blythefm

[blythefm]

BLYTHE BEESLY AESTHETICS: eternal sleepover

it’s dawn’s birthday so it’s imperative to make her dad feel special. blythe is wearing a bear onesie especially made for her by dawn. it’s big enough for it to fit properly despite her long legs and has a special hidden pocket where she is keeping vodka gummy bears she snacks on throughout the night because whew, she needs them.

[blythefm]

@othcrhalf​​ when: after the big, medium, and small brain meeting where: the drinks table!

Even if she spent most of that cursed retirement home meeting downing alcohol, Blythe needs another drink. She avoids the people that attempt to approach her with questions she doesn’t want to answer. Yes, it’d would probably be wise to maybe be a bit more forthcoming with people but... She needs a drink first.

Blythe is in the process of preparing herself a drink when out of the corner of her eye, she spots them. She’s been avoiding people lately, but especially Robyn, hiding when they come around to visit Harbor because she doesn’t feel like acknowledging that she had more feelings other than anger. But there is no point in waking away now, especially not when she kind of is dying to  ask how the managed to get Silver in tip-top shape for the party.

With two drinks in hand, Blythe silently approaches them and hands Robyn one of the (strong) cocktails she prepared. 

“Did Silver not tell you about my offer? I hate you two had to wait until Dawn’s party to have me force you to move here.”

[blythefm]

@silverostro​ / @givcnup​​ when: early into the evening, first order of business, folks! where: war room, aka blythe’s room

It’s time. 

She sees people are busy either congratulating Dawn, drinking, or trying to get information from Pista and DeeZee since so far she’s done a pretty good job evading questions. Her words are final, and she has shit to do. First step is finding Silver, which is not hard given they’re probably in the top five tallest people at the party. She gives them a quick hug, though her greeting seems lacking. What she has a lot of is urgency as she leads them towards her room, expecting for the rest of the people involved to follow them. 

The room is a fucking mess. Clothes everywhere, bed unmade, remains of the sawdust she didn’t name to sweep off sitting in the corners. It’s a clear expression of Blythe’s personality, and so is Blythe’s lack of caring when it comes to people witnessing her mess. 

The only redeeming quality of her room is the table waiting for them by the window. The effort Blythe failed to put into cleaning her room was all used in the figurines and plans sitting on top, ready for them all to use them once everyone is done arguing. Blythe doesn’t expect miracles. She looks at Silver and knows they’re both waiting to see how Griffin will react. 

“If you two decide you need to beat each other up, give me a warning first. There are my favorite pajamas, Dawn made them for me, it’s a bear onesie big enough to fit me and I don’t need blood on it.”

[blythefm]

ovcrlookcd​:

BLYTHE TELLS HIM that she forgets sometimes. Forgets that she’s not alone in this. He sees that, understands that. It’s easy to forget, too, how fragile she can be, despite the strength she obviously holds; easy to forget how much younger she is than him, than DeeZee. In all the years they’ve known each other, Pista’s always taken a step back when it comes to her, mostly let DeeZee do the talking, allow him to enable her and eventually drag him along into their antics. It’s a dynamic that works, one that’s all too simple to fall into, but things can be different when they’re alone, in pairs, and sometimes, when it’s just Blythe and Pista, he dares to try and ground her, in his own soft, silent ways. In times when it works, though, he feels a lot like an older brother to her, placating her, urging her to think just a little bit before doing. She never fully backs down, of course, not when they’re face to face, because he’s always been such a fucking doormat too, but he’s made attempts. Several. Aldera’s way better at it than he is, he’d wager, but no one can say he hasn’t tried. 

It feels a lot like that again now. Blythe, broken and suddenly so small next to him, speaking much softer, hoarser than she had been mere moments ago, when they were too busy yelling at each other to remember what really mattered, feels so much younger. Pista’s always felt a little lost, but she beats him at that in this moment. So when she tells him she loves him, he doesn’t hesitate. He lets go of a sigh, deep and heavy, and pulls her even closer, hand on her hair, chin on her shoulder, keeping her with him, wrapped up and given as much warmth as his tired, busted body can muster. 

