#she's part fire type so she can help roast them

[firedragon1321]

She has only ever given me Snowy Pinecones. They must fascinate her.

I don't mind. I think it's cute.

[loosescrewslefty]

Hello! I want to write some fanfiction, but I want your help. How would you describe Raine's personality?

Raine strikes me as a character who knows themselves, and is comfortable in their own skin. Going through the motions of performing for others because it's demanded of them annoys and irritates them, because they don't care for attention, glory, or popularity. They aren't shy-- when something interests them, they usually are quite bold about pursuing it-- but they don't have the social spoons to play nice with people who don't interest them. They're an introvert, but not the shrinking wallflower variant that everyone assumes an introvert is and more of the person who gets begrudgingly dragged to a party by their more social friends and spends the night lurking in a dark corner with one eye on the clock counting down the seconds until this crap is over and they can go home to decompress. Their social circle is VERY small, VERY exclusive, and extremely dear to them since it's hard to find people who are tolerable for long periods of time, let alone actually LIKABLE.

I like imagine that Raine has developed two different 'faces' so to speak. The public 'face' for work, where they are a brilliant, polite, but slightly distant professional who gets things done as quickly and efficiently as possible (so they can retreat to a private space and decompress as quickly as they possibly can) and a private 'face' that only those close to them get to see, where they are goofier, cockier, and much freer with their opinions and views than they normally are. Raine also can sometimes rub people the wrong way because they don't play the Modesty Game. They know what they are good at and how to play to their strengths, and isn't afraid to be honest about that. This annoys a lot of people because rules of social engagement dictates that you have to humble yourself, because if you don’t that means you're stuck up or full of yourself and arrogance is seen as a bad trait when combined with talent. Raine isn't interested in wasting their time playing that game. They can go through the motions, to get through all the annoying parts as quickly and painlessly as possible, but they only do as much as they have to, and they are internally ROASTING everyone around them the entire time.

This is part of the reason they clicked so well with Eda so quickly. Eda is very much the same in this regard, which makes conversing with her much more enjoyable because Raine doesn't have to waste their energy trying to figure out what Eda ACTUALLY means or how she really feels, because Eda wears it all on her sleeve (until the curse came in and muddled the waters, at any rate).

Raine has a very strong sense of justice and is extremely firm on their moral compass. They don't care about the written word of Law. They judge right and wrong for themselves on a case-by-case basis, taking into account all the grey areas involved, and they do not stand by idly if something isn't fair. They are every bit as feral as Eda in this regard, but are a little better at keeping their cards close to their vest. They can actually PLAY the game, rather than immediately jumping across the table, punching their opponent in the face, then grabbing the entire pot and running out the door like someone set their hair on fire.

(They CAN do it that way. And, admittedly, it's more fun when they do get to let loose like that, but they're able to weigh the risks against the rewards and bide their time waiting for the right moment to act.)

On a personal level, I actually like considering the idea that Raine has the same type of Magical Neurodivergence we see in characters like Willow, Gus, and Alador. Magically, they are hyperfocused on a very specific field of study, excelling at that magic to the point of being considered prodigious. Socially, they are a little left of the crowd. They can be polite if the need calls for it, but for the most part they prefer to keep to a small social circle and are very choosey about who gets to be in that circle. Because of this, it wouldn't surprise me at all to find that Raine also has the ability to make their eyes glow.

A lot of this is part speculation, part projection, and part observation by watching Raine's behavior and interactions with others, which is sadly quite limited. If you are looking to write their character in a more in depth level, I fully encourage you to go back and map out their place in your story by writing out what you know to be important to them, where you can see them struggling, what their goals are, and why they are motivated to reach those goals. Having those points are usually a good place to start writing from, and once you move forward with your work, a lot of time you find yourself learning who they are as a character is while you work with them.

[writerkatsblog]

How do each of the monks (plus Jack I guess?) like to roast their marshmallows? All I can guess is that Kimiko would definitely be the type to just purposely set it on fire for the crispy burnt outside and gooey liquified inside.

Clay is probably the best of the monks at cooking marshmallows over an open fire. Eating them with his dad on late night camp-outs, and double practice making them for Jesse if she had a habit of burning or dropping them in the fire. So he makes them lightly toasted and plenty gooey inside.

Though honestly all the rest of the Dragons might have mixed results in making them since as far as I'm aware s'mores are mostly an American thing and not super common in other countries. But they'd make good attempts at it if Clay explained the process to them.

Kimiko I actually imagine to be the second best after Clay. As long as no one disrupts her concentration she'd probably do a very decent job at it.

Raimundo I imagine is probably more likely to burn his on account of getting impatient and too proud to ask for help in cooking them better. So he's eating them barely melted inside with a charcoal crisp outer part.

Omi honestly might just be eating his marshmallows raw without any attempts at cooking them. He just thinks they're tasty.

For Jack, he'd probably not be cooking them himself and either have a Jackbot do it for him or have one with an oven installed or something so he could just toss the stuff in there and have it cooked for him.

[nootqueen404]

Eddie Munson HC: Having a Chronically Ill Partner

Yes this is purely self-indulgent, leave me be okay?! Bare in mind that much of this is based on my own experience as someone with multiple chronic illnesses. I have Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome, Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, Chronic Anemia, Small Fiber Neuropathy, and Pre-Load Failure.

Even though you knew Eddie was the non-judgmental type, you were still scares to tell him about being disabled. Obviously he wasn't phased.

But on the inside all he can think about is “what can I do? What can I do to help y/n? How can I make their life easier? How can I let them know how much I love them?”

Eddie is best friends with Dustin, so he has a little experience with medical stuff. Part of the reason they are friends is because Jason Carver tripped the freshman on his first day and Eddie seriously though Dustin broke something. Eddie wound up in detention for fighting, but he still snuck out to check on Dustin and leaned about his CCD. The rest is history.

But yeah, Eddie tried to ask Dustin for advice. Dustin just acts like a smart ass and roasts him for assuming he knows anything because you and him are disabled and "must know each other." Eddie panicked and apologized profusely (we know how much he HATES confrontation,) but after he realized they Dustin was fucking with him Ed gives him a massive wedgie.

The internet didn't exist yet, so research is hard to come by. So Eddie does the next best thing - ask his Uncle Wayne for advice (he just reminds his nephew that the library is a thing.)

He probably asks Nancy too because "Hey she's pretty smart." She does help a lot actually, mostly by being the voice of reason and encouraging Eddie to learn from you.

Eddie asks A LOT of questions at first, enough to where he learns about one of the most common symptoms - brainfog and cognitive fatigue. Now he just asks the doctors you see.

Speaking of doctors he acts as your personal chauffeur to all of your appointments, even if you have a drivers license and a car. He knows you're more than capable of driving yourself, he just doesn't want you to put more stress on your body then you need to.

He's also not afraid to speak up on your behalf if a doctor or nurse tries to gaslight you. He remembers early on in your relationship of you coming home an appointment, just sobbing your eyes out about "no one believing you." That lit a fire under his ass.

He's threaten to throw hands with said doctors. But most of the time he just passive aggressive.

You've tried to explain Spoon Theory to him ("Why the fuck is it spoons?!?") So he changed it to a Health Bar, Hit Points, and Mana because he's a giant fucking nerd like that. Honestly it made more sense to both of you.

He's a lot more cautious now when it comes to his dealing, either cutting back on making deals to keep both of you safe, or triple checking the quality of his product. If what he deals could help someone, someone like you, then he knows it needs to be perfect.

When you tell him that some of the stuff he sells can help with your symptoms he makes sure he keeps the really good stuff in a safe place for you. Only the best weed for his baby.

Eddie stocks his kitchen with all of your favorite snacks and drinks, much to the annoyance of his uncle. Wayne bought him a mini fridge just so Eddie wouldn't overstock the main one with nothing but Gatorade.

Eddie is always worried if you're too hot/cold (In my personal case I'm always cold).

Too hot during those grueling summers in Hawkins? BOOM! Kiddie pool! BOOM! Pedialyte popsicles! BOOM! Umbrella!

Too cold? He keeps a bunch of regular and electric blankets in his closet.

You almost never use them because Eddie is a human space heater.

He keeps extra clothes and extra bottles of your meds for you if you don't have the Spoons/HP to drive home.

Could he drive you home? Yeah, but taking care of others is his love language.

You've made fun of him for this, but he keeps a mini cooler in his van filled with water and Gatorade because "you never know."

The pharmacists use to hate Eddie (cuz ya know) and were a little afraid of him with all of the rumors going. But after you two start dating they LOVE him! Whenever either of you need to get medical supplies the old ladies gush about how sweet Eddie is and the old guys try to hire him because he "knows so much" about different prescription medication.

They also give you and Eddie deals on supplies because they know you're both struggling financially.

After a while Wayne let's you sit in his recliner to help with your circulation.

Speaking of which, Wayne also loves you! He's skeptical at first, but all of that goes away after he sees how happy you make Eddie. Plus, he loves that Eddie is now using his dealer status to help people.

Eddie broke his own personal rule: the only people allowed to sit in his throne at Hellfire Club is him...and now you. The others did complain a little, but after Eddie explained your situation they backed down. When you need to shit you’re going to go sit wherever you can.

For your One Year anniversary Eddie gives you your own throne. The other members helped brainstorm and decorate it.

When you start needing a ramp Eddie enlists the help of all of your friends to help build it all. Everyone got a kick out of painting the ramp, but it caused a lot of in-fighting over how it would look. This is another way you bond with Eddie’s Uncle.

Eddie and the others helped you raise money for a motorized wheelchair and/or service animal by doing car washes and Corroded Coffin doing charity gigs.

You thought the crew fighting over the ramp was bad, wait until they get the idea to customize your mobility aid!

Team Eddie's Hot rod flames and skulls vs. Team Erica's Glitter and rainbow stickers.

Whenever you go to concerts with Eddie he makes sure you can have somewhere to sit away from the pit.

If its one of his shows he has you seated right off stage and with one of your friends - usually Steve and Robin. The best seat in the house!

Eddie LOVES bridal carrying you everywhere (Even though it isn't always needed.)

And giving you baths! Some times he’ll even join you! He will sit behind you and wash your hair while you cuddle up against his chest. One word: HEAVEN!

Not a day goes by where Eddie doesn't tell you he loves you for who you are - in sickness and in health.

(NSFW)

Eddie is super cautious during sex now after you passed out one time (I had this happen to be irl. It terrified my boyfriend, but I thought it was hilarious!)

You use the Stop Light Method to check in on each other. Green = keep going, Yellow = slow down, Red = Stop

"Who needs lingerie when you have compression socks?" is a running gag for you two.

Repeats after Eddie: “Hydrate or die-drate!”

Aftercare gets an upgrade in the form of baths together, “post-coitus” salty snacks, and snuggling while watching TV.

[rhyssands]

oct 7 - "please stop saying 'nuts'."

prompt: chestnuts rating: g wordcount: 744 characters: Papyrus, Sans, Undyne warnings: none prompt from this post, read it on ao3 here

——

"Brother," Papyrus says, from behind him, "... Aren't... Aren't roasted chestnuts a... Gyftmas tradition?"

"Huh?" He asks, from where he's sitting, merrily roasting chestnuts over a fire that Undyne set while cooking, "Oh. Yeah, I guess. Weird."

Papyrus is silent for a long moment, and when Sans glances over he's giving him an uncomprehending look. Sans quickly averts his eyes back to his chestnuts to hide the grin pulling at his mouth. Harmless little practical jokes like these are fun, because the worst thing he's doing is confusing Papyrus and anyone else who happens to pop by their house and see him roasting chestnuts over their flaming countertop.

"... Where did you even get chestnuts?" Papyrus finally asks, sounding truly confounded, "I know you didn't buy them the last time we were at the store. I don't think the grocery store we go to even sells chestnuts."

"Meh," He says, "Don't worry about it, Paps."

"I am very worried about it, Sans!"

Thankfully, despite how confounded he sounds, he's definitely not as upset about it as he's pretending he is. Papyrus is well-trained in the fine arts of playing along and committing to the bit — two of the very precious few things he learned from Sans that neither of them resents him learning, and both are a particular Sans-flavored type of nonsense that Undyne is woefully unprepared to deal with.

Papyrus-flavored nonsense is Undyne's specialty, after all the years that she's known him.

Sans-flavored nonsense still leaves her floundering more often than not, especially when Papyrus deigns to participate in it.

When he glances over his shoulder again, she does, indeed, look like she's floundering. She's completely flabbergasted, in fact.

