#and we have to get pieces of our wall and ceiling knocked out

[fungifanart]

Thank You For Your Patronage

Characters: Male reader, Yuu!Reader, Leona Kingscholar

CW: Slight self-image issues, mild nudity (non-sexual), slightly suggestive at points, but mostly fluff

Word count: 1.5k

Notes: Wrote this for prompt #7 of @lemonchuu 's writing event for Leona's birthday! Enjoy!

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Leona has always had rather...mixed feelings about birthdays, his in particular.

On one hand, it was the one day of the year where everyone in the castle had no choice but to be nice to him, even if it was just an act.

However, they would also serve as a reminder of how he was getting older and was still no closer to being king. In fact, it seemed like the older he got, the farther and farther away he'd be from the throne, making his inadequacies more and more apparent in the mirror.

So, scratch his earlier assessment. Leona hates birthdays.

Or at least, he did before coming to Night Raven.

For his first few years, it was honestly just refreshing to be treated with respect by people who weren't being paid to, which made birthdays a bit more tolerable.

Not enough for him to actually look forward to them, mind you, but still tolerable.

But then, you came along and suddenly, everything seemed to shift ever so slightly.

The sun felt a bit warmer, his reflection felt a bit kinder and, if only a little, he found himself looking forward to his next birthday because it's the first one he'll get to spend with you by his side.

Now, with that in mind, would any of the Kings Of Old like to tell him why it's his birthday and you're suddenly nowhere to be found?

Despite having gone to sleep in his bed together, Leona hasn't seen hide nor hair of you from the moment he'd woken up to now, aka the middle of his party.

At first, he was annoyed that you aren't responding to his calls or texts, but now he's starting to get worried.

Did something happen to you?

However, this thought is dispelled upon being handed an envelope with your handwriting on it by Ruggie, prompting Leona to completely disregard the interviewer's words to inspect its contents.

"Dear Leona Kingscholar,

In celebration of your birthday, we've enclosed with this letter a voucher for our services at the Ramshackle Massage Parlor, which is open today only with the intent to serve you and you alone to our fullest capabilities.

We do so hope that you'll consider engaging us so that we may treat you like the million thaumarks that you are.

Yours truly,

Y/n of the RMP team."

Leona comes very close to bursting out laughing upon reading the letter, 'Of course that little shit would do something like this.' He thinks in a mix of fondness and exasperation, 'Well, I guess I HAVE been working pretty hard lately. I could use some real relaxation.'

After speeding through the rest of the interviewer's questions, Leona promptly makes his one good use of the Bloom Broom and flies out of the Savannaclaw lounge, effectively ending the party, making his way to the "Ramshackle Massage Parlor" as you're calling it for today.

Upon arriving and discarding the broom, Leona doesn't notice any significant changes to the outside of the building, so he knocks on the front door, finding it to have been left unlocked.

'He's lucky it's me coming in rather than someone looking to rob him.' Leona thinks to himself before fully opening the door and having his nostrils filled with the scent of lavender scented candles.

Walking into the lounge from the entryway, he finds it adorned with all manner of silks along the walls and ceiling, some of which could swear he's only seen at high-end stores, and then sees you, his darling boyfriend, wearing white scrubs and sitting at a reception desk where the couch once was.

"Welcome!" You greet him with a warm smile, "I take it you received our invitation?"

Leona chuckles lightly at the commitment to this little bit of yours, but goes along with it, "Yeah, I'll be using the voucher you sent me." He says while handing the piece of paper to you with a smirk, "And let me say this now that I can't be held accountable for what might happen if I don't receive the very best service, like you promised."

"Wonderful! I'll begin preparations right away!" You respond, completely brushing off Leona's, admittedly unserious, threat, "Oh, and before I forget: You should know that that voucher comes with a surprise gift as well! Close your eyes!"

Leona hesitates, but relents upon seeing the pleading look in your eyes and shuts his own tight. A few seconds later, he feels a pair of lips connect with his own, initiating a deep, loving kiss that lasts for several moments before you pull away and whisper "Happy birthday, my love."

Having received his surprise gift, Leona's eyes flutter open to see you with your regular customer service smile and doesn't hide the disappointment on his face as you take his hand and lead him towards the hallway, "The first door on your left is your changing room and the one beyond it is where you'll receive your massage. Go ahead and get changed and I'll knock on the door when everything's ready."

Doing as instructed, Leona takes off the stupid witch outfit he'd been provided and puts on the robe laid out on the bed, surprised by the quality and softness of the fabric, before hearing a knock on the door.

"Everything's ready when you are, Mr. Kingscholar." You say from behind the door.

Leona places his hand on the doorknob, but realizes now would be the perfect time to tease his boyfriend just a bit.

He opens the door, not moving immediately to give you time to take in the view before leaning against the frame and moving his right arm in a way that causes part of the robe to fall off his shoulder, "So, Herbivore. Are ya gonna tell me how ya managed to afford all this without my help?"

Your eyes widen and Leona hears you swallow at the display unfolding in front of you before you quickly turn your head away and clear your throat, "I-I can have connections too, y'know! I just had to pull a few favors and here we are."

Leona smirks mirthfully at seeing you so flustered and takes your chin in his hand to make you look at him, "Well, well. Didn't know my boyfriend was a regular businessman in the making. Shame on me for underestimatin' ya." He says while slowly drawing your face close enough to feel the heat radiating off of it.

"M-m-m-m-massage!!! It's time for your massage!!!" You stammer out as you wrench yourself from his grasp, fix his robe and lead him by the hand to the other room, "Feel free to disrobe and lay down whenever!"

Satisfied that he got to fluster you into breaking character, Leona takes off his robe and lays face-down on the bed, where he feels you quickly drape a towel over his behind.

"R-remember to relax." You say in a way that sounds like you're trying to convince both Leona and yourself, "It could put a strain on your muscles if I try to massage them while they're tense."

"Quit your yappin' and get to the massage, herbivore. We haven't got all day." Leona says curtly as he uses his tail to pat his back as a signal for you to get started.

"O-of course!" You say in a mild panic as you scramble to position yourself over Leona's body before rubbing oil on your hands and finally beginning to massage the muscles in his back.

He feels your hands start off shaky, but slowly relax as you make your away around his back, shoulders and arms. It's not the best massage he's had, being a prince and all, but he can tell you put a lot of effort into this, so he'll let you have it.

After you've massaged every corner of his upper body, Leona feels you work your way down to his hips and thighs, but he feels your touch become especially light over certain areas on them.

Wait...those are...

"You got some sorta issue with my stretch marks, herbi-" Leona begins to question before feeling your lips gently and lovingly make contact with the stretched skin, "W-whaddaya think your doin'??" He asks as he sits up, caught off-guard.

"I said that I'd treat you like the million thaumarks that you are, didn't I? And that means treating every part of you with the love and respect it deserves." You say, fully dropping the bit to lay your hand on his and talk to him genuinely, "And I know that you deserve all of it in the world and beyond."

...This is probably his karma for teasing you earlier, because now he's feeling his own face heating up at such genuine words of love.

"W-well, if that's really what ya want..." Leona awkwardly returns to his previous position to let you continue, causing you to let out a giggle.

"Hehe, of course it is. I'm gonna shower you with all the love in my heart!" You declare before placing a kiss on his cheek and resuming the massage with renewed gusto.

...Maybe Leona's birthdays won't be so bad from now on.

[picafreesita]

🌈3🌈

We walked up the street to Julie's house. We get halfway when Wally tells us that it was the moment he separated from us.

Wally's house was red with a blue roof next to yellow windows, very striking.

"Good night, dear neighbors," he said.

"Good night, Wally," they both answered.

"Yes, good night," I answered later.

While Wally opened the door to enter I could see something in the windows moving. Something black, circular figures moving in the front windows. The most logical thing was to think that they were other residents who lived with the one with the pompadour, but even so, I could notice how they moved towards where I was going, it was like a direct look, they were watching me, that was clear.

Leaving Wally's house behind he had arrived at Julie and Sally's houses. One was pink and had a white roof with a flower theme; the other was multicolored with stage curtains adorning its entrance.

"Okay, I'm going to get my things and I'll reach them in a moment," Sally said, saying goodbye to her and running towards the colorful house.

"Okay," Julie said. It was just the two of us walking to the house full of flowers.

"Welcome to my home" She opened her door and entered first and then waited for me to do the same.

"thank you very much" I strolled until I could see everything inside

"Make yourself comfortable, I'm going to look for some pajamas for you." She took me to an armchair and then went to another room.

I looked everywhere in case I could find any clue of those beings that I could sometimes see like in the pink house, but I found nothing. It seemed like a safe place.

"It's like there but they aren't there," I murmured.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

There was a knock on the front door, I got up and opened the door, it was Sally in her pajamas.

-Hello! “I brought everything I needed for the sleepover,” she said, holding a bag. I stepped aside from her and let her pass, at that moment Julie came out of her room with her pajamas in hand.

"I think I found a perfect one for you," She said happily and greeted Sally.

"Very well, how about you take a bath while we put everything away?" she asked me "so you can relax."

"Oh, okay," I responded, Julie took my hand and guided me to the bathroom.

"If you need something, don't hesitate to ask"

She handed me the pajamas and closed the door, leaving me alone.

I looked around and it was a fairly equipped bathroom.

When I got out of the tub, I dried myself off and got dressed. It was a two-piece set with loose sleeves. I must admit that it helped me a lot and I felt better.

Upon returning to the living room I could see how they had made a pillow fort between the couches; the table was filled with snacks, board games, and makeup.

"Wow, that's a huge pillow fort," I commented.

There was everything, from the smallest cushion to the largest ones that made up the walls of the fort, colorful blankets created the ceiling, several of them tied with ribbons on sticks giving it a kind of castle feel.

"I know, isn't it incredible?" Julie commented, proud of her work.

I turn to look at myself

"I see that the pajamas fit you perfectly, you look phenomenal" She raised her thumb in approval.

"Now, as our first activity, what movie would you like to see?" Sally asked with her hands hidden behind her back.

"Oooohhh" Julie happily took a VHS tape from among the board games "Let's watch Adventures in Dreamland."

"I say let's see… Melody and her friends on a galactic tour!" She excitedly showed us the tape that she had hidden behind her back.

"Come on Sally, Jolly has to see "Adventures in Dreamland" I'm sure she'll love it," Julie said lovingly holding the movie.

"But we have already seen it many times, plus Melody has incredible songs and wonderful character development. She has to know about good cinema" Sally said.

At least 10 minutes, each one defended her film without wanting to give in at any point.

Sincerely, I didn't want to get into that fight, especially because I had no idea what kind of movies they were.

"Hey Sally, what if we see them at the same time? I have another television in the closet. This way we can both see what we want and Jolly will appreciate both stories"

"I don't think…" I said quietly.

"That's… A great and fantastic idea!" Sally exclaimed.

Both girls went to the closet to actually take out another television along with a VHS tape player. Inside the fort, dialogues came out mixed between strident songs, I tried to a certain extent to understand both plots while we ate popcorn and candy. When the credits rolled my brain was finally able to rest, it was a disaster.

"I do not understand. Why did the mermaid Lolly want the sailor Willy to eat the queen of Saturn's cookies so she could stop the evil producer Orion and save the children's dreams?" I asked

Both girls remained silent and then burst into laughter.

"You're quite funny," Julie said between laughs. "No, silly, you completely mixed up the stories."

"Although I must admit that it would be a pretty interesting story to produce, maybe I'll make a play something like that" Sally commented.

"We will have to see them again so you can understand them"

Before Julie took both controls I said:

"I think that was enough movies for me tonight"

"Okay, how about we make some cookies? Buy a tube of chocolate chip dough at Howdy's store" Sally suggested.

The three of us left the fort and headed to the kitchen, we opened the package to grab the dough and form small balls and then placed them on a waxed tray, and with that, they went straight to the oven. The cookies going to be ready in 25 minutes or at least that's what the instructions said.

"While the cookies are baking, why don't we put on our makeup and hair?" Julie proposed.

I had a bad feeling

"A makeover on the way!" The two shouted at the same time.

"Yay! This will be great" Julie quickly took out all the makeup she had and placed it on the table while Sally brought a stool next to her. I saw how both girls were putting on makeup, their faces were full of color.

"Wow" It was the only thing that came out of my mouth

"Very well, it's your turn" They took my shoulders and made me sit down.

"Wait a minute, I…" My plea was useless, Julie quickly began to put my makeup on. I put on a shadow of bright and intense color with a pink blush.

"You'll see, I'll make you more than beautiful" Between them, the two of them used different brushes to fill my face with every product they could put on me.

"Very well, we're done"

Before I could take a mirror and see what they had done to me, Julie snatched it from me and then said:

"Not yet, our hairstyles are missing. We have to make a brushing train"

"The cookies look like they're ready, I'm going to take them out of the oven like Poppy taught me," Sally said as she ran to the kitchen, on her way back she carried a bowl full of the freshly made and warm cookies in her hands.

The three of us stood in single file: Me at the beginning, Julie in the middle and Sally at the end. My hair was not as long as the blonde girl's, on the contrary, my blue hair only reached my shoulders. I could feel her putting barrettes, setting spray, and using the brush to style my hairstyle.

"Almost"

After a couple of minutes, Sally finished Julie's hair.

"Are you done yet?" I asked.

"I'm giving you the last details" she could be heard as she struggled.

"Very well, I´m done" She handed me the mirror

"Vuala, what do you think of your new look?"

"This is…emmm…how to say it…Extravagant" If my eyes were already big because of my expression I could make them double. I looked like a clown, everything was made up with exaggeration and the hairstyle did not help at all, it rose upwards making it look like an almond.

"Do you or do you not feel bonita?" Julie asked me

"...I feel bonita" I didn´t know if I wanted to laugh or cry

"Wonderful! Because you look bonita!"

The makeup and haircut of both girls are almost equally exaggerated. I really don´t hate this game it's just strange for me but is quite funny

After admiring Julie's work, this girl went to her room to take out a pile of clothes. She suggested that we do a fashion show, and so for at least an hour we tried on thousands of outfits while making funny poses. If it weren't for the fact that we are puppets, she would say that we are just girls who want to have fun.

After the parade there was a pillow fight that ended with thousands of feathers on the floor along with thousands of laughter from everyone. We collected what we could and placed them back inside the cushion.

"You know, I honestly don't remember the last time I had fun…thank you," she said with a sincere smile.

"It's okay but…What do you mean by "you don't remember the last time you had fun"? "What happened?" Julie asked, looking at me worried about what I said.

"Well…Before I got here…My friends and I were in serious danger"

Sitting in a circle while Sally held a lamp as our only source of light started storytime,

"How terrible…I guess you went through a lot of things"

"… yes, really...yeah," I said looking at the floor while I remembered every teacher I had ever encountered and the worst… the confrontation we had against Lesley… and Roy. Being immersed in my thoughts again I didn't realize that Julie was hugging me…

When was the last time you hugged me? Or…Have you ever hugged me?

"I'm very sorry to hear that, I can't imagine what you experienced. If you need something, anything. I'll be there"

"Thank you, Julie, trust me, I will be fine. My friends and I have been through a lot…many horrible things but together we have gotten through" I gave her a smile to reassure her as well as separate her from me.

"They may be idiots but I know that wherever they are as long as they stay together they are capable of surviving anything"

"If you say so but remember we will help you with anything, just tell us and we will be there" Sally commented

I smiled in a certain nostalgic way for some strange reason

-I repeat, thank you very much. When I leave tomorrow I will remember her words and if I am in trouble again I will know that there is a place where we will be welcomed with open arms… I am sure my friends would love this neighborhood-

-Please be very careful out there, promise-

-I promise-

Julie extended her arm and then just left her little finger in my direction waiting for a response from me. I kept thinking and an idea came to my mind, I did the same and intertwined my finger with hers.

"A promise is never broken," he commented.

I looked back at Sally and we did the same.

"Hey, tell me, what are your friends' names?"

The question took me by surprise.

"Emm…the truth is...I don't remember their names, in fact I think we have never really introduced ourselves. Now that I think about it, it's a bit strange since we've known each other for a long time."

"Yes, it's strange…but maybe it's something of fate, right?"

"What does that mean?"

"It sounds like they are very close, like a family, maybe that means that there is a reason behind them getting together even though they haven't introduced themselves"

"I never thought in that way" Thinking about everything I know about them made small laughs come out of me

"If we are a family, we are a really peculiar one. If you met them you would think we were completely different and how the hell did we end up together"

"Oh really? What are they like?" Sally asked.

"They are shy? Happy? Kind or rude?" Julie continued with the questions.

"One looks like a red mop that talks and looks indifferently, another is a kind of old duck with anger problems and the last… is like a kind of naive yellow pig"

Both girls were surprised at how I had described them.

"I know it seems very strange and that we hate each other but…somehow we work"

"Even if their friendship is a little strange, it just shows how much they care about each other. I'm glad to know that you guys have that kind of authentic friendship, you know that they can always trust you with their lives and that's a really good thing to have… at least, I think so" Julie concluded.

Her words really relieved my heart from the anguish I felt for them, this was reflected in my face, however something else was appearing at that moment, it was a kind of sadness but I don't know where it came from.

"Is there anything else that worries you?"

"It's not that, it's just that you remind me of something but I don't know what…something good or someone"

I frowned trying to remember

"I think I once had friends like you" In some way I'm glad to recognize that.

I have a lot to remember

With this and a few more jokes, it was time to sleep.

Our sleepover was over.

🌈2<<<<<<<<<<< >>>>>>>>>>>4🌈

[sillymarigolds]

Peeta's Proposal

Here's my piece for @promptseverlark's Summer 'This Would Have Happened Anyway'. For someone who's not draw to reading or writing AUs, I've sure been doing a lot of it lately!

It was good to have something to "force" me to write, but I think my favourite thing about this challenge has been reading the amazing works! It's pushed me to read things that I might have otherwise scrolled past, but have really enjoyed. There are incredibly talented people in this community!!

Without further ado...

What if Peeta and Katniss had both been rescued and taken to District Thirteen at the conclusion of the Quarter Quell? This story takes place around the time of events in the early chapters of Mockingjay.

Peeta's Proposal

I’m not sure how long it takes for my reality to sink in. The loss of natural daylight and knowledge I am underground makes me feel like an animal trapped in a Capitol laboratory.

Despite everyone around me telling me I am safe, I continue to feel watched. I look for hidden cameras in the ceilings and the walls; wondering if I am being broadcast on to District Thirteen’s version of Capitol TV.

The first thing I remember was the hospital ward. I found out later from Prim that it took the doctors over a week to wake me up properly. I spent much of that time under the influence of large doses of morphling.

Each day I get a small white capsule of morphling with my breakfast. Prim tells me there are small lines if you look closely to indicate the dose. She says they are weaning me off it slowly because that is the safest thing to do. I tried to stop suddenly a few days ago on my own and felt terrible – it felt like my skull was being split open, my joints were aching and my eyes and nose kept watering. So I take the pill and squeeze my eyes closed swallowing it with a gulp of recycled water.

Even on the morphling, I continue to have pain. Some days, it’s my head that aches where Johanna knocked me out, other days it’s everywhere all at once. One of the doctors here is a specialist in the mind; he tried explaining to me that pain is a signal and sometimes there is no clear physical cause. I guess that is why I am wearing this bracelet to signify I am “mentally unstable”.

The only thing that truly calms me down is Peeta. I have to wait until very late at night when there are only a few people left in the hospital ward and tread silently to his room. Most of the time he is already asleep, his blond curls softly heaped up on his forehead. He is exhausted more than the rest of us, and they have him on special monitors that watch his heart. Apparently, the doctors have never known anyone to survive touching a forcefield, and Prim says they sit around and talk about the shapes of the lines, and how quick his heart beats. As good natured as ever, Peeta doesn’t mind much and asks the doctors questions every now and then. I take it upon myself to be suspicious of them, so I do not speak to the doctors unless absolutely necessary.

Peeta is already asleep tonight to the melody of the soft beeps of the monitors when I peek behind the door. He is curled up on his side with the blanket rolled down, anticipating my arrival. Seeing him prepared like this makes me want to laugh at how well he knows me, but that thought is quickly overcome by tears that spring up into my eyes over this boy that is so good, and that I have already almost lost so many times. I crawl in next to him, pressing my back against his stomach and pulling the blanket up over both of us. The warmth from his belly travels right up my spine and settles around my heart. The beeps slow, a heaviness settles into my body, and before I know it, I am pulled into a dreamless sleep.  

***

As soon as we are all discharged from the hospital, we receive summons from Plutarch to join a meeting in Command to discuss the next phase of the Revolution. I have yet to see the full extent of District Thirteen. I have only seen the inside of the hospital, our family’s assigned compartment, the dining hall, and a few supply closets big enough to hide in until today. I don’t know how deep they have buried into the rock here, but I did have to squeeze Peeta’s hand in the elevator ride down here, the air feeling like it was being squeezed out of my chest as we descended deeper under the earth.

It turns out there are far more people involved in the Revolution than I would have guessed. I am impressed by the acting skills. It makes me a little annoyed to think of Haymitch being right to keep me in the dark about all this – my ability to keep a straight face in a lie is, after-all, non-existent.

We are sat around a long rectangular table in the Command Room of District Thirteen – a combination of Victors, Rebels and District Thirteen leaders. Each of us is dressed in the utilitarian grey shirt and trousers, but the groupings remain distinct. The Victors are weary, suspicious; the Rebels hopeful, fiery; the District Thirteen personnel silent and soldier-like in their mannerisms.

While I am told they are grateful for the new arrivals, the original District Thirteen residents keep to themselves. This is the first time I have been in a room with many of them up close. Prim told me there was a poxvirus that wiped out large numbers of their original population. Here in the dark room, the light from the screens on the walls reflects off old scars on some of their faces.

At the head of the table is President Coin, a middle-aged woman with copper eyes and straight, grey hair that falls to her shoulders in a sheet. Her hands are folded on top of the table, her lips pursed. To her right, sits Plutarch Heavensbee, his belly pulling at the buttons of his shirt, leaning back in his chair behind a pile of papers scattered across the desk in front of him.

Trying to be the model of democracy, after standing up and waving us in and telling us how wonderful it is to see us all – I think how pleased Effie would be at his manners, and quickly discard the thought before I start thinking about what has become of her –, Plutarch asks us for ideas about how to stir up loyalty in the districts.

For all their soldiers, personnel and intelligence gathering, District Thirteen have not had a Head Gamemaker here to figure out how to play with all the pieces in this new arena.  

Plutarch’s question is met with silence.

I turn to look at each of the Victors seated at the table.

Finnick, looking slightly unhinged, ties knots over and over in a short length of rope without making eye contact with anyone.

Johanna clenches her jaw, her fists balled up, intermittently smacking them into her thighs, eyes angrily darting around.

Beetee taps away on a small electronic machine, muttering to himself and seemingly oblivious to the presence of anyone else.

Haymitch may look the worst of all of us, as he has spent up until now drying out in a padded cell. He barely registers a hint of recognition when I look at him, his eyes bloodshot.

Finally, I come to Peeta who is immediately to my left. He is already looking at me with soft eyes. When our eyes lock glances, his gaze sharpens and becomes questioning. I feel my brow furrow a little, but the corners of my lips pull upwards.

Once upon a time, we talked about the same solution under very different circumstances.

Peeta feels out for my hand under the table, taking it in his and rubbing small circles across the back of it. He has always known how to play the games without being told, so for once, I trust his instincts, and squeeze his hand gently to tell him so.   

“Katniss and I can get married” Peeta announces.

Knowing what was coming doesn’t stop my tongue from becoming paper dry, my hands from starting to shake and my heart from thumping away in my chest as if I was trying to outrun a wild dog. I look down at the table, tracing the woodgrain with my eyes to try and calm myself.  

Plutarch claps his hands with delight, “Yes, I love it! In fact…” he rustles through the haphazard pile of papers, “I think our friend had just the same idea.”

He pulls out a drawing, ragged along one edge where it has been ripped from its journal and hands it to me. Drawn in Cinna’s hand are two figures – one in a long, white gown, with a glittering gold sash across the shoulder, and a sheer gold cape that falls to the ends of the fingers; the other in a white shirt and formal jacket with black trousers that have what looks like a gold sash around the top. This is me and Peeta. The tears in my eyes threaten to spill over onto the paper, but I swallow them back so as not to destroy this final piece of Cinna. I clutch it to my chest as if to quiet the palpitations, wishing my friend was here with me too.

When I look back up at the faces around the table, I am met by a mix of expressions. While Plutarch is clearly delighted at the prospect of a party, there are dark looks on the faces of many of the District Thirteen delegates.

It dawns on me that here, underground, they may have not seen the “star-crossed lovers of District Twelve”.

A thought that is confirmed when President Coin clears her throat and speaks: “Perhaps there is a more military strategy we can explore.” Plutarch waves her concern away, “Nonsense, Madam President, if we are to defeat the Capitol, we must beat them at their own game.”

“But how exactly will a marriage unite the districts?” asks one of the District Thirteen soldiers I don’t know the name of yet.

Plutarch turns to the solider and asks: “What is the antidote to fear?”

He stops to think for a few seconds, and replies “I don’t know, sir.”

“Anyone?”

“Hope,” comes a voice from the other end of the table – Gale’s voice. I try to catch his eye, but he stares straight ahead at Plutarch unwaveringly.

“Indeed! The districts know only fear from the Capitol, they do not know there is hope that the Captiol’s reign can be overturned. Much less that one can escape the Capitol like these two lovebirds have! If we give people in the districts hope, we can light a fire under this revolution which has until now only been smouldering quietly in the background.” Plutarch looks pleased at this monologue and mimes to the scribe to write it down.

“Well that’s all well and good, sir, but how exactly does a wedding nobody knows about do that?” asks the District Thirteen solider.

“Ah, well that’s an excellent question! One that our dear friend Beetee here can help answer.” He gestures to Beetee who continues tapping away, muttering to himself.

Plutarch clears his throat again, “Beetee”.

Beetee looks up, lifting his fingers off the machine and holding them in mid-air, before pushing his glasses back up his nose. “The broadcasts from the Capitol are secured through a system that was designed not to be breached…However, if someone could indeed break through that encoding, alternative messages could be broadcast to the Districts…Seeing I helped designed this system, I believe I can get through, it will just take some time…” he trails off and looks at his screen once again, beginning to tap on the keys.  

“So there you have it, we will have a wedding broadcast to all!” Plutarch claps his hands with finality.

President Coin clears her throat, “Thank you Mister Heavensbee. It’s now noon, we will reconvene at thirteen hundred hours for our next meeting as scheduled. Dismissed all.”

I watch as the District Thirteen soldiers and Gale file out instantly without a look in our direction.

I turn back to Peeta who is waiting to ask, “So do you want to kiss me, kick me, or kill me?”

I pause for a second before I answer.

“All three, I think.”

[mostremote]

Fic(?) (sort of): "Therapy Sessions"

Hey folks, no "real" fic this week as I'm working on my drafts for We Wild Creatures - Part 2 (also I've had two big academic projects due). But a week without eversnow would be sad indeed, so here is the first part of my unfinished "therapy fic". I've posted a bit of this before, but here's the first piece in full, "Session 1". I'm not posting this on AO3 because it's an insane premise and I'll never finish it, but here we go. I'll post the other sessions (I've written 4-5) in due course.

President Snow and his unwilling wife Katniss attend couples therapy to improve their relationship and her disintegrating mental health. This story details their sessions.

18+: References to sexual violence

Snow has selected a room on the western side of the estate for their sessions. In the mornings the parlor is cool, darkly protected from the sun, but by the afternoon a rich haze of gold seeps through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows. It is a pleasant, unpretentious room. Pale carpets, mint-green walls, a wide cream couch. It doesn’t smell like the rest of the house. It doesn’t smell like him.

‘Neutral ground,’ Snow describes it as he walks down the hall. ‘A safe space for you to express yourself. This room will have no other purpose than our sessions.’

Katniss follows, always a step behind him, keeping distance between them. Her hand remains loosely yet readily slung over the hilt of the knife in her belt, which now rings a loose, cornflower-blue silk dress. Snow let her keep the knife, but not her pants. He bestows on her strange mercies.

They reach a door like any other and Snow knocks. It’s his own home; he doesn’t have to knock. This is a gesture of respect for the sanctity of the space.

The door is opened by an unassuming man in his early forties, with a tidy flop of lightly greying hair and a neat pair of bottle glasses. He doesn’t so much smile in greeting as offers an expression of pleasant welcome.

‘Mister President,’ he says by way of greeting. ‘And Mrs Snow. I am Dr Astor. Come on in.’

They enter, and Katniss pauses to assess the flood of sunlight and the huge windows. An escape point, if she needs it. Not that she could get very far. Gardens, then walls, then guards with guns. Her escape attempts have not been successful.

‘Please sit,’ says the therapist, and he seats himself on a low armchair.

Snow takes the middle-left of the vast cream couch, absolutely comfortable, at ease with everything. Katniss sits too, pressed as far away from him as possible, and stares out of the window. If she threw herself into the glass, it might kill her. If it didn’t, she could take a shard and open her throat.

But what would be the point of that? And what would happen to the baby?

The air is soft and quiet. Comfortable, patient. Air without pressure or expectation. There is a coffee table with a pitcher of water and box of tissues, in case she should need to weep. Will she weep? It is hard to say.

