you probably won't see him tonight and you had seen him just twice in the last week, and he was also taking Melisaa to the gala so there were plenty of reasons to keep you anxious throughout the day. You knew he wasn't interested in her but there will be other women there, it was a fancy Gala and all famous rich people were invited, what if he meets someone interesting and they hit it off? What if he realizes that you weren't the best thing he could do in midgard.

Was it too soon to show him your crazy side yet? It's been almost five months since you had met him but it already felt like a lifetime, you have never had a man who made you feel so fulfilled and you didn't even have sex yet. He had so much more to offer to you than just sex, he understood you and your neediness but that could get tiring with time. That's what drove so many guys away from you because you showed them your crazy side too early.

You sat down on the sofa after work and turned the tv on, there was a red carpet and everything. You watched these people and you couldn't relate, you could never imagine yourself to ever be a part of such a circle. However Loki fit in just fine, he was a prince and it showed, his upbringing made it easier for him to blend with those pretentious people, watching him with Melissa hanging around in his arm only made you feel worse. He had a black suit on and he looked handsomer beyond this realm.

"Loki, a quick question..who are you wearing?" The girl interviewing all the celebs asked him and he seemed perplexed.

"Uhhh who am I wearing?" He looked at her confused so Melissa answered on his behalf, the furrowed brows and pursed lips made you want to hug him instantly.

"God you're cute" you whined to yourself, you felt extremely hormonal today, maybe you were pmsing again.

'You're such an embarassement" Melissa whispered in his ear so he glared at her, why would they even ask such a stupid question? What was he supposed to say?

He wished you were here with him, you probably would have found him cute even when he was fumbling like a fool. As soon as they got inside the venue he let go of her hand to get away from her.

"So that's the girl he was staying with for months before you guys captured him again?" Pepper asked Tony so he looked at her for a few seconds before he spoke,

"Yeahh whhy? Isn't she perfect for him?"

"Is she? I mean they're not even talking to each other, look at him" Pepper said to him so he looked at Loki "He'd rather spend his time at the bar then be with her, they look so in love in interviews and stuff" Tony squeezed his eyes as she said that.

"Yeah may be the relationship has run its course"

She looked at him confused and then she shrugged. Her curiosity has been peaked though.

"Brother, when all these people are inebriated I can drop you off to see lady y/n' Loki gave him a side eye as Thor approached him with the proposal.

"Alright, what am I missing here? What is the catch?"

"Catch?"

"Motive, you must have a motive, you are not helping me because of the goodness of your heart are you? Where do you go?" Thor was taken aback by the sudden scrutiny.

"I'm appalled brother, is this what I get for reuniting you with the love of your life? Must it be this difficult for you to believe that I want your happiness?" Thor retorted.

"Hahaha, I laughed, now tell me the truth, who are you seeing? Oh is it the mortal you were besotted with?" Loki asked him again.

"I am not seeing Jane.. absolutely not"

"That is fabulous, Asgard's first man in the line of throne is courting a mortal, what is mother's opinion about that?" Thor sighed, there was no denying it any longer.

"She doesn't know yet and she can not know and for the love of norns lower your voice"

"Oh I'm just overjoyed brother, mother might be unaware of your insolent behaviour but do you really think the loyal snitch would stay quiet for long?"

"Yes he will, Heimdall gave me his word" Loki rolled his eyes as he heard that.

"Oh I forgot he was the royal snitch of Odin, Frigga and Thor"

"Well perhaps he might have been fond of you if you hadn't played those countless tricks on him as a child" Loki scoffed at the insult.

"Yes, a child, I was a child"

"You froze him merely a few years ago"

"He commited treason "

Thor rolled his eyes at the comment but what Loki said next pleased him "Whatever your hidden motive might be, I'm still grateful so–"

"Are you trying to tell me you appreciate my help?"

"Yes"

"Well I appreciate your appreciation "

Loki shook his head before he smiled.

Your phone was ringing so you picked it up hoping that it was Loki, unfortunately it wasn't him but your mother instead..

"Hey mom"

"Hi, listen, remember David's best man Eugene?"

"Gee mom I'm good, how are you?" She groaned at the response before she asked you the same question again.

"Can't say that I do"

"Okay whatever" She sighed deeply before she spoke again "His son is going to be in Minnesota for two days, I'm going to send you his phone number, talk to him" the anxiety rose as she mentioned one more guy she wanted to set you up with.

"What? Isn't he like 40??" You screamed as if you weren't canoodling a guy who was forty plus an extra thousand years.

"He's 35 y/n, he's a doctor and well reputed, you're not some 20 year old yourself, just do me a favor and meet him once"

"Mom I'm not going to do that, I'm seeing someone" you said to her, hoping she'd respect that and would realise that you were fucking 30.

"Yeah who is it? Who are you seeing?"

"God"

You could feel your mother's eyes rolling at the quip, but you weren't lying to her.

"Just show him around, if nothing..you can atleast be friends with him, are you against that as well now?"

You groaned as she continued to be insufferable about it so you agreed to see this man, after all he'd only be there for two days.

"Fine I'll show him around"

You hung up the phone and sighed, this wasn't what you needed, it was like a cherry on the top of a perfect day. You opened YouTube and saw several videos about the stupid gala, you just wanted to see what people were saying about the new IT couple Meloki as they liked to call them affectionately. You stumbled upon a video that showed their relationship timeline from the moment they met. Wow some people really had way too much time on their hands to be so invested like this. You read the comments and some of them made you laugh while others made you feel even worse,

You put the phone down in order to not hurt yourself any more.

You felt horrible at the moment and every time such feelings occurred you felt overwhelmed by the whirlpool of emotions. You were in love with him and he had become the best friend you had always wanted in your life, someone who wouldn't use you and deceive you for selfish purposes, there was a genuine affection from his side that you always felt whenever he was around you but then you have had such friends before, you had those people who cared at first but now they didn't even know whether you were alive or dead.

Sometimes it was who had to cut them off because they couldn't stop hurting you but that didn't mean that you came out unscathed, it still hurt, the memories hurt, the promises hurt, the loss of friendship hurt.

You laid down on the bed and cried your heart out, you spent a month where you couldn't get in touch with Loki and those days were damaging, you didn't think you'd be able to go through that pain again. It was easier to move on when the people you considered your friends had hurt you but losing Loki? You didn't think you'd ever survive losing the way he cared about you, you couldn't imagine seeing a day where you two would be nothing but strangers to each other.

It was starting to get harder to breathe, your own overthinking was driving you into panic, you stuffed your face between the pillow as you cried and cried. In that moment you just wanted to talk to him and have him tell you that he won't hurt you or leave you like others did.

When you heard the knocks on the window just a few seconds later for a second you thought you had imagined it but then you looked at the window and there he was smiling so innocently so you got up, wiped your face as best as you could and walked towards the window to open it so he could get in, he had a dark green shirt on and a black trouser, you could see his long hair waving because of the wind,

"Hiiii" you mumbled as you opened the window but before he could climb in he grabbed your chin and pulled you in to kiss you softly before he let go "Ummm i thought you were not coming tonight"

"I was missing you darling" you nodded and stepped back so he could get in, he noticed you had his shirt on that he had left there or in other words the shirt you had stolen from him.

"Are you okay..you seem..were you crying?" You shook your head as you turned around, you didn't want to snap in front of him.

Before you could get away he grabbed your arm around turned you towards him, he hugged you briefly before he pulled away and grabbed your chin to make you look at him

"Now tell me what's wrong and this time I don't want you to lie to me" he asked, his voice was tender and sweet.

"Nothing..it's nothing…I was just missing you" you pursed your lips to control your sobs but they came out anyways,

"I was missing you"

"You were?" You sobbed even harder and his eyes teared up too.

"How could I not sweetheart hmm?" He cupped your cheeks, leaned down to kiss you and his thumbs proceeded to wipe your tears simultaneously,

"That's just not it, is it? Something else is eating you up..tell me, share with me" he questioned you but you could only hiccup between your cries. Why were you like this?

"It's ..I don't want to annoy you"

"Annoy me? Did I annoy you that day when I wept like a baby in your arms?"

He questioned you softly so you shook your head, you looked like a child at the moment and it made him smile. He just wanted to take away whatever was bothering you and make you feel better

"I just don't want you to leave because people leave when I'm like this, they don't like me like this" the broken voice and the fear your words held made his heart sink, to learn that people had hurt you so badly in the past that you felt afraid sharing your feelings with him was heartbreaking for him.

"Like what princess? You feel hurt and you just want to be held and comforted, there's nothing wrong with that" the back of his fingers brushed against your cheek as he cooed.

"No???"

"Why would this ever drive me away?"

"I just don't want you to leave " you sobbed even harder so he hugged you and gave you the time to let it all out, he could feel your heart thumping in your chest and he knew this thing has been building up from quite some time now. You both had your insecurities and he wanted to be there for you the way you have been there for him.

"Princess I just need you to know and understand that I'm not going to leave, I'd always need you more than you could ever need me" you pulled away to look at him as he said that. You didn't know why would a god like him would ever need you but you liked the sound of that, mainly because of the look on his face.

"Come here sweet thing" he cupped your cheeks again to kiss your forehead and then he took you to the bed, perhaps cuddles would make you feel better. For once he was the one being the bigger spoon here, he made you lay down on his chest and you held onto him as tightly as you could.

"I was just watching you and Melissa on the tv or should I say Meloki and it just bothered me alot" you mumbled so he laid you down on the bed and turned towards you so he could look at you while talking, he laid sideways on his arm and used those fingers of his to caress your scalp while the other hand wrapped around waist and you felt them running up and down on your back

"Meloki? What is that? An ailment of some sort?" you chuckled as he said that

"It's just not her.. I kept thinking about all those gorgeous people at the gala and I just wanted to be there with you..but at the same time I know I'd never fit in"

"Not fit in? My sweetheart you'd not only fit in but stand out between those shallow dimwits, they are just a bunch of buffoons anyways" you giggled as he said that.

"You're so cute" you scooted closer to him and placed your head between the crook of his neck, your arm curled around his slender waist,

"Someday we will tell this whole planet of our truth and it would be glorious"

"It will be glorious" you said excitedly

"Are you feeling better?"

"Mmmhmmm now that you're here I'm Okay..are you gonna stay?"

"Absolutely, besides Thor is out galavanting with his own mortal"

You pulled away to look at him as he said that.

"Is she the same girl he fell for when he came here?"

"That would be her"

"Ahhhh that's nice..ohhhh your parents are going to kill you both"

"Not me, I'm no Asgardian any longer" he chuckled so you kissed him again. He was so adorable.

"Ummmm I have to tell you something..my mother is trying to set me up with this doctor guy, he's the son of my stepfather's friend " he pulled away slightly to look at you.

"I don't like the sound of that"

"Trust me, me neither, but he's going to be here for two days so I'm just gonna meet him and show him around the city"

"What happened to the don't see other people pact?" He pouted so you pecked on his lips again.

"I'm not going to see him, I'm just going to be a fancy tour guide"

"Uhhuhh but what if he sweeps you off your feet?"

"He can compete but he's never winning against thisssss right here" you pointed towards his heart so he smiled "Mr Loki there are no men like you"

He chuckled before he got on top of you and kissed you, he hated the idea of you going out with this guy he knew nothing about but he couldn't have stopped you either, your mother wanted you to see him and you couldn't have denied, besides from what he had heard your mother hated him so it wasn't really wise to tell her about you two just yet.

"Lokiiiii" you moaned into his mouth so he hummed.

"I have your shirt on"

"You think I didn't notice?"

"Mmhmmm did you notice that I am not wearing much underneath it?" He stopped kissing you and looked at you intently, of course he noticed, you just had your underwear on but he didn't want to say anything that would make you feel uncomfortable.

"I did"

He leaned into you and kissed you again while you pulled his shirt out of the confinement of his pants before you unbuttoned it slowly, he moaned into your mouth as your fingernails caressed his bare skin,

"It amazes me how you are so unaware of your good looks" you whispered in his ear and he let out a nervous laughter, kissing down from your jawline his lips trailed over your collarbone slowly, every inch of your skin felt tingling with anticipation of what was about to happen or how far you both were going to take this.

He shifted on top of you, situating his knees on either side of your waist to support his weight.

"If you're ever burdened by those tormenting misconceptions regarding yourself again just remember that no matter where I am, your thoughts are all I carry in my head" your eyes teared up as he said that.

"Mmmmhmmm really?"

"I couldn't stop thinking about you little one, i just wanted to come back here and love you like this" you gulped as he said that, your fingers curled around his neck and you pulled him closer to you to kiss him passionately,

He wanted to stay patient but how could he when you touched him and kissed him so desperately, he could feel the heat radiating off your body, he never knew that he'd ever come to crave the feeling of a woman's warm body underneath him, he wanted to get burned by the heat you were radiating, the energy that felt torturous in other situations only gave him pleasure at the moment.

His hands sneaked under the shirt you were wearing and you let out a loud moan as his fingers trailed over your erect nipples,

"Looo..gosh babyyyy" you whined and bit on your lips as he gave them a little squeeze,

"I have thought about this a countless times since we have met" he mumbled softly.

"You did?"

"Mmmhmm especially when we were separated, your thoughts were the only thing keeping me sane at nights, in every possible way" he whispered in your ear before he sucked on your neck, you wrapped your legs around his waist , the feeling of his cock rubbing against your core was almost too much to take, your body felt shaky, you have never been the subject of such eroticism before, you only read about it and saw the sweltering passion in movies but now you knew how it felt to be touched so sensually by man you were actually in love with.

"Gossshhh Loki…oh goddd"

You cried out his name as he gyrated his hips into your core, your hand gripped his bicep to feel a sense of security because even though you were on the bed you felt as if you'd fall down even lower and deeper into the grounds, it felt like a trance that you were afraid to break out of.

He grabbed the collar of your shirt between his fists and ripped them apart in one quick motion, breaking all the buttons at once, the subtle flaunt of the inhumane strength only added to your arousal, the things he could do to you and with you and the things you'd allow him to do to you were infinite in number. You'd do anything for him as long as he'd continue to rub against you like this .

He allowed the shredded fabric to stay on your body but your breasts were visible to him now, his cock had gotten so hard that he feared he'd come almost instantly.

