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peachesofteal · 4 months

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Dad!John Price/female reader The Ocean anthology Note: The orcas mentioned in this series are based on a real population. Coolest things on this planet.

The strait is quiet.

Fog rolls across glass, painting grey sea smoke on top of clear, hyaline waters, mirror images cast from horizon to cliff. It’s a prehistoric stillness, the kind that’s sung low in the belly of this passage for millions of years, volcanos and glaciers all doing their worst, their best, to shape and carve this land to be as it’s known now.

Granitic wall looms above and below, plummeting into the earth beneath you until the water is too deep to see where it ends and hell begins, water and plants and light refracting into a teal green color. painting the pitch something most only see in magazines. It stretches tall too, forms the base of the islands, of all the land that flanks the strait, and you have to crane your neck to see where rock ends and soil begins.

It’s a marvel onto itself, but you’re not here for the geology.

Where are they?

Your paddle dips, pushes, forging a path through the quiet, preternatural stillness, wrists to ribs moving with hypnotic pace. Left, right, left, right. Dig. Dip. Your lungs burn, muscles ache, and still you paddle, up and down the coast, maintaining your determined pace in the face of exhaustion, forcing yourself past the brink of logic and reason, as always, in the pursuit of passion. You focus on your breath, on the cold, settling it in your bones, falling into the beautiful rhythm that is paddling, cold sea spray dripping down to your gloves.

It’s easy to get lost in the quiet of the water. The fog and the cliffs crowd inwards, silent watchers of a sacred place, protectors of a balance long disturbed and derailed everywhere else in this world. Your paddle strokes in perfect time, kayak cutting through the eerie mists and propelling you forward, focus fixed on the horizon, looking, listening. Waiting. You simmer in the silence, straining to hear the telltale blow of air, the signal of surfacing.

Nothing comes.

Where are they?

Salmon jump in front of the kayak, shattering the serenity in their wriggling flight.

The residents elude you. You say good morning to an otter, a sea lion the size of two men, some curious Dall’s porpoise, but are left bereaved at the noticeable absence of the pods.

It’s the first day. It’s okay, it’s only the first day.

The alarm on your watch goes off, just as the lighthouse, affectionately named Little Rock, looms ahead, faded and chipped green paint calling you back to the cove, a glacial breeze whipping under your goretex and neoprene, cutting to the quick, right down to flesh and bone.

Time’s up.

“Did you see them?!” Aly bounces on her toes at the edge of the dock, running alongside the pace of your paddling.

“No.” Your tone is light, but you don’t hide the disappointment, and she smiles sadly, sympathetically. What a smart kid.

“I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay.”

“Are you coming in now?” You nod, motioning to the beach, and she skips ahead, running down the steps onto where millions of little pearled rocks give way under her feet, echoing the same as you run the fiberglass bottom of your kayak aground, popping your legs out on either side.

“I know you wanted to see them.” Her eyes are wide and a little fearful. You frown.

“I’ve got all year, I’ll see them. Don’t worry.” The assurance is tepid, but present, and she shrugs.

“You should ask my dad. He knows where they are a lot.”

“Oh yeah?” You could try. She nods, excited, shiny dark braids gleaming in the mid-morning sun. You glance around, looking for an adult, or someone who accompanied here down here, but there’s no one, and you chew on it, pulling your boat higher up than the tide will reach today. “Shouldn’t you like, be in school or something?”

“I do school online.” She rolls her eyes, gap tooth grin stretched across her face. “It’s for gifted kids but I always finish early.”

“Does your dad know you’re running around this place unsupervised?” She shakes her head, and then sobers, glancing towards the woods.

“I’m not unsupervised.” What? You look the same direction, but all you see is the shadow of the forest, darkness so thick you’re not sure you could see your way in broad daylight.

A chill traces your spine, ice cold and cautious, slow in its discovery, pressing against your skin like it’s moving under your clothes. You gasp, whirling and-

There’s nothing. Only the lapping of the tide, the gentle waves that rake through the shore. Your beached boat. Remnants of the morning’s mists.

Must’ve been the wind.

The Ranger’s daughter giggles. You raise an eyebrow, and then motion up the hill.

“Want to head back with me then?”

“Aly!” The Ranger’s voice reaches you, even a hundred meters away. She sprints ahead of you, and your stomach twists, iced over fear spreading through your veins.

He’s going to freak. He already hates you and now he’s going to think you kidnapped his kid or something.

“Where have you been?”

“Down at the water.” She kicks a rock, beaming. One of his too wide palms sweeps over her forehead, moustache and lips kicking to the side with a sigh.

“Not supposed to be down there on your own, remember?”

“I wasn’t.” She stands tall with her insistence, and proudly points at you. “I was with her.”

John straightens. He stares at you with a scrutiny that you’ve never felt, an intense pressure building behind your eyes, in your thighs, incinerating all the muscle in your body until you’re sure to explode.

The silence is painful, and Aly hops from one foot to another.

“You find ‘em?” There’s no softness in his eyes for you, only a hard edge, hand coming to rest on his daughter’s shoulder.

“No.” You think he’ll turn away then, drift away in the wake of this encounter, but he holds you steady there, caught between him and the earth, crushing weights on either side. It’s unnerving, this stranger, this Ranger, a moon to a tide, and you swallow when he finally speaks, it’s with that rich timbre, the accent that twists you up in boundless knots.

“They make you earn it.”

“You should sleep with your window open.” Aly pipes up, and John’s mouth twitches.

“You can hear them in the cove, in the middle of the night.” He explains. “They hunt and play in the shallow off the beach pretty often. Though it’s too cold to be sleeping with your window open.” The last piece is serious, like a warning, but you’re already vibrating with anticipation, attention fixed through the trees, like you can see down the hill to the harbor.

When you turn back, John is watching you. Hard muscle and tone turned dulcet, there’s less shadow in his eyes, replaced by something wild, willful.

There for a second. Gone in the next.

“Well I’ve… work to do.” Paltry effort. It sticks in your mouth the way this man has stuck to your mind, lurking and wandering, leaving you wondering what he's doing on the other side of your bedroom wall, your living room. Wondering what he’s like, what he’s really like, under the clipped and caustic words, the churlish airs swirling around him whenever he lays eyes on you. He’s the definition of surly, and the reluctance to interact with you stings, even though you shove it down. Secrets lay beneath his ribs, you have no doubt, protected by his thick coat and wide frame, a mass of tenured muscle and strength visible under the heaviest wool.

He nods.

You turn your back.

"Leave a note, when you're goin' out." He's got Aly in hand, halfway up his side of the porch, breath fogging in the space between your bodies. "Shouldn't be out alone, without anyone knowing, alright?"

Leave a note.

"Alright."

#more vibes and not much else #John price #john price x reader #the ocean anthology

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aereasrage · 1 month

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The Favorite pt. 2

summary: If there is one trait the green children have all retained from their lady mother, it is their obsession with their little sister.

cw: very codependent mother-daughter relationship, platonic!yan!alicent, incest, incredibly dubious consent, voyeurism, mentioned animal cruelty, drugging, matching mother-daughter anxiety♥️

notes: the pairing for this chapter is mainly aegon x reader but that’s more a matter of plot setup. while there are jace x reader crumbs, we’ll get plenty of those two freaks (affectionate) later.

part 1

word count: 3.3k

Alicent’s decision to betroth her youngest to Aegon rather than Helaena was not one that came easily. It was also not one that came without resentment from her second son.

Logically, you should have been betrothed to Aemond or a lord from whichever house was suitable since it was Helaena who was born first and Aegon would have to wait years for you to be marriage age. But Alicent always knew she’d never marry you outside of your house, she needed you close at hand. A girl needs her mother, desperately, she knew that very well. She had suffered without her own mother, for it should have been her who guided her in matters of marriage, in holding her head high as a young girl living in such a tumultuous place as the red keep. But it would be different for you, she resolved. You would not suffer from being without your mother, you’d not enter marriage to a man you hardly knew. You’d have her as your eternal advocate. There were kinder men than your brothers who would have your hand, she could concede that much but Viserys had been kind and still she had been lost, had been isolated, she had still been wounded irreparably. No, what you needed most was to stay with your mother.

She thought of wedding you to Aemond, who followed you about like a little guard dog; but truly, she felt it wrong to marry Helaena to Aegon. She was a delicate girl, even more so than herself when she’d become queen. Aegon rejected even simply speaking directly to her when they were in the same room. Helaena was a strange sort of girl and though she loved her all the same, Alicent knew very well she couldn’t saddle the poor girl with the duties of a queen in addition to standing alongside a boy so unruly as Aegon. Aemond would be dutiful toward her, whether he wanted her for a bride or not. You, however, were the only one who would quell Aegon even temporarily. Your scoldings were the only ones that got any real reaction from him. He hovered near you and acted like a fool simply to hear your laughter.