‘Welcome, both of you,’ says the therapist. His voice is soft and measured. There is none of the latent threat that always weaves through Snow’s voice. Katniss immediately believes he is good at what he does. ‘Before we start, I’d like to know how you’d both like to be addressed. This is a safe, private space, and we may discuss intimate matters. Many patients prefer to be addressed by their first names, but not all. It’s whatever you’re most comfortable with. You can call me Dr Astor, or Brian.’

Snow smiles. ‘Coriolanus is fine.’ Katniss doesn’t answer. Snow answers for her — as he so often does. ‘You can address my wife as Katniss.’

Dr Astor’s eyes rest on Katniss. ‘Is that alright, Katniss? Would you like me to call you anything else?’

She gives a tiny shake of the head. Her hair glimmers in a fall of golden brown, lit by the sun. Her eyes do not leave the gardens beyond the glass.

‘That’s good,’ says Dr Astor. He says nothing for a moment, breathing calmly, and Katniss realizes she is jiggling her leg with anxiety. She forces herself to stop. ‘So. I like to start by talking to couples what brought them to therapy. Sometimes each person has a different answer. Coriolanus, could we start with you?’

Snow is open-faced, genial, polite. ‘Of course. Well, Katniss and I married at short notice, as you are aware. I would like us to build a strong relationship, but she has seemed… reluctant. I thought therapy could help.’

Dr Astor’s eyes turn next to Katniss. ‘And for you, Katniss? Why do you want to be here?’

She gives a listless shrug. ‘The same reason.’

‘Well, the next thing I would like to ask is what your goals are in therapy. It might not be immediately obvious what those are. Goals could include emotional goals, such as feeling happier, or less anxious. Or they may be more practical, like being able to do a certain activity together.’

‘My goal,’ says Snow, ‘is to work on our relationship. I am sure there are smaller aims that comprise that. Sharing physical intimacy, for example. Katniss doesn’t let me touch her.’ He pauses. There is a spice of resentment in it. ‘Sexual intimacy, too. I would like us to be able to share that. And I would like us to be a strong father and mother for our child.’ He nods, eyes elsewhere. ‘Those are my goals.’

Dr Astor’s eyes turn to Katniss. ‘And for you, Katniss?’

She doesn’t bother with the shrug this time. Her voice is flat, dead static. ‘The same.’

‘Alright,’ says Dr Astor. ‘Katniss, I notice you haven’t spoken very much. Is there anything particularly troubling you?’

Katniss shakes her head. ‘No. I want to be…’ She swallows something bubbling in her throat: a sigh, a scream. ‘I want to be whatever he thinks I have to be. Just help me figure that out so… so I can… keep him happy.’ Her voice drops. ‘So my family can be safe.’

‘That’s an interesting way of phrasing it,’ says Dr Astor, and he sounds genuinely interested. ‘Coriolanus, do you feel the same way? Do you want your wife to be whatever you think she has to be?’

Snow frowns. ‘No, no, of course not. Unless you mean I want her to be happy.’

Katniss feels Dr Astor look at her again. ‘Katniss, can I ask you a question?’

She nods vaguely.

‘Would you describe yourself as a happy person?’

Katniss cannot suppress a smile of insane disbelief, but she tries to bite it away.

‘This is a safe space, Katniss,’ Dr Astor continues. ‘I want you to be honest with me.’

Katniss’ eyes roll with sarcasm and skepticism.

‘Katniss,’ says Snow, and he shifts his body to look at her. She does not look back. ‘He is telling the truth. This therapy won’t work if you’re not going to be honest. You have my word that nothing you say in here will incur any negative reaction from me. No punishment, no repercussion. I want you to feel safe to express yourself.’

Katniss snakes her eyes back around to Snow, her body wary, ready to run like a hare in the field. ‘Seriously?’

Snow smiles. ‘Yes, seriously.’

She stares, then turns her eyes to the therapist. He is so calm, a zen garden of a human being. ‘Okay,’ she says. ‘No, I would not describe myself as happy.’

‘How would you describe your emotional state?’

She takes a breath. ‘Terrified. Anxious. Upset.’

‘What terrifies you?’

Katniss tries not to look at her husband next to her. ‘That if I do the wrong thing Snow is going to murder someone I care about. Or the war is going to start again and he’s going to do something awful.’ She pauses, briefly. ‘Or he’s going rape me again.’

Dr Astor, to his credit, is not remotely thrown by any of this. He nods, absorbing this information like the calmest, most certain sponge. ‘That’s a lot of things to be worried about. There are two things I want to tell you. The first is that we can’t control external factors, only our emotional reactions to them. So that is something I want to work with you on.’ His eyes flick to Snow. ‘The second thing is that some of these external factors are within your husband’s control. Now, it is not my place to tell a man how to govern the country.’ His broad smile is ringed with dimples. ‘But in working on your relationship, as a couple, some of those concerns are matters he might be able to help.’

Snow inclines his hand in a gesture of mild, polite defensiveness. ‘I cannot do much about Katniss’ concerns about the war. But I have no wish to murder anyone she cares about, unless they pose a threat.’

Dr Astor nods. ‘These are heavy topics. I’d like to talk about the final one on your list, Katniss, if that’s okay. And if it isn’t, that’s okay too. We don’t have to talk about anything right now that you don’t want to discuss.’ He leans forward. ‘You say your husband raped you. Coriolanus, do you agree with that?’

Snow bends his head in a supplicatory nod. ‘I do. I did rape her.’

‘Okay. That’s really good. It’s a very good thing that you can admit that, and that we’re on the same page. I want to talk about why you did that, Coriolanus, and I want to talk about how it made your wife feel.’

‘Of course,’ says Snow, and he leans forward slightly, legs apart, fingers interlaced. ‘Well, Katniss was married to Peeta Mellark at the time. The two of them needed to have a child, of course, to make their marriage more believable to the Districts. Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem that Mr Mellark was up to the task.’ In the brief silence that follows, you can just hear Katniss swallow in outrage and disgust. ‘I had to intervene. It is important to me that Katniss understands that the rape was not an act of perversity on my part. It was necessary for the stability of the country.’

‘You felt obligated to rape your wife?’ says Dr Astor, his voice like a calm field of wheat.

‘I did. She wasn’t my wife at the time, of course. I could have hired a man to impregnate her, but what complications would that cause? It’s not like hiring an assassin. A man who makes his living from rape is not a citizen whose existence I wish to endorse. He might have hurt her. And if a baby did result, he might develop feelings for the child. That is not to say anything of potential diseases or genetic disorders that he might pass on. It made much more sense that I carry out the deed. Generally, I prefer not to get my hands dirty. Not out of squeamishness, it is simply more practical for the President to outsource wet-works. But this was a rare instance in which everything was so much simpler if I did it myself. And it allowed me to ensure the experience was as painless for her as possible.’

‘Thank you for being honest with me,’ says Dr Astor. ‘Can I clarify some details? When you raped your wife, she was married to another man, Peeta?’

‘That is correct,’ says Snow. ‘Their child, of course, is really mine.’ He tilts his head. ‘I had intended to let them raise the child together, but… When I saw little Martia again, I fell in love.’ He breaks into a huge, delighted smile. ‘I never had time for my first son, and he’s long grown up. I very much enjoyed the time spent with my granddaughter, and it made me regret not being a better father. With little Martia I have a second chance.’

Dr Astor nods slowly. ‘I see.’ He looks back to Katniss. ‘It sounds like you’ve been through a lot in the past year, Katniss. One marriage, a child, and now a second marriage. That must have been a big change for you, to go from one relationship to another so swiftly.’

Slowly, jaw clenched, Katniss turns her gaze on the therapist. ‘Peeta and I weren’t in a relationship.’ Her voice is weak and cracked. She speaks so little, these days. ‘Snow made us get married, to stop the rebellion. Then he made us have a child. Then he got bored with the marriage, and made me marry him instead.’ The brief fire dulls again. A shrugging headshake deflates her. ‘I’m just his toy.’

‘That isn’t true,’ Snow cuts in. ‘You’re being uncharitable, Katniss.’

Dr Astor holds up a hand. ‘I understand it can be painful to hear your wife express her feelings. Sometimes we might feel things that other people don’t agree with. But it’s important in this space that we hear both of your feelings and why you feel that way, and then we can try to help work through the issues precipitating them.’ He looks to Katniss. ‘Would it be alright if we discussed the rape, Katniss? Can you tell me how the rape made you feel?’

Katniss remains silent for a very long time. She lets her mind wander. She thinks of the worst things she has ever experienced – fire, blades, killing, bleeding, starving, screaming – and she thinks of Snow, rocking an erection inside her. Then she shakes her head. She cannot tell this stranger how being raped made her feel. Nor can she tell Snow.

‘That’s alright,’ says Dr Astor. ‘We don’t need to discuss it today. This is just about figuring out what you want from these sessions.’ He pauses, still looking at Katniss. ‘May I ask, is “rape” the term you’d most like to use to describe the act? I want to validate your feelings, but it can be a difficult word.’

‘It was a rape,’ Katniss says immediately. ‘I don’t want to sugarcoat it.’

‘We sugarcoat things for a reason,’ he says. ‘A pill covered in sugar works just as well as one without. Language is important for how we frame things, and how we think about them.’

‘I think about it as a rape.’ Katniss delights in her voice having come back to her throat. ‘He raped me. And he wants me in this room, talking to you, so he can rape me again and pretend it’s something else.’ A huge breath fills and empties her lungs. She does not dare look at Snow. Has she gone too far?

‘Thank you, Katniss. Thank you for telling me that. That must have been difficult for you.’ Dr Astor turns to Snow. ‘Coriolanus, how does what Katniss just said make you feel?’

‘Irritated. I’ve explained to her I have no wish to rape her again. I want her to consent to any sexual activity.’ He tsks. ‘I do not like repeating myself.’

‘Exactly,’ says Katniss, feeling stronger, more able to bite back. ‘He wants me to consent to sexual activity. Which would never happen. So it would be rape.’

‘Katniss,’ says Snow, and his voice is gentle. ‘What I would like to gain from these sessions is mutual understanding and recognition. I would like us both to get our relationship to a point where the prospect of sexual intercourse isn’t rape. I do not, as you say, want to rape you and pretend otherwise.’

Katniss’ breath rattles through her like she’s a snake tail.

Dr Astor speaks softly. ‘What do you want, Katniss?’

To go home. To kill Snow. To escape.

She says, ‘I don’t know.’

Dr Astor nods. ‘Well, that’s about all we have time for today. I think we covered useful ground. You both opened up about some difficult subjects. I have some homework for you both.’

Snow smirks and raises his eyes to the ceiling. ‘Oh goody.’ He allows this man to patronize him, just a little. Too much, though, and he’ll have him shot.

‘I want you both to list five things that you want to achieve in therapy. I want you to do this separately, and I don’t want you to confer. Those can be big ideas or very specific things. Can you both do that for our next appointment?’

Katniss shrugs. What does she want to achieve? Nothing, anymore. She is nothing.

Snow stands, Dr Astor stands, and Katniss does too. ‘Thank you, doctor,’ says Snow, and he reaches out to shake the man’s hand. Katniss does not do the same.

[swiftyangx12]

“With great power comes with great responsibility…”|Valorant x Marvel #1

[Synopsis]: Marvel inspired Valorant agents and the first one is a Spider-Man based agent.

[Gender Neutral!VP Agent]

[(A/N)]: The characters may be OOC and I’m open for criticism/help to improve.

[TW]: Possible spoilers of ATSV and some cursing

Let’s start with the first recent addition to the Valorant Protocol.

They’re from Queens, New York.

Somebody whose like the neighborhood’s friendly savior.

Well, I think it’s best if they introduce themselves to you…

Arachnis: “My name is [Y/N] [L/N]. I’m a Spider-based Radiant who got their powers from the First Light and not bitten by a radioactive spider. For about two years, I go by Arachnis, swinging around New York, stopping robberies, beating bad guys, protecting people and loved ones, the usual stuff. Then I was recruited by an organization called The Valorant Protocol where there are other agents like me who defend our world, Alpha Earth, from Omega Earth that keep stealing a material called Radianite that powers almost everything. I get to travel around the world and it was my first time using firearms. I’m one of the Sentinels of Valorant and sometimes I can go too far when defending my colleagues…

When I don’t have missions, I visit New York and reminisce about everything that happened before and after getting my powers.

I hope nothing goes wrong in the future…”

《🕷️》

[Valorant HQ]

Breach: *with his booming voice* WHO’S UP FOR GAME NIGHT?!

Arachnis: AH! *Jumps up scared and now stuck on the ceiling*

Brimstone: Breach, you scared them again.

Breach: Whoops, sorry!

Arachnis: You’re good. I’m coming down. *Lowers back down with a thread of silk* Hey.

《🕷️》

Phoenix & Yoru: *Arguing and being dumbasses*

Jett: *Frustrated* When are they gonna stop?

Arachnis: *Shoots their web at the two and sticks them against a wall*

Phoenix & Yoru: [Y/N]!

Arachnis: *Shoots more web at their mouths to shut up* Unless you two behave, stop arguing like Pre-K brats!

《🕷️》

[Location: SPLIT]

Arachnis: *Spider senses triggered* Fall back! Fall back!!!

Skye: ‘Rach? What is it?

[Something crashes in front of the VP team and they readied their weapons. It seems the threat obtain mechanical tentacles protruding through its backside and it look pissed.]

Chamber: What is that?

Arachnis: I don’t know. Just shoot at it! *Starts shooting at the suspect*

[Its tentacles intertwined together forming a shield and the bullets deflect.]

Arachnis: Fuck! *Sprints at the enemy*

Skye & Jett: Arachnis!

Arachnis: *Shoots their web and yank themselves towards the enemy* *Kicks it with great impact and traps the individual in more webs* *Then starts swinging it around, slamming the body left and right like the Hulk beating a Pre-Infinity War Loki*

[Far away from the map]

???: I think the anomaly is taken care of.

[The strangers watch Arachnis tears off the tentacles with their bare hands. They were horrified by the sight.]

???: Definitely taken care of.

《🕷️》

[Hours later]

[Arachnis ties the enemy up with more web and knocks it out of conscious with the butt of their Phantom.]

Skye: Wow. You tore it up worse than a pack of wolves.

Jett: We need to tell Brim about this.

Arachnis: We should. You guys go ahead. I think I dropped my melee somewhere. *Walks around the area*

[They crawl up on the walls of the structures, swinging around with their webbing, searching for their knife until they get introduced by some figures.]

???: Excuse me? Is this what you’re looking for? *Holds out the weapon*

Arachnis: Oh, my knife! Thanks. *About to grab it but Spider Senses triggered again* No way. Are you two also Radiants?

???: Radiants?

???: Sorry, we’re not. We came to pick up the anomaly. *Points at the unconscious suspect*

Arachnis: Anomaly?

???: And if it’s alright, could you come with us?

Arachnis: *Suspicious* …One second. *Speaks through their ear piece* Team, I think I’ll find another way back to base. Inform Brimstone that I’ll be back soon and I need to take care of something.

《🕷️》

[Earth-928, Spider Society HQ]

Arachnis: You mean to tell me there are others like me?

Gwen: Yes, and I think Miguel could use more people like you.

Arachnis: I…don’t think so. I’m part of the Valorant Protocol and already dealing with doppelgängers attempting to steal our power supply.

Gwen: We’re here. Miguel!

[Up on a ascended platform with hologram screens hued with neon orange, the one and only Miguel O’Hara whose back is facing out.]

Arachnis: Does he always do that? His back facing us?

Gwen: Always.

Miguel: You’re the one who took down the Doc Ock variant. *Finally turns to face down at them* All by yourself.

Arachnis: 씨발… [Ssi-Bal…] (Fuck…) You guys didn’t tell me he’s part Goliath Bird eater.

Miles: *Coughs from the sudden response*

Arachnis: He’s huge.

Miguel: Are you finished?

Arachnis: Yeah. Also I’m not joining as I’m already an agent with another organization.

Peter B. Parker: *Barges in* Wait! Before you go and never come back, would you at least tour around the place?

Arachnis: Okay? It won’t change my final decision.

《🕷️》

[Lobby]

Peter B. Parker: You were never bit by a radioactive spider?

Arachnis: Nope. I’m a Radiant. Got my powers from The First Light.

Miles: Have you always experienced near-deaths?

Arachnis: I dodge bullets everyday.

Pavitr: Have you lost a favorite family member?

Arachnis: My family and I had an Uncle Benny and he died.

Pavitr: Oh no. I’m sorry for your loss.

Arachnis: It’s cool. Nobody liked or missed him because he was dick to everyone.

Spider Gang: Oh.

Arachnis: We celebrate his death before, during and after his funeral like New Year’s Day.

Spider Gang: Oh.

Arachnis: Does that count as a canon event?

Jess: It’s better than never.

《🕷️》

[Back in VP HQ]

Arachnis: *Exits through the portal*

Brimstone: [L/N], where were you?

Arachnis: It’s a long story, sir. You may want to sit down for this one.

[Hours Later]

Arachnis: …And that is how I came back here.

Brimstone: It’s long, all right.

Arachnis: Told you. They offered me to join, but I can’t accept it. How can I fill in both organizations at once?

Brimstone: Have you discuss this with their boss?

Arachnis: *Frowns* Yes, and he scares me.

Brimstone: What are the arrangements?

Arachnis: I come by every Tuesday and Friday as their fighting instructor in that universe.

Brimstone: Anything else?

Arachnis: Some of the younger Spider-people want to visit this world.

Brimstone: *Sighs* More chaos.

《🕷️》

[Friday at the Spider Society]

Arachnis: *Babysitting Mayday this time* “'Cause we don't need permission to dance! Da-na-na-na-na-na-na, da-na-na-na-na-na-na!” *Dancing to the song*

Mayday: *Giggling happily at the little performance*

Arachnis: *Twirls around and spots HIM* *Throws a knife at his direct*

Miguel: *Dodges* Was that necessary?

Arachnis: Yes, and I got scared. I’m on Mayday duty so I’m protecting her. *Picks up Mayday* See you around, O’Hara. *Walks away with the baby in their arms*

[Reblogs helps creators and creates for more content]

[Tagged]: @hhurric4ne @l0serloki @luckyowl @radianights @redrage71890 @theladyheroine

[writer1queenjaysblog]

Taking chances are high risks.

(stepbro Mark Grayson x stepsis oc. Mark not only reveal his identity to his step sister but a secret as well.)

(Mark 22 oc 21. Warning: stepcest, cream pie,mention of pregnancy, risk getting caught.)

Mark just revealed himself as Invincible the hero to the one he loves. Jada. She looked at him shock trying to piece together what she was just told.

Jada: So wait a damn minute YOU are Invincible?

Mark chuckles: Yes my love I am. And before you say it yes mom knows and dad does too, after he taught.

Jada was mad she was kept in the dark and was the only one but then she understood why.

Jada: I see. Well I'm proud of you Mark.

He smiled as he wrap his arms around her he lift off the ground floating before kissing her lips deeply moaning as his hands felt up and down her curvy body.

Mark: Fuck princess.

He pin her against the wall floating higher as he began to take her clothes off.

Mark: You make me feel so good I know that we've known each other since our early teens but man if I'd made you mine back then we wouldn't have had to wait this long, but I'm glad we did.

Jada: Me too baby Mark..I want to feel your cock in me.

That's all it took for him to unravel. He started lifting her skirt higher and ripped her panties off she moans as he flew to the bed taking his suit off now he was naked, his 9 inch cock throbbing begging to go in.

Mark: Fuck princess I'm going fuckin crazy over here.

Jada: Here bro.

She opens her legs she was wet and twitching she wanted his thick cock to be buried inside her.

Mark groans : Fuck yeah baby.

He thrust deep in her he was now pounding her pussy moaning loudly losing his mind like a wild savage animal in heat moaning.

Mark: AHH! Fuck princess Fuck! The only fucking thing I'm breaking is this pussy, it's mine to conquer no one else.

He said stern he pulled her close as took off her shirt and bra the only thing left was her short ruffle black skirt he wrap her legs around him floating off the bed.

He thrusts fast

Mark: Ahh..ooh yes Jada oh my god I'm fuckin losing it. I'm going crazy because of this pussy! Fuck pretty girl you're so wet just for me~.

The front door was heard opening it was Nolan and Debbie coming back from work.

Mark: Shit mom and dad are home.

He thrust faster

Jada moans covering her mouth

Jada: Mark stop- ah~ fucking stop brother.

Mark grunts: Hell no, I don't care if we get caught I'm fuckin you til I - oh fuck cum.

Footsteps were getting closer

Jada: Mark please.

She whispered he scoff floating to the ceiling his back pressed against the ceiling Nolan came in but didn't see them.

Nolan: Hm that's weird. Maybe their out with friends.

He closes the door

Mark looks at Jada dead in the eye thrusting

Mark: Don't you fuckin scream til he's gone.

He said as Nolan's footsteps faded from earshot.

Mark float down this time on the bed Jada was hovering over the bed as he pounded her growling and moaning

Mark: I'm cumming I can't..hold it for too long..shit. Fuck I'm close I'm cumming inside you baby which is what I'm gonna fill ya up with carry my babies babe please?

Jada: No..no please Mark don't do this think about our parents, friends, Amber.

He didn't care about his parents, friends, or Amber his feelings for her died long ago.

Mark stopped before looking at Jada in her eyes: Fuck them it's you and me against the world princess.

He kisses her lips as he pounded her pussy faster and faster wet sounds coming from her pussy as she moans while mark's tongue explored her tongue and mouth.

Mark: Oh God I'm about to cum! I don't care if they hear me I'm gonna knock you up and we're going to be a happy family! Jada oh god I'm so close now I'm - ah fuck Im at my peak!

Ohh Jada Jada I Love you!

He cums deep inside her womb before collapsing on the bed panting heavily sweating. He groans in pleasure coming off his high

Mark: Fuck..ooh~ fuck princess Fuck princess you took it outta me tonight. I can't wait to fuck this pussy when your pregnant and swollen with my baby.

Jada: Damn..oh Mark your my hero and soulmate I love you.

Mark kissed her lips smiling: I love you too princess.

(That's all folks 🌺 🌸 follow me for me!🌺🌸🌺🌸🌺🌸🌺🌸)

[a0wz]

The White Fox Stalks in the Blackest of Shadows

Spoilers for the TSC

I mentioned before that I think it would be better if Andrew was sent out to kill Grayson instead of Neil asking his uncle so here's Andrew's POV while Neil went to deal with the FBI.

Content warning : staging suicide, mention of hanging, murder, implied masturbation.

Andrew was already annoyed and Neil of course made things even less bearable. For hours he stared out the window, working over his plan again and again. Ironing out plans C, D, and E incase A or B weren't good enough. For over five hours straight, Andrew had to sit in an aisle seat listening to the ramblings of someone a part of him still believed was a hallucination. Being in a death tube held up by invisible forces across miles and miles of land was worse enough.

It all started with a call from Neil's uncle, Stuart, but quickly fell into the category of 'no one's getting sleep tonight' after Kevin got a frantic call from Captain Sunshine Rainbow Shits. Weirdly enough, Jeremy's call and Stuart's creepy ass message ended up having nothing to do with each other.

Stuart refused to explain until they landed in LAX, but all Andrew cared about was the part that required Neil talking to the feds using more words than 'fuck you'. Jean was involved somehow but Andrew didn't care enough to listen when that part was explained. Something about his family being a loose thread. It wasn't until Kevin texted asking Andrew for a favor that his attention was earned.

Kevin was distraught with guilt after talking to Jeremy. Even with what little the Trojan conveyed in their brief conversation, Kevin was able to put the pieces together the moment he mentioned Grayson's name.

Day: He needs to be gone, tonight. Can you do it?

You: I can make it work if Neil could get someone to cover the mess it'll make.

It was as simple as tapping Neil before he got of the phone with his uncle. The service for print and struggle signs clean up would cost him but Neil agreed to cut a check when they met in person. Stuart also got the Raven's location as a token of Neil and his' blood relation.

"What a saint," Andrew laughed dryly.

"If we only have tonight, might as well not go through the trouble of tracking him down on our own."

"Yeah, yeah. Just pick me up on time." The pair of Foxes went their separate ways after Andrew was dropped off a few blocks from the warehouse Stuart tracked Grayson to. An alert was put out to local units of a mentally unstable individual in need of capture but Neil's uncle got the pigs' radio frequencies distorted and unintelligible for the next hour or so. Thankfully, the FBI and local PD practically hate each other, so it would be a cold day in hell when local PD admit their comms were out for an unacceptable amount of time.

It had been a while since Andrew was able to let loose. Someone deserved to be dead and he didn't even have to deal with the aftermath.

The shadows of the night gave the White Fox more than enough cover to find a broken window and slip through. The familiar sound of a beer bottle crashing on concrete led Andrew to an upstairs office. Graffiti decorated the wall and water damage left the spray paint distorted and bleeding multicolor.

"I'am the perfic cort muthr fuker!" Grayson slurred as he knocked over another Heineken bottle for a full one. The backliner was sitting with his back to the door, slouching and wide-legged. Andrew stepped lightly into the decrepit room. Looking up, there was a support beam perfectly placed across the ceiling in the center of the room. Grayson's head swiveled against the backrest of the beach chair as his arm jerked frantically in his lap, soft wet slapping accompanied his low grunts.

"fuk that pathetic ass 'till i'm dun cuming insid it," Grayson panted, his pace quickening.

He was too drunk and pleasure dazed to struggle well as Andrew wrapped the rope around his neck. He thrashed around the room, wheezing and spitting in frustration. Andrew grounded himself and held the rope tight until the pathetic mass went still and unbreathing. The goalkeeper was surprised that he felt so indifferent to killing again. The first time, he was young and caught up with emotion to protect his twin brother. Now, there was the slight satisfaction that he had accomplished what Kevin asked for.

Next was the hard part of Andrew's night. He didn't have to worry about leaving prints thanks to Stuart, but getting the damn guy in the air and tied up took more energy than guarding against Kevin's endless swings during night practice or keeping pace with Neil during a mid-day jog. Gloves kept him from ripping the skin off his hands but nothing kept his back from aching by the time the body was strung by a noose. He sat in an alley a few blocks away catching his breath while an unmarked van drove up and confirmed they were good to go in and tidy up the scene.

Neil picked him up a while after not bothering to ask how it went, instead gathering that it went smoothly by Andrew's unbothered deminer. Though, since it was only to Neil, Andrew was fine to admit he was quiet from exhaustion. Killing someone was a lot harder when he had to do the work himself. Killing his mom was swift, simply jerking the wheel when she wasn't paying too much attention to the road. He probably wouldn't do it again if the amount of energy it took wasn't worth who he was doing it for. Kevin was more than worth it, even more so if Neil was alright screwing a two-time murderer. The freak might even like it.

Andrew fell asleep before the two Foxes were in the air back to South Carolina, thinking about all the ways he could tease Neil about having the hots for a killer. 

[innamorament0]

I want to heard more about the Kara monster hunter WIP, please.

I will answer with whatever little I have written =D

“Come one, don’t be mad, Lena.” - it was a second hour of Barry clumsily trying to smooth out a conflict situation. They sat in the gazebo, overgrown with the pale yellow autumn roses, enjoying the warm autumn breeze. She had a glass of a Scilossa wine, and he sipped from a cup of cold, thick, dark beer that Luthorians could make like no one else. And then they argued, not for the first time though. As usual, Barrfind Allen started to forget what offensive words he said - either he said something impartial about magic or about the mages themselves, but it was already an hour she was silent, looking into her book stubbornly, mindlessly flipping its pages, and he didn't know what to do with himself.

“How are you and Kara?” - Barry asked gloomily, not really hoping to hear the answer. But the sorceress finally put down the book and looked at him. Her gaze was absent, grazing over the dwarf and stopping somewhere on an overgrown wall behind his back.

“ We aren’t together at the moment.” - she said carefully, still not looking at the dwarf.

“You mean?” 

“I mean, we have a pause in our relationship.” - She said it even slower, like she would talk with a halfwit.

“ So it’s another break-up.”  - Barry stated a fact. - “ And how many times I told you - you need to com-mu-ni-cat! You could take a bottle, get smashed and yell at each other like normal persons! Instead, you both are like wet hens - you scatter to your dark, little corners and hoot.”

“It’s not that simple, Barry.” - Lena scrunched her nose. - “We are too different - we have different priorities and different life goals. And, after all, I am married.”

“Bhah! Found a problem, do ya?” - Barry cackled, clapping himself on the belly.  - “And she promised you a paradise in a hut?” 

“It’s difficult for her to be in Luthoria - she wants freedom, to go out on the road, to fight her monsters, to seek adventure.” - she fell silent for a moment. - “She wants from me whatever I cannot give to her, and so I let her go. And she leaves.” 

“And then she comes back and waits for you again. Quien. Patient, just like Kara is, huh?” - Barry summed it down. - “And you are torturing each other for how long? Eh, you could just…” 

“Barry, don’t judge, please.” - the sorceress interrupted.

They sat in silence for a long while. Somewhere in the distance, a crossbill was chirping, and the wind carried a subtle aroma of pine trees that grew around the castle. Lena wrapped herself tighter in a warm green cape.

“Barry?” - she finally broke the silence, turning her head to the dwarf who just started to doze off.  - “Tell me how you two met?”

“Oh, where was it? Maybe five years ago…” - the dwarf started, looking at the gazebo’s ceiling thoughtfully. Finally, he croaked and turned to the servant boy. - “Hey, lad, bring me more beer! The tale isn’t short.” 