“I know, Blythe. I know. It’s okay,” he murmurs, breathing a little steadier now, but heart beating hard and fast inside his chest. She’s said it before, to both him and DeeZee, several times over, and they’ve said it jokingly back, but it’s different this time when it’s so full of meaning, the urgency and intensity of their argument only serving to elevate it now. He breathes in, relieved, overwhelmed, and doesn’t dare let go.

“I love you too. Please don’t forget that.”

FIN

[blythefm]

ovcrlookcd​:

BLYTHE BREAKS IN his arms, and Pista lets her. Pista, whose entire chest feels like it’s just about ready to explode, sags heavily and visibly, and the two of them crash there, Blythe melting against him, and him holding onto her for dear life, for support, some kind of stability in the midst of that sharp, searing pain inside his body. She cries even harder, and he gives her a gentle squeeze, eyes shut tight, forcing out the tears that had been falling drop by drop before then. He chokes out a sob, which he immediately wants to rein back in, but there’s no point when they’ve both become so fucked up by what’s happened. This is precisely why he avoids confrontations like this with people; it’s this kind of deep, open, and painful vulnerability that’s always hard to deal with, leaving him completely helpless, shaken to his very core. He’s only glad it seems they’ve gotten past the worst of the yelling.

There’s some attempts made to talk, which he gets because this is her trying to give him the courtesy of a response, but this is also her trying to explain herself still, and that’s not quite what he needs right now, not what they both need. She isn’t really making her points well, which isn’t anything new, considering eloquence isn’t exactly her forte, but he listens, and he lets her go on, despite how much he may want to disagree with some of her points. As it stands, he’s too tired now to fight back, too exhausted, the energy from earlier having all but left his body, and the only thing he wants to do now is to stay here, like this, make sure she doesn’t leave or run away and finish what she’d started. From the way she’s fallen against him too, it doesn’t seem like she has any strength left in her to do just that.

“We just… we need to stick together. Okay? That’s what we need to do. That’s the most important thing. No… no running off and doing things like this on your own. Please? I don’t…” He swallows thickly, struggling to speak past the strain of emotion in his voice. “I don’t think you know how scared people get for you sometimes… I understand that you want to protect everyone, and I think you’re capable of that, I do, but I… I worry too. We worry.” 

...

There is a lot to fix. Better apologies to be given, wounds to tend to. But Blythe is a mess and that can wait. Her lack of ability to properly word her thoughts gets worse when she is upset, and in that moment, she is clearly at the peak of her outburst, just like Pista looks like he is ready to get the fuck out of there. She wants the same. 

But she is not running away, at least not yet. She keeps on hugging him, silently hoping that this time she didn’t say something stupid enough to make Pista think twice about the friendship they’ve been cultivating for years. As different as he is from her, she needs him. Pista balances her out, the complete opposite of DeeZee who’s always served as an enabler. If there is something this squabble has proved is that Pista’s role is a fundamental one. Not only in her life, but this mission she’s chosen to take on. More than ever Blythe hates she can’t say a thing, tell Pista that she is so desperate to make all of it work because there is a glimmer of hope out there for all of them. She thinks he’d like to hear about the safe haven he could take his mother to, keep her from suffering the same fate hers did. 

“Yes..... Yes we do.....“ If they start fighting now, there is no guarantee they will make it. Keeping her friends and allies close and content is imperative, it’s all part of keeping them safe. She sees that now. Somewhat. She still wants to go out there and make people pay, but maybe her plans can wait until it safe to do so. Timing, timing, timing. “I know. I forget sometimes. I forget I am not alone in this.“ Which is true. Tunnel vision is hell, and one of her biggest weaknesses. She ought to work on it if she doesn’t want to fail. “I love you, you know? I’m sorry I suck at showing it sometimes.”

[blythefm]

[blythefm]

ovcrlookcd​:

IN HER ANGER, it’s not uncommon for Blythe to say things that end up really fucking hurting people, and in the past, Pista’s done a good job of ignoring it when it happens, even in spite of the pain it causes, knowing he’ll never win anyway, Blythe often too pissed to see reason. When she tells him now that he’s grown complacent, that he isn’t angry, insinuating that he feels nothing over what’s been done to him, he wants to explode. Because it hurts to be told that. It hurts to hear that this pure physical exhaustion he feels, the fatigue of every day life in the Districts ( his job here in the Capitol being his one and only holiday in a year ), is being used against him, being called fucking complacency when he’s literally been doing all this for the Capitol, letting himself be worked to the bone just so they would leave his parents alone, just so they would keep sending the bare minimum of support for his old vegetable father and make sure his mother, the only real family he has left that gives a damn about him, is kept out of harm’s way. What the fuck does she want him to do? Start a fucking union? Request retirement? Send in a letter of resignation? Like he hasn’t fucking tried to get out of that damnable job mending the goddamn trains several years ago? Like he hasn’t been sent rejection message after rejection message, over and over and over?

