propertydeveloper17-blog

[theood]

Still waiting for my t prescription to go through. I'll probably call again to check around midafternoon. Missed out on a job place that pays weekly (v sad about that one) but I have to call back to a previously applied place to ask about my application.

It's a part time position and I'd rather be full time but anything getting me some cash for the future would be better. And I can always just keep an eye out for better offerings or just be upfront that if possible I'd love more hours or to be switched to full time

[vilevenom]

hurt comfort for fem branch please 😭

I hc her as autistic so maybe male poppy reassuring her

Ik u don't really care ABT the genders, but I'm heavy projecting on branch cause I kin him and I am DYING today

Thank you SO SO SO much for writing it if you decide to

HELLO ANON!

I am SO sorry that you sent this ask around a week ago and I'm only able to give you something now. I also hope I'm not posting this too late for you 😕 (This is the first night on my vacation I've managed to dig my laptop out) I wrote this pretty quick, and I didn't give it a good read over to properly edit it, but I hope you like it, and that you're doing okay ❤️❤️❤️ P.S-I'm not well verse in regards to austism, so I'm not super comfy writing it. I used my own experiences with overstimulation and sensory overload to write this

It had been…a day. An overwhelming, awful day. And it wasn't even close to being over yet.

Branch had woken up feeling like today wasn't necessarily going to be a bad day, but she knew it wasn't necessarily going to be a good day, either. Of course, that had been before she'd even gotten out of bed. Once she'd pushed herself up and threw her legs over the side, she'd near instantly knew the day was going to be a struggle. The floor was too cold under her feet, none of her clothes felt like they fit on her body quite right, every light was either too bright or too dark, and none of the food in her bunker was appetizing.

Things only got worse when Poppy showed up to drag her out for the morning music routine. She'd gone, of course. She couldn't let Poppy down. However, stepping outside had proven to be the worst decision she'd made yet. The sun was far too bright, and everyone in the village was so loud. And there were just so many trolls participating in the music number, it made her feel like she was in a teeny, tiny room, instead of out doors.

Thankfully, once the song was done and over with, she managed to sneak away quickly to catch her breath and recenter herself somewhat, before Poppy found her once again. She was invited to breakfast with the Snack Pack, which she felt obligated to accept, despite her negligible appetite. She thought, perhaps, she could get away with picking at a muffin while sitting next to Poppy so the King of Pop could direct and hold conversation without needing much, if any, input from her. Unfortunately, that was not to be the case, as Poppy kept prompting Branch to speak. It was exhausting.

Finally, once breakfast was over Branch thought she was at last free and clear. She bid farewell to the snack pack and tried to sneak away, but Poppy wasn't having any of it. He appeared in front of Branch just as she thought she had made it to safety.

"CUPCAKES! Poppy," Branch wheezed, patting at her chest as her heart felt like it was trying to escape her chest. To say that the surprise had also caused her irritation and irritability to spike was also an understatement. She scowled without thought at the pink troll, a low growl escaping her. "What is it?!"

Poppy looked distraught at Branch's anger, shrinking in on himself a little. "Sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. I just wanted to know if you wanted to come with me while I go take care of some errands around the village before lunch with Nova Swift to talk about an upcoming fashion show."|

Branch immediately deflated at Poppy's apology, though she still felt like she might explode if prodded just the wrong way. "No, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap," she sighed, rubbing at her forehead, "You know I would normally love to join you around town, but today I just-" She groaned and waved her hands through the air. "I don't know how to describe it. Today everything just feels like too much. I don't think I can handle any more…anyone."

Poppy blinked, obviously a bit surprised by Branch's response. Which was to be expected, really. What troll didn't like to socialize and make plans for big events? Branch knew, even after all the work she'd put in to being a better troll, she was still very much an odd one out.

"Oh," Poppy hummed, rubbing his hands together for a moment, before giving a little nod. "Okay."

It was Branch's turn to blink in surprise, not having expected Poppy to take her at face value so easily or quickly. "Wait…really? You're okay if I skip out on today?"

Poppy's face melted into a warm smile, offering a quick nod. "Of course, Branch. You've been doing so much around the village lately, you deserve a day to relax."

"Oh, thank you," Branch felt her shoulders slump as her chin fell to her chest. She heard Poppy chuckle and only jumped slightly when she felt his hand land on her shoulder.

"Of course! You know I just want you to be comfortable and happy."

"Thanks, Poppy," Branch hummed, offering Poppy a strained smile.

"Any time. Now, let's get you back to the bunker," Poppy said as he moved behind Branch to gently take her by the shoulders and direct her towards her bunker.

Everything seemed like it was going relatively well after that, and Branch shuffled towards her bunker with Poppy following shortly behind. That was, of course, until a random troll suddenly jumped from the bushes in front of them screaming about an impromptu dance party. Branch bristled as Poppy froze behind her and music erupted from every direction, while trolls hurried into the area to start dancing and singing along to the music.

Branch felt like her head was going to explode, quickly lifting her hands to her ears to try and block out some of the sound. She squeezed her eyes shut, a quiet whimper leaving her even as he breathing began to quicken, along with her heart beat. The world felt like it was closing in around her as she curled in on herself, crouching down and just barely resisting the urge to wrap herself protectively in her hair.

It took a solid minute for Branch to register hands on her shoulders again, let alone the fact that someone was even talking to her. She blinked a few times, feeling like she was clearing her vision of static until she could see Poppy crouched in front of her.

"Poppy?"

"There you are! C'mon, Branch. I'm going to get you out of here," Poppy said over the din of the other trolls in the area partying.

Branch simply nodded, watching in mild confusion as Poppy turned and gestured towards his back. "Up you get, come on," Poppy urged, finally making Branch realize that the King was offering her a piggy back ride. Sluggishly she moved, struggling to get her limbs to cooperate.

Once Branch was settled over Poppy's back with her face buried in bright pink hair, the King began to move quickly through the crowd, easily and effectively dodging around anyone that tried to get him to dance. Somehow, he managed to get away from the spontaneous party and got Branch back to the bunker. He didn't let her down, however, until the two were down the elevator and in Branch's living room. Carefully, he deposited her on her couch, quickly whisking away to fetch a glass of water, pressing it into her slightly shaky hands when he returned to her.

"You okay?"

Branch shook her head, feeling like her voice was stuck in her throat, unable to verbally respond.

"Okay. What would you like to help make you feel better?"

A quiet whine escaped Branch, her shoulders shifting up to her ears, eyes downcast, wishing she could force her voice to work, but nothing was forthcoming. She would love nothing more than to respond to Poppy, who was being so kind and caring, only to receive silence back.

After a beat Poppy snapped his fingers, causing Branch to jump and stare at him with wide eyes. "Oops," he laughed awkwardly, "Sorry. But, uh, how about we stick to yes or no questions? That way you can just nod or shake your head?"

Branch perked up and gave a little nod, a wobbly little smile making its way onto her face.

"Okay, perfect! Would you like a blanket?"

Branch thought for a moment, before giving a short nod. Poppy grinned and was off like a shot, returning not a minute later to carefully drape a thick, cozy blanket around Branch's shoulders. It took her a moment to recognize it was one of her favorites to snuggle up with. Poppy must have noticed one of the times he was over to hang out.

"All right! Now, you've got water already. And it's nice and quiet down here. Would you like company? And by company, I do just mean me," Poppy said with a little grin. Branch let out a near silent laugh, before nodding slightly, thought she frowned after a beat, opening her mouth, only to snap it shut again a moment later with a little look of concern on her face.

Poppy frowned, only to chuckled and move to sit next to Branch on the couch. "Oh, don't worry about the village. I'm sure they'll be fine without me."

Branch let out a breath, humming quietly with a nod, forever grateful that somehow Poppy could read her like an open book. She took a few tentative sips of her water before setting the glass aside, then turned a mild look of trepidation towards Poppy. It lasted for only a moment before she let out a huff of breath, a mild scowl of determination settling itself on her face. Poppy offered a lopsided, confused smile as Branch shifted around on the couch, tossing half of the blanket over Poppy's shoulders, before curling up next to his side.

"Oh," Poppy breathed, a slow grin working its way across his face, before he settled his arm around Branch's shoulders and tugged her more firmly into his side. "Yeah, you know I'm always good for cuddles," he sighed, resting his cheek against Branch's hair, more than pleased to feel her breathing even out where she was pressed against his side.

[mcheang]

Lila doesn't know that Marinette's parents own the bakery and thinks that she's just an employee. So, she tries getting Mari fired by acting like a Karen, complaining about the service, etc. Or, she just tells the Tom and Sabine about how Mari is a bully at school and other lies. Unbeknownst to Lila, one of her classmates or someone from school overhears and records what Lila said. Tom and Sabine either reveal that they're Mari's parents or she learns at school.

Nickname

I’m not gonna use the phrase “Karen”. It’s kind of sad that this name can also be an insult. I always liked the name ever since watching Mermaid Melody.

Everyone knows Chloé refers to Marinette as “Dupain-Cheng”. But how does Lila learn about it?

One morning, Lila saw Chloé lounging at her desk when Marinette rushed in, surprisingly on time for once.

Chloé held out her hand imperiously. “Dupain-Cheng.”

Marinette huffed. “I have a name you know.” And she handed over a T&S box of macarons.

Chloé: your point?

Lila turned to Nathaniel. “Does Marinette work at a bakery or something?”

Nathaniel: You’ve never been to Tom and Sabine’s patisserie before? You’ve gotta go today. They are the best patisserie in Paris!

Lila raised a brow. “Wow, Marinette must be quite the baker to have gotten hired.”

Nathaniel shrugged. “Well, she’s still learning but Marinette comes from a long line of bakers. She’ll probably be a professional by the time we graduate.”

Lila hid her scowl. She had not forgotten her promise of war to Marinette. And what better way to start then by sabotaging her job? After all, Lila had only just returned and while the class was under her spell, they won’t be so easy to turn on their old friend just yet. A professional bakery on the other hand...

Lila visited the bakery after school, when she was certain no one from class would be visiting it.

Down there, Lila wasn’t that impressed by the space, though the decor was colourful and elegant.

She ordered a macaron. After having a nibble of the admittedly scrumptious macaron, Lila made a face.

Tom: oh, is something wrong?

Lila: oh, it’s just that this is my first time in Paris and I was looking forward to trying the pastries here. I’m a popular food blogger you see. I travel overseas for holidays and recommend what to try and what to avoid on my blog. My fans were so excited to see my food recommendations, one of which was the macarons. But after this, I’m disappointed.

A waiting customer in line heard what Lila said and started filming her. Lila didn’t mind.

Tom was worried. “I’m sorry to hear that. Normally our customers love our macarons. Perhaps it’s because you are not used to french cuisine?”

Lila but back a retort, and instead sighed. “I gave this place a try after Marinette recommended it.”

Tom: our Marinette?

Lila: yes, she kept pushing me to come visit your patisserie. Even after I said yes, she kept badgering me and even the teacher reprimanded us!

Tom raised a brow. “That doesn’t sound like Marinette.”

Lila: she also promised me a free box of macarons if I visited. But now I’m not so sure. I’m afraid this is a definite place-to-avoid for my blog.

Tom was now suspicious of this girl. Marinette never pushed for reviewers to visit their place. She never needed to. Their bakery was doing splendidly. And it’s not like Marinette to just surprise them with a strange blogger without leaving a warning message.

Lila was hoping her representation of Marinette would paint her as a horrible employee. And she wanted some free macarons too from a boss hoping to salvage his company’s reputation.

But Tom just crossed his arms and gave a cold smile. “I’m sorry you didn’t like our macarons. But you still have to pay for the macaron you just ate.”

Lila frowned at the man. “So rude. I should at least have gotten a refund for the horrid taste.”

Tom’s face turned stern. “If you refuse to pay, I will call the police.”

Lila rolled her eyes. “Don’t be such a drama queen.” She handed over a bill. “Here.”

Lila stormed out, too upset to even enjoy the macaron in her hand.

When Marinette and Alya came inside, Tom called them over. “Marinette, is there a food blogger in your school.”

Marinette blinked. “Not that I know of. Alya?”

Alya shrugged, “Sorry. I don’t watch those.”

Tom: a girl came by today saying you had offered her a free box of macarons in exchange for her visiting. She also claimed to be a food blogger.

Alya: must have been a scammer.

Marinette: but how did she know my name? From the sound of it, she probably never came here before.

Tom: she had brown hair.

Alya: that’s it?

Tom scratched his head. “I’m not good at remembering people. But that’s the beauty of security cameras!”

Tom led them to the back where he showed the girls the Lila drama.

Marinette growled. “Lila!”

Alya: what the hell? You never go near her if you can help it, always claiming she’s a ...liar...oh.

Marinette: yeah.

Alya: well, I can see why you hate her so much now if this is her true personality. What a snob. Even Chloé doesn’t act like that.

Tom: so you do know her.

Marinette: Lila’s a new girl who likes to make up grand stories about herself and has somehow convinced our friends to buy her lunch.

Alya counted off her fingers. “Forgotten wallet, sprained wrist, allergic to the cheap menu items, donated all her allowance to charity...”

Marinette: which one did you pay for?

Alya: when she told me she was robbed. Ugh. That liar is going down!

Marinette: but Adrien thinks we should take the high road.

Alya: Adrien’s rich. We’re not! I’m busting her right now! Mr Dupain, may I film this scene?

Tom: sure. I have to get back to the counter to help Sabine.

But as Alya spread the footage to the class, another clip was being shared rapidly among Parisians.

The girls opened their messages to see a video link.

WHO IS THIS GIRL TO CRITICISE OUR BELOVED PATISSERIE?

It was the same scene, but shot from another angle.

The waiting customer was a fan of the patisserie and a regular customer. She was not pleased at hearing a supposedly famous blogger giving the shop a bad review from just one nibble. and Marinette was such a sweetheart, the customer didn’t believe the drivel that came out of Lila’s mouth. And so she posted this clip, calling Lila out on her rude behavior, and asking if anyone knows this so-called famous food blogger.

Alya eagerly replied.

This clip became so widely spread that it even made the evening news, told by Nadja Chmack, who had even interviewed Mrs Rossi and told her what Alya and other commenters have said.

Mrs Rossi was too stunned to give a comment and had retreated to her office.

Ironic that the diplomat had such a mob-rousing daughter.

Mrs Rossi’s public humiliation was perfect for akuma bait. She basically spent her time looking for Lila to confront her but was defeated before Lila even knew what was going on.

Mrs Rossi apologized to the heroes for doubting their ability.

When Lila came home, she was surprised to see her mother waiting for her. Were they actually having dinner together?

Not exactly. Mrs Rossi tore into Lila for her horrendous behavior and outrageous lies.

And because Mrs Rossi was in the spotlight for negligent parenting, she went for extreme measures. From now on, Mrs Rossi would call the school every day, once in the morning to see if Lila had arrived, and every evening to see her progress report. Lila’s allowance would be cut off since she had been cheating her classmates for lunch money. Lila would also be seeing a professional therapist regarding her behavior.

Lila was shocked and furious she had been exposed to Paris as a fraud. She was hoping for an akuma, but Mrs Rossi had realized her lecture would cause upset emotion so she had asked the heroes to keep an eye out while she lectured her daughter. Ladybug caught the approaching akuma quite easily. Chat Noir’s night vision helped.

Lila tries to claim she felt lonely but Mrs Rossi retorted that was no excuse for her behavior. Then Lila tried to blame her mother for neglecting her and forcing her to keep leaving behind any new friends she makes just because of her diplomat job.

Mrs Rossi paused at that. It was true.

“Fine. I’ll concede on that point.”

Lila brightened up until her mother continued. “You’ll be finishing one last semester here before I send you home to live with my parents. They’ll give you undivided attention (monitoring) and you’ll have friends for the long-run (which means if Lila gets caught for lying, she will face the consequences instead of moving away)”

Lila: you’re abandoning me again?!

Mrs Rossi: I’m going to leave you in capable hands. And it’s not like I don’t want to spend time with you, Lila. But someone has to keep a roof over our heads and pay the bills.

When Lila returned to school the next day, she scowled right back at the glares that came her way. Upon entering class, Chloé called out, “Look, it’s the famous blogger. Oh, wait, no, never mind. It’s just some bragging nobody.”

Adrien stayed silent. Alya had chewed him out for his advice and warned him he was on shaky ground. Yeah, Nino wasn’t happy with him either but defended his bro was unaware of the cafeteria activity since he was always at home for lunch.

When Lila sat down, Nathaniel drawled next to her. “Oh, did I mention Lie-la, that the patisserie you asked about is Marinette’s family business?”

Lila’s fingernails had splinters under them.

[postmodernmulticoloredcloak]

So due to popular demand I watched episode 2 of Walker for you guys. Part 2 of 2

The pilot was more interesting and it wasn’t interesting. But let’s continue, maybe it’s gonna get better.

So my cookies are ready now! I ate the smallest one to check if they’re good. They are. At least I have my cookies.

Apparently now they have to take a horseriding test. Walker puts the saddle on a horse. But he gets emotional. The flashback music starts. If I see more of these I will develop rabies symptoms. I’m sorry this is what we’re talking about. This is Geneviève Padalecki’s role in this show.

Walker gets on the horse. He touches the bad and the flashback sound effect plays. Rabies. “Walker are you okay?” Ramirez asks. He nods. I’m Fine Lie #9000.

No, wait. He gets off the horse. Dude it’s called handling a loss badly and they have therapists for that. Please go to therapy. There are literal professionals trained to help you with that.

He takes off his hat, which lets you know this is serious.

He goes at the bar run by the lady who was with Emily when she died. He is no longer a ranger until he passes the test. We are happy about it because he is not in the psychological conditions to be a law enforcement officer. Oh, wait, we’re supposed not to be happy about it. Honestly, I’m not sure. Is he supposed to be relatable, or are we supposed to think that he’s screwed up and should not be a cop or a parent right now? Because he’s ostensibly the latter but maybe the intentions of the writers are the former.

He says that James thinks he’s ��not quite right in the head”. Mmm… are we supposed to think James is being exaggerated? Because it’s true. He’s not in the conditions to do this job… he needs to get professional mental health support, period.

They reminisce about Emily and Walker repeats the same things that made him think there’s more to the case than it appears, like the way her eyes were closed. The bartender confesses she closed her eyes. Well. That was anticlimactic.

In the meanwhile, Liam the gay brother meets his partner for lunch. He’s attractive. Liam would also be if he weren’t dressed and hair-styled like that. I dunno. The partner wants them to move to New York. They joke about dying of queso.

Augustus goes to take pictures with his mother’s camera and has a glowy flashback of his own. “He’s sensitive. He keeps a lot inside, like his father” his grandma comments to her husband. They talk about Walker fixing the house. “He wants to pick up where he left off” she says. I am hurting inside. Did they write this with the Supernatural pilot script open on the desk!?

Ramirez keeps working the case. Turns out, the horse that died wasn’t the horse it was supposed to be (a famous racing horse). Someone swapped the horses? I don’t care, actually. I’m gonna skip the case details.

Walker eats tortilla chips with queso. And begs Ramirez to let him work on the case because that’s all he knows how to do. That’s stolen from a couple Supernatural episodes when they talk about hunting, but okay.

“You know how you can see a horse’s soul in its eyes?” …no, but okay.

They’ll need to find the mysteriously disappeared horse… which is loose! In the hospital! No, not in the hospital. Just on a road. Best shot in the show, big dark horse walking around Austin.

They need to go find the horse. Obviously Walker volunteers to get the horse. “Might not be a ranger, but I’m still a cowboy”. I’m crying this is so cliché.

You know Walker is cool because he gets out of the truck without using the little step.

It’s so deep.

Oh my god. He. He follows horse dung. It’s. It’s literally a plot point. He tracks the horse following horse poop.

He finds the horse, feeds him a lil sugar cube, puts the reins on him. It’s a beautiful horse. Can’t the show be about this horse?

Billionaire bad guy (owner of the horse, set the fire to pretend the horse was dead because lots of bets were placed on the horse, but the horse was lightly injured so couldn’t win) driving towards his plane to catch his plane to escape. James and Ramirez do a car chase.

Bad guy lackey shoots at their wheels so their car stops. But Walker arrives on the horse, gets Ramirez on the horse and they ride the horse to the bad guys’ car. Ramirez gets on the car and punches the bad guys unconscious.

For some reason (I mean, budget limitations) the fighting sequences are very quick. I would have watched more of Ramirez kicking billionaire bad guy’s ass on a moving car. But it’s fine, I mean, if this show had a bigger budget they’d spend it on more cowboy hats, so it’s fine.

Walker, James and Ramirez celebrate at the bar. Apparently the bad guy’s lackey that was supposed to get rid of the horse loved the horse too much and set him free in Austin. Mood.

There’s still a third of the episode still to go, though. Drama will ensue. Indeed Liam arrives and is super pissed off at Walker for missing lunch, which he forgot because he was busy with his lil tests.

Liam says Stella didn’t show up to the game. Walker says he know where she is and gets Ramirez to come with him.

Indeed she’s thrown a party at their house. Walker asks her what she’s doing. “Being a disappointment I guess” she answers. He asks her why she missed the game. She says that it shouldn’t be so easy to get a second chance after messing up - like him. He’s like, a second chance? It’s not like a stopped being your father. Except… you did? You disappeared from their lives entirely. He calls her out for damaging the house and she’s like, it’s not even our home anymore but I’m supposed to treat it like a museum? Honestly her scenes are the only interesting thing in this show. He says he’s back now, but she says that being back isn’t enough, what makes a parent is *doing parent things*, supporting the kids.

“I wish uncle Liam had gotten custody of us when he tried” she eventually drops the big bomb. Ouch.

He’s super pissed off, takes off the hat dramatically, and drives back to Liam. He gets off the drunk and immediately assaults Liam. “You tried to take my damn kids!”

I’m flabbergasted. They. They just wrote a plotline where a gay man tried to ~steal a straight man’s children~ like it was a good idea. I mean! Liam getting custody of the kids would have been a VERY GOOD IDEA but what, we’re supposed to think he was wrong? I am so confused because I can’t tell if we’re supposed to be on Walker’s side or not. He is NOT in the condition of being a parent. The kids SHOULD be under the custody of their grandparents and/or uncle. Not because he’s traumatized by loss, but because he’s not trying at all. He keeps saying he’s trying but he’s not. He gets aggressive too easily and it could be dangerous.

Anyway the brothers have this physical fight which isn’t by far the most embarrassing thing in this show so I’ll let it slide. “You had no right!” Walker says, to which Liam replies that he gets it was rough but “you went dark! That was negligence!” Which is absolutely right and he should have gotten the custody of the kids. Liam mentions that their parents also agreed on the thing, and Walker yells “these are MY kids!” which is appalling, because being the biological father of some kids doesn’t make it okay to disappear on them for months and being mad if someone else stepped up to be their parent in your absence. “I didn’t want them to be orphans, did you!?” Liam yells back.

“I would never _take_ them, I wanted to protect them,” Liam says, and says more very reasonable things. “Even now you’re not here.” Walker yells that he is here (again, being physically in Austin doesn’t make you a parent, like Stella said), Liam replies that he’s chasing ghosts.

He brings up the things that don’t add up again, like the poker chip. I’m afraid that the narrative will prove him right, that there WAS something there and he was right to follow through the case despite everyone else telling him he was being delusional and that he should let it go and focus on the family. It would be actually good if it turned out that there was nothing there, that it was all coincidence (like the friend closing her eyes) and that he just chased ghosts for real, but I’m afraid this isn’t that kind of show. I think they’re playing it straight, that they’ll make Walker be right, and it will suck.

A note: now that he’s fighting and yelling and being angry, Jared is actually acting properly, which I don’t know if it’s a good thing or creepy.

Actually Liam says something very reasonable now, that answers will not actually satisfy him, her being gone will never make sense emotionally. The poker chip isn’t going to bring her back. He will lose everything if he keeps searching for something that isn’t there.

Now that Walker has calmed down, Jared returns to doing Jared mouth things. Oh no! Augustus watched them fight.

Oooh. Augustus gives him the present Emily was going to give him for father’s day. Poker chips. “She kept a few of the chips so she could show people” (what? But okay). Another of the mysteries was actually not a weird conspiracy at all. I suspect the narrative will make us believe there was nothing there to just pull a twist afterwards. It would be interesting if Walker were indeed looking for nothing, but I doubt that’s what they’re doing. They’re playing the tropes too straight.

Meanwhile Ramirez comes home to her boyfriend preparing a homemade dinner. She says she’s happy he’s there, and that scares the crap out of her. She wants to get both the job and the relationship right. They’re really cute and I hope their relationship doesn’t get drama-fied for drama. A healthy relationship where two partners figure out how to navigate it together, with normal minor bumps along the way they face together, would really be a good thing for the show to portray.

The next morning, Walker is making breakfast when Stella enters the kitchen. She doesn’t speak to him but gets on her phone so he starts texting her. They have a moment. He was looking for him mug and she gets it out for him. She says it reminded her of him being gone so she’d put it away. They do a bonding activity (bringing a memento from their old house to their new one), she cries, he hugs her.

Back at the ranch, Walker’s father has made him a new saddle. Gramps Walker is rough around the edges but has a hidden wisdom.

The emotional moment is kinda broken for me by the big Texas flag they have inside the house. I suppose it’s just how Texas is but it’s still funny for that very reason.

Augustus for his school project has put together a video from old family footage. Lots of flashback, but this time with a regular song and not the rabies sound effect and with the soft lighting but not the most extreme glowy effect, so it’s kinda okay.

Jared makes emotional faces and the episode’s over.

Well, at least the dead guy having been to prison wasn’t really relevant and the bad guy was a billionaire. An improvement from the previous episode.

I’m not going to give views to the youtube trailers, but I’ve been told in the next episode a new character will be introduced that is a childhood friend that is ~the Han Solo to Walker’s Luke Skywalker. *single tear of sorrow* They’re trying SO HARD to be Supernatural and they’re managing to pick the least interesting concepts of Supernatural to do so. Can’t wait to see Fake Dean. Also we haven’t seen Walker lasso a person either. I suppose I’ll have to watch more of this.

Honestly, it’s mostly boring with Stella being the only interesting part and Ramirez and her boyfriend being cute to watch. Walker is so unlikeable. You want him to get his shit together for the sake of the people around him, but not really for his sake. He should go to therapy but he is a manly cowboy man so obviously he won’t go (but I will be impressed if they actually have him see a therapist. It would be interesting to have a manly cowboy man see a therapist. But will they do it?) The idyllic flashbacks of Emily are so overdone and it’s only the second episode! Everything is cheesy.

This traditional Texan ranch aesthetic meets Austin city would be interesting if played in a way that genuinely questions the values of old, but the show doesn’t really, it uses the gay brother and the immigrant friend and the Latina cop and the Black boyfriend as props but the narrative itself doesn’t really do anything with the traditional Texan family thing. Unless they really pull the rug from under the audience’s feet and make some big twists regarding the way the narrative is presenting itself, there’s nothing really interesting or useful in the show. I’m afraid they will solve their problems by Wanting To Do Better and Sticking Together As A Family, which is just a conservative fantasy of how to fix problems.

By the way, the cookies were really good and my family loved them too.

[ilguna]

Lacuna - Chapters 17-20 (f.o)

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

warnings; swearing. HINTS AT CHILD PROSTITUTION.

wc; 10.4k

NOTES; I give reader a last name to fit the world.

