#and Bonnie of course wasn’t old enough for the talk yet

[dr-lizortecho]

I think as payment for endearing all the alien puberty jokes (looking at you season three) they should have planned to hand wave all the Oasis stuff by 4x13 and dedicate all of season five to real alien puberty which hits in an Oatian’s early thirties, but it’s just the entire squad freaking out cause everytime Dallas tries to explain the message his dad left in the Lockhart machine he just sounds like Starfire explaining Tamaranean biology and their ecosystems

[stvolanis]

All Dolled Up

PT. 1

PT. 2

PAIRINGS: Dads best friend! Perv! Elvis Presley x innocent OC

WARNINGS: THIS IS SHORTER BUT THERE WILL BE ANOTHER PART IF THIS DOES WELL, age gap (OC is 18 and Elvis is in his early 40s), inaccurate time line probably, OC is innocent, pet names (baby, darlin)

NSFW WARNINGS:Elvis is a perv,corruption kink, he does dirty things with her panties, dacryphilia (if you squint), masturbating (Elvis), mentions of oral (m receiving). I promise the next one will be nastier guysss<3

˚ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ˚

It was hot and humid and the air felt somehow heavy. Sweat dripped down Kim’s tanned skin, and her once white shirt was nearly see through. Her hair was pulled into a messy ponytail, a few strands matted to her forehead as she raced around happily with her dogs. Her most favorite and cherished life forms, Dottie and Bonnie. A little toy poodle and a mastiff, yet they were best of friends.

Kim rolled around in the grass with her dogs, free of worries, even as he shirt turned to an ugly brown from the dirt and muddy spots. Dottie, the toy poodle, licked at her face feverishly as Kim pushed her head away with a contagious giggle.

The sunset was a beautiful purple, pink and orange-ish hue with no trace of clouds in sight. Kim lived on the Country side where everything was old fashioned. The men wore tailored pants and shirts tucked in, while the boys ran around in shorts and a home t-shirt. The women wore long skirts and modest floral shirts and the girls wore short skirts and dresses. Kim never could manage to fit in with the girls who’d hitch their skirt up at the sight of a nice looking man, and she didn’t really care to.

She lived with her father and older brother, who were both hard working men. Her mother had passed away when Kim was 7 from an overdose on Aspirin. Kims mother was never a happy woman. She was never satisfied with her marriage, her kids, or even the life that was dealt to her. If Kim was allowed to swear, she would definitely call her mother some nasty things. It was no surprise when her father had woken up to a dead body on the floor next to their shared bed. Even if she wasn’t the best mother, Kim was still saddened slightly.

Kims father wasn’t a strict man, but when it came to his daughter, he was. ‘No boys’ he’d say, as if any of the lousy boys the town had to offer caught Kims interest. ‘Posture’ he’d scold when they were out in public. Of course her father loved and cared for her, after all, she was his only daughter. Kim was hidden away from the town. her older brother, Marcus, tutored her at their home every day starting at 7 AM sharp and usually only lasted till 2 PM.

The girls she’d pass by during her long walks around town called her a freak. They thought she was weird for being home schooled, and she constantly had to endure stares because of it. The women were no better, either. ‘She’ll never become a woman’ they’d mutter. Or the most hurtful and recent, ‘she’ll end up just like that no good mother of hers’. And to that, Kim had felt her eyes water.

On her free time, Kim would hang out with the only friend she had. A tall, skinny boy named Robert. He didn’t have many friends either, so they decided to befriend each other during grade 6 and have been best friends ever since. Robert got along well with Kims older brother, as they held similar interests. Though nothing they talked about entertained Kim enough to not doze off.

“Kimberly!” Her father yelled out to her. Kim’s body snapped forward off the grass, startling her dogs who were laying with her. “Yes, father?” She asked as she got up and brushed the dirt off of her clothes. “Jesus, you’re a mess, didn’t I tell ya we had a guest comin’ later?” He scolded with furrowed brows as he ushered her into their wooden house.

Kim frowned. “‘M Sorry, I forgot. I’ll go shower.” She muttered as she looked down at her feet. Her father sighed. “It’s too late now, he’ll be here any minute.” He replied as he looked over at the grandfather clock. “Go fetch ya brother for me, won’t ya?” He asked.

Kim nodded her head with a smile as she trotted her way to her older brothers room, lightly knocking on the door. She could hear shuffling from behind the door before her brother opened it, revealing his trashed room. “Oh—what happened?” She asked as she peered over his shoulder.

“Quit bein’ nosy, missy.” Her brother said teasingly as he jutted her head away and closed the door behind him. Kim giggled. “It looks like one of the pigs ran through your room.” She teased. Marcus rolled his eyes. “Hush, I’ve just been too busy to clean lately.” He replied.

“Hm, I’ll help ya, if ya want?” Kim asked with a quirked brow as they made their way to the living room. “That’d be real nice of ya, Kim.” He replied with a smile. Kim nodded, smiling back at her older brother. One of her favorite, most understanding people. They’ve always been close, and she knew that if no one was ever gonna be there, he surely was.

Her brother was to serve in the military in 3 months, so she tried to make every last moments she has with him count before he’s shipped off to god knows where doing who knows what. It was a hard burden to carry for the both of them. Kim didn’t want Marcus to leave, and neither did he.

Elvis Presley felt his breath hitch in his throat as he watched her round the corner. “This is my son, Marcus.” Her father began, gesturing to Kim’s brother. “And this is my daughter, Kimberly.” He said with a wavering smile at his daughters messy state.

She stood at 5’3 in her grey socks, one pulled down lower than the other. Her short blue jeans had darker flowers engraved on the edges of them, and god, did they make her legs look amazing. Her shirt was see through, and Elvis could see her lacy pink bra she wore underneath if he squinted enough past the dirt and grime on it. Her small doe eyes peered up at him, a light hazel color paired with long eyelashes. She was slim, and tan from being out in the sun all day, and the freckles on her face proved it.

“Hi, sir. Nice to meet ya.” Kim said cheerfully as she extended her hand to Elvis. His lips felt dry before he licked them. “Elvis Presley, nice to meet ya too, darlin’.” He replied with a small smile and a firm nod, grasping her smaller hand in his large one. Her hands were soft, even though she worked outside in the barn all day, and Elvis reveled in it.

“Elvis will be staying with us for a week.” Her father stated. Kim raised a brow. “Whys that?” She asked. Marcus slapped the back of her head lightly. Kim furrowed her brows as she looked over at him. “Was just akin’.” She huffed out with an eye roll.

“Alright, y’all go on now, me n’ E.P gon’ talk for a while.” Kim’s father said with a boy-ish smile as he glanced at Elvis. The man chuckled in response and nodded his head as he watched Mike, Kim’s dad, walk into the kitchen.

Elvis pondered for a moment as he watched Kim skip away, probably back to her room. Her hair swayed along with her, and Elvis got a better view of her plump ass in her short jeans and Elvis fought the urge to let out a groan. She was so different compared to the women he seen daily that were throwing themselves at him. Kimberly was pure, innocent. Untouched. And oh, how Elvis wanted to be her first everything. He felt like a pervert thinking about his best friends daughter in such ways, but at the end of the day, he was just a man. A man with sick thoughts and a now growing boner he was trying to hide as he walked into the kitchen, his entwined hands covering his crotch area.

“Kim, do you know who that man is?!” Her older brother whisper-yelled. Kim pondered for a moment, trying to recall if she knew him before she shrugged. “That’s the Elvis Presley. He’s a famous musician. You’ve heard his music before, remember?” He said urgently as he dragged Kim into his room and to his record player.

Marcus began showing her various records, playing Kim a few. Kim was in awe, not only was the mystery man beautiful, but now he was no longer a mystery. From the songs her brother had shown her, she decided that ‘Love me, tender’ was her favorite one.

Kim felt his eyes burning through her at their first interaction. She watched him watch her through hooded eyes as they peered her whole figure from the tips of her toes to the last hair on her pretty head. He looked at her with something swirling in his dark eyes that no man, or boy, had ever looked at her with. Elvis looked like he wanted her. Needed her, even. And it made Kimberly’s stomach swirl with hot butterflies. It was a new feeling for her and it made her whole body jittery. She didn’t know how long she’d survive if he was staying at her home for an entire week.

˚ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ˚

Night had fallen, and Kim was now in her silky night gown that was adorned with lace. It was a light purple color and it gleamed in the small light coming from the lamp that was stationed next to her bed. She sat reading a book, her reading glasses resting on the bridge of her nose as she peered down with pursed lips.

Her father and Elvis had left to the towns local bar and had been gone for a while. It was 12 AM now, and Kimberly yawned as she stretched her arms out but was startled as she heard a loud ‘thud’ come from the living room. Curiosity peeked her as she dragged herself out of the warmth of her bed. She tried to be as quiet as she could as she walked on her tip-toes to the living room, peering over the door as she watched Elvis help her drunk father up off of the ground with a chuckle.

Kim let out a sigh of relief before walking into the room. “I can help ya.” She said in a tired voice, her round glasses almost slipping off her slim nose before she slightly pushed them up. Elvis felt his mouth water at the sight of her. So small, and kind. “No need, honey, I got him.” He said with a smile as he began to lead Mike to his room.

Elvis rested Mike on his bed before he quietly shut his door. “I can get you a cot, if you’d like.” Kim muttered shyly as she peered up as Elvis through her glasses. He sucked in a breath as he peered down at her. “Don’t worry ‘bout it, baby.” He muttered.

Her face bloomed red at the nickname, and she felt her thighs rub together and the butterflies return it her stomach at his stare. This didn’t go unnoticed to Elvis. “Let’s get you to bed, yeah?” He said as he grasped her soft hand in his, leading her to her opened door.

They both walked in and Kim made herself comfortable in her bed and watched as Elvis looked around her room, but his eyes froze on a picture of her and Robert. “Boyfriend?” He asked lightly, but his eyes held something much more menacing. Kim softly shook her head. “No, he’s my best friend.” She said groggily as she laid down, her bear held tightly against her chest.

“Good, good.” Elvis said aloud. He didn’t get a response, instead he heard the light snores of the beauty resting on her bed. Elvis knew he shouldn’t have, but he began to look through her things. He started with her records, peering through and stopping as he seen one of his that her brother had let her have earlier. He dug through her draws before something off to the side caught his wandering eye.

A pile of clothes sat on the floor at the edge of Kimberly’s bed, the ones she had wore today, and at the top rested her cotton panties. Elvis felt his skin grow hot, and his breathing became heavy. He dragged himself to them as if he were in trance as he picked them up, shoving them quickly into his back pocket before he quietly left her room.

He wondered their house before he found their small restroom. He closed the door and locked it with his back resting against the wall as he dug out her panties. He felt dirty as he brought them up to his nose, inhaling them before letting out a groan. He could see where a wet patch had formed and he felt his slacks tighten painfully before he unzipped them, pulling down his boxers and letting his hard cock spring free.

Pre-cum dotted at the tip and Elvis rubbed it down his shaft, spitting onto his hand before tugging his cock a few times. Elvis suckled where the wat patch was on Kimberly’s panties feverishly as he tugged his hard cock harder, small whimpers passing his lips. He felt so nasty, so wrong doing this, but he couldn’t help it. He’d have her any way he could, even if it meant rubbing one out to her dirty panties.

He shifted the panties from his mouth to his aching cock, wrapping it around. He imagined it was her mouth, sucking him dry for everything he has. The way he’d tell her how to do it from her inexperience as she’d peer up at him through watered eyes, tears falling down her flushed cheeks. How good she’d be for him.

He groaned as he threw his head back as he pumped his cock faster with her panties fisted securely around it. Elvis panted as his breathing became uneven, and he could feel a knot forming in his lower stomach as his end was near. The older man wanted to be in her pussy so bad, but he knew he could never. After all, she was his best friends daughter. No matter how badly he wanted to fuck her and make her his, he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Elvis clenched his eyes shut as he slapped his hand over his mouth, trying not to release a loud moan as his cum spurted from his cock. It landed on his shirt, and some went onto the floor beneath him. Elvis drug out his orgasm, whining at the slight overstimulation he brought upon himself.

The last though Elvis had was Kimberly on her knees beneath him with his cum painted on her face as he began to clean up. Guilt consumed Elvis when he’d finish, how could he do this? How vile and disgusting of him. She was barely 18, and Elvis was a grown man, but he couldn’t stop the way he felt about her.

His thoughts only lead to more darker things.

[theartofdreaming1]

Katniss, bravely stepping inbetween Gale and Thread (and his whip) - she’s so courageous and protective, she deserves the world 😭

As usual, my thoughts regarding this week’s prompts and (many) random thoughts on chapters 7-9 are below the cut. (Is it just me, or are my notes getting longer and longer with each and every post? I swear, this book is so meaty, we’ll soon reach the point where I have to type out the entire chapter, with my thoughts in the margins)

heart

“Gale is mine. I am his. Anything else in unthinkable.” 

I think these words are a result of Katniss being so afraid of losing Gale that she’s kinda overcompensating; their relationship has been strained these past few months and they’d just had a row, separating from each other on bad terms - and the next time she sees him, he’s been whipped so bad that he’s lost consciousness and could be potentially dying from his wounds. Of course she’s so terrified of losing him, that she’s holding on as tightly as she can to him. It’s important to keep in mind how important their relationship is to her and we see that in her preceding thoughts: What a pair we were - fatherless, frightened, but fiercely commited, too, to keeping our families alive. Desperate, yet no longer alone after that day, because we’d found each other. I think of a hundred moments in the woods, lazy afternoons fishing, the day I taught him to swim, that time I twisted my knee and he carried me home. Mutually counting each other, watching each other’s backs, forcing each other to be brave. - Gale was the first person who was her equal, a kindred spirit, her partner. After Katniss had lost both of her parents when her father died and her mother succumbed to her depression - the people who were supposed to care for her and guide her through growing up - she was stuck with the role of sole provider and protector of her family at age eleven. She must have been so lonely all this time until she met this boy who understood what she was going through and they learned from each other and shouldered their burdens together, to take off some of the overwhelming pressure. Of course that relationship, of course Gale is important to her. But also now their relationship has become more fragile, after the Games they are in danger of growing apart - it’s got to be so terrifying to feel like the one proper, mutual relationship you’ve had seems to be slipping through your fingers. With everything that’s going on, her entire life as it is teetering on the razor’s edge (heck, the president himself has been threatening her and her family!), it’s no wonder that Katniss is craving that familiarity and safety that her relationship with Gale used to provide her with. And seeing Gale in this state just has her holding on to him more tightly than ever.

mind

Hmm, no big moment is coming to my mind right now; I think I’m always most impressed by the tiny moments that show how tenacious, resilient and fiercely kind humans can be - like Darius stepping forward to stop Gale’s cruel punishment, Leevy volunteering to tell Hazelle about Gale and promising to stay with the Hawthorne children, Madge bringing the morphling, Katniss pressing Darius’s hand in the Training Center, Twill taking Bonnie with her to flee to D13 and so on.

soul

I believe that Katniss was honestly surprised to learn that Gale had feelings for her; she had categorically shut down the idea of entering a romantic relationship for herself, so I don’t think she’d seriously consider anyone being romantically interested in her in return (that’s not how that works, of course, but I think that’s how she perceived the whole shtick). Their kiss threw her completely for a loop and if anything, she mostly saw it as something that contributed to the deterioration of their previous, easy and comfortable relationship.

Chapter 7

A mockingjay is a creature the Capitol never intended to exist. [...] They hadn’t anticipated its will to live. - In a way, the Capitol continues to make this mistake with the people living in the districts, too - underestimating their will to live (opposed to just surviving)

I look in his [Gale’s] eyes. His temper can’t quite mask the hurt, the sense of betrayal he feels at my engagement to Peeta. This will be my last chance, this meeting today, to not lose Gale forever. - Okay, we don’t know how much Katniss might be (incorrectly) presuming here, but the idea that Gale might feel betrayal because his best friend is being forced into an engagement pisses me off. It’s fine if he’s feeling jealous because she’s being paired off with Peeta when he wishes he could have a shot with her, but how in the world does this even rate as a betrayal?! A) It’s done against her will and B) Just because they’re friends doesn’t mean Katniss owes him anything when we’re talking about romantic feelings... Ugh 😒 Also, it’s quite noteworthy how insecure Katniss feels about their relationship - she’s constantly worried Gale will drop her and their friendship (waiting for Gale after the camera teams left after winning the Games: I’d begun to think that he’d given up on me in the weeks that had passed.- Ch. 2) and it doesn’t help that she’s been through that extreme, traumatic experience without him and they haven’t had much opportunity to spend a lot of time with each other (with the Victory Tour and Gale having to work so much) and when they do hang out, they don’t seem to really talk much, which doesn’t exactly help...

He [Gale] tosses the gloves on my lap. “Here. I don’t want your fiancé’s old gloves.” “He’s not my fiancé. That’s just part of the act. And these aren’t his gloves. They were Cinna’s,” I say. “Give them back, then, he says. - Gale can be so petty sometimes 🙄

While I talk, [...] [Gale] occupies himself with turning the food in the leather bag into a meal for us. Toasting bread and cheese, coring apples, placing chestnuts in the fire to roast. I watch his hands, his beautiful, capable fingers. Scarred, as mine were before the Captiol erased all marks from my skin, but strong and deft. [...] Hands I trust. - Oh boy, this moment really shows how these two are at cross purposes right now - Gale’s prepping the food as you would for a toasting (romantic connotation), while Katniss is oberserving his hands, thinking how their hands used to match (not anymore!) and basically wishing herself back into the time before the Games, when things were ‘simpler’/more clearly defined (and also platonic!); there is nothing romantic from her P.O.V. - it’s all about the friendship and trust

[Gale] steps in and I feel myself lifted off the ground. The room spins, and I have to lock my arms around Gale’s neck to brace myself. He’s laughing, happy. “Hey!” I protest, but I’m laughing, too. Gale sets me down but doesn’t release his hold on me. “Okay, let’s run away.” [...] “You’re sure?” I say. [...] “I’m sure. I’m completely, entirely, one hundred percent sure.” - Yeah, and I’m sure you’re not going to change your opinion in the next five minutes, Gale... In his defense, Gale didn’t know all the details, so in that regard it’s totally valid that he might decide to change his mind after having more input... It’s just that Katniss specifically asks him whether he’s sure and his reply is so full of conviction (100% sure!), only for him to do a complete 180 just a couple of minutes later; Gale’s very hot and cold, which makes for such a harsh contrast when compared to Peeta’s more measured reaction later in the chapter

He tilts his forehead down to rest against mine and pulls me closer. [...] I don’t try to move away. Why should I, anyway? His voice drops to a whisper. “I love you.” That’s why. - Oh man, Katniss just can’t catch a break 😞 Really not wise of Gale to drop the L-bomb here (after, what? a kiss they never talked about and little else... their communication is truly abysmal and it’s really damaging to their relationship, hurting the both of them)

“Gale, I can’t think about anyone that way now. All I can think about, every day, is how afraid I am. And there doesn’t seem to be room for anything else. If we could get somewhere safe, maybe I could be different. I don’t know.” I can see him swallowing his disappointment. “So, we’ll go. We’ll find out.” - I mean, honestly, I totally understand where Katniss is coming from - she doesn’t need a romantic interest, she needs a partner, which is why she’s been so eager to talk to her hunting partner, someone she’s used to rely on for survival and now he’s also confounding their relationship by introducing that romance-angle (as if it wasn’t bad enough that her relationship with Peeta got kind of messed up when that same angle was forced upon them prematurely)... Also, telling how Katniss thinks she’d have to be different to maybe even consider a romantic relationship with Gale - Katniss as she is right now just can’t see herself wanting to be with Gale romantically; it would require a change... I’ve got to give Gale credit for still going along with it, and trying to push past his disappointment, though

“My [Gale’s] mother is going to take some convincing.” [...] “Mine, too. I’ll just have to make her see reason. Take her for a long walk. Make sure she understands we won’t survive the alternative.” “She’ll understand. I watched a lot of the Games with her and Prim. She won’t say no to you,” says Gale. - That’s interesting, I wonder what exactly Gale means by that? That Mrs. Everdeen won’t say no to Katniss because she feels guilty that Katniss had to go through the Games or because watching her daughter compete in the Games really made her realize how messed up Panem is? Or that she’s more inclined to trust Katniss’s judgement after everything that has happened?

“Haymitch will be the real challenge.” “Haymitch?” Gale abandons the chestnuts. “You’re asking him to come with us?” “I have to, Gale. I can’t leave him and Peeta because they’d-” His scowl cuts me off. “What?” “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how large our party was,” he snaps at me. - Gale doesn’t seem to have realized how close and important Peeta and Haymitch have become to Katniss... maybe because they never properly talked about this aspect of Katniss’s life (I swear, their shoddy communication must account for at least half of the damage their relationship has taken in these past few months alone)

“What if he [Peeta] decides to stay?” he [Gale] asks. I try to sound indifferent, but my voice cracks. “Then he stays.” “You’d leave him behind?” Gale asks. “To save Prim and my mother, yes,” I answer. “I mean, no! I’ll get him to come.” “And me, would you leave me?” Gale’s expression is rock hard now. - Boy, oh boy! I think Gale knows (like Peeta) that Katniss could never leave behind the people she cares about; then, he’s kind of gauging whether Peeta has already received the Katniss Everdeen Stamp of ‘Caring’ - and, as it turns out, he has! And then Gale ends up making it into a bit of  competition by asking her whether she would leave him behind (or, alternately, her turning him down has him confused about the depth of their relationship, I dunno); not fun

“There’s an uprising in Eight?” he [Gale] says in a hushed voice. I try to backpedal. To defuse him, as I tried to defuse the districts. - Katniss is going to be about as successful as she’d been at defusing the districts, too - But here we have another example of Katniss trying to rein in Gale’s temper because she’s afraid he’s going to get himself in trouble (like when she decided not to tell him about Snow’s visit to her house because she was worried what he’d do with that information)... It’s really not great that she feels the need to censor herself so he won’t do something dangerous... Katniss knows first-hand how badly impulsive actions and decisions can be received in the Capitol - and she never even meant for a rebellion to happen!

