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lepusrufus · 3 years

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To bargain for immortality pt.6 END

There were little things, really, that ended up putting her doubts and theories to rest. Nicole hadn't been an active person since she was five, so the occasional mild fatigue didn't stand out from her normal routine. The headaches that came and went or the tiredness that accompanied nights when she didn't get enough sleep were simply chucked to her body adjusting to its newfound immortality. Sometimes it takes longer for the Cadou to fully settle in, Esteria had reassured her, talking from personal experience as her own mutation took close to two years to be done changing her body.

All the doubt was wiped from her mind when she woke up one evening, the day after another particularly unpleasant experiment run with Miranda, with a splitting headache. It soon turned downright nauseating and hasty steps took her to the bathroom connected to Cassandra's bedchambers, where she all but doubled over, as much as her position leaning on the sink allowed.

Her initial plan was to simply splash some cold water on her face, but that soon went out the window when her throat and mouth were invaded by the familiar sensation of thick blood coming and pouring out. The white porcelain got stained in dark crimson as her heart seemed to beat painfully against her ribcage, making a small whimper escape blood stained lips. This experience in and of itself was not unfamiliar by now, but her own body apparently taking offence to simply existing was a new and unwelcomed development. An attempt to take a deep breath was made, but that only seemed counterproductive as it sent a stinging ache through her chest, so she settled for holding her breath until the pain subsided. A few shuddering intakes of the oxygen her body seemed to scream for later, the room and her reflection finally seemed to stop spinning.

Her eyes landed on the crimson mess in the sink and she let out an exhausted sigh, but before it could be cleaned, the bathroom door that she had left ajar creaked open.

"Heyy- ooo that looks bad," Daniela's voice came from her side, tone as over the top as always with the grimace that pulled at her features.

"Oh this? What do you mean, just a normal Thursday evening," Nicole replied, voice dripping with sarcasm and hands still shaking on the faucet when she turned on the water.

The other redhead didn't seem phased, presumably being Bela and Cassandra's sister does render one immune to sarcasm. Instead she shrugged and occupied herself with her sister's collection of perfumes that were placed on an adjacent counter.

Nicole gave her a look through the mirror while trying to splash some water on the remaining blood stains. "Did you… need something?"

"Dumbass number one and two are practicing some sword fighting in the garden. Thought you'd like to see," came the reply complete with an eyebrow wiggle that gained her a playful shove.

"Give me a minute to change," Nicole said, finally pushing herself off the sink when the nausea subsided back to a mild headache and her face was free of crimson trails.

As promised, when they entered the back garden that stood between the castle and its extensive vineyard, the faint clinking of metal against metal could be heard. It raised in volume as they made their way to an area where a few logs had been set on the grass, that made perfect sitting spots around what the sisters reclaimed as their small personal arena dedicated to occasional training. The vine covered statues and bushes with colorful leaves made for a pleasant spot to simply spend time in too, her wife currently dressed in light training gear and sword fighting coming as a big bonus to the beautiful surroundings.

The moment Cassandra's eyes landed briefly on her, a characteristic smirk pulled at her lips, their ashy tone left visible from the choice to skip lipstick for the time being. Their sparring match got cut short by a sudden low swipe at Bela's feet, that knocked her off balance and sent her on the trampled grass underfoot.

"Show off," she grumbled at her younger sister when offered a hand to get up. She took it, but continued to glare daggers at Cassandra as she dusted off her pants.

Not that the middle sister noticed, having turned and came up to her wife for a tender good morning kiss. She let the hand not occupied by the sword's handle rest on Nicole's cheek, eyebrows pulling into a frown upon noticing the tired look in emerald eyes.

"Are you feeling well? You look pale."

"Yeah yeah-"

"Oh just some mild gut-puking in the form of blood all over your sink," Daniela interjected, giving a fake innocent shrug when Nicole turned to glare at her. "You might wanna get a maid to clean it up, she did a shit job of it."

"I did not!" Nicole protested.

"You forgot the underside," Daniela hummed. "That was some mad splatter there."

She was rendered mute as the youngest sister moved to the small fence portion that was turned into an impromptu weapon holder to choose something and take Cassandra's place in another sparring match. Her glare was interrupted when she noticed her wife's worried expression.

"It's fine, just a mild headache now," Nicole sighed as she brought a hand up to interlace their fingers and pull Cassandra with her so they could both sit where Laura and Anita were. "Any chance I'm getting another performance? Since I missed the last one," she then said, a sly smile making its way on her lips.

That got Cassandra to grin, fangs glimmering in the early evening's soft light in a way that anyone else would find downright menacing. "Of course," she answered, eyes momentarily moving to her sisters.

It looked like Bela was winning, despite Daniela choosing her preferred twin swords that she wielded with an odd mix of grace and chaos. A slip past her guard and a hit with the ornate hilt of Bela's sword was what it took to put an end to their match, the youngest sister stumbling forward and breaking into a swarm before she had the chance to fully lose balance and fall face first into the dirt. She reappeared in front of the blonde, tongue stuck out and nose scrunched in an annoyed grimace, complete with a middle finger. If the Dimitrescu sisters had one thing in common, it was that all three of them were the world’s biggest sore losers.

"My turn to kick her ass," Cassandra perked up, picking up her well polished gladius.

Daniela, still miffed about her previous loss, didn't offer her the grace of getting into a proper stance. A flash of flies later, the clanking of metal ringed around them as Cassandra pushed her back.

"We said no swarm!" Bela called out from where she had found a seat on the grass, right in front of Laura.

The youngest rolled her eyes but complied, the buzzing completely dying down in favor of quick swipes and blocks. What Cassandra might've lacked in speed, she more than made up for in an impeccable defense, being near impossible to get near her body even with the apparent advantage of having an extra sword. Their fighting came to a standstill soon enough, with Daniela unable to get near while also being too quick to let any major hit land.

"My ladies."

Alexandria's voice called out from the entrance of their little makeshift arena, distracting Daniela enough for her sister to quickly swipe at her feet not unlike she had previously done to Bela.

The Steward flinched for a second when a long frustrated growl was heard from the youngest, but cleared her throat and did her best to keep up her characteristic poker face as she addressed Nicole. "Mother Miranda's assistant is here for you."

Her face fell, annoyance and dread both bubbling in her chest at having her pleasant day cut short not even two hours after waking up. She got up and exchanged goodbyes with the rest of her family while grabbing Cassandra's free hand in a silent demand to see her to the door.

On their way out, she decided that old jeans and a slightly oversized shirt that had survived her high school days was an attire appropriate enough to being tortured. It should've been concerning how at peace she had become with that idea, at least to any person with a sound mind. She never declared her sanity intact though.

"I'll see you later," she told Cassandra once they were at the heavy doors of the castle's main entrance, a thumb slowly tracing her jaw.

Emma was impatiently waiting for her just outside and blame the slight inherent meanness she had learned to let free since becoming a Dimitrescu, but Nicole took immense pleasure from the woman's uncomfortable grimace when she pulled Cassandra down in a deep kiss that went on for ten seconds too long. Small victories in the face of doom.

---

Nicole choked out a sob that walked the fine line between crying and screaming when the knife that looked way too big for the woman's hands came down at her elbow's joint with a gut wrenching crack.

It felt like Miranda had an unbeatable talent to never disappoint when someone thought she had reached the peak of inhumane with her experiments. The poisons were dreadful as was everything before that. The test on how well she can heal bullet wounds from the previous day had been downright cruel, only stopping after the results that showed how only a bullet through the head can incapacitate her for a while. Today's experiment on regenerating limbs was starting to eat away at Nicole's remaining sanity. It obviously started small, with fingers, but Miranda was always so keen on pushing limits.

She turned on her side with the remaining hand pressed to tear filled eyes and nails digging into skin as she desperately tried to find some sort of distraction from the pain and tingling that felt like static in her veins. Her temples were already throbbing with a headache and her vision was spinning due to the nausea. Miranda and Emma were having some sort of conversation to the side, but it felt distant through the deafening ringing in her ears as she put all her effort into not throwing up due to the sheer shock her body was going through.

The amount of time she laid there sobbing completely evaded her, not bothering to keep a mental track nor raising her head towards the clock mounted on the wall. She just wanted the healing to move and get it over with.

By the time she was mentally prepared to stomach the sight, her hand was already stitching together muscles covering the newly reformed bone, together with the beginnings of skin close to the incision. She tried moving her finger and flinched into a whole body cringe at how utterly wrong it felt.

The door creaking open took her attention away from the unsightly muscles twitching as they got placed together and into their places.

"Lord Heisenberg is here," announced a man, donning a white lab uniform not unlike Emma's.

"Just on time," Miranda perked up, a dangerously gleeful look in her eyes.

She got up, leaving the assistant with the job of timing Nicole's healing as she went to greet Karl. It went on for almost another torturous minute before the tell tale click of the timer and Emma noting it down marked that her arm was once again whole.

"How- how long was that?" Nicole asked, tentatively moving her hand. Good as new, with the exact same mobility function and sensitivity. The only thing missing was the beige nail polish applied just the night prior.

"Five minutes and twenty," the woman replied, not looking up from her paper.

Another few minutes of silence passed, that Nicole spent flexing her fingers. A bit of hot rage coursed through her veins when she noticed her ring finger, the matching band she and Cassandra had having been left on the desk upon entering the lab. At least Miranda had the decency of not slicing her hand off with the ring still on it, but she still wanted it back.

It wasn't long before Miranda came back, motioning for her to follow. "Come," she said, waiting for Nicole to push herself off the hospital bed and onto her feet.

A small burst of dizziness later, she was standing and shaky legs were taking her towards the woman. "Can I get my ring back now?" She did her best to keep the edge out of her tone, too tired to face her wrath.

Miranda simply thought for a moment before waving a dismissive hand at her. "Fine, it won't be in the way anymore."

Nicole wasn't sure if that was good or downright horrifying.

Most of the rooms in the underground maze of corridors were unknown to her. The structure twisting and turning in dizzying patterns that were enough to disorient anyone not familiar with the layout. Not to mention the occasional tunnel that stretched for entirely too long that led to one place or the other from the town above.

Nicole found herself following Miranda through one such unknown area, the corridors new to her but the look not dissimilar to every other part of the underground structure. If it weren't for the numbered plaques on the door, she wouldn't even be able to tell this was a different area than the ones she's seen before.

Miranda pushed open a door and led her inside. It was definitely more spacious than the labs and the space was mostly cleared out save from a few tables lining the walls and some cabinets. The only thing at the center was Lord Heisenberg and a long metal table, leather straps fastened to its sides and a circular saw blade attached to a machine above.

Nicole took a couple stumbling steps back, hips hitting the corner of a table and rattling the papers placed on it. It seemed to peeve Miranda, who grabbed her wrist impatiently.

"Come now, we don't have all day," she said while slowly dragging her towards the table.

With every shaky step, her knees felt like jello under her and her ears started to ring anew with the panic and dread settling like ice in her veins. Her legs finally gave way under her and she fell to her knees with a pathetic sob.

"No please. Please I can't," she said, one hand meekly grabbing at the goddess' lab coat.

Miranda bent down on one knee, brows furrowed in the feign concern that only she could have perfected to such an art. "We have to," she started, voice so soft one could easily believe it belonged to someone else. "We must know the limits of your regenerative abilities. You said it yourself that you want to know them."

She had but not like this. Not like this.

"Then use anesthesia. Please just don't-" she choked out a sob before the end of her phrase. Not that it was going anywhere, it was just a pathetic attempt at bargaining for less suffering.

Surprisingly enough, there were few instances since coming to the Village when she felt truly and utterly terrified. Anxious and afraid? Sure. But not even Lady Dimitrescu hiring her, or Cassandra taking an interest in freaking her out or even getting shot made her feel the dread she was feeling then. She would've rather spent eternity on the cold hard stone under her knees than budge an inch.

Miranda pursed her lips and lifted her chin with one hand, expression like a mother hearing her child make an outrageously unattainable request. "You know that will interfere with the results."

"Then local anesthesia," Nicole suggested, holding onto some kind of feeble hope by a thread.

The goddess seemed to actually consider it for a moment before shaking her head. A hundred meek protests and cries fell past Nicole's lips and on deaf ears as she was pulled up by the wrist and back on track towards the metal table. Miranda was incredibly strong despite her rather short stature, so any attempt at pulling back was completely useless.

Once at the room's center, she pushed Nicole against the table, frowning when she refused to get on. With a sigh, she grabbed her chin once again, putting slightly more force in the gesture. Both a warning and witness to her growing impatience.

"If you keep still it's going to be much less painful," she promised, though the validity behind her words were doubtful.

Though there was something in Miranda's tone that almost demanded to be believed without question. It may have been the inherent authority that came with being almost divine, a goddess in all ways that truly mattered. Or something else entirely, common to every piece of the Megamycete's web, down to the finest and farthest roots.

With a barely visible nod, Nicole pushed herself onto the cold surface of the table. It was far taller than she was so Karl had to spend a few good minutes readjusting the leather straps on the sides until they were in the right positions to wrap tightly around her limbs.

"Uh… sorry kiddo," he said in a barely audible whisper as he fastened a strap around her forehead. "Here," he pressed a folded cloth to her lips, that she bit down on to at least try to not crack any teeth.

He seemed almost as much of an unwilling participant as she was, lips pulled into a tight line under the scruffy mustache. The only one seeming rather gleeful there was Miranda.

The leather was digging painfully into her skin, the belts having been tightened slightly too much to prevent movement. Not to mention the uncomfortable position, with her hands tied above her head and starting to feel numb. Her head also seemed beyond foggy, the shallow breaths she was taking doing a poor job of providing her body with oxygen, to which it protested with a heart painfully beating against her ribcage, almost as if the small parasite that nestled around it was taking offence itself.

Another sob shook her body, deafened out by the metal sound of the circular blade when it was turned on. Thankfully it was clean. At least Nicole hoped as much. And sharp. If she was going through this she prayed that she would at least be granted the mercy of a clean cut as opposed to shredding of skin and muscle with everything underneath.

She shut her eyes when Miranda raised her shirt enough to expose her abdomen and, as the saw forcefully came down, screams were muffled both by the cloth in her mouth and the deafening roar of the saw.

---

The feeble knock on heavy ornate doors was answered by the tall woman positioned on guard duty that night. Nicole did not remember her name and at the moment it was the least of her worries.

She took a handful of shaky steps inside before clearing her throat in an attempt to not let her voice waver. "Cassandra?"

"Out hunting with her sisters and the other ladies," the woman answered promptly.

Nicole simply nodded once and made her way into the castle as the heavy thud of the shutting doors echoed around her. Her movements seemed on autopilot, eyes only focused enough to watch her step as she made her way through the familiar path up to her wife's bedroom. She barely registered passing through the first set of corridors, the paintings and priceless decor she had grown accustomed to every day becoming a background blur.

She felt downright dreadful.

Her ears were still ringing slightly and exhaustion made her limbs feel heavy and aching with every step. The headache from earlier was also back in full swing and throbbing painfully at her temples.

A quick look at a golden clock mounted on the wall in the main hall reminded her that it was near dawn so the rest of her family must be on their way home.

She flinched, a small jump that threatened to throw her off balance, at the heavy footsteps that came behind her. Throwing a look over her shoulder she saw none other than Lady Dimitrescu, her mother in law, making her way under the low arch of one of the doors leading into the spacious room. Thin black eyebrows were pulled into a frown at the sight of the much smaller woman, hunched over and all but shivering, with dark circles under her eyes having taken an almost purplish hue and dried tear streaks on pallid cheeks.

"Oh hi," Nicole greeted with a wry smile. "I thought you were out hunting."

Alcina waved a hand dismissively, eyes still focused on every minuscule shake of her shoulders. "Paperwork had to be taken care of."

At the explanation, Nicole let out an oh and shuffled her weight from one foot to the other, unsure of how to politely book it up the stairs and under the mountain of blankets on Cassandra's bed. There was no escape, it seemed, as a large hand came to gingerly rest on her shoulder, leading her further in and towards one of the plush couches lined in front of the barely lit fireplace. "Come sit," she offered, face softening in a gentle motherly smile.

Nicole just nodded absent mindedly, sitting barely on the edge of the white cushions decorated with a beautiful intricate floral pattern. She passed clammy hands on her jeans, now covered in fine powdery ash from the crystallized remains of the discarded half of her body after she retrieved them following the night's experiments. A disgusted grimace pulled at her lips, deciding then and there that the pants had to be burned as soon as possible.

"How did the tests go?" Alcina asked, taking her attention away from the ruined piece of garment and being met with distant eyes.

"Good," Nicole whispered, but before the word could even be fully out of her mouth a sob shook her entire body, coming out accompanied by choked out gasps as she all but doubled over in an attempt to make herself smaller than she already was.

The Lady's eyes widened at the sudden outpouring of emotion, so uncharacteristic for the woman in the few years she had been part of her family. "Oh child," she whispered, hands resting protectively on small shaking shoulders.

"Did-" Nicole started but interrupted herself with another shuddering gasp. "Did she- do the same thing to-... to you?"

Alcina grimaced, expression unseen by the smaller woman currently curled in on herself in her arms. It had been so long since her infection, the pain caused by her body acclimating to the Cadou a distant memory. Something that would forever remain seared in her mind however was the cruel ice in their goddess' eyes as she ran test after dreadful test, pushing the limits of her body to see how much she can actually heal. It had taken months to finally be content with the results, after her body's defensive response had been mutating and turning into the giant hungry beast she kept carefully at bay from that moment on. Instead of answering, Alcina decided that the better option was to rub her back slowly, not unlike she had done to her own daughters countless times before, to bring some comfort.

"You will get through this," she promised, unwavering conviction in her tone.

---

Date: 20th May 2012

Subject: Nicole [REDACTED] Dimitrescu

Mutation experiments - 5 (Regeneration- 4)

Testing the limits of regenerative abilities - regrowing body parts

Subject can regrow limbs (arm, served from elbow - 5'20'') and regenerate after being cut in half. If the body is cut with a 50/50 ratio, the upper half will regrow the lower half, prioritizing brain activity and the Cadou's placement. If the proportions are different in favour of the lower half, the upper one may still be the one taking priority; results vary. Up to 80% of body mass can be regenerated. If more than that is destroyed (eg. dissolved using acid) subject will presumably crystallize and enter a dormant state like others infected with a Cadou.

The discarded body parts crystallize and disintegrate into a stony/ashy mass.

---

Miranda's enthusiasm seemed to slowly dwindle after a few more experiment runs, the same effects John Abbott's mutations that caused his untimely death coming to knock at Nicole's door every so often.

"You see," the goddess had said the last time she had called Nicole down in the underground labs. "John was missing the healing abilities, which led to his infection slowly corroding away at his body until his death. You can heal, so you won't die, but the negative effects are still present. So try not to get hurt too much too often," she finished, not even sparing her a glance.

And that was the last Nicole had seen of Miranda, at least as far as one on one experiments went. The woman would still pay the castle a visit every so often, sitting down with Alcina for a glass of wine and having the rest of the family joining in on occasion, when their discussions didn't stray too far into matters of their cult.

She was right too. There were days when a migraine would rudely wake her up in the morning, or when her chest seemed to ache to the point where she was sure the parasite that made its home around her beating heart was trying to escape. The Cadou truly was a wretched little thing, constantly at odds with her body's defenses and trying to slowly but surely cause damage to the point of death. But if there's one thing that very same parasite had bestowed upon her was just… being really good at not dying. The healing abilities were in a continuous cycle of repairing any and all internal damage the infection may have caused on a not so good day. Those times had her doubling over the nearest sink, or suitable container if unlucky, a waterfall of blood carrying all the damaged tissue that had been replaced flowing from her lips in crimson rivulets.

A cruel fate, one may think. Not her though, for the knowledge of how her family had helped her through the change was at the forefront of her mind each time she had to sit down due to a burst of dizziness. Cassandra rubbing gentle circles on her back while she was coughing up the clogged blood in her throat grounded her beyond belief. Then, when everything was said and done, there was always something to get back to. A short vacation originally meant for business but that Alcina would always prolong for just a couple days so they could all spend some quality time away from the Village and the cult and Miranda's scrutinizing ever watchful eyes. Or the season's first hunting trip, the genuine glee on her wife's face never growing old to her. Even life's more mundane events, like the weekly movie night that had half the family groaning at Esteria's choice of vampire media. Rinse and repeat, forever under the castle's imposing towers and inside ornate inviting rooms, always warm and welcoming, always feeling like home to her.

If that was the price she had to pay for eternity, then so be it.