“YOU DON’T GET TO TELL ME WHAT I’M FEELING, BLYTHE.” 

It’s the loudest he’s yelled, and he immediately regrets it. A few seconds after it leaves his mouth, he turns away, chest heaving, eyes screwed shut, hands covering his face. And behind him, he can hear Blythe screaming, as if in response, and he can hear her fists come into contact with the wall, the rythm of it refusing to keep in time with his harsh struggle for breath. It goes on like that for a while, Blythe punching the wall in her fury, Pista facing away, hands on his chest as he tries to catch his breath, calm himself down, real tears threatening to fall from his eyes now as his mind tells him, again and again, that Blythe couldn’t have meant it. That Blythe was just too angry. That she couldn’t possibly think that about him, about his situation, when he’s done nothing but suffer in silence, in fear, when he’s nothing like her, when he’s too fearful to act, knowing it’ll directly hurt those precious few he holds dear. Because that’s what the Capitol’s going to do, and Blythe, who’s experienced it before, should’ve known better before saying a goddamn thing.

She talks after a minute or so of that silence between them, her voice a little different from what it had been moments ago, and he can tell she’s crying even when he isn’t looking at her, can tell she’s down on the ground now, and when he turns to her, she has her face in her hands, knees close to her chest. And Pista can’t help it because he’s always been weak when it comes to things like this, when people finally crumble, and it’s even worse when it’s Blythe, who’s always been so tough. He sighs again, heavily, running a hand down his face as he approaches her, and he crouches down next to her, arms shakily wrapping around her frame as he pulls her close, body trembling from the raw emotion. His tears fall, little by little, eyes still wide as he stares at the bloody wall next to them. This is nothing like the usual panic he feels, or the shutting down; the intensity of what he’s feeling is clear. This is anguish, hurt, pain. Regret too.

“I’m fucking sorry, Blythe, please, just… Let’s just calm down for a second. O-okay? Please. We’re both fucked up and — and scared, and angry, and in pain, and I just… So many of us need you, Blythe. We need you here, not… not taken somewhere else, not f-fucking dead, okay? Seven needs you, Virgo needs you, Deez needs you, I need you… That’s… that’s what this is, alright? That’s what this is…”

...

Blythe is great at hurting people. Doesn’t matter if she uses her fists or her tongue, she’s mastered the art of pushing people away because she thinks that having them hurt them is much better than seeing them get captured or killed because of their involvement with her. She’s never liked it, but years ago came to believe that it was a necessary evil.  It was easy to just let it happen when certain people, but never with Pista. She is upset and raging, but she is not a bad person so of course she regrets pissing him off enough to actually get a reaction out of him, which is something that rarely ever happens.

It makes her feel much, much worse. She keeps on crying, ignoring the blood stains on her clothes as she attempts to wipe her knuckles on her pants just to give herself something to do but Pista stops her when he wraps his arms around her. And then she melts.

She cries harder, arms instantly looping around his neck as she cries out and at lasts lets out all the feelings she’s been trying to hide in order to pretend like she is the strongest person in the tower. And maybe she still is, but with the way Blythe is currently wailing, it doesn’t feel like it. 

“No... I’m sorry, fuck! Look.... Telling you I didn’t mean what I said would be bullshit, okay? Because I do mean it, and it makes me fucking angry, but the thing.... The truth is that I know it’s not true. Okay? I see it and I know it.“ Never eloquent, Blythe thinks it would be best if she just shut up. 

“I’m not gonna disappoint you or anyone. I don’t want that. I just.... Fuck, I need... I can’t just fucking sit there while all of you disappear and just...” She sniffles, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. “I’m scared of what will happen if I can’t save everyone.”

[blythefm]

ovcrlookcd​:

“GODDAMMIT, BLYTHE.”