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-- CHAPTER SEVENTEEN --

The room is unpleasantly quiet as it has been for the past couple of hours. You’ve waited patiently for a doctor or something to come in and assess you, take in your mental state or whatever while you’re awake. So they know that you’re not going to attack the first person that comes in.

No one has come, and you’ve tried to keep yourself busy, but there’s not much to do. You know not to take out the needles and the cords but if it gets them in here faster, then you might take off the one that is connected to your heart monitor. If it flatlines, then that means you’re dead. They’ll come running.

You’ve looked yourself over already. Your skin is smooth, free of any sort of blemishes that might have occurred during your stay inside of the arena. Scars, cuts, bruises, anything broken. They got rid of the scarring on your fingers from years of fucking up with the fishing lines and pricking yourself with needles and the hooks. 

You’re free to move your body to the left, and when you do there’s no pain. Standing up, there’s a small sore area in your ankle, and when you look down, there’s no bruising, but there should be from the rope. You can picture the pattern of it now, dancing all around your ankle.

At least you’re able to walk on it with no pain. You move your head, neck, shoulders, torso, arms, wrists and fingers. Then down to your hips, legs, knees, ankles and toes. Your fingers move your nose, which is still tender, but it’s back in place, no longer settled in it’s crooked state. Any teeth that might have been broken are now back in place, and it seems they might have straightened your teeth while they were at it. When you run your finger along it, perfectly in place.

The ring from your mother is nowhere in sight. You’d had it on this entire time, your ring finger had swollen around it, rather than letting it slip off with the weight loss. You trust that they have it somewhere safe, they’ll give it to you later on.

Your nails have been cleaned of any nail polish and dirt. Your entire body is clean, actually. Which is what happens when you want a sterile environment to fix everything that had gone wrong while you were inside.

Tired of the waiting, and dying to see Finnick—wondering what they had done to him—you pull the electrical cords that are attached to suction cups from your chest and toss them to the side. You swing your feet, eyes on the door as you listen to the dull sound of the heart monitor.

The door swings open, and there stands your doctor, and Mags. Their panicked expressions relax immediately, and they come into the room a little calmer now. The doctor pulls out a clipboard from thin air, and you watch momentarily as she reads over it.

“I’m ready to go now.” you tell them, “Make me sit in this room any longer and I can promise you that it will not be pretty.” the doctor looks up, unimpressed, “I just came from the fucking hunger games, if you think that I won’t be able to get creative with the shit in here, you’re dead fucking wrong, doctor.”

Mags motions for her to hurry up, clearly not excited for what you have in mind. Or she gets that you’re anxious and you’re ready to get out of the sterile white room. Which is unexpectedly boring, nothing to do but listen to what used to be your heartbeat. Be left to your own thoughts for too long.

When the doctor is done looking everything over, she allows you and Mags to leave. Cleaning up whatever you might have messed up for her, especially the monitor, which has been blaring loudly for minutes now. Mags leaves you through the winding halfways, hand on your arm.

Elysia finds you two, and she looks relieved, “Not dead after all.”

You fight back the glare you want to give her, because despite being a Capitol citizen she’s so exceptionally rude. You’ve heard so much about some of the representatives that come from the Capitol. How all of them seem to have a stick up their ass or something about manners. And here you are, stuck with her. You haven’t liked her since the beginning, she’s negligent, and she doesn’t deserve to represent district four.

“Wouldn’t that have been a twist.” you give her a sour look, before down at Mags, “I’ll be seeing Finnick soon?”

“At the--” Elysia starts.

“Shut up,” you snap at her, “God, my fucking time in the arena was a vacation from you and your stupid fucking accent.” you let go of Mags as you turn to Elysia, who’s starting to look more afraid, “it’s your fucking faults that we have to fight to the death in the first place, you’d think you’d have more respect for a fifteen year old who just killed seven people. We provided you a show, now provide me with some silence, and fuck off until I actually have to see you for the ceremony or whatever. Bye.”

Elysia looks like she’s going to give you a piece of her mind, but there must have been a look on your face, because then she’s suddenly terrified, and she’s scurrying out of the hallway, away from where you and Mags are heading. You take her hand again, placing it on your arm and letting her lead you to where you need to be again. You don’t apologize or offer a snarky comment, because there’s no need to.

You’re sure that if Mags could speak, she would thank you for doing it. Tell you that you should have been a little bit bigger and threatening. If she’s lucky, then you won’t shit talk her in front of her own people tonight. Because that’s what's coming, the ceremony where Caesar will interview you guys, and you’ll watch a recap of the past thirty days.

For you, it might have been thirty, but for them it could have been two weeks, three weeks. The gamemakers make the time fly by a lot faster during the games to keep things flowing. Especially when there’s days in-between action, like there was with yours. You’re glad that there were only two mutt problems for you, and technically only two for Finnick too. You both had the bears, then you had the dogs and he had the thing at the bottom of the pond-lake.

You wonder if they’ll let you tour it by yourself. Go through and see the sites where your friends have died. Listen to them explain their deaths in detail, Blaire, Mac, Cass, Thyme, the careers… You wonder if they’ve put up a noose on the tree branch, with dummies to signify where you and Lennox had been. The placebo body in the leaves, and Trink’s body sprawled across the grass.

To go back and torture yourself to see everything in a beautiful scenery would be interesting. See where your mind would wander off to, and if it’d take you with, or put up a shield to avoid doing too much damage. As if it would understand that seeing certain scenes again, like district ten’s decapitated head, Lennox turning purple, the girl getting caught in the rope when Finnick killed her…

Mags leads you to Laurel, and Laurel calmly explains that you’ll be seeing Mags later. So, you hug her goodbye and you let Laurel lead you the rest of the way. Her heels click against the cement ground, and she begins to explain what you’ll be wearing tonight. You tune in and out, and after a while, she seems to understand what’s wrong.

“I’m not going to give you congratulations.” she tells you, fixing your hair from your face, “killing people is no feat. What is a feat, is getting passed today and the next few months. May you achieve peace in whatever way you can find it.”

“Thank you.” you nod at her, she tells you that she won’t be joining you for lunch, and leaves.

Somehow, her words were more of a gift than the congratulations that she withheld. She knows that the peace will be hard to get, that the nightmares will start plaguing you soon, quite possibly when you’re back home with your family, and everyone else you had grown up with. There’s nothing more terrifying than bringing nightmares from the arena back home. Sitting by hopelessly as your mind replaces the tributes you killed for the people you love.

Inside, you’re sat with your stylists, except for Laurel. They waste no time, jumping straight into them telling you that they’ll be getting you ready. You left the room earlier than they had expected, so it leaves you the lunch and then you truly have hours to get ready. They can properly take their time, rather than speeding.

They give you a fairly large amount of food, and you’re sure it’s because of how much you were eating inside of the games when possible. Your stomach must have shrunk a lot if it takes one serving of stew, two rolls and a handful of vegetables. When you were first coming in, you were eating as much as you could possibly afford. Three, four servings of stew, five bread rolls, more than just a handful of vegetables.

You’re not that hungry when you finish, though. Which is when they stand you up and bring you to your room. You strip free of the clothes that were laid out for you—what you had worn inside of the arena. Although, none of it is ripped, dirty, got water damage or whatever. It’s pristine, it looks just like it had when you went into the games. 

The jacket is first, then the boots, shirt, pants, bra and then your underwear. There is no shame in front of these people, you’re as hairless as you were when you had first gone into the games. 

“Wow, no scars! That’s fantastic!” One of the girls runs her fingers along where your ribs are, “You’re so lucky.”

The other girl nods quickly, “Very expensive! But anything for the victors.”

They take you to the showers, taking down your hair. The first girl, you think her name is Beth—she always says it so quickly, it’s hard to tell exactly—goes to work with the settings on the shower. While the other two scrub your hair and body. 

Beth and the other girl talk a lot more than the boy does. But he seems just as animated at they are when it comes to conversation. Always talking about what was going on, how they knew that you and Finnick were going to win. How excited they were when it was announced that two victors could win.

They split off when you’re out of the shower. The guy goes to work at your hair, Beth with your nails as the other does your makeup. You occasionally let in your opinion just to hear them marvel about how amazing and cool it was. They’re very considerate when it comes to mentioning certain things, like they don’t want to tick something. Laurel must have been specific. Or Elysia had gotten to them before you did.

You wouldn’t mind it from them, but Elysia should know better. Beth and the others don’t understand what it’s like to be in the district. Elysia comes every year, she sees the type of houses you live in, the jobs you work. 

At least with the others they’re nice. Elysia hasn’t cared since the beginning, so you’re not sure what she wanted from you. If she can’t show basic respect, then why should you? Let’s antagonize the girl that just came from killing seven people, as if that’ll go well.

Once they seem to be done with your hair, nails and makeup—which took forever since they had taken their time—Laurel comes in. She offers you a smile, before making you step into the dress.

It’s baby blue, and poofy and frilly. They’re playing up the girlish look again, but there’s no point. Everyone saw you, they heard your plans and watched as you deceived. There’s no one to pretend for anymore. The districts know your real personality, the only people that might eat it up would be the Capitol.

They give you white flats that are lacy on the sides. A few jangly bracelets on the wrists. Rings, earrings, necklaces, small anklet for the cuteness effect. Then they let your hair down to complete the entire look.

“Move around.” Laurel instructs you. You twirl, do a series of walks with different hand positions. You smile, and try to blush but the innocence of what you had before is absent. 

When she feels like it’s enough, she then stops you.

“Alright, curtsy a little bit, we’re going to try to win the audience over as much as possible.” she tells you.

You cross your ankles, two hands on the bottom of the dress as you lower yourself with a light smile. Laurel makes some adjustments while you’re down, but she compliments you when you stand. You look young, innocent and no one would believe that you had just won the hunger games.

She then launches into conversation with the other three as they lead you to where you need to be. You ignore conversation, watching the avoxes and the peacekeepers around the occasional corner. They mostly avoid eye contact with you, but a few will look you over, and be just as confused as you are. What are they looking after?

There must be some sort of rumor floating around now. It’s only a matter of time before it lands itself right in front of you. And then you’ll be able to see why people seem to square you up, and then deflate like they’re disappointed.

Is it tough? Is that what you’re known for? Was the stunt with Lennox enough to make a big name for yourself? They expect you to be all hard ass because you had been a traitor and you should have died in that arena time and time again, but you prevailed. You defied the odds, you were more merciful and merciless. You wonder what they call you, because it can’t be anything pretty.

You guys go up the elevator to the training center. This is where you’ll stand with your prep team and mentor and escort and everyone else. Finnick will be on the other side to greet you. It’s not uncommon for the Capitol to go wild at the reunions of victors.

Most of the time, the victors are friends, lovers or very rarely, siblings. Which is when the reunions are the best, since they’re crying and throwing themselves on each other. Though, there are the times when the tributes have heard of each other in the district prior to the games, the only real interactions they have with each other is during the training and all of that. Their reunions consist of nods and if the Capitol is lucky, they’ll hug.

That hardly happens, as usual the winners come from the careers. This will be the first time for district four where they bring two back. Your district will be excited, the Capitol people are probably excited as well. They’re so used to the other ones that outer districts—four and everyone else—are more exciting. 

They call you guys exotic and surprisingly when it comes to your answers. The careers are trained in how to act for years. For you guys it’s all improv, you have no idea what you’re doing which can be both a downfall or your ride. The only people that can truly direct you are the mentors. And even then, they have no clue what they’re doing.

Winning the games can be on skill or luck. The people who win on luck have nothing to offer for their tributes. People who win on skill can pass that down.

You and Finnick have a combination of both. Genuine skill of throwing knives, hunting and making fires. Basic knowledge on medicine in case one of you were to get sick—even though that hadn’t helped at all. And luck was Blaire saving you, and Finnick finding you, and being able to get that rope around Lennox’s neck, and being able to throw that spear into him even though you were hanging upside down, hardly conscious and swaying.

Anyway, Laurel and the others break off to change into their own outfits, leaving you standing there. Alone to your thoughts because there’s no one else to fill the silence. You spend the time counting the little things around the plate that you’re standing on. Which matches the flooring above you, presumably.

You brush dust off of nearby things and hold back sneezes when it wafts back into your face. Shifting on your feet almost impatiently, but you still feel worried that you might end up collapsing from the sickness that you had. It’s like a phantom, you don’t have it anymore but it feels like you do.

After a considerable amount of time, you can faintly hear Caesar’s voice and the roaring of the audience that comes with it. You make a little bit of last minute changes, dust of anything that might have attached itself to you. Watching as your hand starts to sparkle because of the stuff coming off of the dress. 

And then, you hear the prep teams get introduced. You turn to where you’ll be facing, taking deep breaths, reminding yourself that they are not the enemy. They’re just here for a show. They want to see you pretend to be excited.

Elysia is introduced, then it’s Laurel and Pleurisy. Louder cheering since they were the ones who organized the costumes that you two had worn. Then Mags gets some cheering too, you can imagine her waving now.

You stand tall, squaring your shoulders and placing a smile on your face already. It’ll widen into a grin when you’re above ground. 

And then the plate starts to go up, you catch your balance before you’re in sight of the audience. The lights make you squint for a moment, but your eyes get used to them quickly. As soon as you can see, you notice the audience.

The plate shakes from the roaring, they’re on their feet clapping, yelling, whistling—you can barely hear it all. It’s turned into a solid sound barely about to be distinguished.

You turn to the presence beside you to see Finnick’s white smile. A slow smirk comes over his face as he offers you one of his arms. You take two swift strides before you’re hugging him.

“Almost home.” Finnick murmurs into your ear, you laugh lightly.

“That’s what you’re worried about?” You ask, looking up to him.

“You’re not?” He asks lightly, eyes flickering to your lips for a moment, and then he moves right in.

He pulls you closer for the kiss, it’s a couple of seconds of sweetness, before the both of you are smiling and it’s ruined. That doesn’t stop you from hugging him a little longer though. Because you do have to admit, it feels good to be in his arms again. To see him alive and well.

He’s everything that you remember, and you’re glad that he’s constant. Nothing has changed just yet, and you hope that it stays this way.

After a couple more minutes of cheering, you and Finnick finally sit at the love seat. This year, it’s white, very faintly a shade of grey added. Over the back is a blue blanket, you can see the obvious display of the ocean on it. Just for Caesar, you run your fingers over the fabric, taking in how soft it is, before you sit on the couch.

Finnick pulls you into him, not offering you the chance to sit away. His arm is wrapped around your waist, ensuring that you stay there. However, with you leaned against him, the sparkles start to rub off. It’s fine, you think. It’s just going to look odd when the both of you stand up.

He has a tan shirt on, a watch on his right wrist—weird in your opinion—but on his finger is a ring with a wave on it. You hold out your hand to see your mothers ring on yours. Reaching over, you take his right hand, pulling it right next to yours. Then, you look up to Laurel to see her wink.

Solidarity. 

“We’re engaged.” Finnick teases.

“Shut up, you’re fourteen.” You let go, smiling at him.

“Won’t be in a couple years—“

“Then get back to me then.”

Caesar then introduced what you guys will be doing, a couple of jokes mixed in to make you feel comfortable. Everyone knows this part, your family back home will be watching this. It’s mandatory.

Finnick seems to squeeze you, he understands and he might be looking for that comfort too. So you offer your hand to him, he takes it gratefully and you’re squeezing there too. 

Reliving the worst part of your life is not going to be easy.

The first part you watch the reaping, and your half a second debate on whether or not to run. Then Finnick joined you a minute later. There you can see you two actually posed a genuine threat against everyone else in the arena.

The chariot ride was when you had a few sponsors fawning over you. How excited they were to see that district four had a couple of studs—thanks to the commentary, you’re not very thrilled. How you and Finnick were linked together and seemed like friends.

The training scores follow, with yours and Finnick’s ten, another tell that you two would be winning. The only threat all along was Lennox, and his stupid ten too. 

It moves on to your interviews, and they don’t forget to include the little hand holding when you and Finnick got back to each other. The audience sighs, and you watch as Finnick smiles a little bit.

Then it hits the arenas. Panning around the tributes, assessing their situations and positioning their bodies for the goals. You watch yourself get there first, and that is when you stop watching. Unfortunately, you can still hear it, no matter how loudly you recite the poem from when you’re sick. Finnick holds your hand a little tighter for all of it.

You feel relieved the moment he nudges you. But you can see that it’s the ending, you have to at least watch the ending. How you climbed up the tree, spear swaying in the wind. Finnick preparing the body, Trink and Lennox gearing up to hunt you guys anyway.

You getting up on that branch, cutting off the rope, telling Finnick you’re ready as you tie the constrictors knot. Holding the rope up high enough so that the others can’t see it. Then Finnick screams.

Trink and Lennox hadn’t hesitated when they heard the scream. They started running almost immediately, Trink reaching back for Lennox. They reach the place, and that’s when it all goes down. 

It focuses on Finnick mostly, but you guys are able to see when you skip the rope around his neck. You’re not too thrilled when they show you throwing yourself off, but cuts to Trink dying, a slit throat, and then she got stabbed through the forehead.

And then Lennox’s zoomed up face as the rope closed in around his neck and choked him. How he had reached for the knife but must have realized that there was no point, the fall would kill him. And you were dangling, staring at him horribly.

Finnick throws his spear, missing Lennox but landing in the tree. You hadn’t realized it before but you were breathing heavily, the cameras were able to pick up on it perfectly as you prepared and then throw the spear.

It ends with a shot of you unconscious, arms and leg relaxed, face red from the blood rush or maybe from the fever. A knife barely hanging on in your waistband. Then it cuts to Lennox, blood all over his face, purple, dangling just the same as you. It zooms out, letting you take in the whole picture.

Then the anthem plays and you and Finnick are standing. He holds your hand tightly, watching as Snow boards the stage with a couple of kids bearing the crowns.le scene.

It ends there, which is when President Snow comes in, and Finnick is helping you to your feet. Still holding onto your hand, like he’ll never let go of it at this point. Behind Snow is a couple of kids holding pillows with crowns on them.

This is when Snow first places the crown on Finnick’s head, Finnick tries to bare his chest like he’s proud but he wants to flare, you can see it. Next is you, and Snow offers you a small smile, you thank him for the crown. 

After that, there’s a lot of cheering from the audience. You guys bow a couple of times, and you’re careful to not let the crown slip from your head. At the chance, Finnick pulls you against his body, he kisses you again, for the final time in front of the audience.

Then, you guys are finally dismissed, a reminder for tomorrow’s interview follows, and then you’re gone. Elysia and the others take you to the president's mansion for the celebration. You can hardly act happy as you’re forced to take pictures and pretend that you’re having a good time. 

In the beginning, Finnick had gotten whisked away but a group of girls. So you’ve been wandering the part alone, faking smiles and trying to keep the conversations short. When you find Maga, you stick fairly close because people don’t bother to talk to her anymore, which is sad.

Finnick shows up some time after, but he’s not in the mood for talking. He holds your hand and looks distant, when you ask what’s wrong, he tells you that he just received some news from back home about his family. He doesn’t elaborate because you don’t ask. Finnick is genuinely upset over whatever it is.

The night wraps up soon, and you two are taken back to your floor in the training center. Finnick doesn’t ask to join you, he just does. When you lie down next to him, his head rests in your neck. It’s silent for a while.

And then he bursts into tears.

-- CHAPTER EIGHTEEN --

At breakfast, you basically have to inhale the food. Laurel sits patiently at the end of the table, but you can tell that in no way you’re allowed to take your time. When you’re done, you kiss Finnick’s forehead, and then leave him to deal with his own stylist.

The walk is brief, and soon enough you’re stopped in front of your prep team. They’re talking to each other, almost ignoring you as they get to work. Laurel leaves, and you’re left to your own thoughts for a couple of hours.

More specifically, last night. When Finnick had finally opened up about what had happened. Why he was gone for so long that night, and what’s going to happen from now on.

He was with President Snow for almost the entirety of last night. You had been with him for merely thirty minutes at the beginning, for the lucky few who got to take pictures with the both of you. A few conversations here and there, you and Finnick were attached at the hip.

And then he had gotten swept away with peacekeepers first, but later you saw President Snow with him. However, it wasn’t what you thought it was. It wasn't a friendly conversation of Snow showing him around and how he felt about the games. Snow had made a proposition, almost.

It wasn’t a choice, but Finnick had tried to make it into one by defying what Snow had wanted. He told Snow a flat out no, and told him that he didn’t have to and that there was nothing he could do to change his mind. Snow threatened his family and when Finnick called his bluff…

Finnick has no family to go back to in District Four. They’re gone, just like that and you can imagine how everyone at home is feeling. They know something went wrong if Finnick got his family killed just like that. And you can imagine that they know that he knows about it. Peacekeepers don’t just go into houses and kill people for fun. It’s on orders.

Finnick was going to try to keep it from you. Snow had told him that it needed to be a secret, but he knows that eventually the word will get out on why Finnick isn’t at home, enjoying his new house in victors village. Snow knows that you’ll find out one way or another, and it doesn’t even have to be from him. People talk and rumors spread faster than disease does.

If it weren’t for Finnick begging you to keep this quiet, then you would have caused a scene already. You would be planning to do it in today’s interview, but you can’t. Finnick told you that you owe him for keeping you alive, for saving you when he did. In return he wants you to be quiet and let this be on It’s own.

He’s afraid that if Snow finds out that you know, Snow will hurt your family too. Finnick believes that he won’t be able to live with himself. But you told Finnick firmly that your family is his family now. He can take all of his stuff from his own house and move it into your victor house. He doesn’t have to live alone, and you won’t let him anyway. 

He’s yours just as much as your his. Nothing he does in the Capitol will change your view of him. Or how much you cherish and love him. It won’t change the memories, it won’t turn them bitter. You know that it isn’t his choice, and if he could, he wouldn’t be doing it at all.

After the victory tour, Finnick will be required to be in the Capitol. The only times he’ll come back is when the demand for his body is low or nonexistent. The only other time is during the time for the games, since the both of you are mentors now. You fully intend to take over for Mags, and Finnick wants to have those couple of weeks with you.

Finnick will be sold around in the Capitol for desire. Snow just made Finnick into his own personal prostitute. Finnick was kind enough to inform you that he isn’t the first and he won’t be the last.  The only thing Finnick gets out of it is the money, which he’s going to have a lot of anyway, thanks to winning the games.In fact, you were supposed to be included in on it. Supposedly, if one person were to buy Finnick, then that means you would go along too, just double the price. The person buying wouldn’t have a choice, where one goes the other will follow.

Snow had thought that would make the entire thing better, but that’s where Finnick had drawn the line. Saying that Snow could make him his bitch, but lay a damn finger on you, and Snow would regret it. Victors honor. Snow decided that it might be a little too much, and considering that you still have family left, it would be difficult to pry you away from them.

Then he made some deals with a few people that would take Finnick right off the bat, and you nearly puked when you heard that most of them were your own sponsors. People who had cheered you on in the arena had done it so that either of you could be sold around for sex? And now that the option had presented itself, it’s perfect. They could take their grabs at Finnick as much as possible. Until he has to go home for good.

The demand for him will drop off for good eventually. If he’s only getting one or two requests a week, or even a month, Snow will probably let him go. After all, there will be new waves of tributes who could be seen as desirable as he is. 

You feel selfish for being disappointed that Finnick won’t be by your side when you have nightmares. That he won’t be there to comfort you when you’re in a state of panic. When your mind still thinks that you’re inside of the arena, and that broken plate was a warning that something was coming.

You won’t be able to return that favor for him. Instead, he’ll be waking up in some strangers bed every single day and night. They’ll be comforting him after he has a particularly bad nightmare. And after what had just happened, it can be a number of things. The games in general, something about you, his brain creating scenarios where he has to watch his parents and siblings die over and over and over. 

You love Finnick, and to know that he’ll be dealing with his own problems when he had the possibility of being able to lean on someone, is so agonizingly painful. You really hope he’s not beating himself up over the same thing. It’s a normal for boyfriends to be there for their girlfriends. But he can’t do that if he’s being sold around.

As long as he’s trying to be happy during his time in the Capitol, then you’re sure that you’ll be able to deal with it some. A couple weeks at a time, you think. Snow will let him come back every couple of weeks to see you and everyone else in the district. Then, he’ll be brought back to the Capitol, and the process will repeat.

Beth and them begin to wrap things up. The final polish and the drying of the nails. A few more dashes of highlight to make your cheeks pop when you’re in the light. Beth instructs you to stand a little taller, stop slouching. This time your hair is out of your face, but still curled. There’s a couple hairs here and there that hang in your face on purpose.

“Alright, we have to get out.” The guy grabs the girls, gives you a wave and then they’re out of the room, Laurel waits for them to leave, and then she comes into the room. A sand-colored dress is draped over her arm.

“A simple look tonight. We want you to be comfortable.” she tells you, unzipping the back and making you step into it again. After she’s zipped the back, and fixed your hair in the back, she turns you to her. Taking your hand to slip on your mothers ring, but doesn’t move her hand.

When you look to her, she’s serious looking. There’s no hint of fun--not like there normally is, it seems like Laurel is a very serious person--nothing like a joke, “I assume you already know what’s happening with Finnick?”

Frog in your throat appears and you swallow to keep from crying. You can’t mess up what they just did on your face, you’ll have to be out in the cameras in the next ten or so minutes. If this is a couple of hours of work, then there’s no possible way that they’ll be able to fix it in time.

You nod, and Laurel sighs, fixing the dress on your shoulders, “Pleurisy and I are going to try our best when it comes to keeping him from going around too much,” when you open your mouth to say something, she continues, “We’ve got the cash to do it. Thanks to you and Finnick, our lines have taken off. It’s the least we can do.”

“Thank you.” you sniff, she smiles a little bit.

“Ruin your makeup and I’ll kill you personally.” she pats your shoulder, before she leads you over to the jewelry.

Again, you load up on everything that she wants you to. When you’re done, you feel like you weigh ten more pounds. It’s a lot of jewelry, all to make you pop more on camera. She says that it’ll make you look like you’re enjoying yourself in the Capitol, that you’ve begun to buy things with your newly acquired money.

When she’s done, Laurel takes your arm and leads you down the hall to where you’ll be interviewed. Tonight, it’ll be personal with no audience to intimidate you. Just you, the camera men, Caesar and Finnick. That doesn’t mean you should exactly speak your mind though, the Capitol and maybe the districts will be seeing this.

Inside the room is where you see Caesar. He comes from where he’s talking to someone, to you. There’s an immediate hug, and then he steps back to look at you, “Absolutely gorgeous! Your stylist is amazing.”

“I know, I’m glad that she’s finally getting noticed for her work, as well as Finnick’s stylist, Pleurisy.” you tell him.

“Would you believe me if I said that I was wearing their work?” he asks, and then he takes a step back so that you can see. And you see it in the sparkles littered around, it seems to be a signature. Your past dresses had that effect, but they hadn’t came off when they were rubbed.

It seems like yesterday's dress was a one-time thing, “It looks great on you! The navy blue fits you.”

“I see we’re all trying for a theme.” Finnick's voice interrupts you two, and you turn to see Finnick in a black suit, catching the light here and there, he shines.

“Wardrobe malfunction! No time to change, though.” Caesar winks, and then he goes to take a seat on his single.

You and Finnick are on the loveseat after that. His left arm around your waist, right hand in yours. You can see the ring again, you hope that he keeps it in his time in the Capitol. It seems so close but truly it’s far. The Victory Tour will take a while, it’s not a couple day thing, celebrations in every place are going to be big. At least two days in each district, and more in your home.

