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works-of-fanfiction · 3 years

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Harmless Fun - Graham Coxon x Reader

Summary: Graham agrees to a date at the funfair with the reader. (I imagined 2020/21 Graham whilst writing this, but you can view him however you like.)

Requested by: Anon - who wanted to see an older introverted Graham with an extroverted reader - I put a little spin on this with Graham coming out of his shell more throughout. I hope I did the idea justice!

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 2.8k

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Among the extravagant rides, flashing lights and hundreds of people, Graham and I seem so small. We link arms as we walk into the funfair, exchanging a couple pounds each for fluorescent orange paper wristbands and glow-in-the-dark hand stamps shaped like goldfish. Graham’s smudges across his knuckles a little and we both make fun of the distorted icon on his skin. “That’s a very chubby goldfish.” I giggle, tracing the outline of it with my finger then comparing it to my own.

“No, yours is just starving. Look!” Graham points at my stamp, rubbing his finger over it to try and smudge it. It doesn’t budge and I laugh mockingly before tugging on his hand to drag him further down the gravelled entryway.

We reach a red arch covered in bright lights, mimicking a stereotypical dressing room mirror, like the kind you’d see in a movie. Graham and I spend the next couple of minutes dodging couples and families taking photos, the repetitive sounds of phone cameras clicking and flashes going off. Coming to a halt, I pull Graham to the side and grab my film camera from my tote bag. I wiggle it in front of his face, donning the classic puppy dog eyes to try and get my way. “Y/N…” He starts, taking the camera from my hand. “There’s so many people here. We can take a photo inside.”

“But this is such a nice spot! It’s so bright and sparkly. It’ll make such a pretty picture, Gra.” I beg, batting my eyelashes like a spoilt toddler. He sighs, winding up the camera and holding down the flash button until it lights up. I clap my hands together happily, giving him a quick side-hug before shuffling to the middle of the arch. “Ask him to take the photo.” I whisper, gesturing towards a man stood nearby. Graham shakes his head, holding the camera up to his face.

“Let me take one of you.”

“You’re just making excuses not to be in the picture!” I whine, my hands on my hips as I stare into the lens. Graham unexpectedly presses the button, the flash catching me off guard. “Hey! I wasn’t ready.”

“But you were posing.” He teases, winding the camera again. I shake my head, laughing as I link arms with him and lead him away.

“You still owe me a photo later.” I huff, grabbing the camera and tucking it back into my bag.

Graham chuckles, giving me a kiss on the temple and whispering in my ear, “I win.” I playfully slap his chest and he gasps, pretending it hurts. “Don’t hit the old man.”

“You’re not an old man!” I protest, standing on my tiptoes to kiss his cheek. He smiles, unlinking our arms to wrap his around my shoulder. He pulls me close and I settle into his side so perfectly, it’s almost like I was made specifically to be there. “Thank you for agreeing to this.” I say quietly, my arm lazily slung around his back, holding onto his denim jacket.

“Well, you were very persuasive.” He taunts, prodding me in the upper arm and earning himself another slap to the chest.

“Graham! Don’t say that in public.”

“Say what?”

“That! People will hear you.”

“Oh, they don’t know what I’m talking about.” He teases, leaning down to kiss my head. “You always know how to get your own way with me.” His hand slides further up my arm and onto my shoulder, gently massaging it. My eyes flutter closed involuntarily and Graham hums, the sound so smug it snaps me out of my daydream. He knows exactly what that damn shoulder thing does to me. I bat his hand away and point to the carousel which is the first ride we come across.

“You were saying something about me getting my own way?” I slip from his grasp and run to get in line.

“Y/N! The carousel… really?”

“Come on! It’ll be fun.”

Graham looks around, clearly worried or bothered about something. I leave the line before anybody joins behind me and go back over to him. “What’s wrong?” I ask, hands resting on either side of his arms.

“I’m just - I don’t know. We’ll stick out like a pair of sore thumbs on there.” He scratches his head, looking past me at the people climbing onto the brightly painted horses.

“Who cares?” I whisper, leaning closer to him and pressing a light kiss to his nose, before rubbing my nose against his. His glasses graze my face and I pull away, swiping his lenses with my sleeve to make sure I don’t leave any smudges behind. “Shall we?” I ask, holding out my hand to him.

He’s quiet for a moment, giving the carousel one last look before his eyes come back to meet mine. I smile hopefully, my hand still flat awaiting his to connect with it. He sighs and takes my hand, pushing his glasses up onto his nose with the other. “Alright. But I’m having that grey horse there.”

Graham’s horse is on the left, closer to the centre of the ride. I take the white horse beside him and hold onto the gold pole with one hand, the other still in Graham’s. He looks at me and smiles shyly as the ride begins to start, a corny rendition of ABBA’s ‘Mamma Mia’ playing on what sounds like an organ. We both roll our eyes and I listen out for the chorus, joining in with it. Graham bows his head, laughing quietly as I sing the lyrics at the top of my lungs, bopping from side to side and nodding my head to the music. “Why, why did I ever let you go? Mamma Mia! Now I really know - my my, I should not have let you go!” I sing, letting go of the ride to pretend I have a microphone in my hand. Graham leans over and grabs my wrist, pressing my hand back onto the pole.

“Hold on!” He shouts over the music and my tone deaf singing. I flash him an apologetic smile, cheekily blowing him a kiss and carrying on with the song. As the tune fades to an end, so does the ride. He jumps down from his horse and helps me off of mine. We head down the stairs and stand beside the ride control box where Graham stops to fix my hair, moving a piece out of my face and smoothing the rest with his palms. “Did you enjoy that?”

“Very much so!” I grin, staring up at Graham whose face is lit up by the carousel. His eyes catch the light and I can’t help but smile at just how beautiful he looks. The slight salt and pepper colour of his hair is more visible and I reach my hand up to run it through his fringe. “You’re so pretty, Graham.”

“Pretty?”

“That’s what I said.”

His gaze struggles to meet mine and I can’t help the giggle that passes through my lips. “Look at you getting all embarrassed! Is that a blush I see on your cheeks?” I tease, poking his cheek with my finger.

“Stop it…” He says, his voice small and unbelievably adorable. I wrap my arms around him to give him a hug, resting my cheek against his chest. He hugs me back, his chin resting on my head as we slowly sway under the lights. “Are you hungry?” He finally asks and I nod.

We head over to the food stalls and I find a bench, grabbing my scarf from my bag and laying it across the seat before sitting down. Graham stands, looking at the different options. “What do you fancy?” He asks, leaning down and holding onto my shoulders, his face hovering next to mine as I read the banner of each stall.

“I’ll just have some fries. Can we get donuts later?”

“Of course we can get donuts later.” He plants a kiss on my cheek and heads over to get the food, leaving me to save our seats. Taking the camera from my bag, I sneakily snap a picture of Graham as he waits for our orders. His attention is focused on something in the distance so he doesn’t notice the three clicks of the camera flash. One photo is never enough when it comes to Graham. Even if I filled a thousand albums with pictures of him, I’d still want to make it a thousand and one.

He’s back in no time with an extra large tray of fries and a bunch of sauce packets in his hand. He dumps the sauces on the table, putting down the food and untucking two cans of lemonade from under his arm. “I didn’t know if you’d want ketchup or mustard so I just got both.” He shrugs, sliding onto the bench beside me and tearing open a sachet of ketchup. He makes a space on the tray and empties the sauce out, wasting no time and tucking into the fries. I do the same but with mustard, and we assume a comfortable silence as we eat. The action continues around us as various songs play at each ride, all muddling into one and mixing with people’s squeals and screams. The scent of different foods surrounds us and almost tempts me into trying more, but I resist. We clean the tray of fries pretty quickly and decide to walk around, cans of lemonade still in hand as we explore the fairground more.

We spend the next twenty minutes making conversation about everything we spot around the fair. There’s stalls of handmade crafts and gifts which is something neither of us have ever seen before at an event like this. I marvel at the array of trinkets and lovingly crafted items, pointing things out to Graham that I think he might like. I come across a watercolour painting of a man playing the guitar, his silhouette illuminated by the night’s sky as he perches on the edge of a dock like a fisherman. The detail in the picture is spectacular, every brush stroke purposeful in making the painting perfect. I scuttle to Graham who’s a couple of stalls over and bring him over to show him the painting. I watch as his eyes light up like headlights in the snow, and we both look at each other with beaming smiles on our faces. No words need to be exchanged for us to combine some money and buy the picture. The artist carefully wraps the canvas in tissue paper before tucking it into a stiff cardboard box. I thank her and she thanks us right back for supporting her work. We look at a few other things before continuing on our walk.

“This’ll look great in your studio, Graham.” I enthuse, holding tightly onto the box. “Although I do wish you would’ve let me buy it for you.”

“It’s not just my painting, it’s ours.” He states simply, taking my hand and bringing it to his face to kiss the back of my knuckles. A rush of heat spikes up my neck and onto my cheeks, and my gaze falls to the ground like a lovesick rom-com character.

As we walk, Graham gets onto the topic of fairground mini games and how they’re rigged to make more money and have barely any winners. It’s hard not to laugh at his rambling, and I tease him for being so uptight about it. “I’m not uptight! It’s the truth!”

“It’s for kids, Graham.”

“Exactly! Which is why it shouldn’t be such a scam. It’s not fair for kids to keep losing.” As he speaks, I spot a Hook-A-Duck game and grab his arm to stop him. He notices the stall and frowns, his expression the complete opposite of the ear-to-ear grin taking over my face.

“Go on, Gra! Have a go!” I chime, wrapping my arms around his left arm like a koala bear attached to a tree. “That stuffed panda up there looks like he needs a home.”

“That stuffed panda is too big to be a real prize, Y/N. You’ll be lucky if I win that plastic snake down there.”

“It’s worth a shot.”

I pull him towards the game, handing money to the woman at the counter. She hands me the rod and I turn to Graham, thrusting it into his grasp. “You weren’t kidding.” He says, reluctantly taking it.

“Nope!”

He aims the hook towards the brightest yellow duck in the middle of the water. His grip is a little shaky and he misses the first couple of tries, but he eventually gets it. The worker grabs the duck and turns it over to show a big black star on the bottom of it. Graham drops the rod and looks at me, embarrassment covering his face as the large stuffed panda bear is brought down from the top shelf and handed over to us. “Congratulations! You found the grand prize duck.” The worker cheers, pushing the bear towards Graham. He awkwardly thanks her, picking up the oversized plush toy and carrying it over to the nearest bench.

I can’t contain my laughter as he stares at the bear, one hand on his hip and the other scratching his head. “Well, this is ridiculous.”

“He’s cute!” I squeal, sitting down and cuddling the panda close. “I’m going to name him Leslie.”

“Very funny.” Graham quips, trying hard not to smile but I can see the smirk beginning to tug at the corners of his mouth. I give the teddy bear another big squeeze, encouraging the smile to finally surface on Graham’s more than perfect face. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“Who? Me or the bear?” I raise my eyebrows and he moves closer to me, bending down to press a gentle kiss to my lips. I grab him by his jacket and pull him closer, causing him to stumble a little and almost fall on top of me. He steadies his feet, kissing me again, his hand cupping my cheek. For a second it feels like we’re the only people there, until the screams of those on the dodgems pull us out of our private moment. We both jump at the sound, Graham’s cheeks turning slightly pink before he buries his face in my neck.

“Look at us snogging at the fair like a pair of teenagers.” He mumbles, his hair tickling my skin as he talks. I find his shoulders and push him to stand up straight, standing with him.

“Oh, let them stare! I’m not embarrassed and neither should you be.” I encourage, embracing him in a hug and fluttering kisses along his jaw. He squirms a little and complains about being ticklish, moving his head around to try and dodge me. He slips away and grabs the panda bear, throwing it onto his shoulders like a parent carrying their child, or a festival-goer balancing their drunken friend. I laugh, tossing our empty cans into the bin before linking my arm with his once again.

With a giant stuffed bear in tow, it becomes increasingly more difficult to get on rides and find somewhere safe to leave it. We settle on the ferris wheel, sitting beside one another with the panda facing us. Graham stays close, his arm wrapped tightly around me as we go up into the air and look down on the view of the funfair as well as the city around us. “Sorry we didn’t get to do much. Bloody stupid bear.” Graham scoffs, gesturing to the mountain of stuffing and fake fur occupying the opposite seat.

“I don’t mind. I’ve had a lovely time.” I rest my head on his shoulder, reaching over to hold his hand. His fingers entwine with mine, his thumb rubbing circles over the back of my hand as we listen to the faint sounds of the music below us. “I’m really glad we agreed to do date nights more regularly.”

“Me too, but I’m planning the next one. Preferably somewhere with fewer screaming people.”

“Here’s me thinking you enjoyed the company of overexcited strangers.” I joke, nuzzling my nose into his neck and inhaling the addictive scent of his cologne. He rubs his cheek against my head like a cat showing affection.

“I’d enjoy having you to myself much more.”

“Then it’s a date.” I giggle, kissing his cheek and feeling his short stubble tickle my upper lip. He turns his head for his lips to meet mine, kissing me as we both mumble “I love you”s against one another’s mouths.

Graham is the first to pull away, slouching in his seat and slipping his hand into my bag. He pulls out the camera and smiles at me. “How about we take that photo together now?”

#graham coxon #graham coxon x reader #graham coxon oneshot #blur #fluff #request

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ilguna · 4 years

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Belamour - Chapter Nine (f.o)

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

warnings; swearing, murder plot

wc; 11.2k

NOTES: i give reader a last name to fit the world.

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Today marks the eighth day of the Hunger Games, you think. If you’ve been keeping track of it correctly, it’s been a week, and today is the eighth day. You’d like to say that the time has flown, but the days feel like they drag on forever. Especially with how hot it’s been during the day. It feels like you’re living through lifetimes in the span of a couple of days.

You should probably clarify that today is the eighth day of the games for you guys. Time typically moves differently inside of the arena, and it’s because the gamemakers are always trying to make something happen. Whether that be fights, or just plain death, it’s all dependent on the circumstances.

All you know is that your brothers and family friends have watched you survive in here, and come close to death three times now. The first one being Horace, the second being the mutts, and the third being the boy from Twelve. Although, you don’t think he counts much, holding you underwater was his own death wish.

Reed and Mox are probably beginning to gain hope on the situation. If you’ve survived an entire week, and managed to form a schedule of sorts, then you should be on track to go home. All you have to do is not fuck up between now and then. Don’t pick too many fights, drink plenty of water and eat more than enough food.

Keep your allies close but your enemies closer.

This morning was eerie. Allio didn’t say a word, mostly made grunting noises when Lennox suggested that him and Allio go out to try and hunt. It’s been three days since the storm, so the animals should be appearing back in the woods, but there’s no promises. If they come back with nothing, you’re going to be sent out to the pond.

As soon as the boys left, you and Trink had a quick conversation about how weird it was. You suggested the fact that he’s probably still mad at you three for yesterday, and she agreed. As soon as it was over, you and her started going through boxes to find any stray food.

She ended up finding one full of food. The cornucopia is normally plentiful with all sorts of stuff, so you weren’t surprised that she found it so quickly. The next thing to do was gather all the garbage and make a trash can of sorts. Already, you’ve thrown out wrappers and old bones.