“And it’s my fault, Gale. Because of what I did in the arena. If I had just killed myself with those berries, none of this would’ve happened. Peeta could have come home and lived, and everyone else would have been safe. too.” “Safe to do what?” he says in a gentler tone. “Starve? Work like slaves? Send their kids to the reaping? You haven’t hurt people - you’ve given them an opportunity. They just have to be brave enough to take it. - Katniss is taking all the responsibility upon herself again... Gale is right to point out that she was merely a catalyst, not the cause for the rebellion - the cause are the awful living conditions of the people in the districts

“Stop it! You don’t know what you’re saying. The Peacekeepers outside of Twelve, they’re not like Darius, or even Cray! The lives of district people - they mean less than nothing to them!” I say. “That’s why we have to join the fight!” he answers harshly. “No! we have to leave here before they kill us and a lot of other people, too!” [...] “You leave, then, I’d never go in a million years.” [...] “What about your family?” “What about the other families, Katniss? The ones who can’t run away?” - This discourse is so painful because they are both right - Katniss has seen more of the districts and how things are handled beyond the (relatively tame) confines of D12 and it’s fair that she wants to know that the people she cares about are safe from harm; Gale, of course, has a point commenting that not everyone has that opportunity and the only way to have a long-lasting, wide-spread improvement of their conditions is through rebelling against their oppressor - but that will inevitably come along with sacrifices and collateral damage and it’s easy to say that it will be worth it in the long run, but when those who are hurt/dead could end up being your loved ones, it’s definitely easier said than done

He throws Cinna’s gloves at my feet. “I changed my mind. I don’t want anything they made in the Capitol.” And he’s gone. I look down at the gloves. Anything they made in the Capitol? Was that directed at me? Does he think I am now just another product of the Capitol and therefore something untouchable? The unfairness of it all fills me with rage. But it’s mixed up with fear over what kind of crazy thing he might do next. - Gale getting rid of Cinna’s gloves just because they are from the Capitol is a prime example of this “us vs. them” mindset that he will be (worringly) fast to adopt - of course, perceiving the opposite side as “other” will make it easier to fight against them; however, it’s all too easy to lose sight of your opponent’s humanity when you think like that (think of how Gale has a hard time understanding Katniss’s distress upon seeing her prep team being treated so terribly/inhumanely in D13); Katniss feeling upset that Gale might perceive her as a product of the Capitol instead of its victim is understandable (and isn’t that exactly what the inhabitants of D13 are going to think of Peeta in MJ?) - and yet, she is still worried Gale could get himself into trouble with his impulsivity; she’s a good bean

”Going to town?” I ask. “Yes. I’m supposed to eat dinner with my family,” he [Peeta] says. - I’m tripping over the word ‘supposed’ here - it doesn’t sound like Peeta’s looking forward to hanging out with his fam, although it can’t be that often, since they’ve been away on Victory Tour and he is living alone (maybe the end of the chapter will give us another hint why that is 😒😒)... I can’t help but wonder whether these family dinners are mainly for public perception (in that case... it really is no wonder Peeta is so good at playing the cameras - poor guy had to fool the outside world his entire life) or because they are the only chance for Peeta to hang out with any of the members of his family he might actually want to spend some time with

“Peeta, if I asked you to run away from the district with me, would you?” Peeta takes my arm, bringing me to a stop. He doesn’t need to check my face to see if I’m serious. “Depends on why you’re asking.” President Snow wasn’t convinced by me. There’s an uprising in District Eight. We have to get out,” I say. “By ‘we’ do you mean just you and me? No. Who else would be going?” he asks. - Peeta doesn’t just blindly agree to Katniss’s proposal; he needs to know what’s going on first (he has been burnt before - no more secrets!) - and it’s a testament to how well he knows her that as soon as he’s asking whether she meant just the two of them, he corrects himself because knows that Katniss would never leave the ones she cares about behind

“What about Gale?” he says. “I don’t know. He might have other plans,” I say. Peeta shakes his head and gives me rueful smile. “I bet he does. Sure, Katniss, I’ll go.” I feel a slight twinge of hope. “You will?” “Yeah. But I don’t think for a minute you will,” he says. [...] “Then you don’t know me. Be ready. It could be any time.” - Telling how Peeta immediately agrees to the plan once he gathers that Gale won’t come - he knows that Katniss cares about Gale and could never leave him behind, ergo she’d never actually leave under these circumstances - he knows her so well. Also, Katniss’s reaction is like that of a petulant child, it’s kind of funny 😄

“Katniss, hold up.” [...] “I really will go, if you want me to. I just think we better talk it through with Haymitch. Make sure we won’t be making things worse for everyone.” - Ultimately, Peeta would follow Katniss to the ends of the earth - doesn’t mean that he can’t throw in a sensible suggestion in there as well 😉 (Also, in the next chapter we will see how Katniss, Gale, and Peeta might be a little too inexperienced/naive to be able to form accurate expectations of what is to come - Haymitch and his generation have a little more experience in that regard)

He raises his head. “What’s that?” [...] I haven’t noticed the strange noise coming from the square. A whistling, the sound of an impact, the intake of breath from a crowd. “Come on,” Peeta says, his face suddenly hard. I don’t know why. I can’t place the sound, even guess at the situation. But it means something bad to him. - Why does my sweet boy know what a whipping sounds like, Suzanne, huh?! Care to explain that? 😭

Peeta steps up on a crate against the wall of the sweetshop and offers me a hand while he scans the square. I’m halfway up when he suddenly blocks my way. “Get down. Get out of here!” He’s whispering, but his voice is harsh with insistence. - Peeta was offering his hand to help Katniss up the crate because they are a team (and he’s a gentleman)! It’s only when he recognizes who is receiving those lashes and realizes that Katniss will lose her shit once she knows, which could make the current situation even worse, that he urges her to leave, and he is not the only one to think that: - Voices hiss. “Get out of here, girl.” “Only make it worse.” What do you want to do? Get him killed?”

Chapter 8

It’s too late to stop the arm from descending, and I instinctively know I won’t have the power to block it. Instead I throw myself directly between the whip and Gale. I’ve flung out my arms to protext as much of his broken body as possible, so there’s nothing to deflect the lash. I take the full force of it across the left side of my face. - Katniss is so selfless; she knows that it’s either Gale getting hit again or a lash to her own face and she chooses the latter

“Hold it!” a voice barks. Haymitch appears and trips over a Peacekeeper lying on the ground. It’s Darius. [...] He’s knocked out but still breathing. What happened? Did he try to come to Gale’s aid before I got here? - Haymitch sure appeared quickly - I can easily imagine Peeta taking off immediately to get him (or send someone to bring him to the square) once he knew Katniss couldn’t be stopped; but if Haymitch had been at his house in Victor’s Village, there is no way he’d have made that quickly to the square... maybe he was already at the Hob and had gotten wind of the whole situation? Also, poor Darius! Wearing a uniform/being in some sort of position of power is no guarantee you won’t get punished as soon as you show the tiniest glimpse of compassion - in a place like Panem, nobody is safe from the caprice of the people in charge

I see a flicker of recognition in the eyes of the man with the whip. [...] it wouldn’t be easy to identify me as the victor of the last Hunger Games. Especially with half my face swelling up. But Haymitch has been showing up on television for years, and he’d be difficult to forget. - Getting Haymitch truly was the smartest move to make (which is why I’m pretty sure it was a move on Peeta’s part - he’d know how to use reminders of ‘appearances’ to ensure a punishment wouldn’t go ‘too far’, y’know 😢). But also - Thread must have lived under a flipping rock, to not being able to recognizes Katniss (her face must have been plastered all over the place during the Victory Tour, which just had concluded recently) - or he was just too in the heat of the moment, with someone opposing him, bleugh 😒

“He [Gale] was poaching. What business is it of hers, anyway?” says the man. “He’s her cousin.” Peeta’s got my other arm now, but gently. “And she’s my fiancée. So if you want to get to him, expect to go through both of us.” - I love how Peeta’s just laying it down as it is; his phrasing just sounds so factual, rather than provocative (although it is, of course); he really has a way with words - Maybe we’re it. The only three people in the district who could make a stand like this. Although it’s sure to be temporary. There will be repercussions. - Haymitch, Peeta, and Katniss working together as a team again! Also, a good example of the effect people with public influence can have 

One [Peacekeeper], a woman named Purnia who eats regularly at Greasy Sae’s, steps forward stiffly. “I believe, for a first offense, the required number of lashes has been dispensed, sir. Unless your sentence is death, which we would carry out by firing squad.” “Is that the standard protocol here?” asks the Head Peacekeeper. “Yes, sir,” Purnia says, and several others nod in agreement. I’m sure none of them actually know because, in the Hob, the standard protocol for someone showing up with a wild turkey is for everybody to bid on the drumsticks. - It’s kinda nice to see the local Peacekeepers supporting Purnia’s claim to get this display to stop - this is the only way out of this situation where Thread’s authority is not openly challenged (and we know Thread doesn’t take well to having his authority challenged - see Darius)

There’s no stretcher, but the old woman at the clothing stall sells us the board that serves as her countertop. “Just don’t tell where you got it,” she says, packing up the rest of her goods quickly. Most of the square has emptied, fear getting the better of compassion. But after what happened, I can’t blame anyone. - It’s sad how that air of intimidation makes people want to mask their acts of compassion (and also says a lot about the precariousness of the existing living situations if that old lady is still selling that board - I’d never even consider exchanging money for that, but that’s probably my privileged situation showing here; Katniss brings up the theme of fear vs compassion - very fitting, since it seems to be her driving force (although, generally, her compassion wins out over her fear) and despite her assertion that fear appears to be getting the better of compassion we see a good amount of people reaching out to help, such as the following example:

Leevy, a girl who lives a few houses down from mine in the Seam, takes my arm. My mother kept her little brother alive last year when he caught the measles. “Need help getting back?” Her gray eyes are scared but determined. - The subtle suggestion here that Leevy might be further motivated to help out because Katniss’s mom helped her little brother is also an excellent example of how kindness breeds kindness

“Get some snow on that,” Haymitch orders over his shoulder. I scoop up a handful of snow and press it against my cheek, numbing a bit of the pain. - This moment reminded me of Peeta immediately reaching for some ice from that fruit tureen after Haymitch hit him on their way to the Games in THG (Ch. 4) - their different immediate reactions to getting hit in the face could simply be due to the fact that Katniss is a little too preoccupied worrying about Gale to think about her injury, of course, but I feel like you could also interpret them as examples for how much experience Katniss and Peeta have with being hit in the face, respectively...

Gale must have gone to Cray’s house, as he’s done a hundred times, knowing Cray pays well for a wild turkey. Instead he found the new Head Peacekeeper, a man they heard someone call Romulus Thread. No one knows what happened to Cray. He was buying white liquor in the Hob just this morning [...] but now he’s nowhere to be found. - As I’ve already mentioned regarding Darius, inhabiting some position of power does not guarantee you any safety in Panem (there is always someone more powerful who will treat their inferiors like garbage, if they feel like it)

By the time I showed up, he [Gale]’d been lashed at least forty times. He passed out around thirty. - Jesus 😨 poor Gale!

“What about Darius?” Peeta asks.�� After about twenty lashes, he stepped in, saying that was enough. Only he didn’t do it smart and official, like Purnia did. He grabbed Thread’s arm and Thread hit him in the head with the butt of the whip. Nothing good waiting for him,” says Bristel. - It’s so messed up how it is not enough to have someone who’d stand up and do something about a horrible situation - they have to do it the right way, or else they’re toast; there really shouldn’t have to be a smart way of doing the right thing

Snow begins, thick and wet, making visibility even more difficult. - (President) Snow is coming down hard on them, making it hard to see what’s up ahead

Ever so gently, she [Mrs. Everdeen] begins to clean the mutilated flesh on Gale’s back. I feel sick to the stomach, useless, the remaining snow dripping from my glove into a puddle on the floor. Peeta puts me in a chair and holds a cloth filled with fresh snow to my cheek. - Although she’s quite squeamish, Katniss stays as Gale gets treated (the force that holds the loved ones of the hurt/dying, just like when Peeta was being treated after their Games); meanwhile, Peeta is taking care of Katniss - there is so much care + love to be found in this moment

My mother has to save the strongest [painkillers] for the worst pain, but what is the worst pain? To me, it’s always the pain that is present. If I were in charge, those painkillers would be gone in a day because I have so little ability to watch suffering. - Honestly, same; I can’t stomach seeing other people suffer without feeling overwhelmed and feeling like crying... I don’t know how professionals do it

“Just give him the medicine!” I scream at her. [...] “Take her out,” says my mother. Haymitch and Peeta literally carry me from the room while I shout obscenities at her. They pin me down on a bed in one of the extra bedrooms until I stop fighting. - Oof. Poor Katniss! But yeah, it was the best call to remove her from the situation, Mrs. E. had to focus on what she was doing... Also, Haymitch and Peeta are the ones to get Katniss out of there and stay with her - these three take care of each other!

After a while, my mother comes in and treats my face. Then she holds my hand, stroking my arm, while Haymitch fills her in on what happened with Gale. “So it’s starting again?” she says. “Like before?” - Katniss’s mom has become a much more active and soothing presence in this book, I like it... Also, what does “again” mean? Does this imply there has been an attempted uprising in D12 that needed to be squashed before?

Cray would have been disliked, anyway, because of the uniform he wore, but it was his habit of luring starving young women into his bed for money that made him an object of loathing in the district. In really bad times, the hungriest would gather at his door at nightfall, vying for the chance to earn a few coins to feed their families by selling their bodies. Had I been older when my father died, I might have been among them. - Horrifying and absolutely disgusting 🤢 Those poor women! How desperate they must have been! 

... when the doorbell rings, I shoot straight out of bed. [...] “They [the peacekeepers] can’t have him,” I say. “Might be you they’re after,” Haymitch reminds me. “Or you,” I say. “Not my house,” Haymitch points out. “But I’ll get the door.” “No, I’ll get it,” says my mother quietly. - Again, Mrs. Everdeen is taking the initiative! She was so watered down in the movies

[Madge] holds out a small, damp cardboard box to me. “Use these for your friend,” she says. I take off the lid of the box, revealing half a dozen vials of clear liquid. [...] “What is that stuff?” asks Peeta. “It’s from the Capitol. It’s called morphling,” my mother answers. “I didn’t even know Madge knew Gale,” says Peeta. “We used to sell her strawberries,” I say almost angrily. What am I angry about, though? Not that she has brought the medicine, surely. “She must have quite a taste for them,” says Haymitch. That’s what nettles me. It’s the implication that there’s something going on between Gale and Madge. And I don’t like it. “She’s my friend” is all I say. - I mean, Katniss could be mad because A) Gale had literally just told her he loved her a few hours ago and if there was something (reciprocated) going on between Gale and Madge, that would have been pretty shitty for both girls involved and also B) she is friends with both of them and it would be hurtful to learn that two of your closest friends had been seeing each other without telling you anything about it... also, she’s super upset over Gale getting so seriously hurt just after they’d had an argument, her feelings are all over the place

... I’m selfish. I’m a coward. I’m the kind of girl, who, when she might actually be of use, would run to stay alive and leave those who couldn’t follow to suffer and die. This is the girl Gale met in the woods today. No wonder I won the Games. No decent person ever does. You saved Peeta, I think weakly. But now I question even that. I knew good and well that my life back in District 12 would be unlivable if I let that boy die. - Yes, Katniss, you knew that your life back in D12 would have been unlivable if he died - but not because you feared that people would shun you; it was because you “couldn’t lose the boy with the bread” and because “if he dies, I’ll never go home, not really”... This is an excellent example of how distorted your memories can get when you are in a bad headspace at present

The berries. I realize the answer to who I am lies in that handful poisonous fruit. If I held them out to save Peeta because I knew I would be shunned if I came back without him, then I am despicable. If I held them out because I loved him, I am still self-centered, although forgivable. But if I held them out to defy the Capitol, I am someone of worth. - Katniss, you don’t have to be planning to overthrow a corrupt and cruel government to be someone of worth! You’re someone of worth just by being yourself! - The trouble is, I don’t know exactly what was going on inside me at that moment. - Frankly, very rarely are our motivations clearly defined by a single factor - or my professor would not have been able to teach an entire semester-long course on motivation psychology😉)

Chapter 9

Gale’s dead to the world, but his fingers are locked around mine. I smell fresh bread and turn my stiff neck to find Peeta looking down at me with such a sad expression. I get the sense that he’s been watching us awhile. “Go on up to bed, Katniss. I’ll look after him now,” he says. - Peeta! Must have been hard for him to see Katniss like this (and the underlying strength of Katniss and Gale’s relationship, when his relationship with Katniss is still not all that solidified), and yet he’s being such a good bean about it 😭

I give a strangled cry and wake with a start, sweating and shivering at once. Cradling my damaged cheek in my hand, I remind myself that it was not Clove but Thread who gave me this wound. I wish that Peeta were here to hold me, until I remember I’m not supposed to wish that anymore. I have chosen Gale and the rebellion, and a future with Peeta is the Capitol’s design, not mine. - Katniss, gurl... Maybe your instinctive desire to receive comfort from Peeta is trying to tell you something??!? Also, Katniss is forcing this strange dichotomous association of Gale = rebellion and Peeta = Capitol, when in just a bit, she’s clearly connecting Peeta to the rebellion as well (aside from the fact that Peeta was basically the first person to suggest to her that maybe a rebellion was necessary... just saying)

Fighting the Capitol assures their swift retaliation. I must accept that at any moment I can be arrested. [...] There might be torture. Mutliation. A bullet through the skull in the town square [...] I imagine these things and I’m terrified, but let’s face it: They’ve been lurking in the back of my brain, anyway. [...] I’m already a target. - Oh geez! Despite admitting that she’s terrified of what the Capitol is capable fo doing to her, Katniss is still pretty composed naming the possible horrors in store for her, which is just a heartbreaking reminder of how many terrible things she has already had to endure.🙁

Now comes the harder part. I have to face the fact that my family and friends might share this fate. Prim. I need only to think of Prim and all my resolve disintegrates. It’s my job to protect her. [...] I can’t let the Capitol hurt Prim. - 😭😭😭 Katniss has reached a point where she can put her own need for survival/physical intactness aside, but the thought of something awful happening to Prim stops her short (it’s so strange to think that, in a twisted way, it wasn’t the Capitol who’d ended up inflicting the final harm upon Prim...)

And then it hit’s me. They already have. They have killed her father in those wretched mines. They have sat by as she almost starved to death. [...] She has been hurt far worse than I had at the age of twelve. And even that pales in comparison with Rue’s life. [...] Prim... Rue... aren’t they the very reason I have to try to fight? Because what has been done to them is so wrong, so beyond justification, so evil that there is no choice? Because no one has the right to treat them as they have been treated? Yes. This is the thing to remember when fear threatens to swallow me up. What I am about to do, whatever any of us are forced to endure, it is for them. - All these things are very true and it’s also very fitting that the main motivation for Katniss would be to ensure a better future for the children of Panem (and to avenge the evils done to the people close to her heart... while Katniss of course can see the abstract bigger picture/reason for the rebellion, she always operates best when it comes to specific people/circumstances she has a deep, personal connection with)... But also: all these things apply to you, too, Katniss! Despite your tendency to feel responsible for everything and everyone, you’re still a child that had to grow up way too fast and had to endure way too much!

We need someone to direct us and reassure us this is possible. And I don’t think I’m that person. I may have been a catalyst for rebellion, but a leader should be someone with conviction, and I’m barely a convert myself. Someone with unflinching courage, and I’m still working hard at finding mine. Someone with clear and persuasive words, and I’m so easily tongue-tied. Words. I think of words and I think of Peeta. - Katniss’s idea of a great leader for the rebellion is Peeta - interesting, isn’t it (she could have considered Gale, but no)? She makes a good point, though: it helps when a leader has plenty of charisma, and our boy has that in spades; he’s got a good set of morals, is not above joining in on the action/risking his own neck when the need arises and is very genuine and purposeful with his words and actions, which is inspiring... I think Katniss is severely underselling how courageous she is, though

He could move a crowd to action, I bet, if he chose to. Would find the things to say. But I’m sure the idea has never crossed his mind. - Why would you assume that, Katniss? Peeta’s literally the one to suggest to you that trying to placate the district might not be the right thing to do... Peeta’s not someone who’d stir up trouble just for the sake of stirring up trouble, sure; he’s much more deliberate about doing things the ‘right’ way, but he’s not generally opposed to challenging authorities (he’s literally the one to openly gift some of your winnings to another district!)

She knows what she’s doing, my mother. I feel a pang of remorse about yesterday, the awful things I yelled at her as Peeta and Haymitch dragged me from the kitchen. “I’m sorry. About screaming at you yesterday.” - It’s so sweet how Katniss feels sorry for yelling at her mom and apologizes to her; their relationship really has improved so much in this book - “I’ve heard worse,” she says. “You’ve seen how people are, when someone they love is in pain.” Someone they love. [...] Of course, I love Gale. But what kind of love does she mean? What do I mean when I say I love 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. - Katniss is struggling to figure out in what way she loves Gale... She definitely doesn’t want him to remember their kiss because she knows it wouldn’t be fair to give him the hope that she might be able to return his romantic feelings when she is still in the dark about her own

... and I can’t really think about kissing when I’ve got a rebellion to incite. I give my head a little shake to clear it. “Where’s Peeta?” I say. - Lol, goes on to immediately mention the guy she’s been kissing these past few weeks (see, with Peeta you could actually have both: kissing and rebellion, Katniss - he’s the perfect man, isn’t he? 😉😋)

“He went home when he heard you stirring. Didn’t want to leave his house unattended during the storm,” says my mother. - Yeah, I don’t think Peeta left because of his house; I’m pretty sure he needed some time to himself after seeing Katniss and Gale this morning - he is the type of person who needs to be alone to work through his feelings when he’s feeling upset - “Did he get back all right?” [...] “Why don’t you give him a call and check?” she says. I go into the study, a room I’ve pretty much avoided since my meeting with President Snow, and dial Peeta’s number. After a few rings he answers. “Hey. I just wanted to make sure you got home,” I say. “Katniss. I live three houses away from you,” he says. “I know, but with the weather and all,” I say. “Well, I’m fine. Thank you for checking.” There’s a long pause. “How’s Gale?” - Aww, Katniss is worried about Peeta and gives him a call, although she hates being in the study 😊 Also, her calling him must have been at least of some reassurance to Peeta that she genuinely cares about him, in some way (though, he’s still clearly busy processing her relationship with Gale, since he’s asking about him as if he hadn’t seen that dude just a couple of minutes prior)

“Have you seen Haymitch today?” “I checked in on him. Dead drunk. But I built up his fire and left him some bread,” he says. “I wanted to talk to - to both of you.” I don’t dare add more, here on my phone, which is surely tapped. -  Despite everything, Peeta still made sure to look after Haymitch! And I know, there is also the issue of their houses themselves potentially being bugged, but I couldn’t help imagining how they could easily avoid the whole phone-tapping thing simply by using a tin can telephone (they do live pretty close to each other, after all) 😂

“You don’t even have a phone,” I say. “Effie had that fixed,” he [Haymitch] says. “Do you know she asked me if I’d like to give you away? I told her the sooner the better.” “Haymitch.” I can hear the pleading creeping into my voice. “Katniss.” He mimics my tone. “It won’t work.” - Okay, but Haymitch mimicking Katniss’s tone reminds me so much of when Peeta mimicked her tone towards the end of their Games, when she was trying to persuade him to climb into a tree as a lookout while he was insistent she’d show him some plants to gather; these three, I swear! 😂 On a sad note, Haymitch is talking from experience here when he’s advising Katniss not to challenge the Capitol 🥺😢

Some streets away from the square, I see a blaze flare up. None of us has to say it. That can only be the Hob going up in smoke. I think of Greasy Sae, Ripper, all my friends who make their livings there. - Katniss considers the people from the Hob her friends - honestly, even if the Hawthornes, Everdeens, Peeta and Haymitch all had agreed to leave D12, I don’t think Katniss would have been able to go through with it - she cares too much about the people in D12 to have been able to leave them to their fate

“Well, I better go see how much rubbing alcohol the apothecary can spare.” He [Haymitch] trudges off across the square and I look at Peeta. “What’s he want that for?” Then I realize the answer. “We can’t let him drink it. He’ll kill himself, or at the very least go blind. I’ve got some white liquor put away at home.” “Me, too. Maybe that will hold him until Ripper finds a way to be back in business,” says Peeta. - Another instance of Katniss and Peeta being on the same wavelength, having taken precautions to help out Haymitch so he doesn’t have to go cold turkey again

We find Hazelle in her house, nursing a very sick Posy. I recognize the measles spots. “I couldn’t leave her,” she says. “I knew Gale’d be in the best possible hands.” - The second mention of someone having contracted the measles in D12 - Why the heck does the Capitol withhold measles vaccination from the people in the districts?! They’re inflicting unnecessary damage onto the very people they want to exploit... But I guess cruelty isn’t always about playing it smart and logical...