SHE’S too angry, she’s too fucking angry to see reason, and he knows he’s making points, he knows he’s hitting, because she wouldn’t be this fucking upset if he wasn’t, but she’s just too goddamn angry, and when she’s angry, nothing and absolutely nothing gets to her. Shit goes into one ear and out the other, and in between, it gets twisted into some kind of convoluted, and messed up thing that only serves to prove how much she’s trying to ignore his points. He could make a whole fucking list, and she’d somehow manage to find some tone-deaf excuse to invalidate every single item on it anyway. He could go on and on for as long as he’s able, for as long as his busted, perpetually exhausted body would let him, but she is never going to see reason when she’s this blinded by fury. No one ever, ever gets her to back away or calm the hell down when she’s in one of these moods. Hell, he doesn’t even know why he’s trying anymore. They’re going nowhere, fast.

There’s no point trying to answer back at every single reason she tries to bring up because she’ll just do the same thing, even at the risk of sounding like a broken record ( which she does, and often, and as one of her close friends, Pista knows all too well that Blythe doesn’t give a shit ). There’s much and more he wishes he could say to her, so much else he could broach to point out the holes and inconsistencies in her arguments, but Pista never really could keep bouts of emotion up like this for too long, not since his work in the trains have begun to sap him of all his energy year after year. He hears Blythe, knows why she thinks she has to do what she’s doing — Pista doesn’t know enough about her odd friendship with the older Mentor from Three, other than the fact that he’s noticed it grow over time, but he can see how genuine her concern is for them when she brings them up, along with Gazel, whom for the longest time she’s never had anything good to say about, so he gets it, he does. But does he think this is the right way to help? Hell no.

The frustration flares up again when she curses him out for bringing up Virgo, as if she herself hadn’t brought the trains up just like that, and it builds even more when she mentions Diose, insinuates that he’d tell her about something so delicate when the point here is to make sure shit like this doesn’t get out, the venom in her voice when she talks about her and her family hard to ignore and hard to let slide, as if she thinks she can just talk about her that way by virtue of knowing Virgo… But fuck, is he tired. “You see, this is why I never argue with you, Blythe, you never fucking listen to me,” he says, bringing a hand up to his face briefly, deciding it would be for the better to try something else when picking her arguments apart clearly isn’t doing it. “You get.. you get so fucking mad, and when you do, you don’t listen, you lash out, and it — it pushes the people around you away, and I, I fucking thought I could try this time, get you to see reason, but — ” He pauses, tries to breathe in. He’s so fucking tired. Calm down. Look elsewhere. Not at her.

“I’m just trying to tell you to be more fucking careful, Blythe. Okay? And I know that I’m one to talk, I know what I did in the trains, but what you were thinking of doing just now, that — that shit’s reckless, and no amount of adoring fans are going to get you out of what the Capitol’s going to fucking do to you when it finds out. And we cannot have that, Blythe. Not to you. Do you understand? Are you hearing what I’m saying to you?”

...

“Oh, fuck off. You never argue with me because you’ve grown complacent and don’t want me to call you out on it. At least DeeZee is still fucking angry even if he likes bedding those assholes. But you? You should be fucking angry after all the shit they’ve done to you.“ It’s not her place to think that she knows better than Pista and that her own opinions are better than his, but this is Blythe. She is stubborn as a mule, always refuses to listen to reason when she is in one of her moods. It happens often, which Pista definitely knows, but this has to be one of the worst crises she’s had, only to be topped by how lost she was when she found Azura dead in her bathroom. Which he also knows about, so in Blythe’s mind, Pista should be able to understand why she is doing all of this. Only problem is, Blythe’s definition of understanding her is enabling her, which the victor isn’t willing to do.

Maybe she does want to push people away, even if she is doing this unconsciously. Lately she’s been letting so many people in, changing the way she approaches the relationships she has with the people around her. And what did that get her? Oh, nothing other than having the whole lot of them kidnapped and tortured, no big deal. 

“It’s not reckless, it’s fair.“ It’s Blythe’s fucked up way of doing some justice. It’s a kill or be killed word, she knows it better than anyone. Keeping Digit alive means that once she recovers, she will find another way to fuck them over again. And with Blythe probably being on top of her shitlist... Well, Blythe is scared shitless. Behind all that anger and all that rage, there is a terrified girl who is tired of losing every person she's ever dared to love. As pissed as she is at Pista, he is included in that.