It isn’t until you’re throwing out a fish’s skeleton, when you realize that it might be possible to make a soup out of these. Like chicken and beef broth, but instead with bones. Then you seem to remember that you never watched your brothers when they made it. You were always either out of the house or doing something in your room.

And the others don’t mind the fish--you could care less about eating it every night--but if you continue to make them eat it, or anything that has to do with it, they’re going to riot. It wouldn’t hurt to at least propose it, so you make note and toss the skeleton into the box.

“Hey, you know what I just thought of?” Trink is sitting in the sand, passing over trash when she finds it.

“What?” you ask, grabbing another handful and throwing it into the box. It looks like that’s the last of it.

You shut the lid on the box, and leave it unlocked, hoping that’ll be a good enough signal to you later that it’s the trash box. If not, the placement of where it is should be good enough for your memory.

“Snares.” she says, “We make snares and set them up in the woods, just so we don’t have to be out there hunting the entire time.”

You nod distantly, thinking it over. It’s not a bad idea. You could catch things overnight and go to grab the animals in the morning, and just reset it, you think. You’ve never had to do something like that before, so it’s more or less a toss up.

“Do you know how to make one?” you ask.

She’s shaking her head, face turning a light shade of red, “No, I was hoping you’d know.”

And your eyebrows are drawing in, “Why?”

“You and Finnick were at the snare station during the training days, remember?”

For a moment, you’re about to deny it all, not being able to recall a single moment like that. It hits you, after that. Sitting at the snare section with the incredibly impressed expert, and how you taught Finnick knots when he asked. It really does feel like years ago, when it was literally two weeks ago.

And the more it comes back to you, the more you seem to realize that you never actually learned any snares. You were more focused on trying to figure out new ways to tie knots, hoping that whatever the expert tried to teach you, you already knew and it would come back to you in that moment.

You fucked up, majorly. You spent an hour or so at that station without spending a single second of actually learning how to tie a snare. A skill that would now help to keep you all from starving. You grit your teeth, because who’s the one person that spent more time at that station after his first alliance was gone? Finnick.

You look over at Trink, shaking your head before the words form on your tongue. She seems to understand, maybe thinking that you don’t remember. Or maybe the change of expression told her that you don’t know how to tie snares at all.

“It’s no big deal.” she says, “I’m looking forward to fish for dinner, anyway. Even if it’s not the greatest, we can rely on it, hopefully.”

“Yeah.” you agree.

It’s only a few minutes later when the boys come back, absolutely nothing in their hands. Lennox tries to offer an apology, but you figured that this would happen. The gamemakers are keeping the animals from supplying the woods, what’s new? After all the shit they’ve thrown your way recently, it’s only customary.

You pack up your things, collect the empty water bottles, and leave for the pond. On the way, you hum a fisherman’s tune and try to recall the actual words to it. There’s a ton of variations to them, and you remember bits and pieces from the original and all the remakes. By the time you reach the pond, you’ve made a frankenstein version of the song.

You grab the fishing pole and then unpack your things, laying it all out. First, you get the water and purify it. You line the canteens up to make sure that they aren’t taking up a huge amount of room inside of the backpack. After that, you dig through the dirt to find a worm, making the situation beneath your nails worse.

At this point, you’re sure that it’s just stained that dark brown color. There’s really no other way to explain it. There’s a baby blue on the top, and a dark brown beneath the bottom. Picking at it has done nothing but aggravate you. So, you sit in tired silence and wait for the fish to bite.

You can imagine that your brothers are picking out everything that you’re doing wrong. Cringing when you choose to do one thing over the other, they’ve probably already found out ways to make your fishing pole better, and are just waiting for you to realize it too. You’ve already considered crackers and stuff like that, but it’ll eventually break off in the water, and you’ll just waste the food.

You wish that you were able to hear them and what they have to say. Beg them for advice on what to do. Allio is just becoming a bigger problem, the more that time goes on. The food is becoming more scarce, it’s hot here during the day and last night the weather plunged terribly, enough to make you grab out a second jacket from a box.

All you want is to survive, and it keeps getting harder the more that the days go on. You wish that the gamemakers weren’t allowed to interfere, and just had to watch from the sidelines. Of course, the games wouldn’t be nearly as interesting but manipulating the weather is unfair.

You pull out the first fish, and go right back in for a second. This one seems to bite only minutes later, faster than the first. You go to place the second fish down, only to find that the first is missing, with no sight of it around you. Your eyes barely manage to catch a quick movement in the bushes, and the knife is in and out of your hand in a flash.

“Shit!” a voice hisses, you jump to your feet, fingers fumbling for the sword to catch the thief before they have a chance to run.

You have the sword raised, prepared for the other tribute to jump at you. And you just barely peer around the bushes, about to swing and end it. But you catch yourself mid-air once you see who it is. His dark, curly hair is so familiar and it catches you off guard almost immediately.

He’s got a knife clutched in his hands, eyes wide and staring up at you. There actually seems to be some wince on his face, like he was fully prepared to accept his fate with the sword. Leave it to him not to even think of defending himself.

“Blaire?” you ask, eyebrows drawing together as you survey the area around him.

You’re looking for Finnick and Thyme, they have to be around here somewhere, right? They’re supposed to be grouped up together, so it would only make sense for them to be traveling together. Then again, you’re with the careers and you came down here by yourself. On the other hand, you wanted it that way.

You find no one around him. Maybe Blaire volunteered to go alone, like you? But that doesn’t make sense, Finnick typically travels with other people, no matter the weather or what they wish. You remember all the times in the rain, and how he’d walk his friends, girls and guys, home after school. Especially the ones that were looking upset.

One more look at Blaire, and you can see that his cheeks have sunken in, no longer as chubby as they were during the week in the Capitol. He’s been starving, and traveling down to look at his hands, it makes sense why he was stealing the fish. He’s hungry.

“Where’s Finnick?” you ask, looking back at him.

A fish in one hand, and a knife in the other. The longer you stare at the knife, the more you recognize it. Again, you’re looking at his face, and the guilty expression seems to set in. There’s only one knife that looks like it, and it’s the exact design of the one that had been stolen out of your backpack.

Good news, you found the thief that took the entirety of the feast from your backpack in the shack. It explains the disappearance of the food and the knife. Bad news, you accused Allio when it had nothing to do with him, which means that there is undoubtedly a bounty placed on your head, and he’s probably explaining it to them right now. It still doesn’t explain the grapes.

A part of you is angry, because Blaire has caused this riff in the alliance whether he knows it or not. And it’ll be nearly impossible to repair without explaining to them how you know that it wasn’t Allio. It would give up Blaire’s position, and how you didn’t kill him on sight. Even worse if he doesn’t shut up in the sky.

On the other hand, you’re fairly impressed. He managed to get passed four sleeping career tributes, steal the food and leave without making a single sound. The timing and execution is amazing, and you know for a fact that you wouldn’t be able to pull off something like that.

Unfortunately, his luck has run out.

Blaire’s shaking his head, the wince from his face fading as you lower your sword. For now, you have absolutely no intention of killing him. He’s too kind, and you know that the stealing was for his own survival. Even if you’re in the Hunger Games, you can appreciate it.

“I don’t know.” he says, you offer your hand out to him, but since his hands are full, he can’t grab it. Your arm falls back to your side.

“What do you mean you don’t know? You haven’t seen him at all? You’re supposed to be with Finnick and Thyme. Don’t you have an idea of where they are?”

He gets to his feet, you can see the damage you did to his leg, now. It’s a nick, enough to surprise him and make him think that you did some serious damage. You find your little knife a few feet away. You pick it up, and await his answer.

“I haven’t seen them at all since the first day. We all split up, I didn’t even know that Verda was going to the cornucopia.” Blaire frowns, “She died in the bloodbath, right?”

You nod quietly, bringing him over to where you had been sitting before by the pond. You throw the hook back into the water, “Yeah, it was a quick death, though. I’m pretty sure that it wasn’t any of us that had done it. Definitely wasn’t me.”

“You’re still with the careers?”

“Yeah.” you look over to him, “What have you been doing this whole time? Other than stealing from us.”

His face flushes, and he opens his mouth and then closes it. He shakes his head, eyes closed and then he looks down to the dirt, “I was hungry.”

“You left nothing.”

“Can you blame me? You guys looked well off, I didn’t see a harm in it at all. And I didn’t leave nothing, I left the crackers and figured that would be good enough. That and the water.” Blaire’s still got a grip on the fish, you have a feeling that you won’t be getting it back.

You pull up another fish, place it on the plastic, and then go right back in again, “We’ve been sharing food. One measly rabbit for four people, it’s not exactly the best. Doesn’t sit right with them.”

He hums, “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. Take the fish, and a thing of water.” you reach into the bag, pulling out the water bottle you’d used, it’s full of water, “Should be clean.”

“Thank you.”

“Yeah. Clean out the cut on your thigh to keep it from being infected.”

You can’t believe that Blaire doesn’t know where they are. So much for a second-hand alliance, none of them are together. Verda’s dead, Blaire is wandering the woods alone, starving. And who knows what’s happened to Finnick and Thyme? It could very well be Blaire’s situation but better or worse, depending on where they are.

You’re so guilty. This isn’t directly your fault, because Finnick had his own alliance so he should have been able to find all of them just fine. But had you… you’re the older tribute, you were supposed to be watching over him. Yet, he’s off somewhere, maybe alone, maybe starving and dehydrated.

Finnick might have broken the agreement on the alliance with the careers, but he’s your friend. Finnick and you have known each other for years. Had you just spent time changing his mind and reassuring him, he might be with you now. You were just so mad that he had turned his back on something so great.

There’s no way of knowing now, if you two could have survived out here. Knowing him, he would’ve wanted to stay away from the cornucopia entirely. Which just means going into the woods with absolutely nothing and banking on sponsors. You know how to do things like start fires, and hunt without all the good stuff, but it just helps.

Then again, you did warn Finnick. You told him that going about this alone or without the careers would be harder. There’s not as many people watching your back. And of course, at some point they’re going to be unreliable and dangerous. But you’ve survived this far, and you’ve only just come across problems.

As far as you know, the games are halfway over. There’s eleven dead, and it’s been a steady flow. In eight more days, the games could be over and you could be going home.

Blaire dips his hand into the water, pulling out a handful of water as he dumps it onto his thigh. His face twists, a hiss coming from his lips. You feel sorry for him, it has to hurt and it’s going to hinder his walking. But it’s what he gets. It’s justice, in your mind.

Doesn’t mean you can’t help him out somewhat. You and Blaire might not have talked to each other for long, but you don’t feel uncomfortable around him. And he seems to be pretty relaxed, too. You wonder if he sees you as a friend directly, or a friend of a friend.

Sticking the fishing pole between your calf and your thigh, you dig through the backpack for the first-aid. You pull it out, and toss it to him, hoping that he knows what he’s doing, and won’t have to ask you for advice. For a moment, you can see him staring out of your peripheral, and then he takes it.

“I really am sorry, (Y/n).”

“It’s fine.” you mutter.

Blaire doesn’t say anything else for a while. He washes out the blood, waits for his calf to dry, and then places a bandage on top of it. When he’s done, he carefully shuts the first aid and holds it out for you. You take it, tuck it back into its spot, and pull up the next fish that comes around.

Three should be good enough. You wrap it all up in the plastic once the newest one is done squirming, and then place the package into the backpack, right next to the water.

Blaire’s watching you closely again. Once you’ve zipped up the bag, you look at him, “Good luck.”

“Won’t you be down here tomorrow?”

“Not if we get something from the woods.”

Blaire looks down to the fish in his hands, “It’s been quiet.”

“We know.” you get up, placing the knife back into its spot on your belt, and then the sword. You throw the fishing pole into the bushes and then turn to look at Blaire, “If I have time, I’ll leave something for you.”

“Thank you.”

“Find a place to stay, Blaire.” you tell him, starting your way back to the cornucopia.

The walk is quiet, Blaire doesn’t follow. You manage to get back before sundown, and your allies have already got a fire started. You all get rid of the scales on the fish, then Lennox gets to cooking.

Allio still says nothing, not even when he’s offered food or if you guys ask if he wants more. Eventually, he gets up without a word and goes to take a walk, leaving just the three of you in the cornucopia. A part of you wants to tell them that you saw Blaire down at the pond, but figure that won’t go over well.

You obviously didn’t kill him, and explaining what happened with the food won’t be the best, either. Even if they were to get on your side, you’re sure that suspicions would start to rise. Unless you lied and said that you tried to kill Blaire and he got away. It would explain why he didn’t die immediately but then it would be a waiting game, and wishing death on him.

And coming clean to Allio, he’ll probably find a way to spin it on you. The two of you have made your distaste for each other clear, and Trink is the same way. The only semi-neutral person in this group anymore is Lennox. And you’re sure that’ll only be a matter of time before he’s turned again Allio, especially with the attitude that he has.

Allio has just come back from the woods, a dead rabbit in his hands and a victorious look on his face, when a cannon blasts. The look almost disappears, changing to confusion. But then he hands off the rabbit to Lennox, and takes a seat in his regular spot.

“Nice catch.” Trink murmurs, but it’s clear you’re all still puzzled about the cannon.

It could be anyone except you guys. Blaire, Finnick, Thyme, you think Mac is still alive and both the tributes from Eight. There’s one more, you’re sure of it, but can’t seem to think of who it is. Six tributes, the possibilities are endless.

Allio opens his mouth, another cannon cuts him off. Two tributes. Two tributes are dead.

You press your lips together. Could be Blaire, could be Finnick and Thyme. Could be Mac and Blaire, or both of the Eight tributes if they were caught off guard. Endless, really. Until you get to see the sky and their faces tonight.

You hope you didn’t call their deaths, Blaire and Finnick. You have the worst type of luck with things like that, pointing out how they could happen and then it happening. It knocks two players out of the game, but that doesn’t mean that they don’t matter.

“Two.” Allio says, as if you all don’t know.

Trink’s pulling her hair out of her face, “Probably a fight between three people.”

You nod along, and Lennox shrugs, “Mutual kill?”

“Isn’t that rare?” Trink asks, “Like I’ve never seen that ever.”

“Probably, I thought that there was one year when it happened, though.” Lennox begins to scoop up the scraps to throw into the trash box, but you’re flying across the small space to stop him, “What?”

“I can use this as bait.” your eyes scan the surrounding area, trying to find something to put it in. The spare canteen bottles come to mind.

After finding one, you pack as much as you can inside, and tuck the can somewhere cold. It’s not going to stay good for long, which means that you’ll have to use as much as possible, and then empty it out to start over. For now, it’ll have to work.

It’s agreed between you guys that it should be an early night. You wait for the death recap in the sky with them, finger crossed for whatever reason. You don’t want it to be anyone you know, but on the other hand, it would be easier. You wouldn’t have to kill them later on, if someone did all the work for you.

The music starts, the blue emblem of the Capitol appearing in the sky. You watch and wait patiently, heart beginning to beat in your chest. It isn’t that big of a deal, you take deep breaths to calm yourself down.

The first face in the sky is the girl from Eight, which immediately knocks out Blaire and Finnick. It leaves two tributes, though. The boy from Eight, and Thyme. Both tributes from Districts Nine and Ten are dead, both of them died during the bloodbath.