***

She reread the manifest again. On the stinky piece of badly processed and tattered pigskin, with crooked letters, was etched an address to the warriors, mercenaries and adventurers of all kinds.

“WHO READ THIS LETTER, READ IT CAREFULLY AND REMEMBER! A TERRIBLE MONSTER HAD BEEN LIVING IN THE ESTATE OF VAN DE VILERTS SINCE THE TIMES LONG PASSED. THOSE WHO WISH TO FIGHT IT AND SAVE THE PLACE FROM THE SCOURGES OF THE FEROCIOUS MONSTER SEE THE CITY GOVERNOR MARTIN IN THE CITY OF EINYEN, WHICH IS NEAR THE ELVEN RUINS.”

Einyen had a melodious name that invoked the thoughts of elven music, of notes gentle and gracious. But this is where the romantic notions ended - this city was just like hundreds of other cities that Kara visited. As soon as the traveller approached its walls, they were knocked off by a complex bouquet of the various smells of the densely populated city. The sensitive worgen nose caught all nuisances of this heavy amber - the stench of the sewers mixed up with the smoke of factories that were built just near the thick grey walls. Added to this was a pungent smell of processed leather, food, and perfume.

Kara lowered her head and went straight through the gates, in hopes that behind these walls, at least the stench of a stagnant shit in the gutters will not add up to this exquisite mix.

“Stop right ‘ere, trash! Where ya goin’?” - the lance poked her in the chest. The guy with a moustache, who had his cone cheekily pushed onto one of his ears, looked at her with determination.  Kara suppressed a sigh and took the glove off her left hand. A bit lower than her palm, on the left wrist, was a zigzaggy tattoo that was known as “the adder”, known as the mark of a monster hunter throughout the realm. For quite some time, the guard scrutinised the tattoo, squinting one eye, then the other one.

“So ya are one of those, huh?” - he finally concluded, sucking on his remaining teeth.

“Yes, I am a hunter.” 

“Your mug isn’t human. Since when did they begin to accept non-humans into the hunting department, huh?” 

“That, I do not know, but they did start somewhere.” - Kara was calm, watching him scrunch his nose in disgust.  -  “Will you let me through, good man?” 

The guard watched her for a few long moments, studying her worgen features closely, but lowered the lance.

[doueverwonder]

Happy birth!!!!

Happy late brithday @the-heaminator <3333 ilysm

pairings: PruAme

warnings: none

part of the spy au

here one ao3 or under the cut if you want to stay on tumblr <3

Summary: Fellas, is it gay to have a crush on your best friend of five years and panic at the prospect of moving in with him?

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

Alfred handed the last box to Jack, who stood next to Ludwig who seemed to be playing tetris with boxes and a couple suitcases trying to fit everything in the car in the ‘most space efficient way’. Alfred really didn’t get how he had the patience to do it, or how Jack had become so engrossed in watching him do it to sit still long enough. 

Alfred and Gilbert had gotten into the same university, it was too far from home to not move, but neither wanted to live on campus so clearly the only answer was to rent a flat together. Alfred’s dad and Gilbert’s opa had decided to be extra dramatic about the whole thing and were throwing a little going away party that night; even though it was close enough they both had promised to visit every other weekend. They were packing now though so as to not have to do it in the morning. 

There had been some slight… suspicion going around over them moving in together. Alfred and Gilbert had been friends for five, almost six years now, they both thought it completely reasonable to move in with each other. Some certain adults though were convinced there was something else going on. Matt pointed out it was probably because of all those sleepovers the two of them had, especially the one no one knew about that included Gilbert climbing out of Alfred’s window in nothing but pajama pants the next morning. They both had shivered being reminded of the ‘talks’ that were given later in the day, even though both swore seventy times over they hadn’t done anything; the fact that Matthieu was on an overnight school trip had nothing to do with why they had a secret sleepover that night. 

Matt would claim it was more mortifying for him to be gone for two days and not informed of what had happened than to walk into the living room to hear; it’s okay if you get curious and we just want to make sure you two are being safe. While his brother and best friend sat on the couch blushing so hard you would think there should be steam coming out of their ears.

He watched for a moment more, confused on how they were fitting everything but letting it go long enough to decide to go see if Gilbert needed help getting any of his stuff. He didn’t bother knocking on the front door as people had been going in and out all day getting ready for the party and carrying things out to be packed. He did however knock on Gilbert’s bedroom door before opening it; “Hey”

“Hey” Gilbert didn’t look at Alfred as he tried to pull a piece of poster tack off a poster without ripping it. Alfred had told him using that stuff was a bad idea when he had put the post up almost two years earlier. 

“Almost done packing?” He sat down on the floor next to him, all the furniture had been moved that morning.

“Yeah almost” he cussed as the poster ripped in the corner, he finally dropped it laying down on the ground; “Just have to get the stuff off the walls and I’m ready. You?” 

“Last box went in the car just a minute ago” He laid down as well, both of them staring at some long worn out glow in the dark stars that had been stuck on the ceiling. 

“Opa bought those not long after we moved in with him. I had some in my room at our old house and I guess he wanted it to feel more like home here” Gilbert didn’t talk much about his life before moving in with his grandfather; Alfred assumed he missed his parents too much to talk about it. Alfred couldn’t, as far as any were concerned his dads had adopted him out of foster care when he was two. Fake memories he had to recite so many times they felt almost real. There were fake family pictures with kids that weren’t him but looked close enough edited in. The closest Alfred had ever gotten to telling GIlbert something real about his biological parents was ‘they weren’t good people’ it wasn’t a lie, it explained why he was adopted. But it wasn’t the truth either, because Alfred and Matthieu’s parents were good parents, even if they weren’t good people. He envied Eli sometimes, she didn’t remember anyone except for Ivan and Arthur, and the agency. 

“What was your parents house like?” Alfred prompted. He needed Gilbert to talk before he snapped and told him the truth. 

“Much bigger, it was farther out in the countryside so there was more room” he shook his head, “my mum grew up living in a flat in london and hated it. When they got married they bought a house as far from any city as they could get” 

“And your dad?” 

“Grew up right here, opa and oma bought this house when he was three” 

“Was this his bedroom?”

“No Ludwig’s was.” Gilbert sighed, clearly lost in thought thinking about his parents. He only had a couple of memories and by this point they were fading. He was going to be twenty soon, his parents died when he was seven, thirteen years. His Opa was terrified of him leaving, insistent something could happen with him living alone so far from home; he had to remind him over and over he would have Alfred and they would be living quite close to some of Ivan and Arthur’s friends. 

“What about your dads? Where did they grow up?” 

“My dad grew up in Birmingham. He doesn’t talk much about specifics though” 

“Only child?” 

“One of six actually, um, Molly, Alisdair, Rhys, then him, Fiachra, and Peter. He said his parents were more than a bit neglectful though.” Alfred thought about it a lot, Arthur was drunk once and ended up talking about it. His parents were the kind of people who only had kids because they kept fucking up on the birth control front, but were ‘too religious’ to not go through with it. Liked to make it known though that they didn’t have to take care of them, they could have given them up but out of the quote-unquote “kindness” of their hearts took care of them. 

“Your dad doesn’t sound like he’s from Birmingham”

Alfred snorted, “You should hear him after he watches a single episode of peaky blinders” 

“Oh?” Gilbert dropped his voice, doing his best–which also constitutes as being a general worst–Birmingham accent. “Is he in a gang?” 

“I think my dad would die before joining a gang…” he sighed, “Papa said his accent was a lot more noticeable when they met, but then dad said so was his.” Obviously the fact that neither of them regularly spoke with any easily identifiable accent was because they learned too. You couldn’t have a career in espionage and be easily identifiable. 

“Your papa is from Russia, right?” 

“Yeah, but he hasn’t lived there since he was fourteen.” He slipped, he was thinking about it. A joke, right, “Barely longer then Matt and I lived in America” 

Alfred wanted to take it back immediately, he and Matt hadn’t lived in America ever. Really it wasn’t too hard of a lie, neither remembered living in Vermont really they were just born there. But the agency said, part of the cover, Alfred was born in Liverpool and adopted at two, Ivan and Arthur got a call a year after adopting Alfred saying he and Matt’s mother was having another baby, another one she was going to give up. They asked if they wanted him. They said yes and nine months later got Matthieu. That was the explanation; that was why they looked so similar despite both being adopted and at different times. Jack and Eli looked different enough they didn’t need a story like that, though they had to be more careful in slipping up and saying things like ‘our mum’ because they weren’t supposed to have the same one. 

“The party is kinda dumb” Gilbert rolled onto his side to look at Alfred, “It’s not like we won’t be back plenty, and your dads friends have a tendency to show up all over the place” 

Alfred laughed at the second statement though he knew it was true, yet again he couldn’t explain that the reason they ‘seemed’ to be everywhere is because they were, that would be creepy. “Aw c’mon Gil, it’ll be like pregaming for uni parties”

“I’m going into engineering, i’ll be too busy studying for parties” he deadpanned back, 

“Then count this as your one and only uni party” 

“Ah yeah, a wild party thrown by my super Catholic grandfather, with most the guests being neighbors who are at least ten years older than us” 

“Exactly. It’ll be great!” Gilbert rolled his eyes, grumbling about how he guesses he’ll go to one or two parties with Alfred while they’re at university. Y’know, for the experience; that made Alfred snort even harder. 

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

Alfred saw a lot of his parents' work friends at the party, what Yao had left out when they moved to this house was the entire neighborhood–hell half the entire town was agency. Retired mostly, third of their neighbors didn’t go by their real names because of some witness protection thing, there were a few handfuls of undercover based here, desk jockeys who would rather commute than live in the city near HQ. The only neighbors not officially tied to the agency was Heinrich, Gilbert, and Ludwig. They decided they needed one normal person to throw the whole thing off, and Heinrich just happened to be the least normal civilian they could pick. Not to mention a decade after the agency bought out every house, except that one, they pulled an old file and found out they tried to recruit him when he first joined the military at twenty and he refused. So it turned out officially he did have ties to the agency just like everyone else there; he just didn’t know. 

The side ‘problem’ was Heinrich adopted every person who walked into his door. It was a plus as a lot of agents had to cut ties with their family anyway–usually it was supposedly easy as most agents hadn’t been close with their families beforehand. But that didn’t stop them from being excited at finding a ‘new family’; Yao tried to visit once to set the record straight on who exactly “Mr. Beilschmidt” was and ended up getting adopted as well. It was an unsuccessful-yet successful day trip. 

Not to mention agents weren’t supposed to have connections to people outside, it made things messy when they had to move on to their next assignment, it also made those outsiders targets if anything were to go wrong. Despite that Mr. Beilschmidt decided all of his neighbors were now part of his family, he had lost a lot of family after all and enjoyed it just as much as they did. 

Outside of that Erzsébet had been dating someone for years now, there was suspicion Yao knew about Roderich but wasn’t going to say anything out of fear of his own safety, Erzsébet was more than capable of snapping a grown man in half. 

Gilbert grumbled something about most of the guests being older, elbowing Alfred making a joke about that’s why it was being held so early in the day. “All of them have to be in bed by seven” 

“You get grumpy if you stay up later than eight-thirty” he elbowed Gilbert back. 

Alfred had a summer internship at the Agency HQ the summer leading up to this and had enjoyed giving new people tours and getting to point people out. Part of him wished to do his narration to Gilbert to refresh him on everyone, he thought it was a really funny script. 

The first two people he specifically noted were always Adelheid and Johann, they were his dads replacements in the field; assigned almost five years ago now. They lived together to ‘save money’ which meant they knew each other very well too, new people usually thought they were dating, like they usually thought with his dads too–maybe it was a requirement for that position? Someone seeing them argue over what to have for dinner and would ask if they were, Heidi’s a lesbian and Johann isn’t interested in anyone, supposedly because ‘dating is expensive’. 

After them was Tolys, he was one of the aforementioned ‘commuting desk jockeys’, he took the bus and somehow always missed the first one and was exactly seven minutes late every day. Consistency at least. Alfred liked Tolys, he was only twenty-one and had just started the job. At some point during the summer Alfred was talking about him so much Matt told him to ask him out, Alfred was shocked because of ‘the age gap’ until Matthieu reminded him he was nineteen now… he didn’t feel nineteen. Plus, Alfred was pretty sure Tolys had a crush on Feli, though that was an age gap. Speaking of…

Feliciano and Lorenzo were always next on his tour, bonus points if he walked into the medical wing and they were doing something gross. He had accidentally made a guy puke on his second day once, he was pretty sure that guy got reassigned from field to desk over it. If he can’t handle bandaging a wound what is going to happen when he has to stop someone from bleeding out? Feli and Lorenzo were also-kinda-sorta-not-really Gilbert and Lutz’ step uncles, because they were Romulus’ sons and he was (unofficially) dating Heinrich. Alfred liked watching Feliciano and Lorenzo interact with Gilbert and Ludwig because it was two worlds meeting in a way that had nothing to do with him. Not to mention apparently Feliciano was scared of Lutz because years earlier he had said something along the lines of “I knew you before I was born” and yeah that is creepy, especially considering Ludwid had a tendency to stare into people's souls. Gilbert and Lovino had been arguing constantly for years, no one even knew about what anymore, he didn’t think they even knew anymore. 

Alfred noticed Erzsébet came too, and she brought Roderich. That surprised him considering how many agencies there were, Roderich was part of that half of the town that wasn’t agency. In fact he was a part time music teacher and volunteered at church to lead the choir. Roderich was another person Gilbert had beef with for no known reason; while everyone almost definitely knew about Roderich, Erzsí typically didn’t try to show off the fact that she had a boyfriend, just in case. Erzsébet was one of the last people on the tour, she did a lot of the training as she had been deemed ‘too loud and clumsy’ for field work, and too ‘loud and clumsy’ for desk work. Alfred knew on top of being one of the best at hand-to-hand combat (and she had the third best aim, after Arthur and some new-ish guy named Timo) she also had a PhD in something long that had to do with international politics. Thus she had earned herself being Yoa’s unofficial right hand. His dads always said the agency would have fallen apart years ago without her. 

Gilbert grumbled, whispering to Alfred, “If it’s our party why did they invite people I don’t like” 

“Because unlike you I get along with Lovino and Roderich came with Erzsébet” Gilbert rolled his eyes just continuing to grumble about the food being done. 

Alfred watched him go into the kitchen to ask and wondered why he was in such a sour mood. He had been like this for weeks now ever since they signed the papers to move into their flat and started packing. He seemed to think that just because they were leaving their life here didn’t exist anymore and wanted to get out as quickly as possible; he had even insisted they leave at seven am the next morning. Alfred agreed but only to not rock the boat, he didn’t even think they really needed to live tomorrow at all. 

He was going to follow Gilbert when instead he got grabbed by Feliciano, “Alfred!” he pulled him into a hug, Alfred hugging back, Feli had him and his siblings main caretaker those few years they lived at HQ full time. He still liked to act like he was sometimes. He pulled Alfred down just a bit–Alfred wasn’t that short–looking him over, “How are you sleeping? Are you eating enough?” 

Alfred just laughed, “i thought the general checkup wasn’t for two weeks” 

Feli clicked his tongue, “I can still check, where are the other three?” 

“Over at the other house still I think” Feliciano let go of him, patting him on the shoulder and promising to be right back as he left to go next door. He was looking for Eleanor specifically, he always was looking for Eleanor, she was his favorite. 

Checking to make sure Feli wasn’t going to turn around and pull him back into conversation because ‘oh i forgot about-’ he then went into the kitchen. Alfred stopped in the doorway, he didn’t mean to eavesdrop really, but Gilbert and Heinrich were right there just having a conversation. 

“What if he doesn’t like me? What if this is a mistake?” 

“Gilbert, you shouldn’t be worrying about this right now anyway.” Alfred backpedaled into the living room, who was He? Did Gilbert have a crush on someone? He tried not to feel disappointed, though part of him always knew Gil would find someone, and he should be happy for his friend if he has someone he genuinely likes, but… 

He should distract himself, talk to someone else and ignore what he heard and the sudden pit in his stomach. Gilbert showed up again, grabbing Alfred by the arm and half dragging him off before he could protest. They ended up outside, the sun was already setting, and Alfred shivered when the sun was out. It was still relatively warm but now the chill of September was setting in. 

“What’s up?” Gilbert shifted looking at the house, clearly nervous, about something. 

“Can we sit in the car?” “If it’s unlocked, sure” Gilbert ended up in the driver's seat and Alfred in the passengers. They didn’t have the key so even though all their things were in the back they weren’t going anywhere. It was cold in the car still, but at least there was no wind like there was outside. 

“Will our relationship change?” 

Alfred leaned back in the seat, looking over at Gilbert; “What do you mean?” “Living together.” He was fidgety, and not in a normal way. Something was wrong and Alfred didn’t know what, he was starting to worry Gil didn’t want to live with him anymore. 

Alfred laughed nervously, mostly because he didn’t know what else to do. Alfred liked being around Gilbert, and he was excited for that. He hadn’t thought too much about it beyond that. 

“Why do you want to kno-”

“I might like you” Gilbert cut him off speaking quickly, despite what he had just said his fidgeting stopped almost entirely. 

“You like me?” “Might like you, in a romantic sense. I don’t know. I’m kind of…” he trailed off 

“Confused?” Gilbert kinda nodded, opening his mouth though Alfred kept talking, “Like how i’m confused on why I got a pit in my stomach when I thought you were talking about someone else in the kitchen?” “You heard?”

“On accident” 

The car went quiet, there wasn’t any noise anywhere around them either. Just dead silence as they both avoided looking at each other. It was complicated, Gilbert ‘might’ have liked Alfred since they met, and it seemed like Alfred ‘might’ like him back. 

“I don’t want to act on it. Not yet.” he was fidgeting again, “But I got scared that if we’re living together I wouldn’t be able to hide it anymore” 

“It's okay…” 

“I thought if we moved fast enough my anxiety would go away but it’s only gotten worse.” 

Alfred tried to formulate a response, though nothing that made sense, nothing that he thought could actually comfort his best friend wanted to come to mind. “You were worried if I found out…?” “You wouldn’t like me back, but we wouldn’t be able to stay just friends, then you would move out and we wouldn’t get to do dumb uni stuff together. I keep saying I don’t want to go to parties because what if I got drunk or high or whatever and accidentally confessed.” 

He had never seen Gilbert being such a ball of walking stress, but it made sense. It also made him feel bad knowing his friend thought he wouldn’t want to be friends anymore if he knew he might have a crush on him. 

Alfred said the first thing that came to mind, it probably wasn’t the right thing but… “you’re a dumbass.” 

“Excuse me?” Gilbert sounded offended now mixed with the shaking of his voice. 

He cleared his throat and over enunciated “You Are A Dumb Ass.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” The offense was all Al heard now. Good. 

“It means I can’t believe you think a crush would make me not want to be friends with you.” He shook his head, “plus did you consider I might have a crush on you back?” 

Gilbert went quiet trying to figure out if Alfred was serious or not, “no” 

“Exactly. Dumbass behavior. And what you said is right, school first then we’ll figure out whatever this is” 

Gilbert let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, huffing a bit at Alfred and rolling his eyes. He shivered “It’s too fuckin’ cold out here. Let’s go back inside.” 

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

“Not so stupid was it?” Alfred asked as he and Gilbert sat on the couch watching a movie, Gilbert was leaned against the arm of the couch, laying with his feet in Alfred’s lap. He was half paying attention to the movie as he shrugged, Al knew he was just trying to not admit that he had fun. 

“Maybe we don’t have to leave so early in the morning” he said somewhat flippantly, “Like, maybe we can stay around until lunch” 

“Oh? No more seven am departure?” 

“Classes don’t start for a couple days, no reason to rush off” He threw part of the blanket he was using onto Alfred, “One more real sleepover in the living room won’t kill anyone” 

Alfred hummed, nodding, pulling the blanket over the rest of Gilbert and himself, “And if it does?”

“Quiet before I change my mind and wake you up at five like planned”

[im-an-anthusiast]

The Butterfly Too, Will Follow

Twin island of black and red, swimming in seas of milky white. Santi had never really liked the eyes they were born with. Neither have they ever liked the rest of their body. Sickly pale and frail – they have always stood out, being so unlike the rest of their peers. Santi saw the unspoken words, and the looks they were given tasted like ash on their tongue. But that was all fine. It really was. Because someone understood. 

“You in there, Santi?” 

“Y-Yeah. Sorry. Be right there.” 

-

Two dark, hollow pits of a shadowy grey, swimming in an ocean of cloth. Santi had always found the featureless mask covering the entirety of their face, head, and neck to be comforting. Much like they did with the 3-piece suit covering the rest of their body. Dark grey and sleek – it didn’t make them stand out, but was fashionable regardless. Santi could always divert the curious gazes, and the whispered words dispersed like steam if they wished it. It was all fine. It really was. But no one- 

“Ah, there you are, Santi” 

“So I am.” 

- 

Santi swallowed thickly, doing their best not to let the stress get to them – and failing. They followed Gabriele closely, holding their friend’s hand as the two of them approached the mansion’s doors. They had never even seen such a... beautifully grand building. They felt out of place in front of such opulence – feeling almost measly compared to it. Still, Gabriele went on and grabbed the large metal knocker on the dark oak door. 

“I-I’m not... I’m not sure about this, Gabriele...” Santi said, a hesitant tremble shaking at their words. 

“Oh, Santi, don’t be like that now! My parents and I went through so much trouble to prepare all this for you! Surely, you wouldn’t want our effort to go to waste?” Gabriele replied, pouting, though her eyes were twisted in a smile. 

“I... suppose not.” 

“Good answer,” she cooed sweetly, with what Santi thought might be a condescending smirk twisting her features for just a second before melting into a smile instead. Gabriele rapped at the door with the heavy-looking knocker, the vibrations of metal against wood rattling Santi to their core. 

- 

Santi sighed deeply, hoping to release their stress along with their breath – and failing. They followed Gabriele cautiously, keeping in mind where her hands were as the two of them approached the limousine’s doors. They had never seen a car so grossly grand. They felt sick, standing in front of such disgusting opulence – everything around it feeling measly and dirty in comparison. Still, Gabriele approached it with almost-glee, looking back at Santi facelessly. 

“You coming?” she trilled, her voice muffled a surprisingly small amount. Santi didn’t reply, not increasing the slow pace of their stride towards the vehicle.  

Gabriele continued, “Oh, Santi, don’t be like that, now! I went through so much trouble to arrange this all for us. We both know how busy it can get for the other, no?” 

“I’m sure that you do,” Santi said with all the calmness they could muster, finally having come up to the car. Gabriele flexed her jaw and scoffed quietly enough that the usual person would not be able to hear. But Santi did. Regardless, Gabriele grasped the door handle on the side of the limousine and knocked on the window – likely signalling for something – the dull sound of knuckles against glass making Santi clench their gloved fists. 

- 

“Do you like it?” asked Gabriele, wildly gesturing across the entire dining hall with her arm. 

“It’s... pretty,” Santi said cautiously, eyeing Gabriele’s reaction. At Gabriele’s satisfactory hum, Santi let themself actually inspect the room. Orange lights danced across an assortment of dark woods and black stone, pouring from the lit fireplace in the far wall. The ceiling was incredibly high, with an assortment of metallic chandeliers hanging from it. Impressive though it all was, Santi’s attention was drawn to the long, tall table – it was like from a fairy tale Santi’s mother would read to them. It was beautiful – fit for a king or queen. Fit for royalty. 

“So,” Gabriele exclaimed, clapping her hands together in delight, “you wanted me to show you... Magic. To teach you.” 

“Y-yes.” 

“You want to be like me?” 

“Yes. Yes... please.” 

“Then you will have to promise to do as I say, okay?” 

“...Okay. I promise.” 

- 

“Do you like it?” asked Gabriele, wildly gesturing with her hand at the car’s interior, as she sat comfortably opposite to Santi. 

“That’s irrelevant.” 

“So dismissive,” Gabriele said with a huff, removing the brimmed hat previously casting shade over the blank layer of skin stretched over her actual face. Then, she took her sunglasses off, though her eyes were still clad in shadow – visible only due to the holes torn into that second layer of skin. Grotesque though it all was, Santi’s attention was still drawn to Gabriele’s hungry, arrogant gaze – it was like from a fairy tale Santi’s mother would read to them. It was sickeningly cocky – fit for a king or queen. Fit for royalty. 

“I assume you’re not going to be removing that ridiculous thing?” Gabriele asked, though she didn’t wait for an answer before scoffing and continuing, “So, you really want to know about... them?” 

“Yes.” 

“Then I expect you to cooperate.” 

“Sure.” 

“Really cooperate.” 

“Sure.” 

- 

Santi’s eyes were wide with wonder. Drops of liquid perspiration trickled down Gabriele’s face, and her eyes were squeezed almost completely shut. However, that was not where Santi’s attention was drawn. Instead, their eyes were glued to the small – no taller than half a metre – figure, standing on the table. It was dressed up in fancy clothing, almost resembling a doll. Its lack of a face, however, quickly shattered that illusion. Regardless, the blank, faceless figure moved around gracefully, its movements fluid, yet not natural.  

“It’s... it’s amazing! Can I do this too, Gabs?” Santi praised and asked in an almost-shout, still not looking away from the figure. 

Gabriele smiled widely, before saying, “It’s called a Puppet. And of course, you can, Santi. You just have to do exactly as I say! Especially for this next part.” 

- 

Santi’s eyes were narrowed with focus. Drops of liquid red dripped down Gabriele’s real face, and her eyes were half-lidded, staring at Santi in a challenging manner. However, that was not where Santi’s attention really was. Instead, they were focusing on channelling Magic into their hands – as they took their glove’s hem and stretched the glove further onto their hand – performing their Gesture. Feelings of doubt and uncertainty – Santi’s Magic – flooded the interior of the limousine, the intensity making Gabriele flinch – and drop the knife she had used to ‘unmask’ herself. 

“How in the...?” Gabriele muttered with her – now fully revealed – eyes wide, before speaking more loudly, “Right, Santi is all grown up now... This is how you want to play this, is it?” 

“With effort, to answer your previous question. And no. This is how I have to play it, Gabs,” retorted Santi, poison seeping into their usually neutral demeanour. 

“What was it that we said about cooperating?” Gabriele hissed in response, her face – paler than the rest of her deep brown skin and slick with blood – twisted in a scowl. 

“I was just levelling the playing field. This is cooperating – in the sense that we’re both playing the same game, on the same board, for once. Now, give me what I came for.” 

- 

“Don’t look at me like that, Santi! You wanted this, remember?” 

Santi stared at the slab of meat wordlessly. The flesh hadn’t even been stripped of the skin. It was still raw and red – with blood pooling under it, staining the gleaming, white plate. 

“Dig in, Santi. You wanted Magic? You wanted to be like me? Then eat it.” 

“P-please... do I have to?” they pleaded meekly, their vision spinning and bile threatening to climb up their throat. 

“Don’t be ridiculous Santi! You promised!” Gabriele snapped, though her enraged voice had a hint of an odd elation in it, “This is all for you! For your own good! Don’t you want to be better? Like me? Don’t you want to change – climb into a chrysalis and emerge a beautiful butterfly?” 

- 

“Don’t look at me like that, Santi! You wanted this, remember?” 

Santi stared at the images wordlessly. 

“Why so down, Santi? You wanted to know what happened to your family? Your parents? Now you know.” 

“Sh-shut up,” Santi growled weakly, their vision spinning and bile threatening to climb up their throat. 

“’Same game’... Don’t make me laugh. You don’t know my game,“ Gabriele said condescendingly, before chuckling and continuing, “I have to admit, you had me scared, there, for a second. I thought the old Santi was gone... but no, my pure little butterfly was just hiding. You never changed, no... I didn’t let you, after all...”  

- 

“I’ve always adored the saying ‘like a moth to a flame’. Imagine loving something so much that you are willing to die for it, to sacrifice everything else. But I think that such a person would also need to have nothing else – for the flame to be its only love, the only thing it needs. So that it is willing to get burnt,” Gabriele said, the skin of her jaw stretching oddly as she spoke. Hearing barely a slurred string of somethings – only somewhat resembling words – as Gabriele spoke, Santi stared at what seemed to be a short flap of skin stretching across the edges of her face, ending perfectly evenly – looking almost cut. “Don’t you think so as well, Santi?” Gabriele questioned, before suddenly – with the slightest gentleness – cupping their chin and wiping the mix of blood and saliva coating it with her thumb. Meeting Santi’s unfocused eyes, she continued, “Because if it has nothing else, can it even tell that the burning of its wings is not love? Does it even care? Still, it will fly to the flame.” 

- 

“I don’t think you quite understand, Santi,” said Gabriele, a strained, almost incredulous guffaw quickly dying on her lips. “Like a moth to a flame, like a lamb to a slaughter, I want the beautiful butterfly too, to follow.” 

-- 

“And if it doesn’t?” she continued both times, two snarling voices melding to one, “I will make it.” 

[foreveralwaysanauthor]

Scattered Screams (Part 12/12)

March 29, 2023

Notes - I only intended for this part to be maybe 30 pages at most, however, I wanted to cover some of the things that happen after the Games like the books do, so here we are at 52 pages and I am so proud of how it came out! Coming in at a grand total of 263 pages, this entire story is actually longer than my first novel. I might still write an epilogue since I have a few things I want to write out, but I'm not sure just yet. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the final installment of Scattered Screams!

