#and i always try to make them intentional partially for the drama partially because it makes me laugh

[pinkpalaceapartmcnts]

when i'm writing a chapter and i use the word edge

[xtinaangelicax]

Random Theory: Hu Jing's Weapon

Barges into the DR:DT fandom half-asleep I just had some random theory yo.

Idk if this will have anything to do with the outcome of the chapter 2 trial, but: I just remembered that Hu Jing's weapon given to her by MonoTV was a Wire. And the thing that Nico used to try and kill Ace but failed to? Was also a wire. Somehow, I can't help but feel like that's too coincidental and that they might be (or are LIKELY to be) the same wire, and I haven't actually seen anyone point this out yet, so imma do so now. (I didn't even realize it myself until I was re-watching the Chapter 1 Trial.)

If I'm correct, then I wonder what it would mean for the trial 2 outcome if anything.

Nico's murder attempt may or may not be irrelevant to Arei's death. But still- if this is the case, like, was Hu Jing complicit in Nico's murder attempt? Did Nico steal her wire? Maybe Hu caught them stealing it, and was stunned or threatened into silence? (Or since she likes Nico so much, maybe they made an excuse and she bought it?) Hu has a complex about needing to be "useful." And combining that with Nico asking for her weapon either via threatening means or feigning innocent intentions, and maybe this is a stretch because it'd probs be pretty dumb and I'm half asleep, but what if Hu partially kinda always defends Nico in the trial cuz she's intimidated by them or she doesn't want it to get out that Nico almost killed with her weapon... or maybe Hu's desperate urge to be helpful is that deep (probably not, but, I'm talking off the top of my head)

(OR: maybe the obvious explanation my primitive brain is not considering: Hu Jing rly just doesn't know Nico stole her own weapon for murder and it's gonna be a point of drama in the next episode lolz. Actually, I think its that.)

CAUSE in that case, Hu might have an arc of being betrayed twice now: First David, then Nico pulling this… considering Hu's hidden quote: "I want to pay for what I've done. But I also want to live." (not the exact words, but-) I strongly suspect she'll be a blackened, if probably not in chapter 2, then in the near future following it.

I dunno, this is probably making less sense now, I just wanted to explore the possibility of Nico's murder attempt wire and Hu Jing's wire, being one in the same wire and it turned into a trainwreck of thought. take my rambles I guess lol!

[valleyfthdolls]

Uhhhhhhh rewritten Kokona and Kizana thoughts under the cut

Both girls are daughters of Sonoko Sakanoue, but only Kokona really grew up with her. Kizana is the daughter of Sonoko and Daichi, and they ended up splitting not long after Kizana's birth. After Kokona was born to Sonoko and Kokona's father a year or so later, Daichi and his then-girlfriend Himeko Dereguchi, later his wife, took full custody of Kizana.

Both girls' families were well-off, but they weren't really close to each other, partially due to the custody situation as Himeko and Daichi had full custody of Kizana and Kokona's father and Sonoko had full custody of Kokona.

In this rewrite, Sonoko, unlike what YandereDev retconned into canon, didn't initially know that Ryoko was guilty. As a kid, she fully believed that Ryoko's drive to endanger herself to protect others meant she was a good person being unfairly thrown under the bus, and she was embarrassed by her mentor having accused Ryoko of murder to try to be as famous as Sonoko was for solving a murder case. As an adult, though, with years to stew on the situation, she realized that she has been manipulated along with the whole court, and that Ryoko had killed all those girls.

All of that to say, Sonoko was pretty protective of Kokona. If she'd known Kokona was befriending Ayano, she would've told her to stay away, but she died before they met. She'd been told once or twice to "be wary of her", but Kokona had chalked that up to her mom being paranoid.

Kizana always felt the need to outdo Kokona, but Kokona was always a bit suspicious of Kizana's extravagance and wanted to see her as a normal person. Most of her whole "no one gets to imitate my unique style" thing is her seeking to police Kokona and feel superior to her, not because Kokona is actually imitating Kizana.

Kizana is a bully herself, which would make it easy to turn certain students such as Hosho and the gyarus against her to bully her.

I think about 50% or less of Kokona joining the drama club year-round was an actual interest in acting, and 50% or more of it was that she wanted to get closer to Kizana after their mom died. They're not at all close, and Kizana thinks the tie between their lives was severed when Sonoko died, but Kokona knows that it's not that simple and wants to use this shared trouble to bridge the gap between them.

They definitely don't see each other as sisters- Kizana sees Kokona as another version of her, and Kokona sees Kizana as that girl across the street you were always expected to try to befriend by your parents- and I don't think that changing that is Kokona's intention behind trying to reach out. I think she just figures Kizana needs someone who gets it as much as she herself does.

The fact that Kizana's canon elimination has been implied to be crushing would definitely mess up Kokona. I think that'd probably damage her sanity as well, as she'd suddenly start to question, was this my fault? Could I have stopped this if I'd tried harder? Did I cause it by trying too hard? Not as much as if they'd actually been close as siblings, but seeing someone you wanted to reach out to die is still not a fun thing to do.

Kizana goes by Kizana Dereguchi even though her legal name was first Kizana Suzuki. It's mostly because of the prestige and wealth associated with the Dereguchi name, whereas Suzuki is a very common surname.

Kizana's pale hair and eyes resemble her dad, though her hair tone (bluish) is more like her mom. Kokona's eyes resemble her mom, with her hair being more a mix between her mom and dad. Kizana's pale eyes also make her look like Himeko's biological daughter.

[danddymaro]

Going Home | Daryl Dixon x Reader

Somewhat Negan x reader

a little piece that includes a reader who’s with the main crew, but had previously been with Negan, and now that he’s found her, he’s giving her a chance that’s all too good.

Lmfaooo...yes drama

word count: 1991

Going Home

"If I go with him..." You started, your voice terribly soft, holding a terrible balance of sadness and hope that made his chest burn.

You didn't want to finish. You didn't want to go through with it if you really were to tell the truth, but, 

What other choice was there?

There was a heavy anchor weighing down your heart, searing it with burning chains that held it captive onto a downward travel.

And he couldn't even let you finish, because it burned him just as much.

"NO," he said flatly, his hand shooting out fastly, his grip on your wrist rough as he held you back from taking a step anywhere else that wasn’t towards him and your family.

"I ain't letting you go out there," he told you, and that made your eyes sting, it bubbled tears in them, something you wanted to avoid until you made your way to where you needed to, and that was far from Alexandria, right in the lion’s den.

You had a long trail to your destination, and that’d be when you’d decided to let your woes flow, not here. 

- Not with him watching you.

You  wanted to maintain a stern face, an unstirred resolve, but he was making it difficult when he was looking at you with that damn look that always told you, 

‘-You can tell me anything’.

"It's not up to you," You then told him, trying to sound firm, but failing when you ended your words with a stuttered breath that was a substitute for an escaping sob.

"He's willing to forgive everything," you started, that being your justification.

 "He's willing to let it all go if I go with him," you added, a touch of disbelief in your tone.

To think that It was that easy.

You could save everyone you loved by simply turning yourself in, then that was it.

"No one else has to die," you told him, and it was then that you placed a hand over his grip, trying to comfort him, something that irked him even more.

The way you caressed him bothered him because,  how could you stand there and try and ease his pain, how could you proceed to offer him such a face of comfort when you knew that the only thing that could ease him would be for you to give up that stupid idea.

Like hell he was gonna let you go to the same man that had killed both Glen and Abraham right before them, without a qualm.

How did you expect him to just let you run off to someone else ? 

Did he have to spell it out for you? 

Did he have to beg?

"He won't hurt me," you said while trying to convince him, holding only partial assurance, but it’s not like you’d admit that. You’d never tell Daryl you had any doubts. 

You wouldn't tell him that you weren’t sure of what awaited you once you reached the Sanctuary, if Negan actually had good intentions with you.

However, at the same time, it wasn't far from the truth either, it was close enough that you could fake it because, In some way, you were sure Negan cared for you.

Something in you was telling you that he wouldn't hurt you, all in spite of the things you knew about him now.

The way he’d addressed you when he found you was like he’d seen an old buddy, one he missed and hadn’t thought he’d see ever again. 

Hidden somewhere in his arrogant person, and the spectacle he’d made, there had been a hitch you witnessed where just a bit of someone else was shown, someone you faintly recognized as your old friend.

You remembered how he’d raised Lucile towards you, pointed it right at your face and while everyone else had tensed with unease, you swallowed hard as you breathed his name. 

All he did was purse his lips before silently nodding, and he said something that surprised you, 

“-You ready to home yet?” he said while taking a short stride towards you, a good one that let the end of his bat land right at the base of your throat, your chin grazed by some of the sharp barbed wire, and it made your insides churn to think of how much of your friend’s remains had to have clung to the object.

It made you sick to think of how long he’d sat there and taken the time to clean it of their remains.

Your mouth was awfully dry, and you had to lick your lips to try and ease that terrible chapped feeling as you also made an attempt to stretch time and find your voice.

Everyone watched you, and in some way you felt like an outsider in your own home as scrutiny was shot at you through many gazes, and none felt worse than the hot glare that came from the long haired Bruinette that was ready to step in between if the way his anxious fingers moved, and especially if the impatient movement of his right foot had anything to indicate.

“well?” Negan pressed on while he taped your chin up with the weapon, somewhat ignorant to Dixon’s movement as he was well in his blind spot, but in perfect sight of you.

Your heart raced, and as the impulsive man that you cared so deeply made move towards the two of you, you spoke, 

“Give me time,” you said immediately, stopping whatever move Daryl was going to make, whatever intention it was.

“For a decision...” you then added softly, smart enough to add a way out, testing to see what the possibility of rejection would do to Negan, and he seemed to not take any offense, instead, he looked rather pleased.

-Perhaps because he knew that in the end, you’d cave.

You really had no choice.

The thick tension in the air somewhat lessened, and as the man before you offered a low chuckle while he backed off, you released a low, shaken breath, actually afraid of him.

He walked along the grounds with a swagger that made others make room for him, like a king in the presence of the lowest peasants that would do anything to please him, and it wasn’t such a far off comparison.

He took a moment to stop, and he looked back at you in expectancy, “ Show me your place,” he said with an undertone of authority, and it had you moving close to him, leading him to the house you’d so lovingly tended to and claimed as yours.

 - And in that privacy, he’d made the preposition you couldn't believe, that you had to have repeated just to make sure you weren't going crazy.

Daryl’s hands then moved, both aiming to your upper arms where they held on fiercely, and it’s like he’d forgotten how to be gentle, in his desperation to keep you there with him, he’d forgotten how, 

 " Is that what you want?" he questioned you, "Huh?” he sounded out, “- To go to him?" he proceeded to ask you, and it was like a jab to the heart because he shouldn’t have to ask you that.

It was like an insult as he should know already that if you could have your way, you’d be buried alongside him.

As he asked, he didn't feel he had it in him to offer the alternative question, and that was one that was caught in his throat.

It was lodged in there, but after a minute long silence, he force it out, " You'd rather go with him?" he started, " Would you rather go to Negan than stay here?” he asked, his sweating hands moving up your cheeks, holding them dearly, forcing you to look at him even as your watering eyes fleeted.

"You tell me the truth," he said to you,  and you took in a hard inhale through your nose that sounded awfully clogged.

You bit your lower lip and you continued to try and hold the same decision.

The Negan you'd met had been kind, in his own way he’d been kind, but perhaps that softness was only linked to his circumstances. 

He'd been sweet, in love with his wife, so in love, he was willing to do anything he could for her, and it was something that had inspired you to keep going. 

It inspired you to find another reason to fight.

You had no one left, but surely you could somehow rebuild, survive in honor of their memory, just like he had decided to do.

- And you did. 

Beside him, you scouted, survived what at the time you’d thought was the worst.

 You shared scarce food, shelter, and even an old blanket you playfully fought for and took turns snatching. 

Sometimes you thought of his smile, the one that made you grin when you’d give him half of some expired, stale treat you’d found and  that was reminiscent of the world prior to the waste you now lived through. 

And you remembered so faintly the same tender feeling you felt when he offered you kindness, like when you laid back and stared at the stars from a house’s rooftop, and he passed you some binoculars he’d found, just to stare at the stars. 

“That’s the closest we’re getting to them,” he reminded you, but you didn’t feel too bad about that. 

You felt nice down on earth because your companion sometimes made you forget that it had become something else.

However, just as quickly as that came to mind, so did your falling out.

Quickly, the Negan you had stood by before had slowly spiraled, becoming someone you only vaguely recognized, but even then, still followed for a while longer, and you’d shamefully admit that at some point, you questioned what you felt.

It had threaded somewhere between admiration, and what you once considered love, love that had slowly decayed as you saw him evolve and become everything you despised.

You hadn't stayed long enough to find out if it was genuine live for a man, or for someone who was special to you because soon after, Negan had been like any other walker. 

-dead to you. 

So perhaps it was only your loneliness playing games with you. 

You followed until you could no longer stand who he'd become, and decided that you'd rather fend for yourself than steal from others. 

Truthfully, you’d rather starve with the new crew that had found you than feast with the man you’d left, and it had become even more of a prominent feeling as you found out what he’d done to your friends, your family.

You cried, against every wish you had you cried, and as you did, you backed off, one of your hands shooting out towards Dixon as you tried to get as much space in between you two because if anyone would convince you to stay, it was him. 

- It was Daryl. 

He tried to reach out for you, and he said your name in a way that made your heart ache even moreso. 

Silently shaking your head, and with heavy tears flowing down your face, you continued to back off, 

“ The truth is...” you started, swallowing down thickly, trying to somehow spit out the words while swallowing down the bile that threatened to rush out of you as you spoke, 

“ I’m so happy he found me,” you finally said, and the way his face fell made you want to die for hurting him.

“ - I want to go with him,” you lied through you teeth, and you had to turn away to save yourself the sight of his heartbreak, and your own nonstop sorrow.

“I want to go back home...” you told him, and you didn’t hear steps trail behind you. 

The crunching of rocks hidden in the dirt was heard, but it became faint as he turned the other way. 

Did he hate you now? 

you thought of the possibility, and it made you hope he did because it would make it easier for him to let go.

A/N: I fucking hated Negan up until maybe halfway through the whisperers.

[thewoodworkssystem]

So I’m writing a Stardew Valley Fanfic now and it’s full of drama, here’s a snippet and a link to the story on Ao3

The two of them danced to the best of their ability but Ollie didn’t know the moves very well and so she tripped over her own feet, causing Emily to stumble over her. But the two of them still had fun, laughing and joking all the while. Everyone else was a little disgruntled that they were disrupting the event but they didn’t seem to care because they were having so much fun.

That is until the dance was over and Haley came up to them and grabbed onto Ollie’s arm, roughly pulling them apart.

“Excuse me, I need to talk to Ollie alone for a minute.” she spat the words out at Emily and then started to drag Ollie away, soon they were far out of anyone’s sight, or so Haley thought, little did they know that Emily would follow them.

“What’s your deal? You can’t just drag me away when I’m having a good time like that, ya buzzkill.”

“What are your intentions with my sister?”

“Is that why you pulled me away? So you could play the protective sister part?”

“Answer my question, Ollie!” Haley nearly shouted at her and it caught Ollie a little off guard. She recovered after a second and gave her honest answer,

“I like her a lot, I could see myself dating her. But I’m not gonna ask for your approval, she’s a grown woman, you’re not her mother.”

“You can’t be with her, I won’t let that happen.”

“Did you not just hear me? I don’t need you to tell me who I can and cannot date, and I don’t think Emily would appreciate you trying to dictate her life either…” Ollie was cut off there when Haley raised her voice over her,

“That’s irrelevant, she’s got nothing to do with this!”

“What the hell are you talking about?!”

“God, you’re so stupid!”

“I’m not stupid, you’re being cryptic and you’re not making any sense! Just tell me what you’re talking about!” Haley growled in frustration, she always had trouble communicating certain things, a part of it was because she was partially nonverbal. She’d rather act than speak. So she did just that.

She grabbed Ollie’s face and suddenly pulled her in for a kiss without stopping to think about the consequences. Ollie hated that she wanted to kiss her back but she fell into the instinct and let the kiss happen for a moment but immediately regretted it when she heard a twig snap and they broke apart and saw Emily a few yards away, trying to quietly walk back out.

“S-sorry, I can see I’ve interrupted something, I’m just… gonna go.” she turned to leave, holding a hand to her mouth to try to prevent the sob from breaking loose but it was already coming out.

Ollie immediately chased after her and Haley didn’t even know what to do, left just standing there with her arms wrapped tightly around her own body.

[deewithani]

I don't want to post in the main post of today's drama, because my opinion essentially straddles both lines and i don't want to derail discussion that is happening there.

A few months ago I had a very visceral reaction to how people were treating Daemon from HOTD. Hate is probably not a strong enough word for how I felt about how his character's actions were being excused by members of the fandom. It made me physically ill to see people excusing abuse, murder, and the various other heinous things he did. I made a few posts about it here, and a few more tweets and comments on Twitter. And then I kind of stewed on it for a few days, until I made the conscious decision to step away and stop stewing. I ended up deleting all those posts and comments.

It is still a conscious decision that I'm making. I will always say to love your characters unapologetically, warts and all, even if they're the villain. They don't have to be watered down for you to be ok to love them. Some people that hate that you love a character aren't going to change their minds about it because the character has been watered down.

Seeing others view and interact with characters, particularly those characters whose actions make me react negatively, in ways that I don't personally agree with will continue to be something that causes me issues. I already know this about myself. So I make the conscious decision to not engage with those views that give me that kind of negative reaction. I'm not responsible for how other people interact and view characters (and nobody would listen to me anyway), and I'm not telling anyone not to talk about issues they see in fandom. I'm not saying not to engage, or to ignore, or do anything that I do for my own wellbeing. I just no longer put these things on my plate anymore, even if I want to take a bite. I let those views float on by me, because if I don't I dig myself into a hole of negative emotions trying to change the mind of someone who doesn't want to have their mind changed.

Anyway, sending hugs to anyone who has experienced bad feelings over it, no matter your opinion. It's legitimate to be hurt and feel angry when someone shares a different point of view that you don't agree with. That's the constant with this fandom. Someone is always getting hurt, even when hurting others wasn't the intention. A lot of nuance is lost in text, and sometimes it's hard to see that the people on the other side of the screen are people and not just some vague apparition of a person who may or may not exist. We exist in our own personal fiefdoms, and we rule as we see fit, but so does everyone else.

On a separate but partially related note, I remember the terrible things that some people had said to/about them when S1 was airing. Today's drama isn't the same at all, but I understand why some people are having knee-jerk reactions to seeing a negative opinion about how they view a character they love. It wasn't so nice last time around.

This was really just a long post to say you can't make people see things the way you see them, so take that as you will.

[jess-the-vampire]

its funny your the only person ive seen that has managed to make a swap au about the owl house that works

eh i wouldn't knock anyone else out, i've seen plenty of other interesting ones as well.

for me i just think it's a little easy to just slap belos's face on eda and call it a day, because the screenshot edits are fun, and there's nothing wrong if you want to do something like that and keep it simple, some of those are really cute and creative....i just tend to think it's more interesting to think of it outside of just the swap itself.

Like how would this character react in this other character's shoes? Would they do the same stuff? Would their relationships be the same? What if their setting better fitted them in canon? What if you considered this from the show?

I think the best kinda swaps for me, and the ones that really stand out, are the ones who think outside the box, you keep the base of a swap au but make it more then just the swap in itself and think more deeply about the characters your swapping.