When we’re outside, I turn to Peeta. “You go on back. I want to walk by the Hob.” “I’ll go with you,” he says. “No. I’ve dragged you into enough trouble,” I tell him. “And avoiding a stroll by the Hob... that’s going to fix things for me?” He smiles and takes my hand. - They are a team, they stick together (and they are constantly holding hands, always physically linked to each other)😩💕 Also, Peeta pointing out the irrationality of Katniss’s train of thought to calm her down and stay with her reminds me of how he’s going to use logical reasoning to calm her down after the jabberjays in the Quarter Quell arena

We go back to the square. I buy some cakes from Peeta’s father while they exchange small talk about the weather. No one mentions the ugly tools of torture just yards from the front door. The last thing I notice as we leave the square is that I do not recognize even one of the Peacekeepers’ faces. - How weird is it that Peeta and his dad just talk about the weather?! Is this supposed to illustrate how in the Mellark family they just ignored the ugliness going on in their lives *cough cough* the abuse *cough cough* and just pretended that everything was fine, on a very superficial level? Also, it makes perfect sense that the Peacekeepers have been exchanged; the more time we spend with people, the more likely we are to like them - that won’t do if you want to have a ruthless authoritarian police force in the districts

As the days pass, things go from bad to worse. The mines stay shut for two weeks, and by that time half of District 12 is starving. The number of kids signing up for tesserae soars, but they often don’t receive their grain. Food shortages begin, and even those with money come away from stores empty-handed. [...] The eagerly awaited food promised for Parcel Day arrives spoiled and defiled by rodents. - This is just so awful and despicable 😞 Life in the districts was already horrible but now the government does not even honor the extortionary rules they themselves have set up! I can’t help but wonder if the lack of food could be traced back to rebellions in the food supplying districts and, to keep this from the inhabitants of the Capitol, the reduced amount of good food was (obviously) kept for the Capitolites, so that the bad food had to be sent to the districts, anyway... It just seems like such a breach of ‘honor’/etiquette on the Capitol’s part, I dunno... Or maybe Snow was just desperate to use any means necessary to stamp out any potential rebellions in the districts that he still had some control over...

Gale goes home with no more talk of rebellion between us. But I can’t help thinking that everything he sees will only strengthen his resolve to fight back. [...] Rory has signed up for tesserae, something Gale can’t even speak about - Poor, Gale! Poor Hawthornes :(

My fingers have all but decided to release the arrow when I see the object in the glove. It’s a small white circle of flat bread. More of a cracker, really. Gray and soggy around the edges. But an image is clearly stamped in the center of it. It’s my mockingjay. - It is so very telling that the true symbol of the rebellion combines something symbolic of Katniss (which also contains a nod to Rue) and something symbolic of Peeta (the bread/cracker!) The people in the districts have rightfully recognized the both of them as symbol of the rebellion; they have a truer vision of the matter than the more artifically/forcefully constructed symbol of rebellion that D13 /Coin will push - we will also see that when the people in D13 will view Peeta as a traitor, while the rebels Katniss will visit in D8 instead ask her about Peeta and assure her that they know he was speaking under duress

[ijustwant2write]

Watch Your Words-Arthur Shelby x Shelby!Daughter!Reader

(GIF credit to @paulinska44stark)

Tags: @captivatedbycillianmurphy @jenepleurepasbaby @amirahiddleston @bloodorangemoonlight @haphazardhufflepuff @mzcrazy2

Masterlist

Prompt List

Requested by anonymous: 'can you do a arthur shelby one where the reader is his daughter (16-17) and they get into argument and he says something he doesn't mean and she runs off and everyone starts to get worried when they cant find her but she with bonnie or Isaiah and Arthur finds her and they talk and he apologizes and they make up'

Characters: Arthur Shelby x Shelby!Daughter!Reader, Isaiah Jesus x Reader

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Alcohol abuse/drunkenness, neglect, swearing, crying, fluff

                                       *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I moaned as I stirred that morning, hating how little sleep I had got. My father had been out once again, stumbling in at who knows what time, not keeping quiet and sounding like he was having a fight with himself downstairs. It wasn't unusual for him to drink this much, he used to do it a lot more, and I thought it had stopped for a while; the company was doing well, there hadn't been as much trouble recently, my father had been more present in my life. However, I watched it all crumble before me, returning to nights by myself, cooking for one, not having anyone to talk to.

Before heading downstairs, I peeked into my dad's room, wondering if he had made it upstairs. I was wrong, hoping that he was sprawled out on the sofa. Again, I made the mistake of thinking he wasn't that drunk, finding him lying down on the kitchen floor, two of the chairs from the dining table knocked over, as well as smashed glass surrounding it.

Sighing, I brushed some pieces of glass away from his head, hoping he would want to head to bed as soon as he woke up. Dad was on his back, head tilted to the right as he lightly snored. His coat had been in the hallway, along with his hat, but he had failed to take his jacket off, it was half way down his arms.

"Dad," I quietly said, shaking him lightly,"dad!"

He jolted awake, taking in a sharp breath, trying to figure out where he was. When he saw me, he groaned, wiping a hand over his face. Helping him sit up, I prayed that he wouldn't be sick (I had dealt with that situation too many times), not saying anything yet as I didn't know what mood he was in.

"Fucking hell." his voice was raspy, still rough from the night before."Did I wake you up?"

"Last night you did. But it doesn't matter."

"Sorry love."

"It's alright." I lied, managing to sit him down in a chair."Do you think you can stomach something?"

"Nah."

I didn't press further, grabbing a broom and sweeping up the glass into a pile. He said nothing more. As I got rid of the glass, making sure there were no more pieces we could step on, I noticed his fist on the table clenching up.

"Dad? You OK?"

"Just thinking about last night." he mumbled.

"Anything you want to talk about?"

"Don't worry. It's not for your ears. Go on, go get dressed."

I did as he said, knowing he was particularly sensitive at this moment. It was quiet downstairs when I was getting ready, a blessing and a curse. He could be sat down gathering his senses, trying to sober up, or he could be working himself into a frenzy. It had happened before, and I was scared it could happen again. I loved my father, he had raised me well, considering that we were Shelby's. Though I supposed I had Aunt Polly and Aunt Ada to thank for that, not him. He had always tried to be around when I was younger, wanting his child to know her dad. But as I got older, when I could become more independent, that's when he realised he could have a bit more freedom, especially since the woman (my mother) he fucked wanted nothing to do with him, just to look after the child they created.

I returned to him once I was ready for the day, slowly stepping into the kitchen. My heart sunk at the sight of whiskey in his hands once again. How could someone drink so much and continue? I had been drunk before, and I didn't enjoy the headache the next day.

"Dad, did something happen last night?" I hesitantly asked, slowly walking towards him.

He scoffed."Some people don't understand what respect means. I'm Arthur fucking Shelby, I don't think twice about killing a man."

I hated when he spoke of killing. It was something I always pushed to the back of my mind.

"You would not believe what this woman said to me last night. She...she said...how the fuck did I end up with a daughter like you? How could my daughter, who apparently has the heart in an angel, look me in the face everyday and smile? Hm? Well go on then, answer her question!"

"Dad, she was just trying to win you up."

He took a swig of his drink, clumsily leaning back in his seat."No, no, she meant that! And I want to know too. Since you're so perfect, what are you doing in the Shelby family?"

I backed away, now pressed up against the wall opposite him."You're not making sense. Look, I'll cook us something to eat, it'll help with your headache."

"The only headache round here is you."

"What?"

"Don't know why your whore mother left you on my doorstep. I'm a killer, how would I know how to raise a child?"

"Just shut up dad, you're wasting your energy over this."

He shot up from his chair, causing it to hit the cabinets behind him."Don't you tell me what to do!" 

I flinched back, hitting my back and head on the wall. He had never hurt me, but there was a different rage in his eyes, and I was scared that this was the look his victims saw before he killed them. 

“When I fucked her, I was drunk, done a few lines, eh? I didn’t even know her name, but it didn’t matter. She might have been a prostitute, she might have been a woman at the club. But it didn’t matter.”

“Dad,” I sobbed, wondering if I should just run,“please stop talking like this.”

“I’ve slept with hundreds of women, never had a baby turn up though. But of course, just when things were going good for me, I got stuck with you. I had to spend money on you, feed you, dress you, shit, I had to make sure I knew what the fuck I was doing and be there for you. My fucking life went out of the window.”

I didn’t need to hear any more of this. Taking my chances, I darted towards the hallway, throwing open the door and running into the street. People on their way to work (or coming back from a long night out) watched as I sprinted past them, tears streaming down my face, despite the wind repeatedly drying them. I had heard my dad call for me, and I was sure he had fallen down trying to come after me. Stumbling into Charlie’s yard as I slowed down, I sighed with relief when I saw that no one was there. It seemed stupid to come here, when it was my family that owned it (and they were the people I wanted to be away from), but it was also somewhere I felt safe. Sniffling, I used one of my dress sleeves to wipe away the tears, now idly walking around the place. It was so dirty here, gloomy and dark; it reflected the mood at the moment.

Sitting down on a chair, that was terribly out of place, outside the stables, I leaned back, hating how the cold air hurt my lungs from running. My throat was recovering from being dry, but now there was a metallic taste in my saliva. It wasn’t lady-like to sit like this, but who gave a fuck? Coughing before spitting on the floor, I sunk deeper into the chair, legs spreading out to make it comfier.

“What’s little Miss Shelby doing all the way out here by herself?” I heard Isaiah call. However, the cocky smirk he held disappeared when he saw my teary face.“Shit, what’s happened?”

“My dad.” I sobbed, sitting up properly when he knelt in front of me.“He’s just drunk and...he said some things.”

“What things?”

“I don’t want to get you in trouble, Is.”

“Don’t worry about me.” Isaiah held on of my hands that was resting on my lap.“You’ve never been this upset before, he’s clearly said something that’s hurt you.”

“I’m tired of his habits Isaiah, he’s gone back to his old ways. I hate it! I don’t understand how he can go out almost every night and drink to that extent. He’s broken things in the house, he’s been sick, he’s fallen down the stairs, and yet it continues! And today, he said hurtful words to me. Told me how I was just the child of a whore, I was unwanted, he was basically saying he regrets taking me in when he could have easily given me to an orphanage!”

“Hey, calm down.” Isaiah kept his voice quiet.“He’s drunk, you know that. And that means he doesn’t mean those things.”

“They say that drunk words are your true thoughts.” I snapped.

“(Y/N), please listen to me.”

Reluctantly, I looked down at him, trying not to smile at the image of our hands interlocked.

“Your dad loves you far too much for his own good. He’s only ever loved his family, as in his brothers, sister and aunt, and that was just the normal. You were different. Yes, you weren’t planned, meaning he hadn’t prepared himself to welcome yet another person in his life.And he had to throw himself into parenthood, had to realise he was looking after a child. It was like going cold turkey for him. Now I’m not excusing his words or actions from earlier, he shouldn’t have ever said such things to you. But he worries, he worries because he loves you so much that he doesn’t even understand it himself.”

“I know that deep down...it just hurt. And I’m scared that he’s going to keep doing this to himself.”

He sighed, standing up, tugging on my hand.“Let’s go. We don’t need to be in this sad place.”

I slightly smiled, still holding his hand as I stood. However, he let go, taking off his coat and putting it on me. Luckily I was just tall enough for it to not drag on the floor, otherwise I would have dragged it through mud. He made his usual cheeky remark about it ‘looking better on me’, causing me to roll my eyes but laugh all the same. He distracted me as we walked, trying to steer the topic away from family matters.

"Isaiah, do you want kids?" I randomly asked.

He chuckled."Was that an offer?"

I shoved him away from me, causing us to laugh."You know what I meant you prick."

"Yeah, I do. It's still early days for me, especially since I'm doing a lot more for the boss and all that. But once I find my girl, I'll want to have my own family."

"That's very sweet of you Is. I can see you being a father, and a good one at that. Once you grow up a bit that is."

"You're wanting a mature man then, eh (Y/N)?"

"Yeah, do you know of anybody?"

He pretended to think."Nah."

The dreadful feeling that had been stuck in the pit of my stomach was almost gone, until I saw my dad running around the streets, obviously looking for me. Poor people in the street were bombarded by questions, he was terrifying to them. When he saw Isaiah and me, he was relieved, taking long strides towards us. He didn't look angry anymore, but I was still wary, hoping Isaiah would stay beside me.

"(Y/N), (Y/N) love, I've been looking everywhere for you!" he exasperated, trying to catch his breath.

"She was down by Charlie's yard." Isaiah explained.

"Why didn't you find me straight away?"

I butted in before he got angry with Isaiah."I was upset, Isaiah cheered me up. I wouldnt have come back anyway."

"I'm sorry (Y/N). I really didn't mean anything that I said this morning. It was the alcohol, I swear!"

"You'll use this excuse for the next time too."

"There won't be a next time, I promise!"

"Dad, do you know how much you upset me today? You basically told me you didn't want me, you called my mother a whore. There were so many random things that came out of nowhere, and it was purely to hurt me because you were hurting."

"I know. A woman in the bat last night reminded me of how your mother was, or at least I think she did. She made the same comments, saying that I didn't deserve to have such a lovely, good hearted girl as a daughter."

"No, sometimes you don't. But you're lucky that I love up to that title, because I love you too much to let this get in the way of our relationship."

"I'm going to stop, I won't do that again!"

"You're not going to drink again?"

He hesitated."I...I mean-"

"Dad, I was joking. I'm not expecting you to quit drinking altogether, just don't drink as much. And not just because you say mean things, because you've hurt yourself in the past. And there's so many people who are after you."

"Alright love, I'll hold back. For you. Am I forgiven?"

"For now." I hugged him, still upset, but knowing that we had to move past this in order for him to get better."I'm going to stay with Isaiah today though. I feel like we should spend some time apart, for the rest of the day at least."

"Why with Isaiah?"

"Because he's my friend, and he's helped me take my mind off things. I'll see you later dad." I kissed his cheek before grabbing Isaiah's hand again, dragging him away.

"You know you're dad is going to kill me right?" Isaiah said once we were out of earshot.

"He won't. Not if he wants me coming back for dinner tonight."

"I'm going to lose you that soon?"

"You would be so lucky Isaiah."

[goldemas1244]

Thinking about a Team Fortress 3 concept. Don't take this seriously, this is just senseless rambling (as always). Basic shitposting. Let's go.

So TF3 is just TF2's kids and future selves.

But their little Hellspawns are just THIS close to being so different yet so exactly like their papas.

Scout's daughter never actually met his mum, and his dad never lived long enough. So she lives with Granny and Grandpa. It's easy management (hereditarally speaking) and she becomes a Spy, talent, suit and all.

Soldier has settled down with Zhanna and a pack of raccoons. Despite them both being very wild, their little bonnie-giblet prefers the tamer parts of lifestyle, wildlife, and career. Of course, the crazy is still there (as is always). She ends up as a professional, chill Medic who owns a bunch of rats.

Pyro's little bap absolutely loves fire, having been trained to master it for years. So much so that they've dabbled with it in their everyday lives (setting fire to the house one too many times). Eventually, after an incident involving the discovery of machinery firepower, they grow up to be the next Engineer and the sentry shoots flaming oil balls.

Demoman lead a chiller life after the war and has now settled on a cool life in Switzerland (it's just a nice place to live is all). His son doesn't have to work as much as his father did and had a lot more time to pursue his interests, most of which included wildlife photography from afar. This fascination of zooming-in at last expired itself in the form of the Sniper.

Heavy and Medic got married. They have two babies. The one I'm currently talking about is that lovely little baboon. Growing up in that mid-sane household, combined with the natural instincts of monke, the little thing's grown up to be a great Scout.

Extra bullet! Once, Grandpa Spy told his granddaughter, "You see this? This is the exact embodiment of your father." The wheezes between them both was enough to give Grandpa Spy a non-lethal asthma attack.

Engineer's baby gal? Wants nothing to do with his sort of engineering and stress. Has an interest in chemical engineering instead. Becomes a Demoman.

The other one of Heavy and Medic's babies would be their own baby, purely genetical science. Perfect combination of them both. Well, until the [REDACTED] incident which almost turned his brain to mush, thus rendering him almost incapable of reaching their high statuses. Heavy and Medic have pushed that aside, however, and still love him for himself, flaws and all. And boy, their little egg is now a Soldier who's dating Engineer's little gal.

Extra bullet! Engineer isn't all too happy about being related to a baboon if this works out. But then again, we all have that ONE BABOON in the family, no?

Sniper's little sheila turned out to be a tubby little thing, thanks to his mum. Then again, he wasn't all too slim either after settling down with a lady of his own 😝. After physical torture for years and years (thanks to Grandpa's shopping trips), the lil' sheila's now able to lift even Sniper's old campervan. Soon, she'd join the team as the Heavy.

"But who's the Pyro?" you may ask. Well, look no further than Olivia Mann herself. Resigning from her post as CEO of Mann Co. (that job is now honourably given to Hale's own bucking bronco) out of pure boredom, she's joined the team for funsies and is actually pretty nice. Well at least we hope she is. But then again she's the Pyro so of course she isn't. Think Amelia Jane.

Hale's son now is the CEO of Mann Co. Instead of punching wildlife though, he's started rehabilitation campaigns and the like. Hale's secretly proud of him (but never really shows it because AUSTRALIAN CHEST HAIR).

Miss Pauling is now the Administrator. She does a bloody good job of it too, better than the oldie. She has a wife who took on her old job and three kids: Peter, Jeremy, and Elise. Peter in charge of RED, Jeremy in charge of BLU, and Elise in charge of background productions (like helping her moms or drooling over Hale's little crotch goblin).

As for teaming up concepts and a real plotline I have no idea. I'm just here for character building by the basics, nothing more.

[sideblogformindtrash]

Aduhsfgh self indulgent pet whump with Orfeu as a Whumper AU. This made me so sad :’)

It’s not canon ofc. 

CW:  NSFW/NO-CON/Dubcon; Pet whump; Dehumaniziation; beating; mentioned knife play; dislocated bones; collar; creepy/cruel whumper; teeth/biting; mentioned starvation; manhandling; degradation; 

 The thin shape of Haru stands in the doorway, doing his best not to shiver. Master wouldn’t like that. He knocks on the wood to call for his attention, as he slowly lifts his head from the book. Haru realizes, way too late, that he has a knife in his hands, candle and herbs spread all around him. He whispers a few words and shuts the book.

“Hello, songbird” And Master gives him a wide smile. He hates that nickname. It made sense in his old house, when he was still good and pretty and useful. Now he can’t sing anymore, he never has for this Master. But… He knows Master’s patience with him is running out “…What is it?”

…He lets his head fall down, takes a few steps in and falls to his knees besides Master’s bed. He stares, fluttering his eyelashes, trying to look good – seducing? – for Master. It was never something his trainers thought him. He had to learn. And he is a little clumsy at it, as he moves his hands and rests them on Master’s knees…

Master grabs him by his collar. He barely has time to yelp, as Master throws him over the bed with him. At least he gets a few seconds to recompose, before leaning forward, laying his head between Master’s legs…

Master starts to pet his hair, and that’s the best sensation in the world. This is the one thing he loves about this home. At least, there is some sort of affection. Even if he gets hurt, if he cries and if he can’t quite follow the rules… At least the had pats will be there when he is good, and Master will praise him.

Today, he isn’t being good.

“M-mm-ma-mas-“ He breathes. Speaking is so, so difficult. He is making some progress, but his stammering is annoying. He is afraid Master will decide it’s not worth the trouble and silence him again “Please…”

“What is it, Haru?” His voice is amused. At least he isn’t getting impatient yet…

Slowly, he lifts himself back to his knees, prepared to be punished for it at every turn. It doesn’t happen, so…

‘Please. Allow me to give Blue some pain killers? Please. Please, Master’

“Painkillers, hm?” Master smiles, and pulls Haru into his lap “Why should I? Are you saying it didn’t deserve the punishment, little bird?”

…His eyes widen. He tries to calm down, he knows Master isn’t really angry, he is just teasing, just seeing if Haru will fall for it…

But it’s still a dangerous game to play. He has to be careful with his words.

‘Of course it did Master. Master deemed the punishment necessary, and Master knows what Is best for us’ he closed his eyes for a second. Just a second. He wasn’t allowed that luxury for long. When he is talking to Master, he had to look into the cruel cold green eyes. Master knew how powerless it made him feel. He was naked under that stare, more naked than just without clothes: It was as if his soul had been stripped bare ‘It hasn’t slept since yesterday. I’m sorry for assuming it was okay for it to rest’

…Master’s smile just widened. Haru rolled his hips slightly, offering himself up. Master is already hard under him. He will claim that Haru has to ‘pay’ for whatever he is asking… But of course that’s arbitrary. Nothing stops Master from taking him either way. Still, is a way for him to ask for things they need. To at least pretend he is working for it, instead of just relying on his Master’s mercy.

‘Please?’ he risked gesturing again, swinging his hair around a bit, acutely aware of the knife in Master’s hand…

His other hand went inside his shirt. Cold. It was cold. He felt the tip of the nails scratching his skin, his fingers tracing over scars on Haru’s chest, both his and from his old owner, until they settled on his nipples, pinching toying with them.