These violent delights have violent ends.

Sterility is the first thing that fills my senses. The smell of the labs back home after a deep cleaning. It’s the same, citrusy cleanliness that stings your nostrils with how strong the bleach is and refuses to leave the air no matter how many other scents you try to spray to fill the air. The stench is strong, but it brings me home just as much as the sound of keys clacking on a keyboard would. Maybe I fell asleep at my desk again, slumped over onto my keyboard, typing random letters every time my face brushes the keyboard. It wouldn’t be the first time. Though, most of the time, Riven would come in to make sure I hadn’t fallen asleep, picking me up like I weigh no more than a small child, and carry me home to get some decent sleep. The only thing missing from this scenario is the soft whirring of my PC, the fans cooling it off despite being unused. As unlikely as it is, maybe I had remembered to turn it off before I fell asleep in a pile of snack crumbs.

It takes me a while to register that I’ve fallen asleep on my back, most likely having decided my desk wasn’t as comfortable as I make it out to be. However, as I attempt to reach a heavy hand up to swipe at my eyes, I find a blanket has been tucked around me, locking me in place. Weakly peeling my eyes open, I find myself staring up at an eggshell white ceiling - a far cry from the robin’s-egg blue ceiling that usually looms high above our lab. I follow the ceiling to where it meets the wall next to where I’ve fallen asleep and find a white circle with a small cross in the center of it, the word “Medical” written inside the cross. How did I end up in the hospital?

Glancing around, I find the head of the bed I’ve been tucked into is pressed against the wall and a series of medical equipment surrounds me - heart monitors, intravenous drips, and other technology I would only know if I took them apart piece by piece. What did I do to end up here? I would know if I got into another fight with the idiots at school or if I hurt myself at work. It wouldn’t be the first time for either, sadly. I’ve fought off many morons on behalf of my friends and family and I’ve accidentally wounded myself numerous times on the job, but I’ve never gotten hurt so badly that I needed this much medical attention. This was almost unthinkable. 

Maybe I needed to be incapacitated. Perhaps I had gone so far off the deep end that one of the lazy-ass Peacekeepers had to knock me out. It would be a first, but it probably would have been deserved if that were the case. I never gave up a fight if it was necessary. Who knows, maybe it was just something stupid like me falling down the stairwell at work again. I kind of remember falling and hitting something hard, but I can’t recall what it was. Maybe I hit my head or something. That could explain why I couldn’t recall what happened.

If that is the case, I can’t wait to become the laughingstock of the building. The others on my team will probably tease me relentlessly for a few months while the other groups will give up their taunts after a warning or two from my mountainous protector, Riven. That overprotective sap will probably only take it easy on me until I’m completely healed before taking the teasing remarks to new levels, giving me some kind of nickname for whatever ridiculously idiotic thing I had done. He’d just cool like that, you know? I briefly wonder where he is, but I bet he’s either finding something to eat or waiting outside for my parents to arrive.

A thin curtain surrounds my bed, blocking me from the rest of the room, but from the one ear I can actually hear out of, I hear soft voices arguing not far from me. Maybe that’s where Riven is - arguing with the medical staff or telling off some people from work who dared to visit before my family could arrive. Before I get the chance to force my scratchy throat to make any noise, I hear someone ask, “Are you sure she’s alright? It’s been three days.”

I know that voice. It’s that warm, usually soft spoken voice that reads me stories until I’m drifting in and out of consciousness. I recall resting my head on a lap, reaching up to that comforting voice, and finding downy waves of coiled curls threaded between my fingers. Ringlets tangled around my fingers after days of being left untamed. Red and blue flowers on a dark shirt. A crooked smile, a faint scar on a lip, and a flurry of freckles. The faint smell of old books and something similar to chocolate, but softer and not nearly as sweet.

Memories flood back to me like a tsunami wave crashing against an unsuspecting beach and it suddenly occurs to me that Royce is here. How is that possible? He’s not supposed to be in District 3. Did we win the Hunger Games; is that how he’s here? Is this how I return home - escorted by my best friend and lover? Are the three of us victors now? Can we live in peace?

Then, another voice cracks through my fantasies and sends my hopes to the floor in a pile of cracked fragments, “As long as she wakes up before the week is up, she should be fine other than a probable concussion.” As much as I hate to admit it, I know that voice as well. It’s as clear as glass and sharp as a knife, slicing through my soul with every word. It’s Jade, the girl from District 1. We’re still in the arena.

My eyes burn as though I’ve stared at the sun for a while and a blurry burn stings to the surface as flashes of memory fill the gaps I have been missing. I recall seeing Royce running to get the parachute from our mentors, Riven holding me back, the two of us flying through the air, me hitting something hard, a cannon blasting, and a machete being thrown. I killed someone, I know I did, but my head hurts trying to think about it. I suppose that means it wasn’t Serena. To be honest, I probably wouldn’t have felt all that bad if it had been her; she’s insane. But no… this was something more personal. It wouldn’t hurt this way if it had been some random tribute or someone who had intentionally come after us. This burns of betrayal.

I feel something wet and hot slide down from the corner of my eye as I remember a flash of pink - Lexi’s shorts. Anger overlaps my sinking dread and despair as I finally piece together what happened. Lexi attacked Riven. She attacked all of us. Maybe she set off the bomb that sent us flying. Even if she hadn’t and it was one of those Capitol-made traps, Lexi took full advantage of it and attacked us all. She betrayed our trust. I wonder if Riven is in a bed like I am, getting patched up from the fight. That could be the reason for the curtain surrounding my bed - a little blockade they set up so that I can’t see the bloody remnants of the attack. It’s a nice gesture, but I wish for nothing more than to see Riven and make sure that he’s alright. I need to see it for myself.

Tugging an arm free from the tightly wrapped blankets the others have trapped me in, I have to find the strength to push the blankets away from me. Cool air hits my skin and I nearly sigh in relief as it relieves me of the sweltering heat the blankets had encased me in. It takes me a while to sit up, pushing my weak form upright so that my legs dangle over the side of the raised bed, but once I manage it, I look around for my glasses. They aren’t far from me, having been set aside on a small rolling table that looks as though its only use is as a serving tray. A braided bracelet has been left there as well - thick strands of string weaving my initials and Riven’s together. The fraying strands have been crusted together with some reddish-brown fluid - dried blood, no doubt - but I have to wonder why they bothered to take it off him while they worked on his body. Perhaps Royce wanted to make sure it didn’t get lost while they cleaned Riven’s clothing. I could understand that.

Using the bed as a brace, I slowly eased myself onto the floor, standing on two wobbly, weakened legs. I try sliding myself forward a step, only to feel my knees tremble under the stress, so I take a deep breath and sit back down on the edge of the bed just as the curtain moves aside and Royce’s curly locks come into view. Our eyes meet and, for a fleeting moment, I wish for nothing more than to stare into those tawny pools for a few hours. The utter shock in his gaze makes me smile, a weak grin that cracks as the corners of my desert-like lips pull almost painfully upward. He inches closer, a hand outstretched toward me yet just out of reach, almost as though he’s afraid that I’ll keel right over if he so much as looks at me the wrong way.

A breath catches in his throat as he looks around at everything from the blankets I’ve cast aside to the rolling table I’ve taken my glasses from. Finally, Royce meets my gaze once again and he steps just a hair closer before breathing out, “Vivien?”

Although my voice is scratchy from remaining unused for who knows how long, I manage to croak out a soft, “Royce.”

He remains frozen in place as the curtain moves further aside, Erica and Jade filling the space. Tearing my gaze from Royce’s golden brown eyes, I look down at his still outstretched hand and raise a shaking hand to it, sliding my fingers between his. Looking back up, I find him still watching me in stunned wonder as Jade quickly leaves and returns with a cup of water. “Drink,” she orders, extending the cup to me. “You’ll need it if you plan on talking much.”

My free hand wraps around the cup and I take in what I can, the cool liquid flooding my body with a faint chill and relieving some of the dryness that clogs my throat. By the time the cup is drained dry, Royce has come out of his daze and has brought his free arm around me, holding me impossibly close. I let out a soft chuckle over his shoulder as he leans down to my height, “I could get used to this.”

Royce chuckles wetly, drops of something I assume are tears hitting my shoulder as I watch Erica smile from her spot nearby. “He hasn’t left your side since you’ve been unconscious,” she says.

My grip on Royce tightens ever so slightly before I pull away just enough to see him. I bring a hand up to his face, my thumb brushing across the flurry of freckles that dot his face like constellations in the night sky as he smiles. Sending him a small grin, I look around at the others and softly ask, “So, how is Riven holding up?”

Almost instantly, Erica’s eyes widen as she turns to Jade in something akin to surprise. Jade places a hand on Erica’s arm and shakes her head before turning to me and asking, “You mean you didn’t see what happened?”

I manage a small shrug and minutely shake my head before stating, “Not that I’m aware of, no. Why? What happened?”

Royce’s arm loops around my shoulders as he slots himself into the space on my left, bringing me close as he asks, “Do you remember anything from before waking up here?”

Meeting Royce’s gaze, I find an almost pleading look in his golden irises, urging me to recall anything of importance from the last few days. My gaze drifts to the wall, staring blankly ahead as though it will give me all the answers I’m looking for. It makes it easier to think, not having the distraction of Royce’s hopeful gaze, his constellation of freckles, and his gentle warmth that pulls me in and refuses to let go. “We were on one of the upper decks,” I recollect. “You spotted a sponsor gift and went after it. I tried to follow you, but Riven held me back. Then,” I snap my fingers, “just like that, I’m flying through the air.”

“There was an explosion,” Royce says, finally giving me the answer I had been searching for earlier. “I was by the pool and it sent me into the deep end with the gift.”

“Are you alright?” I ask.

Royce smiles, giving me a nod as he squeezes my hand and says, “I’m fine.”

Not giving us much time to think, Jade clears her throat, catching both of our attentions as she brings us back to the topic at hand, “Do you remember anything else?”

I take a deep breath and try to relive the rest of that moment, “I remember hearing a loud boom and trying to call out for Royce, but then I turned back to Riven and… and I saw something pink.”

“Pink?” Erica questions.

“Bright pink, almost electric,” I tell them with a nod. It takes a moment for me to fully realize just what happened, but once I do, I slowly turn my gaze to Erica and Jade as I mutter, “It was Lexi, wasn’t it? Those were her shorts, right?” 

Jade gives a solemn nod as Erica ducks her head and admits, “Yeah. Royce says she was on top of Riven when he found you.”

“I thought you all were dead,” Royce claims softly. “I heard one cannon just as I was getting out of the pool, so I ran to find you guys, but just before I got to you, another cannon went off. All three of you were unconscious when I got there.”

With a soft hum and a nod of understanding, I say, “I think they both were alive when I last saw them. Lexi had a bloody knife and was sitting on top of Riven. I’m pretty sure that, if I hadn’t grabbed Riven’s machete and thrown it at her, we would’ve been killed.”

Erica sighs, crossing her arms as she shakes her head, “I still can’t believe she would go so far as to kill Riven with you two nearby, still obviously alive.”

Her words catch my attention and my gaze snaps to hers, “What do you mean? Riven’s still alive. I got Lexi off of him with that machete, but I don’t think it would have killed him unless she was still holding the knife close to him.”

Royce’s grasp on my hand tightens as Erica fumbles over her words, muttering out a sequence of nonsensical stutters before Jade cuts her off with a statement that gives no room for argument, “Riven was dead before you threw the machete.”

“No,” I argue adamantly. “I would have heard the-” 

“That noise you heard when your hearing came back was his cannon,” Jade states firmly. “Like Royce just said, the first cannon went off as he was getting out of the pool and the other one came just as he got to you three. That second one had to have been Lexi’s if you threw the machete at her.”

Riven can’t be dead. All this talk of him sacrificing himself for me, for us, was just his way of showing his love for us. He didn’t mean it. He wouldn’t do something like that knowing that we need him around… That I need him around. Without him, we’re just kids in a floating deathtrap, waiting for someone to kill us off. Riven is too strong, too protective of us to just leave us alone in the arena, waiting for death to come. He wouldn’t let himself be killed. He’s too tough for that. Riven’s strength is something I’ve seen both in and out of training and I know that he’s practically indestructible. As Royce has said before, Riven is practically a walking tank; he couldn’t be taken out by some random girl with a knife. He’s a fighter.

This can’t be real. Erica and Jade have to be lying. Riven swore to us that he would be our protector in the arena and he’s the one with the plan to help get us out of here; we need him here. Is it possible that this could be a part of his plan? Did he fake his death and everyone else is just trying to convince me that it’s true so that it appears real for the cameras? That has to be it, right? They’re lying for the greater good. They have to be. Riven isn’t dead.

Turning to Royce, I find him already watching me. His shoulders shudder with every breath he shakily sucks in and despite his glossy, bloodshot eyes, no tears have fallen just yet. I search his expression for a sign - something, anything that will give me hope that the two girls before us are just straight up lying to our faces, but as Royce squeezes my hand and softly mutters, “I’m sorry,” I feel hope dissipating.

Dread settles in my stomach like a rock; heavy, oppressive, and immovable. If Royce is apologizing, the severity of the situation must have hit him hard. I see guilt in his eyes, telling me that his words are true, yet I refuse to believe them. “No,” I breathe. Royce apologizes once again and my voice only gets sharper as I snip, “No.” Turning to the girls in front of me, I scoff and shake my head, “No, you’re lying.”

“I wish we were,” Jade states, finding it impossible to meet my gaze.

Erica steps closer, reaching a hand out for mine as she softly apologizes, but I slap her hand away and push myself to my feet. “No, you’re fucking lying!” I exclaim as Royce rises next to me, gripping my arm to hold me steady. “Riven’s stronger than a fucking knife! He’s not dead.” Royce takes in a sharp breath and I meet his gaze as he looks ready to say something, but I cut him off, “Don’t you lie to me too, Royce. Tell me the truth. Where is he?”

Royce’s eyes flicker between mine as his mouth opens and closes like a freshly caught fish. Finally, he closes his mouth, looks away, swallows thickly, and takes in a deep breath before sighing it out and meeting my gaze once more, “I watched the hovercraft take him, Viv, I-”

Wrenching my hand from his grasp, I take a few stumbling steps away from the group, feeling their eyes on me as they each try to reach out for me. “Don’t!” I hiss as Erica reaches for my arm, making the trio in front of me freeze. With my untamed hair and fearful gaze, I must look like a wild animal to them; a scared, wild beast ready to run at the first sign of danger. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

Her arm lowers as I take a few steps back, inching closer to the ladder I know is hidden in a storage closet. Royce seems to understand my intentions as his eyes widen and he takes a step closer to me, softly telling me, “Viv, please think about it. You know I wouldn’t lie to you about something like this. We’ve both lost a sibling before, why would I put you through that pain all over again if it wasn’t true?”

But the thing is, none of our siblings are truly dead. Sure, we lost Mick and Miles temporarily, but neither of them is dead now. We both know this, but I suppose everyone in the Capitol doesn’t. Why would he bring them up? Thoughts flood my head and I find myself jumping to every possible conclusion I can think of. As rough of a point as it would be, this could be the cold, hard slap of reality to drive home the idea that Riven is dead. However, I highly doubt Royce would be so cruel to someone, especially someone he cares about. Perhaps this is his way to signal to me that he doesn’t believe his own words, but the grave look in his eyes tells me otherwise. 

The thought of his words being true hits me a lot harder than I wanted to let them as my eyes begin to blur with unshed tears. I look around the room for any sign that maybe, just maybe, Rivne had stayed in one of the other hospital beds at some point, but the only trace of him that I find is the old, stringy bracelet I made for him - his token. Staring blankly at the fraying, tattered trinket, I feel something hot and wet slip from my eye. I should have replaced Riven’s bracelet years ago. He deserved so much better than a shabby, shoddily-made string bracelet. Riven deserved the world. He didn’t deserve to die at eighteen years old on some dumb cruise ship for the Capitol’s entertainment. He deserved a long life, a family, and that stupid fucking horse I promised him before the Games. 

Taking in a breath so sharp I worry about it stabbing through my lungs, I swipe a hand under my leaking eyes, tear my gaze from Riven’s bracelet, and meet Royce’s concern-filled, chocolate eyes. “Take me to him.”

“What?” he breathes. I repeat myself and Royce’s irises fill with hurt as he stammers, “I don’t- Viv, I-I can’t.”

“He’s not there anymore,” Erica softly says. “The hovercraft took him.”

Meeting her gaze, I give a quick nod and say, “I want to see that for myself.”

I choose to meet Royce’s gaze as Erica and Jade begin trying to talk me out of returning to the scene of the crime. He’s the only one I know I could rely on to get me where I want to go. The girls don’t know me as well as he does. Royce and I have both been in this situation before with Mick and Miles; he knows just as well as I do that I need to see proof that Riven is gone to believe for a moment that he could possibly be dead. He may have seen Riven’s body with his own eyes, but I need to see it for myself. I need proof that he’s not coming back, that one of the Capitol hovercrafts took him out of the arena.

A breath hitches in Royce’s throat as he seems to realize just how deadset I seem to be. Though I see the pained emotions flickering in his eyes, he doesn’t try to look away. Instead, Royce sucks in a deep breath and slowly shakes his head, cutting off the girls as he says, “Let’s do it.”

“What?” Jade questions, taken aback by his sudden statement.

For the first time in a while, Royce tears his gaze from mine and says, “Viv and I both lost siblings in last year’s Hunger Games. Neither one of us believed they were dead until we saw some kind of proof. Even if she doesn’t believe it now, she needs to see what happened in order to somewhat accept it.”

I give a nod of confirmation and look between Erica and Jade as they watch me, coming to a decision without saying a word. They must know that they can’t stop me and Royce if we’re set on something. Erica is the first to break, telling Jade, “Let’s just bring her up to where it happened.”

Jade sighs, “It looked worse than the fucking bloodbath up there, Erica, do you really think she’s ready for something like that after being out cold for three days?”

“And, in those three days, we had a shit ton of rain,” Erica claims. “If anything, it will have washed out some of the blood.”

“It might still be too much for her to handle,” Jade argues. “She’s still recovering from the attack and this could set her back mentally.”

Letting out a scoff, I sass, “She can hear you, you know.” Jade and Erica’s conversation comes to a halt as they turn back to me and I continue, “Besides, if it sets me back in any way, that puts you three at a better advantage of winning. You should be happy if it does.”

Royce is the first to react, an almost wounded expression filling his features as he steps closer, taking my hands in his as he gently presses, “How could you say something like that?”

I shrug, “It’s the truth.”

Allowing Royce to pull me forward into a hug, I allow my arms to come up to his back as he declares, “We’re in this together, Vivien. Wherever you go, I’ll be right with you every step of the way.”

“I can’t ask you to do that, Royce.”

“You’re not asking; I’m telling you that is what’s going to happen,” he says, leaning back just enough to see me. Royce takes my face in his hands before softly muttering, “You jump, I jump, remember?”

I chuckle, fighting hard to keep my eyes from rolling as I shake my head, “That was just a joke because of the force field and-”

“And I meant it as a promise,” Royce interrupts firmly. I find nothing but honesty in his eyes, which gives me pause. Royce chuckles at me - most likely finding at least an ounce of humor in my stunned expression - and says, “You’re stuck with me now, Viv.”

Breaking the moment with a smile, Erica cuts in, “Jade and I promised we wouldn’t attack you guys before we entered the arena. We intend to keep that promise, right Jade?”

All Jade gives is a nod and a soft hum, but seeing as she’s spoken a lot more today than I had ever heard her speak before, I take that as seriously as I would a verbal confirmation. I accept their statements regardless of how much a part of me is screaming to run and leave them to their own devices. With only five people left in the arena, having them around feels like Royce and I are just dancing on the line between life and death, but they seem just as keen to keep to their promise as we are, so I try to force my fears down and relax at least a little. In the end, Royce and the girls usher me back to the hospital bed and convince me to at least wait until after lunch before going up to Deck 17. 

In a fit of defiance, I make sure to wolf down what little is given to me, insisting that I feel fine despite my stomach clenching at the idea of movement after my plate is cleared. I try to ignore the looks of disappointment my behavior earns, focusing my worry on the trip we will have to make. Erica forces me to sit long enough for her to weave my hair into a single braid, insisting that it will keep it from getting in my way while Royce and Jade gather everything they think they’ll need for the trip. I walk around the medical center for a while until Jade decides that I appear strong enough to handle the trip and, once Erica and Jade decide we’re ready to go, Royce hands me my backpack before hauling his bag onto his shoulders and shoving a third into a cabinet. 

My eyebrow raises and my head tilts to the side as I question, “What was that?”

“Riven’s backpack,” he replies, offering me a hand to hold. “I don’t want to leave it out and risk it being taken.”

My chest clenches at the thought of that truly belonging to Riven, but I take a deep breath and allow my hand to slip into Royce’s, determined to find out the truth before letting my emotions get the better of me. Instead of using the ladder to find our destination, Jade insists that we take the stairwell, letting Erica reassure me that the coast is clear. “We don’t have much to worry about on the upper decks,” she explains. “Jade and I make sure to clear them once a day.”

I nod as we head up to the next floor, but I can’t resist saying, “I’m surprised Serena hasn’t tried to take us all out while I’ve been out.”

Royce squeezes my hand with a small grin as we reach the landing of another deck, “We don’t have to worry much about her right now.”

Confusion fills me, but as Erica turns back to me with a chaotic gleam in her eyes and a brilliant smile, I allow her to explain before I can question them, “It will all make sense later, but just know, you missed one hell of a show!”

As Erica turns back around to continue her trek upstairs, my attention falls back to Royce and he shrugs, “I don’t know either. I was with you the entire time, so I have no clue what happened.”

Warmth spreads through my veins at the thought of Royce sitting by my side, keeping me company even though I wasn’t exactly talkative. “You stayed with me even though I was unconscious?”

“Of course, I did,” he claims as though it should have been the most obvious thing in the world. Royce brings our joined hands up and kisses the back of my hand before bringing them back between us as he says, “I promised you and Riven that I would stay with you no matter what and I meant that.”

The burn in my cheeks is hard to fight, but since nobody else is around to see it, I don’t bother trying to hide the crimson that colors my face as a ridiculously giddy smile splits my lips. The rest of our hike up the million stairs inside the ship is filled with idle chatter and small comments on things we all had found on our journeys through the ship. We make it to the seventeenth deck a lot slower than we would have if I hadn’t been as weak as I felt, but the climbing seems to have helped encourage my strength to come back at least a little. Jade takes the lead, as she seemingly does often, and we find our way through the short hallways to a large, already open door. Jade walks through the door and continues forward while Erica continues looking back in my direction, watching me as though I might run as soon as I step through the doorway even though Royce’s grasp on my hand would prevent any such endeavor.

My eyes burn as I step into the open air of Deck 17, the midday sun burning my retinas almost as badly as Mick’s dad burns breakfast before work. It takes a while for me to register everything - the location, the positioning as opposed to where we came from the other day, and the overall look of the place. Looking up, I search around for the wheelhouse, faintly recalling the sight of its charred remnants in my bits and pieces of hazy memories. I take a few steps away from where we’ve emerged, rounding a large pillar and keeping my eyes toward the skies, nearly stumbling over a fallen deck chair as I spot the wheelhouse looming high above the inner workings of the ship. We must have emerged around the same place the secret passageway led us out of the other day.

Looking around, I discover the deck in complete disarray. Chairs that once had been placed in neat rows have been tossed into each other and scattered over the deck in charred piles. Burn marks scorch the once-pristine wooden deck, a sign of an explosion in the area. I follow the marks and discover a large hatch not far from the door we’ve left that barely clings to its metal hinges. We had stood there, looking out over the deck, waiting to see what our mentors would send us. Turning my back to the hatch, I look out over the area, looking for any sign of where Riven and I had been thrown. Like before, I find the pool in the distance and large pillars bridging up to the next deck, but smudges of bloody streaks are the only indications that anything major had happened. To the right is where I suppose I ended up since the remnants of blood are minimal there. Pressing a tentative hand to the spot on the back of my head that slammed the pillar, I realize it’s no wonder how I was unconscious for so long after connecting with the obscenely large, chalk-colored pillar. The thing is massive and it’s honestly a miracle that I didn’t have any worse injuries.

To the left, I find something like a scene out of those horror novels the librarian back home keeps under lock and key, but I always find a way to sneak out. Blood streaks down one of the ivory pillars, the rain that supposedly blanketed the arena having kept the crimson fluid almost vibrant against the pale, cream-colored details of the cruise ship. If I didn’t know any better, I would say the blood looks fresh, but if the others claim that it has been three days already, I know that can’t be so. From where I stand, frozen in place, I can’t see the floor where the blood must pool, but I doubt it looks much better than the gory scene I can already make out. I can tell from the bloody pillar alone just how much blood was lost and I know Riven would have had slim chances of survival. There is no use trying to dispute facts when they’re right in front of you, blatant truth staring you down, waiting for you to question it. I take a hesitant step forward and, for a fleeting moment, a part of me begs for me to change my mind and go back inside, to turn away from the evidence before me and go back to the security of the medical center, but I force it down and smother its intentions, refusing to appear weak in the face of truth. I already told the others that I need to see the evidence of Riven’s death to prove their statements are true; if I turn back now, that makes me a coward. Riven didn’t die to save a coward.

Royce allows me to pull away from him, moving wordlessly past Erica and Jade as though my body is being controlled by someone else. My sneakers tap against the wooden floorboards as I inch closer to the scene, the new boards creaking as I step over a broken, lightly charred deck chair. My senses are overtaken by the scene long before I even lay eyes on it - the overbearing smell of blood, the sound of flies buzzing nearby and crows singing their songs of death overhead, the sight of thick, rich blood trailing from the milky-white pillar into a watered-down puddle on the practically untouched deck of the fairly new cruise ship. Logic strikes me long before I allow any emotions to and I realize just how much the poor Avoxes that will be tasked with cleaning this mess will have to scrub and bleach and scrape what had once been the lifeblood of some living, breathing human being from this spot.

Anguish hits me like a wave, pinning me somewhere between wrath and despair as my irises burn with unshed tears and realization dawns on me; this blood came from someone I know. Just a few days ago, this person was telling me shitty jokes and making me promises of safety. Riven wasn’t just some tribute the Capitol could mop up from their precious ship and scrub away from the history books. He was my family, my protector, and my sense of stability in a world of uncertainty. He was the same boy who would carry me home from a late-night work session or spend hours with me on our few days off, following me around to the different places I felt like exploring or making me listen to him ramble on about the dumbest things that interested him because he knew I was one of the few people who actually bothered to listen to him ramble. Now, Riven’s long-winded ramblings, comforting piggyback rides home, and love of exploration are gone and there’s nothing I can do about it. Riven is gone and there’s nothing I can do about it. He’s dead.

Despite the glasses on my face, my vision blurs as steaming hot liquid burns trails down my cheeks, dripping off my chin onto my swimsuit top and the deck below me. Sharp, shuddering breaths wrack my body as the severity of the situation begins to sink in. My trembling lower lip catches between my teeth and I hold it there long enough for the taste of copper to graze my tongue. No matter how hard I try to appear unfazed, unbothered, and far stronger than I am, I must not be as convincing as I wish I could be as a pair of arms come around me and pull me close, securing me in the grasp of someone close to my height - someone who isn’t Riven.

Soft mutters of reassurance and gentle promises of protection fall on deaf ears as I stare over the person’s shoulder at the blood that once belonged to someone I loved and trusted with every fiber of my being. A choked sob comes from somewhere deep in my chest as my already weakened legs give out under me and the person holding me has to guide me to the floor so I don’t hurt myself any further, their grip on me only tightening as I find fistfuls of their shirt have gathered in my hands. I hate showing weakness of any kind, especially now that I’m surrounded by people who could easily kill me, but the tears won’t stop no matter how hard I try to force them down; it’s almost as useless as using duct tape to stop a dam. 

Royce’s grip is tight, almost unbearably so, but it anchors me in place and I can’t find it in me to fight him off. After a while, his grip tightens slightly and he moves so that I can’t see where crimson meets alabaster, locking me in place so that I can’t turn in his arms. A choked sob escapes me as I cling to his shirt, “He’s gone.”

“I know,” he mutters near my ear, the heat of his breath and the sorrow in his voice sending a shiver down my back. “I know. I’m sorry, Viv. I’m so sorry.”

I want to dissolve into the floor with the remnants of blood still puddled on the deck behind me, joining Riven in whatever place exists after we die, but I know I can’t. I can’t allow Riven’s sacrifice to be in vain. Even though everything in me wants nothing more than to have one of the others kill me off and be done with this fucked up game of survival, Riven’s determination to get us out of the arena together drives to the surface the need to fight my way out. He knew of a way to get out - he had a plan - yet he never told us the details as he wanted our reactions to be genuine. Without him, how will we ever get out of the arena?

Every time I feel as though my eyes have burned through all of the pent-up tears I’ve stored for so long, the thought of Riven fills my mind, a new wave of emotion takes over, and I’m back to square one. Eventually, my sadness is replaced with rage at Lexi’s betrayal and my tears stop as I slowly ease my way out of Royce’s hold. My blurry gaze falls on the two girls who have found a place to sit amongst the fallen deck chairs and I have to clear my throat of the thick ball that has settled there before asking, “Did I kill her?”

They both nod, but Jade is the only one to meet my gaze. “You did her a favor,” she says matter-of-factly.