Especially if you want the au to have longevity, i would know, i have a couple star vs swap aus of my own, one was so canon divergent it got it's own fic but the other was mostly just the simplified swaps and that makes it hard to do new material unless i get creative. (I'd love to get back to it soon if i can come up with a good idea)

i'm more likely to remember a swap au that is an amity/hunter swap au where emira and edric are older guards alongside her and amity's pressure on her comes from always having to prove herself and be the best, (Like getting both hunter and amity's motivations cleverly mixed in there) while she always gets picked on by her older guard siblings, then say...an amity/hunter swap where amity just takes hunter's role without any of that unique drama that ties back to amity in canon, and her siblings just take luz's place because well...i dunno the blight twins are popular ships for hunter.

People get invested in the unique drama your au can bring, that's the kinda content that really makes your au unique and people remember.

and again, if you wanna do just that, go right ahead, some people don't want something like that, but if you are looking to do something unique with it, then these are ideas to keep in mind.

And sometimes i think aus can be held back because some creators get too scared to try that stuff cause it might not work for people and i get that.

Remember, huntlow was like, a crackship, when i put it in, i mostly put it in because the idea i had to swap amity and willow just worked out super well and i really liked it...but i was constantly getting comments of people just.....assuming edric was my "amity" without any evidence because "They're popular so they must be together in your au".

And pretty much 90% of hunter/luz swap aus are goldric btw, which makes most of those aus hard to tell apart a lot of the time.

And that's well and good if that's your thing, but it didn't work for my au, this worked better for what i wanted to do.

i think it's important to get help if you need it, getting second opinions is great, but be confident in your own choices too, don't succumb to peer pressure if it doesn't work for you.

Arofam is just me doing what what works for me and having fun with putting these characters in unique scenarios and playing with the idea, it might not be for everyone but hey if it works for you and you like my takes on swap aus then thanks, i appreciate it.

swap aus can be really fun, arofam is an example of the kinda swap aus i personally really enjoy and i'm glad it's really stood out for people because that was partially the intention.

[katsubiatch]

Distant Shores-5

A/N: Sorry it took me so long to get this out!! My family has been adjusting to life without my father in law, dealing with a toddler and family drama surrounding my father in laws death. It’s been a lot to start the year with. Either way here is the next chapter and I hope that you enjoy! 

Warnings: Nothing much. Parts will be in Bakugou’s view, jealousy, mentions of past attempted SA. Bakugou attempting to be apologetic. Deku makes an appearance and is probably slightly ooc

This was his fault, he had to admit that nothing humbled him more than that. His wife had almost been raped, he didn't know the entire specifics of it but the thought of it almost happening was enough. He might not like his wife, but he hadnt really spent time to try and get to know her. Kirishima and Mina seemed to like her, and weather she was putting up a front or not in front of them he didn't know. She didn't seem to be this master manipulator like he thought. That she was coming in with her fathers agenda to try and start an uprising within his people against him.

He had intercepted a letter once that was meant for her, talking about such a thing and he thought that she was working for him. However she never sent responses and he never did find the letters, which would make sense. She probably burnt them after reading. She had mentioned that she didn't write to her father, didn't read his letters. And now she was vulnerable and partially broken because he hadn't protected her. He'd been more interested in getting his rocks off to even pay attention to his wife, or anyone that might have ill intentions towards her. They'd disrespected her but they'd also disrespected their earl and they had to be punished. He just had to find a punishment fulfilling enough.

As if he wasn't upset enough with himself, Kirishima came rushing into the great hall where Bakugou was sitting alone on his big chair that was covered in furs, sour look on his face."What the hell?" He asked as he stood in front of Bakugou, "I let it go last night because everyone was emotional but how could you leave her so unprotected? You didn't think anyone here would want to hurt her?" Kirishima asked, keeping quiet as he was sure you were still sleeping. "She is foreign to our people and it's clear that someone would have done something to her at some point." Kirishima sighed, running a hand through his hair. This is the only person that Bakugou would let speak to him like this. He did speak the most truth.

"She might not be someone that you wanted but she is what you have, and have you ever stopped to think that this isn’t what she wanted either? Brought over here, to our land. With our God’s and not knowing our language or how different we are from her and her people? Plus she's tried. I've watched her. She’s learning our language, Todoroki is teaching her to fight and she helps Mina everyday. No one else will allow her to help them with their tasks but she tries. Maybe if our earl respected his wife the people would too.. and Come on. You just had to have Yara in your bed." At this point Kirishima was almost out of breath.

"Is that it?" Bakugou asked tiredly as he looked up at Kirishima. He felt awful already but Kirishima had really driven it home. He could always count on Kirishima to steer him straight in matters, this was something he didn't know how to manage. After all not many were put in this situation. It was certainly a first. "I know I did wrong, I didn't protect her or respect her. I guess I figured she was some spoiled princess who whined about everything. I also had my reservations about her due to the fact that I didn't think I could trust her father. I still don't. I thought she was working for him. She doesn't even read his letters." Bakugou let out a frustrated huff as he leaned back in the seat, grumbling to himself for a few minutes. "Do you think it's because I didn't get her a cat?"

"A cat? You think this is because you didn't get her a cat?" Kirishima asked, running a hand down his face.

"Yeah. You got Mina a cat, right?"

"Of course I did, but I don't think this has anything to do with that. Freya didn't bless your marriage because she saw that you didn't do anything to help it along. Besides Freya is the goddess of fertility, and you haven't really been trying for a child with your wife, have you?" Kirishima asked as he looked at Bakugou, eyebrows raised. "Although I do think you have made the Gods angry, they decide on your fate so they decided on you to marry that girl for a reason." Kirishjma shrugged.

Bakugou hated to admit when he was wrong, it was something that had admittedly avoided as often as he could. Not that he was wrong often but perhaps Kirishima was right about this. The Gods had designed his fate to do whatever it was they wanted, and if something happened it had to have happened for a reason so he had to have married this girl for some reason. He growled as he realized the other was right and shook his head.

"I know you hate when I am right... but I am right." Kirishima grinned as he looked at his Earl, beaming more than he should. "You really should give her a chance. She's good, probably too good for you." When he received a scowl he raised his hands up. Probably too far. "I'm just saying, she's been trying these past months. To learn and to fit in here, the people aren't too sure of her because you don't act as if you even like her." Which kirishima supposed Bakugou didn't but that was neither here nor there. He could learn to like her if he got to know her.

Bakugou didn't want to admit that Kirishima was right, he didn't. How could he like this girl? She was too soft, raised in a castle with people to do everything for her in her life. She didn't know how to fight, didn't have battle scars, did not believe in their Gods and was certainly not who he thought he'd end up with. He thought he be married to a fierce shield maiden, not a princess who couldn't defend herself.

"Mmm." Bakugou merely grumbled as he rested his elbow on the arm of his chair, dropping his chin into his open hand and spreading his legs apart.

"You will have a lot to make up for though, she probably won't accept you with wide open arms at first." Kirishima murmured, knowing that Bakugou really didn't know how to woo a girl anyway. He'd have to learn.

"How the hell am I supposed to do that?" Bakugou suddenly burst out, grumbling as he realized he should try and make his marriage work. He could have empty relationships with women around here, have a few children running around but.. thinking of your face... he shook his head. When had he decided he found you attractive? When did he decide that he wanted to stop avoiding you and have a conversation with you? He knew that he was emotionally constipated and struggled with expressing his feelings but he supposed it was time to try. He couldn't put you in danger any longer.

"Well I'm sure Mina could help if you ask. We could always..." and started the very long conversation of how Katsuki Bakugou would try to fix his marriage. He just knew that it was going to take a long while but he was up for it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Reader POV

When you woke the next morning you were sore, and not well rested. The bed was comfortable, warm and covered in furs that felt soft and cozy against your skin but you felt hollow, empty and cold. The events of the night kept flashing back to you, and as lucky as you felt the idea of actually getting out of the bed scared you. What if someone else tried to do that to you? What if your husband changed his mind and left you to fend for yourself? You sighed, rolling over onto your stomach to think. You really didn't want to get out of the bed but you knew that it was only a matter of time before you absolutely had to. Weather it be your bladder or stomach that called to you to leave the warm confines of the furs. You could probably stay here for the rest of your days and no one would notice.

You sat up and sighed, running your fingers over the furs beside you. Waking up to an empty bed wasn't foreign to you but you'd somehow hoped that Bakugou would be there beside you. At least to offer some comforting words. Then again you weren't sure if he could do that, if he even had an idea of how to comfort you. The two of you knew just about as much about each other as you had at your wedding weeks ago. Which wasn't much. You'd done your best to acclimate to his culture and learn the basics of his language but it didn't seem to enough.

The last thing you could do is pray, but you weren't even sure who to pray to. Your old God certainly wasn't looking out for you, and you knew minimal about your husbands Gods. Well you supposed they were yours now too. You knew you'd be expected to adopt your husbands beliefs when you married. Perhaps you'd ask Shoto today, see what he said. He'd been the one helping you with things like that so far.

You grumbled as you finally decided to get out of bed, pulling on a comfortable dress and using the bathroom before walking out to the main hall area to a rather large assortment of food. You were told by a thrall that the Earl had tried to make sure you’d have enough to eat and have things you liked. You weren’t sure why, he hadn’t ever seemed to care about things like that before. It confused you a bit. 

You didn’t end up eating much, not having an appetite after what had happened the night before. You were still trying to figure out how you felt about it, and also how you felt about your husband. You’d seen a side of him the night before that you’d never seen before. He seemed almost... soft? You didn’t want to get your hopes up, he probably just felt bad for you for a few seconds that was all. There was no way that he felt anything for you. You were just his property, something that had almost been taken from him. 

You don’t even remember how you got to the cliffs that looked above the docks where you’d first come in at. It felt like so long ago, like you’d been here forever, so much had happened in such a little amount of time. You probably shouldn’t have been alone, in case someone else wanted to come after you, but you really didn’t want to have company. Didn’t want to talk to anyone about what had happened, didn’t want to relive it. At some point Shoto had come to you, this was where the two of you met often. However he didn’t speak, didn’t pressure words out of you, didn’t ask for anything. He just sat there, offering small words here and there. 

It was quiet and peaceful until all of a sudden three long boats were seen in the distance and the horns were going off.  “Who is that?” Your voice came out croaky because it hadn’t been used most of the day.  “Mmm looks like it’s a friend, possibly Midoriya. He’s an Earl from another area. I’m surprised that he’s come unannounced. He usually sends warning when he’s coming. Come on, lets get you to the great hall. As the Earl’s wife you are supposed to greet important visitors.” Shoto murmured, offering up his arm. 

The two walked towards the great hall, still quiet as the ships were docking and people flocked to them to see who it was that was here. Surprisingly Bakugou was in the hall, and his eyes went a bit wide when he saw the two together. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bakugou POV

He felt his anger got the better of him as saw his wife holding onto Shoto’s arm, and he wasn’t quite sure why. It hadn’t ever bothered him before, that bastard wouldn’t even think to take his wife. He didn’t think anyone would try, but now he felt he had to be weary of everyone. Not that his little wife would try and leave him, then again he never knew what could happen.  “You shouldn’t go out alone like that.” Bakugou spat, seeing you flinch a little at his tone. He sighed, running a hand over his face. “Just... take someone with you next time. It’s not safe to go out alone like that for now.” Bakugou sighed, he really was just concerned about his wife’s safety but he wasn’t one that was great with his emotions and feelings. “Don’t worry about that right now though, we can talk about it later." Bakugou offered his wife his arm which she took, even though she was a bit confused at it.

"Right now one of my oldest friends is coming... unexpectedly. Which could be good or bad." Bakugou looked... worried? You weren't sure but you thought that you saw a look of trepidation cross his features. "I want you to stay close, he's not stupid enough to pull anything with me but I'm not so sure about some of his men. Do you understand?" Bakugou asked as he looked down at you, not wanting another incident to happen like it had last night.

"Of course husband, I understand." The girl nodded as her hands stayed on his arm. He had to admit that he did like this. Why did he have to be so hard headed and keep his emotions away like he did? This was nice and they could have had this from the start. He shook his head, no time to think on that now. He had other things to deal with. Like why that Deku was here. He either needed help with something or he wanted Bakugou to go with him on his spring raids.

They didn't have long to wait before the crew was walking in. Only three ships so it wasn't like Bakugou was scared of an attack, three ships could only hold so many men and they could easily handle that. No this was something else entirely and he didn't like not knowing what to expect.

"Long time no see, Kaachan." The Viking Earl said as he walked in, still just cheery and bright as he'd been when they were kids. "I heard that you had gotten married and my what a pretty wife you have." Deku complimented Bakugous wife before bringing her hand up to his mouth and pressing a kiss to it. Bakugou ground his teeth as he saw her face blush. Had he just come to grind his nerves?

"What made you come? Surely not just coming to compliment my wife." Bakugou spat out as he glared at Deku. He wasn't sure why but now he was irritated, he might not have treated her the best to start our with but he didn't want someone else sweet talking their way into her life to steal her away from him. Damn he really wished he wasn't so emotionally constipated and could have figured these things out sooner. "If you want me to go Raid with you I'm done until spring. We've enough here." He shook his head as he looked at the other man.

"Ah no, it is not either of those things. There is actually something else I want to ask you." Deku mumbled as he looked back at Bakugou, who urged him to continue. "You see we were attacked not long ago, turns out that Shigaraki and his clan are planning to take over. He wants to be king of all Norway." Deku mumbled again, doing his best to speak clearly as this was something that was obviously important. "We were able to fend them off but I knew I should warn you, I'm sure they will come for you next."

Bakugou growled and started to pace, "the last thing I need is those assholes poking around here and attacking. How many did they have?" Bakugou wondered allowed as he looked back at Deku who gave him a number.

"But you know it'll be less than that. We cut down their numbers by quite a lot. Unless you know they had more they didn't bring. He knows that we're a strong village but he knows you're even stronger. I don't know why he didn't come here right to start." He shook his head, might as well get the big village that would be the most problem out of the way first. "I came to warn you... and to offer our help. We can stop him here, before he has a chance to go anywhere else. Then whatever lands he has conquered we can split between the two of us." Deku offered.

"I'll have to think about it." Bakugou knew it was a temping offer but he really didn't want to deal with this now. He had two men in chains that he still had to deal with, his wife who he hardly knew and wanted to take care of to fix his marriage and now this? He needed a break already. "Stay for now, we'll have a feast tonight to celebrate you coming anyway. And your victory against them. Our home is your home." Bakugou assured Deku as he returned to his wife's side, who gave that damn Deku a smile. She never smiled at him. What did she like about him already that she was smiling at him. He hated this feeling growing in the pit of his stomach. It had to be jealousy and he didn't like it.

He motioned the thralls forward to help Deku and his crew take care of any needs that they'd have for the night before dragging his wife back to their quarters. She seemed confused but went along with him anyway, not as if she had much choice. He cursed once they'd made it into the rooms.

"Well little wife it seems that I'm going to have to go go war here soon" he said through gritted teeth as he looked back at his wife who had a look of terror on her face. Did she care about him or was she just worried for herself and what this could mean for her? "I'm going to do everything I can to protect you. I'll make sure the battle is far from here and that there are men here to protect you should anyone try and come here instead of the main battle." Bakugou assured her as he helped her sit on the bed. "You don't have to worry about it. I'll keep you safe." He assured as she just nodded and looked down at her lap.

"Are you... you think you'll win?" She asked him as she looked up at him when he sat down next to her.

"I don't often lose... only once. Since then I haven't cut my hair." He gestured to the long braid going down his back. "I don't plan on losing." He again assured his wife as he leaned back on the bed. "I promise that I lll keep you safe though. That's a promise that I can keep. I can't promise I won't lose. Who knows what the gods have planned." That was the honest truth anyway. It was all in their hands.

"I want to tell you that.. I am sorry. I know I have been a horrible husband." Bakugou admitted, not looking over at his wife. He couldn't stomach it if she looked at him a certain way. It was very out of his character to even be apologizing but this was important. "You didn't want this either and I've only been making it harder. So I am sorry. I will spend the rest of my days before going to Valhalla making it up to you. I know you can not forgive me now but I will start to make amends." He wanted to laugh at the surprised look on his wife's face but he couldn't. He didn't want to have another thing to apologize for.

Taglist

naiomiwinchester  wannabe99now  @whore-for-anime  moshi-moshi-angie015  ojfugk  angie-1306  not5weeniesshoto

[thefirstknife]

first thank you for compiling all those posts, it was fascinating to read through especially since i knew there had to be depth to mara and uldren as characters to inform their decisions/the way the lore plays out. i knew mara to be an incredibly complex character, though i will admit i avoid reading much about her because the way she is presented in game is uncomfortable to say the least. (mostly personal feelings/experiences, but probably partially intentionally as well) regardless, a couple questions. number one would be your thoughts on this well intentioned manipulation from mara. though the answer might be in her current character development, i wonder why its more acceptable to strip agency when its 'for their own good'. i do think thats pretty integral to mara, her driving things through her own admittedly vast insights towards the greater good, and while theres an interesting debate to be had on the morality of it, youre right to point out that the morality sort of is a moot point when she is staring down the metaphorical barrel of a gun. im simultaneously fascinated to see where her development goes while not wanting to forgive the shortcomings of her actions. i acknowledge shes done and continues to do the best she can but ugh. why has it taken so long? (i mean, obviously because she hasnt had a catalyst to spur her development like she does now, but well) i do feel for her which is honestly surprising considering i really didnt before i sent that first ask. but anyway, my second question. savathun being the one to deliver uldrens memories to crow... truth be told, i assumed it to be as neutral a way as anything, as it seemed she just... unlocked the memories from his/uldrens perspective a la deepsight/darkness memory shenanigans rather than trying to spin it one way or another. probably naive of me considering its literally savathun, and its more likely than not to have been an intentional attempt to harm him, but i dunno. something about cutting to heal. lancing a wound to drain the rot. again, probably naive, but i also have in the back of my mind the lore where savathun is feeling something (positive i presume, affection, nostalgia? who knows) when at the bonfire with crow and the guardian. if i remember right sav draws connections to her siblings, and is reeling against some uninvited feelings this conjures. makes me wonder how much she is or isnt sympathising with crow (and on that note, osiris. her lines during the glykon exploration, about the folly of her youth, blends really close to osiris. almost like she wasnt exactly lying directly, but through omission of context). she says it herself that she feels sympathy for crow, but again. savathun. narratively i think it was important things played out this way, but had they chosen to write uldren/crows story to follow the plans mara laid out, are we 100% sure that the two of them wouldntve just fallen into the same pitfalls as before, with crow trying to impress, and mara manipulating 'for his own good'? do you think she could have succeeded in achieving the crow we see now after severance without all the drama? should she even have had to? maybe it was good for her not to have to undertake the same role she always had with uldren, being a star for him to follow. gah, i have to sleep, but man do i have a lot of thoughts. anyway, thanks again for the first response! i have worms in my brain.

You're welcome!

For the first question, about how Mara wanted to manipulate/shape Uldren into something else: I don't think it was good ultimately. Mara even admits that it wasn't. At first she's only talking about how it's because she failed, but later she becomes much more open about how much the idea sucked no matter what (especially after she talks more to Ikora and Crow in particular, but also after all the stresses of dealing with Savathun). Uldren was always reckless, even as a human and she hated it because she was basically tasked with raising him and she had her own issues. She wanted so badly to make him different, but it failed and she made it worse. It took her time to realise that the idea itself was flawed from the start. Seeing as she accepted Crow and her responsibilities over Uldren's fate, she definitely changed her tune. We probably won't get a full explicit apology from her, but then again, that's between her and Crow.