"Norns you're beautiful, so beautiful, it's taking everything in me to not claim you as my own" he whispered so you cupped his cheeks,

"I'm all yours i promise..i promise" he kissed you feverishly before he grabbed your hips and aided them to match his own movements,

"You are mine darling and I'll never let you go, never"

"Yessss godd yess stay with me, be with me, all of you..with me, I need it lo, I need it"

Your voice trembled as you spoke, words barely audible but he heard them when you whispered everything in his ears, the day he had met you he felt so strangely connected to you and with time he had only fallen in love with every little thing about you that made you so completely you.

"Lokiii I'm gonna…oh wowww" you moaned his name and he couldn't take his eyes off your face, the dimly lit room made the moment even more perfect. He could see you, touch you, you were half naked underneath him but there was still a sense of mystery.

"I know, i know love, let go, cum with me"

You didn't need anything else, it worked like a charm, a trigger, him asking you to cum in that deep husky breathy voice of his was the only push you needed, the hold of your legs around him tightened and your body convulsed underneath him, if he wasn't holding onto you so fiercely your body would have thrashed uncontrollably, maybe someday he could watch you do just that..

You lifted your hips up and gyrated against him in the wake of your high, that made him combust too and it was glorious in every way, he had sex a million times before but he had never been so pleased like this, it wasn't the orgasm itself but the woman who was pleasing him beyond belief.

He placed his head down on your breasts to calm down, your fingers scratched his scalp gently, both of your bodies felt utterly spent.

After a few minutes he laid down next to you so he wasn't crushing you underneath his weight. You turned towards him and gave him a smile which he returned immediately.

"So now we are friends who kiss sometimes, don't see other people and do Thattttt" he chuckled as you said that

"Princess at this point it's safe to say that we are friends who are also lovers"

"I love being your lover"

"So do I"

You kissed him lovingly before you got off the bed to clean yourself up but he was too relaxed to even move a muscle so he used a charm to take care of the mess he had caused in his pants, when you came back from the bathroom he was in a fresh pair of pants.

You didn't remember much after that because as soon as you got back to the bed, he spooned into you like a baby and it merely took a minute for you two to fall asleep.

He woke you up around five in the morning because he knew Thor would be there to take him back to the tower and he wanted to spend some time with you before he would leave.

You kissed him again and you kissed him in a manner that would keep him obsessing over it for the rest of the day

"Don't fall in love with this healer"

"And if I do?" You mumbled teasingly

"I would just have to murder him I'm afraid"

You giggled at the response. He did enjoy stabbing bad people. You fixed the collar of his shirt and his hair seemed all poofy so you made him sit down at the edge of the bed while you brushed them with a comb.

"You have the softest hair lo..such a pretty baby you are" he giggled at the comment. God you loved him.

You missed him as soon as he was gone and now you had to worry about meeting this guy after work, your mother had given you his phone number so you called him, you didn't understand why he wasn't the one to call you since he was visiting. Just the phone call was enough of an indication that you weren't going to get along with this man. He sounded arrogant

"I'm sorry I'm late" you apologized as you spotted him at the restaurant, your mom had mailed a picture of him to you so it was easier to recognise.

"It's fine I guess, I'm used to such tardiness" he smiled but you could tell he was annoyed, you didn't miss the sarcasm in his tone.

"Ummm okay actually I don't think I got your name yet, my mom told me everything except your name, I'm y/n by the way" you raised your hand forward so he looked at it for a few seconds before he shook it.

"Hello y/n, my name is Doctor Stephen Strange"

👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

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[intoanotherworld23]

Pick Your Battles XII

Pairing: Reader x Bradley Bradshaw

Warnings: None

Summary: Bradley broke your heart when he accused you of betraying him, and you haven’t seen or spoken to him since. Until you are both called back to Top Gun to help with a dangerous mission that nobody’s ever attempted before

I do not own any rights to the characters or movie this is just purely for reading entertainment. Hearts, reblogs, and comments are encouraged and appreciated! If you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know! Thank you so much guys and enjoy! XOXO

Part 11

Check out my other works on my Hall Of Hunks

The next day literally dragged on for what felt like days. Both Jake and Bradley constantly looking over at you, but neither one of them saying a word. Of course you didn’t give neither of them so much as a smile.

It wasn’t a good day of training either. Nobody was communicating with each other, and they weren’t acting like a team. Maverick and Admiral Simpson were both disappointed and frustrated. The mission was only a couple weeks away, and everyone still wasn’t learning.

Admiral Simpson was also getting on you about choosing a team leader for this mission. He suggested Jake, but you argued that he would get his entire team killed if he led the mission. It was like you were stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Today though you were completely distracted, and your head was in the clouds. Right now you couldn’t think or make any type of decision. You felt like you needed to escape from here.

Ever since that night going on your somewhat date with Jake, and running into Bradley. Only to hear the truth, and both men wanting you to choose them. It was hard and that’s why you decided to go home alone. Bradley being kind enough to drive you home.

You didn’t kiss you didn’t hug. You just said your goodbyes, and laid in bed until it was time to get up. Mind going crazy over everything that’s been happening, and wondering what you should do.

Standing next to Maverick as you watched the pilots strolling in to take their seats. Pete asking you if you were okay, and of course you lied not wanting to burn his ears off with everything that’s been going on.

Admiral Simpson and Solomon walked in with Simpson taking a seat in the back, and Solomon walking up to the podium with a stoic look on his face.

“Good morning pilots.” Warlock greeted everyone. “The mission will be operational earlier than expected. The new shipment will be delivered within about ten days time. As a result your mission has been moved up one week.”

Everyone including Maverick looked nervous hearing this news. It was unexpected and quite honestly terrified the pilots.

“But sir nobody has successfully flown a low level course.” Coyote spoke.

“You’ve been ordered to move on.” He responded complete silence filling the room.

Looking across the room you saw that Bradley was already staring at you. You could tell by the look on his face that he was worried. Instinctively you cracked a smile for him in reassurance. He mimicked you as you turned away to look back at Warlock.

“Captain.” He signaled to Maverick who now stood in his place placing his hands on the podium.

“We have one week left to focus on the most dangerous part of the mission. It’s a pop up strike with a steep dive requiring nothing less than two miracles.” A heavy sigh leaving your lips. “We need to focus on this mission, and you need to listen to every instruction that is given to you.”

Maverick looked to you to speak now making you step forward clearing your throat. Your mouth so dry it was like the Sahara desert.

“Two pairs of F-18s will fly in a welded wing formation.” All eyes now focused on you. “Team work. Precise coordination of these aircraft are essential to this missions success and your survival.”

“As you have read this plant rests between two mountains.” Pointing to the screen behind you showing a simulation of what it’s going to look like. “On the final approach you’ll invert directly into a steep dive. This allows you to maintain the lowest possible altitude, and the only possible attack angle.”

Looking at the pilots expression you could see them all twitching and fidgeting in their seats. They tried to put on brave faces, but you saw the fear behind their eyes.

“Your target is an impact point less than three meters wide. The two seat aircraft will paint the target with a laser bulls eyes. The first pair will breach the reactor by dropping a laser guided bomb on an exposed ventilation hatch. This will create an opening for the second pair.”

“That’s miracle number one.” Maverick interrupted before you could say anything more.

Some shook their heads in disbelief, and others looked around at the other pilots making sure they heard all this correctly. It sounded easier than it was going to be.

“The second team will deliver a kill shot and destroy the target.” You finished as Bradley gave you a encouraging smile.

“That’s miracle number two.” Maverick raised two fingers this time. “If either team misses the target.”

Looking over at Maverick who had a very serious expression.

“The mission is a failure.” Bowing your head down to the thought of them failing or losing their lives because of this mission.

“The mountain is a very steep high- G climb out to avoid hitting this mountain.”

“A steep climb at that speed your pulling at least 8 G’s.” Jake spoke up saying what everyone else was thinking.

“9 minimum.” Maverick responded.

“Has anyone actually ever achieved that?” Jake sounded skeptical.

“I did.” Maverick sounded proud of his achievement.

You remember that day very clearly too. Maverick pushed 10 G’s, and pissed off almost every Admiral that was watching. Laughing to yourself as the cursed mutters in the room, while some of them were chuckling at Mavericks bold action.

“To survive this mission you will pull beyond that. Even if it means bending your air frame.”

Looking over to see Admiral Simpson closing his eyes, and shaking his head at Mavericks words. You knew Simpson wanted this mission to be as clean as possible, but with Mavericks reputation you knew he’d tell them to push their limits.

“You’ll be pulling so hard you’ll weigh close to two thousand pounds. Your skull crushing your spine. Your lungs imploding like an elephant is sitting on your chest. Fighting with everything you have just to keep from blacking out.”

You could feel a lump forming in your throat at the thought of Bradley struggling in the jet. Imaging the worst case scenario. The last thing you would want is for that to happen to him, and Bradley loses control and crashes.

“And this is where you’ll be at your most vulnerable. This is what we’re calling coffin corner.” Bob looked like he was either going to throw up or pass out.

“Assuming you avoid crashing into this mountain you’ll climb straight up into enemy radar while losing all of your air speed.” Everyone now focused on the screen as they showed another video demonstration.

“Within seconds you will be fired upon by enemy SAM’s.” Those were powerful missiles and everyone else knew that too.

This was a mission that couldn’t go wrong. They don’t want to fail, but they also didn’t want to lose any pilots. That’s why they wanted the best of the best. Pilots that they felt could achieve this and survive.

“This is gonna take you and your aircraft to its breaking point.” Mavericks tone was almost like a warning.

“Sir is this even possible?” Natasha spoke up this time.

“The answer to that will be up to the pilot in the box.”

Maverick was speaking to everyone, but his words were meant more for Bradley. The pair stared at each other for a few seconds like they were having some sort of silent conversation. Maverick didn’t want to lose Bradley either, and wanted him to know how serious this was.

“We have created a flight path just like the one for the mission. You will learn this path, you will think about this path even in your sleep.” You said as confidently as you could. “First pair will be Coyote as lead pilot, and Phoenix and Bob second.”

The three pilots nodded as they were dismissed by Maverick. Watching as they were escorted to where they needed to go.

Everyone else left the room to listen in on what was going on. Jake tried to remain in the room as long as he could, but when he saw that Bradley wasn’t moving he gave up, and headed towards the door. Bradley remained in his seat as you stood there, and waited until the room was empty.

Nothing was said between the two of you. Picking at the skin around your nails out of habit. While Bradley just watched you curiously like he wanted you to speak first. Both of you had so much to say, but didn’t know where to start.

“How are you?” Bradley asked as he stood up.

“As good as one can be.” Giving him a pathetic smile. “You?”

Not realizing that the two of you were each stepping towards the other closer and closer. Like some type of magnetic force was pulling you to him.

“As good as one can be.” Repeating your words making you smile.

“How you feeling after that little speech?” Crossing your arms across your chest as you two now stood practically in front of the other.

“Nervous as hell.” Answering honestly as he wiped the palms of his hands against his pants. “Do you think we can honestly pull this off?”

“Yeah I think with the right pilots we can.” Bradley actually valued your opinion on certain things.

“Who do you think should be leading this mission?” It was a question you were hoping to avoid with him.

“Bradley come on.” Scoffing as you turned away from him.

“No seriously I want to hear who you think should be leading this mission.” Softly grabbing your hand so you looked back at him.

“Honestly.” Taking a deep breath before you answered. “None of you.”

That answer seemed to shock Bradley as he didn’t say anything and just looked at your face. It was the honest truth, and quite frankly you didn’t want him leading the mission anyway. He meant too much for you to lose.

“None of you are really ready for this mission, and they need someone who can lead it successfully.” Shrugging your shoulders at him as you further explained.

“You’re right.” Finally speaking. “You’re totally right.”

“It’s not that I don’t think you can’t do it.”

“I know what you mean. It’s what you and Maverick have been telling me from the start.” Hearing him mention Mavericks name surprised given how he felt about him. “I can’t play it safe.”

“You’re a good pilot Bradley.” Placing a hand on his shoulder as he weakly smiled.

“So are you.” Taking your hand from his shoulder and holding it in his hand his thumb tenderly rubbing the skin back and forth.

Bradley’s gaze lingering on your face as you both smiled at each other with adoration. Neither one of you doing or saying anything, but just enjoying each others presence. It was like a roller coaster with you two. Constant ups and downs, and you didn’t know when it was going to end.

“We should probably be there with everyone else.” You spoke up as you dropped your hand from his.

“Yeah right.” He stuttered as you walked in front of him Bradley placing a soft touch on your back as he followed right behind you.

Once you got into the room everyone looked stressed and terrified. Some of them had their head in their hands, and others mouths open wide. You and Bradley looked at each other confused to what was going on. Whatever happened it wasn’t good.

“Where the hell have you guys been?” Payback exclaimed everyone turning towards you both. “You guys just missed it.”

“What happened?” Asking as you walked away from Bradley.

“Coyote went into G lock and Phoenix and Bob crashed.” It was like the air left your lungs and all you heard was crash.

“What?” Bradley shouted in disbelief.

You could hear muffled voices but you had no idea what they were saying. There was a ringing in your ear as you stood there like a deer caught in the headlights.

Staring at him wide eyed saying nothing your legs moved before your mouth could say anything. Running out of the room as quickly as you could before you burst into tears. Those same feelings and fear were coming back, and you couldn’t handle something like this happening to you again.

Running into an empty room as you sat down trying to catch your breath. Your breathing was shallow and erratic, and you felt that same anxiety before you had a panic attack. The room was getting smaller, and it was getting much harder to breathe. Like at any moment you could burst into tears.

Bradley quickly followed behind you hearing you as he ran down the hall, and quickly came into the room. The sight before him nearly broke his heart.

He took one look at you, and sat right next to you. An arm wrapped around you while he held your hands. Leaning your head against his shoulder as he tried to help control you. Whispering comforting things in your ear.

“It’s okay just breathe in through your nose, and out of your mouth.” His chin resting on top of your head. “Breathe with me baby.”

Trying to get you to follow his breathing patterns in a slow and easy pace. Hoping that his calm presence would help, and would make you feel better. He hated to see you like this, and wishes he could take all this pain you felt away from you.

“That’s it. Just breathe like that for me.” He whispered once he felt your breathing slowing down. “That’s a good girl.”

Closing your eyes as you suddenly felt exhausted. Pressing yourself deeper into Bradley’s body loving how warm and safe he felt. Bradley wasn’t going to let you go either. He wanted to hold you in his arms for as long as he could.