"Why, bro? You don't think I didn't get enough for everybody, do ya?" He asks, innocent as a newborn pup. "There'll be plenty to go around."

"The quantity of the nuts is of no concern to me," Papyrus dismisses, with a keen and mischievous glint in his eyelights Sans can't help feeling proud of, "I am far more concerned over the means by which you acquired the nuts, Sans."

The best part of bits like this is that they're so painfully normal for he and Papyrus' relationship that most of the fun comes from seeing how long they can drag it out before one of them cracks. Frankly, Papyrus usually folds first, because he reaches a point where he can't help laughing as he begs Sans to please stop so he can get back to being productive. Today, though, Sans is barely clinging to his composure.

For some reason, having an 'argument' with Papyrus about the means by which he acquired the chestnuts he's roasting is just hitting him right where it metaphorically hurts. It's really getting him.

Maybe it's that Papyrus keeps saying 'nuts'.

He begins to open his mouth to reply, but he's cut off by Undyne.

"You know, actually, smallfry, I'm also concerned about the means by which you acquired those nuts." She says, even more confounded than Papyrus.

"Yes, as you should be. His acquisition of these nuts truly a mystery!" Papyrus says.

Sans can't help it. He breaks.

He shoves his face into his hand and laughs helplessly into his metacarpals like that'll do anything at all to muffle him. "Oh my God, Paps," He half-wheezes, "Please stop saying 'nuts'."

"Only if you tell me how you got the nuts." Says Papyrus, merciless.

"Stars," Sans gasps, trying to sober himself, "I— I bought them last Gyftmas, Paps. There was a seasonal promotion. They're pre-roasted. I'm just setting them on fire for the laughs."

"Of course you are," Papyrus sighs, but he sounds amused, "I suppose I'll stop saying that word, then. Can I put the fire out now?"

"Yeah." He snickers, "Go for it. Undyne's face was worth the effort."

"It very was," Papyrus agrees, to which Undyne gasps in offense.

"You nerds were just trying to get a reaction out of me!" She deduces, "I oughta wallop you both!"

"Wallop me twice," Says Papyrus, as he grabs the fire extinguisher, "Sans can't take it."

"Rude." Sans says, knowing very well that he's completely correct, "But yeah, we were. You should be used to that by now"

"You're a horrible influence on him!" Undyne says, but he knows she's joking and he therefore doesn't mind, "Turning my bestie against me like this. And for what? Laughs?"

"Well, yeah. Always."

The fire is put out in short order, and Sans hucks the chestnuts straight into the trash. Hopefully Undyne won't set anything else on fire tonight, because he's running out of random items to burn over the flames to mess with her.

[risingsh0t]

ok and 🌹🐕🥂🍀 for Willa and Tommy! 👉👈

thank you again mari for asking about all the clowns 🥺💕

🐕 answered here!

🌹 - Who initiated the first kiss?

It was a spur of the moment type thing, before he was going to be away for a bit, and Willa definitely leaned in first. She wasn't going to let him leave without really expressing to him how she felt.

🥂 - How was their first date?

Quiet, but romantic. Nothing huge obviously, since they had to make due with what they had. It was while they were in Boston. They sat outside under the stars, Tommy somehow found marshmallows and they roasted those over a small fire. They were expired though so they didn't eat them 😅

🍀 - Who is better at comforting?

Willa! It's just become part of her nature, especially having raised her younger sister. She always tries to comfort Tommy the best she can, even if she doesn't specifically know how to help, she'll just be there.

[meeka-chann]

Novel #18

Charm Academy

By april_avery on Wattpad (⭐⭐⭐⭐)

Favorite lines from the novel:

• “I can call myself stupid but I will never let someone call me that word especially a stranger!”

• “Sana may sumulpot na baboy damo dito ano? Tapos ipa-roast natin kay Jett.”

• “Arf! Arf!” “Loki, don’t listen to them ok. That’s SPG.”

• “He’s too close. Too close for my comfort.”

• “Fire and wind. And they are best friends. How ironic.”

• “At sa hindi inaasahang pagkakataon, pinalibutan ako ng isang sphere na gawa sa apoy as if protecting me.”

• “Pumikit ka. Hindi mo magugustuhan ang mga susunod mong makikita.”

• “Ariela, enemies could use your weaness at their advantage any time.”

• “Charm Academy is a magic school, Ariela. Danger is part of the curriculum.”

• “Nitong mga nakaraang araw kasi kapag nasa malapit siya, pakiramdam ko lagi akong kinakabahan.”

• “Sa inyong dalawa nakasalalay ang sarili niyong kaligtasan.”

• “Now, I’m here alone with Jett and his dangerous charm.”

• “Napaka-stupid mo talaga.”

• “I can’t help but feel something strange with his touch. Like electricity.”

• “He’s too bossy, arrogant, mainitin ang ulo at laging sumisigaw. He always curses, always giving me threats—”

• “She’s loud, irritating, slow, stupid, maarte, mareklamo, sakit siya sa ulo.”

• “Sa sobrang dami ng naitulong mo, nakatulog ka nga eh.”

• “While everyone wants to have a charm as powerful as him, Jett thinks of his charm as a curse.”

• “Why is he pushing everyone away?” “Dahil mas natatakot siya na siya at ang kapangyarihan niya mismo ang maging dahilan ng pagkawala ng mga taong mahalaga sa kanya.”

• “It took years before anger vanishes from him. Now, he is starting to care. I hope it’s a good thing.”

• “Special type, isang basura.” “Gano’n ba? Sorry sa’kin ito napunta.”

• “I began to question my luck. The universe certainly has problems with me.”

• “Isa itong magic school. Secrets are creeping everywhere.”

• “They’ve done this thing a hundred times. Malay mo bukas bumalik na sila para sirain ang araw natin.”

• “Fuck, hindi mo ba nakikita? Pinoprotektahan kita!”

• “He run his fingers through his jet black hair and frustratedly pulled it like it was a life line that could spare him through the discussion.”

• “Pota! Ang manhid mo talaga!”

• “You need to stop her, Jett. You either help her or she’ll die.”

• “Kill my charm, Ariela.”

• “Kapag kaya mo ng kalabanin ang mga taong malapit sa'yo, doon mo masasabing kaya mo ng kalabanin ang lahat.”

• “Kamatayan ang katumbas ng pagkawala ng charm para sa isang charmer.”

• “You can't control your emotions. Therefore, you can't control your charm.”

• “I thought we are a team here. Pero mukhang ako lang ang nag-iisip ng bagay na 'yun.”

• “His arms embracing me, gave me an instant sense of relief. Kung pwede lang huminto ang oras.”

• “Isang imahe ang pumasok sa isip ko bago ako tuluyang nakatulog. Isang imahe na maaring hindi ko na muling makikita. Ang nakangiting mukha ni Jett.”

• “Nagawa niya pang kindatan ang mga babaeng nadaanan namin habang sinusundan ako.”

• “Si Jett Forester, ang fire element? Sila ang mga freshmen na sakit sa ulo ng mga guro.”

• “He is doing it again. Bumabalik na naman siya sa dati. Ang dating Jett na nakilala nila noon. Ang dating Jett na hindi malapitan. Ang Jett na kinakatakutan ng lahat ng estudyante ng Charm Academy.”

• “Ikaw ang gusto kong makasama.”

• “Dito ka na lang kasi para araw-araw kitang nakikita.”

• “Smile, Ariela. Make yourself believe that everything will be fine.”

• “He took my hand and gently let his fingers intertwine with mine. Then he placed his other arm on the back of my waist as if embracing me.”

• “It was not a mean smile but a soft smile. A smile that confirms he did miss me.”

• “Davis, I miss you. I fucking miss you.”

• “I closed my eyes and I can feel him kissing my forehead. This is true. This is so damn true.”

• “Kahit isang minuto pa, dito ka muna.”

• “His eyes landed on my lips. I could feel the world froze beneath my feet the moment he close the gap between our faces.”

• “Ariela,” he breathed through my still parted lips, “you can't leave me like this again.”

• “I'm deeply in love with Jett Forester.”

• “Jett, huwag kang mag-alala. Kaibigan ko lang siya.” “Gano'n din ba ang tingin niya sa'yo?”

• “Pino-protektahan ko lang kung ano ang sa'kin.”

• “The next I knew, I was standing beside Jett, his one hand gripping my waist tightly.”

• “Mas pinili ka niya kesa sa kaligtasan ng kanyang ama.”

• “Labing tatlong taon ng pagkakaibigan, tuluyan nang natuldukan.”

• “Minsan sa pag-protekta ng isang bagay, kailangan nating isakripisyo ang sarili nating kaligtasan.”

• “Charms if used in high volumes, especially dangerous types, can harm the body of the user.”

• “You have to meet people where they are, and sometimes you have to leave them there.”

• “Ang sakit na makita na umiiyak ang kaibigan mo. Ang sakit na hindi mo siya kayang lapitan at sabihin na magiging okay din ang lahat. Ang sakit dahil kailangan kong mamili.”

• “Hindi ko kayang mawala si Jett. Hindi ko kaya.”

• “For the first time, I found a place where I truly belong. But now I have to leave.”

• “I love you, Jett Forester.”

• “Hindi pa maayos ang resulta ng exam na ito. Kailangan mong ulitin, Jett Forester!” “Ewan ko sa'yo, Tanda. May importante pa akong gagawin.”

• “Hindi siya pwedeng umalis ng gano'n na lang. Ginawa ko ang lahat para manatili siya rito.”

• “I miss you.” “I don't know you.”

• “He is hugging me. He is hugging me from behind.”

• “He rests his chin on my shoulder while his arms were still embracing me, tightly, like he doesn't want to lose me.”

• “Babantayan kita hanggang sa dumating ang araw na iyon.” He whispered just a few inches from my face. “I love you.”

The photos used are not mine. Credits go to the rightful owners.

[lunarticxenia]

Moon Signs Pt. 1

My take on moon signs based off people I know! Now personally, I tend to have more strong opinions on my favorite moon signs than favorite sun signs. I feel like moon signs really indicate more about a person’s personality than their sun sign, imo. It does rule emotions and behavior after all. With sun signs I struggle with picking favorites because I do genuinely have people I like of every zodiac sign. I just go by the number of people I like from each zodiac sign. Anyhoo, here’s my view on each moon sign! 

Note: These are p long bc I have such strong thoughts on moon signs so I’m splitting it into two parts. :) 

🍂 Aries Moon: Ahhh, my moon sign. I won’t be biased though, I promise. So Aries moons based off other people I know is that we low-key got anger issues LMAO. Every single Aries moon I’ve met besides myself has anger issues, with the exception of one person and she still gets irritated easily. Aries Moons are also extremely sensitive, and they tend to be overlooked for that since they’re fire signs. I’ve found that a lot of what they get angry about has to do with their feelings, if they feel they’ve been wronged this really can make them angry as they are super sensitive. They also get angry when they feel like people aren’t listening to them, as they take this very personally. I’ve also noticed that Aries moons are EXTREMELY honest, they will tell it how it is and they are extremely blunt. They don’t like to beat around the bush, and they are very direct with how they feel about something. Aries moons are also extremely passionate and spontaneous especially in relationships; they’re the ones who wanna kiss in the rain and ride horses into the sunset, that is if you can get them to settle down with you LMAO. Nah all jokes, they’re picky about who they want, but once they really fall for someone it’s very hard for them to let go. They’re also so competitive, they will play dirty. My grandpa used to let me win in checkers as a kid, my dad (who’s an Aries moon) NEVER let me win. He said me losing would help build character LMFAO. He just didn’t wanna lose.They also have strong personalities and can be SUPER impulsive. Also, if they wanna do something, they WILL do it. No one is gonna stop them. If they wanna go somewhere at 3am, they’re doing it. Sorry. You can’t stop them. LMAO. Aries moons also love to be in touch with their inner child, my dad is an Aries moon and bought himself an arcade machine out of nowhere LMAO. I also like to collect shells and watch Disney movies to remind me of my childhood. They also tend to change their views and opinions on things a lot, and mind you they have intense emotions about these things. So it can be hard to keep up w them. 