Back on his old house… All he had to do was stay still and let it happen. He was just like a ragdoll, tossed and used and then thrown off the bed, and what he was thinking or feeling never mattered. He hated it, but at least it allowed him to just… dissociate. He would stare somewhere, and get lost, as far from his body as he could. But this Master liked when he took initiative. He wanted Haru to be active… to be there the whole time.

So, he unbuckled Master’s belt. That was one of the scariest, full of pointy spikes. He prayed Master never used that one on him or Blue – he once was beaten with one covered in gemstones. It ended up leaving hundreds of small squared wounds on his back, all itching and stinging awfully, costing to heal. And those had been nearly flat stones. He didn’t even want to wonder how much the spikes would hurt.

This wasn’t important now. He opened the thing, and pulled Master’s shorts down, all the while giving nervous glances to see if he had permission to continue.

Slowly, He took a step back, lowering himself to Master’s crotch and taking Master’s dick in his mouth while his fingers idly played with Haru’s hair.

He tried not to think of anything. Just do it. Just get it over with. At least Master’s touch on his hair is soft, at least it doesn’t hurt.

Master lets out a soft moan, as Haru takes his head to the shaft and swallows. He closes his eyes, forgetting for a second that he shouldn’t.

“Look at me” Master scolds. His voice is deep, soft. But it’s an order, so he does, trying to hold back the tears, back and forth, back and forth.

And fuck, staring into his eyes is one of the hardest things to do. Cold. Cold fucking eyes with something slightly inhuman about them. But at least he seems satisfied, so Haru must be doing a good enough job. Master’s grip on his hair turns vicious. He pushes Haru down, nearly making him choke, as he comes. Haru struggles to swallow the load, but he has too. Master would not be happy if he spilled any, and he needs Master to be happy. At least enough to let him help Blue.

He licks Master clean and pulls his shorts back up. He is playing with the knife, spinning it around his hands, no doubt thinking of how he will cut Haru later. But for now, he hopes this will suffice.

Master smiles, maliciously.

“…Get your painkillers, bird”  

‘Thank you Master. Thank you so much’ he says, nearly jumping out of the bed. The sooner he gets out of the room now, the better. He searches through Master’s bedroom cabined and runs back downstairs, as Master goes back to his reading.

Haru walked back to Blue, still trembling, and crouched near the dog bed, where Blue was curled up in pain and softly whimpering, nuzzling Bonnie. A heavy chain around his neck as if he was going anywhere.

He had done his best to patch up the wounds, but Blue’s shoulder still seemed dislocated. Haru didn’t know how to fix that, and he was afraid of hurting him more, so Blue was at Master’s mercy.  

“H-ha-haru…” Blue cried once he saw him, a big cup of water and the pills “…It…It wants back. It wants W-warren…”

He stared at Blue with pity. He said that all the time. He missed his old Master, who treated him nicely, he said. Haru shushed him. But he had to let that go. Holding onto nice memories only brought them more pain.

‘You need to stop saying it out loud. It’s why Master beat you in the first place’

“I-it knows but… ngghn… it hurts. It hurtsss. It, it, it wants back. Wants fluffy bed and, and the treats, and, and going out m-making photos…” Blue kept sobbing, the movement of his chest causing him more pain, as he grieves for the brief moments of happiness he had.

Haru gestured to the pills, and offers him the water. He kept holding the cup even as Blue took it to his mouth, knowing that if he let go, Blue might drop it… And then they would be screwed.

…They both fell silent, hearing the steps coming downstairs, Haru’s heart skipping a beat. They were only hearing because Master wanted to give them a heads up. He was deadly quiet when he wanted to be. Haru set the cup down, putting his hands on the floor and his head over them.

Master found his two pets quiet and behaved. Blue tried to kneel as well… But he seemed in too much pain to do it properly, leaning on Haru for support. He hoped Master would forgive that.

Without a word, he walked up to Blue and grabbed him. He barely managed a yelp, as Master snapped his bone back into place, and then let him fall back into the dog bed, barely containing his sobs.

“Watch your mouth from now on, doggy” he smiled, awful little sharp teeth. They had left plenty of scars all over Haru’s body.

“S-s-s-sso-rry Master” He yelped, trembling. Master smacked Blue’s cheeks twice, as affectionate as that gesture could possibly be.

After that, Master went out. He and Blue waited in tense silence for around ten minutes. They never knew where Master went, when he would go out or when he would return. But it felt a little easier to breathe when he wasn’t around. It was like a ghostly presence was removed from the house.

“Yy-y-y-“ Haru closed his eyes. This was still so hard “S-s-sna-snack?”

Blue quietly nodded. This was one point where Master was merciful, at least. They weren’t starved.

“O-o-oatmeal?” Blue pleaded. Well, they were both allowed to eat but only Haru was allowed to cook, so Blue was dependent on him for that, too. However, he still only had a limited amount of options to cook, as Blue could barely eat any hard food.

He nodded, blue giving him the smallest smile, hiding the broken teeth, as Haru pulled up his little blanket and wrapped him on it.

‘Try to rest a bit, ok?’

Blue whined softly, laying back to hug his little bunny. At least they had each other, Haru thought. He hoped he and Blue weren’t separated again.

[blinder-secrets]

Ring Girl - Part 2

part one

ao3 link

a/n: i can’t believe after 3 years i’m finally continuing this... i genuinely feel so good about it, i hope it was worth the wait

Bonnie woke before you, as he often did. He could’ve left you sleeping, slipped away without stirring you at all, but his softness wouldn’t let him. It never did. He’d told you once that his day couldn’t go right unless you welcomed it in and, after that, you’d stopped complaining. You let him wake you when he wanted and smiled each time that he did.

‘Dove,’ he said quietly, trailing his index finger across your collarbone. ‘It’s morning.’ He drew a line and then looped it, spinning patterns on your skin until you showed signs of waking.

You were on your back, with him on his side next to you. When you’d said goodnight, you’d been tangled together, wound up like string, but he fidgeted too much; in the mornings, you were always apart again. ‘Already?’ you sighed, talking round the edges of a yawn. ‘What time?’

‘Six.’

With your eyes still closed, you turned your head, flipping your cheek onto the pillow to face him. ‘More sleep, please,’ you murmured.

He laughed, keeping it quiet and light. Soft like he might’ve startled you. ‘I need you to wish me luck, dove.’

You pulled your eyes open then, peeling the lids apart and blinking a few times to keep them so. ‘Why?’ you asked, yawning afterwards. ‘What’s today?’

The room was dim, lit with what little sun could filter in through the curtains, but he still lay there glowing. Dark eyes melting into amber. His skin fresh and pale, and drawn across his cheeks like bone china. Precious, you thought. Gold in name and value.

His hand shifted from your chest and pushed under the covers to link with yours. ‘It’s the first day training,’ he said, lips settling into a grin. ‘They’ve got me in the best gym in Birmingham.’ He pulled the word, stretched it and curled it into his accent, cherished it like it was his for the taking.

Birmingham. The city, the bricks and the smoke. It all held a weight to him that was lost on you.

‘What do you need training for?’ There wasn’t a man in England that could beat him, you’d seen enough of them try.

‘It’s important.’ He pressed a kiss to your shoulder. ‘Rules are different.’

‘Fuck rules,’ you answered lazily. ‘You’re all instinct, Bon.’

He squeezed your hand before letting go. ‘Not anymore.’ He sat up with a groan, pausing on the edge of the bed to roll his neck out, to stretch his limbs and wipe his eyes before standing.

‘Come back,’ you whined, reaching a limp arm over the bed to him. ‘Just for a bit.’

He shook his head as he bent over the chest you both kept your clothes in. ‘I can’t be late.’

‘Who says?’ You rolled onto your elbows, chin in your hands. He began to dress himself as you watched. ‘Your dad,’ you asked, ‘or the Shelbys?’

‘Both, dove.’ He ignored the comment you’d slung beneath the words, the question you couldn’t ask outright. Who are you loyal to now Bonnie? Who’s threats scare you the most? ‘I have to go,’ he said.

‘I think I preferred when you were boxing trees.’

The soft smile you knew so well fell onto his features — the one that said, you’re difficult, but you’re mine. He came back to the bed and ran a hand over your hair. ‘Trees don’t pay, y’know. This is good for us.’

It’s good for Aberama, you thought. ‘Will you be away for long?’

‘Just the day,’ he said. ‘You’ll have me again before it’s dark.’

You smiled and turned to kiss his wrist. ‘I suppose I can keep myself busy til then.’

He nodded, and leant down to return the gesture, planting his lips onto the top of your head. ‘Be good,’ he said as he stood again. ‘Don’t be gettin’ into trouble.’

‘When do I ever get myself in trouble, Bon?’

‘Almost everyday,’ he answered.

You’d only lingered in bed a little longer after Bonnie left, then you’d washed and dressed, and walked from the camp with your hair damp and frizzing. It wasn’t hot, but it wasn’t cold enough to make you regret it either. It’d be dry by the time you got to town. You had thought about getting the train from the nearest station, but why bother when you had all day to waste anyway. The walk would do you good.

When you got to Small Heath, you followed the canals, clinging to those streaks of almost wilderness. They weren’t natural, but it felt nicer to walk them than the roads. You didn’t pass another soul until it took you through the Shelby yard. The old man that owned it gave you a look as you arrived, but said nothing. Perhaps he knew who you were. Perhaps he’d made the connection on his own, from the way you dressed, the way you carried yourself. Bonnie had said their family was Romani too, and kin recognise kin no matter how long ago they settled.

‘Can I cut through here, sir?’ you asked him.

He nodded once, wiping his hands clean on a rag that was already black with coal. ‘One of the Golds, are you?’

‘Not yet.’ You smiled as you veered from the comfort of the canal path to cross the yard. ‘Won’t be long, though,’ you added as you passed him.

He ignored your comment as you thought he would. ‘Don’t make it a habit, love, walking through here. S’a working boat yard, you know.’

You waved a hand over your shoulder in acknowledgment; you never made anything habit.

Following whim had led you to the bookies on Watery Lane. Last time you were there, Finn, you think he’s called, had let you place a bet on the Blinders’ winning horse. You didn’t follow the races yourself, you just did it because you could. Because it had never been offered to you before. He’d suggested a horse and you’d agreed to it, put the few pounds you’d had into his palm and told him to go for it. Make me a winner, Peaky boy.

He wasn’t around this time. When you walked into the betting shop, all the thick-sculled men twisted their necks to look at you. They went quiet like you were a ghost. Like they’d never seen a woman before.

‘I placed a bet,’ you said, to the room, because no one offered to help you. ‘Last week.’

‘Did ya, love,’ said the closest, laughing as he turned back to his work.

You stood straighter. ‘Yes.’ You took the slip Finn had given you, and held it out to him, shoving it under his nose so he was forced to look at it. ‘See?’

The man glanced at you sideways and then took the receipt, sitting back to scrutinise it. ‘Who the bloody hell let you do that?’ he said, accent thick and rolling and itching under your skin.

‘Finn Shelby,’ you told him, knowing it was a weapon to say so. They could be as rude as they liked, but you knew they were all hares in a trap that the Shelbys’ set. You watched the smugness flush from his expression. ‘So,’ you purred, ‘did I win?’

He shook his head, then he sighed. Then he leant forward again and held the paper back out for you to take. ‘No, love,’ he said. ‘You lost like the rest of them.’

Frowning, you took the receipt and shoved it, crumpled, back into your pocket. ‘It was fixed?’ you asked. ‘He had me bet on the wrong horse?’

‘I’m not sayin’ that.’

But he wouldn’t, even if Finn had. ‘He said it would win,’ you continued, your words bitter and souring. ‘Was blessed, he said.’

The man cleared his throat. ‘Can’t be helped.’

It could, in fact, be helped.

‘Do you have a toilet?’ you asked.

You’d sweetened your voice slightly and it had worked, because he nodded and pointed to the back of the room, past the tables and the workers, without even looking up at you. You followed the direction he’d sent you in, and locked yourself into the toilet for long enough to seem convincing.

If Finn could sell you a false bet, you saw no harm in getting back what was wrongly taken from you — with some interest, of course.

When it seemed reasonable, you left the toilet and started back through the shop, eyes scanning the tables as you passed them. It mustn’t have been long since they took their last winnings; the desks were busy with notes, and pennies, and men counting as fast as their education would let them. Seeing a suitably abandoned pile, close to the edge of the nearest, you paused and crouched. No-one was taking any notice of you. You tied your lace though it had never been undone and then, with a final check for safety, you stole the money. Your hand curled over the table-edge, pushing the top inch of notes from the pile and into your waiting pocket. It was so easy you almost laughed.

In a way, you wish you had laughed. Now, you knew it wouldn’t have made a difference, because you never got away with it. If you’d have laughed at the time, you might’ve been able to flirt your way out of the trouble.

After standing, you had started to walk away, nonchalant and pleased with your actions. And then the thin-moustached man, who was previously looking for his cigarettes, had turned back and noticed. You’d been hoping he would be clueless to it. Or at least slow enough that you’d be out the door and down the road before he realised.

‘Oi,’ he barked, ‘where’s that fucking money gone?’

There wasn’t chance to plea your case. Out of everyone in the shop, it could have only ever been you that was responsible. It didn’t take them long to work that out.

You were by the campfire when Aberama found you. He knew already what’d happened, at least, he knew what Mikey had told him, who knew what you had told Allie, which really wasn’t all that much. All you’d said to her, was that you’d robbed some money from the wrong man, and he’d smacked the sense back into you. She didn’t need to know that it involved Shelby business, because Aberama didn’t need to know. The paths that gossip took were predictable enough that you’d accounted for it.

When he got to you, the kettle you’d been waiting for finally hissed and screamed into its boiling point. You reached for it, but Aberama took it off the flames and set it onto the table before you could. No tea for you, then. Just inquisition.  

‘So, what am I meant to tell Bonnie this time?’ he asked, crossing his wrists over his front. ‘He’ll be back soon.’

‘I know.’ You felt inclined to keep your face hidden, choosing to stare down at the fire instead of looking at him. ‘It’s nothing serious,’ you told him. The first slap had been hard enough to split your lip, the second just enough to bruise the cushioning beneath your eye. Everything else was so minor it barely left an ache.

‘Everything is serious to him, girl.’

You nodded.

‘This will hurt him,’ he said.

‘I know,’ you agreed. He didn’t want to hear anything else from you after all. ‘I’ll deal with it.’

‘You will.’ He stepped closer, and dipped his head so you couldn’t help but look at him. You didn’t find him threatening, just chilling. Unreadable but familiar enough that you couldn’t be scared of him. ‘I won’t have you distracting him now,’ he warned. ‘I like you, but I won’t hesitate to make a choice on his behalf.’

You nodded. He lifted your chin with the tips of his fingers to get a proper look at you.

‘You’re too rough for all your sweetness,’ he said. Then, after a moment of consideration, he added, ‘I’ll tell Bonnie before he sees you, but make this the last time, dear.’

After that, you sat on the steps to your wagon, anxiety rotting in your gut, until the sun had began to set. Just before it fell enough to make the sky feel dark, Bonnie came home. He entered the camp whistling, his hands in his pockets, his steps free and bounding. He saw you from across the way, but Aberama intercepted him before he could get any closer.

Guilt bit at your ankles as the joy went from his shoulders and into the mulch, his high from the day’s training lost once he heard of your own stupidity. You watched his brows pull together. His hands left his pockets in fists. The worst part of it, was knowing that it could’ve been avoided. You could’ve taken your failed bet and left, could’ve gone home and read, and waited. Could’ve lay down and listened to him gush about the fights he’d had. Instead, you had to watch his buzz harden into anger, and sit under the weight of his gaze as he approached.

When he got to you, he was mute. His jaw set and unset.

‘Bon,’ you started, looking up at him, ‘before you say anything—‘

‘No, dove,’ he stopped you. He folded his arms and then unwound them again, fidgeting in the way he did when he tried to keep himself calm. When he tried to put words before actions. ‘I told you to be careful,’ he said. His voice was so taut it was almost a whisper.

You exhaled heavily. Not in a sigh, in deflation. You dropped your head but he lifted it again, his hand so light against your cheek that it may as well have not been there. It was the intention more than the grip that brought your eyes back to his. While he scanned your face, you sat vacant, waiting for the disapproval to load onto his features. His thumb moved to hover over the cut in your lip, his eyes dark and scrutinising.

‘Who was it?’ he asked pointedly, still talking through the catch of his teeth.

‘No one.’

‘Don’t do that.’

‘Bon,’ you pushed his hand away, ‘it’s like you said, they’re less forgiving in the city. I know that now.’

He wasn’t satisfied. He knew you too well, knew you were smarter than getting caught for pickpocketing. ‘I’ll ask you again, who was it?’

Rolling your eyes, you looked away from him. You couldn’t lie to his face as easily as you could with others. ‘I don’t know names,’ you said.

‘What happened then?’ he replied, standing limp before you. His gaze bore into the bruise on your cheek. ‘Where were you?’

If Bonnie was anything, he was stubborn. The only person you knew other than yourself, that would run a thought into the ground, let an idea posses him until he found whatever it was he wanted. You closed your eyes for a moment, knowing the next words to come out your mouth would only make things worse. And yet, there you were, preparing to say them anyway.

‘I took money,’ you said slowly, 'from the Shelby bookmakers.’

‘What?’ The word hissed out of him, piercing the quiet bubble that had previously kept you safe from curious stares. Now, they looked freely, heads turning in your direction as Bonnie continued. ‘Fucken’ what?’ he spat. ‘They did this?’

‘No, no, Bon…’ You rolled your head between your shoulders, searching for something, anything, to say to quell him. ‘It wasn’t like that exactly.’

‘Then how was it like?’ His hands curled up again, rigid and set for striking.

‘Finn gave me a dud bet,’ you explained quickly. ‘I went and he wasn’t there, and they all gave me a look as if I shouldn’t be, and I thought, well, fuck them, I’ll take my own winnings.’

‘I’ll kill ‘em.’

You groaned. ‘No, Bon, I was being stupid. I deserved it, really. I mean, it was broad daylight, in a shop full of—’

‘Those Blinder fucks,' he cursed, turning to pace away from you. He spat into the leaves and threw a hand up to grab the cap from his head. ‘I’m s’posed to be fucken’ one of ‘em.’

‘Bonnie.’ You stood, stepping wide enough to reach him. You grabbed him by the arm and forced him to still. ‘It was a Blinder who stopped it,’ you said.

‘Yeah?’ His eyes darkened. ‘Not soon enough.’

‘He wasn’t there,’ you stressed. ‘When he came, he told them who I was. It’s sorted, Bon, we sorted it.’

You’d apologised to Finn, and he’d done the same. You were both crooks after all. There was too much between them and the Golds to be lost, so you’d agreed with him to leave it there, no bad blood. No revenge needed from either side. It’d be forgotten about before sunrise if Bonnie let it.

‘What’re you gonna do, Bonnie?’ you asked, softening your voice. ‘You go there and all this is ruined. I won’t let you do it.’

His jaw set again. ‘They hurt you, dove.’

‘I know.’ You rubbed his bicep. ‘It’s not worth it, still. Not even for me.’

‘Don’t keep sayin’ things like that,’ he scolded. ‘Always puttin’ me before you.’

His brows folded, and when he pulled away from your touch you let him. He looked upwards, to the trees, then to his feet. He was working through it. Tucking away the anger to consider the repercussions. There wasn’t anything he could do without causing more problems, no punch he could land without throwing the fight. He needed to be in the Shelby’s good books, for Aberama, for his career. He may not have liked it, but it was the truth.

‘Alright,’ he said, after a forced breath. ‘If it’s sorted?’

‘It is,’ you answered. ‘It’s forgotten.’

He nodded tightly. Then, for the first time, his expression faltered, softness melting the lines between his eyebrows. ‘You are alright, aren’t you, dove?’

You smiled, ignoring the pinch as it tugged the scab on your lip. ‘It’s nothing.’

Tutting, he pulled you into his chest, arms wrapping around you tightly. ‘Leave the fightin’ to me, ey?’ He said by your ear, words light and sad all the same. ‘Dun’t suit you.’

The hug was warm, and tight, and he smelt like a football team straight off the pitch, but you couldn’t pull away. You wanted to sink into him, right between the bones, and stay there. Mine, you thought. Mine and yours.

‘I’m sorry,’ you said, the stress delayed and boiling in your chest. ‘I could’ve fucked it up for you.’ You’d acted selfishly. It was pure luck, and understanding, and wilful retreat that kept it from shattering everything he and Aberama had built.

‘Ah,’ he soothed, his palm running up your back, ‘you know we don’t worry ‘bout the past.’

He didn’t but you did. Always, and relentlessly.

‘Here,’ he said, pulling back to hold your face. He kissed you once, gently, careful ‘cause he knew how it’d hurt, and then smiled. ‘I’ve still got to tell you ‘bout me day.’

‘Yeah?’ You leant back into his arms. ‘How’d it go?’

His eyes lit up. They shone in the twilight. ‘They said I’m gonna be a star, dove. A fucken’ star.’

[moonlightreal]

This is the “author’s note” I found on the amazon pages for the pretty hardcover Night World books.  My memory is that it was just there, the book-blurb at the top by the cover picture, was this. 

Like a bonehead I just copied the text without grabbing a screencap or noting the date.  The amazon page now has the publication date is December 2016 so this bit of optimism was just before Ms. Smith vanished.  Of course we don’t know when it was written or whose idea it was.  Was Strange Fate really finished or was someone just feeling hopeful? 