Second question about Savathun and Crow's memories: the biggest problem with Savathun doing it was that we have no clue what she did to him and how she did it so we couldn't intervene to help him. Did she give him everything? Only the bad stuff? Only stuff about Uldren after he got corrupted? It was also... a lot to dump on a person at once. Uldren lived for thousands of years and there were some truly gruesome memories in there, especially post Black Garden. It could've seriously hurt Crow to get him exposed for example to the memory of the Black Heart. It's also the emotional impact of finding out that every single person you trusted lied to you in the worst way. Like, YW participated in killing Uldren and Crow trusted us as a friend. And then he got a memory of being at the other end of our gun.

Savathun definitely had some legitimate feelings for Crow however. She's a very complex character as well and the feelings she experienced while watching YW and Crow were genuine. She also admitted that she has a soft spot for "exiles." She latched onto Crow and Osiris, but also previously she also gave a safe haven of sorts to her nephew, Nokris, who was exiled for heresy. She herself was also exiled. I would say those feelings were definitely as genuine as possible when it comes to Savathun. However, the way she dumped Uldren's memories on Crow was still traumatic and ultimately a bad way to deal with such a sensitive situation.

As for the third what-if scenario: I genuinely have no clue. Had Mara's original plans worked out perfectly in every detail... Who knows. If Uldren never went to the Black Garden and never got corrupted and Mara never died to Oryx and... There are too many variables. I personally think it wouldn't have been as compelling as a story. The Sov siblings are incredibly well written characters who have a lot of complexity and a lot to offer to the storytelling as they are now. I honestly wouldn't want it any other way. Their story is full of tragedy, but also change and hope, as it is with Destiny.

[prisoner009]

Here is why I, a person who has DID, think that Mikoto also has DID. I have seen a lot of misinformation about the disorder in the Milgram tag so I will try to correct them with the best of my abilities. And just a heads up, I am not interested in arguing whether or not Mikoto is a singlet or not since I had this conversation with others several times. This is just what I think Milgram meant to portray.

Before I start, please be mindful of the fact that Mikoto isn't a real person and I don't think he is a great DID rep however I feel like a lot of people just ignore the fact that he has DID because "it is ableist" while it is true we shouldn't ignore the obvious intention of the series, Milgram doesn't like being vague about the prisoners as seen with others. Here is the diagnostic criteria for DID. Code 300.14 "A. Disruption of identity characterized by two or more distinct personality states, which may be described in some cultures as an experience of possession. The disruption of marked discontinuity in sense of self and sense of agency, accompanied by related alterations in affect, behavior, consciousness, memory, perception, cognition, and/or sensory-motor functioning. These signs and symptoms may be observed by others or reported by the individual. B. Recurrent gaps in the recall of everyday events, important personal information, and/or traumatic events that are inconsistent with ordinary forgetting. C. The symptoms cause clinically significant distress or impairment in social, occupational, or other important areas of functioning. D. The disturbance is not a normal part of a broadly accepted cultural or religious practice. Note: In children, the symptoms are not better explained by imaginary playmates or other fantasy play. E. The symptoms are not attributable to the physiological effects of a substance (e.g., blackouts or chaotic behavior during alcohol intoxication) or another medical condition (e.g., complex partial seizures)." 1) "Disruption of identity characterized by two or more distinct personality states" for the sake of clarity, I will refer to Mikoto's alter as "Other Mikoto". Mikoto himself is very sociable, kind and has a more sweeter tone to his voice. He calls most prisoners by nicknames even though he isn't really familiar with them. In John Doe voice drama Mikoto gets stressed and switches to "Other Mikoto". Other Mikoto talks more like a delinquent, swears a lot and generally has more of a raspier tone to his voice. Other Mikoto goes as far as attacking Es which is out of character for Mikoto. 2) "B. Recurrent gaps in the recall of everyday events, important personal information, and/or traumatic events that are inconsistent with ordinary forgetting." We know that since day one Mikoto had no idea about what he had done to be in Milgram. In MeMe, during Other Mikoto's parts (metal parts of the song) he is very blunt about the murder making it clear that he is the alter that holds that traumatic memory while in Mikoto's parts (softer, chorus parts of the song) he says that he doesn't know why he is there and that they must be mistaken. No, he isn't lying about amnesia. It has been confirmed that to ensure that they are not lying Es uses a song extraction machine that extracts the knowledge about murders from their subconscious mind. MeMe sounds like two songs stitched together because Mikoto's subconscious is shared by another alter. In short, it was extracted from both of them not just Mikoto. Also, in John Doe voice drama right after Other Mikoto switches out Mikoto gets really confused because he doesn't remember beating Es and then fighting with Kotoko. 3) "C. The symptoms cause clinically significant distress or impairment in social, occupational, or other important areas of functioning." Even though Mikoto has a stable office job and tries his best to look like a functioning adult I believe there is more to it. In MeMe, towards the end it sounds like they are aware of each others existence but Mikoto wants to deny the fact that he has DID. His amnesia barrier and miscommunication with Other Mikoto does affect his functioning. 4) D and E points are as we know, don't apply to Mikoto so I won't bother explaining them. I have seen a lot of people say that Mikoto is faking DID because "He remembers/knows about it a little as seen in the MV." which is literal misinformation. Amnesia barriers are not always the same and you may remember bits of things at times. Mikoto is well aware that

something bad is going on, he is scared to admit it. He just doesn't know what and that is when Other Mikoto comes in the stage. Other Mikoto is supposed to hold that traumatic memory (murder) so Mikoto won't have to process that all by himself. I believe Other Mikoto is a trauma holder + most likely an protector. "You don't have to keep it in and hide it away, “I” will save “me”." is the reason why I think Other Mikoto is a protector. Motive for the murder was not mentioned a lot in the video but basing from these lyrics I believe that he has killed someone that was a past abuser or a threat to Mikoto's life in anyway. The murder was planned. At the beginning we can see him waiting on a specific subway station for his victim, which makes me think that it was most likely someone he knew rather than a random pedestrian. Hopefully, we will learn more about his motive on the second trial but for now all we can speculate is that he did it to "protect" himself. Not by the means of self defense, but by something else. Another thing I have seen that has been spread around a lot is that "Mikoto formed a system after murdering someone/because of his stress as an office worker." No. No one can form a system at the age of 23. It doesn't work like that. (next part is taken from did-research) The theory of Structural Dissociation works off of the assumption that no one is born with an integrated personality. Instead, infants operate based off of a loose collection of different ego states that handle their different needs- feeding, attachment to a caregiver, exploring the world around them. Over time, these ego states naturally integrate into one coherent and cohesive personality, usually by the ages of 6 or 9. However, childhood trauma disrupts this process. Different ego states are left unable to merge with each other due to conflicting needs, traumatic memories, or learned action paths or responses to trauma. One coherent sense of self cannot form when the primary caregivers of the child are inconsistent, loving one moment and abusive the next, preventing healthy attachment from occurring and instead facilitating disorganized attachment. In short, Mikoto's DID formed in childhood because of repetitive trauma that he had experienced when he was between the ages of 6-9. We don't know what his trauma is but perhaps we may learn about it on the next trials. Overall, DID is used in a lot of symbolic ways in MeMe (from using OSDDID terms like "switch" to a headspace) that I think it is almost impossible for Mikoto to not have DID. Thank you for reading all this mess. Feel free to shoot me ask if you have any questions.

[dreamerhideout]

i love you so

summary: after recovering from a messy break-up with your high school sweetheart, you’d never expect to find happiness in someone who bumped into you on the subway. but that’s where jake sim comes in.

genre: fluff, hurt/comfort, office!au

characters: jake x reader, mentions of ex-boyfriend!jay

warnings: partially proofread, but besides that, none

word count: 1946

a/n: this was supposed to be an entry for the “and then we met” @enhypenwriters writing event, but i think i lost the muse for this a bit too fast (plus, school swamped me again.) i literally wanted to base it off this song by the walters until it dawned on me that it was a heartbreak song :/ hence i made a few adjustments. i’m not quite sure if i’m fully satisfied with how this turned out, but i hope you still enjoy it~

more under the cut!

your heels clicked on the platform as you weaved your way through the crowd of people. it was a bustling monday morning, and waking up half an hour late was not how you expected to start your week. bingeing on this one political-drama show the night before began to feel like a regrettable choice, but there was no time to dwell on that when you see your train pulling up at the platform.

“oh damn, i’m so sorry.”

maybe it was because of how distracted you were from your surroundings that you hadn’t realized that someone bumped into you. as a result, you barely noticed that your coat had gotten stained from the coffee in their cup.

you gave them an apologetic smile, too rushed to get pissed. “no worries.” pausing for a second, you registered the culprit to be a man with a head of chocolate-brown hair and slightly frantic eyes before jogging towards the open subway cart door. once you got on the nearly-stuffed train, your eyes peered down towards your coat. sighing, you swiped at your coffee-stained coat with your finger; perhaps you’d be able to get it cleaned at the office later on if you weren’t getting your ear chewed off by your manager.

-

“we have a new employee joining us today.”

exiting the bathroom door with a slightly-scrubbed coat in hand, you heard your manager call out, then the chatter in the room subsiding. she was standing beside a man that you wouldn’t have vaguely remembered seeing before if it weren’t for the small smile he gave you.

“hi everyone, i’m jake sim. i’ll be working under the research department starting today. it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

you recognized that voice a little too well, then glancing at your dampened coat. who knew that the man you hastily bumped into this morning would be working at your office?

“jake will be occupying the desk next to (y/n)’s, and he’ll also be under my supervision as he’s still on trial for the next two weeks.” almost instantly, your manager turned towards you, who was still standing in front of the bathroom door.

“oh, yes,” you replied, eyes widening slightly. you went towards your cubicle and motioned to the empty desk beside you for jake to put his things, “over here.”

he walked over and placed a box filled with his belongings on top of the table, then unpacking. “well, i never thought i’d see you here,” he chuckled, “really sorry for what happened earlier, by the way.”

“eh, it’s no big deal.” you draped your coat over your chair for it to dry, “i managed to scrub off most of the stain, so it should be fine.”

“are you sure it isn’t ruined?” he turned to face you, slightly quirking an eyebrow.

you grinned in response, “positive."

jake had placed some stationery into a pencil holder before extending out a hand towards you. “i know i’ve introduced myself earlier.” he smiled rather awkwardly, “but for the sake of us being desk-mates, i’ll do it again. i’m jake.”

your hand met his for a quick shake, a knowing smile on your face. “(y/n). nice to meet you.”

-

if you were sure about one thing, it’d be that time flies by when you’re drowning in deadlines. the sun had already disappeared, yet you still sat hunched over your laptop, fingers typing away at a report due tomorrow assigned a few hours ago. you would have argued with your manager on the matter, but the glare she gave you as you were about to open your mouth was enough to make you shrink back into your seat.

out of habit, you grabbed your phone and unlocked it, expecting to see a message notification from jay, your boyfriend, who’d usually come to pick you up from work. when you didn’t receive one, however, it only dawned on you once again that you weren’t even with him anymore. he was the reason why your routine for the past few months had been working and binge-watching on repeat, with the occasional cry session if you were feeling really out of it. moving on after said breakup had been difficult, especially when it involved the very person who vowed to marry you on the day of your high school graduation.

“working overtime?”

you peered up from your head in your hands to see jake. he had pushed his chair back and was looking at you past the divider. it was way past office hours and you swore that you heard the last of your coworkers’ chatter out the door a few hours ago, but you must have been mistaken.

“yeah.” you gave him a grim smile, “some stupid report i was told to do today.”

“ouch,” he winced, closing his laptop. jake then studied your expression, picking up on how exhausted you looked. “tell you what.” he stood up and began slipping items into his backpack, “what if we went home together? maybe i could grab you something on the way back to make up for earlier.”

you looked up from your screen to see a cheeky smile on his lips. the offer did seem tempting, but you were ways away from actually completing the report. “oh that really isn’t necessary...” you threw him a small smile as you waved a hand rather dismissively, “i might be here for a long while, and i wouldn’t want to hold you back from going home.”

“i insist, (y/n).” jake zipped up his backpack after tossing in a file, “i wouldn’t mind waiting since i have nothing due tomorrow.” he then propped an elbow up on the divider, leaning on it as he carefully took note of the obvious strain on your eyes as well as how you had a slight pout on your lips when you were focused, “and besides... you kinda look like you could use some company.”

a small hum was heard from your mouth until you finally sighed in defeat; he definitely wasn’t wrong about company. “if you say so, then.” you stretched your arms, turning away from your screen, “maybe having you around will make me work faster?”

“how so?”

“you know how sometimes kids won’t work on their homework unless there’s an adult cowering over them like a hawk? yeah, that.” 

jake brought a hand to his mouth in an attempt to stifle a laugh, which ended in him snorting instead. you could feel a smile creep up your lips.

-

the trip home was the most fun you’ve had in months. it didn’t occur to you that jake would be such an avid chatterbox, but you were sorely mistaken. he always had a conversation topic up his sleeve, whether it was about daily adult struggles to his childhood back in australia. you also noticed how he absolutely could not shut up about his beloved dog, layla; it’s a wonder how he had an entire album filled with hundreds of her pictures on his phone. slowly but surely, you also began juggling the conversation; it was as if you had reverted to your bright, happy self pre-breakup. talking with him really felt like reuniting with a long-lost friend, and it was only a matter of minutes until you had reached your apartment's front door.

jake had wanted to use your bathroom for a bit, but it ended with you suggesting for him to stay for dinner which consisted of microwaved pizza and sweet tea. you placed the pizza on the coffee table in front of the tv, then starting up the series you were bingeing on the other night.

“is that designated survivor?” jake sat on your sofa before grabbing a slice of pizza from the plate.

“mhm,” you replied, mouth stuffed. swallowing first, you then replied to him, “the synopsis made me curious.”

your remark was met with silence as you saw jake’s gazed fixed intently upon the screen. it wouldn’t have occurred to you that you’d be having a coworker (who was insanely attractive, nonetheless) over for dinner, but it didn’t bother you at all when jake made offhand comments about the characters and scenes of the series. it also occurred to you quite late that you hadn’t gotten napkins out for the both of you.

“hold on, lemme grab something.” you stood up and went towards your cabinets in search for napkins. jake’s attention broke from the screen to follow your figure before his gaze momentarily landed on a photo frame by the side of your sofa. it was a picture of you and your ex-boyfriend, with his arm wrapped around you as you both smiled brightly for the camera.

“i didn’t know you had a boyfriend?” the man teased as he saw you walk back towards him, napkins in hand. your expression dropped when you realized that throughout the time you’ve been trying to mend your broken heart, you had forgotten to put away that photo.

“we broke up.”

guilt flashed across jake’s face as he realized he had overstepped. “oh wow, i’m sorry... i shouldn’t have brought that up.”

“it’s fine. i guess i must’ve forgotten to put that away.” you smiled at him and placed the napkins on the table before flipping the frame down. taking a seat, you sighed as you tried to focus on the show playing in front of you; you could feel bits of dread wallow in the bottom of your stomach.

there was a moment of awkward pause as neither of you knew what to say. just as you were about to ask jake to leave since you could feel dread clawing at your insides, he suddenly spoke up, “you’re... really strong, though.”

turning to face him, you stared at him quizzically, “really?”

“yeah.” jake could feel your eyes on him, “i mean, if it weren’t for me finding out, i would’ve never guessed that you were going through that.” he grabbed another piece of pizza before meeting your gaze, “you’re a great person, (y/n). i think you should know that. and if you’d need someone to talk to about him... although i don’t really know the guy, i’m all ears.”

the way he gave you a soft smile at the end made your heart slightly flutter. maybe it was because there was this very charming man consoling you on your last breakup, but it was more on the fact that you knew someone had your back in your times of healing. “thanks, jake.” you smiled back, feeling your heart lighten. “i appreciate it. a lot.”

jake felt his heart flip at the sight of your smile. it wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen you smile the entire day; it was a different kind as he could see some weight visibly lifted from you. you were pretty cute when you smiled, the way your eyes crinkled at the sides when you did, and he wondered how he hadn’t realized that sooner.

“uh... jake?” you waved a hand in front of his face to break him away from his stare. he quickly snapped out of his reverie, ears tinting a shade of pink.

“oh, yeah, sorry about that...” he murmured nervously, scratching the back of his head, “guess i got a bit distracted there?”

“i noticed.” you giggled in response, turning your attention back towards the tv. you saw how he stared at you after you spoke, eyes lost in a dream-like trance, and you felt your heart go fuzzy.

perhaps you were still healing, and you might need a little more time before jumping into something new. but rest assured, you knew that jake would be waiting on the other side no matter what.

[wutheringmights]

hello! I absolutely adore the political intrigue in CTB, and I'm writing a story inspired (partially) by it, but I'm sorta at a loss for how to come up with plotlines, much less juggle them so expertly like you did. How do you come up with ideas for ur political intrigue? Any tips or methods?

If you write a story that's even partially inspired by CTB, I would like to read it pretty please 👀

The fun part about this ask is that you made me sit down and think to myself: "Wait, how did I come up with the political intrigue???" (That in itself is a lesson about just throwing yourself into projects you think you are under prepared for and going for it with intention.)

To start, I think it helps not to actually think about the story as being strictly political intrigue. When you try to write something within one genre, you get tripped up trying to recreate every element of it. So release yourself from the obligations of trying to produce something that is strictly political intrigue. Once you free yourself from that expectation, coming up with the plot with get easier.

For me, writing political intrigue is less about writing politics and more about writing characters in conflict. Every political position is represented by a person who is active in the plot and has stakes in maintaining their stance. It's not pro-war royalists wanting to wage a hopeless war out of nationalistic militarism against reform war mongerers who recognize that the kingdom can no longer thrive under constant war. It's a story where Zelda feels obligated to wage a war that Warriors wants to stop.

You can see this everywhere. Every stance is spoken for by an actual character, who then get into conflict with other characters. All of these characters have stakes involved with achieving their goals, but not the full means to do so. If someone could strong-arm everyone else to achieve their mission, then there's not much of a plot. There is always something impeding your characters, and it is the goal of every character to find a means around it.

For example, Warriors wants to prevent the Chain from being enlisted. But not only is he being ordered to involve them in the war, but failure to do so will result in him being imprisoned for treason. So he has to find a way to save the Chain without implicating himself.

If you want an extra layer of drama, you can have characters who represent stances that they might not truly believe in. Zelda knows the war is a bad idea, but she feels her hands are tied. That generates even more conflict.

From there, embrace the messiness. If character X does a thing, then it should effect character Y who wants a different thing. Go down that rabbit hole of cause and effect, following the ripples to see where you end up. Let it get a little complicated! Complex webs of cause and effect is one of the biggest draws of the genre.

Whatever you do, just keep an ideal end to your story in mind and a method for your characters to achieve that. That will prevent you from going too far off the deep-end with your ripple effect.

Focusing on character conflict will honestly get you through any type of story, no matter the genre. For political intrigue, making the conflict not only about the world it's happening in but also only solvable through engaging with the politics of that world will be the way to go.

If you're having trouble coming up with the politics part, then you can look no further than the real world. A lot of the way I write Hyrule is based on things that are familiar to real life, such as the extreme nationalism and the loss of rights under martial law.

With so many different groups in the Legend of Zelda series, you already have a good framework for establishing sides of a conflict that you can graft real world politics onto.

One thing I will say is that stories that involve political intrigue often become consumed with the problems of the upper classes (primarily because the upper classes are the ones doing the politics). But at the end of the day, all of the politics will effect the common person the most. So if you can, try to explore what the actual effects of those politics will be. You can see this in CTB with the turncoats, refugee camps, and the mother trying to hide her sons from the draft.