🍂 Taurus Moon: Taurus moons are just so calm, it’s scary LMAO. I know a few of them, and even if they’re anxious about something you can never tell. They always have this calm demeanor and just seem so unbothered by everything. Taurus moons also LOVE money and the finer things in life. The male Taurus moons I know work a lot just so they can have a lot of money. One of them literally said to me “Money talks” after explaining to me why they work 7 days a week, 12 hours a day doing two jobs. The crazy thing is, despite doing all that extra work, he just seemed so unbothered about it LMAO. The female Taurus moons I know tend to love really expensive clothes and dressing up. This Taurus moon I work with has such nice clothes and always dresses like she’s on a Vogue cover. Like I said, Taurus moons LOVE money and the finer things in life like expensive clothes. If they aren’t the types to dress up or be workaholics, they desire comfort. They would rather lay in bed and take hot bathes than be bothered to do all that extra stuff. They also might like to eat out at expensive restaurants, and are “foodies”. They also might be big lovers of music and have lots of different music tastes. Also, Taurus moons? STUBBORN. Good luck trying to get them to change their mind on something. Also, despite them wanting all the luxuries and comfort of life, they are SUPER grounded. They do not live in a dream world, they see life for what it is, and prefer to be on the ground than have their heads in the clouds. Also, Taurus moons, I’m sorry, but y’all can be lazy. I work with three of them, and they can be lazy. They will not do more than the bare minimum. Also, their anger is low-key scary. Especially since it can come out of nowhere since they’re calm all the time, you never know when they’re angry and if you catch them at the wrong time... well, rip. They also tend to be introverted- even if they’re social, you will not know anything about them unless you’re besties with them or related to them. Doesn’t matter how well you know them, they don’t air their dirty laundry and keep their private life private. Also one last thing, omg these people sing all the time. They love singing to themselves, every single one I’ve met does that LMAO. Anyway, love my Taurus moons. 

🍂 Gemini Moon: Gemini moons love to make people laugh LMAO and love to just sit down and have good talks with people. Their minds NEVER stop working. Good luck trying to get them to stop talking once they know you. They can and will talk about anything for hours. Now, I do admire that, but sometimes I just wanna relax and they won’t stop talking to me LMFAO. My dad’s girlfriend is a Gemini moon and at family gatherings she loves to dance around and try to get everyone else to dance. I find that Gemini moons are very active and love to move around, and try to get everyone to have fun. Definitely the life of the party. They’re super amusing and also love to tell jokes and funny stories. Now not all of them are extroverts especially if they have an earth sun sign. So that is something to consider. My cousin is a Gemini moon and tends to be more introverted, however, once she’s comfortable around someone and knows someone she’s super goofy and loves to make people laugh. Gemini moons also love to learn, they’re always teaching themselves about something. My cousin who’s a Gemini moon just randomly started teaching herself how to do sign language (she’s good at it also)! These people are also SUPER adaptable, they can get along with any kind of personality and can adapt to any situation. I’ve also noticed that they love to playfully roast people and annoy them LMAO. I have noticed that they struggle with reading the room, they tend to just continue to annoy someone and can take it too far, which can get kind of annoying. They’re also extremely curious and are always asking questions. They love to ask random questions without any context. It’s a quirk a lot of them have. Trying to tell a story to them can be frustrating because if you mention certain terms they’ll ask you what they mean LMFAO. My dad was telling a story about how he used surfing to explain physics concepts in class and his girlfriend asked what the concepts were and what they mean. Also, they’re really good at giving advice. These people would make great psychologists imo. This girl I used to talk to (who’s a Gemini moon) actually is becoming a psychologist, so there you go LMAO. 

🍂Cancer Moon: Oh Cancer moons...you guys are so sensitive. They feel everything and anything. I haven’t met a Cancer moon that isn’t an empath. They are extremely good at reading other people and sensing their motives. My mother is a Cancer moon, and she’s always been able to tell who’s toxic in my life. She doesn’t even have to meet them either, just based off of stories I tell her, she can pick it up right away. Now, everyone always says Cancer moons are super close with their family and that’s definitely not always the case. The Cancer moons I’ve met have actually had a lot of problems with their family. Now the thing that I’ve noticed with these placements is that despite how toxic their family is, they always stick by them. Even if they’re not close. So I wouldn’t say they’re all super close with their families, but they always stick up for them, which can be an issue if their family is toxic. Also, Cancer moons, SUPER MOODY. I’m sorry but like I’m a Cancer sun and they’re ten times more moody than I am LMFAO. I’ve always said they act more like the stereotypical Cancer than Cancer suns. Also, this is a super underrated placement for humor. Every Cancer moon I’ve met has been super funny. Also, a super underrated placement for anger issues. Everyone says oh yeah Aries moons have anger issues, like yes, BUT HAVE YOU GUYS SEEN CANCER MOON ANGER?! Y’all Taylor Swift is a Cancer moon and wrote a whole album about how fed up she was about the media mistreating her and the whole Kimye thing (rightfully so) but y’all see my point. They can and will fight you. They also tend to be introverted, even if they’re social, (which I rarely see), they would much rather keep to themselves. I’ve also noticed that they’re very nostalgic a lot. My Cancer moon ex used to just randomly go through childhood photos and would show them to me. They’re also EXTREMELY protective over people they love, they will KILL for the people they love. They also love to talk about their dream homes and interior decorating a lot? My Cancer moon ex was OBSESSED with coming up with his dream house and would literally draw out diagrams for me to see. My mother too, she wants to redecorate her apartment and was showing me all the potential furniture that was gonna be put in. Oh Cancer moons, LMAO. 

🍂 Leo Moon: Oh Leo moons. You guys can be so dramatic LMAO. Every Leo moon I’ve met is so dramatic; these are the types of people who get up and move around when telling a story and also do dramatic hand gestures. These are the types of people who post a black screen in middle school on Snapchat saying “Don’t hmu.” LMAO. My Leo moon friend gets so mad when I make that joke, but it’s so true. These people are also naturally super creative, the Leo moons I know love to decorate and draw. Even if they don’t do any outright creative hobbies, they have a creative streak to them. It’s weird though because despite them being very dramatic when it comes to them being angry, they struggle with expressing their personal problems to other people. (This however can be changed with other placements, but I’ve found this to be true in many cases). They don’t want people to think that they’re weak, so they put up a tough front to hide that they’re hurting. Also, Leo moons, are indeed the hype friends. My Leo moon friends gas up my Instagram posts so much. They’re also extremely loyal and don’t like to leave people out, they hate that kind of shit. They’re also extremely accepting of others, my Leo moon friend was the first person I came out to, and they accepted me right away. They also love to take pictures of EVERYTHING. Like when you go out with them, they will make you wait before eating your food so they can take video of your food together LMAO. They love to capture every moment, I personally find it very endearing. Also, a lot of people say Leo moons are super cocky. I don’t find this to be true. They can come off that way, but I’ve found they tend to actually be pretty insecure and they try to hide it by coming off as confident. I feel like Leo moons tend to put on a show a lot to hide how they truly feel, which makes it hard to get to know them. It makes me sad because they truly are such kind hearted people and all they want is to feel validation. I also found that they love to go above and beyond to make sure everyone else is happy and tend to put themselves last. I wish y’all didn’t do that, you deserve to be happy too. ;( 

🍂 Virgo Moon: Workaholics. That’s how I’m starting this LMAO. My friend is a Virgo moon and works her ass off. She goes above and beyond in school for starters. For this anatomy course we had together, she sent me a whole diagram she made of the human brain on Notability and it was so intricately made. She also works her ass off at her job and takes care of her siblings. I feel like this falls into Virgo placements putting others before themselves. Virgo moons are definitely the types to be like this. They want to make everyone happy and they want to feel useful so they do all these extra things to feel that way. Virgo moons are also super smart, and have the best study methods. Low-key jealous. They have this incredible drive and are always on top of things and have a routine. Also Virgo moons LOVE animals. My friend who’s a Virgo moon, works at a dog sitting business and has 6 pets at home. They LOVE animals. They also like honesty and bluntness; they will provide you with that as well. They don’t like beating around the bush or lying to make other people feel better. You wanna know if you look bad in a dress? Ask a Virgo moon, LMFAO. I’ve also found that they struggle with wanting to be perfect all the time, and struggle with anxiety. As I said, they want to be the best at everything, and this can be a big source of anxiety for them. These people also find themselves attracting people who they want to “fix”. They also give amazing advice and are super reliable. Also, last minute plans? They HATE them. Want a Virgo moon to hate you? Try making spontaneous plans with them LMAO. Virgo moons also have great memories; they’ll remember every little detail about you. Also Virgo moons are the types to take charge in a group project and run the whole thing because they don’t trust anyone. Virgo moons also always appear to be calm and collected, even though many of them frequently deal with anxiety a lot. Also, they’re low-key underrated for humor. They have a very dry and self-deprecating sense of humor LMAO. They also go above and beyond in relationships because they enjoy seeing the people they love being happy. 

Anyhoo, this wraps up part one!  Also these are just my opinions, so don’t get offended I tried to praise and drag all of them equally <3 

Part 2 here. 

[theartofdreaming1]

Katniss, bravely stepping inbetween Gale and Thread (and his whip) - she’s so courageous and protective, she deserves the world 😭

As usual, my thoughts regarding this week’s prompts and (many) random thoughts on chapters 7-9 are below the cut. (Is it just me, or are my notes getting longer and longer with each and every post? I swear, this book is so meaty, we’ll soon reach the point where I have to type out the entire chapter, with my thoughts in the margins)

heart

“Gale is mine. I am his. Anything else in unthinkable.” 

I think these words are a result of Katniss being so afraid of losing Gale that she’s kinda overcompensating; their relationship has been strained these past few months and they’d just had a row, separating from each other on bad terms - and the next time she sees him, he’s been whipped so bad that he’s lost consciousness and could be potentially dying from his wounds. Of course she’s so terrified of losing him, that she’s holding on as tightly as she can to him. It’s important to keep in mind how important their relationship is to her and we see that in her preceding thoughts: What a pair we were - fatherless, frightened, but fiercely commited, too, to keeping our families alive. Desperate, yet no longer alone after that day, because we’d found each other. I think of a hundred moments in the woods, lazy afternoons fishing, the day I taught him to swim, that time I twisted my knee and he carried me home. Mutually counting each other, watching each other’s backs, forcing each other to be brave. - Gale was the first person who was her equal, a kindred spirit, her partner. After Katniss had lost both of her parents when her father died and her mother succumbed to her depression - the people who were supposed to care for her and guide her through growing up - she was stuck with the role of sole provider and protector of her family at age eleven. She must have been so lonely all this time until she met this boy who understood what she was going through and they learned from each other and shouldered their burdens together, to take off some of the overwhelming pressure. Of course that relationship, of course Gale is important to her. But also now their relationship has become more fragile, after the Games they are in danger of growing apart - it’s got to be so terrifying to feel like the one proper, mutual relationship you’ve had seems to be slipping through your fingers. With everything that’s going on, her entire life as it is teetering on the razor’s edge (heck, the president himself has been threatening her and her family!), it’s no wonder that Katniss is craving that familiarity and safety that her relationship with Gale used to provide her with. And seeing Gale in this state just has her holding on to him more tightly than ever.

mind

Hmm, no big moment is coming to my mind right now; I think I’m always most impressed by the tiny moments that show how tenacious, resilient and fiercely kind humans can be - like Darius stepping forward to stop Gale’s cruel punishment, Leevy volunteering to tell Hazelle about Gale and promising to stay with the Hawthorne children, Madge bringing the morphling, Katniss pressing Darius’s hand in the Training Center, Twill taking Bonnie with her to flee to D13 and so on.

soul

I believe that Katniss was honestly surprised to learn that Gale had feelings for her; she had categorically shut down the idea of entering a romantic relationship for herself, so I don’t think she’d seriously consider anyone being romantically interested in her in return (that’s not how that works, of course, but I think that’s how she perceived the whole shtick). Their kiss threw her completely for a loop and if anything, she mostly saw it as something that contributed to the deterioration of their previous, easy and comfortable relationship.

Chapter 7

A mockingjay is a creature the Capitol never intended to exist. [...] They hadn’t anticipated its will to live. - In a way, the Capitol continues to make this mistake with the people living in the districts, too - underestimating their will to live (opposed to just surviving)

I look in his [Gale’s] eyes. His temper can’t quite mask the hurt, the sense of betrayal he feels at my engagement to Peeta. This will be my last chance, this meeting today, to not lose Gale forever. - Okay, we don’t know how much Katniss might be (incorrectly) presuming here, but the idea that Gale might feel betrayal because his best friend is being forced into an engagement pisses me off. It’s fine if he’s feeling jealous because she’s being paired off with Peeta when he wishes he could have a shot with her, but how in the world does this even rate as a betrayal?! A) It’s done against her will and B) Just because they’re friends doesn’t mean Katniss owes him anything when we’re talking about romantic feelings... Ugh 😒 Also, it’s quite noteworthy how insecure Katniss feels about their relationship - she’s constantly worried Gale will drop her and their friendship (waiting for Gale after the camera teams left after winning the Games: I’d begun to think that he’d given up on me in the weeks that had passed.- Ch. 2) and it doesn’t help that she’s been through that extreme, traumatic experience without him and they haven’t had much opportunity to spend a lot of time with each other (with the Victory Tour and Gale having to work so much) and when they do hang out, they don’t seem to really talk much, which doesn’t exactly help...

