#but in the eyes of the potato murderer we're all just potatoes

[anti-potato]

when you killed your kids were you by any chance taking inspiration from medea from greek mythology

is that another potato blog?

[captainlunaxmen]

All for the Cameras

Chapter 5

Finnick Odair x reader

This is a repost since the old blog doesn't work anymore. 🥰

Chapter summary: we'll find a bit more about the reader's past.

Chapter warnings: murder, threat, well.. it's the Hunger Games.

⚠️ ⚠️ ⚠️

I'll tag you all on this chapter again to let you all know.ow that this is the blog I'll post the next chapters from now on... since the other one is inoperable. ❤️❤️❤️

@guacam011y @justtrying2getby @idontevenknow1359 @alexandra-001 @bambikitten @maggiecc @redh00dsbf @haneybunny @1-800-styles @sisiking99 @merromimo @yourdailymemedelivery @regsg18 @gordorio @bambikitten @gracieeleanorr @shev3nom @honethatty12 @savingprivatecass @erindiggory @martahabla @sterredem @aawdrea @wpdarlingpan @strawberry--fawn @barbarathewanderer @ih8books @a-mysterious-potato @mayonesavegana @celinaiscrying @katherinejess

I'm sorry if it doesn't let me tag everyone 😔

"Hi, my love."

"Finnick." I shortly reply, using all my strength not to look at him.

There's a short pause before he speaks up.

"What did he want?" He asks.

"To remind me that after we're married I'll be... his." I sigh.

"He wishes." He lets out a soft laugh and I follow, "you look good in that." He then says, nodding to my outfit.

"I'll let you borrow it sometimes." I joke and he chuckles.

"Switching clothes... I like it. I'm sure you'd look a lot better with this on than me." He points at the fish net tied around him.

"Well, the Capitol seemed to appreciate you in it."

"I thought I've been clear earlier," he starts to get closer, "your eyes are the only ones I care about," he lifts my chin up to look at him, "and your lips are the only thing I can think of."

"Finnick..." I weakly warn and he pulls away, going to lean against the opposite wall.

"I could be dead in a week..." he starts.

"Don't say that..."

"I could be dead in a week," he ignores me, "and all I can think about is you. Being with you. All the things I would love to do to you right here, right now... well... actually all night and everywhere, "he laughs embarrassed, I don't think I've ever seen him embarrassed like this before, "I would love to scream to the world how much..."

"Stop it." I basically order him.

"I could be dead in a week." He bitterly laugh, "and I can't even get a kiss."

"Finnick..."

"I'm not blaming you, I want you to know that. If I were to kiss you right now, I don't think I would be able to stop and... they would probably catch us and... they could hurt you. Because I could be dead in a week, but you might have a chance anyway."

I just hug him. Tightly, like if I were to let go he would disappear forever. When I feel his arms around me, I sigh, feeling safe. He kisses the top of my head, holding me just as tight.

I pull away just enough to look at him.

"Don't you ever say that again, you hear me? I hear you say it again and I will kill you myself." I warn him, tears threatening to fall.

"Yes, ma'am." He smiles.

I nod and pull away completely, blinking away the tears.

"Tomorrow morning the training sessions start at 8. Not that you need any, but... it might be a good chance to make allies." I tell him, "just... put the flirting aside, okay?"

"Jealous?" He teases.

"I'm just trying to keep you alive, at least, until the beginning for the Games." I tease back, earning a laugh from Finnick.

"You can joke about it and I can't?"

"You weren't joking, Finnick." I reminds him.

"You're right." He smiles, guilty, "Thank you."

The elevator signals we're at 12's apartments.

"I thought you press for 4."

"What kind of gentleman would I be if I let a woman go home on her own?" He smirks.

I roll my eyes, failing in hiding a smile.

"Go get some sleep, gentleman." I say.

"Yes, ma'am."

The doors close and I head to the kitchen to get a drink.

"Well, hello." Haymitch greets me from his spot on the couch.

"Tell me you didn't finish the liquor already." I joke walking to the cupboard to take a glass.

"I actually prepared a glass for you," he tells me, showing me the glass, "c'mon. "

I playfully roll my eyes and walk to sit on the couch with him.

We just sit there. Keeping each other company until it's so late we can't do anything but go to sleep.

--------------

I walk around each station of the training rooms to see if anyone need help, but as expected, no one does. They all probably know this place like the back of their hand, being first tributes and then mentors.

I keep an eye on Katniss and Peeta, to see if they're actually putting an effort in making allies... Katniss especially.

I see them walking around, inspecting the other tributes. A good part of the tribute is trying to show off, to intimidate them, most likely. I see Johanna smirking in Katniss' direction, so I look up at Plutarch sighing. Making Katniss trust any of them is gonna be harder than expected... a lot harder.

Peeta is now talking with one of the Morphlings, by the camouflage station, while Katniss is talking to Wiress and Beetee.

In my opinion they're a good choice, they're brilliant, but they're not very strong, and they need some strength too. Unfortunately the strongest one are also the cockiest one.

Speaking of cocky victors... I can't seem to find Finnick anywhere.

But I notice Katniss walking to Mags.

I would choose Mags, but because I know about the plan... Katniss doesn't, I don't understand what she's doing.

I keep on watching everyone until I feel a presence behind me.

"What do you think her strategy is?" Finnick asks from next to me.

"I... I have no idea." I sigh defeated. "But I can't exactly blame her."

"How so?"

"Look at everyone. Each victor either has a cocky, a challenging grin, or a hateful grin on their faces. Not very welcoming. Especially when she has to choose who to trust." I explain.

"That's her only choice though." He replies.

"I know," I sigh again and turn to look at him, noticing just now the rope around his neck, "what the hell is that?"

"What?" He fakes innocence.

"I told you, not to joke about it." I sigh annoyed, walking away from him. Noticing Katniss went into the simulator.

"I was just practicing," He laughs, "you know this is the best knot to learn for the arena."

"I swear, half of the time all I want to do is punch you." I shake my head, stopping to watch Katniss practice.

"And the other half?" He asks, and I don't have to look at him to know he's smirking, proud of himself.

"Punch you harder." I tease back, earning a surprised chuckle from him.

As Kantiss starts more people gather around to watch too.

"She has trust issues, doesn't she?" Johanna stands beside me, looking ahead.

"Maybe don't smirk while wielding an axe next time." I sarcastically reply and she scoffs.

We all stand watching Katniss using her skills and once she's done, everyone is at least impressed, which makes me smirk, proudly. Wiress is actually cheering, clapping her hands and that makes me smile genuinely.

----------

"Good news!" Haymitch cheers as we enter the apartment. "At least half of the Tributes want you as an ally."

"Well, they saw her shoot." Peeta adds.

"Well, sweetheart, you got your pick of the litter." Haymitch tells her.

"Choose carefully." I suggest.

"I want Wiress and Beetee. " She states, with no hesitation.

"Johanna calls them 'Nuts' and 'Volts'." Peeta says.

"They're still the smarter out there. And you need smart." I, subtly, scold him.

"Well, okay, good. Now who else?" Asks Haymitch.

"Mags."

I have no argument to defend her choice... unfortunately.

Peeta turns around, frustrated. Well, I'd be too.

"All right, fine, then no one." Katniss sternly says.

Haymitch and I share a look. We already know we will have to do it ourselves.

"I'll tell them you're still making up your mind." He says before walking away and I follow him, after sending a reassuring smile to Peeta.

"What should we do?" Haymitch asks, once we're alone.

"We will have to make allies for them." I answer, crossing my arms.

"Yeah," he sighs, "I'll start with Johanna, you talk to Finnick."

"You talk to Finnick, I'll talk to Johanna." I tell him.

"And why's that?" He mimics me, crossing his arms, there's a smirk growing on his face.

"... no reason." I avoid his eyes.

"Mh mh..." he hums, "Are you going to be attending the solo performances?"

"Nope." I answer, "I have...wedding duties to attend to."

"Fuck..." he swears, "I don't wanna be in your shoes, princess."

"Yeah... tell me about it." I groan, fighting the urge to pull at my hair.

"What's the plan?"

"Venue hunting... I think... I don't know" I let out a puff, "or maybe, Cal wants to tell me what he decided."

"Sounds more like it." He pulls me to him for a reassuring side hug, "it's his wedding, after all."

"Yeah." I laugh, and pull away, "I'm just an accessory. He will probably decide my dress too."

"Of course he will." He sighs, before he can say more, an Avox approaches up with an envelope in hand, handing it to me.

"Speak of the devil..." I sigh, opening Cal's letter.

"I'm sure the devil would be offended by that." Haymitch playfully scolds me.

"Sorry, I'll apologise when I see him. I'd gladly go to hell than meet up with Cal." I joke back, still reading the letter. "He's apparently waiting for me... eagerly."

"How romantic." He mutters, "will you be here tonight? For the scores?"

"I hope so." I say, "I'll make sure of it."

"Still be careful, princess." He nods his head, "and keep..."

" 'those eyes open', I know." I wink and walk away to the elevator, hoping the day will faster than I hope.

-------------

I don't have time to even walk out of the elevator that Cal's hand is already grabbing my wrist, excitedly leading me to the big table in his huge apartment, where a well dressed man and two assistants, I think, stand.

"Come, come, my sweetness. Mr Travers, here, was just about to tell me a great news, apparently." Cal makes me sit in a chair in front of him, so he can rest his hands on my shoulders. The gesture only makes me feel more trapped.

"Oh, yes, yes." Mr Travers nods, proudly holding his hand out to his assistant, who immediately hands him a paper. "I was coming here with the intention of showing you the options I gathered for your special day, but..."

Capitol people and their fucking theatrical manner...

"But..?" Cal presses, getting impatient.

"But I received a call this morning, just when I put the last picture in the bag... from our so loved President Snow." Mr Travers announces and I tense, "he had an incredible idea, as always. He offered his mansion as a venue for your wedding." He put the photo of the mansion down on the table.

Of fucking course.

"Really?" Cal's hold on me feels even tighter than before... maybe it is, or maybe it's just Snow's control caging me in.

Once the man nods enthusiastically, Cal shouts excited.

"That's wonderful!" He turns to me, "isn't it?"

"Wonderful." I repeat with a forced smile.

"How generous!" He comments.

"He also offered to..." again with the theatre.

"Well?"

"He volunteer to formalise the wedding himself."

"He said that?" I ask, shocked.

"Exact words." Travers nods.

'Volunteer'...

"It's going to be amazing," Cal is back behind me, his hands around my neck in what could seem an affectionate gesture, stroking my skin gently, but it's actually more suffocating than a snake hold.

They both go on and on and on talking about the wedding, as if I'm not even here.

The cake's gonna be like this, the chairs like that, the flowers, the centre-piece, the food, the music...

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom, real quick, excuse me." I say standing up, and hurrying to the bathroom near the bedroom.

I try to take deep breath, looking at the time, the solo performances are about to finish. I need to find an excuse to get out. They're not even asking me anything... I scoff at my reflection in the mirror, then I wash my face and open the door.

I gasp when I come face to face with Cal.

"Cal!" I exclaim, immediately faking a laugh. "What..."

"He's gone. We almost got through everything." He tells me.

"Already?" I ask, pretending to be sad I lost it.

"Yeah, gotta be prepared. We should get married when the Quartel Quell is over, and we don't know how long it will last. Maybe two days or two weeks.. gotta be prepared." He smiles.

"Of course." I nod, "well, then I should go. I have to be present, you know, when they announce the scores."

I try to walk past him, but he doesn't move a muscle, enjoying the closeness.

He wraps an arm around my waist to pull me even closer, leaning down so our noses touch.

"How about..." he starts, "you stay here a little longer, uh? We could have some fun together. It's been a while."

"I wish... I really do," I try to come up with the most sorry expression I can, "but I do need to get back. And since we finished earlier than expected, I should take advantage of that. I still have a duty to do."

"Oh please! I miss you." His hold gets a little tighter and he pouts, "Stay. I miss you, I miss your touch... your body... fuck... you still have no idea what you do to me, don't you?"

"Cal, trust me, no one is more sorry than I am, but I have a job to do," I cup his cheek with one hand and he leans into my touch, "Snow counts on me."

"Not even a few minutes?" He tries again and I shake my head, "Okay..."

"I'm sorry." I say, even though inside I'm hitching to run out of here.

I gently pull away from him and walk to the living room to grab my jacket, all of this feeling his eyes on me, constantly.

"I'll go now." I turn to him, to check if he is far enough for my liking and walk back to the elevator.

"Sure."

Before I can walk into the elevator, he grabs my hand, spin me to face him and crashes his lips on mine. His hands grabs everything he can reach. I try to push him off, as subtly as I can, but his touch just intensifies.

Thankfully, before I start to fully panic, he pulls away, just a little, still touching my lips with his, slightly.

"Once we're married..." he pants, "I'm never... ever letting you go." He lets out a breathless chuckle that only makes my skin crawl. "And, hopefully, I'll have no more competition for your attention. I'll make sure of it."

"Yeah." Is all I can say.

Once the elevator's doors open I rush in.

Finally the doors are fully closed and I can breath again.

'I'll make sure of it.' He said...

Finnick.

---------------

"Hey," Peeta is the first one to greet me as I walk back into the apartment, "you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Uh? Yeah... yeah, all fine." I force out a smile, I notice Haymitch watching me carefully, with a look that seems to say 'we'll talk about it' and I just nod, "so... what did I miss?"

"Oh these two basically put a big target o their own backs." Haymitch states.

"We didn't..." Peeta starts, but Haymitch stops him.

"Our Baker here painted little Rue on the floor. Girl on fire over there hanged a mannequin," he pauses, "after painting Seneca Crane's beard and name on it."

I'm lost for words, I look at both Peeta and Katniss, Peeta doesn't meet my eyes, he doesn't seem remorseful, but still he probably doesn't want to see my discontent. Katniss look at me, no trace of remorse or sorrow, but kind of proud.

"Not a smart move, I give you that," I say to Haymitch who nods thankful, "but it was a damn brave one."

Haymitch looks at me dumbfounded and shakes his head, defeated.

Katniss softly smiles at me and Peeta finally look up at me with a proud grin.

"It's starting." Effie tells us, and we all gather in front of the TV and Ceasar starts listing the tributes' scores

"Has anyone ever received a 0?" Katniss wonders.

-----

It's 12's turn.

"Oh god..." I scoff at the perfect 12 score for both Peeta and Katniss.

"Here, I present to you," Haymitch points at the TV, "the consequences.'

"What do you mean?" Peeta asks.

"They didn't give you a perfect 12 because they were impressed by your performances." I say.

"They did that to make sure that now the other Tributes know who to aim for." Haymitch finishes. "Both of you."

I see Haymitch sends an accusatory look at Katniss knowing they just made our job at protecting Peeta harder.

"Well, the damage is done... better go all to get some sleep." I say with a sigh, "we'll have enough time tomorrow to get ready for the interviews."

Everybody nods and walks to the respective rooms. Effie walks past me, squeezing my hand, reassuringly, I smile at her and watch her go.

I turn around to Haymitch, already looking at me.

"Drink?" He sighs, I nod and follow him to the kitchen.

I sit by the counter as he pours two glasses of wine, I think... I don't really care.

"Thanks." I say as he hands me a glass.

"What happened?" He finally asks, sitting with me.

"Well... for starters the wedding venue is going to be, by courtesy of our kind President, his mansion." I start, then take a bug gulp of wine.

"How kind." Haymitch sarcastically comments.

"Then, since he is, oh so kind and oh so selfless, he will be the one to make us husband and... wife." I say the last part with a shudder.

"Control freak."

I nod and take another big gulp of alcohol.

"But I don't think that's what got you so jumpy." He puts his glass down and gives me his full attention.

"Cal was going through everything with the planner quickly, and they finished just as quickly, so I took the chance and said my goodbye. He caught me off guard and... well he kissed me and he then said he can't wait to be married and all... with no competition," I take a shaky breath, "he said he'd make sure of it."

There's a heavy silence, then Haymitch takes my hand.

"The fisherman is too stubborn to let some spoiled cunt take him out. In any way possible." He reassures me and I can't help, but smile at his choice of word.

"Yeah... maybe you're right." I say squeezing his hand grateful.

"He can't do anything to him from here. He can pay whoever he wants... but your man is hard to get rid of." He winks and I roll my eyes, "you should know that."

"He... he is not my man. Okay? I'm just worried." I defend myself.

"Sure... sure." He stands up to walk to his room, "get some sleep. So tomorrow you can warn 'not your man'. Just in case."

"Shut up."

He turns his back to me, but still raises his glass to me, and I softly laugh.

I decide to go sit by the window, to clear my head or just distract myself.