But if you really can't find anything in real life to help inspire the politics of your world, just remember to ask yourself about conflict. What does X want? What is preventing X from getting it? How can X fix things? How does this effect Y, who wants a different goal?

From there, embrace the ripple effect of every character and group trying to solve their problems while causing problems for everyone else.

In conclusion:

Make your character conflict about the politics

Solve your character conflict with politics

Look to real life for ideas as to how political conflict works

Embrace cause and effect

[juleswolverton-hyde]

Not by the Moon | 04

Genre: Smut, Romance, Strangers to Lovers, Drama, Tragedy, Werewolf AU, Supernatural AU, Bookshop AU

Pairing: Bookshop keeper!/Werewolf!JB x Reader

Warnings: A sprinkle of jealous werewolf!Jaebeom and poor yet adorable attempts at coming across as human.

Summary: Every story has a purpose or goal it is dedicated to, their authors at times going to great lengths to see the project they once started to completion. Nevertheless, the things the writers swore on to see their latest art piece to completion are static.

Unchanging.

None of them swore by the Moon nor Love because they can solely genuinely swear on all that changes like themselves.

And yet, a wolf in love foolishly swore by the moon.

That is when Time truly started ticking.

Author’s Note: This chapter is from Y/N’s POV.

Previous Chapter / Next chapter

Masterlist

There are a lot of extraordinary people in the world, but you often don’t find them remarkable until you happen to stumble upon  and talk to them. The wolfish man holding tightly onto my hand, his arm draped across my shoulders, as we swagger over the pavement to his home above Paper Souls is such a curious person.

The good hour he dozed off hasn’t helped his sickly state. Even though he was nestled comfortably against me, occasionally a pained delirious whine fell from his panting lips as his features turned into a grimace. Upon waking, Jaebeom tried to dismiss his symptoms as nothing to worry about, but I insisted on getting him home as soon as possible.

“I’m sorry I ruined our outing,” he murmurs, voice strained. As we ascend the stairs to his apartment, he keeps his head bent low to focus on his steps.

Step by step. One foot before the other. There you go.

“It’s not your fault you got sick,” I reply, keeping a close eye on his movements to offer additional support if needed.

He turns his head to me, a few long black locks partially concealing the sweat on his brow. For a moment, it seems as if he wants to protest yet decides against it. Henceforth, what I get in reply is a hum resigning in the notion it’s indeed not his fault.

Is your condition causing this?

The question burns hot on the tongue, but I swallow it down. Hopefully, we’ll get to talk about it properly sometime in the future. 

The day we know each other.

We make it to the top, albeit not effortlessly since I have to steady him when he almost trips on the last step. Panic and instinct rush through me when Jaebeom threatens to topple over, so I act quickly and shoulder more of his weight after clumsily steadying us both on the narrow staircase. 

“Are you going to be alright?” I ask, out of breath. The adrenaline of the potential danger has spent whatever energy I had, the muscles in my limbs melted.

“I will be,” he weakly answers. 

I gently let his arm glide from my shoulders, the removal of the weight simultaneously a relief and a missed presence. The attempt at letting him stand on his own feet is successful, although his hand shakes as he unlocks the front door.

The feverish fingers glide from the doorknob to entwine with mine once more before his tongue runs over my lips again. Despite this being the third time it happens, it still doesn’t fail to bewilder me nor bring a boyish smirk to his face when I look at him, speechless.

“Thanks. Today nice. I-,” he starts up and averts his gaze to the side, a rosy flush on his cheeks, “I mean, today was nice.”

I put my hand on the side of his face, gently compelling him to look at me. A cheeky idea rises in my mind, tempting me to go against my very nature.

Which I do.

Standing on the tips of my toes, I close my eyes and give him a peck on the cheek. The action surprises us both because he looks utterly gobsmacked when I have gathered very piece and sliver of the courage needed to look up at him.

However, before I can utter a word, a hesitating hand reaches out to carefully brush against my cheek, the touch as light as the fall of a feather on porcelain. The gentleness of the contact forms a funny contrast to the roughness when he firmly presses his lips on mine the second after.

Musk mingled with the musty perfume of books, warmth of spices and bitter coffee with a hint of fresh cologne fills my nose and overtakes the senses. My brain short-circuits, filled with a strange primal instinct no one has ever awakened before. Notwithstanding, something in the way our bodies harmonize in the small yet passionate contact triggers it, leaving me wanting more.

Skin on skin.

Just us.

But it’s too early and we barely know each other. This isn’t right. Not now, at least.

Hence is why I pull away, taking a step back with the imprint of his moustache ticklish on my lips. 

A whimper like an abandoned puppy erupts from his throat as he chases after my mouth. Nevertheless, when I take a step back to avoid further contact, he gives up and lowers his head. However, as rapidly as disappointment had overtaken him, he rights himself and clears his throat. When he speaks up, the words come out in a mumbled mess. “I- I’m sorry. That was too direct.”

“No, it’s fine,” I reassure him, vaguely gesturing with one hand while I rub the back of my neck with the other. “I- I liked it, but let’s not- Do you... really see me that way?”

“In what way?” he asks, blinking as he gives me a blank look. But, the meaning dawns on him after a moment in which I badly try to articulate what I mean. 

He grabs my right wrist, the one he bit, and holds it up for me to see. The broken skin has already healed a bit, but it’s still sensitive and throbbing, especially now that JB puts pressure on it. “I didn’t do this out of some de- del- confused?”

“Delirious?” I help him, wondering what point he is about to try and convince me of. 

“Delirious! I didn’t do this out of a delirious frenzy. This means something to me. Something important. To me, this is us.” JB takes in a deep breath to steady himself, his voice strained as he seems to hold something in. “What I want for us. And I want others to know this because you’re my territory.”

“I’m just a friend.”

And scared of losing you to Love.

“You are, but you’re also more to me. I know you said you want to take things slow and I agree with that.’’ His expression softens, dark eyes filled with tender affection. ‘’However, I want you to know how I really feel about you.”

“I don’t want to risk our friendship.”

“Me too. Yet,” he closes the distance and cups my face, his thumbs lovingly brushing my cheeks, “you deserve to know my intentions. Know I want to take the risk when you’re ready to do so too.”

“Thank you.” I run my hands over his arms, his body heat warming my palms through the fabric of the sleeves. It’s a pleasant thought, knowing he is there to catch me should my knees give out. Which is likely to happen as the leftover tension from our trip upstairs fades and affection fills the heart. 

“For what?”

“Waiting.”

Until I figure out when it’s the right time.

He nips at the tip of my nose, his tongue cheeky in its feather light touch. “I always will. Do you have any plans tomorrow?”

“I’m going out for tea with a friend.” The delight in his expression sours as it did in the park, the confident playfulness replaced by a vicious brooding. The autumn chill cools my face, the warmth and safety of his hands fallen away. 

Turned to stone by the suppressed vehemence, I stumble over my words as I swiftly explain myself. “She is an old friend I met at university. We go out for tea or coffee often, especially before I have to go on a trip.”

“Ah, I see.” He hangs his head in remorse, but perks up immediately as if remembering something. “I got you something. Wait here.”

He rushes inside, coming back soon after with two books in his hands which he holds out to me. A collection of Keats’s poems and Songs of Innocence and Experience by William Blake.

The books I read when we met.

“For you,” JB happily announces, the bright proud ring in his voice distorting it to sound like a bark. “So you have something to read when you’re away.”

 “Thank you so much. That’s so sweet of you.” I accept the gift, showing my gratitude in the brush over his fingers as I take the books from his hands. “I should get you something in return.”

“Just send me a reminder to take my medication every day.” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “That’s all I want.”

I nod. “I can do that.”

“And a text you arrived home safely.”

“Of course.”

“And let me pick you up from the airport when you come back.”

“My, do you have any other demands?”

Lips pursed as if seriously considering the rhetorical remark, Jaebeom tilts his head to the side. “Well, eating together again would be nice. Maybe we can go around town and try out various cafés and go bookshop hopping? I could also cook for you at least once a week, though I’ll have to ask Jinyoung to teach me.”

Oh my God, he really is serious.

Before he continues adding to the evidently growing list, I cut him off. “Okay, okay, I hear you. One thing at a time, alright?”

“Right,” he chuckles, “one thing at a time.”

“I’m gonna go.” With a heavy heart full of reluctance, I initiate our goodbyes. “Go to bed and get some rest before your fever worsens. I’ll text you tomorrow.”

“Can I have one more kiss?”

“Of course.”

I stand on the tip of my toes and tenderly press my lips against his. “Goodnight, Jaebeom.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

I ascend the stairs, but do not head home immediately. Instead, I remain where I stand and turn around to wave at the wolfish man gazing down at me.

One more moment with him.

Before I set off on the homebound journey in the next.

Above, the moon is waning.

Yesterday evening, Morgan sent pictures of the place she has chosen for our next tea adventure, lyrical about the interior. Since the moment we met, in our first year of studying journalism at the local university, we have been visiting coffee shops and tea rooms around the country and occasionally written an article about them for the university’s blog. Our adventures always begin the same, never having changed in the six years we have known each other.

A picture.

And a rant about aesthetics, reviews, and the potential of having discovered a hidden gem.

The latter might be the case of Moon Bunny Coffee and Tea, a tea room inspired by the French countryside. The far wall is made of bare brick, which forms a strangely yet nice contrast to the white wooden furniture and neatly set tables. From the speakers in the corners of the establishment, instrumental pieces and French songs alternate each other to enhance the atmosphere that makes one feel as if they are truly in France. And if the interior does nothing for the imagination, the pastries and beverage names noted in French on the menu will do the trick. 

It’s only recently opened and is run by a young couple. Élise, the owner, has opened this establishment after working in various patisseries in Paris during her teenage years. However, she has now settled here with who I actually presume rather than know is her partner. According to the context Morgan sent, the tall guy with pale blond hair, oval narrow face and a leather necklace with a strange bauble - that seems to change colour - hanging from it is called Mark. The level of familiarity between the two as they work makes it easy to assume there is more than friendship, hence the suspected relation between the two.

“So, have you seen him again?” Morgan takes a sip of her cinnamon and apple tea, a smirk on her cherry red lips.

I told her about Jaebeom and the strange first encounter with him. Regardless of the weird amiability that grew between us as the hours passed in each other’s company, I could not help but remain wary. After all, the bookseller has a particular reputation thanks to the rumours created by the local gossip mill. In hindsight, it’s idiotic I used those groundless stories in my analysis or, rather, overanalysis of the kindness he showed me. Yet, I did, though they sound as absurd as they did before now that I know him better.

Notwithstanding, whereas I was losing my sanity anxious bit by anxious bit as I told her about it over the phone, Morgan’s enthusiasm grew at the same rate. Each argument in favour of the concern about my strangeness or far-fetched theory he was merely polite, she countered with a more realistic view on the situation. In the end, it’s also her input which led to me dropping by Paper Souls on the way to work and back on a daily basis.

And I’m glad she’s part of the reason I did because I might otherwise have given up after the third day of seeing the bookshelves cast in shadows. 

“I have,” I admit, unable to suppress a smile at the memory of our outing to the park.

And what came after.

The memory of the chafing of his moustache triggers a phantom of the loving warmth of his lips on mine. Cheeks heat up, remembering the roughness of his sturdy hands. A sharp sting followed by a throbbing treks through my wrist again, the half-healed wound suffering from a pleasant phantom pain.  

“Judging by that grin of yours, you’re not telling me everything.” Morgan cuts her scone in half and smears some of the homemade strawberry jam it comes with on one half, followed by a dollop of clotted cream. 

I nibble on the rice cake filled with red bean paste. Maybe it’s not a perfect partner to the tea I chose although it makes for a delicious combination regardless. The taste of red beans is an acquired one, but the subtle sweetness evens out the bitterness of the beverage. “We went on somewhat of a date.”

“Somewhat?”

“It kind of just happened.” The whiskey tea I ordered is stronger than I thought, howbeit not in an unpleasant way. Like the real drink, it goes down smoothly and warms the body from within. “He offered to go out for lunch in the park and I agreed. It was nice. Really nice.”

Especially his body heat, the safety of his presence. How protected I felt despite not knowing him all that well.

“And?”

“And?” I repeat like a parrot. I know what she’s unconsciously aiming at, but that doesn’t necessarily mean I’ll tell her outright. It’s always fun to tease the raven-haired woman a little. 

“Details, lass!” 

“We kissed,” I say, the confession hardly louder than a whisper. ‘’And I was the one to initiate it.’’

“How scandalous.” In fake shock, she clasps her hand over her mouth. “You’re a bold one, Y/N.”

“Oh, stop it.” I take a sip of tea and point at the other half of her scone. “Clotted cream with jam instead of the other way around now?”

As a fierce defender of both sides of the old discussion, Morgan indeed now smears the fluffy white cream on the other half first before she tops it off with the jam. “You really like him, don’t you?”

“I do, but I’m not sure if there’s a future for us.” I lean back, cross my arms and look out the window. 

A little distance away, there’s a metal bench and somehow an image of myself sits on it, alone. No wonder she looks glum because she is the me of the future, a woman who’s heart was devoted to the type of love that is, like humans, a plaything of Time.  

She tilts her head to the side, brow furrowed. “How do you mean?”

“It’s not my place to say this, but,’’ I turn back to her, absent-mindedly rubbing the mark on my wrist, ‘’he told me he has this condition that’s kinda like dementia, but he gave off the impression it’s also not. I don’t know what’s going on, only that there’s a deadline. A cruel one, and while I know avoiding it is futile, I’m not ready to face it nor will I ever be.”

The confusion on her face lightens to understanding concern. However, despite her features softening, there remains a hint of brooding in her attitude. “I see. It’s like that,” she murmurs cryptically as she takes a bite of her scone, more to herself than as a reply to me. “The story is repeating itself.”

“Morgan,” the mention of her name makes the raven-haired woman snap out of her reverie, “what do you mean?”

Instead of providing a proper answer, she dismisses the questions with a vague gesture. “Just the murmurs of an old soul.”

There is inherent beauty in the medieval cities of Europe that leaves one in awe wherever they go. Furthermore, the shops specialized in local goods and hidden gems add to the flair of narrow streets enclosed by tall buildings that breathe history. Nevertheless, regardless of the ancient beauty, there is nothing which can compete with a warm bed at the end of a day full of running from one end of the town to the other in search of the best chocolatiers.

Well, there is one thing.

As I’m putting on my pyjamas, my phone gives off a light buzz, indicating a new message. 

Jaebeom: Can we video call? I miss your face. 

You... You miss seeing me?

In spite of the unease of not having makeup on, I oblige and call him first. It has not even gone over once before messy black locks show up on screen. However, before he can have a good look at me, I quickly slink beneath the blanket.

“What’re you doing?” He, too, is in bed howbeit without any insecurity whatsoever. In fact, he is more than comfortable wearing not even a top regardless of the chilly weather, leaving defined collarbones and defined chest muscles on display. 

“I’m not wearing makeup, so I look horrible.”

And you showing up like this doesn’t help either.

Because the bare skin, little as it is, unleashes a storm of butterflies in the stomach. The temperature in the room rises or maybe it is simply my body reacting to the aching to run my fingertips over his definitions, the features that unintentionally unleash an absurd frenzy holding the middle between unashamed love and lust. The cheeks heat up as the need for the thick comforter decreases yet the growing discomfort is not enough to come out of hiding. 

“I’m sure you don’t.” Either intentionally or not, he puts on irresistible puppy eyes. The well-meant tenderness in his voice also stirs something in me, charmed by the kindness. “Please don’t hide. I want to see you.”

Although reluctant, I lower the sheets. 

Only to want to pull them over my head at his words and the stupidly bright smile accompanying them. “You’re even prettier like this.”

“Shut up, you weird wolf,” I grumble, jaw clenched as I strain myself not to hide again. To distract us both, I change the topic. “Did you take your meds?”

“I did! And I mean it. No, no, no! Get out from under there. Y/N, come on. I’m not lying. You are pretty. And caring and nice and-’’

“You’re handsome.” I glare at him, peeking just over the edge of the sheet. Unfortunately, my revenge isn’t successful since it merely yields a low chuckle.

Though it seems the victory is still mine because he bites on his bottom lip and softens his voice further to a timid whisper. “Even with my new look?” 

He shows off the mess of his shorter black locks, which are shaved on the side and longer on top. It’s a shame to see the long hair go because I personally think it suits him better, but he pulls the cooler style off too.

“Even more so because of it.” Although they’re essentially minor changes, it casts Jaebeom in a whole other light. He’s still a wolfish man, and I doubt I’ll ever see him as something else, but the new look gives him a more human allure. As if he’s tuned in better to life in the city instead of wandering the rough landscape in his mind. 

“I’ll tell Jinyoung he did a good job, then.” He gets up on his elbow, a view of the upper part of his chest filling the small screen. The veins in his hand form mellow ridges on the back of it, highlighting a few patches where the skin has scraped off, as he fluffs his pillow before lying down again and snuggling into it to get comfortable. “How’s Bruges?”

“It’s a really pretty city. I think you’d like it.” A wistful smile forms on my lips, in part dazed by the entrancing sight a moment ago. “I wish you were here. Wish we could get lost forever... together! I mean, get lost together. Here. In the city.”

“Are you getting sleepy?” His features soften into a dreamy expression though a cheeky spark illuminates the night sky in his eyes. 

“No,” I fiercely protest. That is, until an involuntary yawn escapes me, which makes it impossible to hide the fatigue of running about town the entire day anymore. “Maybe.”

“Go to sleep, Y/N.”

“Don’t want to. We’ve only been talking for a few minutes.” I conceal another yawn by pulling up the comforter.

“You likely have another busy day ahead. So go hit the hay and I’ll talk to you in my dream.”

“Who says I won’t do the same?’’ I remark smugly, proud of the comment that pops up and is too tempting not to make. ‘’Wouldn’t that make it our dream?”

“We’ll talk in our dream,” he corrects himself, a content hum following the correction. Notwithstanding, the delight darkens into a stern seriousness as he tries to look over my shoulder to scan the room, to inspect every nook and cranny instead of what’s on display in the background. “By the way, what’s your colleague doing? Are you alone?”

I roll my eyes and sigh. “He has his own room because he tends to want more of the local taste, if you know what I mean.”

“I don’t.” A deeply puzzled expression forms on his face, clearing the spine-chilling suspicion. “Is that code for something?”

“An affair, JB. My colleague more often than not enjoys a one-night stand, if not more, with local girls. It depends on how long we’re away.”

“Have you ever done that?” It has to be the exhaustion, but the question strangely sounds like a whine.  

“Never. In fact, you...” I bite my lip as my stomach ties itself into a nauseating knot, chest constricted with bleak worry about what he will say about the confession balancing precariously on the tip of the tongue. However, I swallow hard and continue the unfinished sentence. “You’re the first guy I’ve dated.”

“We’re dating?”

“Are we?” His question makes me wonder if we actually are, if I didn’t jump to a fantastical conclusion. Then again, we kissed, went out together, and drank coffee in his shop. Nevertheless, also judging by the curiosity in his response, I doubt it’s right for me to assume it’s true. “Well, maybe we aren’t. After all, we’ve only been to the park, so I suppose-’’

I’m wrong, because we barely know each other and yet. Yet, I kissed him. And he kissed me back. Is that anything to go by, a valid reason?

“We’re dating!” The sudden outburst catches me as much off-guard as the enthusiastic addition or, rather, plan for when I return. “I’ll cook for you after bringing you home. Afterwards, we can just sit on the couch and read. You can also nap on me to cure your jet lag. Does that count as a date?”

“I don’t know if it does according to the official terms, but,” the fatigue ebbs away, replaced by the giddiness of going home as soon as possible, “it does to me.”