---

Subject Name: Nicole Dimitrescu

Cadou Affinity: Favorable

Brain Functions: Normal

Subject can regenerate at an incredibly fast rate, although healing slows down with loss of consciousness. Shows a similar mutation to John Abbott; able to detect illnesses by specific smells. The latter mutation causes the Cadou to have adverse reactions, causing internal damage that is however kept at bay with the regenerative abilities.

An unfit vessel for Eva.

#unhinged maiden™ my beloved #cassandra dimitrescu x maiden #mother miranda #karl heisenberg #to bargain for immortality #fanfic #lady dimitrescu #tw torture #like big fat tw for this one

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jackhkeynes · 2 years

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Verona & War

Verona is a city in the north-east of the Italian peninsula.

History

During the tenth century and into the time of the Second Tetrarchy, Verona and its province were contested between the Kingdom of the Lombards (and latterly, Romaine) and the German Empire. The Verona branch of the Adelchian dynasty ruled Romaine during the eleventh century.

In the late twelfth and early thirteenth centuries, Verona was part of (and the most prosperous city in) the duchy of Crain, a German holding which however declared support for the Roman Papacy following the German Secession and the establishment of the Augsburg See

Verona was badly affected by the Second German War of the early nineteenth century. The arena in Verona, a classical amphitheatre, was reopened for performances shortly after the end of the war.

People

Chiarina Bruno (fl. 1824), librettist and composer who wrote the opera Wings Afire Jacob III (1087-1130), king of Romaine, who was the last of the Verona branch of the Adelchians to grow up in Verona

---

The Second German War (1815–23) was a conflict centred on German lands but involving almost all the polities of Europe. It took place in the early nineteenth century and marks the conventional end of the Long Peace. This war is considered part of the global phenomenon of Reaction War, which includes politically unrelated but contemporaneous conflicts around the world.

Although Vascony at first managed not to become embroiled in the conflict, once its interests in Mendeva and the East were threatened, then-king Hernand IV had no choice but to declare against the Northern Concert and in favour of the Convoy.

Borland participated in the war, with Borlish soldiers present alongside Bavarn and Friule fighters at the disastrously mismanaged Battle of Ulm in 1821.

The Northern Concert were a major power involved in the war, and they were allied with Borland, not uncontroversially—the alliance sparked many mozard protests in cities across the country.

The Kingdom of France was seen to have profited unjustly from the Second German War, gaining significant territory while (according to many) not investing much manpower or material resources.

In the 1820s and 30s, immigration to the Novomund (and especially to New Provence) spiked from those countries which had been most devastated by the war.

#conlang #boral #conlanging #boralverse #alternate history #conworld #writing

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sokkas-honour · 4 years

Note

Let’s say #10 of the Spotify wrapped writing for Korra :)

ANON HOW DID YOU KNOW

girls - korra x reader

pairing: korra x fem!reader

wc: 1.7k with lyrics

warning/notes: i can’t think of anything, but if there is fee free to message me!

taglist (message me/fill out form): @draqondance @biqherosix

i've been hiding for so long, these feelings, they're not gone, can i tell anyone?

you stared at her from across the room, god she was beautiful. the way she laughed and joked around with your brother made you heart soar, the sheer sound of her joy making your day.

you snapped out of your staring when your older brother came by, a stack of empty boxes in his arms as he dropped them on the ground, the thump getting your attention.

“oh thank god you found the boxes mako.” you sighed in relief at the fear of not finding the boxes to put back all the decorations used for varrick and zhu li’s wedding.

“they were in ikki’s room for some reason.” makos discovery caused a laugh to come out, your brother following your lead.

“how in the world did they end up there?” you wondered as you grabbed some of the decorations off the tables and placed them delicately into one of the boxes.

“no idea.” he answered, taking the decorations off of the other tables and copying you.

“you two need some help?” you felt your cheeks heat up and heart pick up as you heard the voice of the woman you loved dearly. you met her eyes and smiled.

“i wouldn’t say no to it.” you joked, smile growing bigger as you watched her laugh.

mako called bolin over for help as korra worked on the same tables as you did. working in unison, your hands accidentally landed on top of each other’s as you grabbed the same center piece, a blush erupting on both of your cheeks.

once you were done and your brothers went to bring the majority of the boxes to where varrick wanted them to, you were left alone with your girlfriend.

“i saw you staring before, you’re not very discreet.” korra teased once the both of you were alone which just made heat rush to your cheeks which just made her laugh at your flustered expression.

“yeah well youre insanely cute when you laugh.” you answered, arms wrapping around her waist and head being placed on her chest as you breathed in her comforting scent.

“i’m always cute.” she joked, earning a small chuckle from you as you looked up to her, loving smile adorning her face.

when you thought you heard someone coming, you quickly unwrapped yourself and jumped back, afraid of them seeing you two hug. you looked around frantically only to find that you were still alone. with a sigh of relief, you returned your attention to the avatar whos expression had changed to one of slight disappointment.

“y/n, we can’t keep sneaking around like this. one day or another, we should tell the others. you especially should come out to your brothers.” she sighed. you two had gotten together right after defeating kuvira but she had come out a while before leaving for the south pole after zaheer.

it hurt korra to see you living some sort of double life, lying to your brothers who tried to get you to bring someone to th wedding about you seeing someone, your brothers still fully thinking that you were only interested in men which would be the opposite of the truth.

“i know, i’ll tell them one day but i just, don’t know when.” you shrugged off your concerns and told a white lie to the girl in front of you.

afraid of what they'll say, so i push them away, i’m acting so strange

“y/n, you’re not telling the truth. i’m your girlfriend, we may have only been together for a little over two weeks but we’ve been friends for years, i can tell when you’re lying.” she informed, placing her hand over yours that was limp next to your hip. you grabbed onto it and sighed, you knew you were going to caught and have to voice your fears eventually but some part of you had hoped that your girlfriend wasn’t as smart as she said she was, she unfortunately wasn’t.

“sometimes i forgot how much of a genius you are.” you smiled half heartedly as she looked at you concerned, wanting to know the reason why you were still in the closet after supposed years of knowing your sexuality.

“babe come on, you can tell me.” she insisted, giving your hand a little squeeze from encouragement.

you took a deep breath in and let it out it, coming yourself in order to tell your girlfriend the reason why you hadn’t come out yet.

“i just. i don’t know how mako and bolin will react.” you finally admitted, feeling as though a huge weight was lifted from your shoulders when suddenly, the girl in front of you starting laughing. you quirked an eyebrow, wondering why the hell was she laughing.

“y/n! you saw how they reacted when i came out! they were completely and utterly fine with it! hell they were super supportive of me!” she reasoned once her laughter died down.

“i know but i’m their sister, it’s different.”

“no y/n it isn’t. why would it be any different.” she asked, confused at your stupid reasoning:

“i mean for one, they’re going to be mad i never told them anything, especially since i’ve already dated a girl or two. two, they might find it a tad bit weird when we tell them we’re dating.”

“well your first reason could’ve been avoided if you’d told them in the first place.” she pointed out, earning a small blush from you. “and second, they won’t, trust me. mako might be a bit stunned but he’ll be 100% supportive, don’t even get me started on bolin.”

“you’re right, i should probably tell them.” you sighed in defeat, head turning slightly to stare at the building on air temple island where your brothers probably were.

“if you want ill be there.” she proposed, her free hand placing itself on your cheek to which you gladly leaned into.

“yeah, i’d like that.”

they're so pretty, it hurts, im not talking 'bout boys, I'm talking 'bout girls, they're so pretty with their button-up shirts.

after dinner, mako, bolin, and you were on kitchen duty to clean the dishes, giving you the perfect opportunity to finally come out to your brothers and stop hiding.

as you finished drying a plate, you decided that it was time. especially since bolin was bringing up the idea of setting you up with someone.

“okay so y/n, i found this great guy that you’ll love. super sweet, super nice, super good looking, bolin approved guy.” your younger brother told you, scrubbing the food off one of the dishes.

“that’s nice bo but i’ve got something to tell you both.” in an almost perfect synchronised moment, both of them stopped what they were doing and turned to you. with both of their eyes on you, you froze a bit.

“sure y/n, what’s up?” mako encouraged, seeing your slightly stunned state and helping you snap out of it.

“i’m gay.” you blurted out. mentally smacking yourself for saying it so bluntly and straight to the point.

“knew it.” mako smirked as bolin let out a big ‘ohhhhh’.

“okay then, i think i know this one really nice, sweet, bolin approved girl that i believe also likes girls.” the earthbender quickly responded, correcting his previous date proposition to adjust it to the news.

“thanks bo but that’s not necessary.” you smiled gratefully at the youngest of you three before turning your attention to the eldest.

“what makes you say that mako?” you inquired, curious as to why your brother wasn’t very surprised at the news.

“well um, i.” mako stumbled over his words, slightly unsure of how to go about it but he recomposed himself. “i think you forget that as your older brother, i was able to see things that you didn’t.”

“go on, i’m intrigued.” it was now your turn to smirk.

“at first it was probably the constantly stealing mom’s kyoshi book, only to stare at the pictures of kyoshi warriors.” he joked.

“hey i still know a lot about kyoshi warriors!” you protested, half joking about the reason why you were addicted to the book.

“yeah but i literally walked into your room when you were about five only to see you open at the same page for a solid ten minutes. also, you couldn’t read!”

“i’m surprised mako caught any of it because it’s news to me. good news though!” bolin inserted himself back into the conversation, a cheery grin on his face.

“i think the longing stares between you and that waterbender from the red sands rabaroos could’ve also been an indication. and the constant cheering for them.” mako teased, resuming his dunking of plates in the water.

“yeah, umi and i didn’t last too long but it was fun while it lasted.” you reminisced over your first girlfriend, and followed your brothers lead to return to drying plates, leaving a dumbfounded brother to connect the dots.

“wait, you dated someone in an enemy team? y/n!” bolin gasped, accusing you in a joking manor.

“guilty as charged.” you smirked.

“okay well, let me set you up with someone! i’m sure i know another lesbian or bisexual!” bolin persisted with his idea so you thought that you might as well come out about korra and you.

“well bo, mako, i’m kinda seeing someone right now.” you started but were interrupted by someone barging in, the exact person you were about to mention.

“are you idiots done yet? we figured we’d all go see a probending match tonight but if you slowpokes aren’t done we might miss it!” korra informed the three of them. the two boys quickly returned to work but your gaze lingered on the avatar.

“so are you going to tell us or?” mako asked as korra left.

“i think you’ll figure it out.” your eyes stayed a little too long in the direction that your girlfriend left, a smirk on your lips at the idea of making your brothers wait.

when you all made your way to the probending arena, you caught up with korra and asami in the front, making sure to interlock your fingers with the watertribe girl.

“im guessing you told them?” asami asked, a knowing smile on her face at the romantic gesture.

“not exactly.” you guiltily admitted as you heard two gasps behind you. one was almost dramatically loud while the other was a bit more subtle.

“y/n!” you heard from the two boys behind you, and korra gave you a knowing smile, your idiot brothers had figured it out.

#korra x reader #krew x reader #korra #the legend of korra #korra x you #korra x y/n #atla x reader #lok x reader #mako x reader #bolin x reader #avatar x reader #avatar korra #avatar the last airbender x reader #avatar the legend of korra #atla korra #atla korra x reader #lok korra #lok korra x reader

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butgilinsky · 4 years

Text

i’ve been looking for you // np

warning; language, angst but also fluff (way more angst than fluff), not proofread but who cares at this point

summary; you don’t believe in love, but nolan’s too far gone to stop himself from falling.

word count; 5.5k+

he could barely wrap his head around the fact that you were real. the universe did the world a favor when they made you, a bright light he never knew he needed in his life. he spent more time than he cared to admit admiring you, thanking the universe for placing you in his path of life. you seemed to have every attribute he could ever ask for, checking all of the boxes he didn’t know he had.

but he couldn’t forgive the universe for the tiny detail about you that he couldn’t get past. you didn’t believe in love, and that was a roadblock nolan wasn’t sure he’d be able to conquer.

the night he met you was straight out of a movie. everything around him seemed to slow down, allowing him a moment to admire you from the other side of the room. he had tuned out travis completely, completely lost in a reality only he would be able to experience as he visualized you in different parts of his life.

he didn’t realize that he would be given the opportunity to live out a few of those scenarios, though they weren’t the exact same. you’d go to his games, but his name wasn’t stretched across your back. you’d cheer so loud that your throat hurt when he scored, but he wouldn’t get to kiss you after he left the locker room at the end of the night.

he couldn’t have you, and it would drive him insane.

but it was too late for him. he wasn’t briefed on your lack of optimism when it came to romance until he’d found himself tumbling over the edge just hours later. you were a dream, you had to be. it was the only thing that made sense. how else would you end up at a party packed full of professional hockey players. maybe you were here with someone. maybe you were friends with one of his teammate’s wives, or maybe you were just a figment of his imagination.

he couldn’t hide the flush of his cheeks when you laughed at his introduction, taking his outstretched hand and shaking it gently as a bright smile spread across your lips.

“i know who you are. i work for the flyers.” he thought he was going to combust after the newfound information. you worked for the flyers, and he had never seen you before. how could he have missed you in passing if you were the only thing that held his attention for more than five minutes tonight?

“then i guess you don’t need an introduction from me either.” travis held out his hand for you to shake after you dropped nolan’s, somehow saving nolan from tripping over himself.

“i don’t think there’s a single person in the city of philadelphia that doesn’t know who you are.” her voice was teasing, the lilt in it making nolan swoon more than he already had been, which he had been surprised by.

he didn’t know he was capable of swooning over a person this much in such a short period of time.

“what do you do for the flyers?” travis saved his friend one more time, filling the air with another question before nolan allowed a thick silence to fall over the three of you.

“i’m a graphic designer. sometimes i do social media when it gets pretty hectic.” you shrugged, as if your job was a simple detail in your chaotic life that nolan found himself dying to learn about.

just before nolan could finally get his mouth to catch up with his thoughts, you were being tugged away into a different room by one of your friends. you sent both boys an apologetic smile, about to turn on the balls of your feet when nolan found his voice.

“wait! what’s your name?” you turned over your shoulder, the same bright smile from before gracing your face as you answered his question.

he replayed the name over and over again in his mind, allowing it to erase every other word he’d ever learned before now.

“you’re completely fucked.” travis snickered under his breath, clapping a hand onto his best friend’s back before shoving him out of the kitchen and towards a group fo his teammates.

it wasn’t too long before he found you again, standing on the balcony as you overlooked the city below you. you had lost track of how long you’d been out here, but it was long enough for you to finish your beer, which was somehow a perfect segway for nolan to join you. he held out a bottle towards you, the same one you’d been nursing all night long, though this one had just been opened seconds prior.

he found himself tumbling into a conversation with you that took minimal effort. it felt easy, standing beside you and talking about just about anything the two of you could think of. it wasn’t until the friend that you were clearly in charge of came outside, wobbling on her feet as she told you that it was past the time the two of you had originally set as your departure time.

noaln wanted to protest, wanted to find a reason for you to stay with him. but when you had to lunge for your friend to keep her up, draping her arm around your shoulders, he knew that nothing would be enough to get you to stay.

it wasn’t until you were out the door, along with a majority of the people that had come to the gathering, that a gentle hand landed on nolan’s shoulder, pulling his attention away from the door you’d just left through. he looked down at cara, one of the photographers that he knew decent enough for her to come offer a hint of advice.

“i wouldn’t get your hopes up with her, patty.” his eyebrows pulled together, unsure of how everyone was able to pick up on his infatuation with you. he hadn’t realized that he had been so transparent. did you pick up on it too?

“she doesn’t believe in love.”

it was something that, looking back on it, he should’ve listened to. he should’ve been able to tell himself to not go any further, to not throw himself down a hole of false hope and empty promises.

but he couldn’t. he couldn’t live with the face of knowing you and how incredible you were, and just ignore it. he couldn’t go to the arena, knowing you probably weren’t far away from him, and pretend like he didn’t know about your existence.

he couldn’t do it.

so he settled for a friendship. it was enough at first. any reason to be close to you, to talk to you about anything other than the view of philadelphia from someone’s apartment that neither of you two particularly wanted to be in. it turned into him looking for you at his games and smiling at you when he saw you in the hallways.

it went further when you started seeing each other outside of work. you’d find each other at team parties, at boring events that you both had to be at despite neither of you wanted to show. it turned into him lying across your couch with his head in your lap as you scratched at his scalp gently.

nolan though he could stop himself from falling too hard too fast. he hoped he could stop himself from falling at all, but that proved to be out of the question for him quicker than he was hoping for. you were everything he wanted, the only thing he wanted.

so he kept it to himself. he didn’t even tell travis, nor any of the other boys, despite their relentless chirps about you throughout the season. he thought that if he kept it to himself, didn’t say the words out loud, that it would go away. it would make it less real, it would dissipate until it wasn’t there anymore.

and as much as it sucked to not be able to tell you how he truly felt, he still thought that it was better than not having you in his life at all. he made a place for you, and there was no way he could kick you at now.

you heard the chirps about the two of you, sometimes you were on the receiving end of them. you assured them, every time, that you and nolan were just friends. you weren’t looking for anything, and you were trying to steer clear of love all together. romance wasn’t something you were ever successful at, and it was something you’d groan to loathe in more ways than one.

you didn’t think there was anything wrong with your friendship with nolan. sure, you spent a lot of time at his apartment or with him in general, but that didn’t mean you were falling in love with him. yes, you’d spend hours on his couch, playing with his hair when he had migraines or rubbing knots out of his shoulders after a long day at practice.

you’d go out with him and travis, sometimes a large group of people, thought the two of you always stuck by each other’s side. you both knew the warning signs when the other one was ready to leave a group setting, hitting your limit of social interaction for the night. you knew when he was beating himself up during a game and would give him the best pep talk you could muster in order for him to finish the game on the highest note possible.

despite nolan’s feelings, he was able to be there for you in the best way a friend could be. he was doing good at the friend role you’d given him.

until he showed up.

you were walking through the flyers’ facility in the middle of a long day for everyone involved. the boys had a long day of practice, currently on their lunch break as travis and nolan walked along either side of you. you were laughing at something travis said, leaning slightly into nolan as you walked.

until you came to a screeching halt, your heart thudding harshly against your chest as you stared at the man in front of you.

“liam?” nolan and travis shared a look, one that was filled with confusion over the fact that they knew exactly who liam was, but were unsure of why he was here.

liam was the one that nolan had blamed for your lack of optimism when it came to love. nolan blamed for liam for not allowing you to love nolan. the one holding nolan back from being able to express everything he felt for you.

“hi.” liam smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes as he looked between travis and nolan.

“oh, uh, yeah, shit. guys, this is liam. liam, this is travis and nolan.” liam nodded, a sentiment that travis returned. nolan stood frigid in his place, hands shoved into the pockets of his sweats as he stared at liam, void of all emotion.

“what are you doing here?” to nolan’s knowledge, liam didn’t live in the area. you moved to philly as a way to get away from your old life, liam included.

“i was hoping i could talk to you.” your breath caught in your throat, uncertainty coursing through your veins even when you nodded and excused yourself from travis and nolan.

they watched you walk off with liam, falling into step beside him as you walked off in a direction that nolan wanted to veer far away from. so much so that he turned on his heel when he could finally move, walking back towards the locker room with travis lingering behind him.

“patty-”

“don’t.”

he wasn’t. it showed when lunch ended and the boys were back on the ice. nolan’s slap shot was harder than it had been at the start of the day, his feet were faster and his cheeks were redder. he was playing more aggressive than he usually did, and it didn’t go unnoticed by anyone that was witnessing it.

he didn’t talk about it, and travis didn’t bring it up. not even when the rest of the boys asked if there was something wrong with nolan. travis would sigh and shrug, despite knowing the exact reason that nolan was acting like this.

you didn’t see nolan for the rest of the day, and even for a few days afterwards. he steered clear of the hallway he knew you spent most of your time in, and when it rolled around to game day, he ignored your good lucks texts that you always sent him. he played the same way he had been at practice, though it ramped up to 200% when it wasn’t his teammates that he was shoving into the boards.

it was the most aggressive you’d ever seen him play, and it was confusing to watch. you didn’t know what was going on with him, but you chopped it up to being too lost in his own thoughts and channeling it into his game.

what an understatement that was.

when he scored a goal, his celly showed no excitement. he didn’t cheer, didn’t drop down to one knee like he did from time to time. he simply took the slaps on the back from his teammates and lined up for the face off.

the thing that really got you was the fight he got into. it wasn’t like nolan to fight, you’d only seen him fight once since you’d met him. and this fight was dirty.

enough to send him to the locker room after for concussion protocol. travis looked towards your seat when nolan headed off the ice, mumbling profanities under his breath when he saw you climbing the stairs. he knew what you were doing, and he knew it wasn’t going to end well for either of you, but there was nothing he could do with three minutes left in the period.

your feet took you further than you expected them to. you ended up at the locker room without time to think about what you were doing, pounding on the door until it swung open.