As I sit by the window with my glass, I take the remote so I can change the view. I skip a few until I get to one that actually makes me relax: the shore.

As I look out towards the artificial view I can't help to think back at when Finnick was announced winner of his Games.

After he was brought back, I managed to let him have a moment to realise he won. That time he hugged like he was afraid of being taken away again. He cried his eyes out as I tried all I could to reassure him. None of us knew what would've happened a few years later...

I almost drop the glass in my hand when I hear someone approaching. I relax once I notice it's Katniss.

"Hi." She says, "didn't mean to scare you."

"You never do." I gently smile at her, "is it the only way we can actually spend some time together?" I jest, remembering the night on the train.

"I'm afraid so." She jokes, "I needed a glass of water."

"Did Peeta need one too?" I ask, pointing to the two glasses in her hands. She seems taken off guard, but doesn't answer, she just puts the glasses down and come sit with me.

"Can I ask you a favour?" She softly says.

"I will try my best to save Peeta. Well, I'll try to get you both as far as I can, anyway." I tell her, thinking that's what she wanted to ask.

"No... no, I know you will." She says, "I wanted to ask you...."

"What?" I look at her, trying to make her feel safe enough to speak up.

"Would you look after my family?" She finally asks. I'm a little take aback by that, but my body relaxes more, feeling my heart getting warmer because she trusts me enough to take care of her family.

"You didn't need to ask me that." I gently tell her, "I would've, regardless."

"Really?" She asks.

"Of course, Katniss... I..." I take a deep breath, "I know what it's like to feel helpless and not being able to protect your family."

She looks at me, confused. "What happened?"

"I had a brother, Ray." I say, my voice breaking a little, Katniss' features soften, "do you know how I became Snow's 'protégé'?"

She shakes her head.

"My parents worked for him, apparently they were both very loyal and hard working." I start to explain, "when they died, he thought to take us in, to show Panem how generous he was, you know. It was all good for a while, he kind of taught me a lot, unfortunately, but the problems started when he assigned me to help the mentors." Kantiss nods as I speak, attentive, "after a while I couldn't take it anymore. I always got attached to the tributes, and seeing them killed in the arena was... devastating. And I made the mistake of asking him if I could stop. He didn't like it."

"He killed your brother for that?" She asks, I notice tears in her eyes forming.

"He imprisoned him, and threatened if I said no to him again he would've killed him." I tell her, "so I had to keep on assisting the mentors. Then... Finnick won. Which was the happiest day of my life, not only because I didn't want him to die, but also because I thought that maybe... just maybe, Snow would've let me see my brother. He didn't." I take a shaky breath, "when I turned sixteen he asked me to do something, he wanted to give me another 'assignment'... one I really didn't want to do. He had my brother brought into his office... then he had him killed." I notice a tear falling from her eyes as I wipe my own away, "he kept his word. He showed me he always kept his word. I wanted to die in that moment, I wanted to attack him so the Peacekeeper would shoot me, but he predicted that. Told me if I tried to get myself killed in anyway all my friends would die... and my friends included the tributes. Mentors I met, and tributes who won and I accompanied during the victory tour."

"He got you caged." Katniss says softly and I nod. "I knew I misjudged you when I first met you. But I never thought..."

"I know." I sadly smile at her, "I never blamed you."

"I'm really sorry."

"He keeps say that it's the things we love the most that destroy us." I look out the window again, "which is true... but as members of the human race we can't live without love. So I guess we are doomed." I bitterly chuckle.

"Love also makes us strong."

We both turn around to see Peeta standing there.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but I also didn't want to interrupt." He apologies, genuinely sorry.

"It's okay. I care about you both, I wanted to share my story with you for a while, but I mean... it's not something you just casually say." I shrug.

"No, it's not. Thank you for trusting us." Katniss says.

"No." I shake my head, "Thank you for trusting me."

They both smile at me.

"Do you want us to keep you company?" Peeta asks.

"Go get some sleep, you need it. I'm okay." I reassure them.

"It's not a problem." Katniss tries.

"I'm fine." I smile at her, "I better try to get some sleep myself, anyway."

I stand up, Katniss soon follows, and walk with them until we're in front of Peeta's room.

"Goodnight." I smile at them.

"Goodnight."

"'Night."

-------------------

I'm bouncing my leg as I wait for the elevator to stop at the 4th floor so I can finally talk to Finnick.

Once the doors open I rush in finding Finnick with Mags at the table. I stand here a moment, looking at how normal they look, talking. Like a family, and not like two people about to be sent into a deadly arena.

Then, Finnick's eyes move and lock with mine. His smile brightens for a moment, before noticing my fidgeting hands, then it turns serious.

"Y/n?"

Mags turns to me too, she stands up once she notices my nerves.

"I... I need to talk to Finnick." I say.

Mags walks past me, after giving my hands a good reassuring squeeze, then she leaves us alone.

"Is something wrong?" Finnick asks, standing up too and walking to me.

I lead him to the window so we can sit and talk.

"I... well...uh... yesterday I had to go see Cal," I start, and notice Finnick jaw already tensing, "for the wedding... he and the planner finished rather quickly and when I was leaving... uh..."

"Did he hurt you?" He asks, immediately looking for any sign on me.

"No, no, no." I quickly assure him, "it's what he said."

"What did he say?"

"He said he can't wait to marry me and to finally have me all to himself... with no competition." I look him in the eyes, he frowns, "he said he would make sure of it."

"What... what does it mean?" He asks.

"It means... you need to be more careful in the arena." I sternly say.

"Do you think he would try something?"

"I don't know. He does have enough money to corrupt any other Gamemaker, but the last word is always the Head Gamemaker, but... uh... just be careful." I say, with a soft voice, "Please..."

He looks at me with his sweet eyes and takes my hand in his.

"I will."

"Promise me." I literally order him.

He holds my hand tighter, serious eyes locked on mine.

"I promise you."

I nod, taking a deep breath, not relieved, but a little calmer.

"Thank you." I let out a big sigh and pull myself together, "Alright, uhm... the interviews will start at 8... the usual stuff, you know the drill.." I stand up.

"Thanks." He smiles, standing as well.

We look at each other, the world seems to disappear, his eyes are all I care about on this moment. I make the mistake of looking at his lips for a second, my eyes move quickly between his eyes and his lips, anxiously. He notices and comes closer, taking my hands once again.

"It's okay." He whispers.

"It's really not, but I appreciate the lie." I sadly chuckle, and he does too, caressing my hands.

"You're right, it's not okay. But it's not your fault." He reassures me, "okay?"

I nod and he pulls me to him, wrapping his arms around me reassuringly.

"You're the one who has to fight for his life... and here you are... comforting me." I mutter, pulling away.

"Yeah, well... you're the one who'll have to deal with Cal Kingslay, not me." He jokes and I laugh, showing his slightly.

"Hard to tell which is worse." I play along.

I feel a gentle tap on my shoulder, I turn around to Mags worried face.

"It's okay." I tell her, she then points at me insistingly, "I am okay, I promise."

She smiles sweetly at me, then points at Finnick then at herself, with a determined look, to tell me she's going to take care of him in the arena.

"Take care of each other. Okay?" I ask her and she nods.

"We will." Finnick rubs my arm, comforting.

"Okay... okay, I do have to go and get my tributes ready" I tell them.

"We'll see you tonight then?" He asks as he leads me to the elevator.

"I'll be in the audience." I smile at him.

"The only reason to be on that stage tonight." He grins, "so I can properly look at you."

"Finnick.." I playfully warn him.

"What?" He fake innocence, "I will flirt with you for as long as I can."

"You're insufferable." I roll my eyes and enter the elevator. "Careful on what you say tonight."

He nods, a sweet childish smile grows on his face.

"I'll see you tonight, my love." He says just before the doors close, preventing me from scolding him more.

I shake my head and deeply sigh. As the elevator goes back up to 12, I start to think of a way to properly protect them all in the arena. I know Plutarch will help, but too much help will get suspicious... and if Cal manages to pay someone, it would get harder.

I'm not losing any of them.

I'm not losing him.

[iguana-eyanna]

Hey love your fanfics. I was wondering if you could write a potato x reader fanfic he asks the reader to be his girl and gives her his jacket and it’s all cute please ?

T🪽Birds request: My Sister and My Best Friend?!

a/n: I recently been watching Friends and I knew the PERFECT episode that would fit this fic!

Being Gil's younger sister was a blessing and a curse. The blessing was no one dared to mess with a Rizzo. The bad news was, every boy was scared to ask you out.

Born a year apart, you two were very close. Gil was very overprotective of all of his sisters, but now that you were in the same high school as him surrounded by possible boyfriends, all that Gil could see was red.

He even strictly told his friends that none of them should even bat an eyelash at you. They've respected Gil's wishes of course, but one friend just couldn't control what he felt for you.

And that would be Potato.

There was no denying that there was chemistry between you two. He tried to think that you two were nothing but good friends... chumps... associates.

But he can't say that now as you two were in your room, sitting by your bed as you two were making out.

"We - need - to - stop - this." Potato said between kisses.

"A - greed." you replied between your kisses, but you couldn't help it. Your kisses became more passionate and filled with fire.

You were able to softly push him away as both of you needed air.

"This is much better than making out in the janitor's closet." You remarked.

Potato chuckled as he combs his messy gelled hair back.

"Yeah that room had no light whatsoever, and now I could see more of your beautiful face." He whispered as he pulled you closer. You smiled as you two began to kiss more until -

"Sis! I'm home!" Gil said out loud.

You and Potato freeze as you look at your closed door that was locked.

"I thought you said no one would be home tonight!" Potato whispered.

"And you told me that Gil would be fixing his car!" You said, as Gil often stayed at the auto shop after hours.

"So we're both wrong!" Potato whispered screamed.

"Sis?" Gil asked again as you could hear his footsteps come closer to your room.

"Hide!" You said, pushing Potato down as he rolled under your bed.

You got up and slightly opened your door so Gil won't be too suspicious that you had your door locked.

"Hey Gil, what's up bro?" You said a bit too quickly.

Gil quirks an eyebrow as he looks at you.

"The gang is downstairs eating a pizza. You're welcome to join us but you're just going to snitch on me, are you?"

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms.

"I'm not going to snitch on you, I have secrets of my own too, you know." You lightly tease.

"Pshhh, yeah right Mother Mary. You're quite the risk taker."

Gill looks at you and sees how your hair was kinda a mess and your wearing lipstick that was slightly smudged.

"Why you look like that?" Gil asks.

"It's a... new look! All the rage in France!" You tried convincing him. He knits his eyebrows more and pushes your door opened as he looks in your room.

"You can't barge in like this!" You screamed at Gil.

"Who's in here?" He asks, searching your closet.

"No one, Gil! Get out!" You screamed out.

"I am no leaving this room until I know what's going on!"

"Achoo!" Potato sneezed under the bed.

"Bless you!" Gil screamed back, still scrimmaging in your closet.

Gil immediately stopped as he realized that wasn't you that sneezed.

Looking almost murderous, he turns around and kneels down by your bed, grabbing an arm and sees that he pulled out his friend.

"WHAT. ARE. YOU. DOING. HERE?!" Gil yelled out.

"Uhhhhhh, looking for dust bunnies?" Potato replied nervously.

Gil was about to punch him until you tried pulling back his arm.

"Let go of him, Gil!" You said.

Suddenly, you hear a bunch of feet coming at the door and the gang sees you trying to separate the two.

"A little help?!" you yelled at Gil's friends.

Richie and Shy Guy hold back Gil, but they could tell his sheer goal to strangle Potato.

"I can't believe it! My sister and my best friend?!" Gil screamed out loud.

"Look, Gil, I know this kinda looks bad -"

"Kinda?"

"But it's not like that!" Potato defended.

You stand with Potato as you held his hand.

"We're not fooling around, Gil. I really like him. He treats me like a princess, don't you want my boyfriend to be a gentleman?" You ask.

"I'm your boyfriend?" Potato asks.

"Of course you are." You reassured him as you gave him a loving look, wrapping your arms around his waist.

"Hey, I'm still here!" Gil caught your guys' attention.

You look at your brother who had his hands on his waist, looking down at the ground and then back at you.

"You promise to treat her right?" Gil asks Potato.

"I will." Potato replied.

Gil smiled and gave Potato a hug.

"If you break her heart, I'll throw you in the meat grinder." Gil whispered for only Potato to hear.

"Duly noted." Potato replied before the two friends let go.

Gil goes up to you, realizing you're not a little kid anymore. You were a young woman, and he was proud that you stood up to him.

"You're still my sis, and I'll always be over protective of you."

"I know, thanks for having my back." You said, knowing Gil always had your best interest at heart.

"Finally, now everyone knows." Cynthia said with relief.

Gil looks up, confused.

"Wait, how many of you guys knew about them?"

Everyone tensed up and started making excuses to go downstairs. Olivia goes up to Gil.

"C'mon, let's leave these two alone for a bit." She pulled him away before he could protest.

"Man, that went better than expected." Potato said, feeling like he can finally breathe now.

"I'm surprised there's not a lot of bloodshed." You teased. You two broke out in a fit of laughter as he held you.

"Shall we go downstairs to eat with them?" You ask.

"Yeah, but I feel like something is missing." He says, making you confused. He looks around your room and grabs his jacket, holding it nervously.

"You know, in case you feel chilly." He says, but secretly gushing if you could wear it.

You smile and you turned around so he could drape it around your shoulders.

"It's perfect." You said, turning back to him.

You two smiled at each other and shared a sweet kiss before leaving downstairs to join your friends. As you all sat around, laughing together, Potato just thought he was the luckiest guy in the world to have you.

And you both are so excited to see what's in store for you.

[kunikinnie]

a/n: hello everyone it's been a while have some stupid hcs while I cram long-overdue event stuff :')) taglist: @irethepotato, @kisara-16reblogs, @thatdazaikin, @dazaee

vs your pet cat

featuring: Dazai, Ranpo, Fukuzawa

Dazai Osamu

He didn't understand why your cat didn't like him. Dazai liked it because it was not a dog and as far as he knew, his charm extends to animals too, so what was wrong?

Every attempt at petting him ended up in more bandages for him.

And when Dazai tries to sit down on the only free space left, the cat lies down on it and would. not. budge. Even if he asks nicely, it wouldn't work. You'd have to pick your cat up yourself.

The reason of this cat's disdain for him only clicked in Dazai's head when he realized the cat would brush up against you whenever the two of you were physically affectionate.

"Awww, is the little lord of the house jealous?"

Well, well, well. How the turntables.

The cat's perpetual haughty little facial expressions were replaced by pleas of help. Being aggressively smothered with affection from a man it had no control over was the last thing it considered in its master plan.

In the end, the cat reluctantly gives in to his relentless advances. "We're finally friends!" Dazai says, but in truth he's only being barely tolerated by the small creature.

Edogawa Ranpo

The cat doesn't like him because it sensed a rival in affection. The true is also the same for Edogawa Ranpo.

It's not that he doesn't like cats - in fact he likes them very much - but he knew the instant they locked eyes that neither will yield for your attention.

The petty fights between two spoiled brats may be troublesome, but are nonetheless entertaining. You feel like a parent taking care of two 4 year olds.

"No. You don't deserve my food. Go away."

When Ranpo's not attentive, the cat swiftly grabs one of the potato balls at the edge of the plate.

"Y/N!!"

It's worse when you and Ranpo are physically affectionate. For example, he likes laying his head on your lap and you stroking his hair. It's arguable one of his favorite moments with you. Within minutes your cat will sit near the top of his head, stare at it with murderous intent, before swatting his forehead with great force.

You've talked about this with him several times already, but it takes quite some time before he heeds your request and becomes the bigger person (or species??) in this situation.

He apologizes to your cat with the most sincerity and best cat food he can offer. If this will make all the three of you happy, then appeasing the little rascal wouldn't hurt Ranpo's ego that much, wouldn't it?

Unfortunately, it was rejected with a cold stare and tail swish.

Looks like this will take a few more tries and a lot more cat treats...

Fukuzawa Yukichi

He's the most hurt among the three. Being rejected by a cat is one thing, but being rejected by your cat? What did he do to deserve this?

As such, Fukuzawa spoils the thing rotten. It's almost astounding.

All the treats and toys you can think of he brought over to your place in hopes of appeasing the cat. He always carries wet food with him whenever he visits your place (plus whatever your cat likes best).

He also does his best in making sure "the cat does not feel left out." If the two of you are by the couch, then he'd call the cat to snuggle in between the two of you as well. Sometimes he'd even be brave enough to pick it up himself.