“How so?” I ask as Royce takes my hands in his.

Jade lets out a sigh, glancing away briefly before admitting, “Lexi was already going to die. She had some disease that would have killed her sooner or later.”

This statement seems to surprise not only me and Royce, but also Erica, whose focus snaps from the wooden floorboards to Jade’s nearly emotionless face. “Since when?” Erica scoffs.

“Long before the reaping,” Jade breathes with a small shake of her head. “She told me on the first day of training when I asked her if she wanted to be on our team.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Erica presses.

“She asked me not to tell anyone,” Jade says firmly. “The only reason Lexi even volunteered for the Games was that she wanted to go out on her own terms. I doubt this is entirely what she meant, but in the end, she got what she wanted, I suppose.”

Was Lexi truly willing to let herself be killed off in the arena? I didn’t think anyone would think that way. Maybe, if I had been in Lexi’s position, I would have thought the same way she had. I can’t imagine knowing you could die from something other than the Hunger Games at such a young age. In a way, her situation feels similar to Della’s back home. Della’s health isn’t exactly spectacular and every day is a battle for her, but she fights for every breath she takes with a smile on her face. I guess Lexi didn’t feel like being some inspirational fighter for whatever time she still had left. 

While I still hold a grudge against Lexi for killing Riven and I doubt I’ll ever be able to let it go, I don’t have it in me to be angry. It won’t bring Riven back to life. A moment of silence passes between us and I decide that it was meant for Riven and Lexi and the other tributes who were killed off for the Capitol’s enjoyment. None of them deserved this regardless of how determined they may have been to win or how many people they hurt along the way. A hollow pit settles in my ribcage as the silence spreads thickly between us, creating an empty, heavy lump in my chest that refuses to leave. With Riven dead and his body out of the arena, the only person I have left in this shit hole is Royce. How are we supposed to make it out of here alive without Riven around? 

Royce and I aren’t exactly fighters. If anything, we might be able to survive if we try to wait things out like Lotus tried to. With four out of the five remaining tributes in agreement that they won’t kill each other, Serena doesn’t stand much of a chance if she plans on turning us against each other or manipulating us the way she did Lotus. If Royce and I can continue using the passageways to hide out, chances are, we can wait her out. We can wait everyone out. In the end, we’ll have to figure out what to do when it comes down to just the two of us, but for now, I doubt either of us has thought that far in advance.

My mind races as the crisp ocean air spreads its icy wings over our skin and silence saturates the air. My watering eyes finally meet Royce and I find him watching me with reddened, bloodshot eyes. He looks about as bad as I feel. Reaching up, I slowly pry my glasses from my face and wipe them free of tears as Royce takes my face in his hands, swipes under my eyes with his thumbs, and presses a quick kiss to my forehead. “We’ll make it out of here,” he mutters against my skin. “I promise we’ll get out of here somehow, Viv.”

I nod just enough for him to feel it and allow him to pull away, guiding me to my feet and holding me in a way that I won’t be able to look back at the gory scene we’ve left behind. Erica and Jade allow Royce to lead me away, the two of them following at a safe distance so that I don’t feel smothered by their presence. The numbness that has filled my veins makes it easier for me to take the stairs back to the medical center, keeping the pain from my mind until I find myself perched on that hospital gurney once more. I can’t recall most of the walk back, but there wasn’t much conversation anyhow, so I don’t feel so bad. Royce refuses to leave my side once we’re back in the safety of the medical suite, my right hand still clasped in his while his left hand absentmindedly strokes the hair at the top of my head and I lean against him. We find comfort in each other as Jade and Erica converse about food and things neither of us bother to care about.

Most of the rest of our day is spent working up my strength and trying to get me to eat more than my stomach can handle, but Royce never once leaves my side, something Erica tells me has been a constant since the incident. Neither Erica nor Jade seems to have any idea how the explosion could have happened, but we all have our guesses. They don’t think Lexi had the chance to construct any explosives with them present all the time, so they believe it had to have been a Capitol-made pod that was set to explode when someone stepped on a certain board or something. I believe differently and so does Royce. I believe Lexi could have easily asked her mentors for help as Riven had and maybe received some kind of explosive device in a parachute. Royce, on the other hand, admits to me that he is entirely unsure of how the explosion could have happened, stating that either of the scenarios we’ve laid before him could have potential, but he claims to be more focused on me and my wellbeing than what happened that day.

In the end, Jade and Erica decide to leave us alone for the night, telling Royce where to find them in case we need anything during the night and letting us know that they’ll meet us back in the medical center in the morning. Erica winks in my direction before closing the door behind her, leaving me alone with Royce in the silence of the medical center. Royce pulls a plastic chair over in front of the bed I’ve slept on for the last few days, sinking into it with a sigh as I finally meet his gaze. There’s a gleam in his eyes that tells me that he has something he wants to say, but he doesn’t speak his mind as freely as I do, so we sit in silence for a while, staring each other down as though one glance away would kill the other person.

As per usual, I’m the first to say something, clearing my throat before awkwardly declaring, “This bed is so hard, my ass is going numb.”

A part of me hopes for a quick, Riven-esque quip like, “Oh, yeah? Well, I guess it matches your skull now,” or maybe he would poke himself a few times and turn to me with that stupid, lopsided smirk and say, “I don’t feel numb, Pip.” To my dismay, however, Riven’s quick remarks never come. Instead, Royce sends me a small grin and suggests, “We could always go back to that room we stayed in the other day. You slept really well there.”

I can feel my small smirk falter in mild disappointment, but his suggestion brings it back around fairly quickly as I lean closer to him and mutter, ”You think we could?”

Royce shrugs, a soft chuckle leaving him as he leans in and asks in return, “Who could stop us?”

Riven. Riven would. He would tell us to stay in the medical center for another day or until he felt as though I should be anywhere other than where the surplus of medical supplies are. He would argue with me on it until I either called him an ass or whined to him that it was hurting me and he’d buckle instantly. I try not to linger on that train of thought for long, forcing a smile onto my face and extending a hand out for Royce to take in his as I say, “I can’t think of anybody.”

Royce’s thumb brushes my knuckles as he smiles a beaming, brilliant smile that almost makes me forget the lingering pain that swims in my soul. He helps me to my feet and works on grabbing everything we’ve strewn about the medical center, stopping to grab Riven’s backpack from the cabinet before returning to me. I swing my backpack onto one shoulder as Royce grabs Riven’s bracelet from the rolling counter and tucks it into his pocket before lacing his fingers with mine once again. I allow him to guide me to the room we stayed in before, watching as his tangled curls bounce and bob with every movement he makes. Once we’re inside, Royce shoves a chair under the door handle for protection while I move to the living room and ditch our belongings in a coat closet.

He joins me once he feels as though he can’t secure the stateroom any more than he already has. For a moment, it feels like we’re simply waiting for Riven to join us, the two of us standing in the living room of the cabin in near silence. I glance past Royce to the room Riven had slept in before taking in a deep breath and sending Royce a smile, “If you don’t mind me being a totally lame roommate, I think I’m going to try getting some rest.”

A soft laugh leaves Royce as he shakes his head, “Go right ahead. I probably won’t be up for much longer either.”

“Alright,” I breathe, slowly making my way around Royce. “Well, um, goodnight, I guess.”

“Goodnight,” he says with a grin, watching as I back my way to the room I’ve chosen for the night. “Pleasant dreams.”

I hum gratefully, sending Royce a jerky nod as my back collides with the wall beside the open door. I turn to send a glare at the wallpaper before hesitantly chuckling back in Royce’s direction, “Sweet dreams.”

Royce’s smile only seems to have gotten brighter, but his tone remains the same as he bids me good night once more. I duck into the bedroom and quickly close the door behind me, pressing my spine to the cool wood before letting out a heavy sigh and allowing my head to thump dully against the door. That was so stupid. I swear, whenever I have some alone time with that boy, my brain melts into a useless pile of mush that sloshes around in my skull until I decide I need it back again. After a while of trying to get my mind back in order, I allow gravity to do what it was meant to, letting myself slide down the door until I feel the carpet under me. Distantly, I hear Royce moving around in the other room, but eventually, I hear him open the door across from mine, presumably disappearing into the confines of his room. I never hear the telltale click of the door closing, but after a while, I’m almost entirely sure he’s retired for the night.

Pushing myself from the floor, I stare at the bed across from me and sigh. I have no choice but to sleep in the same spot Riven had once claimed for himself. Pulling my glasses away makes it easier as my eyes blur my surroundings almost entirely. It takes me a while to shove aside the covers and slide between the sheets, but once I’m tangled in their web, I feel the emotions of the day come crashing over me like an icy wave. My nose tingles as salty water stings at my irises. I try desperately to cling to what little grasp I have over myself, but it proves futile as I take one of the pillows and use it to muffle the shuddering breaths I try to take.

I don’t want to believe that Riven is dead. I can almost refuse it. This is similar to what happened last year with Mick. I never saw him actually die, so I can’t prove that he’s dead. For all I know, the Capitol took him into one of their hovercrafts and brought him back to the Capitol until after the Games are over. Maybe once Royce dragged me inside, he got up and ran off to some other place in the ship and is trying to find us. I mean, Royce’s mentor, Kona, technically died in her arena and was found alive in the end. Maybe this is something like that. Maybe I have no reason to be upset and he’ll pop up out of nowhere when we least expect him to. 

Taking a deep breath, I wipe my face dry and try to force myself to relax into the mattress, yet it proves far more difficult than I anticipated as I find myself staring blankly at the nightstand where I left my glasses. I wonder how the people back home are handling this. Della, Acer, and Mac are probably going through their own forms of grief. They’ve had a few more days to process it. I can only imagine their rage. It must have been similar to when we thought we lost Mick. I can still picture Mac, the quiet, soft-spoken, tech genius who could never hurt a soul, screaming in anguish at the loss of one of his best friends. Acer, the half-Capitol smartass who never knew when to keep his mouth shut, crying silently on the floor, staring up at the television with wide, disbelieving eyes. Then, I can see Della, the mild-mannered child of the wealthiest bakers in our district, disregarding all of her prim and proper upbringings to throw things around and take her rage at the Capitol out on anything within reach of her wheelchair.

We’ve been through this song and dance before. Last time, it took ages to get an answer. It took ages to find that Mick was alive and well. Could it be that Riven was already brought back to District 3? Could he be home with Mick, watching every movement we make with scrutiny? Even if he isn’t, I bet Mick has been watching. Through my glasses or not, I don’t know. She hasn’t said anything. Maybe my glasses are broken. I never tested them after waking up, so I don’t have any idea whether or not they are even functional. 

Pushing myself onto my elbows, I reach across to the nightstand and take my glasses. They’re more than a little scratched after the explosion pulled them away from me and sent them clattering to the wooden deck somewhere I never found them, but the lenses themselves aren’t terribly ruined. The tiny rivets are still in place - the cameras presumably operational. I can’t try to talk with Mick right here, right now. If I did, the Capitol cameras that are no doubt in this very room, would see how we snuck such a valuable tool into this arena of chaos and death. We would all be under intense scrutiny; me, Royce, Riven, hell, maybe even our mentors, and the people back home! It would be unfair of me to put them through that. There is only one place in the arena that could allow me to speak freely with Mick if I still can, and I would have to sneak past Royce’s open bedroom door to get there. My attempts will just have to wait until morning.

With a sigh, I pull the glasses on just enough for me to make out the time on the clock and I finally realize just how late it’s gotten. I don’t see myself sleeping anytime soon, however. The day has worn me out, but I can’t bring myself to be tired. Reading could help, but I have no idea where our little collection of books is, if we even have them anymore. Deciding I just can’t bring myself to lie awake, staring mindlessly up at the ceiling, I toss the blankets aside, nudge my glasses into their rightful place, and push myself from the bed. I half-heartedly throw the sheets and comforter back to where they’re supposed to be before making my way to the door, slowly twisting the handle until I feel the wooden door move away from the frame.

I try to be silent as I move into the hallway, the fairly new floorboards remaining noiseless as I pass over the rug. Royce’s room is dark and windowless, making it impossible for me to tell if he’s sleeping as soundly as I believe he is. Taking in a slow, deep breath, I turn toward the living room and begin making my way there, creeping along slowly so as to not wake Royce. Breaching the archway leading into the living room, I find that I am not alone. Softly humming a song to himself on the windowsill is none other than Royce. His finger traces a design on the window as he peers out at the inky sky and the sea below. Why is he out here as well? 

So as to not scare him, I lower my voice to something just above a whisper and mutter, “I didn’t hear you come out here.”

Despite my efforts, Royce jumps slightly, his curls flaring around him as his head jerks in my direction. He calms upon seeing me, the tension in his shoulders melting away as he meets my gaze across the dimly lit room. With a small smile, Royce shrugs, glancing out the window briefly before turning back to me, “I couldn’t sleep knowing that you might need me.”

“Need you?” I echo.

“If you have nightmares or feel like jumping off the side of the ship, I want to be there to protect you,” Royce tells me. My first instinct is to be mad at how easily he insinuates that I’m willing to kill myself to be with Riven, but honestly, I can’t argue that the thought hadn’t crossed my mind a time or two. The look in Royce’s eyes tells me that he didn’t want to say that, but we both know that I needed to hear it, so I nod in understanding. A flash of light outside the window brings me from my thoughts as Royce turns to glare at the window next to him. With a sigh, he admits, “The storm definitely didn’t help.”

Inching my way closer to Royce, I ask, “You don’t like the lightning?”

Royce’s tawny eyes return to mine for a moment before his gaze hits the floor and he solemnly shakes his head. “I’m not overly fond of what follows.”

Before I get the chance to so much as open my mouth to question him, a loud, grumbling roll of thunder surrounds the ship and I watch Royce flinch, a grimace taking hold of his expression. Instead of letting Royce struggle to explain his fears, I bring up one of my own before he gets the opportunity to speak, “I’m scared of ending up alone.” 

Royce pauses, a curious gleam shining in his eyes as he asks, “What?”

“Blood, small spaces, and ending up alone,” I recite to Royce as I push myself into the windowsill across from him. Then, I take in a deep breath and, all at once, everything I’ve held in simply tumbles out as though his single word broke the dam within me, “That’s what I’m most afraid of. I think it started when Mick died last year. She was like a sister to me and I thought she would make it out, but then she died. Then, a few weeks later, my grandpa died. A while later, most of the people on my tech team left for someone else and our team of fourteen dropped to five. I thought it was because of me. That I wasn’t ‘good enough’ for them to want to stick around.”

Royce’s hand traps mine and he softly interrupts my rambling with, “I’m sure that wasn’t the case.”

“Maybe not,” I agree with a shrug, “but it felt like it was. Then, when the reaping happened, I thought I would be fine. Riven promised he would help me get as far in the Games as he could and I had hopes that we would make it out together. Now he’s gone as well and I’m scared of what comes next.”

“‘Next?’” Royce repeats. “What do you mean?”

I remain silent as I meet Royce’s gaze, his dark, rich eyes searching mine for an answer that he hasn’t come to on his own. Mustering a small smile, I take in a breath and mutter, “Now I have you. What happens when it comes down to just the two of us?”

Realization floods Royce and I watch as his expression flits between emotions faster than he probably registers them. With a shake of his head, he firmly declares, “I won’t hurt you.”

“Nor will I, you,” I say. “But the Capitol won’t take two victors, Royce.”

It takes Royce a while to say something, but when he does, his response is nowhere near what I thought he would say. “The way I see it, so far, we have two options.”

“We do?”

He nods, “Option one, we take the easy way out. We find some of those berries District Five got and go out on our terms. From what I’ve read, nightlock is quick and relatively painless.” Royce pauses, giving both of us the chance to think on it before shaking his head and saying, “I’m not exactly a fan of option one.”

I can’t help but hesitantly ask, “What’s option two?”

Intense brown eyes find mine and I can’t find the strength to look away as he says, “We fight.”

It would be a losing battle for me. I couldn’t fight Royce even if I wanted to. I care too much for him. Maybe I’m turning into Mick and Riven - an emotional, sentimental sap. “You’d win. I won’t fight you.”

“Not that kind of fighting, Viv,” Royce chuckles, a smile crossing his features. “I mean, think about it; there are a million ways we should've died before today and a million ways we can die before tomorrow. But I say we fight the Gamemakers for every second that we get to spend with each other. Whether they give us two minutes or two days…” he shakes his head, “I don't want to give that up.”

Royce’s words are filled with sincerity and I can tell he means every word. The impact hits me like a punch to the gut, but a smile splits my face as though I’ve felt nothing. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Royce echoes.

I nod, squeezing his hand, “We’re in this together, remember? You jump, I jump.”

A grin tugs at the corner of Royce’s lips as he repeats, “You jump, I jump.”

We sit for a while as rain pelts the window beside us, but I take one look at the clock on the television and sigh, “You should probably try to get some sleep.”

“I could say the same about you,” Royce states with a smirk. His expression turns mildly serious for a moment as he offers, “You know, you could always stay with me if you don’t want to be out here by yourself.”

Before I can stop myself, I allow a sliver of the teasing Riven instilled in me to shine through and I ask Royce in a mockingly serious tone, “Is this your way of asking me to sleep with you?”

I watch scarlet flood Royce’s cheeks, burning his face a brilliant shade of red as his eyes widen and he blurts out, “Not like that! I mean, technically, yes, you would be sleeping with me but you wouldn’t be sleeping with me. I-I just figured that-”

Reaching over, I press a finger against the tip of Royce’s nose and I watch as his eyes zero in on the intrusion before following it up to my face. “Calm down,” I gently order with a chuckle. “I was just fucking with you.”

“You were?”

“I was,” I tell him with a nod, removing my finger from his face before sliding down from the windowsill. Holding a hand out to Royce, I ask, “Are you coming or what?”

Royce lets out a chuckle and reaches for my hand, pushing himself from the windowsill as his fingers lace between mine. Thunder crackles outside the window as we depart, but the only sign that Royce is bothered by it is how his hold on my hand tightens by just a fraction. We return to the sides we had slept on a few nights before, but this time there is an unspoken acceptance of closeness that brings us together faster than gravity itself. As though we are magnets, pulled together by some unseen force, I lower my head to Royce’s shoulder and curl into him as his arm loops around me, securing me in place with no point of escape. Not that I’d particularly want to escape anyway…

The storm surrounding the ship sounds like nothing more than wind howling in the distance, something I can tell Royce finds to be a great relief. Tension in his frame dissipates as he brings a hand into my hair, brushing it away from my face as I tip my head to look at him. “I thought you were dead,” he whispers. “The cannon… I thought it was yours.”

“It wasn’t,” I offer in the hopes that he’ll take it as comforting.

“I know, but when I got to you and you were unresponsive, I…” a brief pause stills the air as Royce glances away and takes a sharp breath, “I was ready to join you.”

“You’re with me now,” I try to reassure. When Royce meets my gaze however, I allow a smirk to appear as I continue, “You’re here and I’m alive and there’s nothing you can do about it now. You’re stuck with me, Romeo.”

Finally, a laugh bubbles up from Royce and I don’t fight the beaming smile that begins to hurt once it’s there for a while. Royce shakes his head and turns to me with a matching smile before asking, “Does that make you Juliet?”

“I suppose so,” I shrug, “but only in this circumstance.”

Royce’s eyebrow lifts past his curls as he questions, “Why?”

“Because that’s my stylist’s name.”

We both attempt to look serious, but the ironic humor in the statement forces a laugh out of both of us. It takes us a while to finally calm back down and settle into the comfort of the mattress, but once we do, it doesn’t take us very long to fall asleep. By the time we get up and leave the bedroom to collect our things, the storm has turned to simple rain showers and the sun is struggling to breach past the thick, gray clouds. We return to the medical center hand in hand, talking through everything. Royce allows me to let out all that I remember from the day of the explosion while he adds in his own memories and we discuss our opinions on how things went down.

Jade and Erica are already there when we arrive and, almost immediately, I notice Erica wiggling her eyebrows suggestively at us - well, more me than Royce. Seemingly ignoring Erica’s silent insinuation, Jade rises from her seat and asks Royce if he would mind getting out the grill while she gets to work on preparing the food for breakfast. Reluctantly, I allow Royce to slip away, watching him follow Jade over to a counter on the far side of the room as I meet up with Erica. Her smile, while infectious, is one that I’d like nothing more than to rid her of, but she keeps the commentary to a minimum as she brings me to the bed I stayed in for three days and has me rest on it while she hooks me up to some of the machines around the bed. 

Anytime I try to catch a glimpse at what she’s doing, Erica scoffs and shoves my face away with a chuckle, “Just chill and let me work.”

“What are you even doing?” I ask once she shoves me away again.

“Checking your vitals, you little shit,” she breathes in a laugh. “Now sit still so I can make sure you’re alright.”

“I’m breathing, aren’t I?” I ask sarcastically, glancing up at the machine and sending Erica a smirk before receiving yet another hand to the face that pushes me back into place.

“Keep that up and you won’t be for long,” Erica snarks in return.

Before I get the opportunity to fire back a remark of my own, I spot Royce whirling around toward us, a look of concern growing in his eyes. I wave him off with a smirk and he slowly nods, turning back toward the grill as he helps Jade cook. Once Erica decides that I am, in fact, fine for the most part, she pulls a plastic chair to the side of the bed and chooses to fill me in on everything that has happened in the last few days, which isn’t much of anything at all. She says that Serena has become something of a ghost, hiding out somewhere in the ship, keeping herself safe from any potential fighting matches that could break out if she nears any of us. Erica tells me that, while Royce was glued to my side the last three days, she and Jade would go out looking for Serena all hours of the day, just to fuck with her. They found her late the first night, holed up in some cafe on Deck 13, and chased her through the ship until eventually losing her on Deck 6. I stop Erica there, asking her what was down that far in the belly of the ship.

“Not much,” she shrugs. “I think it’s mostly storage, a few cabins, some stores, and a couple of rich people clubs. Why?”

“We never explored below Deck Eight,” Royce explains as Jade begins to plate up the food.

Jade hums as she places some meat onto a plate, softly admitting, “We explored the lower decks pretty early on. There isn’t much down there, but anything below Deck Seven is under the waterline, so we haven’t gone down there much.”

Erica’s adamant nod makes their statement easy to find truthful. “Have you guys gone very far?”

I shrug, “Mostly the upper decks. I stayed on Deck Nine the first night before joining the boys in the library, but since that’s been vandalized by Serena, I don’t think we’ll be returning there anytime soon.”

“That’s for sure,” Royce huffs. Erica watches us curiously, but she doesn’t get the chance to question what happened to the library as Royce’s eyes light up and he turns to me and cheerfully exclaims, “That reminds me; I found some things in Riven’s backpack that I figured you might want to see.”

“Oh, yeah?” I question, watching as Royce pushes himself from the bed and makes his way to a set of backpacks that have been abandoned against the wall opposite my bed. Wordlessly, Royce pulls Riven’s backpack from the pile and rifles through one of the pockets for something before standing, snatching something off of a nearby counter, and returning to me with the objects behind his back. Instead of handing me something, he places the items on the mattress behind his back and pulls Riven’s old bracelet from the pocket of his shorts, taking my hand in his and sliding the fraying strings around my wrist before securing it in place. “How did you get this out of his pocket?” I ask softly, examining the crusted blood that stains the old bracelet. 

“Riven was already holding it,” Royce explains as Jade rolls over a table with our plates on it. “I had to shove Lexi off of him to check if he was breathing or anything, but when I did, I found it in his hand. I guess he was trying to make sure it got back to you. I figured I would help him.”

While I love the sentiment, I can’t help but feel as though he should have left the bracelet with Riven. While it would have done him no good and the tattered old bracelet probably would have been burned with the rest of his bloody clothes, the idea that a piece of me could have stayed with him until he got back home would have been nice. Despite my thoughts on the topic, the feeling of having something of Riven’s with me makes it feel as though he’s watching over me, protecting me without me knowing. Mustering a smile, I turn to Royce and say, “Thank you, Royce.”

He hums in acknowledgment before reaching behind his back and pulling a small stack of books into sight. “He kept some books in case we wanted to read, but there’s a bookmark in one of them, so I guess we aren’t the only ones who have been reading to pass the time.”

Looking over the books, I find the same books Riven had offered us the day we stayed in the Family Villa Suite - The Outsiders, Gone With The Wind, The Fault in Our Stars, and Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. A small piece of paper sticks out of the Harry Potter novel and I flip through the pages to where Riven left it - a page far toward the back of the thick, seven-hundred-and-something page-long book. The bookmark itself had once been a page of my little notepad, the little, torn frays of paper at the top a clear sign that Riven had torn the paper from the rings of the notepad. Riven had, at one point or another, used the paper to scrawl out a short message - ‘Page 699. Lines 19-23.’

Glancing up at Royce, I tell him, “Riven left a note.”

“Really?” he questions. I nod. “What does it say?”

“He wrote down a section on the page,” I say. “Page six-ninety-nine and lines nineteen to twenty-three.”

Royce takes the cover of the book and reads the title before shrugging, “I’ve never read that before.”

“Well, what’s the quote?” Erica asks.

Curiosity piques within me and I scan the bottom of the pages Riven had tucked the bookmark into. After finding the correct page, I use my finger to count down the paper until I reach the first line mentioned and begin reading aloud, “‘Does it hurt?’ The childish question had escaped Harry's lips before he could stop it. ‘Dying? Not at all,’ said Sirius. ‘Quicker and easier than falling asleep.’”

The room falls silent and, almost as though a switch had flipped, I feel three sets of eyes on me at once. Are they worried that I’ll fall apart and start crying? They shouldn’t be. I think I just about emptied my tear ducts yesterday. So, instead of breaking down into a teary puddle of a person, I allow a small smile to tug at my lips as I read over the lines again. I can almost feel the confusion radiating in the small space between us all, but the only one to act on it is Royce.

He reaches up and places a hand on my spine, gaining my attention as he asks, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” I tell him and, for once, I don’t feel as though I’m lying through my teeth. “I think that, if Riven thought to leave this note, he must have had the feeling that this could have happened. Even if he didn’t and it was just something he liked while he was reading through the book, it’s still a nice notion.”

“You’re not upset about it?” Jade questions.

With a shake of my head, I explain, “Not really. I mean, what better quote to choose? It’s almost reassuring, in a way.”

Erica shrugs, “I guess so.”

Feeling as though I’ve said enough, I place the book aside and reach for the cutlery Jade has left with my food, stabbing it into the piece of meat she’s left for me. The others are a bit slower to follow suit, but eventually, we eat breakfast and go about our morning in relative peace. Once we set everything away, the girls insist on making sure I’m not weak after three days of being off my feet. 

“We made sure to do some exercises while you were asleep to try to keep your leg muscles working,” Jade explains as she leads us to the stairs.

“Well, they don’t feel as though I’ve been out of commission for a few days,” I reply with a shrug, “so I guess it worked.”

“Good,” she hums, guiding us to the stairs leading down.

Erica hops along after Jade, taking the steps a couple at a time while humming to herself. Turning to Royce, I ask, “Where are we going?”

In return, he shrugs, “Not a clue. Maybe to find leftover supplies?”

Erica turns to us with a smile and says, “We’re going down to the atrium. We stashed some of our things there a few days ago, so we’re going to go grab them before we split off from you two.”

She turns back around and I turn to Royce, finding him already watching me. We share a shrug and continue with the journey. I had never been to the atrium, but I recall seeing on the map that it spans the 8th, 9th, and 10th Decks. Once we reach Deck 10, it becomes evident that whoever built this ship designed it so that all the Capitol’s finest would spend the majority of their time and money in the atrium. Looking down over the glass partition, I see many shops and small restaurants, a few seating areas, and a few little booths with signs above them that I can’t quite make out. While Erica and Jade take off down the stairs inside the atrium, Royce and I take the chance to explore. 

The first store we come across has some… interestingly dressed mannequins, to say the least. And I can’t help but roll my eyes at the horrendously pink lighting shining down on the half-naked plastic people. “I just don’t know why people would even buy this stuff.”

He turns to me with a raised eyebrow, “Do you need me to explain it to you?”

“Oh, haha,” I laugh humorlessly. “No. I mean, I know why, but it just looks so… uncomfortable.”

A smirk tugs at his lips as he questions, “You mean, you don’t want to walk around all day with a tiny strip of fabric up your ass?”

I have to laugh, “Not particularly, no.”

“Aw, shucks,” Royce sighs sarcastically, snapping his fingers in defeat. “There go my plans for later.” 

I shove him aside with a scoff and shake my head before continuing, heading further into the atrium as I look around at the other stores. There’s a boutique across the hall with some long, flowing gowns and fancy tuxedos in the windows, a shop with a tiny rat-dog-looking thing wearing a large, wide-brimmed hat as its mascot, and a large, glittering shop with words I can’t understand written on the sign above it.

“Le Bijoutier de l'Amour,” Royce reads aloud as I stare up at the sign in confusion.

“What does that mean?”

“The Jeweler of Love,” he replies, walking around me to the door of the shop. “It’s French.”

“How can you read that?” I ask as he pulls the door open and holds it for me.

“My mom was French,” Royce explains, watching as I pass him. “I learned to read it from her old books.”

We disappear into the store, discovering a large, white room lined with glass cases full of glittering gems set inside gold and silver jewelry. On the wall is a large sign asking “What’s your birthstone?” in large letters with a list of months. Scanning the list, I distractedly mutter, “I guess I’m a peridot.”