He [Gale] tosses the gloves on my lap. “Here. I don’t want your fiancé’s old gloves.” “He’s not my fiancé. That’s just part of the act. And these aren’t his gloves. They were Cinna’s,” I say. “Give them back, then, he says. - Gale can be so petty sometimes 🙄

While I talk, [...] [Gale] occupies himself with turning the food in the leather bag into a meal for us. Toasting bread and cheese, coring apples, placing chestnuts in the fire to roast. I watch his hands, his beautiful, capable fingers. Scarred, as mine were before the Captiol erased all marks from my skin, but strong and deft. [...] Hands I trust. - Oh boy, this moment really shows how these two are at cross purposes right now - Gale’s prepping the food as you would for a toasting (romantic connotation), while Katniss is oberserving his hands, thinking how their hands used to match (not anymore!) and basically wishing herself back into the time before the Games, when things were ‘simpler’/more clearly defined (and also platonic!); there is nothing romantic from her P.O.V. - it’s all about the friendship and trust

[Gale] steps in and I feel myself lifted off the ground. The room spins, and I have to lock my arms around Gale’s neck to brace myself. He’s laughing, happy. “Hey!” I protest, but I’m laughing, too. Gale sets me down but doesn’t release his hold on me. “Okay, let’s run away.” [...] “You’re sure?” I say. [...] “I’m sure. I’m completely, entirely, one hundred percent sure.” - Yeah, and I’m sure you’re not going to change your opinion in the next five minutes, Gale... In his defense, Gale didn’t know all the details, so in that regard it’s totally valid that he might decide to change his mind after having more input... It’s just that Katniss specifically asks him whether he’s sure and his reply is so full of conviction (100% sure!), only for him to do a complete 180 just a couple of minutes later; Gale’s very hot and cold, which makes for such a harsh contrast when compared to Peeta’s more measured reaction later in the chapter

He tilts his forehead down to rest against mine and pulls me closer. [...] I don’t try to move away. Why should I, anyway? His voice drops to a whisper. “I love you.” That’s why. - Oh man, Katniss just can’t catch a break 😞 Really not wise of Gale to drop the L-bomb here (after, what? a kiss they never talked about and little else... their communication is truly abysmal and it’s really damaging to their relationship, hurting the both of them)

“Gale, I can’t think about anyone that way now. All I can think about, every day, is how afraid I am. And there doesn’t seem to be room for anything else. If we could get somewhere safe, maybe I could be different. I don’t know.” I can see him swallowing his disappointment. “So, we’ll go. We’ll find out.” - I mean, honestly, I totally understand where Katniss is coming from - she doesn’t need a romantic interest, she needs a partner, which is why she’s been so eager to talk to her hunting partner, someone she’s used to rely on for survival and now he’s also confounding their relationship by introducing that romance-angle (as if it wasn’t bad enough that her relationship with Peeta got kind of messed up when that same angle was forced upon them prematurely)... Also, telling how Katniss thinks she’d have to be different to maybe even consider a romantic relationship with Gale - Katniss as she is right now just can’t see herself wanting to be with Gale romantically; it would require a change... I’ve got to give Gale credit for still going along with it, and trying to push past his disappointment, though

“My [Gale’s] mother is going to take some convincing.” [...] “Mine, too. I’ll just have to make her see reason. Take her for a long walk. Make sure she understands we won’t survive the alternative.” “She’ll understand. I watched a lot of the Games with her and Prim. She won’t say no to you,” says Gale. - That’s interesting, I wonder what exactly Gale means by that? That Mrs. Everdeen won’t say no to Katniss because she feels guilty that Katniss had to go through the Games or because watching her daughter compete in the Games really made her realize how messed up Panem is? Or that she’s more inclined to trust Katniss’s judgement after everything that has happened?

“Haymitch will be the real challenge.” “Haymitch?” Gale abandons the chestnuts. “You’re asking him to come with us?” “I have to, Gale. I can’t leave him and Peeta because they’d-” His scowl cuts me off. “What?” “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how large our party was,” he snaps at me. - Gale doesn’t seem to have realized how close and important Peeta and Haymitch have become to Katniss... maybe because they never properly talked about this aspect of Katniss’s life (I swear, their shoddy communication must account for at least half of the damage their relationship has taken in these past few months alone)

“What if he [Peeta] decides to stay?” he [Gale] asks. I try to sound indifferent, but my voice cracks. “Then he stays.” “You’d leave him behind?” Gale asks. “To save Prim and my mother, yes,” I answer. “I mean, no! I’ll get him to come.” “And me, would you leave me?” Gale’s expression is rock hard now. - Boy, oh boy! I think Gale knows (like Peeta) that Katniss could never leave behind the people she cares about; then, he’s kind of gauging whether Peeta has already received the Katniss Everdeen Stamp of ‘Caring’ - and, as it turns out, he has! And then Gale ends up making it into a bit of  competition by asking her whether she would leave him behind (or, alternately, her turning him down has him confused about the depth of their relationship, I dunno); not fun

“There’s an uprising in Eight?” he [Gale] says in a hushed voice. I try to backpedal. To defuse him, as I tried to defuse the districts. - Katniss is going to be about as successful as she’d been at defusing the districts, too - But here we have another example of Katniss trying to rein in Gale’s temper because she’s afraid he’s going to get himself in trouble (like when she decided not to tell him about Snow’s visit to her house because she was worried what he’d do with that information)... It’s really not great that she feels the need to censor herself so he won’t do something dangerous... Katniss knows first-hand how badly impulsive actions and decisions can be received in the Capitol - and she never even meant for a rebellion to happen!

“And it’s my fault, Gale. Because of what I did in the arena. If I had just killed myself with those berries, none of this would’ve happened. Peeta could have come home and lived, and everyone else would have been safe. too.” “Safe to do what?” he says in a gentler tone. “Starve? Work like slaves? Send their kids to the reaping? You haven’t hurt people - you’ve given them an opportunity. They just have to be brave enough to take it. - Katniss is taking all the responsibility upon herself again... Gale is right to point out that she was merely a catalyst, not the cause for the rebellion - the cause are the awful living conditions of the people in the districts

“Stop it! You don’t know what you’re saying. The Peacekeepers outside of Twelve, they’re not like Darius, or even Cray! The lives of district people - they mean less than nothing to them!” I say. “That’s why we have to join the fight!” he answers harshly. “No! we have to leave here before they kill us and a lot of other people, too!” [...] “You leave, then, I’d never go in a million years.” [...] “What about your family?” “What about the other families, Katniss? The ones who can’t run away?” - This discourse is so painful because they are both right - Katniss has seen more of the districts and how things are handled beyond the (relatively tame) confines of D12 and it’s fair that she wants to know that the people she cares about are safe from harm; Gale, of course, has a point commenting that not everyone has that opportunity and the only way to have a long-lasting, wide-spread improvement of their conditions is through rebelling against their oppressor - but that will inevitably come along with sacrifices and collateral damage and it’s easy to say that it will be worth it in the long run, but when those who are hurt/dead could end up being your loved ones, it’s definitely easier said than done

He throws Cinna’s gloves at my feet. “I changed my mind. I don’t want anything they made in the Capitol.” And he’s gone. I look down at the gloves. Anything they made in the Capitol? Was that directed at me? Does he think I am now just another product of the Capitol and therefore something untouchable? The unfairness of it all fills me with rage. But it’s mixed up with fear over what kind of crazy thing he might do next. - Gale getting rid of Cinna’s gloves just because they are from the Capitol is a prime example of this “us vs. them” mindset that he will be (worringly) fast to adopt - of course, perceiving the opposite side as “other” will make it easier to fight against them; however, it’s all too easy to lose sight of your opponent’s humanity when you think like that (think of how Gale has a hard time understanding Katniss’s distress upon seeing her prep team being treated so terribly/inhumanely in D13); Katniss feeling upset that Gale might perceive her as a product of the Capitol instead of its victim is understandable (and isn’t that exactly what the inhabitants of D13 are going to think of Peeta in MJ?) - and yet, she is still worried Gale could get himself into trouble with his impulsivity; she’s a good bean

”Going to town?” I ask. “Yes. I’m supposed to eat dinner with my family,” he [Peeta] says. - I’m tripping over the word ‘supposed’ here - it doesn’t sound like Peeta’s looking forward to hanging out with his fam, although it can’t be that often, since they’ve been away on Victory Tour and he is living alone (maybe the end of the chapter will give us another hint why that is 😒😒)... I can’t help but wonder whether these family dinners are mainly for public perception (in that case... it really is no wonder Peeta is so good at playing the cameras - poor guy had to fool the outside world his entire life) or because they are the only chance for Peeta to hang out with any of the members of his family he might actually want to spend some time with

“Peeta, if I asked you to run away from the district with me, would you?” Peeta takes my arm, bringing me to a stop. He doesn’t need to check my face to see if I’m serious. “Depends on why you’re asking.” President Snow wasn’t convinced by me. There’s an uprising in District Eight. We have to get out,” I say. “By ‘we’ do you mean just you and me? No. Who else would be going?” he asks. - Peeta doesn’t just blindly agree to Katniss’s proposal; he needs to know what’s going on first (he has been burnt before - no more secrets!) - and it’s a testament to how well he knows her that as soon as he’s asking whether she meant just the two of them, he corrects himself because knows that Katniss would never leave the ones she cares about behind

“What about Gale?” he says. “I don’t know. He might have other plans,” I say. Peeta shakes his head and gives me rueful smile. “I bet he does. Sure, Katniss, I’ll go.” I feel a slight twinge of hope. “You will?” “Yeah. But I don’t think for a minute you will,” he says. [...] “Then you don’t know me. Be ready. It could be any time.” - Telling how Peeta immediately agrees to the plan once he gathers that Gale won’t come - he knows that Katniss cares about Gale and could never leave him behind, ergo she’d never actually leave under these circumstances - he knows her so well. Also, Katniss’s reaction is like that of a petulant child, it’s kind of funny 😄

“Katniss, hold up.” [...] “I really will go, if you want me to. I just think we better talk it through with Haymitch. Make sure we won’t be making things worse for everyone.” - Ultimately, Peeta would follow Katniss to the ends of the earth - doesn’t mean that he can’t throw in a sensible suggestion in there as well 😉 (Also, in the next chapter we will see how Katniss, Gale, and Peeta might be a little too inexperienced/naive to be able to form accurate expectations of what is to come - Haymitch and his generation have a little more experience in that regard)

He raises his head. “What’s that?” [...] I haven’t noticed the strange noise coming from the square. A whistling, the sound of an impact, the intake of breath from a crowd. “Come on,” Peeta says, his face suddenly hard. I don’t know why. I can’t place the sound, even guess at the situation. But it means something bad to him. - Why does my sweet boy know what a whipping sounds like, Suzanne, huh?! Care to explain that? 😭

Peeta steps up on a crate against the wall of the sweetshop and offers me a hand while he scans the square. I’m halfway up when he suddenly blocks my way. “Get down. Get out of here!” He’s whispering, but his voice is harsh with insistence. - Peeta was offering his hand to help Katniss up the crate because they are a team (and he’s a gentleman)! It’s only when he recognizes who is receiving those lashes and realizes that Katniss will lose her shit once she knows, which could make the current situation even worse, that he urges her to leave, and he is not the only one to think that: - Voices hiss. “Get out of here, girl.” “Only make it worse.” What do you want to do? Get him killed?”