“Better?” He asked looking at your face.

“Yeah. Thank you.” Weakly smiling at him as you pressed your face into his shoulder. “It’s been so long since that’s happened.”

“I understand.”

The doors came bursting open as a worried Maverick came into the room. Looking at the way Bradley was holding you and seeing the expression you had on your face he knew what happened.

“Are they okay?” Bradley asked.

“There gonna keep them both in the hospital over night for observation. But there gonna be okay.” A sigh of relief left your lips hearing that news.

“That’s good.” He responded not moving an inch.

“It was a close one.” Mavericks voice cracking at the thought of how much worse it could’ve been.

“I’ve never lost a wingman.”

“You’re lucky. Fly long enough and it’ll happen. There will be others.”

“Easy for you to say.” Bradley letting go of you to stand up now. “No wife. No kids. Nobody to mourn you when you burn in.”

“Bradley.” Whispering for him to stop knowing this wasn’t the time or place.

“Go home.” Maverick responded not really in the mood to have this discussion. “Just get some sleep.”

“Why did you pull my papers at the academy?” Bradley asked Maverick before he could walk out the door. “Why did you stand in my way?”

“You weren’t ready.” Maverick kept his voice low and soft.

“Ready for what? To fly like you.” Bradley was raising his voice as he stood face to face with Maverick now.

“No ready to forget the books and trust your instincts. Don’t think just do. You think up there your dead. Believe me.”

“Well my dad believed in you.” Bradley said with such malice it even shocked you. “I’m not gonna make the same mistake.”

As the two of them stared at each other you could tell Maverick was affected by his words. Standing up this time as you wanted to say something, but it was between the two of them. They needed to be work this out themselves.

Before anything else could be spoke the door opened, and Admiral Solomon and Simpson were standing there with weird looks on their faces. Thinking they were there to lecture Maverick, but there focus was on you.

“Y/N.” Warlock waving you over both Maverick and Bradley watching you.

“What is it?” Asking when they shut the door behind you.

“Your fathers gone.”

[oleskyfm]

Rolled credits on Mass Effect (2007) with some minor mods and the aid of the Legendary Edition. My first playthrough since 2016. This was my favorite of the series, and I've got to go through 2 and 3 now to affirm this, but I'm pretty sure it still is. Some assorted #thots:

My playthrough clocked in at exactly 23 hours according to my final save. Lean and mean.. what a marvel! I don't think RPGs have to be any length, long or short - what matters is the pacing. (Fallout 1 can be comfortably beaten in ~15 hours, New Vegas can take anywhere from 10-60 - both are triumphs.)

ME is the last game Bioware put out before being moved under the banner of EA. I thought about this observation I saw once, made in the furor of ME3's launch, where people compared the credits of each game and noted that very little of the team that did 1 went on to do 2, and even less of 3, etc. Today, pretty much none of those people work at Bioware anymore in the wake of Veilguard and Anthem and EA's layoffs. It remains to be seen whether or not the next Mass Effect - of which we know very little of and is still in pre-production despite being announced in 2020 - will ever see the light of day.

ME is one of the last Bioware games to fit into their comfortable, classic formula and structure. This is still so far and away from what they'd established for themselves as one of the forebearers of popular western RPGs.. and yet ME2 and ME3 still manage to narrow the scope down even further, trim away even more and dilute the games into being an action game first, RPG second. ME1 is flawed and compromised in many of its systems, whether that's inventory management or the exploration of its worlds and the Mako.. but I don't think the answer was to do away with these systems entirely. I'll save the thoughts on 2 for when I'm done with that game - maybe a new playthrough after almost a decade away from it will give me different perspective, anyway.

I played this game when it came out in 2007 as a punk-ass 11 year old who didn't know dirt. I come back to it as a miserable 28 year old who knows a little more. Pretty funny the difference nearly two decades can make.. this game was developed and put out in the Bush era, the War on Terror, where Jack Bauer from 24 was commonly referenced in developer interviews as a touchstone and man does it show sometimes.

The implementation of the conversation wheel here is just as frustrating as it was back then, if not more. I tried to pick more renegade options than I usually did only to be hit with Shepard saying something wildly out of pocket because the little three-word choice did not convey what the actual line was gonna be at all. Reading pre-release interviews of this game with developers suggested that they viewed the wheel as a cinematic marvel - finally! You won't have to read a bunch of text, you can just sit back and enjoy the good stuff.. or so the intended sentiment was hoped to be. Big misfire. It's bad in Cyberpunk, it's worse in Fallout 4.. Dragon Age got a little closer, if only because they eschewed 'paragon/renegade' with tone indicators - but I can't help but grouse and groan and just wish they'd put the full line of dialogue there for you to savor it. I think developers could stand to have more confidence in their players with this stuff and we didn't have to lose as much as we did all in the pursuit of streamlining things.

It's a shame how little you really get to do much of anything with your companions. It dawned on me this time around that the most common form of squad banter - akin to the dialogue you'd hear just wandering around with your party in Dragon Age - is relegated to small chats in the elevator on the Citadel. Ashley and Kaiden are the only two you can regularly check in on after each mission both for a little more of their personal story as well as their thoughts on the actual mission. All 'loyalty/companion/personal' quests are paper-thin and over in less than five minutes, and most of your party has nothing new to say by the halfway mark of the game. Garrus and Tali get by surely on the strength of their vibes and aura and knowledge of where they go in the next two games.. because there is so little to grasp onto in this game for them. Poor Tali has it worst of all - each companion offers a little window into the setting, smoothly (mostly) delivering exposition for some part of the universe alongside their own flavor. Tali has to pull double-duty serving as the sole Quarian of this game + its representation AND a lot about the Geth and has precious little left for herself.

On a similar note.. you really feel the lack of proper interpersonal relations between the crew - it exists, but it's scant, clumsy, and not equal. It's fun seeing your party gather around for a debrief after each mission, but again - with few exceptions, only Ashley, Kaidan, and Liara ever have anything to say in these moments. Input from your crew is mostly just flavor and one-line bark/reacts in conversations - interjections that don't change anything..

Liara is on you almost immediately, it's hilarious. Romance in this series is ........ well ..... I should go.

I'm willing to put my life on the line for this one. Ashley is NOT that bad. There's definitely some clunky and straight up bad lines she's given, but she actually manages to have something resembling an arc in this game, has just as great of a VA as the rest of the companions, offers an interesting perspective and counterbalance that you can begin to shift more towards your way if you see fit .. yes, she's prejudiced - so is almost every other companion, barring Kaidan and Liara. She offers friction, something I find vital and enjoyable in a good RPG party. .. That said, I sacrificed her on Virmire this time because I usually sacrificed Kaidan and, frankly, I don't enjoy what they do with her in 2 and especially 3. It's not your fault, Ash. I like your concept art. If you were bi, I might actually have to flip a coin whether or not I go for Liara or you.

The music.. oh, the music. The music is so, so so good.

Despite it all... regrettably.. I have such a fondness for this setting. This world. These characters.

[mollywog]

A list of people Katniss Prim’s-the-only-person-in-the-world-I'm-certain-I-love Everdeen loves (in the order mentioned in the text)

Prim

How could I leave Prim, who is the only person in the world I'm certain I love?

Rue

Sing. My throat is tight with tears, hoarse from smoke and fatigue. But if this is Prim's, I mean, Rue's last request, I have to at least try. The song that comes to me is a simple lullaby, one we sing fretful, hungry babies to sleep with. It's old, very old I think. Made up long ago in our hills. What my music teacher calls a mountain air. But the words are easy and soothing, promising tomorrow will be more hopeful than this awful piece of time we call today.

[proceeds to sing a song]

The final lines are barely audible.

Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true

Here is the place where I love you.

Peeta

It's like being home again, when they bring in the hopelessly mangled person from the mine explosion, or the woman in her third day of labor, or the famished child struggling against pneumonia and my mother and Prim, they wear that same look on their faces. Now is the time to run away to the woods, to hide in the trees until the patient is long gone and in another part of the Seam the hammers make the coffin.

But I'm held here both by the hovercraft walls and the same force that holds the loved ones of the dying. How often I've seen them, ringed around our kitchen table and I thought, Why don't they leave? Why do they stay to watch?

And now I know. It's because you have no choice.

* There are other instances- just sighting the first

Haymitch

I turn and see them all waiting in a big chamber at the end of the hall - Effie, Haymitch, and Cinna. My feet take off without hesitation. Maybe a victor should show more restraint, more superiority, especially when she knows this will be on tape, but I don't care. I run for them and surprise even myself when I launch into Haymitch's arms first. When he whispers in my ear, "Nice job, sweetheart," it doesn't sound sarcastic.

Additional Notes:

Katniss doesn’t talk about feeling a sense of debt to Haymitch, even though he continually helps keep her alive. This feels significant, and I choose to believe it’s because she considers him family

Haymitch is included in the running away from D12 scheme because she can’t leave him

After the bombing in D13 and failed propo she only wants to be comforted by Haymitch “because he loves Peeta, too.”

Gale

"I've heard worse," she says. "You've seen how people are, when someone they love is in pain."

Someone they love. The words numb my tongue as if it's been packed in snow coat.

Of course, I love Gale. But what kind of love does she mean? What do I mean when I say Ilove Gale? I don't know. I did kiss him last night, in a moment when my emotions were running so high. But I'm sure he doesn't remember it. Does he? I hope not. If he does, everything will just get more complicated and I really can't think about kissing when I've got a rebellion to incite. I give my head a little shake to clear it.

Madge

I nod and go straight to my room. I sit on the bed, knowing I will never write those letters. They will be like the speech I tried to write to honor Rue and Thresh in District 11. Things seemed clear in my head and even when I talked before the crowd, but the words never came out of the pen right. Besides, they were meant to go with embraces and kisses and a stroke of Prim's hair, a caress of Gale's face, a squeeze of Madge's hand. They cannot be delivered with a wooden box containing my cold, stiff body.

Too heartsick to cry, all I want is to curl up on the bed and sleep until we arrive in the Capitol tomorrow morning. But I have a mission. No, it's more than a mission. It's my dying wish. Keep Peeta alive. And as unlikely as it seems that I can achieve it in the face of the Capitol's anger, it's important that I be at the top of my game. This won't happen if I'm mourning for everyone I love back home. Let them go, I tell myself. Say good-bye and forget them. I do my best, thinking of them one by one, releasing them like birds from the protective cages inside me, locking the doors against their return.

Honorable Mention

(She at minimum cares about and feels responsible for these people - love could be implied.)

Mrs. Everdeen - Katniss loves Prim, Prim loves their mother, Katniss at minimum feels responsible for her mother if only for her sisters sake

The Hawthornes - She provided for their family from the woods after Gale starts work in the mines. They are included as part of her escape plan in CF. She gets Hazelle the job working for Haymitch when times are lean.

Finnick and Johanna - Come on! She doesn’t say as much, but she loves them, right?

District 12 - she altered the Lady the Goat story to protect people back home. Also Greasy Sae.

Cinna

Effie

Please add your thoughts!

* Inspired by this question

[black-arcana]

LACUNA COIL Announces 'Sleepless Empire' Album, Shares New Single 'Oxygen'

Italian metal titans LACUNA COIL will release their tenth studio album, "Sleepless Empire" — their first collection of new songs since 2019's "Black Anima" — on February 14th, 2025 via Century Media Records. The official music video for the LP's latest single, "Oxygen", filmed in Latina and directed by Daniele Tofani, that shows singer Cristina Scabbia in the lead role, will make its online debut today at 9 a.m. PDT / 12 p.m. (noon) EDT.

Scabbia commented on the track and her experience filming the video: "'Oxygen' is a powerful exploration of emotional struggle and inner conflict. The lyrics convey a sense of drowning in a toxic environment, both literally (in the video) and metaphorically, where attempts at salvation, represented by 'oxygen' are somehow futile. This song encapsulates the feeling of struggling to break free from what holds us down, when the journey is filled with difficulty. It's a raw anthem of vulnerability, resilience, and the courage to face what seems insurmountable. Having to stay in the water for so many hours during the video shoot was cathartic for me, the realization that the pleasant sensation of floating could in an instant become dangerous and deadly if I wasn't careful was very fitting with the song's theme."

Inspiration to create "Sleepless Empire" came during the sessions for "Comalies XX" (2022),the acclaimed remake of LACUNA COIL's breakthrough third record "Comalies". Writing and recording took place in northern Italy between Milano (the band's hometown) and Como, where SPVN Studios are located. As with their previous albums, production was done in house with Marco "Maki" Coti Zelati at the helm, and artwork was hand curated by the talented Italian artist Roberto Toderico. Two other very special talents enrich the album, namely the guest vocalists: LAMB OF GOD's Randy Blythe on the song "Hosting The Shadow" and NEW YEARS DAY's Ash Costello on "In The Mean Time".

As a token of the band's love for the gaming world (which we've seen in past endeavors such as their card game "Horns Up" and their collaboration with Zombicide for which they wrote the track "Never Dawn"),the band have created an oracle "game" to be played with custom made dice available only in the box set version of "Sleepless Empire".

The new album is comprised of 11 tracks; each one is a richly textured soundtrack to a specific time and place. With "Sleepless Empire", that place is dark, cinematic, and unmistakably true to the unique characteristics that have given LACUNA COIL such a celebrated entry in the annals of heavy music.

The band shares: "'Sleepless Empire' captures, through our eyes, the chaos of a generation trapped in a digital world that never stops, where social media consumes identity and every day pushes us one step closer to becoming soulless zombies. We find ourselves in between, having witnessed a full analogic world and the modern one, confronting the evolution and searching for a true meaning of it all. Throughout every song, the journey is an undercurrent of rebellion, a desperate cry to reclaim oneself in an era that seems to have lost its sense of time and reality."

"Sleepless Empire" track listing. 01. The Siege. 02. Oxygen. 03. Scarecrow. 04. Gravity. 05. I Wish You Were Dead. 06. Hosting The Shadow (feat. Randy Blythe). 07. In Nomine Patris. 08. Sleepless Empire. 09. Sleep Paralysis. 10. In The Mean Time (feat. Ash Costello). 11. Never Dawn

Later this month, LACUNA COIL will embark on a tour of U.K. and Ireland with Finland's BLIND CHANNEL. Tickets are available here.