“ma’am, you can’t-”

“i need to talk to him.” you shoved past the man with a towel draped over his shoulder, who called out behind you as you stomped through the room until you caught sight of nolan.

“ma’am!”

“what's going on with you?” nolan’s head snapped over towards you, along with a few other people who were standing around him.

“what?” he was confused, along with not fully letting out his anger that had built throughout the game.

“that! what was all of that? you don’t play like that-”

“how the hell do you know how i play?”

“because i watch you play all the time, nolan! not only do i sit in the stands every single home game, but i have to rewatch shit over and over game for my job. i know how you play, and it’s not like that.” the laugh that passed his lips had no humor in it, only venom as it pierced through your chest.

“well then why don’t you go out there and play for me? since you know how i play so well, go do it yourself.” he pointed to his jersey that he’d taken off when he entered the locker room, watching your eyes narrow in his direction.

“why are you acting like such a dick?”

“now i’m a dick? first i’m not playing like myself and now i’m a dick. what’s next, y/n? you want to tell me that i need a new stick to play with? a new number?” it was your turn to laugh now, attempting to bite your tongue as your hands settled on your hips.

“what is wrong with you?”

“you! you’re what’s wrong with me.” your shoulders relaxed, slumping slightly as your hands fell by your side. “why are you even here, y/n? shouldn’t you be at home with your boyfriend or something?”

“my boyfriend? you of all people should know i don’t have a boyfriend.” he scoffed, biting the inside of his cheek when the door to the locker room opened.

“could’ve fooled me.” he mumbled softly, but you weren’t letting the conversation end there.

“is that what this is about? you’re mad that liam showed up the other day? well, i didn’t exactly ask him to show up out of the blue after two years, nol.”

“no? you weren’t ready to go back to how things were back in new york? you didn’t want to run back home and start your brand new shiny life with him?”

“what the fuck are you talking about? why does it matter what i had back in new york? i ran away from all of that, nol. liam asked me to move back with him and do you know what i said? i told him i’d never go back to him. i told him that he doesn’t mean anything to me anymore. i don’t want that shit anymore! i don’t want liam anymore.”

“but you don’t want me either, right?” your breath caught in your throat, your attempt at following the forming lump failing as you stared at him in disbelief. “am i right?”

“nolan.” you sighed, eyes fluttering shut for a moment.

“it’s not like i haven’t tried, y/n. it’s pretty fucking obvious that i love you, but you’re so set in this idea that you were made to be loved or some shit. you’re so set on not falling in love so you won’t get hurt that you’re ignoring the fact that i wouldn’t hurt you.” your eyes fell to your feet, your nerves spiking as you felt like you were shrinking under his gaze. “tell me i’m wrong.”

“nolan, you know how i feel about that shit-”

“you don’t think i know that? i know, y/n! it’s the only reason i’ve been bottling this shit up for months. if you weren’t so fucking headstrong i would’ve told you this months ago. but i can’t take it anymore, okay? so, here it is.” he stood up, standing just ahead of you. “i love you. i’m in love with you, and i don’t want you to believe any of the bullshit that guy’s feeding you. you deserve to be loved, and i can do that for you. i want to love you like you’ve never been loved before. i want to prove that love exists, and that it’s right in front of you.”

his hands cupped your cheeks, cradling your head in his hands and forcing your eyes up to his. he thought maybe he cracked something, maybe the wall of tears building was because you were realizing that what he was saying was true.

but then you shook your head, breaking the dam of tears and allowing them to roll down your cheeks.

“i can’t, nolan.” and his heart broke.

you pulled his hands from your face, gentle hands gripping around his wrists before placing them at his sides. you turned around, only taking a second to acknowledge the crowd of grown men that were watching your exchange.

travis stood at the front, jaw clenched tight as his eyes shifted from you to nolan. he moved slightly, enough to let you slip by him before attempting at trying to comfort nolan.

“pat-”

“i don’t want to talk about it.”

you had the luxury of going home after that, not having to watch the third period as you threw yourself onto your couch and sobbed into your throw pillows. nolan, however, had to play the rest of the game.

he got into another fight in the third, sent to the penalty box with trail of blood dripping from his nose. he broke a few sticks, took a couple of nasty hits but sent them right back without hesitation.

travis drove him back to his apartment, not speaking throughout the drive after being shut down three times prior to getting in the car. he dropped nolan off, telling him to call if he needed anything only to have the door slammed in return.

you stopped showing up to games that you were required to be at, stopped wandering the halls during practice hours. you spent most of your nights on your couch, laptop sat on your lap as you sipped wine while you worked. your phone went unanswered unless it was your boss.

weeks went by without hearing from nolan. you didn’t expect to, but a part of you hoped he’d call or text or something in order to talk to you. you didn’t know what you would say, or what he would say, but you found yourself wishing he was there when you got home.

you found yourself feeling disappointed when he wasn’t hanging around your office during the day. you couldn’t go to games unless you had to, your eyes not being able to leave the number 19 as he skated around the ice. you didn’t know what you wanted, but you knew it wasn’t this.

when your boss called you into his office on a saturday morning, your heart thudded against your chest harshly. you were expecting notes about how you’d been slacking. maybe something about giving you a warning for turning in half assed projects or missed deadlines.

you weren’t expecting to walk into a room with your boss as well as someone from the NHL staff, offering you a job back in new york.

“i’m sorry?” your boss let out a soft laugh, holding a manilla folder in your direction.

“the NHL wants you on their team. we’ve had an eye on you for a few months, and they want to offer you a position in their new york division. it’s up to you, obviously, but we’d be delighted to have you.” the man that you had just met moments ago gave you a bright smile, watching you have an internal battle in front of them.

“take your time, let us know once you’d reached a decision.” you nodded slowly, swallowing the lump in your throat to thank the men in front of you before heading out of the office.

you spent the first two days ignoring it, staring up at your ceiling for what felt like hours as you ran through the possibilities lined up for you. did you want to go back to new york? you were unsure. did you want to stop watching clips of the flyers, nolan specifically, over and over again as you thought about how much you messed things up with him? yes.

it took you five days before you were knocking on his door, tears streaming down your cheeks as your bottom lip wobbled. sure, you’d gone through two glasses of wine before you showed up, but that was hardly the point.

travis opened the door, surprised to see you just as much as you were him. his confusion turned to concern quickly, moving to wrap you in a hug and try to coo you out of your tears.

“tk who is it?” you lifted your head from travis’s shoulder to see nolan standing at the end of the hall, frozen in his place as he watched you unravel yourself from your best friend. “what are you doing here?”

“i got a job offer in new york.” you didn’t plan to lead the conversation with that, but it came out before you could think twice about it.

the silence that fell over the two of you was thick and uncomfortable, suffocating you like a scratchy turtle neck that you feel obligated to wear when your grandparents are in town. travis had fled the scene, finding solace in nolan’s guest room as he hid himself from the awkward conversation that was about to ensue.

“that’s great.” the cold tone he used shot through your heart, making you tug at the roots of your hair in frustration.

“that’s great? after all that we went through you’re just going to say ‘that’s great’ as if it’s a good thing that i might move back to new york?” he shrugged, his own frustration masking the hurt that was thumping in his chest.

“it’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”

“no, nolan! it’s not what i want! i want what we had back. i want the late night phone calls and the impulsive outings. i want to come back here and watch a movie after being out with the team all night long.” he stared at you blankly, spurring on your frustration even further.

“that sounds like a relationship, y/n, and that isn’t what you wanted. you made that crystal clear when i told you i loved you in front of thirty people and you just walked out.”

“i’m sorry, nolan. i am, i’m sorry. i just-” you chewed on your bottom lip, trying to keep it from wobbling like it did in the locker room, his eyes burning into yours all the same.

“say it.” he challenged, crossing his arms over his chest as he raised his eyebrows at you. “say it, y/n. because if you don’t say it, i can’t believe it.”

“this isn’t easy for me, nolan!”

“you think it’s easy for me? i’ve never felt like this before, y/n! i’ve gotten my heart broken too, but it didn’t feel like this. it didn’t feel how it felt when you walked out of the locker room, and it sure as hell didn’t feel like this. nothing has ever hurt this much before.

“love is scary, y/n, and i can’t tell it isn’t. i can’t tell you that you’ll feel comfortable every single second of the future. i can’t promise you that you wan’t be scared as fuck, but i can tell you that it’ll be worth it. for every ounce of fear you fell, you’ll feel ten times the amount of love. you just have to trust me, baby.”

your head was in his hands once again, eyes glued onto his as he searched for something intently.

“but i need you to say it.”

“i can’t, nolan.”

it was the same thing all over again. you were breaking his heart the same way you broke it back in the locker room. you built him up just to tear him down again, and he couldn’t handle it anymore.

“have fun in new york, y/n.”

the door slamming in front of you broke the dam, a strangled sob bubbling past your lips. nolan leaned against the door, listening to you try to catch your breath out in the hallway. he wanted you to knock, wanted you to yell at him to let you inside. he wanted you to realize that the words sat on the tip of your tongue, all you needed was a push before they’d come out.

but you didn’t.

he didn’t hear anything for a while. he went on a few roadies, played a few home games before he heard anything about it. he didn’t ask, but he was hoping the information would land in his lap sooner or later.

he wasn’t expecting travis to tell him that you took the job. you were moving back to new york, and while it wasn’t a surprise, it was fucking disappointing. nolan still had hope that the two of you would be able to work through all of the bullshit. he was hoping that everything said and done between the two of you would prove to be too much and too strong for you to forget about all of it.

he wanted you to stay in philly, as selfish as it was. he didn’t want you to live in a different state, but then he came to a realization. it was better for nolan if you left. it was better that you didn’t live him somewhere else, rather than working in the same building as him. he didn’t want to see you if he couldn’t have you. he couldn’t be your friend anymore.

travis gave him updates, letting him know that you were working for the NHL, and how it’d be a great experience for you. he knew when you were leaving, knew that you were packing up your apartment and moving back to new york, despite the bad memories that lingered there.

you were leaving, and nolan would probably never see you again.

and he came to terms with that. well, he thought he did. he was doing fine until he heard your name mixed with the words ‘last day’. then it all came crashing down.

you were leaving philly. you were going back to new york and nolan would probably never see you again. it weighed heavily on his chest, heavy on his shoulders as he left his things in the locker room, completely forgetting about packing his things as he ran through the hallways of the stadium, searching for anything that told him that you were still here.

he needed to find you before you left. he needed to see you, even if it was the last time he’d ever see you. he needed to tell you one more time, even if you wouldn’t say it back. he needed to see you. he needed you.

“y/n!” you turned around, confusion evident in your expression as nolan sprinted in your direction, coming to a screeching halt in front of you, breathing heavily as he hunched over to catch his breath.

“nolan?”

“don’t go.” you stared at him, eyebrows furrowed together as you struggled to find something to say. “don’t go. i know i told you to go, but don’t. you can’t go. you hate it there! new york’s filled with awful people and nothing you can’t find here.”

“nolan-”

“you love your job! and you love the flyers. if you go to new york you’ll have to go to isles games, or the rangers! who likes the rangers? that’s bullshit, y/n! what’s in new york that you can’t have here? pizza? the pizza’s fine but that doesn’t warrant you to move back!”

“nolan-”

“don’t go. i know i said i couldn’t wait, but i will. i’ll wait as long as it takes. i’ll do anything it takes to prove to you that i love you. you can’t go, baby. you can’t leave, because i haven’t been able to show you what love is supposed to feel like. you can’t go, please. baby, i love you, and if you go now i don’t think anything’s going to be able to stop me from following you.”

he cradled your head in his hands, one on each cheek as his eyes burned into you for a third time. the third time he held you like you hung the moon and told you all the right things. the third time he looked for something, anything, that told him to stay right here forever.

“i turned down the job.”

“what?” it wasn’t exactly what he was expecting, but he wasn’t losing hope just yet.

“i turned it down. i’m not going to new york.” a grin spread across his face, hope beaming in the back of his mind as he tried not to topple over the edge again. not yet, anyways.

“why?”

“i can’t leave, nolan. not after falling in love with you.” his heart stopped, his breathing stopped, and he was sure that he was about to collapse in the middle of the hallway.

“what?” you smiled, leaning into one of his palms as you sighed softly.

“i love you. i’m in love with you.” you gripped his wrist gently, trying to bring his head out of the clouds and back down to earth as you smiled at him.

“you what?” you laughed then, finding a light humor in his inability to soak in the meaning of your words.

“i love you. i always have, i think, i just couldn’t come to terms with it. i was stupid to think that this was anything but love, nolan. i shouldn’t have walked away in the locker room, and i should’ve said it in the hallway last time. i shouldn’t have let you believe i didn’t love you.”

his lips came crashing down on yours, leaving a bruising kiss on your soft lips that he was sure he could get drunk off of. he had never felt so lightheaded from a kiss, like his enter being was about to burst into flames from how much electricity coursed through him.

you were sure he was about to knock you off of your feet from the force of it all, but you didn’t mind. you smiled against him, feeling him do the same before separating from you. just enough to press his forehead to yours, keeping his eyes screwed shut as he tried to collect his thoughts.

“is this real?” he whispered softly, hearing you laugh softly. you reached up and pinched the back of his hand, hearing him hiss in pain. “shit, okay, definitely real. i love you.”

“i love you.” you said softly, watching him lift his head from yours to finally look back at you.

“i don’t think i’ll ever get used to hearing that.” you leaned into him, pressing a kiss to his jaw.

“good, because i don’t think i’ll ever get used to saying it.”

tagging @thedemonsimpofcamphalfblood

#nolan patrick #nolan x reader #nolan patrick x reader #nhl #philadelphia flyers #nhl fic #hockey fic

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kimnjss · 4 years

Text

roleplaying | requested reaction

NAMJOON

Joon would be so into it. Might even be the one to suggest it to be honest. He wouldn't hesitate at all if you were coming out and saying you wanted to try roleplaying because he'd more than likely would be thinking the same thing.

He'd get really involved when it came to what roles you wanted to play and would want to make it as realistic as possible. Namjoon would take his role very seriously and wouldn't break character the entire time. And seeing you getting into the characters and hearing the things you come up with to say would turn him on like crazy.

Out of all the roles and scenarios the two of you have come up with, his favorite is undoubtedly professor/student. He would, of course, purchase a cute uniform for you to wear while he came dressed in a pair of glasses and a nice suit. Joon would even went as far as re-renting the set used for their Boy In Luv music video, to truly set the tone of your scene.

How into it he gets really has you sticking to your character and him taking his role so seriously is what makes roleplaying with him that much more fun.

JIN

The two of you wouldn't do it often, since it would require a bit of planning before hand Jin really enjoyed going for it whenever the moment felt right. He'd be interested to try if you were bringing it up to him and would take it seriously for the most part. When you had first mentioned it, he thought that you were only kidding.

But once he knew that it was something that you actually wanted to do, he'd be into trying it out just to see a smile on your face. Before, during and after. The scene would be something simple, since it is something that the both of you would be new at.

Something easy that is overplayed in pornos, he'd play the delivery guy – whether it was pizza or a package. Jin would try his best with keeping up with the character and saying the right thing. In the back of his mind, he's wanting to fast forward to the part where he'd actually get to drop the act and do what he's best at. Making you feel good.

Once you'd be getting down to it, Jin would end up breaking character more often. His personality leaking through, but of course you didn't mind it. You thought it was cute how hard he tried to stay in character just to end up breaking it to tell you he loves you.

YOONGI

It wouldn't necessarily be on the top of Yoongi's list, much more preferred just fucking you regular without all the tricks and gimmicks, but he wouldn't protest if he saw that it was something that you really wanted to try or if it was something that he knew you were into. He just wouldn't care too much about it.

Since he's pretty blasé about the whole thing, he wouldn't get too into his character and would choose the most simple scenario to get into. Strangers who just met and decided to sleep together would be his go to because he can just ct as if he doesn't know your body like the back of his hand. Of course, he'd be dropping character halfway through, not being able to hold back from making you moan.

You'd find it funny, because he would try to keep it together but at the end of the day it just wasn't for him. It didn't matter much, though. Overall, you always enjoyed yourself when the two were together you had zero complaints.

There are times, though. Where he has literally surprised you in public. Acting like an actual stranger and baiting you to come home with him. Instances like those were extremely rare, but you loved the randomness of them.

HOSEOK

The first time you met Hoseok was at one of his shows. A chance meting behind the arena when he was getting into his car. You had enjoyed the show, sad to leave and annoyed that the Uber driver had you walking all over the place just to be picked up. Your merch a dead giveaway that you were a fan, so he was easily striking up conversation.

Your ride came just as he was working up the courage to ask f you wanted to spend more time together. Instead, you're taking his number and spending the entire car ride home and the rest of the night talking to each other.

It as safe to say that, that was his favorite moment. With how fond he grew of you after the fact, he's thankful for his friends urging him to go say hi to the pretty girl. He would be the one to suggest roleplaying after you were showing the slightest bit of interest in it.

He loved and cherished the relationship that the two of you had, but it never truly left his mind what it would've been like if you had slept together the first night you met. So reliving your first meeting with the addition of claw backs and sweaty kisses would be a lot of fun for him. And for you too, sleeping with him that first night was something you wondered a lot about too.

JIMIN

It would be your idea from the start of it, but Jimin would be down or the experience. Even though you had brought it up, he would take over the planning of it, wanting the whole thing to be as dramatic and creative as it possibly be. Which meant costumes and intricate well rounded characters. An entire theater production in your bedroom.

He'd be all smiling cheeks the day everything came in for your night together. Announcing that out of the options you had told him to pick from, he chose the angel and demon scenario. Him as the angel, of course. Some wings for him to wear and a latex one piece for you.

Unlike normal nights between the two of you, you'd be in complete control. Him as an angel caught at the hands of a vengeful demon. It was cute to you how much thought he put into the story and you'd easily find yourself slipping into your role.

Despite the amount of care he put into getting this night together and how excited he was up to this day, Jimin would be breaking character almost immediately. Which you would find hilarious and wouldn't budge to his whining. It wasn't often that you got to take control and with safe words in place, you could comfortably make him squirm with or without roles.

TAEHYUNG

As for fully thought out scenarios, Taehyung wouldn't be too into it. Wouldn't be too interested in getting into character and all that, but would naturally fall into a dominant role almost every time the two of you were venturing out to try something new. You liked how he got when he was in control, so not taking part in actual scenes really didn't bother you.

Safe to say, Taehyung new you and your body like the back of his hand – so not much guessing was needed when it came to pleasing you. The two of you liked to keep thing fresh and exciting in the bedroom and he was always down to try out whatever you wanted and vice versa.

Props aren't a stranger to the bedroom with you. Whether he's securing a leash around your neck or cuffing your hands to the headboard. He'd reach the height of his dominance in those moments, loved it the most when you were desperate for him so having you cuffed was the best in his opinion.

Switching wasn't something he did often or even thought about, but he'd let you have your fun for a little while he was going to take control again. Hardly ever did you try to cuff him and if you were to brave it – a punishment would definitely be in order.

JUNGKOOK

A lot of thought would be put into what roles and scenarios the two of you would play. Jungkook would be all for the idea and excited to do his best the moment you were bringing it up. For the majority of your relationship, the sex between the two of you has been pretty dry cut normal. Not boring, but nothing out of the ordinary.

So he was jumping on the chance to spice things up. The type of characters the two of you would play is the first thing he's figuring out. Grinning when you're agreeing to his superhero/villain idea. And he's quick to go out and buy costumes for the both of you.

Where you guys did it wouldn't really matter to him, fitting whatever spot it would be into his scenario. He knew that you were most comfortable in your shared apartment, so he'd get to putting something nice together for the two of you there.

He wouldn't for a second break character, playing the hell out of his superhero one rogue role. You, as the villain he caught and is more than ready to have his way with. Jungkook would make sure to make it fun for the both of you and with how serious he took his role, you'd be doing the same.

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kali-tmblr · 4 years

Text

Framing Ironwood's Double Standard

There's a lot to talk about regarding Ironwood in V7, so rather than lose some of the nuances I'm going to make a few shorter posts before moving on to the longer analyses. One of the things we learned in Volume 7 was that Ironwood has a double standard. But the really interesting thing was the way we learned Ironwood has a double standard. CRWBY framed the story so that every individual act that Ironwood felt RWBY had "betrayed" him by doing was something that, unbeknownst to RWBY, he had already done to Ozpin back in Volumes 2 and 3.

Let's run down the accusations. The first two are ones that Ironwood makes, that the group withheld vital information from him and that they acted against his orders behind his back. The third is one that isn't mentioned in the show, but is one that Ironwood's supporters make, and that deals with the abuse of trust and/or hospitality.