“It’s Thyme.” you say, and you really do call it. She’s next to appear in the sky, her district number below her face.

You turn towards an empty space in the sand, writing out initials. T and L for Trink and Lennox, A for Allio, B for Blaire. One for yourself, F for Finnick, M for Mac, and a number eight for the boy from Eight. And then a question mark, because you still can’t recall where the last tribute is from.

Nine tributes left in the game, four of them being you guys, and five being everyone else. It could be two girls left in the game, and it could be three. Which leaves six or seven boys.

You suddenly begin to worry about the alliance, one more death from one of the stray tributes, will mean an even score. You’ve seen this problem happen many times before, the career tributes all turning on each other. That or they split up, and you can’t see that happening without one of you dying.

One of you has to go to keep the alliance intact. You’ve been relying on it for this long, and you’re not about to get killed because of paranoia going on in the group. You quickly rub out the sand, and then look up to the others. There’s a sadistic smile on Allio’s face, and you know immediately. He has to go.

“We’re getting closer and closer.” Allio says, and then his eyes drag over to you.

You don’t like this. You’re the youngest, they’re all older than you by one or two years. To Allio, you’re small and weak, and possibly the most useless one still in the group. But as far as you know, he’s got no kills on his head, and you’ve got four. And you’re sure that Lennox and Trink still think that he’s the one that ate all of his food.

There’s evidence.

It’s obvious. You wonder if he knows this too.

You give them a lighthearted smile, because for now, they’re not going to kill you. They’re going to keep you around, because you’re their only supplier of food right now. You have until the animals begin to show themselves in the woods again. Which could be any day now.

The anthem finalizes loudly, and the outside is dark again. Inside the cornucopia, the fire is still going, still giving off plenty of light.

“I’d say we go out and try our luck with hunting again.” Allio says.

Bad idea, you’re already shaking your head, “Just so we can come right back here in a few days? The arena is huge, you have to know that at this point. We could walk for miles and still find nothing.”

There’s a glare in his eyes, “It’s better than sitting here.”

“I don’t think so. Everyone out there is going to die one way or another, let them kill themselves.”

“And what about us?” Trink asks.

You give her a look, and shrug, “We can’t stay together forever. But we might as well make the best of it.”

They already knew that, but you wonder if they realize that you’re banking on the hope that you all stay together. Allio is upset again, Trink looks like she’s taking what you said into consideration, and Lennox is indifferent.

Lennox keeps the fire going. He says that tomorrow will be Trink’s turn to watch over, and then it’s left to you and Allio to fight it out. Then, you’re all laying down to sleep. Except, it doesn’t come easy tonight.

Nine tributes left in the games. Eight that need to die to make sure that you win. Three of them are allies, one of them a friend from back home, two of them you consider friendly, and two nobodies that you could care less about. You’re almost there. All you have to do is not give up.

You’ve kept your strength this far, what’s a little more?

In the morning, you’re up to relieve Lennox so he can go straight to bed. By the time the sun is higher up in the sky, Allio and Trink are up. You all agree that it would be a good idea for you to go out and fish, because one measly rabbit isn’t going to do much for you four.

You take the backpack with you, and leave without waiting for Lennox to wake up. The others will fill him in, and since they’re awake, they’ll be able to watch over the cornucopia. You just hope that Allio isn’t going to fill their heads with the same thoughts you had last night.

The pond is devoid of Blaire, and it’s quiet. You fish, your thoughts being your only company. And they aren’t very pleasant.

You think that if Allio were to die and the others were to find out that it were you, they wouldn’t be angry. Obviously killing either Trink or Lennox would make the other mad, because that’s their friend from back home. It would be interesting to try and pin it on Allio and see how either of them react, but that could easily backfire. All they’d have to do is think that you’re accusing people too often, and suddenly you’re the odd one out.

And getting rid of Allio would do good, because he’s a boy. And if there are only two to three girls left in the game, it would be nice to even out the playing field a little. Give you, Trink and whoever the other person may or may not be, a good fighting chance.

You’ve done fine against boys so far, but it’s good to have that extra step, anyway.

There’s a crackle of a leaf, which makes you look over. Blaire’s coming through the trees, still looking malnourished, but a lot more energetic today, “Good morning,” he says, and then sits by you without a word.

It would be a lot easier if he knew how to fish for himself. He’s seen where you put the fishing pole, the real thing that he’s missing is the knowledge and a water bottle to reel in the fish. But then again, you don’t want to just hand out information without getting something in return.

“Good morning.”

“Saw the sky last night, right?” he asks, and you nod. The stench of fish coming from the canteen bottle is enough for you to rethink wanting to touch it and use it as bait, “I have a feeling Thyme and Finnick were working together.”

You look over at him, “Yesterday you said you all split.”

“Finnick and Thyme vaguely ran in the same direction. I couldn’t keep up.” he says, “And I haven’t been able to find them since. The arena is huge, (Y/n).”

You nod, “Yeah, we found that out a few days ago.”

Of course Finnick would work with Thyme, it just makes sense. From one companion to another. You wonder if he’s also hurt, or if it was just Thyme that took the damage. They probably brought in the Eight girl somehow, thinking that she’d be an easy kill, but wasn’t. Hurt Thyme pretty badly, Finnick finished Eight off, and then was left to Thyme.

In that case, she could be a mercy kill. They could have been using that tactic this entire time, which means that a handful of deaths could very well belong to them.

“Can I use your water-purify droplets?” he asks, you dig through one of the front pockets to bring it out for him. He thanks you, and then goes right to collecting water. As soon as he’s sat back, you’re pulling out a fish and telling him to take it, “Has there been any drama between you guys yet?”

You look at Blaire, again, and study his face. It looks like genuine curiosity, an innocent question.

He explains himself; “I’m just asking, since all the other times with the games and there being this amount of careers left, drama starts.”

Maybe Blaire has a problem with silence, “Minimal drama, I’m going to take care of it.”

Right after the words leave your mouth, you freeze, fingers still trying to unravel the coil of water. That statement could mean a number of things to him, and everyone back at the Capitol. But talk about giving away an undecided plan. Killing Allio won’t be easy, at all.

Everything has to be perfect. You have until the animals appear, you need a night when you’re taking the shift, and you need to somehow make him look guilty and make sure that he won’t be missed. You know that it’ll be easier, one less mouth to feed, and he won’t be offending you guys each time he opens his mouth.

You almost think his death will be premature, and you should wait until the ‘outsider’ tributes are down a little more. That’s when the thinking stops, because it comes into conflict with your original thought. You don’t want there to be an even playing field, and you don’t want a free-for-all at the cornucopia.

Allio has to go, but you don’t have the timing down just yet.

“Oh,” Blaire says, he probably caught on to the wording, “Right, is it a group thing or…?”

“No.” you say, “I don’t think that the other two will like the idea.” you put some more fish scraps on the end of the hook, and dip it into the water, “But it needs to happen.”

He doesn’t say anything. You fish for another hour before you’re tired, nothing has bitten since Blaire’s fish. He tries to give it up, but you assure him that it’s no big deal, and bid him goodbye, the fishing pole going straight into the bushes. Instead of taking the regular path home, you take a wide arch, hoping that’ll give you more time to find something else to take home.

Lucky for you, a rabbit darts out of the bushes, and the knife lands in the back of its neck. You’re about to say that it’s good enough, until the back of your mind is telling you that you might as well explore. It’s not anywhere near sundown just yet, and if you go back to the cornucopia now, you’ll just sit there with the rest.

And it’s easier to explore alone, you think. There aren't a ton of people trampling over the leaves, breaking sticks and such and leaving an obvious path that you had been there. It looks less daunting, and the other tributes might even consider staying around. One path isn’t a lot. It’s worrying, they might relocate, and they might not.

You use some of the rope to tie the bunny up onto your backpack. It looks funny with how it hangs down, and you’d put it inside of the backpack, wrapped in a sheet of plastic. Except, it’s still bleeding, and it would mess up everything inside. You’d rather the blood get all over the back of your jeans and shoes instead.

If you were standing and facing the mouth of the cornucopia, you’d say that right now, you’re on the right side of it. Roughly where Allio had disappeared off to last night. If you were to go left of the cornucopia, it would just be the coast, nothing good over there.

Out here, on the right side, should be relatively nothing. Especially with how the others have described it. You’ve never actually come over here, yourself. You always figured that there wouldn’t be anything interesting. They say they can’t hear flowing water, and it’s just trees.

So, you figure it’s going to be the same, and that the trip out here is useless, and you’re really just trying to burn time, not wanting to deal with Allio’s attitude. It’s devoid of animals, which makes you think that the gamemakers are slowly giving in to the supply of wild animals again, which is good news.

They were right about the dense forest part. You’ve seen worse in other arenas, but it’s still surprising. Having this many trees on what you think is an island. It smells green out here, too. Healthy trees and plants. Honestly, if there weren’t a coast, you’d just say that this is a regular forest arena.

Those tend to be the trickiest. Having to fight in them is hard. Hiding behind trees may seem comical, but they work better than you think. At some point, if you’re not careful, the trees begin to look the same and you can wander in circles for hours, thinking that you’re going the right way but you aren’t.

It’s even more embarrassing when you finally realize what you had done for the past hour, knowing that the people back home and the entire Capitol just watched you do it like an idiot. You always used to ask, “How hard can it be?” But being out here has opened your eyes. You always knew that the arena was hard, especially with how little the Capitol gives, but it’s just making you even more aware.

The more you wander this way, the more you’re able to see the tall cliff, which is beginning to look more like a mountain with how it peaks. It’s definitely climbable, you know that. Just by judging the incline, though, it’ll be a tiring walk. And for what? A good view? Right.

At some point, you get tired of walking straight, and go diagonal instead. If you get lost, you’ll just follow the beach around until you spot the cornucopia. Easy enough plan. Plus, getting lost won’t be too bad. Unless, of course, the Capitol decides to throw in their own twist with you.

After what you said at the pond, you have a feeling you’ve got them intrigued enough to not jump to do things with you. The Capitol has likely figured out that you meant Allio, and saying that you’ve got it handled means that you’re working alone. You even confirmed it by telling Blaire that the group wouldn’t approve.

He probably caught on too. He’s smart, older than you too. Just like most of the other tributes are, except for the Twelve tributes and Finnick. You don’t know the ages of everyone, just a basic idea of where they’re at. You know for sure that Allio, Trink and Lennox are older than you. There’s no question about that.

There’s a moment, while you’re walking through the trees, you hold your breath to make sure that you don’t hear anyone following you. And then you hear it, and it’s enough for you to look over with wide eyes, and not even hesitate about going over. It’s running water, loud and crashing.

As you move through the trees, you’re careful to make sure that there isn’t anyone over here. It’s uncharted territory for you. As far as you know, this is where all the tributes could be, all hiding out around the same area. It’s out of the distance of the cornucopia, and it’s away from the path you walk everyday to the pond.

It’s smart. If someone chose to stay out here, it’s smart.

Through the trees, you’re able to see the water, sneaking up onto the dirt enough to make it mud. You don’t dare move past the treeline, and even position yourself behind a tree, looking out to the scene in front of you.

It’s a paradise. Further out, there’s a waterfall, and it looks like there’s a running stream out here after all. Around the bank are flowers, there’s lilies and lily pads alike, floating on top of the crystal blue water. With how the sun hits the water, it looks absolutely clear. Clean, cleaner than the pond water.

You think you even catch a glimpse of a fish tail, before it’s disappeared completely. How did the others miss this? You have a hard time believing that their curiosity didn’t get the better of them. Especially the mornings that the boys went to hunt. You know you’d try and take a big track around to try and get the best of what you can.

It’s beautiful over here. And as much as you want to fish, gather better water and just walk into it altogether, you know that there’s something else here. Whether it be a water mutt, or a person. In the arena, everything is too good to be true. If it’s not dirty and clearly falling apart, then it’s gamemaker engineered and there’s something wrong with it.

Even with this thought, your eyes catch a vague movement behind the waterfall. A dark color, maybe an animal? But then it happens again, and you know better. It’s not an animal, not with how upright the figure is. One more movement, and it’s registered in your mind. There’s only one person that you know that would bet on something so delicate and dangerous. And it’s not Blaire.

It has to be Finnick. There’s a cave behind the waterfall, and he found it. Smart.

You have the sudden urge to call his name and wander out, but catch yourself before you act on it. You don’t know that it’s him, it could be another tribute that figured out how to swim or don’t have an insane fear of the water. And second, you don’t know if you’re still on friendly terms with him. Not after what happened.

Yet another secret to keep to yourself. You’re careful to sneak off without making much noise, a little upset that you’ll be missing out on a perfect fishing opportunity. If you had your spear, you’d be able to take out half a dozen fish before you realize that it’s way too much.

At least you know where Finnick--or another tribute--are now. You could easily blame them for Allio’s death if something goes wrong. And then the thought of the fact that you knew that they were alive, but again didn’t kill them, pops in your head. You can’t blame any old tribute for Allio’s death without being incredibly guilty.

You make it back to the cornucopia just fine, finding that there’s already a fire going again, and Trink is taking her turn roasting it. They’re all startled at your approach, reaching for their weapons. They must be used to you approaching from the side and coming around, instead of just walking out in the open.

“No fish, got a rabbit, though.”

“None at all?” Lennox asks, “We had so many yesterday.”

“I tried for hours, found nothing so I wandered around until I spotted this guy.” You free him from your rope and hand him off to Lennox, “It’s better than nothing.”

Lennox gets to work at ripping the rabbit apart. You go ahead and hand out the water, and then take a seat near the fire to keep warm. You can already feel the temperature change, again, the gamemakers are tampering with the weather. To combat this, Trink slides in another couple of sticks, and it’s just a waiting game.

“Who’s watching tonight?” Lennox asks, and he’s looking between you and Allio, because the two of you haven’t taken an overnight shift in a while.

“I’ll take it tonight, Allio can have tomorrow.” You say.

“I’ll take the next two days, since I haven’t been doing much.” He says, and then begins playing with his sword over the fire.

It’s an hour or so before the first rabbit’s meat is thoroughly cooked. You tell Lennox and Trink to share the first one, and you and Allio will get the second. For a moment, Allio doesn’t look that thrilled that you made a decision for him like that. But then he must realize that means that he might eat more, and the expression falls.

After dinner, you all stay up for a little longer, playing stupid games and trying to burn more time. As always, the Capitol symbol appears in the sky, along with the sound of the anthem. But there were no deaths today, so it fades quickly. Only then do the others call it a night.

You position yourself up against a box, the hilt of the sword in your hand. If you haven’t had any trouble up to this point, then there shouldn’t be any tonight, either. Which means that you get to sit around in the cold, watch as the fire slowly dies out, and try to keep yourself awake.

It’s just silence during the night. The only time there’s actual noise is during the day, when the birds and insects are awake. You can faintly hear the sound of waves on the shore, and you don’t even bother trying to hear the waterfall, because it’s too far off.

If you thought staying in the cornucopia was cold, you can’t imagine what it’s like behind the water. The water is freezing, and if it’s a cave, then that means the stone will be cold too. Unless the tribute inside of there thought ahead and somehow built a blanket of leaves to keep them fairly warm.