LACUNA COIL played its first concert with the band's new touring guitarist — whose name has not yet been disclosed — on August 4 at the Rockstadt Extreme Fest in Râșnov, Romania.

This past June, LACUNA COIL announced the departure of guitarist Diego Cavallotti.

Cavallotti, who joined LACUNA COIL in 2016, initially as a fill-in guitarist following the exit of Marco "Maus" Biazzi, later said in a social media post that "this decision is not the result of my dissatisfaction or desire to explore new opportunities."

When LACUNA COIL announced Cavallotti's departure on June 17, the band wrote in a statement: "As we step into a new cycle, writing and recording our next album, we are parting ways with Diego 'DD' Cavallotti. We thank him for the many unforgettable moments shared over the years and wish him the best of luck in his future endeavours."

All future live plans remain unchanged and the new songs are taking form, we can't wait to share them with our fans."

LACUNA COIL recently completed the "Ignite The Fire" U.S. tour with support from NEW YEARS DAY and OCEANS OF SLUMBER.

"Comalies XX" was made available on October 14, 2022 via Century Media Records.

LACUNA COIL celebrated the 20th anniversary of "Comalies", by performing it in its entirety at a one-night-only concert on October 15, 2022 at Fabrique in Milano.

"Comalies" was originally released on October 29, 2002 through Century Media Records. The LP, which featured the band's breakthrough single "Heaven's A Lie", has reportedly gone on to sell over 300,000 copies in the United States alone.

Photo credit: Cunene

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

Love Song for a Vampire Pt. 32

Pairing(s): Edward Cullen x Wolf!Reader, Jacob Black x OC!Witch

Warnings:none

Words:2144

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6  Part 7  Part 8  Part 9  Part 10  Part 11  Part 12  Part 13  Part 14  Part 15  Part 16  Part 17  Part 18  Part 19  Part 20  Part 21  Part 22  Part 23  Part 24  Part 25  Part 26  Part 27  Part 28  Part 29  Part 30  Part 31  Part 33  Part 34  Part 35  Part 36  Part 37  Part 38  Part 39  Part 40(series finale) 

Bright and early, you leave your house to check on Evita. Sam had told you making just one of those wards had drained her of all energy. Just one. And there was so many more she needed to make in order to protect the borders of La Push and Forks.

Evita sat out on Sam’s front porch, a mug in her hands that had ribbons of rising steam trailing from it. Her face was pale, too pale opposed to her usual tan complexion. But her eyes when they flick to you are still alive and observant. A hair band pushed away her tightly wound curls to show off the pale pink scars on her face. “Good morning (y/n).”

“Good morning. How are you feeling?” You ask and sit on the front steps, angling your body toward her since there was only one chair on the porch.

She sighs and leans back, her shoulders sagging. “It’s taking a lot longer to recover my energy. I was hoping I’d be able to make another ward today, but I don’t think I’ll be up for it.”

“Sam said you had a friend coming.”

With a hum, she nods. “Yes. But I don’t know when he’ll be here. He’s constantly on the move. Most of the time he doesn’t have cellular service.” Her fingers tap against her mug. “I didn’t know it would take that much out of me. I’m not the strongest witch out there, but I’m fairly competent. I’ve seen my mother make wards before but mainly for our home. Nothing for a large reach of land. Times like these I wish she was here or even Leti. Leti was the most talented of our whole family. That’s why Xiomara saw her as a threat.”

She really hadn’t had time to mourn her sister. Now she was far away from any kind of family and help. You admire her tenacity. How strong she was even though Evita couldn’t have been much older than you. You think of your parents and how relieved they were when they saw you last night. Constantly making them worry about your wellbeing. Not even being with Edward had soothed them. Was Evita’s mom equally worried about her young daughter all alone?

”By the way,” Evita takes a sip from her mug before she proceeds “who was that girl yesterday? I don’t think I was introduced to her before.”

You knew who she meant. “That was Bella Swan.”

One thick eyebrow arches in intrigue. “TheBella Swan?”

“The one and only.”

You catch the space of skin between her brows crease. “Interesting. In a room crowded with wolves, I sensed her above them all.”

“What do you mean?”

Evita pauses for a few breaths to mull her words over in her head. “Hmmm, I should I put this. . . People, whether they be human or something else all have an aura. In the state that overcomes me when I’m performing my craft, my ability to see them intensifies. And you said Edward had never been able to read her thoughts?”

Affirmatively you nod wondering what this was leading to.

“That kind of aura,well, many magic welders have one just like her’s.”

“You’re saying Bella is a witch?”

“She’d have to practice at it, but yes she does have the capability of being a witch.” Her drink depleted, Evita sets it down next to one of the legs of the deck chair. Fixedly she looks at you, shooting you unspoken words that you read loud and clear.

Pursing your lips, you lean back against the stair rail. “Can she learn fast?”

“Normally I would say no.” Admits Evita. “But it’s not that often a human is naturally immune to a vampire’s power.” Her fingers tighten around a small jar that hung off her neck, caged in silver wire and strung with rope. You remember her making it. It protected her thoughts from Edward and other prying minds. She'd made it when she found out Edward could read everyone's thoughts except for Bella's and now your own.

Letting out a small sigh, Evita picks her mug back up and stands. You follow suit. "I need to get my strength back as soon as possible." She taps the mug. "This tea helps. I've already had three cups of it."

"Is there anything the pack can do in the meantime?" You ask her.

Evita's face glows and with her free hand, she holds your hand for a moment. "Spend time with your vampire now that you have him. Take this opportunity to bond before chaos ensues."

While she had spoken lightly as it was meant to cheer you, you couldn't help the shadow of worry cast over you at her last words. Foreboding of times to come.

Evita was to wait for her friend to arrive before she even entertained the idea of training Bella. She was no teacher and wouldn't even know where to begin with such a daunting task. She said his name was Dieufel and he was older than Letizia by three years. Still relatively young, but Dieufel was extremely talented and had traveled around the world to gain knowledge of all the known magicks out there. Dieufel called Haiti his home and had been there the last time Evita heard from him. That was a while ago.

While Dieufel wasn't the only magic wielder Evita knew, she was much more familiar with him since Letizia had gone on a few trips with him through the years of their acquaintanceship. "After yesterday though, I realize we'll need more people on deck to make the other wards."

“We’ll get them. Carlisle and Jasper are already on the road to get more vampires on our side.” You assure her. “And Edward texted me this morning that Alice also left last night too.”

“I hope they find success.” Evita smiles.

You left so Evita could get more rest and head back down the road. When you got home, you planned on suggesting a day for your date. Even thinking about it made you smile like a fool. While you wished you could go out on your first date right then and there, you couldn’t. You had to finish your summer school work before you academically fail even more. Not even werewolves could escape school.

Passing by the Black house, you notice Bella’s car pulling into the gravel driveway. This was the most you’d ever seen of Bella. Even when the vampires and wolves had been training together.

She hops out of the driver’s side and waves to you.

You wave back and anxiously eye Jacob’s garage where he always was when wolf duties didn’t pull him away.

Did Jacob tell her about imprinting on Evita? You wish you’d gone to check on him first before Evita. Internally you curse yourself for being a bad friend.

“You and Jake hanging out today?” You ask her, doing your best to be polite.

“Actually I wanted to see how Evita was doing.” She rubs anxiously at her arm despite the weather not being chilly at all. “Yesterday was really intense.”

“I think Evita would appreciate it.” You smile. Would Bella be happy about potentially being a witch? It could be a burden for her, something else to remind her of how her life has been tossed around by the world Edward and you live in. She would never have been privy to it prior to her life in Forks. There had been no fear of actual vampires walking on the same streets she walked. “I just came back from there. I think she wanted to talk to you too.”

Relief smoothed out the nervous lines on her face and she really smiles.

It was unwise though for Jacob to be anywhere near Evita right now. Evita didn’t need another situation on her plate.

You open your mouth, prepared to offer to take her to Sam’s yourself, when Jacob pops out of the garage with his house keys in his hands. He froze when he finds you there standing right next to Bella. Being friends for over a decade, you knew each of Jacob’s facial expressions and what they meant. His was one of guilt. You didn’t want to admonish him in front of Bella in case he hadn’t told her yet. But you definitely didn’t want him to go to Sam’s, especially if the alpha wasn’t their to monitor him and Evita.

“You guys might have to postpone your visit though. Evita’s still pretty tired and was going back to sleep when I left.” You smoothly explain, regretting the lie when you saw Bella’s look of disappointment.

“Oh, okay. Guess we’ll do a rain check.” Bella nonetheless smiles at you and is about to go back to her car when Jacob cut in.

“It’ll only be for a few minutes.”

Uh oh. You were wondering when his adolescent wolf brain would kick in. “She was pretty exhausted Jake. Plus Sam’s not there right now.”

You were getting in the way of him and his mate and his stupid testosterone was making him act irrationally.

Jacob’s jaw ticked.

Overly aware of Bella being so close to him, you slowly side step closer to her in case he did explode. She didn’t know what was going on; why Jacob had suddenly turned feral.

“She’s okay Jake.” You don’t pull your eyes away from his. “Everything’s fine. Let her sleep. It’s no use going if she’s sleeping.”

You nudge Bella’s arm, indicating for her to shift behind you and start to slowly move to her car.

Don’t do anything stupid you idiot. You think to yourself, unable to shout it at him through pack telepathy.

“(y/n). . .” Bella whispers at your back. “What’s wrong with him?”

“Nothing’s wrong with him.” Well, if he wasn’t going to tell her now then you’d have to. “He’s just imprinted on Evita is all and is acting like a stupid male wolf.”

You saying it out loud snapped him of whatever stupor he had so quickly plummeted in.

“On Evita?” Bella breathes out shakily.

“Yes. And he’s acting irrationally because he doesn’t know how to deal with it.” You were tired of keeping the poor human in the dark. “Because he always wanted to imprint on you, Bella. But we don’t get the choice in that and we have to live with it and accommodate.”

Bella addresses Jacob “Is that why you didn’t tell me sooner? How long have you known?”

He glares at you for revealing everything to Bella when he wasn't ready. "Since the first day she got here."

"She doesn't know yet. It's best for her right now to focus on getting the wards up for protection. She doesn't need this imprinting mess impeding on her work." You remind him. "If you act like this in front of her, she'll definitely know something's up. So it's best if Jacob just stays away for the time being."

Now Bella knew Jacob had used her just to see Evita.

Chancing turning away from Jacob, you say to Bella in a softer tone "Evita really does want to meet you though. She said. . . She said you might be helpful to her."

The hurt on her face stalled for a moment. "Really?"

You nod. "If you feel like you need a wolf chaperone to go to Sam's, then I'd be happy to accompany you next time." While Bella hadn't shown any romantic attachment to Jacob (that you'd seen at least), you knew it might hurt losing another close person to imprinting.

You'd give her credit though as she took a deep breath and nods. "Thanks (y/n). I think I'll just go home for now. But can you call me tomorrow if Evita is ready?"

"Of course."

You and Jacob watch as she hastily drove off. Immediately Jacob verbally tore into you. Condemning you for telling her something that wasn't for you to tell. The news of his imprinting was something he should have announced when he was ready. But it was clear keeping this from Bella was the wrong choice. And you used that fact to snap back. He'd been the one who was inconsiderate to Bella's feelings. Of course this would be tough to tell her regardless.

By the end of it, both of you were trembling, your wolf threatening to come to the surface and snap actual deadly teeth against someone who had been one of your closest friends. For fear of an actual fight breaking out, you storm off to your house even though you wanted to go back and tussle with Jacob. You remind yourself how you were when you first imprinted on Edward. Such a confusing time but you'd found isolation the best way to come to terms with your new reality. Perhaps that was what Jacob needed too.

TAGLIST: @saltedcoffeescotch , @dangerouslittlefairy , @burn-crash-rqmance , @casedoina , @avadakadabra93 , @daryldixonstorm , @blue-aconite , @xanniestired666 , @esposadomd, @godinho11 , @arin-swear-rose , @alexizodd , @melaninsugarbaby , @lyeatoalinatoheaven , @ronwownsme , @itsmytimetoodream , @afro-hispwriter , @mutandis-extremis993 , @hxgemxscles , @nightly-polaris , @corrodedcoffins-slut , @ellesalazar , @itgetzweird08 , @crybabyatthediscooffandoms , @sassyandclassyx , @scarlet2007 , @theroyalbrownbarbie , @jennyamanda8 , @stevenandmarcslove , @biancaindaeyo , @loversjoy , @turningtoclown , @vixorell , @xxthackerybinxxx , @daredevilonmyheels , @dumbbitch-juice , @southern-bell-give-hell , @nat-the-gemini , @imdoingathingmom , @emmettcullenswife , @yoong1c0re , @daddykylokenobi , @minjix , @magical-spit , @krismdavis​ 

[freyjawriter24]

AO3 is down, so I'll have to post this there later and backdate it, but...

Today's 10th July, which means there's only 18 days left until Season 2 of Good Omens!

To commemorate this momentus point in the @gomenseveryday countdown, please enjoy the little fic below the cut...

August 2008: 11 years until Armageddon

Aziraphale was trying desperately not to think about it too much. He was failing, of course. But really, how could he be expected to just forget? This was, quite literally, the end of the world. And even if it was still eleven years away, well, that really wasn't long at all, if you thought about it. Which, despite his best efforts, Aziraphale certainly was.

He'd tried putting on some music to distract himself, but that had failed dismally, too. What a Wonderful World, Louis sang, and the angel couldn't help but picture it as a mourning song, covering everything Aziraphale would be heartbroken to lose when the war destroyed it all.

He'd quickly changed the record, but for some reason the next, usually upbeat track suddenly sounded sinister.

Everyday it's a-gettin' closer,

Goin' faster than a roller coaster...

Oh dear. Eleven years really wasn't much at all, was it? He wished Crowley were here. Why had he only agreed to meet with him the following morning? That was hours away. And in the meantime, he had to sit with memories of destruction and the echo of Buddy's words circling around in his head.

Everyday it's a-gettin' closer...

August 2009: 10 years until the Apocalypse

A decade left, now. Only a decade. Crowley had slept through more than one of those by accident, and now it was all the time they had remaining until either the Earth was annihilated or they, impossibly, miraculously, succeeded. Ten years.