She remembered that when you were small, you played with a newborn kitten you found in gardens. You’d insisted on taking him and his mother inside and caring for them as your pets. Aegon, who seemed to trail after you wherever you went then, had handled the poor thing too roughly and it had died. You had been so furious and bereaved that you refused to speak to him for weeks. In those weeks, Alicent witnessed her slovenly, shameless and apathetic son rush to and fro with gifts, trying to make you forgive him. To him, it had only been a game, a bit of fun, really. They were only little, what did their lives really matter? He had done the same with Helaena, crushing butterflies and moths in his hands in front of her. But even if he didn’t understand the fuss, even if he didn’t regret the act in and of itself, he truly felt remorse for hurting your feelings and even more so for making you so cross with him. He had stood outside your door drunkenly pleading every night before he went to bed. You were no fool. You could tell from his vague platitudes that he didn’t truly feel sorry for what he’d done, only for upsetting you. Which was why you continued ignoring him until he surprised you one night with the soft mewing of kittens outside your door.

You had rushed out to find a basket of orange kittens with Aegon standing nearby with a proud smile on his face. “Do you like them?” He had asked. You knelt to play with the wriggly kittens, they were mewing loudly, climbing over each other in the basket and they nibbled on your fingers when you pet them. You giggled. “Where did you find them? I hope you haven’t separated them from their mother.”

“Be at peace, sweet sister, I found them while I was about the streets. No mother in sight. You’re their mother now.” He clasped his hands behind his back tightly, hoping this offering would make you love him again. In reality, he’d been about the brothels, whining about the situation in the arms of a whore until she, a bit fed up with his weepiness, told him to simply buy you another kitten. King’s Landing was lush with cats coming and going from their owner’s homes, constantly getting pregnant and having squalling little babies that most would gladly sell if they could. Aegon had then lept up, tossed her some coin and set about his plan for redemption.

Alicent had never seen anything like it. Aegon bumbling about like a fool trying to impress you, to stay in your good graces when he wouldn’t do so much as be decent to stay in hers. She thought you’d make him a fine queen. It was your head that the crown would rest most easily on. Helaena would not be able to pull him this way and that as you did; and he would not be so kind to her as he was to you. So, she betrothed you to him and Helaena to Aemond. Aemond had his complaints but he knew his mother would only hear so many of them until she tuned him out. In his own eyes, he was the superior heir to the throne, dutiful and sedate but still it belonged to his worthless elder brother, he had come to terms with that much. He was only a second son, it was bitter and unfortunate but it was a matter of birth that was not to be mourned over forever. But to know that he had been denied his younger sister’s hand was enough to awaken that resentment again. Aegon was the firstborn son, he got to be unworthy and still have a bride above himself. Aemond was dutiful, he listened to their mother’s commands and what had he gotten for the trouble? His elder sister who should have been his brother’s bride.

What did Aegon know of love and duty toward you? It had been Aemond protecting you whenever Aegon was trying to lead you into some foolish plot outside the keep. It wasn’t fair. Why was he constantly being rewarded for his shamelessness? Why did duty not just go unrewarded but get penalized? It made his blood boil with indignation but there was nothing he could do except marry Helaena. Continue to do his duty as his mother insisted. He knew how to covet in silence.

Aegon once coveted his mother’s love, lamented that she did not love him even in his depravity as he felt a mother should. She had loved you since you were born but she could not even meet his eyes anymore. It gave him all the more reason to mope and stew in self pity, to brew an undue hatred toward you but as you grew, you were able to reach him with your smile. A giggle when he teased Aemond or when he made a fool of himself. You trusted him, loved him even. You, with the face of your mother, looked upon him with pleasure. He would have done anything to keep that. It was too late for Alicent’s love, he knew that much. But it would be easier to keep in your good graces, you didn’t really know him yet.

On the morning of your wedding day, Alicent helped you get ready. She sent away your maids as she often did. When you were just a child, she’d hover over them disapprovingly as they brushed your hair and admonish them for minor infractions until she simply snatched the brush from their hands with a sigh and took over. She hated for you to be touched by others, especially your lowborn maids. They didn’t understand how gentle you were, that you required an especially gentle hand. She was also the only one who truly knew what hairstyles you best suited. She knew how to put pins in your hair without hurting you even once, she knew how to braid your hair tight enough to hold but not tight enough to give you a headache. She loved your hair, she could not bear to see anyone mistreat it.

Today, you were to wear your house colors. Helaena sat on the floor, fiddling in your jewelry box, handing Alicent a golden necklace with rubies to drape across your neck. The cool metal made you flinch as it touched your skin. You were trembling, frightened of a day where all eyes were to be on you. “You look lovely,” Helaena said quietly. “I’ve never seen you in red before, it makes you look like a little ladybug.” You smiled at her, not wanting to ignore her kindness even despite your anxiety. “Thank you.”

Alicent stepped back to look at you. “You do look lovely,” she said, sadly. Her eyes were misted over with tears seeing you dressed befitting a Targaryen bride. You were but small to her. Here you were, looking as she did when she was wed to Viserys. It made her realize just how young and frightened she must have looked then. “Enough to bring the seven kingdoms to their knees.” She mustered a smile. Your fate was not hers, she assured herself, all you needed was your mother’s care and unlike her, you would always have it.

“I'm frightened…” You unraveled at your mother’s praises, giving away your façade to confess your anxieties to your mother who had always soothed them. Alicent pulled you into her arms delicately, so as not to smoosh your intricately done hair. “Oh, sweetling,” she murmured, tearing up. “It is alright.”

“The eyes of the whole court on me...” Your voice carried such a heartbreaking note of fear. You were near trembling in her arms, Alicent almost wished to put off the wedding entirely. She did not seek to wed you to Aegon for her own folly, but because you had to be wed as a princess and if not within the family, to someone outside who would steal you from her arms and perhaps harm you. And were she to send you to become a septa, you’d also have to part from her. You'd be alone and without her guidance. She knew why she was doing what she was doing and that it was the only thing to do, even so, it nearly broke her. But she was no longer a frightened child, she was the one whose job it was to be strong.

After holding you in her arms for some time, she soothed you and finally resolved to walk you down the altar. It was unusual for a mother to walk her daughter down the altar and tongues would certainly wag for her coddling you but she didn't care. If you could not go alone, she would always offer you her hand. She took your trembling hand in her warm, certain one and led you down to Aegon. When you reached him, she continued to hold your hand, standing to the side of you, mouthing the vows you'd near forgotten in your nervousness. Her eyes flitted about the sept, making sure everyone was behaving properly, she wouldn't have anyone embarrassing you with whispers of gossip. They could do that when they left the keep, when they were far enough away that she could keep their insults from reaching your ears.

Luckily, though it seemed there was a bit of talk, many found your timid disposition to be endearing or at least unsurprising due to your elder sister’s shared reticence. When you got to the feast, many already tipsy lords and ladies came up to you, speaking sweet words to wish you congratulations on the wedding. Still, it did little to lessen the anxiety you felt growing toward your next task as a wife. Aemond had given a toast in which he very pointed asserted that his sword would always be at your service and that if you should need a dutiful man to rely on, he would be at your side in a moment’s notice. Helaena had expressed her wish that all of your time would not be stolen away by Aegon. Rhaenyra and her lot were there, to her chagrin, her eldest son's dark eyes lingered on you, lusting for what was not his, as usual. She wanted more than anything to have him sent from the feast for leering at her daughter but she knew that would not do, she was at least glad that it escaped your notice. Rhaenyra had once offered a marriage bid between you and Jacaerys; seeing how well the two of you played as children but Alicent had, of course, refused. Aemond had been tasked from then on with keeping you away from all of her bastard boys, the Driftmark incident had only further strengthened her resolve. Had she let one of those boys lay hands on you, the gods only know how much you'd pay for it.

Alicent remembered her own wedding night, the pain and the odd need for her to stifle her tears. She remembered thinking of how strange it was that this man was now her husband, now with her in the most intimate way and even so, she had to keep up a certain countenance. She should not share her pain and displeasure with him. He was not just a man, nor her king or her husband, he was a job. Her heart was aching every moment just looking at you and remembering.

She had always resolved to help you through. She wouldn't dare let you suffer. She handed you a goblet of wine which you took without hesitation, drinking it down in hopes that inebriation would help you tolerate the night ahead. But Alicent had thought ahead and had your goblet filled with poppy wine to make you sleepy, pliant and unable to feel such fear and pain as she had. By the time you and Aegon bid your guests goodnight, you were in the clouds. But her job was not done.

When you and Aegon reached your chambers, Alicent followed, helping you onto the bed. Aegon gave her a look. "Really, mother...Don't tell me you need to see me bed her to believe I can." He was insulted by her feeling the need to hover over even his wedding night. How could she believe he'd do something untoward to the only sibling he truly loved? Aegon's mind swirled with undue indignation at his mother's presence.

"I won't have you damage her, Aegon." Alicent said, warily without any bite to her words but with a resolve that would not be argued against.