Chapter 8

It’s too late to stop the arm from descending, and I instinctively know I won’t have the power to block it. Instead I throw myself directly between the whip and Gale. I’ve flung out my arms to protext as much of his broken body as possible, so there’s nothing to deflect the lash. I take the full force of it across the left side of my face. - Katniss is so selfless; she knows that it’s either Gale getting hit again or a lash to her own face and she chooses the latter

“Hold it!” a voice barks. Haymitch appears and trips over a Peacekeeper lying on the ground. It’s Darius. [...] He’s knocked out but still breathing. What happened? Did he try to come to Gale’s aid before I got here? - Haymitch sure appeared quickly - I can easily imagine Peeta taking off immediately to get him (or send someone to bring him to the square) once he knew Katniss couldn’t be stopped; but if Haymitch had been at his house in Victor’s Village, there is no way he’d have made that quickly to the square... maybe he was already at the Hob and had gotten wind of the whole situation? Also, poor Darius! Wearing a uniform/being in some sort of position of power is no guarantee you won’t get punished as soon as you show the tiniest glimpse of compassion - in a place like Panem, nobody is safe from the caprice of the people in charge

I see a flicker of recognition in the eyes of the man with the whip. [...] it wouldn’t be easy to identify me as the victor of the last Hunger Games. Especially with half my face swelling up. But Haymitch has been showing up on television for years, and he’d be difficult to forget. - Getting Haymitch truly was the smartest move to make (which is why I’m pretty sure it was a move on Peeta’s part - he’d know how to use reminders of ‘appearances’ to ensure a punishment wouldn’t go ‘too far’, y’know 😢). But also - Thread must have lived under a flipping rock, to not being able to recognizes Katniss (her face must have been plastered all over the place during the Victory Tour, which just had concluded recently) - or he was just too in the heat of the moment, with someone opposing him, bleugh 😒

“He [Gale] was poaching. What business is it of hers, anyway?” says the man. “He’s her cousin.” Peeta’s got my other arm now, but gently. “And she’s my fiancée. So if you want to get to him, expect to go through both of us.” - I love how Peeta’s just laying it down as it is; his phrasing just sounds so factual, rather than provocative (although it is, of course); he really has a way with words - Maybe we’re it. The only three people in the district who could make a stand like this. Although it’s sure to be temporary. There will be repercussions. - Haymitch, Peeta, and Katniss working together as a team again! Also, a good example of the effect people with public influence can have 

One [Peacekeeper], a woman named Purnia who eats regularly at Greasy Sae’s, steps forward stiffly. “I believe, for a first offense, the required number of lashes has been dispensed, sir. Unless your sentence is death, which we would carry out by firing squad.” “Is that the standard protocol here?” asks the Head Peacekeeper. “Yes, sir,” Purnia says, and several others nod in agreement. I’m sure none of them actually know because, in the Hob, the standard protocol for someone showing up with a wild turkey is for everybody to bid on the drumsticks. - It’s kinda nice to see the local Peacekeepers supporting Purnia’s claim to get this display to stop - this is the only way out of this situation where Thread’s authority is not openly challenged (and we know Thread doesn’t take well to having his authority challenged - see Darius)

There’s no stretcher, but the old woman at the clothing stall sells us the board that serves as her countertop. “Just don’t tell where you got it,” she says, packing up the rest of her goods quickly. Most of the square has emptied, fear getting the better of compassion. But after what happened, I can’t blame anyone. - It’s sad how that air of intimidation makes people want to mask their acts of compassion (and also says a lot about the precariousness of the existing living situations if that old lady is still selling that board - I’d never even consider exchanging money for that, but that’s probably my privileged situation showing here; Katniss brings up the theme of fear vs compassion - very fitting, since it seems to be her driving force (although, generally, her compassion wins out over her fear) and despite her assertion that fear appears to be getting the better of compassion we see a good amount of people reaching out to help, such as the following example:

Leevy, a girl who lives a few houses down from mine in the Seam, takes my arm. My mother kept her little brother alive last year when he caught the measles. “Need help getting back?” Her gray eyes are scared but determined. - The subtle suggestion here that Leevy might be further motivated to help out because Katniss’s mom helped her little brother is also an excellent example of how kindness breeds kindness

“Get some snow on that,” Haymitch orders over his shoulder. I scoop up a handful of snow and press it against my cheek, numbing a bit of the pain. - This moment reminded me of Peeta immediately reaching for some ice from that fruit tureen after Haymitch hit him on their way to the Games in THG (Ch. 4) - their different immediate reactions to getting hit in the face could simply be due to the fact that Katniss is a little too preoccupied worrying about Gale to think about her injury, of course, but I feel like you could also interpret them as examples for how much experience Katniss and Peeta have with being hit in the face, respectively...

Gale must have gone to Cray’s house, as he’s done a hundred times, knowing Cray pays well for a wild turkey. Instead he found the new Head Peacekeeper, a man they heard someone call Romulus Thread. No one knows what happened to Cray. He was buying white liquor in the Hob just this morning [...] but now he’s nowhere to be found. - As I’ve already mentioned regarding Darius, inhabiting some position of power does not guarantee you any safety in Panem (there is always someone more powerful who will treat their inferiors like garbage, if they feel like it)

By the time I showed up, he [Gale]’d been lashed at least forty times. He passed out around thirty. - Jesus 😨 poor Gale!

“What about Darius?” Peeta asks.“ After about twenty lashes, he stepped in, saying that was enough. Only he didn’t do it smart and official, like Purnia did. He grabbed Thread’s arm and Thread hit him in the head with the butt of the whip. Nothing good waiting for him,” says Bristel. - It’s so messed up how it is not enough to have someone who’d stand up and do something about a horrible situation - they have to do it the right way, or else they’re toast; there really shouldn’t have to be a smart way of doing the right thing

Snow begins, thick and wet, making visibility even more difficult. - (President) Snow is coming down hard on them, making it hard to see what’s up ahead

Ever so gently, she [Mrs. Everdeen] begins to clean the mutilated flesh on Gale’s back. I feel sick to the stomach, useless, the remaining snow dripping from my glove into a puddle on the floor. Peeta puts me in a chair and holds a cloth filled with fresh snow to my cheek. - Although she’s quite squeamish, Katniss stays as Gale gets treated (the force that holds the loved ones of the hurt/dying, just like when Peeta was being treated after their Games); meanwhile, Peeta is taking care of Katniss - there is so much care + love to be found in this moment

My mother has to save the strongest [painkillers] for the worst pain, but what is the worst pain? To me, it’s always the pain that is present. If I were in charge, those painkillers would be gone in a day because I have so little ability to watch suffering. - Honestly, same; I can’t stomach seeing other people suffer without feeling overwhelmed and feeling like crying... I don’t know how professionals do it

“Just give him the medicine!” I scream at her. [...] “Take her out,” says my mother. Haymitch and Peeta literally carry me from the room while I shout obscenities at her. They pin me down on a bed in one of the extra bedrooms until I stop fighting. - Oof. Poor Katniss! But yeah, it was the best call to remove her from the situation, Mrs. E. had to focus on what she was doing... Also, Haymitch and Peeta are the ones to get Katniss out of there and stay with her - these three take care of each other!

After a while, my mother comes in and treats my face. Then she holds my hand, stroking my arm, while Haymitch fills her in on what happened with Gale. “So it’s starting again?” she says. “Like before?” - Katniss’s mom has become a much more active and soothing presence in this book, I like it... Also, what does “again” mean? Does this imply there has been an attempted uprising in D12 that needed to be squashed before?

Cray would have been disliked, anyway, because of the uniform he wore, but it was his habit of luring starving young women into his bed for money that made him an object of loathing in the district. In really bad times, the hungriest would gather at his door at nightfall, vying for the chance to earn a few coins to feed their families by selling their bodies. Had I been older when my father died, I might have been among them. - Horrifying and absolutely disgusting 🤢 Those poor women! How desperate they must have been! 

... when the doorbell rings, I shoot straight out of bed. [...] “They [the peacekeepers] can’t have him,” I say. “Might be you they’re after,” Haymitch reminds me. “Or you,” I say. “Not my house,” Haymitch points out. “But I’ll get the door.” “No, I’ll get it,” says my mother quietly. - Again, Mrs. Everdeen is taking the initiative! She was so watered down in the movies

[Madge] holds out a small, damp cardboard box to me. “Use these for your friend,” she says. I take off the lid of the box, revealing half a dozen vials of clear liquid. [...] “What is that stuff?” asks Peeta. “It’s from the Capitol. It’s called morphling,” my mother answers. “I didn’t even know Madge knew Gale,” says Peeta. “We used to sell her strawberries,” I say almost angrily. What am I angry about, though? Not that she has brought the medicine, surely. “She must have quite a taste for them,” says Haymitch. That’s what nettles me. It’s the implication that there’s something going on between Gale and Madge. And I don’t like it. “She’s my friend” is all I say. - I mean, Katniss could be mad because A) Gale had literally just told her he loved her a few hours ago and if there was something (reciprocated) going on between Gale and Madge, that would have been pretty shitty for both girls involved and also B) she is friends with both of them and it would be hurtful to learn that two of your closest friends had been seeing each other without telling you anything about it... also, she’s super upset over Gale getting so seriously hurt just after they’d had an argument, her feelings are all over the place

... I’m selfish. I’m a coward. I’m the kind of girl, who, when she might actually be of use, would run to stay alive and leave those who couldn’t follow to suffer and die. This is the girl Gale met in the woods today. No wonder I won the Games. No decent person ever does. You saved Peeta, I think weakly. But now I question even that. I knew good and well that my life back in District 12 would be unlivable if I let that boy die. - Yes, Katniss, you knew that your life back in D12 would have been unlivable if he died - but not because you feared that people would shun you; it was because you “couldn’t lose the boy with the bread” and because “if he dies, I’ll never go home, not really”... This is an excellent example of how distorted your memories can get when you are in a bad headspace at present

The berries. I realize the answer to who I am lies in that handful poisonous fruit. If I held them out to save Peeta because I knew I would be shunned if I came back without him, then I am despicable. If I held them out because I loved him, I am still self-centered, although forgivable. But if I held them out to defy the Capitol, I am someone of worth. - Katniss, you don’t have to be planning to overthrow a corrupt and cruel government to be someone of worth! You’re someone of worth just by being yourself! - The trouble is, I don’t know exactly what was going on inside me at that moment. - Frankly, very rarely are our motivations clearly defined by a single factor - or my professor would not have been able to teach an entire semester-long course on motivation psychology😉)

Chapter 9

Gale’s dead to the world, but his fingers are locked around mine. I smell fresh bread and turn my stiff neck to find Peeta looking down at me with such a sad expression. I get the sense that he’s been watching us awhile. “Go on up to bed, Katniss. I’ll look after him now,” he says. - Peeta! Must have been hard for him to see Katniss like this (and the underlying strength of Katniss and Gale’s relationship, when his relationship with Katniss is still not all that solidified), and yet he’s being such a good bean about it 😭

I give a strangled cry and wake with a start, sweating and shivering at once. Cradling my damaged cheek in my hand, I remind myself that it was not Clove but Thread who gave me this wound. I wish that Peeta were here to hold me, until I remember I’m not supposed to wish that anymore. I have chosen Gale and the rebellion, and a future with Peeta is the Capitol’s design, not mine. - Katniss, gurl... Maybe your instinctive desire to receive comfort from Peeta is trying to tell you something??!? Also, Katniss is forcing this strange dichotomous association of Gale = rebellion and Peeta = Capitol, when in just a bit, she’s clearly connecting Peeta to the rebellion as well (aside from the fact that Peeta was basically the first person to suggest to her that maybe a rebellion was necessary... just saying)

Fighting the Capitol assures their swift retaliation. I must accept that at any moment I can be arrested. [...] There might be torture. Mutliation. A bullet through the skull in the town square [...] I imagine these things and I’m terrified, but let’s face it: They’ve been lurking in the back of my brain, anyway. [...] I’m already a target. - Oh geez! Despite admitting that she’s terrified of what the Capitol is capable fo doing to her, Katniss is still pretty composed naming the possible horrors in store for her, which is just a heartbreaking reminder of how many terrible things she has already had to endure.🙁

Now comes the harder part. I have to face the fact that my family and friends might share this fate. Prim. I need only to think of Prim and all my resolve disintegrates. It’s my job to protect her. [...] I can’t let the Capitol hurt Prim. - 😭😭😭 Katniss has reached a point where she can put her own need for survival/physical intactness aside, but the thought of something awful happening to Prim stops her short (it’s so strange to think that, in a twisted way, it wasn’t the Capitol who’d ended up inflicting the final harm upon Prim...)

And then it hit’s me. They already have. They have killed her father in those wretched mines. They have sat by as she almost starved to death. [...] She has been hurt far worse than I had at the age of twelve. And even that pales in comparison with Rue’s life. [...] Prim... Rue... aren’t they the very reason I have to try to fight? Because what has been done to them is so wrong, so beyond justification, so evil that there is no choice? Because no one has the right to treat them as they have been treated? Yes. This is the thing to remember when fear threatens to swallow me up. What I am about to do, whatever any of us are forced to endure, it is for them. - All these things are very true and it’s also very fitting that the main motivation for Katniss would be to ensure a better future for the children of Panem (and to avenge the evils done to the people close to her heart... while Katniss of course can see the abstract bigger picture/reason for the rebellion, she always operates best when it comes to specific people/circumstances she has a deep, personal connection with)... But also: all these things apply to you, too, Katniss! Despite your tendency to feel responsible for everything and everyone, you’re still a child that had to grow up way too fast and had to endure way too much!