The cameraman counts backward, you feel like you’re a robot when you smile automatically when it hits zero. Finnick squeezes you, and you give him a certain look to tell him no funny business. Not funny enough, he seems to be giving you the same look with his eyes, almost a plea to be on your best behavior. You nod, you never had any intention to do otherwise.

You owe him, or so he says. 

Caesar introduces you two as if the entire nation still has absolutely no clue who you are. You wave and smile, Finnick gives you a quick temple-kiss and then you’re right in to the friendly talk from earlier.

“So, remind your stylist’s name.” Caesar starts.

You mock an offended gasp, “You’re wearing her and you don’t know her name? Caesar!”

He laughs, “What can I say? I get around.”

Finnick laughs, “Are you wearing Laurel of Pleurisy?”

He thinks for a moment, “Laurel?”

You dramatically fall back, “He doesn’t even know. An upcoming famous stylist and he can’t even remember.” 

It’s all fun and games. Caesar is very smooth with his responses, charismatic. If he were in the hunger games he would have simply won over sponsors with his charm. You know you would have been convinced. It’s hard not to believe in someone who has so much confidence.

Which must be why the careers get so many damn sponsors.

“I have a few questions.” Caesar eventually transitions, you shift slightly against Finnick, squeezing his hand, “The first is, when did you know that you were going to turn against them?”

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

One simple deep breath, and then a wobbly smile to follow, “The beginning. During training and all of that. I wasn’t planning on keeping them around for long.”

Caesar nods thoughtfully, but it doesn’t end with you, “And Finnick, running off with Thyme?”

You can practically see the blood run from his face, “Ah--well, it wasn’t really running off. I had thought that she was going to meet us after the waterfall shortly after. The tension in the group was rising, I didn’t think it would be smart to stay after Eytelle had died.”

He’d made the wrong turn. You’re sure he’s only asking these questions because the Capitol wants to know, but either way it’s stressing you out. It’s giving you more to think about. You’ll have plenty of time to dwell over this when you’re trying to sleep at night, so why do it now too? In your small moment of peace.

The questions aren’t much lighter after that. Caesar wants to know all the details when it comes to Allio and then eventually Blaire. You tell him the truth, that you hadn’t liked Allio since the beginning, but the plan was originally to kill Lennox, then you decided to get rid of the guy that was more paranoid. You made a friend out of Blaire because he was kind and needed help. He was as helpful to you as you were to him. It was a mutual friendship.

Then came Lennox, saving Finnick from the monster in the pond-lake and getting sick. You had kinda seen the Lennox and Trink thing coming, they weren’t stupid and they were going to figure it out sooner or later. Finnick was an obvious choice, years of swimming in water and holding your breath came in handy. Getting sick was the worst thing that ever happened to you.

Finally, Mac, and then the stunt at the tree. You were worried for Finnick when he had left to check things out, of course. Relieved when he came back fine, and a little bit mad that he went down to the cornucopia by himself, where he could have gotten hurt. 

The stunt of the tree isn’t as easy to brush off. He gets into the little details. You tell them it all in order. The tree is the highest thing to hang from, and you chose to hang Lennox because he had choked you in the cornucopia. Also because your last name is Gallows, and since they were so fond of calling you that, you thought you might as well utilize the nickname against them.

You cut the rope for yourself, you knew you weren’t strong enough to pull him up by yourself. You explained how to tie the constrictors knot and how you knew to tie it in the first place. This is when you give a tribute to your family back home. Finally, you get to the part where you throw yourself off of the branch and hang in the air.

Caesar tells you a detail that you hadn’t realized, nor had anyone told you. That your left leg had dislocated when you had fallen off the tree, which you could have guessed if you’re being honest. You hadn’t heard it pop or anything because of the bloodrush to your head, the headache, the fever, the pain in all the other parts of your body… there was no room for your leg to hurt. It would have to get in line with the dozen other problems you had going on.

During all of this, Finnick is giving his side of things, but he’s mainly letting you talk. You’re sure he appreciates it, because he’s in no shape to be talking about all of this, with what had happened when it comes to his family. It’s just another bitter reminder that he has no one to tell all of this to.

Very last, the spear. You told Caesar that it should have fallen out of your belt loop the second you fell, but it was holding on by a thread it seems. You threw it to end Lennox’s suffering and also because the image of his purple face will be permanently embedded in your mind. There’s no reason to make it go on any longer.

Sprinkled in by Caesar are some cute questions about yours and Finnick’s relationship and where the both of you will be going after this. Finnick answers this part, feeling like he hasn’t talked that much, and says that you two will still be together. But his and your family back home will probably appreciate it if you two toned it down. To hear him talk about his family is painful, knowing that there is none. He says that he doesn’t want to be killed by your brothers as soon as you two get there, and he looks forward to meeting them. You can picture them laughing at the joke now. They’ll love Finnick, you know it.

They’ll never be able to repay the fact that he kept you alive when you were sick. When he had saved you from dying in the woods after Lennox had just nearly killed you. The second that you, Finnick and your family have a moment alone, you can almost guarantee that they’re going to thank him and welcome him to the family. Make him promise to buy you a ring at eighteen or some dumb thing like that. You’ll be married before you hit twenty.

Soon, it’s the end. Caesar says his goodbyes, and you’re standing up and off of the loveseat. Your farewell to Caesar is very, very brief, you push your way out of the room, out of the ways of the invading guests. Finnick follows behind you, you can feel his presence all the way to whatever room you end up in.

There, you take deeper breaths, pace around the room and wipe any straggling tears to make sure that your eyes don’t get any bright ideas. You manage to do it, the tears don’t come and Finnick says that nothing was smudged.

He knows you’re not alright, and you know he isn’t either. Him being there is enough.

As long as he’s always here.

-- CHAPTER NINETEEN --

The car ride to the train isn’t that long. You spend the time staring at the floor mostly, not too interested in the color fest that’s just outside the blackened windows. You’d rather try to forget that this all happened, but it’s going to be near to impossible. There are going to be reminders everywhere.

You say goodbye to Laurel and the prep team at the station. It’s short since you’ll be seeing them a couple of months later on—so it seems that Finnick might be leaving immediately after the festivities in Four—Laurel gives you a look, and then hugs you for the first time. After that, it’s a blur of the prep team and you’re on the train. No goodbyes to the Capitol citizens, you’re glad you don’t have to.

You hold onto the wall as the train starts moving. Finnick does the same so he doesn’t fall over. You watch as Elysia stalks off, clearly mad at you still. You’re fine with that, you hate her anyway. Mags gives you and Finnick a smile, holds up one finger, and then leaves.

“One day.” Finnick says for you, and you sigh, going over to sit on the couch, “Wanna watch reruns?”

“Of what?” You ask, turning to look at him, he makes a face.

“You know.”

“Absolutely not.” You snap.

“Not even the Quarter Quells?” Finnick asks, and you think for a moment.

“Do they have when Mags was in the arena?” 

Finnick perks up, and he starts digging through the cases of video. Of course it’s on a disc, and not an actual show. It’s from sixty years ago, or something. Mags was in the eleventh or something. Maybe not sixty years ago, but definitely fifty.

“Oh look!” Finnick pulls out a case with a big ‘ELEVEN’ written across the front. He puts it in and then sits down beside you.

Somehow, it’s better to watch someone else’s games rather than your own. It still has all the death and gore, it’s just not your experience. The rerun is clearly based around Mags, which means that this is the condensed version and biased to make Mags look good. You still get all the deaths but they’re not focused on as much.

You mostly tune out the movie, watching Mags was just a suggestion so you wouldn’t have to watch your own. Plus you weren’t really interested in the Quarter Quells because those are the worst games. They have the bad twists to them, which makes them desirable to the Capitol but terrifying to the districts.

You won’t have to deal with it. And even if you hadn’t been reaped for these games, in a few years you would have been out of the pool. You won’t have to do the Quarter Quell, but the kids to come might. Which also means that you’re going to have to mentor them. You and Finnick together, teaching the kids the best survival skill.

The Quell is only ten years away. It might seem like a lot, but the time flies. The more it gets closer, the more paranoid people are going to get of each other. Like during the twenty-fifth games when they had to vote up who they wanted to go. Neighbors turning on each other for the petty things. The victors dead now, must have drank themselves to death or something. As all the other victors do you ease the trauma after the games.

The second Quell was where double the amount of tributes go in. Forty-eight unfortunate individuals would be forced to go in. Two girls and two boys from each district. Haymitch from district twelve won that year, and you’re sure you’ll be meeting him soon. Courtesy of the goddamn victory tour you’ll be going on. Suddenly you’ll be a lot cozier with your fellow tributes.

It’s going to be hard to not home a grudge against the districts like one and two. There's going to be too many people to meet. Especially since the two games before this one, it was a brother and sister, both from district one. Cashmere and Gloss, which means they mentored Trink and Lennox, probably. 

You wonder if they despise you, or if they find the entire thing interesting. If they’re going to snub or welcome you in with open arms. After all, you gave the boy the worst death of them all, and Trink saw it happen. 

During the three hour recap of the games, you had the misfortune of watching it happen. You had just fallen off the tree, as Finnick was fighting Trink. Lennox had begun to turn a shade of red, and you were looking out of your mind. Just seeing yourself so pale, you could have been mistaken as a corpse.

Trink hadn’t seen the rope at all when it was first lowered. She had launched herself at Finnick, believing that Lennox could take care of the placebo body. Trink had a sword, swinging it at Finnick with little to no aim. Finnick was dodging them, but somewhere along the lines he fucked up the pattern, and she got the upper hand.

Hearing her district partner choking had caught her attention, your almost-dead body shouldn’t have been able to come back and get Lennox down. So, she originally had looked to where Lennox should have been, knelt over your body, but slowly looked up to find him over fifty feet in the air. 

That’s when Finnick had killed her. She was too distracted. It was supposed to be a quick glance, find out what state Lennox is in so she could finish off Finnick and then go to help him. The amount of surprise that must have gone through her body, you can’t imagine.

She had the upper hand. She and Lennox had the possibility of winning, and you and Finnick came out of nowhere, with this whole attack plan and ruined it all. Although, hanging upside down was in no way part of the plan.

You hope that the others don’t hold a grudge. You hope that you’ll be able to make a circle of friends who understand what it’s like to be inside of the arena. That share the same problems as you and are willing to share their stories with due time. They can be proud of it, or they can be disappointed and guilty, it doesn’t matter to you.

People who you can introduce to Finnick and they accept him immediately and understand when he has to go. You just want people that understand, because you can already see he looks of pity you’re going to get from people in the district. You’re sure that if the looks from them get too much, you’ll end up locking yourself up inside your house.

Avoid it all and try to sleep it off. Call it a big ass dream and let the Capitol laugh at you for being another weak victor who can’t take the win. Let them think that one of the other districts should have won. Or maybe Finnick will be one big distraction and you’ll be able to disappear without a trace. The Capitol will be too invested in the fourteen year old prostitute to notice his girlfriend has completely dropped off the radar.

At least you’ll have people to take care of you in that case. Your brothers would probably let it happen and insist that no one infringe on your wishes. That it is a time to be recovering over everything you had just done. The memories won’t wash away quickly, no matter how hard they insist. Everything will have to be done on your own time.

At least no one will hate you for killing your district mate. To have killed Finnick and having to come back to his family and all of that would have been awful. Just think, had you gone after Thyme and Finnick after they betrayed you like that, you wouldn't have been able to see that you could have kept your district mate.

Hell, you might not have even lived to see that point. You would have killed Thyme and Finnick and then later Allio. Lennox would have found that out, killed you, and they might have gone on to win the games together. The only people to kill would have been the girl from six, Blaire and Mac. That’s on the assumption you hadn’t formed a friendship with Blaire.

Or maybe you did, and Blaire would later die from his own injuries from trying to save you. To have the same fate for yourself. Dying alone in the woods, not even awake to feel the pain. Could you imagine what Mags would have felt like? Watching you turn shades of color that she hasn’t seen on a person before. The cannon finally signaling that you’re dead, and she brings home two dead tributes again.

Not everyone that you send out of district four is capable of surviving. Somehow, it’s always the youngest tones that are picked. Although, Mags was sixteen when she went in. Again, that was fifty years ago, and of course there are teenagers that go in some of the time. But it’s not the same because they don’t win as much as the kids don’t win. 

You and Finnick are miracles. There has been one other victor in your district, and you haven’t seen him at all. Let alone, heard about him. No one speaks his name, he’s either dead or a hermit in his house. No one visits him, no one goes in or out of the house. Soon, you’ll be living near him and you still won’t know if he’s alive. 

Think of it this way. Mags is basically the first victor in your district. This means that during her fifty years of mentoring, she had only one person come out alive from that. Na they don't even know where he is right now. You and Finnick are fifteen and fourteen. You guys are barely qualifying for teenagers. You guys are young, barely have experience, but just enough to keep you alive.

Mags can’t speak, due to a stroke or something. She’s old, she doesn't know how the new games work, except for the one dead tribute that’s still nowhere to be seen. Her practices are out of tune, they’re so useless but she doesn’t know what to teach the new ones. She tries her best with pencil and paper, but there's really nothing she can do.

Then it’s the sixty-fifth hunger games. The first drawn is a girl that looks too young to win. But she takes a deep breath and gets on stage without any sort of commotion anyway. She bares her chest, arms behind her back, standing tall and proud and as if she can defeat anything in the world despite her young age.

Okay, and then comes the boy. He still looks young, maybe the same age as the girl. He’s tall, and kinda muscular, and he walks up to the stage like he owns it. The world will Ben to his feet if he wants it to. He gets up on the stage, right next to the girl and suddenly they’re standing the same.

When they get to the train, they wave goodbye in a way that says ‘I’ll be home soon’. Because that’s what the Capitol took it as. You heard the whispers in the audience during the recap, and they were all so amazed how you two were so confident. A district that hadn’t had a victor in years thinks that they’re going to win.

Get inside the train, you make an alliance with Finnick immediately. Mags saw that, she isn’t blin. She saw how you two bonded instantly and kept it tight. She heard how you two analyzed the opponents, the people you picked out to worry about. How you two jumped immediately to get info from her, so,etching that most kids probably don’t bother to do anymore because she can’t talk.

They might use her as a prop to get those sponsors. Rely on her to make those connections and figure out the rest for themselves as if she’s incompetent or something. She lost the ability to speak, not to coach. She figured out the new ways to get sponsors, clearly. She made you act like a damsel and Finnick, courageous. 

She’s got two sparkling lovebirds later on. She sees that united front that you and Finnick were going for. When the both of you locked arms on the chariot ride to show that it’s the both of you or nothing. She no doubt heard about trialing, playing on those acts. How you managed to fool the entire nation and most of the tributes into your acts.

And then executed it perfectly inside of the arena. You did everything you could do in the most perfect ways in the circumstances you were in. You saved your ass in the cornucopia and gained trust from Trink when you killed the boy from eleven. You saved them from the bears, stopped Eytelle from suffering, and killed the boy from twelve. More trust points for you. 

You proved loyal when Finnick and Thyme had left. You didn't run off with them. You stumbled when you killed Allio, but you met Blaire which saved you in the end. You and Finnick survived in that cave for weeks, and managed to win because of it. You were sick and dying, and they definitely thought that you were going to drop dead, but you lived. 

The entire experience must have been nail biting for her. Watch as her two golden victors split up, making complete opposite decisions. You gain trust and Finnick kills people with Thyme. You nearly die, and Finnick has to stay in the cave alone. But in the end you two came together. The rules changed, and you two stuck together for it.

You and Finnick really were miracles when it came to winning the games. In the mess that you two created for yourselves, you should have stumbled and fallen. But you kept finding your footing, and it got you to win.

Mags is bringing home two alive tributes, rather than two dead. She can sleep just a little easier knowing she saved two. All the rest weren’t her fault, they just didn’t understand. They had probably succumbed to the idea that they were going to lose, so what would be the point of fighting? 

With this win, it just means she has to pass on the job. You and Finnick know what you’re doing more. You’ll be training the next tributes, and making them as capable as you can so that they win. Instead of Mags taking on the losses, it’ll be you two. It’ll be your faults for not training them properly. Either parent and family will come to you to blame or they’ll know you did everything in your power. 

“Dinner.” Elysia’s voice is dull at the door. You look up briefly to see her walking away, and then you see on the tv that Mags had just won. Finnick is asleep on the couch.

You shake him a little bit, it doesn’t take much for him to jolt awake. You explain to him it’s time to eat, and then the both of you go to the dining car. Only, there isn’t anyone there. People have clearly eaten, but you weren’t invited.

“Nice of them to eat without us.” Finnick mutters, but the both of you sit down, and start eating. The food keeps on coming until you finally call it. You’re still hungry, but you don’t want to eat anymore. You want to lay down and sleep all of this off. Like a bad dream.

Finnick follows you to your room, but it doesn’t matter. You don’t have a good view, you have this boring room. You take a shower and then change into a shirt and shorts. Finnick takes a shower too, and he joins you in the bed. By then, you’re half-asleep. Not worried about what’s to come because he’s next to you.

“I’m here.” You tell Finnick, pulling him into you, “Sleep easy.”

“I’m pretty sure the term is sweet dreams.” He murmurs.

“We both know that the dreams won’t be sweet.”

-- CHAPTER TWENTY --

You wake up on your own. The sun is streaming through the train windows. But it’s still moving, which means that you are much closer now. Maybe an hour and a half out. You need to get up and be ready for the cameras that await you. 

Every time you turn to look at Finnick though, you don’t want to disturb the peace. He’s very clearly tired, the night was in no way easy. He didn’t wake you up or anything, but just by his expression, the dreams haven’t been pleasant. 

How about this, you leave him here to sleep and you go to take a shower. Maybe it’ll wake him up on its own. If it doesn’t, then when you come out you’ll wake him up so he can also take a shower. It’s a simple plan and it’ll work.

You dig through the drawers for a simple dress or something for the cameras. Right in the front is a dress clearly from Laurel. She knew you’d want to look nice or the Capitol provided it because she’s upcoming.

You pull it out, it’s the same color of green of the outfit from the chariot ride. It’s paired with some white to make it pop a little more. You grab white flats that look all too similar to the ones you wore in the second interview.

The shower is quick, because there’s no reason to stay in there for too long. You leave your hair alone—as you did last night too—because it doesn’t look too terribly bad. Mags will correct you if she thinks otherwise at breakfast. If they’re there, that is, and didn’t eat without you like they did with lady nights dinner.

Once you have everything on, you do some twirling and walking around. As soon as everything feels fine, you dig through some drawers. You find the mother of all jewelry, mostly silver. 

A necklace, you skip on earrings, and a few bracelets. No rings from the drawer because yours is inside of the room. 

Speaking of which, you walk out of the bathroom to see Finnick sitting on the edge of the bed, rubbing his face. When you come out, he sits up a little bit, “Wow.”

“Shut up, take a shower. I think we’ll be there soon.” You push his head a little bit, and he laughs.

“I’ll do it in my own bathroom. Even though I love the scent of raspberry and vanilla.” He snickers and dodges your punch.

“You have your ring?” You ask as you slip your own on your ring finger.

Finnick leans over to the bed stand table nearest to him. He opens the drawer and pulls out the ring, “Safe and sound.”

“Good. I’ll see you at breakfast.” You tell him, he pulls you against him for a kiss. You dodge them a little bit, and just when he’s about to give up, you kiss him, “Alright now go take a shower, stinky.”

He laughs, you follow him out of the room but split when he heads off for his own. The walk to the dining cart is relatively quiet. When you get inside, you’re not that surprised to find that Elysia and Mags are eating.

If you’re going to have to deal with her for the rest of your life, it won’t be like this. You’re not going to allow her to basically walk all over you all because you said a few things to her. She’s a grown ass woman, seriously get over it.

“Let’s get one thing clear.” You begin, taking your seat at the table, “If you’re going to act like this every single fucking time we have to be near each other, quit.”

She looks up, “Excuse me?”

“You told us about dinner after you and her had already eaten.” You tell her, “You think you’d know some fucking manners. As well as not waking us up to eat.” She opens her mouth, “And spare me the bullshit about wanting us to sleep in.”

You take your seat at the table, “We’re going to wait for Finnick to get here to continue.”

It’s not that you’re power hungry, it’s a matter of respect. If there’s anything you don’t need right now, it’s her being rude to you. You need her to be understanding because suddenly you’re under a lot of stress. If she knows anything about what’s happening with Finnick, then she should know that you’re in no state to fuck around with.

It’s your fault that she’s acting like this though, even if she was being annoying when you had first woken up, you shouldn’t have snapped at her like that. So, you’ll take the high road--even though she should have done that in the first place.

“I’m sorry for getting mad at you in the corridor, but we need to put that behind us. We’re going to be around each other for god knows how long. We don’t need this,” you tell her, and she nods.

“I accept your apology. And I offer you my own.” she’s quiet for a moment as she messes with a napkin, “I’ve been cold on this trip, I can see it. I’m sorry, it’s not the job I would have gotten. District Four is beautiful, but I didn’t want to represent at all.”

“Unfortunately, we don’t get to make those choices.” you tell her, Finnick comes into the dining cart after that, wearing a black vest with a white undershirt. Black slacks, and shoes. His ring is on his finger, and he wears a similar watch to the one he wore during the interview. 

His hair is how it is normally, a little curly from the shower, but it’ll find its way when it dries. He smiles at you, and then his eyes turn to Elysia, “Good morning.”

She nods at him, and he takes a seat near you. It’s mirrored the exact same way as it was when you were going to the Capitol. Finnick to your right, Mags to your left, Elysia in front of you directly. You drink your hot chocolate slowly, eating as much food as you can afford without feeling sick.

By the time you’re done eating, you only have ten minutes or so before you arrive at the train station. This is the last minute changes you make to your outfit. Where you help Finnick actually dry his hair and style it. Elysia comes down with a bit of simple makeup, highlighting your face for the camera. Some blush, and mascara, you think.

When you’re done, you’re placed in front of the door to the station. You watch as the walls come into view, and then it’s dark when you enter the tunnel. Finnick reaches for your hand, and you take it gratefully. Elysia and Mags position themselves behind you two, since the first thing that your district is going to want to see is you two. Not some person from the Capitol. 

The train stops, you catch Finnick from stumbling. When everything settles, the door hisses, and then they slowly open. 

The sunlight is in your eyes and you haven’t even stepped off the train. The sounds of your district cheering fills your ears, and you wince a little bit at the initial sound because they’re so many of them. The smell of the ocean is so very prominent, salty, representing your district as it should. You can feel Finnick squeeze your hand, and then you’re stepping off of the train.

When your eyes adjust, you’re met with everyone you’ve ever talked to and more. Front row is your brothers, standing tall, waving and cheering the loudest. Alyssum is on Reed’s shoulders, and Mox has his hand on her back to make sure she doesn’t fall. With their free hands, they wave excitedly, faces lighting up at the sight of you.

You nudge Finnick, and motion him to your family, and he smiles immediately. You watch as Reed does the ‘I have my eyes on you’ motion with his hand, but he’s laughing so it’s obviously a joke. Finnick’s hand is like steel in yours, you’re clearly grounding him. This is no place of fun, for you it is.

Elysia then comes around, and she leads you out so that you guys can get your places. However, you stop her before she gets too far and tell her to take Mags back in a car. You’re going to walk. If Finnick wants to join them, then he’s free to.

Finnick opts out, Elysia gets in a car with Mags, and you wave them off. As soon as you two have stepped off the platform, your brothers surround you. Reed passes Alyssum off to you, and she’s wrapping her arms around your neck already, squeezing tightly. Mumbling words about how much she missed you. While Mox is giving your boyfriend a talk.

“I would say no kissing but you guys have passed that point.” Mox gives you a pointed look and you roll your eyes. Finnick laughs, and then he sniffs, “Did I--?”

“No,” you tell Mox, passing Alyssum back to Reed, ignoring her cries of defiance as you wrap your arm around Finnick, “You’re okay, Finnick.”

People eventually air out, and it’s just you, your siblings, Finnick and Caspian. Caspian doesn’t say much, and you’re glad. You don’t want him teasing Finnick, or you for that matter. But something inside you tells you that you won’t be teased for a long time.

You bring Finnick to your old house, which is thankfully a good amount of distance away from where his place is. You ask Caspian to go home, telling him that you’ll talk later. For now, you need to help Finnick with whatever it is he needs.

The second you all are inside the house, Finnick breaks down on the couch. You spend the next hour comforting him, knowing that seeing his family not there to greet him at the station must have done a number. You know it would have for you.

“The peacekeepers…” Finnick trails off for a moment, trying to catch his breath, “They said that I’ll be leaving in two days for the Capitol.”

Your mouth falls open a little bit, “You don’t get to stay for the entire…?”

“The demand is so high--” he bursts into tears again and you’re wrapping your arms around him, squeezing tighter than you ever have.

When you look to Reed, you see he’s staring at you. And he also has some sort of face, like he’s suddenly realizing just how messed up everything is. That it’s not as simple as coming home and spending time with family. There’s more that goes into it.

“I’ll go with you.” you tell him.

“No!” Finnick yells, pulling away from you and grabbing your shoulders. His nose is red and runny, eyes bloodshot from crying for so long. They’re a little puffy too, “If you go then that means you’ll be there for a while. The men--they particularly like the girls. I talked to Pleurisy and they said that if you were included then that means you’d never see the end of it.”

“They’d slow down--”

“No! No, there would be more because there’s two of us. They’d want to see us together. I love you, so I can’t let you do this.” Finnick gasps, “You’re not going to the Capitol with me.”

Your shoulders slump, “You can’t just… stay?”

“They’ll find me. You can’t hide me and I can’t run. There’s peacekeepers outside your door waiting to make sure that I come out. The only way to get out of it…” he trails off, and you can pick it up, and he says quickly, “I’m not going to. But that would be the only way.”

Imagine your male victor who you’re going to turn into a prostitute, killing themselves to avoid it. What would be the option after that?

Your mouth falls open, “They’d go straight to me.”

And then his eyes widen too, and the both of you are staring at each other.

Suddenly you wish you had died in that arena with Finnick by your side. 

--

LACUNA IS THE FIRST VERSION OF BELAMOUR

//MASTERLIST//

[shhhlikeme]

“Losty Aone” / “Losty Mountain Man🏔” Series:

Outtake Collection #15:

———————————

A/N: last one! I hope you guys liked it and I’d love to hear your feedback! Thank you so much for reading and being on this Losty journey with meeee🥳💕💕💕

TABLE OF CONTENTS

———————————

A Pair Of Broken-Hearted Losties Have To Pair Up For An Assignment 📚🤩

Over the next few weeks, at the advice of Kenji and Kogane, Aone avoided you at all costs 

Every morning he sat there thinking about you and trying to figure out what he did wrong.... ultimately feeling worse and worse

It was incredibly difficult seeing you around school, but if it is one thing Takanobu knew how to do it was make himself scarce when it came to you, so at least you’d be fine. After all, it took you two years to even notice his existence 

Aone decide to have lunch in the library now because you’d never go there by your own free will. 

He spent that time going over his own homework, or helping his two friends with theirs, or just staring out the window doing another type of math calculation: the heart wrenching attempt to calculate how in the world he convinced himself that you would settle for him when you could get any guy you want

He should be glad you even gave him a chance for a year.

To be honest, Every day was a struggle for Aone to get out of bed—even weeks later—but he did it because he kind of told himself in some weird pathetically twisted way that you’d find him more attractive if he did; if you saw him as someone who could withstand hurricaines.