You wouldn't think it, looking at him. Warlock Dowling, the Antichrist. It didn't feel real, watching the rise and fall of his chest as he slept. He was still so small. One year old, and so much potential held within him. He looked like any other human child.

Still, ten years. Just a drop in the ocean in Crowley's lifetime, but for a human – a human child in particular – that was aeons. They had time. Time to guide him, time to encourage him, time to carefully balance the good and bad impulses in him so that Hell would fail and Heaven would be denied their war. They could do this. They still had time.

August 2010: 9 years until the End of the World

"It's admirable, really," Michael mused, only half sincere.

"Naïve, is what it is," Gabriel grumbled. "And now we're getting yearly check-ins, as if anything at all is going to change."

Michael nodded sympathetically, and shuffled some paperwork on her desk. She wouldn't have minded Aziraphale's visits really – it often made for an entertaining change of pace, watching him attempt to make his busywork sound important – except that they always seemed to leave Gabriel in a bad mood.

"Well, at least you've got less than a decade left of that to go."

"Yes!" Gabriel said, brightening. "Only nine years left, and then war. What a delightful thought."

Michael smiled. "Glorious indeed."

August 2011: 8 years until the End Times

"I don't get it," Beelzebub muttered.

"He always did like going above and beyond," Dagon reasoned.

"Yeah, but yearly check-ins? It's just pointless. We know the child is going to be evil, he's the Antichrist, for Satan's sake. We don't need constant updates just to state the obvious. Certainly not every year."

Dagon shrugged. "I think he just likes showing off. Fair enough, really. He's been doing some outstanding work up there. It's only demonic that he come and gloat." The Lord of the Files rifled through a damp-looking cabinet, and pulled out a mouldy-looking folder. "Have you seen what he did with the global economy the other year? I'm thinking of sending him another commendation for that."

Beelzebub hadn't, but didn't want to let on in case Dagon launched into an explanation. "Why doesn't he come and give us presentations on that, then, rather than some snivelling child?"

Dagon raised an eyebrow. "Because you'd hate that too, and understand it even less. He's not stupid. Don't you remember the M25?"

Beelzebub groaned. "Okay, yeah, fair enough." There was silence for a moment, broken only by the steady drip of yet another broken pipe. Then: "Do you trust him, though?"

Dagon snorted. "No. Of course not."

"Good. Just checking."

"Like I said, he's doing it for his own benefit, not ours. Self-obsessed little prick, prancing his pet project in front of us every year. But at least it's only for another handful."

"Mmm. Suppose so."

Beelzebub looked gloomily into a corner, lost in thought.

Dagon sighed and slammed the filing cabinet shut. "Want to go torture someone for a bit?"

"Fuck yes. I thought you'd never ask."

August 2012: 7 years until the Destruction of Earth.

Everyone was so happy this year. London was buzzing with the energy of it all, the weather seemed determined to echo the mood, and Warlock was picking up on the collective indulgence in the simple joy of living.

You wouldn't think there was only seven years left of all this.

They took him to the Olympic Stadium, and the O2, and the Velodrome, even though he was probably still too young to understand all the rules and nuances of the sports they were watching. He loved clapping and cheering, though, and would do so regardless of who won, calling out with pride when Kenya got gold, when France did, when China did.

Thaddeus was getting more and more red in the face with each passing win for another country, but Nanny Ashtoreth's sharp gaze stopped him from doing anything about it. She'd had the forethought to warn him in advance that there would be no stifling of Warlock's joy this summer, as he was far too young to be trying to understand the nuances of the geopolitical landscape his father occupied.

Harriet sat fairly quietly the whole time, trying not to look bored, and clapping politely whenever either the USA or UK did well.

When it came to his birthday towards the end of the month, Warlock's parents got him a bike. A simple gesture, but one surprisingly aware of their son's interests.

Nanny carefully fitted a pair of stabilisers to it, and Brother Francis gifted Warlock a set of knee pads and elbow pads, alongside a helmet printed with an illustration of grass and ladybirds.

Warlock learned quickly, and took great joy in shouting out garbled imitations of Olympic commentary as he cycled around the garden.

"And Warlock Dowling cwruches his enemies under his heel, shooting stwaight into first place and winning five hundred gold medals for Team GB. And, uh, America."

Nanny watched with pride, and ignored the flutter of nerves that whispered that she might be doing a better job at influencing the child than her counterpart, and all that would mean.

August 2013: 6 years until the start of the Second Angelic War

Brother Francis tried not to think too hard about it all while he neatened up the flowerbeds for the garden party that afternoon. Warlock was turning five, and miraculously the weather had speckled the garden with enough rain overnight to keep everything looking green and vibrant without threatening any ruination to the outdoor celebration that was to come.

Five years old. Six years left.

He tried not to think about flaming swords and burning wings. Tried not to consider what might become of this garden in a few short years if they failed. Tried not to imagine what would happen to the Antichrist himself if he accepted all his inborn power.

"Brovver Francis!" came a high-pitched call, and the gardener turned to see Warlock – still tiny, really, barely more than a toddler – running across the grass towards him, Nanny following protectively just behind.

"Hello young Master Warlock. And happiest of birthdays to you! How old are you now?"

"Four," Warlock said, a little uncertainly.

"Ah, you were four, weren't you my little Prince of Darkness," Nanny said, crouching down. "But today is your birthday, and that means you get to add one year to your age! So how old are you now?"

"Five!" Warlock said brightly.

"Yes, you clever little cherub!" Brother Francis beamed.

Cherub? Nanny mouthed over Warlock's head.

Francis raised his eyebrows and shrugged slightly. Ashtoreth rolled her eyes.

"Almost halfway to conquering the world, aren't you, my little charcoal dove?"

The gardener gave Nanny a look then, too, but she just smiled, a touch wickedly.

"Come on then, Warlock, let's let Brother Francis finish his work so everything's ready for your party."

"Okay Nanny! Bye Brovver Francis!"

"Goodbye, Warlock!"

Only six years left.

August 2014: 5 years until the End of Humanity

Warlock was turning six this year. He was very excited.

Six was bigger than five, and four, and three, and two, and one. It was much bigger than zero. Not quite as big as seven, true, but six was a very good number. It did lots of clever things with factors and division, which Warlock liked, and it had a special sort of meaning when three of them were next to each other, which Nanny liked. And three was half of six, too, so even better. Warlock liked maths a lot.

Six was also over halfway to eleven, which Nanny said was going to be important. That was when he'd come into his powers and rule the world. Mummy said it was when he'd go to big school, too, so maybe that was what Nanny meant. But either way, he was over halfway there now. Six was a very good number.

August 2015: 4 years until the Events of Revelations Come to Pass

Warlock had been looking forward to his birthday, as usual, until he'd learnt from his father that seven-year-olds don't have nannies, they have tutors, and that meant Ashtoreth would be leaving him soon. The child was heartbroken, and even Nanny couldn't console him for several days.

He seemed to cheer up a bit, though, when he met the first of his two new tutors – Mr Harrison, it appeared to Thaddeus and Harriet, was exactly the sort of no-nonsense teacher that little Warlock needed to get over his childish attachment to his Nanny. Warlock looked up at his new tutor in awe, and chose not to suggest otherwise to his parents.

The changeover day was to be his birthday, when neither Nanny nor tutors would be required, and it thus marked a turning point in young Warlock's life. But he knew he would be safe. Growing up wasn't all that scary when you had trusted people there to protect you. And, as it turned out, Mr Cortese looked rather familiar too. Maybe the future was going to be okay after all.

August 2016: 3 years until the End of Days

"Maths! Why did it have to be maths?"

"I don't know. I can't imagine where he gets it from."

"Makes no sense at all."

Warlock was thriving in his lessons, but that was the one thing Mr Harrison really couldn't get over. Maths.

"I mean, if it had been anything else..."

"Well, perhaps it's our fault. We really should have learnt enough by now to keep up with him on it."

"Yes, but..." Mr Harrison spluttered for a moment, unable to articulate his thoughts. "It's maths."

"Point taken."

The only maths Mr Harrison was capable of doing at the moment was subtraction. Specifically, counting down from eleven. And he was getting shockingly close to zero now...

August 2017: 2 years until the Day of Reckoning

Mr Cortese was getting rather into this teaching lark. He hadn't done much of it for centuries, but the knack hadn't left him, and he was rather enjoying things. Pity about the maths, but he was less distraught about that than his counterpart.

He just had to remember that this wasn't forever. It was a temporary measure, designed to prevent the end of the human race and all life on earth.

He didn't like reminding himself of that. But needs must. He shouldn't lose sight of the goal.

Not that Buddy was letting him forget any time soon.

August 2018: 1 year until Judgement Day

The tutors both got Warlock's birthday off, and so Crowley and Aziraphale were holed up in the bookshop, celebrating dismally the one-year-left anniversary.

"It will be fine, won't it?"

"We've done all we can."

"Not quite yet. Still a year left."

"Yes. A year."

They sat in silence for a long while. Well, the outside world was silent – Aziraphale could still hear the echoes of an earworm he'd had for the last decade, insistent and unrelenting. He began to tap his foot absentmindedly.

"What's that you've got there, angel?" Crowley asked after a few moments.

"Hmm?"

"What's in your head? You're tapping."

"Oh. Yes." He sighed. "Buddy Holly."

"...Buddy Holly?"

The angel sighed again, then got up and put the offending record on. The upbeat music filled the bookshop, and the demon winced.

"Ah. Buddy Holly."

Everyday it's a-gettin' closer...

August 2019: Adam Young's 11th Birthday

Adam opened his eyes. Yes. Today was the day. Eleven years old. He he grinned up at the ceiling, then scrambled out of bed, still grinning, and headed downstairs.

Today was going to be a brilliant day.

[ananiel]

His cruel angel

Moriarty the patriot x reader

Tw :hurt/comfort, death, slight Gore a little bit of toxic relationship but happy end

William james moriarty x reader

Sorry for bad english.

The manor was quiet. Moran and Bond weren't arguring, Louis was doing his chores. Everyone seemed busy.

William being the busies. He looked at the clock a few Times and noted that his wife, Reader, hadn't visited him in a few hours. If he remembers so corectly, he hadn't seen her since he woke up. William usually, if he sleep that is, wakes up before reader does.

He knew that her mother, who was traveling the world as a circus ring master with only her little brother, since reader remained in London with William, should've sent a letter today.

Reader was surely waiting for it to appear.

Yes, that was it.

She will come at any moment now.

She was just waiting for a letter, after all, he loved her and she loved him, neither one of them could leave the other behind!

An hour passes and Reader enters quietly in the manor, holding a letter close to her chest. "Ah, my love, You are finally here!" William exclaims and goes to reader. He can sense something is wrong but doesn't want to be direct about it.

"William please sit down." Reader says firmly. Her voice was shallow. Clearly something happend. William does as told, waiting impatiently for her to speak again.

"My mother died" she says quietly. Her eyes Red while looking at him. Before William could say anything she ads :

"i was sent a letter from her manager and i would like to take her place as ring master at the circus-"

"no." William cuts her off.

Reader looks surprised.

"but-"

"no. I won't let You leave me. Your mother's circus was a moving one. If You take over it You will have to move from place to place. I don't want You to leave me."

"But William-"

Louis and Moran enter, looking at the both of them. William pulls her close and whispers into her ear.

"You are not an acrobat, or ring master or what not. You are lady Moriarty. My wife. We will go to complete the mission planed today and forget this conversation ever happend. Clear?"

Reader frowns slightly but nods her head and follows the others to the mansion where they would kill a noble family that does ilegal traficking of children and women.

Yet, reader was clearly not paying attention. She was clearly still thinking about her mother. William should've known better than to bring her in such a place.

She got shot.

William didn't see where. The building was on fire and the nobleman was aiming for him, but instead, the bullet hit reader. She fell to the ground. William rushed to get to her but Moran grabed and draged him outside. The building colapsed and William fell to his knees, screaming and crying. Louis knelt down to comfort his brother but William was simply unconsolable. He was holding his ring. The one that should've shown others that he had his love. That he found the missing piece of his life. Now he lost it all.

It's been 11 months since the incident. William wasn't the same. They couldn't find her body. Didn't have enough time to look for it as the police showed up. Reader had a gravestone put on her name, but no corpse there. William often visited her grave. Sometimes he brings flowers, other times deserts that she used to love. He would sit hours at a time. Whising that she was there, or that at least, God would have mercy on his soul and kill him too. He was already dead inside, was his reasoning for the sinful wish of death. Without his love. Without his angel. The world returned to it's dark place that doesn't let him have a happy ending.

He read all the letters that she ever gotten and the ones she never sent. He didn't eat, didn't sleep. He was a broken man. One that had no motivation left. His brothers were worried but what could they do? The last Time Louis tried to talk to William, he started sobbing.

The last Time William and Reader ever talked was an argument. She died not knowing how much he truly loved her. She died because of him. He was truly a monster. One that killed the only light in his life that could change that fact.

He read the letter from Reader's mother hundreds of Times, and out of spite looked for The circus that her mother had. The reason why they had an argument, why she was so distracted in the mision... The reason why she...

William couldn't finish that line, even in his head. Even thinking about it, twist his insides and yet she is all that he can think about.

To his surprise, the circus was still going. Making even more money then it ever did. Maybe her little brother was running it now. He took the train to where the circus was located at the moment. Her brother had the right to know that she wasn't alive anymore.

When he got to the gate he felt a chill run down his spine. This is where he met reader the first Time. She was an acrobat for her mother's circus. When they made eye contact for the first time he knew that she was the one.

"My ladies and my gentelmans!"

Wait.

Wait.

He knew that voice. He knew that voice so well.

The voice he hadn't heard in 11 months.

His angel. That was his angel. He knew it for sure.

He ran inside while the others were leaving. Clearly the performance was over and many nobles gave him weird looks for entering now, but did he care? Not at all.

His breath hitched and his heart started beating again after 11 sorowfull months. There was his beautiful wife in the middle.

Wearing a Red costume and a magician hat. She was the ring master of the show.

She turned to face him and let out a gasp when seeing him but regained her compusture fast.

William slowly made her way to her.

"yes, i know what You will say" Reader started talking.

"how could i do something like this"

Reader took a few steps back and William took a few foward. William was silently the hole time

"how could i leave everything behind, how could i leave You behind."

Redear was almost backed down into a wall

"why do You have to be so stoick, William!"

Reader was completly backed down against the wall.