We'll take them one at a time.

The first accusation that Ironwood makes is that the group withheld information from him. This accusation is correct, and considering how badly he reacted when he learned the news they withheld, a good case can be made that they acted properly. ( Some viewers thought he took it well, but look again. That's an utterly shell-shocked expression on his face.) The point I want to make here is that Ironwood did the same thing to Ozpin in Volumes 1- 3, not once but twice.

In Volume 3 Winter reveals to Qrow that Ironwood "had reason to assume you'd been compromised", but these reasons don't appear to have been shared with Qrow's boss Ozpin. If you have reason to doubt the spy, you tell the spymaster, especially when the spy's information is vital to an ongoing operation. That's some pretty serious information Ironwood is withholding from Ozpin.

Then there's Penny, who shows up in Vale at the end of Volume 1 but who Ozpin doesn't find out about until after her dismemberment at the end of Volume 3. Even though Penny was created as the next line of defenses against Salem and Ironwood believed correctly that an attack by Salem was immanent, he still didn't inform their most experienced Salem-fighter of her presence. And I'm not the only person who saw that setup in the Beacon Vault, heard Qrow speak of Ironwood's experiments to capture Aura "and cram it into something else" and immediately thought of Penny. It seemed obvious that turning Penny or a future model based on her into a Maiden was Ironwood's endgame, perhaps even using the Aura-capture method on Ozpin himself, or on key humans. So not keeping Ozpin abreast of this development seems highly questionable, especially in light of Amber's condition.

But not only did Ironwood withhold this information from Ozpin, when Ozpin did find out, Ironwood seemed more frightened of Ozpin's reaction to that news that Ironwood was of the actual Grimm invasion going on around him. Indeed, the only time we see Ironwood more frightened is when confronting Salem herself. Not withholding this information would have saved lives.

Then there's the matter of members of the group acting behind Ironwood's back to tell Robyn about the Amity Arena project. That's a serious matter, almost as serious as when Ironwood went behind Ozpin's back to the Vale Council and took control of the Vytal Festival away from Ozpin at the end of Volume 2, a fact Qrow was drunkenly protesting in his first appearance at the beginning of Volume 3.

The final accusation, made not by Ironwood but by his supporters, is that the group abused his hospitality by going against his wishes while they were his guests. I've already addressed this accusation in more detail in another post, but here I would just like to point out that Ironwood also abused Ozpin's hospitality by going against Ozpin's wishes while Ironwood and his forces were Ozpin's guests.

Ironwood may proclaim, and rightly so, that "loyalty always matters". He may talk about his years of loyalty to Ozpin, but in this story he has never shown it. His only apparent loyalty has been to protecting Atlas, and not Mantle, from Salem.

As I said before, CRWBY went to a lot of trouble to put these parallels in the story. Why? To show that Ironwood has a double standard, that he doesn't hold his own actions to the same benchmark as he holds the actions of other people. But who is CRWBY showing this double standard to? The important thing to remember is that these parallels are not for the benefit of RWBYJNR. They don't have the background information to properly see them. Only Qrow knows enough to make the connections, and he's separated from them. No, CRWBY put these parallels in place for the benefit of the audience, so that we can see plainly that Ironwood has a double standard. That can only mean that Ironwood's double standard is going to become even more important over time.

But why does it matter that Ironwood has a double standard? Does it just make him "a big stupid jerk" or is there something deeper going on?

A double standard indicates an inability to see things from other people's viewpoints, a weakness we have already seen Ironwood display in his approach to Mantle. Ironwood lacks perspective, the ability to see things from other peoples' shoes, and that is a crippling weakness in a leader confronting rapidly changing circumstances.

(A fact that unfortunately we are all seeing played out in real life thanks to the pandemic. Years from now we'll be able to look back at this time and judge the effectiveness of our various leaders to deal with change based on a very grim scorecard, the disease mortality rates of the various communities under their jurisdictions.)

Ironwood isn't completely lacking in perspective, as evidenced by his duel with Watts. In a military situation, against a single opponent, he does great. But get him in a situation that is too far outside those narrow boundaries and his perspective breaks down, such as his slowness in realizing that the duel itself was one move in a much larger game.

And that deficit in leadership skills is going to give Salem a major advantage over Ironwood even before you start looking at their troop deployments.

#rwby #james ironwood #ozpin #qrow branwen #winter schnee #Salem #arthur watts

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captain-tch · 3 years

Text

All That I Can Give

summary: kiko is a struggling business owner thrown into the chaos of the borderlands. when she makes a mistake that will threaten her life, she learns just how far she will go to keep herself alive.

chapter 12: never underestimate a spark

previous chapter

Morning came faster than she wanted it to. Kiko woke up against the wall, her back begging to be cracked and her neck aching. All of her joints protested as she clambered to her feet, with holding a yawn.

Her gaze darted around. Her brain struggled to comprehend why she hadn’t woken up in a nest of blankets, a ragged sofa with a snoring Tetsu nestled within it.

Tetsu!

She scrambled to his side, holding his face in her hands. His bruises were a shade darker today, smaller cuts having crusted. He still hadn’t shown no sign of waking, still in the same position he was in when she brought him in last night.

Last night.

The days events rushed towards her like a tsunami. They shot her, but then they patched up her wounds. They kidnapped them, and then invited them to join their so called utopia, as if they had a choice. They gave her a room, with a bed and shower, but with the lock glued open.

An uneasy feeling settled deep in her stomach. She couldn’t shake the feeling that this place brewed misery, and she was about to get sucked into a whirlwind of it.

Looking at Tetsu, she knew this couldn’t happen soon. He hadn’t woken up yet. She imagined when he did wake up, he would have trouble moving at all. As much as her mind begged her to flee, she had to stay here. They needed a support network whilst both of their wounds healed. When they were in a clean bill of health they would escape.

Kiko breathed deeply. The day to leave couldn’t come soon enough.

She pulled Tetsu into the rolling chair, pushing him out of the room. She started to retrace her steps from last night, trying and desperately to find Ann. As she was rolling Tetsu down more corridors, rolling past curious onlookers she brushed off, it became apparent she had no fucking clue where she was going.

Turning a corner, her heart dropped out of her throat. Niragi was walking down the corridor, his gun casually slung over his shoulder. He was talking to the man with the katana.

Kiko pulled Tetsu’s chair back, cursing as he started to slip out of the seat. She quickly ran around the front of it, pushing him back into the chair however she could. The footsteps got closer. Kiko panicked. Her gaze shot to the door nearest to her.

She reached a frantic hand out, pushing the door open and wheeling Tetsu in.

“Well, well, well. What are you doing here, little firecracker?”

Kiko gulped. She spun around, discreetly closing the door shut behind her. She prayed no one was in the room. It would take a lot of explaining once this was all over.

“Niragi, as unpleasant as always.”

He snorted, elbowing his friend. “Last Boss, do you hear this? She’s as feisty as ever.”

The man only stared at Kiko. She tried not to focus on him too much, crossing her arms across her chest and glaring at Niragi. The bullet wound on her shoulder ached. “I don’t have all day. What do you want?

“I want you,” Niragi leaned closer, his mouth mere centimetres from hers. His friend continued watching intently. It was clear this was something he was very accustomed to witnessing. “I want you underneath me as I-”

Kiko raised a hand, placing a silencing finger over his lips. “I get the picture.”

He only smirked under her finger, his gaze on her as he parted his lips. His tongue grazed along her finger. Kiko withheld a shudder. She snatched her hand back as soon as she could. Niragi chuckled.

“Where’s your little friend?”

Kiko stiffened at the mention of Tetsu. She forced a smile on her face, practising her well rehearsed script. An iron wall was built in front of her features, cemented by her solid stance. “I’m not his keeper.”

“Didn’t seem that way yesterday.” Kiko tried not to let the events from the kidnapping play over in her head. If she even thought of how Niragi threw Tetsu to the ground, how she knew in her bones he caused that gravel rash on his cheek, she was certain she would snatch the rifle from his grasp and fill him full of lead. It wouldn’t achieve much - she’d probably be skewered by Last Boss before she could hit anything major - but the satisfaction of seeing the red blossom on Niragi’s shirt? Euphoric.

“Not everything is as it seems.”

“Know that from experience?” Niragi lifted his rifle, pointing the sights directly at Kiko. Immediately she pressed herself into the wall, her heart racing a million miles a minute. From the short time she’d been at the Beach she knew Niragi and the militants weren’t the kind to be messed with, and staring down the barrel of his gun right now drilled that into her mind. Her hand discreetly found the handle of the door behind her, ever so slowly turning it downwards.

The barrel moved downwards. Kiko couldn’t hide the sigh of relief that passed her lips. Niragi laughed darkly at her, swinging his gun around carelessly. “I knew it. You look like a firecracker, but you’re not even a spark.”

Niragi nudged Last Boss’ shoulder, gesturing for them to carry on down the hall. They started to disappear from sight, Kiko trying to hide the fact she was leaning on the door for support. She had felt the bony fingers of the Grim Reaper about to tear her away from this world. She could feel the imprint of them on her skin.

As much as her legs still shook, her jaw was set. Niragi’s words swirled in her mind. He thought he was weak? He had barely met her. He didn’t know the damage she could cause with her own hands, the very hands she was both proud and ashamed to look at. He didn’t know that she took down the demon haunting her existence with something as simple as a paper weight. He didn’t know that she intended to sacrifice others to survive.

She might be a spark. But when a spark is left ignored, it can very quickly turn into an inferno.

A smile curled onto her face. Niragi didn’t know shit, and one day he was going to find out the hard way how badly he had underestimated her. One of the few joys she found in life was proving people wrong. She would love to prove Niragi wrong by smearing his blood all along the walls.

Shaking off the residue fear, Kiko opened the door behind her. Tetsu was miraculously still in the chair. He was nestled against the wall and besides him, a woman with dreads smiled up at Kiko.

Kiko watched her warily as the unknown woman got to her feet, sticking a plastic stick in her mouth. Unconsciously, she took a step back.

“I’m assuming you’re the one who pushed him in here?” The woman queried, gesturing to Tetsu behind her. “He’s pretty beaten up.”

“Game.” Kiko answered her unspoken question. She moved towards Tetsu, maneuvering herself behind him and preparing to roll him away. “Sorry about that.”

“You two new around here?”

Kiko nodded.

“You’ve made quite the impression. Niragi’s taken a liking to you.”

“He’s got a strange way of showing it.” She could still feel the ghost of his tongue along her finger. The desire to plunge her whole hand in acid was overwhelming.

The woman’s gaze moved to Kiko’s bandaged shoulder. It seemed like she put the puzzle pieces together, eyes lighting up in recognition. “You’re the pair they brought back from the supply run?”

Kiko nodded. She was starting to feel uncomfortable under the woman’s probing gaze. She seemed to be assessing every curve of Kiko’s body, taking in all the bruises, cuts and bandages covering her body.

“We better get going.”

The woman nodded. Just as Kiko was leaving, the woman jumped in front of the chair. Kiko considered using the chair as a battering ram, but the thought of the extra effort made the decision for her.

“Going anywhere special?”

“To see Ann.” Kiko halted, looking at the woman. “Can you show us where she is? This place is a maze.”

The woman agreed, sending Kiko a bright smile. The woman, whom Kiko quickly learned was called Kuina, was very talkative, filling the space between them with mindless chatter. Kiko didn’t mind it too much. It was a great distraction from the constant whirring in her head.

Kuina showed them where Ann’s medical office was, standing by as Ann redressed Kiko’s and Tetsu’s wounds. She gave some pain relief, sending them on their way.

By the time they’d left the medical office, the light through the windows was starting to fade. Kiko’s worried gaze fixated on Tetsu. His visa ran out tonight, and he wasn’t even conscious. She had a few extra days on hers since she played early, but the thought of sitting it out was ludicrous. She wasn’t going to let Tetsu enter a game and not even be aware.

She would be his body guard.

Kuina noticed Kiko’s heavy eyes. “Does his visa expire tonight?”

Kiko nodded.

“What are you going to do?”

“Protect him.”

Sensing Kiko’s resolve, Kuina led Kiko down to the main lobby. She explained on the way that before the games, Hatter would give what he deemed a ‘motivating’ speech, and then people selected a number at random. This number assigned them to a car, and that car of people would go to the game arena.

Kiko drowned out Hatter’s words, gaze curiously moving throughout the room. She saw quite a few familiar faces, her eyes wandering. They stopped on a face she couldn’t quite recognise. She was a young girl, dressed in a bikini and shawl covering her legs. She was talking animatedly with her friends, laughing hard. As if she felt Kiko’s gaze on her, she turned around.

The colour instantly drained from her face.

The memory came rushing back. The paper weight. The mess of Ryuk’s head underneath her hands. And the girl shying away from Kiko’s bloody hands.

This girl had witnessed her commit a murder.

Kuina passed Kiko a number. “This is Tetsu’s car.”

Not fully processing what was happening, Kiko took the number from Kuina’s hand. She started to move Tetsu in the direction they needed to go in. She carefully lifted Tetsu’s body off of the chair, pushing it into the car. She put his seat belt on before diving in next to him.

The car ride was a blur. Her thoughts were a whirlwind, consumed with anxieties over the girl, and Tetsu’s unconscious state. What if the girl told someone? She wasn’t familiar enough with the Beach yet to know if murder was something that would slide. What if this was a spades game? She wasn’t sure how far she could carry Tetsu with her screaming shoulder.

The car pulled to a stop outside a high school. All of the cars occupants left the car, them all leaving Kiko to struggle carrying Tetsu’s body weight. She stumbled behind them as they entered the school, arrows directing them further into the building. They stopped once they reached the canteen, a single table placed in the middle of the room.

A pile of phones was set up in front of it. The Beach members all grabbed a phone, Kiko shoving hers into her pocket and holding the phone over Tetsu’s face. Her breath halted in her throat as a nerve wrecking thought dashed through her mind - does it register someone when they’re unconscious?

She didn’t have to worry too long as the screen quickly filled with his details.

Kiko frowned, looking around the room. There was only six of them altogether from the Beach. She looked around the room to see if anyone was hiding. She looked again at the central table. On the table laid six glasses of clear liquid.

“GAME: CUPBEARER. DIFFICULTY: EIGHT OF DIAMONDS.”

Kiko swore colourfully under her breath. In her arms, she felt Tetsu’s body begin to dip. She gripped him tighter, pulling him upright.

“Kiko?” A voice mumbled.

Kiko’s head snapped in the direction of the voice. One of Tetsu’s eyes was swollen shut; but the other was fluttering open. A huge surge of relief washed over her.

“What’s going on?” He rasped.

“We’re at a game.”

“But, how...” Tetsu trailed off.

Kiko opened her mouth to explain as the bodiless voice boomed through the room.

“REGISTRATION COMPLETE.”

Kiko prayed that Tetsu gathered his wits soon. If he didn’t, it might kill them all.

#alice in borderland #alice in borderland fanfic #alice in borderland fanfiction #aib #aib fanfiction #aib fanfic

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shortythescreen · 4 years

Text

come over chapter 2: the invitation.

Warning(s): NSFT/18+, fem reader, dysfunctional family dynamics, semi public sex.

Relationship(s): Octane/Female Reader.

Summary: Octavio’s family is having an event for their donors. He’d really rather not go but you’d make it a lot more bearable.

Author’s Notes: I LLIIIIIVEEEEEEE. It took forever to get here y’all but here it is! Part 2 of Come Over! It was originally like, 10k words so I split it into two. Which means Part 3 is already written and I’ll just wait to see how this does before I put it out.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3.

Octavio doesn’t avoid his family.

He doesn’t! He really doesn’t. Seven chances out of ten, he picks up the phone when his mama calls, and if he doesn’t it’s probably because he’s in the arena. Or out. Whatever.

He’s sent his papa text messages during every major holiday he isn’t there for. Not that he isn’t there for a lot of them! He’s hasn’t missed El Dia de los Reyes in. Ever. Even if he didn’t show up for his parents’ New Year’s Eve party days prior. Not that he hadn’t wanted to, he’s just a busy guy. Busy guys don’t have time to go to every social event their billionaire parents host.

That’s what he’s trying to tell his mama.

“Mami, I’m busy with the games-” he tries, pressing his fingers to his temples, for once grateful that his mama doesn’t know how to operate the video camera function on her tablet. Otherwise, she’d see the twist of his lip as he speaks. He kinda thinks she might still be able to hear it, considering Elliot is skirting him as he walks through the common room, trying to distance himself from the hostility in his voice.

“Octavio, ya.” She bites and the tone of her voice seals his lips shut. Fuck. How’s that even fair? “The next game isn’t until Monday. You can be back on planet by Sunday night if you leave tomorrow.”

“Ma, I can’t,” Octavio tries, but his mama cuts him off.

“Yes, you can! Octavio Jose, you use Silva Pharmaceuticals for the games. This party is to celebrate all the donors that give us the resources to create the stim you use. You will come to this party, shake hands, jump hoops and do whatever these people want, or we will revoke your supply. Do you understand me?”

Octavio’s nostrils flare, his leg jiggling as he pushes his teeth against his tongue piercing. The stretch of metal against his muscle is half painful, but he ignores the ache in favor of clenching and unclenching his fists.

“Do you hear me-”

“Yes, ma, I’ll be there, bye.” And with that, Octavio taps the pad in front of him, effectively ending the call. He’ll get some messages later about hanging up on her, but he doesn’t care. All he wants to do right now is put his head through the fucking table next to the tablet.

“That, uh, sounded pretty heated,” Elliot says and Octavio snorts, turning pinched green eyes up to his fellow legend. He’s holding out a water bottle, clutching another in his opposite hand, and Octavio snatches it from his hand, not even bothering to grumble a thank you as he guzzles half of it. “Whoa! Easy!”

“I have to go to a party this weekend,” Octavio bites, ignoring the way that Elliot’s lips stitch shut, like his did when mama told him ya. Elliot hums, sipping more cautiously at his own water.

“Wow, what a predac- p-perdim- that kinda sounds like a dumb reason to be upset,” Elliot drops the sarcasm as he fumbles over the word and Octavio barks a laugh.

“Compadre, I wish it was,” he grits, pressing the flat of his palm against his still jiggling knee. It keeps moving. “My parents are hosting some stupid thank you donor thing.”

“That doesn’t sound that bad,” Elliot says, hopping over the edge of the couch to settle beside Octavio. He throws his boots up, resting them on the coffee table in front of him, the slide of the front door accompanied by some more footfalls. “You’ve thanked Silva Pharm on camera before.”

“It’s not the same,” Octavio grunts. Donors lived for Octane. They lived for his thrill seeking and heart stopping shows. They loved his tattoo and his catch phrases and wanted him to keep it up.

His parents didn’t want Octane. They wanted Octavio. And not even the real Octavio – the one they’d always wanted him to be. The one who was content being a dutiful son. The one who didn’t blow off his own legs with a grenade. The one who didn’t renounce his position as the heir to Silva Pharm.

“My mom said she’ll revoke my supply of stim if I don’t go,” he tells Elliot, who sucks in air through his teeth.

“Ooh, yikes. Guess you don’t have a choice, huh?” Elliot says. Octavio grimaces, now sipping at his water, hand still trying to placate his jittering leg.

“No he don’t. He knew that when his mama called,” a voice says and Octavio glances over, catching Ajay at the fridge on the edge of the common room. She’s pulled out a flavorless yogurt and busies herself scraping it into a bowl.

Ajay has been talking to him little by little, but they haven’t talked about the- incident. Of him lying. He lied to her. He regrets it most days. Right now, he really does, because he could really use her advice.

“Maybe it won’t be that bad!” Elliot says and Octavio sniffs, looking down at the coffee table to avoid Ajay’s eyes as she flops onto the couch across from them. She, too, kick her feet up onto the coffee table, slouching into the cushions.

“Maybe,” Octavio says, not moping into his water.

Silence passes between the three long enough for it to begin to feel stiff. Ajay breaks it with a loud sigh, and his eyes turn up, finding her staring at him.

“What?” He asks.

“Do ya parents still need a photographer?” She asks instead of answering him. Octavio blanches, sitting upright, and his leg stops in its insistent shaking, the click of his metal foot ceasing abruptly.

“What?” He asks again and Ajay blusters her lips, stuffing a spoonful of yogurt between her cheeks.

“Ya parents never let you bring a plus one ‘cause you always bring some so’n’so,” Ajay says and before Octavio protests, she continues, “shut up, yes ya do. If they still need a photographer, bring ours. She’s ya friend, right? She’ll make it more bearable, and she’s official, so ya parents won’t say nutin’.”