“What?” Royce asks from the other side of the room.

Pointing up at the sign, I say, “I guess they have this thing where you tell them what your birth month is and they give you a fancy rock based on it.”

I hear Royce hum and ask, “What am I? I was born in June.”

Two away from my birthstone is June and I find that Royce has not just one, but three colorful rocks designated to his birth month. “Whoever came up with this list must have been born in June too.”

“Oh, yeah?” Royce questions as he crosses the gap between up. “How come?”

“Because you get to choose between pearl, alexandrite, and moonstone,” I say, pointing up at the sign once again.

“So weird,” Royce breathes with a shake of his head.

I have to shrug, “Rich people will buy anything, I guess.”

Royce chuckles, but nods, “That’s for sure.”

Before we really get the chance to explore more, the door to the shop opens and Erica sighs, “There you two are!”

Royce and I share a look of confusion before I ask, “Were we missing or something?”

Jade appears, glancing around the room before settling her gaze on us. “We wanted to tell you we were leaving.”

Erica nods, sending us a small smile as she explains, “We’ll try to keep Serena at bay, but your best bet is to keep moving so she doesn’t find you.”

Royce glances my way before sighing, “Guess we’ll have to find a new place for the night, then.”

“That would probably be for the best,” Jade agrees before turning to leave. As she reaches the door, she turns back to us and says, “Good luck.”

“You too,” I offer with a small wave.

Royce nods, saying something similar before Jade leaves the jewelry store and the door closes behind her. Erica makes her way to us and hands us a plastic bag of supplies before following Jade out to the atrium. Royce and I don’t spend much more time in the jewelry store, determined to find a safe location to stay in for the rest of the day. The idea of going further into the ship is quickly written off as Royce recalls Jade and Erica telling us about them cornering Lexi on a lower deck. Instead, we make our way up a floor to the library we had called home for a while and tuck ourselves into the little hallway nobody else seems to have ever discovered. Setting up camp there seems to be one of the safest options we have available as the library was ransacked, the wheelhouse was burned, and we both fear that staying in one of the staterooms could put us in danger of being found. Our other choice was to hide out in the Cornucopia, but we rule it out fairly quickly as the idea of being cooked alive inside of a giant metal horn in the noonday sun isn’t exactly appealing to either of us.

Once we lay out our sleeping bags and eat something for lunch, Royce decides to fill me in on something I can tell has been bothering him, “My earbuds stopped working the day I fell in the pool.”

The snarky tech geek in me wants to scoff and tell him that it’s a no-brainer that they stopped working; water from the pool he fell into had probably ruined the entire operating system and shorted everything inside the case. However, I find myself in a similar state of hurt as I solemnly nod and say, “I think my glasses are broken too. I haven’t heard from Mick at all.”

Royce sighs, “The day of the explosion, I tried to get an answer from Miles and they wouldn’t work. I was asking him for help since I had no idea what to do to help, but I couldn’t make out a word he was saying and they just stopped working after a while. They wouldn’t charge or anything.”

“You said you fell into the pool, right?” He nods. “The chemicals in the water and the water itself probably ruined it.” I watch as Royce’s expression worsens, any hope of talking with his brothers ebbing away. Taking in a breath and mustering a smile, I suggest, “I could take a look at them if you want?”

“Do you think you could fix them?”

I shrug, “It’s worth a shot. I mean, I am from District Three.”

A small smile appears on Royce’s face as he softly chuckles under his breath. Reaching into his backpack, he pulls out a small green container and places it into my awaiting palm. “They’re all yours, MacGyver.”

“MacGyver?”

Royce chuckles, “A guy back home who can fix anything under the hood of a car if he’s got enough duct tape.”

“I don’t know about duct tape,” I say as I look from the earbud case to Royce, “but if I think there’s any hope of fixing it, we can go looking in the stores for some replacement parts tomorrow morning.”

With an eager nod, Royce smiles and watches as I open the case, take the earbuds out, and begin looking for a way into the inner workings of the device. A thin line separates where the earbuds sit from the case itself and I feel a smirk tug at my lips as I ask Royce for a small knife. He scrambles through the three bags we’ve left around us and finds a small multitool among the mess of things Riven had collected in his bag. Slipping the only thin, non-serrated blade into the hairline crack, I drag it carefully along the seam, listening for almost inaudible pops as the barrier between the case and its mechanisms widens. Eventually, my efforts pay off and the earbuds’ resting place pulls away from the plastic case, leaving me staring at a fairly common battery, some wiring, and a logic board. Thankfully, the logic board appears to be just fine, so my only assumption would be that the battery had fried or something.

“This should be simple enough,” I murmur to myself. “If I can find a replacement battery, I should be able to get the case to charge them again.”

“Really?” Royce asks, making me jump slightly at how close he had leaned into my space. He chuckles, “Sorry.”

Taking in a breath, I nod slowly, “That solves that issue, but I haven’t taken a look inside the earbuds themselves.”

Royce quickly nods, leaning back so he could observe from a slight distance. Tracing his finger across his lips, he mimics closing them with a zipper before muttering, “I’ll let you get back to it, then.”

I give him a short nod before taking in a breath to focus myself once again and picking up the two green earbuds. I’ll give Royce credit where it’s due, he’s kept good care of them externally, cleaning the earpieces far more than half of the people back home probably do. After I pop off the silicone caps, I use the sleeve of my swimsuit to ensure the speakers and microphone are dry. Then, I set them aside and examine the multitool, switching out the blade for a thin corkscrew. At the back of the earbuds are a pair of small, almost invisible buttons set inside a thin hole, so I use the pointed tip of the corkscrew to press into the holes, effectively popping the speakers and microphones out of their casings. There isn’t much to see inside the casing, so I replace what I’ve taken apart and set the earbuds aside on the floor before turning my focus back onto Royce who is already watching me expectantly.

“Well?” he begins softly. “Do you think you can save them?”

“Maybe,” I tell him. “Riven would be able to take them apart, figure out the issue, and fix it in a few minutes, but I’m not as skilled as he is. We’ll leave them out for the night in case there’s any residual moisture, but we might need to head to one of those clothing stores to see if they have any of those little packets in the shoes.”

Royce’s head tilts to the side a fraction as he asks, “Why?”

“They absorb moisture,” I explain. “We use something like them at work from time to time. If there’s any water still in the earbuds or the case - which I don’t see, but it’s still a possibility - those little silica packets will get rid of it.”

Royce thanks me and sends me a smile before asking, “What about your glasses? Can you fix them?”

“I don’t know,” I reply with a shrug. “I didn’t make them, Mick did.”

His eyebrow raises, “Why would she make you a pair of glasses that have little cameras and microphones?”

“She knew I would probably get reaped this year after everything that happened last year.”

With a nod, Royce sighs, “Before the reaping, Miles said he had a feeling one of us would get reaped too, but he thought it would be Bentley since he’s younger and I would volunteer in his place.”

“Riven volunteered for my little brother,” I mutter. “He was the only one I couldn’t protect and I couldn’t even return the favor by protecting Riven.”

Silence fills the air between us as Royce stares at me, a look on his face that I just can’t seem to read. Taking in a deep breath, he softly asks, “Do you really think Riven’s dead?” I meet his gaze and he continues, “I didn’t want to say anything in front of any potential cameras, but I don’t know if he is.”

Taking in a slow, deep breath, I slowly shake my head and say, “I don’t want to believe that he’s dead, but you said you checked to see if he was breathing and he wasn’t, and I-”

“I lied.”

Like a spear of ice to my chest, the faintest brush of betrayal strikes at my heart. “You what?”

Royce’s eyes glow like rivers of gold in the shine of my flashlight, his almost hesitant stare never leaving mine. “The cannons went off, I was panicking, and I checked on you first. You were breathing, so I knew the chances of Riven or Lexi being alive were slim. Lexi was obviously dead - she had a machete in the side of her neck - but I still checked on Riven so that, if he was still alive, I could get him to safety after I helped you and… and I think he might have still been breathing when I checked on him.”

“But his cannon went off?”

“It did.”

“Are you sure he was breathing?”

“I don’t know, but I swear I felt it.”

The honesty in Royce’s eyes makes me want to believe him, but at the same time, I haven’t seen Riven in days and, after seeing all of the blood where I know he had been, I don’t want to get my hopes up just for them to be torn down again. Maybe this is like what happened with Mick and Miles. Maybe he’s alive somewhere and we just don’t know it. Deciding to voice my concerns, I take in a deep breath and ask, “Do you think this is another thing like last year where the cannon went off, but the person wasn’t dead?”

“I’d like to think so,” Royce shrugs.

“So, where is he, then?” I press. “Do you think he’s somewhere on the ship?”

Royce is quick to shake his head, “I know he isn’t.”

“How?”

“I brought you inside and left you with some of our belongings so that I could go back and get Riven without smacking him in the face with one of our backpacks,” Royce explains. “When I got back there, he was gone. When I met up with Jade and Erica, they claimed they saw a hovercraft take two bodies away before disappearing.”

“Where were they in all of this?” I have to ask.

“The Cornucopia,” he says. “They wanted to enjoy the sunshine, so they went to the one place they could see almost everything from.”

I cross my arms over my chest as I lean back against the wall, my eyes flitting between spots as I try to think of what’s happened since then. “The Capitol took him out of the arena.” Royce nods. “So, they must know he was really alive, right?”

“Unless he’s really good at faking being dead.”

I shake my head. While Riven can put on a good act for the cameras, I doubt he’d be able to convince Capitol doctors that he miraculously came back to life once he was on the hovercraft. Either he really is dead or the people who found him alive brought him back to the Capitol. The Capitol, especially the Gamemakers, hate being told they were wrong about something. If Riven was alive when they got him out, who knows what could have happened to him since then? They could have killed him to save their reputation or brought him back to the Training Center to await questioning or who knows what else. Regardless, there’s one thing I know they wouldn’t have done: put Riven back into the arena. They wouldn’t want the rest of Panem to know they got another death wrong for the second year in a row.

For the rest of the afternoon, Royce takes to reading while I try to examine my glasses. It’s difficult, to say the least. Considering I need my glasses to see how to fix them, I end up giving up after almost two hours of trying to take them apart. Once he notices that I’ve given up working on my glasses, Royce moves closer to me and reads aloud in an attempt at keeping me as calm as possible. We eat something quick for dinner before crashing for the night and I wake up to Royce cooking breakfast as quietly as he can manage.

“What time is it?” I yawn.

He shrugs, “I don’t know, but I checked the library and it’s already bright out.”

“How long have you been up?”

“Maybe an hour or so.”

“You could have woken me up,” I sigh, pushing myself to sit up as I bring my glasses to my face.

Royce shakes his head, offering me a gentle smile, “You needed the rest.”

“I slept for three days, Royce, I think I’ve slept enough already.”

Royce hands me a plate of food when he feels it’s done and, once we’re done, we gather our things and prepare to scope out the stores for the supplies we need. We use the ladder to get down to the atrium and find ourselves in the back of a bar, surrounded by bottles of alcohol that neither of us can pronounce easily. Leaving the bar, we make our way to the open area of the atrium and find a map on the wall that tells us what stores are in the area. Other than the shops we checked out yesterday, most of the other outlets on Deck 10 are coffee shops or restaurants that offer foods we had never heard of prior to being on the ship. The floor below us, however, has two shops next to each other that might just have exactly what we’re looking for. Finding the stairs to the floor below us, Royce and I reach Deck 9 and first head for a small, doorless shop with the most simple name out of all the shops we’ve seen so far - Tech at Sea.

Finding a battery for Royce’s earbuds is easy enough once I climb over the counter and look at all of the supplies by the register. Once the battery is secured in its rightful place, I put the case back together, listening for the telltale clicks of it slotting back into place. Slipping the earbuds into their case, both Royce and I are relieved to watch it come to life, a small red light signaling that the earbuds inside the case are now charging for the first time in days. If the chest-high, marble countertop wasn’t between us, I’m almost positive that Royce would have tackled me in a hug, his proud, beaming smile telling me just how excited he is with our project. Once I’m back on the other side of the counter and Royce has pocketed his earbuds, he wraps an arm around my shoulders and holds me close, softly praising me and thanking me for my efforts before walking alongside me to the store next door - Perspective’s Eyewear. 

My first order of business is finding the tools I need for the job, which is easy enough. The next stop on my mission to repair my glasses is a bit harder - finding a pair of glasses to use as a substitute while I work on mine. Royce makes the work easier, having me sit across from an eye chart and running me pairs of glasses to try out until I find the right one. In the end, I decide on a pair that reminds me of something my grandfather would wear and we make our way back to the security of the hidden passageway where we relax for lunch before I begin to work on the glasses. 

Even with the replacement glasses, I find it difficult trying to see where the glasses could possibly split open. My head thumps dully against the wall as I stare up at the ceiling, groaning out, “This is such bullshit.”

“Language,” I hear faintly.

Turning to Royce with an incredulous look, I ask, “Did you seriously just ‘language’ me?”

Royce’s hands come up in surrender as he lightly shakes his head, “I didn’t say anything.”

“Well, someone just told me not to cuss and you’re the only one here, so…”

Royce’s eyes shine with obvious confusion before I spot a hint of disbelief in them. My own confusion melts away as I slowly turn back to my glasses, turning them toward me before softly asking, “Mickie, are you there?”

“Viv?” I hear faintly.

I know Mick’s voice anywhere. “Yeah, it’s me. Can you hear me?”

“I can hear-” her voice cuts out before coming back in a static haze, “-can’t see- I- explosion damaged the cam-”

Royce’s confusion comes through in his tone as he asks, “Did you understand that?”

With a nod, I chuckle, “I actually did. She said she can hear us, but can’t see us and that the explosion damaged the cameras.”

“Yeah, that,” Mick agrees. “Are- two safe?”

“We are,” I say, nodding even though I know she can’t see me. “We’re in that room behind the library.”

I can almost imagine Mick breathing a sigh of relief as she says, “Good.”

Without giving her the chance to say anything more, I ask, “Do you know what happened to Riven?”

However, instead of Mick’s voice coming through the glasses, Royce and I both jump at the sound of the Capitol’s infamous trumpets. Both of us roll our eyes and Royce dismisses the announcement with an indifferent sigh, “Let me guess, they want a feast to get us to kill each other off?”

As we both expected, Claudius Templesmith’s voice comes out of thin air, announcing just that, “Commencing at noon, there will be a feast tomorrow at the Cornucopia.”

“Good thing we aren’t hungry,” I scoff, turning my attention back toward the glasses in an attempt to ignore the rest of his announcement.

However, Mr. Templesmith has other ideas. “Now, hold on. Some of you may already be thinking of declining my invitation. However, this is no ordinary feast. This is an offer of immunity.”

“Immunity?” Royce asks softly. “What does that mean?”

I shrug and we attempt to pay more attention as Claudius continues, “There is one place on this ship that offers complete protection from intruders. This room requires a key that is only obtainable at this feast. The one who takes the key to The Haven will have access to amenities that will only ever be used by the victor themself. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and it will not be happening again.”

Royce and I are safe in this little hideout where the cameras aren’t up our asses for every second of the day; we don’t need the safety of some random room. I doubt Erica and Jade need it either; they have plenty of supplies and I don’t doubt they can hide out in the ship perfectly fine. That leaves one person on this ship who could take Claudius Templesmith up on his offer.

Royce shakes his head, turning to me with a sigh, “We don’t exactly need it, do we?”

“No,” I reply, “but I can think of one person who might want it.”

Almost instantly, it seems as though Royce has come to the same conclusion I have. “Do you really think Serena is dumb enough to go after something so obvious? It feels like a trap.”

With a nod, I say, “I don’t doubt that it is, but if she feels like it might keep her protected from Jade and Erica long enough to gain some strength or get some food in her, she might just go after it.”

“Do you think the girls will have that figured out as well?”

“Most likely.”

Royce takes a deep breath and shakes his head, “I guess we’ll find out tomorrow.”

“I guess so.” Turning back to my glasses, I ask, “Did you hear that, Mick?”

In return, all I get is silence. I try a few more times to get a response out of Mick before deciding there must be something wrong with the glasses and putting them back on with a sigh. Royce and I read for a few hours before having dinner and turning in for the night. The morning starts off with our new routine of eating breakfast and picking a new place to hide out for the day, but as we’re climbing the stairs to Deck 13 where we plan on hiding out, we hear a faint scream echo through the stairwell. Figuring the others may be somewhere nearby, Royce and I make our journey as quiet as possible, but as we reach our destined deck, the telltale sounds of fighting only grow louder. Something solid hits the floor above us just a few steps from the landing we’ve reached, followed by a grunt we both hear loud and clear, telling both of us that the fight is just a deck away.

Turning to Royce, I wonder if he’s questioning things like I am. Why are the others here instead of up by the Cornucopia? Is the Capitol getting the bloodbath they so desired? Once there is a clear victor of the trio’s battle, will the winner come looking for us? My grip on my crossbow tightens as the familiar blast of the cannon thunders through the area, followed by a heavy thump, a scream of agony, and yet another cannon, signaling the battle is over. Deciding we shouldn’t tempt fate, Royce and I move as silently as possible away from the stairwell. However, before we get too far, the sound of crying fills the otherwise silent air.

With two of the three other tributes dead, who out of them would be the one to cry? Jade doesn’t seem like the type to cry and I highly doubt Serena would unless she was injured or incredibly weak, but I could imagine Erica being the type to cry about something like that. Turning to Royce, I watch his expression shift and as he mouths Erica’s name curiously, I realize he must have come to the same conclusion. Steadying his grip on his bow just to be safe, Royce nods toward the stairs and I nod in return, following close behind him with my crossbow in hand. We tentatively head back to the stairwell and climb the ivory steps to the next floor where, just a few feet away, I spot Erica’s sapphire hair glowing in the sunlight that pours in from a nearby window as she leans over Jade’s motionless form. Nearby, Serena’s red hair nearly blends in with the crimson surrounding her head, her limp, lifeless body slumped against the normally pristine, white floor. The gory puddle surrounding Serena makes her look even paler than she already was, but it is the long blade emerging from her forehead that tells me that the attack was personal. 

My best guess is that Erica killed her for killing Jade, but I have no proof to say whether that was what happened. Regardless, Serena died painfully and whoever killed her made sure of that. Royce stalls my train of thought by reaching back to me and gesturing for me to stay calm. I take in a slow breath as he steps around Serena and softly calls out, “Erica?”

The blue-tipped blonde slowly turns to us, her eyes shining with tears that have streamed down her face like a waterfall. She sends us a small smile and says, “Well, if it isn’t the victors of this year’s Games.”

“What happened?” I ask her.

“Jade and I got the jump on Serena since we found out where she was hiding out,” Erica explains, looking back down at Jade and moving the hair from her deceased friend’s face. “We fought for a while before Serena threw a dagger at Jade.”

Royce spares a glance at Serena before asking, “What about Serena?”

“I think it should be obvious,” Erica chuckles, leveling her gaze on Royce as she smiles. “I tackled her to the floor, grabbed my butcher knife, and went to town on her face.” Before either of us can say a word, Erica adds, “She killed my girl and any kindness I may have shown her died when Jade did.”

The room is silent for a while as Royce and I absorb the information we’ve been given, but Royce breaks it with a soft, “Are you alright?”

Erica leans to the side just enough for the black hilt of a knife to catch the light, the blade of it buried inside her abdomen. With an airy giggle, she states, “I’m already dying, if that’s what you want to know.” 

“We could patch it up if you-”

“No,” Erica says with a shake of her head. “No, I don’t really see the point in trying. I wouldn’t be able to make the trip back to the medical center and, even if I did, I might still die because, as you told Jade and I before, Royce, neither of you has the best medical knowledge. I think I might as well let death come while I’m with Jade.”

“Are you sure?” I ask.

Erica nods, giving us a smile as she says, “I have no strength to stand, let alone fight. Anyway, like your friend said with the book, death should be like falling asleep. Once I take the knife out, I’ll lay down beside Jade and let whatever happens, happen. You two can go spend some time together before the Games end. Enjoy each other’s company and decide what happens next.”

“What about-”

Once again, Royce gets cut off as Erica waves us off with a hand. “I’ll be fine here. Just go have fun together before the Capitol decides to off one of you. I’ll see you again someday.”

Deciding arguing with Erica isn’t going to get us anywhere, I reach for Royce’s hand and lightly tug him closer to me. At first, he appears confused, but eventually, Royce decides something similar and he takes a deep breath before nodding. Turning back to Erica, I smile and tell her, “See you later.”

Erica nods deeply, holding her head down for a moment before looking back up at us with a small grin, “Good luck, you two.”

Royce and I make our way back to the stairs, waving a final goodbye to Erica before making our way back down a floor. Knowing we no longer have to worry about the other tributes trying to kill us, Royce and I sit on the bottom step and try to think of what to do next. Now that we don’t have to hide or run, we don’t know what to do. Neither of us feels up to eating, but we also don’t know what else to do while we wait for Erica’s inevitable death. After a while of simply sitting around, we head into The Galaxy Pavillion and gather the remaining berries from the laser tag arena before Royce suggests we go back to the library and try to relax. I follow him away from Deck 13 and we reach the library fairly easily. Once we climb past the shattered remnants of the door and drag the piano away from it, Royce and I get to work on taking the broken door out of the frame. The cleanup doesn’t end there and, by the time Erica’s cannon rattles through the arena, the library is almost back to its former glory and the sun is sinking past the ocean’s horizon. The cleaning distracts us from our situation enough that we can bring ourselves to eat at least a little, but it doesn’t make things feel any easier. 

Royce allows me to sleep while he stays awake for a while, keeping an eye out for any potential mutts the Capitol could send to kill us off. I stay awake until morning for my shift, but the Capitol doesn’t send so much as a butterfly our way, which is unsettling, to say the least. I make breakfast for the two of us while Royce reads the last of Romeo and Juliet aloud. The calm of the morning has a tense, unsettling serenity to it that I surmise we both feel as Royce looks just as rigid as I feel.

When Royce finishes eating, he sets aside his plate and softly asks, “How are we going to do this?”

“What do you mean?” I ask, setting my plate on top of his.

“This,” Royce replies, gesturing between the two of us. 

“Like you said,” I begin, taking in a deep breath, “we’re going to fight for every moment we spend together. If they want a victor, they’ll either have to take both of us or neither of us. We can go get some of those berries and take ourselves out together or they can get us out of the arena and we can win together. Either way, I won’t fight you.”

“Neither will I,” Royce states.

I nod and, as silence takes over, I allow myself to think about what we could do to force the Gamemakers to let us out. At first, I wonder if finding a camera to talk to would help, but without Mick’s guidance, the likelihood of finding one of the Capitol’s bajillion hidden cameras feels impossible. My next thought is, of course, taking the berries and going out on a high note like Volt and Elektra, but at the same time, I don’t like the idea of dying before I’ve even gotten the chance to live. Then, an idea comes that I feel could get us on the Capitol’s best side. If the Capitol citizens didn’t already love our little love story, we could make them want nothing more than for both of us to make it out alive. We could spend the whole day together, doing all the things a couple would; go on dates, dress up all fancy, buy rings, and, once the day is done, we go to one of the restaurants, blend up some berries and some other stuff, and act as though we’re just like Romeo and Juliet - dying together for the sake of love. Their love for us as a couple could drive them to beg the president to keep us alive. We could be the first pair ever to win the Hunger Games together.

Glancing over at Royce, I find he’s already brought out a book to read and settled down with it. Taking a deep breath, I softly say, “I have an idea.”

Royce lowers the book to his lap and curiously meets my gaze, “I’m listening.”

“Why don’t we spend the day doing everything we could possibly want?” I suggest. “We could go to the atrium and take some of those fancy clothes we’ll never get to try on otherwise, we could go to all the stores that don’t exist back home and just go wild, and, when we decide we’ve had enough fun, we go to one of the restaurants, have some dinner, and we’ll slip some of those berries into our drinks and leave this arena together like we wanted to all along.”

A look of anxiety wells in Royce’s eyes as he mutters, “Are you sure?”

“It was just a suggestion,” I say with a shrug. “As long as I’m with you, what we do doesn’t really matter.”

Silent contemplation fills the space between us and I watch as Royce’s eyes flicker between mine, searching for an answer that we both know he has to come to on his own terms. Ultimately, his eyes slide shut, he sucks in a breath, grins, and looks my way before replying, “What better last day could I ask for?”

Our moment of peace is disrupted by a loud screech and a sharp voice that I faintly recall as Claudius Templesmith argues, “That isn’t allowed. One of you must become the victor.”

“Says who?!” I snap back as I push myself to my feet. “We’re the ones trapped in here. We’re the ones the Capitol decided to kill off for their enjoyment. We never wanted to be your little lambs for slaughter. All we want is to be together for as long as we can and you’re trying to take that from us too?”

“Yeah,” Royce agrees, rising to stand beside me and taking my hand in his. “We’ve made it this far in the arena, you can’t tell us that we can’t go out on our own terms.”

“There can only be one victor,” Claudius states.

With a scoff, Royce grabs his bag and pulls the small handful of berries from the front pouch, pouring some from his hand into mine before holding his handful up for the cameras to see. “In case you haven’t noticed, we have the high ground,” he declares. “We can do this together at any time and be dead before your hovercraft can save us.”

“We would be dead in a minute,” I agree. “So, either you give us our day or we go out together right here, right now.”

“But the rules state-”

“The rules were made years ago by a psychopath who decided that killing children was necessary,” Royce states.

“Besides, the people are sick and tired of these Games,” I add. “They aren’t entertaining the Capitol anymore and everyone knows it - even President Harmon! He could easily tell you to stop the Hunger Games at any time and you know it.”

“Now,” Royce begins, squeezing my hand, “Viv and I are going to go spend our last day together. If you decide to call off the Hunger Games and let us win instead of letting us die together, let us know.”

Without another word, Royce dumps his berries into his backpack and hands me my bag so I can deposit mine in it before he takes me by the hand and guides me to the bookcase passageway. Once the door is closed, Royce presses his back to it and turns to me with wide eyes. I smile at him and exclaim, “That was so badass!”

“Did I really just do that?” he asks in a whisper.

“You did.”

“They’re going to kill us.”

With a shrug, I sigh, “I doubt it. If anything, the others will be rallying for us to get out.”

Royce sucks in a breath and asks, “You said before that your stylist is the president’s daughter, right?” I nod. “Does she like you?” I nod once more. “Do you think she can convince her dad to let us out?”

“I think so,” I confirm. “I think she’s been trying this whole time, but, with any luck, this might force his hand a little.”

Royce nods and we stop for a short time to secure our berries in little pouches that we attach to our belts for easy access. Once we’re done, we head to the atrium and head from the bar we land in to the boutique we came across what feels like a week ago. We look around at all of the ridiculously expensive outfits before deciding to pick something out for each other to wear. Royce shows me what racks have things that will fit him and I show him mine before we leave each other alone, chattering across the open floor to each other about things that we both enjoy before leaving something in the dressing rooms for each other. 

The dress I find waiting for me in room number 1 is a long, sapphire dress that drags on the floor in the back, yet stays just above the floor in the front. I assume this was made to be worn with those uncomfortable high-heeled shoes that are the Capitol standard, but Royce has left me a simple pair of golden shoes that have maybe two inches of height in the heel and a thick strap around the ankle to keep me from breaking any bones. I don’t try to fight the smile that creeps onto my face as I examine myself in the mirror. I pull my hair down from the loosely woven braid Erica made for me and draw my hair into a ponytail at the back of my head, hoping it will make my hair look a little less greasy before shoving my clothes into my backpack. I push the curtain aside and make my way to the front room with my bag, finding Royce standing near the wall, adjusting his clothes in a mirror.

His black and blue ensemble matches mine, surprisingly, but he doesn’t notice me watching him until he turns around with a smile and approaches me, pressing a kiss just to the side of my mouth. “You look incredible.”

“As do you,” I tell him, dropping my backpack to the floor alongside his and bringing my arms around his shoulders.

“Were you watching me pick out your outfit?” he asks, his arms circling my waist. 

“I should be the one asking you that,” I tell him with a scoff. “In case you’ve forgotten, I put your outfit aside first. That means you copied me, not the other way around.”

Royce contemplates the suggestion briefly before shaking his head, “Nah, I don’t think so.”

“Liar.”

“You can’t prove it.”

“You suck.”

Royce shrugs, brushing off my statement easily, “Eh, you love me.”

Tapping the tip of his nose with my finger, I tell him, “That doesn’t mean you don’t suck.”

With a chuckle, he nods, “Fair enough.”

“Are you ready to go have some fun?” I ask.

“What do you have planned?”

Instead of telling him my plans, I simply grab our bags, hand him his, take his free hand in mine, and drag him from the boutique to the hallway where we look around and decide to stop in a little gaming store a deck below us. We spend a while eating something small for lunch and playing games there before the Gamemakers decide to cut the power to them, presumably in an attempt to push us out of the area and into a fight. With heavy sighs, we decide to venture into the hallway and explore around a bit. We visit a few more shops before going back up to the jewelry store and picking out matching rings for each other. It takes us a while to find the birthstone rings we want, but in the end, he takes my peridot and I have his moonstone. Once we feel ready enough, we head up to the eighteenth deck where we find a restaurant and begin making something for dinner in the expansive kitchen we find there. After the food is done, Royce takes the berries from both of the pouches we had made and crushes some of them up before adding them to the glasses of some expensive wine we found in a cooler. 