NIGHT WORLD Dear Readers, It’s hard to tell you how much the re-release of the Night World books means to me. It has allowed me to come full circle, to complete a cycle that began with Secret Vampire. It has allowed me to finish Strange Fate, which grew into an epic that included roles for almost every Night World character. And Strange Fate allowed me to show the origins of the Night World, the apocalypse that threatens to destroy it, and even a possible future in which the evil side of the Night World prevails. I am often asked how I conceived the idea for the Night World series. It began when I wanted to write stand-alone novels that would combine horror and romance. But I wanted more: I wanted to do a series in which this Night World—a vast, secret world that exists within the everyday world—would slowly reveal itself to readers. That’s why the first book is called Secret Vampire: the inhabitants of the Night World, composed of vampires, shapeshifters, witches, and other supernatural creatures I wanted to invent, are hidden from humans. A vampire is necessarily a secret vampire … because of the laws. I also wanted to write about a new kind of forbidden love. That’s not easy—most good forbidden love topics were old by Shakespeare’s time. But with this series, I could create the possibility of forbidden love simply by saying that the laws of the Night World prohibit a Night Person from falling in love with a human. But I still needed one more ingredient. I needed the rise of the soulmate principle to actively force Night People to fall in love with humans, no matter how hard they fought against it. Voilà! Then it was just a matter of making up interesting characters and setting them loose in my head to see what they would do. I often begin like that: sitting in a quiet room and searching for a sparkle in my mind that could become my new heroine. Sometimes it’s easy and a whole character shimmers before me. Sometimes I only get the faintest firefly glimmer of a new girl, and I have to hold my breath and see if that glimmer will materialize into a three-dimensional person. Heroes and anti-heroes are easier. It’s just a matter of picking one that will be a true soulmate for my heroine. I have a whole collection of these characters in my mind, all trying to crash the party. And they’re usually bad boys. The settings and in-depth plot development are another layer of work. But often the characters just run off and do what they want, and I have trouble keeping up with their antics on my keyboard. One thing I always do is look carefully at my characters and plot from all angles to make sure I’m not plagiarizing a book or series that I may have read before. That’s just normal procedure for ethical authors: we make sure our stories aren’t too much like another story we might have read. Of course, there are many ideas that have been around since the Babylonian myths, and many characters that are archetypal. But, really, it’s almost impossible to take many things from the body of another author’s work—say, someone else’s character(s) or plot or story device—without actually intending to do so. I can’t imagine wanting to do that. I wish I could say every author felt the same. Poppy North is a character I examined very carefully. I wanted to make sure she wasn’t too much like Bonnie McCullough, another petite character of mine from The Vampire Diaries. I didn’t even want to plagiarize myself ! But Poppy convinced me that she was a tough little squirt who by high school had already planned out her future, which is very unlike Bonnie. Poppy was going to marry her mysterious friend James—she just hadn’t informed him yet. Also, unlike Bonnie, she had a fatal flaw in her small body. In Secret Vampire, I knew I was dealing with a serious issue: terminal cancer in a high school girl. So I did a lot of research before deciding on a type of cancer that would be truly inoperable and give Poppy only a month or two to live. I went to several hospitals to talk to nurses in oncology wards. I always brought toys for the hospitalized children, but the whole subject was so heartbreaking I was almost afraid to tackle it. Once I did, though, I found that Poppy was even stronger than I had imagined. In the book, she makes the only choice she can to go on living, and she never looks back. Poppy is one of my favorite girls, and she ushers in Ash Redfern, who quickly became one of my favorite bad boys. Ash has a murky past of womanizing and … well, more womanizing. Ash returns in Daughters of Darkness because he has been ordered by the leader of all vampires, Hunter Redfern, to bring his three runaway sisters back to their cloistered vampire island. But when Ash locates his sisters, he runs straight into the human stargazer Mary-Lynnette, and the sparks begin flying—literally. Mary-Lynnette is a character I made up when I was a kid, and I’m always surprised by how many people like her and Ash together. Mary-Lynnette spends most of the time expressing her feelings for Ash by kicking him in the shins, but their dialogues are some of my favorite passages in the whole series. Ash, in turn, escorts Quinn into the series. And Quinn (who does have a first name, though he rarely uses it) is one really scary guy. A vampire since 1639 A.D., Quinn is sharp, cold, humorless, and heartless. Unlike Ash, who is mainly guilty of an incredibly long series of one-night stands, Quinn enters the series as a human slave trader. That is, he provides vampires with young girls, and he doesn’t ask questions about what happens to the girls afterward. This led to a problem: How on earth was I going to redeem this villain enough to make him someone’s soulmate in The Chosen? I really sweated over that. My first task was to make Quinn more sympathetic. The best way to do it seemed to be by telling a bit of Quinn’s own tragic story: how he falls in love with sweet Dove Redfern, and how her vampire father decides to make Quinn his heir. Dove’s father is Hunter Redfern, one of the most important vampire leaders in Night World history. This is the same Hunter Redfern who, nearly half a millennium later, sends Ash to drag his sisters back home. The same Hunter Redfern who sends his daughter, Lily, after Jez in Huntress. The same Hunter Redfern who tries to turn Delos into a merciless killer in Black Dawn. But, as a boy, Quinn doesn’t know anything about the Night World, and he is deeply in love with gentle Dove. When Hunter makes him a vampire by force and then when Quinn can’t save Dove from being killed, Quinn’s heart freezes over. For four hundred years it accumulates ice—until he meets Rashel. That’s another favorite scene of mine: when Rashel, a dedicated vampire hunter since (guess who?) Hunter Redfern killed her mother, encounters Quinn. A group of Rashel’s fellow vampire slayers have captured Quinn and plan to torture him, and Rashel is left alone to guard him. Quinn, feeling old and tired despite his youthful appearance and great power, gives himself up for dead—and is a little glad to do so. Rashel, however, can’t stomach the idea of torture. When Rashel talks to this most-hated vampire and hears his story, she deliberately sets him free. And that astonishes him. But it’s the soulmate principle working its magic. I loved making two such strong-willed enemies succumb to the silver cord that connects them. I especially loved hearing Quinn warning Rashel not to let him go—and then protecting her when her comrades arrive back in time to see that she’s let him loose. I really loved writing about Quinn and Rashel’s soulmate sequences. As Rashel enters Quinn’s mind, she sees “thorny scary parts” but also “rainbow places that were aching to grow” and “other parts that seemed to quiver with light, desperate to be awakened.” She begins to think that people ask so little of themselves. If the mind of a slave trader can look like this, an ordinary person must have the power to become a saint. It is with this revelation (and much penance on Quinn’s part) that Quinn is redeemed. That’s the thread that binds all the novels together: redemption. The possibility of a second chance. Everyone has choices to make, but even the most evil of vampires can choose to atone and be redeemed. It may not necessarily stave off punishment in this world or the next, but redemption is possible. I’ve been asked who my favorite characters are, and the answer always changes because it depends on the book I’m writing. Right now my favorites are three characters from Strange Fate. As for my favorite couples in the published books? Morgead and Jez—I suppose. Who would find themselves at greater odds than a vampire gang leader and his onetime superior, a vampire who finds out she is half human? I learned some cool martial arts moves as a bonus for writing about them. Then there is Keller, one of my all-time favorite heroines, and Iliana, the beautiful Witch Child, and Galen, ruler of the shapeshifters: the love triangle in Witchlight. Keller starts out seeming brusque and businesslike, but the love of Galen and of the unselfish Iliana help to heal her inner wounds. And I can’t forget Thierry and Hannah, and Circle Daybreak. I created Circle Daybreak because the Night World witches had only two clans: Circle Twilight and Circle Midnight. Those, like Thea in Spellbinder, who belong to Circle Twilight are not-so-wicked witches (that is, they don’t want to exterminate all humans like the darkest witches, those who belong to Circle Midnight), but they are still wicked enough. So what was to be done with all these new soulmates, when Night World law said that they must be put to death? Someone had to make a place for them where they would be safe, and I decided it was Thierry, one of the oldest vampires, and Hannah, his Old Soul soulmate, who has lived hundreds of lifetimes without ever reaching the age of seventeen. They are the ones who revive Circle Daybreak, where humans and Night People can forget about past tragedies and concentrate on a brighter future together. Although Thierry is an old vampire, he isn’t the oldest vampire. There is one older, the one who Changed him. She provides another thread that binds the series: the pitiless Maya. Maya is the first vampire, the witch who finds the secret of eternal life—and chooses to use it for evil. But there will be plenty more about her, including a look at the young Maya, her sister Hellewise, and their mother, Hecate Witch-Queen, in the upcoming Strange Fate. And so now I’ve come full circle, back to Strange Fate. But I can’t finish until I add the other joy that the re-release of Night World has brought me. It’s brought me into contact with you by e-mail. Night World fans write so many intelligent, articulate, courteous, exciting e-mails! I love to get messages from “old” fans, who say my works “got them through high school.” Thank you for them! And messages from new fans, who say they have just read all my reissued books—and are impatient for more. Thank you! And the messages that simply demand: “When is Strange Fate coming out?” Thank you, too! With a full heart, all I can say is thank you, thank you, and thank you again! I never thought I would have a chance to write an open letter to all Night World fans, and I can only wish that you knew how grateful I am … for this second chance. Sincerely, (LJ Smith signature image) P.S. I love to get e-mail, letters, and messages. Visit me at ljanesmith.net!

[hello-im-not-a-possum]

13. Trust

It’s not fun to be put into a situation where the only person you can count on is the person who wants to kill you, nor is it fun to have to be put in a situation where you have to trust the person that you really want to kill, but Henry and Malice don’t really get a choice in the matter. (Set in an AU Where Allison and Tom capture both Henry and Malice alive.)

When Malice came charging at Henry, she was stopped by being tackled into unconsciousness by an almost identical angel.

His assumed savior hoisted her body up with ease, while the Boris with the mechanical arm had glared at both of them.

Henry tried to explain the situation to the newcomers, but the angry looking wolf simply ignored him as he walked up to the man and whacked him out with the pipe.

Both the angel and the Animator woke up in a cramped, tiny, makeshift prison while one of their kidnappers was singing and painting on the wall.

It was very tense and awkward when that happened.

Malice was clearly pissed off about sharing her cell with Henry (the man had similar opinions on the arrangement as he was rightfully upset about what she did to his Buddy Boris), but the animator could tell that she also seemed scared, outright terrified, of their captor.

While he wasn’t her biggest cheerleader, he did see some flickers of Susie still in there, there were still glimpses of a woman who poured her heart and soul into her role, and loved every minute of it until her betrayal broke her. Seeing the fallen angel so scared, and dare he say, helpless in this instance, reminded him of that tape in the Angel side room.

“Everything feels like it’s coming apart…”

His own heart broke when he first heard that tape, while he had never seen Susie get her role as Alice, he did see her voice some of those talking chairs, dancing chickens, and other minor roles. She always seemed to have fun with them and if Sammy didn’t pick her for Alice first, then he would’ve asked her himself.

The animator reached out, then hesitated, wondering if it was better to try to comfort her or to give her space.

The one who broke the silence between the three was the free angel who noticed that Henry was up when he moved.

“I know her, but who are you? Why are you here?”

“I was invited by an old friend, and now I can’t leave.”

Malice rolled her eye and muttered something under her breath.

“Then you know more than we do. One minute we don’t even exist… just… thoughts. And the next minute, this place.”

“Henry.” Malice whispered in his ear as she grabbed his hand. “I know I’m the last person you’d listen to, but don’t fall for her act! I know her, and I know she’s no better than Joey...”

Henry nodded in acknowledgement and turned back to the captor angel.

 “Are you gonna let us out of here?”

“She’s dangerous and down here, strangers aren’t good things. How can we trust you?”

“If we’re so dangerous, then why lock us up instead of killing us when you had the chance to?” Malice spoke through gritted teeth. “Why bother with the cage at all?”

The other angel stayed silent as she did not have an answer, leaving the other two in silence as well.

-----

It’s only for a few hours. No need to worry, I won’t go far… Only up to level six. Just stay here. Keep an eye on them, okay? I’ll be back as soon as I can. I promise.”

The Boris menacingly slapped the axe against his palm while watching over the pair, Malice refused to look him in the eye as he did so.

-----

“You’re drawing him again?” His cellmate asked curiously.

“Yeah, it’s just… I miss him. He was one of the only good things about this studio.”

While he was focused on his work, he did notice the twinge of guilt cross her features before her face fell into thought.

“...If it makes you feel any better, he’s not truly gone. The ink probably spat him back out a while ago and he’s probably wandering the studio looking for you.”

Henry raised an eyebrow.

“What makes you think that?”

“He disintegrated when you defeated him. Have you ever noticed that when you die, you come up somewhere else and you don’t find a corpse of yourself laying around the spot you were killed?”

“Come to think of it… I have noticed that.”

“When the Ink’s done with people, it leaves their bodies alone. When it’s not done with them, then if they die, it disintegrates their bodies and spits them out of the puddles somewhere else.”

“I have a feeling you know this from a lot of experience…”

“How very observant of you.” She deadpanned.

“Thanks, it’s a strong suit of mine.” He also deadpanned.

-----

“Henry? Susie?”

Malice shot the ‘clueless’ angel a glare as she set two bowls of bacon soup on the edge.

“Here, you two must be hungry.” She sheepishly looked down at the bowls. “Sorry, it’s all we have.”

The free angel turned and walked away while the Boris put his arms around the bowls, turned to glare at them, knocked the bowls onto the floor, and made a threatening gesture before leaving himself.

“They never planned on giving us the soup anyway.” Malice whispered to Henry. “It’s just their ‘good cop bad cop’ routine; “miss goody-two shoes” is the good cop who generously gives us dangerous monsters some of her and her guard dog’s limited portions of endless soup, while the “Mean wolf” is the bad cop who knocks over the soup and threatens us, out of her sight, but not out of her earshot.”

“Huh, ...Did they lock you up before?”

“No, I just know what they’re like; the happy little Bonnie and Clyde couple…”

------

“I know you’re watching me, it’s just... a little creepy.”

“It’s not like we have anything else to do.” Malice muttered under her breath.

The animator would’ve stayed silent, but as he watched his vocal captor write on the walls, he noticed how similar her own handwriting was to the messages on the other walls.

“You’re the one who writes on the walls!”

“Everyone does that.”

“-We all do.” The captor angel interjected as if she did not hear her prisoner. “For some poor souls down here, it’s the only way they can be heard. But you don’t want to touch the ink for too long! It can claim you… ...pull you back. That’s how I met Tom. I was messing with things I shouldn’t have been and he... ...he was there.”

“Why do you call him ‘Tom’?”

“He just seems to respond to it.”

“Well I don’t think he’s very fond of either of us.”

“Let me show you something...” She approached the cage. “A while back, I was mapping out one of the upper levels… ...when I noticed something reflecting off a piece of glass. I held up the glass, looked through, and on the wall behind me was a hidden message! Right there! In plain sight! So I kept looking, and found more and more messages everywhere in the studio! But you can’t see them with your eyes. Only through this! Take a look!”

Malice scoffed dismissively as the freed angel handed Henry the seeing eye tool.

‘SHE WILL LEAVE YOU FOR DEAD.’

“I don’t know who’s leaving them, but I think they know how to get out of here.”

“Where does it all lead to?”

“Nowhere.” she sighed. “I followed them for a long time... just leads me in circles. I don’t think I’m meant to leave this place Henry, but maybe… you are.” 

“And yet, you keep him locked up like a little bird…” Malice muttered.

“Alice, please let us out of here.”

“...Tom thinks you’re both dangerous.”

“Of course.”

“And what do you think?”

“I… I think… ...you’re the hope I’ve been waiting for. Go to sleep, maybe tomorrow will be better.”

-----

“I Hope you’re not taking everything she says at face value.”

“She seems harmless enough...”

“That’s what she’s trying to do- Look, I know you don’t trust me, and I can’t say I blame you for that. I don’t expect you, or WANT you to trust me. But Listen to me when I say this: I ended up as what you see me as BECAUSE I trusted her. Don’t make the same mistake I did, Henry, if you really want to get involved with her and make it out unscathed, then keep your guard up.”

Henry gestured for Malice to come closer and held the seeing glass up to show her the ‘SHE WILL LEAVE YOU FOR DEAD’ message.

“...Did you write this?”

“Yes Henry.” She sarcastically droned. “While I was working to achieve my perfection and setting up Bendy land’s obstacles, I went down to the secret lair of my worst enemy aside from the Ink Demon, both risking my life in the process and putting my goals into jeopardy, and wrote that message in invisible ink, just on the off chance that if she’d capture both of us alive instead of killing me.”

“I see.”

-----

“That was really stupid Tom! You shouldn’t have gone out there! Now that he’s seen you... it’s only a matter of time…” She grunted through adjusting his arm. “before he finds us here.”

She then waved at her captives, something that Tom noticed and began threateningly slapping the axe against his hand again.

-----

“We can’t just leave them! Not with the Ink Demon right outside the door!”

“What’s going on?”

“He’s coming. We have to move on.” A loud rumble echoed above them as Malice curled up in a corner praying for her safety. “Tom! We have to let them out!”

She pulled on the boards, Tom shook his head.

“...I’m Sorry.”

“No you’re NOT! DON’T LIE TO ME!” Malice Snapped. “YOU HAVE A SWORD! HE HAS AN AXE! IF YOU REALLY CARE ABOUT EITHER OF US EVEN THE TINIEST BIT, YOU’D CUT THE SHIT AND CUT DOWN THE BOARDS!”

Alice hesitated, but ran anyway, with Tom close behind her. Leaving them to their doom.

Malice fell to the ground and started to cry, she was shaking violently and saying things that Henry couldn’t make out because she was bawling so hard, but he could definitely make out the words ‘Ink Demon’ and ‘We’re going to die’ here and there.

“Alice?” He put his hand on her shoulder reassuringly. “Alice, we’re not going to die here.”

“How…” She sniffled. “How do you know that?”

“Well, I think you’re going to have to trust me on this, but...” He held up the seeing eye tool, showing her the messages in their cell itself. “I think whoever’s leaving these is trying to help.”

[honestgrins]

could you do a continuation of chapter 29/49??

I'm glad you liked Reflection and Retribution, but I think I'm done with that universe. Could I interest you in Private Investigator!Caroline hired to infiltrate a criminal organization instead?

Also, many thanks to @recyclingss for being a kind ear and a supportive voice as I try to find my writing groove again. Thanks for the love, lovely (and sorry it’s not a new chapter of Burned)!!

Wanted || Klaroline

A squeak of hinges was all she had in the way of warning. Hurrying to tuck the files she'd been snooping through back into their respective cabinets, Caroline needed an excuse for her presence in the boss's office - and she needed one fast.

To give herself a bit more time, she slipped into the private bathroom. Her purse was lighter than her usual go-bag for an investigation, but that was the peril of working undercover. She shuffled through it anyway, only to find the makeup she needed to reapply between shifts, her wallet, car keys, and Taser. Fortunately, she had learned to be resourceful, and a plan quickly formed with what she had. 

Unfortunately, the plan could go very wrong. As footsteps sounded through the door, however, her time to improvise had run out. Slathering on a fresh layer of lipstick for luck, Caroline fluffed her hair and made her presence known. "Sorry to intrude, Mr. Mikaelson, I just— Who the hell are you?”

Her winning smile had fallen flat at the stranger making eyes down the line of her mostly bare leg. True, the outfit had been meant to draw attention, but he wasn't her intended target. She'd been expecting the fastidious Elijah Mikaelson, with perfectly tailored suits and a too polite charm that just screamed serial killer underneath. This guy was far messier with untidy curls and the paint-splattered jeans. Cute, though. And that smirk.

"Mr. Mikaelson," he answered cheekily, "but please, call me Klaus." Making himself a drink from the bar cart, he poured a second glass for her. His brow arched when she refused. "Come to ask favors of the boss, but you won't drink his liquor. I assure you, he only buys the good stuff."

"I'm fine, thanks." She narrowed her gaze as he draped himself over one of the armchairs, giving her another appreciative look. "I thought the brother's name was Kol?"

His nose scrunched. "Unfortunately, there are five Mikaelson brothers. A sister, too. Nosy for a dancer, aren't you? Most of those 'Lijah keeps on the roster know to mind their business."

A mild panic took over; she was usually better at playing it cool. Now, she was going to get busted for asking too many questions. If she couldn't handle the unexpected brother, she really had no chance at taking on the mob boss himself. "Not a dancer yet," Caroline answered, aiming for sheepish with her hands tucked into the tight back pockets of her shorts. "I'm just a waitress until a stage shift opens up."

Ideally, she would be long gone before that happened, if only to avoid breaking an ankle in the heels. Not even her most rigorous pageant training could have prepared her for the skill those things took to work. That, and she needed to tidy up this case fast to get Damon Salvatore off her speed dial. And Stefan - she never would have accepted the job had he not played the friend card. Her only solace was the fact they agreed to double her usual rate for a job like this. 

The tips were pretty great, too. Even just waitressing had earned her some nice spending money to splurge on clothes and pampering. Had the high-end strip club not been a front for Elijah Mikaelson to launder his ill-gotten gains, she might seriously consider moonlighting once the gig was over.

With the way the boss’s brother was eyeing her, though, that might happen sooner than she’d like. It wouldn’t do to get found out before she could track down what Damon asked her to find, and she did not relish the idea of handing back the hefty check he’d already given. Bristling, she crossed her arms, hoping to annoy him off the scent of her subterfuge. “Can I help you?”

Klaus, however, seemed unperturbed by her attitude. “If it’s better pay you’re after, I might have an opportunity for you.” When she gave an outraged splutter, he merely waved her off. “Not quite what you’re thinking, love, though I apologize for any offense. I’m in the market for a new model.”

“For your burgeoning porn empire? No, thanks.”

“I’m an artist, I would like to paint you,” he clarified with a wry grin. Leaning forward on his knees, he lowered his voice as though letting her in on a secret. “Any wardrobe choices — or lack thereof — would be entirely up to you.”

Sensing his interest wasn’t entirely aesthetic, Caroline figured she might as well learn what she could from the cad. “Don’t try to play me. The girls at the club talk, you know. I heard a rumor the Mikaelsons were, like, connected. The whole starving artist thing doesn’t really add up, so I’ll pass.”

Again, his gaze focused on her in an assessing way, lips still curled up. He took the bait. This was almost too easy. “I do alright, family connections aside,” he joked. “Perhaps you’d like to see some of my work...” Trailing off, he left her with an expectant look.

She pretends to cover a flattered expression with irritation. “Candy.”

“And if I were to check Elijah’s meticulous hiring paperwork?”

A beat passed. “Candice,” she relented with a sigh, reminding herself to buy Bonnie something gorgeous to thank her for crafting a bulletproof identity, complete with an otherwise authentic Social Security card and active social media accounts. “Candice Moore.”

That smirk of his spread to a full smile, and she was a bit stunned to see the utter delight on his face. “Funny,” he said, standing to move closer. Without meaning to, she swayed toward him in return, only to catch herself when he gave a teasing tug to her tousled braid. All her attention snapped to the mere foot between them, then to the intense blue of his eyes. "You look more like a Caroline to me."

Rearing back, she blindly reached into her bag. But Klaus was calm and collected as he plucked the Taser from her grasp. "Now, no need to panic, Ms. Forbes. I merely want to talk."

"Bullshit," she huffed. "How—”

He sat back in his chair, watching her with obvious amusement. "You're good. The cover might have worked had your application not been flagged by my security team. Don't feel bad, they're very thorough.”

The pieces were falling into place faster than she realized they were even missing. Unfortunately, she couldn't make herself focus past the first big answer. She finally took the drink he'd poured for her and downed it in one gulp. More potent than she thought, her voice was hoarse after a bracing cough. "Your security team."

His smirk was positively evil. "You seemed determined to learn the particulars of my organization, sweetheart, though I'm sorry to disappoint that Elijah's file cabinet wasn't able to satisfy your...professional curiosity. I, however, am more than interested in your questions." 

With a snap of his fingers, the office door squeaked, and Caroline caught only a peek of the guard she hadn't even noticed lurking outside before the lock clicked into place. Alone with an underground kingpin without a weapon, she fell back into the other chair like the sitting duck she was. "I don't suppose I could distract you by accepting the modeling offer," she tried with a weak laugh.