We need someone to direct us and reassure us this is possible. And I don’t think I’m that person. I may have been a catalyst for rebellion, but a leader should be someone with conviction, and I’m barely a convert myself. Someone with unflinching courage, and I’m still working hard at finding mine. Someone with clear and persuasive words, and I’m so easily tongue-tied. Words. I think of words and I think of Peeta. - Katniss’s idea of a great leader for the rebellion is Peeta - interesting, isn’t it (she could have considered Gale, but no)? She makes a good point, though: it helps when a leader has plenty of charisma, and our boy has that in spades; he’s got a good set of morals, is not above joining in on the action/risking his own neck when the need arises and is very genuine and purposeful with his words and actions, which is inspiring... I think Katniss is severely underselling how courageous she is, though

He could move a crowd to action, I bet, if he chose to. Would find the things to say. But I’m sure the idea has never crossed his mind. - Why would you assume that, Katniss? Peeta’s literally the one to suggest to you that trying to placate the district might not be the right thing to do... Peeta’s not someone who’d stir up trouble just for the sake of stirring up trouble, sure; he’s much more deliberate about doing things the ‘right’ way, but he’s not generally opposed to challenging authorities (he’s literally the one to openly gift some of your winnings to another district!)

She knows what she’s doing, my mother. I feel a pang of remorse about yesterday, the awful things I yelled at her as Peeta and Haymitch dragged me from the kitchen. “I’m sorry. About screaming at you yesterday.” - It’s so sweet how Katniss feels sorry for yelling at her mom and apologizes to her; their relationship really has improved so much in this book - “I’ve heard worse,” she says. “You’ve seen how people are, when someone they love is in pain.” Someone they love. [...] Of course, I love Gale. But what kind of love does she mean? What do I mean when I say I love Gale? I don’t know. I did kiss him last night, in a moment when my emotions were running so high. But i’m sure he doesn’t remember it. Does he? I hope not. - Katniss is struggling to figure out in what way she loves Gale... She definitely doesn’t want him to remember their kiss because she knows it wouldn’t be fair to give him the hope that she might be able to return his romantic feelings when she is still in the dark about her own

... and I can’t really think about kissing when I’ve got a rebellion to incite. I give my head a little shake to clear it. “Where’s Peeta?” I say. - Lol, goes on to immediately mention the guy she’s been kissing these past few weeks (see, with Peeta you could actually have both: kissing and rebellion, Katniss - he’s the perfect man, isn’t he? 😉😋)

“He went home when he heard you stirring. Didn’t want to leave his house unattended during the storm,” says my mother. - Yeah, I don’t think Peeta left because of his house; I’m pretty sure he needed some time to himself after seeing Katniss and Gale this morning - he is the type of person who needs to be alone to work through his feelings when he’s feeling upset - “Did he get back all right?” [...] “Why don’t you give him a call and check?” she says. I go into the study, a room I’ve pretty much avoided since my meeting with President Snow, and dial Peeta’s number. After a few rings he answers. “Hey. I just wanted to make sure you got home,” I say. “Katniss. I live three houses away from you,” he says. “I know, but with the weather and all,” I say. “Well, I’m fine. Thank you for checking.” There’s a long pause. “How’s Gale?” - Aww, Katniss is worried about Peeta and gives him a call, although she hates being in the study 😊 Also, her calling him must have been at least of some reassurance to Peeta that she genuinely cares about him, in some way (though, he’s still clearly busy processing her relationship with Gale, since he’s asking about him as if he hadn’t seen that dude just a couple of minutes prior)

“Have you seen Haymitch today?” “I checked in on him. Dead drunk. But I built up his fire and left him some bread,” he says. “I wanted to talk to - to both of you.” I don’t dare add more, here on my phone, which is surely tapped. -  Despite everything, Peeta still made sure to look after Haymitch! And I know, there is also the issue of their houses themselves potentially being bugged, but I couldn’t help imagining how they could easily avoid the whole phone-tapping thing simply by using a tin can telephone (they do live pretty close to each other, after all) 😂

“You don’t even have a phone,” I say. “Effie had that fixed,” he [Haymitch] says. “Do you know she asked me if I’d like to give you away? I told her the sooner the better.” “Haymitch.” I can hear the pleading creeping into my voice. “Katniss.” He mimics my tone. “It won’t work.” - Okay, but Haymitch mimicking Katniss’s tone reminds me so much of when Peeta mimicked her tone towards the end of their Games, when she was trying to persuade him to climb into a tree as a lookout while he was insistent she’d show him some plants to gather; these three, I swear! 😂 On a sad note, Haymitch is talking from experience here when he’s advising Katniss not to challenge the Capitol 🥺😢

Some streets away from the square, I see a blaze flare up. None of us has to say it. That can only be the Hob going up in smoke. I think of Greasy Sae, Ripper, all my friends who make their livings there. - Katniss considers the people from the Hob her friends - honestly, even if the Hawthornes, Everdeens, Peeta and Haymitch all had agreed to leave D12, I don’t think Katniss would have been able to go through with it - she cares too much about the people in D12 to have been able to leave them to their fate

“Well, I better go see how much rubbing alcohol the apothecary can spare.” He [Haymitch] trudges off across the square and I look at Peeta. “What’s he want that for?” Then I realize the answer. “We can’t let him drink it. He’ll kill himself, or at the very least go blind. I’ve got some white liquor put away at home.” “Me, too. Maybe that will hold him until Ripper finds a way to be back in business,” says Peeta. - Another instance of Katniss and Peeta being on the same wavelength, having taken precautions to help out Haymitch so he doesn’t have to go cold turkey again

We find Hazelle in her house, nursing a very sick Posy. I recognize the measles spots. “I couldn’t leave her,” she says. “I knew Gale’d be in the best possible hands.” - The second mention of someone having contracted the measles in D12 - Why the heck does the Capitol withhold measles vaccination from the people in the districts?! They’re inflicting unnecessary damage onto the very people they want to exploit... But I guess cruelty isn’t always about playing it smart and logical...

When we’re outside, I turn to Peeta. “You go on back. I want to walk by the Hob.” “I’ll go with you,” he says. “No. I’ve dragged you into enough trouble,” I tell him. “And avoiding a stroll by the Hob... that’s going to fix things for me?” He smiles and takes my hand. - They are a team, they stick together (and they are constantly holding hands, always physically linked to each other)😩💕 Also, Peeta pointing out the irrationality of Katniss’s train of thought to calm her down and stay with her reminds me of how he’s going to use logical reasoning to calm her down after the jabberjays in the Quarter Quell arena

We go back to the square. I buy some cakes from Peeta’s father while they exchange small talk about the weather. No one mentions the ugly tools of torture just yards from the front door. The last thing I notice as we leave the square is that I do not recognize even one of the Peacekeepers’ faces. - How weird is it that Peeta and his dad just talk about the weather?! Is this supposed to illustrate how in the Mellark family they just ignored the ugliness going on in their lives *cough cough* the abuse *cough cough* and just pretended that everything was fine, on a very superficial level? Also, it makes perfect sense that the Peacekeepers have been exchanged; the more time we spend with people, the more likely we are to like them - that won’t do if you want to have a ruthless authoritarian police force in the districts

As the days pass, things go from bad to worse. The mines stay shut for two weeks, and by that time half of District 12 is starving. The number of kids signing up for tesserae soars, but they often don’t receive their grain. Food shortages begin, and even those with money come away from stores empty-handed. [...] The eagerly awaited food promised for Parcel Day arrives spoiled and defiled by rodents. - This is just so awful and despicable 😞 Life in the districts was already horrible but now the government does not even honor the extortionary rules they themselves have set up! I can’t help but wonder if the lack of food could be traced back to rebellions in the food supplying districts and, to keep this from the inhabitants of the Capitol, the reduced amount of good food was (obviously) kept for the Capitolites, so that the bad food had to be sent to the districts, anyway... It just seems like such a breach of ‘honor’/etiquette on the Capitol’s part, I dunno... Or maybe Snow was just desperate to use any means necessary to stamp out any potential rebellions in the districts that he still had some control over...

Gale goes home with no more talk of rebellion between us. But I can’t help thinking that everything he sees will only strengthen his resolve to fight back. [...] Rory has signed up for tesserae, something Gale can’t even speak about - Poor, Gale! Poor Hawthornes :(

My fingers have all but decided to release the arrow when I see the object in the glove. It’s a small white circle of flat bread. More of a cracker, really. Gray and soggy around the edges. But an image is clearly stamped in the center of it. It’s my mockingjay. - It is so very telling that the true symbol of the rebellion combines something symbolic of Katniss (which also contains a nod to Rue) and something symbolic of Peeta (the bread/cracker!) The people in the districts have rightfully recognized the both of them as symbol of the rebellion; they have a truer vision of the matter than the more artifically/forcefully constructed symbol of rebellion that D13 /Coin will push - we will also see that when the people in D13 will view Peeta as a traitor, while the rebels Katniss will visit in D8 instead ask her about Peeta and assure her that they know he was speaking under duress

[e-m-christina]

Serpent Of Sparta

Ivar The Boneless x Reader

PART ONE

Requested by @childishhoe

Summary: Ivar Lothbrok meets his match when he is introduced to Y/n Artròmitos, the daughter of a bloodthirsty Spartan king. She is sent to fight in Ivars army, after making an arrangement with Rollo, the Duke of Normandy. 

With matching rage and ambition, Y/n feeds into Ivars flame, igniting feelings that neither of them thought they were capable of. But fire can easily be burnt out.

Series Overall Rating: 17+

Word Count: 2k

Comment to be added to taglist. Requests are open. 

MASTERLIST

* * *

TWO MONTHS AGO                                                      

 Your incarnadine wrap dress fluttered in the wind, fastened only by the golden broach of nobility at your exposed shoulder. Rays of early morning sun glinted off the wine glass that was being twirled between your fingers, as you watched the city from the castle of Mistras. A new batch of children were being piled into carriages, waiting to be sent off as slaves, to the city of Athens. 

“You cannot keep running from this marriage. I know you already rule Athens, but after the death of your husband, you must marry again!” You clicked your tongue and rolled your eyes at your father’s remark.

“I have no time for love. I had to sacrifice love for respect. You know this much.” You took a seat opposite your father, who was running a hand over his grey beard. “On the contrary, the Athenians are weak. If I wanted to marry again, I would choose someone in a position of strength.” You said, rolling a grape between your pointer and thumb, making your father sigh.

“I know what you sacrificed, Y/n. What you had to do was terrible, but it was for the best. Both for you and your d-”

“Anyway,” You said, cutting your father off, “I am already Queen of Athens and the leader of the Spartan army. What use would a husband be?”

“Commander Y/n.” The doors of the hall burst open, revealing a puffed and red faced soldier. “The Duke Of Normandy has sent you this.” He passed you a piece of tinted brown parchment, bound by the wax stamp of Normandy. 

“Leave me.” You waved your hand, and the warrior promptly left the room. 

* * *

“Rollo is bringing a great ally, from a place named ‘Sparta.” Hvitserk said, standing beside his brother, Ivar, and King Harald. A fleet of blue Francia flags sailed towards them like great dragons on the dusky pewter ocean.

“I have heard little of this ally that Rollo is bringing.” Harald said, folding his arms across his chest. “But, what I have heard is that he is a great and fearsome warlord, and that his soldiers are blood-thirsty demons.”  

“She. The ally is a she.” Hvitserk corrected Harald, watching Ivars expression turn into one of curiosity. 

“What is her name then, dear brother?” Ivar asked, staring at the approaching ships with a new found excitement. 

“Y/n. But she is often referred to as the ‘Serpent of Sparta.’” Hvitserk said, feeling uneasy about the glint in Ivars blue eyes. “And if I were you, I would stay out of her way. Her people basically worship her. They believe that she is a descendant of one of their Gods of battle. Ares I believe God was called.”

Ivar smirked. Not only was she apparently a great warrior, but she was also apparently descended from the gods?

“Well, I do look forward to meeting this ‘Y/n’. I would hope that she lives up to her reputation, otherwise I will be disappointed.” Ivar took one last glance at the oncoming fleet, before making his way back down the salt washed wooden deck, ignoring the ‘of course you do,’ from Harald. 