“Two dates,” he murmurs thoughtfully, nodding as if confirming an unspoken notion. “We’re dating.”

Weirdo.

I watch him analyze the situation, overcome with affection. When he bites down on his index finger to suppress a broad grin, I almost have to do the same. 

“I wish I was there with you,” Jaebeom eventually notes to break the twilight hush, at last content on where we stand. The yearning of the wish is tangible in my bones because I feel the same way, though I try not to show it. “I should’ve given you a shirt or something, but I wasn’t sure if it would be good. That’s not the word. Ap... ap... appropropiate? Appropriate. If it would be that.”

“I do have the books you gave me, so I do have a piece of you here.”

But I do miss your scent. Wait, that’s weird to say. I shouldn’t say that.

Though it’s indeed strange and I don’t tell him, it isn’t a lie. Jaebeom does smell nice, like a wild forest in which the air is scented by a cologne that barely conceals its secret. The ferocious guardian in the shadows. 

 “Still, I wish I had given you something that marks you as mine.” Gaze downcast, the big wolf man pouts at the thought, sulking. 

“You have.” I hold up my wrist, the place where he bit me now nothing but a red blotch.

“It’s almost gone. I should renew that once you’re back. A shirt and bite. That should show other males we’re together,” he muses, the disappointment gone in an instant as his focus changes.

“Totally not possessive, are we?”

“I’m not,” he grumbles. “Just marking my territory.”

“JB, you are.”

“Does it bother you, make you upset?”

“Yes and no.” I take in a shaky breath, distracted by the thought of the implications I want him to be. After all, something about the feral allure melts any resistance and lets me slip into a headspace I didn’t know I had. 

Somewhere, deeply hidden in the brain, there’s a different woman, a different ego. A part of me which wants and needs him. That doesn’t mind being his possession.

His mate. 

“Don’t get me wrong-’’

“How can I get you good?”

The unintentional play on words uttered by urgent yet confused puppy eyes distracts me from the splendid explanation I wanted to give him.

How... How does he do it? Does he even know what he’s doing? Never mind.

“Don’t misunderstand me,” I begin anew, “I appreciate your concern for me and I really do feel safe with you. But you bit me. In public too! I get it’s your way of telling me you like me and maybe I don’t actually mind the mark you left behind so much-’’

“So it’s not the biting?” A boyish smirk plays on his lips. Had he had an actual tail, it would have been swishing heavily with a dangerous cheer. “I can do it again?”

“No.”

Maybe someday I’ll let you. But not anytime soon.

“But you said you didn’t mind my mark. If that isn’t a problem, why can’t I refresh it?”

“Jaebeom, please, let me finish talking.”

“Sorry.”

“Thank you.” I take in a deep breath. “Now, normal human couples don’t bite each other to let others and one another know they belong together. So let’s try to find other ways to do just that. Commonly, the girl wears the guy’s shirt. I think that’s a good starting point for us.”

“What are other ‘ways’?” he asks, evidently not too keen on the idea.

I tilt my head, trying to come up with the most frequent ways in which people casually express being taken without immediately suggesting obvious physical marks. “Necklaces, bracelets and rings are common couple items. Some even go as far as getting matching tattoos.”

“I like the sound of that, a tattoo. Permanent. Permanent human mark.”

“Let me think about that one, okay?”

“Okay.” He nods in agreement. “But, if I understand you correctly, I can give you a shirt.”

“You can.”

“And you’ll wear it because it has my scent on it.”

“That’s kind of the idea behind it,” I confirm, glad he understands the underlying meaning despite not explaining it.

He looks down at his chest only to discover he’s not wearing anything. The glance over his shoulder falls on a black shirt somewhere behind him. He turns away, grabs the piece of clothing and holds it tightly against his body when he turns back to me. “Sounds good to me.”

I guess I’ll be given a ‘welcome home’ present.

[nextqueue]

All An Act (part one)

Genre(s): romance, slow burn, angst, drama

Pairing: Ji Chang Wook x OC black female

Word Count: 3.2k

Summary: Aliah is a new foreign actress in South Korea who just got her first big break as a lead actress in a drama. Her co-lead is the ever amazing Ji Chang Wook whom she has always had a silly little crush on. 

[a/n]: I am not the best with summaries so please read and let me know what you think. (you can leave summary ideas also I don’t mind). The overwhelming lack of black writers and black characters in fanfics on this app is wild to me so I will only be writing from the angle of a black reader, if ya don’t like it I am 100% sure you can find plenty of stories to cater to your demographic here. All feedback is welcome! Hope you all are have a blessed day or night (depending on where you are from)! 

“Okay Aliah, we are going to go over the kiss scene now.” 

I feel my palms start to sweat and feel for one of my coping skills but find none because of the wardrobe. I start flicking my nails against each other to placate the need to chew on them. 

“Hey. There is no need to be so nervous. I got you.” his hands engulf my face and my heart rate picks up without my permission. This is not helping at all. I want him away from me, I need him away from me. I won’t be able to breathe if he is so close. I can’t think. 

The director yells action and I lose all my anxiety. 

He looks into my eyes willing me to understand what he is trying to convey. My eyes close on their own. The kiss was shy at first like how we discussed at the meeting then something snaps and we both seem to forget about acting. The way he pulls me to him makes me think he wants more so I give him more. I open my mouth to him and he happily dives in. His hands slide down my back and come to rest on my hips, pulling me flush against him. He is hard. I rub against him a little then pull away when a soft groan leaves his lips. I barely remember my next lines and everyone can see his internal struggle to remember his lines. 

He recites his lines perfectly after covering up his slip up by pretending he is short of breath, genius really. This is why he is one of the best actors in Korea and I aspire to be like him. 

The director yells cut and we both snap out of our stupor. I feel my face, willing it to cool down I remove myself from the set to catch my breath and process what just happened. I kissed Ji Chang Wook. The Ji Chang Wook. My hand finds its way to my lips of its own volition. Touching where his lips once laid. My makeup artist comes to touch up my makeup snapping me back to reality. 

“Hey. Calm down. It was just a kiss kiddo.” she rubs my arms lovingly.

“I know.”

“But?”

“But...it’s Ji Chang Wook. I have been a fan of his for years now and this all just seems so surreal.” I spread my legs to make it easier for her to reach my face. She is a tiny little thing, barely reaching my shoulder. 

“I understand that but you have to focus.” 

“Was it really that bad?”

“No, but I could tell you weren’t just acting because I am constantly in your face.” she looks me dead in my eyes, challenging me to say she is wrong. I can’t do anything but look away and blush.

The director calls us back for a few more takes of the scene, I can do nothing but try to still my heart for the rest of the evening. It seems like forever before the shooting is finally done and my lips, I know are completely swollen and raw from the intensity of the kisses. The director had us try at least fifteen different kisses from different angles. With each one Chang Wook was patient and gentle, always talking to me before and after and making sure to hold me gently in between. I couldn’t help but feel special. 

I’m not so dense that I would think he would catch feelings from a couple of kisses and touches. Packing my stuff up at the end of the shoot I try my best to keep the events of the day out of my mind. I don’t want to dream about him, tonight, I have managed not to so far and we have been filming for three months so far. Tonight is different though. I know I am going to, my emotions are too high and I was far too sensitive to his touches all day. The way his hands gripped my face each time like I was made of glass. The way he gazed into my eyes as if he was asking permission each time. As if he was trying to tell me something other than what the script was saying. The way his lips would brush against mine before claiming mine. The way it seemed like he was trying to brand the shape of his mouth onto mine. Wanting me to only know his lips, his shape, the feel of him, the taste.

I feel something cool touch the back of my neck making me jump and turn to face it. It is him. Standing there jacket and jeans on with a smile on his face, looking like the most perfect boyfriend. 

“Hey, you okay? I was calling your name.” I watch the way his lips form words partially because it’s a habit. After all, I’m hard of hearing, but mainly because I like looking at his mouth. 

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just deep in thought, I guess.” That wasn’t necessarily a lie.

“Mmm, okay. I was wondering...what you were doing after. Would you like to go get something to eat?”

I look around in bewilderment barely registering that he is addressing me. I search for my manager and best friend, seeing her across the set talking with the director. He follows my line of sight and looks back at me with a soft smile.

“If it is okay with your manager of course.” he concedes. 

“Oh...uh… it should be fine but let me text her.”

I watch for her reaction after I message her. She checks her phone briefly then looks over at me giving me a thumbs up. My phone pings, she is asking if I have my keys and if my phone is charged enough. I nod at her and she shoos me away after giving Wook a glare. He bows to her then turns back to me with a brilliant smile on his face.

“Great! Let’s go. I have somewhere I wanted to take you. I think you will like it.” 

He leads me outside the set to the parking lot where he guides me to a motorcycle. I almost missed the fact that he is talking to me about riding his bike because his hand is resting on my lower back and seems to be attempting to burn a hole through my clothes. 

“I hope you are okay with riding my bike.” 

“I am more than okay with it! I love motorcycles!” the smile that graces his face was everything I could have ever wanted. 

Grabbing the extra helmet from the back of his ride he turns to me looking expectantly at my hair. I quickly take my locs down from the complicated bun they are in and put them into a low ponytail. I missed one and he tucks it back in with the rest before sliding the helmet on my head. His fingers expertly clip the strap under my chin and tighten it. With each brush of his fingers against my skin, I feel my entire body heat up significantly.

“Comfortable?” I nod and give him a small smile. 

“Good. Do you know how to ride?” I nod again.

“Great.” he hops onto the beautiful beast of a vehicle and starts it. It sounds amazing and the excitement of riding finally hits me dispelling the nervousness of being with him a little. He looks back at me after he slips his helmet on, nodding towards the space behind him. I happily hop on and settle in behind his large form, finding the footrest easily. I grab onto the sides of his jacket but he has another idea. Grabbing my hands he wraps them around his torso making sure my palms are laid flat against his stomach. The nervousness settles back in tenfold, I tense up against my will. My thighs squeeze him and my hands subconsciously curl into his shirt. His stomach flexes and I swear I hear him chuckle a little.

Soon we pull out of the parking lot and begin flying down the highway back to Seoul. I relax some once we have been riding for a few minutes. The cool air feels good against my skin making the ride more enjoyable than stressful. I feel warm everywhere my body touches him and find myself drawing closer to him. My hands spread out over his stomach, I lay my chest to his back and rest my head against his broad shoulders. I feel safe.

Far too soon, we reach our destination. A little shop out of the way of the hustle and bustle of the city. He lets me dismount first then gets off to help me take my helmet off. He pulls my hair out of its hold and slips the tie around his wrist. He takes my helmet along with his into one hand then grabs my hand to lead me into the shop. The smell of beef and seafood hits me as soon as we cross the threshold. Wook calls out to someone for a table and they answer back telling us we can choose anywhere to sit. Clearly having been here before he leads me to a table in the corner of the shop a little way out of sight. Understandable, considering his fame. He makes sure I am seated comfortably at the little table before he seats himself and this warms my heart. 

I look everywhere but at him when he sits, yet I can feel his gaze heavy on my face. I am saved when this cute little old lady comes to give us the menus and hugs Wook tenderly. I can’t help but smile at the interaction. She scolds him for losing weight and not visiting often enough, then she turns to me.

“Now who is this beautiful woman?” she asks him while bowing to me. I shyly bow back as deep as I can from my seated position.

“This is my co-star in my new drama. Her name is Aliah.” for some reason my heart hurts a little at his explanation but it really shouldn’t because all he did was tell the truth.

“Pleased to meet you, Miss.” 

“Oh, you speak Korean well!” her praise is the standard for everyone that hears me speak the language so effortlessly.

“I approve. Treat him kindly please.” I bow again to her as she leaves, her words confusing me. 

“She is my grandmother’s best friend and like family.” Wook explains.

I nod in understanding then reach for a menu but his hand on top of mine stops me. Looking up at him I find he is watching me intently. 

“I can’t help but notice you don’t speak much around me. Why is that?” 

Of course, he noticed it. I don’t actively mean to do it’s just whenever he is close around me I clamp up. Honestly, I don’t know how I have been able to be around him every day and act with him. I just become a nervous anxious mess around him outside of acting. Acting is easy. Real-life isn’t.

I steel myself before looking into his eyes.

“You make me nervous.”

“I do?”

I nod my head. He still has his hand on top of mine.

“Oh, well I’m sorry. I don’t mean to. Is there anything I can do to help?” he removes his hand from mine and I desperately want it back.

“No. It’s really not you. I just…” I trail off realising what I was about to say. About to say I just like you is all.

“If it makes you feel any better you make me nervous as well. I don’t know what to do or say to get close to you and I just feel awkward. I asked you here so maybe I could do just that, get closer to you.” 

His rambling reveal shocks me. I would have never thought in a million years I could make him nervous. A giggle escapes me against my will and he looks up at me sharply.

“Sorry!” I clamp a hand over my mouth but the smile won’t leave my face.

“No, it’s fine.” his eyes seem to twinkle with mirth at my outburst.

“Should we order?” I nod enthusiastically. I ask him what he likes best here telling him I will eat whatever he orders since it is my first time. He orders a beef platter, seafood platter, a lunchbox, and a few bowls of rice for both of us. I am pleasantly surprised he ordered so much food but silently thank him nonetheless. I am starving after a whole day of filming and just snacking.

After our mutual admissions conversation began to flow easier. We talk about everything and anything. He shares stories about his family and I share mine. We laugh as he cooks the food over the grill for us. I tell him about my struggles coming to Korea as I pour Cola for the both of us. We continue chatting in between swallows of food until the subject of relationships comes up.

“So, do you have a boyfriend?” he asks the question so nonchalantly it irritates me a little. I would like there to be some sort of hesitation when asking. Looking him dead in the eyes I tell him no, I hope he understands the message behind my eyes. ‘No, I don’t have a boyfriend because I want you’.

“No? Why? Is there anyone you are interested in?” he is staring down at his rice, stabbing it and mixing it kind of roughly. His tone changed. At the end, it changed. I realise he is acting, something I have come to realise is not okay with me. Liars are my biggest pet peeve which is ironic considering my line of work now.

“Because I am picky I guess. I have someone in mind but I’m not sure he would feel the same way.” I decide to mess with him a little, if he can act so can I.

“Picky? What do you mean by that?” 

I set my utensils down giving him my whole attention.

“Well before I even came to Korea there was this idol I had always loved and respected from the time I was a little girl. You know Bang Yongguk?” he nods and sets his utensils down as well.

“It was him. For years he was my standard for men. His morals and the way he approached the world was so gentle and open. I fell for his character and personality rather than his looks.” 

“So is it him that you are interested in still?” I have his full attention now. It’s now or never Aliah.

“No, it’s not him, although I would love to meet him and speak to him at least once in my lifetime.”

“There is a new man.”

“Yes.” his eyes trace the lines on my face, his fingers tap a quiet rhythm into the table. His body is leaning towards mine. I am sure mine is doing the same.

“Who is this new man? Describe him to me.”

“I think you already know who he is.” I pick my utensils up and resume eating, breaking the spell we were in. He stares at me for a few moments before also finishing his food.

He calls for the cheque when we finish and I try to pay for my half of the food at least but he refuses, saying something about how when I am with him I will never have to pay for anything. He thanks the Granny then grabs our helmets making his way out of the shop. The Granny stops me before I can exit and pulls me down to her to whisper in my ear.

“He thinks highly of you. He has never once brought anyone here let alone a woman."

"How come?" her admission startles me.

"This is his safe spot. He comes here when he wants a home-cooked meal but isn't able to go home. I'm the closest thing to family he has in the city. He doesn't bring anyone here because he wants to keep his personal and family life completely separate from his line of work."

I slowly nod as she sends me off after dropping that bomb on me. It makes me view Wook in a completely different light once again. This is something that has been happening since the first day we met.

I know he comes from a single-parent family and is an only child. I am not surprised he turned out as well mannered and kind as he is after speaking with his mother once over a video call. The way he approaches people though is unique, he watches them first to see how they react to the environment then approaches them in a way that makes them comfortable. The first time we met he approached me with a smile on his face and kind words on his lips. He made me feel comfortable like I was part of the team. Anything I didn’t understand he was kind enough to translate. He was patient and quite understanding almost to the point where it became overwhelming, almost. He knew exactly when to back off and give me my space. 

The ride home was peaceful, so peaceful I fell asleep. Never in my life have I felt so safe with someone who was not my immediate family. 

“Aliah. Hey. Wake up beautiful.” 

I open my eyes to Chang Wook’s face inches from mine. He is holding me up in the seat of the bike. I rub the sleep from my eyes and smile at him. It’d be nice to wake up to his face every day. I caress his cheek taking in all of his features, the unevenness of his eyes, the slight crookedness in his jaw, the few blemishes he has are all that makes him so perfect to me. In my haze, the only thought running through my head is to kiss him. God, I want to kiss him so badly. 

“We are here.” I know he feels the shift in energy, the tension I created, so why isn’t he acting on it. 

He helps me off the bike and takes the helmet off then takes my hand, leading me inside the apartment complex. I don’t want him to go. That’s all I say to myself as we reach my door and I key in the code.

“Do you perhaps...want to come inside?” I shyly ask. I know hope is shining brightly in my eyes, I should feel embarrassed but I can’t bring myself to care enough to be. 

He hesitates, a war clearly raging within him.

“As much as I would love to, and trust me I want to so very badly, I don’t think I should.” he kisses my hands and bids me good night. I watch him until I can no longer see him down the hallway then I rush inside and run to my living room window. I catch the last glimpses of him as he exits the building, mounts his bike and rides away.

What was I thinking! Honestly, what was I planning to do after if he came in? Becky is asleep in her room, I vowed to wait until marriage, he doesn’t seem like the one-night stand type. Stupid, stupid, stupid, that’s what you are stupid. A dummy. What is this man doing to me?

[pumpkinpaix]

Hi I don’t know if anyone has asked you this already, but do you find it strange that we are never given either of the Nie brothers’ given names nor Jin ZiXuan’s, when it’s common practice (at least in the show) to address yourself by your given and courtesy names?

Hey there! :D No, no one has asked me this yet, ahaha.

To be honest, I don’t find it strange, but that’s mostly because I think MXTX assigned names as it was convenient/as it suited her. I do think in some cases, you can try to find textual reasons, like limited POV (@hunxi-guilai made a post about how that might explain why Jiang Cheng is disproportionately referred to by birth instead of courtesy name here).

In the case of Jin Zixuan, I think that makes a lot of sense. Since mdzs and cql are largely from Wei Wuxian’s POV, and he clearly already knows Jin Zixuan, there’s no need for him to reintroduce himself, which is usually where we get people mentioning both their names. I don’t have any textual reasoning for the Nie bros’ lack of birth names ahahaha.

I will, however, use this as a springboard to mention a few things I find generally interesting about the way naming conventions appear to vary between sects/interesting points about address in general. There’s like no deep meta here, just like. “I noticed this thing, and I think it’s interesting”. (hope that’s okay /o\)

One: The Jin sect is the only sect that uses generational character markers (Guang, Zi, Ru). Establishing that convention makes Jin Guangyao’s courtesy name a massive slap in the face I think. (a, for giving him the wrong generational marker, which implies that he’s never actually going to be recognized as a son/that jgs really just didn’t care to even get it right, and b, for reusing his birth character instead of bothering to give him something new–every other character who has a birth and courtesy name gets two entirely unique names, but not jgy.) It’s a cool way of implying certain things about his status, how his father regards him without stating it outright, how others might see him because of that etc.