You wonder if he spends more time trying to win over the cat than winning over you not that you mind since you were won over long ago but anyway

It actually doesn't take long for the two of them to get along. The level of respect and fondness Fukuzawa just has for the both of you definitely earned the cat's trust quicker.

[lunamadhatter99]

All for The Cameras

Chapter 5

Finnick Odair x Fem!reader

Hello, loves! It took me a while, I'm sorry, I spent most of the time being sick... so... yay. But here we are!

Let me know what you think and if you want to be tagged in the next chapters 🥰

Chapter summary: Here, we'll find a bit more about the reader's past.

Chapter warnings: murder, threat, well... it's the Hunger Games.

Tag list: @guacam011y @justtrying2getby @idontevenknow1359 @alexandra-001 @bambikitten @maggiecc @redh00dsbf @haneybunny @1-800-styles @sisiking99 @merromimo @yourdailymemedelivery @regsg18 @gordorio @bambikitten @gracieeleanorr @shev3nom @honethatty12 @savingprivatecass @erindiggory @martahabla @sterredem @aawdrea @wpdarlingpan @strawberry--fawn @barbarathewanderer @ih8books @a-mysterious-potato @mayonesavegana @celinaiscrying @katherinejess

I'm sorry if I can't tag everybody.

"Hi, my love."

"Finnick." I shortly reply, using all my strength not to look at him.

There's a short pause before he speaks up.

"What did he want?" He asks.

"To remind me that after we're married I'll be... his." I sigh.

"He wishes." He lets out a soft laugh and I follow, "you look good in that." He then says, nodding to my outfit.

"I'll let you borrow it sometimes." I joke and he chuckles.

"Switching clothes... I like it. I'm sure you'd look a lot better with this on than me." He points at the fish net tied around him.

"Well, the Capitol seemed to appreciate you in it."

"I thought I've been clear earlier," he starts to get closer, "your eyes are the only ones I care about," he lifts my chin up to look at him, "and your lips are the only thing I can think of."

"Finnick..." I weakly warn and he pulls away, going to lean against the opposite wall.

"I could be dead in a week..." he starts.

"Don't say that..."

"I could be dead in a week," he ignores me, "and all I can think about is you. Being with you. All the things I would love to do to you right here, right now... well... actually all night and everywhere, "he laughs embarrassed, I don't think I've ever seen him embarrassed like this before, "I would love to scream to the world how much..."

"Stop it." I basically order him.

"I could be dead in a week." He bitterly laugh, "and I can't even get a kiss."

"Finnick..."

"I'm not blaming you, I want you to know that. If I were to kiss you right now, I don't think I would be able to stop and... they would probably catch us and... they could hurt you. Because I could be dead in a week, but you might have a chance anyway."

I just hug him. Tightly, like if I were to let go he would disappear forever. When I feel his arms around me, I sigh, feeling safe. He kisses the top of my head, holding me just as tight.

I pull away just enough to look at him.

"Don't you ever say that again, you hear me? I hear you say it again and I will kill you myself." I warn him, tears threatening to fall.

"Yes, ma'am." He smiles.

I nod and pull away completely, blinking away the tears.

"Tomorrow morning the training sessions start at 8. Not that you need any, but... it might be a good chance to make allies." I tell him, "just... put the flirting aside, okay?"

"Jealous?" He teases.

"I'm just trying to keep you alive, at least, until the beginning for the Games." I tease back, earning a laugh from Finnick.

"You can joke about it and I can't?"

"You weren't joking, Finnick." I reminds him.

"You're right." He smiles, guilty, "Thank you."

The elevator signals we're at 12's apartments.

"I thought you press for 4."

"What kind of gentleman would I be if I let a woman go home on her own?" He smirks.

I roll my eyes, failing in hiding a smile.

"Go get some sleep, gentleman." I say.

"Yes, ma'am."

The doors close and I head to the kitchen to get a drink.

"Well, hello." Haymitch greets me from his spot on the couch.

"Tell me you didn't finish the liquor already." I joke walking to the cupboard to take a glass.

"I actually prepared a glass for you," he tells me, showing me the glass, "c'mon. "

I playfully roll my eyes and walk to sit on the couch with him.

We just sit there. Keeping each other company until it's so late we can't do anything but go to sleep.

--------------

I walk around each station of the training rooms to see if anyone need help, but as expected, no one does. They all probably know this place like the back of their hand, being first tributes and then mentors.

I keep an eye on Katniss and Peeta, to see if they're actually putting an effort in making allies... Katniss especially.

I see them walking around, inspecting the other tributes. A good part of the tribute is trying to show off, to intimidate them, most likely. I see Johanna smirking in Katniss' direction, so I look up at Plutarch sighing. Making Katniss trust any of them is gonna be harder than expected... a lot harder.

Peeta is now talking with one of the Morphlings, by the camouflage station, while Katniss is talking to Wiress and Beetee.

In my opinion they're a good choice, they're brilliant, but they're not very strong, and they need some strength too. Unfortunately the strongest one are also the cockiest one.

Speaking of cocky victors... I can't seem to find Finnick anywhere.

But I notice Katniss walking to Mags.

I would choose Mags, but because I know about the plan... Katniss doesn't, I don't understand what she's doing.

I keep on watching everyone until I feel a presence behind me.

"What do you think her strategy is?" Finnick asks from next to me.

"I... I have no idea." I sigh defeated. "But I can't exactly blame her."

"How so?"

"Look at everyone. Each victor either has a cocky, a challenging grin, or a hateful grin on their faces. Not very welcoming. Especially when she has to choose who to trust." I explain.

"That's her only choice though." He replies.

"I know," I sigh again and turn to look at him, noticing just now the rope around his neck, "what the hell is that?"

"What?" He fakes innocence.

"I told you, not to joke about it." I sigh annoyed, walking away from him. Noticing Katniss went into the simulator.

"I was just practicing," He laughs, "you know this is the best knot to learn for the arena."

"I swear, half of the time all I want to do is punch you." I shake my head, stopping to watch Katniss practice.

"And the other half?" He asks, and I don't have to look at him to know he's smirking, proud of himself.

"Punch you harder." I tease back, earning a surprised chuckle from him.

As Kantiss starts more people gather around to watch too.

"She has trust issues, doesn't she?" Johanna stands beside me, looking ahead.

"Maybe don't smirk while wielding an axe next time." I sarcastically reply and she scoffs.

We all stand watching Katniss using her skills and once she's done, everyone is at least impressed, which makes me smirk, proudly. Wiress is actually cheering, clapping her hands and that makes me smile genuinely.

----------

"Good news!" Haymitch cheers as we enter the apartment. "At least half of the Tributes want you as an ally."

"Well, they saw her shoot." Peeta adds.

"Well, sweetheart, you got your pick of the litter." Haymitch tells her.

"Choose carefully." I suggest.

"I want Wiress and Beetee. " She states, with no hesitation.

"Johanna calls them 'Nuts' and 'Volts'." Peeta says.

"They're still the smarter out there. And you need smart." I, subtly, scold him.

"Well, okay, good. Now who else?" Asks Haymitch.

"Mags."

I have no argument to defend her choice... unfortunately.

Peeta turns around, frustrated. Well, I'd be too.

"All right, fine, then no one." Katniss sternly says.

Haymitch and I share a look. We already know we will have to do it ourselves.

"I'll tell them you're still making up your mind." He says before walking away and I follow him, after sending a reassuring smile to Peeta.

"What should we do?" Haymitch asks, once we're alone.

"We will have to make allies for them." I answer, crossing my arms.

"Yeah," he sighs, "I'll start with Johanna, you talk to Finnick."

"You talk to Finnick, I'll talk to Johanna." I tell him.

"And why's that?" He mimics me, crossing his arms, there's a smirk growing on his face.

"... no reason." I avoid his eyes.

"Mh mh..." he hums, "Are you going to be attending the solo performances?"

"Nope." I answer, "I have...wedding duties to attend to."

"Fuck..." he swears, "I don't wanna be in your shoes, princess."

"Yeah... tell me about it." I groan, fighting the urge to pull at my hair.

"What's the plan?"

"Venue hunting... I think... I don't know" I let out a puff, "or maybe, Cal wants to tell me what he decided."

"Sounds more like it." He pulls me to him for a reassuring side hug, "it's his wedding, after all."

"Yeah." I laugh, and pull away, "I'm just an accessory. He will probably decide my dress too."

"Of course he will." He sighs, before he can say more, an Avox approaches up with an envelope in hand, handing it to me.

"Speak of the devil..." I sigh, opening Cal's letter.

"I'm sure the devil would be offended by that." Haymitch playfully scolds me.

"Sorry, I'll apologise when I see him. I'd gladly go to hell than meet up with Cal." I joke back, still reading the letter. "He's apparently waiting for me... eagerly."

"How romantic." He mutters, "will you be here tonight? For the scores?"

"I hope so." I say, "I'll make sure of it."

"Still be careful, princess." He nods his head, "and keep..."

" 'those eyes open', I know." I wink and walk away to the elevator, hoping the day will faster than I hope.

-------------

I don't have time to even walk out of the elevator that Cal's hand is already grabbing my wrist, excitedly leading me to the big table in his huge apartment, where a well dressed man and two assistants, I think, stand.

"Come, come, my sweetness. Mr Travers, here, was just about to tell me a great news, apparently." Cal makes me sit in a chair in front of him, so he can rest his hands on my shoulders. The gesture only makes me feel more trapped.

"Oh, yes, yes." Mr Travers nods, proudly holding his hand out to his assistant, who immediately hands him a paper. "I was coming here with the intention of showing you the options I gathered for your special day, but..."

Capitol people and their fucking theatrical manner...

"But..?" Cal presses, getting impatient.

"But I received a call this morning, just when I put the last picture in the bag... from our so loved President Snow." Mr Travers announces and I tense, "he had an incredible idea, as always. He offered his mansion as a venue for your wedding." He put the photo of the mansion down on the table.

Of fucking course.

"Really?" Cal's hold on me feels even tighter than before... maybe it is, or maybe it's just Snow's control caging me in.

Once the man nods enthusiastically, Cal shouts excited.

"That's wonderful!" He turns to me, "isn't it?"

"Wonderful." I repeat with a forced smile.

"How generous!" He comments.

"He also offered to..." again with the theatre.

"Well?"

"He volunteer to formalise the wedding himself."

"He said that?" I ask, shocked.

"Exact words." Travers nods.

'Volunteer'...

"It's going to be amazing," Cal is back behind me, his hands around my neck in what could seem an affectionate gesture, stroking my skin gently, but it's actually more suffocating than a snake hold.

They both go on and on and on talking about the wedding, as if I'm not even here.

The cake's gonna be like this, the chairs like that, the flowers, the centre-piece, the food, the music...

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom, real quick, excuse me." I say standing up, and hurrying to the bathroom near the bedroom.

I try to take deep breath, looking at the time, the solo performances are about to finish. I need to find an excuse to get out. They're not even asking me anything... I scoff at my reflection in the mirror, then I wash my face and open the door.

I gasp when I come face to face with Cal.

"Cal!" I exclaim, immediately faking a laugh. "What..."

"He's gone. We almost got through everything." He tells me.

"Already?" I ask, pretending to be sad I lost it.

"Yeah, gotta be prepared. We should get married when the Quartel Quell is over, and we don't know how long it will last. Maybe two days or two weeks.. gotta be prepared." He smiles.

"Of course." I nod, "well, then I should go. I have to be present, you know, when they announce the scores."

I try to walk past him, but he doesn't move a muscle, enjoying the closeness.

He wraps an arm around my waist to pull me even closer, leaning down so our noses touch.

"How about..." he starts, "you stay here a little longer, uh? We could have some fun together. It's been a while."

"I wish... I really do," I try to come up with the most sorry expression I can, "but I do need to get back. And since we finished earlier than expected, I should take advantage of that. I still have a duty to do."

"Oh please! I miss you." His hold gets a little tighter and he pouts, "Stay. I miss you, I miss your touch... your body... fuck... you still have no idea what you do to me, don't you?"

"Cal, trust me, no one is more sorry than I am, but I have a job to do," I cup his cheek with one hand and he leans into my touch, "Snow counts on me."

"Not even a few minutes?" He tries again and I shake my head, "Okay..."

"I'm sorry." I say, even though inside I'm hitching to run out of here.

I gently pull away from him and walk to the living room to grab my jacket, all of this feeling his eyes on me, constantly.

"I'll go now." I turn to him, to check if he is far enough for my liking and walk back to the elevator.

"Sure."

Before I can walk into the elevator, he grabs my hand, spin me to face him and crashes his lips on mine. His hands grabs everything he can reach. I try to push him off, as subtly as I can, but his touch just intensifies.

Thankfully, before I start to fully panic, he pulls away, just a little, still touching my lips with his, slightly.

"Once we're married..." he pants, "I'm never... ever letting you go." He lets out a breathless chuckle that only makes my skin crawl. "And, hopefully, I'll have no more competition for your attention. I'll make sure of it."

"Yeah." Is all I can say.

Once the elevator's doors open I rush in.

Finally the doors are fully closed and I can breath again.

'I'll make sure of it.' He said...

Finnick.

---------------

"Hey," Peeta is the first one to greet me as I walk back into the apartment, "you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Uh? Yeah... yeah, all fine." I force out a smile, I notice Haymitch watching me carefully, with a look that seems to say 'we'll talk about it' and I just nod, "so... what did I miss?"

"Oh these two basically put a big target o their own backs." Haymitch states.

"We didn't..." Peeta starts, but Haymitch stops him.

"Our Baker here painted little Rue on the floor. Girl on fire over there hanged a mannequin," he pauses, "after painting Seneca Crane's beard and name on it."

I'm lost for words, I look at both Peeta and Katniss, Peeta doesn't meet my eyes, he doesn't seem remorseful, but still he probably doesn't want to see my discontent. Katniss look at me, no trace of remorse or sorrow, but kind of proud.

"Not a smart move, I give you that," I say to Haymitch who nods thankful, "but it was a damn brave one."

Haymitch looks at me dumbfounded and shakes his head, defeated.

Katniss softly smiles at me and Peeta finally look up at me with a proud grin.

"It's starting." Effie tells us, and we all gather in front of the TV and Ceasar starts listing the tributes' scores

"Has anyone ever received a 0?" Katniss wonders.

-----

It's 12's turn.

"Oh god..." I scoff at the perfect 12 score for both Peeta and Katniss.

"Here, I present to you," Haymitch points at the TV, "the consequences.'

"What do you mean?" Peeta asks.

"They didn't give you a perfect 12 because they were impressed by your performances." I say.

"They did that to make sure that now the other Tributes know who to aim for." Haymitch finishes. "Both of you."

I see Haymitch sends an accusatory look at Katniss knowing they just made our job at protecting Peeta harder.

"Well, the damage is done... better go all to get some sleep." I say with a sigh, "we'll have enough time tomorrow to get ready for the interviews."

Everybody nods and walks to the respective rooms. Effie walks past me, squeezing my hand, reassuringly, I smile at her and watch her go.

I turn around to Haymitch, already looking at me.

"Drink?" He sighs, I nod and follow him to the kitchen.

I sit by the counter as he pours two glasses of wine, I think... I don't really care.

"Thanks." I say as he hands me a glass.

"What happened?" He finally asks, sitting with me.

"Well... for starters the wedding venue is going to be, by courtesy of our kind President, his mansion." I start, then take a bug gulp of wine.

"How kind." Haymitch sarcastically comments.

"Then, since he is, oh so kind and oh so selfless, he will be the one to make us husband and... wife." I say the last part with a shudder.

"Control freak."

I nod and take another big gulp of alcohol.

"But I don't think that's what got you so jumpy." He puts his glass down and gives me his full attention.

"Cal was going through everything with the planner quickly, and they finished just as quickly, so I took the chance and said my goodbye. He caught me off guard and... well he kissed me and he then said he can't wait to be married and all... with no competition," I take a shaky breath, "he said he'd make sure of it."

There's a heavy silence, then Haymitch takes my hand.

"The fisherman is too stubborn to let some spoiled cunt take him out. In any way possible." He reassures me and I can't help, but smile at his choice of word.

"Yeah... maybe you're right." I say squeezing his hand grateful.

"He can't do anything to him from here. He can pay whoever he wants... but your man is hard to get rid of." He winks and I roll my eyes, "you should know that."

"He... he is not my man. Okay? I'm just worried." I defend myself.

"Sure... sure." He stands up to walk to his room, "get some sleep. So tomorrow you can warn 'not your man'. Just in case."

"Shut up."

He turns his back to me, but still raises his glass to me, and I softly laugh.

I decide to go sit by the window, to clear my head or just distract myself.