And the mist from how hard the water is coming down? It’ll make some things wet if it’s too close. The only real solution to that, is if it’s deep in there. Honestly, you thought caves behind waterfalls was a thing for fairytales. Like those stupid books your mom used to read you before bed, back when you were in elementary school.

You listen as the sand shifts, when you look over, it’s Trink rolling over. She’s got her back to you now. Within arm’s reach is her canteen and sword, in the case of an emergency. A few feet away lies Lennox, who sleeps on his back. His things are still by the fire, but with far back he is into the cornucopia, he could just use anything off the wall.

As for Allio, he sleeps on the other side of the fire. Compared to you and Trink, he’s by far the closest person to the mouth of the cornucopia. Easy access for anyone to come around and kill, and just run off into the woods. It’s not possible for you to do the same. It’ll be too suspicious over the fact that you were missing. Especially since you were supposed to be guarding everyone.

Tonight isn’t the night, and you’re not too sure that the next two nights are either. But time is running out, and you need to get to him before another random tribute dies. You need a plan, not something half-assed that could easily be seen through.

At this point in the games, you’re not even sure if that’s possible. Everyone has some sort of paranoia running through their heads. And it’s obvious that it’s gotten to you first. It’s for the right reason, you think. To keep an alliance intact. You could always go out and survive on your own, it’s clear that you can. Just take a backpack and don’t show up at the cornucopia again.

But you’re relying on the other's safety. And they’ll probably know where to go, down to the pond or to the shack to get to you and take you out for keeping them waiting like that. Of course, you could always go somewhere else to hide, but you’re not experienced in the woods.

Blaire might be. The only thing that he’s lacking is actual supply. If you were to team up with him, then you’d have a better chance than just going alone. But it poses the same problem that you’re working with at the moment. Eventually, tensions will rise between you and Blaire. And eventually, if you two somehow manage to be the last two alive, you’ll have to kill each other.

You don’t want to kill Blaire. You’d much rather someone else do it, because you consider him friendly, just like how you consider Mac friendly. It’s obvious why you don’t want to kill Finnick too. So it’s automatically knocking out three of the eight tributes that need to go, to make sure you win.

At the rate you’re all going, you don’t think that Blaire, Finnick or Mac will die by chance. Blaire might not have the same will to live as the rest of you do, but he’s still fighting to stay alive. And a good example of that, is him stealing food, even though it’s dangerous.

Maybe he has a death wish, and he was partly hoping that he’d get caught and immediately killed for it. It would be one way to end his pain, but you’re not entirely sure if that’s the best way to go, leaving your life in someone else’s hands like that. Especially during the Hunger Games, where everything is supposed to be entertaining.

You could beg for a speedy death, but in the end, you’re all just puppets for the Capitol. None of you want to displease them enough to the point where they do something rash. Whether that be another event in the arena that gets you hurt, or something to your family back home.

You too, are a puppet. And it’s exactly why you’re going to make Allio’s death shocking enough to keep the Capitol on the edge of their seats, and better for you.

By the time that dawn breaks, Trink is up. She lets you sleep into the afternoon, and then wakes you up so that you can still make a trip down to the pond for water for all of them. You’re fairly groggy, and spend a good amount of time just making sure that you’re awake enough to do things.

The good news is, there isn’t an immediate need for fish. Lennox and Allio went out to the forest while you were sleeping, and managed to catch a whole pig. The bad news, the animals are reappearing. They’re still scarce, but all that really matters is the fact that they’re there.

You say that tomorrow is your limit.

Blaire is sitting in the shallow end of the pond when you get there. The bandage is gone, but the cut is still on his thigh. He doesn’t seem to be bothered by it, so you assume that it's feeling better today. Before he can even ask, you toss over the iodine droplets.

“Thanks. For a while I thought that you weren’t going to show up.” He says.

“Took the night shift, I got to sleep in.” You throw the hook in, and resist the urge to yawn.

Unlike the boys, you’re pretty capable of staying up throughout the night. The only person that really gets a pass is Lennox, because he’s taking the most of them. He probably realized that the other day, and it’s why he’s pawned off the nights onto you guys. Although, to be fair, you’re pretty sure he was taking it until the difference between you and Trink and Allio was settled.

“I was thinking about what you said yesterday,” Blaire starts, but doesn’t continue past that.

Looking at him, you’re expecting him to pick up once he realizes that he’s got your full attention, you’re wrong, “About what exactly?”

He looks up from his water bottle, tossing the iodine back your way. You catch it easily, and he begins to shake the water, “Taking care of your problem--or the problem, I should say. Don’t you think that could get you killed?”

“Everything in the arena could get me killed.” you say, there’s a tug at the wire, you reel it in, “No matter what I do, I’m always putting myself into trouble. I come down here alone, I continue to feed you, I create plans and keep secrets and try to stay off my allies’ radar. It’s the same for you. Sooner or later, we’re going to get killed or be the ones that kill.”

“Not me.” Blaire says, taking the fish from you, and then watching you pack up your things, “Shouldn’t you keep going?”

“Friends caught a pig. I’m mostly down here to plot, but you’re here.” you look at him, motioning to the fish with one hand while you block the sun with the other, “Take it, it’s yours.”

“I could leave.”

“What you do, is your own free will.” you say.

Blaire sits down right next to you, pulls his shoes off and then places his feet in the water. He starts taking the scales off the fish, you want to warn him about the dangers of the water, how deep it is and you’re not entirely sure what lies in there. But decide you’ll let him figure that out for himself.

“Tell me your plan.”

You can’t stop the laugh that sputters out of you, loud and long. Blaire was expecting this, there’s a small smile on his face, and he waits patiently for you to stop. Even a couple minutes later, you’re still giggling at the idea. Telling Blaire your plan to kill Allio? And for what? You’ll give away everything about the situation.

“Fat chance.”

“You act like I’m going to work against you.” Blaire says, and you’ve still got a funny smile on your face, “(Y/n), I’m in your debt. Plenty of times now.”

“Why? Just because I fed you? As if that’s even a reason.” you roll your eyes, “It’s charity work.”

“You could have killed me by now. Or brought your alliance down and had them do the job.” Blaire says, “Or not shown up and let me starve.”

“You’re caught up in what-if’s, none of those are real reasons.” you say, and the second that the words leave, you want to take them back. Because they are real reasons, you’ve been smuggling this boy for days.

Back home, you know some other poor family would try and repay you. It’s just how it works. You could do something nice like give one of Naida’s boys an old pair of Reed or Mox’s shoes, and she’d be insisting on making dinner for you all for at least two nights. All of it would be on her.

And there was one day, something like that actually happened. It wasn’t for one of her boys, it was actually for the youngest girl, Windy. She’s older now, six or seven, you can’t remember exactly. But it was just after your dad had died, and your brothers and you were in a deep hole.

Reed was illegally fishing, Mox was desperate with his studies, and applying for jobs at the local stores around, but no one was falling through. Naida knew that the four of you were struggling, and scrambling to sell things to stay afloat. A lot of the things that you were selling were old dresses that Alyssum wouldn’t be needing for a long time.

Windy had some important event at preschool, and Naida didn’t want her to look dirty and poor. She was completely missing clothes for Windy, because she’d sold Calandra’s baby clothes a long ass time ago. And even worse, she was scraping by on rent that month, she wouldn’t be able to afford nice clothing.

You found some old dress in the plastic bin beneath your bed. Clearly expensive, and looking almost brand new. You knew that it would go for a lot at the Square. Even the richest families sometimes go down there to get a good deal on things. And if the Square wouldn’t have worked--you doubt it wouldn’t have--you were going to head down to the seamstress.

You didn’t even ask Reed or Mox if it was okay, didn’t even consider the fact that Alyssum would need something like that in a few years. You found an old shoe box in the boys’ closet, and then some ribbon off of a doll from your room. You tied the box up nicely, with some wonky ass bow on the top. And took your ass right over to Naida’s.

The dress was easily a month’s worth of rent, maybe more. But you knocked on the door, Naida answered, and you handed off the dress, saying, “I heard Windy needs something nice for her school thing. Hope you guys have fun.” and left Naida at the house.

Later that day, when your brother’s were coming back from what they did during the day, Naida stopped them on the porch. In no time, she was crying, and absolutely crazed because she thought you’d spent a ton of money on a dress that you couldn’t even afford. But Reed recognized the dress, reassuring her that it would be a hand-me-down. Even then, Naida didn’t want to accept it.

They didn’t give her a choice either. Said basically the same thing that you did. When they came into the house, they found you doing your math homework at the dining room table. You’ve seen Reed proud many, many times, but the look on his face is one you’ll remember forever. You did a good job.

Naida’s way of paying you all back, was the free babysitting for all of you. Taking Alyssum in during the day while you and Mox went to school, allowing Reed more hours for the illegal fishing. And even after he became a legal adult, she continued on with it. She definitely knows that she’s paid it over so many times by now, but chooses to do it still.

Anyway, Blaire might be thinking the same thing. But instead of a dress, it’s his life. Something that is so temporary in the Hunger Games, and even dangerous. You’re risking your life by saving his. You’re putting trust into him not killing you by continuing to do this.

And the one way he wants to pay you back is by listening and giving advice. You don’t know if Blaire has grown up in the poor part of District Three, or if you’re just overthinking all of this. But it’s what makes the most sense to you. You said it yourself yesterday too, that Blaire is not only older, but smarter. He’s got at least two to three years on you.

“There’s nine tributes left in the arena.” you begin, making him look over, “And I’m worried that as soon as it hits eight, my alliance will break up, and I want to keep it together for as long as possible. It’s nice having people watch over my back, knowing that they’ll protect me. And they’re not all that bad, either.

“Allio, the boy from Two, has been causing trouble between all of us, except for Lennox, the boy from One. Of course, last week you took our entire sponsor gift, and I honestly thought it was Allio, and so did Trink and Lennox.” you stare at Blaire, “They still think that it’s him, as far as I know.

“I would get rid of Lennox or Trink, except they’re friends, they’ve known each other for a while. If one goes, the other’s sure to go crazy, so I figured that Allio would be my best bet, anyway. The only problem I’m having is how to get it done. It has to be tonight or tomorrow, because I don’t want someone to die before we get there. And I don’t want the animals to reappear in the trees.”

Blaire nods, thinking this over. He’s quiet for a long time, staring down at his fish. You think he’s just as stumped as you are, and then he speaks, “You can’t ask the others to help you kill him?”

“They think I’ve only killed one person, and I’m not trying to come off as aggressive. I only blew some of it when I told Allio that I hated him, just like Trink seemed to. So, I bet I’ll already be suspected.”

“Could always say that it was some random tribute.”

“That’s what I was thinking, except there isn’t anyone around the cornucopia.” you say, ignoring the waterfall tribute. They’re not as important, they're too far away. Once again, if it’s Finnick, you don’t want to give him away to the others. You wouldn’t be killing him with your own hands, but you’d lead them right to him. It’s good enough.

“You guys explored around the area?”

“More or less.”

Blaire hums, “You said something about the night shift, who’s taking the next one?”

You look over, “Allio said he’d take the next two nights.”

“Oh, then that’s easy. If he falls asleep during the night, just get him then.” Blaire says, “And then find some outlet, like sleeping or whatever.”

You hold your breath, trying to picture it. In this case, doing it tonight would be suspicious, since you’d finally get him alone for once--or ‘alone’. The others will still be there, just unconscious. You could kill him while he’s asleep, and then quickly lay back down. As for the blood knife, there’s a box that you could probably slip it under.

There’s only one problem, the one that’s nearly impossible to get around.

“What about the cannon?”

Blaire huffs out a laugh, “Guess you’ll just have to move quickly and make sure you aren’t breathing heavily. Turn your back to them or something. You can’t over sell it either, so pretending to sleep through the cannon might be cheesy. Or, it might be realistic, I don’t know.”

Allio sleeps on the other side of the cornucopia, opposite to you, closest to the mouth. Unfortunately, another obstacle is going to be the lit fire, but there’s nothing you can do about it. You can’t control the weather, the gamemakers can. And it’s going to be impossible to get them to just make it warm tomorrow night. Unless they come to the conclusion by themselves.

You stare into the water, almost losing yourself in your thoughts, when you see it. A dark motion, bigger than any fish, “Get out of the water, now.”

You push yourself to your feet, throwing the backpack away. When Blaire doesn’t move fast enough, you grab the back of his hood with both hands, pulling him out of the water and a couple inches away. He’s got it now, coughing because of how hard you were on the hood.

The black mass is towards the top now, just beneath the surface. You watch the bubbles appear, and pop. One of them lands on Blaire’s bare foot, and he hisses, backing up some more. You watch as his skin turns a shade of pink first, and then deeper to red.

You wonder if the water was hot, or if it’s poison.

Does it really matter?

You grab the water bottle that’s hanging out of Blaire’s back pocket, uncapping it, and then dumping it out, still staring at the water. No matter how much iodine you put into this, it’s not going to be clean. And it doesn’t matter that he grabbed it from the shallow end, either. Whatever is in the water can contaminated it.

“Here.” you say, placing it in his hand, and then moving on to your bag.

You pull each canteen out and dump them out, watching as the water runs downhill and back into the pond.

“Do you think that the fish is bad?” he asks.

You look over, he’s holding it out for you to see. You don’t spot anything abnormal with it, but you didn’t see anything wrong with the water initially, either, or the pond.

“Toss it in.” you shove everything back into the backpack, and attach the fishing pole to your backpack, “I know another place.”

Blaire follows what you said, tossing it into the water, and pulling on his socks and shoes after. You lead him around in a wide arch, exaggerating the path you took the other day. He doesn’t question you at all.

This walk is much faster than the first one, but the moment you hear the waterfall, you get a bit hesitant. You still lead Blaire through the trees, heading right towards the crystal blue water, but watching to make sure there’s no one there just yet. You’d like to give them a chance to leave.

There is no one, and there is no movement on the other side of the waterfall. Once Blaire sees what you’ve led him to, he gasps slightly, “Wow.”

“Yeah, I know. We shouldn’t be here for too long.” you glance behind you, there’s no one. If Blaire can sneak around you guys quietly, it’s no question that others might be able to do the same, “You watch out for anyone.”

“You don’t like it over here.” he says, it’s not a question.

“We’re invading someone’s space.” is all you say, “Fill up the canteens, I’ll get you something to eat.”

Blaire sits down, unfastens your fishing pole, and offers it to you. You shake your head, pulling off your shoes, and then your socks, and you roll up your jeans as far as they’ll go. After that, you pull your sword into your hand, and carefully wade into the water, watching for anything unnatural.

That was definitely a mutt in the pond, as always, gamemaker generated. It’s a wonder if it appeared because they made the creature come out, or because the fish that you caught made them appear. Either way, you couldn’t see it coming. You knew that the water was deep, but you didn’t know what else would be in it.

There’s a great chance that the gamemakers made the mutt appear to push you away and make you think of another place to go. Whether that be deeper in the forest, or over here. You need to work quickly, get Blaire his fish and tell him to go back to where his camp is, wherever that may be.