Meanwhile, as Aegon whined back to her, you laid on the bed which somehow felt softer than anything you'd ever slept on before, your mind gone away and into the sky with the dragons. You heard the murmuring voice of your mother and it made you feel warm inside, it made you miss her hand which had held yours before. "Mother..." you mumbled. Alicent was at your side in an instant, whispering soothing words as she carefully took off your wedding dress, “I'm right here, sweetling, it's alright." She draped it over the back of a chair and turned to Aegon, "I'll be looking over you, as often as need be. You've skirted your duties for too long now, I won't have you hurt her in another of your grasps for pleasure. She is your wife, not a whore.” Then, she perched in a chair near the bed, eyeing him mistrustfully

Aegon frowned and took off his clothes with a huff before her, climbing onto the bed, hovering over you. He was frustrated from his mother’s insult and his breaths came harshly as he struggled to proceed with the night with any dignity. He had trouble even getting it up, feeling his mother’s prying eyes on him, waiting to scold him. Your hand came up suddenly to cup his cheek, your bleary eyes meeting his and a soft smile tugging at your lips. That moment of tenderness was all that he needed. It fell into place nicely for him then. You were his lady wife, you loved him and finally, he could have you as any man wishes to have a woman. His mother’s uncertain gaze mattered nothing in that moment. All that mattered was you beneath him; soft, forgiving.

He was…made capable by just your hand on his cheek and his own hand went to his cock, stroking it to full hardness as he spit in the other to rub into you. He began trying clumsily to loosen you up. He had only ever been with whores and the stray serving girl now and again, he was unused to pleasuring a woman. He wasn’t sure carnal pleasure was something women like his mother and sisters felt, perhaps it was truly only a service that only baseborn women were willing to lower themselves to. Even so, he wished for you to cry out like they did, to writhe in pleasure under his ministrations. To prove himself to you and to your mother somehow.

Alicent sat quietly, already nauseous at the display. She wanted to cover your eyes, to take you back into her arms and have you only for herself forevermore. Yet, as a queen and a mother, she had to accept that it was his and your duty. She watched on with a stoic look. Her audience was necessary, Aegon hadn’t convinced her otherwise even with his whining, but it didn’t mean that it was pleasant for her. It was her duty to her daughter to make sure that you weren’t going to be hurt, no matter how unseemly it all felt. Mercifully, you were peaceful, sighing softly at Aegon’s machinations, as though you’d soon fall asleep. Your head lolled to the side, gazing at your mother who hurriedly put a small smile on her face. You smiled back, clearly still in the clouds, even as Aegon grew impatient and finally decided you were wet enough.

“Gentle,” Alicent hissed, a ball of anxiety in the corner of the room. Aegon did not acknowledge her save for a soft scoff but was a bit more careful in his actions…a bit.

It didn’t hurt much, there was just a slight sting with each snap of his hips. Otherwise, it didn’t feel like much of anything, either due to the wine or Aegon himself. But as you were lost between dreams and reality, you sighed softly at the gentle rocking of the bed. Aegon took this as your pleasure and he was further spurred on. He sped up, his own sounds of pleasure ringing out in the quiet room. Your dreamy expression was entirely due to the poppy wine but Aegon would never know that. All he could feel was the rush of pleasing his sister, of his own pleasure, of proving his mother wrong. He was overzealous, coasting on the desperate little burst of scarce pride it all brought him.

Meanwhile, Alicent’s body shuddered in revulsion and horror. She bit down hard on her lip, trying to suppress a strangled sound of distress. Her eyes were shining with unshed tears. To watch her most treasured daughter…she did not have the stomach for it. It was her duty, one she’d taken on willfully but she had not been thinking of herself then. She had not been thinking of how much it would remind her of Viserys. She had nearly cried out herself when Aegon had first entered you. When the two of you were done—well, when Aegon was done, he slumped over to the side of the bed, apparently exhausted with his arm still around you. She sat for a while in silence, staring blankly into space and considering everything. You, however, were still just barely awake. “Mother…” you murmured just as she was trying to gather sense again.

Alicent snapped back into reality. “Yes, sweetling?” she breathed, overwhelmed by the display she had just seen but still wanting to attend you. She quickly grabbed a nightgown from your wardrobe to cover you.

“Stay with me, please,” you said as she pushed Aegon aside and carefully slid on your nightgown.

Alicent’s heart melted at the words. She sat at the side of your bed and wrapped her arms about you, pressing your head to her chest. Her voice wavered. “I would not dream of leaving you.”

#alicent x reader #hotd x reader #platonic yandere #alicent hightower x reader #platonic yandere x reader

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gogobootz1 · 13 days

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The Mentor Pt. 9

Finnick Odair x Reader

Summary: The tributes of the 75th Hunger Games take one punch after the next, leaving you to wonder how long they can stay standing.

Warnings: literally the hunger games idk what to tell you

Part 8

You gnawed at your lip as you watched tributes sail through the water and up toward the cornucopia. Only, your tribute splashed more than sailed. In fact, it was a miracle she was even floating. Darla was never a strong swimmer, and when she dragged herself up onto the rocks, it was her bad luck to find Enobaria a few paces in front of her. Thoroughly unprepared for that fight, Darla turned tail and booked it for the beach.

Your eyes quickly flicked to another video feed. Just in time to see Katniss aim at Finnick. Your breathing stopped.

"Good thing we're allies, right?" He asked pointedly, smirking at her after a second. He flashed the gold bangle Haymitch had passed off to him the night before.

"Where did you get that?" Katniss eyed him skeptically, her arrow still locked on its target.

Finnick's face dropped when he saw movement from over her shoulder, "Where do you think? Duck!" With one swift move of the arm, he launched his trident. The man behind Katniss fell, his knife clattering to the rocks of the island.

From the ground, Katniss gaped at the corpse with wide eyes. Finnick tugged his trident free of the man's chest, "Don't trust One and Two. I'll take this side- you hold them off. I'll go find Peeta!"

For a moment, she only stared after him, stunned at how quickly he killed and how easily he walked away from it.

"Haymitch," the look on her face made you nervous, but you couldn't tear your gaze from the screen.

"It's fine," he assured you, gruffly. Sure enough, the girl was up the next minute and firing at Enobaria. You silently cursed when she missed.

"Katniss," Finnick drew her attention, "Mags found him, he's over here." The two ran towards the old woman, who desperately pointed toward a podium where Peeta grappled with someone in the water.

In under a second, Finnick was in after them. He cut through the water like he was born swimming, showing off his agility for the second time in five minutes. He had been first to the cornucopia, no surprise. But by the time he'd reached where Peeta and the other tribute had gone under, the District 12 boy had already resurfaced.

From the corner of your eye, you saw the tension melt from Haymitch's shoulders.

The two made it back to dry land and started off toward the woods with Katniss and Mags. Only then did you feel any relief. But your most pragmatic self told you the worst was yet to come.

You scanned the various feeds playing simultaneously and honed in on Darla. She was hurtling through the thick brush when her foot got snagged on a rock. She stopped only to prevent herself from falling.

"Fuck," she heaved, curling forward to rest her hands on her knees.

Darla dropped her butt to the grassy floor, catching her breath, "All alone in the jungle." She took a look around, "Great!"

After a few more breaths, she let her head fall on her knees, "I fucking hate the jungle." Her bereaved whisper made you laugh.

You plopped down on the side of the couch opposite Haymitch, grabbing your tablet.

"I was worried you'd never sit down," the older man snarked, "Thought you might crawl through the screen to go help." You felt it better not to dignify him with a response, opting instead to throw a cashew at him from the bowl on the table.

He flinched when it made contact with his forehead. You quickly averted your gaze to the tablet and blinked at the number that stared back at you. It was an insanely large amount that was only increasing. Apparently, the Capitol had liked Darla's snarky comment, too. You shouldn't have been surprised, though, her wit and relatability made her a fan favorite last time. In fact, it had practically won her the games with the amount of help you sent her way.

As you customized her first gift, you prayed this time would be no different.

Darla lifted her gaze from the ground below when she heard a chime. The sight of a silver parachute brought a smile to her face, and she jumped up to snatch it from the air. Cracking the canister open, she first took the time to read the note you'd attached.

pleasure to serve you, Queen of the Jungle

Her nostrils flared as she huffed a laugh at your teasing. Darla tossed the scrap of paper aside to free her prize from its prison.

She unraveled the brand-new whip with ease, not even bothering to admire it before giving it a try.

An incredible crack filled the air, scaring birds from their trees. It turned some heads, too, not that Darla would know it from where she stood. Various video feeds showed some tributes momentarily puzzling at the noise. They all dismissed it, much to your relief. It seemed she'd been too far to distract Katniss and Co. from whatever spat they were having. You scowled at their distance, having hoped it wouldn't take Darla long to find her allies.

Darla grinned at her new toy and was even happier to spot something else in the canister. She eagerly tugged the flask out and unscrewed it, tilting her head back to take a long drink. She seemed surprised at the taste but happily took a second sip.

"You think booze will help with dehydration?" Haymitch asked skeptically from his side of the couch.

You glared at him, "It's lemonade." He scrunched his nose once proven wrong.

"Not very practical, is it?" He couldn't help himself.

"If you don't like my gifts, then send your own," you snarked.

"Fine," he bit back. "Let's see... what should I send my dear children?" He scrolled aimlessly on his tablet while the game makers highlighted the footage of the Four/Twelve alliance.

"Haymitch," you tried to grab his attention, to no avail. "Haymitch!" You leaned over to hit his arm just as Peeta was launched away from the forcefield. The District Twelve mentor sprang up, stepping toward the screen. You barely caught a glimpse of Finnick starting CPR before Haymitch eclipsed your view entirely.