Tears filled her eyes as she screams, turning away and punching the wall again until her knuckles bleed. Even when her blood stains the wall, she doesn’t stop for a while, dropping onto the floor after a minute. 

“I’d rather let them kill me at last before seeing one of you get taken away and witness once again what these assholes are willing to do. I don’t care if they fucking hang me as long as it happens once I have ensured they will never you again. I just want to fucking kill them. All of them. Fucking make them pay for what they’ve done to me, and she is fucking included in that. I don’t give a shit if she is a victor, I DON’T CARE.” She cries, hiding her face behind her hands as she brings her knees to her chest. “I’m killing.... I’m killing all of them......... Finally show them how it feels..........”

[blythefm]

alderapitleaf​:

Aldera was so anxious the year she got reaped, she could hardly eat anything. It’s only in recent years she’s been able to fully appreciate the foods that she consumes. And then she immediately feels bad, taking advantage of the system that has hurt her, and hurt those in her community, and everyone around her. So she doesn’t indulge when she comes to the Capitol. But she’d never judge those that do. It’s the least Victors get for the shit they endure. 

She’s glad to be able to talk about growing bushes rather than the things they can eat here. Aldera shrugs. “I think it’s entirely possible. I don’t know what the soil is like in Seven but fertilizer always helps. You know about composting?”

...

“Well, it’ obviously must be good. It’s not like we live in the desert. I mean, I figure it’s good otherwise we couldn’t have so many trees and shit.“ This is something Blythe is mediocre at. She is not knowledgeable about how to actually grow food, only really knowing how to eat it. Well, that and knowing which berries, nuts, and mushroom she isn’t supposed to eat unless she wants to drop dead or get a rash. Aldera is the obvious expert here. 

“Uh... No... Should I? Listen, I chop down the trees, not actually grow them.” Now that she’s ever done much chopping recently. Since there is no need for Blythe to work, she’s taken a backseat when it comes to the whole lumberjack thing, sticking to spending her time on her figures and hard drinking when she is back home. “I thought that, well, if there are bushes all over the place, I could get a few in my yard, have some butterflies and all that crap.” Virgo would like that. “I’ve never planted a thing in my life.“

[blythefm]

[blythefm]

[blythefm]

@dcwnhardin

[blythefm]

ovcrlookcd​:

THERE IT IS again, that “I do whatever the fuck I want” attitude. Pista always did think that side of her was going to get her and her veritable army of loved ones, him included, captured or killed one day, but Blythe is lucky the Capitol sheep like her so much that they would put up with her shit the way they have for years. Get anyone else to pull the same kind of crap she has before, and they’d be dead in a ditch the next fucking day. Pista knows all too well how being careful feels like, is much too acquainted with that feeling of being watched, of having your every move be scrutinized — the dread of recognizing that if you make one wrong move, one tiny slip-up, then you’ll be gone in the morning, disappeared without a trace. He’s not beloved like she is, never has been, he doesn’t have that same armor she has. The adoration has gone to her head, kept her complacent, made her too fucking reckless, and maybe that’s just what the Capitol wants. Maybe it’s just been biding its time, waiting for when she’ll fuck up so much, even her own adoring fans won’t be able to bail her out of it.

It’s been years, and she should know that by now.

“Then fucking THINK SOME MORE because it feels to me like you’ve forgotten how just now,” Pista shoots back after she calls him an idiot, frustrated by how narrowly she sees things when she gets this way. Always so hard to convince, always so hard to pull into reason. He knows he’s going to have to get a clearer view of the picture here, but he doesn’t want to ask about that either when Blythe’s locked in this crazed state. It’ll just be the bitch this, the bitch that, no actual, concrete answers, just noise and fury and pure, unadulterated rage. “Look, I’m pretty fucking sure you’re not the only one who feels this way about her, alright, she’ll get hers at some point, with or without you — you’ve fucking beaten her enough, she won’t be able to hobble back to Three so quickly with the way you’ve broken her already. Not everything has to be solved like that right then and there, Blythe.” 