Your eyes travel back to the waterfall, still no movement. The tenant might be out, another reason why the gamemakers pushed you this way, to purposely cause conflict. If it’s Finnick, though, you think he won’t attack. And if he does, he’ll just leave Blaire out of it, since Blaire’s supposed to be his ally, anyway.

You feel something brush by your foot, and it’s enough for you to jump out of your skin. It’s a fish, curious and bold of what’s joined it in the water. You’re still, and stare at it, waiting for it to come back around. And when it does, you slam the sword into it, staining the blood a temporary pink.

“You should go back to your camp.” you tell Blaire, moving out of the water now, “Don’t stay over here. I’ll meet you back at the pond tomorrow, and we can take the walk around back over here.”

“Sure.” Blaire says, taking the fish off the end of your sword, “Thank you, again.”

Blaire must think that he’ll never stop being in your debt, and you’re afraid of that, too. The list keeps getting longer and longer. Eventually, he’s going to try and find something to pay you back with.

“I cleaned the water.” he says, “It’s all nice in there.”

“Thanks.” you dry your feet on your jacket, pulling on your socks and shoes before you unroll your pants. You sling the backpack over your shoulder, drying the blade on your jeans.

Blaire’s ready to go, too. He assures you that he’ll know the way back, and the two of you split. The entire walk to the cornucopia, you feel awful. Almost afraid that someone is following you back. You check several times, and of course, there’s no one there.

The second you’re out of the trees, the feeling subsides.

#ilguna #finnick odair #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair oneshot #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair lacuna #lacuna

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kkintle · 4 years

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Map: Collected and Last Poems by Wisława Szymborska; Quotes

Dreams flickered on white canvas.

The future—who can guess it. The past—who’s got it right.

Trite Rhymes A great joy: flower upon flower, the branches stretch in pristine blue, but there’s a greater: today’s Tuesday, tomorrow will bring mail from you, and still greater: the letter trembles, strange reading it in spots of sun, and still greater: just a week now, now just four days, now it’s begun, and still greater: I kneel on top and make the suitcase lid shut tight, and still greater: the train at seven, just one ticket, thanks, that’s right, and still greater: rushing windows, with view on view on view on view, and still greater: dark and darker, by nighttime I will be with you, and still greater: the door opens, and still greater: past the door, and still greater: flower on flower. —Ohhh, who are all these roses for?

Do you open each human fate like a book, seeking feelings not in fonts or formats? Are you sure you decipher people completely?

Are people really so simple as far as people go?

Lovers In this quiet we can still hear what they were singing yesterday about the high road and the low road . . . We hear—but we don’t believe it. Our smile doesn’t mask our sorrow, and goodness needs no sacrifice. The pity we give to nonlovers is even more than they deserve. We’re so astonished at ourselves, what’s left to astonish us? Not a rainbow in the night. Not a butterfly in snow. And when we sleep we dream of parting. But it’s a good dream, it’s a good dream, since we wake up from it.

Nothing can ever happen twice. In consequence, the sorry fact is that we arrive here improvised and leave without the chance to practice.

One day, perhaps, some idle tongue mentions your name by accident: I feel as if a rose were flung into the room, all hue and scent.

Why do we treat the fleeting day with so much needless fear and sorrow? It’s in its nature not to stay: today is always gone tomorrow. With smiles and kisses, we prefer to seek accord beneath our star, although we’re different (we concur) just as two drops of water are.

If we haven’t had enough of despair, grief, all that stuff, lofty words will kill us off. Then we’ll stand up, take our bows: hope that you’ve enjoyed our show. Every patron with his spouse will applaud, get up, and go. They’ll reenter their lives’ cages, where love’s tiger sometimes rages, but the beast’s too tame to bite.

I TEACH silence in all languages

FOR PROMISES made by my spouse, who’s tricked so many with his sweet colors and fragrances and sounds— dogs barking, guitars in the street— into believing that they still might conquer loneliness and fright, I cannot be responsible. Mr. Day’s widow, Mrs. Night.

We know ourselves only as far as we’ve been tested. I tell you this from my unknown heart

An Effort Alack and woe, oh song: you’re mocking me; try as I may, I’ll never be your red, red rose. A rose is a rose is a rose. And you know it. I worked to sprout leaves. I tried to take root. I held my breath to speed things up, and waited for the petals to enclose me. Merciless song, you leave me with my lone, nonconvertible, unmetamorphic body: I’m one-time-only to the marrow of my bones.

Leave me, leave, but not by land. Swim off, swim, but not by sea. Fly off, fly away, my dear, but don’t go near the air. Let’s see each other through closed eyes. Let’s talk together through closed mouths. Let’s hold each other through a thick wall.

Since eternity was out of stock, ten thousand aging things have been amassed instead.

Everything’s mine but just on loan, nothing for the memory to hold, though mine as long as I look.

One day the answer came before the question. Another night they guessed their eyes’ expression by the type of silence in the dark. Gender fades, mysteries molder, distinctions meet in all-resemblance just as all colors coincide in white.

Sunny. Green. A forest close at hand, with wood to chew on, drops beneath the bark to drink— a view served round the clock, until you go blind.

Parable Some fishermen pulled a bottle from the deep. It held a piece of paper, with these words: “Somebody save me! I’m here. The ocean cast me on this desert island. I am standing on the shore waiting for help. Hurry! I’m here!” “There’s no date. I bet it’s already too late anyway. It could have been floating for years,” the first fisherman said. “And he doesn’t say where. It’s not even clear which ocean,” the second fisherman said. “It’s not too late, or too far. The island Here is everywhere,” the third fisherman said. They all felt awkward. No one spoke. That’s how it goes with universal truths

Ballad Hear the ballad “Murdered Woman Suddenly Gets Up from Chair.” It’s an honest ballad, penned neither to shock nor to offend. The thing happened fair and square, with curtains open, lamps all lit: passersby could stop and stare. When the door had shut behind him and the killer ran downstairs, she stood up, just like the living startled by the sudden silence. She gets up, she moves her head, and she looks around with eyes harder than they were before. No, she doesn’t float through air: she steps on the ordinary, wooden, slightly creaky floor. In the oven she burns traces that the killer’s left behind: here a picture, there shoelaces, everything that she can find. It’s obvious that she’s not strangled. It’s obvious that she’s not shot. She’s been killed invisibly. She may still show signs of life, cry for sundry silly reasons, shriek in horror at the sight of a mouse. Ridiculous traits are so predictable that they aren’t hard to fake. She got up like you and me. She walks just as people do. And she sings and combs her hair, which still grows.

I let myself be invented, modeled on my own reflection in his eyes. I dance, dance, dance in the stir of sudden wings.

Exiled by style. Only their ribs stood out. With birdlike feet and palms, they strove to take wing on their jutting shoulder blades. The thirteenth century would have given them golden halos. The twentieth, silver screens. The seventeenth, alas, holds nothing for the unvoluptuous. For even the sky bulges here with pudgy angels and a chubby god— thick-whiskered Phoebus, on a sweaty steed, riding straight into the seething bedchamber

He grew rozes with a “z.

(...) the rest of your life? Old age is a precipice, (...)

I am too close for him to dream of me.

Silence—this word also rustles across the page and parts the boughs that have sprouted from the word “woods.”

Funny little thing How could she know that even despair can work for you if you’re lucky enough to outlive it.

The Railroad Station My nonarrival in the city of N. took place on the dot. You’d been alerted in my unmailed letter. You were able not to be there at the agreed-upon time. The train pulled up at Platform 3. A lot of people got out. My absence joined the throng as it made its way toward the exit. Several women rushed to take my place in all that rush. Somebody ran up to one of them. I didn’t know him, but she recognized him immediately. While they kissed with not our lips, a suitcase disappeared, not mine. The railroad station in the city of N. passed its exam in objective existence with flying colors. The whole remained in place. Particulars scurried along the designated tracks. Even a rendezvous took place as planned. Beyond the reach of our presence. In the paradise lost of probability. Somewhere else. Somewhere else. How these little words ring. Alive These days we just hold him

But this is ancient history. I can’t dwell on it forever or keep asking endlessly, what’s next, what’s next. Day to day I trust in permanence, in history’s prospects. I can’t gnaw apples in a constant state of terror.

Arduous ease, watchful agility, and calculated inspiration.

Old Folks’ Home Here comes Her Highness—well, you know who I mean, our Helen the snooty—now who made her queen! With her lipstick and wig on, as if we could care, like her three sons in heaven can see her from there! “I wouldn’t be here if they’d lived through the war. I’d spend winter with one son, summer with another.” What makes her so sure? I’d be dead too now, with her for a mother. And she keeps on asking (“I don’t mean to pry”) why from your sons and daughters there’s never a word even though they weren’t killed. “If my boys were alive, I’d spend all my holidays home with the third.” Right, and in his gold carriage he’d come and get her, drawn by a swan or a lily-white dove, to show all of us that he’ll never forget her and how much he owes to her motherly love. Even Jane herself, the nurse, can’t help but grin when our Helen starts singing this old song again— even though Jane’s job is commiseration Monday through Friday, with two weeks’ vacation.

Sell me your soul. There are no other takers. There is no other devil anymore.

I’m bound to pass by all these poppies and pansies. What a loss when you think how much effort was spent perfecting this petal, this pistil, this scent for the one-time appearance, which is all they’re allowed, so aloofly precise and so fragilely proud.

The abyss doesn’t divide us. The abyss surrounds us.

In Praise of Dreams In my dreams I paint like Vermeer van Delft. I speak fluent Greek and not just with the living. I drive a car that does what I want it to. I am gifted and write mighty epics. I hear voices as clearly as any venerable saint. My brilliance as a pianist would stun you. I fly the way we ought to, i.e., on my own. Falling from the roof, I tumble gently to the grass. I’ve got no problem breathing under water. I can’t complain: I’ve been able to locate Atlantis. It’s gratifying that I can always wake up before dying. As soon as war breaks out, I roll over on my other side. I’m a child of my age, but I don’t have to be. A few years ago I saw two suns. And the night before last a penguin, clear as day.

True love. Is it normal, is it serious, is it practical? What does the world get from two people who exist in a world of their own?

Let the people who never find true love keep saying that there’s no such thing. Their faith will make it easier for them to live and die.

And it so happened that I’m here with you. And I really see nothing usual in that.

Under One Small Star My apologies to chance for calling it necessity. My apologies to necessity if I’m mistaken, after all. Please, don’t be angry, happiness, that I take you as my due. May my dead be patient with the way my memories fade. My apologies to time for all the world I overlook each second. My apologies to past loves for thinking that the latest is the first. Forgive me, distant wars, for bringing flowers home. Forgive me, open wounds, for pricking my finger. I apologize for my record of minuets to those who cry from the depths. I apologize to those who wait in railway stations for being asleep today at five A.M. Pardon me, hounded hope, for laughing from time to time. Pardon me, deserts, that I don’t rush to you bearing a spoonful of water. And you, falcon, unchanging year after year, always in the same cage, your gaze always fixed on the same point in space, forgive me, even if it turns out you were stuffed. My apologies to the felled tree for the table’s four legs. My apologies to great questions for small answers. Truth, please don’t pay me much attention. Dignity, please be magnanimous. Bear with me, O mystery of existence, as I pluck the occasional thread from your train. Soul, don’t take offense that I’ve only got you now and then. My apologies to everything that I can’t be everywhere at once. My apologies to everyone that I can’t be each woman and each man. I know I won’t be justified as long as I live, since I myself stand in my own way. Don’t bear me ill will, speech, that I borrow weighty words, then labor heavily so that they may seem light.

Non omnis moriar—a premature worry.

Thank-You Note I owe so much to those I don’t love. The relief as I agree that someone else needs them more. The happiness that I’m not the wolf to their sheep. The peace I feel with them, the freedom— love can neither give nor take that. I don’t wait for them, as in window-to-door-and-back. Almost as patient as a sundial, I understand what love can’t, and forgive as love never would. From a rendezvous to a letter is just a few days or weeks, not an eternity. Trips with them always go smoothly, concerts are heard, cathedrals visited, scenery is seen. And when seven hills and rivers come between us, the hills and rivers can be found on any map. They deserve the credit if I live in three dimensions, in nonlyrical and nonrhetorical space with a genuine, shifting horizon. They themselves don’t realize how much they hold in their empty hands. “I don’t owe them a thing” would be love’s answer to this open question.

Dentistry turned to diplomatic skill promises us a Golden Age tomorrow. The going’s rough, and so we need the laugh of bright incisors, molars of goodwill. Our times are still not safe and sane enough for faces to show ordinary sorrow.

Our solitary existence exacerbates our sense of obligation, and raises the inevitable question, How are we to live et cetera? since “we can’t avoid the void.

No way out? But what about the door? No prospects? The window had other views.

You think at least the note must tell us something. But what if I say there was no note— and he had so many friends, but all of us fit neatly inside the empty envelope propped up against a cup.

(...) to linger longer, not to go home again. Since only prisoners want to go home.

In Praise of Feeling Bad about Yourself The buzzard never says it is to blame. The panther wouldn’t know what scruples mean. When the piranha strikes, it feels no shame. If snakes had hands, they’d claim their hands were clean. A jackal doesn’t understand remorse. Lions and lice don’t waver in their course. Why should they, when they know they’re right? Though hearts of killer whales may weigh a ton, in every other way they’re light. On this third planet of the sun among the signs of bestiality a clear conscience is number one.

I know nothing of the role I play. I only know it’s mine, I can’t exchange it. I have to guess on the spot just what this play’s all about

The star is large and distant, so distant that it’s small, even smaller than others much smaller than it.

Small wonder, then, if we were struck with wonder; as we would be if only we had the time.

God was finally going to believe in a man both good and strong, but good and strong are still two different men.

“How should we live?” someone asked me in a letter. I had meant to ask him the same question. Again, and as ever, as may be seen above, the most pressing questions are naïve ones.

Whatever you say reverberates, whatever you don’t say speaks for itself. So either way you’re talking politics.

Who knows you matters more than whom you know. Trips only if taken abroad. Memberships in what but without why. Honors, but not how they were earned. (...) Price, not worth, and title, not what’s inside. His shoe size, not where he’s off to, that one you pass off as yourself.

Nothing’s sacred for those who think. Calling things brazenly by name, risqué analyses, salacious syntheses, frenzied, rakish chases after the bare facts, the filthy fingering of touchy subjects, discussion in heat—it’s music to their ears.

During these trysts of theirs, the only thing that’s steamy is the tea.

May delivery be easy, may our child grow and be well. Let him be happy from time to time and leap over abysses. Let his heart have strength to endure and his mind be awake and reach far. But not so far that it sees into the future. Spare him that one gift, O heavenly powers.

For the sake of the children that we still are, fairy tales have happy endings. That’s the only finale that will do here, too. The rain will stop, the waves will subside, the clouds will part in the cleared-up sky, and they’ll be once more what clouds overhead ought to be: lofty and rather lighthearted in their likeness to things drying in the sun— isles of bliss, lambs, cauliflowers, diapers.

I prefer, where love’s concerned, nonspecific anniversaries that can be celebrated every day.

A miracle, just take a look around: the inescapable earth. An extra miracle, extra and ordinary: the unthinkable can be thought.

When I see such things, I’m no longer sure that what’s important is more important than what’s not.