As I sit by the window with my glass, I take the remote so I can change the view. I skip a few until I get to one that actually makes me relax: the shore.

As I look out towards the artificial view I can't help to think back at when Finnick was announced winner of his Games.

After he was brought back, I managed to let him have a moment to realise he won. That time he hugged like he was afraid of being taken away again. He cried his eyes out as I tried all I could to reassure him. None of us knew what would've happened a few years later...

I almost drop the glass in my hand when I hear someone approaching. I relax once I notice it's Katniss.

"Hi." She says, "didn't mean to scare you."

"You never do." I gently smile at her, "is it the only way we can actually spend some time together?" I jest, remembering the night on the train.

"I'm afraid so." She jokes, "I needed a glass of water."

"Did Peeta need one too?" I ask, pointing to the two glasses in her hands. She seems taken off guard, but doesn't answer, she just puts the glasses down and come sit with me.

"Can I ask you a favour?" She softly says.

"I will try my best to save Peeta. Well, I'll try to get you both as far as I can, anyway." I tell her, thinking that's what she wanted to ask.

"No... no, I know you will." She says, "I wanted to ask you...."

"What?" I look at her, trying to make her feel safe enough to speak up.

"Would you look after my family?" She finally asks. I'm a little take aback by that, but my body relaxes more, feeling my heart getting warmer because she trusts me enough to take care of her family.

"You didn't need to ask me that." I gently tell her, "I would've, regardless."

"Really?" She asks.

"Of course, Katniss... I..." I take a deep breath, "I know what it's like to feel helpless and not being able to protect your family."

She looks at me, confused. "What happened?"

"I had a brother, Ray." I say, my voice breaking a little, Katniss' features soften, "do you know how I became Snow's 'protégé'?"

She shakes her head.

"My parents worked for him, apparently they were both very loyal and hard working." I start to explain, "when they died, he thought to take us in, to show Panem how generous he was, you know. It was all good for a while, he kind of taught me a lot, unfortunately, but the problems started when he assigned me to help the mentors." Kantiss nods as I speak, attentive, "after a while I couldn't take it anymore. I always got attached to the tributes, and seeing them killed in the arena was... devastating. And I made the mistake of asking him if I could stop. He didn't like it."

"He killed your brother for that?" She asks, I notice tears in her eyes forming.

"He imprisoned him, and threatened if I said no to him again he would've killed him." I tell her, "so I had to keep on assisting the mentors. Then... Finnick won. Which was the happiest day of my life, not only because I didn't want him to die, but also because I thought that maybe... just maybe, Snow would've let me see my brother. He didn't." I take a shaky breath, "when I turned sixteen he asked me to do something, he wanted to give me another 'assignment'... one I really didn't want to do. He had my brother brought into his office... then he had him killed." I notice a tear falling from her eyes as I wipe my own away, "he kept his word. He showed me he always kept his word. I wanted to die in that moment, I wanted to attack him so the Peacekeeper would shoot me, but he predicted that. Told me if I tried to get myself killed in anyway all my friends would die... and my friends included the tributes. Mentors I met, and tributes who won and I accompanied during the victory tour."

"He got you caged." Katniss says softly and I nod. "I knew I misjudged you when I first met you. But I never thought..."

"I know." I sadly smile at her, "I never blamed you."

"I'm really sorry."

"He keeps say that it's the things we love the most that destroy us." I look out the window again, "which is true... but as members of the human race we can't live without love. So I guess we are doomed." I bitterly chuckle.

"Love also makes us strong."

We both turn around to see Peeta standing there.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but I also didn't want to interrupt." He apologies, genuinely sorry.

"It's okay. I care about you both, I wanted to share my story with you for a while, but I mean... it's not something you just casually say." I shrug.

"No, it's not. Thank you for trusting us." Katniss says.

"No." I shake my head, "Thank you for trusting me."

They both smile at me.

"Do you want us to keep you company?" Peeta asks.

"Go get some sleep, you need it. I'm okay." I reassure them.

"It's not a problem." Katniss tries.

"I'm fine." I smile at her, "I better try to get some sleep myself, anyway."

I stand up, Katniss soon follows, and walk with them until we're in front of Peeta's room.

"Goodnight." I smile at them.

"Goodnight."

"'Night."

-------------------

I'm bouncing my leg as I wait for the elevator to stop at the 4th floor so I can finally talk to Finnick.

Once the doors open I rush in finding Finnick with Mags at the table. I stand here a moment, looking at how normal they look, talking. Like a family, and not like two people about to be sent into a deadly arena.

Then, Finnick's eyes move and lock with mine. His smile brightens for a moment, before noticing my fidgeting hands, then it turns serious.

"Y/n?"

Mags turns to me too, she stands up once she notices my nerves.

"I... I need to talk to Finnick." I say.

Mags walks past me, after giving my hands a good reassuring squeeze, then she leaves us alone.

"Is something wrong?" Finnick asks, standing up too and walking to me.

I lead him to the window so we can sit and talk.

"I... well...uh... yesterday I had to go see Cal," I start, and notice Finnick jaw already tensing, "for the wedding... he and the planner finished rather quickly and when I was leaving... uh..."

"Did he hurt you?" He asks, immediately looking for any sign on me.

"No, no, no." I quickly assure him, "it's what he said."

"What did he say?"

"He said he can't wait to marry me and to finally have me all to himself... with no competition." I look him in the eyes, he frowns, "he said he would make sure of it."

"What... what does it mean?" He asks.

"It means... you need to be more careful in the arena." I sternly say.

"Do you think he would try something?"

"I don't know. He does have enough money to corrupt any other Gamemaker, the last word is always the Head Gamemaker, but... uh... just be careful." I say, with a soft voice, "Please..."

He looks at me with his sweet eyes and takes my hand in his.

"I will."

"Promise me." I literally order him.

He holds my hand tighter, serious eyes locked on mine.

"I promise you."

I nod, taking a deep breath, not relieved, but a little calmer.

"Thank you." I let out a big sigh and pull myself together, "Alright, uhm... the interviews will start at 8... the usual stuff, you know the drill.." I stand up.

"Thanks." He smiles, standing as well.

We look at each other, the world seems to disappear, his eyes are all I care about on this moment. I make the mistake of looking at his lips for a second, my eyes move quickly between his eyes and his lips, anxiously. He notices and comes closer, taking my hands once again.

"It's okay." He whispers.

"It's really not, but I appreciate the lie." I sadly chuckle, and he does too, caressing my hands.

"You're right, it's not okay. But it's not your fault." He reassures me, "okay?"

I nod and he pulls me to him, wrapping his arms around me reassuringly.

"You're the one who has to fight for his life... and here you are... comforting me." I mutter, pulling away.

"Yeah, well... you're the one who'll have to deal with Cal Kingslay, not me." He jokes and I laugh, showing his slightly.

"Hard to tell which is worse." I play along.

I feel a gentle tap on my shoulder, I turn around to Mags worried face.

"It's okay." I tell her, she then points at me insistingly, "I am okay, I promise."

She smiles sweetly at me, then points at Finnick then at herself, with a determined look, to tell me she's going to take care of him in the arena.

"Take care of each other. Okay?" I ask her and she nods.

"We will." Finnick rubs my arm, comforting.

"Okay... okay, I do have to go and get my tributes ready" I tell them.

"We'll see you tonight then?" He asks as he leads me to the elevator.

"I'll be in the audience." I smile at him.

"The only reason to be on that stage tonight." He grins, "so I can properly look at you."

"Finnick.." I playfully warn him.

"What?" He fake innocence, "I will flirt with you for as long as I can. You can't stop me."

"You're insufferable." I roll my eyes and enter the elevator. "Careful on what you say tonight."

He nods, a sweet childish smile grows on his face.

"I'll see you tonight, my love." He says just before the doors close, preventing me from scolding him more.

I shake my head and deeply sigh. As the elevator goes back up to 12, I start to think of a way to properly protect them all in the arena. I know Plutarch will help, but too much help will get suspicious... and if Cal manages to pay someone, it would get harder.

I'm not losing any of them.

I'm not losing him.

[factorialsotherfandoms]

(implied cannibalism, non-explicate suicidal thinking, discussions of murder, spoilers for tazercraft stream iiiiiiiiish, nobody has the right stick let alone the right end of it but they're running with it anyway. It's kinda dark oops all three of them forgot what rails are)

"What the fuck did you do to Pac?"

Cellbit knew he should have gone back to the fear room, but Roier had insisted on actually using their double bed, and after meeting Bobby again and the other eggs at all... After that...

Cellbit groans and turns over, to see Roier already half out of bed, knife in hand, and Fit leering over them with a bomb. It's not lit, and so Cellbit could honestly give less of a damn.

And, hey, Roier is getting out of bed with that knife, at which point getting hit would not be too terrible after all.

"Nothing!" Roier is yelling on his behalf. "He has been - been with me all night! The eggs! What the fuck Fit."

"Then why is he missing?" Fit yells back. "Where has he gone?!"

Roier continues the screaming match, and Cellbit is suddenly alert - not hearing what is being yelled between the two, but alert. Horror seeps through him, dread pooling in shaking limbs as he finally sits up and turns to the pair.

"Pac's missing?"

"Shhh, Guapito," Roier coos. "/Go back to sleep/."

Fit must see something, though, because he twists his... whatever the fuck that is from an aggressive stance to a defensive one.

"Yeah," Fit's voice is wary. "I said I'd meeting him tonight - protect him from /you/ - but he's gone."

"Did you check the island?" Cellbit asks, trying not to even think about the words as he drags himself out of bed.

He's too tired for this, far too tired for this, but even with the posters, even with the walls... Pac is obviously terrified of him and maybe he shouldn't chase the man but he's still family. He's still family, and what is he doing this for if not family?

But the fucking bear has taken Pac. Again. And Cellbit is going to enjoy eating its corpse.

All three of them's corpses.

He quite frankly doesn't give a damn.

"Did I check the island?" Fit sounds incredulous. "Of course I checked the island! It's where we were meeting. And Chume Labs, and the Order, and Tubbo's - fuck I even checked /Spreen's/ before I came here. He didn't want to think you'd kill him, but where the fuck else could he be?!"

"The bear took him," Cellbit's brain is running a thousand miles a minute, through every possibility, through every possible torture, through everything being done to Pac and through everything he's going to do to the bear. "That fucking bear! I knew I was going too slowly, I knew-!"

Roier grabs his hands, uncurls fingers he didn't even realise were digging into his palms, meets his eyes, "we'll kill him together, yes?"

"Roier..."

"Yes?"

"Yes."

Fit is still standing there, calmer but less comfortable.

"Alright maybe it was presumptuous," he conceeds. "You'd have left some fucked up riddle. But you can't blame me. Hes terrified of you right now."

"I know," Cellbit hates himself for it, but he has to get his family safe - family that is now only Roier, and Felps, and Bagi. "But I have to. I have to get them safe."

"I get that," Fit puts away his whatever, and takes out his potato cannon instead. "He wants you to be two people, you know. One to be scared of, one to love."

Cellbit laughs - he isn't surprised - and finds he cannot stop. It spirals and spirals and spirals until he's sat on the bed, Roier wrapped around him, laughing so hard he cries into his bloody hands.

Fit does not flee the sight, instead meets the hysterical murderer in the eyes. He doesn't back down, doesn't stop.

"You're clearly not," Fit says. "Get moving, we've got someone to find. I'm down to shoot the fucks, but I'm not an investigator."

Cellbit tries to get up, to go, to find, to hunt.

Roier grabs his wrist.

"Sleep," he says. "They don't leave clues for a few days anyway."

"Oh we're not looking for clues," Fit twirls a keycard between his fingers. "We're just going to go to them."

Rover's lips move in a snarl; Cellbit's match. It's a stupid idea, but he gets the rest of the way up, tears and giggles still slightly escaping him as he pulls on a shirt, and gets his knife.

Cellbit watches the lax movement, and has no doubt that Fit has murdered before, and will do again. Neither, from what he hears, is there anything he wouldn't do for Pac.

Heh.

Maybe they're family after all, or at least they will be very soon. Fucked up little murder family, out for revenge.

"I like your idea," he says, murderer to murderer. "But if you wake my husband up again, it will be you next."

Roier grumbles about that being his line as he straps a fourth knife to his leg, and readies his own weapons.

It doesn't even rise to the threat, he just barks out half of a laugh and adjusts his stance.

"Emergencies about Pac or Mike only."

Cellbit grins wide enough to show off his teeth. "Exactly."

[lab-gr0wn-lambs]

Some towl thoughts so far:

It's so good to see Rick actually being in love with Michonne. Like we knew they were in love, but we didn't really get to see just how deeply. At least on his end.

Rick dreams in a romcom format. His brain is a romcom. Idk why but that is the weirdest thing to learn about him. On the inside I am just a good ole lover boy. On the outside? A murderer.

So did Rick draw the lil pictures of Michonne and Judith? Before I thought it might've been Jadis but he hasn't been hanging out with her at all. His art style is fuckin cute. Idk why he draws Jude like that though. That's what she looks like now, but she was like 5 last time he saw her...

CRM rly makes everything our group ever did look like small potatoes... "We fought some bad guys and built a network of farming communities! We're rebuilding the whole world!" "We blew up the military and saved 200000 people. We have modern infrastructure and power. There's two more places just like us also." Like fuck dude ok.

Forbidden Rick backstory?? He was a farm kid? He saw his dad get burned alive? What? Rick the kinda guy to tell you all the details of his childhood vacation to Cornwall but fail to mention the time he killed God or something

New guy got sploded :(

Why did Michonne take Rick's helmet off?! Thank GOD she did?! She didn't take anybody else's off before killing them! Girl can you imagine?!

This episode was GOOD but it was a gigantic infodump. But it's ok all I wanted was sergeant sad eyes and boy howdy did we get him

[spnczr]

Mitski || Vecna

Crack fic

Warning(s): The murder of a hamster named Potato Chip, season 4 spoilers

***

Y/n opened their eyes only to be met with a world that wasn't their own.

They knew this would happen. They've been having the same symptoms as everyone else who was killed by him. For them, it was their hamster, Potato Chip. 

He was a pet from when they were around seven, so when they thought he was dead they were quick to bury him. However, they later found out about the high chances of him just being asleep and hibernating. They've been burdened with guilt ever since.

"Y/n," A voice said, causing them to turn around slowly. Their eyes widened at the sight.

"What the fuck?" Y/n exclaimed as they stood up from the ground. "Bro, why is a walking barnacle trying to kill me? I was expecting you to be scarier."

"Y/n you know what you did," He continued, completely ignoring their comment. "You killed an innocent hamster."

"I WAS SEVEN I DIDN'T KNOW THEY HIBERNATED!!" Y/n screeched as they started to run in the opposite direction. They weren't sure how long they had been running, but they eventually arrived at an area filled with red mist.

"I've seen so many horror movies, I probably shouldn't go in," Y/n commented as they proceeded to enter the fog. "This can be my main character moment."

They looked around as they were farther in. Chrissy and Fred, we're in this thing stunning up from the ground. It was like when they saw that grandfather clock in the tree, but it was them instead of the clock. 

"Y/n you are meant to join me," Vecna Continued before he cornered them against another thing the dead bodies of his past victims were in. 

They felt vines wrap around them, pulling them up against the tree and holding them there. 

"I shall—"

Suddenly Mitski started to play.

"Are . . . are you ok?" Vecna asked as he heard the lyrics, earning a shake of the head from Y/n.

"Not really, no. Shits have been a hard man. Are you okay? This whole killing people ordeal must have been caused by something."

Vecna let them go. "Can I talk about it?"

Y/n sat down on the ground and patted the ground. "I'm all ears."

———

Dustin and his friends watched as Y/n's body which was previously in the sky lowered to the ground. They didn't wake up though.

"What is happening?" Steve asked and he snapped his fingers in front of them.

"I'm not sure, what song is playing?" Dustin asked as Max checked.

"It just says Mitski Mixtape." 

Dustin facepalmed. "Shit."

[justsomerandomfanfic]

We Got Each Other - Eddie Munson X Female Reader

Title: We Got Each Other

Eddie Munson X Female Reader

Additional Characters: Reader's parents (Given names; Janey and Frank)

WC: 1,441

Warnings: The reader has a mother and father, insecurity, anxiety, mention of death, mention of murder, slight angst, and mention of demons

"You'll be fine. They'll love you. Just like I do... Well, not like I do. But, you know what I mean." You told Eddie right outside your front door.

Eddie sighed, biting his lip. He was worried about meeting your parents. Even though he had been dating you for a year and a half, and heard all the stories from you about your amazing parents, he was still skeptical. He wasn't the ideal boyfriend. He was a super senior and sold drugs on the side of not graduating. He was just hoping that they would see past it when they saw how good of a person he is. But, he couldn't help but be insecure.