All he wants to do is metaphorically yank her face down so she can see what’s right under her nose. While her head’s in the clouds, dreaming of justified homicide, she’s got a ton of other people down here, around her, waiting on her, counting on her. And through no fault of their own either. Blythe has a way of cooking up a huge storm when she comes into your life, and once she’s there, she’s there for good, whether you want her to be or not — and whether she wants to be or not. “Instead of running around killing others, maybe, I don’t know, fucking focus on what you’re actually saying you wanna do? Leave the fucking traitor alone and look to your goddamn people. What the hell are they gonna do once you’re taken? You say Virgo’s been acting a mess — what would happen once they find out you’ve been fuckin’ locked away for murdering another Victor?” If she’s mentioning the trains, then he’s latching on to Virgo.

...

So all she needs is to think more. Ridiculous. She thinks so as well as shows it by scoffing and rolling her eyes at Pista. The poor man could give Blythe an endless list of reasons why her recent actions are stupid, reckless, and doing the opposite of what she is trying to accomplish and she still wouldn’t listen. Probably would try to find a way to destroy it too. Because that’s all she’s good at doing. Destroying, causing havoc. Her speech back at Seven left her home in shambles, her plan back in the train could have ended up with someone getting captured just like Swann, her assassination attempt would have most likely ended up with her getting killed by security in the blink of an eye... The examples are endless. Pista knows her too well, is more than capable of bringing up things that could help her realize how many mistakes she is making. The problem is, she can’t listen. Not when she is this angry. 

“Fuck you, I don’t want to wait. Why does she get to sleep at night, just be comfortable in her bed when Silver didn’t fucking get even a warning. NOTHING. They were taken away right in front of fucking Robyn. She is messing with ALL OF US! Someone needs to do something about it so EXCUSE ME for wanting to fucking defend my friend. I’d do the same thing for you and Deezee.“ And has done so in the past. Punched whoever talked badly of them within her earshot. Blythe has never given a shit about not giving into her anger, especially when those she cares about are involved. 

“Don’t you dare accuse me of not caring about my people. Are you forreal? Are you fucking kidding me? Who do you think kept DeeZee in one piece after that bullshit show? You of all people should be fucking worried now that there is a target on your back. I need to do something, I can’t just sit and pretend everything will be solved without me.” She wants to help, but can’t figure out the right way to do it. Her head gets too hot, her thoughts too messy, and she ends up doing what feels good. Punching Digit and seeing her suffer even a fraction of the hurt Silver went through felt fucking good. “Fuck you, you don’t get to bring up Virgo.“ Out of all the arguments Pista could use, he intelligently mentions the very person Blythe that reminds Blythe of past tragedies all while being an important part of her present. “What are you going to do? Snitch on me? Go cry to their sister and get involved in even more bullshit? Maybe the one who should be thinking here is YOU. That family is FUCKED. You should be thanking me I am doing something about all these assholes that need to be six feet underground.”

[blythefm]

alderapitleaf​:

Aldera gives her a laugh, shaking her head in defeat at Blythe’s suggestion of hopeful thinking. She hopes too, that things can be so simple as just going out and taking a a fishing trip on a boat. “Yeah… yeah we can hope.”

“Best way to make them.” Aldera’s pretty certain they all do what Blythe mentions, though. Steal things to bring them back home, where they don’t have access to those sorts of things. She likes to pack as much sugar as she can, and tries to bake for the kids that come by her mansion. She’s not particularly good at baking, but the kids don’t really care when they’ve never really had that much sugar in their lives. “I never liked oysters too much. Such a weird texture. But I’ll agree with you on the berries.”

...

“Hope is all I have since no one will get me oysters and people here seem to hate seafood.“ When Blythe was reaped, one of the very few highlights of her trip to the capitol was getting to eat new things. The second she tried lobster, she was hooked. Lobster, crab, oysters, and other more luxurious food were nothing when compared with the river fish lucky people back in Seven got to eat during special occasions. 

“Ah, but the texture is the best thing about them... You know...“ She wiggles her eyebrows, but says nothing more. She’s teased Aldera more than enough. “Yeah, the berries beat the nuts and leaves brew and porridges we usually eat.“ Even when her mother was good at making them thinks like something other than grass, water and salt, Blythe still hates all of it. “You think there might be a way to get some bushes to grow in my garden?“

[blythefm]

dcwnhardin​:

That makes him shake his head, let out a sigh, because he knows it’s true, and he knows that she would probably jump at the chance to do just that for the strangely adoring public that would love for her to step on them. Those people truly would die to have her tie them up. “Blythe,” Dawn says pointed, the sort of warning in a single word that’s become typical of them over the years. A line being toed that he doesn’t like to hear crossed, even though he knows full well that Blythe crosses those lines easily when with other people. He does appreciate that she always seems willing to drop something that hits a little too real for him, though. 