At the advice of his friends, when Takanobu would see you in the halls, he’d just look away or walk faster…. Knowing that his heart wouldn’t kill him as much if he only moved rapidly

The only time that was truly difficult was in the class mountain man had with you— the same class you first noticed him in when he defended you against the class snitch—the class where you sat only two seats to his right. 

It took everything in mountain man not to stare at you for the entire hour like he’d grown so accustomed to doing, remembering how when you two were dating you’d wink at him when you caught him staring, making him blush profusely 

It literally took all of his concentration to stare ahead at the teacher or down, and even then he still slipped up and caught himself enamoured with your side profile and new found quietness, when before you were always chatty… then again whether you could probably speak alien and Aone would still be in love with you. 

When he failed to not be captivated by you at least once a day and glanced over at you, Aone kept falling in love over and over again. 

His best friend would kill him if he admitted it out loud but Aone couldn’t bring himself not to like you anymore simply because you didn’t like him. 

Besides, He’s been in this position before and it never wavered his emotions. Sure, he’s hurt—he is really hurt, but the heart knows what it wants.

You didn’t lose your beauty or perfection, simply because you didn’t want him: Go figure.

 His heart just couldn’t take the whirl of opposite emotions. Love and Hurt. Why did you have to be his dream girl? Why couldn’t he think about anything else but you? Why was his biggest dream in life to be your husband, still? This was torture. Pure torture. 

Before, Aone used to be sad about it, but when he caught himself staring at you in class and felt like his chest was empty of a heart because it had been shattered in pieces again, he had never been happier that graduation was right around the corner. 

At least in University, you wouldn’t be in his classes

Anyway, as usual, Kenji would meet Aone outside of that class everyday, and Kenji couldn’t help notice the look on Aone’s face whenever he left that class. It looked eerily and alarmingly similar to Aone’s face when he was standing in the snow that night. 

Fuck. 

Things got worse when the teacher announced assigned partners for this small project he wanted the students to work on as a major final project.

As luck would have it, Aone was randomly paired up with his heart & heartbreak: you. 

“Hi,” You said quietly as everyone including you swapped seats to sit next to their partners. 

Aone just nodded, not trusting his voice.... 

This was like some awful deja vu. 

he’s absolutely screwed 

His heart beat 5x faster than normal when you came closer, like always. Mountain man had to let his mind work overtime so that he didn’t just beg you to give him another chance 

He felt like the green school tie he was wearing was getting tighter by the second, and this was all so hard for him 

You surprisingly took the reins on this small school project, knowing from Kusa that your ex boyfriend wasn’t speaking much lately, which Aone decided he liked you more for. 

He was falling harder for the girl who broke his heart. How morbid is this? 

The deprecating thoughts persisted.

Yep, he is screwed for life. 

When you got answers wrong, Aone would point to it and shake his head kindly, offering his hand for the pencil and then starting to write the correct answers

When he looked down at the paper, you took this opportunity to take in the man’s gorgeous features…

his dark, broody demeanour on such a light palette of colours: the white of his hair, the beige of his skin, the light pink on his cheeks….You wanted to sigh. He really does look like Santa & Mrs. Clause’s son that models for GQ. 

Geez, Aone Takanobu is so...................sexy. 🤤

It had been so long that you’d been near him. 

All of your nights consisted of thoughts of him. But your days consisted of actively avoiding him, hoping that he let another girl in then hoping that he didn’t 

You cried basically every night.......and the only nights you didn’t was when you fell asleep on Group FaceTime with Katana and Kusa. 

You missed Aone with ever fibre of your being. But you were doing this for him. He would never break up with you, so you had to.

And while you had to fight back tears at school every time you saw him speaking to another girl because you didn’t know their relationship, all of that only made this moment to admire him when he wasn’t looking more crucial: you had to take advantage of this project and this temporary closeness that you’re basically addicted to. 

Because it may just be your last.

Instead of just staring at the background of your iPhone where there displayed a picture of Aone and Perdu, you took this chance to check out this incredibly attractive mountain man in the flesh:

Your eyes roamed unabashedly from the tip of his scribbling pencil over his long, beefy arms: obviously muscular even through his Date Teko jacket....

up to his broad shoulders that were perfect to hold on to during intimate time.....

your eyes cascaded over his neck where his Adam Apple bobbed and made you whisper ‘all man’ in your mind......

up to his pink lips that were pressed together in a straight line.

Those LIPS. YOU’D ALMOST FORGOTTEN. 😩😩😩

you couldn’t help but recall the force and passion behind those heavenly babies on your lips when he was gripping your hips and forcing you down on him in a successful attempt to cause friction on his erection...... 

Even though you were dead-set on putting Aone first like he deserved, just like he did for you all those years when he crushed on you— sticking to your guns about this breakup so that he could find someone better was absolutely the brutal. Oh god, did you miss him. And oh god, did you want him to grab you and fuck you silly just li—

“Y/N?” 

You were pulled out of your daze momentarily when those lips you were staring at called your name in question. 

Aone had finished writing down the answers at about the same time your eyes reached his neck on their little journey, and he’d been staring at you staring at him ever since. He realized you didn’t notice he caught you staring, because you probably would have looked away. But like the whipped man he is, even now, he purposely waited to stop you because he liked being stared at by you. It made his cheeks flare up like a cherry and his heart soar. Not to mention when you were staring at his arms, neck and neck you looked one way—but when your eyes stopped on his lips for longer than a minute something in your expression changed—and you were staring at him like: 

Which evidently made all the blood from poor Mountain Man’s cherry cheeks waterfall down to his groin. Maybe he had been misreading your look as one that communicated sex, but it was pretty hard to decipher now when his penis was screaming at him for months worth of negligence. Aone’s poor mind went straight to the gutter, wanting to take you and have you sit on his face for hours on end. Holy, shit, you can’t look at him like that! Takanobu had to stop you then, only because his urge to consensually bend you over this desk was getting way too strong way too quickly. He had to remind himself that you broke up with him because you don’t want that with him. So, he reluctantly called your name. 

The man had no clue that you would have wanted nothing more than to satisfy him right here and now.

“What? Me!? Ummm yes?!” 

“The bell just sounded. We did not get too much done today, but we can continue in class tomorrow. And perhaps meet up outside of class, if you are comfortable with that. We have all week to start.” 

All week...? You pretended to ask. So I can continue checking you out until my panties are wet tomorrow too....? Oh God. 

It took you a second for your thoughts to catch up to what Aone was actually was saying to you and not Dream-Aone. You forced an excited nod. “Oh. Okay, um.... tomorrow., then. Um, bye.” You smiled at him sheepishly, scurrying out of the class behind all the other students. 

***

Five minutes later, Aone remained seated there at his desk. The class was empty. It’s not like he could get up yet with how hard he was currently, anyway, so he was waiting until his member calmed down. When Futakuchi poked his head in the classroom because he was curious as to where his friend was, Aone groaned and threw his head back, covering his agonized face with both hands. 

“Uh oh. It’s Y/N, isn’t it? 😒” Futakuchi guessed while walking in slowly. Kenji did not need confirmation, but Aone nodded anyway. 

“What did she do this time? Talking to other guys in front of you?” 

Aone groaned and shook his head again, still covering his face with his hands. 

“……Oi, is she being a bitch? Giving you the cold shoulder or something?” 

Another groan and shake of the head from mountain man. 

“Wait. Don’t tell me she asked out another—“ 

“No.” 

“Then what is it! Why do you look like you’re about to sink down to the damn floor? What is Y/N doing?!” 

Aone spoke through his hands, his smooth voice muffled by his wrists. “She’s being beautiful. I have absolutely no self control around her, Kenji-san, she is the most attractive person I.have.ever.seen. And now we’re partners for the final project. I am so in love with her, and on top of that she—How can I ever get over a girl that looks like that?” 

Kenji rolled his eyes, annoyed, but a realist through-and-through.He figured right away the Y/N must have unintentionally turned Aone on in class. That would explain why he’s still sitting down with red cheeks.

Kenji sighed. “Yeah, I do wish Y/N wasn’t so hot. But I mean, you just have to do the project and then we are off to College together and she probably won’t get in with her grades—“

Speaking negatively about the love of Takanobu’s life was a sure fire way to get his erection to soften. Aone should thank his friend. But instead, he groaned once again, shaking his head. “Cheerleading... scholarship.” 

Futakuchi deadpanned. 

“.......Shit.” 

A nod. 

“When you look at her for the rest of this project, just imagine it’s like a dead squirrel or something. I can spam your phone with dead squirrel pics all class if that will help.” 

Aone sighed, finally removing his hands from his face and sitting upright. His response surprised Kenji, making it known to both of them that this breakup was going to be harder no pun intended than either of them thought. Aone still couldn’t get the visual of you checking him out seductively out of his head, and it was not only making him hard again, it was screwing with his hormones and emotions and just everything, FUCK.

“Send the photos, Futakuchi-san. Please. I have a feeling I will need all the dead squirrels I can get.” 

After weeks of feeling depressed, Aone was guiltily able get himself off that night. ✨

———————————

Mountain Man: The Sequel (Post-Nut Clarity) ✨💫

After mountain man arched his back, his entire body trembling due to force of yet another orgasm that had been waiting to be released for months, he discovered something. 

He doesn’t need Futakuchi and Kogane’s plane when you are simultaneously Aone’s destroyer and healer.

You are like no other girl he will ever meet in his life. This Aone knows for sure.

This is clear due to the fact that now that Aone is working alongside you for a project, he has been able to crawl out of depression the more time he spends with you, simply because your mere presence made him feel better. THAT says something.

Aone wants to be anything to you but a stranger. It’s the only way his heart stops aching and if all you can give him is a friendship after this project is over, then that was what he would willingly accept

Aone realized that even though he struck out the first time and failed to make you choose a life with him, he had nothing to lose if he tried again. 

He just had to prove to you that he’s deserving….somehow.

For years, Aone left his love life and his desire to be with you up to chance..... hopelessly pining after you and being way too shy to ever make a move until you did. 

But, tonight’s post-nut clarity changed everything. That old Aone who waited for you to make the first move was long gone. Now replaced by an Aone that goes for what he wants! 

And what he wants is you. 

***

The next morning, the K_nji’s were woken up by the amazing smell of breakfast wafting into their guest rooms at Aone’s house. 

They both drug their feet into the kitchen, Kenji tired - Kogane excited…. and they were flabbergasted by the scene they were greeted with. Their jaws dropped and their eyes widened like:

Standing there in his apron, whisking around the kitchen..... was their best friend—the same broken hearted best friend who rarely spoke the past few weeks, who rarely smiled, and who disappeared every chance he got to sulk in his room alone— that same best friend was making breakfast......and whistling. 

They’d never heard this giant whistle in their entire lives. 

“Aone-san…? Kenji whispered , rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, wondering if he was still dreaming. Upon hearing his name Aone had just noticed their presence, looking up and smiling only with his eyes. 

“Good morning! I made you both breakfast!” Mountain man greeted in a higher tone—still monotone— but the loudest they’d ever heard him speak with. 

Futakuchi stuttered. “Aone-san.... wha—why—?” 

Takanobu grunted and shrugged. 

“I thought I’d do something to commemorate the first day I...... well, the first day I put a plan I have in place.” 

“What plan, mom?!” Kogane asked, no longer shocked and digging into the rice. “This tastes amazing…”

Aone chuckled lowly, which is also so out of character for him! Futakuchi’s heart dropped because not only was this the fucking Twilight Zone, for the first time in his life the Justin Bieber look-alike is not able to read his best friend. Futakuchi tried hard, and came up with nothing. 

“What is this plan?” The brunette asked apprehensively.

Aone took a second to think about his wording before giving both friends a determined look. The blonde visibly stood straighter, speaking with conviction: 

“My plan to take charge of my love life for the first time in my life. In other words, grab a plate and allow me tell you both about my plan to.... to get the girl of my dreams back.” 

———————————

Outtake #16: CLICK HERE!

[witchkings]

The One Engagement Ring

An Angbang Modern AU drabble as prompted by the lovely @darklord <3

Three seconds. Barely any time at all. Negligible in the greater scheme of Mairon’s life, nothing to the ever-advancing flow of the universe, miniscule, dismissible, stupid. Three seconds was all it had taken to ruin Mairon’s picture book life. Melkor would kill him.

These were the facts as Mairon had them:

1.       He’d slipped into the bathroom at the university library for a short piss and to get a minute of quiet in the constant chatter of his study group which was spiralling head-first into a discussion about the meaning of life. Even though they were anthropology graduate students with at least half the group minoring in either philosophy or sociology, this was never a good idea.

2.       When he’d been in the stall, his engagement ring had still gleamed golden on his ring finger, a constant, warm reminder of the grand day to come. Mairon had planned an autumn wedding, complete with matching tuxes, a seven-course feast and was already training Draugluin to carry the wedding rings down the aisle with Thuringwethil as his reluctant guardian. Melkor, of course, would have preferred for them to pop into Vegas and have some drunken fat Elvis proclaim them married, or better yet, simply hand in the necessary paper work on his way to the office, but Mairon was having none of that. If for one day in his life he wanted to feel special, be marvelled at and fawned over, it was going to be this day, his accursed father be damned.

3.       After completing his business, he’d slipped the ring off and into his pocket to wash his hands. He wouldn’t chance it being dulled by hard water or rough soap. Mairon always did it like this, only putting the piece of jewellery back on whenever his hands were dry and spotless, but when he’d made to retrieve it, his pocket had been empty.

4.       There’d been two other people on the bathroom with him and he couldn’t remember whether they’d ever come near him at all, but their childish faces, curly heads, and mischievous giggles could only mean one thing: freshmen.

5.       For three seconds between drying his hands and reaching for the ring, Mairon had leaned over the sink and inspected his own face. The stress of upcoming exams together with his thesis‘ due date drawing ever nearer gave him red spots along his jawline and he’d glared at them to will them away before Melkor picked him up.

Conclusion: As Mairon had been caught up in his own flaws, one or both of those bastards had sidled up to him and stolen the ring out of his pocket without him noticing. This implied many things, for example that the fatigue was getting to Mairon’s mental capacities or that those freshmen were unusually sneaky. Chiefest of all was this though: Melkor had paid half a fortune for that golden band. For Mairon to lose it, well. It would spell disaster.

Mairon glared at himself in the dirt-speckled mirror, bracing himself on the sink. Three seconds, oh he would show those impertinent, stupid, drunkard gnomes what he could do to a person in three seconds. Mairon took a deep breath and marched out of the bathroom, back to the round table his study group occupied. Eönwe and Tilion were at each other’s necks with arguments dissecting Descartes’ meditations while Osse and Uinen had their tongues down each other’s throats with disgusting slobbering noises. No studying to be done here, one of the sodden constants of Mairon’s life. He grabbed his notes and tablet and shoved them into his bagpack with more force than necessary which had Curumo look up from where he had hovered over his mess of tiny handwritten notes. He looked a little like a deer in head-lights, always lost was poor Curumo. Mairon rolled his eyes and tugged at his classmate’s sleeve.

“What?” Curumo whined, reluctant to forgo the last stretch of productivity he illusioned himself with, but he was already packing up.

“Come with me,” Mairon replied. “We’re going to hunt down some freshmen.”

After a quick text to Melkor to explain he needn’t be picked up today, Mairon dragged Curumo out of the library. The dismayed reply came seconds later, and Melkor wasn’t at all happy with the excuse of needing to tutor Curumo on their upcoming French test. Melkor and Curumo had never gotten along and if Mairon was honest with himself, he would have ditched Curumo after the first week of the first semester, but sometimes the guy proved useful. Especially because, in spite of his timid disposition, he somehow knew everyone on campus, ranging from the most introverted freshman all the way to the creepy maintenance guy who smelled like he lived in the sewers.

“What for?” Curumo asked. They crossed the student-littered yard, dodging peer-pong balls and caffeine-crazed grad students to the cafeteria where Mairon figured his best bet would be. Freshmen were always hungry, and he had a vague memory of four curly-haired heads positively camping in there at all times, claiming they needed seven meals a day to function.

“They stole something from me,” Mairon muttered, raking his hands through his hair. He’d neglected to trim it to its usual chest length and it was getting quite out of hand, tangling at the lightest breeze. Still better than what Curumo’s mother had done to him over the last holiday, short and ragged so that he looked like Jack Frost.

“What did they steal?”

“My engagement ring.”

“What?” Curumo spluttered, and almost ran into the door, but Mairon held it open in time. Under the pretence of having lunch – Mairon never had university lunch if he could help it, the stuff was vile and Melkor was a great cook if he wanted to be – they both got into line, eyes darting about for the thieves.

Mairon spotted the usual groups as he scanned the perimeter. The musical theatre kids led by a haughty grad student with a harp who had a gazillion brothers around. The nature-loving hippies who smoked too much weed for their own good and gave themselves funny names and pretended to be trees on weekends. The burly punk rockers who rode Harleys and had a kink for arson, Mairon had met their gang head Gothmog in a colloquium once, he wasn’t too bad. Even the naval engineering students who usually spent all their free time down by the beaches to test their self-crafted boats where in attendance, picking at salads and discussing hydraulics. Not a sign of those nasty burglars though.  

The guy behind the counter handed him a tray, and Mairon took it, paying with his student ID chip card before turning back towards the room, just in time to see a pair of dark, curly heads disappear through the swinging doors of the cafeteria, chips trailing after them like crumbs. Mairon dropped his food and took off after them, spitting curses. Curumo, the good dog that he was, mirrored this. They tore out of the cafeteria and down the hallway together.

“Hey,” Mairon screamed. “Hey, stop!” The two freshmen threw hasty glances over their shoulders, hollering as they ran and dodged around students, but Mairon and Curumo were faster, knew these halls better and soon enough, they had the two cornered against a row of blue lockers.

“Now,” Mairon crooned and made to advance on them, but before he could, someone interrupted him. “Now you will repent.”

“Hey, what do you want with them,” he barked and two people stepped into Mairon’s and Curumo’s way, obscuring the goblins from view. They were both jocks, broad-shouldered and bearded, and towered a head over Curumo and Mairon. He knew the blond one, Eomer, an agriculture major, from a finance class they’d both taken as an elective, but he’d never seen the other man before. He was the one who’d spoken and wore a sports shirt of a team Mairon had never heard of. A white tree was their logo and their motto was written in a strange swirl of letters that looked almost Arabic.

“Just a friendly chat,” Mairon said through gritted teeth. “Not to worry.”

“That didn’t sound so friendly to me,” the guy growled and Eomer put a hand on his shoulder, nodding. His scowl deepened and his eyes burned, staring daggers into Mairon’s.

“Weren’t you that condescending guy at the back of Accounting 101 who called everyone peasants?” he asked and Mairon sighed inwardly. One bad day to haunt him. Or well, a whole semester of bad days, but who was counting anyway? Melkor had been abroad for that time and Mairon had suffered terribly.

“Why do you even care?” Mairon asked, and Curumo put a warning hand to his arm. It wasn’t unlikely that he’d seen these two beat someone up at some frat party before, but Mairon wasn’t intimidated by such mundane things as physical violence.

“Because they’re our friends,” the second jock growled, crossing his arms over his chest. It was hard not to laugh, these fully grown men proclaiming themselves friends of two troublemakers who weren’t even legally adults yet.

“Look, guys,” Curumo said quietly. “Merry and Pippin stole something very valuable from my friend here and he is rather upset about it.”

Eomer bared his teeth, but the other guy whirled around to stare at the two thieves in question who were huddled against the lockers, but silently giggling amongst themselves.

“Is this true?” he asked, and the tone of his voice implied he knew already. Helpless or not, they probably had a reputation for mischief-making.

“Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t,” one of them said with a thick accent.

“You said it yourself,” the other added, “he is a condescending ass.”

“Boys.”

“Boromir.”

“Enough,” Mairon hissed and pushed through the two jocks and bore down on the freshmen, holding out his empty palm. “You give me back my ring or I will make your lives here a living nightmare. You can hire as many football players and wannabe wrestlers as you want, I am very good friends with the dean, I have more than enough money to bribe every professor in the state to bully you and my boyfriend will beat every last one of your bodyguards to a pulp. Is that clear?”

Merry and Pippin stared at him, their facial muscles contorting in a series of impossible expressions, torn between laughing and crying. They settled for blankness and, at last, Pippin handed over the ring. It was smudged with grease from his fingers and Mairon pulled out a linen handkerchief to polish it with.

“I’m sorry, they’re still not used to their actions having consequences,” Boromir sighed and Eomer nodded sternly.

“Whatever,” Mairon said with half a shrug and he stalked off the scene, leaving Curumo to deal with the polite formalities or whatever the situation demanded. He had his ring back, he could call Melkor to get him after all, he would get laid tonight while all these losers were busy with their parties and teenager friends and studying until their eyes bled. It was not ten minutes later that Mairon was comfortably tucked into Melkor’s Chevrolet, the heated seat warming his ass-cheeks.

“Have a nice day?” Melkor grumbled, not taking his eyes off the parking lot around them. Mairon leaned over and pressed a kiss to the corner of his beloved’s mouth.

“Nothing special,” he replied and leaned into the backrest. “Nothing special at all.” The ring glinted in the low-afternoon sun and everything was as it should be.

[cxmetery-gates]

OBSESSIVE TEACHINGS - DARK!TOM HIDDLESTON

CHAPTER TWO: FOR THE FIRST TIME

SUMMARY: Lynn meets the attractive English teacher, Mr. Tom Hiddleston. WORD COUNT: 3.1k NOTE: it’s 3:00 am but I don’t have a sleep schedule. Enjoy! WARNINGS: dark!tom hiddleston, teacher!tom hiddleston

OBSESSIVE TEACHINGS MASTERLIST

INSIDE IS HAVOC.

For some idiotic reason, most students somehow forget what classes they signed up for three months ago or lost their schedules (I still wonder how that happens) and thus, the front office is a mess of students asking for theirs, the lines bleeding out into the hall. Given this, getting around to head to the commons will be a mission in and of itself. I'm not hating on all of them. As a freshman I was in the same place, my shaky hands and nervously stuttering voice mirroring the kids that smell brand new. Hopefully, to avoid this debacle again, they'll write the classes down. I guarantee the already exhausted looking receptionists would agree.

I almost want to tell the small, thin girl who wrings her hands 'good luck' but I guarantee she'd faint by the time I open my mouth. Instead, Ellie and I keep walking past the crowd. Poor souls.

It takes a minute or so to reach the commons, the booming echoes of chatting teenagers on their first day back is a sound like no other. The voices create a paved path any newcomer could easily follow. It dawns on me now that this will be the last time I'll hear this sound. I solemnly smile.

"I'm telling you, Dunmer is the better race."

"Only an idiot would spew such ignorant bullshit! Everyone knows Khajiit are the superior race!"

"Says the guy who could pass as a furry."

My eyebrows raise once the familiar voices are heard. Of course, they sit alone and look as normal as ever. My heart dips into my stomach when one of the two glances up and bashfully raises a hand to wave. In his awkward state, his hand barely moves.

Ellie is the first to speak. "What are you guys fighting about now?"

The boy with the long black hair speaks first. "Dumbass over here thinks Dark Elves are the best characters in Skyrim." Gabriel Ahoka is one of the oldest friends I have and if there's anything I've learned from him, it's that he's right the majority of the time. Oh, and he has beautiful hair.

"Because I'm right!" I take a seat next to the self-proclaimed judge. His name is River Adams, and I think I've been in love with him since he told me I reminded him of Hermione Granger back in the fourth grade. I smile in his direction then tuck some hair behind my ear. A nervous twitch that doesn't get past Ellie's ever watchful eyes. I refuse to acknowledge her small smirk. Instead, we both join in on the two dorks' conversation.

Ellie rolls her big brown eyes at them. "I don't see what the fuss is about. You guys take your games too seriously."

Both River and Gabriel audibly gasp at her comment.

"Fine," Gabriel huffs looking in my direction. "What about you, Lynn-ykinz?"

I don't visibly react to his nickname. It's something I've been called for years now. Though I'd like to agree with River, it's something I can't do. "Dunmers—"

"Ha!"

"— are for pussies."

"Ha!" This laugh comes from the boy sitting across from me. Beside me, River makes a small "oh" and lowers his raised fists, his hooray coming to a short and final end. I chuckle at his reaction as I pass Gabriel a solid high five.

"What are your guys' schedules?" River asks a tiny bit of gloom and annoyance coating his words.

Fortunately, most of us are in similar classes and only have to be here for a little over half the day. Due to all of us sticking to the scheduling plan, we all were able to get almost all our required course and electives done. Instead of having seven classes in one day, we all have five. By the time lunch rolls around, we're free the rest of the afternoon, meaning much longer DND matches with the nerds and more gossip and jam times with the only other female in our group.

"So meet up at the library for lunch?" I confirm once more as the morning bell rings, signally to all the student and staff that the first day is about to begin. The three people around me reply in agreement, and we head out. For the first hour of the day as well as the last, we're in different places. I'm not sure where the others are going, but I begin my journey to the library, one of my all-time favorite places.

I walk through the doors and slide over the counter, careful not to be seen but not careful enough. I plop in my seat at the front desk as someone walks up behind me.

"I don't know how many times I have to tell you to go through the gate. It's literally five feet away, Lynn!" I send a humored smile to the woman walking behind me, a rather large stack of books in her arms.

I stand up and begin taking ones off the top. "Five feet of unnecessary effort, in my opinion."

"And playing parkour in the library is?" Mrs. Gibbons says, deadpanning.

"To each their own."

She sighs but then laughs. "How was your summer, kid?"

"Pretty decent." I now have half the stack in my arms, and I follow behind her. "My mom and I went to Arizona for a few days and then Seattle for a week. We didn't have much time, but we drove through somewhere in Canada on the way back just because."

Mrs. Gibbons sets the books down on a cart where there are a couple of rows on the bottom already filled. Taking her lead, I lower my stack to the opposite side and begin placing them side by side. I presume these are outdated and to be sold or given away. "What's in Arizona and Seattle?"

A smile hits my face immediately. "There's a college in Flagstaff with a great writing program. I went on a day trip around the campus. And Seattle is just someplace we wanted to visit."

"That's so good to hear, hon! Are you considering?"

I lean back against the counter right behind me as my mentor continues to shelve books. "It's a little far."

Turning to face me, Mrs. Gibbons send me a confused stare. "I thought you wanted to get away from this god-forsaken state?"

She's right. All I've wanted since my father left was to get out of Missouri (or Misery, if anyone's asking). My mom and I left Maine a long time ago go escape unimaginable horrors, but I wasn't expecting those nightmares to follow me here. The move was negligent in getting us away from memories a selfish prick poisoned and to start new somewhere far away, where no one knows me as the girl with a deadbeat dad. In this small town, everyone knows everything. I'd like to escape, to be a complete stranger to everyone.

But Arizona is a couple of thousand miles away from the place I grew up in, my home. I feel incredibly guilty about considering a college so far away from the woman who has taken care of me on her own since I entered elementary school, who has taught me that voicing my opinion and being honest is valued more than timidity and who told me that no man should ever keep a thumb on me. The other influencers in my life are also staying around here. Ellie has been accepted in a very pretentious private school for the Fine Arts a couple of cities over while River and Gabe are thinking about community college before making the jump into university. While solitude and adventures are what I crave, everyone who keeps my sanity in control is here.

I sigh, crossing my arms. "I do, but... I'm just not sure what I really want. Like, I would kill to get out of here, but what if everywhere is worse?"