Meeting Haymitch where he stood, you did your best to pull him away. "You can't crawl in there and save him yourself," you spoke quietly, lightly leading him back by his elbow. Once he was back on the couch, you tried to reassure him. "He can do it," Finnick had saved people from drowning before, why would this be any different? You sincerely hoped it wouldn't be, or this whole operation could go down the gutter.

Finally, a meek voice came through, "Careful. There's a force field up ahead." Relieved laughter came happily from Haymitch, and you cracked a smile. Katniss was especially grateful, kissing Peeta firmly before fawning over him as she brought him to stand.

Your gaze went to Finnick, as always, and you caught him blink at the hug the two shared. Katniss' hands shook as she held her 'husband' tight. You couldn't help but think the two of you would look similar when reuniting.

________________________

As the sun set, you were happy to see Darla settled in for the night. She had climbed a tree, using the gifted whip to secure herself to the trunk. You were also glad to see Johanna and Blight working with the District Three tributes. From what you'd gathered, they'd play a crucial role later on.

The other group you kept an eye on wasn't so peaceful.

You sighed when you saw Katniss and Finnick were at each other's throats yet again.

"If I'd wanted to kill either of you, I would have done it by now," he seethed, thoroughly frustrated. He'd saved Peeta's life and was still getting glares from the girl. You could tell he was at his wit's end. Covered in sweat from lugging an extra ninety pounds of Mags through the jungle. Not to mention extremely dehydrated.

It was true, too. Finnick would've had Katniss when her back was turned at the cornucopia. He could've killed her as easily as the man who came up behind her. And while the tribute Peeta had killed struggled against him in the water, Finnick would have had no such difficulties. If he was playing to win, it would've been a different game.

When the anthem came on, you turned to Haymitch, "How about some water?"

He nodded, focused on the slideshow of fallen tributes, "Yeah, I'll take a glass."

"For them," you spat, and he snapped out of his stupor.

"Right," he tapped a few things on his tablet before setting it aside. You only half-watched the slideshow, having taken careful notes on the deaths all day, but perked up when you heard a chime.

"Hey," Katniss noticed the parachute first, sliding downhill a bit to collect it. Finnick was quick to follow. "Drink up?" She read the note, confused.

"What is it?" Finnick's voice sounded from over her shoulder.

"It's from Haymitch," she shook her head, turning the metal device over in her hand. "I think it's a spile," she said, standing from her crouch.

"A what?" Finnick asked, turning his head to track her fast footsteps. When she started hammering it into a tree, he came to her side, as did Peeta.

There were smiles all around when water came pouring out.

"You're kidding me," Finnick laughed, "you're kidding me!" His big grin inspired one of your own. He encouraged Peeta to have some water before he greedily lapped up his own. He wiped his face, too, before attempting to fetch some water for Mags.

"Nice work," you praised Haymitch, "that's a consistent source."

"You might even call it... practical," he said jokingly. Your smile dropped.

"Last time I compliment you, old man," you sneered.

________________________

Haymitch retired back to his suite on the earlier side. You promised him you'd keep an eye on things, and that's exactly what you'd been doing. Along with Finnick and Katniss, you noted the twelve chimes when they went off and the lightning that followed. Darla slept right through both.

You cursed when blood started smothering Johanna's crew. Poor Blight died the same way Peeta would've gone. Clearly distraught and still half-blind, Johanna had managed to lead the District Three tributes out of the ghastly downpour.

Your stress only multiplied when the game makers chose to highlight Katniss's feed again. They only did that when they were sure something interesting was about to happen, as they had earlier when Peeta was heading straight for the forcefield.

Katniss perked up when the constant hum of the jungle was snuffed out. She looked up to find white, billowy fog moving in. Reaching out to the tendril that reached for her, she howled in pain when it made contact, snatching her hand back to find boils plaguing her skin.

"RUN! Run! The fog is poison!" She managed to warn her allies and took off away from the danger.

You leaned forward, eyes nervously darting across the screen as Finnick rushed Mags onto his back. The four raced away from the fog, coming up ever quicker at their heels. Your eyes grew glassy as you watched them fall and cry out from the pain. It swarmed them from all directions, and you stood when Finnick stumbled, screaming. You watched with bated breath as he managed to recover, taking Mags to reconvene with Katniss and Peeta.

"I can't carry him," Katniss cried, looking hopelessly at Finnick. His face dropped, and a pit formed in your stomach. When Mags grabbed his shoulder, you clapped a hand over your mouth. You knew they'd all promised to give their lives for Katniss and Peeta if it came down to it, but you also knew Finnick was determined they'd never get to that point. But Mags had made the decision for him, giving him a kiss and running headfirst into the fog.

You flinched when the cannon went off and felt hot tears spill down your cheeks as Finnick cried out for his mentor. Katniss stopped him from running after her, and together, they managed to drag Peeta away.

Gasping as they fell down a steep hill, you could only hope the fog would pass over. It proved not to be an issue when it met an invisible wall and rolled up that instead of onto your tributes. You could only sigh in relief when Katniss found that water sapped the gas trapped in her boils. Though you nearly cried again hearing Finnick's screams of agony when they dragged him into the pond.

It wasn't long before they faced yet another obstacle from the game makers. Pairs of glowing yellow eyes surrounded their position in the water. Finnick noticed first, nudging Katniss by the arm and nodding toward them. His eyes scanned around, assessing just how many they'd have to face. He didn't hesitate to grab his weapon as they continued to move in.

The first of the monkeys attacked when Peeta joined them, and the three made an impressive show of putting down one after the next. You were glad when they started moving, sure that the game makers had an endless supply of replacements at the ready.

As they ran, however, a monkey managed to pin Peeta. He only escaped when one of the District Six tributes tackled it off him, earning herself some nasty wounds in the process.

"Who is that?" Katniss asked him.

"A Morphling," he rushed out, "help me get her!" The two dragged the woman's body toward the beach, leaving Finnick to swat and stab at monkeys alone.

He took the chance to run after them when he managed to swing one monkey right into its companion. They were right at his heels, though, and one managed to scratch along his Achilles tendon as he leaped for the beach. Finnick quickly rolled over and stabbed his trident at the creatures who seemed unable to pass the tree line. As they retreated back into the brush, he tilted his head in confusion and adjusted his grip on his weapon.

You cringed when you noticed the blood leaking from his leg and staining the white sand. Clearly, the adrenaline prevented him from feeling the extent of the wound. He only looked away from the tree line when the canon from the tribute Peeta was cradling went off. Both Twelve tributes returned to the sand before the plane came to pick up the body.

After it departed, Finnick stood to head toward the water. He only then seemed to realize he was hurt. With one step, he was hissing in pain, glancing down to discover the wound. Grimacing, he dropped back to the sand.

You gnawed on the inside of your cheek. Obviously, some of the other Four victors could send him something. Sponsors would be lining up to help him out. And yet, you eyed the tablet Haymitch had abandoned when he turned in. A District Ten gift to tributes from Four and Twelve would seem suspicious. But a District Twelve gift to be shared with their ally.

Casting a swift glance over your shoulder, you lunged for the other tablet. Opening it up, it was clear Katniss and Peeta weren't hurting for sponsors. Money was currently coming into their account too- people were impressed at their performance. Certainly, Haymitch wouldn't miss some that he'd never realized he had.

You selected a large jar of salve, applicable to cuts and to soothe any leftover chemical burns from the acid fog. Along with some bandages, it'd make a fine gift. With the advancements in Capitol medicine, they'd all be good as new within a few hours.

The chime drew the three tributes' attention. Katniss stood from the sand to catch it as it sailed down. She cracked it open, briefly glancing at the medical supplies before picking up the note.

"Sharing is caring," she read aloud.

Peeta laughed a bit, "Look at Haymitch getting sentimental." Katniss didn't seem to find the same humor he did.

"Right," she said flatly, barely quirking a brow. Why didn't Haymitch sign this one?

Tension melted from your shoulders as you watched them pass around the salve. They let Finnick go first and use the gauze and bandages to wrap his lower leg. You were happy to see the three of them on the mend.

________________________

The sun was rising when Darla awoke, though she felt like it’d been beating down on her. With the amount of sweat dripping off of her, she was surprised it hadn’t been daylight for hours. The heat was so stifling, in fact, that she was actually finding it hard to get air.

Darla quickly untied herself from the tree, clambering down it with just her whip and flask in hand.

The many supplies that she and the rest of the tributes lacked struck you. You couldn’t imagine why Snow and Plutarch wouldn’t want to keep their stars shining, a nice long and entertaining games with all of their favorite players would surely make the Capitol happy. Or maybe Snow just wanted Katniss in the ground as fast as possible. Either way, supplies only would’ve slowed Darla down in her climb.

You shifted uncomfortably when she didn’t seem to find any relief on the ground either. Having just seen Finnick flee poison fog and fend off monkeys, you were almost certain this was the start of another challenge from the game makers. Although, that struck you, too. Why go through all this trouble when bloody hand-to-hand combat would bring in better ratings? Who would want to see Darla sweat to death? Her fans would certainly rather see her die on her feet, fighting valiantly until her fight was done, though the thought sent shivers down your spine.

The same went for Finnick. Why force him to stab monkeys when they just as easily could’ve nudged his alliance toward potential adversaries?