Octavio swallows, holding Ajay’s stare. She always seems so critical – like she knows what he’s thinking even when he doesn’t think he’s thinking at all. He wonders if she can tell how he’s been around you recently – if she’s noticed how you show up at his house late at night.

“Plus, she’s totally hot,” Elliot remarks and Octavio bristles and, oh yeah, Ajay notices. Her face remains neutral, but she thumps her foot against Elliot, who whines as the coffee table rattles beneath them.

“I’ll think about it,” he mutters, turning back to his water.

-----

It’s probably a bad idea for Octavio to invite you to his parents’ party.

After his… realization, he’s sort of been avoiding you. Not directly because Octavio doesn’t directly avoid- anything, really. He doesn’t avoid things. He’s not avoiding you. You guys just haven’t had sex since he said te amo into your throat. That’s all.

He’s not totally avoiding you, though. He still sends you shitty memes and you still tell him to let you work. He even brought you lunch the other day because your dumbass forgets to eat. Which is why he’s carrying over some empanadas to your studio.

Apex spared no expense for someone who was going to be key to their marketing. Your studio has vaulted ceilings and the pristine, white walls and tarps are constantly lit by either the natural light of the sun or the way too tall studio lights.

You seem concerned with neither, hunched in front of the triple monitors posed in front of your shooting area. He’s pretty sure that’s a picture of Bloodhound you’re editing.

“Hey,” he says, and you jump, your rolling chair skittering back as you dazedly blink up. Your eyes pinch as you squint, clearly perturbed from looking away from the screen after however long you’d been staring.

“Jesus! Fucking say something next time, Oc, you scared me!” You say and Octavio snickers, lips curling into a devious grin against his will.

“C’mon, amiga, you should’ve heard me coming,” he says, tapping his metal foot on the black tile. You huff, turning back to your computer.

“Shut up. What do you want?” You ask, leaning a little closer to the screen, despite having already zoomed in pretty damn far on Artur. Octavio grabs the chair at your left that you usually reserve for when your bosses come to visit, then flops down. The wheels careen him a little away, but he grabs the edge of your desk and pulls himself up.

“You need to eat, muchacha,” he says, holding up the brown paper bag. You purse your lips, glancing at him from the corner of your eye. Wordlessly, you take the bag from him, then move away from your computer.

You lean back in your seat, kicking your legs up onto his lap. Instinctively, Octavio reaches down, grabbing the edges of your feet to keep them in place on his thighs. He thumbs at the edge of your shoe and his nostrils flare. Damn it.

“Thanks,” you say, the crinkle of the bag the only sound for a little. Octavio rests an elbow on the edge of your desk, turning to look at what you’d been doing to Artur. He can see your notes at the top of the screen, scrawled with some digital pen: no alterations to the bird – it would be disrespectful to Houn-

“What’s the matter with you?” You ask, startling Octavio out of his reading. He turns his head to face you, your cheek bulged as you chew.

“What do you mean what’s the matter with me?” He asks back and you roll your eyes, swallowing hard.

“You’re never this quiet,” you say and Octavio huffs, turning to face the screen once again, his leg beginning to bounce in anticipation.

“Fuck off.”

“Fuck you, stop moving.”

“I’m not a fucking—a fucking—joda, what’s that word?”

“What word?”

“You know, for the- for the thing. When you put your feet up. Reposapíes.”

“What, like an ottoman?”

“No, fuck. I mean, yes, but that’s not the word I was thinking of.”

“A footrest?”

“Eso! Yes! Fuck you, I’m not a footrest.”

You press your lips together and silence passes between you for a moment. Then you snort, shoulders folding in. You raise your brows at him, and he sighs, chuckling through a groan, leaning back in his own seat to drag his hand down his face.

“Kinda lost steam there,” you say, and he squeezes the tips of your toes, half in warning, and you giggle. Your expression softens and you nudge his stomach with the toe of your shoe, tickling at the edge of where a sensor exists in his abdomen. “C’mon, Oc, what’s going on? You can talk to me…”

He knows he can. Octavio has vented to you about lots of things before. He’s vented to you about Anita, back before she started to cut him a little bit of slack. He’s vented to you about his phantom pains, on the days that he wakes up and forgets that he doesn’t really have legs anymore. He’s even vented to you about his parents before – about how his father has never quite accepted the man he’s become and how his mom is like an ice sculpture. Beautiful from a distance, but cold, and quick to melt under heat.

Still, with the… incident, he’s hesitant. He feels like he’s digging himself a deeper hole than he should. But he’s here. On Ajay’s advice. Ajay’s always known what’s best, in a way. At least, it seems that way.

“I have to go to some stupid donor function for Silva Pharmaceuticals or my parents are gonna revoke my stim,” Octavio blurts and he sees your expression soften a little, the edges of your brows drooping, your lips half pursing, and he hates, hates the loud LUBB-DUPP in his ears.

“That fucking sucks,” you tell him and he half snorts.

“Si, I know… But you would make it less sucky,” he says, “you… wanna come? I always have a plus one but my ma doesn’t like when I bring just anybody.”

“And your fuck buddy isn’t just anybody?” You deadpan, raising a brow, and Octavio hums, tugging at the toe of your shoe on his lap.

“You’re a professional photographer,” he reminds you. “It would only be for a night. Less than twelve hours. Fourteen if you include ride time to Psamathe.”

“Oh, Oc…”

“Mami, please? Please. My parents would pay you for the shots. There’s gonna be tons of booze.” He tries.

“Octavio-”

“You don’t even have to talk to anyone but me!” He insists.

“Oc-”

“I hate these things. We can get a hotel right after and you can ride my face right up until I have to be back for the game-”

“Yes! Yes, Octavio!” You cry, reaching over and grabbing his shoulders, your body bending awkwardly, tummy crinkling the empanada bag in your lap. You shake him a little. “Yes, I will come with you, Jesus Christ. I was gonna say yes to begin with!”

“Why didn’t you just come out and say that then?” He huffs, though the tension drains out of his shoulders and he smiles at you, lips pulling up further at one corner. His chest expands with breath, like a weight has been lifted.

“I was trying but you don’t shut the fuck up.” You mutter, shoving his shoulders and he throws his head back, laughing into the vaulted ceiling of your studio.

-----

The week comes and goes within the blink of an eye and Octavio is… Definitely not ready to go to this stupid event. He’s texted you a little more throughout the week, telling you the kind of attire that’s expected at these dumb functions and reminding you that you don’t have to bring any crazy equipment with you.

He calls mama at the last minute, of course, telling her that he’s bringing on a photographer who expects to be paid in full for her services. She’s huffy about it but mostly seems glad someone will be capturing the event from the perspective of the Silva family – though why she kept his pa’s name after the divorce, he’ll never know. Anyway, it’s not like they can’t afford to pay you.

Octavio wears the black tie he knows his mama will hound him not for wearing but he refuses to put the blazer on. Instead, he’ll just carry it, black fabric hanging off his forearm. The sleeves of his white button up are rolled up to his elbows and even though mama could make a big stink, he’d remind her he could have showed up in what he wore in the games – including the Jade Tiger outfit.

It might have been a little too intimate to pick you up. The thought of knocking on your door at an appropriate hour, of being in his monkey suit and offering you his arm, made this feel more like it was a date and not just a favor. Instead, Octavio ordered you a cab and now, he’s waiting for you just outside the entrance of Ship’s Landing.

He’s tapping away on his phone, playing a racing game that he’s definitely going to beat Makoa’s score in. His tongue pokes out and he leans a little closer, glancing up only when he hears the whistle of vehicles going by, hoping to catch sight of your cab.

It’s in the middle of a jump that requires all his attention, a taxi stops right in front of him and the door opens. Octavio glances up, looking back down at his game, only to stop and look back up again, this time lowering his phone to get a better look.

His heart must be running a relay, must be trying to get a lead with a grenade, because the second he sees you, all he can hear is that loud noise again. Like an explosion of movement through his arteries and veins, his heart desperately trying to pick up with the adrenaline in his system. For once, it isn’t a fight, or an explosion, or a race that causes it, though. It’s you.

It’s you, struggling to get some huge camera tote out of the taxi while in high heels (he told you that you just had to bring a camera, damn it). It’s you, wearing a shade of vermillion that matches the fabric of your dress that hugs your figure. It’s you, with the off the shoulder, sweetheart neckline, and Octavio is surprised he can still recall anything about fashion. He’s kind of kicking himself for it too, because he can’t stop thinking of how much of a sweetheart that cut is, how easy it would be to slide it down your chest.

Octavio’s chest constricts, pupils blown wide as he imagines those heels digging into his ass as he fucks you, the sharp pinch of them spurring him faster, harder. It would be so easy to push you back into the cab, pay the driver a little extra to keep quiet while he shucks the dress up to your hips and sucks on your clit until you’re crying.

You guys should skip this. As a matter of fact, he should pay the cab driver to take you guys home so he can rip that dress off you. So, he doesn’t have to see you glide around in it, taking pictures, laughing and holding glasses of chardonnay at some stupid promotional party he doesn’t give a flying fuck about it.

“Oc?” Your voice snaps him from his reverie and Octavio realizes you’re staring at him, lips pursed, half waving to get his attention. “Can you shut the door?”

“Oh, yeah,” he breathes, moving forward to shut the cab door. “You… look really good.”

“Gee, thanks,” you say, smirking his way, and the rare little dance of mischief that glitters in your eyes makes his heart constrict. Fuck, he’s in so much trouble. This was a bad idea. Why did Ajay tell him to do this?

“We should skip this thing,” he tells you, waggling his brows, and you purse your lips at him.

“And get your stim revoked?” Right. He’d forgotten. Which is saying something, a voice in his head that sounds very much like Che says. He bats her away.

“Shut up, I know,” he mumbles and you two walk towards the ship his mama had ordered to take you to Psamathe. It has the Silva Pharmaceuticals logo on the side and he waves away the driver who stands with his arms folded at the passenger doors.

Octavio opens the trunk, taking your camera tote and laying it down in the backseat. You fuss at him, telling him that you can hold it in your lap and that this extravagant looking ship definitely has the space for you to hold your camera. He waves you off, telling you that you’re going to be in the ship for two hours, and you don’t need to be holding the bag in your lap the whole time.

After that, you two set off, towards his home planet. The ship his ma ordered is, of course, top of the line. The interior is plush, and over cushioned, with a tiny little bar on the opposite side of the long seats. You gaze around in wonder, squinting at the compartment at the top of the ship that he knows contains a disco ball.

“Jeez, your family pulled out all the stops, huh?” You ask and he snorts, scooting towards the edge of the seat and grabbing a bottle of Aguardiente his knows his pa keeps stashed for when he has to ride with ma to events.

“Gotta show up in style,” he mumbles, grabbing one of the little cups stacked on top of a fancy looking cupholder. “Would look bad if I came in just a cab.”

He feels your gaze burning on the side of his face and he holds out the first glass of liquor to you. When he looks in your direction, you shake your head, and Octavio shrugs, taking the first shot with a loud ‘aa’ sound afterwards and a little clench of his teeth. Coño, that shit’s strong.

“You’re really stressed about this,” you conclude, and Octavio turns to look at you again. Your hands rest idly in your lap and your eyes seem to look right through him, finding all the little weak spots, the little internal ticks that made him say that stupid thing into your neck.

“I am,” he says, “you can help me de-stress, if you want, chica.”

He waggles his eyebrows at you, masking his discomfort at how easily you read him with a little laugh. To Octavio’s surprise, you reach over, placing a hand on his thigh, and his eyes meet yours with dark intent.

“Yeah,” you say, then lean in, and kiss him. His heart constricts in his chest and he hate, hate, hates Ajay right now.

At the same time, he loves her. Thinks that he should thank her, should apologize and thank her, because you’re kissing him slowly, lips warming him with every gentle slide. Your chin tucks a little closer to your chest as you bow your head, just enough to catch his lower lip between his teeth. He sighs, squirming at the gentle scrape, the distracting buzz of your hand creeping closer to the space between his thighs.

“If we fuck, can you manage not to get cum on this dress?” You ask him as you pull away and his dick throbs at the thought of fucking you.

“Absolutamente, mami,” he mutters, hands creeping out to grab at your hips. He wants to pull you on top of him, pull whatever panties you’re wearing to the side. Watch his dick disappear inside you. Watch you throw your head back while he pulls down that sweetheart neckline-

“I don’t believe that,” you grumble but you’re pushing him down onto the long seat. Octavio lands with a thump and he’s kind of thankful he doesn’t have much hair. He pushes himself up onto his elbows, watching you make your way down his body. You don’t stop to place gentle kisses on his stomach, or any of that other fluffy bullshit that makes his stomach flutter, and he’s grateful and disappointed all at the same time.

You wrangle his belt open, the button of his pants and his fly following. You only scoot his waistband down enough to reveal his boxer briefs and the choked off sound that leaves him as you fenagle his dick out of the small gap in them is embarrassing.

“Shit, mami, you don’t have to, we can wait,” he says, even though his fingers are already tangling in your hair. Impatient. You smirk up at him.

“I don’t think you can,” you reply, before you drag your tongue up the underside of him. He gasps, like the air has been punched from his lungs, hypersensitive from weeks of having not been touched. You let saliva pool in your mouth, then stick your tongue out, watching it drip down. It makes his dick glisten, slippery with your saliva, and a dark spot forms at the base where he’s poking out of his boxer-briefs.

“Baby,” he whines and now his hand has tightened, trying desperately to push you where he wants you. Your licks and kisses are good, but not enough, not for how hard he is, for how he wants to fuck into your throat.

You only smirk, dragging the flat of your tongue up, the tip of it flicking just beneath the head. His hips jerk at the sensation and he rolls his neck back with a little groan. Octavio is always so vocal, so willing to tell you what he wants and what he doesn’t. Right now, what he wants is for you to take it, suck his dick until his eyes cross and he cums down your throat.

“I’m working on it,” you reply, and he definitely hadn’t realized he said that out loud. Oh well. You finally, finally, gracias a Dios, take the tip of him into your mouth. You place your puckered lips over the very tip, tongue poking the salty slit, and Octavio’s mouth falls open. Yours does a moment later and your cheeks hollow as you make your down the length of him.

“Puuuutamadre! Baby! Fuck!” Octavio gasps and he’s thankful to be riding in such a large ship because he’s certain if he kept it up, the driver would definitely know what was going on. He also kind of doesn’t give a fuck, hips trembling with the effort to not fuck your throat. You bob your head up and down, tongue glued to the hard length of him, and fuck, your eyes are closed, like you’re enjoying this.

You have the audacity, in all of this, to drag the tip of your finger around the base of him. He’s so close to being fully buried inside you. You push yourself, making wet noises that go straight to his dick as your lips finally touch the opening of his underwear. Then, the tip of your wet finger prods his rosebud, and that’s all it takes for Octavio to cum.

Toe curling, jaw dropping orgasm. That’s all he can think of when you finally get him to cum, the mere tease of your finger inside somewhere so intimate making his thighs clench. He shudders out, fist clenched tightly in your hair, trying to keep you down and still respect if you need to come up for air, but, coño, do you make it hard to keep that split train of thought going. He feels you swallow, throat folding around his cock, and the motion itself makes him whimper, for once overstimmed.

You slowly pull away, lips swollen and wet and red, sitting back on your knees with a shit eating grin. Octavio is catching his breath, trying desperately to slow his racing heart which, for once, isn’t caused by stim stabbed into his thigh. You gently massage his thighs and, Jesus, he really wishes you wouldn’t do shit like that.

“You good?” You murmur and the husky edge of your voice makes his spine tingle. He nods, slowing his breath to normal.

“I forgot how good you are at giving head,” he tells you and you snort as he looks around. When he doesn’t spy a handtowel, or something that isn’t a napkin that won’t stick to his dick, he gives up, tucking it away with your drool still on it. He adjusts his fly, slowly sitting up, muscles more relaxed than they’ve been in the week since he’d gotten that phone call.

“I expect you to return the favor on the flight home,” you say and he grins, for the moment distracted from the impending doom of his parents.

#apex legends #octane/reader #octane x reader #octane/you #apex imagines #apex lemons #octane x you #fem reader #nsft #lemon #lime?#whatever there's some spicy shit in here #if ur not 18 don't enter lmao #shorty writes #female reader

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methethgfan · 4 years

Text

The 1st Hunger Games

“But freedom has a cost, and the traitors were defeated. We swore as a nation, we would never know this treason again. And so, it was decreed that each year the various districts of Panem would offer up - in tribute - one young man and woman to fight to the death in a pageant of honor, courage, and sacrifice. The lone victor, bathed in riches, would serve as a reminder of our generosity and our forgiveness. This is how we remember our past. This is how we safeguard our future.”

The cameras zoomed in on the boy whose name had just been announced. Slowly, and with grinding steps, he made his way through the crowd to the stage, blankly staring at the ground. The Peacekeepers approached him, but were suddenly blocked by a woman who had gotten in their way. “No!” she screamed, but she was simply pushed aside by a peacekeeper. “I said no!” the woman screamed again, and then reached for the peacekeeper’s weapon. Suddenly a loud shot was heard, and the next moment, the woman was lying on the ground, covered in blood. The boy came to a halt and looked down at the woman’s dead body. This seemed to have awakened him from a trance. “Mother?”

The arena: The arena was an old, dilapidated amphitheatre inside the Capitol that had been used for entertainment purposes (for example as a circus). The exits were controlled around the clock, and additional safety measures prevented the tributes from escaping the arena. The arena was unexposed, which made it harder for the audience to see the tributes in the dark. The Games was broadcasted the entire time, and not, as it was to be the case a few years later, edited before it aired on TV. Countless weapons were scattered around the arena so that any tribute could grab one and attack their competitors. Since the arena offered very few hiding places, some tributes had to come up with creative ideas to hide from their opponents. Neither sponsoring gifts nor mutts existed. The death of a fallen tribute wasn’t signalized by a canon shot, either, which is why the audience declared a tribute to be dead if they hadn’t moved for a longer time. However, the Games weren’t popular in the Capitol, at all. While some people considered the Games to be cruel, many people were simply not interested in it and thought it was unnecessary since none of the children had actively participated in the rebellion. But because they were curious to see how the very first Hunger Games would turn out, the majority of Capitol citizen watched it out of curiosity - before ultimately turning their backs on the Games for almost a decade.

The districts: Because the thirteenth district had been destroyed as a result of the war, twelve districts remained to participate in the Hunger Games. While some districts (3, 6, 8, 11, and previously 13) had been the stronghold of the rebels, others (1, 2, and 4) hadn’t participated in the rebellion as actively. The remaining districts (5, 7, 9, 10, and 12) rebelled rather from time to time, mainly because they hadn’t the same resources as the more rebellious districts and were heavily dependent on them. Consequently, the people’s reaction to the Hunger Games, and especially the Reaping Day, depended on their respective districts. Although the Capitol had ordered several troops to the districts and strengthened security measures, the peacekeepers in some districts were overwhelmed by the crowds’ readiness to use violence against them. Several district residents and peacekeepers died during the riots that took place in the more rebellious districts, while other districts preferred interrupting the Reaping by non-violently protesting the Capitol. As a result, the Capitol imposed curfew in several districts.

The tributes: Although it was said the tributes would be drawn by lot, it seemed as if they had been selected on purpose: all of them were related to either infamous rebels or their most loyal symphatizers. Even though their relatives had paid a high price for their betrayal (some had witnessed their entire family being executed), this was apparently still not enough for the Capitol. The young people in the districts had been spared - just to throw them into an arena in which they would be forced to kill each other and entertain the masses in the Capitol. The selection of tributes was so suspicious that even Capitol-born people assumed trickery behind it. The tributes were thrown into a monkey enclosure right after their arrival in the Capitol, and then brought into the arena the next day. All of them were marked by war, and most of them came from very poor backgrounds. Only a handful of tributes appeared to be strong - these were also the ones that survived the longest. Once they had been dumped into the arena, very few decided to collect a weapon. Many tributes ran away immediately, and some were creative enough to find a hiding place. During the first hour, no one dared to attack someone else – some out of fear; some of unsureness; and some on principle in order to provoke the Capitol. However, when one tribute had mistaken another tribute’s hand movement as an attempt to attack him, they immediately fought back. As if this had been the starting shot, the tributes began attacking one another. Some fled the scene, whilst others grabbed the nearest weapon to defend themselves. What followed was an absolute havoc. It seemed as if some tributes had awaited this moment, and now they weren’t holding themselves back, taking the horror, anger, and trauma of the war out on their competitors. Just like savage beasts, they flailed at each other, continuing even after the victim’s death, while others were watching them from afar, knowing they would be next once they had finished their work down there.