“Mm, I don’t know. I tried to take a nap the other day with Slate, and I couldn’t even shut my mind off long enough to fall asleep at all. For all we know, it might not even be possible for Dawn Hardin to nap at this point. Too many years of stress and bullshit have gone by without an attempt before now,” he sighs, a little dramatically, but he’s still sure there’s nothing he would possibly trade for the messes Blythe gets into. No reason they can’t tease, though, especially when a little levity is needed. “If you’re getting old, I’ve got one foot in the grave. It’s okay, though, I’ll still love you even when you’re boring and predictable.” He can’t help but lean over, pull her head down a little roughly so that he can press a kiss to her hair, the sentimentality clear in the gesture, despite the teasing of the words.

“No offense, Blythe, but when you say nurse outfit and plunger kisses, it paints a pretty vivid picture. If you need something for them to stay busy and safe, have them make me one, too. I could dress up like a nurse for him, he can’t see, but he can still feel,” Dawn shrugs, laying it on a little thick, but he does promise himself quietly to stop after that one, especially as Blythe pretends to choke herself in disgust. Not even Blythe needs to be scarred with any vivid imagery of what does or doesn’t go on behind closed doors with them. “Okay, I’m done I promise. But really, Virgo can help me. The more hands keeping everyone from falling apart, the better.” Which is truer than he can say. Virgo is young, a little all over the place themself at times, but help comes in all different forms, especially if they’re already determined to help Blythe. “And I’m sorry to say I’ll keep covering up your… assets; you don’t want to hear about Slate, I don’t want you flashing people, and still, we care. Truly the love runs deep.”

...

Dawn is the only person who is able to stopping Blythe on her tracks with just one word. The look he gives her as well as the tone of his voice can only mean one thing; shush. She is known as someone that never shuts up, but Dawn has the kind of overpowered influence that allows him to tame her and keep her under control. So she shuts up. Presses her lips together until they form a tin line as she raises her hands, surrendering. He wins this round, though after a couple of days Blythe will come up with something new that will surely turn Dawn’s hair white. 

Still trying to behave, Blythe gracefully ignores Dawn’s mention of Slate. “It’s never too late. There are many ways to put someone to sleep, you want me to try them on you?” Not that she’d actually do that. What is she supposed to do, knock out Dawn? No way. If the man wants to get ten minutes of sleep, Blythe will just continue complaining about it until he finally gets to go on a holiday. “Yeah, no. A foot in the grave? That grave is going to be fucking useless. If you refuse to sleep now, I doubt that being six feet under will keep you down. One day I am going to be eating breakfast and then all of the sudden, Zombie Dawn will appear behind me and tell me to get my feet off the table.” The kiss that’s pressed to her head makes her giggle, and in return, Blythe lifts her hand and caresses Dawn’s cheek. 

“No offense, Dawn, but if your mind is in the gutter then that is your own fault.“ She’d ask when was the last time he got laid but given who his bedmate is, Blythe misses out on joking about that. “No, absolutely NOT. Virgo isn’t making you some sex dungeon costume.“ Again she feels the need to cover her ears, which doesn’t do much to keep her from listening to him. Yuck. She shakes her head, closes her eyes and begs for her brain to get rid of the mental image it cursed her with. It’s her own fault for starting this conversation, so the one in charge of putting an end to it is also her. “I am going to throw up,“ she complains, standing up from her seat. “I will talk to them, yeah. They need something better to do.“ And this won’t put them in danger, so everyone wins. “Yeah, yeah. I am calling Victors Protective Services on your ass, tell them you won’t let me express myself and keep torturing me with boyfriend tales.“ She tries to look mad, but her laugh ruins it.

“Before you say something that makes me puke, I’m out. I love you, but I can’t do this anymore.“ As a goodbye, Blythe grabs Dawn and places a loud kiss on his cheek. “I’ll be back for dinner, dad.“

FIN

[blythefm]

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