Perhaps Plutarch thought confrontations would accidentally clue Katniss into the plan happening around her, without her. Seeing allies die for her would eventually arouse suspicion. That made sense, at least, but, unfortunately for him, it was already happening. Mags first, your throat clenched at the thought, and the District Six woman that jumped out of hiding for Peeta. It was a miracle they had yet to catch on, especially considering Finnick had saved Peeta's life twice.

Darla still didn’t seem to be doing great out in the jungle. She was sweating bullets, but it was only accumulating. No doubt the humidity in the dome was something fierce. She seemed to be heading for the beach but soon started swaying. Close after, she stumbled into a tree and propped herself up on it with an arm. She was still nowhere near the water of the beach.

You nervously bit at your cuticle as you watched her slide down that same tree a minute later. She was looking worse and worse, thoroughly exhausted. Darla managed to uncap her flask and finish off the lemonade, holding the bottle to her forehead to try to cool down. She set it on the ground after a moment, and her eyelids began fluttering only a moment later.

Now you were really concerned. If another tribute stumbled onto her in this state it’d be bad news. She was clearly suffering from heat exhaustion, and, despite having the rest of the lemonade, she would be deeply dehydrated. While the rest of the tributes seemed hot, she was the only one suffering like this.

Eventually, Darla shifted in her heat-induced slumber, and her hand grazed the metal container. She bolted straight up with a hiss, rubbing at her palm. Nervously, she poked at the flask quickly. The thing was red-hot, warmed from its contact with the ground. She made a face, finding it suspicious, but not surprising.

You were glad to see her awake again, seeming a bit sharper. And you were even happier to watch her hear water rushing, then discover a small brook. Darla gulped some up, then sunk into it like a bird in a fountain. It clearly brought her hot skin some relief.

Her peaceful moment was not meant to last long, however, and she looked up to find the source of a noise. You grimaced when the game makers chose that moment to highlight her video feed. The angle they chose came from behind Darla, her shoulder framing the entrance to a shadowy cave.

She tilted her head when she noticed it- the cave in the jungle. That noise she’d heard surely had to come from it. The low growl could’ve been whatever power the Capitol was using to run this place, but she knew better. Keeping her eyes locked on the cave, Darla felt around for her weapon. It didn’t take long to unravel the whip and perch on a rock along the stream. The fast move gave her a bit of a head rush. She determinedly blinked it off, and braced herself for whatever she was about to face.

The great hulking bear didn’t waste any time, it came hurtling from the dark opening at a sprint. Darla didn’t hesitate to crack the whip against the ground in front of it. The noise startled the creature enough to buy her a few seconds, but her own heat exhaustion ate them right back up. Her vision blurred as she stood, and she misstepped poorly enough to go stumbling downhill. She stopped rolling when she smacked back-first into a large rock.

You flinched at the impact, sure that if she hadn’t broken some ribs, she’d bruised them. Worse yet, her whip was sent flying from her hand. It landed against another rock further downhill.

While gravity worked fast, so did the beast. Its abnormally long legs and lengthened snout set it apart from the average bear. No doubt, the game makers had taken great pains crafting it. The thing caught up to her quickly.

Darla rolled onto her hands and knees before it could disembowel her. But she wasn’t fast enough to escape the attack entirely. One paw, practically the size of her back, pinned her to the jungle floor.

She cried out as her nose cracked against the ground, making her skull throb even worse. Head forced to one side, grass scratched lightly at her face as blood poured from her nostrils. All those issues faded away when the creature’s muzzle came into view. It sniffed right at her face, clearly interested in the blood, and she came to realize her window was closing. When it got just a centimeter closer, she stabbed her thumb into its eyes as hard as she could.

You couldn’t tell if it was black blood or motor oil that dripped from the knuckle of Darla’s thumb all the way down her forearm, but the squelch that came from her freeing her hand made you gag.

In an instant, the bear stumbled back, freeing her from its clutches. Darla practically dove down the hill, desperately trying to reach her whip. Jagged rocks scraped her legs and torso on the way.

Though disoriented, the scent of more of her blood was enough to have the beast righting itself. It ambled towards her, only too late. With a thundering crack, Darla landed a hit on its back. The beast tossed its head and howled out in pain. She refused to let up, sending the thing stumbling with a tug at its leg. And with a strong final throw, the whip wound itself around the abomination’s neck. Throwing the switch she’d found on the handle the night before, Darla could only pray that whatever surprise was in store would be enough to incapacitate it.

She smirked when it lit up a burning white, melting straight through the not-bear’s flesh. The smell of singed fur permeated the air as the thing’s head rolled to her feet. She looked down smugly and powered down her weapon.

“Fuck yeah!” You shouted at the screen and startled when you heard clapping behind you.

“I take it I didn’t miss much?” Haymitch asked sarcastically, seemingly stunned in the doorway.

________________________

You were a little concerned for Darla’s mental state when she chose to travel with the bear head. Haymitch assured you that you only had to intervene if she started talking to it.

When she stumbled onto the beach, Darla reared her arm back and chucked the head as hard as she could into the saltwater. It made a large splash out by an abandoned podium, and quickly sunk.

“Darla?” Came Finnick’s shocked voice.

“WHAT?!” She screamed back, causing you and Haymitch to wince. It took her a minute to realize who had spoken, and by then Finnick had already made his way over. She spun suddenly towards him and stumbled, dazed from the last hour and change she’d lived through. He was quick to steady her.

“Are you alright?” She glared back at him, feeling the answer was obvious. Mockingly, she shook her head, which only caused further aching.

Finnick winced and crouched down to give her a hug. Lightly, Darla hugged him back, accidentally wiping some of the black liquid onto his wetsuit. She shoved him away when he tried to soothingly pat her back.

“Watch it! A bear just stepped on me,” she scolded him.

“What?!”

Darla heaved a sigh, “Just- take me to your camp and get me water.”

Finnick blinked but chose not to argue. He guided her by the elbow back to where Katniss and Peeta sat, both on high alert.

"I guess we're at four again," Peeta whispered to Katniss as the two came closer.

Moving Darla by the shoulders, Finnick guided her to take a seat on the log he'd moved earlier. He snatched the spile from the sand along with the small basket he'd been weaving and made for a tree.

Darla silently addressed the District Twelve tributes sitting across from her. "Mags?" She asked them quietly, hoping Finnick was still out of earshot. They shook their heads in unison, and she nodded sadly. "What have you been facing?"

"Fog," Katniss supplied shortly, "monkeys." Darla seemed entirely unfazed by her attitude.

Peeta half-grimaced at her tone and tried to be more cordial, "How about you?"

"Well, I feel like I've been through hell and back," She snarked, scratching at her chin. Flecks of dried blood fell off as she did.

"Looks like it," Katniss mumbled, but not quietly enough. A wide smile split Darla's face at the comment, displaying the blood that had even coated her teeth.

"Aren't we a jolly crew?" She mocked. Peeta heaved a sigh, foreseeing Katniss bickering with yet another ally. Maybe Darla's presence would bring her around on Finnick. " 'Can't blame you," she shrugged, "I'd be mad too if I was in here and knocked up. You just can't win."

Katniss's jaw fell to the floor, and Darla turned smugly to Peeta. "But to answer your question," she started, "I was oven-baked to make a better snack for the giant mutant demon bear." She smiled again, expression lacking all joy. You couldn't blame Peeta for seeming a little scared.

Finnick chose that moment to return, "Sounds like they've put you through the wringer, too." He handed her the small basket filled with water and sat next to her on the log as she gulped its entire contents.

"Got any food?" Darla asked when she came up for air. Finnick's shoulders dropped.

"You just missed the fish," Peeta smiled sympathetically.

Darla turned instantly to the District Four tribute, "Catch me another?" It was more demand than question, and Finnick glared at her. "Come on," she sing-songed, "she wouldn't want me going hungry." Displeased but convinced, Finnick stood with a huff. He dramatically grabbed his trident from Darla when she held it out for him.

Watching him slowly limp toward the water, you shook your head at her. "Of all the lowdown ways..." Haymitch chuckled from beside you. Grabbing your tablet, you navigated to the food selection. After she took down that bear, you could have sent them a whole feast. You got pretty close, too.

Finnick heard the chime just as he began scanning the water. He smiled a bit and turned back toward camp, "Looks like she really didn't want you going hungry!"

He grabbed the gift where it landed in the sand, and happily lugged it back to their circle of logs. It was heavier than he'd expected, but that was a welcome surprise. Finnick placed it in the sand at Darla's feet and gestured for her to open it. He plopped down, eager to see what you'd sent.

The smell of breakfast hit his nose, and he just about groaned. A grin cracked Darla's face as she took a deep whiff, and she picked up the message that accompanied it.

bear-y impressive

Her grin dropped, and you snickered. She turned to Finnick, holding up the slip of paper, "I'll kill her." The snarl only made him grin, and he stole the message from her hands. It earned a strong chuckle at her expense, and she snatched it back. "You're insufferable, the both of you."

"You couldn't live without us," he grinned back cheekily, and Darla only glared.

She portioned out plates (you'd sent those too) for everyone, including eggs, potatoes, biscuits, sausage, and bacon. The plate she held out to Katniss was piled high, a helping larger than the boys got.