"Hey..." You grabbed Eddie's attention, a small, but sad smile on your face.

You gently rubbed his arm, "You'll be okay. Just don't mention your side job and you'll be good as gold, baby." You leaned up to kiss him softly. “Even if they are a bit… Weird. I still love you. That’s all that matters.”

He laughed lightly at your comment, eyes filled with such admiration for you, kissing back lightly before pulling away. He gave you one last quick peck on the lips before he let out a large sigh. You kissed his cheek briefly, before opening the front door. You stepped into the lavish home, one that could be compared to Steve Harrington's, taking off your shoes; Eddie following suit.

"Mom! Dad! We're home!" You called out, and immediately your mother ran towards you from the kitchen, pulling you into a hug.

"Oh, my baby! How are you? How was school?" She asked, and you shrugged once she let go.

"Good. Mom, this is Eddie. My boyfriend."

Your mother turned her attention to Eddie, looking him up and down. Before she gave the young man a smile.

"Hello, ma'am. It's nice to meet you." Eddie spoke, as politely as he could, reaching his hand out.

"Hello, Eddie. You can call me Janey." Your mom smiled, shaking Eddie's hand, before quickly looking away from the young man.

Your mother then turned to the kitchen, "Frank! Y/N and her boyfriend are here!"

Your father then emerged from the kitchen, wearing a 'kiss the cook' apron. Your father smiled once he saw you, bringing you into a side hug.

"Hey, bug! Glad you're here for dinner. And, this must be the man you talk so much about!" You dad teased, shaking Eddie's hand with a huge smile.

"Dadddd..." You sighed, embarrassed.

"I'd say it's a pleasure to meet you too, Mr. L/N. Thank you for having me over." Eddie spoke, and your dad chuckled lightly.

"Nothing but pleasure. Come on, you two. I just took the pork out of the oven." Your dad led both of you into the kitchen where it smelled amazing.

The table was set, plates already laid out. The most delicious-smelling food filled the air. There were potatoes, lasagna, salad, and even some fresh fruit. Your dad went all out. You sat down next to Eddie, across from your mom and dad. As the four of you ate, your father made most of the conversations.

"So, Eddie... What do you do?"

Eddie frowned a little, "Do? Sir?" He asked.

Your father waved his fork around in the air, "For a job, son."

"Oh, I... Don't have one at the moment, I'm still in school."

Your father furrowed his eyebrows, your mother looking up from her food, "Y/N said that you were two years older."

Eddie nodded, rubbing the back of his neck, "Yes, I haven't graduated from high school yet. But, I know this is my year." Eddie reassured, and your father nodded.

"Well, that's better than never, right, dear?" Your father asked, turning to your mother who said nothing.

You furrowed your own eyebrows. Your mother was very quiet. Normally she would talk as much as your father when you had family or friends over. Biting your lip, you worried if it was because she didn't like Eddie.

There was an awkward silence before your father spoke again.

"So, Eddie, what kind of things do you like to do?" Your father asked, clearing his throat.

Eddie smiled a bit, "I am in a band actually. We make our own music and stuff like that."

Your father looked surprised, "Really? That's great. Where did you guys get started? With the name?"

Eddie smirked, "We call ourselves 'Corroded Coffin.'"

Your father's eyes widened, "That's a cool name!"

"Thank you, sir!" Eddie replied, and your father smiled.

"So, how long have you been together? Y/N has always talked about you so much."

Eddie smiled as he looked over to you, "Almost two years. We became official at the beginning of Y/N's senior year."

"And, I've known Eddie since we were little kids. Since I was about eight." You added.

Your father's eyes widened, "Oh, you're that little kid that had his head shaved! Y/N would talk so much about you then too." He teased, making Eddie chuckle with flushed cheeks.

He didn't know you talked so much about him.

Soon, the conversations dwindled down, and you four ate in silence. Until, it was the end of the night and you and Eddie had to go back to his trailer, where you lived with him full-time. Shutting the van door, you turned to Eddie who sat in the driver's seat, hands on the wheel, looking straight ahead with unblinking eyes.

"My father loves you." You spoke, and Eddie only nodded.

"Yeah." He replied, not speaking anymore after that.

You sighed, leaning your forehead against the window. You liked your parents, but there was obviously a lot of tension between them about Eddie. You wished your mother had just talked to him. He wasn't as bad as he seemed. He was like a sheep in wolf's clothing. Just misunderstood. You would definitely be cuddling his sadness away tonight.

~~~

"Janey, why didn't you say anything at dinner?" Frank asked his wife, who was finishing the dishes.

She looked up from the sink, "What do you mean? About Eddie?"

He shook his head, "It's about Eddie's criminal record? Isn’t it?"

"Oh, that. Honestly, we knew that going into this." She spoke, placing the newly clean dish on the rack.

"He was acquitted, there was no other evidence that he killed that girl. There was no DNA of his on her at all. That’s why they are still looking for the killer.”

Janey sat the rag down, sighing, "I know, but don't forget he is in a rock band, his hair not to mention is crazy, and he plays some game that conjures the devil... Who says he didn't kill that girl?" His wife spoke, and he rolled his eyes.

"His hair needs work, but it’s the 80’s; everyone has mullets now. And, I doubt that game has anything to do with demons. And if you forget, hon. I used to be like that too in the early 60s. And you loved me." He reminded her, smiling, and she smiled sadly.

"I remember. Still do." She sighed, leaning against the sink. "But, I just worry about our daughter. I want her to find someone who can take care of her."

Frank sighed, stepping closer, engulfing his wife in a hug. "He does. I can tell how much he loves her. And, he'll be a good husband to her as well. If you ask me, I think he's perfect for Y/N."

Janey smiled, "You're being a little biased, love."

"What? I am a great husband."

Janey just laughed, "Yes, you are."

~~~

“She hated me.” Eddie pouted, nuzzling his head into your shoulder.

You hummed, running your fingers through his hair, “She doesn’t hate you, baby.”

Eddie huffed, “She didn’t talk to me at all during dinner.”

Eddie did have a point.

“She just doesn’t like change. I bet she either doesn’t want her baby to grow up or that she doesn’t like how the world is changing. From what I heard from my father, she loved the 60s and was sad when all the trends and new things started popping up.” You explained and Eddie sighed.

“But, it doesn’t matter what she thinks. My dad loves you and I love you so, technically, that’s two out of three. That’s a B+ at the least.” You finished, pressing a kiss to the top of Eddie’s soft curls.

“I love you too.” He mumbled, tightening his arms around you.

“We don’t need them. We got each other.” You muttered, getting sleepy.

“We got each other.” Eddie copied, before the two of you both fell asleep.

[coping-via-clint-eastwood]

Minutes to Midnight - Gil Grissom x Reader

(A/N: Happy Valentine's Day from the man I wish I could spend it with)

At 10 pm on the 13th of February, Gil and you woke up, having an hour to get ready and go to your shift. Like always, you were happy to see each other, but the knowledge that Valentine's Day was just around the corner made you lovey and dopey, and smiled at each other sweetly before closing your eyes and leaning in for a kiss. You rolled out of bed and freshened up, then headed to grab a quick dinner before going to work.

An hour into the slow shift, Gil looked at his watch. "Hey," he said to you, failing to hide his boyish excitement as he held his wrist out for you to see that it was midnight. A smile of equal goofiness came onto your face because of his own. You looked up at him, and your eyes met his. Seeing the consent in yours, he stepped towards you and engulfed you in a kiss, his lips pressed eagerly to yours and his big body encaging you, keeping you safe. Your hands lingered on his chest, clutching his collar and buttons.

Meanwhile, the rest of the team always got nosy around the time of important romantic dates for the two of you, for one because they were single, and because Grissom used to be so reserved, but he had become more relaxed throughout the course of your relationship, and it was intriguing to see Grissom like that (as well as you, because the pair of you were sweet with each other).

And so, when midnight rolled around, they crept to Grissom's office, stopping just short of the door way. Greg and Warrick giggling made the two of you turn to her. "How cute," Greg teased with a grin.  Gil and you looked at each other with decisive smiles, and brought your faces together to kiss again, to the soft joking but genuine cheering of your friends.

Of course, Catherine had to take it where she did, like always.  "So breakfast, a movie and...lots of sex?"  She was side-eyeing the both of you with a suggestive grin.

"Yeah," you confirmed simply, nuzzling Gil with a loving smile, more lost in him than anything else.  And he, too, was just enjoying you, his chin rested on your head with his eyes closed and a relaxed smile.

"But, as for now...?"  Catherine prompted.

You finally pulled apart.  "For now, we're solving a case with you."

"If we get one," Nick pointed out.  "There hasn't been anything, which is very strange."

"Well maybe we can have lunch together.  Then, after that, if there's still nothing, (y/n) and I'll take the night off.  Catherine will supervise."

"You got it," the woman in question said.

"All right I think we'll leave them alone for now," Warrick smiled, putting his hands on Catherine's and Greg's shoulders and bringing them away, with Nick following along.

For the third time, Gil and you looked at each other, this time for a quick peck before you split off to follow up on evidence for some cold cases.

You all decided to test the blood spatter patterns of a murder, since it was fun to hit things with no consequences of harming people.  Grissom leant against the wall beside the doorway and watched you all.  After a fun session of hitting, trying out different weapons and creating patterns on the paper stuck on the spatter wall, you finally got somewhere.  Greg volunteered to recheck the DNA, so he took note of whose blood spattered which way, collected fresh DNA samples from the storage, and went to relieve Wendy of her duties for a little bit.  It was nearly lunchtime when he came back and gave his report; finally, progress had been made.  "Great," Grissom smiled.  "Let's go eat."  Like always, you all decided to patronise Frank's Diner.

When your food came, everyone except Gil looked at it weirdly and confusedly.  "What is that?"  Nick asked.

"Toad-in-a-hole," you answered simply.

"What?"  Warrick heaved, leaning forwards in his seat.

"It's what the English call sausages in mashed potatoes.  It's nicely tasty, to me at least," you said, using your fork to cut off a piece of sausage and dragging it through some potato before popping it into your mouth.

Gil looked at his watch.  "It's a little over three am.  (Y/n) should be getting melancholic right about now."

Your chewing slowed a great deal, and you mafe yourself swallow for comfort before turning to him.  "Wah...?"

"I saw your face when we were sitting silently in the car.  What's on your mind?"  Of course, he had been the one driving.

You felt like sliding down your chair under the table and hiding.  But you opted to use your hands to cover your blushing, tearing face, leaving your mouth clear so they could hear you; damn did that man know how to call you out in all the best guilt-free ways.  "I was just thinking that I can't believe that I'm here with you all, right here, right now.  I can't believe I have the man of my dreams as my...to call my own, and with my family."  A sniffle followed that.

Greg, who was sitting on your other side, wrapped his arms around you.  "We love you," he said simply, before giving you a kiss on the side of your head.

You sniffled again before saying, "I love you too."  He let go of you.

Gil poked your fork through some potato and waved it in front of you teasingly.  "Now come on, eat your toad-in-a-hole."

You smiled at him, and ate what he held right in front of your mouth, instantly cheering up; tpically, Gil comforted you seriously, but the both of you preferred to have that in private; playfully flirting in public, demonstrating confidence and pride in your relationship, worked just as well.

After your meal, you parted ways, with Gil and you bidding everyone else good luck at work while they teasingly called 'happy Valentine's Day's out.  Gil drove again, and you became thoughtful and quiet again.

You stepped out of your thoughts when Gil pulled into the driveway.  You entered the house without needing his guidance.  Once you had both taken turns in the shower, Gil asked you, "What would you like to do now?"

"Can we lie on the couch and listen to music?"

At that, he took his shirt off because he thought you would probably want to play with his torso hair.  "Sure."  You went to the sitting room.  Before he could ask what you wanted to listen to, he saw that you were already picking out something.  So he just lay down on his back for you to lie on top of him.  You put the CD you had picked in the player and selected the track you wanted.  He smiled as you got on top of him and he wrapped you in his arms, having recognised the song.  "Valentine's Day by Linkin Park."

"What else?"  Your response was muffled because your face was buried in his chest hair.  He gaily thumped out the percussion on your back (not that you would not encourage it).

When the song ended, he waited for your next actions, and that happened to be in the form of just lying as you were and letting the album play.  "It's Valentine's Day and we're listening to songs like Given Up and Leave Out All the Rest," he teased.

"Mmf.  Leave Out All the Rest is our song anyway."

"Yeah..."

Somehow, you eventually fell asleep, when What I've Done was playing; it was not a particulary slow song, but it was soothing.  Gil reached out to turn off the radio and joined you.

And the pair of you woke up just in time for breakfast.  It was too late to cook, so Gil picked up the phone to order takeout.  "What would you like to eat?"

"I can't decide whether I want fish and chips or pizza..."  you mulled, looking down, putting your hand on your chin and rubbing slightly.

"I'll get one of each, then we'll split them in half."

"Sounds good."

"What pizza do you want?"

"Pizza with no ingredients, but beef on the left side." When Gil looked like he was about to kill you, you adjusted, "Erm, pepperoni pizza with cheese, please."

He made the order, and the two of you decided what movies to watch while waiting for it to arrive.  When it did, Gil went to collect it while you put in the first movie; it was just going to be a collection of Westerns running all day.  Then, when everything was set up and ready for eating, Gil said, "Wait here," and went off somewhere.  You looked on curiously, but soon forgot about him because your attention was drawn to the scent of the warm, crispy fish.  You sliced a bite and ate it, your mouth salivating readily to break it up as quickly as possible.  Gil returned with two wine glasses in one hand and a bottle of such in the other.  Upon seeing your tickled and surprised gaze as he set the glasses on the table and filled them, he said, "Wine goes well with Italian food, doesn't it?"

"Yeah but we're eating British food too," you said bemusedly, poking a chip with your fork and turning it vertically up to indicate it.

He shrugged.  "Still."

"I don't think wine will go well with this though."

"Eat the fish and fries first then."  And with that he stole the one off your fork by simply stretching his neck out and eating it.

So you cut the fish in half while Gil started the movie, the opening credits starting.  The two of you took your sweet time with everything, just wanting to enjoy yourselves and each other.  The both of you lost your sense of time, but eventually, Gil poured the wine out, and you consumed it alongside the pizza.

After every last morsel was consumed and you had binged films until you were satisfied, you looked at each other, tired, and dopey, smiling at each other.  You instinctively scooted to sit as close by as possible.  Gil lowered his forehead to touch yours, and soon, his lips followed suit.  "Happy Valentine's Day," he whispered.

"I love you too," you whispered back, saying it in different ways but meaning the same thing altogether.

[turquoisebolotie]

What the Darkness Does

Notes: Oh-ho-ho, bubba! Look here, this is a slow burn SeverenxReader experience. How slow is that burn?? I'm talkin' Strangers, to Acquaintances, to Friends?, to Oh God, what are they doing now??, to Jesus Christ, will y'all just admit you're lovers?! Everybody else already knows! I'm talkin' an exploration of touch, trust, and intimacy. Imma need you to hop in the car, go to the store, and grab me some potatoes, some bell peppers, some sausage, and some eggs. 'Cause we're about to hash this out! There's also gonna be whole heapin' helpin' of bonding with the Hooker Clan, and exploration of said bonds, because I yearn for Found Family. I hunger for Found Family, particularly this found family! And oh boy that's just gonna make the burn all the slower, won't it?? Fasten your fuckin' seatbelts, loves.

Part 1: Soaked to the Bone

(Severen x GN Reader, 2nd Person POV, they/them pronouns, 3026 Words)

Warnings for this chapter: Violence, murder

Songs listened to while writing this chapter: When the Night is Over by Lord Huron... over and over and over again. And also the Title Theme from Near Dark because it's a banger.

----------------------------

The pounding rain tried to rush in with them as they walked through the door, a group of four that strode wordlessly to the booth in the corner. You could just see them in your peripheral vision from your spot behind the bar, but you didn’t have to look at their faces to know they weren’t locals. Everyone willing to leave the comfort of their recliners and trudge through the downpour for a beer was already there.

You called out a friendly “Hey! How y’all doin’ tonight?” But without waiting for an answer, you took off like a flash, abandoning the rag you had used to polish the counter and making a beeline for the stockroom behind you. You nudged the old, grimy door open with your shoulder and, only having to lean in a little past the threshold, grabbed the towels stashed away specifically for nights like this one. You took five, one for each of your new customers and a larger one for the mess you knew waited at the entrance. They were threadbare and a little on the scratchy side, but you hoped they would be some small comfort.