Together, we take the food out to the outside dining area and sit across from each other, eating our dinner together and talking about all that we’ll miss. Our families and friends come into the conversation as we drag out the time we have together until the sun begins to set and our time for waiting is over. Royce gives me a reassuring smile and lifts his glass to which I follow suit, reaching across the table to take his other hand in mine as our glasses tap against each other in the center of the table. Bringing our glasses back to our respective sides of the table, Royce asks, “On the count of three?”

“The count of three,” I agree with a nod. 

Royce gives my hand a final squeeze as a signal, as a tragic goodbye, and we begin to count. “One.” Maybe we were wrong to challenge the Capitol, President Harmon, and the Gamemakers. “Two.” Maybe they don’t care anymore if they get their victor. “Three!” It’s too late to change our minds. We lift our glasses to our mouths and meet gazes so our last glimpse of life will be of each other. 

The thin, grape-like liquid has just passed my lips as the trumpets begin to blare and the frantic voice of Claudius Templesmith shouts above the music, “Stop! Stop!” His voice calms just enough to not sound absolutely terrified as he announces, “Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to present the victors of the Sixty-third Hunger Games - Vivien O’Brian and Royce Murphy! I give you the tributes of Districts Three and Six!”

I’m quick to spew the nightlock-laced wine back into my glass and I watch Royce follow suit. We both begin wiping any residue from our tongues with napkins before taking a bottle of water from our bags and flushing it all out as much as we can. Once we’re satisfied, we practically collapse into each other’s arms. Royce pulls back enough to cup my face in his hands and pulls me in for a kiss that I never would have anticipated before. I press our foreheads together and he says something to me, but I can’t hear him over the roar of the crowd in the Capitol that the Gamemakers are playing over the ship’s speakers.

The hovercraft materializes overhead and two ladders drop down to take us away from the arena, but we have no intention of releasing each other, so we manage to cling to each other and the ladder as it freezes us in place and drags us into the flying machine Royce’s district has had a hand in making. Neither of us is injured or in need of any medical assistance, but we are separated as two attendants whisk us off to different rooms to rid us of any remnants of nightlock that could still be lingering on our teeth. After that, I’m handed an icy cold glass that is filled with orange juice. I don’t entirely trust the Capitol to not poison us on the way back to the Capitol, but as I peer through the tiny window in my room I realize we’re nearing land already. We must not have been far from land. I try not to gasp as a large, red bridge passes underneath us, a faded memoir of a time long gone. I’ve seen the bridge before in old history books. I think it was something in an old state by the ocean - I know it started with a C, but that’s all I can recall.

Our hovercraft rises higher into the air and the windows darken, leaving me clueless as to where we are or how far we have to go, but the ride doesn’t last nearly as long as it felt it took on the way to the arena. One of the attendants enters and tells me that I am to disembark first as my district number is before Royce’s and I don’t see him at all as they lead me through the craft and onto the rooftop. My legs wobble as I step down from the hovercraft, but a glittering, golden head of hair is there to catch me as I stumble onto the roof. Halo’s voice is kind and oddly welcoming as she mutters, “You did amazing, Vivien.”

The stress of everything takes over once I’m guided back inside and I gracelessly meet the floor of the elevator as it brings us to the floor I knew so well. When I wake, I feel as though I cannot move. Blankets have been tucked under my arms and the ceiling glows a soft yellow, but the sheets are cold and it only takes me a few minutes to realize that Royce is not beside me. My glasses are nowhere to be found, but one look around the room makes me relax a little. I know where I am - it’s my room from before the Games started. I lift a hand to move the covers away and find that I’ve been changed out of my dress from the arena and scrubbed clean. My nails are filed into perfect ovals and the burn on my hand is far less prominent. My hair is silky smooth and, as I pass a hand over my right ear, I realize that I can finally hear out of it again; something the Capitol’s numerous doctors probably worked on for a few hours.

I push myself to slowly sit up and, as I lean back against the headrest, the door to my room opens and the dark-skinned Avox enters the room with a tray of food that he rests on my lap. I feel the need to ask him a million questions, but as he draws my glasses out of a drawer next to my bed and slips them onto my face, only one comes to mind, “Did Riven make it out?” Green eyes find mine and he turns back to the food before shaking his head and slipping a spoon into my hand. I stare down at the food - soup, bread, and a glass of juice - before me before sighing, “I guess it wasn’t just a bad dream.”

The voiceless Avox places a hand on mine and makes sure he has my attention before bringing a closed hand to his chest and moving it in a circle, mouthing one word, “Sorry.”

I brush him off with a shake of my head and say, “It’s not your fault.” I try to eat some of the soup I’ve been brought before asking, “Is Royce alright?”

A sharp nod is my answer. Of course, he is. He has to be. With all of the fancy tech they have in the Capitol, I’m sure he’d be fine even if he had one leg missing. The Avox I’ve yet to learn the name of leaves the room and the door closes noiselessly behind him, leaving me to the tray of food that’s been made up for me. I wonder how long I’ve been asleep and how they knew to bring me food. I know it had to have been long enough for me to be cleaned up and dressed in some cotton shorts and a plain, purple shirt, but not long enough for them to worry about hooking me up to tubes and wires like a hospital would. As I eat, the door opens again and, this time, my mentors appear and they both seem glad to see me.

“Hi,” I mutter as they sit on either side of my legs.

I set aside my spoon as Mack takes my hand in hers, holding it gingerly as she asks, “How are you feeling?”

“Glad to be out of there,” I reply. “How long have I been asleep?”

“About eight hours,” Brady replies. “We just got back from President Harmon’s mansion.”

Confusion fills me as I ask, “Why were you there?”

“To rally for them to take you out of the arena,” Mack explains. “Juliet had already convinced him by the time we got there, but he had some questions to ask us anyway.”

“About what?” I question.

Refusing to spill any information, my only response comes from Brady as he says, “You’ll see sooner or later. For now, work on getting some food into you before tomorrow.”

“Why?” I ask. “What happens tomorrow?”

“The crowning ceremony is tomorrow afternoon and the final interview is the day after,” Mack replies. “It would be best for you to get as much rest and food as possible to get your strength up before you’re made to go in front of everyone like that.”

I have to ask, “Did they do this for you guys too?”

Both of my mentors nod as Brady explains, “Ours took a while longer as we weren't in the best shape when we came out of our arenas. Riven made sure to keep you and Royce fed and strong throughout the Games, so you two don’t need as much medical care.”

Mack lightly nudges her husband, sending him a firm glare that I suppose is meant to shut him up, but it doesn’t stop me from asking, “He really didn’t make it, did he?”

“We won’t know for certain until after they run tests on him,” Mack says. “After last year, they made it a rule for all bodies to be thoroughly inspected once they leave the arena.”

“So…” I take a deep breath, letting my thoughts sink in before glancing between my mentors and asking, “So there’s a chance?”

They look to each other for an answer and I feel Mack’s grip on my hand tighten a fraction as she turns back to me and says, “For now, just focus on eating and resting. We’ll discuss everything later.”

I take that as a sign to stop questioning things and simply focus on everything else that’s going to happen in the next couple of days. They stay with me until I finish eating and each of them gives me a tight squeeze and a kiss on the cheek before leaving, telling me to get some sleep before the chaos begins again. I find myself staring up at the ceiling for a while before tentatively easing myself from the bed. My first thought is to go up to the roof to see if he’s there, but when I try to turn the knob, I find that my bedroom door has been locked from the other side. The first people I suspect are my mentors, but then there’s also a more insidious fear that the Capitol may be monitoring my every movement and decided to confine me to my room. The feeling of being trapped in a room that the Capitol is no doubt viewing feels invasive. It almost feels as though I’ve been imprisoned for a crime and am now awaiting my sentencing. Instead of allowing the feelings to overwhelm me, I return to my bed and at least try to get a few hours of sleep until Halo comes to wake me with a chirpy exclamation about another “big, big day!”

I’m given a few minutes to scarf down some toast and eggs before the prep team descends into my room. All I have to do is thank them for their style excellence and I find it unnecessary to talk at all for the next couple of hours. They all talk about where they were and what they were doing when certain events occurred. They tell me how everyone they knew was furious with the Gamemakers for not letting Royce and me out together and how they shouldn’t have allowed Riven to die at Lexi’s hand. It feels almost nice to hear Capitol citizens show distaste for the Games, like a reassurance that they were frustrated just as much as we were.

Thankfully, I’m not at their mercy for long as Juliet comes in and shoos them away with gentle, but direct words. For the first time since the catacombs, Juliet wraps me in a hug and mutters over my shoulder, “I knew you could make it, Vivien.”

“But Riven-”

Juliet leans back, yet keeps me in her grasp as she says, “I’ll talk with you about that later, I promise. Right now, we don’t have much time.”

“Why?”

“I ran into a friend on my way out of the mansion and then saw Carrie in the hall, so I practically ran almost an hour late,” she explains with a sigh, squeezing my hands in hers. “We need to get you dressed and down to the training floor before the crowning starts.”

The dress she slips over my head is a pale, almost mint shade of green with gold glowing over it with every move I make. My shoes are thankfully flat on the ground and I could easily kick them off if I wanted to, but I’m determined to keep them on until I’m out of the cameras’ sights. Out of all the outfits I’ve worn - the chariot costume, the interview gown, the arena clothes - this is my favorite. It’s simple, the dress leaves almost everything to the imagination, and I feel almost like myself in it. If I had fancy events to go to back home, I would wear it again, but I have no need for it, so I assume Juliet will take it back later. 

I find my own gaze in the mirror and wonder how much of a contrast there must be between now and when I was in the arena. A section of my hair has been braided into a sort of crown that tucks under the rest of my hair which hangs in ringlets down my back. Makeup rounds my face out and makes me look the part of a doe-eyed, chubby-cheeked child. My glasses don’t exactly match the dress, but Juliet doesn’t pry them from my face, which tells me that I can keep them where they are. My nails have been polished with little golden flowers, shimmering in the lights above us. The sheer fabric of my sleeves puffs out from my shoulders in a small bump before cinching just a few inches down on my bicep and clinging to the skin from there to my wrist. The dress gathers at my waist and falls to the floor, but I have no problems walking in it. I look young - certainly younger than nearly sixteen. I may have a little bit of height on my side, but the makeup and dress and, well, everything else, make me look as though I could only be maybe thirteen at most. I look childish. Dainty. Fragile. Harmless. Maybe that is exactly what they want me to look like; a little girl that drove the Capitol to end the Games early for the sake of love.

Looking at Juliet in the mirror, I wonder aloud, “I thought it would be more… I don’t know… adult-ish.”

Her hands feel warm through the sleeves as she takes my arms in her hands, rubbing gentle circles into my skin as she carefully answers, “I suppose you could say we were inspired by your romantic ending to the Hunger Games.”

I can read between the lines. Our romantic ending was inspired by Romeo and Juliet - the lovesick duo who decided they would rather die together than live without the other. This must be her interpretation of the outfits from the story. I have to say, it definitely isn’t something I could see a regular Capitol citizen wearing, but maybe that is why I like it so much. Worry sets into my bones as I wonder if this will only serve as a slap to everyone in charge of the Games. If this is how they supposedly dressed in Romeo and Juliet, this could be the one thing that tips them over the edge and practically lays our heads on the chopping block.

Then, my thoughts screech to a halt as I pick up on her wording - ‘we were inspired.’ Not ‘I was,’ ‘we were.’ Who is this ‘we’ that she collaborated with? My first guess is Riven’s stylist since they would have worked together for most of our designs, but I feel the only person Juliet would entrust with this would be none other than her friend, Carrie - Royce’s stylist. Curiosity piques within me despite coming to a decent conclusion and I turn to face Juliet who has now busied herself with adjusting her makeup in a small, handheld mirror. She seems too relaxed. Maybe she didn’t even catch her own little slip. Either that, or I’m reading too much into nothing. 

Deciding to find the answer regardless, I softly ask, “Who else worked on this with you - your friend, Carrie?”

Juliet turns to me with a look that almost answers my question for me, yet the door opens and Halo tells us that we have to go, forcing my question to go unanswered. We take the elevator down to where we had spent nearly a week training and find that the entire room has changed. Customarily, the victor and their support team would rise from under the stage to be shown off to the public. First the prep team, followed by the escort, stylist, mentor, and finally the victor. However, it appears that having more than one victor complicates things and they’ve had to rethink everything. My area seems to be the new addition as a shiny, obviously unused, metal plate has been installed in my dimly lit little corner. I can smell the fresh paint and spot small piles of sawdust in places the workers who built it just didn’t feel like cleaning.

After making sure I feel alright being left alone for a little while, Juliet peels off to change into her outfit for the event and take her position and I sit in the only chair left in the darkened corner of the gymnasium. Through the inky darkness, I can see a makeshift wall about ten yards away and assume Royce is somewhere beyond it. In a fit of boredom, my leg starts bouncing like it would at work, however, this time, there is no incessant squeaking with every movement, just the faintest tapping of my shoe on the concrete floor. There is a damp, moldy smell in the room that overpowers the scent of paint that I, honestly, would almost prefer.

Nobody comes to see me before the anthem begins booming overhead. Caesar Flickerman takes to the stage and greets the audience in his typical, debonair way, earning the crowd’s love and attention within seconds. The prep teams are brought out and introduced and I can almost picture them bouncing around and talking as though nothing matters. When Halo and Royce’s escort, Neptune, are brought out, I realize just how different they must be. While Halo is fairly proud of her Capitol heritage, Mick told me before that she can read people like books, so I’m unsurprised at how calmly she handles her brief interview. Alternatively, I can hear a slight slur to Neptune’s words, giving the impression that she’s either celebrated with a strong drink or has some kind of speech impediment. However, the solid thump that rattles the boards above me, tells me the former is more likely.

Juliet and Carrie are introduced together and I can almost hear the beaming smiles in their voices as they pile on praises anytime a question about me or Royce comes about. They talk us up as though they’ve known us our entire lives and, I suppose, with how much our mentors have no doubt talked with them about us, they must know a lot more than we’ve told them on our own. Once the girls finish raving about us to the Capitol and the rest of Panem, our mentors are brought on stage. Mack and Brady are first up since my district number is higher than Royce’s and, while they await the crowd’s deafening applause and screeches of cheer, I take my place on the metal plate and try to imagine how hard it must be for them to relive this event every year. They handle their interview with practiced grace and relative ease before assuming their position on the stage near where I’ll soon rise into the limelight. Royce’s mentors, Butchy and Kona, are next and, while the crowd’s reaction is just as incredible as my mentors’ had been, they handle the interview differently. Kona, in an act that I would expect to come from one of my younger siblings, teases Royce for getting so attached so quickly, but Butchy applauds him for finding love despite everything the arena threw his way and they both end the interview by declaring how proud they are of both of us. 

I wipe the sweat from my hands onto my dress as the plate beneath me begins to rise and suck in a shaky breath as the heat from the blinding lights focused on me makes a wave of warmth rush over me. The thunderous roar of the crowd rattles the metal under my feet and I fight to keep my balance as it locks into place under me. I look around blindly, blinking in an attempt to clear my gaze of the bright lights that have only been amplified by the lenses of my glasses and I eventually see Royce just a few yards away. His eyes shine in the lights around us and his hair is coiled to perfection, but it’s his smile that makes all of my nerves melt away. It looks the same as it did on our date or when we were listening to Riven’s shitty jokes or when we were sitting on the rooftop of this very building, throwing berries at the forcefield and catching them in our mouths. 

He says something to me that I can’t hear over the crowd and I take a few steps toward him before all but launching myself at him. I can almost hear his prep team whining about messing up his hair as I thread my fingers into it, but as we find safety in each other's arms, I can’t bring myself to care. There’s a faint buzzing in my ears and I hear a soft laugh that I know didn’t come from anyone present, but I pay it little mind. Caesar Flickerman attempts to get our attention so that we can finish the show, but Royce brushes him off by tightening his grip on me and spinning us around. Kona inevitably leaves her spot by the other mentors and pries us apart with a grin only a meddlesome thirteen-year-old could possess before good-naturedly shoving us toward the victor’s chair. We curl into each other and I cling to his left hand with both of mine as his right arm closes around my shoulders. His outfit is similar to mine - a pale green that glows a faint gold in the lights - and I find myself paying more attention to Royce than to the three-hour-long recap the Capitol has thrown together. 

Condensing seventeen days into three hours is no easy feat, but they manage well enough. My first day in the arena is shown quickly as I didn’t really do much of anything, yet when the morning comes and I declare my promise of hurting anyone who hurts either Royce or Riven, pride swells within me as the audience bursts into cheers so loud I feel like covering my ears. Anytime Riven is shown on screen, I feel myself slouch a little closer to Royce, to the comfort he brings, and he welcomes me with a gentle kiss on the head every time. I notice a hush fall over the crowd every time something intense happens on screen. I suppose our time in the arena wasn’t as entertaining to the filmmakers as everyone else’s was, but my relationships with Royce and Riven go over so well, I wonder how everyone reacted the first time we talked or joked or did something drastic. Our time with Jade, Erica, and Lexi is shown here and there while our moments with the pair from District 5 are shown in full. I notice myself high in the background of some of the more dramatic scenes, but I wonder if anyone in the crowd notices anything other than the intensity on Royce’s face or the deadly, sinister smirk on Riven’s.

The explosion comes and I notice people in the audience shushing each other, not wanting to miss a moment in the disaster. For the first time, I get to see what happened in full. Royce is furthest from the explosion, yet the blast knocks him from the edge of the pool to the far end of it, slamming him into the deep end with a wave of water that soars high into the sky before sloshing back down on him, dragging him back under the surface of the water. My body rams into the ivory pillar and I watch with a wince as Riven lands hard on the ground. He leans against a nearby pillar to gain some strength, yet pushes himself to his knees to crawl toward me once I don’t return his call of my name. Then, out of the smoke that blankets the area, a hand with neon pink nails grabs Riven by the ankle and yanks him into the smoke cloud. The cameras focus on me for a while, watching me struggle to breathe - or think, for that matter - before switching to Riven again, who appears to be struggling to get Lexi off of him.

It’s a struggle to keep my expression as neutral as possible watching the “fight” - if you can even call it that. I know Riven. I’ve watched him throw giant spools of wire like they don’t weigh more than a pillow; there’s no way he would be bested by a toothpick of a girl with a knife. There has to be something more to it that I just don’t know yet, but as the camera switches focus to me again, I’m forced to make note of it for later. The screen splits into two, showing me as I spot the machete nearby and Royce who has begun kicking his way to the nearest ladder, panting for air like a dog on a hot day as a cannon blasts, sending both of us into a panic. I try to call out to Royce and for the first time, I realize that he tried to call back to me. The machete is thrown and, despite the cannon, I can now distinctly make out Riven’s voice calling my name. Not Royce’s, not Erica’s or Jade’s - Riven’s. I would know his voice anywhere. Of course, I would; I’ve worked with him for years now. Knowing how expressive I typically am and how my every emotion shows in full clarity on my face, I turn into Royce’s side and tuck my face into his neck as though I’m overwhelmed with emotion, but as he wraps me tight in his arms, I wonder if he realizes just how many notes I’m making in my head, all the questions still burning inside of me.

We’re made to watch clips of the last few days and I finally get to see what truly happened between Serena, Jade, and Erica. Erica and Jade planned their fight, waiting outside of Serena’s little hiding spot until she emerged. Jade was the first to die, then Serena’s brutal slaying followed, then Erica died later on, softly singing a song while still holding Jade’s hand. The crowd watching is silent through it all.

On screen, Royce and I spend our last day together and, thankfully, the filmmakers cut out the parts where Royce challenged the Gamemakers, something I’m grateful for. Instead, the video focuses on the two of us spending the day together, acting as nothing more than a couple on vacation. The audience coos at our every interaction, and I don’t fight the smile on my face as Royce meets my gaze and presses a kiss to my cheek. The moment with the berries comes all too soon and the audience hushes each other once again so as not to miss a second. The filmmakers don’t end the film there, keeping the footage rolling until we’ve cleaned our mouths of the nightlock wine and are locked in a kiss.

Once the screen fades to black, the anthem begins to play and we rise from the loveseat as President Harmon takes the stage followed by none other than his daughter and my stylist, Juliet. Juliet carries a cushion with the victor’s crown on it, however, much to everyone’s confusion, there is only one crown. Instead of prolonging the crowd’s curiosity, President Harmon takes the crown and twists it, splitting the crown into two halves. The first crown is placed atop Royce’s curls and he tells Royce something that makes him smile and duck a nod in return. Then, with a smile, President Harmon approaches me and settles the second crown just past the braided crown my prep team wove for me. 

His aquamarine eyes are intense, yet kind up close and I can see a sort of humor in them that glimmers as he says, “Romeo and Juliet, hm?”

“Yes, sir,” I meekly reply, not daring to pull my gaze from his.

He spares a discreet glance toward his daughter before smiling back at me and remarking, “Wise choice, little one.”

“Thank you.”

President Harmon nods and gives a final, “Congratulations,” before taking his place off to the side so that all of Panem can cheer for us. I wave to the crowd so much that I worry my arm will fall off, but Caesar finally bids the audience good night and reminds them to tune in for the final interviews tomorrow. It isn’t like they have a choice in the matter, but the illusion of choice is there all the same. All too soon, Royce and I are whisked away to the president’s mansion for the Victory Banquet where we have little time to talk with each other and spend more time acting as though we care about the people in the city that we’ll never see again. After food is eaten and everyone has spent the night taking pictures of us and talking our ears off, President Harmon announces the end of the banquet and people begin to leave. Instead of allowing us to follow suit, a lady in a fancy, silver outfit stands in front of the exit, telling us the president has requested an audience with me and Royce. While the others are instructed to go back to the Training Center, Juliet and Carrie take me and Royce to a large, circular room they say is the president’s meeting room. A round table with a screen in the center is surrounded by chairs and I’m vaguely reminded of a place back home that we call the “Meeting of the Minds” where all of the top people from each of the factories and hubs of District 3 meet every month and have top secret discussions. I had been there once with the mayor’s daughter, Bissette, on behalf of our school and it was horrendously boring. I doubt this meeting will be the same.

The girls leave us in the meeting room and we’re alone for less than a minute before the doors on the far end of the room open and President Harmon enters. He takes one look at us and chuckles as he sets two boxes on the table, “Relax, you two. You’re not in any trouble.” 

I find that hard to believe, but as he takes a seat and gestures for us to follow, I swallow my opinion. Royce takes my hand in his and I can feel how cold his normally warm skin has become. He’s just as scared as I am. Why are we here? By the looks we received from the others, this isn’t normal. The president can’t kill us here, if that’s what his plan is. We still have the interview tomorrow and there will be a lot of cameras awaiting our arrival in our home districts, making it damn near impossible for us to be killed off and replaced with clones just yet. 

My thoughts derail as President Harmon presses a button on the table and the screen in the center disappears. Instead, he clears his throat and sighs, “I’ll make this quick so that you two can rest up before your interview and the ride back home. I want you two to be the first to know that you will be the very last victors of the Hunger Games.”

“What do you mean?” Royce asks.

“For some time now, Panem’s opinion of the Games has been steadily dropping,” the president answers. “I have been looking for a reason to end them before the next Quarter Quell. This year, you two have given me the perfect opportunity.”

“How so?” I have to ask.

“You’ve given the people something to root for other than death,“ he explains with a grin. “Your little love story - regardless of how true it may be - drove many Capitol citizens to plead for your safe return. I intend to announce the dissolution of the Hunger Games at the banquet I hold after your Victory Tour this January.”

Something about this doesn’t feel right. As much as I want so desperately to believe his words, I can almost hear Riven telling me, “If it sounds too good to be true, it probably is.”

Royce beats me to the chase, questioning, “What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” President Harmon says with a shake of his head. “You two are free to go back to your home districts. I will allow your mentors to escort you between districts if you wish to visit the other, however, until the Victory Tour is done and the announcement is made, I do ask that you never speak a word of this to anyone outside of this room - dead or alive.”

He knows. He definitely knows. He knows Mick and Miles are alive. I bet he has cameras all throughout the districts, just watching as people go about their normal days. Why didn’t he do something about it? As the president, he has the power to send a group out to kill them off with just the snap of his fingers; why didn’t he? If I question it, does that put my head on a spike? Or, even worse, Royce’s, Mick’s, and Miles’?

Instead, I swallow the nonexistent saliva in my mouth and nod, giving a simple, “Noted.”

Royce nods in agreement and President Harmon hums as he picks up his packages, rises from his seat, and begins walking toward us, “Good.”

“What happens now?” Royce asks as we stand, finally face-to-face with the president once again.

President Harmon holds out the two square boxes for us to take, “You take these, go back to your rooms, and don’t read them until you arrive back in your respective districts. Once the celebrations are over and you’ve made yourselves comfortable in the villages, take some time to read through those, and don’t hesitate to give me some feedback on what you think needs to be changed.”

“What are they?” I ask. A small lock with a fingerprint scanner is the only thing keeping it closed, so whatever is inside must be important. Judging by how heavy it is, there must be something more than papers inside the tightly bound box.

“A written copy of my announcement to Panem as well as some things I would like you to say at the announcement as well,” he states with a small grin. “Also, if you must know, there is a copy of my favorite novel in there as well, if you would like to read it over in your own time. I figured that, as fellow bookworms, you would enjoy it as much as I have over the years.”

Royce and I thank him and President Harmon nods before guiding us through his mansion, past the multitude of Avoxes cleaning the remnants of the banquet, and to the front door. The president holds the door open for us and Royce leaves first, obviously eager to be out of the man’s presence. I follow close behind, but I find an unasked question still lingering in my head. Turning back to the door, I ask, “Is that why the secret passageway was in the library? Because you love books?”

Something shines in President Harmon’s eyes as he questions, “What passageway?”

I go to respond, wanting to insist that he must know about it. Juliet told me that he used to be the Head Gamemaker and would always put an escape route in his arenas, therefore, he must know. However, I freeze as I meet his gaze, finding a mirth in them that tells me I’ve hit the nail on the head. Instead of pressing further, I allow my mouth to close and a knowing grin to take over as I wish him a good night. He bids me good night before closing the door and I allow Royce to lead me to the car that has been left for us in front of the house. We ride back to the Training Center and find our way up to my floor where everyone is waiting by the elevator, ready to press us for answers as to what happened with the president. Once their interrogations are over, Royce and his group go to their floor, and the rest of us head to bed for the night.

The rest of our time in the Capitol flies by faster than one of the hovercrafts. My nerves throughout the interview feel as though they’ve been shot at and I can’t remember much of anything I said apart from expressing just how whirlwind my relationship with Royce has been and how much I adore him, which is reciprocated with ease on Royce’s part. We’re brought up to our rooms to take what we wish to bring with us and I make sure to have Bissette’s hair stick in my bag before I worry about anything else. I’ve yet to remove Riven’s bracelet, my mom’s necklace, or my glasses, so all of my possessions from home are already set aside, but I do take quite a few things from my closet for the trip back to 3.

We’re driven through the Capitol streets in a car with blackened windows and eventually board the train. As there isn’t much distance between our districts, we’re allowed to ride the train together, which almost fills the gap I feel at not being able to bring Riven home with me. Once we’ve settled, the train begins moving and we’re plunged into the dark of night. At first, I go to my room to try to see if maybe I can speak with Mick again as I know she laughed at me when I was on stage at the crowning ceremony, but nothing happens, so I resign to eating with the others and watching a replay of the interview. The further away the Capitol is, the more I feel myself relax, but I can’t bring myself to be completely calm about the situation. I’ve still lost one of my closest friends and, sadly, this isn’t like the situation with Mick. The next time I’ll probably see Riven is at his funeral once the festivities have calmed and the Capitol sends the bodies home. Until then, I just have to deal with things like I always do - overworking myself.

I excuse myself to change into something more comfortable and slowly work on taking apart everything the prep team and Juliet built up so much. As I’m slipping into a pair of shorts, a quiet knock tells me someone is at my door. I open it to find Royce and welcome him in, asking him why he’s here. “I wanted to ask you something,” he starts and I can see the tension in his shoulders as he perches himself on the edge of my bed. 

“Go ahead,” I reply with a shrug as I sit in front of my vanity again, hoping the streaks of color I’ve begun wiping from my face in the mirror won’t deter him.

“Can I stay with you?” he breathes. “I tried staying in my room and I just… I can’t. It’s too quiet and cold.”

A soft breath of a laugh leaves me as I swivel my chair to face Royce, “I was going to ask you the same thing once I was done cleaning up.”

“You were?”

I hum, “I don’t like being alone anyway, but I may or may not have gotten attached to sleeping beside you. I was going to ask, but you beat me to it.”

Royce’s smile returns and pride fills me as I go back to cleaning my melting raccoon-esque face in the mirror. After a while, we leave the room to bid the others good night and disappear into the room we now declare as ours. It takes us both a while to fall asleep as we both take to talking, but after a while, it comes and we sleep nearly all the way to District 3. In the morning, we’re awoken by a swan-diving Kona who laughs like a little maniac at our expressions before being dragged away by Butchy who reprimands her for bothering us before coming back and telling us we’re nearing the station. Over breakfast, the others inform us that we’ll be docking in District 3 and staying there for the night before taking the trip to District 6 tomorrow where I’ll stay for a night before we split off and go our separate ways. Royce and I wait by the windows, watching as the scenery outside changes from a sunny sky and endless grass to the depths of a glowing tunnel that signifies we’re nearing the station. Watching through the window, I can feel the train slowing and see the glowing loading platforms grow larger and brighter as we near the station. A gathering of brightly flashing cameras line the platform as we come to a stop and I realize just how many people will be eagerly awaiting our arrival.