At her confused glance, Darla only shrugged, "You're eating for two." Finnick nearly choked on the eggs he'd been wolfing down. Katniss took the plate with a wry smile. "I only ask that you take the name of a great woman who once shared her breakfast into consideration."

"We will," Peeta nodded, smiling. Finnick practically shoved an entire biscuit in his mouth to muffle his laughter.

"A very humble woman, too," Katniss mumbled, taking a bite.

When the four finished eating, they packed up the leftovers. A semi-awkward silence took over for a while until they heard a cannon. A giant wave accompanied it, crashing in toward the cornucopia from across the arena. All of them stood as they watched the plane pick up another dead tribute.

Katniss's gaze slipped across the beach, "Someone's here." She was quick to draw an arrow and crouch out of sight. Peeta followed her lead, and Darla took a step back into the tree cover.

Finnick, the closest of them all, peaked around the leaves. "Johanna," he breathed, relieved to have found yet another of his friends. "Johanna!" He started jogging toward her. Darla wasn't far behind him.

"Finnick!" The woman cast her arms out wide and let out a great, relieved laugh. She hugged him happily, and pulled away to find her ex-girlfriend not far behind.

"Jo," Darla gave her a nod, with a small smile. You could tell she was happy to see the axe-wielding woman.

"Dee," Johanna greeted in turn, giving her a once over. "What the hell happened to you?" The blood from her nose had dripped off of her chin and onto her wetsuit earlier, leaving a nice stain behind on the grey part of the fabric.

"I could ask you the same," she narrowed her eyes.

Johanna didn't need to be asked twice, "Well," she heaved, "I got them out. We were all the way deep into the jungle, where I thought it was gonna be safe." Finnick winced at her tone, but it only got worse, "That's when the rain started. I thought it was water- it turned out to be blood. Hot. Thick. Blood. That was coming down," she pushed Wiress off of her and barreled on, "it was choking us."

You winced at the laugh of disbelief Johanna let out. It certainly hadn't been a pretty sight, and you could hardly imagine the feeling of living through it.

"We were stumbling around gagging on it blind," Johanna seethed. "That's when Blight hit the force field," she closed her eyes and tilted her head back. Taking in a breath, she centered herself, "He wasn't much, but he was from home." The whole time she had been ranting, Wiress had been chanting. It was getting hard to ignore.

"What's wrong with her?" Katniss asked, and Beetee responded as Finnick helped him stand from the sand.

"She's in shock," he replied, "dehydration isn't helping." The older man took his glasses off, "Do you have fresh water?"

Wiress seemed more determined than ever, taking Johanna by the shoulders and getting in her face, "Tick tock! Tick tock!"

"Listen!" Johanna was fed up, "Stop it!" She spun the older woman, attempting to free herself from her grasp.

"HEY! Lay off her," Katniss approached, furious, as Wiress stumbled to the sand. She shoved Johanna back at her neck, and in less than a second, Darla was yanking Katniss away by the arm.

"Don't fucking touch her," she snapped. Finnick could only put out one fire at a time, trying to prevent Johanna from getting a hit back on Katniss.

"What's your problem?" Johanna called at her, ignoring Finnick's attempts to shush her. "I got them out for you!"

Both you and Haymitch hissed at that. Johanna had always been straightforward, and that was the most overt indication of the plan that Katniss would probably get. Katniss freed herself from Darla's grip.

"Hey, hey, hey," Finnick seemed more keen than ever to drag Johanna off, "it's okay, it's okay."

"Let me go!" Johanna tried tugging out of his grasp.

"For me?" Katniss asked, confused, "What does that mean?"

"Maybe it means you shouldn't be so hostile to your allies," Darla spat from behind her, stalking off to join her friends.

"You did want Three as allies," Peeta offered, coming up beside Katniss. Katniss only shook her head and approached Wiress.

"Let's get you cleaned up," she offered, escorting the older woman into the water.

Katniss worked on scrubbing the blood from Wiress's hair as Johanna cleaned her axe. The two discussed Beetee and his wire, before Johanna got fed up with Wiress's mumblings again.

"Have fun with Nuts!" She called to Katniss as she trudged from the water.

Katniss ignored her but dipped her own head in the water as Wiress kept mumbling, "Tick tock!"

At the same time, lightning struck the tree again.

You blinked, "Holy shit."

"What?" Haymitch asked, confused. His eyes followed as you rose to your feet and walked at the screen.

"Tick tock," Wiress kept saying, and you pointed at her face.

"They're in a clock," he only squinted at your realization. "The wedges in the water, the many challenges they've faced," you shrugged, "Haven't you been wondering why the action has come from the arena and not from tribute conflict?"

"Now that you mention it-"

"They don't care that no one has killed each other since the bloodbath because it's not part of their theme," you posited. "This is great! We have to tell them," you lifted your tablet, ready to send something random just to get a message across.

"You really think that'll fly?" Haymitch's tone was judgmental, and it stopped you in your tracks. He was right, of course, the game makers wouldn't just let a gift message spoil their fun.

"So what then?" You huffed, falling back onto the couch. "We just sit on this?"

He nodded silently.

"What if I'm subtle?" You tried again.

Haymitch rolled his eyes, "You can try." You grabbed your tablet before he changed his mind and tried to stop you. Sending a bottle of pain pills, you could only hope they'd put two and two together.

________________________

Darla reached up to grab the parachute as it fell, tugging it into her lap. You'd really been going ham with your gifts- not that she was complaining.

Opening the gift drew Johanna's attention, and she raised a questioning brow.

Darla held up the pill bottle, "Painkillers."

"Nice," Johanna nodded, going back to drawing in the sand with a twig. "I might need one if she keeps at it." Johanna had gone as far from Wiress as possible, and yet the woman's mad ramblings were still annoying her

Darla set the jar aside and reached for the note.

LISTEN!

"'The hell is that supposed to mean?" Her face scrunched as she read the message. Pausing a moment, she then held the pills up to her ear and shook them

You clutched your brow, "Goddamnit, Darla."

Johanna seemed amused at her confusion, "What'd she say?"

Darla opened her mouth to reply, but Wiress took that moment to increase in volume.

Whipping around to glare at the older woman, Johanna shouted, "Would you SHUT IT?!"

Darla made a face and looked back at the note you'd sent her. "Wait," she murmured, standing from the log. She walked determinedly toward Wiress, Johanna hot on her heels.

"Wiress?" At the sound of her name, the woman looked up at the two younger tributes. She grabbed a handful of sand and let it pass through her fingers. "Can you repeat that?"

"Tick tock," Wiress smiled up at them, glad someone was finally taking an interest.

"Tick-tock," Darla nodded at her, still not getting it. She was sure, however, that this is what you'd meant. If you wanted her to relax and listen to the waves lapping at the shore, you would've just said so. She turned to Johanna, whispering, "What does tick-tock mean?"

Johanna only blinked at her, clearly angry to be entertaining the woman at all.

"Please?" Darla pleaded with her. The District Seven tribute rolled her eyes, but was unwilling to deny the request.

"We're... running out of time?" She tried. Her mood quickly soured when she felt it wasn't going anywhere, "It doesn't take a genius to see that. This is a death trap."

Darla huffed, losing hope, too. She perked up when she heard Wiress start humming. An old nursery rhyme she couldn't quite remember. Johanna had already started to walk away, but she caught her by the arm. "Do you recognize that?" Darla asked hurriedly.

"Hickory Dickory Dock?" Johanna asked failing to see the relevance.

"The mouse," Darla muttered the words to herself, and Johanna nodded along, "ran up," both of their heads snapped up, "the clock!"

"Yes!" You cheered from the edge of the sofa.

"Oh my God!" Johanna shouted, eyes wide.

"Don't tell me you're fighting already!" Finnick called at them from up the beach.

Darla pulled Wiress up and dragged her toward him and the rest of their camp, "You'll want to hear this!"

Haymitch let out an impressed sigh, "I really wasn't expecting that to work."

"You should know by now not to underestimate me," you shrugged smugly.

________________________________________________

Was it a fever dream to think I could fit the whole games in this chapter? Yes. So I didn't <3

(sorry for any editing mistakes im dead tired)

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#finnick x reader #hunger games fanfiction #finnick odair #the hunger games #finnick odair x reader

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vacillantvoid · 6 months

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get yourself a guy who will kill you if you ask, even though he knows your death will ruin him

@mcytblrholidayexchange gift for @happy-mountain-goats! i hope you like it, happy holidays :)

#lifesteal smp #vitalasy #itzsubz #mcytblrholidayexchange2023 #void weaves #webweaving #web weaving

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thesilverwing · 2 years

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When it comes to buying the right Funeral Gift, jewelry can be a great choice. In the market, you can easily get a lot of pieces of jewelry that help you to keep your loved one memory closed. If you are looking for the right store to buy the best one, explore "The Silver Wing" collection.