The transport: During their ride to the Capitol, the boy from District 11 tried to convince the other tributes of his escape plan. The plan was to deliberately start a fight in order to make the peacekeepers stop the train and lure them into their compartment. Then, they would overwhelm the peacekeepers and run away. Eventually, the others agreed to carry out the plan. The boy from 11 pretended to be fighting with the boy from 1, while the others screamed loudly, and indeed, the train stopped, and two peacekeepers opened the door to check on them. They were caught off guard when the tributes started attacking them. The riot came to an end when one peacekeeper shot one tribute dead. The remaining tributes were forced to enter the train at gunpoint, and before the doors were closed again, the dead boy’s body was thrown inside. One peacekeeper later succumbed to his injuries, and several peacekeepers got away with minor injuries. None of the remaining tributes, however, had been seriously injured during the incident because the peacekeepers had received the order to transport the tributes into the Capitol unharmed.

The names of the tributes were...

Warning: Some readers may find the following text disturbing. Reader discretion is advised.

24. Awn Hewitt (age: 18 | skill: x | hours survived:): Male tribute from District 9. His parents had been a part of the small group of rebels from 9. Awn was shot dead during the tributes’ riot against the peacekeepers. His dead body was thrown inside the train again, and it remained there until the dead bodies of the fallen tributes were brought back to their districts.

23. Emery Fayette (age: 15 | skill: x | hours survived:): Male tribute from District 8. Emery had witnessed his entire family being executed with other rebels from his district. When he was sitting inside the cattle car with all the other tributes, he decided he would die on his own terms, not at the hands of the Capitol. Once they had arrived at the train station of the Capitol, he got out of the train and jumped into the roadbed, right in front of an incoming high speed train.

22. Batteree Li (age: 12 | skill: x | hours survived:): Male tribute from District 5. Batteree was the youngest son of a top scientist who had been responsible for the creation of a deadly chemical that could burn away human flesh at once. Frequently used by the rebels as a chemical weapon, Batteree’s father was accountable for many gruesome deaths. Batteree was one of the few tributes who died before entering the arena. He had previously complained about severe pain and breathing difficulties, before he was found dead by other tributes shortly after. A medical examination revealed that he had been poisoned, and that the poison had burned his lungs completely. Indeed, a Capitol citizen had fed him with poisoned biscuits during his visit at the monkey enclosure. The man had recognised him as a relative of Mr. Li, at whose hands he had lost his entire family at war.

21. Sesame Marsten (age: 13 | skill: x | hours survived:): Female tribute from District 9. Sesame’s parents owned multiple, family-run mills. Just like every other factory, most of their makings were transported right to the Capitol. In order to support the rebels, they decided to poison the goods that were reserved for the Capitol. This was discovered after a peacekeeper had illegaly taken a loaf of bread with him while he was transporting the goods to the Capitol, and died of a sudden and very suspicious death. The inspectors in the Capitol found out that everything had been poisoned on purpose. As a result, Sesame’s parents and elder siblings were executed alongside other rebels of District 9. Sesame died before she was able to participate in the Games: on her way to the arena (the tributes were sitting on an unsecured wooden plank and tied to a metal pole), she accidentally fell off the plank, and was dragged to her death all the way to the front gates of the arena. People on the streets stopped to point and laugh at her being dragged by the horses. Nobody had tried to stop the horses, and the tributes hadn’t been able to pull Sesame up because they had been tied to the metal pole, too.

20. Topaz Wyanns (age: 14 | skill: x | hours survived: 1): Female tribute from District 1. Her father Honorius owned several manufactories in District 1, and furthermore co-owned luxurious furniture stores in the Capitol, albeit he was secretly funding the rebels. Eventually, one of his Capitol-based employees who had discovered his secret snitched on him. Honorius was captured and executed a few days later alongside many of his closest employees. Topaz knew she wouldn’t survive the Games, which is why she attempted to kill herself on her way to the Capitol, but failed to do so. Inside the arena, she was among the first tributes which grabbed a weapon to go into the battle. Topaz had allied herself with her district partner because she was too afraid to face the others on her own. When she was sitting next to him on the stands, she noticed a ladybug on her district partner’s head, and reached for it. However, her district partner mistook her sudden hand movement for an attack, and slashed her face with a knife. Topaz paused a moment, touched her face and stared at her bloody hands, before she uttered a cry and attempted to stab him. In doing so, she ran straight into his outstretched sword. Her cry had unleashed hell - all over the arena, several tributes started attacking each other, while others were running into safety. Topaz succumbed to her injury twenty or so minutes later.

19. Fibre Calwaith (age: 16 | skill: x | hours survived: 1): Female tribute from District 8. Finding someone who was related with rebels wasn’t that much of a difficult task in District 8, given the fact it was - after District 13 - the most rebellious district of Panem. After the people of 8 had raised a riot during the Reaping, the Peacekeepers answered by firing shots at the raging crowd, wounding and killing several people. One bullet had grazed Fibre’s arm while she was standing on the stage, but other than that, she wasn’t harmed. Fibre was one of the first tributes to be killed in the arena. In order to avoid some tributes that were fighting on the stands, Fibre had fled to the center of the arena. By doing so, she was immediately targeted by other tributes which had grabbed a weapon from the ground and now began to attack each other. The boy from District 4 pierced her with his trident before she could run away.

18. Radar Hover (age: 16 | skill: x | hours survived: 1): Male tribute from District 6. Radar was the only son of Mr. Hover who was a gifted inventor and mechanic spezialized in battle tanks. One night, Mr. Hover had sneaked into the empty factory, and installed a self-destruct mechanism in the battle tanks that were ready for delivery into the Capitol. As soon as the driver activated the navigation, a GPS signal would be sent, and the tank would explode immediately once the GPS had realized the tank was driving through the streets of the Capitol. After the Capitol found out about this, they bombed the factory that was full with people, including Radar’s father. Radar was slain by the girl from District 10.

17. Peony Bell (age: 16 | skill: x | hours survived: 1): Female tribute from District 12. Peony and her younger brother were the only children of the former mayor of District 12 who had been sentenced to death for high treason. He had been replaced by his former rival Mr. Lipp, the newly appointed mayor of 12. Her father had been forced to read their names aloud at the Reaping, with peacekeepers aiming their guns at him. There was no way it was a coincidence that Peony had been chosen as a tribute alongside her younger brother, but no one dared to publicly call it cheating. When the Peacekeepers grabbed her arm and tried to accompany her into the Justice Building, Peony refused to go with them (”I’m the ex-mayor’s daughter! I - I have special status!”), whereupon a peacekeeper laughed at her (”Ex-special-status”) and kicked her in the back. Mr. Bell was shot dead shortly after. Peony had never experienced bad living conditions, not even during the war. She wasn’t used to being harshly treated like a normal district citizen because she had always received special treatment due to her status. After arriving at the Capitol’s train station, Peony walked straight up to a peacekeeper and ordered him to take her and her younger brother back to District 12, but he only laughed at her. Inside the arena, she took her younger brother by the hand and ran towards the stands. One hour later, they ran back to the center of the arena because another tribute had come near to them. The girl from 2 wrestled Peony to the ground and stabbed her to death, while her younger brother ran away.

16. Alvin Bell (age: 12 | skill: x | hours survived: 1): Male tribute from District 12. When Alvin and his elder sister were trying to escape the other tributes, he felt his sister loosening her grip around his wrist, and turned back to look at her: another girl was repeatedly stabbing her with a knife. Alvin turned around and ran away in horror, then clashed with the boy from District 1, who broke his neck.

15. Tyre Parkes (age: 17 | skill: x | hours survived: 1): Female tribute from District 6. Tyre, whose elder brothers had been executed because of their affiliation with rebels, was at a disadvantage because she was handicapped: during the bombing of District 6, she had been injured by flying shrapnel, causing her to go almost completely blind. Once she set foot in the arena, she immediately ran away, hoping to distance herself from the others as much as possible. When she felt she couldn’t climb the stairs any further, she remained there and listened to the death screams of other tributes. She was found by the pair from District 4, and just as if she had sensed them, she stood up and stretched out her arms (”Save me”). The boy from 4 hesitated for a moment, then approached her and slit her throat, killing her instantly.

14. Pith Guzman (age: 14 | skill: x | hours survived: 2): Female tribute from District 7. Pith’s family had sided with the rebels, and her elder brothers had even gone to war. They had been responsible for the death of an important military commander of the Capitol. Pith hid inside the private box where she was found and killed by the boy from 1.

13. Yarn Rye (age: 14 | skill: x | hours survived: 2): Female tribute from District 11. Another orphan, Yarn had witnessed her rebellious family being hanged in front of her. Yarn had survived the first hour of the Games thanks to the help of her district partner who had kicked the boy from 4 out of her way while they had run towards the stands to safety. Equipped with some weapons, both sat down and watched the fights in front of them. Suddenly, they heard footsteps nearby and looked around. However, the person (the boy from 10) was standing right above them. He was holding a gigantic rock in his hands and dropped it onto Yarn’s head. The rock crashed her skull and she died a few minutes later.

12. Keary Hunt (age: 13 | skill: x | hours survived: 2): Female tribute from District 3. Keary and her twin brother Kearan had survived the bombing of their house because they had gone for mushroom hunting in the woods. Their parents and elder siblings had played a major role in the uprising of District 3 (among other things, they had helped placing underground mines around their district). Twins almost always look alike, but in Keary and her brother’s case, they looked identical in any way possible, be it the hair length or the matching clothes. One of the few ways to tell them apart was their hairstyles: Keary’s hair was loose, while her brother’s hair was always tied in a bun. Both had survived the bloodbath that had taken place in the center of the arena. However, some tributes were now drawing closer to them. In order to mislead them, the twins came up with a creative idea...

11. Kearan Hunt (age: 13 | skill: x | hours survived: 2): Male tribute from District 3. Kearan untied his hair, and now looked just like his twin sister. Then, they both ran in opposite directions, but never too far away from each other. The small group of tributes hesitated for a moment, unsure who to run after. Initially, they decided to go for Kearan, but couldn’t see him due to their moment of hesitation. Suddenly, they saw him running down the stairs to their right - but in truth, that wasn’t Kearan, but his sister. They turned around to run after who they believed was Kearan, but in that moment, the real Kearan showed up in the opposite direction. This went on for a while, but their chasers apparently didn’t want to surrender. They have had enough of mind games, which is why they decided to separate: the boy from 1 ran after Kearan, while the pair from 2 followed his sister. Knowing that his sister wouldn’t make it any longer, Kearan suddenly turned around and threw himself in front of his sister, which gave her more time to run away. Kearan was eventually stabbed by the boy from 1 who was completely exhausted from running. His sister was captured and killed by the pair from 2 shortly after. Minutes later, Kearan succumbed to his injuries, too.

10. Ewe Ardiane (age: 18 | skill: bodily strength, chopper | hours survived: 3): Female tribute from District 10. Ewe was the youngest of a family of butchers that had initiated the rebellion in District 10. Thanks to the hard work at the butchery, Ewe was physically superior to many of her opponents. Moreover, she had great aptitude for any type of cutting tools. Thus, it wasn’t surprising that she was among the few tributes to grab a weapon (a chopper) that were scattered around the arena. However, she didn’t dare to take the first step, and instead, waited for her opponents to attack her. When the first fights began, Ewe jumped into the fray, launched herself on the boy from 6 and started chopping his neck. She would’ve chopped his head off if she hadn’t been interrupted by the girl from 4, who aimed at her. Thereupon, Ewe ran into safety and examined her injury: the girl had almost completely pierced her upper right thigh. Ewe limped along the stands, and climbed into a small hole in the wall. She was loosing more and more blood but wasn’t able to make it stop. The pair from 4 found her two hours later. It was too late to escape them, and she was finally stabbed to death by the girl from 4.

9. Bucks Rosseland (age: 16 | skill: bodily strength | hours survived: 4): Male tribute from District 10. Bucks’ father had been stationed as a peacekeeper in District 3, where he had supported the rebels taking over the entire district. He was executed on live TV alongside his entire crew. When Bucks heard his name being announced, he turned around and tried to run away. The Peacekeepers ran after him, and he was eventually caught a few streets away. Then, he was dragged onto the stage by his hair: he had grazes all over his body, and blood was running down his legs in streams. One peacekeeper positioned himself right behind him, just in case he would try to escape again. But that wasn’t necessary: Bucks was crying in front of everbody, and he didn’t even try to hide it. The mere sight of him was heartbreaking. During the drive to the Capitol, Bucks was too busy keeping the flies off his bleeding wounds. The moment Bucks set foot in the arena, he was one of the very few tributes to take a weapon with him. He scored his first and only kill with the girl from 11, before he was hunted down and killed by the boy from 11.

8. Dryland Palier (age: 16 | skill: bodily strength, hammer | hours survived: 4): Male tribute from District 11. Dryland was the younger brother of District 11′s rebel leader, Hull Palier. His sister had played an essential role in the district’s uprising, and paid a high price for that. During their drive to the Capitol, Dryland convinced the other tributes of his escape plan, but it didn’t work out as planned and ended in another tribute’s death and his nose being broken. After his close friend and district partner had been killed by the boy from 10, Dryland hunted him down and crushed his skull to pieces. Then he sought refuge in the empty viewer’s box, where he was found by some of his opponents. Dryland killed the girl from 2 by striking her dead, before he was overpowered and killed by her ally.

7. Faylynn Rodd (age: 16 | skill: knife | hours survived: 4): Female tribute from District 2. Faylynn was the only tribute whose relatives hadn’t affiliated themselves with the rebels. However, Faylynn had helped the rebels by spreading flyers she had designed with her friend, calling people to align themselves with the rebels. They were seen by a peacekeeper during one of the nights they walked through the neighborhood, distributing their self-made flyers. Both were taken into custody but released shortly after. Faylynn knew her action would have an aftermath, and felt vindicated once her name was called out during the Reaping. Since the majority of District 2 had sided with the Capitol during the war, Faylynn and her district partner received somewhat “special” treatment, meaning they weren’t beaten on their way to the Capitol. Faylynn claimed a total of two kills for herself, which is quite impressive since she wasn’t as strong as some of her opponents, and didn’t know much about combat, either. But she was eager to turn back to her district. Faylynn died during the fourth hour while fighting the boy from 11.

6. Lyr Ezera (age: 15 | skill: trident | hours survived: 5): Male tribute from District 4. Lyr’s parents were wealthy business people which had secretly funded the rebels. Lyr was chosen as a tribute a day after his parents had been executed. He was very skilled with tridents because he had regularly used them for fishing. In the arena, he proved that he was a skilled fighter, as well. He later fell to his death when he was chasing the girl from 5.

5. Ampair Fellmont (age: 18 | skill: climbing | hours survived: 5): Female tribute from District 5. She wouldn’t have had to participate in the Games, if the girl who had been reaped previously wouldn’t have collapsed on stage and died of cardiac arrest a little later. Ampair’s great uncle had been one of the rebel leaders of District 5, but other than him, she wasn’t related to any rebel. But because her great uncle’s family had been wiped out entirely, she was his only relative left to be at “reaping age”. She didn’t have a poor background, which is why she was well-built compared to many of her competitors. Furthermore, she was a very fast runner, and because of that, was able to climb up the stairs very quickly. Ampair had been in hiding since the Games’ start: she had crawled into a loophole in the wall behind the seats. Unfortunately, she was discovered by the pair from District 4. Ampair got out of her hiding place and climbed the stairs at a fast pace, but her chasers were eager to get her. They decided to come at her from different directions in order to cut her off. Ampair dodged the boy’s trident and punched him in the stomach, whereupon he fell backwards and rolled down the stairs. Then, she turned to his district partner, ready to fight her. However, the girl from 4 jumped her and cut her throat with a dagger, before pushing her dead body down the stands.

4. Traian Sherman (age: 17 | skill: saber | hours survived: 5): Male tribute from District 2. Traian was the cousin of Ajax Spurius, the feared rebel leader of District 2, who had been captured and executed with his family. And since Traian was the only living youngster related to him, it was no surprise his name was announced at the Reaping. Traian allied himself with his district partner first, and then with the boy from 1, hoping he would protect them. Apparently, Traian was naturally gifted with weapons. He scored two kills in total, even though he seemed very weak. When Traian and the boy from 1 were walking along the stands, searching the arena for more tributes to eliminate, Traian indulged in reminiscences of his home district (”Not long, and I could be home again...”). He didn’t notice the boy from 1 pulling his sword (”You’ll be there very soon”), and was stabbed in his back by him.

3. Cascade Wedeling (age: 18 | skill: dagger | hours survived: 6): Female tribute from District 4. Cascade’s relatives had belonged to the inner circle of the rebels. They were killed along with other rebels from District 4. Cascade was very limber and fast. She dodged her opponents’ attacks without being injured once. She didn’t show any remorse for her victims since she wanted to survive the arena at all costs, even if it meant that she would have to kill innocent people. She was killed during a combat with the boy from 1: after running away from him for some time, the boy managed to pierce her stomach with his sword. He then pushed her dead body down the stands.

2. Onyx Golde (age: 17 | skill: bodily strength, sword | hours survived: 7): Male tribute from District 1. Onyx’ parents were the owners of a factory specialized in diamond manufacturing. His parents had been wrongly accused of belonging to the rebellious underground movement of District 1. As a result, both had been executed. In fact, his parents had been accused by their greatest rival on the market who was intending to put them out of his way. Due to his family background, Onyx had been one of the few lucky people who always had enough to eat. Because of that, he was physically superior to his competitors. Eager to win the Games in order to turn back to his siblings, Onyx stopped at nothing, not even breaking a 12-year-old’s neck. After his district partner’s death, he allied himself with the pair from 2. That way, he hoped to win the Games before sundown because the thought of being trapped with dangerous competitors in the dark was scaring him. In the end, Onyx was the only tribute with the boy from 7 to survive seven hours in the arena. He had searched for the boy before, but because darkness had already fallen into the arena, it hadn’t been easy to find him. Onyx hadn’t expected to face the boy from 7 as his final opponent because the latter hadn’t left an impression on him previously, which is why he wondered how the boy had managed to survive for so long. Thinking the boy would’ve no chances against him, Onyx didn’t rush to kill him (”After all, these people expect some entertainment, don’t they?”). A deadly mistake because his final opponent wasn’t seeing surrender as an option, at all.

1. Rusty Hopkinson (age: 15 | skill: axe | hours survived: 7): Victor of the 1st Hunger Games from District 7. Upon hearing his name being announced, Rusty slowly made his way through the crowd to the stage while staring blanky at the ground. He didn’t even notice his mother blocking the peacekeepers’ way and being shot in the head after she had attempted to grab a peacekeeper’s weapon, until he was standing right in front of his mother’s dead body. He was so shocked that he couldn’t take his eyes from her, and had to be dragged on stage by peacekeepers. Rusty had lost his father to the war, and now with the death of his mother, he had become an orphan. Before he was able to fully process her death, he found himself inside the arena. Seeing no further sense in living, he had already finished off with life - but then he thought about his mother’s self-sacrifice to protect him. That gave him strength, and although he saw no chance in winning the Games, he decided to try his best because otherwhise his mother would have died for nothing. And the moment he saw an axe laying on the ground, he also saw a small flicker of hope. Rusty had earned his money by cutting down trees which is why he was very familiar with axes. As soon the Games had started, he immediately grabbed the axe, ran away as far as possible, and climbed on the roof of what looked like had been a private viewer’s box. There, he tried to convince himself to kill if necessary (”There’s no other way... This is crazy, but there’s no other way...”). To his horror, he heard a noise coming right below him, so he carefully leant over to have a closer look: his district partner had just sought refuge inside the private box, and it appeared as if she had ignored him. Because they were from the same district? He would never know the answer.

After sitting on the roof for an hour, he heard more noises coming from below: some tributes were fighting each other in the center of the arena. Rusty decided to watch them, instead of involving himself in the fight, hoping they would just kill each other so he wouldn’t have to do it. Suddenly, some tributes were climbing up the stairs and walking in his direction! Fortunately, they didn’t notice Rusty hiding on the roof, but therefore his district partner hiding below him. Rusty closed his eyes when he heard her death screams, and tried not to move as long the attackers were within his range. He remained there until he was the only tribute left besides the boy from District 1. Rusty jumped on the ground, waved at the other boy and tried not to look too frightened (”Are you looking for me?”). Knowing that any escape would be pointless, Rusty dodged the boy’s halfhearted attacks one by one (”You aren’t taking me seriously, aren’t you?”). When Rusty raised his axe, the boy just laughed at him (”Back in 7, I always cut down the thickest trees, all by myself. But it got boring after some time, so I threw axes around me. Do you want a taste?”). Rusty threw an axe at him, and the boy ducked just in time to avoid his head being cut in two halves. That’s when he realized how skilled his opponent actually was. Rusty smiled at him, knocked the boy’s sword out of his hands, and lifted his final axe (”You better run”). The boy turned around and ran towards the pile of weapons, when he was hit with an axe to the back of his head.