"Trust me; there's nowhere worse than southwest Missouri, hon."

Again, she has a point.

I hum in response. There a brief moment of silence as we shelve old, dusty books. "So how was your summer?"

Mrs. Gibbons smile kindly, fawning over memories I doubt. "Richie took two weeks off, and we went Fiji. It was so beautiful. The water is clear, the people are wonderful, and the food– oh my God, the food." I secretly have a small thing for Richard Gibbons, or, as his wife calls him, Richie. This "thing" isn't a crush or infatuation by any means, but when he walks into the library on random occasions, he has a natural gift to swoon anyone he encounters. I've unfortunately fallen victim to his charisma a few times. He's an image of the wealthy 1930's businessman with modern values and beliefs weaved in his fine suits. Mr. Gibbons might be my mother's age, or possibly older, but I have to say, Mrs. Gibbons is quite the lucky woman.

I chuckle at her. "I'm sometimes surprised you haven't filed for early retirement."

"Richie makes quite the cash, but how and I supposed to entertain myself when he's gone ten hours a day and then for weeks on end?" Mrs. Gibbons pauses and looks around her library, then back to me. The growing crows feet wrinkle into a smile. "And besides, I can't leave my favorite kids behind, now can I?"

"I guess you can't," I reply.

Ten minutes later, I'm back at my desk. Well, technically mine, Mrs. Gibbons, and the other kid who helps out during school hours. I've never met them, so I'm not sure who exactly they are. Anyway, the "desk" is a long bar that has a foot-high wall that stretches all the way down to the ends, creating a divider between my computer and a student or faculty member. The top of this divider is flat, forming a plane in which books or arms can be set on. Most of the time, books scatter the top, but since it's the first day, the library is not only spotlessly clean but deadly empty.

That is until someone catches my attention. Sitting at the far side of the desk, I'm able to see who is coming a mile before he steps through the open library doors. This time was no different.

With long, lean legs and a towering height walks in none other than Mr. Tom Hiddleston.

Easily being the hottest teacher of all time, I feel a blush beginning to creep up my cheeks just at the mere sight of him. Apart from his 6'2 figure, he sports tame yet still curly reddish-brown hair, divine enough for the gods, if he isn't one already. Mr. Hiddleston's cheekbones and jawline remind me of razors, which I would feel honored to be cut by. However, his eyes are a color I can't pick out. Because I've never been in close proximity, my guess, from my distance, is green, or maybe blue. The ambiguity makes him all the more interesting. I wonder if he has some long-distance vibe because as soon as I look up to see him, Mrs. Gibbons is right out front— and missing her cardigan. I raise my brows at her from the swivel chair, but her eyes are focused down and away from me. Elbowing her slightly, I nod once, doing a run over of her exposed arms and a little cleavage. Jokingly, she swats my arms and blushes scarlet. I begin to laugh, somehow holding most in when Mr. Hiddleston walks in.

"Hello, Ruby," he smiles softly. As if he wasn't attractive enough, the man has a damn British accent. It's almost as if he's trying to stick out among the hicks. "It's good to see you. How was your summer, darling?"

If her fingers weren't wrapped around the edge of the desk, I guarantee she would have fallen over. Honestly, I would have done the same. "Absolutely marvelous! Fiji is a beautiful place. I imagine you would like it there."

I make the snarky note that she left her husband out of the conversation. Thinking about it, I try to glance over at her left hand to check if anything is missing.

Zoning out the best I could, I file through the library's emails and begin writing down books teachers are requesting. Like usual, the freshmen English teachers ask for The Great Gatsby, and the sophomore teachers need 1984. Due to being taught-in-class books, I scoot back in my chair to make a beeline to the back room and take the note with me, the sticky top staying attached to my fingertips.

"Oh, Lynn?" I hear Mrs. Gibbons call out.

I just entered the back room, so I comically poked my head out. "You called?"

I seem to humor both parties, a smile etched on their face. "Could you get the copies of Of Mice and Men?" My vision glances over to the teacher behind the desk for a short moment. His tall frame leans on the counter, arms crossed on the platform, apparently indicating familiarity and comfort in the room. I catch his stare. I realize now his eyes are in fact blue.

Nodding, I duck back into the room, setting my sticky note to the side. During the time I have to gather the fifteen or so books, I allow my reddening cheeks to cool off by taking long breaths. "Don't be weird, Lynn," I whisper to myself, extending my arms out towards the collection of novels. "He's just a hot teacher. Calm yourself."

Finishing the stack, I wrap my arms around the tower, huffing as I do. I carefully whisk myself towards the open door, making a mental note to go back to my list.

Mrs. Gibbons and Mr. Hiddleston chat among themselves not too far from where I left. Now sitting in her swivel chair, typing away feverishly on her computer, and keeping a conversation going, the librarian doesn't notice my return, though the man across does. He nods in my direction. The simplest gesture is somehow insanely attractive. Mrs. Gibbons looks over her shoulder, sending me a smirk. "Oh, there you are! Thought I lost you."

I fake a small laugh. "I'm surprised I didn't; it's quite the mess back there," I tease, waddling over to the counter. "Where would you like 'em, boss?" I'm not sure who I would refer to, glancing once at Mr. Hiddleston, to Mrs. Gibbons, then back to the stack in my arms.

"Would you mind escorting me to my classroom? I tend to be clumsy at times." With a warm smile, Mr. Hiddleston glances down to Mrs. Gibbons, awaiting her approval.

At that moment, I'm not sure if I would love or hate to go. On the one hand, I get to spend time with Mr. Hiddleston, every horny teenager's dream. On the other, I'm alone with Mr. Hiddleston, someone I've never had a conversation with let alone a 'hello' until minutes ago. Knowing my luck, I will somehow embarrass myself in front of him. It wouldn't be the end of the world since I don't have any of his classes nor do I have classes near his, but God I would feel like a fool for the rest of my life.

But, hey, he's something pretty to look at.

"Yeah, I don't mind. Is that okay, Mrs. Gibbons? I promise I won't bail on you," I say.

The librarian nods her head, fixing her glasses. "Of course, go right ahead! There isn't much to do now anyway. Just make sure you're back before the bell rings."

"Don't worry, Ruby. I won't keep her long," Mr. Hiddleston reassures.

I wouldn't be opposed if you did, I think to myself. The comment makes me blush, even going to my ears. Some reasons how I could be kept late quickly flash by and I find myself wishing I had not taken Mr. Hiddleston's offer. With my skin still burning, I make my way around the front desk as he follows me on the other side. The gate is shut, and due to my arms being preoccupied, I realized I might have to swing it using my hip, nothing too abnormal. I helped out Mrs. Gibbons last year and would do the same thing when my arms were full. However, Mr. Hiddleston was not accustomed to my way of opening the gate. Just as I go to butt it, Mr. Hiddleston reaches out. In an awkward exchange, Mr. Hiddleston's hand, which was aiming to wrap around the gate, collides on my hip instead.

It's nothing terribly exciting but enough to get a gasp and a jealous exchange from Ellie, and damn right I'll take that.

He pauses barely a second before quickly retracting his arm to his side. A blush of the same shade of scarlet cover our cheeks, an awkward laugh bubbling out.

"I'm sorry," I shyly push out.

Shaking his head, now making sure his hand is on the gate, Mr. Hiddleston bashfully looks down and opens up the exit for me. "Don't be, love. It was my fault."

"If you want to be the culprit, be my guest," I reply sassily. I don't want to see if my comment amused him or caused a cringe, so I don't look up. Instead, I look around for something to make our trip easier. "Did you want me to get a cart instead of carrying them up? It's up to you."

Shrugging, Mr. Hiddleston begins taking books from the stack, leaving me with less than half. "I don't mind walking if you don't mind. I missed my morning jog, so I'm trying to compromise the best I can."

I nod and kindly smile, even though my insides and my weak muscles are upset I took on the mission. "Walking it is then. Lead the way!"

Mr. Hiddleston turns on his heel, passing a smile to Mrs. Gibbons. "Thank you for letting me steal your little helper."

"Just return her the way she's leaving," Mrs. Gibbons retorts.

"We'll see," he replies, sending me a smirk and a wink. If the man wanted to turn my knees into jelly, he already succeeded from the first introduction. Now he's just teasing my flustered heart. "Just this way, love," Mr. Hiddleston tells me. I'm too afraid to speak, so I nod, smile, and follow beside him up the staircase.

[black-streak]

Saturday night's alright for fighting (but Sundays are meant for rest) - In which a date is Had

Part 5

Aaaaand back to your regular scheduled fluff (though there is a tiny touch of angst here that you can miss if you blink too long) I really need to find a way to connect these, but I also refuse to leave mobile... Oh! And I have people to tag now? Sooo, here you go, @poshplumcot & @emjrabbitwolf

~---~

The almost run in with Red Hood the night before had Marinette on edge. She slept for only a few scant hours before waking in the morning hyper aware of her surroundings; skirting corners and slinking about her apartment, ready to bolt should the need arise.

In hindsight, the vigilance only added to her anxiety, lending itself to her in the form of launching bodily away from her phone when it buzzed without her permission.

How dare it! Didn't it know better than to startle her? 

Peering over the edge of a half wall, she glared at the offending object only for it to light up and buzz again! How rude! 

Picking her way over to it, she held it by a corner and tapped the screen to find two messages from "Mon Somnambule". Perking up and opening the chat it read, 'What time should I expect you over?' and then, 'youre still coming, right?'

Scrambling to answer, Mari quickly typed a reassurance and asked if he had a preference in time as her schedule was cleared for the day.

'Somehow free as well. Come by round 2? Or could pick you up. Have a movie marathon.' He texted back.

Checking the time and nodding to herself, she sent an affirmation and let Tim know she'd be fine getting there on her own.

Now for the real question: what does one wear to a lazy Sunday movie marathon that is also technically a first date? 

Walking into her room, she saw the decision had been taken out of her hands, two blurs of kwami rampaging the walk in closet.

"Plagg! Trixx! Get out of there!"

The orange blur stopped, then suddenly popped up into her space, "Guess I won't tell you what we put together then. Tragic really, probably forgot all about it in the back there. Oh well, if the Kit doesn't want help… come on Plagg, let's leave her to it." Trixx drew out, exaggerated movements and mournful sighs as he moved away, Plagg snickering from where he waited back in the closet.

Deadpanning at the little fox, Mari moved towards where they had been, only to light up and gasp upon finding the blood red hooded dress, complete with long sleeves and asymmetrical hemline. Pulling it out, she set it on the bed with black sweater boots and a thin black choker with gold swirls she grabbed off her necklace rack.

"You win this round. It's in his colors too!" 

"Well he did say you were his, yes?" Trixx teased.

"Perhaps you shouldnt wear that after all," Plagg growled.

"Oh hush, I know you approve, whether you admit it or not." Marinette scoffed, leaving to take a quick shower.

….

At 2 o'clock on the dot, Tim lost his filter.

"You're on time."

"Should I not be?"

"You're never on time."

" I can leave and come back in 10 if you prefer?"

"No no, come in. Sorry, just taken by surprise is all." 

It was then that he took a moment to take her in as she went past him, door closing and locking behind her. Only to find her studying him too.

"Gray sweats and a pale blue t-shirt. Any particular reason for that?"

"No clue what you're talking about," he stated flippantly, taking hold of her hand as he sidled past her. "Did you have something in mind you wanted to watch?"

"Hmm… Harry Potter?"

"...which?"

"You did mention a marathon, right?"

"Even I know watching 8 movies in a row isn't healthy. Alfred will sense our bad decisions and hunt us down for even trying."

"No, of course not, but we could watch a few today and watch the rest later?" She hinted, looking around to take in the living space, having never been here before.

"You haven't even survived this date yet and you're asking for another?"

"Is that okay?" She peeked up at him, blushing.

"I mean, yeah, but it's your own fault if you come to regret it."

"I won't," she intoned, turning to look about once more, "should we set up in the living room," she asked before he could respond.

Within a few minutes, they were ready, snacks and drinks laid before them with the first movie queued up, speakers blaring the opening lines of Hedwig's theme, nostalgic notes swirling around them and yet they sat perfectly still, a foot apart.

She broke the silence first, "Why does this feel so much different?"

"...How do you mean?"

"We've fallen asleep together in your bed before and yet here we are, a foot apart and avoiding eye contact on the premise of watching a movie we've both probably seen at least a dozen times."

"Different context. Our naps are something started with no expectations or labels. Now it's been labeled a date, that freedom is lost."

"... That's stupid."

"Completely unreasonable."

"Idiotic, flawed logic."

"Couldn't agree more."

 They sat in silence another few minutes.

"We still haven't done anything about it."

"I know."

"Hnph."

Swallowing down his anxious energy, Tim turnt and took her hand that lay furthest from him, guiding it over and past his shoulder, resulting in her torso twisting and stretching out to lay across his. Only he completely miscalculated in his distracted state and ended up bumping heads with her, which in turn made her jump back, arm still at his shoulder, yanking him forward. They fell completely off balance and landed on the opposite side of the couch, him lying atop her small frame.

Freezing in place, wide eyed, Tim was unsure how to recover when a small giggle came from above. Which then turned into a full bellied laugh. Cautiously, he lifted himself up off her only to watch her eyes spring tears of mirth as she tried to catch her breath.

"I guess that's one way to break the tension!"

Letting out a whoosh of air, he slumped back down on her in relief.

"Hey! Don't crush me!" She gasped, squirming under him.

"I know for a fact you can handle more weight than this."

"You know nothing!"

"I know many things."

Shifting, he landed beside her, turning towards the movie and manipulating Mari around till her back pressed into his chest, "Better?"

"Much," she murmured, tilting back to brush a kiss across his jaw before returning to watching the movie.

…

"How does this whole mother's love thing work? By blood? That makes no sense! Petunia obviously doesn't love him, so shouldn't that cancel it out somehow? I think Rowling was off her rocker when she decided this."

"Or it was just an excuse to keep him in his state of being the abused tragic character."

"What if that whole thing was a lie? Wasn't Dumbledore grooming him for suicide or something? Probably wanted to keep him under such horrible circumstances to reaffirm his love for Hogwarts and desire to return even after his life was threatened all those times."

"And this is the gay representation she wants to give us? Sounds homophobic to me. Let Seamus and Dean love each other, damnit!"

"And Ginny and Luna!"

"Really?"

"Yeah, why not?" 

"... You're right, let them date too! And make Harry Bi, you pansy!" 

…

They ended up taking a break between the first and second movie, taking the time to order delivery, get new drinks, use the bathroom, etc., before returning to the couch, Tim spooning Marinette once again.

"Are you okay?" He asked, softening his tone.

"Yeah, why?"

"You slipped up last night. I could see your eyes in the last few moments there."

"Is that why you're wearing blue and gray?" She teased, deflecting.

He blushed, but remained undeterred, "Lutine."

"... I didn't slip up."

"You never let yourself be seen. What changed?"

"You."

"..."

"I want you to know me. Especially if we're going to be continuing this. I've tried dating with a secret identity. It never works out. I know you on both sides, observed you without letting you return the favor. I want to change that." 

She laced their fingers, lifting to press a kiss to his wrist, eyes closed.

He stayed quiet, observing her now, vulnerable and fragile, waiting upon his judgement.

"Were you planning to reveal yourself?"

A small nod.

"But then Jason showed up?"

Another nod.

"And you still won't tell him? He's going to be fine with it, you know."

"Soon. It didn't feel right to come out of hiding to you both at the same time like that."

They fell silent, taking everything in, only to jump at the doorbell. Rushing up, Marinette went to answer it, returning and pulling out boxes of Chinese before setting up the second movie. As it started, they let it drop for now, touching from shoulder to hip where her leg deviated to wrap around his, reassuring each other that they were okay.

…

"Can we just talk about Lockhart though? He is such a little manipulative jerk! He wanted to leave them in the chamber! A bunch of 11 and 12 year olds! Who does that?!" 

"Literally any DADA professor Dumbly door decides to hire, apparently. And what's with the reliance of these adults on children to save their skins? Is that what boarding school is all about? Letting children raise themselves?"

"I'm so sick of these God awful adults pushing all of their responsibilities and mistakes on to literal kids to fix and take care of. He can barely take care of himself and you want him to save everyone? Just like that? With no help or guidance, just, 'here you go kid, lack of support for breakfast, negligence of supposedly trusted adults for lunch, an emotional breakdown for dinner, and a punctured lung for dessert!"

"... You want to talk about it?"

"Not really…"

"Okay."

…

By the end of the second movie, the sky had darkened considerably, having taken quite a while to start up any of them, it was now past eight, still early for them, but late enough to bring a different atmosphere, hushed and intimate between them.

"You look good in red."

"Oh?"

"Mm," Tim hummed, nudging the choker round her neck with his nose, "I like this little detail here too."

Goosebumps raising where skin met, she twisted to face him, lips ghosting over to his ear.

"It reminded me of you."

Faster than she could react, she felt a hand holding her face in place as lips descended upon her own, insistent and sure footed. 

Mari desperately wanted to return the passion, to push into him and give as good as she got, but all she could do was melt in his embrace, unreasonably warm at how assertive it felt.

Pulling back for air, he watched her gasp, enjoying the flush to her skin and glaze to her eyes.

"Did you still want to watch the third movie?"

"... Yeah. Couch is getting a bit uncomfortable though."

"We could relocate."

"Please?"

… 

At some point after having borrowed a spare toothbrush, washed her face, settled into Tim's bed- which was somehow different to being in the one at the manor- and starting the last movie, they had stopped paying attention and started focusing on each other. Passionate kisses turned into making out turned into soft brushes of lips over skin and finally settled into curling up around each other to sleep.

Tomorrow they would return to their hectic lives of running a company and finishing commissions for high profile clientele along with running around at night protecting a city that refused to protect itself, but for now, it was just them. Just this one peaceful night, wrapped in each other's arms.

[c-is-for-circinate]

Who wants a little Cinderbrush AU on this quarantine evening?

A while ago, @brightandshinynewstories and I were chatting about what would happen if the Cinderbrush four lived in Exandria (and also relatedly, if the M9 were Monsterhearts characters, but that is a digression y’all should take up with her).  We figured it would start, at least, a little like this:

There’s a phrase Sasha's history tutor used once, when she was thirteen or fourteen and didn’t have a way to stop her parents hiring all her tutors and arranging her schedule for her.  Her history tutor was a stuttery little halfling man fresh out of Vasselheim, and half of what he said was deadly boring, but he was less brutally awful than her etiquette and protocol tutor, which was probably why he got fired before she turned fifteen.  That one conversation, though, has stuck with her for all these years.

“Everyone thinks they live at the end of history,” he’d said.  They’d been talking about the end of the reign of Uriel Tal’dorei at the time, how his decision to abdicate five minutes before he unexpectedly died in a massive dragon attack hadn’t accomplished much of anything except for making life massively difficult for his son fifteen years later.  “This is it, the final form of the world.  All the aeons of existence have led up to this moment right now, and finally we’re living in the future.”

“Isn’t everybody always living at the end of history, then?” Sasha had asked.  “If you look at it that way?”

“Not...not quite,” Kempler had stammered, a little off-balance the way he always was when she asked questions she actually wanted to know the answers to.  “Usually it means more like..the idea that everything, societal structures, social mores, everything has fallen into place in such a way that it doesn’t need to change any more.  Does that make sense?”

“Of course,” Sasha had said, and let him go on talking about dragons and heroes and the politics of non-existent emperors and kings.  She’d thought about it all afternoon.

This isn’t quite the end of history, Sasha figures now, half a dozen years later.  If it were, there’d be a better way to work her way up in the government of Emon besides playing personal aide to Arbiter Ethna for the next ten years in hopes of getting appointed to a magistrate’s position someday.  Some kind of school for barristers and politicians, at least, instead of everything coming down to her parents’ names and polite tolerance for her existence.  Her advancement wouldn’t depend so much on this awkward noble apprenticeship system where she’s more tied to Ethna’s reputation than her own skills.

It’s got to be getting pretty close, though.  It’s 853 PD.  Emon’s a miracle of government and engineering.  Uriel Tal’dorei’s been dead for forty years, there haven’t been dragons around to ravage anything since Sasha’s parents were children, and every day law, order, and the modern age prove a little more how they triumph over chaos.

It’s good to live at this end of history, Sasha tends to think.  There’s just enough still to do in the world to give her a chance to do something really special about it.  Just enough wiggle room left to let her...bend the rules.  Just a little.

Nobody says arbiters and politicians can’t have a little magic on their side to...smooth things along, just a little.  Nobody says aides like Sasha can’t spend their free time however they like.  Nobody tells Sir Murasaki’s daughter she can’t go where she wants, besides Sir Murasaki himself.  If she likes to sit auditing classes in the back of the room at the Alabaster Lyceum--if she happens to enjoy practicing classical violin or running vocal exercises in her tiny little office behind Arbiter Ethna’s courtroom--well.  The bardic arts might be a relic of the past, when people had to go out slaying monsters and dealing with dragons every other day, but history hasn’t quite left them useless yet.  Anything can be a tool if you’re clever and charming enough to use it right.

Living at very-nearly-the-end of history might be the best tool there is.  The best thing about it, Sasha thinks, is the chance to make sure she’s the one who decides how it ends.

.

Sasha told Cam about her end-of-history theory once, some starlit evening on the rooftop balcony of his parents’ townhouse, looking out over the sparkling lights of the Cloudtop District and enjoying the quiet.  He’s not sure he’s smart enough to really understand it, but that’s Sasha for you.  There’s a reason she’s going to be on the Tal’Dorei Council someday, while Cam’s going to be...whatever Cam’s going to be, by then.

Probably running the family business, one way or another, if his dad hasn’t actually killed him instead of letting him inherit.  It’s basically fine, as life plans go.  Parts of it don’t suck.  That’s something.

It’s why everyone was so in favor of him courting around with Sasha in the first place, anyway.  The Murasakis are nobility and all, but they’re from some island in the middle of the Lucidian Ocean on the other side of Exandria.  The Solomons were nobodies, until they just happened to own the only still-operating stone quarry in a hundred miles in the wake of the destruction of Emon forty years ago.  Sasha’s parents have influence, Cam’s have money.  Even Cam knows putting that combination together is a recipe for power.

Real power, probably, not the magic kind.  Fewer rules.  Fewer restrictions.  Fewer demons, whispering in the back of your ear when you’re trying to sleep.

If this is really the perfect future that everything’s always been trying to lead to, then shouldn’t they have wizard magic or some shit that would just get the stone out of the ground without needing miners and overseers and crap like that?  And then, like, nobody would send some stupid human kid with no darkvision into the back end of the quarry just because he’s the boss’s son and some fucker thinks he needs to be hazed for “company morale” or whatever.  Just for example.

So maybe the world’s not getting better, it’s just that the bullshit that piles up a little deeper every year has just about reached a critical maximum.  That’s fine.  No wonder Sasha’s looking forward to the future so much, gets along with the world so well.  He used to watch her weave her own web of total crap every time she worked a room, catching eyes and shaking hands and making everybody fall in love with her as soon as they met.  It’s kind of the most impressive thing Cam’s ever seen.  He kind of hates her for it, right at this moment.

Cam’s just not built for that much shit.  He's charming, sure, people trust him, people like him, but he can’t talk his way out of any- and everything like Sasha can.  Probably that’s a nobility thing.  The Solomons aren’t nobility, everybody knows that, especially Cam’s dad, and he’s never let Cam forget it for two seconds in a row his whole life, so right, no wonder Cam’s useless in Sasha’s kind of world.  No wonder he lets himself get into such shitty situations sometimes.  No wonder he can’t get Anukirai to leave him--to leave Sasha--alone.

If that’s what he wants.  Which--it is, of course, it should be, it has to be, it’s just.  Hard, sometimes, when Cam’s father decides if he can’t be the normal born kind of nobility, he’d better just prove he’s the High Lord of All Assholes.  When Cam’s trying not to be the kind of guy who just up and punches his problems in the face.  When Anukirai starts making promises, and Cam--when Cam can feel the power behind them, the weight of thousands of years of lurking underground, lying in wait, full of so much more patience than Cam’s ever had himself.

He’s pretty sure he could Command his dad to do just about anything, once.  Just once.  So far he hasn’t tried.

The worst thing about living this close to the end of history, Cam knows for damn sure, is feeling the weight of all of it crushing down on top of you all the time.

.

Jamie’s heard about it, too, somewhere along the way.  Lunch with Sasha at the Lyceum is always interesting, one way or another.

It’s bullshit, of course, but it’s the sort of bullshit that always appeals to people like Sasha.  As though there are other people in the world like Sasha Murasaki.  Things don’t end, they just die occasionally, and leave stinking corpses of whatever they used to be there to entertain passers-by.  Witness the inside of poor Cameron Solomon’s head these days after that particular breakup, case in point.

But of course it’s enticing to picture the world as just half a step short of perfection, all the for pretty, perfect people who think they might just be that last piece of perfection Exandria’s waiting for.  That, at least, isn’t exactly an uncommon attitude around the Alabaster Lyceum.  Everybody thinks they’re going to be the next Allura Vysoren, or whoever it is they’re all idolizing these days.  Everybody thinks they need just that little bit of extra edge to get there.

Jamie’s done with that particular race, which doesn’t mean they can’t enjoy spectating it.  There’s a lot of benefits that come from staying enrolled as a student of the arcane arts at the Alabaster Lyceum of Emon.  Greg Wrenly keeps paying tuition, room, and board, for one.  There’s a handful of cantrips and a couple of halfway decent wizard spells in Jamie’s back pocket now, too, which is never a bad thing.  It’s always good to have options.

For instance: now the desperate, overachieving would-be wizards of the Lyceum don’t have to fight their way through years of arduous study and spend enormous reserves of magical energy to cast True Seeing.  A little bit of druidcraft, a couple of exactly the right mushrooms, and for a handful of gold coins Jamie can provide a direct line of sight to the Ethereal Plane with negligible side effects to follow.  Options.  They’re practically a public service.

Jamie prefers to keep as many options open as possible; gods know nobody in this fucking city seem to realize they have any.  That’s what needing to be the best will do to you.  If a quarter of their classmates realized how much power the average archdruid has at their command, there’d be a mass exodus of ex-arcanists desperate to be the next fucking Voice of the Tempest, every one of them desperate to live up to thousands of years of legends and heroes and complete fairytales.  Every single one of them would miss the entire point.

Jamie doesn’t need to be the best.  They just need to maintain their own, extremely specific skill set, market it in the right way to the right people, and not get caught up in everyone else’s everything.  Stay a minimum safe distance away from Sasha.  Enjoy Cam’s company without getting too invested in the pretty and the trauma.  Enough wizardry to mess with peoples’ heads and not be too bound to the whims of nature, enough druidry to keep in good supply and not be too bound to some fucking hand-scribed spellbook.  Enough alchemy to keep in business.  Enough business to make sure they don’t completely lose touch with reality, the way so many mages tend to do.

Of course it’s not exactly traditional, or historical, or Respectful of the Great Arts, or whatever the fucking line is.  What the hell would be the point of that?

The best thing about living on this end of history, whatever the fuck that means to anyone, is getting to pick and choose exactly which parts of it you want to keep.

.

Aff gets the whole history thing in pieces, in passing at first, but it makes more sense the more they think about it.  You can learn a lot slinging pints of ale in your dad’s tavern on a regular old Grissen weeknight.