#Funeral Gift #bereavement gift

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empressmcblondie · 2 months

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As you know I'm already down this Shauna and Jackie rabbit hole (this pun is absolutely intended), and so, I wanted to touch upon something else I've noticed. During 1x01, we see Shauna's rabbit collection, and obviously, in 1x06 Shauna receives a little ceramic rabbit from Mrs. Taylor under the impression that "Jackie just adored rabbits." Now... Shauna's facial expression in reaction to this statement is very telling. She plays along with whatever this is. Yes, Jackie adored rabbits, sure thing... And because of that, I adore rabbits now because I've become a Jackie substitute in the eyes of her bereaved parents. Initially I scratched this off as a mother who didn't actually know her teenage daughter well enough, which is pretty on brand. The Taylors give me perfect-on-paper-but-dysfunctional-in-reality energy with a lot of the tension coming from Jackie's relationship with her mother. Jackie herself denounces this connection to rabbits quite explicitly in the immediate scene that follows when she and Shauna go checking the traps, referring to the animal as a "squirrel with floppy ears and a pompom on its ass." Clearly, Jackie did not care for rabbits whatsoever. But... Where did Mrs. Taylor even get the idea that Jackie likes rabbits in the first place? It has to have come from somewhere, no? It did.

It most likely came from Shauna.

Shauna's room in 1x01.

You can see the small ceramic rabbit, strategically placed beneath the light in Shauna's room, linking her to the animal explicitly. It's not that Shauna took it upon herself to love rabbits because of Jackie's parents. It's that Shauna projected her own love for rabbits (to whatever length that went) onto Jackie. Just like with the journal in my previous post... Shauna is rewriting Jackie not just by taking on Jackie characteristics as her own, but by inserting her own characteristics into Jackie posthumously.

Shauna's confession of "I don't even know where you end and I begin" (also a Radiohead song) takes on a whole new layer of meaning. It's not just that Shauna doesn't know anymore... But we, the audience, don't either. It's becoming increasingly difficult to understand who Jackie is. What elements of Jackie's life are actually Jackie's doing and what are props, planted by Shauna... Small edits she makes to match the story that she tells herself in her own head. Anyways, as always, this show is a gift that keeps on giving.

#shaunajackie #shauna shipman #jackie taylor #yellowjackets

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terracegallery · 6 months

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In The Stillness...

We all feel loneliness sometimes. When I do, I look for comfort in my faith. I’ve also reached out to people in my life who are no longer here. They whisper, “know that I am with you.” Whether it’s God or a loved one who has passed, spirit is with us….always. I’ve combined my soft landscape with comforting words for those dealing with grief or those that want a gentle reminder of their…

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strawbeerossi · 1 year

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I seen that you write angst and I have an idea to share with you because of some personal things that I went through with my own family.

Do you think you can write something about fem!reader and Spencer finding out that one of their children has leukemia? Maybe with death involved to show how intricate this situation can affect families? I know it’s a very loaded topic so I completely understand if you don’t wanna do it but I think you’d master the topic beautifully based off of your angst writing. ❤️

I hope you’re doing alright today, Tay

First off, I’m so sorry for your loss, lovebug. I hope I do this justice and thank you for trusting me with this topic. My DMs are open if you ever need to talk. 🩵

And I'm good today, thank you, honey.

Vilomah: Bereaved Parents

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid

Description: After their son succumbs to his illness, the Reid parents have to navigate the grieving process together along with the team who are there to help.

Content Warning: Child death, leukemia, details about a hospital stay, extreme grief after loss, a child’s funeral, parental grief, mentions struggles with eating, spousal argument, lots of tears, descriptions of feeling empty and depression, the team is there for the Reids, spousal comfort, hurt/comfort.

Word Count: 3.3K

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I cried like a baby writing this. I hope I captured what you were looking for anon.

“Memories saturate my heart and the story of you spills from my eyes.” – Grace Andren

There were many horrors that Spencer faced in his line of work; murderers, rapists, cannibals, the lot of it. He was also faced with grief more often than not, losing Maeve and Gideon being the two most notable times where he was forced to face the fact that everybody dies at some point, no matter who they are.

That wasn’t enough to prepare him for the cruelest thing life had to throw at him. Benjamin was diagnosed with leukemia when he was just two months shy of four-years-old, more specifically it was Chronic Myeloid Leukemia.

The first few months were seemingly okay. He was responding well with the treatment, his little body growing stronger with each passing day. There were plenty of ice cream days to celebrate whenever Ben could function as good as he could before the cancer. Not to mention all the gifts his aunt Penelope would send.

There was hope, so much hope that Y/N and Spencer didn’t let the thoughts of losing their son loom over their head.

That was until he got sick again, this time much worse. It happened suddenly, Ben went from eating some fruit snacks and watching a movie to losing consciousness and growing pale. Spencer never thought he could get home faster than what he did when he got the phone call. Emily sent him home immediately after hearing the news, telling him to get home to his family and that she would check in.

The next few weeks were spent in the hospital, the bright lights being harsh on the eyes of the sore eyes of the Reid parents. Y/N didn’t sleep but for a few hours a night, any small movement or sound from Ben or his machines waking her up. Spencer had grown to not sleep for that long, surviving off maybe an hour a night and ten cups of coffee to push forward the following morning.

However, the suffocating realization of the inevitable was starting to soak in. Spencer wanted nothing more than for his son to make a recovery but as a man of science, that hope dissipated as he noticed the signs. People got better before death, so whenever Ben was showing all the signs of surging, it was enough to kill Spencer.

Even after they had a conversation with their doctor, the woman telling them that surging typically happens one to two days before death, it was like Y/N wouldn’t take that. She would say that he was fine, that he was healing.

It was denial.

The day they lost him was the hardest of them all. The air was suffocating that morning, there being a bitter winter chill. Spencer had gone to work, as usual. There was a case, one about a man who was killing women who resembled his birth mother after she rejected him from her life. He was distracted, like any father on the verge of losing his child would be.

He knew he shouldn’t have gone to work but he was losing his mind, being overwhelmed with the knowledge of the inevitable. He liked to think that if he and Y/N didn’t discuss it, it wasn’t real. As a man of science, he knew the risks of believing something like that.

Still, he gave himself false hope.

However, his heart stopped beating for a split second as he could feel his phone buzzing, the world freezing around him as he couldn’t hear the others around him. He knew what this call was. It took JJ shaking Spencer’s shoulders to snap him out of his thoughts. “I have to go.”

Making it to the hospital, he dreaded going inside. However, he was running through the hospital doors not bothering to check in at the front desk as he was going as fast as his legs could carry him to reach his son’s hospital room.

Judging by the heart wrenching screams of agony from his wife on the other side of the door, Spencer knew what to expect as his shaking hand was opening the hospital door. The sight of his wife cradling their son was enough to make him drop to his knees.

The nurses and doctors looked at the small family, feeling the sting of heartache as they’d gotten to know the Reid’s over the past year.

Spencer’s legs were like jelly, the tears cascading his face being enough where he was sure he could fill up the hospital room in tears, enough to drown in. They were able to stay as long as they wanted to, even if it was hours later.

“Do you have his blanket?” Y/N asked, voice raw from the screaming and uncontrollable sobbing from before. “I don’t want him to get cold..” She whispered, looking at their son who looked like he was sleeping against his father’s chest. “In the bag.” The words were shaky, the father keeping his son close while letting his forehead rest against Benjamin’s smaller one.

After they were laying the little boy down again, Y/N was slowly putting the blanket over the child before she was leaning down to kiss his forehead, which had begun to grow cold from the hours his parents took to say goodbye. The parents clung to one another as they were being forced to walk out of the hospital.

After that, their life lost all its color. Waking up to an alarm rather than to a happy little boy jumping on their bed just wasn’t the same. There was no laughter in the house, no warmth. The atmosphere was just as cold as the weather outside. No matter how many days that Penelope came over with baskets filled with small goodies to try and lift their spirits, or how Luke would come by to check in and bring food over that the two parents just couldn’t stomach.

The day of the funeral was when every ounce of denial was fizzing away. Next came anger. Y/N was moving a bit slow, honestly not wanting to rush and be greeted with the sad looks of their friends and family. Spencer was ready twenty minutes prior, wanting to rush the grieving process and just accept everything immediately, even if it was impossible.

“Please hurry up.” His voice was laced with irritation, making wife look up from her shoes as she was playing with the strap. “I am hurrying..” She spoke softly, a frown on her face as she slowly got the shoes on. “You don’t have to have an attitude, by the way.”

That was the start of something ugly.

“Well, you don’t have to take thirty years and expect Benji to walk through the door.” The words were deep cutting, very uncharacteristic of the loving man she married.The words had his wife stunned in place, her mouth falling open. “You don’t have to be an asshole and keep reminding me of where we are going.” She spat, moving to brush her hair back before standing.

“You can’t keep acting like things are going to change. He’s gone, Y/N. No matter how bad we want him back, we will never get him back.” They were growing angry at one another at the wrong time. Before the yelling could start, there was a soft knock on the door. With a soft sigh, Spencer was turning around and heading to the sound of the soft knocking.

The sight behind the door was enough to make his heart clench. There was Derek, the man offering a sad smile. “Hey, kid. I came to pick you two up. How’s the missus doing?” He asked, chuckling as Spencer was rushing to tightly hug his best friend, his hand slowly patting the younger male’s back. “Hi Derek.” Y/N offered a weak smile once she was closing the bedroom door.