Rusty became the very first victor of the Hunger Games, and he entered the train that would bring him back to his home district, when he was greeted by a nasty smell: the corpses of his dead competitors were lying all over the floor. Rusty turned around to see a peacekeeper smiling at him (”Enjoy your ride”), and slamming the door in his face. After a few hours, they had arrived in District 7, and Rusty jumped out of the train as soon as a peacekeeper had opened the door for him. He tried to maintain decency, but his torn vest revealed that he had vomited several times. Rusty tried to deal with the PTSD of the Games and the death of his parents by cutting trees. And whenever he was in risk of being buried under all the pain, he reminded himself of the sacrifice his mother had made for him.

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Sorry for any language mistakes. I’m not a native speaker. Please let me know about any mistake I’ve made.

I’d be grateful for your feedback! I spend so much time thinking about and writing all of this, so I’d really appreciate any kind of feedback!

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Finished recaps: The 25th, 36th, 65th, 68th, and 70th Hunger Games

#hunger games #catching fire #mockingjay #suzanne collins #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #thg #fanfiction #survival #panem

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withyounct · 5 years

Text

What’s wrong kid? (5)

Reader X Single dad!Jaehyun

Genre: Fluff, Angst

Words: 3.3k

Prompt: You notice a child crying at a school playground. You decide to see what’s up and meet an extremely stressed/extremely handsome father.

Prev | Next

A/n: I wrote some sad shit in the middle… Enjoy!

Time went by smoothly. You would pick up Hyunjin and hangout with Jaehyun when he got home at night, all while being a productive college student. Over time you two went on more dates and even brought Hyunjin along for the ride on a few of them. You learned that Hyunjin was a natural at ice skating and Jaehyun signed her up for the children’s class. Everything was pretty mundane for the most part. However, midterms where closing in and Jaehyun’s project was in full swing. Other than a few lunch dates off campus and dinner every now and again, you barely saw each other. There were times that you fell asleep on his couch while studying and found yourself waking up in his room the next morning. He would always leave notes about how cute your sleeping habits were or that he made breakfast and Hyunjin’s lunch before leaving, so you could sleep in if you wanted.

Hyunjin, being the sweetest child ever, would help you in any way she could. She would make you little snacks while you studied, picked dinners that didn’t take much time to make, offer to help you make flash cards, and even going as far as putting herself to bed. You about cried at how much of an angel she was.

After a few agonizing, brain numbing, weeks you were done with midterms and free to actually breathe.

Or so you thought.

It was Friday and you left your friends early to go pick up Hyunjin’s skating gear from her house before picking her up. She had missed several days of class because of how busy you and Jaehyun were. She of course was a saint about it, and you promised that she could skate to her hearts content when exams were done. She was immediately excited when she entered the car and bounced around the whole way there. She spotted her friends the moment she entered the building, taking her stuff, she waved you bye. You smiled at her retreating figure and found your usual spot on the bleachers.

Sighing, you ran your fingers through your hair. You weren’t feeling great, but blamed it on fatigue. One of the mothers sitting in front of you asked if you were alright. Smiling, you lied. You knew you were having the telling signs of a cold creeping up on you, but having just finished exams you convinced yourself you weren’t that unlucky. An hour and a half later class ended, but Hyunjin wanted to stay a little longer and work on her spins. The coldness of the arena was getting to you more than usual at this point, but since it was kind of your fault she was behind in class, you let her. The next thirty minutes were torture for you and no amount of tugging on your sweater could warm you. You called Hyunjin and told her it was time to go with the promise of bringing her back tomorrow.

“Y/n are you okay?” Hyunjin asked as you were making dinner. She sat on top of the island with your help. You nodded your head and patted hers. As you tried to walk away she held on to the sleeves of your sweater and looked at you unconvinced.

“You look just like your father right now.” You laughed. “I’m okay. Just a little tired, promise.” You pinched her cheeks and went back to making dinner. You were thankful at how chatty Hyunjin was, she went on and on about everything and you zoned out. The rest of the evening went by peacefully and you were putting Hyunjin to sleep. On your way down the hall you heard the front door close. Turning into the living room your vision started to haze and you swayed to the side. In a matter of seconds Jaehyun was at your side.

“Hey are you okay?” He asked. He led you to the couch and felt your head. “Y/n, you’re burning up.” He stated. You leaned into the coolness of his hand and sighed.

“I should get home.” You whispered.

“No, you’re not going anywhere. You can’t walk without swaying let alone drive.” You were about to protest, but the look on his face was final. There was a little voice in the back of your head reminding you of how his wife died and you sat silently. Jaehyun pulled out his phone and pondered for a moment before dialing a number. He looked down at your panting figure while it rang.

“Taeyong I need a favor. Y/n is running a fever. If it’s not too much trouble, can you take Hyunjin for the weekend, so I can nurse her back to health without the risk of Hyunjin getting sick as well?”

“Say less. I'm on my way.” Taeyong replied without hesitation before hanging up. About twenty minutes later he showed up with an obscene about of medicine and other cold essentials. He cooed sadly at your small figure in the blanket burrito Jaehyun wrapped you in. He was busy petting your head while Jaehyun went to pack a few things for Hyunjin and retrieve her. She was very confused, but hugged your burrito form and left with Taeyong.

Jaehyun picked you up and transferred you to his room. There he buried you under more covers and it was getting hard to breathe, but looking at his concerned face, you kept it to yourself. He left to make you soup with the stuff Taeyong had bought and medicine. You stared at the ceiling bored until he came back. He sat by your side while you ate and tried to give you the liquid medicine afterwards. You, being a complete child, squirmed away from him and made a face. After a few seconds of squinting at each other you took it.

“So, a biology major who hates medicine?” He laughed as he laid you back down.

“Shut up, I'm dying.” You pouted. You looked up at him and bit your lip. “You know, my roommates wouldn’t mind picking me up. I don’t want you to get sick.”

Jaehyun looked at you a bit hurt. “No. You do so much for me and Hyunjin, so let me do this one thing, as your boyfriend, for you.” He pleaded, gently moving some strands of hair out of your face. You wiggled your way to him and placed your head on his thigh.

“Fine.” You muttered. He smiled and ran his fingers through your hair.

“Plus, it’s a good thing that I'm a responsible adult and got my flu shot.” He stated and there was a heavy silence from your end.

“Man, I knew I was forgetting something…” You laughed awkwardly. The last thing you remembered before falling asleep was Jaehyun trying to suffocate you with a pillow.

You woke up in the middle of the night feeling ten times worse. Sitting up you felt as if you were trying to cough up your lungs. Jaehyun rushed into the room.

“You okay? Never mind, dumb question.” He sat by you and rubbed your back until you calmed down. He left briefly to make you tea and held your back to his chest while you drank.

“This sucks.” You whined, handing him the empty mug. You turned and buried your face in his chest.

“I'm going to need you to always act this cute.” Jaehyun laughed while wrapping his arms around you.

“Jaehyun, I'm dying.” You whined into his chest; you felt the vibration of his laughter as well as his steady heartbeat.

“But you're so cute.” He kissed the crown of your head. You stayed like this and felt yourself drift away as Jaehyun rocked you back and forth.

The next morning you were surprised with breakfast in bed and a ridiculous amount of cuddles. Jaehyun had woken up pretty early to stop by your place, grab you a few things, and deal with a worried Kun and Ten. As the afternoon approached you got tired of laying down and wanted to walk around for a bit. Jaehyun held your cheeks in his hands to check your temperature. After squishing them, he decide that sitting in the garden and getting fresh air would do you good.

You held your arms out to be picked up and Jaehyun had to take a moment to compose himself at how cute you were. He very happily carried you outside, spinning you around every now and again.

Thankfully it was a pretty day out. You decide to sit on the grass while Jaehyun sat on one of the benches. You laid back and soaked up the warmth of the sun. Smiling, you began to describe the meaning of the various plants across the large garden. Jaehyun, surprised at your vast knowledge, moved to sit by you.

“Peace Lilly, peace and hope. Usually given after someone has died.” You said the last part quietly. You both stared silently at the large plant. It was alone in the greenhouse at the center of the garden. It was beautiful in a haunting way.

“Lilies were her favorite flower. The irony of that.” Jaehyun said suddenly. “I met her freshman year. We were both at a party neither of us wanted to be at, but had really pushy friends. I had finally escaped them and was hanging out outside when she appeared. She was so beautiful and there was an air of confidence that clung to her. I downed my drink, calmed my nerves, and walked up to her.”

You smiled softly, imagining a nervous fetus Jaehyun. You pulled your knees up and leaned on them.

“We talked for hours about everything. She was an English and education double major and wanted to be a teacher. At the time I was undecided and had no idea what I wanted to do. She hated coffee and I can’t function without it. She loved mornings and signed up only for morning classes, while I picked the latest ones I could. We were so different, but we just clicked. I asked her out on a date right there in then. She thought I was drunk and not in my right mind, but I was adamant, and we went on a café date the next day.” He laughed. “We dated for a few years and she was the one that pushed me to do architecture. I screwed up and got her pregnant; we found out and she wanted to keep it. At first I didn’t and panicked, we were both young and way over our heads to raise a child, but she sat me down and told me that we’ll make it work. She finished up the semester and put college on hold. That was around the time I proposed to her. She said yes of course. We had, in my opinion, one of the greatest weddings two college students could have. Taeil was our DJ and it was awesome. She had Hyunjin with no difficulties and the first thing I remember was how small she was. They placed her in my hands, and I was afraid that I would hurt her if I held to tight. When she got discharged from the hospital I baby proofed the whole apartment to an outrageous extent. Hyunjin couldn’t even hold her head up and I was worried about her bumping into the corner of the table.” He sighed, running his hand through his hair. “Two years later, I finished up school and was interning when I got the call. Some drunk asshole collided with her car on the driver’s side. She died instantly. Hyunjin was in the back seat right behind her; it was a miracle she survived. Hyunjin was in the hospital for a few weeks for broken ribs and trauma. She used to have nightmares about that night, and I would hold her until she fell asleep. She hasn’t had any in almost two years, but she doesn’t talk about her mother much.”

You didn’t know you were crying until Jaehyun wiped one of your tears from your cheek.

“Sorry. Dead wife talk with my girlfriend is inappropriate.” He laughed, but there wasn’t any mirth behind it.

“No, I'm happy you told me.” You tried to smile through the tears, but it slowly faded. “I'm really sorry.” You wept. No matter how hard you tried, the tears didn’t stop. Your heart physically ached for him. He continued to wipe your tears until you calmed down.

Jaehyun tried his hardest to make you smile and resulted in saying really cringey jokes, which, for some reason, worked.

You sneezed and Jaehyun, laughing, said it was time to go back to quarantine. He picked you up once more and took you back to his room. You spent the rest of the afternoon reading a book off of his bookshelf while he worked on his laptop next to you.

“I used to get sick a lot as a child.” You said having the overwhelming feeling to share something personal. Jaehyun trusted you enough to know about his past, so you thought you would extend the same courtesy. He shut his laptop and turned your way, giving you his undivided attention.

“I was born with a pretty big hole in my heart and not in the cliché way. It’s called atrial septal defect, and it’s not uncommon for infants. It usually closes itself up, but mine was too large for that, so I had surgery. Along with that I was a pretty unhealthy child. Low iron deficiency, prone to anemia, asthma. Colds turned to fevers quick and would leave me bed ridden for days. I remember when I was in elementary school we were going on a field trip to the mountains. I knew I was getting a cold, but I didn’t want to miss it. So, I didn’t say anything. I had my inhaler, so I thought I would be fine. Like an inhaler was a cure all.” You laughed. “We were walking about when I started to feel dizzy and breathing was getting harder. I panicked and forgot I had my inhaler and eventually fainted. My friend, Lucas, somehow got me on his back and carried me to one of the teachers. We’re still friends to this day.” You smiled. “I woke up and my parents were there. I remember how mad they were. When I got home I was grounded for being so reckless.”

“You were just a kid. A sick one at that.” He furrowed his brows.

“Yeah well they weren’t great. They divorced when I was in middle school and have since remarried. I barely talk to them. I'm a hundred percent sure me being sick all the time put a strain on their marriage and they just wanted an escape from each other and me.”

“That’s not true. Parents unconditionally love their kids no matter what.” He argued.

“That’s sweet that you think that, but not all parents are as amazing as you. Unfortunately, the world doesn’t work that way.” You smiled. “My father was the first to move away and I haven’t talked to him in years. I lived with my mother. Well kind of. Her now husband moved in and they had a healthly boy, who she loves more than anything. I got a job while I was in high school and met the rest of my friends during that time and would spend more time at their houses than my own. Since moving to college, I haven’t talked to either of them and that’s fine with me.”

“Wow.” Jaehyun said softly.

“Yeah.” You chuckled. “But my friends are like my family and they get a kick out of babying me. Kun and Ten act as if they physically pushed me out their wombs and because of you I got two cool dads. And I have you and Hyunjin. So, all things given, I'm pretty spoiled.” You beamed.

Jaehyun had a pretty tough time separating himself from you, but you were getting hungry and he had to start preparing dinner. You offered to help him, but was told not to move an inch and was tasked with picking a non-horror movie to watch, even though it was technically his turn to pick the movie.

You ended up watching your favorite Ghibli movie.

The next day Jaehyun was working on stuff in his home office and you felt a lot better. You were walking around the garden again and noticed the peace lilly’s leaf tips started to turn brown. Looking around you found a watering can and watered the plant.

Monday morning rolled around and you were restored to full health. Jaehyun had dropped you off at home on his way to work. You had a hard time peeling your roommates off you when you entered the apartment. With many kicks and punches from your end, you got ready and left for class. The rest of the afternoon was a carbon copy of the morning. Your friends were overly worried about your health, and as sweet as it was and as much as you loved the attention and them, you wanted to choke them.

You left early, wanting to pick up a few things before getting Hyunjin. You smiled when you walked into the flower shop.

“Jungwoo?” You called. The said blonde appeared from around the corner and smiled at you.

“Y/n. Guess who passed the calculus mid-term? Me!” He sang happily. “Thanks for the notes.”

“Any time. I need help finding a couple of things.” Jungwoo, being a fairy incarnated, helped you find everything with ease. You paid and picked up Hyunjin. You told her that there was a task to complete after homework and she was more so excited than confused.

While she did her work, you moved all the things you bought to the garden. You yelled at Hyunjin to meet you there when she was done. About twenty minutes later she walked into the garden and entered the greenhouse in awe. You had bought new soil, plant food, and fertilizer all for the peace lilly as well sunflowers and lavenders to plant around it. You dug out a ladder from one of the back sheds and had lights placed next to it.

You learned over time that Hyunjin spoke with her eyes as well as her mouth and they were both screaming in excitement when you passed her a pair of children’s gardening gloves.

Jaehyun came home way early than usual and was confused when he found you both out back. Hyunjin saw her dad in the distance and ran to him screaming about how amazing everything is. She handed him her gloves, telling him to take over for a minute so she could use the bathroom. Perplexed, Jaehyun walked across the garden and into the greenhouse.

To say he was taken aback would be an understatement. The lilly was surrounded by rows of sunflowers and lavenders and the ceiling of the greenhouse was decorated in fairy lights.

“Okay before you say anything, I was walking by yesterday and the lilly wasn’t looking too hot and I had the spare time and I remember Hyunjin saying her favorite flower was sunflower and the lavenders paired nicely with everything and the lilly just looked really lonely in here and I hope I'm not overstepping any boundaries an-” You were too caught up in pointing at everything, defending yourself that you failed to realize Jaehyun level with you. He placed a chaste kiss on your lips before smiling. The look in his eyes was something that left you winded; it held an underlining message that you couldn’t decipher and before you could comment on it Hyunjin returned and the three of you finished tending to the garden.

Jaehyun spun a pen in between his fingers and stared off into space. He and his friends were in one of the conference rooms not doing anything, mainly just hiding from their secretaries and responsibilities.

“I'm in love with Y/n.” He said simply. The sudden statement caused Yuta to choke on his drink and eyes flew Jaehyun’s way.

“Holy shit.” Johnny smirked.

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historian--in--training · 4 years

Text

Unsung Heroes: The Societal and Historical Suppression of Black Women Activists During the Civil Rights Movement

by Sarah Slasor

I asked my boyfriend what he knew about Rosa Parks, to which he replied, “she refused to give up her seat on a bus to a white guy, right?”

While he is not wrong, his response got me thinking, why is this all he knows? Why is this all I know? Is this obliviousness a product of my own ignorance, or is something larger at play? I decided to dig deeper.

The involvement of female activists, specifically Black women, during the civil rights movement has been historically distorted and simplified. Important figures tend to be remembered for singular aspects of their extensive contributions, while male activists are promoted as representatives of the movement and, in turn, are studied in greater depth. Historical studies often mention Black women, but fail to include details about their activism or political thought.[1] Rosa Parks, who is known for her role in the Montgomery bus boycott, and Coretta Scott King, who is typically remembered as the widow of Reverend Martin Luther King Jr. (MLK), have both made significant contributions to the movement that are seldom discussed. Both women are national icons, yet their lifelong efforts to achieve racial, economic and gender justice remain largely unknown.

The suppression of the voices and legacies of Black women in the civil rights movement is largely a result of the intersection of racism, sexism, and classism, as well as the nature of scholarship and the way history is digested. Women activists, having taken on the title of “invisible unsung heroes and leaders,” are often ignored by academia, as the history of the movement tends to focus on men as leaders while feminist scholarship tends to focus heavily on white women.[2] This essay will highlight the extensive accomplishments of Rosa Parks, Coretta Scott King, and Ella Baker, and will then explore the factors contributing to the suppression of their legacies and how the issue can be resolved.

Portrait of Rosa Park at Mrs. Anne Braden’s home, May 31, 1960.[3]

Rosa Parks is best known for her role in the Montgomery bus boycott, in which she denied a bus driver’s orders to give up her seat for white passengers. It was not that moment that initiated her fight for justice, but instead her entire life that had been leading up to it. Parks’ passion and love of learning was instilled in her by her mother and grandfather, whose examples Parks followed in dedicating her life to racial justice.[4] Before the bus boycott, Parks was elected secretary for the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP) and founded the Montgomery NAACP Youth Council, where she worked with the community and encouraged voter registration.[5] Parks led training sessions on desegregation following the Brown v. Board of Education decision, advocating against racial and sexual violence both nationally and throughout Alabama.[6] Following the boycott, Parks relocated to Detroit and pushed for Black freedom, helped elect John Conyers, a Democratic Michigan Congressman, in 1964, for whom she worked until her retirement in 1988.[7] In the 1980s, she co-founded the Raymond and Rosa Parks Institute for Self-Development to bring young people into the freedom movement. Parks, often described as quiet and meek, dedicated over sixty years of protest to the fight for justice.

Coretta Scott King at the Vietnam-In-Peace Rally, Central Park, New York, April 27, 1968.[8]

Of everyone I asked, those who actually knew of Coretta Scott King knew her as the wife of MLK. As it turns out, when Coretta Scott King met MLK in the 1950s, she was the political activist and influenced his decision to become involved. Like Parks, King claimed more than 50 years of activism before her death in 2006. During her career, she was a member of both Women Strike of Peace and the Women’s International League for Peace and Freedom; led a campaign in support of school desegregation; met with Reagan to urge American divestment in South Africa and was later arrested during her protest at the South African Embassy in Washington; brought attention to Black poverty and the HIV-AIDS crisis; and worked to end discrimination against LGBT communities.[9]

From 1968 onward, King led the Martin Luther King Jr. Center for Nonviolent Social Change, in which her husband’s papers were archived and educational community projects took place.[10] King spearheaded lobbying campaigns to recognize her husband’s birthday as a national holiday, and later lobbied for the passage of the Humphrey-Hawkins Full Employment Bill that promoted full employment and fair compensation to combat rising poverty levels. In the last two decades of her activism, King served on the boards of the Black Leadership Forum, the National Black Coalition for Voter Participation, and the Black Leadership Roundtable, and was present at the signing of the Middle East Peace Accords and South Africa’s first free elections in the 1990s.[11] King was not simply the wife of MLK. Her activism was present from early stages of her life, and she used her platform to make extensive contributions to social change, the fight for freedom, and racial and economic equality. In doing so, King kept her husband’s legacy alive, and established herself as an unstoppable force in the fight for justice.