It’s not like they’re friends with Sasha Murasaki of all people.  Aff hadn’t even known who she was until Amanda from the livery stable down the street explained it, and apparently there’s an actual member of a titled noble family on her way up the ranks in the Watchful Hall who comes out to Aff’s dad’s tavern, like, a lot, which is just crazy.  It’s just that sometimes when Sasha’s waiting for somebody, or she and her trio of Emon’s Who’s Who are bored or whatever, they invite Aff to sit down and talk for a while.  Cameron Solomon’s... whatever, he’s cool, Aff’s mom doesn’t live too far from his dad’s mine these days, so maybe they’d helped him out while he was puking in an alleyway once or twice before even moving to Emon, out in the countryside where being a super-rich merchant prince didn’t matter that much.  And Jamie...Aff doesn’t really get Jamie, but they’re in here a lot, alone at a table where a whole rotation of people sit down to join them and then leave ten minutes later.  You learn a lot about someone when they drink by themselves while they’re doing some kind of weird shady business in your bar at least once a week.  That’s all.

Aff doesn’t even really think any of them are friends with each other, either, anyway.  Sasha and Cameron used to come in on dates, a couple of kids from the Cloudtop slumming it in Diamond Liquor out in the Central District, but they don’t really do that any more.  The one time Sasha showed up when Cam was already here, he got up and left.  Sometimes Sasha goes and sits at Jamie’s table in the corner, and she’s usually there for a lot longer than ten minutes when she does, but she still always goes back to the rest of her crew and Jamie goes back to drinking alone.  Jamie and Cam have come in together a couple of times, and it seems like Jamie doesn’t even do business on those nights, but like, who even knows what’s up with that, right?

Not that Aff’s being creepy or anything.  They’re the bar...not-maid.  Bartender?  No, that’s their dad, ruling over the land of kegs behind the actual physical bar.  Bar...server?  Is that a thing?  Whatever, it is now.  Aff’s the bar-server, they hear things.  They notice things.  That’s all.

Like Sasha talking about the end of history, which, it took Aff a couple of different conversations to realize she didn’t mean the end of the world, which is probably good.  Aff’s pretty sure she means the fact that they live now, in modern times, which don’t really have dragon attacks or cool heroes or crazy adventures any more, because all the cool heroes already went on all the crazy adventures and killed the dragons so that modern times could happen in the first place.  Which is great!  Right, that’s totally for the best, dragons are definitely bad news.  Aff’s seen a couple of places where Emon got rebuilt forty or fifty years ago after half the city...melted, they guess?  So like, it’s good that that’s not happening nowadays.  That’s a good thing.

It’s just...

Look, Aff’s a good bar-server, or whatever you want to call it, and they like living here with their dad, and Emon’s not a bad place to be, it’s just.  Hard, sometimes.  It’s hard, when they get so angry they just want to hit something, again.  Like, a lot.  Again.

If there were still adventurers and dragons and shit, then maybe Aff would have a use for all that pent-up aggression or whatever.  Maybe they could, y’know, kill monsters or whatever, and it would make them a hero instead of a fuckup.  If it were still the old days like that, maybe Aff would be good for something.

If this really is the end of history or whatever, Aff thinks that maybe the hardest part is feeling like they got smacked down in the wrong part of it.

.

The trouble, of course, is that history is nowhere near through with them.  Or with its own twists and turns, which is how history tends to work, really, even when you think it’s all just about settled down.

The third week of Fessuran is...confusing, more than anything.  Everything happens so fucking fast, in a blur of blood and fear and sleep-deprivation, washed over with a little extra haze from Jamie’s very good berries, and a couple of days go by in either about two hours or two weeks, and this is never going to make a good story to tell any kids they ever have, if they ever survive long enough to have kids.

Half a dozen people are very dead, that’s very clear, well beyond the help of any cleric or reasonably-ethical necromancer.  Amanda from the livery stable down the street from Diamond Liquor was pale and streaked in blood, breathing shallowly and barely alive, last time they saw her.  That might be worth something, if they could figure out or agree on what.

The four of them are not dead.  They are not under arrest.  They’re not in Emon any more, either, but since staying away might be the only chance they have to keep being not-dead and not-arrested, that’s probably a win, too.

They look at each other, hollow-eyed and dazed, across the table at the only inn in the tiny nowhere town of Cinder Hills, where they didn’t dare sleep last night and had better leave the minute they finish breakfast and also decide what the hell comes next.

“What,” Cam says, speaking for them all, “the fuck?”

.

“Look,” Sasha says.  “It’s fine.  We just…go to another city, and wait for things to die down.  Come back when it’s all over and pretend none of it ever happened.  Nothing to do with us at all.”

It’s fine.  It has to be fine, because if it’s not then Sasha’s lost everything.  Jail isn’t the only way to be trapped.  Freedom costs so much.

“You cannot possibly think that’s going to work,” Jamie says scathingly.  “You think there’s anybody in Emon who doesn’t know who the great Sasha Murasaki is?  We run, and we do not come back.”

Fuck Jamie, fuck them, just…fuck.

She’s spent years building herself a future in Emon.  Years, fighting to make herself a place in history.  Scrounging for every fucking scrap her parents would let her have, every fraction of respect or freedom that couldn’t just be taken away on a whim because she didn’t lower her eyes enough on any random night.  And now she’s going to lose it to this?

“Um,” Aff says.  “I have family in Emon?  I’m not just going to disappear on my dad.  And like, what about Cam’s dad, or Sasha’s family, or–”

“I can’t see my dad right now,” Cam interrupts quickly.  “Leaving actually maybe sounds good.”

“Oh, and leaving where, Jamie?” Sasha demands, because she’s ignoring Cameron right now until she can handle looking at him.  “Are we all going to stay with your little forest friends?  Sleep on leaf mattresses and learn to be druids, then?”

Jamie snorts.  “I’m not taking any of you within ten fucking miles of any druid circle I’ve ever met.  You, they’d eat alive,” and he gestures dismissively at Aff, “and you, they’d never forgive me for.  Luckily the world’s pretty fucking big.”

“So, what, you just want to–what, get on a ship and go to Wildemount?” Cam asks, interrupting Sasha again before she can get started on what even she knows is going to come out sharp and bitter and useless.  “Never come home?”

“You can do whatever the fuck you want.  I’m going to Kymal as soon as I can get on the fucking road, to see if I can rebuild even a third of what I just left behind.” Jamie says, like it’s just…that easy.  “Maybe Westruun, eventually, depending on how that goes.”

Sasha cannot start over in fucking Kymal.  She can’t.  She’s going home.  She’ll get this straightened out.

Everybody knows who her parents are.  They could smooth the whole thing over, probably, if she went down on her knees and begged hard enough.  If she agreed to let them ship her off to whatever cloister or rich husband they chose, and lost everything to spending the rest of her life under her mother’s thumb and her father’s commands anyway.

Fuck.  Fuck.  It feels like the walls of this tiny shitty tavern room are closing in on her already.  Sasha is so fucked.

It was supposed to be perfect.  She was almost done.  She was on her way.  It was going to be perfect.

“We should probably stay together,” Cameron says worriedly, looking between Sasha and his precious Aff and Jamie fucking Wrenly.

“Westruun,” Sasha says.  It’s too small to build anything worth having and it’s too far away from everything she’s ever built so far and it’s too big for her to matter at all and it’s too close for her to really be safe.  Westruun’s nothing.  But at least it’s better than fucking Kymal.  “We can go to Westruun.”

Or Vasselheim.  Or Rexxentrum.  Or Ank’harel.  Or Port Damali.  Sasha’s a little afraid to start running.  She’s a little afraid that once she gets going, she won’t be able to stop.

.

Notes on Level 2:

Sasha, human bard 2 Cantrips: Message, Prestidigitation L1 spells (3/day): Charm Person, Sense Emotions, Disguise Self, Comprehend Languages, Detect Magic

Cameron, human warlock 2 Patron: Fiend Cantrips: Mage Hand, Friends L1 spells (2/day): Command, Charm Person, Hex Invocations: Beguiling Influence, Devil’s Sight

Jamie, human wizard 1 druid 1 Cantrips: Friends, Mind Sliver, Minor Illusion, Druidcraft, Infestation L1 spells (3/day) : Cause Fear, Color Spray, Silent Image, Charm Person, Sleep, Identify, plus any druid spells prepared that day

Aff, human barbarian 2 Rage (2/day): +2 damage

[crackimagines]

Dancing for Dummies (FE: Three Houses Short Fic)

Byleth-Sama: Love is War (Part 2)

-----

Part Listings Here!

All AU’s involved listed here!

-----

With the rush now on to have Byleth choosing her over Sara for the Ball, Megumi must find out how to be more appealing.

Unfortunately for her, everyone she knows has no idea how any of this stuff works either.

-----

The next morning after Part 1...   

[Afterschool Hours - Trails of Cold Steel]

Once the bell rang, everyone got up from their seats and went outside.

The three houses and House Isekai began mingling among themselves, spreading the daily news and gossip as the faculty met up to have lunch.

It was only a select few that noticed Megumi and Sara’s strange behavior.

(Kazuma) “What’s up with them?”

Rean, Dimitri, Darkness, and Dedue looked over at the faculty members.

(Dedue) “What do you mean?”

(Darkness) “Are you referring to Instructor Sara and Megunee?”

(Rean) “Now that you mention it, they didn’t seem like themselves when teaching. Those two are usually pretty friendly with one another.”

(Dedue) “I didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary.”

(Kazuma) “Well, duh. You’re not in our class.”

(Rean) “I’ll ask later, though I’m fairly positive I’ll be brushed off by Sara...”

(Dimitri) “Then I’ll ask Megunee.”

(Darkness) “Guess that settles that. Now, what were you talking about, Rean?”

(Rean) “Why does Aqua shout at herself, something about gremlins?”

(Kazuma) “Ooooh...That...”

As that conversation continued on normally, Dimitri couldn’t help but think about what they said about Sara and Megumi. 

Dimitri was a bit concerned for Megumi. She normally didn’t have any problems with anyone here, yet he couldn’t shake off this feeling of dread.

...

Once the staff got their desired food, they began making their way to the table.

Sara reached for a bread from the basket, only to find Megumi’s hand reaching for it as well. They looked up and made eye contact, which caused both of their brows to furrow.

(Sara) “...Sakura.”

(Megumi) “Valestein.”

The two stared at each other for a solid minute, refusing to say anything more.

A tall shadow engulfed the light they were at which scared the hell out of them.

(Dimitri) “...Uh, pardon me.”

(Sara) “Oh, m-my bad!”

(Megumi) “Excuse me!”

They began to depart, but before Megumi could join the table, she heard Dimitri call out to her.

(Megumi) “N-No worries. We’re fi-...Actually are you free after lunch?”

(Dimitri) “I do believe so.”

(Megumi) “Great. We’ll talk afterwards.”

Megumi left, making Dimitri scratch his head.

(Dimitri) “This does not bode well...”

Sothis was watching the interaction go down and chuckled to herself.

(Sothis) “Well well...Looks like I should help get this going too.”

Sothis floated away towards the courtyard while everyone else at their lunch.

Later...

[Funny Footsteps - Fire Emblem: Three Houses]

(Dimitri) “...So this all started because you two just wanted to dance with Byleth? Couldn’t you both just dance with him?”

(Megumi) “Yes, well...I-It’s the principle of it all! Besides, I have to get chosen first! Imagine what I would have to tell my students if their teacher couldn’t get a dance first!”

(Dimitri) “Well to be fair, there is most likely a lot of other people who wish to dance with him. Besides, I wasn’t aware Yuki and the others cared for things like that.”

(Megumi) “It’s my pride on the line, Dimitri!”

Dimitri didn’t know what to say. He had never seen Megumi this flustered before.

Especially about Byleth.

(Dimitri) “Well, what is your strategy for winning over Sara?”

(Megumi) “Hm...I’m not sure. Actually, I don’t know how to dance properly at a ball. Something like this would never have come up in my previous life.”

(Dimitri) “Well, I am no expert by any means, but I did have to learn for attending these balls back in the Kingdom. Perhaps I can be of assistance?”

(Megumi) “...Actually, I think I know what you can help me with!”

(Dimitri) “And what would that be?”

(Megumi) “I heard from some others that you gave a dagger to a girl you liked-’

(Dimitri) HURK?!

(Megumi) “Maybe Byleth would like that-...Dimitri are you okay?”

Dimitri had unwillingly curled his hands into a fist, wanting to strangle Sylvain. His eye was twitching but he took a deep breath.

(Dimitri) “P-Perfectly fine, yes. Anyways, yes, Byleth might like that.”

(Megumi) “Do you think you could perhaps find a good one? I promise to pay you for your trou-”

(Dimitri) “Ah, pay it no mind, Megunee.-”

(Megumi) “It’s Professor Sakura-”

(Dimitri) “-It’s the least I can do for all you’ve done for me and my class. Since the day is still young I oughtta get to work finding one.”

Dimitri got up and nodded at Megumi.

(Dimitri) “I wish you luck!”

(Megumi) “Thank you.”

Dimitri left, leaving Megumi by herself in the courtyard.

(Megumi) “Now, what to do...”

Later that evening...

After a little while, Megumi walked past the dorms and towards the greenhouse. When she entered, she was going to think on what to do for the ball and how to get his attention.

As she watered the plants, she heard a familiar voice call out to her.

(Yuki’s Voice) “Megunee!”

(Megumi) “Hm? Oh, Yuki-chan!”

She ran in the room with a bright smile.

(Yuki) “I’ve been looking all over for you! Minako and Kasumi have been wanting to see you!”

(Megumi) “Huh? What for?”

(Yuki) “You’re wanting to dance with Byleth-sensei, right?”

Megumi almost dropped her water can as she yelped.

(Megumi) “W-WHAT?! Who told you that?!”

(Yuki) “Yuuri-san did! The rest of House Isekai knows! Actually, I think the other houses know too.”

(Megumi) “WHAT?!”

(Yuki) “Jeez, you’re a little slow today. Now come on, let’s get going we have to get you ready!”

Yuki took Megumi’s hand and dragged her off towards the Training Hall.

-----

Earlier...

Ainz sat down at the head of the table as the others slowly arrived.

Albedo knelt by his side, her head facing down.

(Albedo) “Lord Ainz, everyone has been gathered as ordered.”

Ainz nodded and lookde to the door.

The first to arrive was Rean, followed by Edelgard, Dimitri, and Yuuri.

The next was Kazuma, Akira, the Arisato siblings, and lastly Yu.

They all took their seats and looked to Ainz.

(Ainz) “Albedo.”

(Albedo) “Yes, Lord Ainz?”

(Ainz) “...What exactly are we here for?”

(Albedo) “...Absolve me of my negligence milord, what do you mean?”

(Ainz) “I wasn’t the one who ordered everyone here. Did anyone here do so?”

(Minato) “No. I was told it was urgent.”

(Minako) “Same here.”

(Claude) “Don’t look at me.”

(Edelgard) “I’m not sure why WE were invited, honestly.”

(Dimitri) “Well clearly we’re all confused, who was the one who-”

(Kazuma) “It was me, actually.”

Everyone turned to Kazuma.

(Kazuma) “So, a little green birdy tipped me off to something VERY intriguing, something that I thought you all might wanna hear!”

(Ainz) “And what would that be?”

(Kazuma) “Our dear Sara and Megunee, are having a war! A war for Byleth’s affection, and I’m taking the bets!”

(Everyone) “...”

(Rean) “You REALLY called us all together just to tell us that?”

(Albedo) “Insignificant little...! HOW DARE YOU MANIPULATE US TO SATISFY YOUR OWN GREED!-”

(Claude) “I’m not opposed to a bet, honestly.”

(Yuuri) “Of course you aren’t.”

(Ainz) “Besides, the winner is obvious isn’t it?”

(Dimitri) “Yes, the winner is clearly Megunee-”

(Edelgard) “Valestein-”

(Claude) “A good tie, honestly.”

“...”

(Everyone) “What?”

(Minako) “Uh, the winner of that’s going to be Megunee. Haven’t you seen the two together, they look adorable!”

(Rean) “I’m inclined to disagree. I think Sara is more his type.”

(Yu) “You’re just saying that because she’s your teacher back in your world.”

(Kazuma) “Meh, my gang thinks that Sara’s gonna win too.”

(Ainz) “Is this seriously something we’re arguing right now?”

(Edelgard) “Sara will be the victor.”

(Dimitri) “Not if I have anything to say about it! I promised Megunee that she’d be getting the dance!”

(Claude) “Uh guys? Aren’t we getting a liiitle too heated about-”

(Minato) “Then it seems like its war.”

(Minako) “WAAAAARRR!”

(Yuuri) “Oh dear.”

-----

(Minako) “Aaaaand that’s about the gist of it!”

(Megumi) “I cannot believe this...”

(Kasumi) “From what I heard from Akira-senpai, this really ballooned up, didn’t it?”

(Yuki) “We’re not going to let Sara win this, which is why I called in some backup!”

A knock came from the door and opened with a hearty laugh.

(Alois) “Professor Sakura, there you are!”

(Megumi) “Oh dear god, no-”

(Alois) “So, you need some help in this fight, eh? Well worry not, we’re here to help!”

(Kasumi) “Dimitri-senpai is currently trying to find the perfect gift, right? Well, Minako, Alois, Yuki and I will help you learn how to dance!”

(Minako) “If you wanna score a man, YOU GOTTA DO THE HUSTLE!”

Minako spun around and pointed her finger up in the air, then pointed back into the ground, and repeated the same step over and over.

Kasumi, Megumi, and Alois watched awkwardly while Yuki joined in.

(Kasumi) “...Minako-senpai? This is a Ball, not a disco.”

(Megumi) “And aren’t you too young to know what the Hustle is?”

(Yuki) “Eh? How old are you, Megunee?”

(Megumi) “A-ANYWAYS! K-Kasumi, Alois, what do you guys have?”

(Kasumi) “Oooh! Well, there is ballet dancing you could do with your partner!”

Kasumi took a step back and bent her knees while putting her hands near her stomach.

(Kasumi) “One, and two!-”

Extending one foot into the air while keeping the other foot on the ground, she started spinning.

With her flexibility, her hand managed to touch the foot in the air and turned to Megumi.

(Kasumi) “Sakura-sensei! Could you please follow suit?”

(Yuki) “I think that’d rip her dress...”

(Megumi) “I-It would-”

(Yuki) “She’s a bit too large to do those crazy bends!”

(Megumi) “HUH?!”

(Alois) “That’s ballet dancing, not ball dancing! We need something a bit more simple! In these dances in the Monastery, you and your partner hold hands together and just simply step to the sides! I’m not sure what you kids have grown up thinking what a ball is!”

(Yuki) “What kind of music will it be? Is it classy? Rock? Pop?”

(Minako) “I don’t think he knows what those are, and if I had to guess, it’s string instruments right?”

(Alois) “You’re correct! And in fact, before I got here, I asked a friend who was musically attuned!”

(Megumi) “Oh, you mean Elliot from Class VII?”

(Alois) “No, it’s someone rooting for you!”

SLAM!

(Minako) “OH MY GOD.”

(Kasumi) “He can play instruments?”

(Yuki) “Hi Slayer!”

Doomguy waved at Yuki and turned to the others.

(Megumi) “WHY WOULD YOU INVITE SLAYER TO PLAY CLASSICAL MUSIC?!”

(Alois) “Oh relax, he’s only here as an example! Instructor Slayer, you can play classical music on that weird lute you have, right?”

Doomguy motioned his hand in a so-so manner.

(Alois) “Then it’s perfect! Yuki if you’d please!”

Yuki happily grabbed Megumi’s hand while Minako started going for cover.

(Kasumi) “Senpai?”

(Alois) “ALRIGHT, LET THE MUSIC BEGIN!”

Doomguy slammed a speaker behind him and put his fingers to the guitar-

BWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSH!

(Megumi) “W-WHY?!”

(Alois) “W-WHAT? I CANNOT HEAR YOU!”

(Yuki) “DID YOU SAY SOMETHING ALOIS?!”

(Kasumi) “WHAAAAT?”

(Minako) “SPEAK UP YOU GUYS!”

Doomguy slowly started backing away with his guitar and went back to his room, hoping to go unnoticed.

Megumi did learn something important on how to get Byleth however.

This was going to be a lot harder than she anticipated.

And that she was probably going to have tinnitus for the rest of her life.

[flora-jimin]

𝑪𝒐𝒏𝒏𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔

Pairing: Ot7 (Jimin Centric)

Genre: Angst, Smut, PWP

Word Count: 6.7k

Rating: 18+

Summary:  Jimin starts to feel a little out of place and left out in their relationship.The boys make sure he knows he's just as important to them as they are to him.

Tags: Still Standing Verse, Sense8 Au, Jimin-centric, Poly Relationship, Self Loathing, Hurt/Comfort, Humiliation Kink, Makeup Sex, Overstimulation, Aftercare, Superpowers, Oral, Threesomse, Frotting, Voyeurism, Overstimulation, Crying During Sex, Superpowers During Sex

A/n: This oneshot was written months ago for a fic called Still Standing that I’ve been writing for over a year. It is a sense8 au where all the boys also have superpowers. If you’d like to read that, the link is in my bio on my blog, as it’s not a net approved fic, but for clarity’s sake, the superpower being used during sex is Yoongi’s umbrakinesis, or shadow manipulation.

AO3 Link

He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been feeling left out lately.

Like today, with Jungkook and Taehyung going to the movies without him. Both of them eagerly holding hands and laughing as they were off to see a movie he had told them all months ago he was eager to see, it hurt.

“Oh, hyung, we figured you’d be at work during that time!”

It felt like a stab to the chest, but he only smiled and told them it was okay. He’d see it with Ji-Woo or he’d see it when the DVD came out.

When Hoseok and Yoongi paired up and disappeared into Yoongi’s studio to make music, he didn’t bother asking to join. Those two were often off in their own world when Yoongi let Hoseok into Genius Lab. It was a rule amongst their cluster not to go into Genius Lab unless Yoongi invited you in. The second oldest sensate took his personal space very seriously. So, Jimin only smiled and told them he hoped they came up with something good when he saw Yoongi take Hoseok’s hand and disappear behind the door.

Besides, he couldn’t rap like they did. He’d probably just be in the way.

When Jin was making lunch for Namjoon and talking about how the two were going to head out to Han River for a date, Jimin only bit back a smile and handed Jin the condiments and utensils the oldest had asked him for as he helped out.

He helped make the lunch, why wasn’t he invited too? Why couldn’t he go to Han River and be with them, too?

Jimin clenched his fists as he sat at the dinner table. Everyone was out. He was alone.

Again.

His head whirred as he felt all six men, all of them having the time of their lives. He felt them, didn’t they feel him? Did they care? Jimin felt a creeping sense of dread start to eat at him. Maybe they all didn’t need him anymore.

He put his head down, tears stinging his eyes as that inner voice got louder, belittling him and dragging him further into the pit of self loathing he’d found himself in.

“What do you even do? What do you have to bring to the table?” It sneered at him and Jimin squeezed his eyes shut tighter.

“You’re just some barista with a mediocre grip on your powers, you’re the weakest link out of all of the cluster and you know it. You’re a joke, Park Jimin, everyone’s laughing.”

He clutched his head, his chest heaving as he tried to ignore that voice. It was his own inner thoughts betraying him, and this wasn’t the first time he’d heard it insult him.

It never hurt this bad, though.

“-im? Chim? Fuck! Hyung, he’s crying!”

Jimin only barely registered Hoseok’s voice in his ears. He curled up tighter, biting his lip. The Busan boy didn’t want to bother anyone. They were having so much fun without him anyway and-

Yoongi’s face came into his view as those big hands picked his head up from the cocoon he’d made with his arms. He could barely see the second oldest, but he felt a strong pulse of concern through their link and he couldn’t help himself from breaking down and sobbing in his hands.

Hoseok startled from behind him and Yoongi’s lips pursed as he pulled him into his arms, letting the smallest man cry against his neck. He looked to Hoseok and nodded towards the bedroom.

“Pick him up. We should get him somewhere more comfortable.” He instructed as Jimin sobbed louder. Hoseok nodded, one arm sliding under the barista’s legs before he nudged Jimin’s head with his lips.

“C’mon baby boy, arms around my neck. We’re gonna take care of you.” He cooed, nearly missing a step when Jimin clung suddenly to his neck. He could feel the tears rolling down his neck as he walked him to the other room, biting his lip in worry.

Yoongi followed right behind him, lips a thin line as he felt Jimin’s flared up emotions vibrating through the link from all the boys. It overrode everyone else’s emotions and Yoongi could feel the worry and confusion coming from the four missing boys at the sudden fever pitch of negative emotions.

Hoseok sat down with Jimin in his lap, rocking him slightly to calm him, even a fraction. Yoongi crawled onto the bed right after him, gently prying Jimin’s hands away from Hoseok’s neck and moving his face so he looked him in the eyes. Jimin’s lip wobbled, his eyes bloodshot as snot rolled down his nose.

“You poor thing...what happened? Why are you crying?” Hoseok inquired, reaching into the bedside table to fish out a box of tissues. He gently wiped Jimin’s cheeks before pressing the tissues to his nose. Jimin held his wrist and blew weakly, feeling a slight relief from the congestion of his nose as Yoongi’s cat-like eyes watched his every move, concern shining in his face.

He looked away from Yoongi, guilt pulsing through their link.

He’d made them stop their fun to humor his little breakdown. He really was the worst.

Yoongi and Hoseok felt the second pulse of guilt get overridden with the feeling of self loathing, and without sharing a word, both men sandwiched Jimin in between them from a group hug.

The smallest man tensed, tears springing up in his eyes again. He wanted more attention from them, yes, but the doubt of his own self worth kept him from enjoying the sensation. He hated this feeling.

“Talk to us, baby. What happened?” Hoseok tried again and Jimin clenched his fists before burying his face in Yoongi’s shoulder.

“Do...do you all still love me? Am I in the way?” He inquired softly. Both men tensed and the other four stood around him, eyes wide.

“Jimin-”

“No one wants to spend time with me anymore. The movies, the music, the dates...why is everyone avoiding me?” Jimin’s voice quivered as he spoke and he did his best to formulate actual sentences.

“I...I feel like a third wheel to this relationship. Is everyone ignoring my emotions? I know you can feel them and-”

“No, no baby it’s not like that.” Namjoon was at his side in a moment, kissing his cheeks as he cupped his cheeks. Jimin looked up at him and Namjoon felt his heart break.

God, they fucked up.

“I’m not going to make any excuses for any of us. We should have noticed. You’re not a third wheel, baby. We love you.” Their leader continued with his soothing tone. Jimin lowered his eyes to Yoongi’s shoulder, unable to meet any of their gazes.

The other men all exchanged looks, but none of them said a word until the fatigue of the day caused Jimin to pass out slowly.

Once they all felt he was completely asleep, all eyes turned to their leader as they all visited from their respective locations.

Namjoon was driving back to their shared home, jaw set while Jungkook leaned up from the back seat.

“What are we going to do? We really messed up bad.” He voiced what they were all thinking and they shared a collective harsh sigh.

“We have to make it up to him. It was our own negligence that lead to this. Apologize properly when he’s awake and make sure he feels loved. Jimin is an important part of our cluster and our lives and I don’t want him-or any of you-to ever feel like this. We’re gonna let him rest and start tomorrow.” He told them, the determination to fix this problem shining in his eyes. Jungkook relaxed back into the seat and nodded with the rest of them.