“Hey mama.” His voice was soft and careful, heading over to wrap his arms around the woman before kissing her cheek. “I was thinking that after everything, we could all go out to lunch.” He wasn’t stupid, he could tell that the two parents were neglecting themselves, he’d talked to the team.

This was a sensitive time, so he understood. However, he wasn’t going to sit idly by either. He’d be damned if he let them both slowly waste away. Benjamin sure as hell wouldn’t have wanted that.

“I don’t know, Derek. I don’t think I can deal with everyone looking at us with pity. You know how many people have told me that they hugged their babies tighter because of this situation? It hurts. Not nearly as helpful as people think..” The woman spoke while slowly rubbing her face.

“It’ll just be us. The team, our family.” He attempted to coax both parents, the two not being able to get out of it in the end.

The three eventually made it to the graveyard where they were confronting the one thing that they didn’t want to face. The Reids were approaching the plot that they’d purchased for the family, Y/N having to collect herself at the sight of the coffin waiting by the open plot.

“There you two are,” Penelope looked like she’d been sobbing already, her arms wrapping tightly around both parents. That was where the floodgates broke, both of them tightly clutching onto the blonde enough to suffocate her.

The ceremony was beautiful, despite the flood of tears and pain deep in the chests of all that were closest to the child who they were laying to rest. It was something honorable, Benji even having his uncle Aaron there to say a final goodbye. Even surrounded by love, there was still an emptiness, a void that would never be filled.

What came next made things worse, the parents having to say goodbye as soon as the casket was being lowered in its plot, Y/N and Spencer wrapped up in one another’s embrace while their hands were clutching each other’s clothing. The wife was letting her head rest against her husband’s shoulder, their tears soaking one another’s clothes and hair.

It was just them now, with the ghost of their sweet angel who would keep a watchful eye over his parents, whether they knew it or not.

Dave was approaching the parents, his hand resting on Spencer’s shoulder as he cleared his throat to catch their attention. “I want you both to know that I will be here for you both, always.” David Rossi, the father of the team, it seemed. As well as being uncle Dave to all the kids, Benji included.

“I heard that you two agreed to come to lunch.” He spoke softly, eliciting a small smile from Y/N. “We are.” She said softly, truly unable to say no to him. “We are having it in my backyard. Why don’t you two ride with me?” He suggested, making both Spencer and his wife look at one another.

They weren't getting out of this, so they complied and followed behind David.

The only problem was that so many amazing things happened in that backyard, Benji’s baby shower being one of them.

“Baby Reid is getting so big,” JJ gushed, her hand on Y/N’s swollen bump as the woman laughed in content. “Isn’t he? He’s also been kicking the hell out of my ribs, I feel like he's punishing me.” Y/N joked.

Finding out that she was pregnant was the best thing that ever happened. Of course, there were jokes of Spencer and Y/N not even waiting a year after they got married before she was already pregnant.

It was funny, really. Spencer was highly convinced that the baby was conceived on the first week of their honeymoon, the two being a little too into that talk while they were in the middle of sex, the filthy words of her being swollen with his baby becoming literal.

Diana was thrilled the moment that she saw her son and his wife on one of their visits, the woman being more thrilled at the prospect of her little Spencer having a child of his own. She would say that she knew before they even told her.

“Mothers always know, Spencer. We are animals, we can feel things.” Were her exact words, something that she said Y/N would understand one day.

“Bella!” David smiled, the term of endearment being a newer one that he used for Y/N after the pregnancy, something about how she looked gorgeous because she was glowing. It was sweet, she had to admit it. “Hi, David.” Y/N grinned, her arms wrapping around the older man in a hug before she was pulling away. “You and Penelope did a beautiful job, by the way!”

Almost as if she were summoned, the bubbly blonde was hurrying over to flash a smile. “There you are my gorgeous girl! How are you feeling?” She asked, her hand cautiously rubbing her baby bump once Y/N gave her the okay.

“I’m doing good, actually. This boy is gonna be the death of me though. I was craving dirt the other day.” Her nose crinkled. “Weirdness. However, this baby is a Reid so that’ll explain it better than anything else.” Penelope joked.

“It’s actually more normal than you might think. One theory links pica cravings to iron deficiencies. Another theory suggests these cravings develop as an adaptive response to the way the immune system changes during pregnancy.” Spencer smiled while letting his arms wrap around his wife from behind, his lips pressing a kiss to her cheek before his hands were coming underneath the heavy bump, lifting it up gently to take some of the pain from his wife’s back.

It was enough to make the woman sigh of relief as her head was tilted back against his shoulder. “You are such a lifesaver.” She breathed while briefly closing her eyes.

Spencer was attentive and loving, paying attention to her much more after the pregnancy was discovered.

This was a dream.

This was a nightmare, the memories rushing back to Y/N as she was walking into the backyard where all those sweet memories lived. It was emotionally draining, so much so that her hand was reaching aimlessly for Spencer’s.

As soon as her husband realized what she was doing, he was slowly approaching his wife and letting his hand tightly grip onto hers. He didn’t realize how bad they needed this, to have a reminder that they still had each other. He figured it was implied but this made a bit of weight lift off his chest.

“I know it may be a bit hard to laugh right now,” Penelope began as she was offering a smile. “But I know how much Benji used to love having dinner with all of us, no matter where we went.” She began, making a soft, sad smile spreading across Y/N’s face.

“So, I figured that I would honor one of my favorite godson’s in the best way possible. Instead of boring adult food, I made extra sure to get the best of the best.” Being a four-year-old, Benjamin was just as picky as the next kid.

“Don’t tell me,” Spencer began, looking over as she was happily showing off the meal she had catered. It consisted of all the essential food groups of a young child; chicken nuggets, macaroni and cheese, and french fries.

Hank, Michael, Henry, the Simmons children and Jack were all over the idea of that. The adults, though, couldn’t help the soft laughter. “Benji would definitely approve.” Y/N offered a soft smile, shaking her head fondly. “Even up until the end, he had to have his nuggets.” Spencer added, a few tears springing up in his eyes at the pleasant memory, even in the darkest time of their lives.

“I don’t want that..” Benjamin wrinkled his nose as he was pushing away the soup that the hospital was giving him, making Spencer look up from his book. “It’s good for you, Benji. Try it.” He urged on, a smile as he put the book down after finding his bookmark.

“Daddy, no. It’s yucky. It smells yucky.” He continued on, the four year old running the spoon through the bowl.

Like his mother, he was dramatic about it, gagging at the mere thought of eating what he was given. “I want chicken nuggets.” He whined out, now looking at his mother, who was sighing in content.

“Take a few bites and try it! If you try it and you don’t like it, I’ll go get you some nuggets. Sounds fair?” She asked, keeping the stern tone yet offering a sweet smile, knowing damn well that he’d get his way in the end anyway. Even if he liked the soup.

“I’ll try it but I might be sick, mama.” He warned, looking at the broth with vegetables before he was taking a good amount on the spoon.

He eyed it over before pushing it into his mouth. Both parents couldn’t help the laughter falling from their lips as Benji pulled a face, looking offended he was even made to try it.

“Blegh! Nasty!” The animated child was pushing the tray table away as Y/N was already getting up to grab her keys. “I’m going! I’m going! Make sure that you watch your daddy, you know he likes getting into too much trouble.”

As everyone had a plate in front of them, everyone was looking at the Reids, expectant of them to get up. Derek was the one who was already making two plates before placing them down in front of the two. “There you are pretty boy and pretty girl, no need to get up.” He knew what he was doing.

Even with the lack of appetite, Y/N was slowly picking up her fork before collecting a bit of the mac and cheese on her fork, slowly moving to push the fork in her mouth. She didn’t realize just how hungry she was before that bite. Of course, barely eating for two weeks would do that to you.

Spencer seemed to be on the same page, the two unknowingly eating like they hadn’t eaten in years. The group said nothing about it, although they shared collective glances and their eyes were glistening over with relief.

They were eating enough to actually keep themselves alive, to keep themselves from falling ill and being stuck in the hospital being fed through IVs. After all they went through, they didn’t need to be in another hospital for a long time.

The rest of the day was spent with their family rather than them being locked up at home, real smiles gracing their features for the first time in forever. Being together in a quiet home was taking a huge hit at their mental health.

This was what they needed. Their full support system.

It was later on in the evening before Y/N and Spencer had gotten home, the two ordering takeout for dinner whenever they arrived at home. The wife was looking over the picture of their family that she had hanging up in the kitchen, a soft smile on her face. He looked so peaceful today, didn’t he?” She asked, her voice soft.

“No more pain, no more weakness.. Just peaceful.” Spencer added on, looking up from his hands. “Y/N.. I’m sorry about what I said earlier. It was horrible to say,” He said as his wife was offering a gentle smile. “I understand. It’s hard right now but.. Spencer, I love you. With every fiber of my being. Please remember that.”

It was what he needed to hear, his head nodding. “I know. I love you so much, baby. Thank you. I’m here for you, even if you just need to cry and be taken care of.” The taller man was standing up before heading over to tightly hug his wife. “You’re so strong. So fucking strong.” He spoke softly while kissing the top of her head.

All they needed to power through this together was each other, they would make it through this for Benji over all else. It was what he would've wanted , their love to persevere.

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