Hatred is a master of contrast— between explosions and dead quiet, red blood and white snow.

Perhaps all fields are battlefields, those we remember and those that are forgotten: (...)

Without us dreams couldn’t exist. The one on whom the real world depends is still unknown, and the products of his insomnia are available to anyone who wakes up.

Every beginning is only a sequel, after all, and the book of events is always open halfway through.

We agreed to death, but not to every kind. Love attracted us, of course, but only love that keeps its word.

We were besieged by doubts. Does knowing everything beforehand really mean knowing everything. Is a decision made in advance really any kind of choice.

We’re extremely fortunate not to know precisely the kind of world we live in.

I am who I am. A coincidence no less unthinkable than any other.

They aren’t obliged to vanish when we’re gone. They don’t have to be seen while sailing on.

The Three Oddest Words When I pronounce the word Future, the first syllable already belongs to the past. When I pronounce the word Silence, I destroy it. When I pronounce the word Nothing, I make something no nonbeing can hold.

But how to answer unasked questions, while being furthermore a being so totally a nobody to you.

Talking with you is essential and impossible. Urgent in this hurried life and postponed to never.

Understanding came only later: not all misadventures fit within the world’s laws and even if they wanted to, they couldn’t happen.

And what can you say about one day of life, a minute, a second: darkness, a lightbulb’s flash, then dark again? KOSMOS MAKROS CHRONOS PARADOKSOS Only stony Greek has words for that.

There must be an exit somewhere, that’s more than certain. But you don’t look for it, it looks for you, it’s been stalking you from the start, and this labyrinth is none other than than your, for the duration, your, until not your, flight, flight— (...)

Life on Earth is quite a bargain. Dreams, for one, don’t charge admission. Illusions are costly only when lost. The body has its own installment plan. And as an extra, added feature, you spin on the planets’ carousel for free, and with it you hitch a ride on the intergalactic blizzard, with times so dizzying that nothing here on Earth can even tremble.

At times I get fed up with her. I suggest a separation. From now to eternity. Then she smiles at me with pity, since she knows it would be the end of me too.

Assassins They think for days on end, how to kill so as to kill, and how many killed will be many. Apart from this they eat their meals with gusto, pray, wash their feet, feed the birds, make phone calls while scratching their armpits, stanch blood when they cut a finger, if they’re women they buy sanitary napkins, eye shadow, flowers for vases, they make jokes on their good days, drink citrus juice from the fridge, watch the moon and stars at night, place headphones with soft music on their ears and sleep sweetly till the crack of dawn —unless what they’re thinking needs doing at night.

It’s good you came. Sit here beside me. He really was supposed to get back Thursday. But we’ve got so many Thursdays left this year.

Page after page at a snail’s pace. But we’re still going in fifth gear and, knock on wood, never better.

We eat another life so as to live. A corpse of pork with departed cabbage. Every menu is an obituary. Even the kindest of souls must consume, digest something killed so that their warm hearts won’t stop beating.

In the end I stopped knowing what I’d been looking for so long. I woke up. Looked at my watch. The dream took not quite two and a half minutes. Such are the tricks to which time resorts ever since it started stumbling on sleeping heads.

#poems #poetry #Wislawa Szymborska #literature #quotes

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blog-oddeyecircle · 5 years

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Random headcanons about La Squadra as Kpop boy group

The group would be called Hitmen. The group used to be a nine-member group before Sorbet and Gelato left the group permanently due to health reasons. The group would debut with Exo’s song Monster because the song does mention stalking and it’s main lyrics: “I’m creepin’ in your heart, babe, I’ll flip you over, break you down and swallow you up, I’ll steal you and indulge in you, I’m gonna mess you up, I’m engraved in your heart, so even if I die, I’ll live for ever, come here girl, you call me monster, I’ll go into your heart.” The group would have a subunit called Hitmen X which would consist of Risotto, Formaggio and Prosciutto.

Risotto would be the leader, main vocalist, centre, lead dancer and visual since he’s the oldest in the group, he would be the most talented out the group because he’s an excellent singer, his deep and rich voice is irresistible to the fans.

He often receives the most lines out of the group. He is pretty talented at dancing that he sometimes helps the other members if they are struggling with some dances and receives some solo dancing parts but not all of them. He is often in the centre of photoshoots for promotions but that can change in every promotion.

He is often seen the most handsome in the group but that is debatable, and he is handsome in his own way. He would motivate and take care of the other members, and to represent them in various ways like talking on the stage and awards festivities.

Also, he’s one of the most mature members and he easily gains the respect of his members. He likes to take part in shows where his group is able to sing and have their own take on classical songs. He knows how to be pushy with his company on what songs and concepts they do. He can come off as imitating to his fans during fan signs because he can be protective of his group from sasaengs (obsessive fans who stalk kpop idols).

Prosciutto would be the lead vocalist, lead dancer, centre and visual. He’s also pretty talented as his voice is described by the fans to “tickle their ears”. Fans can’t resist his handsome appearance and fans admire his refusal to follow Korean beauty standards.

He is also in the centre in photoshoots for some promotions. He can also motivate and take care of his group. He is also very serious and mature as well. He often nags the members to eat properly in between work and to not starve themselves before a promotion.

He is starting to take an interest in acting as he is often chosen to take part in Korean commercials and dramas. He knows how to think up of amazing concepts that would be a success with their fans. He also represents the group on stage and awards festivities.

His favourite types of shows are talk shows as he likes to prepare scripts for his members to read so they don’t become nervous on the show. He is protective of the members when it comes to sasaengs during fan signs and he will confront any of them if they start to stalk on certain members

Formaggio would be the sub vocalist, the main rapper and lead dancer. He is not the best at singing but he’s an amazing rapper. He knows how to diss others when he is on variety shows and music shows. His voice is often chill and friendly. This doesn’t go well with others as he often disses other idols from other groups and the fans are not very thrilled to find their favourite idol being dissed.

But he doesn’t care what others think about him. He even has a solo diss song. He is often the member that cracks jokes and pulls pranks with the other members. His most favourite type of variety shows is where he can be the dumb member and make jokes all the time. He is often nagged by Prosciutto to stop acting like a child all of the time.

With sasaengs, he doesn’t care if he gets stalked or has his life constantly watched by them, he just releases videos of him burping loudly and that usually makes them back off. During fan signs, he is the friendliest member during fan signs, and he likes to have casual conservations with his fans.

Melone would be the main dancer, sub vocalist and main rapper. He is the dance king of the group and he even makes up some of the dances in the groups. He is extremely flexible so he’s able to pull off some complicated dances.

He is pretty good at rapping and spitting a few disses. He is one of the smartest members, but he is a filthy-minded member as well he sometimes just casually gropes the members and gives them a little peck on the cheek to watch their reaction.

He often gets into dating scandals with both male and female idols, this can often drive some people crazy since they believe that idols should not date but Melone doesn’t care and he has a pretty huge love life for an idol.

He likes to take part in game shows where he gets to have his knowledge tested and show to fans that he is the smartest member. With sasaengs, he embraces the attention he receives, and it makes the sasaengs freak out that he actually likes it.

He often uses anything they post or give to him as a form of blackmail to make them stop stalking his group. During fan signs, he likes to compliment his fans a lot and even flirt with the older fans. He likes to show off his neat and elegant cursive when sighing autographs.

Ghiacco would be the main vocalist, main dancer and sub rapper. He is an excellent vocalist and people can really hear his strong emotions when he is singing. He is a passionate dancer as he knows how to do complicated dancers that involve a lot of energy to pull off. He is trying to pick up rapping, but he still has a long way to go before he can be as amazing as Melone and Formaggio.

He is one of the angriest members and on Youtube, there is a ten-hour complication with clips of him being furious titled “Every time Ghiaccio from Hitmen gets angery”. He is ones of the least popular members and he is often criticised by other people due to his anger.

His favourite type of game shows are competitive game shows where his group gets to compete in rounds and win points to win a prize, it gets his passion boiling and he is determined to win.

With sasaengs, he just explodes with anger and tells them to leave him alone or he will beat them up, this is effective as the sasaengs don’t want to deal with a furious person. During fan signs, the fans can be a little anxious interacting with them, but he loves his fans and he will treat them with respect to try to make them less anxious.

Iluso would be the main vocalist, main dancer and visual. He is an amazing vocalist as his voice can make the fans just swoon and become weak. He knows how to show off a few moves and he often likes to have Melone help him come up with some choreography.

He is one of the sassiest and smug members in the group as he likes to drop random insults on several of the members and he likes to respond to trolling by insulting them when they insult him or the group. This doesn’t have a positive reaction when the trolls act surprised their insults get insulted back.

His favourite type of game shows where his group gets to play “It’s because I’m pretty/handsome” where he gets to use his insults on the other members, and they have to respond with that phrase otherwise they don’t win the game.

With sasaengs, he just goes on how pathetic they are for dedicating their entire lives and souls on him or on any of the other members to force them to stop this problematic behaviour as he cannot tolerate it. During fan signs, he loves his fans and he often likes to take pictures with them. He loves it when fans yell out that he is handsome during concerts which he responds: “I know I am!”.

Pesci is the maknae (youngest member) and main vocalist. He is the member that struggles the most to learn the choreography and he often needs to ask the other members to help him learn the dances. But his voice is beautiful as it is sweet, adorable and soulful. He does like to write songs but he’s too timid to share them to his group.

He is one of the quietest and timid members, so he doesn’t talk much unless he is asked to. He is seen as cute to the members as he seems to be really good at Aegyo (acting cute and childish) without even putting on a higher voice or showing cute gestures, he is just naturally adorable to the fans.

Some people think he’s too chubby to be an idol but that is usually drowned out with fans claiming he looked cute with his chubbiness. He does have low confidence in his appearance, and he needs to be watched by Prosciutto to make sure he is not skipping any meals since he has a habit of believing he shouldn’t eat.

He hates game shows as he has terrible memories on them as one time, he was on a game show that had fisherman hand him a lobster to hold. Pesci was terrified of lobsters, he dropped it and he ran away in fear. With sasaengs, he asks them politely to stop but it doesn’t have a good effect and the sasaengs continue to stalk him.

During fan signs, he knows how anxious the fans are when meeting him so he tells them that he’s anxious as well so they can be anxious together. Often in concerts, his fans often shout that he’s adorable and he looks very flattered to hear that.

#JoJo's Bizarre Adventure #la sqaudra #risotto nero #prosciutto #formaggio #melone #ghiaccio #illuso #pesci #kpop headcanons

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suckasstakenames · 5 years

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Craig and Those Guys Week: Day 1 - The Beach 🏖

“You definitely brought the towels didn’t you Craig?”

“Yes Tweek, for the third time, you saw me put them into the bag.”

Five teenage boys cross the parking lot and make their way towards the beach. It was the weekend and this particular beach was quite the tourist spot, but it was one of the only days of the week in which all of the boys were free. They’d assigned this trip as their monthly event; an event that wasn’t just meeting up at the cafe or hanging out at somebody’s house.

Leading the group was a tall, slender boy. The tallest of the group. This was Craig. His beach attire was pretty basic; he donned navy blue swimming trunks and black sandals. He wore a beige bucket hat over his jet black hair, and covered his blue eyes with blacked out sunglasses. He was carrying a big beach bag, filled with all the essentials. Craig was their ring leader, the centre of the group. Whenever anyone else would talk about their group it would be referred to as his gang.

Trailing closely behind him was a noticeably skinnier boy; Craig’s boyfriend, Tweek. He too wore a bucket hat, white this time, and covered his bony torso with a vest of the same colour. He had untamed wild blonde hair, shooting out from underneath the hat in all different directions. His hand was fiddling with the bottom of his khaki swimming trunks, clearly on edge. His eyes were bagged, but he wasn’t a bad looking guy overall. Tweek’s anxiety around large groups of people meant that he was practically clinging to Craig for dear life.

Not far behind was a more boisterous boy, rambling about his friends’ sense of fashion. Clyde was a little chubby in build, but wasn’t afraid to flaunt it. He wore an open red shirt with a palm tree design on it, and on the bottom half…a pair of black speedos. He even accessorised with some aviators and a shark tooth necklace. He was clearly the most enthusiastic of the group; flicking his chocolate coloured hair in the wind whenever he sensed a female within range.

Next to him was Token, who didn’t try as hard on the fashion side, but still managed to pull off a pair of violet trunks and gold-rimmed sunglasses. He was assigned the role of carrying the parasol. His body was probably the most toned out of the group, but he was cool about it, and wanted to come across as casual as possible to his peers. But that was slightly difficult when you’re the son of a millionaire…and it definitely showed.

The last boy was a brunette, using his crutches to keep up a steady pace with his friends. His ochre coloured trunks were accompanied with a brown baseball cap and a grey t-shirt. This was Jimmy, who had a form of cerebral palsy, yet was one of the funniest guys in their town. He was wearing trainers and had no intention of entering the water at all, simply content with chilling out with his best friends.

The boys eventually reach the beach, finding a spot nearer the back that wasn’t too close to everyone else for Tweek’s sake. Token forcefully stuck the parasol into the sand and opened it, Tweek immediately running underneath. With the palest skin out of them all, he’d coated himself in 3 layers of sunscreen before coming out for the day.

Craig sets down the beach bag, whipping out a pile of folded towels, leaving a couple spare in the bag. “Take your pick.”

Tweek is the first to grab one; a simple striped design.

Clyde was next, opting for the one with the slogan ‘Cool story bro’ on it.

Token passed one to Jimmy that had fruit decorating it, and then took a basic blue one for himself.

Craig was left with the towel with an adorable looking cartoon shark on it, one of which used to belong to his younger sister Tricia. He didn’t seem at all bothered and laid it out next to Tweek’s towel.

“Alright so who’s coming for a splash in a little while?” Clyde enthusiastically asks.

“FUCK no. I’m not gonna be present while you awkwardly try to pick up chicks by the water.” Craig protests.

“Oh Craig,” Clyde tuts, “You should be more supportive of me!”

“Yeah well, I’m not supportive of those speedos.”

Token chuckles, “Again with the speedos…you really aren’t a fan are you?”

“Dude, look at him. He looks like a middle aged dad who flirts with teenagers.”

Clyde pouts, “HEY…at least I’m not flexing a damn fisherman hat!”

“Nghh, not cool Clyde! Don’t drag me into this too!!” Tweek contributes, awkwardly tugging on his hat.

“Firstly, it’s called a bucket hat. Secondly, fuck you. It keeps us cool.” says Craig.

“Appearance vs p-p-practicality. A truly difficult decision f-for sure.” Jimmy jokes.

“Who cares about how good you look when you’re frying to death?!” says Tweek.

“Chill out Tweek, we’re not frying! We’re just sun-kissed.“ Clyde teases. Token pushes him playfully, shaking his head and smiling.

Jimmy looks out over the crowd of people, stopping when he sees someone he recognises. An auburn-haired boy of their age was sat reading a book next to his mother, who was watching his father and younger brother throw a ball back and forth to each other.

“H-hey, isn’t that K-K-Kyle Broflovski and his f-family over there?”

Token squints his eyes in the same direction, “…oh shit, it is! Shall we go say hi?”