-The Next Morning-

When Jimin woke up, the first thing he noticed was his inability to move. He was wedged between Namjoon and Taehyung and when he lifted his head to locate the other men, he saw he was the one who had taken the middle spot, with the other five (Jin seemed to be missing from the pile) men keeping him warm. He blushed and wiggled, trying to free himself from the pile.

It was a difficult task, but eventually he managed to do so, shuffling carefully out of the center so he wouldn’t step on any of his slumbering boyfriends. He looked back at them, a bittersweet smile on his face when he saw them all.

They all looked so perfect, even without him there.

He felt a twinge of that self loathing come back, so he ducked his head and left the room, not noticing Namjoon peeking at him through one of his cracked open eyes.

Jimin made his way to the kitchen, seeing Jin had started cooking breakfast. He placed a hand against the doorway, knocking gently to get his attention. Jin smiled at him and he responded with a soft smile of his own.

“‘Mornin, hyung.” he greeted.

“Good morning, Chim. I’ll be making your favorite pancakes, too. Have a seat, alright?” Jin instructed, turning back to the stove. Jimin hesitated before he moved to sit, playing with his fingers as he waited.

He stared at Jin’s back as he cooked, watching the oldest glide around the kitchen, plucking seasonings and foods from cabinets, the fridge, and the freezer effortlessly as he made their large breakfast.

“Hyung, do you need any help?” Jimin inquired after five minutes had gone by. Jin slid the breakfast sausages into the oven and nodded.

“If you could, could you come over here and mix the batter for the pancakes? We’ll need a lot.” Jin told him, offering him a large mixing bowl. Jimin smiled, grateful Jin was giving him the opportunity to help. He was hoping they wouldn’t be mad at him after his outburst yesterday.

He chewed on his lip as Jin began washing out some fruits in the sink.

“Hyung...about last night...can we forget it? Can we pretend I didn’t say those things? I didn’t mean to accuse you all of not loving me and ignoring me…”He trailed off. The kitchen fell into a silence as Jin kept his eyes on the strawberries in his palm. The oldest sighed and tapped the back of the faucet to shut the water off. He picked up the strainer the fruit was in, letting the water drain out of it before he moved to Jimin’s side, slicing some of the red berries.

“You shouldn’t apologize for telling us how you feel. If we made you feel like this, you should say it. That way we can make sure we don’t ever let it get this bad again. You’re important to us.” Jin hummed, taking the cut berries in his hands and walking behind Jimin, who had slowed his stirring as he thoughtfully looked into the white mix.

Jin dropped the berries into the bowl, pressing Jimin against the counter as he wrapped his arms around his back. The smaller man nearly dropped the bowl, had Jin not have closed his larger hands over Jimin’s.

“We’re sorry. The only ones who should be apologizing is us.” Jin spoke directly into his ear and Jimin felt his knees buckle slightly. He had a weak spot for being pinned down, but now wasn’t the time for him to be getting excited over nothing.

“But I-”

“Shh. We have to make breakfast.” Jin teased, placing his hand over Jimin’s as they stirred the batter. The younger man nodded and complied, trying not to think about how close Jin was to him.

Or how many times the members of the cluster had fooled around in the kitchen.

Jin noticed the pulse of embarrassment and arousal radiating off of the smaller man and he grinned, setting the bowl down and placing his palms down on the counter by either side of Jimin’s hips.

He peppered Jimin’s neck in kisses, smiling when the smaller man tried to suppress his giggles. Jimin blushed to the tips of his ears, breath hitching up when he felt Jin palming the front of his quickly tenting boxers.

“H-hyung, the breakfast…”Jimin protested, though he pressed closer to Jin’s hand. The older man smiled against the pale skin of his neck.

“The oven is on low. I can be quick, just keep stirring.” Jin gave his ass a slap and sunk to his knees and Jimin gasped when he felt the cool air of the kitchen hit his ass as Jin tugged his boxers down as he went.

“Turn around for me, Chim.” Jin purred and Jimin obeyed, flustered. His hands shook as he held onto the mixing bowl, his cock twitching as Jin teasingly blew along the length. He took Jimin’s cock in his hand and ran his tongue up the underside from base to tip, reveling in the full-body shiver that went through the younger sensate.

Jin made a point to watch every expression on Jimin’s face as he bobbed his head, taking a bit more each time. Jimin’s grip on the spoon and bowl tightened as he let out a shaky breath, resisting the urge to roll his hips up into the warm sensation of Jin’s mouth. The oldest used one of his hands to stroke whatever wasn’t in his mouth, pulling Jimin closer with his other hand.

“H-Hyung! Please…” Jimin whined, biting his lip when Jin rolled his tongue over his sensitive head. He made a point to sound as sloppy as he could, enjoying the way Jimin’s resolve broke. He set the bowl aside without another moment’s hesitation, one hand shakily on the back of Jin’s head.

Jin could tell he was holding back, probably afraid he would choke the older man if he thrusted up. In response, he removed his own hand from Jimin’s dick, eyes sliding closed as he took the entirety of Jimin’s cock in his mouth.

The smaller man was far from the biggest or thickest out of the seven men, but Jin still enjoyed giving him blowjobs as much as he did the others.

Mostly because Jimin was the most responsive one.

“H-Hyung, more. Oh my god…” Jimin tilted his head back, giving Jin an experimental few thrusts to make sure he didn’t catch him off-guard. Jin took it in stride, placing a hand on his thigh. They often used signals during sex to make sure they were all on the same page in case it wasn’t clear through their connection.

Jimin could feel that Jin was relaxed and eager, and the light tap on his thigh was a sign from the oldest to do what he wanted.

Fingers shaking, Jimin ran his fingers into Jin’s hair, gripping firmly as he thrusted forward, shaky mewls leaving his lips as he fucked his hyung’s mouth. Jin was painfully hard himself from the treatment and teasing as he shifted on his knees, dipping his hand into his own pajama pants to stroke his aching cock.

“W-We’re gonna wake the others if you stay so loud, Jiminie~” Jin teased as he popped his mouth off for a moment, knowing full well the other men wouldn’t be able to ignore the dual sense of arousal rolling off the two men in waves. Jin pulled his sleep pants down more so he could stroke himself more freely while Jimin blushed, his bottom lip plumper than usual from him biting it to keep his moans down.

It was a fruitless effort since they were all connected, but that made it all that much cuter, in Jin’s opinion.

“Fuuck fuck fuck I’m close. Hyung!” Jimin’s hips began to stutter, so Jin pressed hum flush against the counter, taking over by bobbing his head quicker than he was before. Jimin’s grip in his hair tightened to the point that it was borderline painful, but Jin wasn’t at all opposed to the jolt that came from the action. He stroked himself at the same pace as his head movements, his thumb smearing precum over his head as he watched Jimin unravel before him.

“G-Gonna cum gonna cum, please please please-” Jimin pulled harder, this time trying to yank Jin off before he came in his mouth, but the oldest wouldn’t budge, swallowing around Jimin’s twitching cock.

All it took was a few more bobs before Jimin came with a cry, rope after rope of cum filling Jin’s mouth. He swallowed most of it, pulling off of Jimin’s cock as he continued stroking himself, feeling his own release quickly approaching.

He glanced up, seeing Jimin stare down at him with lust-blown eyes, cheeks red and sweat rolling down his temple as he held his gaze. The older Sensate’s eyes moved to his lips as Jimin weakly called to him.

“H-Hyung…”

Jin came nearly on the spot, the milky drops landing on the dark tile of the kitchen between his knees.

They all had a soft spot for Jimin’s lips. Honestly, who wouldn’t?

Jimin blushed and moved to get paper towels as Jin tucked himself back into his pants. The older man took them as soon as he returned, refusing to let Jimin clean up the mess. Jimin pouted at him as he watched the older man clean. Jin ignored him and stood to dispose of the soiled tissues, moving to go to the sink to wash his hands.

“You came a lot. Have you been pent up, baby?” Jin teased after a moment of silence, hands soapy. Jimin blushed hard and went to swat at him when he noticed Jin still had a bit of his cum at the corner of his lips.

Blushing, he leaned up to lick it off, shying when Jin sent him a coy look.

Later, when the rest of the boys filed into the kitchen one by one, Yoongi took note of the difference in the piles of pancakes between the boys.

“Didn’t you want more food, Jin? You barely have any on your plate.” He mused.

Jin only smiled as he drank his coffee.

“I had some breakfast earlier, actually.” He chirped, and Jimin choked from across the table.

-2 Days Later, Cafe Thief’s Heart-

Jimin sighed as he brewed the next batch of coffee. There was a customer outside that had been giving him trouble for a while now, but he did his best not to let it get to him. Ji-Woo would no doubt cause a scene and both Taehyung and Jungkook were usually busy helping out somewhere else in the cafe to come to his aid.

He shook his head, slapping his cheeks. He had to focus.

There’s no way he should need the younger men to run to his aid, anyway.

He exhaled and brought the ice coffee to the man with a slice of cake, shuddering at the way the middle-aged man eyed him when he set the food down. He stood and politely bowed and went to leave when the man leaned up and sent him a flirtatious smile.

“Y’know, I think you’re pretty cute, Jimin. Maybe we could get this to go, hm?” He winked and Jimin felt physically ill. Despite that, he sent him his best customer service smile and shook his head.

“No thank you, sir. If you’d like, I could put your things in to-go containers.” He offered. The man’s face turned and he rolled his eyes.

“Think you’re too good to go out with me? Pathetic. It would be your honor to date someone with as much wealth as I have.” He grunted, clearly annoyed he had been rejected. Jimin’s brow twitched in annoyance. Though he didn’t have the most highest of paying jobs working for Ji-Woo’s cafe, but he enjoyed working with his best friend more than anything.

Plus, several of his partners had more than enough wealth that even if that was the defining factor in whether he went out with someone (it wasn’t. How shallow is that?), they had that more than covered.

“That’s too bad you feel like that. Enjoy your order, sir.” Jimin muttered through gritted teeth as he spun on his heel. He had gotten around four steps away before he heard the sound of glass breaking.

Closing his eyes and collecting himself, he turned, rage bubbling up when he saw the cake slice on the floor and the man faking a shocked expression.

“Oh no, my cake fell! Could you clean this up, Jimin? Someone could fall on this.” He informed him, taking a sip of his iced coffee. Jimin gritted his teeth and went to grab a small bag they kept in their aprons, kneeling down to pick up the large glass pieces first. The man swirled the iced coffee for a moment before he popped the cap off, looking into the cup.

“I think you should check this out too, Jim-Jim. It doesn’t taste right. You agree, right?” The man sneered, pouring the iced coffee on Jimin’s head. The small man leapt up, a startled gasp leaving his lips as the cold drink rolled down the back of his neck and down his shirt. He shook, tears sprouting up in the corners of his eyes as the other customers turned their attention to the scene.

“I told you I wanted a double shot of vanilla syrup in it. Couldn’t get that right either?” The man chuckled. Jimin clenched his fists, body shaking as he felt the fresh embarrassment roll over him.

Before anyone could see him cry, a towel fell over his head and he was pulled against a warm body. Blinking, he looked up to see Taehyung standing protectively over him while Jungkook yanked the man up by his shirt. The youngest man sent him a dangerous smile, ignoring all the complaining about harassment from the man as he began dragging him outside.

“You all see this! This is assault and harassment! I’ll ruin you!” He barked,

Ji-Woo stood at the counter, arms crossed.

“Get this trash out of my shop. I absolutely don’t condone customers treating my employees and friends like shit.”

“Don’t worry, dude. You’re free to try that slick shit with me.” Jungkook threatened as he pulled him outside. The other customers began chattering, but not a single one looked like they would call the police on them, so Jimin was relieved. Tae frowned and looked down at him.

“Hyung...you’re shaking. C’mon, lets get you out of that. Woo-Ya, Kook and I are gonna take him home when he gets changed. Is that okay?” He inquired. Ji-Woo smiled and nodded.

“It’s fine. Minjun and I can hold down the fort. It’s almost closing time anyway.” She waved them off and Tae bowed in gratitude, pulling Jimin into the back room.

“Are you alright?” He asked as he pulled the uniform shirt off. Jimin nodded, coffee still dripping from his hair. His shirt was no doubt ruined, but he couldn’t help the warm feeling of relief that filled him. He felt more appreciated each day and although he would much rather do without the altercation moments ago, he still felt his heart swell two sizes from Tae and Jungkook coming to his aid.

“Hyung, you’re spacing out.” Tae teased. Jimin blushed and both of them startled when Jungkook slammed the door to the room, storming in as he marched up to the shorter Busan native. He took Jimin’s face in his hands, checking for injuries before he made eye contact.

“I beat his ass.”

“I know. Thank you, Kook.” He cooed, pressing his cold hands on top of Jungkook’s. The maknae sent him a smile and gave him his jacket. Jimin noticed Taehyung and Jungkook kept him firmly wedged between them as they walked home.

He blushed and smiled, inhaling Jungkook’s scent.

-30 Minutes Later-

Y’know, he didn’t mean this when he said they had him wedged between them, but he wouldn’t complain.

Currently, Jimin was straddling Taehyung’s waist, both of their cocks slick with cum as they rutted against one another while Jungkook had a near bruising grip on the older man’s waist, hips slapping against Jimin’s plump ass as he rocked into him.

Shortly after he took a shower (with both of them insisting they join), the three youngest sensates stumbled into the bedroom, soaked bodies falling to the sheets. It was a flurry of hands groping at whatever they could (“We’ve got to make sure to warm you up real good, hyung”) and lips on skin (“You still taste like coffee, Jiminie. Delicious.”)

Taehyung had fucked him first, kissing the back of his neck while Jungkook stroked both his and Jimin’s cocks in unison, groaning against his lips as they kissed. He’d barely had a chance to rest before the two switched positions, with Jungkook fucking him much faster than Tae did, leaving Jimin a babbling mess as each thrust sent his cock sliding against Taehyung’s.

He leaned down to kiss him sloppily, the desperate growls leaving Jungkook’s lips behind him telling them both that he was close. The youngest leaned down, effectively sandwiching Jimin between them both.

“So pretty, hyung. You gonna cum? You wanna show Tae Tae that beautiful face when you do?” He teased, pulling Jimin’s hair so he arched up. Taehyung looked up, groaning when he saw how far gone Jimin was.

He lifted his own hips, thrusting against Jimin’s cock faster while Jungkook fucked him hard. It wasn’t much longer until all three of them came, sweat and cum running down their bodies as they collapsed on top of one another.

“Aigoo, you’re both heavy! Get off!” Tae complained half heartedly. Jungkook sent him a crooked smile and Jimin kissed his nose to appease him. They all broke out into comfortable laughter and laid together until they had enough energy to drag themselves out of bed and take another shower, making sure to change the sheets before any of their hyungs got home.

The other four came home to them cuddling in a pile together.

-3 Days Later, Genius Lab-

“Nnng….”

“Ah, you wanted to make music, Jimine. The recording won’t pick it up if you hold back.”

“T-This isn’t what I-ohh fuck yes yes-this isn’t what I meant!”

“If audio doesn’t work, we could always shoot a ‘music video’.”

Jimin was about to come up with a retort, but Hoseok picked up his pace, rolling his hips expertly as he rocked into the smaller man. Yoongi had been calmly teasing him the whole time, lazily stroking his dick from across the room as he watched the two fuck like rabbits on the couch he had in his studio.

Hmph. Voyeur.

“Hobi fuck! Right there right there yes!” He gasped, nails running down Hoseok’s back as the pyromancer hit him just right. Hoseok licked his lips and sat up, hooking his hands under the back of Jimin’s knees, holding them apart as he rocked into him.

“O-Ohh fuck fuck fuck!” Jimin threw his head back, cock leaking against his abs as his balls drew up, feeling another orgasm creeping closer.

“He’s gonna cum again, Yoongs. Look at him.” Hoseok purred affectionately, thumbs rubbing the back of Jimin’s thighs. Jimin trembled, looking over at Yoongi and whining pathetically.

“I-I want to make you feel good too, hyung. Ahh, fuck!” Jimin closed his eyes, moments away from his orgasm when it suddenly…..stopped.

He gasped in surprise, eyes flying open as Hoseok spilled inside of him again, but his own orgasm was prevented by the shadow wrapped around his cock, effectively preventing him from cumming. He panted, looking over at Yoongi as the oldest man in the room sent him a coy smile.

“H-Hyung-”

“You said you wanted to make me feel good. I would never deny my baby boy that. What kind of mean hyung do you think I am?” The DJ cooed, sending him a sly smile. Hoseok laughed tiredly, gently sliding out of Jimin. He could tell Yoongi was about to take over and he didn’t want to miss a moment.

They all loved when he got like this.

“C’mon then, Jimin. Come make me feel better, then.” Yoongi beckoned him over in a tone that told Jimin there was something more to it. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t excited. He slid off the couch, still feeling weak from the several times he and Hoseok had fucked previously. He panted, blushing as he felt mentioned man’s cum start to leak down his thighs.

Yoongi noticed and smirked, raising his hand.

A shadow shaped like a hand scooped up some of the cum, lifting it to Jimin’s lips. The barista didn’t hesitate, flicking his tongue to lick it off immediately. Yoongi’s chest rumbled in satisfaction and he propped his head up on his chin, lips quirking as he saw Jimin’s knees buckle again as he tried to continue walking.

“Maybe you should crawl. Wouldn’t want you to fall, baby.” Yoongi offered, still stroking his cock with his free hand. Jimin nodded and got on his hands and knees, biting his lip as he felt his still-restricted cock bob from the motion.

“Oh, hyung you're a real sadist.” Hoseok chuckled, eyes trained on Jimin’s ass as he made his way to Yoongi slowly. The DJ didn’t respond verbally, but the look of satisfaction on his face told them both all that they needed to know.

He really did love using his powers during sex.

Jimin was around a foot or two away from the chair Yoongi was sitting in when the older man decided he hadn’t teased him enough. He sat up, flicking the hand that wasn’t on his cock. In moments, Jimin’s knees almost failed him as he felt something slide into his slick hole.

His cheeks went red as he watched Yoongi’s hand move, the shadow fucking him hard. He groaned, forehead dropping to the floor as he let himself be taken.

“What’s wrong, Jimin? If you wanted to please me, you should be able to crawl over here still, yes? Or does it feel too good?” He taunted, spreading his fingers apart.

Jimin’s eyes nearly rolled back as he felt it expand, growing thicker than it was before. Each thrust was a deliberate, hard jab that always got so close to his spot but never went deep enough to satisfy him. The ring around his cock was a reminder that he wouldn’t be feeling any release until Yoongi was satisfied, either.

“C’mon baby. Don’t you want your Hyung’s cock?” Yoongi teased, licking his own precum off of his fingers. Jimin nodded, slowly resuming his crawling. His mewls and moans filled the soundproofed room as he god closer and closer, body shuddering as he felt oh so close to orgasm.

It took two and a half minutes before Jimin reached Yoongi, panting as he rested his head on Yoongi’s leg, rocking his ass back against the shadow still fucking him. The man had came dry at least once and Yoongi smiled down at him, petting his head.

“Good boy, Jimin. You got enough energy to ride my cock?”

“Mmmnm.”

“Words, baby.”

“Y-Yes, Yoongi.”

Satisfied, Yoongi dispelled the shadow, chuckling when he heard Jimin whine in disapproval. He kissed his cheek and picked him up, seating Jimin in his lap as he held his cock up for him.

“C’mon baby. Show me how much you want this dick.” He ordered, slapping his ass. Jimin gasped and nodded, sinking down on Yoongi’s thick dick. His eyes nearly rolled back in pleasure as he felt himself being filled again. He leaned closer to Yoongi, pressing loving kisses to his face as he let his hips rise and fall.

Yoongi kissed and bit at his neck, hands on his hips as he growled sweet nothings into his ear, the wet sound of their fucking turning Hoseok on. He noticed the irony in the situation, with him and Yoongi switching places as he now watched the older man fuck their boyfriend.

Jimin was already sensitive from several other rounds, so Yoongi didn’t tease him for too long. He could feel the man already start to float away from the sheer amount of pleasure he’d gotten that night.

Pale arms wrapped around Jimin’s body and Yoongi took over, rocking hard and fast into him as the shadow around Jimin’s cock released. The older man kept him grounded as Jimin cried out, cumming hard against Yoongi’s stomach, nearly passing out from the stimulation. Yoongi kept him tight against his chest, cumming himself once he felt Jimin’s slick walls clench around him. The strong pulse of ecstasy from Jimin pushed Hoseok into another orgasm and all of them took a minute or two to collect themselves.

Yoongi could feel Jimin crying in his arms, still not quite down from the high of sex. He cooed gently, kissing him as he picked him up. Hoseok smiled tiredly and followed him, all three of them washing off by taking a bath.

Jimin was sat between Yoongi’s legs, sleepily nuzzling his chest as Hoseok sat behind him, washing his hair. Both men kissed him periodically, telling him how much of a good job he did and he was out like a light before he even knew it.

Hoseok and Yoongi exchanged a fond smile before they carried Jimin to bed.

-3 Nights Later-

Jimin squirmed as Namjoon’s hands ran over his back. The older man had offered to give the younger man a massage, and Jimin couldn’t turn down an opportunity to spend time with him.

Plus, if this was anything like the others, he knew where this was going.

“The others really did a number on you, hm? You’ve got hickies and bruises.” Namjoon hummed, looking at the bruises over Jimin’s hips and the slight discoloration of his ass from spanking. He’d noticed the circles littering Jimin’s neck and chest when he massaged his front.

None of them would admit it, but they all had little competitions to leave as many hickies as they could and with how adamant they all were to make sure Jimin never felt excluded again, he had a few more love bites than usual.

“It wasn’t anything I didn’t like. I really appreciate everyone.” Jimin muttered, groaning in relief when Namjoon started to work a particularly tense knot out of his lower back. He hummed in delight.

“I’m glad. We really are sorry we made you feel like that. I’ve been paying extra careful attention to the links, too. I want to make sure it doesn’t happen again.” Namjoon told him, hands moving down to squeeze and knead at his ass.

Jimin blushed and bit his lip.

“I-I appreciate it.” He murmured, twitching when Namjoon pressed a kiss to his spine.

“I didn’t offer to give you a massage with the intent to fuck you, but feel free to tell me if that’s what you want.” He teased, fingers running closer to Jimin’s crack. He spread them for a moment before moving further down.

Jimin sighed shakily, feeling Namjoon’s breath on the back of his thighs. He felt bold today, so he lifted his ass, shaking slightly.

“Are you gonna deliver if it is what I want?” He inquired. Namjoon flashed him a dimpled smirk before he continued massaging the back of his thighs.

“You know I will. Just say so.”

“I want it.”

Immediately, those hands were off of his thighs and back on his ass, long fingers sliding between his cheeks to tease his asshole, chuckling when Jimin took it upon himself to spread his cheek apart, fully exposing his eager hole to the other man.

“We’ve really made you shameless, huh?” Namjoon chuckled, sliding two of his fingers into him. Jimin sighed and pressed his cheek to the pillow.

“Y-You can say that.” He murmured, his cock stirring to life as Namjoon pumped his fingers in and out, slowly scissoring them apart. Jimin didn’t need much prep since he had been so active recently, but Namjoon prefered to slowly pick his boyfriends apart before he fucked them. It was something that drove the more impatient ones mad, but they never complained seriously about his methods.

He pulled his fingers free when Jimin began rocking back, replacing them with his tongue, flicking deviously at his rim before he slid it right inside. Jimin’s fists tightened in the sheets as Namjoon’s tongue worked in and out of him. The ex-nurse raked his fingers down Jimin’s thighs lightly, humming when he felt the goosebumps rise up on his skin immediately afterwards.

Jimin’s small mewls turned into pants as minutes went by and Namjoon didn’t let up until Jimin was practically begging him to do more.

He gave his ass a playful slap as he sat up, tapping Jimin’s leg to get his attention as he unbuckled his pants.

“Turn around, baby. I want to watch your face.” He told him and Jimin blushed, hesitantly rolling onto his back. Namjoon looked down at him, his big hand wrapping around Jimin’s cock, giving him a few strokes as he lined his head up to his ass with his free hand.

“You ready?”

“Yes, Joon.” Jimin nodded, love and adoration shining in his eyes. Namjoon leaned down to kiss him, distracting him from the momentary discomfort from the initial penetration. Jimin gasped against his lips and Namjoon slid his tongue into his mouth, kissing him deeper.

Jimin realized Namjoon was letting him set the pace of the kiss as he slowly rocked into him and he teasingly nibbled his bottom lip, wrapping his arms around the older man’s neck. Namjoon chuckled arily and responded with a deep thrust before returning to his sensual pace.

When he broke the kiss, Jimin was panting. Namjoon kissed at his throat, and he waited for the familiar sting of a bite or nibble, but was instead met with more kisses as Namjoon made his way down until he flicked his tongue over one of his nipples. Jimin shuddered and Namjoon chuckled against the hardened bud, rolling the other one between his fingers as he relished every small gasp and moan that tumbled out of the smaller man.

“J-Joonie...Ahh please faster.”

Ah, there was the begging.

Namjoon would normally tease him for much longer, but instead, he pushed both of Jimin’s hands above his head, pinning them there as he increased his pace dramatically. The barista cried out in delight, arching his back as Namjoon fucked him. There were lips against his face, his cheeks, and even his chest and Jimin could feel he wouldn’t last as long as usual if this kept up this way.

“Look at you, baby, You’re so handsome when you fall apart for me. Look at me,” Namjoon nudged him, rolling his hips so the tip of his cock brushed against Jimin’s sweet spot with each thrust. Moaning louder and struggling to focus, Jimin looked up, finding Namjoon staring lovingly at him. The others were around him on the bed and in his lust-hazed mind, he couldn’t tell if they were actually there or visiting him through their connection.

“We love you baby. Don’t forget that.”

It didn’t matter which one said it. It could’ve been one of them, or all of them, but Jimin just closed his eyes. His voice cracked as he cried out, cumming with Namjoon. He felt the aftershocks of sex and trembled, pressing close to Namjoon when the larger man hugged him.

He rocked Jimin, kissing his head as he reached into their bedside table. They always kept tissues and wipes there for obvious reasons. Jimin shivered when Namjoon wiped the cum off his stomach and the cum from between his legs, smiling tiredly at their leader after he tossed it in the bedside trash can.

Namjoon pulled him in close, tucking Jimin’s head under his chin. Jimin happily hugged him back, the sound of Namjoon’s heartbeat being comforting. Namjoon rubbed soothing circles against his back, kissing the top of his head as he started to drift off.

“I love you guys.” Jimin murmured sleepily, eyes heavy. Namjoon chuckle and closed his eyes.

“And we love you, Jimin.” Namjoon responded, and the strong pulse of love and contentedness was something they all felt through their connections.

[circlejourney]

Pokemon Sword/Shield headcanon dump

Surprise I have a lot of geographical/public transit headcanons. Good mind to write a story that centres around it tbh.

Galar is probably not big, from the fact that flying by Corviknight from Hammerlocke to Postwick is negligible enough that it kinda just cuts from one to the other in the game. I imagine it’s still quite a bit of time, like 2 hours perhaps.

The reason people don’t just take the flying taxi all the time is that it’s expensive compared to the trains.

Also, based on Twilight Wings, you can get from to Postwick to Turffield in an afternoon (I assume there’s a train ride involved) so it’s probably a 6-hour ride from north to south at the most. It’s not a long trip but it’s enough that no one wants to take it daily.