Ever the surprise, he chuckled with her. "Always. But if you tell me what I want to know, I can offer you a far more lucrative employment. Good private eyes are hard to find, and you're the first to get this far without ruffling feathers."

"I ruffled yours, didn't I?"

If his smirk was evil, his bright smile was disarming. "Who hired you? I believe I owe them a nice thank you for this introduction."

Caroline watched him carefully, confused at the game he was playing. "My clients pay for results and discretion," she answered politely. "If you were to secure my services, with a healthy retainer fee—"

"Of course."

"—I would promise you the same. Unfortunately," she sighed with a pout, "I think this little mishap constitutes a conflict of interest. But thank you for your interest in Forbes Investigations. Can I go now?"

He leaned forward on his knees, his hands folded in front of him. "You know, I might be of some help to your current clients. Were I to assist in your investigation, there would be no conflict at all. The opposite, in fact."

Chewing her lip in thought, she shook her head and decided to cut her losses. "It has nothing to do with the business, not really," she promised. "I've been tasked with finding someone, someone I thought your brother might be supporting with some creative accounting. That's all."

"Don't tell me," Klaus groaned. "Katerina conned your clients then clawed her way back into Elijah's good graces to hide from the consequences of her own actions."

She scoffed. "Says the guy who lets the world think his brother is a criminal mastermind while he's pulling the strings behind the scenes."

Smirking, he didn't seem offended in the slightest. "Elijah's better with paperwork, but his decision-making is unreliable. I think Katerina is example enough of that."

"Fair." Caroline only met her once, but everything she had learned since Damon hired her painted quite the picture. That, and the fact she all but disappeared after he gave her an heirloom engagement ring, despite the fact she was openly gunning for Stefan throughout their entire relationship. "But it sounds like this was a surprise to you, too, so you probably can't be of much help to me in finding her."

"Reverse psychology is beneath you," he flirted. "And I've already offered to help. You're the one being stubborn."

With a roll of her eyes, she finally stood to pour herself another drink. "Yeah, I'm the stubborn one. You probably have a hundred investigators already on staff. What do you want with little, old me?"

He just smiled. "You want my secrets, you'll have to earn them, love. Now, do we have a deal?"

Oh, she was going to regret this; if only she wasn't so damn intrigued. Draining her glass, she set it on the table between them with a thunk before stretching out her hand. "Deal."

Klaus shook her hand with a firm grip, the contact distracting to say the least. Then, he just had to open his mouth. "The modeling job is a standing offer, by the way."

"Good to know."

[trashyswitch]

Jeremy and the Unusual Reunion

Jeremy ends up being pulled into an animatronic reunion. Literally. But the reunion ends up full of laughs with old companions, laughs with new companions, and an unexpected meet up with an old coworker.

Sequel to 'Jeremy and the Mysterious Robots'.

I feel like I've been on roller coaster ride after roller coaster ride...and some of them have not been very pleasant. But, I'm making the best out of the situation. I hope you enjoy this fanfic! And if you offered up a fanfic, don't worry! I'm working on it!

Jeremy was going for a walk in the street. He was enjoying the sunny day with the nice little breeze that filled his face. Today was really the perfect day to go walking. Cars driving by, the sun shining on your face, the birds flying through the buildings, even younger and older kids biking up and down the street in groups of 4 or 8.

But all the happiness quickly changed when he felt his hand get grabbed. He was about to turn to see who it was, when Jeremy was yanked backwards into an alleyway. Jeremy yelped as he was pulled really quickly past the bricks, and grunted as his body hit a wall. Jeremy had the air knocked out of him as a result, making it extra hard to breathe for a few moments.

A being with what felt like electrical cords for hands, grabbed his upper arms and held them against the wall beside his middle. “Why hello, Michael~” Ennard greeted. “Still alive, I see?”

Jeremy looked up, and immediately started screaming! It was a huge animatronic abomination made primarily of cords and a clown head with a party hat and a big red nose. Oh no...Not the Pizzeria beings again!

Ennard slammed Jeremy’s body into the wall again. “SHUT UP.”

But Jeremy refused to shut up. “LET ME GO! I’M NOT MICHAEL! I DON’T KNOW WHO MICHAEL I-”

Suddenly, a white feminine-looking hand covered up Jeremy’s mouth. “There! Soooo much quieter!” The being talking was a version of Foxy that Jeremy had never seen before. It...looked very feminine and had girly attributes to it. An example: Pink long nails.

Jeremy didn’t know how to feel about this.

“Funny...He was right. This isn’t Michael…” Ennard reacted calmly. “Michael has darker hair...and a similar facial shape…”

Suddenly, a worn down version of Toy Chica walked up to the person and gasped. “Jeremy! Fancy seeing you here!” Chica squawked.

Jeremy widened his eyes. Oh no...Not the toys…

Hey boys! Jeremy’s still here!” Chica reacted.

Toy Freddy, Toy Bonnie and Foxy walked themself to Jeremy and smiled. “

Did someone order an old friend?!" Toy Freddy asked enthusiastically.

Oh no...NOT THESE GUYS AGAIN!

"You won't get tired of my voice... will you?" Toy Chica asked.

To save his butt, Jeremy shook his head no.

“Okay! Good!” Chica replied.

"Is there someone here who needs some extra-special cheering up?" Toy Freddy asked.

Uh oh...That’s not good. Not good at all!

Toy Freddy smiled and turned to the other animatronics. “My friend here is very ticklish! I remember all his ticklish spots too!” Freddy told him.

Oh no...OH GOD NO!

“Oooooh! That tickles me just thinking about it! Do tell!” Funtime Foxy begged.

“Aaaalrighty!” Toy Freddy started pointing to different spots. “His belly is very ticklish! But his armpits are really bad! His hips are a good spot too! And don’t forget those toesies!” Toy Freddy explained.

Jeremy curled his toes, just thinking about it. This cannot be happening...What ever happened to his peaceful walk? Is that just thrown out the window now?

“Alright Jeremy! Time for the tickle tickle tickles!” Freddy decided as he started tickling and poking Jeremy’s belly.

Jeremy jumped and widened his eyes, and quickly covered his mouth. He wasn’t breaking. He wasn’t gonna give them the satisfaction. No way, no how-

Theeen someone went for the armpits…

“aaAAAHAHAHAHA! NOHOHO AHARMPIHIHIHIHITS!” Jeremy shouted.

Well...so much for ‘no breaking’...

“That was quick! Have you been getting more ticklish while I was gone?” Toy Freddy asked curiously.

Hell if he knew! Does anyone get more ticklish over time?! Or is it just him?!

Jeremy squeaked and laughed as his armpits were attacked and played with. This was NOT how he imagined his day to go. But, he had to admit: tickling is better than death.

“OOooooh! He really IS ticklish! Can I try?” Funtime Foxy asked.

“Of course you can! Your nails will work perfectly for what we’re doing!” Toy Freddy replied.

Oh no...NOT THE NAILS!

Funtime Foxy walked to Jeremy’s foot and picked it up. Jeremy immediately grew nervous as he stared at the pink nails. They looked sharp! But they looked SUPER ticklish too…

“Aaaalright! Time to work my magic!” Funtime Foxy started wiggling their fingers eagerly at the toes. Then, they touched down and started skittering all over. “A kitchy kitchy kitchy koo! A kitchy kitchy kitchy kitchy kitchy kitchy koo!”

Jeremy squealed out of surprise and clamped his teeth. His lips began to ripple into a smile as he struggled to handle the ticklish feeling that covered his feet. He soon started humming and giggling a little. “MMmmmmmhmhmhmhmhmhmhm! Hmhmhmhmhmhm-nohohohohohoho!” Jeremy whined. “Stahahap it that ticklhlhlhles!” Jeremy whined a little more.

“Oh really, giggly Jeremy?” Toy Freddy teased. “I couldn’t tell! I thought you found something funny to laugh at!” Toy Freddy teased.

BonBon looked up at Funtime Freddy. “Maybe he was giggling at you!” Bonbon teased to Funtime Freddy.

Funtime Freddy gasped and huffed. “How dare he!” Funtime Freddy looked down at Bonbon and smirked. “Hey Bon-Bon! GO GE-GET HIM!” Funtime Freddy threw Bonbon right at Jeremy. Bonbon smacked Jeremy in the face, but slid down to his belly. Quickly, Bonbon started giggling and wiggling into his shirt.

Jeremy widened his eyes. “Nohohow HOHOHOLD OHOHON! HAHAHAHA THAHAHAT TIHIHIHICKLES! HAHAhahahahAHAHAHAHAha!”

The little version of Bonnie wiggled and shook itself further under the fabric of his shirt, and started tickling with his nubs and blowing robotic raspberries into his belly button.

Jeremy SCREAMED and pretty much tripled his wiggling! He was wiggling so much at this point, that an average human adult would’ve lost grip of his ticklish spots! But NOPE! These were ROBOTS with EXTRA strength on their side. There was NO WAY he was getting out of THIS grip. No way for a long shot!

“HAHAHahahahaAHAHAHAHAHAHA- HEHEHEHEHELP! HEHEHEHELP MEHEHEHEHE!” Jeremy begged to Funtime Freddy’s general direction.

Funtime Freddy just chuckled. “Sorry buddy. But I only have one hand right now! You’re just gonna have to let Bonbon do his tickly thing.” Funtime Freddy replied casually.

If these robots were programmed with any sort of artificial ticklishness, then Jeremy would 100% go for all the spots at once. This was SO unfair! It was 1 against 10-12 animatronics! How was THAT ever fair?! This is like being licked and played with by 12 horses! Though, even horses would offer more empathy to Jeremy than these robots.

Bonbon was giggling along with him as he scurried up Jeremy’s armpit. Almost on cue, Ennard grabbed onto Jeremy’s arm and held it above his head. With the arm open and out of the way, Bonbon wiggled itself to the upper chest and started attacking Jeremy’s armpit with both little nubby hands, AND with the ears! Literally! Even the ears were bending up and down and tickling his armpit! And it felt like being tickled by four nubby hands!

“NOOOOOHOHOHOHOHOHO! AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! NAHAHAT THE AHAHAHARMPIHIHIHIHIHIHAHAHAHAHA!” Jeremy screamed.

“You’re so silly!” Bonbon declared rather happily.

“That’s enough…” a raspy voice told them. Bonbon jumped and stopped immediately. He refused to come out of the shirt though...Perhaps it was afraid of the voice.

“Come on Bonbon! It’s just-” Funtime Freddy widened his eyes as he realized who it actually was. Funtime Freddy moved out of the way for the creature and stood to the side. This allowed Jeremy a moment or two to see who was talking.

Jeremy stared at the creature in horror and surprise…

It was a green, completely ruined animatronic in the shape of a bunny!

Jeremy felt intense fear filling his thoughts as he gazed upon the green bunny. He felt the desperate need to get the hell out of there! But these freaking robots wouldn’t let him go without another evil tickle attack on the way!

The bunny hobbled closer and stared at the human. Jeremy grew uncomfortable super quickly. The bunny moved into the light, revealing its human, and animatronic mixed appearance. It was hideous to look at!

Jeremy SHRIEKED and wiggled more as he stared at the huge metal buck teeth. IT WAS GONNA EAT HIM! IT WAS GONNA CHOMP HIM LIKE THE OTHER ANIMATRONIC DID! AAAAAAH!

The green bunny scoffed. “Pathetic…” The green bunny muttered before looking a little closer at him. “Wait a minute...This isn’t him at all…” The green bunny turned to the animatronics with a blank animatronic expression. But his inner face could easily tell you he was pissed. “You useless machines! This is the wrong person!” The bunny yelled.

“We know, sir Afton. But the old ones remember him!” Funtime Freddy told him, pointing to the toy animatronics like a toddler.

“What?!” The bunny asked, turning to the toy animatronics.

“This was the security guard that worked at night!” Toy Freddy declared. “Gerald was his name!” he added.

Jeremy couldn’t help but chuckle at that. “It’s Fitzgerald, Fazbear.” Jeremy clarified.

‘Fitzgerald…’ The bunny thought...

“Wait…” The bunny grabbed onto Jeremy’s head and started looking for something on his head. Jeremy started to freak out at first, but slowly calmed down as the bunny moved his bangs out of the way in a surprisingly gentle manner. “It can’t be…”

The bunny soon took notice of the scar on his face and very softly felt it like a blind person would feel braille dots. Jeremy had calmed down rather quickly, and seemed to have grown more curious rather than concerned.

“It is…” The bunny muttered. “Jeremy Fitzgerald…What a pleasant surprise to see you again.” The bunny spoke.

Jeremy looked super nervous and yet, quite confused. Truth was, he was more focused on how boney and hard the bunny’s fingers were…

The bunny quickly noticed this strange reaction. “I see...I imagine you don’t recognize me at all…” the voice told him.

“I...don't, sadly. Do I know you?” Jeremy asked. “You seem to be the only...humane animatronic so far.”

“Humane is not far off, Fitzgerald…” The bunny showed Jeremy his hand and showed him the skull.

Jeremy widened his eyes. “The animatronics have hu-”

“I was in a workplace accident thirty years ago...I still don’t fully understand why I survived.”

Jeremy felt like all the air had evaporated from his lungs. “M-Mike…”

“Mike? Oh no no no…” The bunny opened its mouth as if to smile. “William...William Afton. Former co-owner of Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza...And founder of Fazbear Entertainment.” The bunny cleared up.

Jeremy was 5 seconds away from shrieking. William Afton was also a murderer! And he’s alive after all this time!

Jeremy finally pulled his hands out of Ennard’s grip and pulled Bonbon out of his shirt. “Get away from me! You MONSTER!”

The bunny widened his eyes and narrowed his eyes in anger. “And I treated you quite kindly…”

“YOU MURDERER! HOW COULD YOU?!” Jeremy reached into the suit and grabbed the first thing he could. Whatever it was, it was hard and felt like a vertical puzzle piece. “I’ll- I’ll break whatever’s in my hand!”

The bunny chuckled in its very low voice. “There is a metal spine attached to the suit that holds me together. Even if you broke my spine...I will still be able to kill you.”

Jeremy widened his eyes and finally settled for kicking him in the groin to run. But Jeremy’s entire body froze to a halt as intense, mind-numbing pain filled his foot.

Jeremy SCREAMED and pulled his pulsing foot back. He grabbed his foot and hopped backwards to the wall. “Ow-ow-ow-ow-ow-ow-ow! What are you MADE OF?!” Jeremy shouted as he hissed and rubbed his paining foot.

The bunny bursted out laughing at him. “You thought you could immobilize me? I believe you have forgotten I’m partly made of metal.” The bunny reminded him calmly.

The bunny got closer to Jeremy, and stared into him with his icey eyes. “You should’ve went for spine…”

The bunny backed away from Jeremy and looked over at the animatronics for a moment. Then...he looked back at Jeremy with an evil glare on his face. “Seize him.”

Jeremy shrieked and struggled to get away as a crowd of 12 or 15 animatronics completely surrounded Jeremy.

The bunny opened his mouth more, showing his bucktooth smile. “Have some fun with him.” He told the animatronics.

It didn’t take long for squeaks and laughter to fill the backstreet again. Jeremy squirmed around like a worm, and laughed hysterically as multiple ticklish spots were attacked at once.

“NOHOHOHOHOHO! DOHOHON’T LEHEHEHEHEAVE MEHEHEHEHEHEHE WIHIHIHITH THEHEHEHEHEM!” He begged.

“You don’t want me to help you...I might just kill you.” The bunny joked in a dark manner.

Jeremy just about lost it when he said that. Okay! Screw that! Scratch him off the list of people to be saved by!

But there was no one else to save him! Only the murderer Afton could save him from the tickle attacks! And he was the one that caused them to continue!

“Oh! Hey Funtime Foxy! Go for his sides! They’re really bad too!” Toy Freddy suggested.

“Oooooh! Okay!” Funtime Foxy reached her hand out and started squeezing and skittering her pretty pink nails onto both of Jeremy’s sides. “Kitchy kitchy kitchy kitchy koooooo!”

Freddy chuckled. “Hey, where’s the puppet? We should get him here too!”

OH NO! NOT THE PUPPET!

Jeremy yelped and pulled on his bound arms. “NO! NOT THE PUPPET! NAHAHAT THE PUPPET! PLEASE NO!”

Suddenly, a music box sound went off in the background...and a black and white thin creature slowly rose from the box.

“Hey Puppet! Jeremy’s back! Wanna come help us?” Toy Freddy asked.

The puppet climbed out of the music box and tilted his head.

“Yeah! Look at Jeremy! Hasn’t he changed since we last saw him? He looks old now!” Toy Freddy told the puppet.

“HEY! Shut up, you dinosaur!” Jeremy shot back.

Toy Freddy gasped at the retort. “Excuse me?!”

“Yeah! You heard me! Or did you, old hag?” Jeremy teased.

I recognize you, but I’m not afraid of you. Not anymore.” The puppet said with a giggle.

“Oh...Oh that’s wonderful.” Jeremy muttered.

Toy Freddy grabbed Jeremy’s sides. “CHEER UP TIME!” he shouted before squeezing his sides.

Jeremy bursted out laughing wildly and flopped around. It tickled so much! Oh my goodness! Jeremy was a mess of hysterics, and he was growing to love it! Maybe this wasn’t as bad as he thought...

The bunny sighed and rolled his eyes with a little smile as he thought:

‘What a child…’

[imagineclaireandjamie]

Shielded. Chapter Nine. Week 5.

Sorry that it’s been some time, hopefully this wee chapter will help to guide me back on track <3 MBD

--

Shielded: Week FIVE. Interlude:

After a quiet few days Jamie noticed a marked improvement in Claire’s mood. She still seemed tired but he’d stayed around for most of the weekend to ensure she had someone to reach out to should the nightmares rise up and render her sleepless again. But they appeared to have abated ...for the meantime.

She certainly didn’t rise, eyes rimmed red after shedding one too many tears. Which was a positive.

Though he wanted to, he didn’t instigate any further physical contact. The hug, in fact, had remained unmentioned. Clearly it had made an impression, it had opened the door, figuratively, for their heart to heart but distance had immediately been restored and he didn’t wish to press it any further for the meantime.

It felt good to know something about her, a part of her old self that she had been comfortable enough to reveal to him. They certainly had plenty of weeks to go, plenty of time for more for him to learn more. She was somewhat of an enigma, still, but her walls had begun to crumble.

Under the circumstances he knew their bond would strengthen. It was only natural for two humans in close confines to grow closer but having attempted, unsuccessfully, to downplay his own feelings he had finally come to admit (only to himself) that his blossoming feelings were growing into something more than platonic.

As he ate the porridge he’d heated in the microwave he caught sight of the lunch she’d made and left for him on the side and smiled shyly. Though he could be seen to be reading too much into it, Claire had started making his midday meals more elaborate -and- she’d started adding a dram for him too. Whether she knew it or not, she was settling into Highland life. It was as if she was always supposed to have landed here.

--

“Do ye have the flask? Sat on small bales, Jamie sat with his nearest neighbour sharing their lunch with their faces to the rare midday sun.

“Oh, aye.”

“Who is she?” Rupert joked, nudging his oldest friend and taking a sip of his hot drink. “Clearly something is on yer mind. I’ve never seen ye so...flustered.”

“How do you ken it’s a she?” He quipped back neither confirming or denying his friend's suspicions.

“There’s something going on. We’ve known one another since we were bairns, running around the place in our clouts wi’ our mothers on our tails - no’ many can read ye, Jamie Fraser, but I can see it plain on yer face. Where did you meet her?”

He didn’t have much time to think how to explain Claire without giving away too much away but there was a certain amount of relief in the idea that he could confide in someone else about his growing feelings. So far everything he’d been feeling had been kept to himself, he certainly couldn’t share them with Claire - she’d run a mile, or hide away. It wasn’t fair to put that on her yet.

“Through a friend. We havana officially met, aye, wi’ lockdown.” He fibbed, keeping his face straight as he spoke. “But he had a friend in a similar situation, alone...mostly, and he thought maybe his cupid's arrow was on target this time.”

“Has he tried this game before?”

Jamie laughed, immediately thinking of the last time he and John had been close enough to trial his terrible dating advice. “No’ so much, but there have been some suggestions. All leading nowhere of course.”

“Aye.” Nodding, Rupert knew all too well how horrid his friends dating history was. He was, as he’d learned from overhearing his wife watching ‘Friends’, like a lobster who just hadn’t met his equal. “Ye mean yer English friend, right? The policeman? Is she bonnie?”

“She’s...shy, aye? And verra bonnie. I’m not sure she feels the same for me…”

“But yer already smitten?” It was a rhetorical question, Rupert already knew the answer and there was something pleasing about it. “I dinna think ye need to worry. At this point we’ve got all the time in the world. Just keep talking, yer a charming man, Jamie, and I’m sure you’ll continue to evolve the relationship until yer able to meet. Then, when we’re free of this madness, invite her up here.”

For once his conversation seemed to have given him a good reason to have Claire in his home. At least now Rupert would have no reason to question her sudden appearance (if and when he came across her). They had managed to steer clear of an illicit meeting during the collection of the orphaned lamb but if anyone was going to find her, it was going to be Rupert.

They were quiet again for a time, the insects humming around them as they finished off their lunches. He thought back to his lingering thoughts at breakfast. The sun was nowhere near up but he had heard her moving around upstairs as he’d prepared for the day. She was always an early riser but previously it had been because bad dreams had woken her. Jamie had the feeling this morning, though, had been different. Though he had yet to ask her honestly.

“Aye, verra wise Rupert.”

‘That yer charming?” Rupert jested, nearly pushing Jamie off their makeshift bale seats as they packed away ready to start the next portion of their day.

“Weel, no’ so much about that part and more about us having more time.”

“Is she at home too?”

“I think so, yes. Like most others.”

“Do ye wish you were home too?”

“Lord no!” He exclaimed, kicking Rupert’s filth wellies. “I’m the same as ye, Rupert MacKenzie. Canna stand to be locked away wi’ no purpose.”

As the words left his mouth, his heart skipped a beat as he thought of Claire and the freedom she’d lost in the process of moving here. Yes, it was for her own safety, but he hadn’t even thought of giving her something to keep her mind occupied. Stupidly, he’d assumed she’d keep herself busy but she was no longer in her own home and it would have surely been hard to find those distractions without more assistance.

“You alright?”

“Aye,” he lied, brushing off those thoughts, self-flagellation would do him no good now, “just thinking about how hard it must be to be trapped in your own home wi’out reason or focus.”

“I’m sure there are quite a few people whose dreams just came true. Dinna fash.”

Sighing, Jamie nodded. “Yer right, plenty of hermits out there ready to sacrifice their boring office jobs for a life of working from home, right?”