“What?! I’m not going all the way over there!!” Tweek protests.

Craig lies back on his towel. “If Ike sees Clyde he’ll just annoy him with pirate songs again.”

“I don’t need reminding of that you guys!!” Clyde whines.

“Kyle looks pretty bored…” says Token.

“Damn…and S-S-Sheila is looking pretty…th-th-th-thick.” Jimmy stutters, watching as Sheila rubbed herself with sunscreen.

“Gross Jimmy, put your boner away.” says Craig.

“Relax b-buddy! Only her m-mother could love t-that face.” he jests.

Token gets up, “I’m gonna go say hi, Craig come with!”

“Ugh fine but we’re not staying long.” Craig groans.

“Bring us back ice cream will ya!” Clyde declares, pointing at the ice cream van nearby.

“Anything for you, princess.” Token jokes, before helping Craig up by the hand and wandering off towards Kyle.

They quickly return with 5 ice cream cones, one with toffee sauce since Tweek likes toffee.

Obviously, Clyde had something to say about this. “Uhhhh, where’s my toffee sauce??”

“Go and get some from the van if you want it, you lazy twat.” Craig says, handing the cone to Tweek. Tweek smiles warmly up at him before thanking him. Clyde takes his cone from Token, pulls a sour face and sticks his tongue out at Craig before heading towards the van.

After not even 2 minutes of receiving his ice cream, Tweek has a sudden large twitch and accidentally drops the cone onto his leg. Clyde bursts out with laughter, while Craig grabs a spare towel from the beach bag and helps him to clean up.

“I will literally pay you half of my w-w-wage if you lick some of that.” Jimmy jests.

“WHAT?! Are you nuts?!” Tweek yells.

“That’s a comment I’d expect from Clyde, not you Jimmy.” Craig retorts. “Fuck off.”

“What if it was Token’s wage?” Clyde suggests.

“Not even for Token’s wage.” says Craig.

“You guys, my wage isn’t that much different than yours!” Token objects. He’s not wrong; he only earns about 3 or 4 more dollars than the rest of them. However he serves wealthier customers and the tips tend to be double, even triple the average waiter gets.

Once Craig finishes cleaning up a very embarrassed Tweek, and returns to the van to buy him a replacement ice cream, the five of them lie on their respective towels and sunbathe quietly in each others company. So quiet in fact, that none of them realise until 20 minutes later that Clyde had fallen fast asleep. Only when he suddenly lets out a loud snore, waking himself up in the process, does he attract the other’s attention.

“Jesus Clyde, scared the shit out of me.” Craig snaps.

“The heat must’ve knocked me out…” says Clyde. “I need to cool down…time for a swim!”

Almost instantly, as if he hadn’t just woken up, Clyde immediately springs to his feet and flings his shirt off. “Who’s coming??”

“I will. The water looks fresh.” Token gets up a little slower, taking off his shades and placing them on his towel.

“Tweek?”

“Ngh, maybe later…” Tweek replies. And by ‘maybe later’, he meant ‘probably not at all’.

“No worries bud.” Clyde reassures. “Jimmy? Oh yeah Jimmy said he wasn’t swimming today…Craig?”

The two standing look over to Craig, who’s very clearly pretending he didn’t hear them. Clyde bends over him, casting a shadow over his face.

“Craig? Yoohooooo?”

“What?”

“Are you coming swimming with us?” Token asks.

“Nah.”

Token rolls his eyes, exchanging a disappointed look with Clyde, before leaning in and whispering something into his ear. Clyde grows a mischievous grin and looks over at Craig, who is completely oblivious.

Craig is a slim guy and relatively lightweight, so it wasn’t a problem for Clyde and Token to grab him by the legs and arms and lift him up abruptly.

“Wh-? What the fuck are you doing?!”

“Taking you for a dip.” Clyde replies nonchalantly.

“I hate you both so much, fucking put me down!”

Craig wriggles a little in protest, his hat falling off in the process, but it’s not long before he gives in and simply lets the other two carry him over to the water.

Tweek and Jimmy laugh as they watch them go.

“Ngh…am I an unsupportive boyfriend if I just sit back and let them pick on him like that?” Tweek jokes.

“It makes a ch-change from Craig p-p-picking on everyone else, I suppose.” Jimmy shrugs.

They watch on as Clyde and Token count down from 3, and on zero, Craig is slam dunked into the water. He resurfaces flicking his hair and immediately targets Clyde by jumping onto his shoulders and sending him underneath the water. The antics continue as Tweek smiles from afar, happy and tranquil. Seeing his boyfriend and his friends messing around and having fun made him feel so relaxed and carefree, and distracted him from any worries he may have.

He sighs with contentment. At least he didn’t have to worry about being alone. His friends were always there for each other and supported each other an equal amount. And days like this just proved that the five of them were closer than ever.

—

#craig and those guys #craigandthoseguysweek #craigandthoseguysweek2019 #craig and those guys week #craig tucker #tweek tweak #clyde donovan #token black #jimmy valmer #south park #south park craig #south park tweek #south park clyde #south park token #south park jimmy #south park fanfiction #south park oneshots

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necronatron · 5 years

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Wild story time. So, around 2 years ago or so, I had this unbelievably vivid and coherent dream, I like to say it’s a glimpse of another reality, but it was so funny I couldn’t hold it together.

I’m seeing this from some 20-ish year old’s perspective, he’s a part-time fisherman or sailor, and he’s in a boat with his 30-ish year old buddy. I, as the person who’s dreaming, don’t know much about the other dude but I know enough to say that: a) he’s a street vendor b) has two best buddies he practically “lives with” c) is a frequent stowaway along with his two pals on random ships which they use to get to coastal towns and cities so they can sell stuff d) he has a drinking problem

So, the scene is from that younger dude’s eyes, and they just got in some abandoned boat they found that floated into harbour in the middle of the night. The older guy’s in this ragged, dark-brown sailor’s coat, black pants, a straw hat on his head and a toothpick or match in his mouth. He looks completely out of it which really made me feel for him, you know? The environment is barely lit up with a small oil lantern. So, suddenly, he just pulls out some bag or a coffer or something similar, checks it, and there’s 3.2 million worth of...something...in coins. Whatever currency there was, I don’t know, I’m sure it wasn’t dollars. They both were ecstatic and started howling, then suddenly told each other to tone it down so other people on the docks don’t get suspicious, you know, the classic comedic scene.

Suddenly, fast forward, they’re back in the town. They got his second pal to join and they decided to go celebrate. My entire dream just instantly turns into a sped-up compilation of them running through the street lantern-lit town, going from one bar and tavern to another, causing a ruckus and drinking themselves to insanity, all of that while this incredibly cheerful sailor music is being played in my head. I’m suddenly looking from the road at a tavern with a stone stairway that leads to the entrance and a barrel sign above the door, they run in, a barrel or table just smashes through the window, they get chased out with a broom by a chubby bar owner with a mustache and an apron, then the old guy returns and starts counting the money while the bar owner waits, then hands the money to him to pay for the damages, still while this incredibly loud and hilarious music is playing. They just ended up throwing up in an alley while one of the dudes was lying on the floor on his back crying. Apparently, they somehow spent all of their money on booze, food, bets and paying for damages in that one night.

I blacked out for a moment afterwards and woke up laughing. Still one of the funniest dreams I’ve ever had.

Not necessarily FR-related but after such a wild dream I decided to incorporate that into one of my dragon’s stories and make a character out of him. Now, FR Staff, please give us straw hats.

#fr #non-fr #dream #flight rising #guardian #dragon

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peaches-of-1 · 6 years

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Adrift~ Chapter 3

Chubby!Mermaid x Sailor!Hoseok

< Previous

Everyone was in a drunken stupor as the sun rose in the streets. They had to get out of the bar since it was closing but partied on the beach and all throughout the night with bottles of whiskey, beer, and exotic fruity drinks from all over the world in their hands.

Jimin could hold his alcohol and tended to the captain, “We still gonna set sail before dusk, Captain?” He said with notes of extreme snark, handing the captain a cup of water and an antiacid.

He jerked the cup away, “Hardy har har. Yer lucky I find ya cute. We set sail tomorrow. It’s almost dusk anyway, so let cher Captain sleep, won’t ya?”

“Anything you say, Captain.” He smiled and left the room to talk to the new members they had met.

The other crew mates got to know each other. The new chef was Jin who said he needed to get to the market before they closed for the night and pack up his few belongings. Jungkook was the 17 year old fisherman with his friend Taehyung who met through drawings in the sand in their “private spot” They just met in person two days ago.

Namjoon was busy fixing the battered parts of the ship and adding things to make it as modern as he could with the parts that were available. Yoongi teased him about past incidents and the two caught up. They had gone their separate ways after the last captain they followed got sick and died. There had been rumors of a mutiny against the second in command, and the two didn’t want to be a part of it.

The other mates were very intimidating to say the least. Older men, former captains, just really strong ass dudes who wanted to join in the sea voyage to find riches.

“Hobi!” Yoongi called the man out of his daydreams, “Come here! I think this’ll interest you.”

Hoseok put his things away and joined Yoongi who was watching Namjoon board up and seal the sides that were damaged from the storm. He was on a pulley contraption.

“Yea?”

“Namjoon, tell him what you told me.”

He nodded, “I was saved by mermaids. I wasn’t even sure they existed until I came here. Some other captain wanted me to help with his ship, so I did and worked all day and night even though we were expecting high winds. Knocked clean off this thing right here into the ocean. No one could hear me call for help, but a very shiny and scaly woman saved me. Had to be a mermaid.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

Yoongi replied, “You were talking about (Y/N) being one, right? After you got back, you had a few more drinks and told us how you saw her again.” He lowered his voice.

“Yeah. She said she was. I asked and she swam away. She asked me to come with her, but I said no.”

“Yoongi I need to move to the left!”

He got to work pushing the trolly-like contraption to his right, Namjoon’s left so that he could continue fixing. He spoke as he got pushed.

“Yeah, I can see that. I didn’t ask her since I didn’t wake up to her there, but a cute girl with a similar shape has shown up and has been asking me to make her things lately. I think it might be her, but I’ve been too shy to ask.”

“Namjoon-oppa!”

All heads turned to a girl with sea shells in her hair and bare feet running across the sand and into the ocean with no hesitation even though the hem of her skirt got wet. Namjoon smiled. That was the girl. He was pulled up to go talk to her, but she wasn’t allowed to step foot on the ship.

Tae returned with Jin and helped him store everything away while Jungkook carried art supplies to the storage room. They needed to stock up if they were leaving before the sun started to set tomorrow afternoon.

Hoseok was sure that Namjoon had been saved by that girl and that girl was a mermaid. She had that subtle shimmer that (Y/N) had while the two spoke in the dazzling sunlight. Jimin approached Hoseok and asked who the girl was that Namjoon was talking to. They explained.

“Mermaid?” Jungkook asked, taking his notebook out of his satchel and flipping through. “You mean these, right? Magical haenyeo.”

His drawings were pristine and colored in great detail. The other boys nodded, and Jungkook said that he saw one caught in his net when he was 15 but when they came to the surface, it was just a young man holding a fish in his arms.

“He cared greatly for that fish, called it his daughter. I think it wasn’t just a fish. I set them free and made sure he got to keep it.” He put it back into his bag. “I haven’t seen one since, though.”

Taehyung had joined the conversation as well, “There was a little girl who thought I was a mermaid before. She said I looked like one because I was so pretty. Then she disappeared into the waves.”

Jimin talked about (Y/N) and how the two shared dances that they had learned when neither of them could sleep. Jin said that he got help from a mermaid when a lot of the fish were disappearing because he went home empty handed one day and the next it was as if they were jumping into his nets.

Namjoon returned with an iridescent necklace around his neck.

“When uh,” Yoongi said. “When our mermaid came onto the ship, I knew there was something different about her. And I think she spoke with me with her mind and asked me to convince the Captain to let her stay. I asked her about it, and she said that she had been carried away by a strong current and was just trying to get home.”

The others agreed. They had met mermaids before. The men were curious if this was just a trick of the ocean or what.

Tae pointed, “What’s that?”

“Oh uh, she heard I was leaving and wanted to give me a gift that she made herself since I made so many things for her. She said it wouldn’t be to long until we met again. I really hope so.”

He looked at the shore to were she was singing and walking slowly back home. She had a beautiful voice that almost put the boys into a trance.

[Setting Sail Again]

With a new, smaller, crew, the men set sail for Bangtan Island with a renewed zest for riches. There were only about 25 men total compared to the previous crew which had been nearly double the size. There was now the rule of absolutely no women on board, trans or otherwise. Just to be safe. That had cut it down from the original 32 sailors who had joined last night.

The sea was gorgeous as beautiful. Namjoon had done a great job of fixing the ship as it ran smoother than it ever did before. The perfection of the calm ocean also helped with their travels and speed. They still had the map that (Y/N) had given them and followed the stars as specified.

Every night was a party to thank the ocean gods and to celebrate the perfect voyage. The sun wasn’t too hot with the constant sea salt breeze tingling in the men’s noses and blowing life into their sails. They ate well with Jin on board, and it turns out that Namjoon was also a poet. Not one for dancing, though.

Jungkook was able to catch fish off the side when they were starting to run low on food with Taehyung’s help. They were able to get some large beauties to chomp down on for dinner later that evening while Jin performed some new dances he had learned. Hoseok mapped the stars, making sure they were still going in the right direction.

Captain E shoved a cup of brew into his hands, “Take a break, my good man. We’re still on course. We haven’t gotten off of it since we started! Why would we now? With no women on board, we’re promised safe passage!”

Hoseok just had a feeling that made him want to be consistent in his job and just make sure they were still going where the map led. The Captain was adamant, though. Soon, they just let the ship move on its own to fate while drinks were had and stories were shared, poems being shown off as well. A rowdy drowsiness came over the ship and all cares were flung to the depth of the dark ocean.

As the men slept off, it started to rain and thunder just a little bit. A small cloudburst to mask the sounds of giggles and webbed hands pressing against the side of the ship to turn it several degrees to where it belonged. Ships and their owners had never been kind to them, why then be kind in return when they could have fun instead?

They were just so close that they had to play a small trick on them. It may cost a few lives, but that was just the fate of the ocean. The spirits of the sea doing what they did best. Nothing personal.

A chorus woke them up. It was angelic the way they mixed and mingled and called out to their ears, unlocking every pleasure they ever had. The source was beautiful. Women, so many women. Round and plump in all the right ways and eyes glittering bodies. The Captain and other sailors were transfixed, staring at what had to be Bangtan Island.

It glittered even in the setting sun, making them ignore that they had fallen asleep a while day. Making them ignore that they probably weren’t even on the right course anymore. Only seven of them were looking around and terrified for their lives once the Captain directed the ship towards a set of jagged and deadly rocks.

There was no chance that they’d make it though! It was insanity? What were the other 18 men seeing that these 7 did not? There were vicious Sirens sitting on the rocks singing their song of obvious death.

Insecure again, dangerous again

So bad (why?) us, yeah

Enduring more, holding out

So hard (hard), we can’t

Even if you already knew

We couldn’t stop

No way, no way, no way, falling

As time passes by

We only mess it up even more

No way, no way, it’s collapsing again

“FULL SPEED AHEAD! WE’RE ALMOST THERE, MATEYS! Look at how she glimmers!” Captain E called out.