Two: The Wen sect appears to almost exclusively use birth name–in fact, the only two characters from the Wen sect revealed to have courtesy names are Wen Ning (Wen Qionglin) and…. Wen Ruohan. Well, and Wen Zhuliu, but he was originally Zhao Zhuliu, so idk if that really counts, since his courtesy name predates his induction into the Wen sect. Wen Qing, Wen Chao, and Wen Xu are referred to by birth name only by both themselves and everyone around them for the entirety of the story, which seems rather strange, given that all of them are high-ranking members of the family (Wen Xu is the heir??). Sizhui is not given a courtesy name by his birth family, but by Lan Wangji.

(an aside, it’s been mentioned before by others, but historically, courtesy names were bestowed upon adulthood; however, in CQL, we see Wei Wuxian picking out Jin Ling’s courtesy name before he’s born. it’s possible this is a practice that differs from sect to sect, but again, very little to no textual support for that speculation ahahaha)

Wen Ning’s courtesy name is used only once by Wei Wuxian in a moment of extreme distress at the Guanyin temple. It reads, to me, like switching registers to indicate the high emotional levels of the situation rather than anything about respect/social relations, in the same way that like, lwj switching between “wei ying/wei wuxian” can indicate moments where emotions are running high. I hc that the intimacy/distance of birth/courtesy names are switched in the case of Wen Ning/Wen Qionglin (ie, only people who are intimate with him would be expected use Qionglin) but that has absolutely zero basis in any fact, cultural convention, or textual evidence. I just like it because it warms my heart. feel free to roast me for it, i can accept that criticism.

Three: Both the Lan sect and the Nie sect address by courtesy name, even within their own family. (Lan Qiren calls his nephews “Wangji” and “Xichen”. Sizhui and Jingyi call each other by courtesy name. Nie Mingjue calls his brother “Huaisang”.) Why? we don’t know! We could maybe try and meta about it in the case of the Lan sect, I think (they’re more formal in general etc.), but we have so little knowledge of the Nie sect that I think it’s functionally pointless to try and dig there. I feel like trying to come up with any plausibly supported reason is going to be a stretch.

Four: A’Cheng vs A’Xian. Jiang Yanli uses Jiang Cheng’s birth name to form his diminutive, but uses Wei Wuxian’s courtesy name to form his. I’ve seen people ask why she doesn’t call him A’Ying, which would be more consistent, but I hc that this is because “Wuxian” was given by her father, so her using “A’Xian” is meant to strengthen that familial tie. “Ying” is from before he was part of their family. “Wuxian” is something given to him by the Jiang family, so using it, I think, is a subtle way of emphasizing how much she really considers him to be her brother. (If you’re curious, in the flashback when he first arrives at Lotus Pier, the audio drama has her calling for him as “A’Ying”.)

Five: Yu-fu’ren. I mentioned this on an addition to another post a while ago, but I’ll copy the relevant passage from chapter 51 here again:

虞夫人就是江澄的母亲，虞紫鸢。当然，也是江枫眠的夫人，当初还曾是他的同修。照理说，应该叫她江夫人，可不知道为什么，所有人一直都是叫她虞夫人。有人猜是不是虞夫人性格强势，不喜冠夫姓。对此，夫妇二人也并无异议。

Yu-fu’ren was Jiang Cheng’s mother, Yu Ziyuan. Of course, she was also Jiang Fengmian’s wife [fu’ren], and once cultivated with him as well. By all reason, she should be called Jiang-fu’ren, but for some unknown reason, everyone had always called her Yu-fu’ren. Some guessed that perhaps because Yu-fu’ren had a forceful temperament, she disliked taking her husband’s name. Neither husband nor wife raised any objections to this.

I think this is actually a pretty interesting microcosm of the themes of mdzs. We don’t actually know why Yu Ziyuan is called Yu-fu’ren; we’re given the equivalent of a rundown on local gossip and that’s it. I feel like it embodies a little bit of the “what people say about you becomes the truth and then influences your fate” theme that runs through mdzs. Did Yu Ziyuan WANT to be called Yu-fu’ren? Did she request it? Is her husband actually fine with it? The audience doesn’t get any of their internal landscape and is instead given a leading interpretation of the situation. How is our opinion of her then influenced?

To be clear, I don’t necessarily think that was necessarily the intention of this passage (maybe it was! or maybe mxtx just wanted to call her yu-fu’ren and realized she had to come up with some justification for it. i really couldn’t tell you); I just think that regardless of intention, its existence in relation to the larger themes of the novel can present a cool juxtaposition, if you dig a little bit.

Six: Song Lan, a respected cultivator, is more often referred to by his birth name, including people who are not intimate with him (normally, this would be rude), while Xiao Xingchen (who is intimate with him) calls him by courtesy name. Why?? We also don’t know. Does this lend support to my earlier headcanon about Wen Ning/Qionglin having a reversed intimacy/distance implication?? not… not really, but I like to think it at least kind of shows a precedent….. orz.

Seven: I find Xue Yang’s courtesy name, Xue Chengmei (成美), really fun ahaha. It comes from the phrase, 君子成人之美, an idiom that essentially means, “a gentleman always helps others attain their wishes”. Jin Guangyao gave it to him (not sure if this is canonical or extracanonical–i heard about it in an audio drama extra, much like how i get all my information orz) which I think is greatly amusing for obvious reasons.

Eight: Lan Wangji actually changes Sizhui’s birth name, even though you wouldn’t be able to tell just from hearing it. His original birth name is 苑, an imperial garden, but Lan Wangji changes it to 愿, as in wish (愿望) and to be willing (愿意), among other very beautiful sentiments. partially im sure to protect his identity, but also because. you know.

Basically all this is just to say, I think the naming/address conventions in mdzs are pretty weakly conceived, but you can find interesting things in them if you go looking! and we all know i love to go looking /o\

[ilguna]

Lacuna - Chapters 9-12 (f.o)

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

warnings; swearing. MURDER, GORE.

wc; 12.1k

NOTES; I give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

-- CHAPTER NINE --

Most tributes would trade off with one of the others when they get tired. But there’s three problems when it comes to that, and they’re all very valid in your situation.

The first one is that you aren’t tired. At all. You feel like if you got up right now, you’d be able to run around the entire arena twice before you’d feel tired. Sure, you’d break a sweat but besides that, you’re wide awake. The adrenaline is pumping, and it doesn’t seem like it’s going to stop anytime soon.

The second reason why you won’t wake any of them up, is because you don’t trust them. Mainly Trink, Eytelle, Allio and Lennox. Thyme is absolutely loyal, you know that. She would have survived just fine on her own had you not convinced the others to let her in. But she’s under some sort of safety net for the meantime. If you wanted to run off, you’re sure that she’d stick along, because you had offered her this chance at safety. 

You’re not too entirely sure about Finnick anymore, which is a disappointment in itself. The fact that you can’t trust the one person that you were hoping to count on during this entire event. You two would lean on each other, and you would support him as best as possible. Keep each other from dying in case one of you get hurt, want to kill one of the careers or get sick. All the possibilities of being together through the tough shit and it’ll never happen.

There is a partial chance that Finnick is playing it up with his friends already, but he hadn’t mentioned it to you. He didn’t bring it up to you in the chance that he had, when the both of you were talking a couple of hours ago. To be fair, you hadn’t mentioned the same, but with Trink and Eytelle. But he’s always been honest with you, you just thought that he would go first. 

Maybe you’re relying on him too much. You’re forgetting how to stand on your own feet because you’re thinking he’s going to support you. Is that why he’s keeping things from you?

The third reason is that you’re wide awake because you’re worried about three. When three will show up, what their intentions will be. If you’ll be allowed to wake up and take Finnick and Thyme before he tries to kill all of you. If he’ll think that two others is too much, since all you did was spare his own life. Unless there was more with him, but you had only seen him. 

It’s hard to fall asleep, you’ve tried, but there’s always sounds going on in the woods. Branches snap, leaves get turned up out of nowhere. Birds will chirp, even though you’re sure that they should be sleeping like the rest of the forest. But it seems to have come alive in the nighttime, exactly what you don’t need. You hope that the gamemakers won’t send anything towards you guys. They have a reputation of sending things during the night when the tributes have fallen asleep.

You need the sleep as much as the others do. It’s been a couple of hours, you’ll force yourself to fall asleep, it doesn’t take very long. As much as you hate to say it, Finnick will probably be comforting enough to soothe the mind. You’ll be out like a baby in less than thirty minutes.

Of course, with that thought, you yawn. You struggle to keep your eyes open, and then you succumb to the yawn entirely. When you’re done, you freeze almost immediately with the pair of blue eyes that stare back at you in the forest. Mouth still hanging open, your arm locked around Finnick’s shoulder.

Suddenly, there’s another pair of eyes just beside it, and when you see that they’re glowing a little bit--you would not be able to see human eyes that clearly in the dark--you begin to worry what they are. Because there’s only one species so flexible to make the fantasy to come to life. 

Muttations. Mutts.

You pinch Finnick’s upper arm as hard as you can, and then slap your hand over his mouth. He jolts awake, and you hold him down. From the very bottom of your eye, you can faintly see his own eyes look up to you. Confused, probably frustrated by the hand. But when you don’t move from where you’re looking, he follows the stare.

The eyes keep multiplying. From two to four to eight to sixteen.

How are you going to tell the others?

You slowly remove your hand, and Finnick slides up next to you. Your left hand grabs the nearest knife, and you clutch it in your hand like your life depends on it. Finnick grabs his sword, since he still doesn’t have his trident or spear. Those are left in the middle, because you thought to be going back for them pretty soon. 

Finnick inches forward, his hand on your chest briefly to hold you back as he shakes Lennox awake. Lennox squints at Finnick, unsure of who he is almost, and then Lennox’s eyes widen. He turns to see the eyes, which are beginning to light up the area on all their own.

And just like that, it’s a chain. Lennox gets Trink awake, Trink gets Allio, who reaches over just barely to touch Eytelle, earning a snarl because of it. Finnick is very slow when he gets Thyme, and pulls her back to where you are.

“What do we do?” Trink whispers.

Another growl from in front of you. You slowly inch around the tree to see only one opening. You slide on your backpack, the others following.

“The path.” you don’t point, but they seem to get it. You’re the first to get to your feet, and once they’ve all followed, slowly turning their bodies in the direction that you’ll be going, you count down.

Once it hits one, you grab Finnick’s hand tightly, and then bolt off. Finnick has a hard time keeping up with you for a second, but the screams behind you are enough to inspire him to go faster. All you can hear from Eytelle is how they’re getting faster, that they’re giant, the size of bears. 

“They are bears!” She shrieks.

The branches easily whip at your face, leaving little cuts wherever they hit. They begin to sting for a moment, but the second the next one hits, you forget about it. At least the blood going down any exposed skin and under the clothes--if they hit hard enough--is your own blood. 

Finnick sees that you’re taking it after a while, and he goes just fast enough to take most of the hits after that. There are a few you still have to cover your face for, but for the big ones, he holds them long enough for you to slip through. Everyone behind you, it’s every man for themselves.

The adrenaline is still pumping just fine. You felt this coming, you knew that they would release something like that, because they can’t just let you guys have one simple, happy night. It could very well be a punishment for not creating drama between you guys and the boy from district three, but what do they know? Who’s to say that he won’t come in later and cause just as many problems?

You and Finnick have just made it to the bushes that touch the field in the middle, when a scream cuts off the panting and rapid feet. You fall, trying to catch your breath back, knife still in your hand tightly, Finnick leans over, hands on his knees as he tries to catch his breath.

You watch as they come out of the forest. Thyme, Trink, and Lennox.

“Where’s the other two?” Finnick asks, out of breath as he motions towards the woods.

“Get off her!” Allio screams, Finnick helps you to your feet, and you point at Thyme and Trink.

“Stay here.”

You feel stupid for running back in, But you’re pulling knives out of your waistband before you even know what you’re up against. The first one flies from your fingers, and you watch as the bear falls, feeling the ground shake beneath your boots from his weight. 

Eytelle is a goner. She’s stretched out, and they’re still attacking her. Her screams are loud, garbled with tear-filled sobs as she pleads for it to end. And then the mutt will take another bite, and she screams again.

Allio is in Lennox and Finnick’s hands.

You try to get around the bears, wasting your knives on them. And the second you get a big enough clear to kill Eytelle, she looks directly at you. You have the pleasure of watching the knife getting lodged in her head, as it hits the dead leaves on the ground again. Listening as the cannon goes off.

Your third one, already. So early in the morning.

You turn, taking off towards the boys, two hands on Finnick, you shove. He tumbles with the others, bringing them down. You’re about to jump yourself, since it would be much easier to fall than to run, when a red hot, searing pain goes over your back.

You falter, trying to collect yourself just enough to get past the bushes. Tears are brimming your eyes when you get on the other side. And then, your legs buckle, and you find yourself with a face full of grass.

“(Y/n)!” Finnick gasps, all he does is barely touch your back and the tears spill over. A cry of pain leaves your mouth, and you're shaking your head against the grass.

“Stop! Please,” You sob, clenching your teeth.

“We need to get her under the cornucopia.” Trink says softly, coming over to help Finnick out. They get you up the same way they did to Allio, but instead of holding you back, they’re trying to support you so you don’t fall. 

You’re trying to hold back the moans of pain. But each time one of them jerks by accident, the hot pain comes back, and it’s burning. Licking up every inch of your back.

They’ve just laid you across one of the boxes full of clothes, beginning to dig through the others. Thyme is very carefully helping you peel off your jacket, and then the shirt. When the shirt proves difficult, you raise it to your neck, since it doesn’t need to come off completely, just expose your back so she can get a look at it.

“We need water.” Thyme says, “to clean this out.”

Finnick is immediately offering up his water, uncapping the bottle, when Allio mutters, “Why should we? She killed Eytelle.”

The others have their heads screwed on right though, because they all look at him like he’s insane, “She stopped her from suffering, you would have wanted her to die slowly?”

“Maybe I did.” Allio mutters, turning away from you guys. 

You’re not sure if he’s embarrassed now, since they make a pretty good point. It’s the entire reason why you stuck back. She may be a bitch but she needs to die a quick death like the rest of you. To draw it out would be an asshole move.

Which means that the others might not think how you thought. They might make the tribute plead but you’re thinking that they won’t drag it out. Of course, Eytelle was a friend, so they probably wouldn’t want her to die a slow death.

You’re hoping that you didn’t piss off the gamemakers. Because they’re all about shows, and so you fighting would have made a great experience, raised the stakes. But then killing Eytelle would have ruined all of it, since she had plenty of time left. Where she was being mauled and where the middle sits, isn’t that far from each other.

You guys would have been forced to listen to her agonized screaming for so many hours. Because that’s what the games are about, a show. There’s no better way to have one than torturing a poor teenager until they die an unnatural death. Not like this entire thing isn’t unnatural in the first place.

“Don’t move,” Thyme is quiet, and you can feel Finnick hold you down a little bit, even Lennox comes into help to make sure that you don’t jerk.

Clenching your teeth, you close your eyes as tightly as possible. With hands enclosed into fists, you try not to scream the second that the cool water is poured over your back. She does it fairly close so it’s not hitting your back like a bag of rocks. A low moan leaves your mouth, and you can’t help but to hate yourself for going to kill Eytelle for them. 

If you had let her die like they wanted, you wouldn’t have to go through this pain. But here you are, a handful of claw marks down your body. Burning like the red sun, like the heat continues to go up with each passing second. You feel like your entire back has been doused in gasoline and lit on fire.

It burns. 

You get used to the water after a while. Trink offers to get more, Allio says that he’ll go with her, and then they leave you, Finnick, Lennox, and Thyme.

“This fucking sucks,” you complain, huffing a little bit.

“Thank you.” Lennox doesn’t elaborate, but you can guess what it’s about.

He gets up and moves to the back of the little building, digging through what’s back there. You watch when he grabs something, and then comes out, dropping it in front of you on the ground. There, sits a spear covered in gold. Or, since the Capitol is rich and they love to make luxury items, it could very well be made out of gold, the entire thing from handle to blade tip.

Lennox doesn’t bother to say anything as he goes back to digging, you know exactly what he’s looking for, and he’s not going to find it. Finnick will have to do with a spear just like you. On the same goddamn playing field once again but it seems like you guys aren’t as open as you’d hoped the both of you would be.

You’re not saying anything because you’re hoping that he will first. Tell you of the little alliance going on between the boys, so you can tell him of the one going on between the girls. Especially now since there’s one less member, it just makes a tighter circle, easier to open up and reveal true personalities. They’re not stupid, they’re going to find out that you’re not as dumb as you play it out to be.

Maybe Finnick will come open about the fact that the entire love thing was a joke too. That he was doing it for sponsors, because the interview was a perfect time to set it up, and kissing out here will be a beautiful way to execute it. He’s buttering you up so you won’t be able to kill him when the time comes. But you’ve gained three, as he’s still stuck at zero.

As far as you’re concerned, no damage has come up just yet. You’re as clean as a whistle, and it plays just fine. Your brain still functions like it has before, you’re just slowly adjusting to how it needs to be. You’re wide awake still, and you’re sure that you’ll crash as soon as you feel safe--an adjustment since you’d sleep heavily on most days--and you haven’t been hungry since you ate, which was hours ago. You should be hungry, even if it were just a little bit.

If you have to kill Finnick, you’ll be able to do it. It only gets easier with time, right? Like swallowing a hard pill, just learn how much water you need to take it down with, and go from there. You’re ahead of the game.

You’re going to go home.

Your eyes drag to where Lennox is. You can see his back is turned, no more hands are on you as far as you can tell. Finnick is standing off to the side, staring off into the night. Thyme, you’re not sure where she is.

“Allio and Trink on their way back?” you ask, reach down to the spear slowly, eyes glued to Lennox.

“Year, pretty far off though.” Finnick mutters, “Your back hurts?”

Finnick turns, and you shake your head at him, pushing yourself up to sit. It does hurt, it feels like a bitch. You can’t move any of the muscles back there without a stabbing pain going with it. At least the water helped, even if it was just a little bit.

You try to play off you sitting up, with the spear in your hand as like you’re just testing it out. You pretend to move it around in your hand, getting a feel for it. But when you do stand up, wandering around the boxes what looks like aimlessly--but you’re really starting to move your way to Lennox--you see something.

The person jumps, a scream leaving their throat, which makes Lennox turn immediately. You draw your arm back, right hand on the spear, which sends the pain spiraling in your upper back. Reaching over with the left, your hold onto it tightly. Soon, you’re going for a stab.

It’s successful, and the cannon goes off. The kid, who must be from twelve, falls dead onto the ground, golden spear sticking out of them. You can see the blood gathering in their stomach, and spilling onto the blood around them. With a tilt of your head, your eyebrows draw in when you look over them a little more.

“He’s--he’s twelve.” you choke out, stumbling back. 

A faint feeling comes over you, and you reach back to grab something to hold yourself up with. You come across a whole lot of nothing, and before you can fall, Finnick catches you in his arms.

And the world turns black for good.

-- CHAPTER TEN --

If you’re going to kill anyone first, by your own hands--besides the four other people you have already killed--inside of the alliance, you think that it should be the girls first. Or girl, you’re not too fond of knocking Thyme out just yet. She would be easiest though. You take her down somewhere nice, like the waterfall that you think is hidden somewhere in the water, and you drown her or something.

Spear her to death, even though that’ll be painful unless you get her in the head the first time. Really, anything that might take her out, that includes you not being anywhere near the others, Finnick included. You might have suggested her to the group but the longer she sticks around, the more she learns. The more Trink and the others grow attached, the harder it’ll be to cut her off without the others pitching a bitching fit.