A hand appears out of the corner of my eye and I find Royce offering it for me to hold with a smile. My eyebrow raises and he asks, “Are you ready?”

“Not really,” I chuckle. Royce shares my soft laughter briefly before my fingers find their home between his and I smile, “But as long as I’m with you, I know I can handle almost anything.”

[queen-of-the-phantoms]

♬ - a friend/best friend memory

She wasn't sure what to think of Joleigh.

She knew what she thought about what her father was doing.

She didn't like it, not at all. Something changed in him the more and more their family died, and it skyrocketed once her mother died.

This Team Crown thing he was trying to start up meant trouble for them all, but she promised to stand by him. So she did.

Now it's just them and Joleigh alone....with a bunch of bodyguards around.

Adeline slipped a piece of paper across the table they're sitting at which said, "Do you want to get away from them?"

Upon reading it, Joleigh quirked a brow but quickly wrote a message back in response. "Yeah but how?"

"Trust me"

Joleigh nodded and gave Adeline the go ahead.

"Guard, I'd like to go make us something in the kitchen, can I go?"

The guard let the both of them through and motioned a guard to follow behind. Adeline started walking quickly and Joleigh took it as a cue to do the same.

Both of them went from speed walking to running in the stone hallways, losing the guard behind them, until Adeline reached a hand out for Joleigh to stop.

Searching the stones on the wall, Adeline pressed her hand into one to reveal a secret passageway. Joleigh stood back as the passageway revealed itself.

"What are you waiting for?"

Both of them went through the passageway and closed the entrance door behind them.

Inside was lined walls of books and a spiral staircase that ran above the books up to the ceiling.

"OH MY ARCEUS THERE IS SO MANY!!!"

Adeline winced a bit from the noise then smiled at her friend's excitement. "A little quieter?"

"Okay okay, still you never showed me this before, how dare you" with mock offendedness.

"Was told to keep this a secret, but I trust you enough not to tell anyone," with a wink, "and of course, the guards make it hard as well..."

"How much time do you think we got before they get concerned?"

"Oh, they're concerned already, betting on it, but this has happened before so quite a bit of time on our hands..."

Adeline takes a look up to the ceiling where the top of the staircase leads to. "Want to go see up there? Consider it..me giving you a tour."

"As long as I get to grab books first then deal...now do you have any books about myths here?? I would love something new."

Adeline walked along the edge of the room, scanning the books until she found the section she was looking for.

"Kantonese myths about Mew or Sinnohan myths about Shaymin?"

"Both."

"Good choice!"

Joleigh follows over to look over the abundance of books and as she reaches over to grab a book from the shelf, her hand faintly touches Adeline's. Joleigh moves her hand back quickly.

"Sorry, I know you're not a toucher!"

They did not know what to say. They didn't want to think they had made her upset, but if she did say anything, she would have to say she did kind of like it...

"It's fine...it's fine if it's you.."

Immediately she cringed, well that sounded weird, even though it was true. However, when she looked over at Joleigh, she noticed a little smile, and how was she supposed to still be embarassed after seeing that?

"Follow me up here, okay?"

Joleigh nodded affirmatively then the two of them went up the spiral staircase up to a latch in the ceiling. Adeline opened it up to reveal the open sky above them and gestured to the exterior.

"Ladies first?"

"Of course~"

Joleigh grabbed the sides of the open hole and lifted herself up then pulled up Adeline onto the roof.

For a good moment, Joleigh looked up into the night sky, gazing in wonder at the stars as the wind blew upon them both.

But Adeline wasn't looking at the sky above, she was entranced looking at Joleigh, her hair being blown by the wind especially the white strands that she didn't understand why Joleigh disliked and her eyes gleaming in wonder.

"Lina?"

Huh?

Suddenly, Adeline was knocked out of the trance she was in.

"Are you going to sit down?"

Joleigh sat down on the roof panel and patted the space beside her for Adeline to sit.

Adeline let herself relax onto the roof, letting the cool breeze flow into her lungs.

"Have you heard stories about meteor showers?"

"Hm?"

They turned over to face Joleigh.

"I've researched stories with them before...apparently a myth I've heard about them is that meteor showers are Clefairy coming down to Earth"

"You think we'd ever meet one if that happened?"

"We'll have to keep watching then~"

"Okay by me Leigh"

Joleigh moved onto a story about Elgyem while watching up into the stars, hoping for a meteor shower.

Adeline was watching something else.

Maybe there were some upsides to this after all.

[anotherwvba]

Challenge Accepted pt. 9

The living room of Mika and Skye's Campus Lodge apartment was a harmonious blend of two distinct worlds. On one side, the walls were adorned with posters of anime posters for "Sailor Moon" and "Pretty Cure," shelves upon shelves of manga and blurays, a display of meticulously arranged anime figures, model kits, and statues, and a few autographs from her favorite seiyuu.

On the other side, Chicago sports memorabilia took center stage. The walls had a pair of jerseys, a Bulls and a Blackhawks, hanging side-by-side, along with a Cubs World Series pennant. A small bookshelf held two autographed balls, a football by the Bears and a basketball by the Sky, and a small Chicago flag nestled between them.

The furniture was comfortable. The WVBA supplied a pair of recliners, a cozy couch, and a coffee table that currently held an array of Filipino snacks. Mika had just finished preparing turon, a sweet banana roll, and kwek-kwek, quail eggs coated in seasoned orange batter.

Just as Mika was setting down a bowl of shrimp chips on the coffee table, there was a knock at the door. "Ah, perfect timing! Come in, come in!" Mika exclaimed as she opened the door to find Cutie and Niki standing there.

Cutie walked in holding a six-pack of Fanta Melon Soda. "My parents sent these from home to celebrate my win. Thought I'd share the love!"

Niki feigned a wounded expression. "Are you ever going to let me live down our match, Cutie?"

Cutie chuckled, "Oh, of course I will, Niki. Right after I knock someone else out!"

Niki playfully shook her fist at Cutie, "Oh, you're just asking for it today, aren't you?" The room erupted in laughter.

Mika, still beaming, turned to her guests. "Salamat for coming, you guys! I really appreciate your help with this anime party."

Niki shrugged, "Hey, I'm no expert like you two. I mean, I've only watched stuff I grab at Walmart like 'Naruto' or 'My Hero Academia.' But I'm happy to help!"

Cutie's eyes sparkled. "I'm so thrilled you asked us, Mika! But I've got a quick question. Um, have you considered... cosplay?"

Mika's eyes widened, her face lighting up like a Christmas tree. "Cosplay? Bakit hindi ko naisip 'yun? We have so much to do!"

After a few hours had passed, the atmosphere in the apartment was buzzing with excitement. Mika sat in the floor, her tablet sitting in her lap, while Niki and Cutie were lounging on the couch. Now, they had a plan… and full stomachs.

"Those snacks were amazing, Mika! I've never had Filipino food before, but I'm a fan now," Niki exclaimed.

Cutie chimed in, "Hai, those quail eggs were something else. So good!"

Mika beamed. "I'm glad you both enjoyed them! Now, let's recap. For the anime party, we've got four hours in the gym. We’ll start with 'Cowboy Bebop,' then  'Ranma 1/2' and ‘Attack on Titan.’ From there we move on to 'Pretty Cure,' 'Death Note,' 'One Piece,' 'Bubblegum Crisis,' and 'Gundam Wing,’ in that order."

Niki's eyes widened. "Wow, that's an eclectic mix! Something for everyone, huh?"

Cutie was equally impressed. "It’s got classics and modern hits. I love it! Now, here’s what I’ve got for the guest list. There’s the three of us, obviously, Skye, Joe, my brother, and Disco. I say we invite Hippo and Bull, too.”

“I knew King Hippo was an anime fan,” Niki says matter of factly, drawing an odd look from Mika. “Look, IT sent me to help him get Crunchyroll to work on his TV.”

“Ah. Makes sense,” Mika nodded. “But, Bald Bull?”

“Oh yeah!” Cutie smiles, “He gives me a shopping list of model kits to bring back every time I visit family. He loves, and I mean loves, Gundam.”

Mika clapped her hands together. "Alright, then! The more, the merrier!"

Niki leaned forward, her eyes twinkling. "On the technical side, I can handle sending out digital invites and I’ll make sure to add that cosplay is allowed. And for the screening, the gym already has a massive projector screen that lowers from the ceiling. I'm thinking of… borrowing… the 4K Ultra HD projector from the arena and bringing the Dolby Atmos speakers we use for outdoor shows. The specs are just… ah, so good!"

Cutie and Mika exchanged glances before bursting into laughter. "You really geek out over this stuff, don't you?" Mika said.

Niki shrugged, "Hey, if you're going to do it, do it right."

Mika then clapped her hands together again, "So, what's everyone wearing for cosplay? I’m breaking out my Sailor Moon."

Niki shook her head, "I'm going to sit this one out. Never cosplayed before and don't have the time to put something together."

“Don’t worry, Niki,” Mika chimed in. “I love sewing. We’ll get you ready for the next cosplay opportunity.”

Cutie pulled out her phone and started swiping. "I'm torn between my Spike Spiegel and my Kamen Rider Kivala." She showed pictures of both costumes to Mika and Niki.

"Wow, both look amazing!" Niki exclaimed.

Mika was intrigued, "Kivala? What anime is that from?"

Cutie chuckled, "Actually, Kivala isn't from an anime. She's from a live-action show called 'Kamen Rider Decade.'"

Both Mika and Niki leaned in, suddenly curious. "Live-action? Tell us more!" Mika urged.

Cutie grinned, "Well, it's a tokusatsu show, a Japanese genre featuring superheroes, special effects, and lots of action. Maybe we should consider a tokusatsu party down the road?"

Mika's eyes sparkled at the idea, "That sounds like another epic gathering waiting to happen!"

Niki nodded, "I'm in, as long as there are snacks like today."

“Oh no,” Cutie shakes her head. “I can’t cook. You know that, Niki. I can burn water.”

“You’ll never go hungry as long as I’ve got a kitchen.” Mika stood up, her eyes shining with gratitude and excitement. "I can't thank you both enough for helping me plan this. It's going to be an anime party for the ages!"

Cutie and Niki joined in the excitement, their faces glowing with anticipation. "We wouldn't miss it for the world," Cutie said.

And so, the trio sat there, their hearts full and their minds racing with ideas, each one contributing a piece to what promised to be an unforgettable night.

[dallashomeremodeling]

Home Renovation Quotes Which Won’t Stop Your Laugh

There is really no spot in the world such as a home. However, a home is the true embodiment of the people who reside in it, and there should be no surprise that it’s such an excellent place for so many of us. And, for the huge majority of the individuals, the home has taken on new significance in the previous year. With much more time spent at home than ever before, it’s good to remember to be grateful for the place that’s been there for you through it all. Our home should be beautiful and comfy so that we can make memorable moments with our families and loved ones. And home renovation is the most popular option for those who want to personalize their living spaces.

According to the recent facts homeowners in the United States invests over $300 billion every year on home renovations & repairs. Some people hire professionals for the task, while others try to save money by doing it themselves. However, when you begin a DIY home renovation project, you may not complete it successfully since specific home renovation tasks require more knowledge than others.

Did you watch the movie The Money Pit, directed by Richard Benjamin and starting with Shelley Long & Tom Hanks? When you’re doing a usual DIY project, for whatever reason, you smash the hammer, miss the nail, make a hole in the ceiling, and rip your hammer out to take some wiring along, too. And then, before you know it, your bathroom renovation cost is more than a toilet paper roll?

Home renovation is difficult, and mishaps occur. We’re here to provide some happiness to assist you in getting through the distress. Continue reading to appreciate the following hilarious home renovation quotes. Place your utility belt on, as well as your protective helmet and work gloves since after reading these humorous quotes, you’ll realize you are not sole in your home renovation catastrophe. After a few good chuckles, you’ll be ready to return in there and flip this project on its head.

“Living during home renovations or repairs is like surviving in the wild, you can do whatever to endure”

Have any of you ever felt that you’ve regressed to the Stone Age? You were only attempting to renovate your kitchenette, not spark a fire for the very first time! Home renovation is wild. There is no way about it. You promptly understand about the walls beneath your walls–the planks, wiring, nails, as well as screws that hold all this together. And, in your mind, knocking down a wall here or shifting the kitchen island over there looks good and wonderful, till that wall supports a piece of your home. In the wild, you do whatsoever it needs to stay alive. It may imply that not all of the walls must be removed.

“I desire I would transform into a Sim when I think of the housework & improvements that need to be done”

Click, click, and click again. And now we’re done! How many of you have tried your hands at The Sims? When compared to real life, housework and home repairs are EASY PEASY in that game! You merely press some buttons, and there you have it! Work is in progress. Wait a few moments, then walk down to your fridge, prepare some hot cocoa, pop some popcorn, and return to BOOM. The project is completed. What a treat it would be to be a Sim during a home renovation. You could even be able to acquire some nasty and insanely efficient window and door upgrades!

“We are having guests; your job is to hang these color patterns on the walls to make it appear as though we’re doing anything with this home”

Okay, Okay! We’ve all experienced occasions when we overestimated the timespan of a project. But have you ever set up a project merely to appear to be working on something? This pair is doing everything correctly. A few hasty color samples are hung up to give the impression that a home remodeling project is in the works. This place isn’t always a shambles!

“When I said I needed a better floor, I really expected some new tile”

Oh Yes, undeniably. That is something we are all aware of. It sounds fantastic! In theory, it appears to be practical! In our minds, it ought to be a piece of cake! Wait, did someone mention cake? The fun part is having a concept and thinking about it, but the step-by-step approach is when things get…well…unfunny. But here’s where we’d want to say something: Don’t give up on your dreams. Make grandiose plans. Always dream big. Dream your dream so many times that the steps are all set out in front of you. The more you dream, the better you will be able to envision and complete your project! And don’t forget to laugh out loud along the way!

“So, the CAT attempted some renovations… I ate him because I knew you’d detest it. You are quite welcome”

Even Though They Try, Animals Are Not Renovators! Isn’t it worse to come home to a pet’s remodeling job than an incomplete renovation project? If you’re in the midst of a DIY home remodeling, with dust everywhere and wood pieces were strewn around. Perhaps your porcelain sink has been shattered. But at least you don’t have to clean up the rubbish that Fluffy has strewn all over the living room. Or perhaps you do! In such a situation, we grieve for you.

“Home renovation has become so expensive that you’re playing rock-paper-scissors to discover which child won’t be attending college”

You could be feeling this way when lying in bed at night, running statistics through your brain, remembering you also have to fix the wall the hammer went through. It’s sometimes helpful to crack a joke and remind yourself that the endeavor is just that: a project. And even if things go out of hand, you’ll be able to breathe through it and finish the job. Just be mindful of how much time and money you invest in it. Make a spending plan. Then, create a larger WHAT-IF budget and ensure that both can be satisfied without generating stress.

“Then there was a huge explosion behind me, and when I looked around, he was gone”

Yikes! At the very least, you’re not the nails in your home renovation, are you? This amusing home renovation quote is ideal for looking at just after you’ve banged the hammer down on your thumb. While you’re icing that black and blue nail, try to chuckle some of the agonies away by reading a blog like this!

“They’ll adore the style I’m incorporating into this floor”

Chester Chicken might harm your concrete patio, driveway, or pathway! But it’s unlikely. However, you may recall a time when a friend, pet, or stranger inadvertently left a mark in your curing concrete. Or perhaps you and your family decided to take the cosmos into your own hands and make your mark in stone. If you do, please be sure to include a date so that the moment is never forgotten!

“Take it easy, man!! You’re going too far ahead of yourself”

He’s all set to renovate the roof before there is even a roof!  You’ll be able to giggle at this comedy, whether you’re building a new home or remodeling an existing one. It occurs that people get ahead of themselves. At the very least, you don’t have this funny guy up in the sky.

“You just had one job”

“You only had one task,” as the term goes, may be applied everywhere, including outside of house remodeling. But it’s especially amusing in the context of home remodeling. Smaller tasks should be straightforward, such as screwing in the light switch, installing the toilet bowl lever, or bolting on the door handle. But people frequently mess them up, and when we do, it’s hard not to chuckle.

Wrap-Up:

We hope you liked these hilarious home renovation quotes, and they definitely make your DIY home renovation endeavor a bit less stressful by making your face smile. If you need any professional help to make your home stand out, you can contact Homednb. Here, we hire trusted and reliable contractors to help you get the job done! We offer an escrow payment protection service that secures payments, so contractors get paid based on agreed-upon milestones.  You just tell us about your project and we will find a vetted contractor that is suitable to complete your job! Stay tuned with us to keep yourself updated with the latest home renovation trends as well as interesting facts about home renovation!

[blissfulalchemist]

WIP Tag

Tagged awhile ago by @blackreaches and @leviiackrman to post some of what I’ve been working on and as a surprise to no one it’s still ff based. So have a little from three different pieces. Tagging: @belorage @florbelles @strafethesesinners @heroofpenamstan @dihardys @adelaidedrubman @jackiesarch @confidentandgood @themarcspector @indorilnerevarine @shellibisshe @jacrispea @shallow-gravy and anyone else that has something to share!

Let’s start with a little Carly and Thancred bonding....

Carly groans, letting head fall back far enough to see the man hanging from the vaulted stone ceiling, his eyes glowering, “I thought you two were a thing? She should be banging down the door by now.”

“Or they have some other plan that’s more covert,” Carly rolls her eyes, “they can tell when something’s a trap.”

“She can’t, not when her emotions get the better of her,” her feet find a spot on the old wooden table, “It was a fairly obvious trap when we invited her to dinner.”

“You mean when Zenos tried to infiltrate our group via possession of her body? Consider my invitation declined next time you decide to throw a dinner party.”

Her eyes narrow, sitting up and turning the chair to face him, “It wasn’t to infiltrate your little group. It was to make a point. Knock her down a few pegs, something she sorely needed. He was helping her.” Carly begins to pace, “She would have gotten much too reckless otherwise, forgetting just where she started, drunk on the power of protection from a god. She needs to be reminded just what it feels like to be me and you.”

“I wouldn’t start comparing us,” Thancred says with a smirk, “you might find yourself coming up short.”

She growls, “Were you gifted with anything special, Boy Toy? No, you weren’t. Hells you would’ve ended up dead a long time ago had you not gotten lucky. I wasn’t either,” she makes her way to the wall of hanging weaponry, fingers tracing along the edges of circular blades, “just a passion.”

“So you were always a Zenos fanatic like Asahi.”

The blade flies out of her hand past his face, just close enough to trim some of the white hair falling into his face, “Don’t insult me!”

“Then just what was it you had a passion for?”

She barks out a laugh, “Are you trying to coax the mundane backstory out of me to justify your hatred for me? Want to hear of how I was a spoiled brat of some high ranking officer or maybe how I slept with the right people to get far enough into the military to become my heart’s right hand? What story will make you hate me the most? Make you misunderstand me much like you misunderstood him.”

“He nearly killed her!” He yells, jerking against the restraints, “He nearly killed all of us at one time or another.”

She lets out a beastly growl, lunging at him with a knife pressed against his throat. “He saved her!” She grinds out, “Zenos saved her. Or did you forget that part?”

“You weren’t there to see the state he left her in after he finally brought about his precious death match.”

“And I didn’t get to see the state she left him in, because she couldn’t have been bothered to at least bring his body back.”

Here we see Sib bonding with Emet :)

“I don’t think anyone would call a wedding mundane, or are you a cynic about love?”

She rolls her eyes with a groan, “When making a comparison to events happening in the world at large many would classify a wedding as mundane and irrelevant.” Their eyes scan, both landing on the elder that the young man referenced earlier, “You know the boy dancing with Minfilia told us that they introduced new traditions tonight.”

“So?”

“Well they weren’t new per se. The last living elder has lived long enough to see the night sky return and with it traditions that he had only seen as a child. By bringing back the night we brought about a piece of these people’s culture that would have been lost without it.”

Emet-Selch crosses his arms, “It could still be lost in the future, so why does it matter to you so much?”

She shakes her head, fingers tracing along the former perfume bottle on her hip, “Nothing is lost so long as it’s remembered, I’d have thought you of all people to know that.” She chuckles, “I’m sure you were adverse to all the fun things back in your day but you must know what they were. What it looked like, sounded like, tasted like, the things that make places and people feel like they’re alive.” Emet looks away with a frown, Siberite tilting her head, “Did the Convocation ever hold things like galas? Or events where one of them made a fool of themselves? I think I would have loved to see Lahabrea do like a chicken dance attempt,” she performs a dance in front of him with a smile, “Something like this?” The old man stays silent, the creases in his brow deepening, Siberite’s smile starting to fade, “Surely you guys couldn’t have all been stiffs focused on knowledge and things pertaining to it?”

“Of course we weren’t,” he snaps finally, making her take a step back, “We had dances, art, and music that you could never dream of.”

She smiles, nodding, “You know, if I didn’t have such a distrust of you still, I’d ask if you show me something that you know. Even if it’s terrible because you’re a bad dance partner.”

“And you’re any better? I have yet to see you take to the dancing here.”

“I’m quite a good dancer actually.”

“Your first attempt would say otherwise.”

“Because it was meant to be embarrassing.” She clears her throat, shaking out her limbs, “Observe.” She raises her hands as her feet move in a square, spinning as if she had a partner, back rigid and porcelain smile stuck until she finally brings the demonstration to a close.

“You picked a Garlean dance? I didn’t think you’d have taken the time to learn such things.”

“Figured it might jog some memory of how you used to dance. As for learning my parents thought it good to contemplate a marriage into the empire. Guess I dodged a bullet there.”

And then have a little of more Anthea and Hythlodaeus because I love them

He stands, placing his mask back on before putting the pot in the bag once more, “Follow me. There’s a lovely little terrace two floors up.” Anthea follows one step behind, head down, “Is everything alright, Anthea?” He asks once they’ve entered the elevator, making their heart flutter when he uses their name. 

They nod, “Yes, I’m just lost in thought it seems.”

“A researcher like you, I find that unsurprising,” he chuckles. He weaves them through offices and hallways with ease towards the south end of the building. The glass door in front of them shows a small section of garden, a big maple tree casting enough shade to allow for one to have a comfortable meal at one of the tables underneath its leaves, and the beige stone stark against the dark colors of the building. When they step outside Anthea‘s breath catches taking in the little garden in full, with its two big trees, six tables for eating, four for games, and a number of benches with different levels of sun but all able to get the cool breeze that makes this place a paradise in the hotter months. They frown seeing a few spots that lack upkeep, something that doesn’t escape Hythlodaeus’ gaze. “Your specialty is flora, correct?”

“It tends to come out much better than fauna that’s for sure,” they let out a light laugh, “but that may be due to my lack of experience in committing to creating things from my own ideas.”

“It will come in time, but if it doesn’t then perhaps that is your gift to the star.”

They look up at him, eyebrows raised, “Can making mistakes truly be seen as a gift worthy to bring forth unto mankind?”

“Based on your record your ‘mistakes’ have all been seen fit to remain for testing and some have built off of them.” He guides them to sit at a partially covered game table, “If anything I’d dare say you’ve brought the most gifts to mankind as some things would not have come had it not been for your ‘mistakes’.”

Anthea’s shoulders relax, smile returning, Can it really be argued that I have already begun my road to contributing to the star?. “Why ask me such a thing to begin with?”

“Ask you….Oh! You looked at the flowers so sadly I was going to suggest we assist in their upkeep.”

“Oh,” they blush, “Right. I should have thought of that.”

“My creation magics I will admit are lacking and I believe it would be most helpful to have someone much more skilled at my side.” His smile is soft and reassuring, the heat from his hand warming theirs as the two have accidentally placed them too close to one another. Anthea doesn’t say anything about it and simply nods to answer his request for their assistance, “Ah, wonderful!”

“I won’t be cutting into any of your other work will I?”

[dmitrimolotov]

Bound to a Rock and an Eagle - 26

Chapter 26

No. 26: No one left behind

Separated | Rope burns | “Why did you save me?”

1 | prev | Read on AO3  

“What is that?” Victor asked over the loud ringing.

The sprinkler system in the ceiling activated, pushing out, but only a short sputter of water came out before they just hissed air. Very helpful.

“For fuck’s sake. It’s the fire alarm, they must have tripped the system, go check on them,” Agatha instructed. 

Max went for the door, but Felix stopped him. “They’ve probably just tampered with the system, I’ll go and shut it off.”

Felix left and Max locked the door behind him.

“Your friends are almost more trouble than they’re worth,” Agatha said, rubbing her temples, only barely audible over the alarm.

Victor just grinned. After a moment he ventured, “I’m guessing we should wait for this to stop before I continue?”

“If you want to start, be my guest, but I am going to make you repeat every word of it after this stops.”

Victor nodded and stayed silent. 

After a moment, there was a familiar knock at the door. Max unlocked it and as he opened the door, the smell of smoke drifted in. 

Felix called from outside. “Need some assistance out here. Quickly.”

Agatha stood and said something to Max that Victor couldn’t hear over the bell, then slid out to join Felix. Max locked the door behind her, leaving him alone with Victor in the interrogation room. 

“Don’t you think you should help them?” Victor asked after a moment. 

“They can handle it.”

Victor raised an eyebrow and sniffed. “Do you not smell that?”

Max rolled his eyes. “Believe it or not, they can put out a fire.”

“Just for peace of mind,” Victor implored, “could you unlock the door?”

“Not a chance.”

“What if they don’t put it out and we have to get out of here? And for that matter, what about my friends?”

“What about them?” Max sneered.

Victor’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t pretend like they don’t matter. You know as well as I do they’re your biggest bargaining chip.”

“They’re a pain in our ass is what they are.” Max shook his head. “They’re in the other wing of the building, you’re going to have a hard time getting to them from here.”

Victor paused. “If that’s the case and they started the fire, then why can we smell smoke here already?”

Max stared at him in silence, an intimidating stern look on his face, but behind it the cogs were clearly turning.

The lights in the room dimmed and blinked. 

“Please. Please unlock the door.” Victor could feel his nerves on edge again. He was shocked there was any adrenaline left in him.

Max stared him down, but as the flickering of the lights got worse, he conceded. 

He went to the door to unlock it, but as soon as he reached the lock, a loud banging came from the other side. 

“Who’s there?” He demanded. 

The banging continued. 

Max took a step back and drew his gun as the banging got louder and more frantic. 

“Step away from the door and identify yourself. I have a weapon.” He again yelled through the door. 

Victor stood up to move back, but Max barked at him to sit back down. Not wanting to argue with a scared man with a gun, he obeyed. 

Outside the door, the banging stopped and two sharp bangs followed. Gunshots. Another loud thump, as if something heavy was thrown against the wall. There was yelling, but over the alarm, Victor couldn’t place the voices, just the fear. Max backed up even further, putting the table and Victor between himself and the door, until his back was almost against the mirror on the other side of the room, his gun trained on the door.

Just as suddenly, it went quiet, aside from the alarm, which continued the monotonous ringing. Victor wondered if it would trigger some kind of response from a fire department or security company. Perhaps this is how they would be saved.

Max called out again, but there was no response. As he lowered the gun, the mirror behind him shattered, pieces of glass exploding into the room around him, as a huge body broke through the glass and came down on Max. In his panic, he fired his gun, just once into the room and in a flash, Victor was up, wrestling it from his left hand. 

The creature made the room feel crushingly small and dwarfed Max as it stood over him, restraining him in a bear hug. Max cried out but the screams were muffled by the creature’s mass and eaten by the echoes of the ringing bell. As Victor pulled the gun free of his hand, the creature jerked suddenly, Max’s body swinging in its grip before going completely limp, like a ragdoll in its arms. 

Fear coiled in Victor’s gut as he looked up into the face of it. Even though he was holding a gun, he felt completely powerless in its presence, its eyes burning into his with judgement. It dropped Max’s body, which collapsed in a limp heap on the floor. 

“Frankenstein,” the creature nodded at him. “We must leave.”

“Did you… did you kill him?” Victor asked, staring at the body. 

“I do not know,” the creature confessed. “You are welcome to check, but I would recommend we leave. The other humans who hunt me are still around, and now they hunt you also. It is in our best interest to leave.”

Victor looked at the body again, then simply nodded. He flipped the safety on the gun and shoved it into his waistband.

The next thing he knew, he was picked up and slung over the creature’s shoulder. In its back, he could see two fresh bullet wounds. Felix and Agatha must have hit their target. Incredibly it was still running around as if unaffected. He felt a momentary pang of pride in his handiwork, before recalling Agatha’s scathing words: ‘You doubted the humanity of a man you created. You never even gave him a chance.’ An echo of a familiar guilt followed.

“Did you start the fire?” Victor asked from over its shoulder. 

“Yes.” It replied, putting Victor down as it came to the glass front door of the building’s entry.

“That was clever,” he admitted.

Rather than fussing with trying to open the locks, it just kicked the glass hard enough to shatter and pushed it out the frame, carefully stepping over it and into the evening air outside.

It was sunset and the sky burned with a pink and orange glow, the forest around them dark silhouettes against the soft colours, with the smoke creating a gentle haze around them, it was almost magical. 

“Why?” Victor asked. “Why did you save me?”

The creature looked down and met his gaze. “Because I still have a request for you.”

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