"shout, scream, say something!" she screams.

William takes her cheeck in his hand and caresses it softly. Tears start falling from her eyes.

"You're as beautiful as the day i lost You" William finally whispers and Kisses reader.

It was the best kiss they have ever shared togheter.

William finally felt alive after all this time. His angel. How could his angel leave him to mourn like this? She truly was a cruel woman.

And he was a monster.

He was a monster, and her, his cruel angel

[stargatebarbie]

Getting to Know You Meme

Tagged by @spurious 😊

01) Are you currently in a serious relationship? Yes! 7 years this November

02) What was your dream growing up? I wanted to be a psychologist for a long time but tbh glad I didn't end up doing that I am not suited to it

03) What talent do you wish you had? It'd be cool to have an idetic memory. Or even just like, a good one. My memory is shot lol

04) If someone bought you a drink what would it be? I could really use a proper coffee rn

05) Favorite vegetable? like good cherry tomatoes. the home grown kind. Or maybe potatoes

06) What was the last book you read? I'm currently reading Dungeon Meshi! I'm really enjoying the anime and decided to pick up the manga, just finished the first volume

07) What zodiac sign are you? Cancer 🦀

08) Any Tattoos and/or Piercings? Yeah ears stretched a little, I think they're only 1cm & septum piercing. I haven't gotten around to getting any tattoos atp, shit's expensive, but I absolutely want them

09) Worst Habit? stealing all the cups and forks in the house

10) What is your favorite sport? not to be a stereotype but I don't really do sport. ig hockey?

11) Do you have a Pessimistic or Optimistic attitude? naturally pessimistic but i really try to like. practice optimism

12) Tell me one weird fact about you. one time I was locked in a bathroom with a goat

13) Do you have any pets? Yes! A cat named Moon :)

14) Do you think clowns are cute or scary? Scary for sure. I blame my mum she hung a clown puppet in my room as a baby

15) If you could change one thing about how you look, what would it be? boy howdy would I love a breast reduction

16) What color eyes do you have? grey/blue

17) Ever been arrested? No but I have been detained for like. safety reasons oop

18) Bottle or can soda? Bottle i suppose? I don't really drink a lot of soft drink though

19) If you won $10,000 today, what would you do with it? probably fund my move out of state

20) What's your favorite place to hang out at? home tbh. or the beach when it's not too crowded or cold

21) Do you believe in ghosts? No, to almost a cartoonish degree. I saw a ghost as a child & I still don't believe in them

22) Favorite thing to do in your spare time? any of my 8 million art/crafts/creative hobbies (currently mostly crochet, tatting, & drawing) & binge watching tv

23) Do you swear a lot? Ohhhh yeah. not only am I Australian, I'm from mining country

24) Biggest pet peeve? People being willfully inconsiderate of others in public spaces. trolley parked across the isle, tiktoks with no headphones on the bus, talking on the phone at the cash register, that sort of garbage

25) In one word, how would you describe yourself? um. weird?

26) Do you believe/appreciate romance? Yeah but like. I suck at it lol

27) Favourite and least favourite food? fave: potato bake & least: sausages

28) Do you believe in God? Nope lifelong athiest

29) What makes you happy: hanging out with my cat, rotating the blorbos in the brain microwave, finishing a project (in theory), and uhhh I'm replaying totk with my gf right now that's pretty great

30) Currently listening/the last thing you listened to: listening to a country & folk playlist, folsom prison blues just came on shuffle

31) Favourite place to spend time: uh yeah home

32) Favourite lyric: truly i hate to choose favourites there are so many um. okay

I'll be the jester as long as you are my queen Make a fool out of me I wanna be the source of your laughter

33) Recommend a film: I almost never watch movies uhhh. I recently forced my gf to watch the Birdcage with me bc she'd never seen it, it's so good

34) Recommend a book: Peter Darling by Austin Chant my beloved. Also I'm reading Several People Are Typing by Calvin Kasulke rn and I'm really enjoying it if you work in an office and have slack or similar then I highly recommend especially

35) Recommend a band, a song, or album: Stick Season by Noah Kahan is just SUCH a good album

36) Recommend a TV show: Crazy Ex-Girlfriend - great for lovers of musical theatre and/or the mentally ill 😌

37) Where are you from, and do you still live there? Where have you lived? I'm from Queensland and currently live in Tasmania. I've moved back and forth between QLD and TAS a few times, and plan on moving to Melbourne eventually

38) Do you have any pets or animals in your life? How did you find/get them? The aforementioned cat, I got him from a shelter & they got him from a dumpster <333

39) What's the most unusual thing you've ever eaten? during a drinking game I once took a shot that included; soy sauce, fish sauce, Worcestershire sauce, vodka, a warhead (sour lolly), fanta, and probably some other stuff I'm not sure I was very drunk and 18 year olds should not be unsupervised with that much alcohol bc they'll invent the world's worst drinking games

40) How did you 'find' fandom? A friend of mine sat me down in front of her family computer in their bible library (not a joke, whole library of bibles & Christian religious texts) & said hey. have you heard there are people on the internet who write stories about these two guys from this one series kissing? and I was immediately hooked lol

41) Make a list of 5 things that you see without getting up. work laptop (bc I am on the clock oops), personal PC, crochet project, calcifer plush, & my cat glaring at me from my computer tower bc I wouldn't let him sit on my keyboard

42) How do you style your hair? Well it was a mullet but it's super grown out now so it's more of a shag & I mostly just chuck it in a bun or something. I desperately want to shave it but it's so cold, idk maybe I'll just make a few beanies & buzz it anyway

If you want to join in please consider yourself tagged! 💖

[the-rewatch-rewind]

I love Poe Party too much to feel like any words will do it justice, but I keep trying.

Script below the break.

Hello and welcome back to the Rewatch Rewind! My name is Jane, and this is the podcast where I count down my top 40 most frequently rewatched movies of the last 20 years. And today I will be discussing number 13 on my list: Shipwrecked Comedy and American Black Market’s 2016 mystery comedy Edgar Allan Poe’s Murder Mystery Dinner Party, directed by William J Stribling, written by Sean Persaud and Sinéad Persaud, starring Sean Persaud, Sinéad Persaud, Mary Kate Wiles, Sarah Grace Hart, Joey Richter, Lauren Lopez, Ashley Clements, Tom de Trinis, Blake Silver, and a whole bunch of other incredibly talented and underrated actors.

Edgar Allan Poe (Sean Persaud) wishes to impress the beautiful Annabel Lee (Mary Kate Wiles), so he enlists the help of his ghost roommate Lenore (Sinéad Persaud) to throw a murder mystery party for Annabel and a group of famous authors. But then guests start actually being murdered.

So, first of all, I realize that this isn’t technically a movie; it’s an 11-episode webseries available to watch for free on YouTube, which you should absolutely pause this podcast to do if you haven’t seen it yet (link in the show notes). But there is a feature cut that’s about an hour and 45 minutes long, and that’s what I counted as a movie. If I’d kept track of the number of times I watched each episode, I’m sure that even my least-watched episode would easily beat number one on this list. But as for the feature cut, I watched it 12 times in 2017, three times in 2018, four times in 2019, twice in 2020, and three times in 2021. To a certain extent, every movie on the Rewatch Rewind has changed my life in some way, but this one has changed my life to a degree that I would never have believed possible. Every single day of the last seven plus years of my life would have looked different if not for Edgar Allan Poe’s Murder Mystery Dinner Party. All of the guests I have had on this podcast who are not my siblings, I met either directly or indirectly because of this show. So fasten your seatbelts: this episode is going to be a ride.

My journey to Edgar Allan Poe’s Murder Mystery Dinner Party, or Poe Party for short, or Edgar Allan Poe’s Murder Mystery Invite-Only Casual Dinner Party/Gala for Friends Potluck for long, began years before the project itself was even written. In the late 2000s-early 2010s, my sister was relatively plugged into the YouTube scene, at least compared to me, and she first introduced me to a group called Team Starkid around 2009-2010-ish. At the time, they were a bunch of college theater kids who had put together a Harry Potter parody musical and on a whim posted it to YouTube, where it went viral, so they started making and posting other musicals – which they are still doing. I feel like I might still have discovered Poe Party if I hadn’t been a Starkid fan, but that definitely helped. A more crucial step on my road to Poe Party started on April 9, 2012, when my sister posted a link to a new YouTube video on my Facebook wall, with the message, “Fictional vlogs by Lizzie Bennet. (actually Hank Green.) There’s only one so far, but I’m kind of crazily excited for this!” Hank Green, of course, along with his brother John, is basically one of the fathers of YouTube. I don’t think I’d seen a ton of their videos at that point, but I was familiar with and liked them. And of course, I knew Lizzie Bennet was the main character in Pride and Prejudice, a story that I loved very much – more on that in a future episode. So I was also very excited for this new show, called The Lizzie Bennet Diaries, but I could not have imagined the intense emotional journey it would take me on, through two short episodes a week (plus spinoffs) for almost a year. There had never been a TV show that I was more invested in than LBD. I was double majoring in college and working part time, but the main thing I cared about was these modern Pride and Prejudice characters. The show was clearly very low-budget, but I was blown away by the writing and acting. I was particularly impressed by the person playing Lizzie, Ashley Clements, and the person playing Lydia, Mary Kate Wiles. And, like, it wasn’t just me – LBD had a huge following for what it was. Not, like, millions of fans, but hundreds of thousands by the end. As the finale approached, the producers launched a Kickstarter to release the show on DVD and – ostensibly – pay significantly more to the cast and crew who had been incredibly underpaid. If you’re at all interested in hearing more about that, I highly recommend checking out The Look Back Diaries on Ashley Clements’s YouTube channel; she just did a whole deep dive into the show and its aftermath in honor of its 10th anniversary that I found fascinating. But anyway, coincidentally, right around that same time, Starkid also launched their first Kickstarter, since most of them had graduated from college and no longer had access to the same resources but wanted to keep making more musicals. So they were raising money for Twisted, a Wicked-style villain redemption retelling of Aladdin, which sounded interesting. I had never pledged to a Kickstarter before, but I backed both the LBD DVDs and Twisted on the same day: March 25, 2013, according to my emails.

After that, I kept following Starkid and some of the cast members of LBD, but not particularly closely. In early 2014, Mary Kate Wiles was in a webseries called Kissing in the Rain that I think I watched part of at the time, and I thought it was fine, but I wasn’t particularly into it (imagine, me, an aromantic, not particularly into a show about kissing!) and there was a lot of other stuff going on in my life so I honestly can’t remember if I saw all of it when it was first coming out. I definitely couldn’t have told you that it was on a channel called Shipwrecked, or even the name of the actor she was kissing. But in May of 2014, a new Kickstarter launched for a series called Muzzled the Musical, which was going to feature several cast members from LBD as well as Joey Richter from Team Starkid (Lauren Lopez also ended up being in it but I don’t think that was known during the Kickstarter). And I thought, whoa, cool, worlds colliding, and backed it. And promptly all but forgot about it.

A lot of strange, confusing, and rather upsetting things happened in 2015 that I don’t really want to get too deep into here, but I will say that in hindsight most of them had to do with a combination of amatonormativity and heteronormativity, and I started feeling pretty bad about myself. Before then I had managed to convince myself that I was too young to seriously fall in love anyway, but suddenly I was 25 years old and had never had any interest in dating anyone, and I felt like there was definitely something wrong with me. I didn’t exactly want to change, since I liked not dating, but I had always thought that that would just automatically change when I got older, and facing the fact that it wasn’t changing meant facing the fact that I didn’t know what the point of my life was. I liked my job but I didn’t want it to be my sole purpose. I loved movies, but that didn’t feel like it mattered. All my life I had taken in the message that finding a spouse and creating a family was what made the struggle of life worth it, and I felt lazy for not even trying to pursue that. I remember hearing at some point in my late teens that if you didn’t find your significant other in college, you needed to look online, but I didn’t even know what I would be looking for. And I truly don’t know where this line of thinking would have ended up if it had gone on much longer uninterrupted – I may have discovered my identity a bit sooner, or I may have ended up hurting someone by trying to pursue a relationship I ultimately didn’t want, or I may have just continued to spiral – but what actually happened was I got an email in late October that that random fantasy musical series I had backed on Kickstarter a year and a half earlier was being released on YouTube.

So I watched Muzzled, and it was very fun and silly, but the main thing I got out of it was, man I miss the Lizzie Bennet Diaries. So I finally opened that DVD set I’d gotten from the Kickstarter, and I binge-watched the whole show (I didn’t count it as a movie because there’s no feature cut, and also it is very long). And then I re-watched the whole thing with the DVD-exclusive commentary. And then I thought, I wonder what this cast has been up to lately, so I started searching for them on YouTube. And that’s when I learned that Mary Kate Wiles had been posting two videos per week on her channel for years, and I had been missing it. As I got caught up on her videos, I learned that I had just missed a Kickstarter for a musical she was going to be in called Spies are Forever, made by the Tin Can Brothers, which were a group of people who were also involved with Starkid, and that she seemed to be getting ready for a new Kickstarter with a group called Shipwrecked Comedy, the same people who had made that kissing show. They had also made a show called A Tell Tale Vlog about Edgar Allan Poe and the valley girl ghost Lenore who was haunting him, in which Poe had been played by Sean Persaud (the guy from Kissing in the Rain, who was apparently dating Mary Kate in real life) and his sister Sinéad (who was in the second half of Kissing in the Rain, which I definitely hadn’t watched before). Mary Kate had made a brief appearance in A Tell Tale Vlog as Annabel Lee, and this new show was going to be related to that, but bigger. I was so intrigued by this new project that I started supporting Mary Kate on Patreon to ensure that I didn’t miss any updates about it.