In a few hurried steps you swiveled back into the hazy barroom and crossed the floor to that corner booth, which was now alive with the hum of quiet chatter. 

“Mighty kind of you.” A smooth, deep voice rolled out of the man sitting on one of the ends of the horseshoe bench, and as if commanded, the other three paused their conversation and turned their heads up to you. 

“Happy I can help.” Your reply was warm but no less practiced, mind more focused on the puddle in the corner of your eye. After the group picked your pile of towels down to the last, extra large one, you wheeled around. Your eyes caught briefly on the neon sign hanging in the window by the door. Searing red and icy blue twinkled off of the countless tiny droplets on the glass, and you noticed that the pounding outside had subsided. Almost as if it, too, had been commanded.

You laid the towel out like a red carpet, only to then stamp down on it with your mud-caked boots and drag it around. “Rough weather out there,” you sighed, still doing your awkward little shimmy. “I appreciate y’all comin’ out.”

Lightning bathed the night in white, and thunder followed with a rumble so fierce it shook the walls around you. You flinched.

“A man can still thirst even when he’s soaked to the bone,” the man said. His words, his stoic cadence, made your fingers twitch, so you rubbed your hands up and down the side seams of your jeans before resting them on your hips. Unsure of how to respond, you pushed out a polite, nervous chuckle.

And then you finally, really looked at him. Skin like sandstone stretched over sunken cheeks. A jagged scar curved around one eye socket and then bolted down to his jaw. His head cocked just slightly to one side, as if gauging your reaction to him, assessing you. He had your undivided attention.

“I suppose he can, yes sir.”

“The manners on this one,” He mused, eyebrows raised in the faintest hint of mirth, but he wasn’t speaking to you. You plastered on your tried-and-true service smile and turned to greet his companion at the other end of the seat, only to be walloped into orbit.

Bottomless eyes watched you from within a freckled face, with lips curved up in a small, closed-mouth smile. Bleach blond hair had been ruffled by one of the towels and was slowly drying into short, fluffy curls. She leaned into the backrest with an arm slung over top, the picture of comfort and relaxation. And yet the angle at which she upturned her chin, and the set of her shoulders, spoke of a power lying in wait.

Breath hitching, skin tingling on the back of your neck, you were struck by the urge to reach out to her and hold on tight, follow her wherever she went, tell her everything and anything. You slid your shaky hands behind your back and shoved them in your pockets.

“What’s your name, honey?” Her voice was all-encompassing, like the deafening roar of cicadas at dusk. 

You bowed your head, breaking the spell of her gaze while also begging for forgiveness of your social blunder. You offered them your name and then left the air open for them to return in kind.

They looked at each other one more time, and the woman shrugged as if to ask “What’s the harm in it?” And it made you wonder what the harm would be.

The man relented with a nod. “Jesse.”

“Alright, Mister Jesse,” you echoed. He barked a laugh at the added prefix.

You then turned to the woman, and your heart hammered in your chest as you met eyes again. “The name’s Diamondback.”

“Di–” you started, thrown off by such an unusual name, but then you blinked and your mind caught up with your mouth. And you couldn’t help but think that that name was just perfect for her. “Miss Diamondback. It’s nice to meet y’all.”

“ Oh, darlin’, please. Just Diamondback.”

“Well, I uh, I can certainly try. No promises,” you joked, and the grin that took over your face was the genuine article. Diamondback’s eyes crinkled as her reserved smile morphed into something more like yours.

Then it hit you that you had, so far, completely glossed over the other two people in the booth. Your face grew hot with embarrassment, but you pushed on, focusing your gaze on their spot in the dip of the u-curve. You cleared your throat and apologized before asking their names.

They were a noticeably younger couple, and seemed to be completely unbothered by having faded into the background. Looking for all the world like the small town high school sweethearts who just never felt the need to get out and sew any oats, who got engaged right after their graduation ceremony, who went home to a tiny trailer after a small wedding in somebody’s backyard, they sat contentedly pressed together. The young man had his arm wrapped around his partner’s shoulders, and the young woman’s hand reached up to twine her fingers with his. Compared to the whirlwind you had just braved, speaking to them was more like a gentle morning breeze. The young man lifted his free hand and pointed first to his other half, and then himself. “Mae and Caleb.”

“Mae and Caleb.” You nodded. You flexed your fingers as the trembling finally calmed down, giving you the courage to bring your hands out from their hiding spot. Slowly coming back to your senses, you bent down and snatched the long forgotten, sullied towel from the floor. “Now, what can I get y’all to drink?”

They kept it blessedly simple, not that they could get anything particularly fancy in a hole in the wall in the middle of nowhere. Shots of well whiskey for Diamondback, Mae, and Caleb. Jesse just wanted a beer and a glass.

You walked back to the bar and set about putting together the order when you heard your name called from another, more well-worn booth one spot over from your new friends. You flicked your eyes up and away from your task, flashing an amused little smirk at the old man you’d had to drive home after closing on a handful of occasions. 

“ Kiddo, you gon’ work yourself to death.” The slur in his words turned the ‘th’ in ‘death’ into more of an ‘f’ sound. “You gon’ drop dead right here in this bar. One a’ these days.”

With the drinks assembled and gathered on a tray, you dispatched them, leaving you then free to turn to your regular. “Gotta pay the bills, somehow, Mister George,” you quipped, “‘Less you know some rich, old fool who’d be willing to sweep me off my feet and take me away from all this.”

His laugh was more of a wheeze. “Well, there’s our problem. I know plenty of fools, but I ain’t never known nobody rich.”

You threw up your hands, careful to make sure you had put enough space between you and the table so that the empty tray in your grasp wouldn’t fly into Diamondback’s face. “Well then, here we are,” you chuckled.

“Here we are,” George said back, raising his glass to you in a toast to your good fortune. 

“Where’s Jay?” another old man, another regular and George’s more even-keeled friend, piped up. “For a man who’s got his name above the door I sure don’t see him around here often.”

“Said he was going night fishin’, Mister Bobby.”

“Night fishin’?!” George balked, “Goin’ for a swim, more like!”

“That’s what he told me.” You shrugged in resignation, well aware of just how stupid your boss’s excuses always sounded.

Bobby shot you an exasperated look. “James Colegrove has never fished a day in his godforsaken life, be it sun-up or sundown. What he does do, is blow all his money at poker games and run around on his wife.” He punctuated his declaration with a pointed sip of his beer. You huffed and shook your head. Whether strange new faces rolled in or not, George and Bobby never allowed a dull moment to pass in that bar. 

“Well, you got me, there–”

The sound of thick glass slamming against wood made your heart lurch, and you jumped to turn your attention to one of the small tables out in the middle of the floor. Some rough-looking drifter with his face seemingly stuck in a permanent scowl, he had given you a bad feeling from the minute he barreled in with only a grunt of his drink order, just a little bit before Diamondback and the gang arrived. But you chalked it up to your being a worry-wart, and after serving his beverage, you had forgotten him. What, with all the hubbub. 

“ My glass is empty,” he growled, “You gonna keep fuckin’ around or are you gonna get me another? I’m tired a’ waitin’ on you.”

The bad feeling came back in a hurry. You took cautious steps toward him and picked up his glass from the tabletop, all the while trying to keep your voice even and placate him as best you could. “I’m sorry about that, sir. I didn’t know you finished your drink. How bout I make this next one on me, for your patience?”

He said nothing but the look in his eyes told you he wouldn’t have paid for the refill, anyway. You faltered, a cold sweat breaking out on your back. “Think we mighta polished off the vodka,” you lied, picturing the half full bottle sitting just out of sight behind the bar. “ I just gotta grab another from the back and I’ll be right with you.”

You’d given the most believable reason you could think of to get you back in that stockroom, but at the cost of whatever order you had regained. “What the hell is it you do around here, huh?! Go on!” he yelled and swatted at you, his meaty arm knocking a metal napkin dispenser into your mid section, where it bounced off and clattered at your feet. 

“Now you wait just a damn minute.” Old wood creaked as George stumbled up from his seat, a drunken David ready to take on Goliath, but you held up a hand to him. You couldn’t risk him escalating things any further. The bar was out on the side of the highway, a good distance away from town, and an even greater distance from the bigger town that lent its emergency services. The cops and paramedics would never get out there in time.

Bobby grabbed onto his friend’s arm and whispered, “Sit back down, Georgie.” George looked ready to say something else, but after a tug on his arm from Bobby, he gave up with a frustrated grunt and lowered himself into the booth again. 

You glanced over to the corner by the door, trying to make sure that Diamondback and the others were okay. They hadn’t made a peep since you gave them their drinks.

You were met with those dark, watchful eyes. Her smile was gone, but Diamondback still had her arm hanging over the booth seat, and she had craned her upper half your way so she could face you head on. She didn’t look away when you caught her staring. Shame ate at you as you thought of her and her group having to bear witness to that whole grand display.

“Are y’all okay, Miss Di–” You swallowed. “Diamondback?” 

“Yeah, honey. Keep doin’ whatcha doin’. You’re alright.” And for a minute, you believed her. Her words felt like a warm hand patting at your shoulder blades. 

Heaving a breath of relief, you slowly turned around and made your way behind the bar. You once again nudged that old, grimy door open with your shoulder, but you had to walk further in this time. The door swung closed behind you. You first grabbed for an unopened bottle of vodka, worried about just how closely the man would be watching you when you came back out. After that, you walked to the far corner, eyeing what you had really set out for, a scratched up aluminum bat. It hardly struck fear, but it was all you had to protect you and your patrons, if it ever came down to it. Jay had a shotgun, but of course it was with Jay. And Jay was a useless bastard who was never there when you really needed him.

You wound your fingers around the taped handle, but you hesitated. You’d never had to bring out the bat before. Bobby and George were the rowdiest it ever got around there. If you kept it tucked behind your back, and held your head high, and walked tight, smooth steps back out, would you be able to sneak it out with you? Would you be able to use it? Would he make you use it, or would he (please, god) just take the free drink and shut up?

Your questions were answered for you when you heard a loud crash from outside. 

The bottle of vodka fell to the floor and shattered as you made to wrap both hands around the bat. You readied your weapon for the swing of a lifetime, and you took off, out of that stockroom like a bat out of hell. 

A seething rage you hadn’t felt in ages rose up inside you as you took in the sight of George, splayed out helpless on top of his booth’s table, with that man’s disgusting hands wrapped around his throat. 

“Hey! Enough! Get the hell off him!” you screamed, voice rasping and crackling, not at all used to the strain you were putting on it. You charged forward and swung the bat as hard as you could at that piece of shit’s hunched shoulders and the back of his head. He didn’t even flinch, and that just made you angrier. 

You threw the bat away, and with another scream, you wrapped your arms around the man’s neck. You reached up and dug your nails into his cheeks, scratching and pulling his skin down as he tried to buck you off and as you scrabbled towards his eyes. You plunged your thumbs into the sockets, and he howled. He let go of George and instead gripped each of your wrists in an iron vice. With his considerable strength, he ripped your hands away from his face and swung you around like a rag doll. Your lower back collided with the edge of the table, hard. 

Left stunned, the air was knocked out of your lungs, and a twisting in your gut told you he must’ve punched you in the stomach. But as you crumbled to the floor and blood began to seep into your white shirt and against your skin, you realized he had done you one better. He had stabbed you.

And as if just waiting for you to notice it, the wound stopped twisting and began to radiate with an ungodly pain. You couldn’t hold yourself in a slumping position anymore, and you flopped to the ground, the back of your head smacking against the linoleum. 

You lay there, gasping for breath and staring wide-eyed at the spinning ceiling fan overhead. The man was gone. Where, how, you didn’t know, but George was at your side, pressing a rag to the hole in your belly, and turning your face to look at him. “Hey, kiddo. It’s okay. We’re gonna get you outta here and get you some help. Bobby! Help me stand ‘em up!”

“I can’t let you do that.” Caleb? He sounded so remorseful, so different. 

“The hell you mean, boy?! Get outta my way!” There was a struggle, a very brief one, and then George croaked. The ground shook a little as he came crashing down beside you. 

Why wasn’t anybody helping? Where was Bobby? Where was–

Diamondback stepped into your line of sight, gazing down at you without a smidge of expression on her face, but there was something in her eyes. Pity? Regret? She knelt down and stroked your cheek, shushing you like a mother soothing a child after a nightmare. “It’s alright, doll. It’s all gonna be over real soon.”

She brought her face closer to yours. You tried to inch away from her, tried to ask her why, but all that came out were breathless little whimpers.

Her hand moved to cup the back of your head and hold you still. And the two of you stared at each other. You waited, resigned to the fact that that endless stare would be the last thing you saw, oddly comforted by the thought. But then she looked away, down, almost desperate to retreat from your eyes.

Her grip at the base of your skull tightened. She was trembling. You could barely feel it, but she was trembling.

“Jesse.”

A pause.

“Diamondback, no.”

[ancientroyals]

Torshan Story Segment Six

Take it or Leave it.

No trigger warnings

You decide to poke around the intranet a little to familiarize yourself with it. The window opens to a fairly cookie cutter government website. There's a banner on the top of the screen displaying the OXEN emblem, and the full name of the organization on a blue background. Right below it is the meat and potatoes of the web page. There are links to the news bulletin, which shows the most important happenings across the city. It's a good way to stay informed on current events across the island. There's a link to the forums, where you can talk and ask questions that other, more knowledgeable agents would be able to answer. On the right side is an embedded internet relay chat that shows instant messages being sent in several different channels. On the left hand side is the account section. You seem to already be signed into your intranet account. It shows your name and ID number, along with a link to your profile and settings page.

As you look around, you inquire more about the circumstances surrounding the murder of the two officers. Tomas sighed and stared off into space. His fingers tapped arhythmically on the edge of the desk.

"It's complicated…" He spoke the words slowly and deliberately.

"You'll hear rumors about Carter and Adrian, " Tomas nodded his head toward the computer, "being cooked cops and that's why they were killed. It's not true." He took a breath before explaining further.

"I knew them both personally. They were good people. Never hesitated to give the shirt off their back, even to Xenos." He hit his lip and turned away.

"Was probably what got them killed too." Tomas pushed off the desk and walked around to the opposite side to rest his elbows on the dark maple wood.

"We know the shooter was a Xeno with dark colored claws which-" Tomas threw up his hands and scoffed, "describes about seventy percent of Xenos on the island." He stood up again and began to pace around the room.

"Five foot, ten inch. That's probably the only concrete thing we have on them. Looks like they have two arms and legs but we can't know what's underneath that cloak. Are they even a Xeno? I don't even think we're a hundred percent on that one." Tomas continued to become increasingly agitated as he went over all the nebulous information they had. Then he turned to you with a gleam in his eyes.

"This is where you come in. Someone has to know who did it. We need you on the inside. Not just for this either. Things are coming to a head here. I feel like they know something we don't, and if don't find out what it is and get control of it, a lot of people are going to die. No pressure, right?" Tomas walked back to the desk. He reached down to his holster and drew his handgun. His hands held the gun carefully, examining it before placing it on the desk in front of you.

"Take it, leave it. Either way you're gonna need it at some point and I hope you have it when you do."

Should you accept the gun from Tomas, or leave it? This decision could have significant consequences in the future, as well as affecting Tomas' opinion of you.

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[shortprince-cos]

That Lingering Threat

Summary: What happens after the Belos goo falls onto Hunter's shoulder?

Words: 2465

Warnings: (theres a lot) Possession, attempted murder, kidnapping, broken bones (a nose), identity theft (technically?), Jacob Hopkins and Belos existing, everyone just straight up not having a good time.

Ships: Lumity and implied Huntlow

Genre: Angst, hurt/comfort

(AO3 Link)

This is a multi chapter fic! Idk how many chapters there will be, but probably around 3? Anyways this is part one!