Ella Baker on September 18, 1941.[12]

Ella Baker is another name I admittedly had never heard. In the 1930s, Baker addressed the stigmas of gender, race, and poverty in her exposé, “The Black Slave Market.” In 1940, she was hired by the NAACP to organize branches throughout the South, and by 1945, Baker had helped the NAACP grow from 50,000 to over 450,000 members.[13] By 1958, she was the President of their New York branch.[14] Baker partook in leadership conferences throughout the 1940s, and in 1957, became the executive secretary of MLK’s Southern Christian Leadership Conference (SCLC), though she never obtained a leadership role. Baker disapproved of the SCLC’s male-dominated hierarchy, and of its centralized structure around MLK as a singular charismatic leader, as she felt that “group-centred leadership” would have been more effective than a “leader-centred group.”[15]

During the sit-in movement of the 1960s, Baker brought together student demonstrators to form the Student Non-Violent Coordinating Committee (SNCC), which became known as the “shock troops” of the civil rights movement.[16] Through the SNCC, Baker created a “classroom without walls,” in which she educated young proteges and organized protests with the aims of non-violent action and voter registration.[17] Though the SNCC disbanded in 1972, its leaders continued to work toward Baker’s ideals with different organizations, and Baker joined the African liberation movement and fought for civil and human rights in her final years.[18]

Black Women: The Backbone of the Civil Rights Movement from medium.com.[19]

These women, among countless others, have incredible stories that go largely untold. The fact that these women are not the primary faces of the movement and their accomplishments go unrecognized at the surface-level of academia is the product of the three interlocking systems of oppression: racism, sexism, and classism. During the civil rights movement, societal attitudes toward Black women suppressed their voices. Today, social movement scholarship’s focus on men and elites as leaders, along with feminist scholarship’s focus on white women ignores the accomplishments of Black women in history.

Attitudes toward Black female activists, in the rare instances that they are actually studied, have been historically negative. Under the patriarchy, many looked to males for leadership, which, at the time, largely stemmed from religious traditions of having a male leader.[20] This was evident in the experience of Ella Baker, who was never given a permanent position in SCLC nor a salary comparable to any man who replaced her.[21] Many organizations, such as the Black Panther Party, maintained a male-heavy image, as their intention was to appeal to the “brothers on the block.”[22] While this attracted members, it shut out many female activists who struggled to be heard.

This male-dominated arena is perpetuated by historical scholarship, which tends to focus on formal organization and membership and ignores women’s radical protest and activism. As a result, history commemorates formal leaders and overlooks women, as leadership positions were often unattainable for women activists. Women of colour are frequently viewed as uninvolved in feminist organizations, and therefore unconcerned with women’s rights.[23] This was not the case, as pointed out by historian Gerda Lerner, who remarked that women’s liberation meant different things to different women during the mid-20th century, and emphasized that while the mainstream societal ideology of women’s primary place was in the home, Black women’s place was in the white woman’s kitchen.[24] Liberation was different for Black women than for Black men, and the repression of many women’s voices during the civil rights movement is reflected in the way scholarship digests history.

According to historian Bernice McNair Barnett, there are three major biases that influence the way that Black women’s history is construed: (1) Black women are stereotypically connected with “pathologies” within the family, such as female-headedness, illegitimacy, teen pregnancy, poverty, and welfarism; (2) there is a middle-class orientation that ignores poor and working-class women, a large percentage of whom are Black; and (3) there is an apolitical, non-leadership image of Black and poor women as political passivists as opposed to movement leaders.[25] In turn, the roles of Black women have been ignored in research of modern social movements. As such, it is generally assumed that the women involved were white, and the men were Black.[26] While the “great man” theory of leadership is often critiqued by sociologists, this perspective is perpetuated by history, as the leaders were predominantly male, and history loves leaders.

One of the foremost exceptions is Rosa Parks. Parks’ story is included with that of Malcolm X and MLK in history classes, but, in actuality, students only know of her for one event, despite the rest of her activist career being of equal importance. Along with Parks’ lifelong activism, history often fails to mention Jo Ann Gibson Robinson, Alabama State College English professor and president of the Montgomery Women’s Political Council, where Robinson had been actively planning a boycott of city buses months prior to Parks’ arrest.[27] History also ignores the hundreds of women, like Robinson, who were forced to resign from their positions at Alabama State University and other workplaces across the United States for making noise about equality.[28] Society has excluded, ignored, and oppressed Black women; and historical scholarship is no different.

The civil rights movement, though perceived to be led by men, was heavily bolstered by Black women. Though not typically recognized as leaders, Black women initiated protests, formulated strategies, and mobilized other resources necessary for collective action. Racism, sexism, and classism created an environment in which women were silenced, and, as a result, frequently go unnoticed in historical scholarship. Rosa Parks, largely known for her actions on one day in her sixty years of activism, Coretta Scott King for her marital status, Ella Baker for her association with the NAACP, and countless others are the unsung heroes of the civil rights movement. It is imperative that we recognize their accomplishments to cease history’s glorification of male leaders when Black women were integral to the success and legacy of the movement, and look past what history wants us to believe.

All sources cited in this essay are written by women.

_____

Notes

[1] Dayo F. Gore, Radicalism at the Crossroads: African American Women Activists in the Cold War, New York; London: NYU Press (2011): 161.

[2] Bernice McNair Barnett, “Invisible Southern Black Women Leaders in the Civil Rights Movement: The Triple Constraints of Gender, Race, and Class,” Gender and Society 7, no. 2 (1993): 163; Ibid, 164.

[3] Portrait of Rosa Parks at Mrs. Anne Braden’s home, May 31, 1960. Photograph. 3.5 x 5 inches. Louisville, Kentucky. Highlander Research and Education Center: Highlander Research and Education Center Records, 1917-2005.

[4] “Rosa Parks Interview, 1992 February,” Connie Martinson.

[5] Ibid.

[6] Ibid; Christina Greene, “Women in the Civil Rights and Black Power Movements,” Oxford University Press (November 2016): 3.

[7] Ibid.

[8] Coretta Scott King at the Peace-In-Vietnam Rally, Central Park, New York, April 27, 1968, photograph.

[9] “Women in the Civil Rights and Black Power Movements,” 3; Vicki Crawford, “Coretta Scott King and the Struggle for Civil and Human Rights: An Enduring Legacy,” The Journal of African American History (January 1, 2007): 112.

[10] Ibid, 114.

[11] Ibid, 116.

[12] Ella Baker on Sept. 18, 1941. Photograph. Afro Newspaper/Gado/Getty Images, from Time Magazine.

[13] “Women in the Civil Rights and Black Power Movements,” 5.

[14] Anne Romaine, “Anne Romaine Interviews, 1966-1967: February 1967; SCEF Office, New York; Ella Baker Interviewed by Anne Romaine,” 11.

[15] Britta Waldschmidt-Nelson, “Ella Baker: A Leader Behind the Scenes,” FOCUS: Joint Center for Political and Economic Studies (August 1993):4.

[16] “Women in the Civil Rights and Black Power Movements,” 5.

[17] Barbara Ransby, Ella Baker and the Black Freedom Movement: A Radical Democratic Vision. Chapel Hill: The University of North Carolina Press (2003): 284; “Anne Romaine Interviews, 1966-1967: February 1967; SCEF Office, New York; Ella Baker Interviewed by Anne Romaine,” 12.

[18] “Ella Baker: A Leader Behind the Scenes,” 5.

[19] Black Women: The Backbone of the Civil Rights Movement. Photograph.

[20] “Invisible Southern Black Women Leaders in the Civil Rights Movement: The Triple Constraints of Gender, Race, and Class,” 175.

[21] Ibid, 176.

[22] “Women in the Civil Rights and Black Power Movements,” 9.

[23] “Invisible Southern Black Women Leaders in the Civil Rights Movement: The Triple Constraints of Gender, Race, and Class,” 164.

[24] Ibid.

[25] Ibid.

[26] Ibid, 165.

[27] Allison Berg, “Trauma and Testimony in Black Women’s Civil Rights Memoirs: The Montgomery Bus Boycott and the Women Who Started It, Warriors Don’t Cry, and From the Mississippi Delta,” Journal of Women’s History (2009): 89.

[28] “Invisible Southern Black Women Leaders in the Civil Rights Movement: The Triple Constraints of Gender, Race, and Class,” 174.

Bibliography

Primary Sources

Baker, Ella. “Interview with Ella Baker, April 19, 1977.” Interview by Sue Thrasher. Documenting the American South, n.d. Retrieved from https://docsouth.unc.edu/sohp/G-0008/G-0008.html

Black Women: The Backbone of the Civil Rights Movement. Photograph. Retrieved from https://medium.com/@nadiarising411/black-women-the-backbone-of-the-civil-rights-movement-618b9859a5c

Coretta Scott King at the Peace-In-Vietnam Rally, Central Park, New York, April 27, 1968, photograph. Retrieved from https://www.cnn.com/2013/08/23/us/coretta-scott-king-fast-facts/index.html

Ella Baker on Sept. 18, 1941. Photograph. Afro Newspaper/Gado/Getty Images, from Time Magazine. Retrieved from https://time.com/4633460/mlk-day-ella-baker/

Parks, Rosa. “Rosa Parks Interview, 1992 February.” Interview by Connie Martinson. The Drucker Institute, February 1992. Retrieved from https://dp.la/item/81d0ae423e14a2f67d20fdb34b3b0cc3

Portrait of Rosa Parks at Mrs. Anne Braden’s home, May 31, 1960. Photograph. 3.5 x 5 inches. Louisville, Kentucky. Highlander Research and Education Center: Highlander Research and Education Center Records, 1917-2005. Retrieved from https://www.wisconsinhistory.org/Records/Image/IM52893

Romaine, Anne. “Anne Romaine Interviews, 1966-1967: February 1967; SCEF Office, New York; Ella Baker Interviewed by Anne Romaine.” Recollection Wisconsin, Wisconsin Historical Society, 1960-1968. Retrieved from https://dp.la/item/5493d0d6be916f0b12a9cc57534d3906

Waldschmidt-Nelson, Britta. “Ella Baker: A Leader Behind the Scenes.” FOCUS: Joint Center for Political and Economic Studies, August 1993.

Secondary Sources

Berg, Allison. 2009. “Trauma and Testimony in Black Women’s Civil Rights Memoirs: The Montgomery Bus Boycott and the Women Who Started It, Warriors Don’t Cry, and From the Mississippi Delta.” Journal of Women’s History21 (3): 84-107.

Crawford, Vicki. “Coretta Scott King and the Struggle for Civil and Human Rights: An Enduring Legacy.” The Journal of African American History 92, no. 1. January 1, 2007.

Gore, Dayo F. Radicalism at the Crossroads: African American Women Activists in the Cold War. New York; London: NYU Press, 2011.

Greene, Christina. “Women in the Civil Rights and Black Power Movements.” Oxford University Press: Oxford Research Encyclopedia, American History, November 2016.

McNair Barnett, Bernice. “Invisible Southern Black Women Leaders in the Civil Rights Movement: The Triple Constraints of Gender, Race, and Class.” Gender and Society 7, no. 2 (1993): 162-181.

Ransby, Barbara. Ella Baker and the Black Freedom Movement: A Radical Democratic Vision. Chapel Hill: The University of North Carolina Press, 2003.

#civil rights movement #essay #rosa parks #ella baker #coretta scott king #BLM #black lives matter

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kareofbears · 4 years

Text

day 22: into the woods

Fuyumi understands how important this is.

After their father had left for work, Shouto walked up to Fuyumi with an expression she hadn’t seen on him since they were young.

She was reading a book in the dining room when he walked next to her. His face was neutral, and his hands were perfectly still and clasped behind him. His eyes, however, looked off into the side. That alone was enough to make Fuyumi put down her novel. Even in the face of fear (of villains, of their father), Shouto never fails to look at the battle directly, prepared for anything and more, pushing aside any fear and stomping his feelings underneath his feet. It’s how he survived this household for fifteen years.

He isn’t looking at her now.

“Nee-san,” he greets, head bowing slightly. Mentally, she frowns. No matter how hard Fuyumi tries, she can’t shake the unnecessary politeness from him, even when it’s just the two of them. An unfortunate habit of their upbringing.

“Shouto,” she smiles instead. “What’s up?”

“I was wondering if you’re busy on Saturday.”

Fuyumi can’t help but blink at her younger brother. Shouto making a request? It was rare enough to get him to tell her what he wants for dinner, always infuriatingly accommodating, let alone ask her of something for an entire day.

Saturday? She racks her brain, mentally flipping through her calendar to see if she missed anything. The only thing she comes up with is that their father is on a business trip to Hosu City. She isn’t dumb enough to believe that that’s a coincidence.

“No, probably just going to catch up on some marking.”

“Ah,” Shouto’s eyes glaze over, expressionless. “I see, I don’t want to bother you if that’s the case.”

“No!” Fuyumi exclaims before Shouto can even turn around. There was no way she was letting this slip by her, not when he just made a breakthrough like this. “I can easily do my marking tonight, or Sunday. It’s really not a problem!”

A hint of relief seeped into his heterochromatic eyes. “If that’s the case, would you mind if I brought someone over? I would like to introduce you to him.”

Despite the nonchalant tone he used, Fuyumi felt a lump in her throat.

After over a decade of watching Shouto, she saw more than anyone how much he missed in his childhood. Rigid training forced him to only have enough time for school, and punishment if he ever drops from the top five. She saw his isolation, not just from kids at school but from his siblings too, something Fuyumi will regret until the day she dies. Yes, she was too young to understand back then, but she definitely isn’t too young anymore.

Shouto never had friends, a fact that Fuyumi had known too well. He couldn’t have - their father wouldn’t allow them to waste time on petty things like friendships when they could focus on honing their quirks instead. For her and her siblings, they had slowly been allowed more freedom as time went on. Shouto, however, was their father’s favorite - a fact that brought many exceptions between him and his siblings, including the rules that came with socialization with other kids his age.

And after a few years, much to Fuyumi’s heartbreak, he had stopped trying.

For Shouto to bring someone to their house, a place filled with fire that only ever burned him in many, many ways, was almost enough to make Fuyumi burst into tears.

“O-of course!” she chokes out, struggling to school her overwhelming emotions.“Just let me know what time, okay?”

He nods. “Of course, thank you,” and with that, he walks away.

As soon as he walked away and was out of earshot, Fuyumi let herself slump back into her chair, eyes bugged out.

It doesn’t matter if the boy Shouto was bringing was an alien, or had three heads. She was going to bow deep enough for her head to hit the ground and thank him as many times as he’d let her.

---

Shouto left early to pick up his friend at the train station, leaving Fuyumi alone in the house to panic clean.

Considering that both Fuyumi and Shouto never picked up the habit of being messy (lest they want a problem with father), there isn’t much to do. She absent-mindedly shifts the plate of fruit that she’d dutifully prepared, despite Shouto’s protests that she doesn’t need to do anything.

She was about to meet Shouto’s first friend, or at the very least, a friend that’s important enough in Shouto’s heart that he was willing to merge his two worlds, school and home, a concept that was once impossible.

Is the boy nice? He must be a good influence to Shouto, if this entire situation was anything to go by. A small part in the back of her head wonders if the boy was only using Shouto as a means to talk to Endeavor. She squishes that thought, but not fast enough.

It certainly wouldn’t be the first time for either of them. People, young and old, would attempt to befriend them just to see a glimpse of the domestic life and secrets of Pro-Hero Endeavor. It only added another reason why Shouto’s social life was something to be desired for many years.

Absent-mindedly, Fuyumi wanders to the kettle and wonders if it was too early to prepare their tea when she hears the door slide open, followed by footsteps.

“I’m back.”

She tries not to scramble on her way to greet them. A first impression like this was too crucial.

“Shouto,” she says, rounding the corner. Behind her brother, a plain-looking boy with a mop of green hair is carefully removing his shoes and neatly placing it by the door before he turns to her.

She can’t help but wonder if she’d seen him before.

“Todoroki-san,” he greets her, bowing. “Thank you very much for allowing me into your home, it’s very lovely.”

“Please, call me Fuyumi!” She exclaims, bowing in return, secretly ecstatic at the boy’s overwhelming manners. Probably not a manipulative monster, then. “And what may I call you?”

“Midoriya Izuku,” he answers, voice levelled.

Her mind twitches, but doesn’t recognize the name.

“Well, Midoriya-kun, let me get you some tea,” Fuyumi smiles, walking back to the kitchen.

“Thank you very much!”

Before she walks out of earshot, however, she hears Shouto huff. That alone was enough to make her smile—he’s so casual with him. Nothing like how he is at home. For a second, Fuyumi selfishly hopes she can see an insight on how Shouto acts with normal people.

“Are you nervous?” Shouto whispers.

“Of course I’m nervous!” she hears Midoriya blubber, voice poorly muffled and all calm mannerisms out of the window. “This is crazy nerve-wracking! It’s almost worse than meeting your mom—”

Fuyumi nearly trips on her own feet.

“—but it’s almost scarier somehow!”

Entering the kitchen, she’s now thankfully out of earshot. Fuyumi puts the kettle on the stove, thinking deeply. She needs time to process what she just heard.

Shouto took him to mom?

It was a near-miracle that Shouto had finally visited their mother. After years of coaxing, Fuyumi thought there was absolutely nothing she could say to get him to go. She begged, pleaded, yelled, but he didn’t budge an inch.

Then one day he came home, lightly bandaged from the sports festival, and admitted to her that he would be going to the hospital that day.

Fuyumi had no idea what had possibly gotten through Shouto’s skull, but she’d never question it. Whatever made him go was none of her business, but it still eased her heart to know that, even if the process was slow-going, Shouto was changing. Though she realized that he was very careful not to show his progress at home, which, as much as she hates it, made her a little bit relieved (and extremely guilty). If their father were to have even a whiff of a distraction for Shouto, a fallout would be inevitable.

The kettle whistles loudly, pulling her out of her musings. She grabs three china cups from the cupboard and drops tea bags into them, shaking her head.

If Shouto was willing to bring someone here, he must’ve considered the possible repercussions and the dozens of possible outcomes that could happen if their father finds out. Shouto is analytical, in and out of the battlefield. He’d consider things she wouldn’t even think about, outweigh the repercussions she’s never considered. Besides, Fuyumi refuses to be the reason that her younger brother feels isolated.

Not again.

Making her way to the dining table, she finds that the boys are already sitting there, speaking quietly yet enthusiastically to each other.

Well, Midoriya is, and Shouto is nodding along at whatever he’s saying.

Fuyumi would clutch her heart if she wasn't holding three cups of tea.

“Ah!” Midoriya says seeing Fuyumi. “Please, let me help you with that!”

“Thank you Midoriya-kun,” she smiles as he stands, relieving her of two cups. She’s liking this boy more and more.

As they both settle down into the table, silence stretches over the three of them

Up close though, Fuyumi couldn’t help but stare. There’s something familiar about him, nagging at her at the back of her mind. The green curls, the figure, the presence. Midoriya definitely wasn’t the largest boy she’d seen, but it’s almost as if he takes up the whole room.

Or an arena.

Everything clicks into place.

“Midoriya Izuku,” she gasps, name slipping past her lips. She remembers that name when it flashed on screen just before the fight. Of course it’s him. Of course the boy who made Shouto used his flames in battle would be the one to melt his heart. She’s watched and rewatched that battle many times, always going back to the few moments before Shouto lets loose a power he’s buried for the majority of his life.

All because of the words that came out of a boy sitting right in front of her.

He blinks. “Yes?”

“You’re the boy who fought Shouto in the sports festival,” she says softly.

“Oh! Um, yes?” Midoriya stutters, a blush peeking out from his shirt. “Well, yes, but I’m surprised you remember that, considering-

“You made Shouto use his flames.”

Midoriya pauses, and Fuyumi Isn't as surprised as she should be to see understanding dawn on his features.

Because Shouto told him. Probably not everything, but enough for Midoriya to understand the weight of Shouto’s flame being used. But Midoriya will never understand it completely, not the way Fuyumi does.

He shakes his head. “It wasn’t me, Fuyumi-san. Shouto’s the one who used it. I just...knew what to say.”

Fuyumi laughs, a little wobbly at the edges. She’d been trying to get rid of her tendency to cry ever since their father had found out how prone she was to it, but that’s just another failure on his part. “You say that as if it’s nothing.” She pauses, rolling her words in her head before throwing caution to the wind. If Shouto trusts him, she has absolutely no reason not to do the same. And besides, Midoriya deserves this much. And, not to mention, he called Shouto by his first name. That isn’t something she can easily overlook. “Growing up, I didn’t say anything at all.”

She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, smiling. “So thank you, for being the first one to speak out to him.”

Midoriya’s confusion melts away, revealing determined eyes and a warm grin.

“It’s my pleasure.”

#whoa would you look at that another bnha one #probably the last non persona one for the rest of the escaprils lmfaoooooo #bnha #tododeku #fanfic #mine #escapril #escapril2020 #fic tag

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