You know Finnick likes her. With the way that he talks to her and all of that. They like to share a certain look sometimes. One that you’re not sure how to decipher, but you do know that you don’t like the looks of it at all. It’s like they’re holding secrets that they won’t let you in on, much less let you know that they have them in the first place.

Actually, scratch that, they’ve basically let you know. You’ve asked several times to know what they’re giggling about, and they give you some fucking glance. The type you use to brush someone off if they’re babbling about something incoherent. It’s like if a drunk family friend--you have experience with your dad’s old friends that liked to come around when he was home--that tries to give you advice on fashion even though they’re wearing some old ass rags. It’s a look of you being under them.

Trink, Lennox and Allio don’t treat you like that at least. It’s like the more that time passes between all of you, you’re drawn more to the career pack. As Finnick ostracizes himself and finds more of a friend in Thyme than you.

You’re tired of the giggling and the glances and so you’ve taken a walk all the way down the lake. Which is where you’ll sit and watch the water, because you can’t fucking stand whatever the hell is going on back there.

During the time that you were out, medicine was sent in from one of your sponsors. Thyme lathered it on, Finnick did bedside and sat by you the entire time basically. It’s healed everything on your back nicely, Finnick says all that’s left are pink scars, but it still stings if you move the wrong way. You’ll put on another thin layer tonight, but that’ll be it. You guys can save the rest for later or something.

Eytelle, the boy from twelve and the girl from nine showed up in the sky last night, three more down. The total dead is eleven, and there’s still six of you in the alliance. Seventeen minus twenty-four is seven. Six if you’re not including yourself. Six more people until the alliance breaks off. Probably less.

Besides that, everything is as it was before. Lennox snuggles up to Trink. Allio is bitter, looking for a fight in everything that you do. Because he wants to believe that you did it out of pleasure. You were satisfied a little bit because it lessened one person in the group. One more person until you get to go home. But that’s it. You hated everything about it.

And had you known that you would get hurt because of it, you would have let her be there in pain and saved your own ass. Those couple of hours with it healing felt like an absolute bitch, and you would give anything not to go through that pain again. It’s as simple as that.

The arena has been unusually quiet, but it’s like that always. Everyone is hiding, and trying to find food to eat. Getting set up where they want to stay for the next couple of weeks. If you guys work quickly, it can just be a singular week, but that’s not going to happen. Five days have passed and only eleven people are dead. You have a feeling that this is going to be dragged out a lot longer.

You hate it here. You hate it more than you thought you would, because it’s not going how you planned. 

Pushing yourself up, you swipe your backpack and spear from the sand, before wading into the water, using the spear to see how deep the water gets. You’re sure that it’s going to get to your chest, but it never goes above the waist. The water is fairly cold, but all it does is wake you up more, keeping you on your toes.

You’re being careful as to make sure that you’re not disturbing anything in the water. If something grabs your ankle and drags you under, you’ll be fine for the most part. You can hold your breath for a good while, but the problem would be fighting and trying not to lose all your air while doing it. When people are thrown around underwater, they have a tendency to lose the air that they’re holding.

You’ve seen it before with the neighborhood boys your brothers used to wrestle back when you were younger. Caspian was there most of the time, and they’d tackle each other, go underwater and you’d just watch the bubbles go to the surface. Worried about if they’ll be able to know that the other person doesn’t have anymore air left over. 

Eventually they’d pop up to the surface, take in a huge gasp of air, and then do it all over again. 

You never joined in because of these fears, but thinking back on it now, it would have helped. Had you been in the situation yourself, you would know how to take care of it, if you were dragged under. 

The sound of the waterfall isn’t that far off, and in fact, you can see exactly where it is. It’s off to the left, with a pile of rocks, which makes up the waterfall in the first place. You go ahead with going inside when you’re close enough. If you weren’t wet before, you are now. 

Inside of the waterfall is fairly lit up, but at night it has to be pitch black. As far as you can tell, no one has been inside of here yet. There’s no sign of footprints in the moss, which means that maybe no one has thought of coming in here yet.

It really sucks that you had suggested this to the other two. Had you not, you could really disappear off into here and they would have no goddamn clue. They’d think you ran off, maybe died if they heard a random cannon, only to see you’re alive when you don’t appear in the night sky.

It’s also got to be really fucking cold at night with the water and the rocks. Like living in a basement, the cold tends to settle a lot better. It’d be impossible to sleep at night if you didn’t have a sleeping back. You’d end up shivering and then dying of hypothermia. Trying to get a fire started in here?

Not only stupid, but also useless. They’d see the fire clearly through the waterfall, a random ass light source would draw anyone with the right mind. You know you’d head for it, take out anyone who thought that they’d be able to get away with it. It would be their own damn fault. Then again, the cold will do shit to people. And then, it would be useless because the wood would be wet the second you go through the waterfall. 

It’s a really sucky spot to be, but it’s better than nothing you suppose.

Sitting down, you dig through the backpack, drinking some of the water, and then nibbling on whatever your hands find first. 

Twelve people left in the games, excluding yourself. Five that you’re sticking around and seven that are spread out somewhere in the arena. Some of those seven aren’t any good, like the boy from ten, the girl from twelve, and so on. The useless districts, they’ve only survived this long because they’ve gotten lucky. They run into the wrong person once, and they’ll be dead meat.

You need to find a way to wipe out Trink, Lennox or Allio. As you were saying earlier, it would probably be easiest to go with Trink, but the boys are the stronger ones. Allio already is paranoid about all the shit you do. Simply you walking off rose suspicious which you not-so-kindly told him to go fuck himself in reponse. You don’t need him on your back for jack shit. 

It should be him, you should wipe out him. But he won’t go anywhere with you in private. It will have to be either Trink or Lennox. However, the more you think about Thyme and Finnick, you’re starting to think that it wouldn’t be so bad killing her after all. The others won’t care that much, she’s not a career. They need you and Finnick, she’s just an accessory.

Then again, you really would like to take out Lennox. Even the playing field a little bit. The three boys could wipe you, Trink and Thyme out with the blink of an eye. If you’re quick enough, you’ll be able to get away, but it won’t be unscathed. Even having two of them alive is still risky business.

You were already going to go for Lennox, so why not?

Kill Lennox, draw Trink in closer to you, and try to convince Allio that you’re not doing anything wrong. Maybe you can try to pin it on Thyme, have the job done for you, and Finnick will have to turn back to you.

Allio was the one that was worried about Thyme, right? Because she let her district mate run off? 

It’s not a bad idea. The only problem is that you’ll be creating mass suspicion and it’ll create tension sooner than it needs to be. The faster you guys split up, the less you have to worry about. If no one trusts each other, then there is no alliance to have. 

Sneaking out of the waterfall, you’re drenched in water again, feeling like a drowned cat for a little as you have to go all the way back to the middle by walking through the water. Then the sand sticks to your shoes like mud, a couple of pieces do get into your shoe entirely, and you have to pull the shoes off.

Then, you find yourself stripping off the jacket, your socks, and your shirt. The pants you can deal with, but everything else is squishy and it feels gross. By the time you’ve reached the cornucopia, you’ve successfully rung out your shirt and socks, the shirt being back on your body while the socks are hidden somewhere on the backpack for further drying. The jacket seems to have a never ending flow of water.

Trink looks up at you. She’s sitting on the ground, holding her arm. Her face twists angrily for a second, “What the fuck do you want?”

“What?” you ask, surprised by the hostility. Had you said something before you left that pissed her off?

“Don’t play pretend. You and your fucking boyfriend planned this,”

“Planned what?” you ask, looking to see that Lennox and Allio don’t look too thrilled to see you standing in front of them either. You take a step back, worried that they’re going to attack you like a pack of angry dogs.

“Attacking us and then leaving.” Lennox favors his left leg more than his right, “So you can get a head start.”

“That is--” you turn to look behind you, all you see is a short amount of field and then the trees, “They left?”

“You really have no clue?” Trink sounds nicer now.

They left you out of this? They attacked and then left you to deal with them? Finnick took Thyme over you and just… went?

“I didn’t fucking--” you can feel the anger swelling, and now do you know what you were feeling earlier. It was jealousy, you were jealous over the fact that Finnick was talking to her more than you, was acting like you knew nothing anymore.

But now it’s anger.

“I didn’t know.” you tell them, sitting down on the nearest chest, shaking your head, elbows on your knees and you place your face in your hands, “I can’t fucking believe that they would do this.”

“Glad to know that we’re in the same boat.” Allio mutters, but it’s not that harsh, maybe he trusts you now.

They’re so fucking dead the second you get your hands on them. Dead.

-- CHAPTER ELEVEN --

You wonder how agonizingly painful it is to watch two of what looks like the best tributes you’ve gotten in a long time, turn their backs on each other and not even bother to find the other. If Mags is pulling her hair out right alongside Elysia, because you can picture it now. Fistfuls of Mag’s white hair and blonde hair from Elysia’s stupid synthetic wig.

They have to have sponsors lined up the wazoo, and the further that time goes on, the more expensive shit is going to start being. So if you’re going to do anything of significance, you’re sure that you have to hurry the fuck up. Just so that they all don’t go to waste and you’ll be able to use their money a little bit.

Although, you’re sure that no news is good news at this point. You’ve reached a week and a half already, but no one is dropping like flies, as you’re sure that the Capitol is hoping for. The only person that has died is the girl from district twelve, and that’s about it. No one even killed her, you’re sure.

You, Trink, Allio and Lennox are having trouble coming across people as it is. You haven’t seen a goddamned person since the boy from district twelve was inside the cornucopia, and that’s really saying something about how the games have been structured so far. The poor girl probably starved to death because she had no skill whatsoever.

That must have been boring as hell. You’re not sure how the girl did it though, going so long without food and water. Each time you and Trink take up the woods, all it seems is like there is food and water. Which was there before the girl had dropped dead, they didn’t just up the production just because she died.

Actually, there have been more deaths. The boys from eight and ten, no clue what got to them either. None of you had gotten your hands on them at all. It’s been serene since Finnick and Thyme left. And speaking of that, you haven’t heard a goddamn thing about them either.

You have a feeling where they might be, but you flat out refuse to go to the waterfall. It’s not just you being stubborn anymore, it’s genuine betrayal that they would do that. If they had thought that you disappeared for a few hours because you were running away, they’re stupid. You wouldn’t have done it without getting a few licks in on the pack, and you would have told them.

Well, maybe you wouldn’t have told them with all that has been happening lately. They can believe that they did the right thing, even with the week that has passed, and they can also believe that you’re coming, but it’s not going to happen. You’re hoping that they don’t come across you at all, because you’re not making friends anymore. The boy from three got his pass, but former friends? Betrayal really is a bitch, isn’t she?

Continuing off of that, you’re not really looking forward for what the gamemakers have in mind for people who don’t spice shit up. Which is why you’re going to kill Allio tonight. Take first watch, wait till the others are asleep and then stab him when the time comes. Pretend like Finnick or one of the others came and attacked you, and play it from there.

You’ve built up trust. You’ve got them relying on you for food as if you’re some personal chef. You go down to the lake, pond, whatever and fish up whatever you can get. Normally you stick to four, on days that you’ve had to skip the entire day without eating, you bring back more. You’re getting them to shrink their stomachs. They complain but they know that you’re right.

Sadly, this only means that the future generations coming from the rich districts will know the tactic in being able to starve yourselves and live on longer, and still have that much energy. This will only help out them, but as for the kids back home in the poor districts, you’ll wander around inside of the arena and point out the berries and leaves that you do know. As if you’re giving a lesson in herbal remedies or some shit. 

You’re hoping that the Capitol is allowing them to tune in to those parts, and that the sponsors are seeing just how capable you are. You feel like some villian from a book that your mother used to read to you before bed. The types that walk around their little lair after they kidnapped the hero, as they give away every single detail of their plan. Because you’ve done it once, speaking to yourself to work out the details. It’s much easier to do it that way than in your head because you’re mapping it out. Like visualizing it.

Anyway, Trink looks at you like a best friend now. You’re not sure if it’s because you’re acting as a replacement for Eytelle, or she’s just lonely, but it’s working out on your part too. A distraction for all the things going inside your head constantly. Finnick, Thyme, your brothers and sister, Mags, Elysia, your parents, the cycle repeats itself almost a hundred times a day. Like an addiction. Like clockwork.

She’ll just gossip about meaningless things that happened before the games--trink, you’re talking about. She’ll sit on the chest while Lennox will cook up the fish, or on days she’s bored, she’ll go with you down to the pond-lake or around the arena to find extra food or any unlucky tributes that manage to cross your paths. She’ll talk about the girls that she thought were pretty.

She’ll bitch about how everyone that’s thrown into the arena with them has these automatic assumptions that she wants to kill everyone. That she doesn’t want to have a normal life and just be at home with her family. Because of this, she’s cried twice and you’re not really looking forward to anymore times in the future. You’ve tried to do the pat-on-the-back technique but she had the pleasure of informing you that they know your dumb damsel act, was an act.

Apparently they knew from the beginning, but they thought taking you in was smart anyway. They were guessing that you playing damsel was to win sponsors, and you didn’t tell her it was so that they would take you in. You have a feeling that Trink was lying about all of this, and she just wanted to take it out of you. Unfortunately for her, you said nothing and you just watched as she scrambled to apologize as if you’d forgive her and tell her it was all true.

She said that having you around is nice. That you’re nice to her, and it gives her a chance to feel human again. And then after that, not even a few hours later, she was down at the pond-lake, scrubbing grime from your skin and fixing your hair like a couple of grade school friends. Again, this could all be a tactic to get you to like them so you won’t kill them, because you had gotten the ten after all, but you’re not so sure about it.

Trink seems broken, but she was just waiting for someone to open up about it to. Lennox is there to support her, but he looks like he’d rather be distancing himself, getting ready to take out the rest of the tributes. And you’ve just begun to get Allio to like you in the first place. Which is the exact reason why he’s got to go in the first place. If you were to kill Trink or Lennox, you’d be the first they’d point fingers to, and then you’d be fucked.

Two against one? Not the odds you like. If Finnick and Thyme were here, it would be a little different. But even then, Thyme is like dead weight and you’re not even sure if Finnick knows how to fight anymore. You can’t remember his number at the bloodbath, but all you know is that it was a small number. Nothing above a two, but it couldn’t even have been that high. A one, maybe.

Everything that you had built up to before the games was useless. You had made an alliance, a friend, a lover, a person you could trust out of Finnick only for it to fall apart the second a week passes. You introduced Thyme to the group for her safety, but the only safety she could find was in your cold-hearted, nasty-ass, two-timing, son-of-a-bitch boyfriend!

“It wasn’t even official!” you laugh, throwing the stick in your hand, “He didn’t even ask me to be his girlfriend!’

You swing your foot into the trunk of the tree, ignoring the spike of pain that goes up your foot, it’ll go away in a minute's notice. The tears that collect in your eyes are completely unrelated to the pain in your foot. It’s related to the fact that you counted on someone from home that turned out to be an asshole. All in it for himself.

You take a moment to sit in the dead leaves, wiping away the tears as you rip your backpack apart to place the fish inside of it. However, you’re stopped with the snap of the branch. You think it’s another bear muttation, this time coming to take you out, but three stands in front of you.

He’s skinnier than he was the last time he saw you. His cheeks are starting to sink in, giving you a perfect outline of where the bones on his face lie. He’s been starving this entire time, it’s obvious.

“Please.” three asks, “Please, I know you don’t--”

“Get down before one of the others see you.” you tell him, watching as he drops his makeshift knife onto the ground, falling to his knees as he holds his hands out eagerly.

This should definitely be against the rules, but you could care less anymore. What you considered to be your boyfriend had ran off with some girl he had just met. The people you trust now are a bunch of assholes that wouldn’t last two days without you there. And everyone else is either starving or waiting it out, wanting the gamemakers to take matters into their own hands.

“Here, take it all.” you shove the fish into his hands, “I’ll just go get more.” 

“Thank you.” he tells you, it looks like he’s about to get up, but then he waits, “What were you saying about Finnick?”

“Off on his own with the girl from eleven.”

“Thyme? Thought you were friends.”

“Me too.” you mutter bitterly, getting to your feet, reaching for the golden spear. You left the fishing rod at the cornucopia, thinking that the spear would be easier. It’s somewhat, you caught the same amount of fish. The only problem is that you’re out of practice with standing still. You can’t help but to sway.

You shuffle through the woods, listening as three follows behind you, “So, who’s left?”

“Really not into you attacking us during the night so I’ll keep that info to myself.”

“There’s what, four? Five, of you? I wouldn’t stand a chance.” he sighs, “It would be a faster way out.”

“Not too keen on killing you either.”

“Why not?” he asks, and you shrug.

“You’ve grown on me.”

“Why’s that?” three trips over his feet for a moment, trying to catch up with you.

You wish he would go away, but talking to someone other than the three musketeers back at the cornucopia is refreshing, “Saved you during the first day. Saw you in the training center. Wouldn’t want you as an enemy.”

“Not much I can do with what I make.” he holds up the flimsy knife, “These rocks are nothing like what they have in the center.”

“But they do what they’re intended for.” you tilt your head slightly.

“I guess. How many have you killed?”

You’re not looking forward to this part of the conversation. At all.

“I don’t know, three to five by now. Girl from ten, boy from eleven, Eytelle.” Shit fuck, you just gave away--good job, idiot.

You have no clue if he picks up on this or not, “Oh, so three?”

“Boy from twelve.” you mutter, still not happy that you had to kill a twelve year old. Fresh out of the womb in your opinion, and you’re only three years older than him. Finnick being two.

Hey! Why the fuck are you thinking of Finnick as a lover when he’s--you two are so goddamn young and here you are, moping over the fact that some teenage boy broke your heart. This is the part in the villain story when the girl rises up and becomes her true self, huh?

Doesn’t matter, you’re still taking out Allio tonight, whether you like it or not. 

“You killed--”

“Listen, I wasn’t happy about it either. Back to back kills with Eytelle.” you stop at the water, looking to him, “if you’re going to stick around, don’t throw shit and don’t come in.”

“Got it,” he sits in the sand, picking apart the fish as he eats it raw. He must be hungry, because you would never. Even if it is safe or whatever, you’d still cook it. Raw fish does something to your stomach that you’re not too fond of, every single time.

“What’s your name anyway?” you ask, spearing the first fish. When you pull it out of the water, you see that there’s two. Less work for you to do in the end.

“Blaire.” he tells you, brushing his hair out of his face, “You’re (Y/n)?”

“Yup.” you waddle into the water a bit more, which finally brings the waterfall into sight. 

Those motherfuckers.

The light shines through the water crystal clear, exactly like you had thought. Unwanted visitors will be drawn in, and those fuckers will pay the price for it. Not your problem, and quite frankly, for once you’re excited that Finnick might die alongside Thyme. Maybe not quick and easy.

What would be the ultimate betrayal was if you’d bring Lennox, Allio and Trink back here. Introduce them to Blaire here, and go create some fucking problems, starting with that stupid waterfall and your ex alliance. The one you made, the one that belongs to you. The one that you had busted your ass to make sure that everyone would have a place in.

The light is gone quickly, and for a second you think you see a hand. But the sun starts to fall a little quicker than you thought possible. You find yourself stabbing fish endlessly, until you’ve made a pile to make up for a couple of days. You tell Blaire to ration his out carefully, and if he’s lucky enough, you’ll start putting extras under a bush for him around the pond-lake.

You part ways, heading straight for the cornucopia. The walk is fairly quiet, the animals in the forest are acting like they normally do, but a feeling creeps up in your stomach, so you start jogging a little bit. Which sets off the snarl, and then the barking of wild dogs.