* * *

Your nose wrinkled. The pungent smell of decaying fish grew stronger as you came to dock. After stopping in Francia to gather Rollo’s men, you and three hundred of your best Spartan warriors made for Norway. And after two weeks at sea, you were in a horrid mood. After an attempted assassination directed at you, you were pushed over the edge. Not only did you have to command your own men, Rollo had dropped out the day you were meant to leave, making you in charge of all his Francish soldiers. The problem other than the sheer amount of men to keep track of? There was  a massive language barrier. You spoke Russian because you often went to Kiev, on trade deals, and you also spoke the language of the northmen. Not french.

Your days often consisted of making ludacris hand gestures to command the french, only to be laughed at by your own warriors. Though you only shared the same ship as your best warriors, the only person you could confide in was Freydis, a Norwegian slave that you had bought from Kattegat five years prior. She had taught you the language of Norway and you taught her Greek. Freydis had grown to be your best, and only friend. You had made her a free woman, yet she chose to stay by your side, through everything. She told you everything about herself and she knew almost everything about you.

“Get ready to dock!” You yelled, throwing thick reams of hemp rope attached to an anchor into the dark water, before climbing over the edge of the ship, Freydis and your best fighters trailing behind you. You were greeted by a large wooden dock surrounded by what looked like disheveled old fishermen.

“I thought these people would be made from tougher stuff.” You said in your language, making your warriors laugh, as you fixed the golden clasp of your crimson cloak. With one flick of your hand, your Spartan warriors started to march down the dock in a wild wave of red and gold. You were at the head, with Freydis and Araios, your second in command, by your side. 

“Commander, I heard that this ‘Ivar the Boneless’ is a cripple. Talk about not being tough.” Araios chuckled. You did not not.

“So what? One of our gods, Hephaestus was crippled, yet he was a great warrior. I would not so lightly throw that statement around with malice.” You gave Araios a stern look, before continuing down the dock. 

* * *

“I have been anticipating your arrival, Lady Y/n.” You came to a stop in front of the throne that King Harald Finehair was situated on. “We all have.” He finished, before waving his hand at Hvitserk, a Northman you had met in France, and a dark haired Viking that you had not yet met.

“You will address me as Queen or Commander Y/n.” You corrected King Harald. “Take your pick.”  The dark haired Viking chuckled, before reaching out his hand. 

“Do you know who I am?” He said, shaking your hand. Since he was obviously not King Harald, or Hvitserk, it was a simple enough equation to solve. 

“You are Ivar The Boneless. Ragnar Lothbrok's youngest.” You said, making Ivar duck his head with a grin.

“And you have met my brother, I hear.” Ivar pointed to Hvitserk, who refused to make eye contact with you.

“Yes. I remember him. I had to put him in his place after he unsuccessfully tried to ‘woo’ me into bed.” You shot a look at Hvitserk, who was scratching the back of his head and glaring at his brother.

“Well, Queen Y/n, I am sure that we can thank the Gods that you and your men have arrived unharmed. Though, I must ask, where is Rollo?” King Harald said, moving from his throne to sit at a table with Ivar and Hvitserk, indicating for you to do the same.

“Yes, I give thanks to Poseidon for a good passage.” You said, taking a seat opposite the northmen. “As for Duke Rollo, he had urgent business along the Silk Road to attend to.”

“I am sure that you will fare well in his stead. But for now, make yourself comfortable. Tonight there will be a great feast to mark your arrival.”  

* * *

Mushroom soup, bitter greens with tomatoes the size of peas, rare roast beef slices as thin as paper, dried salmon and whale in a green sauce, cheese you brought from Francia that melts on your tongue served with sweet blue grapes. The feast was certainly large and exciting. But it was not the type of food you and your warriors were used to. Usually, you had lean chicken breast and a small bunch of grapes, greens, bread and the occasional fish. All  because a doctor in Athens had carried out research to conclude that those foods helped with building of muscle. The servants that the Northmen called ‘thralls’,  were all young women dressed in greys rags, moved wordlessly to and from the table, keeping the platters and glasses full.

“Why are your Spartan soldiers eating outside?” Ivar asked you, finding it odd that only the warriors from Francia and Norway were in the feasting hall.

“We eat outside for the most part. You said, taking a sip of Mead. The drink of the northmen was certainly different to your usual wine, but it was a welcome difference. “They also sleep outside in trenches. My people believe that it makes them stronger. Little girls and boys born in Sparta, are placed in a number of trials. They have to fight and fend for themselves. If they can’t, they either are left on a hillside to die, or they are sent to the City of Athens as slaves.” 

“We do something similar. We leave the weak out to die. But we do not test our children like that. Is that not too harsh?” Ivar said, leaning forward, making you chuckle. 

“Ivar, if you want to be the best, you have to have the best warriors. And because I am sitting here right now, proves that you do not have the best warriors.” You said. Ivar narrowed his eyes as he tipped his cup of mead back and placed it on the table.

“We do have good warriors. We were just out numbered, because Bjorn had hired the help of the woodland fighters from Sweden.” Ivar crossed his arms, clearly annoyed that you would suggest his army was not sufficient. You had to laugh. Were these men being serious? 

“Forgive me, I forget that the warriors of your people are not on the same level as mine.” You smirked into your horn of mead, watching as offence flickered over Ivars face. 

“And why would you say that?” Hvitserk said, trying to defuse Ivars switch. 

“The Battle of Thermopylae. Three hundred of my Spartan warriors fought against a vast army of the Persians. There were thousands of them, yet, we still won. Yes, we did have the advantage of land, being that we were on the high ground, but non the less. And you tell me that with a huge heathen army, you could not win because the other side had a couple hundred more warriors?” You said, making Ivar scoff. 

“Well, then it was fated. The Gods were on your side, otherwise you would have lost.” Ivar said, making you frown.

“When my Spartan warriors fight, Ares grants us good will.” You narrowed your eyes and leaned forward. “But are you telling me that the Gods don’t favour you?” 

“Don’t be stupid, of course the Gods favour us, afterall, they have allowed us to pull together an even bigger army.” Ivar said as he re-filled his horn with gritted teeth. 

“In any case, it is up to fate now. Hmm?” Harald said, standing up. “Well, I must go now and see where Astrid has gotten to.” King Harald took on the last swig of Mead, before weaving his way through the crowd and through a door at the back of the room. 

“Well, it is getting late. I better go find Freydis.” You said and stood up. “Have a good night.” You ignored Ivars grunt and nodded your head at Hvitserks ‘farewell,’ before following the same path as Harald. 

“What do you think of her, brother?” Hvitserk asked cautiously, very aware of Ivars clenched jaw and his blue eyes baring into your back as you left. Ivars silence made Hvitserk bite his lip. He did not think he could bear his brother complaining about you for the next few weeks. 

“She is arrogant and rather patronizing.” Ivar said, a smirk slowly curling his lip. “I like her.”

* * *

“You fight like a child.” You spat out a mouthful of salty crimson, swinging your bruised fist. Crack! The large white-haired viking toppled into the mud - for the third time. He had challenged you to a fight after he overheard you talking the night prior. But unfortunately for him, he just proved your point. You being half his size and a woman, he thought he could win the fight with ease. But you had only sustained a punch to the jaw, whereas he was sporting a broken and nose and multiple lost teeth.

“Þú eru witchr!” The man growled, stumbling up from the mud.

“No I am not a witch.” You side-stepped out of his way, as he lunged towards you, only to miss completely and stagger back down into the mud with a thump. “I am just better than you.”

“When I asked you to come help fight, I did not mean fight my men.” You heard a voice call. Turning around, you saw Ivar, who was leaning against a blacksmiths doorway. He stretched out his hand and beckoned you toward him.

“What do you want?” You asked, annoyed that you were interrupted. 

“I was thinking about what you said last night.” Ivar said, tapping his crutch thoughtfully. 

“So was he.” You pointed your thumb at White-Hair, who was still on the ground a few yards away. Ivar rolled his eyes and leaned forward.

“Not like that. I want you to train my warriors.” Ivar said, watching your expresion flicker.

“And why would I do that?”

“Do you want to win this battle?” He asked.

“I could win this battle easier without your men.” You retorted, crossing your arms. Did you not have enough to worry about?

“Then why don’t you?”

--

Part 2 coming soon.

Requests open. Comment if you want added to the taglist.

VIKINGS TAGLIST:

@youbloodymadgenius @krissydclayton93 @peachyboneless @1950schick @therealcalicali @the-blue-dalek @xceafh @pieces-by-me @ietss @spring-edlothia @stillsoloststillsolonely @poisonedjoinery @prunelsg @pomegranates-and-blood @revolution-starter @profoundtyrantharmony @ibenkastberg @xvxcarolinexvx @springsoulofengland @lady-valkyrie-blog @ritual-unions-gotme @chaotic-kinky-hippie @cocovikings23 @moonie-flower101 @readsalot73 @saruuslovesmcfly @adhdnightmare @fandomfic-galore @heavenly1927 @apenas-mais-uma-pessoa  @dacreshoney @jadelynlace @chibisgotovalhalla @bravado07 @starjane312 @teishalicious @the-girl-in-the-box @ecarroll1978 @childishhoe @punkrocknpearls @jessimay89 @justaproudslytherpuff @dog-cats-fandoms @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom @bethcarling-blog-blog @yourdevilmaycare @littlebirdgot

[andypantsx3]

if i could keep cool | 5

pairing: Todoroki Shouto / Reader

length: 20,322 words / 6 chapters

summary: A villain attacks Shouto Todoroki’s apartment and kidnaps what he apparently believes to be Todoroki’s secret lover. The bad news—for both you and the villain in question—is that you’re just there to clean the place. That’s how it starts.

tags: romance, reader-insert, accidental sugar daddy shouto, misunderstandings

warnings: aged up characters, eventual smut

You spent the rest of the weekend freaking out about how handsy you had been with Shouto.

Not only had you stuffed him into the hat and the sunglasses, not only had you curled tightly into his politely offered warmth, but then you’d literally held his hand the entire way to your apartment. You’d been too drunk to be self-conscious about what you’d been doing at the time, but once sober, you were embarrassed to realize you’d been clinging to him like some kind of beer-and-yakitori-filled limpet.

You kept replaying the whole walk home in your head, reviewing the absent way you’d played with his fingers, how you’d mused on how warm and large his hands were. Then he’d very obviously tried to offload you as quickly as he could at your door, insisting that you go inside when you continued to hang around him, and he’d literally pushed you inside at the end of it.

God, you could just die.

Shouto, for his part, seemed pretty unbothered by the whole thing. He texted you a couple times over the weekend, as if things were completely normal, but you still dreaded the moment that Tuesday rolled around.

How were you supposed to look him in the face after making such an obvious fool of yourself? How was he being so chill about things? Maybe he was just used to everyone in a thousand mile radius making an immediate mess of themselves for him. But still, it was embarrassing that you were one of them.

Tuesday evening did roll around, however, and soon enough you found yourself tentatively cracking open the door to his apartment. You sent up a silent prayer for him to not be home, but your hopes were immediately dashed when you caught sight of his lean form stretched out on his couch, a book in hand. His head raised when he heard the door, and a small smile curled his mouth when he caught sight of you.

Your heart thumped very deliberately in your chest as if to call attention to the fact that you were even more of a lovestruck idiot than you’d been willing to admit.

You tried to ignore your entire body and the way it felt like every fiber was waking up and bending towards him like flowers in the sun, stepping carefully through the door and closing it behind you. As you did, an appealing but unusual scent met your nose, and you glanced around in confusion. What looked suspiciously like cookware and spices littered his heretofore completely untouched countertops, and you felt an eyebrow raise. Was he...cooking?

“Something’s wrong,” you blurted immediately.

Those heterochromatic eyes snapped to your face and he leaned forward in concern. “What?”

“You’re cooking,” you said. “You’ve never cooked one single time the entire time I’ve worked here. Your countertops told me so.”

He let out a soft laugh, relaxing back into his couch. “There’s a first time for everything.”

You eyed him suspiciously. Was he okay? Had he been attacked or something? Was there such a thing as a villain with a quirk that made people cook things?

“What’s the occasion?” you asked carefully, watching him for any sign of a quirk’s influence.

He gestured you over to his living room and you went to him slowly. “I thought we’d hang out again.” He still pronounced the phrase like it sat uneasily in his mouth.

You stared at him. He wanted to hang out? “Shouto...but...my shift.”

He directed you to a chair across the coffee table from him. “I have to leave on a mission for a week tomorrow morning. I...wanted to spend time with you before I left.”