“Right”

He made a mental note, though, to return home with some productive suggestions. The garden was coming along nicely, but he knew she wouldn’t be eager to leave the house - even if it was still close to the property. Instead he would need to find something indoors that was suitable. First, though, he would need to learn some more about her. Something that would clue him in as to what kind of activity she’d prefer to occupy her time with. As much as he knew she had enjoyed learning how to cook, it had a limit, one she’d soon find herself at.

No, cooking wasn’t the task she needed.

But he would find something she could invest in.

[all-the-love-harold]

.... Golden

This is a thing for a thing that I’m working on, it fits into a plotline somewhere, I don’t know where yet. It’s rough and it needs work, but I wanted to share something.  Enjoy it nonetheless! Xx 

“Dating is hard” Clara said as she slumped down onto the couch in Harry’s recording studio after a hard day at the office. 

He watched with concern as she pulled out her phone and started scrolling through tinder. 

“So last night didn’t go so well then?” he said 

“I mean it wasn’t horrible,” she sighed “But I don’t want to spend the rest of my life with a man who thinks the most interesting thing about himself is his dog” 

“Why not? Your dog is the most interesting thing about you” he said, a sly smile slowly appearing on his face 

She laughed “And my dog doesn’t get along with other dogs, so it's basically a deal breaker” 

“Bowie is an asshole” he nodded, grin still etched to his face 

“You love Bowie” 

“Because I’m an asshole” Harry said, “We get each other” he shrugged 

Clara sighed, “Why can’t a nice man just stroll into my life, sweep me off my feet and let me have their babies” 

“Because you’re getting old” he said sarcastically “All the good ones are taken” 

“Speak for yourself” Clara laughed “I’m a year younger than you” 

“10 Months, thank you” 

“Whatever” Clara rolled her eyes and looked down at her phone. Tinder was not an app that brought her joy, but somehow she found herself swiping through it daily in desperation, looking for someone who might not make her cringe when they speak. 

Harry sighed and put his guitar back on its stand. “I’d love to stay and chat about your love life Ra, but it’s my night with Arlo, I have to pick him up from Nursery” 

“Oh can I come?” she said excitedly, “There might be some hot single dads” 

Harry shook his head “I’m it” he smiled “But of course you can come, Arlo would love that” 

“You’ll do” Clara shrugged and grabbed his hand, placing a gentle kiss on it, “How are things going with shelly anyway?” 

“Well I get to see my Son one day a week” he ran his fingers through his hair in frustration “so not well” 

“What are your lawyers saying?” 

He was searching the room for his keys as he spoke “They think I’ll at least get 50% custody, but I’m hoping for more” 

“It’s hard to get a kid off their mother H” 

“I know”, he finally found his keys on top of the piano and picked them up “Maybe you should be my lawyer” 

Clara laughed “I don’t know the first thing about custody battles, I can get you out of any copyright issues you may come across” 

“Boring,” Harry said, almost breaking out into a run to get out the door and get to his son before his time with him ran out. 

Pick up time at Nursery was chaotic as usual and Harry was already flustered from talking to other parents who wanted photos for their friends or family, when he walked in. 

“I’ll pack his bag H,” Clara said when they walked into Arlo’s room, “You go get him” 

“Thanks” he said, still stressed he took a few steps further into the room so that the staff could see him. 

“Oh Harry,” one of the said “We didn’t know you were picking Arlo up today, Shelly said she’d be here at 4” 

“Oh” Harry said “No, it’s my day with him today” 

The teacher looked at him sympathetically “I’m sorry, I’m going to have to call her, just to make sure” 

“Oh, yeah ok” Harry said awkwardly, “Can I come in and see him while you do that?” 

She shook her head “We’d prefer that you didn’t, might upset him if you have to leave him again” 

“Yeah” he sighed “right” he turned on his heel and ran his finger through his hair as he walked back to where Clara stood with Arlo’s backpack packed and ready to go 

“What’s going on?” she said 

“Something about Shelly picking him up today, they’re calling her to make sure it’s ok that I take him” 

Clara furrowed her brow “He’s your kid, you have custody one day a week, you have every right to pick him up” 

“They don’t know that I haven’t already had him this week” Harry said “They’re just doing their jobs”

Clara nodded “If she says no let me talk to them, I know enough about custody battles to get him home with you tonight”

“Thank you” he said through gritted teeth “I can’t get arrested if I take him can I?”

“No” Clara shook her head “He’s your son, you have the right to pick him up from daycare and have him one night a week” 

Harry Nodded and turned around as he heard footsteps behind him 

“Shelly isn’t answering her phone, so since you are on his list, we’re going to let you take Arlo today, but next time we’re going to need something official to say it’s your day” 

“I don’t have set days with him” Harry said “It changes every week” 

“Ok” she said “We’ll work something out with shelly” 

Harry nodded “Can I see my son now?” 

“Of course” she smiled “Come through” 

He followed her into the room and then outside into the play area, where Arlo, who was still too young to crawl, was sitting on a play mat with some blocks. 

“Hi Harry” one of the girls who Harry had met before was sitting right next to Arlo and he suddenly felt better about this whole situation. 

“Hi Bonnie” Harry said, smiling at Arlo who had just spotted him “How’s his day been?” 

“He’s been a bit unsettled, Mum was very stressed at drop off this morning and he was feeding off that, she looked hungover to me” 

Harry drew his lips into a sharp line “Wouldn’t surprise me” he picked up Arlo who was seemed happy to see him 

“So he’s only had a few little 20 minute catnaps today and he refused his second bottle, so he might be a bit hungry when you get him home” 

“Ok” Harry nodded and turned to his son “Are you a hungry boy?” 

Arlo smiled and buried his head in Harry’s shoulder 

“Alright, let’s get you home then bud, say bye to Bonnie?” 

Harry started waving in an attempt to get Arlo to do the same, but he refused, Happy to be with his Dad. 

“Thank you for taking care of him” Harry smiled at her as he walked out of the room. 

“Hi Arlo!” Clara said as they approached her “All good? She said to Harry?” 

“Golden” he smiled, a slight tinge of anger still evident his tone. 

[let-the-dream-begin]

A Place to Belong Chapter 39: The Man and the Myth

Chapter 38

Read on AO3

They sat silently for a few more moments, before Claire felt Jamie inhale. She lifted her head off of his chest to look up at him, the sight of him taking her breath away again.

“Her name...what did ye name her?”

Claire’s heart strained, and she smiled tearily. “Brianna.”

His eyes closed, and he exhaled with a shudder. “Brianna,” he repeated, savoring each syllable as it rolled off his tongue. Her name…his daughter’s name. “Brianna.”

“For your father, Brian. Remember?” Claire caressed his jaw, eight years of separation not enough to suppress an instinct etched so deeply in the marrow of her bone.

“Aye...aye, I do.” His voice was hoarse with emotion. Claire stretched up to reach him better, pressing their foreheads together.

“Can ye...can ye tell me about her?”

She chuckled through her nose, the breath tickling Jamie’s skin.

“She’s...a hellion, for starters.”

Jamie laughed now, his lips trembling against her chin.

“She’s very smart, and she loves horses, and she’s empathetic, and stubborn and bold and brave…” Claire lost her voice for a moment, blinking away tears. She pulled away enough to look into his eyes. “She’s yours, Jamie. In every way.”

Every line of his face was hard, his eyes red, stagnant tears on his cheeks. “Mine.”

Claire nodded wordlessly, brushing her lips on each of his cheeks, kissing away his tears.

“She’s...she’s beautiful, is she no’...?” he said. “I could hardly see fer lack of air...but she’s...she’s beautiful, Claire.”

Claire nodded, tears slipping out of her own eyes now, and Jamie brushed them away with gentle caresses of his thumbs.

“She is.”

She was unable to resist closing the small distance between them and kissing him soundly, and she almost whimpered in disbelief. How many times had she tried to picture this, and yet his lips had vanished beneath hers every time...?

They stayed there, moved beyond words again, until Claire’s stomach lurched, remembering.

“There’s…there’s one more thing you should know.” Claire broke the silence.

“Her twin?” Jamie said.

“God, no…” Claire chuckled. “No…there’s…been a lasting effect of the difficult birth. It isn’t serious,” she said quickly. “We’ve become fairly good at managing it, all of us. Jenny and Fergus and Ian. And Brianna knows what to do now when she feels it coming on. She’s old enough to understand.”

Jamie nodded silently, urging her to continue.

“Yes…now she…she has something called epilepsy. From a lack of oxygen during her birth. She has seizures occasionally. They’re usually not very bad.”

“Seizures?” Jamie repeated the foreign word. “What does that mean?”

“She…she becomes rigid, stiff. Her eyes roll to the side, like this.” Claire demonstrated briefly. “Her left arm and leg twitch, uh…like this.” She bent her arm at the elbow to show him. “She loses consciousness during it. It isn’t serious,” Claire reassured again, sensing his growing panic. “It was far more dangerous when she was a baby. Could have caused permanent damage back then.”

“So it willnae cause damage any longer?” Jamie said.

“It shouldn’t, unless it’s a very, very long one. So it’s not terribly serious. I just thought you should know. It’s…quite frightening if you’ve never seen one before, especially in a child.” Claire shuddered at the memory. “She was just a month old when she had her first one. It was horrible. But I’m quite used to them now. You just…have to be prepared.”

Jamie nodded, though his brow was still furrowed with concern. “Ye’ll…ye’ll show me how to be prepared?”

“Of course.” Claire cupped his cheeks, resting their foreheads together. “I still can’t believe you’re really alive…”

Jamie wrapped his arms around her. “Sometimes I canna believe it myself either.” He kissed her head. “Can ye…can ye take me inside so I can properly meet my daughter?”

Claire stood up and reached down to help him up. “You’ll have to be…patient. She doesn’t know you at all.”

Jamie nodded sadly. “I ken that.”

“I’m going to have to explain where you’ve been all this time. We told her you died for Scotland. She thinks you’ve been in Heaven all this while.” Jamie nodded. “I thought of telling her that soldiers made a mistake when they brought news of your death. But how do I explain where you’ve been? I…I don’t even know where you’ve been...I haven’t even asked you yet.”

“Ardsmuir prison,” he said flatly.

Claire cringed, squeezing his hands in comfort. “We can talk about it later.” He nodded solemnly. “Perhaps I can tell her that…you were hiding from the bad men, or — ”

“Ye can tell her I was in prison.”

“Jamie, I don’t think — ”

“I committed treason. It’s a fact. I dinna wish to raise her on lies, ye ken,” Jamie said, and Claire frowned. “She canna keep thinking I’m some sort of God. I’m a man, a man wi’ faults, a man who’s committed sin and crime. It’s time she came to know her father as a mortal man rather than this mythical being that ye’ve created for her imagination.”

“Jamie, I didn’t tell her anything that wasn’t true…”

“I ken. But she’s likely been embellishing it in her head wi’out realizing, whether ye intended fer her to do it or no’.” He wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his clasped hands on the small of her back. “After yer parents died, did ye no’ dream of them, even wi’out remembering what they looked like? Did yer wee head create the perfect memories of them since ye had nothing else to hold on to?” Claire’s eyes narrowed in thought. “I ken I did that wi’ my mother. I was a bairn when she passed. To hear everyone speak of her ye’d think she was an angel. And to me she was. No one was telling me anything that wasnae true. But hearing it, over and over, she became an intangible spirit rather than a concrete memory. I think even if she’d magically come back to us I’d never stop seeing her that way.”

Claire nodded in understanding. “I see what you mean,” she said. “I suppose for a while I had an idealized picture of my parents. Though in my case, no one ever talked about them. So it seems a little different.”

“So do ye understand why I want her to know the truth? I canna father a child who thinks I’m a Godly spirit-man.” He paused for a moment. “Now I…I willnae tell ye what to do. She’s yer daughter — ”

“Jamie…she’s your daughter, too.”

“I ken. But ye said yerself. She doesna know me.” Claire’s heart was breaking. “You were there for her…seizures, ye ken how to help her. Ye ken the name of her horse, her favorite color, how to make her laugh, what sorts of sweets she likes…”

“Jamie.” Claire cupped his face in her hands. “You will know those things, too. I know you can’t replace the years you lost with her…there’s no way to get that back. But you will know her just as completely as I do, and eventually in ways that I don’t. It will take time. But you will. I promise.”

Jamie sighed. “Do ye think…do ye think she can learn to love the man more than the myth?”

“Yes. I do.”

“What about you?”

“Me?”

“Ye’ve spent…eight years creating images of me in yer mind. I’m not the same man I was before. Can ye learn to love the man I’ve become?”

Claire kissed him. “Can you learn to love the woman I’ve become?”

He kissed her back. “‘Till our life shall be done,’ Sassenach.”

She sighed contentedly. “I do love you.”

“And I love you.”

“Come on now.” Claire began tugging him toward the house. “Someone is waiting to meet the giant from the faery hill.”

Jamie laughed out loud. “I ken if I hadnae been scared stiff I’d’ve had a good laugh at that.”

“Me too.”

They entered the house and wandered through the parlor, then to the kitchen. Jenny was there, helping Mrs. Crook with supper.

“Are you two quite finished howling at each other?” Jenny said, only briefly glancing up from the chopping.

“You heard that,” Claire said sheepishly.

“All of Lallybroch heard that,” Jenny scoffed. “I almost came out there and clopped yer heads together myself. Lucky ye finally quit just in time.”

“Aye, lucky fer us.” Jamie smirked.

“If yer looking fer Brianna,” Jenny said, rushing a handful of vegetables to the pot over the fireplace. “She’s in her bedroom. Crying to Fergus last I heard.” Claire and Jamie exchanged a guilty look. “She thinks her ‘mummy’ hates her fer riding her horse at a trot.”

Claire smiled despite the guilt bubbling in her chest. “We’ll be going to her, then. We’ll see you at supper, Jenny.”

“Aye.” She didn’t look up from the pot. Claire and Jamie started to leave, but then: 

“Brother.” They stopped and turned around expectantly. “Good luck wi’ the bairn. She’ll love ye. I ken it.”

Jamie smiled. “Thank you, Jenny.”

Claire laced her fingers with Jamie’s as she led him up the stairs in the parlor.

“Feels strange to be led around in my own home,” Jamie said wistfully. “I dinna ken where anything is. I dinna even ken who those bairns are.” He indicated Maggie, Kitty, and Janet running about the hall, squealing their wee heads off.

“You’ll catch up,” Claire assured him. Claire paused on the stairs. “See the golden haired one?” Kitty was currently trying to pry wee Janet off of her leg. Jamie nodded. “That’s Katherine.”

Jamie looked gobsmacked at Claire, then quickly back at Kitty, who soon disappeared into the hall with her sisters. “That bonny lass is little Caitríona…?” Claire nodded. “Last I saw her, her wee head fit in the palm of my hand…”

Claire rubbed his shoulder. “That’s how I feel every time I look at Brianna.” She tugged again on his arm. “Come on, she’s waiting.” They continued up the stairs, and Claire gestured to her room. “The guest room is my room now. Well…ours, I suppose.” She smiled sheepishly. “The children are up the next flight.” She led him up and to the door she knew Brianna was behind. “She shares the room with Kitty. Poor Maggie has to share with the youngest daughter, but Kitty and Brianna are inseparable. Maggie had her own room before Janet was out of her cot, and when the time came we tried to have Maggie and Kitty share, and then Brianna with Janet. But the two of them refused to sleep for even a moment, every night, until they were sharing a room.” Claire smiled at the memory, and Jamie softly chuckled in response.

“Ah…Janet?”

“Oh, that was the dark haired one hanging onto Kitty’s leg.” Claire smiled. Jamie nodded, and Claire could tell that he was already overwhelmed. She placed steadying hands on his shoulders. “Your nieces and nephews will love you just fine, Jenny and Ian will catch you up. But right now, you have a daughter that needs you.”

“I…have a daughter,” Jamie whispered reverently, still hardly believing it. Claire kissed him, smiled encouragingly, then turned to knock on the door.

“Hello?” Claire slowly cracked the door open “May I come in?”

She poked her head in to find Fergus and Brianna sitting on the rug in front of the fireplace. Claire almost laughed; they were each holding a doll.

“Come in, Maman,” Fergus said. Brianna did not look up from her doll. “Miss Nettie and Miss Winnie were getting acquainted, right ma petit?” Brianna did not respond; she kept her attention on smoothing Miss Nettie’s dress.

“That’s lovely,” Claire said, leaving the door open a crack and crossing to the fireplace. “Isn’t it kind of Fergus to play dolls with you, Brianna? Even though he’s a big boy now?” Claire sat on the rug beside Brianna. “Would you mind if I took over for him so he can go do whatever it is that big boys do?” Brianna shrugged wordlessly.

“Ah, big boy things are not as fun as Miss Winnie.” Fergus stood up, and Claire noticed how Brianna was fighting the urge to smile. Fergus kissed the top of her head. “See you at supper, ma petit.”

Fergus crossed to the door, and he jumped, not expecting Jamie to be right outside the door.

“Sorry, lad,” Jamie said.

Fergus gaped for a moment. “No, I am sorry, Milord. I did not see you.” Fergus bowed uncomfortably before disappearing down the hall. Though Jamie tried not to dwell on it, he couldn’t help but feel the sting, knowing that Claire was “Maman” and he was still “Milord.” Pushing down that disappointment, Jamie peeked into the room, seeing Claire and Brianna’s backs.

“Brianna,” Claire said, taking Miss Winnie into her arms. “I’m not angry at you.”

Brianna kept her gaze on the doll. “You’re not?”

“No, I’m not.” Brianna finally looked up at her. “Could you tell me where you got such an idea from?”

“You don’t like when I do things like Kitty and Maggie,” she said sheepishly.

“Brianna…” Claire outstretched her arms, and she crawled into her embrace. “You’ve got that entirely backwards. I love when you can do things like the other children. It makes me so happy when you get to feel like a normal little girl. But I can’t help that I worry about you. Because — ”

“Because I’m special. I know, Mummy,” Brianna said. “I don’t want to be special anymore.”

Claire sighed, rocking her back and forth. “Unfortunately, only God can decide things like that. He made you special for a reason. You know that.”

“I know.”

Claire kissed the top of her head. “I love you very much.”

“I love you, Mummy.”

“Is there anything else bothering you?”

“The giant was cross wi’ me, too.” Brianna fiddled with Miss Nettie’s skirts. “He was so mad that he broke Auntie Jenny’s pitcher. Then he was yelling at you. I heard. Before Fergus took me away.”

Claire repositioned Brianna so they were sitting on the rug facing each other. “That wasn’t a giant, Miss Brianna.” She playfully poked her nose with her pointer finger. “He’s just a very tall, mortal man.” Claire held Miss Winnie up straight in front of her, as if she were standing on the floor and talking to Brianna.

“You know, there’s someone that I would really love for Mistresses Nettie and Winnie to meet,” Claire said. “They’re looking quite bonny tonight, don't you think?”

Brianna gave a tiny giggle. “Yes.”

“Then would it be alright if someone joined us?” Brianna nodded. “Such a good girl.” Claire briefly cupped her cheek. “Alright. You have permission to join us now,” Claire said in her faux-regal voice, causing Brianna to giggle again. They both turned their heads as the door creaked open and the six foot, three inch tall “giant” entered the room.

“Good evening, lasses.” Jamie gave a deep bow, and Brianna smiled despite her nervousness at seeing him again.

“Good evening, sir.” Claire gave a small bow with her head. “Care to join us beside the fire?”

“Aye, that would be fine.” Jamie crossed the room to the fireplace and sat down. Despite the warm smile on his face, Claire could tell he was nervous.

“Allow me to introduce Miss Nettie.” Claire extended the doll’s cotton stub of a hand to Jamie, who took the hint, taking it between his thumb and pointer figure and giving it a kiss. Brianna giggled again, even louder than before. “And this is…” Claire turned to Brianna.

“Miss Winnie,” Brianna said, extending the doll’s hand, giggling again when Jamie kissed it.

“Madame Claire Fraser.” Claire held her hand out to Jamie, who took her hand with all the care and reverence in the world, and pressed a tender kiss to it.

“And you are?” Jamie said.

“Mistress Brianna Fraser.” She extended her hand, copying her mother’s elegant manner the best she could.

Jamie blanched, not having expected her to give him her hand. His eyes flashed to Claire for help, and she made a gesture with her eyebrows that told him to go on. Desperately trying to hide their trembling, he took Brianna’s wee hand in both of his enormous ones, closing his eyes as he kissed it. He rubbed the spot over with his thumb before returning her hand to her.

“He hasn’t introduced himself yet,” Brianna said pointedly.

“Brianna…”

“No, no, the lass is right, Where are my manners?” Jamie said, looking into Claire’s eyes for approval. She nodded. “My name is James Alexander Malcom Mackenzie Fraser.”

“James…Fraser,” Brianna said thoughtfully. “Mummy, that’s Da’s name.”

Jamie’s heart leapt into his throat. Da. She calls me Da.

“That’s right darling. Actually, I…we have to tell you something.” Brianna looked back and forth between the two of them silently. “Do you remember what I told you about your Da?”

“He died fighting for Scotland and Clan Fraser because he was a hero,” Brianna said proudly. “You said I have his hair and his eyes and his thick skull.” Jamie swiped at his nose to conceal the grin he broke into. “You said that he lives in Heaven with my sister Faith, and they watch over us together.”

“That’s right, I did say that. And most of it is true, darling,” Claire said, and Brianna began to look confused. “Your father did fight for Scotland and Clan Fraser, and he was a hero. You do have his hair, and his eyes, and his thick skull.” She ruffled her hair. “And you do have a big sister watching over you. But Brianna, your father isn’t in Heaven with Faith.”

“Why not?” There was a twinge of panic to her voice.

“Because he didn’t die when he fought for Scotland and Clan Fraser. There was a mistake.”

“A mistake?”

“The British Army thought your father was dead, so that’s what they told us, me, your Auntie and Uncle. So I told you that as well. But it wasn’t true, because the British Army made a mistake.”

“So Da isn’t in Heaven.”

“That’s right.”

“And he’s a great big Scottish warrior. With my hair and my eyes.” Brianna very deliberately looked at Jamie. “Just like you.” Jamie smiled. “You’re my Da, aren't you? You’re Jamie Fraser?”

“Aye, lass, it’s me,” Jamie whispered. “I’m yer Da.”

Brianna looked at Claire, then back at Jamie, then back at Claire. “It’s him, Mummy…the love of your life.”

Claire couldn’t stop the tears from spilling over. “Yes, darling. The man I’ve told you all about all these years, the man I love, and your father. He’s come back home to us.” Claire instinctually reached for Jamie’s hand, and he expertly laced their fingers together without having to look at her.

“Why did God let you out of Heaven, Da?”

“Da was never in Heaven, Brianna,” Claire said gently. “Remember? He never died. It was a mistake.”

“Then he wasn’t protecting us.”

“Aye, I was,” Jamie spoke up before Claire could answer her. “I prayed fer ye both every single day and night. I prayed to God and to the Saints to keep ye safe. And it worked, did it no’?” Brianna nodded. “So ye had protection from Heaven even wi’out me there myself.”