Like there’s no tomorrow

Like there’s no next time

Everything that you’ve done in front of my eyes

It’s a complete darkness

Say it like you mean it

In the end, we can’t make it

Even so, I keep hoping

Even at the end, if you’re with me, I’m okay

Jimin and the other men who weren’t hypnotized looked over the edge of the ship and saw the waves only going one way. It was if the ocean itself had decided that they were destined to die and not find the island they had dreamed of these past weeks. It got more forceful the closer they got to the Sirens.

“Captain!” Hoseok called “There’s nothing there like you’re imagining! You’re sailing us to our deaths!”

“Shut up, you! We would’ve gotten here sooner if it weren’t for yer friendship with my wench!”

The other men tried to break their crewmates out of the trance, but it was no hope. The water was dangerous.

Namjoon sighed, “We have to jump!”

Taehyung didn’t like that idea, “But the water! It’s not safe!”

“Namjoon’s right, guys!” Jin spoke. “If we jump, we at least have a chance of surviving! If not, we’re skewered for sure!”

Yoongi sighed, “Ok, we’ll jump. We don’t have a choice if we want a chance at something better, like living.”

One by one, the seven men dove into the freezing depths. Why was this feeling familiar? The singing was deafened by the waves as he sunk deeper even though he climbed towards the surface. His air supply wouldn’t last long. He saw the ship pushed into the waves.

A hands grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the rest of the body. He soon feels air rush into his lungs as he chokes out water. A familiar face is before his own, eyes large with concern but a small smile playing on accompanying lips.

“Save--cough--save the others that jumped with me! They’re good men! If you save them, I’ll come with you. I’ll be with you, just help them live!” His voice was raspy with sea salt.

She nods and says something in a language unfamiliar but sounding like the beauty of waves hitting a cliff-side. Splashing is heard from the silence of where he was now. It was calm. She held him as he lost consciousness, the cold of the ocean and fighting against the waves having taken quite a toll on his human body.

[The Next Morning]

Hoseok woke up with a start. His head rested on a pillow. His body was on a bunch of leaves, but he’s covered by a blanket. Standing up, the young man stretched and looked around. He’s in a hut of sorts made of leaves and sticks. He went outside to explore a bit. Where was he?

He saw her unmistakable back sitting on the edge of a tidepool. Her tail splashed in the water. It was different seeing her like this in the daytime. Hoseok sat down next to him, expecting his own legs to become covered in scales and fins once they touch the water.

They didn’t. He looked at her again. Blues, greens, purples, pinks all a part of her scales. No doubt she was a mermaid now.

“Thank you for saving me.”

“It’s cuz I love you. I couldn’t let you die.”

He smiled, “I guess that’s true.” He looked up at the clear sky. “I’m gonna have to get used to being a mermaid, huh?”

She giggled, “I haven’t actually changed you into a merperson yet. I want you to choose this because you want to be like me, Hoseok. Not as a barter for saving your friends’ lives.”

“You really do love me, don’t you?”

She put her hand on his, “Absolutely. Your heart is pure. Your sense of adventure and love for the sea is so much. You’re basically a merman already.”

“Where are we?”

“My home. Bangtan Island!”

Hoseok can’t believe his ears. She laughs at his shocked expression and holds her legs out of the water, letting them turn into human legs before standing up on them. He can’t believe his eyes. So, that’s how they did it.

She reached her hand out to him, and he grabbed it. She took him to the center of the island where there were jewels and gold in a cave at the base of a dormant volcano. The other survivors were there with other merpeople enjoying the riches. Namjoon waved to Hoseok when the older one entered. His girl from the island kissed his cheek and put a crown on his head.

Jungkook held a baby mermaid in his arms who played with the chains around his neck. A man with dark glistening skin was beside him, watching Kookie play with the baby. A squeal was heard and Taehyung was playing with a little blonde girl that was being bounced into the air, tail flipping in excitement.

Jin was at a table where he was being served something spiky by a sweet looking man with purple dreadlocks that glistened. There were other shell shaped plates that were stacked up by the side. Jimin and Yoongi were hanging out with other nice looking merpeople as well.

They all greeted him and said they were glad that he was now awake. Most of them had decided to become mermen since the ones in water had tails with scales of all different hues and tints. Some were ruby red, others matched the same dark green as seaweed.

They had really lived. Hoseok remembered the words that she had said on the plank. “You are one of the few good men who deserve.”

“They all are ok? You’re all really alright?”

The dark-skinned man with Jungkook showed an orange glow come from his hands, “Healing magic. You were all brave to jump off the ship, but also, you got a few scrapes here and there.”

He nodded and hugged her so close. He then held her hands, “I want you to ask me one more time.”

She looked seriously into his eyes and asked for the last time, “Do you want to join me, Hoseok?”

Hoseok stood on the edge of the water, looking out to sea. They had a job to spend the rest of their lives making the seas better. Sinking ships that belonged to toxic captains and wrecking idiots that didn’t heed their warnings. They could live happy lives being free and one with the ocean, but this was something they had to do. It was a part of them.

“Hobi, come in! Water’s fine!”

With a huge smile on his face, he dives in the sea to join the girl that loved him from the beginning. Hoseok was going to live with the girl in the sea forever and was happy to do so. Protecting Bangtan island from the selfish and unworthy visitors that might try to find it. As he swam out, he didn’t even look back to see his footprints glowing in the sand.

FIN.

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disparais · 4 years

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dear ma-ma,

where do i even start?

i didn’t know it, but you are one of the most important people in my life - one of my constants that accompanied me from childhood through young adulthood. i know you will be with me for the rest of my life.

there are so many golden memories we have shared. i wish there had been someone to capture them all - your primness and fussiness, your faux annoyance, your doting smile.

you were here before my memories even began, holding chubby little me and looking at me like i was the most precious thing you had ever seen. i take pride in being able to squeeze a proper smile out of you on camera, because of the prim barely-there smiles you favour.

in my early childhood, you came over just about every other day. you’d drive your manual nissan sunny carefully, wearing your sunglasses and looking more chic than i could ever hope to. you always had fisherman’s peppermints and fox sweets in your handbag, and always slipped me a sweet treat before afternoon naps on my dreamy blue mattress. afternoons with you were the best, where you’d close the heavy curtains and turn on the air-conditioner, and pat-pat me to sleep.

i remember fighting with you over the channels on every single television available to us. you always wanted to watch teletext, astute investor that you were, and i always wanted to watch little bear (but also i just wanted to annoy you sometimes because it was hilarious getting you riled up). that’s how you became mama bear to me. (and yes, you more or less always gave in to me. i know you enjoyed these little fights too.)

yes, i also definitely deliberately aimed the fan at your hair occasionally, delighting in your ruffled feathers as you crossly patted your hair back into place.

thursday lunches with you and kong-kong were the best. i felt like a little princess going out with you both to the hotel, eating my favourite dim-sum and scampering around the hotel between courses. some days we’d eat at jack’s place too - it will always have a special place in my heart because of how much you enjoyed the experience of eating there.

whether at thursday lunches or sunday dinners, you always checked to make sure i was enjoying the food, and that i had eaten enough. you always advocated to order the dishes i really loved, and made sure to take note of what i liked so that you could remember to order it again the next time round. you always gave me the last coveted piece of food.

i definitely get my love for ice-cream and grocery shopping from you. perhaps my favourite memories are the golden afternoons where we’d share a 25-cent vanilla cone, then go to ntuc where i’d push your trolley around and take pride in carrying your groceries. i still do this for amy all the time, even though she complains that i’m too obsessive about keeping the trolley neat.

on the drives home, you’d always complain about everything under the sun. i have no idea why, but your complaining is the funniest thing ever and you’d always ask me faux-sternly what i was laughing at. i don’t know if you knew that sometimes i’d tell you a triggering detail just to provoke another mini-rant, just for my entertainment.

your home was more or less my second home. so many of my sun-tinged memories were forged here. i’d delight in digging up your tiny garden, only to hit the paving of gravel perhaps 20 centimeters into the ground. i certainly felt like a little adult, wielding the little trowel and thinking i was helping the plants flourish by “turning the soil”.

somehow, you’d allow me back into your spotless house (i always tell people i’d be willing to eat an entire meal off your floor, it was that clean), sternly instructing me to scrub my hands and feet clean before continuing to run amok.

you allowed me to drape a mattress and your comforter over the clothes rack in the spare room, where i loved to build my own blanket fort and hide out. even though you probably thought it was silly, you indulged me anyway, just like you did my soft toy show-and-tells. i am so glad some of my soft toys got to meet you; i loved shocking you with fog, and i am sure he will remember you always too. fatty will probably remember you, since he remembers anyone who calls him out for being fat.

perhaps the adult in my life who was the most supportive of my sweet tooth, you always offered me chocolates from your fridge. fearful of my mother’s reproach, i started to decline when i grew a bit older, but looking back, i wish i had accepted every one. it’s not like i didn’t sneak a truffle or two sometimes, when my cravings overcame my ability to resist.

you were always so happy when i slept over. only upon looking back that i realize your half-jokes about when i would sleep over again were not as much jokes as much as they were your way of expressing that you love and miss tiny me. i’m so sorry i didn’t realize before it was too late.

you’d complain that i was a “lazy pig” who was hard to rouse from bed and loved to nap, but you did so with a smile - and you were the one who would always turn your air-con on on full blast and ask me to sleep, you totally set me up! somehow, sharing a room with you, sleep was never far from me, even though the same cannot be said about the mosquitoes.

but my favourite memories of you have to be family dinners. not the sunday dinners, where i had to dress up in stiff frocks and be on my best behaviour as the littlest hotel heiress. just the regular dinners at your house, where you captured my heart with your food, which has always been and likely will always be the best home-cooked food to me. where dinner always started at 6pm, and being the playful kid that i was, it’d take multiple shouts to tear a reluctant little me away from my blanket fort and trot down the stairs.

i used to clamour to eat at your place all the time. i probably upset my mom because i said nowhere else had food like yours, especially the food at our own house which was way worse. (this is objective and i still stand by it - you’re the only person that consistently cooks vegetables so delicious you have me scrambling to finish the entire plate.) she commented that you probably added msg to your dishes, but i always believe you didn’t - your dishes were always delicious in a way that no artificial flavouring could achieve.

i promise i will learn the recipes that are close to our hearts. it is so fortunate that you passed a few on to my helpers - much as you disliked them, i know you wanted me to be able to enjoy the dishes i loved so much. i regret that you never got to try food i personally prepared, but i will always vividly remember the taste of your cooking, and strive to recreate our dinner classics. please excuse me while i list them:

- finely chopped chinese cabbage / phuay leng with sukiyaki beef stir-fry - phuay leng and garlic stir-fry - prawns in tomato sauce with white onions - sausage or scallion omelette - chicken abalone chinese cabbage button mushroom soup - crab meat ball and bamboo shoot soup

there is no price i would not pay to get to eat a dinner together one last time, and perhaps even be the one to cook it for you.

you are so inspirational. i do not know any other person who truly started with hardly anything, lived through the horrors of the japanese occupation, then turned their lives around to become so wildly successful. amy says during your first job as a cashier, you began dabbling in investments, and subsequently ended up fired because you were checking stock indices and planning investments on the job. she says you have the midas touch, and i definitely believe that - everything you touched is cast with a golden hue in the halls of my mind. you got to fall in love with kong-kong, and travel europe and america, and have two beautiful daughters who love and care for you like no other. i wonder how ruby feels about this loss - surely your broker had to be close to you in some way, given how often i saw you calling her.

despite starting with nothing, you worked and saved and invested to build up your reserves. you even kindly offered to sponsor my school fees, knowing that my brother is such a financial stressor on my family. i dearly wish you had been able to see me graduate - i wanted to tell my parents to give up one of their tickets to you at my graduation, because i know it was such a dream for you to see me become a fully-fledged doctor. i will study hard and strive to be a good doctor in the years to come. i will do my best by all my patients, and strive to have a heart for them and their family just like your doctors did for you and ours.

in spite of your family turmoil, you were the only one who had the heart to check in on aunty betty, calling her daily to engage her, even when her own children had disowned her because of what she had done to them. you made amends with your other remaining siblings in your later years, and i hope that was healing in some way.

you definitely have a place in the hearts of the old ladies in church, who always ask after you. even though church may not mean the same thing to you that it does to amy, pauline or even myself, i know it was special to you, because you made time for it - and you were never the kind to spend a moment frivolously (well, besides watching those awful channel 8 dramas. not that i will ever admit i would be riveted to the terrible acting whenever i was sprawled out on the sofa after dinner).

i have no idea how i missed all the signs that you were getting older. perhaps i didn’t want to see them.

when you fell in january 2019, i thought that might be the end of the road. i am so grateful to the surgeons for bringing you back from the brink that time. it was touch and go, but you were always such a fighter. i admire your zest for life and your willingness to cling on for dear life to any chance to survive. i am so thankful that you were able to get discharged last july/august, and that we had almost a full year more where we could still spend time with you, and bring food to you.

you fought so hard to get this second operation. i will always think of the what-ifs and wonder how long more you could have had with us, had you not gone - but deep down inside i know this is exactly what you wanted. you always were so bold and proactive about wanting to get the best out of life, and i know that given a second chance you would still have gotten the operation. you were hopeful almost all the way, and it breaks my heart that while you were still conscious at the end, you were aware that the surgical outcome was not as we had hoped for. it breaks my heart that your last days were spent in the hospital, not in the comfort of your warm and cosy home that you had worked so hard to maintain.

you are so loved. i’m so sorry i never had the courage to tell you this while you were still awake. i wish i had known that last weekend was the last time your eyes would be open. yesterday, i told you all the things i never dared to say while you were still awake. i wept over the seeming unfairness of it all, and how fast it all happened. i begged for another dinner together. i told you it was okay to let go; you had to be tired - if not in spirit, at least in body.

at the time, i wasn’t sure if you could hear me, but after steven and joel went, i am sure you were there. amy told me that your blood pressure was fluctuating but still holding up when gemma left 10 minutes prior to their arrival. by the time they entered the room, the blood pressure dropped to 50/30, and your heart rate had slowed from your usual tachycardic state to 55. joel said a prayer over you, and then amy watched as your vitals dropped to zero. amy said it took less than 5 minutes. the timing is nothing short of miraculous. i knew then that even when the time was up, you fought so hard to stay, just to say goodbye to steven and joel. your spirit and tenacity always astound me.

i miss you so much already. you loved me so much and so well and i’m so sorry i never made enough time to show you how much you mattered to me as well. but you have fought the good fight, and finished the race. you spent your whole life working and striving for a better life. you deserve eternal rest and peace.

i hope you are somewhere better now. somewhere where you get to eat everything you wanted to, somewhere sparkling clean and comfortable, somewhere nice and fancy, where the breeze is gentle and won’t mess up your hair. i hope you’re able to walk arm in arm with kong-kong again, and embrace eternity with him.

in time, i too will join you. one day we will have sunday dinners again. until then, safe travels and rest well. i love you.

love, isabel

p.s. don’t be a worrywart. we will be fine, i promise.

#mama

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