This fanfiction was inspired by this tiktok, so if you like this, go give it some love!

~~~~~

"The coast is clear."

Luz nodded, ushering the rest of her friends into the Gravesfield Historical Society building. They all entered as quietly as possible, hoping to not draw the attention of anyone.

They were on a mission. A very important stealth mission.

"Where do you think that guy is holding Flapjack?" Willow asked, glancing around at all of the paintings and displays.

"If I had to guess, they same place he captured Vee: the staff room." Luz stuck her head through the door way, looking around at the hall filled with more historical items. At the very end of the room was a familiar door labeled 'Staff Only.'

"It's just down there." Luz continued, huddling all her friends together. "Let's rush in. This guy can't take us all at once. Willow and Amity, you two will be on the offense while-"

"We should split up." Hunter interrupted.

Luz stared at him. "Huh?"

"What good will that do?" Amity questioned, eyeing the blonde teen suspiciously.

Hunter rolled his eyes. "Its possible that Flapjack is in there, but the curator knows that we're associated with Luz. Its more likely that he hid the bird somewhere else. Therefore, we should all check different spots, and meet up back here."

"Um..." Luz thought for a moment. This plan was... unlike Hunter. He usually would just follow whatever Luz said unless he thought it wouldn't work. He could be doing that now, but Luz thought her plan was pretty good!

"Look, human," He started, noticing the brunette's hesitation. "I know you're normally the leader on these kinds of missions, but Flapjack is my palisman. I just don't feel comfortable putting his life in your hands, okay?"

The human startled at that. "Oh. I guess that makes sense... but, are you sure that splitting up is the best way to do this?"

"It'll be okay, Luz!" Willow assured, already making her way into the hall. "We can all handle ourselves! Besides, didn't you say your mom beat him pretty easily? I think we got this."

Luz smiled. "Okay. You're right! We can do this! Let's bring Flapjack home!"

Hunter nodded. "Right. Willow, you and Gus should check out that staff room down the hall. Blight, it looks like there's another door that leads to a room behind the front counter, you should check in there. Me and Luz will check to see if there are more rooms in the other hall."

"Sounds like a plan!" Gus exclaimed before he and Willow made their way towards the staff room.

"Be safe." Amity quickly pulled Luz into a hug, holding her for only a split second before following the others.

"You too, sweet potato."

---

The purple haired teen watched as two of her friends entered the room in front of her, before she approached the other door to the right of it. Hopefully this plan would work. Hunter was right about most of them being able to handle themselves, but she couldn't shake the feeling that something was... wrong.

She twisted the handle of the door. No, everything is fine. This isn't the same Hunter that she fought at Eclipse Lake. This is the Hunter that saved Gus from Graye, and protected them all in their battle with Belos.

And if that Hunter thought that this plan would work, then Amity was willing to give it a shot! Besides, Luz trusted him, and she trusted Luz.

Amity carefully peeked in from the doorway. The room seemed to be used to store things as there were boxes littered everywhere. A perfect place to hide a cardinal, if you asked her.

She stepped into the dark space. "Flapjack?" She called quietly, before hearing something click behind her.

Amity turned around immediately, holding her hand up in a fighting stance. "Who's there?"

The door in front of her didn't answer.

She exhaled. Stupid Amity, it was just the door shutting. Nothing's wrong, you're just stressed out right now.

Despite what she was telling herself, she didn't really believe it, so she immediately ignored her voice of reason and went to open the door again anyway.

The handle didn't twist as easily this time.

"What?" Amity tried turning the knob again, and again after that.

Locked. The door was locked. This unfortunately meant two things.

One: She was trapped in this storage room.

Two: The curator probably locked her in there, which meant he knew they were there.

Shit.

Panickedly, she started banging on the door, hoping that would attract the attention of her friends. "Hey! Let me out! Willow! Gus! Anyone! I need help!"

Before she could cry out anymore, she once again heard another sound from behind her, this time though, it was a lot quieter and higher pitched.

Amity paused for a moment, waiting until she heard the sound again. It sounded like... chirping?

"Flapjack?"

Another chirp, coming from the back corner of the room.

The girl abandoned the door and rushed over to where the noise was originating from, before something cold, heavy, and metal smacked her in the face.

She cried out in pain. Her nose felt... not right, after that hit. She started stumbling back, but ran into something that definitely wasn't there before.

Prying her eyes open, Amity found thick metal bars surrounding her, with no opening in sight.

Was she in a cage?!

"O-Ow..." She put her hands over her probably-broken nose.

Well this was just great. Not only was Amity trapped in a storage closet, she was also locked in a cage, with no way out.

She heard another chirp from one of the boxes in the corner.

"Don't worry, I'll be okay." She comforted, though, she was a little unsure about that herself. With a sigh, she continued. "Is there anyway you can magically break out of that box?"

The bird tweeted solemnly.

Wait. Maybe Flapjack couldn't, but she definitely could!

"Ugh, of course!" Amity scoffs at herself for not thinking of the obvious solution sooner.

She quickly unclasped the small pouch of abomination goo that was attached to her belt, and twirled her fingers around in the air, commanding it to pick the lock that held her here.

The goo didn't get very far though, and Amity watched as it slowly plopped onto the ground with a squelch.

"No. No, no no no! Please work here! Please work in the human realm!" The teen kept spinning her finger in circles, hoping that would somehow make the sludge come to life like it did in the demon realm.

Alas, it wasn't working, and it was becoming abundantly clear that abominations simply didn't work in the human realm. Maybe they were like Luz's glyphs and needed magic in the air around them? It didn't matter. Whatever the reason was, it didn't help Amity escape from her prison.

She sighed and leaned against the bars. "Any ideas, bird?"

---

"Hm." Willow hummed, examining the room in front of her.

Everything was covered in anti-witch propaganda, from the walls to the shelves and desks. There was also other non-witch related things, like a certificate that read 'Flat Earth Society' and a suit of armor? For some reason?

"Well, at least we know we're in the right place!" Gus said, walking over to the desk and picking up random items, inspecting them carefully.

The plant girl followed, sorting through the various knickknacks in hopes of finding their feathery friend.

"See Flapjack anywhere?"

"Nuh-uh. Just a lot of weird things. Like this!" The boy held up a framed picture of what appeared to be a colorful cartoon girl with pink pigtails. "Maybe its a human god or something?"

"Ehh, I don't know. Looks more like the people on Luz's posters than someone humans worship."

Gus chuckles. "Yeah, you're right. I guess this guy is just weird or something?"

"Wha- hey! I'm not weird! I'm just different than other people!"

The kids both turn their heads at the sudden new voice, greeted by an adult human man with brown hair, glasses, and a goatee. The man was dressed in semi-formal clothing, with a name tag that read 'Jacob Hopkins.'

He was also holding something in his hand, but neither of them could tell what it was at the moment.

Willow and Gus immediately got into a defensive stance. "Where's Flapjack?"

"Oh, the bird?" The curator questions, extending his hand outwards, revealing the object that he was holding. A training wand from the Boiling Isles. How did he even get one of those? "I wouldn't worry about him right now. What you should be concerned with is me!"

With that, Jacob made a circle in the air with the wand, creating a ball of fire that shot at the children immediately.

Gus ducked, and Willow used her own magic, commanding the plants below the building to break through the floor and shield them from the attack. She focused on keeping the plants alive as the fire burned through, the heat getting dangerously close to the teen.

When the fire died down, the girl released the plants, moving her hands to grab the curator with them, before seeing a small boy in front of her instead.

"Careful." Jacob warned, holding the training wand to Gus' throat. "You wouldn't wanna hit your friend on accident, would you?"

Willow gasped and put her arms up in surrender.

"Just fight, Willow! I don't think this guy knows what he's doing!"

Jacob's eyebrows furrowed. "I know what I'm doing, brat! I had a teacher! And trust me, you don't want to make me angry right now."

The man made a smaller circle with the wand, creating a mini ball of fire (that seemed to be the only spell he knew perfectly) and put it dangerously close to the pre-teen's neck.

Gus squirmed in the man's grasp, trying to get away from the flame that was threatening to burn him.

Willow started panicking. "Wait, stop! Please don't hurt him!"

The man stopped pushing the heat towards Gus' neck and put the fire out. "If you don't want me to hurt him, you're going to do exactly what I say, understand?"

---

"Why aren't they back yet?" Luz impatiently tapped her foot on the hard floor, despite only waiting in the lobby for about half a minute after they inspected the other side of the museum.

"We just started waiting, be patient." Hunter scoffed.

"We don't have time to be patient! That museum guy could find us any minute! And looking for Flapjack shouldn't be taking this long; we finished looking in five minutes!" Luz exclaimed, marching towards the hall that her friends went down.

Why was Hunter so... calm? Earlier she thought it was his nerves that were impacting him enough to change the plan, but now she wasn't so sure. He didn't even seem worried for his palisman at all! Maybe he was just so scared that the fight or flight part of his brain stopped working?

"Wait, where are you going?"

Luz angrily spun on her heel to face the blonde. "To check on our friends! You know, the ones you sent off on their own and haven't returned yet!"

"Human, I'm sure they're fine! Let's just wait a couple more minutes before jumping into this without a plan!"

Luz frowned. "I thought we were past that."

Hunter squinted. "Past what?"

"You calling me 'human.' Why'd you stop using my name? I thought we were finally friends!"

"...Oh." Was all he said. He looked more... lost than anything. Like he didn't even realize what he had been saying was different at all.

Luz sighed. "I'm sorry. You're probably just really stressed out right now, and I'm just making it worse."

"R-Right." He stammered. "Listen, I am worried about them, but in case they are in danger, jumping in there without a plan isn't going to help. We need to observe first."

The brunette nodded. Right. Military training. She clasped her hands together. "Okay, Hunter, what's the plan?"

---

"So, what's your plan here?" Gus questioned as the handcuffs snapped together, securing him and Willow to the chairs they were bound to.

"I don't need to tell you my plans, witches! All you need to know is that today was your last day as free men."

They kids watched as the man put the handcuff keys into the top drawer on the desk, storing that information for later.

"Well, not free men, free witches." The man correctes himself.

"Who taught you how to do magic with that training wand?" Willow interjected, wriggling in the chair she was tied to. "I don't know any humans who would even know what they are."

"That's because I didn't learn from any mere human." Jacob bragged pulling the aforementioned wand out of his pocket again and rolling it between his fingers. "Well, technically he is human, but he's kinda in a witch body- its-its complicated, alright!"

Gus and Willow looked at each other the best they could with their backs facing each other. "...What?"

"Yeah, its kind of a whole clone/possession thing- I don't know, the way he explained it was pretty confusing." The curator rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

"Who's 'he?'" Gus furrowed his brows.

This made the man's confidence spike again. "Oh, you might just know him. His name is 'Phillip Wittebane', though you two probably know him by 'Belos.'"

From behind the ajar door, the other human gasped.

"But... that's impossible!" Luz whispered. "Belos died in the demon realm! We watched it happen! There's no way he could talk to this curator guy!"

Behind her, a familiar voice chuckled. But it wasn't Hunter's.

"Oh, Luz. Nothing's impossible."

Slowly, she turned, and was greeted by Hunter's face, but Belos' eyes.

"No." She gasped, the realization hitting her like a truck. Hunter wasn't acting differently because he was stressed, he was acting different because he wasn't Hunter at all. And they all fell for it. Luz fell for it. Hook, line, and sinker.

Hunter Phillip chuckled. "I honestly thought you were smarter than this, Luz. Even after all my... slip-ups, you still had faith in him."

Before Luz could react any further, she felt a kick to her stomach, and suddenly she was on the floor of the staff room.

The captured teens gasped. "Luz!"

"AH! Jeez, kid, did you have to do that so suddenly? I was in the middle of something!" Jacob startled, glaring at the blonde teen that entered.

'Hunter' glared back. "I'm centuries older than you." He spat.

"Hunter!" Gus called. "We need hel-"

"Gus." Willow interrupted with a shaky breath, still looking at the 16-year-old in front of them. "I don't think that's Hunter."

Luz groaned from her spot on the floor, sitting up on her elbows with a hiss. That was gonna bruise. "Its Belos."

~~~~~

Lmk if u liked this! The next part will be out as soon as i finish it!

The Owl House Taglist: @agrebel18 @willowways @melancholy-marigolds @lindendragon @sega-dreamcast-official @bioluminescent-bladeschild @beyondglass @tranquil-space-ninja @sprouttyy @sorikufangirl8632

Ask to be added/removed!

[My TOH Fanfic Masterlist]

Reblogs help <3

[prompt-master]

Submitted by @dtgvxg

Coolio.

Context:Rex is part of a project involving university age students. Transferred from Corvus Academy, he's in as the Ultimate Security Contractor alongside his friends. And he's also 90% robotics and a living weapon. Also, he and tsumugi are technically from an alternate timeline and older than they look, but that is a whole new can of worms.

Makoto: Rex...

Rex: I can tell by the tone of your voice that you are disappointed. Alas, I must further disappoint you by affirming how little I give a fuck.

(+)

Miu, with a headache: Advil me up, daddy.

Rex: I will short out the language center of your brain if you say anything like that ever again.

(+)

Rex: I scare people a lot because I walk very softly and they don't hear me enter rooms. So when they turn around, I'm just kind of there and their fear fuels me.

(+)

Rex: I have the sharpest memory here -name one time I forgot something.

Junko: You left me, Mukuro, and Moogs in a Walmart parking lot at 2am a day ago.

Rex: I did that on purpose, try again.

(+)

Tsumugi: Why aren’t you sleeping?

Rex: I’m too busy plotting your murder to sleep, Tsumugi.

Tsumugi: *not buying it*

Rex: ...The nightmares.

Tsumugi: *wrapping their arms around Rex* Awwww, sweetie-

(+)

[After breaking into a research facility taking the successful product of the New Dawn Project]

Hajime, pacing his living room:so…she's like us?

Rex, currently raiding Hajime's kitchen: if by 'like us', you mean a result of heavy human experimentation and are currently filled with forty metric tons of circuitry, machinery, and synthetics, then yes.

Hajime: Okay, cool. So, you basically want me to-

Rex, in the middle of making a club sandwich:-keep an eye on her until there's a secure enough place to put her. You know, babysitting. You've probably done that.

Hajime:a few times, but whatever. However, mind if I tell you what confuses me?

Rex, eating his sandwich: Shoot.

Hajime: why me?

Rex, shrugging: Immediate first thought, I guess.

(+)

Rex, to Ruraka: If I bite into this chicken sandwich and it's sweet, I'm skinning you.

(+)

Johnny: Yo, Kaz, do that R2D2 impression.

Kazuichi, taking a breath:wooooooOOOOOO-

(+)

Junko, acting embarrassed: Wow, you’re such a perverted psycho. Why the fuck would you ask me if I like breasts?

Rex, tired as fuck: [whispers angrily] How many times do I have to tell you we’re at KFC, dumbass?! Why are you like this every time we’re here?

(+)

Rex:*hanging out on the roof*

Kazuichi bursting in: Why didn't you tell me your dad had all that ass?

Rex:*silently looks at him*

Kazuichi: Now hear me out…

(+)

Shuichi: How would you like your pancakes?

Komaru: Plain.

Kaede: With sprinkles!

Hajime: Chocolate chips.

Rex: Potatoes.

*Komaru, Kaede, and Hajime look at Rex*

Rex: What? They're good.

(+)

Rex: Life could be worse, Kaede.

Kaede: Life could be a lot better too!

(+)

Makoto: We need a way to lure in new customers.

Junko: Maybe we could have some fun, interactive events!

Johnny: Kaede bath water.

Kaede: ABSOLUTELY NOT!

(+)

Hajime: I think you're still suffering from the effects of your party last night.

Johnny: All I drank was Redbull!

Hajime: How many?

Johnny: Eighteen.

(+)

Rex: Who the fuck broke the toaster?

Makoto: It was Kaede.

Komaru: It was Kaede.

Hajime: Kaede broke it.

Kaede:

Kaede: ...yOU PROMISED-

(+)

Miu: I’m the sexiest bitch in this therapy waiting room.

(+)

Rex: Good morning. As you begin your day, remember that violence is always an option and often the answer.

Shuichi:

Rex:

Shuichi: ...Please, go back to bed.

(+)

Miu, watching Maki and Peko fight: Are you sure they should be fighting? What if they get hurt?

Rex, not bothered by the chaos: It’s fine. They’re too evenly matched to hurt each other.

Miu: Then... who’s the strongest out of you three?

Peko: Rex.

Maki: Rex.

Rex, the literal living war machine: Me.

(+)

Mukuro: I will find us an armored vehicle and some weapons.

Mukuro: If you two can manage to not kill each other while I'm gone.

Rex: Oh, please. We're not children.

*Mukuro leaves*

Rex, casually: ...Eat shit and die.

Tsumugi, also casually: Yes, fuck you.

(+)

Tsumugi, drinking tea: Ah, Hello again. We really need to stop meeting like this.

Rex, dressed in PJs: Maybe we would, if you would sTOP BREAKING INTO MY FUCKING HOUSE!!!

(+)

Hajime: I can't imagine what Rex is planning. But I can tell you two things. We won't like it and it won't be legal.

(+)

Tsumugi: Wow, Rex, you want to hold my hand before marriage? How awfully lewd of you.

Rex: We literally slept together yesterday.

Tsumugi: That's NOTHING compared to the lewdness of holding hands.

(+)

Rex: Go fuck yourself.

Tsumugi, smugly: Sure, but only if you watch.

(+)

Rex: I fell-

Tsumugi: From heaven?