“What about Faith?” Brianna was becoming visibly upset. “She doesna have a Da in Heaven. Who is taking care of her?”

“Brianna, it’s alright…” Claire said, blinking back her tears. “She’s…she’s with Mother Mary. Where all the orphan angels wait for their parents to join them in Heaven. Mother Mary was a wonderful mother to Jesus, right?” Brianna nodded. “So she is a wonderful mother to Faith, too.”

Brianna’s face had visibly darkened, and she no longer seemed receptive to what they’d been saying. “Brianna, I’m sorry I told you things that weren’t true. I honestly believed them to be true when I told them to you. Do you understand?” Brianna didn’t respond. “If I knew your father was alive all along I never would have told you those things. But I didn’t know, Auntie Jenny didn’t know, Uncle Ian didn’t know. We all thought Da was in Heaven, darling. Nobody knew the truth. Do you understand?”

Brianna kept her eyes downcast, thinking silently for a moment.

“Kitty, and Maggie, and Janet, and Ian, and Jamie, and Michael’s Da is Uncle Ian. Right?”

“That’s right,” Claire answered.

“Uncle Ian lives wi’ his bairns,” Brianna said. “He was never in Heaven or anywhere else.”

Jamie and Claire exchanged a look, silently agreeing Jamie would take this one. “Brianna, I wanted to come home and live wi’ yer mam, and you, my bairn. I wanted to so, verra badly. My heart…” He put his hand over his chest. “My heart was broken every day I was no’ wi’ ye. I wanted to be at Lallybroch. Do…do ye believe me?” She shrugged. “I couldna be, because the British Army captured me. They put me in prison, so I couldnae escape and run home to my lasses.”

“Are you a thief?” Brianna asked. “The boys play jailer and thief.”

“No, I’m no’ a thief. Ye ken how yer mam said I fought fer Scotland and Clan Fraser?” She nodded. “The King of England didnae like that. So he had everyone who fought for Scotland and their clans put in prison.”

“Mummy said you’re a good man.”

“Sometimes good men go to prison.”

“Why?”

“I…I dinna ken.”

Jamie was out of answers. Claire gave his hand a squeeze.

“Brianna, do you trust me?” Claire asked. Brianna nodded. “Do you understand what it means to trust someone?” She nodded, a bit more hesitantly. “Trusting someone is…is when you believe that they are good, and you know that no matter what they would do anything to help you.”

“Of course I trust you, Mummy. When I have seizures you do anything to help me.”

“Yes, that’s right. Very good, darling.” Claire cupped her cheek, resting her hand there. “Now I…I trust this man. I believe that he is good, and I know that he would do anything for me. And he would do anything for you, too. You don’t have to trust him if you don’t want to, Brianna.” Claire squeezed Jamie’s hand as she said it, assuring him that she didn’t mean she wanted it to be that way. “I just want you to know that I trust him.”

“Okay, Mummy.” Brianna said. Claire removed her hand from her cheek.

“Right now,” Jamie began hesitantly. “I’ll settle fer being yer friend. If that’s alright wi’ ye.”

“You’re not my friend.” Claire felt her heart sink into her stomach, and she could feel Jamie’s grip on her hand tighten, almost painful. “You’re my Da.”

Both Jamie and Claire sighed in relief. “Aye, I am.”

“Kitty’s Da taught her about horses. Does that mean Fergus can’t ride with me anymore?”

“No, lass,” Jamie assured her. “Fergus is still yer brother, and ye can do whatever ye please wi’ him. I dinna wish to interfere. I can…I can watch ye ride. Does…does Kitty’s Da watch her ride?”

“Yes.”

“Then I should watch you, too. Right?”

Brianna gave a tiny smile. “Yes.”

“Good.” Jamie beamed, and Claire’s heart was fit to burst. She had never imagined a situation where she could ever be so full of love.

“Kitty gets to ride out all over Lallybroch, and she goes very fast,” Brianna said, her smile disappearing. “Mummy says I have to stay in the corral, and I can only go slow, and Fergus can’t let go.”

“You’ve ridden all over Lallybroch before,” Claire said. “With me.”

“But no’ by myself,” Brianna insisted. “Kitty gets her own horse when she rides wi’ her Da.”

“Yer mam told me you were…special,” Jamie said carefully, using the word that they had used when he was listening from the hall. “I ken it’s hard. Do ye…do ye have fun wi’ Fergus in the corral?”

She hesitated. “Yes. But I’d have more fun out of it.”

“Ah, I’m not so sure about that. The horses feel quite safe in the corral. It’s like they’re sharing their home wi’ ye. They only let verra special people in the corral, ye ken. Have ye ever seen a man thrown from his horse in the corral?” Brianna nodded. “Ah, that’s because they didna trust him. They must trust ye quite a bit, lass.” He playfully poked her nose, and she giggled. “I’d love to watch ye ride.”

She smiled. “Do the horses trust you?”

“Aye, I’d wager they do enough.”

“Then you could come in, too. With Fergus and me.”

Jamie let out a breathy laugh, and Claire could see his eyes glistening. “Only if ye want me to, lass.”

“Well I do.” She nodded curtly, as if agreeing on a business transaction. Claire chuckled. “Da?”

“What is it, lass?”

“Kitty’s Da hugs her and picks her up and kisses her,” Brianna said nervously. “Like Mummy does to me.”

“Brianna, you don’t have to do those things until you’re ready,” Claire said. “He understands that you’ve only just met.” Jamie nodded assuringly, trying to hide his disappointment.

“I am ready, Mummy.” Jamie and Claire looked at each other, realizing they had misunderstood her nervousness. She wasn’t afraid he would do those things; she was afraid that he wouldn’t.

“Do ye…” He cleared his throat, and blinked rapidly. “Do ye want me to hug you, Brianna?”

“Only if you want to.”

Claire thought briefly that she’d never heard Brianna use that particular phrase, and then quickly realized she’d picked it up just now, from Jamie.

He looked at Claire, with an indescribable expression that she’d only seen once before: the first time he’d felt Faith kicking. Claire nodded. “Go on.”

Jamie released her hand and outstretched his arms. Brianna scooted over to him on her knees and hugged him around the chest. Jamie felt like all the air from his lungs had been emptied. His hands hovered over her for a moment before he regained his senses enough to return the embrace. Lord, she was so tiny. He was reminded of how overwhelmed he’d been by Claire’s smallness the first time he’d truly held her close. But Claire was a grown woman. Brianna, his daughter, was nay but a tiny lass.

My daughter.

One of his hands moved to cup the back of her head. Through the thick layer of wild curls, her head, too, was impossibly small. He remembered holding Katherine’s head in his palm all those years ago, then seeing how big she’d become. Then he remembered what Claire had said:

“That’s how I feel every time I look at Brianna.”

He was suddenly struck with the thought of this girl ever being as tiny as baby Katherine had been, and he was overcome at the idea of never having held her when she was that small, never watching Claire nurse her, never seeing her learn to form words in her wee mouth, never watching her swing around her wee fists, learning to take her first steps…

He could not stop himself from weeping.

Claire watched him silently crying, overcome with emotion herself. She covered her mouth to stifle a sob. She reached out to stroke Jamie’s cheek, wiping away the tears that lingered there.

After taking a moment to compose himself, Jamie released Brianna. He knew he could have held her there for hours, rocked her back and forth, kissed her wee head, whispered Gaelic lullabies, but an energy-filled eight year old would not likely welcome that.

“Thank you,” he said, cupping her cheek. “Brianna.”

“You’re welcome,” she replied, chipper as ever, blissfully unaware of the emotional affect she’d had on both her parents. “Can I play now, Mummy?”

“Yes, of course. Why don’t you go find Kitty? And bring Miss Nettie and Miss Winnie.” Claire handed her the dolls.

“Alright.” She scampered for the door.

“I love you,” Claire called after her.

“Love you!” She yelled back from the hallway.

Claire turned back to Jamie, and there were fresh tears on his cheeks. “Jamie…”

“She is…” He breathed shakily. “A gift.”

“She is,” Claire agreed, taking his face in her hands.

“Thank you, fer…” He was overcome, unable to continue. Claire wrapped his arms around him, and he returned the embrace. They both wept on each other for a while, unable to express in any other way how much that had meant to both of them.

After a while, they simply held each other, silently.

“I spent eight years,” Claire began, breaking the silence. “Thanking God for her, for you to father her. I prayed…so fervently, to you. Thanking you for…for leaving a piece of you behind for me. In her.” Jamie kissed the top of her head. “She smiles in her sleep. Like you do.”

Jamie chuckled. “She speaks words of a Scot with the tongue of an Englishwoman,” he said.

“Yes. She learned to speak by listening to me, but also everyone else in your family.” Claire laughed. “It was inevitable that her speech would become somewhat of a hybrid.”

“She speaks French?” He said, remembering how she’d addressed Fergus in the parlor.

“Yes, Fergus helped me teach her.”

“Gaelic?”

“Of course. Jenny wouldn’t raise a child under this roof that didn’t know Gaelic. And certainly not a child of yours that didn’t know Gaelic.”

“She’s bright, then,” Jamie said proudly.

“Oh, yes. Brighter than I was at that age.”

“Oh, I doubt that. Ye ken she gets it from you, after all.”

“I wasn’t reading Spenser at her age,” Claire said. “I told her that there was a character in The Faerie Queene that shared her name, and she insisted on reading it. She snuck into the Laird’s library herself to get it.”

Jamie laughed. “She’s resourceful.”

“Well, that’s one way of putting it,” Claire said dryly. “That she gets from you.”

The door opened, and they sat up straight to see who it was.

“Pardon me,” Jenny said, and Claire didn’t miss the sarcasm. “Supper is ready.”

“We’ll be down shortly,” Jamie said.

Jenny smiled. “Ye ought to hear the lass. She’s going on and on to Kitty about her Da, how he’s gonnae ride horses wi’ her like Ian does wi’ Kitty.” Claire and Jamie exchanged a look. “I dinna ken how or why, what ye did to her wee noggin to make it so,” Jenny said, but they could both see the glint in her eye. “But she’s already crazy about ye.”

Jenny left, and Jamie and Claire beamed at each other. He stood up and stretched his hand down to her.

“Might I request the pleasure of your company for dinner, Madam?”

She beamed, taking his hand and allowing him to help her up. “You may.”

Once she was standing, he pulled her into a passionate kiss. Their lips parted, and arm in arm, they made their way to the dining room to eat with their family.

[tuiyla]

Marceline’s Monster Analysis

Alright time to overanalyze the new Marceline song before the episode even comes out because @mahaleth00‘s encouragement was all I needed. It’s 2am and I’ve been waiting for a song like this for 8 years let’s goooo.

I know we’ll never grow old together ‘Cause you’ll never grow old to me

Marceline and Bonnibel are both quasi immortals and so their relationship will lack some of the traditional tropes, such as growing old and dying together. We see in “Take Her Back” that part of Marcy longs for this and for PB to be by her side, to get to live out her life and then go. Further running with the Stakes dream, Marcy knows that even if she became mortal, Bonnie wouldn’t be. There’s almost a bitter feeling to this, though it also refers to Marcy having a firm perception of who PB is, of knowing her better than anyone.

You’re the pink in my cheeks And I’m scared ‘cause that means I’m a little bit soft

PB is, of course, literally pink but pink in my cheeks could also refer to blushing and Marcy feeling alive because of Bonnie. This is also where Marceline’s insecurities come into play as she’s had to appear tough and reject vulnerability for so long just to avoid being hurt. She cultivated this persona for so long and allowing Bonnie to see beyond that and being soft with her is scary.

But don’t beat yourself up Bonnie Wasn’t just the sun that I was hiding from

I need everyone to take a moment and appreciate how Marcy calls out Bonnie’s name in the song. This is so so important because we’ve had four other Bubbline songs so far, and though all are pretty obviously about Bonnibel, none address her, not even the absolutely iconic I’m Just Your Problem. This, to me, really shows that the era of subtext is finally over and there is no point in pretending that Marceline isn’t singing about how much she loves PB. It’s also really sweet because this is a very personal song for Marceline and yet she chooses to write and sing it to Bonnie.

The don’t beat yourself up line as such a strong contrast to early seasons Marceline who blamed Bonnie for their falling out and was too afraid to experience her real emotions. We saw in “Varmints” how she was willing to not only move past that but also reassure Peebs that it’s okay. The sun is a reference to Marceline’s vampirism but also her tendency to run and hide when things get tough because she’s afraid of being hurt all over again. She acknowledges this and takes responsibility for her part in their conflicts.

We were messed up kids who taught ourselves how to live I’m still scared that I’m not good enough

Here, Marcy acknowledges both her own and Bonnie’s trauma and the part it played in shaping their lives. It also becomes a bonding moment, despite how different their experiences were they’re still fundamentally kindred souls who’ve been through a lot. What’s more, Marceline gets really open and vulnerable with the next line, proving how far she’s come as a songwriter. Remember when she used the fries as a way to talk about parental abandonment? Now, she just openly admits her insecurity because she trusts Bonnie.

Always felt like a monster Long before I was bit Only seen as a monster Let’s just say I’m used to it

The title appears as a solemn confession, a continuing vulnerability. Becoming a vampire was a major source of trauma for Marceline but here, she admits that there’s more to her backstory than that, she specifically asks us to look beyond that. This could either be referring to her demonic side or that she was made to feel like a monster because people kept abandoning her. Her mother presumably died in the Mushroom War, Simon left to protect her, and Hunson was so bad she sent him right back to the Nightosphere. The quiet reservation of being used to it is a classic piece of Marceline angst, but the song overall gives it a more hopeful vibe.

I grew tough ‘cause loving only hurt me back But loving you’s a good problem to have And I’m used to that but I could get used to this (Yeah I’m used to that but I could get used to this)

This, again, proves a shocking level of self-awareness and vulnerability. There’s so much punch packed into a single line as it summarizes all of Marceline’s experiences with loved ones and her issues of abandonment. Her need to seem tough and unshakable had always come from a place of deep hurt and she acknowledges that she needs to move past that to have a happy relationship with Bonnie.

The next line is no less significant and layered. Marceline turns this around and admits that she’s willing to be vulnerable and risk it all for PB. She not only says the word love, but the word problem takes us back to Marcy’s first on-screen Bubblegum song, I’m Just Your Problem. In the next lines, Marcy refers back to the monster idea but flips it on its head. She grew used to feeling like she didn’t belong, like she couldn’t love and be loved. Here, she gives herself a chance to get used to this new way of living.

I know we’ll never grow old together And you’ll never grow old to me You’re the pink in my cheeks And I’m scared ‘cause that means I’m a little bit soft You’re the pink in my cheeks And I love that it means I’m a little bit soft (I’m a little bit soft)

The song comes full circle and the words gain new meaning now that we contrasted Marceline’s old perception of herself and her willingness to change. Whereas previously there was more melancholy in never getting to grow old together, now it’s a confirmation that yeah, their relationship could be eternal. Marcy will never get tired of Bonnie and accept her the way she is. She also returns to the idea of love making her vulnerable, of being soft. But again, as the song showcases, Marcy has been developing as a person and can accept that feeling now. As she repeats these lines for the last time, she more than accepts, she now fully embraces that love does make her soft and it means a new beginning for her and Bubblegum.

Suffice to say, I love this song. I love how expressive it is, how it manages to fit in so many references to Marceline’s journey and how it serves as a retrospective on Bubbline’s journey. It has the kind of classic Marceline melancholy feel with all the underlying angst and fears but is ultimately so hopeful for the future. It’s about acceptance and a new perspective and it fits with what Adam Muto said about “Obsidian”: these two are going to have to face their past and move on together.

Marceline’s always had some of the best songs but now we’re getting multiple new ones in “Obsidian” and hopefully all of them are full songs like Monster, unlike some other AT songs. Get hyped peeps!

[sideblogformindtrash]

Blue finds Orfeu (and Haru maybe) watching the videos when Blue was with the internet fuker... and Orfeu talks to Blue about it ??? (I don't know, or something like that) (Just add some angst and comfort)

Big fan of everything you do 😉😊😌

Thank you anon :3 this one was hard tbh sdfghjjdhgf

CW: Panic attack/PTSD; Dehumanization; It as a pronoun; Past abuse;

Orfeu was angry.

He had no words enough to describe what he was watching, and deep down, he knew he should stop. Yet, he kept on watching.

He knew what had happened to Blue. It was carved on his skin forever. He shouted about it at night. The fear was a ghost following him wherever he went.

But he wasn’t prepared to see it happening. The fight he had on his eyes slowly stripped from him, his humanity taken to a point where he couldn’t refer to himself as anything but an ‘it’ anymore. The people cheering his torturer, denying him the simplest of kindness…

And Orfeu was angry. His nails carved on the skin of his palm enough to draw blood. Yet he felt nothing, and if he did he wouldn’t care. He wanted that man dead. Each video he watched, his anger grew, and he groaned at his phone, teeth showing, the hatred on his eyes…

He was so lost into it he didn’t realize Blue was standing there. Not until he heard a small sob. And he turned, hell still breaking loose inside him.

He was careful. Blue and Haru had never seen him angry. And he wondered what Blue must have felt when he saw it, because his eyes widened, his face went paled and he gasped, falling to his knees, forehead hitting the floor.

Shit. He gets up, still altered and Blue lets out an audible cry.

“Sorry. S-s--sorry M-master. Sorry. B-Blue is is stupid bad ugly and dumb. Sorry. Sorry. It’s sorry it’s, it’s it…” the words turned incoherent, marked by strangled breathing. He curled up on himself, wide eyes and panic so strong he seemed in pain.

“Blue…” he tried, as soft as possible. Blue jumped onto him, grabbing his shirt. He was trying so hard to speak, to beg, but couldn’t manage a word, hyperventilating.

Orfeu felt so powerless, as he uselessly tried to coax Blue to breathe. Until he passed out, falling on Orfeu’s lap.

“Fuck…” He whispers to himself. He pulls Blue closer, grabbing one of his hands and rubbing it softly, hands caressing the other one while his read rests over Orfeu’s leg. He wakes up a few seconds afterwards, trembling, eyes full of tears “It’s okay. I’m not mad at you. I promise. I’m not mad”

  Blue’s lost eyes darted from one way to another…It’s ear is being scratched… Master…Master Orfeu holds it. It wants to scream! It needs to scream and run and hide! Master Orfeu was terrifying. Terrifying.

Master had sharp sharp sharp teeth that could tear into its skin and he looked so angry, so angry, a beast ready to attack. Blue wants to apologize, say he is sorry, Master saw it, saw the videos he, he, he angry Blue walked in on him it was bad so bad-

“Breathe” Comes the order. He tries so hard to obey but oh god it’s so bad it’s scary its, it’s going to be hurt it will “Blue breathe. You’ll pass out again. Please. I’ll count”

Breathing is impossible and its chest hurt and it’s so tight and, and, and Blue is going to die its heart will jump out! It will! It grabs its chest, it can’t it can’t…

“Blue it’s okay. You are good, you are. I know it’s scary, but it will pass. Please breathe. I’m not angry at you”

It hurts. It can’t. It wants to cry, wants Master Warren again. It hates here, hates it hates it hates it. It’s scary and, and nothing makes sense and Master says weird things and isn’t, it’s bad… It wants its dog bed and be safe with Master Warren and be cared for and loved not this not breathing its hard, it is too stupid! Why can’t Master understand that his pet is stupid?

“N—no” Blue whimpers, each breath he takes hurts, makes his body shake and cold sweat runs through him “N—n-no, p--please”

Master Warren knew the pet was stupid didn’t get angry cause he knew! He knew. It’s scary. Scary. Why won’t it stop why can’t it breathe. This will never end it will never…

“You are safe, I promise. Blue it’s scary but it can’t hurt you. I promise. Nothing will hurt you. But breathe. Please”

Blue doesn’t want to breathe it wants to scream. So it does. It screams. It kicks and thrashes and Master lets it go, just holds his head.

And, and, and more hands. More Hands! Scared ice blue eyes scary green eyes, soft white hair flowing, Haru, Haru, Haru.

It grabs Haru, it wants it, he, he, he is good and keeps Blue safe right? But, but but Haru tells, tells Master where Blue, Blue hides and that’s, that’s not good. It is scared it’s scared…

…Soft humming. Haru holds him on a hug, and hums a song for him, slowly. A pretty song. He is crying, Haru is crying.

Blue closes its teary eyes. He likes the song, the humming… Bonnie. Master hands it Bonnie. It grabs her, Bonnie is good, she is good. It pulls her closer, nuzzling on Haru’s soft arms, tears just won’t stop. Master walks away, to the window, he buries his face on his hands. Scary. Scary.

He cries. Haru cries. Master… He thinks Master is crying. He doesn’t know. Doesn’t think that’s possible… But once he feels calmer, Haru pulls a blanket around Blue, and goes to hug Master. Master falls to his knees, holding Haru, petting the soft white hair.

“…Thank you…” Master whispers “I’m sorry Haru, I’m so sorry. I know it’s a lot”

Master cleans Haru’s tears before cleaning his own. Haru lets his head fall on Master’s shoulders, pretty eyes closing slightly.

…Blue… Blue must have been bad. So bad.

Because they are both sad! Both of them!

It crawls closer, hesitantly, Bonnie on its arms. It is scared… But it wants to be held too. Will he be allowed close to them now? He doesn’t deserve it... But Haru and Master let him in the hug as well. They ruffle its hair.

“S-s-s-sorrry…” it whimpers.

“It’s okay… I’m the one who should apologize Blue. I wasn’t mad at you. I didn’t know you were there”

“I-i-iit s-s-should have, should have…”

“You did nothing wrong. I promise. You are a good boy. A very good boy”

It looked up slight smile, and pulled Bonnie closer.

“Master saw… Saw… T-t-the…v-v-videos…”

Yeah. Haru frowned, confused, but Master didn’t explain.

“S-s-sorry…”

“It’s not your fault. I was just… I didn’t like that someone hurt you Blue”

Blue nods. Of course. It was a good pet before. Now it can’t do much anymore.

“It, it is ugly a-a-and u---u-useless now b-b-but… it, it deserved it…”

Master pets its hair.

“…No, Blue. That’s not it. You didn’t deserve any of that. It was cruel”

“B-b-b-lue… Mis misbehaved Master. And, and it’s, it’s old Master n-n-needed B-b-blue for, for the videos…”

“Your old Master didn’t deserve you” And Master looks at Haru too “…You two are… Too good for any of this. If I could change what happened…”

Master sighs. He doesn’t do that often. He seems… lost. Not really there, eyes seeing something far away.

“I’m just… I’m so sorry”

Blue stares at the ceiling, Haru stays quiet, head leaning against the wall.

Tired. All of them. So tired. But they cuddle together, not bothering to get off the floor, and being close to them feels warm.