The Poe Party Kickstarter launched on February 2, 2016. By then, I had watched and enjoyed everything on Shipwrecked’s YouTube channel, but that Kickstarter video was my favorite thing they had made. I initially pledged the same amount that I had given to the Lizzie Bennet DVDs, thinking that would be my final pledge, but I ended up giving almost six times that much by the end of the campaign. Every $5,000 they raised, they revealed a new character and cast member with a poster, and each reveal made me more excited. Joey Richter was playing Ernest Hemingway?! Ashley Clements was playing Charlotte Brontë?! Lauren Lopez, who frequently played male characters, was playing George Eliot, a woman with a male pen name?! They got Jim O’Heir from Parks & Rec?! And then, as if the reveals weren’t enough, they had weekly 4-hour livestreams that I found incredibly entertaining. It had become clear that Shipwrecked Comedy now consisted of four people: Sean, Sinéad, Mary Kate, and Sarah Grace Hart, who had played Emily Dickinson in a stand-alone video and would be reprising that role in Poe Party. Various other cast members showed up in the streams with the Core Four, and I distinctly remember thinking, if these people are this entertaining to watch when they’re just hanging out, this show is going to be so amazing! In the second livestream of the campaign, they started writing people’s names on papers to stick on the wall if they pledged or raised their pledge during the streams, which was an excellent incentive, but I would have kept raising mine anyway, because I was desperate for this show to get made. Apart from a few weird troll messages, the stream chat was full of lovely conversations between people who seemed like my kindred spirits. I had never felt more at home in a community. And I had never been more excited than when the Kickstarter exceeded its goal.

And I’m telling you all of this because I need you to understand how astronomically high my hopes and expectations for Poe Party were. Some of the movies I’ve talked about so far ended up in my top 40 partly because I had fairly low expectations going into them and was pleasantly surprised, but that was absolutely not the case here. I had seen excellent work from several of the people involved before, and they seemed particularly dedicated to this project, and I knew they were going to make something incredible. I also desperately needed something in my life to go really well, and this seemed like it might be it, although I knew it wasn’t fair to put that kind of pressure on these independent filmmakers. I tried to temper my expectations, reminding myself that they had only raised a little over $72,000, and Kickstarter was going to take a chunk of that, and some of it had to go to perk fulfillment, so they weren’t going to have nearly enough to make anything super fancy. They released some prologue videos that were very fun but also very small, and I tried to tell myself that the actual show was also going to be small. And I kept reminding myself how long Muzzled had taken to come out, and that I was probably going to have to wait a while for Poe Party too, so I needed to chill. But then in late July – only four and a half months after the Kickstarter had ended – Shipwrecked released a trailer for Poe Party, which said it was starting in less than a month, and there was no tempering my expectations after that. The trailer looked fabulous. It was witty and clever and dramatic and intriguing, the music was perfection, and, shockingly, it looked like an actual studio movie. Not like a super high-budget one, but like they had at least a million dollars. Certainly way more than $60k. My already-ridiculously-high expectations soared to new heights. Part of me was sure I was setting myself up for disappointment, but I couldn’t help it.

And then it was August 22 and the first episode (Chapter 1: The Bells) dropped and it was so much better than I was hoping for. First of all, the look set the tone perfectly. The lighting was exquisite, and the location – incidentally the same house where Muzzled was filmed – was perfect. And then there was the writing. One thing the Persauds had mentioned during the Kickstarter was that they were inspired by the movie Clue, which will be featured in a future episode of this podcast, so I was expecting similar vibes to that, but I was not expecting there to be so many direct references to Clue. All of them made me extremely happy. It felt like the show was made specifically for me. It was like Clue, but even better. I already loved every single character and knew I would be sad to see some of them get murdered. It was also very clear from even just that first episode that this was going to fall into the “everybody was having way too much fun” category of film that I love. But while most movies like that tend to have pretty weak stories and just overall mediocre scripts, and the cast having fun makes up for that, Poe Party was different. The writing was fantastic, AND the acting was perfect, AND it looked gorgeous, AND everybody was having fun. Again, I tried not to have unrealistic expectations, I tried to tell myself that not every episode could be quite the banger that the first one was, but I was still incredibly excited for the rest of the show. And I was not at all disappointed. Somehow it just kept getting better. The running joke about everyone forgetting Emily Dickinson was there or who she was just kept getting funnier. Ditto the joke about George Eliot thinking she needed to convince everyone she was a man when everyone was clearly fine with her being a woman. I remember at one point, when around three or four chapters were out, Mary Kate tweeted that they were working on editing her favorite part of the show, and I thought, surely it doesn’t get better than what I’ve seen already. But it turned out she was talking about chapter 8, and yes, it absolutely was better. The constables, Jim and Jimmy – played by Jim O’Heir and Jimmy Wong – and everyone else trying to fool them, are so delightful to watch. Even though chapter 8 features probably the second saddest death in the series, it’s overall the funniest episode. This show touches an incredibly wide range of emotions and moods, especially considering it takes place in one house over one night.

I want to make it clear that I would still love Poe Party even if I’d stumbled upon it years after it came out, and even if I didn’t recognize any of the actors. The show is excellent enough to stand on its own. But being part of it from the Kickstarter, being familiar with some of the actors, and being online as it was coming out, certainly enhanced my enjoyment of it. Shipwrecked had a weekly “competition” of sorts where they would give a vague prompt and people would make fan art or write fan fiction and post it on social media (#PoePartyFTW), and each of the four members of Shipwrecked would pick their favorite to re-post. I wrote a fic after each of the episodes, and several of them got chosen by Shipwrecked, and I hadn’t felt that good about myself in years. I loved the show so much that I couldn’t confine it just into weekly fics; I was shouting about it on every social media platform. I also started weekly speculation Tumblr posts, using Clue references as my guide, many of which led me astray – I was convinced there must be a secret passage between the kitchen and the study that didn’t turn out to exist – but I did figure out part of the solution relatively early on. While the mystery aspect of Clue is ultimately nonsense if you think about it too hard, Poe Party actually tracks. And if you’ve listened this far and you still haven’t seen Poe Party, please go watch it now, because I’m going to start getting into story specifics and spoilers, and I think everybody should get to see it once without knowing what’s coming. (I’m also going to spoil some of Clue, so you could go watch that too if you want, although I don’t feel like Clue spoilers matter that much.)

In her episode of A Tell Tale Vlog, Annabel mentioned that she had started seeing a banker named Eddie, and then in the Poe Party Kickstarter video, she asked Edgar if she could bring Eddie as her plus one to his party. So Eddie (played by Ryan W. Garcia) shows up late to the party with Annabel, and then becomes the first murder victim. EXCEPT, spoiler alert: he’s actually NOT DEAD, and is, in fact, one of the murderers. And from the very first episode, I recognized Eddie’s similarities to Mr. Boddy in Clue, who is also not dead when you first think he is, and I was therefore suspicious of him from the get-go. But I was still very much open to any possibility (or so I thought) because the Persauds had done an excellent job of making everyone at least somewhat fishy. But there was one thing I was not prepared for, and that was the end of chapter 9. Because it absolutely never occurred to me that Poe’s beautiful Annabel Lee would die, and I’m honestly still kind of devastated about it, even understanding why it had to happen, and at the time I was almost inconsolable. Mary Kate Wiles had led me to this brilliant show, in which she played the kindest, most likable character, only to be brutally murdered? Some fans at the time had thought Annabel might be the killer, which I never did, and honestly I would have been kind of angry if she had been because we need to have more genuinely nice characters in things. I was upset that she died, but I would have been more so if she’d turned evil. (Not that I have anything against MK playing villains – I’m all for it, under the right circumstances. And thankfully the Persauds know when the right circumstances are.) And like, okay, I know I complain about too much romance in stories, but Annabel’s “It was always you” as she died in Edgar’s arms – that got me. Annabel had been planning to marry Eddie because he was more respectable than the unhinged poet she actually loved, and I think that that whole trying to fake the life you think you’re supposed to have thing spoke to me. I had been so tempted to try that, and this was almost as clear of a message as the constables’ “Don’t Do Murder”: Don’t Fake Romance.

At that point, I was pretty much convinced that Eddie must have had something to do with this; why would anyone else kill Annabel? Also, chapter 9 reveals that Annabel wrote the invite list, and I thought it made sense that Eddie, her boyfriend, could have told her whom to include, especially since it had already been established that most of the guests had some connection to Eddie. The prompt for that week’s Poe Party FTW competition was “Confession,” so I decided to try something different from the short stories I’d been submitting, and I re-wrote the poem “Annabel Lee” from Eddie’s perspective as if he was the murderer. And I know this episode is already longer than most of my solo episodes and I have a lot more to say, but I’m still proud of this poem (even though it’s not completely accurate, since it turned out that Eddie didn’t kill everybody), so I need to share it with you:

It was many and many a month ago,

           In her cottage by the sea,

That I first read the words that Edgar wrote

           For my girlfriend Annabel Lee;

And he said that she lived with no other thought

           Than to love and be loved by he.

“He’s just my friend and I’m just his friend,”

           She quickly explained to me;

But we loved with a love which was worse than love –

           I and my Annabel Lee –

With a love that was founded on secrets and lies,

           Fueled by jealousy.

And this was the reason that, later on,

           Faced with opportunity,

I took advantage of an offer made

           To innocent Annabel Lee;

For when Lenore asked whom to invite

           To that cad’s dinner party,

Annabel deferred to my input

           Which I gave most willingly.

All authors, not half so worthy as bankers,

           Who had e’er quarreled with me –

Yes! – they were the ones (no one would know;

           I’d met them all secretly)

That Edgar would invite to his house that night,

           At the behest of “his” Annabel Lee.

For our love it was weaker by far than the love

           Of vengeance I carried in me –

           Of justice toward those who’d wronged me –

And neither the psychics who bring back the dead,

           Nor the cops fresh from Academy,

Can hinder my murderous plan; no one can!

           No, not even my Annabel Lee.

As I watch them point fingers I find my gaze lingers

           On the beautiful Annabel Lee;

When they mention invites, she suspects, knows she’s right,

           Out the door runs my Annabel Lee;

Can’t let her get away: who knows what she might say?

So I kill her – I kill her – my eleventh kill today.

           Instead of revealing me,

           Her last breath says it was always he.

So yeah. I was deep into this. But then nobody in Shipwrecked chose it that week, and I thought, okay, maybe it wasn’t that good, or, maybe my theory is laughably far off the mark. Maybe Eddie’s too obvious. Maybe he really is dead. Then in chapter 10, Charlotte Brontë confessed, and revealed that her sister Anne had been there the whole time helping, and at that point I was pretty sure Eddie was also involved again. We clearly saw that Annabel’s killer was wearing pants, unlike either Brontë sister. And then it was Halloween and the finale finally arrived, and I was right about Eddie, but I was still completely unprepared for how awesome that final chapter would be. I think there was still a small part of me that didn’t believe it was possible for the end to live up to the buildup of the first ten incredible chapters. But it absolutely did. The finale was everything – everything, I say – that I wanted it to be and much more. The evil slow clap. The revolving villain trio of creepy neck touching. The flashbacks. The fights. The pet rock’s revenge. The literary references. And of course, the surprise reveal of Jane Austen, played by Laura Spencer, who had also played Jane Bennet in the Lizzie Bennet Diaries. The episodes were posted at 9 am on Mondays, when I was at work, so I couldn’t watch them right when they dropped, but after the first one I couldn’t wait until I got home either. My work’s wifi blocked YouTube, and I had an extremely limited data plan at the time, so on my lunch break I would walk to the McDonald’s down the street and watch the new episode using their wifi. And when the camera panned to Jane Austen, it was all I could do not to yell “OH MY GOSH IT’S LAURA SPENCER!” in that McDonald’s. I definitely audibly gasped, but I don’t think anyone noticed. The thing is, I would have still been blown away by the finale without that extra surprise. But that’s what Shipwrecked does. They make things that can appeal to a wide audience, and then they sprinkle in some extra treats for people who have been following them for a while. Of course, LBD was not a Shipwrecked project, but finding Shipwrecked through LBD is a fairly common path. And I’m still so impressed with how well they kept Laura as Jane Austen a secret. As a Kickstarter perk, I’d had a video chat with the Core Four that summer, and I’d mentioned that Jane Austen was my favorite author, and I was disappointed that she wasn’t going to be in Poe Party, and they were just like, “Yeah, we thought about including her, but we figured she would be too similar to Charlotte Brontë,” and betrayed not a SINGLE HINT that she was, in fact, in the show. Which is another thing Shipwrecked does: make a very specific, deliberate plan about what to reveal when, and stick to it.

As another example of that, the Poe Party Kickstarter had reached a stretch goal to produce an epilogue. I had completely forgotten about that, but other backers remembered and started asking about it after the finale. Shipwrecked was pretty cagey with their answers, but then directed us to a mysterious Twitter account that was dropping strange clues. I watched as the Shipwrecked fan Facebook group decoded them and ultimately unlocked the epilogue a day before it was released publicly. The epilogue is not included in the feature cut, and now I don’t really think of it as part of the show. Chapter 11 ends so perfectly – Poe stares at the floor as the heartbeat grows louder, a floorboard creaks, fade to black: chef’s kiss. But at the time I was feeling so many overwhelming feels about this show that I desperately needed that epilogue. I was so utterly relieved to see Annabel and HG thriving as ghosts. And I was so thrilled to be surrounded by such a great fandom, who all worked together and helped each other to solve the puzzles – it was a beautiful weekend. And it was also the last weekend before Donald Trump was elected president of the United States and I had to face the fact that the country was more broken and divided than I’d wanted to believe, which definitely adds to my nostalgia for that epilogue adventure.

The show may have ended, and the world may have been falling apart faster than usual, but I could not have gotten Poe Party out of my head even if I’d wanted to, which I didn’t. For over a decade I’d been searching for something that felt like a classic movie, but with some modern sensibilities, and these independent filmmakers had made exactly what I was looking for, zillions of times better than I’d imagined it. That clever, witty dialogue, perfectly delivered by quirky characters, almost felt like it came from a 1930s screwball comedy. But it also felt fresh and new and different from anything I’d seen before. It had so many similarities to Clue – in fact, I taught myself how to make gifs, or [other pronunciation] gifs, in order to highlight specific parallels between Poe Party and Clue – and yet remained unique. Where Clue was mostly just comedy, Poe Party was comedy, tragedy, romance, and intrigue, and absolutely nailed all of those. (Sadly no ravens, though, they didn’t have the budget for that.) Anyway, the series held up shockingly well upon rewatch, and I could not get enough of it. And despite the socially anxious part of my brain that remains convinced that everyone always is annoyed with me, that I have nothing worthwhile to say, that I should just shut up and stop bothering others with my existence – people seemed to like what I was posting about Poe Party. Other fans would engage me in conversation, and I started making internet friends for the first time. And, shockingly, the members of Shipwrecked seemed to genuinely appreciate what I was saying as well. After the finale had aired, Mary Kate reblogged my Annabel Lee poem on Tumblr and said, “I legitimately thought this was brilliant, and only didn’t choose it that week because of spoilers. Every single fic Jane wrote for this ftw has been wonderful, and I have so enjoyed them all, but this was above and beyond.” And maybe it sounds like I’m just boasting at this point, but the reason I’m sharing this is because a year earlier I had felt like a failure of a human who had no place in the world, and now this incredible actress/producer I greatly admired, who had just made my new favorite show, was saying that I had enhanced her experience of releasing it. People were liking and appreciating me, just for being myself and enthusiastically enjoying a movie. And I no longer felt like I was supposed to change who I was.