“Fuck!” you yell, gripping the spear tightly as you take off running, using the weight of the backpack as momentum to go faster. The ground is a blur beneath your feet as you pick up the speed. They’re right on your heels when you just barely slide underneath the building.

There, Lennox and the others are already on their feet, weapons in hand as they swing. You don’t even take time to catch your breath before you’re up and helping them. Gasping for air, stabbing whatever you can see because the sweat is dripping into your eyes. It stings, but you blink it away as fast as possible.

“What the fuck?” Lennox finally yells, you watch as he swings the sword faster than you can stab. He’s taking down the dogs left and right. Allio is just behind him in number.

By the time you’ve gotten through ten to fifteen, they begin to realize that they’re not going to win the fight. Slowly they back off, allowing you to catch your breath. By the time the last one has retreated, you’re on your knees, hand in the grass as you gasp for air. Your sides are aching painfully, arms and legs burning.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think that you were just set on fire.

“God damn it.” Allio pushes himself up, hand on his side. When he pulls it away, there’s a clear set of teeth marks and enough blood to prove it.

“Medicine for that?” You ask, and Trink shrugs, going to dig immediately through the medicine box.

“We can have dog for dinner.” Lennox picks one of them up by its back leg. It’s fairly big, and it’ll probably feel all of you.

You grab an empty box and dump all of your fix into there. Inside it just has water. The fish may be long dead and you guys might not have ice but it’s better than nothing. Keeping it in the back corner of the building in the shadiest spot keeps it cold for the most part.

“Yum,” Trink doesn’t sound too thrilled and you don’t blame her.

“One night only specialty.” You point to Lennox, falling back into your butt as you try to breathe without hurting your throat, “We don’t want the fish to go to waste.”

“We can have both?” Trink suggests.

“Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.” Lennox chirps, before working away at the dog.

It’s a mutt, it’s not an actual dog. Dogs like that… they have a superior intelligence, how else did they know to back off? Others would just keep attacking until none of them were left. It’s just what happens when you’re starving and it’s better than nothing.

You’ve just started the fire, when the first cannon goes off. You turn to look at the others, who are still very alive--you’re not sure if Allio had just tipped over due to blood loss or something--and they look just as confused as you feel. Trink shrugs slightly, trying to go back to searching through the medicine.

And then the second cannon goes off.

“A fight?” Allio asks.

“Has to be,” Lennox tells him, you get off of the ground and wander out of the building a little bit to see if they’re nearby. 

You nearly get a heart attack when you see a hand stick out of a bush by the lake. It’s blurry, since it’s so far, but it’s a thumbs up, and it disappears as quickly as it had appeared. It’s probably Blaire, letting you know that he’s very much alive. What an idiot, he could have just killed himself if it had been one of the others.

“The fallen will play soon,” you mutter, wandering back inside, throwing a few more sticks into the fire, “We’ll be able to see who’s fallen by then.”

Two down. Must mean that it was a fight of three people or more. There’s no way that it was just two people, the first killed the second, and the first had managed to get hurt badly enough to die immediately after. It had to be a group of three, an alliance. Two people working together against one, and the one prevails or only one of the alliance people die…

Finnick.

Finnick!

You struggle to keep your mouth from opening, because you’ve told yourself that you’re not going to be tripping over your own feet for Finnick anymore. But that doesn’t stop you from worrying about what’s happened. If he did die, you bet it’s because of that stupid waterfall. It had brought people in, a death trap.

How did they even get the water to stay dry? They must be bringing it in by the bucket load, hanging it up to dry in some sanctioned spot and using whatever dry wood that had made the night before. A complicated, but smart system. However, you’re not sure if either of them art smart enough for that technique.

Lennox offers you a leg of the dog, but you turn it down because you’d rather try to keep down that small portion you’d choked down, than force anything else down. It’s disgusting enough that it was a dog, and thinking about Finnick has got your stomach wanting you to empty whatever is left.

The anthem stars, you look to the sky. The anticipation builds in your stomach to the point where you’re actually pressing a fist to your mouth to keep it down. Leaning forward subconsciously as you await the news.

And then just like that, the girl from district six shows up, her picture is a little wonky, as if she didn’t know what she was doing when she took it. But it’s good news, because it’s not Finnick. It had skipped straight to district six, he’s somewhere inside of the arena, alive.

For a moment you forget that there were two cannons. Then it switches to Thyme, and you jump to your feet, mouth falling open, “Oh my god.”

Lennox claps a little bit, “Finnick is alone--”

“Serves him right!” Trink shakes your right leg a little bit, and you slowly go back down to your feet.

Nine in the games left, eight if you’re not including yourself. The number will be down to seven tonight after you kill Allio. You’re surviving, you’re doing it. You’re going to live. You have a chance at making it home! Twenty-four to eight? That’s sixteen down!

The odds are surely in your favor.

You let your temporary group of friends know that you’ll be taking first watch. Helping them package up the nasty dog meat and placing it into another empty box to get it out of the way. Allio and Lennox throw the rest of the bodies off into the edge of the woods, and then they come back to lay down.

Lennox lays down first, Trink right beside him. Allio lays somewhere near the back, where the fish is at. Curled up with a fleece blanket that he found at the bottom of one of the chests. You wonder if the gamemakers threw it in for shits and giggles, because the thing is basically useless. Allio says it makes him feel like he’s back at home.

You sit with your back to the wall, one hand on the golden spear, that you can’t help but rub your thumb over. Hoping that it’ll reveal it’s true nature of being brass. The color hasn’t come off just yet, and it doesn’t seem like it’ll be off any time soon. You’ll keep trying for as long as you have it though.

Your eyes flicker to the others each time they’ll toss and turn. You spend most of the night zoned-out, thinking about Finnick. Wondering if you could afford a quick run to the waterfall and be back before the others wake. The reminder of the frigid waters and the possibility of something being in the pond-lake stops you from doing it. Doesn’t mean you don’t consider it.

It’s a while before you feel like you can move without the others waking. Being very careful on your feet. You tip-toe to the back of the building, where you also happen to like to sleep. The difference is that you don’t bother sleeping anywhere near where Allio is. 

Throwing the spear into the grass, you then turn to Allio. Slowly pulling out your knife, eyes dragging back to the couple off to the side. Lucky enough for you, their backs are turned, there’s no way they’ll be spying on you tonight.

You’re very careful when you crouch down next to Allio, breathing deeply. You’re about to kill someone, and you know this. You’re very aware of your actions when you hover your hand over his hair, and have the knife prepared behind his head. Once the knife goes through, you have to act fast.

One deep breath, a fistful of hair, a gasp of air, a knife through the back of the head, a jump to your feet, the sound of a cannon, your body hitting the grass behind a chest, a knife shoved under that same chest, your eyes closing.

Trink and Lennox gasp, and by the time they’re getting up, going to wake you, the dizziness and the out-of-body experience is finally subsiding.

“Who died?” Lennox’s voice is gruff, he’s rubbing his eyes, but he has his hand on the sword.

Trink is hovering above you, and you play the act of just waking up as well as you can, not sure if she’s buying it. But she apologizes, looking sorry as she then looks back to Allio.

“Is he awake?” Lennox asks.

You yawn, it’s easier than you thought it would be. You’re exhausted, “He took watch a couple hours ago.”

You refrain from wiping your face, knowing that there has to be blood on your body somewhere. Instead, you take your hands and shove them inside of your pants, wiping them on your legs and underwear. Not the cleanest thing, but you can’t afford them knowing that you just killed one of the career members.

Trink tries to wake up Allio, but when she sees the blood pooling behind his head, she screams, “Someone was here?!”

“What?” you ask, still not getting up from your spot, heart pumping in your ears.

“He’s dead.” Trink turns to Lennox, “One of the others snuck in here and--and they killed Allio!”

“Who would do that? After we just lost two today?” you ask.

“They weren’t our two.” Trink whines, and then her face falls, “They don’t know that Thyme and Finnick left our alliance. They thought we were weak.”

As long as she takes up any and every theory that has nothing to do with you.

“You’re right.” you nod eagerly, and she looks grim, like she isn’t happy that you think she’s right in the first place.

“They won’t know that we’re down two until tomorrow night.” Lennox tells you two, “Until then, we got time to prepare.”

“I’ll take watch--”

“No, I’ve got it.” Lennox hoists Allio up into his arms, struggling a little bit. But you watch with Trink as he drops Allio off somewhere nearby, far enough so the gamemakers will take him, though still in sight.

Lennox tells you to go to sleep, and you do as you’re told, Trink doing the same. However, the second that you’re hidden behind the box, you’re taking deep breaths and trying to calm yourself down. You’ll have a panic attack behind the chest if you’re not careful, and it’s the last thing that you need.

You can’t fall apart now.

-- CHAPTER TWELVE --

To you, it’s a mystery on why Blaire has stuck around this long, and why you continue to insist on feeding him. He can do it all on his own, you’ve taught him a couple of things he needs to know if he wants to do it. But you always come back around, burying a fish in the one designated bush just to keep him alive. Like a distant companion that you’re really getting too attached to.

In return for all of you teaching him, he’s begun to give you a few tricks when it comes to making your own things. You brought up the one idea that you had, with no way to execute it. And he went out of his way to go and get the materials and sat down with you for an hour or two just to make sure you’ve got it down.

A net. The holes are too big for fishing, unless you were to find a big ass fish somewhere in the pond-lake. It’s more of something to catch people, holes to big for fish to pass through but too small for someone to wiggle out of. It would take a lot of sawing the knife to get the person free. And by then, they might have drowned.

Blaire took the time of finding a place where there were vines, and gave you simple directions on how to get to the area when you need to make a new one. Since it’s a little flimsy, you’re sure it’s a one-person use only since it is vines and not rope. And you can’t really take it back to the middle for the others to see, since you can’t give them the whole truth about it.

Listen, you’re not bad at lying. You could do that all day, it’s the acting part. Acting like your clueless. If they were to approach you and demand you remake it because they’re suspicious or whatever—you hardly doubt they’re that interested in your net-making—you wouldn’t able to do it and you’d have to act or lie your way about it. Acting would be you bullshitting through the entire thing and lying would be that you got lucky enough to make it.

Anyway, Blaire had taught you the process, but it turns out that he doesn’t know how to tie as many knots as you, much less the ones that are needed to keep the vines where they’re supposed to be. So, he weaved and you tied the knots, every now and then you’d switch off to weave it yourself, trying not to fuck up the somewhat complicated pattern.

It turned out pretty good for the most part, you’re proud that it doesn’t look like total ass. And you’re sure that the technique will offer new insights to everyone back home and prove helpful to the future of being in this arena. 

Speaking of which, death rates have dropped off completely. You guess that everyone left right now are the smart type, they’ve got their skills on lock or they’ve found a way to live it out. Starving until the very last person has died off. But it looks like everyone can provide for themselves somehow—with the exception of your idiot friend Blaire.

The weak have been picked off or died of their own accords so now it’s left to the rest of you to hunt. It’s been two weeks since the games have started. You’re really hoping that it doesn’t go on for a month. Your poor brothers watching you run around betraying and befriending like it’s going to save your life when it’s really going to kill you.

At least Reed has had a chance to watch you exercise everything that he had taught you. He might not be happy that you’re sharing that information with Blaire, but you can’t just leave him. You’ve saved his life three times now—the pack, the food and yesterday he nearly drowned when he got his foot tangled in a root. If it weren’t for you, he’d be dead by now. Many different ways for it to have happened.

Guess that you’re really skipping from friend to friend. Finnick, Thyme, Trink, and now Blaire? You’re really getting around, aren’t you? If you were to come across anyone that’s left that you haven’t met just yet—the girl from five, boy from eight, and boy from ten—you’d make friends out of them two. It’s only a matter of time. Hell, you briefly talked to Mac, the boy from seven, but he’s a friend to you too.

You’ve really screwed yourself over. As long as you don’t run across the three outsiders and Mac, you’ll be able to survive this. You can kill Trink and Lennox, Allio was easy enough. The problems are Blaire and Finnick now. You’ve nursed Blaire to the point where it feels like leaving him is like a mother deer leaving it’s baby. 

He’ll learn to stand on his own but how plausible is that? Killing him will be near to impossible. 

You are dumb. Maybe just not a damsel.

“My fingers are beginning to hurt.” Blaire mutters, and you look over to see that his fingertips are turning red. Like they’ve been pricked and sliced over and over.

You pull the jacket sleeves over your hands as you take the vines away from him, bringing them closer to your face. You’re not too thrilled when you see that there are thorns and razors or whatever. They’re just too small to see initially.

“Take a break. They’ve got spikes.” You tell him, shoving the project beneath a bush.

“Great.”

“Pretty sure you’ll be fine. Unless they’re poisonous.”

“With my luck, they are.” Blaire mutters, shoving his hands into the water and you grimace. His fingers have got to be stinging like a bitch right. It’s salt water, you know that for sure. 

It was a distinct smell when you had first come above the ground from the moldy smelling tunnels. Fresh air, unpolluted, filling your lungs. It was a change from what you had been inhaling in the Capitol. The trees, the pollen, the chirping of birds. The rustle of the leaves when you had felt the wind for the first time in a while.

And with that wind, it carried a familiar scent. The one that had provided hope, opened your senses to a whole new level. If you had been standing in front of a mirror, your eyes would have dilated. Smelling the salty lake was like feeding chocolate to a baby. 

“Nice knowing you.” You snort, and he cracks a smile.

“The sun is going down already.” Blaire tells you, knowing that you’re going to have to head back, “When are you killing the other two, anyway?”

“It would have to be a two-in-one.” You tell him, “Like killing two birds with one stone. Maybe while they’re sleeping. Lennox hasn’t allowed me to take night watch since Allio died. They’re onto me.”

“Be careful,” Blaire tells you.

“If I don’t show, don’t worry about it okay? You can hunt for yourself.” You punch his shoulder, getting up.

“Yes I can. Good luck.”

“Thanks, you too.” You throw your bag over your shoulder, using the spear like a walking stick on your way to the middle.

You toss the bag into the cornucopia, as well as the spear. Rounding the corner like you normally do, since it’s going to be just you and them in the middle. No need to hide what you’re doing at all, hoarding your stuff will make it look like you have contraband. Which really isn’t the case. The bag has what it normally does when you come back.

A pair of hands grab your shoulders immediately, spinning you around and slamming your back against the wall. The air leaves your lungs, and before you can take in air again, his forearm presses into your throat, stopping any sort of airflow.

Lennox is a lot more deadly than you took him for. You thought that he would know the baby's way of choking people to death—squeeze and shake until they’re no longer moving. But here he is, one arm against your throat, while the other has his fist drawn back.

Your eyes widen significantly, because you’re choking and you’re about to get punched. You’re going to die in his hands. But you want to know one thing; is this betrayal or revenge?

His fist single handedly breaks your nose, the snap filling the air, the pain slamming into the middle of your face as the blood begins to flow. From your nose, to your lips, and downwards.

“Bitch!” Lennox yells, removing his arm.

You take in the air immediately, trying to make up for lost time. It doesn’t last long, he slams his boot straight into your chest, ignoring your stomach. He’s going to break ribs if he’s lucky, do some sort of damage up top rather than down bottom. In your opinion, he should be breaking every single bone in your miserable body.

“Lennox!” the words leave your mouth before you’re able to catch them. Like pleading his name is going to do you any good. Like he’s going to lesson the punishment.

You can picture your brothers back home now, watching as Lennox delivers blow after blow. Chest, stomach, legs, back, anything he can kick he’s doing it. They’re watching you, hissing in pain, groaning out when the hit was particularly hard, and they keep going up. He’ll draw his foot back, and then hit you again.

“You killed him!” Lennox yells, and then he draws his foot back again, and slams it right into your cheek.

Static in your brain.

The kick had rattled you enough to conjure ringing in your ears. Lennox is yelling something at you, but you can’t hear at all. You watch his mouth move, and all you can make out is traitor, which probably sums the entire thing up. Screaming at you for being a dirty traitor.

He then slams his entire body on top of yours, breath leaving you from the weight. You watch in agony as he draws his hand back, prepared to send it flying forward, probably into your mouth or your nose. Any place that would do a significant amount of damage.

Unfortunately, your hearing begins to come back when he says something about messing up your ‘pretty’ face. Mangling your body and making you unrecognizable so when you go home, you’ll have to have surgery to restore. He says that he hopes they won’t even be able to.

You reach for the knife in your pocket, prepared to flip your body on top of him as momentum when he punches you. That way you’d be able to pull out your knives and stab him the best you can. Anywhere on the upper body will do, it’ll throw him off long enough for you to get the spear, or run.

You don’t get the chance, a cannon goes off, distracting Lennox from punching you. At least you thought. He looks up for a moment, surprised as you are, because that’s another person down. And considering that there’s nine people, it lowers it to eight.

Lennox turns to you with a grin, “Let’s make that two?”

The punch breaks your nose, but you still go to flip your body on top of his. Only for a certain makeshift knife to break you off, making you press your body to the ground as hard as possible. Like Blaire will accidentally miss and hit you instead.

Looking over, Blaire has a grin on his face, he winks, and then he takes out another knife, throwing it. But this time, it hits Lennox in the arm.

Lennox yells, and for the final goddamn time, you flip yourself on top of the fucker. It works, but you’re weak, and you’re working slowly to take out the knife. He sees this, he’s not stupid and through whatever pain he’s feeling, he grabs the knife from you, and turns to stab you in the stomach instead.

“No!” Blaire’s voice is distinct, and you can hear him running forward.

You take in a breath from your chest, not your stomach as you slowly slide off the blonde, hands finding their ways to the knife.

It has to stay in. It needs to stay in until you find a bandage.

You take it out, you’ll start bleeding out like a goddamn faucet. Blood will be pouring out of places in your body that you didn’t know you had. It’s in your stomach, pull it out and a lot of blood will come with it. Your heart will keep pumping, more blood will come out.

Keep it in, you live. It’s like the cap on a water bottle, blood won’t come if you don’t give it a reason to run.

But every time you move it tabs into another thousands nerves, if you could only take it out--

The world has split into two during your little dilemma. Take the damn knife out or not, you’re bleeding just the same. It’s painful, tears join your eyes gleefully, you have to keep yourself from hiccuping because you’re about to cry for real, for the first time. Your nose will start running, your stomach will move, permitting more blood loss. And worst of all, your brothers, your sponsors, and everyone else back home and at the Capitol will see it. They’ll see just how weak you are.

Just another girl who thought that they could make it.

Blaire tackles Lennox before he can make the jump at you. Blaire is on top, punching Lennox and dodging when Lennox tries to get him back.

Despite the fact that you’re dizzy as hell and the world seems to be going the opposite of your way, you get onto your feet.

“Go!” Blaire yells, “Quickly!”

You turn to the spear on the ground, your only choice of a makeshift cane. You lean over a little, fingers barely bringing it into your hands, and you take off just like that.

You force yourself to focus on getting to the woods. Disappear into them, no matter what it takes. You go to the lake, being near water will do you better than if you were to go into the woods directly. If you collapse from the pain then you’ll be able to drag your feeble body over.

Plus, Lennox won’t see what direction you’ve gone, but Blaire will probably take the guess.

You slow down when you hit the sad, since you have to lift your feet more, rather than drag them like you’ve been doing through the grass. You barely manage to get somewhere behind a log in the woods when you collapse. Blood, sweat and tears pouring from your body at once.

At the yelling of your name, you push yourself closer to the log, wrapping one hand around the knife, like you’re going to pull it out. But really, you’re keeping steady as you try to figure out if it’s Blaire or Lennox’s voice.

No chance, because the world goes from spinning to being eaten up by black spots in the matter of seconds.

--

LACUNA IS THE FIRST VERSION OF BELAMOUR

//MASTERLIST//