I do think there’s one train line serving Hammerlocke to Wyndon specifically, it passes through the mountain range and I imagine it’s maybe a 2 hour ride. And a different one runs from Hammerlocke to Wedgehurst through Motostoke, this one’s more like 4 hours. There’s a third line from Wedgehurst to the Wild Area meetup spot, this one’s 1 hour at the most.

Player character and co:

My Victor's signature Pokemon is Vikavolt just because of the name. But he also has an Arcanine, and he probably picked Sobble.

My Gloria’s signature Pokemon is usually Coalossal, I dunno I just like Coalossal and think it fits her. She also usually has a Roselia/Roserade because it’s fun for the visuals. Normally I have her pick Sobble, but the AU where she and Victor are twins, she picks Scorbunny.

(Hop usually picks Scorbunny, but in the twin AU, he gets Grookey. I like the direction of the type advantages, and also Victor with Sobble.)

My Victor is reserved and very no-nonsense while Gloria is a bit of a goof, but determined when it comes to it. That way the trio has a nice balance of personalities

Victor and/or Gloria probably moved to Postwick when they were kids, maybe 6 years old, which is why they’ve never met Leon. Where they moved from is anyone’s guess, but I tend to imagine it’s a city off the map that’s closer to the north, or even an unnamed neighbouring region.

Victor also wins the champion cup but idm stories where Gloria does, I see them as equals in battle prowess. My HC Victor has his head firmly on his shoulders and would have the most humility when he wins. I like the idea that Victor is a  strategist while Gloria relies on high speed/attack

Rivals:

Hardcore supporter of Sonia and Hop having a big sister/little brother relationship. Sonia is just “smh” at Leon never being around, because she has always wanted a younger sibling so how is it he can stand to never visit his bro. She takes up that role more and more over time, especially after Hop becomes her assistant. They are both loquacious and lack a filter so they end up telling each other about every last problem on top of complaining about work. They also have no qualms voicing annoyance at each other.

Marnie sees through bullshit, kind of like my HC Victor does, but she also has no qualms being firm about telling people off, unlike Victor. All of them keep Marnie’s contact number on hand and probably hang out with her when they need a good talk about something serious or if they need defending against a bully (like Bede).

I especially like to imagine Hop and Marnie are great friends. Hop trusts Marnie enough to vent to her, and Marnie finding him a breath of fresh air and hangs out when she’s sick of gym leader responsibilities. I imagine she had a hand in snapping him out of his insecurities about living up to Leon, she’s like “look he probably doesn’t want to be put on a pedestal” because she Knows. They complain about their brothers.

Speaking of which, Leon and Piers are just complete embarrassments to their younger siblings. Marnie and Hop probably hang out whenever the two are on live TV just to mock everything they do onscreen.

Bede is still a bit nasty after becoming a gym leader, like he’s not as bad but he doesn’t completely reform. He is absolutely a drama starter, he doesn’t even have to try, and half of Galar kinda lives for it even though it’s unpleasant at times.

Bede gets the ratings on any TV programme way up, so he’s constantly appearing on TV. And in the news. He just rides around Galar on his sparkly Rapidash like some fancy bastard and all the people who love glam assholes are falling over their feet for his autograph.

I HC both Leon and Hop as having ADHD. Especially Leon because of his vibe of being extremely competent in somethings but completely hopeless at others (relatable). Plus they’re always running off ahead of everyone else, they get super focused on things, Leon always loses his way, Hop is always barging in without thinking, etc.

Ever since I found out about them, I like the idea of Leon and Hop’s middle names being their French names, Tarak and Nabil.

Gym leaders:

I like to imagine that the gym leaders sometimes drop by each other’s and bring food from their town. The Corviknight taxis make it possible to do that without food getting cold.

Piers relies on people (especially Marnie) bringing him food or else he just. doesn’t eat. He’s probably passed out from not eating. (this is also relatable)

They probably also just hang out a whole lot. I like to imagine being a gym leader is a 4 day work week at worst, it’s good money and they get hella free time during the off-season. So that means all those “AUs” where they all just hang out and do silly shit together are totally valid and canon in my HC.

On that note I imagine that Sonia and Nessa have weekly lunch dates. They absolutely vent and shittalk people during those, like we see in Twilight Wings. Every week it’s like “hey so what’s happened since the last time we talked” and there’s always a whole new story because being a gym leader is so much drama.

Speaking of drama, there is absolutely drama among Piers, Raihan, Nessa, Gordie and Leon, and it gets 10x worse when Bede becomes a leader. The others stay out of it, lol.

No one can get any shit by Opal. She’s clearly very perceptive but she is also immune to people’s attempts to faze her. She probably saw the Darkest Day and was like “oh ha no big deal I’ve seen worse“

[publishinggoblin]

How to Run a Kickstarter pt 6

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

Yesterday I covered the final steps you have to take on their website before you can submit your project to be ready for launch. So today... we do it.

                            LAUNCHING YOUR PROJECT

Make Sure People Know: By now, you should have been sharing the project preview link around a bunch. You can see on the project preview page itself how many people have actually hit the “Notify me on Launch” button. Note that while that number might even look big-- big enough to fund you day one-- it is tricky.

It’s not that people are liars. It’s not that they actually hate the project. It’s just that hitting a button that says “notify me” is so much less of a commitment than actually going and pledging your money. It’s like when people say “Oh my gosh this design is awesome, if it was on a shirt I’d buy it!” It’s a throwaway motion of support, meant to make you feel good and loved and seen. It’s almost always done with love. That being said, you will probably have a 20-30% conversion rate of people ACTUALLY backing it from that notify number. Don’t be discouraged. This is normal.

Pick a Good Time: Do not launch at 1 AM. Do not launch at 11 PM. Consider your time zones a bit if you think most of your backers will be international, but otherwise try for sometime in the late morning or around noon. People are active on the internet during lunch time, and shortly after work, around 5 or 6pm. Also consider the date while you’re doing it. A Kickstarter around Christmas sounds nice, but then you consider that you won’t actually get the item to them until AFTER Christmas, and it doesn’t sound as nice of a time. Last I looked, October is one of the best months, but otherwise you should feel free to launch almost whenever. I’d just avoid November/December/January, personally.

When You Launch, POST EVERYWHERE: Have a twitter? A tumblr? A facebook? A reddit? Post on your own wall, make a tweet, tumble a tumbl, then find communities on reddit, on facebook, groups on pillowfort, all your discords-- wherever you are. Make sure everyone you have any connection to knows you launched.

Then do it again. You should be doing it around noon, around 5/6pm, and again in the morning the next day. Rinse and repeat. Some people might see the multiple posts and be annoyed, but most people won’t see any, or will just happen upon one of them. You’re less annoying than you think.

This is different for groups, circles, or reddits you are not a regularly active member of, or who have rules of any kind. BE MINDFUL! If you break their rules spam posting, you will lose that avenue entirely for sharing your post in.

                   AFTER LAUNCHING YOUR PROJECT

Your Work Has Just Begun: Reach out to online blogs, websites, review places for your product type, and begin pitching your project to them immediately. If they can do a story with a link to your campaign, perfect. For most of the bigger ones, this is actually something to do BEFORE launching, as they have a backlog of articles. Try to line it up to match your launch if you can, and make sure they have your project preview link, as that will go to your project once it’s live.

Day 1 is the most important. As noted before, it creates the standard for how visible your project will be on their site, since their algorithm cares about unique backer count per day. So the more people you get day 1, the more visible you are day 2, and the more likely you get more people just perusing which feeds into the cycle. Make day 1 count. Be active. Post a lot.

You will want to post once a day or so on your various social media about the state of your campaign, how much money you are away from the goal (or how many backers, ie “We need just 10 more people to make our goal, are you one of those 10?”), or from the next stretch goal.

Then there’s all the management to do.

Following the Numbers: Do not watch a pot. It won’t boil. But do feel free to check in from time to time to see how the pot is doing. Basically? Check in hourly on the first day to see how the money/backer count is going. After that, you can check a few times a day, but don’t make it overly habitual. You will burn out and begin to over worry. 

Cancellations: You will have people pledge, only to later cancel, sometimes the same day! Unless you get a ton of them all at once, you didn’t do anything wrong. It always happens. People realize they want that money for something else, won’t have that money when they need it, or just couldn’t afford it in the first place. It’s okay, don’t take it personally. 

Post Updates: I prefer to post one update at the end of the first 24 hours, when we meet the base funding goal (and each stretch goal), and otherwise once a week. Some campaigns update each day. This is up to you, but make sure you are posting some. If you post none, it looks like a dead campaign with no one watching it. Do be mindful that each one you post sends an email out to backers, so don’t spam, and avoid doing multiple a day if you can help it. 

If you are getting lots of questions in comments or direct messages, answer them in updates as well as replying to those comments and messages.

Comments and Messages: Kill them with kindness. Some people say shitty things, and you need to just smile through it. Mostly you’ll get compliments in comments. Reply to them! Show them you are engaged. Same with messages.

Note that you will get lots of messages from people claiming their can boost your numbers if you sign up with them. Report it for spam and never, ever reply. They have basically all been shown to be scams. 

The Lull: After the first few days, or the first week, the campaign tends to stagnate a bit. You keep getting more people or money, but way less than before. This is normal. It will pick up again near the end. You can afford to be a little more lax in posting about it at this period to give people a cool down from your constant marketing. 

Keep it Fresh: If you have stretch goals, now is the time to really bust them out and show what they are. Change your marketing to be about what else can be unlocked. If your campaign is struggling to hit its mark halfway through, now is the time to include an extra incentive or two. Find things that are price-negligible or free to include-- such as your signature on every copy, a PDF for everyone of something else you made, or an extra digital copy. 

That Final Week: If the first few days are the most important, the final few are equally so. You will often see almost as many people or as much money, as you begin to ramp up your promotion again and as people who favorited the project will get notifications in the final 48 hours by email that the project is nearly ended, and now is the time to back.

It’s okay to become annoying during this time. Post a ton. It’s almost over, so people won’t have to live through it for too long.

Then it ends. If you were successful, congratulations! If you weren’t-- that’s okay! Take a look at the numbers, what happened? Was it a lackluster first day? Then next time, you need to capture more people’s attention before launch. Build up a following, and try again later.

If you realize you set the goal too high? You can always relaunch with a lower goal that’s more attainable, and let people from this campaign know.

In either case, ABSOLUTELY POST AN UPDATE WHEN IT ENDS.

Tomorrow, we talk about what to do AFTER the Kickstarter ends.

[bi-lullaby]

No one asked

And I should be studying, but here are some thoughts for season 16 so far:

(SPOILER WARNING, OBVIOUSLY)

1 - Merluca and it’s parts: COUPLES FIGHT STOP PREDICTING THE WORST OK. They’ve been completely adorable so far, but this is what someone said in a interview: “This is the after in happy ever after” (or something to that effect). They’re gonna fight and them they’re gonna make up, I hope. As for their fight: They were both in the right imo. Yes, Meredith is being inconsequent and it must be so frustrating for Deluca to A)Have her continue risking her career and license and freedom when he went to such lengths to help that, B) Be crapped on constantly bc of something your girlfriend did. Yes, Meredith is completely right in fighting the system that is so throughtly broken, and yes, coming to apologize to her mentor and longtime friend was completely the right thing to do. I wanna see merluca wedding and marriage! Maybe (since there are two pregnant people in this season already?) next season will be Mer and Jo? One can dream! For them individually: Poor Mer, she has bitten more than she can chew but she is ready to take on this fight! Imma love to see her as auntie mer! I mis merjolex so much tho, I know she’s been busy and all but they seem to forget she is a important part in their support system. Andrew has been all over the place. I love his confidence, but in the ep where he literally screamed at Bailey over her trying to teach an intern? And called her out bc she was using a different material than Mer? I was a bit off-thrown. But he’s still a great character I enjoy watching. Hope they find the balance between confidence and arrogance for him, and develop him even more!

2 - Amelink: AAAAAA. They’re so amazing and perfect and sweet and I wanna hug them both. Link is everything you could wish for, Amy is adorable as ever. If they lay a finger on either them as a couple, them as individuals, or their baby, imma kick some asses. I don’t think they will tho, Amy is been through SO MUCH already and she deserves a breath.

3 - Bailey: OMG SHE IS PREGNANT AAAAAAAA. I’m so happy! Ben is already a great dad, this will be so fun to watch! Hope they don’t put her through the ringer with a difficult pregnancy or a sick child, she does not deserve this! She already nearly lost her first child while giving birth in a bomb-y hospital while her husband had brain surgery NEXT to the bomb. Enough pregnancy drama for a lifetime. As for her actions: I’ve said before: I’m pissed, yes. She’s acting way too harsh and taking it out on people and more importantly (as I’ve touched on in my female grey’s characters ranking post) she’s out of character. Where is the Bailey that went around the hospital runnning after the attendings and kicking their asses into signing her proposal for a free clinic? And gave them a speech on how they had failed her and she needed something to believe in in medicine? She was one of the first characters to point out how broken the system was, to take direct action to try and fix it. Sure, she likes to try and work within the rules as much as possible, much she is not adverse to breaking a few of them if she thinks it’s necessary (hello deactivated HIV inside a young boy’s body without parental consent! Hello changing the date on a surgery which is also insurance fraud!)! If she thinks it’ll save a life! But also, she’s not completely wrong: Meredith did commit a crime, as good as her intentions were; As her boss, firing her was the only logical decision. She thought her hospital (which she dedicated a good half of her life to) was being attacked by someone she trained into the surgeon she is, ofc she’d be mad as all hell. Quadri was disrespectful, not doing her job well, actively getting in the way of her superior doing her job, screaming at her boss in the middle of the hallway about how she didn’t want to work there - firing her was a tad extreme (specially for a charact who has never, herself, had any qualms ahout mouthing off to her own superiors when she didn’t think something was right) but not completely out of nowhere. I hate hate hate how they’ll probs throw a “oh she was being crazy bc pregnancy hormones!” line after seeing how her actions have been badly perceived by people (like there isn’t enough a stereotype that women can’t have positions of power because hormones make them crazy) instead of “hey this character was put in extremely uncomfortable and tough positiona after extremely uncomfortable and tough positions and came off as harsher than necessary while trying to balance a world-class hospital crisis”. Ugh.

4 - Jackson: Ok so the last few eps have rekindled my love for him and I’m relieved! There’s the good, kind, funny and smart guy I like! I was mad bc of the whole Jaggie drama, but hey, shit happens! If they will be better apart, then I’m happy! (Ok 50% of this is because of what he said to levi! Stanning Meredith Grey + dorky Harry Potter reference? Yes!!!!). I hope this season will be kind on him, that he and Vicky work out well (from what I gathered about it, she has also been through a lot) and that we see more Harriet!

5 - Maggie: Baby girl. I love that they’re consistent that she has a jealous streak but is also a very good person who is always trying her best. Plus, official womb secret bearer is the best title omg! Maybe she should change from cardio to obgyn, lol! Plus, the sisters are everything to me! She instantaneous knew Amy was mad! She stood up for Mer! Aaaaa I love them!!!! Hope this show ends with all three of them happy and loved and badass as always!

6 - Others: Tom has been an.... Interesting piece. I love him, but his antics are almost caricature-esque now and it’s getting on my nerves. He was detestable in exploitating that family’s pain but also, the hospital did need a pr boost or it’d be in even hotter waters! The restraining order on Owen was a tad much bc it got in the way of patient care, but also he did get electrocuted in a very sensitive area by someone who had just gotten together with his ex - I’d be a little suspicious that it was 100% unintentional tbh. He’s power drunk and needs to be turned down a notch. Schmit and Nico and adorkable as always and I loved Nico’s speech about demanding more of himself - That’s one of the biggest traps of low self-steem and Imm glad it’s mentioned. I’ll miss Quadri. Helm being a MeredithGrey stan first and person second is still me lol. I loved how this last ep showed how much of a family they are - all the connections and shared pasts and references to relationships and what not. The “bird” storyline was so cute! Pac North seems so promissing and I’ll cry ugly tears when my baby Alex turns that ish around and shows everyone who’s boss!!!! The whole “the world is broken” theme of the season is my jam! Sadly, irl that handful of people are not gonna turn it around, but I want to see it happen on my screen! The medical system being fixed! As a future doctor (I promissed myself I’d not be the person who brings it up in every opportunity but lol here I am) it’d make me so happy! Against my better judgment, I’m liking Towen! They are trying, they’re really trying! Owen has done nothing wrong so far (besides offering to milk teddy which was just dumb, not malicious) and has been great at stepping down from his job so she could work! And him at Pac North will be great tbh - as much as I didlike him, he is an excellent doctor and strategist and he was a great chief at GS (until the last bit which was just gross negligence). From the promo for next ep: I don’t think they’ll make Webber cheat again. It’d be predictable and cheap and I’d be so mad that we’d have another round of acting like he’s a saint with a tiny issue of being a cheater. What I theorize is: He’ll have lunch with his friend, and either A) She’ll be friendly at the wrong time and Catherine will walk in and then think he’s cheating and it’ll be a mess, or B) Gemma is gonna try to get him back to drinking (Or maybe C) She was telling him to stop being bullheaded and fighting with his wife when life is so short). Cristina reference in the text omg, my heart!

Sorry for the long rant!

[incognitofujoshi]

I Think I’ve Always Cared for You Ch. 9

Everyone stood in line at the Lunch Rush Cafe. Though it was a negligible wait, Izuku enjoyed lounging against the wall between Shoto and Iida. They were debating something about Home Economics, but Izuku just thought it was cute that Shoto wanted to learn more recipes. ‘He looked so cool cooking!’ 

“What do you think we’ll make today?”, Izuku finally joined in.

“I’m not sure. We have not moved onto the stove yet, so I am eager to learn that.” Iida moved his hands to show a box shape, representing the oven-stove top. “Shoto?”

Shoto brought his hand to his jaw, thoughtfully. “I’d like to learn -“, he began to reply.

“YOOOOOOO. TODOROKI SAN, WE NEED TO HAVE A TALK, DUDE. PLEASE GET YOUR LUNCH AND MEET ME IN THE TEACHER’S OFFICE.” Present Mic waved, and hollered to him from the front of the line. He finger gunned, with a large spread smile, and walked backwards a few steps, before he bounced back around, then took off. 

Shoto’s eyes were wide, and the blood drained from his face. His palms ran cold, but his chest was hot with embarrassment. ‘What happened?’, was his first thought. He scanned his friend’s faces, that ranged from confused to embarrassed for him, before his gaze fell on Izuku. ‘I don’t think we’ve shown any PDA.’ 

Shoto’s eyes said it all: Unease. Izuku had thought he’d looked eerily calm, until they made eye contact. He looked to Izuku, as if he was the one thing that brought him comfort. “Next.” Lunch-Rush called their group up, and they hurriedly gathered the food they wanted. Shoto dragged his feet and let their friends go ahead of him. Izuku waited for him, worriedly, until he was through the line. 

“You should enjoy your lunch Midoriya. Don’t worry about me.”

“I can’t promise that.” Izuku looked down at his tray. “I hope I can see you before lunch is over… but if not, I’ll be waiting for you in Home Ec.” He brought a small grin up, to cheer Shoto on.

“I’d like that.” Shoto closed his eyes tenderly, for a moment, in a way that resembled a smile; it was the closest he’d usually permit himself in public. He then lifted one side of his mouth up, to smile boldly for Izuku. He deserved special treatment from his boyfriend. With that, he bowed respectfully and left to meet Present Mic. 

The hallways were empty, as Shoto made his way upstairs and past their homeroom. The only door with a light on was the teacher’s office. He knocked. 

“YOOOOOOO! COME IN!”

Hesitantly, Shoto walked through, and turned to close the door behind him.

“HAVE A SEAT! Feel free to eat your lunch” Present Mic pointed to the seat in front of his desk. His voice sounded excited, but as he took his glasses off, he really just looked tired. Shoto complied, before Mic started again, “DO YOU KNOW WHY I CALLED YOU IN HERE TODOROKI SAN?” 

“I do not, Yamada Sensei.” He took a bite from his food.

“ERASER HEAD’S WITH YOUR CLASSMATES KIRISHIMA SAN, AND BAKUGO SAN, so he asked me to talk to you…YOU WENT OUTSIDE PAST CURFEW, YO!”

Shoto had, almost, completely forgotten about that. He swallowed a bite, hard. While they let running between dorms slide, they were very strict about going outside, after hours. He began to twist his jacket hem between his fingers. ‘Honesty is the best policy…’ he tried to build himself up. “I did.” He looked up to Present Mic’s eyes, for his admission. 

“WHY’D YOU DO IT, SEITO?!”, Mic earnestly looked like he wanted a reason to defend him. 

“I don’t have a good reason.” Shoto clenched his fingers around the fabric of his pants, and looked down, upset with his actions. “What I did was selfish. I was morose. I calm myself down with walks, and it was the first thing I thought of. I apologize for my going. Any punishment you assign me, is deserved.”

Mic nodded his head, in understanding. “Eraser Head is going to assign you each extra training for four days this week. Only under the promise that it won’t happen again.” He rubbed the back of his neck, obviously unsure what to say after delivering the bad news. Shoto ate some more, during the lull of conversation. “You know, if you’re going through something, you can talk to any of us. We all get upset sometimes, and even if we can’t fix it, we can give you advice.” His voice was lowered and was, surprisingly, caring. “Do you want to talk about it?”

 Shoto looked up. “Thank You.” He sighed, tempted to share his past woes, before he wistfully looked to the corner of the office. There were only a few bites left of his lunch left. “I took care of it. I won’t be an issue again.”

Yamada Sensei seemed to think about something for a moment, before he smiled and slid his glasses back on. “OKAY!”, he enunciated in english. “YOU GO ENJOY THE REST OF YOUR LUNCH. DON’T FORGET TO BE IN THE GYM AFTER YOUR LAST CLASS, TODAY!” 

Both of them stood up, and bowed respectfully. Shoto booked it, picking at his crumbs of food left, on the way back to the cafeteria. He texted the “DekuSquad” chat, ‘Did you go outside?’ 

Within a few seconds, he got a response from Izuku, ‘No. We’re inside (^_^)’. Uraraka texted, ‘We couldn’t go outside without you!’. Asui chimed in, ‘We’re by the main stairs. *Kero*’ He didn’t expect a text from Iida, because he left his cellphone in his bag while he ate.

On the turn before the stairwell, Todoroki saw Kirishima heading towards him. “Hey!” Kiri rubbed his head, and put one hand on his hip. “So I guess we’ll all be seeing each other a lot this week.” His hands dropped to meet in front of him. “Aizawa Sensei said Mic talked to you, but he asked me to come and get you for something else, real quick. Sorry… We just walked with him back to the teacher’s lounge, so he’ll be there.” Kirishima hadn’t looked Shoto in the eyes at all. His mind was elsewhere. 

 “Oh. Ok. Thank You Kirishima.” He bowed and began to walk back, then abruptly stopped. Shoto turned his head over his shoulder. “I look forward to seeing you and Bakugo”, he admitted, then continued back to the office.

Upon arriving, the door was wide open. He could hear Aizawa Sensei and Yamada Sensei talking about young love, and then Yamada Sensei giggling the loudest he’d ever heard. ‘Please be talking about Kirishima and Bakugo’, Shoto prayed. He knocked three times against the frame.

“Come in Todoroki San.” Aizawa Sensei waved him in. 

“WELCOME BACK, DAWG!”, Present Mic greeted him too loudly, and threw down a peace sign. 

“Thank You.” Shoto sat in front of Present Mic’s desk again.

“Let’s get straight to the matter at hand: I’ve learned that you’re in a romantic relationship.”, his homeroom teacher made sure not to name any name’s, for privacy’s sake, “While much gossip in the class is up for debate, I’ve seen you both becoming closer over the past few days.” 

He put on the most straight face he could muster, and responded evenly, “Yes.”

Aizawa Sensei nodded at the verification. “We don’t want to hinder your relationship in any way; we just wanted to remind you that school needs to be your top priority.” He picked a paper up, off of Yamada Sensei’s desk, and read through it. He paraphrased, “Prophylactics are at the clinic, and there’s to be no romantic contact outside of the dorms.” He scratched at his stubble. “I know Mic told you about curfew already, as well. Do you have any questions?”  

With a negatory shake from Shoto, the ever tired teacher gave him a pamphlet on Sex. All different kinds of sex. Shoto shoved the accursed object into his bag as hastily as possible. 

“LUNCH’S ALMOST OVER. DID YOU GET TO FINISH EATING?”, Present Mic inquired. 

“Yes.” Shoto was too embarrassed to look from his bag. 

After a long, awkward pause, Eraser continued,“We’ll take your tray. While there’s some time, would you mind running this to Midoriya San? You’ll still have time to make it to class.” he asked of him, unapologetically. Shoto bowed before he left.

With great chagrin, the hot and cold hero speed-walked through the halls, and ran down the stairwell, two steps at a time. Turning into the cafeteria, he crashed into Jiro and Yaoyorozu, knocking over their books and bags. “Shit. I’m very sorry.”

Jiro quirked up an eyebrow in surprise, mouth agape. Yaoyorozu gasped, “Todoroki Kun, is everything alright? I don’t believe I’ve ever heard you swear.” The girls had fallen softly on their knees. Jiro got up, before Todoroki could, and held out her hand, to help up her best friend.

Shoto had landed flat on his back. He tried to push back any flustered feelings, as he moved to his feet. Heated blush crept through his purposeful layer of ice, on his face. “Yes. I just talked with Aizawa Sensei…and I must run an errand before class.”, he explained. Shoto shot up, and grabbed his belongings quickly. Yaoyorozu felt clever, automatically understanding his true intentions. He wanted to see Midoriya before class. 

Knowing him and Yaoyorozu were close friends, Jiro wanted to make sure she was on Shoto’s good side. “Did you get to eat?”

“Yes. Thank You.” Some frustration was evident by his sharp, quick reply. Shoto looked down, and was ashamed by his tone. Guilt quelled his voice to a regretful, slower pace. “I apologize for my haste; Did I hurt either of you?.”

“Nope.” Jiro smiled.

Sensing his discomfort and eagerness to leave, Yaoyorozu bowed. “Thank you for the apology. We are perfectly fine.” She waved, then smirked and tilted her head charmingly. “We’ll see you and Midoriya Kun in class.” Jiro bowed her head as well, before being led away by Yaoyorozu.

Footsteps came up behind Shoto. He didn’t have a moment of downtime. “Todoroki Kun, are you alright?” Izuku grabbed his jacket sleeve, to get his attention.

“I am now.”, he whispered, just for Izuku.

“What happened?” His worry was clearly expressed.

“I think it’s better if I tell you later.” Shoto ran his free hand through his hair. As the words escaped his lips, he remembered his punishment. “Actually, it will have to be later this evening. I have extra training after class, for the next four days.” He looked over Izuku’s head, frustrated. 

“Oh. Are you in trouble for something?” Izuku wasn’t sure what was going on, but he wanted to be in the know.

“I… I was asked to give you this note.”, he remembered. Shoto reached for his bag, and noticed a guitar charm on it. In fact, it didn’t look like his bag at all. “Oh no.” 

Izuku could almost see the spirit leaving Shoto’s body. “What note? Is it bad?”

“Aizawa Sensei wants to see you.”, was barely heard. Shoto began to run back the way he had come. He didn’t care that running wasn’t allowed.

“Where are you going?” Izuku began to chase after him. 

“Jiro Chan has my bag!”

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Author’s Note: Feel free to re-blog if you like it : ) Just don’t steal, please.