Rex: No, I literally fell-

Tsumug, doing this on purpose: In love with me the moment you saw me?

Rex: MY ARM IS BROKEN!

Tsumugi: Okay, but do you think I'm pretty? Be honest.

Rex:…fuck you.

(+)

Makoto, walking into their house: Hello, people who do not live here.

Rex: Wassup?

Kaede: Hi!

Shuichi: Hello.

Hajime: Hey.

Makoto: I gave you the key to my place for emergencies only!

Komaru: We were out of Doritos.

(+)

Makoto: I think Komaru is in trouble.

Rex: Alright. Struggling to give a fuck, if I’m honest.

(+)

Rex: I know you love them.

Shuichi: I am not in love with Kaede!

Rex, staring at Shuichi, amused: I never said who...

Shuichi: *realizes*

Shuichi: Shit. Well, anyways-

(+)

Kaede: It’s impossible to make a sentence without using the letter a.

Byakuya: Despite your thinking, it is quite possible, yet difficult, to form one without the specific letter. Here’s one more to further disprove your theory.

Rex: Fuck you.

(+)

*Squad reactions to being told ‘I love you’*

Kaede: Thanks fam!

Komaru: Oh, really? Cool!

Makoto: *smiles* I love you too.

Hajime: Sounds fake, but okay.

Shuichi: *A flustered mess*

Rex: Big mistake.

(+)

Makoto: The floor is lava!

Kaede: *helps Shuichi onto the counter*

Komaru: *kicks Hajime off the sofa*

Rex: *falls face first onto the floor*

Makoto: ...Are you okay?

Rex, muffled: No.

(+)

Miu: *Kicks Rex's bedroom door down looking panicked*

Rex, tired: The fuck's going on?

Miu: Nobody died!

Rex, now wide awake: What did you do?!

(+)

Leon, to Miu: I cannot relate to your ‘E-Girl’ problems.

(+)

Shuichi, about Maki: She's so terrifying yet so lacking in social skills that the most basic conversation feels like a hostage negotiation situation.

(+)

Miu: I only like three things in this world. Money, Bitches, and the Dewey Decimal System!

(+)

Rex: How did you find me?

Micheal: Oh, I saw a huge explosion and wondered 'now, who could that be?'.

(+)

Miu, currently running on two hours of sleep: Is letting someone win at chess sapiosexual bottoming?

Rex, Done™: Does anyone in this goddamn school ever think before they speak?

(+)

Rex: I don't support the violence. *reveals all implanted weapons* I AM the violence.

(+)

Miaya: You often use humor to deflect your severe trauma.

Rex: Thanks.

Miaya: I didn't say that was a good thing.

Rex: What I'm hearing is, you think I'm funny.

(+)

[After blowing up a building]

Rex: This is a mistake.

Junko, enthusiastically: A mistake we're going to laugh about one day!

Rex: But not today, right?

Junko, still enthusiastic: Oh, no. Today's going to be a mess.

(+)

Kokichi: Oh just so you know, it's very muggy outside.

Rex:

Rex: Dude, I swear to fuck, if I step outside and all of the goddamn mugs are out on the front lawn...

Kokichi: *Sips coffee from bowl*

(+)

Shuichi: What the fuck? People actually tell their crushes they like them??

Makoto: What the hell do you do?

Shuichi: I die? What kinda question…

(+)

[After Mahiru finds Rex covered in blood and with surrounding corpses]

Rex: Hold on, I can explain.

Mahiru: Really?! Can you now?!

Rex: I can if you give me a minute to think of a convincing lie.

(+)

Fuyuhiko with a gun to Rex's head: What happens if I pull this trigger? Heaven?

Rex: Bold of you to assume either of us'll go to Heaven.

(+)

Rex: And I’d love to be sorry for that, but we all know I’ve done much, much worse.

So, here are the incorrect quotes. Hope you enjoy.

[poetlcs]

My 24 books to read in 24

And Then There Were None by Agatha Christie - it's the book that has been on my TBR on goodreads the longest and it's time to finally read it

Everything I Know About Love by Dolly Alderton - It's becoming my mash potato book (I term I heard recently where, you are sure you're gonna love it so you keep putting it off). This is the year to do it!

How Paris Became Paris by John DeJean - I plan to visit Paris for the first time this year, and I love to read books about the countries I visit before I go. This one I have had on my TBR for a long time, so now feels like the perfect time to read it

Sword Catcher by Cassandra Clare - She let me down recently and I'm borderline about to retire her as an author I read but,.. I feel I need to try this new, non shadowhunters book first to be fair to her.

Act Your Age, Eve Brown by Talia Hibbert - I loved the previous two books in the series and Eve Brown is my favourite of the sisters. This year, I'll definitely finally read this

Eva Luna by Isabel Allende - This year I want to read my physical TBR down, but I love translated fiction and this is one of the few I own I still haven't read. So I want to.

Idol, Burning by Rin Usami - I nearly bought this book last year and didn't because I wanted to read what I owned already. But its stuck in my mind so this year I would love to buy and read it.

We'll Meet Again in San Francisco by Duong Thuy - I bought this on my recent trip to Vietnam, so I just want to read it asap. It'll also be the first *translated* Vietnamese book I've read.

The Reappearance of Rachel Price by Holly Jackson - Since I read A Good Girl's Guide to Murder in '23, I have gone ahead and read all of Holly Jackson's books. She has become a new favourite, so I'm highly anticipating this.

The Savage Detectives by Roberto Bolano - I often cite his book Amulet as a favourite of all time, so this year I really want to read his magnum opus

Zami: A New Spelling of my Name by Audre Lorde - Similarly, Audre Lorde is a favourite author of mine and this has sat unread on my shelves for far too long.

The wren, the wren by Anne Enright - a lot of people keep telling me I will love this book, so I wanna test that out

One Day We're All Going to Die by Elise Esther Hearst - Another book I am just sure I am going to love. I am always excited to read Australian lit

If Beale Street Could Talk by James Baldwin - I have a thing with Baldwin where, if I see a book of his, I buy it and make it the next of his I read. So far I've read three of his books, I picked this up last year and need to read it soon. I loved the movie

When We Were Orphans by Kazuo Ishiguro - I really like Ishiguro and yet this has sat on my shelves unread for a long time. I think it's because I find his books quite immersive and heavy I'm always waiting for the right time. I feel it's become the right time to read it.

Howards End by E.M Forster - I've read two of Forster's works and I've always told myself I would dig deeper. I figure with his most well known work is a good place.

Demon Copperhead by Barbara Kingslover - Somehow this book slipped under my radar and I only vaguely knew about it until it won the Pulitzer and Womens fiction prizes. I love Dickens so it feels natural I read this.

Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson - A classic I have had my eye on for some time that I finally managed to thrift. A high priority read for me! Probably will save for the winter

Bruny by Heather Rose - My grandma gave me this to read at Christmas so, I would like to tell her I read it.

I have 4 saved spots which I am undecided on, but will probably fill later with new releases.

[howtheworldcouldb]

i posted this as part of a reblog on a Batfamily Hanukkah thing, but then I started thinking about a latke night in the Wayne family and got emotional.

In my family, all of us will file into the kitchen for one night and fry up more latkes than a small army could physically eat. And I mean we're using like forty pounds of pounds of potatoes, here. My mom and grandmother are the only ones who know the recipe, and if the rest of us want to learn, we have to memorize it while doing it.

So I'm just imagining the Batfamily's version of Latke night.

When Bruce was young, he didn't make latkes with his family. The Waynes weren't exactly the type of people to spend hours in the kitchen, although Bruce would sometimes sneak in to "help" Alfred. But what they did do was eat them together; In the dining room, the table piled high with crispy golden goodness, applesauce and sour cream, It was one of the few times they could get Alfred to dine with them. Martha would tease him for eating with only the slightest dab of applesauce, Thomas laughing all the while. Bruce loved those nights; more than the sounds of his parents voices as they sung the prayers, more than he loved the games of dreidel or the presents wrapped in silver and blue, he loved that one night of Hanukkah.

But then Bruce's parents died. Murdered, struck down, buried in the very clothes they died in. And when Hanukkah came again, the dining room seemed unbearably empty. There was no Martha to foist sour cream onto Alfred's plate or Thomas to 'accidentally' bite too hard into a jelly doughnut and leave Bruce giggling when the filling smeared on his face. There was no gentle alto or deep baritone to sing alongside the childish tenor, no one to pass the shamash fire to. The very glint of gelt sent Bruce into a panic attack, too close to a different shine in a dark alley, and Alfred hurriedly locked it away in the deepest parts of the pantry.

Alfred stood there, in the doorway of the kitchen, watching as Bruce sat silently at the table, eyes locked unseeing on the wood. He hadn't taken a meal in the dining room since that horrid night, and Alfred hadn't made him. They ate in the kitchen now, in the breakfast nook, Bruce sitting there with Alfred standing by his side, gently coaxing him to take just one more bite, Master Bruce. Just one.

But this was worse, somehow. Because this was Hanukkah, and there should be light and joy and laughter. Instead, there was silence.

Alfred was not Jewish. He grew up with the simple trappings of a passingly Christian family, church on holidays and the occasional Grace said at meals. His experiences with Judaism were superficial, introduced during his time with the Waynes. He did not know the prayers, wouldn't feel right saying them even if he did; he wouldn't feel confident lighting the large oil menorah in the front window, nor the small personal ones in the family sitting room.

But Alfred did know how to cook. He knew how to cook latkes. It was just like any other recipe he had learned to cater to the tastes of his charges, although the ingredients and preparation of these were, perhaps, more carefully handled than most other recipes. The ingredients were tucked away in the pantry behind him, delivered on the first night of Hanukkah just as they were every year. He didn't know if it would cheer or depress the young master, but he couldn't bring himself to throw them out.

But Alfred remembered a young boy who so desperately wanted to help, who slipped into the kitchen with light in his eyes and giggled when Alfred let him steal some of the crunchy bits that had fallen off the edges. Alfred relied on that memory as he prodded Bruce from his chair, to the kitchen island, into one of the stools there. He placed a bowl of matzo on the counter before him, handed him a pestle, and told him to crush (Alfred had always done this the traditional way, and he could not pass much on, but this. This was something he could).

They spent the day making latkes. Piles upon piles, just for the two of them. Bruce was just as bad at it as he was with stars in his eyes, and he was not talking by the end of it, but he was smiling, and the sight could bring Alfred to tears.

It became their new tradition. Year after year, no matter how far Bruce pushed him away or how far Alfred let him, they stood in the kitchen with oil frying in the pan and bowls of shredded potatoes on the counter. And then Bruce grew, grew tall and strong and into an unspeakably stupid crusade (may their memory be a blessing, he remembered hearing at the funeral, and he suspected Master Bruce forgot that it was blessing, not curse. He didn’t think Bruce would ever be ready to hear the difference).

And one day, there was another little boy haunting the hallways of the manor, grieving for parents he should have outlived.

This one was not Jewish. He remembered Christmas spent with the circus, how the big top looked strung up with lights, the taste of gingerbread and cranberries. But when winter crept in and the city of Gotham lit up with red and green and sparkling tinsel, Dick got quiet. Dick got still. He did not want to celebrate Christmas, that year.

But Bruce remembered a day in the kitchen, his heart bleeding out over the wood of the table, remembered Alfred standing in the corner. He remembered the crackling of oil and the smell that lingered for days. Remembered a bowl of potatoes, of apples, of onions, a cup of salt, pepper and baking soda. A carton of eggs. He remembered a bowl of matzo. He remembered not feeling alone.

Bruce was just as useless in the kitchen as ever, but Alfred was not, and the three of them crowded around the island together, oil heavy in the air. Dick was not terribly better in the kitchen than Bruce, but they listened to Alfred's directions very carefully, and they managed. He was talking, by the end of it, babbling a mile a minute, and Bruce could have cried.

Years later, when Dick was off in Blüdhaven, grown tall and strong and angry and hurt, there came another young boy. That one was not fresh off of some tragedy (he had lost early and often), but he was fresh off the streets. Scared and too-skinny, he had only just begun to trust them, so many months into his stay. He wasn't Jewish, either, wasn't really anything; Jason Todd, growing up, had never had the time or the money to be worrying about things like holidays or prayers.

But when Bruce brought him to the kitchen, oil heavy in the air, Jason smiled. He took to the task like a duck to water; Alfred even trusted him to fry a few (under close supervision and with a splatter guard, but it was more than anyone else had managed). Bruce, standing with his apple corer and bowl of sliced potatoes, just shook his head and laughed. Even after all these years, he never managed to get near the oil without burning himself.

Dick showed up. Late, but he showed. He flicked matzo mush at Jason, and then they were chasing each other around the kitchen, laughing and breathless and making a mess of things, crumbs and sodden bread spilling across the floor, the counters, some of the walls. It was the one year they used flour, instead.

But then Jason died (buried in a shiny new suit, because Jason Todd-Wayne couldn’t be buried in Robin's uniform. Bruce was unsure if he would even want to. He kept the uniform safe, anyway, and did not touch the blood). Jason died, and then there was a third young boy in the manor. This one was not mourning; this one had never had enough to mourn. He was well taken care of, never wanted for food or clothes or shelter, for the very best that money could buy, and if money could not buy it, it was nowhere to be found.

Unlike the others, Tim Drake was Jewish, but only in the same way he was a Drake—in name and vague, flickering memories of warmth and fire and songs that had faded with memory and never renewed, until he forgot he was never supposed to be cold. He haunted the manor; not like Dick so many years before him, not like Bruce, like the ghosts of Martha and Thomas and Jason. Tim slipped down hallways like he expected no one to see him, for touch to slip through him like vapor. Tim walked like he forgot there were people living there, and that he was one of them.

Tim Drake was lonely. Tim Drake was alone. But Alfred remembered a lonely young boy haunting an empty manor; Bruce remembered an acrobat wilting at the sight of christmas lights; Dick remembered a little brother at the stove with his tongue sticking out, matzo and onion on his cheek.

Bruce had to herd Tim into the kitchen. When he saw what it was, when he saw Dick and Alfred waiting with bowls of potatoes, apples and onions covering the island, salt and pepper and eggs and baking soda—he stiffened. It was a family tradition, and he did not think he counted. Alfred sat him down at the counter with a bowl full of matzo, and told him to start crushing.

Tim had never made latkes before, and after the third time he almost crushed his own hand, they decided that was probably for the best. Dick chased him across the kitchen, matzo crumbs in his hair and a fistfull of potatoes in one hand. Tim laughed by the end of it, and the three of them blinked away tears.

Later, when they filed into the sitting room, there was a second menorah waiting for them. This one was new, bright silver instead of shiny gold, and Bruce guided him to it with a warm hand on his shoulder. He handed Tim the candles, helped him melt the bottoms so they would stay in place. And when the prayers rose through the room, it was a slow, dark baritone that sung them, an adolescent tenor following close behind.

Steph invited herself to latke night, the first year they knew her; they sent her home with more food than she could reasonably eat in a year. Cassandra showed up shortly after, and spent her first latke night stealing the crunchy bits off the closest platter, instructions lost to the language barrier. Not that anyone minded, really—It was nice to have more mouths to feed, and they were family, even if one wasn't official.

And then there was a day, an old flame, a league of assassins, and a child who looked so much like Bruce it hurt. There was a child, ten years old and terrified, arrogant, desperate. Bruce didn't remember another boy like that (Alfred did).

They clashed, immediately; Damian had been fed stories and expectations of his father since he was old enough to hear it, and Bruce never, ever wanted to live up to them. They snarled and misunderstood each other, over and over and over again.

Damian al Ghul was not Jewish, barely knew what the word meant. He had grown up knowing very little actually information about his father, and the menorah on the mantle was as unfamiliar to him as the man himself.

But Bruce did remember a young man, angry and surly and traveling across the world in search of something. Bruce remembered a complex of shadows. Remembered losing himself. Remembered coming back

Bruce dragged a surly Damian into the kitchen, placed him in front of a bowl of fresh matzo, and told him to start crushing. By the end of it, there were only three minor stab wounds, but Damian had stopped frowning. Bruce could have cried in relief.

Later still there came Duke, grief ridden for parents that still breathed, who went willingly to the kitchen and mixed ingredients with steady determination. He joked by the end of it, and the rest of the family could have ridden that high for the rest of time.

Eventually, there came Barbara and Jim (who's shield of plausible deniability had worn thin), and then Jason, again, and the kitchen was a mess of bodies and laughter and spilled ingredients. Alfred and Jason were still the only ones trusted to fry, although Dick could manage a batch or two before surrendering, unwilling to tempt fate.

Someone still managed to burn themselves. Every Goddamn. Year.