In early 2017, I got the rest of my Kickstarter perks, including behind-the-scenes goodies that featured not one but two fabulous commentaries. I love them both, but the second one is particularly chaotic in the best way. Ashley Clements and Ryan W Garcia, true to the villainous characters they played in the show, keep derailing the conversation and it’s incredibly amusing. The commentaries are over the feature cut, so many if not most of the views that I counted were with one of the commentaries. And I also bought the feature cut without commentary so I could show it to other people and still count it on my list. Now I tend to watch it episodically because I want the Shipwrecked YouTube channel to get more views for the algorithm, although I’m not sure that actually helps. But anyway, the feature cut and commentaries and other bonus features are still available to rent or buy on shipwrecked.vhx.tv, which I will also link in the show notes, if you’re interested.

Also in 2017, the first episode of Poe Party was shown at a festival near me, so I got to meet the Core Four members of Shipwrecked and some fans in person. That was very exciting, but I was also extremely nervous, although I didn’t need to be. The Shipwrecked people were so lovely and actually wanted to talk to me and the other fans who were there. And then I got to see Poe Party win some awards, which was awesome. And then a few months later, Shipwrecked launched another Kickstarter, and I pledged even more to it than I had to Poe Party even though the goal was lower, and then they kept making more stuff and I kept supporting it, and also continued to love everything they made (yes, even the Fart Feud with the Tin Can Brothers). I continued to support Mary Kate on Patreon, and I also started supporting other cast members on Patreon, like Whitney Avalon who had played Mary Shelley and does a lot of her own stuff on YouTube, and of course Ashley Clements, as I’ve mentioned previously, and as soon as Shipwrecked finally got their own Patreon, I was all in at the top tier. And, like, I don’t want to go on about this too much, because I do truly believe that I would love their work even if I’d never interacted with them, but I don’t know that I’d be quite the die-hard, take-all-my-money-to-make-more-things Shipwrecked fan that I am, if I hadn’t had so many wonderful interactions with the members of Shipwrecked over the years. I didn’t set out to become friends with them, but I kind of have – although I still feel a little weird and presumptuous to claim that. I feel like this will sound to some people like an out-of-control parasocial relationship, but like, it’s not that, because they do know me. Other people in my life have referred to Shipwrecked as “the people you pay to be your friends,” but it’s not that either: I give them money so they can keep making things, and we also happened to hit it off as friends – which again feels like a presumptuous label, but I can’t come up with a more accurate word. They make what they love and I love what they make, so it’s not that surprising that we’d get along. And for similar reasons, it’s not surprising that I’ve made so many very close friendships with other Shipwrecked fans. Our love for these projects brought us together, and then turned out to be far from the only thing we have in common.

I feel like I’m talking way too much about my own personal experiences, I’m so sorry if this is boring. Back to Poe Party itself. I’ve hinted at it already, but I need to emphasize again both how incredible the script is, and how amazingly the cast brought it to life. The story was so well thought out: every scene, every character, every moment was there for a reason. Like, I thought George Eliot disguising herself as a man was just a nod to female authors having to use male pen names, but then that turned into an important clue that led to the Brontës. Yes, you can poke plenty of holes in Poe Party if you want to – not all of the characters based on real people were actually alive at the same time, some of the technology is anachronistic, etc – but none of that stuff really matters. It’s clearly meant to be silly and fun, so you don’t really need to know what year it is. But the fact that they managed to write something silly and fun that didn’t completely devolve into absolute nonsense is so incredibly impressive. Sean and Sinéad wrote an absolutely brilliant script, and then they assembled the perfect cast for it. Every actor is on the exact same page about what this project is, and they each know exactly how their character fits in. Even when they’re in the background, everyone is giving 100%. I want to especially shout out Joey Richter, since Ernest Hemingway is drinking all night, and Joey did a tremendous job of tracking how drunk he was supposed to be. By the finale he’s having to slap himself to stay awake in the background, and it’s hilarious. Everyone else is also a delight to watch, and I feel like I’m still noticing little background moments I hadn’t clocked before. There aren’t very many close-ups, which I think was mainly because they didn’t have the budget for the time it would take to shoot them, but it works perfectly because a lot of the funny moments become even funnier when you can see multiple characters’ reactions at once. If you’re watching the background acting closely enough, you may notice a few instances of people almost breaking, but personally I just choose to interpret that as the characters finding it difficult to keep it together when other characters around them are being silly, and who can blame them? I appreciate that the writers and director trusted the cast enough to let them play around and improvise, because some great ad-libbed lines ended up in the final cut, and many more went into the best blooper reel ever, which is 24 minutes long and I love every second of it. There are some moments from the bloopers that I find myself saying sometimes when I’m watching the actual show – Ashley’s “Don’t be mean to me!” is probably the one I quote the most.

There is definitely romance in Poe Party – the whole reason for the party is because Edgar is in love with Annabel. Lenore and HG Wells develop feelings for each other over the course of the evening…until he dies. And several other characters flirt with each other. But none of the romances end well, and throughout the story, there is a lot of emphasis on friendship, and acquaintanceship, and other types of relationship. And that’s a running theme in most of Shipwrecked’s projects. There hasn’t been a kiss in any of them since Kissing in the Rain. Of course, much of the Poe Party fandom was, and is, into shipping characters with each other – for any listeners who may not be terminally online, shipping characters means that you want them to be in a romantic relationship with each other. I joined in somewhat, mostly because I felt like I was supposed to, but I couldn’t have articulated that at the time. And, as I mentioned earlier, I was particularly fascinated by the Eddie/Annabel dynamic, but I was only able to fully comprehend how much I needed the “don’t fake romance” message in hindsight. This show and its fandom made me feel less alone and adrift, but I still didn’t figure out I was aroace for a few more years. Although it was friends I made in the Shipwrecked fan community who first really helped me understand and accept that part of my identity, so I can still say that Poe Party was an important step on that journey.

I want to say so much more about this utterly brilliant show – I don’t feel like I’ve even come close to doing it justice here – but there truly are no words to adequately express my love for it. It still holds up nearly 7 years later, but Shipwrecked has come a long way since then. When their most recent webseries, Headless: A Sleepy Hollow Story, was about to come out, they said it made Poe Party look like it had been done by a bunch of kindergarteners, and I was upset at the Poe Party slander, but once I watched that series, I understood what they meant. Headless is so far above and beyond, but unfortunately it came out too recently to make it into my top 40. Currently they’re releasing an audio narrative called The Case of the Greater Gatsby, which should be on the same platform you’re listening to this on. That is a sequel to their short film The Case of the Gilded Lily, which I will be discussing in a future episode. I really hope that someday Shipwrecked gets the level of recognition they deserve – their fandom is still relatively small, although we are mighty and devoted. At the very least, I hope that the current strikes will help enable them to make a living from writing and acting.

Thank you for listening to me discuss another of my most frequently rewatched movies, or at least attempt to. Following this will be a two-way tie of movies I watched 25 times, both of which feature Cary Grant, my favorite leading man apart from Sean Persaud. As always, I will leave you with a quote from the next movie: “Hi! Mellow greetings, ukie-dukie!”

[thekatebridgerton]

Today on another episode of... oh you know the drill, I'm sleep deprived, I write aus at 3am, fall asleep without energy enough to keep writing, only to do it all over again next weekend. So for this week's episode:

Benophie meet the Robinsons au

So this kid Charlie suddenly lands in 12 year old orphaned Sophie's backyard, right around the time her father married Araminta, and for some reason Charlie claims that she is the only person who can help him fix the time machine that brought him there in the first place else his parents are going to kill him. And some evil villain is out to get him. So of course science kiddo Sophie agrees to help.

Except that while she tries fixing it, the time machine malfunctions again and sends 12 year old Sophie and 11 yo Charlie into the future.

The thing is that Charlie Bridgerton's entire family is currently all in his grandmother's estate for their annual game of pall mall.

And his family is... a lot to take in

Sophie's new friend has 7 eccentric aunts and uncles, plus their spouses, around 20 cousins ( Sophie really keeps loosing count of how many cousins Charlie has), then there's the unexpected visits from the sisters of his uncle's wives, with their respective husbands. Sophie counted one two, five Grandmothers having tea in the solar. And of course, Charlie's father, the artist Benedict Bridgerton, (who has got to be the most handsome man little Sophie has ever seen and Charlie's three younger siblings. )

They all think Sophie is some kind of school mate that Charlie has brought home and treat her so well that cute orphan Sophie starts wishing she could have a family like the Bridgertons, no matter how much Charlie says that's a bad idea because his mom definitely wouldn't like it, but once the Bridgertons find out that Charlie's friend is an orphan, of course they want to take her in.

Until Charlie's mom comes back home ready to scold her son for damaging her time machine and... little Sophie Beckett finds herself face to face with genius British scientist Sophie Bridgerton. Cue the chaos from the family realizing that Charlie brought his little mom to the future.

In the end when the evil corporation is defeated and the future time continuum is saved Sophie goes back to the past, ready to endure under Araminta until she can get an early emancipation and a scholarship to put all her effort into science and create a time Machine... and then she bumps into some slacker teenager painting the walls with graffiti and calling it art. Young Benedict is far from the wonderful man Sophie met in the future, but... she wants to stick to him and figure out how they ended up married in the future, worse, as her life keeps progressing and her friendship/ on and off art trade offs, with Ben keeps getting stronger trough the years, how can she hide the knowledge of who exactly is her in-laws future spouse.

Take for example Penelope from the journalism club, when Colin Bridgerton said he'd never date her, Sophie wanted to punch him and tell him he'd regret those words soon enough. She literally saw his adult version missing his wife just because Penelope went outside for air. And let's not mention Benedict's pompous older brother who always thinks he knows best, making plans to date Kate's sister right Infront of Sophie and Benedict. At that point Sophie was just opening a betting pool with grandma Danbury and calling it a day. Simon showing up one day and pretending to date Daphne was honestly the least weird part of Sophie's college years. When they got married, she was the least surprised, she knew!!

Francesca getting married to Michael's cousin? Since when? Sophie was convinced Michael was Fran's husband in the future, she didn't know about any John...wait ..wait oh no

And let's not get started with super feminist ' I don't need a man I'll never get married afraid of children ' Eloise, little Sophie was almost adopted into the Bridgerton family because adult Eloise was an avid children's rights advocate with a husband who believed in adopting orphans left and right. To find out that Eloise, the star step mom who was all about healing Sophie's trauma, used to be some surly angry highschool rebel, really had Sophie wondering if Eloise had a nicer secret twin.

And all the while in which Sophie is going with the flow keeping up with the Bridgertons and helping them out into becoming the happily weird and chaotic family she knows they can be. She ends up not noticing that ex graffiti artist, turned gallery owner Benedict is really into her. Mostly because Sophie knows herself as his wife or rather his future wife. And he keeps asking her to be his friend with benefits so she automatically thinks he's joking and doesn't pay him attention whenever he DMs her a horny come hither.

Benedict's family on the other hand who already love Sophie, keep telling him that a genius inventor like Sophie will never take him seriously unless he's ready to give her something solid to rely on. Instead of being a shameless tease, he should be a man and ask her out for real. But Benedict hesitates because Sophie already looks like she's been inlove with someone since forever. What he doesn't know is that he's actually jealous of himself, or rather, jealous of the man he'll be in the future, who Sophie met when she was 12.

What a complicated mess.

[linesonscreens]

Let's Read Peanuts (Yes, all of it) – March 1953

There are lots of great strips I just don't have room to comment on. I strongly encourage everybody to read the full month at the official GoComics page. Today's month starts HERE.

Mar 1, 1953

Torn between being irrationally angry at this boomer-ass “kids these days” take and loving that room's aesthetic.

Also I'm pretty sure that this is the song in question for those who are curious.

Mar 3, 1953

I haven't been showing them because the joke is bad and I hate it but there's a whole bunch of strips about Lucy's bread and butter sandwiches and her insistence that they be folded over and not cut. I'm guessing it's a thing Schulz's daughter was doing at the time.

Mar 7, 1953

A mildly antagonistic relationship is forming.

Mar 8, 1953

Living with Lucy must be a special kind of personal hell.

Mar 13, 1953

Careful, that girl will crush your abnormally large head like a grape. I've seen her do it.

Mar 15, 1953

Nice to see Schulz finally figured out how to draw thought bubbles.

Mar 26, 1953

Solid punchline, but the best part is actually the casual dig Schroeder drops in the second panel.

Thoughts:

Watched A Charlie Brown Christmas for the first time in decades over the holiday and it's... fine? I think it's something I respect more than enjoy. There are specific moments that I like and certain artistic decisions that I think work phenomenally (the jazz soundtrack, for example). I even like the message despite not being in any way religious.

But man, it's kind of a mess. I was constantly distracted by awkward cuts, animation errors, weird line readings, and all kinds of other issues. Plus the whole “we need to get this Christmas play ready” plotine just kind of gets dropped at the end and that really bugged the hell out of me. I don't think that this is the animation team's fault, apparently they only had 6 months to write and animate the entire thing, but the lack of polish really shows and I wish they had just a bit more time to tighten things up. Then again, that same jankyness gives the special a certain human touch and charm which I suspect is a large part of why a lot of people still like it even today. So who knows if changing things would make it more enjoyable.

Overall I think this special still ~mostly~ holds up, even if it's not my favorite piece of animated Peanuts media. It's over before you have time to get mad at the parts that don't work and at the end of the day when the kids decorate the tree and start singing I felt the feelings it wanted me to feel. And really, that's all it needed to do.

Soooo... I guess keep this one in mind for when you're looking for something to get you in the Christmas mood in like... 11 months? (Yeah, I really should have watched this thing earlier so I could post this before New Years. Oh well.)