A weird mixture of concern and warmth washed over you. Okay, that was super cute, but that didn’t explain the complete absurdity of him suddenly reneging on what you strongly suspected was an unbroken streak of over two decades not cooking a single thing. Was the mission he was going on super dangerous? Did he think he wouldn’t come back from it? Was he crossing experiences off his bucket list before he went?

Your concern must have read on your face because he leaned forward, one cool hand taking yours. You almost jumped out of your skin with surprise.

“It’s not any more dangerous than my everyday work,” he said in that deep tone.

You frowned. That honestly wasn’t saying much, all things considered. His job literally involved fighting super villains.

“I just...thought it would be nice,” he said, and you thought you read a note of self-consciousness in his tone. You frowned.

What the hell did he have to be self-conscious about? He wasn’t the one who’d made a complete and utter fool of himself Friday night. You were honestly surprised he’d let you into his apartment at all, after what had happened.

But maybe...this was his way of telling you it didn’t matter? He was clearly making an effort to be nice--maybe he wanted to try again? If he really did, if that’s what this was really all about, then you could do that. And this time, you would keep your hands to yourself.

“What are you making?” you asked, your curiosity getting the better of you.

Shouto leaned in conspiratorially. “Vegetables.”

You let out a shocked laugh. “No way.”

A small smirk pulled at his mouth. “I don’t know how you usually make yours, but a friend had some suggestions.”

You looked at him curiously and he pulled out his phone, clicking into a chat and sliding it across the coffee table to you.

You glanced down at the messages, one eyebrow lifting when you saw a series of really good-looking recipes featuring roasted fall vegetables, then choked on a laugh when you caught sight of the other messages interspersed between the recipe links.

Do you seriously not fucking know how to cook a vegetable, icy hot?

[Honey Roasted Carrots with Yogur…] > http://bit.ly/9iJZ5jt

Fucking useless.

[Grilled Zucchini and Feta Toasts w...] > http://bit.ly/8oKZ5jf

Here, dipshit: [Charred Vegetable Medley with Burrata…] > http://bit.ly/5oDF4fi

If you food poison her, I don’t give a shit.

Don’t text me again.

“These look really good, but, um,” you chuckled, “your secret lover seems a little displeased.”

Shouto’s mouth curled. “He’s the jealous type.”

You laughed. “And when he’s clearly the superior chef, with recipes like that. I talk a big vegetable game, but I can’t give you what he can.”

Shouto huffed a laugh. “Anger issues and insults?”

You grinned back at him, then jumped when a timer went off in the kitchen.

“Stay here,” Shouto commanded. A cool hand pressed you down into a chair, and then he was gone.

Your eyes followed him as he made his way to the kitchen, tracing over the lines of his broad shoulders. He’d chosen another soft sweater today and he looked so fucking good, so absurdly domestic as he pulled vegetables out of the oven and looked them over. It was clear he had no idea what he was doing, and that somehow made everything ten times cuter, the sight of him way too much for your poor heart to take.

He was too easy to picture as a boyfriend trying to do something sweet for his girlfriend, and your teeth ached with the thought of it. You wondered if this was how he was going to treat his lover, when he eventually got one for real. That girl was going to be so damn lucky, she had no idea.

Shouto wandered back over with plates loaded with vegetables, two wine glasses, and a bottle of something dark and red.

You eyed the bottle carefully. You’d promised yourself you wouldn’t get handsy this time, and it was hard enough to keep your cool around him when you were sober. You didn’t know if you trusted yourself with a glass or two of wine in you.

“Uh, this looks really good,” you said, examining your plate for a distraction. It looked like Shouto had made every single one of the recipes Bakugou had sent him, and they honestly didn’t look too bad.

Shouto adopted a carefully blank look, like he was trying not to look too pleased. “We’ll see if that impression lasts. This is the first time any of my kitchenware has seen action.”

You laughed. “I trust you. Besides, I’m not hard to impress. In freshman year I once ate nothing but instant ramen for six weeks straight.”

He smirked and moved to pour the wine. You opened your mouth to stop him, lest you drink too much and get a little too hands on again, but you froze when you caught sight of the flowers at the center of his coffee table. The bouquet from Friday stared back at you.

Heat flared in your cheeks when you realized he’d kept it. The flowers definitely were not nice enough to fit in with the rest of his modern apartment, and the edges of the petals were looking a little more obviously wilted now, but he’d kept them. He’d found a vase and put them in water and set them out on his coffee table, and that was so embarrassing and so, so cute.

Shouto caught you looking. “I really did mean that I liked them,” he said evenly.

“I’ll get you something nicer,” you suddenly blurted, eyes still locked on the bouquet. “When you come back from your mission. If you come back safe.”

He looked at you curiously, eyes fixing on you unblinkingly. “You sound concerned.”

You shifted uncomfortably. “Well, yeah. I--” have the world’s fattest crush on you “--care about you.”

Shouto’s eyes darkened and he considered you for a long moment. “I care about you, too,” he admitted quietly.

You put a hand to your face to make sure it wasn’t actually on fire, and you leaned forward to help yourself to the wine so you didn’t have to look at him. Fuck it. You would just have to watch your hands extra carefully.

“So, uh, where’s the mission?” you asked hurriedly, suddenly desperate to move the conversation along. You needed to put a ton of words in between Shouto and what you’d just admitted, give him as little opportunity as possible to think in any more depth about what you’d said. It was cute that he’d returned the sentiment, but he did not mean it in the same way you did.

Shouto gave a vague answer, looking apologetic that he couldn’t share more, and your gut twisted at the idea that he’d be somewhere far away for over a week while you had no idea where he was. He looked uncomfortable with the idea as well, and you immediately steered the conversation back to more positive waters, starting up a stream of compliments over the vegetables that had turned out actually pretty good, especially for his first time cooking anything.

You had to stifle a laugh at how hard Shouto tried not to look smug.

As they always did, the hours slipped away easily with hardly any sign of their passing, and before you realized, it was well past when your shift was supposed to have ended. You and Shouto had talked yourselves almost all the way to midnight.

“I’ll help clean up before I go,” you announced, standing up and bringing plates into Shouto’s kitchen. He followed you closely, warm at your back.

“Let me,” he said quietly and you looked up at him, smiling.

“I literally came here to clean and then didn’t do shit,” you informed him. “Besides, you can’t clean up. You have to supervise to ensure the safety of your countertops, remember?”

He smirked. “How could I forget?”

You grinned and turned back to the sink, powering through all the dishes and stowing the leftovers away in tupperware. Shouto watched you hawkishly as you wiped down the counters, and you laughed.

“You can’t protect them from me while you’re gone,” you intoned, turning to him. “You might as well say your farewells now.”

His eyes narrowed and he stepped closer to you. You took a step back in surprise, your hip bumping the counter.

“I seem to recall bribery works quite well,” he said, his voice dipping lower. Your skin prickled at the sound. “What would you have me offer this time?”

You stared up at him, fighting down a shiver. He must not have realized how close he’d stepped, but he was near enough that you could feel the heat of him and smell that cologne again, that clean scent that made your head spin. After a couple of glasses of wine, you were helpless to fight the way your eyes were drawn to his mouth. Every nerve ending in your body snapped to attention.

You leaned forward, feeling dazed. Then you froze when you realized what you were doing. Jesus Christ, you needed to be arrested.

“Uh, consider the vegetables payment enough,” you said quickly, gazing up at him with wide eyes.

Shouto watched you for a long moment with a strange little smile playing about his mouth, then stepped back, letting you go. You breathed a quiet sigh of relief while simultaneously mourning the loss of his proximity.

He turned and grabbed up the extra food to press into your hands, then called an agency car for you as he always did, and walked you down to the lobby of his building.

“Please stay safe,” you said to him as you lingered in the doorway, hating the way your voice sounded a little desperate.

He smiled, and before you knew what was happening, his arms went around you, pulling you into his chest. He was so warm and broad and hard with lean muscle, and he smelled so, so good. You couldn’t suppress your full body shiver.

“I’ll stay safe,” he said into your hair. “If you keep my countertops safe.”

You couldn’t help but laugh into his sweater. “It’s a deal.”

He kept you pressed to him for a few moments more, and you tried to be subtle about the lungfuls of air you were taking, the way you were memorizing the feel of him to replay over and over in your brain for the literal rest of your life. Eventually, one of the security officers coughed, and you jumped back, shame-faced.

“I’ll see you in a week,” Shouto promised.

You smiled. “See you in a week.”

Then you turned and walked to the car. You could feel a pair of eyes hot on your back, following you until the car pulled away and turned out into the night.

The rest of the week passed fairly uneventfully. You ate, slept, wrote a paper, and clocked in to your usual Thursday shift at Shouto’s apartment, trying not to feel too disappointed at how empty it felt without him there. He hadn’t told you much, but you had gathered that his assignment had taken him outside of the country, and this meant that you hadn’t received any texts from him in days.

You tried to keep yourself distracted all through the weekend, getting a leg up on all the finals work that was starting to pile up, putting in a ton of hours at the fancy coffee shop with your laptop and several americanos that were (to your fond exasperation) still completely paid for.

It was only when Monday rolled around that something went completely and utterly wrong, and not in any way that you would have ever expected.

When you walked into lecture that morning, you immediately felt like you were being watched. A quick check in your periphery confirmed that a couple groups of students were casting subtle glances in your direction, and excited whispers began to pick up around you. You quickly ran a hand over your face to see if you’d accidentally gotten toothpaste on yourself, and glanced down at your clothes to make sure no coffee had spilled.

Nothing came to your attention, so you settled into your seat, wondering.

Lecture passed slowly, and as the minutes ticked by, you felt more and more pairs of eyes fix themselves on you. When class ended, you watched in bemusement as everyone turned to watch you leave, and you launched yourself out of the room as fast as you could, heartbeat picking up.

What the hell was wrong with people?

Almost as soon as you’d managed to duck out of the building, your phone rang with an unknown number. You stared at it blankly, considering hanging up, but a feeling of foreboding pressed down on you with a sudden urgency. What if something had happened to Shouto?

“Y/N,” a woman on the other end of the line said briskly, as soon as you picked up. “This is Shouto’s manager.”

Your heart leapt into your throat, but before you could gasp out a question, she was talking to you urgently. “I need you to head home as quickly as possible, and don’t talk to anyone on your way.”

“What?” you asked wildly. “Is everything okay? Is Shouto hurt?”

“Shouto’s fine,” she said, then paused. “You haven’t seen the news, then.”

“No?” you frowned. A pair of passing girls stopped short when they caught sight of you, and your sense of confusion magnified twofold.

“You’ve been outed as Shouto’s secret lover,” his manager sighed.

Your heart stopped. What?

“Excuse me?” you asked.

“Someone got a couple shots of you on your date the other week, and a few more in the lobby of his building,” she explained. “That, and you match the description of the woman the villain took from his apartment when he’d claimed to take Shouto’s lover hostage. News outlets will be tracking you down any minute.”

You glanced up, only to find the entire walkway of students frozen, watching you. Your eyes widened and you quickly turned on your heel, picking up into a brisk jog towards your apartment.

“It wasn’t a date though!” you hissed into the phone, anxiety washing over you. “It’s not--they can’t think that Shouto would--with me--!”

Shouto’s manager made a clicking noise with her tongue. “Whether you are or aren’t, it certainly looks like you are,” she paused for a long time, then added somewhat hesitantly, “And as soon as you get home, I need you to delete your twitter account.”

Your limbs iced over. Oh fucking hell--she’d found your twitter account? You launched yourself into a faster run, tearing down the city blocks towards your apartment.

“Oh my god, how did you--? When did--? I am so dead if anyone finds that,” you puffed as you ran, “Has anyone else found it yet or just you?”

“Not yet. It will take the media a few hours to track down all of your information but, having reviewed the contents myself, I think it’s safe to say you’ll want it removed.”

You cringed. You didn’t know how she’d found it, but you hated to think of Shouto finding out exactly what was on there. You hoped she kept things to herself.

“I’ll delete it,” you promised as you rounded the corner into your neighborhood, ignoring the stitch that was making itself known in your side. You needed to hit the gym more. “But what do I do about the secret lover thing? They can’t think that Shouto would actually date me.”

“You do nothing,” she commanded, a pit formed in your gut. “We’ll ignore it, and eventually they will lose interest.”

Your stomach churned. It had already been months since the kidnapping and they clearly hadn’t lost interest yet. You hated to think of Shouto trapped in an even more vicious cycle of gossip all because you couldn’t keep your damn hands to yourself. God, what the hell had you gotten him into?

“That’s not fair to him,” you said, slowing to a walk when you saw a crowd of people lingering around your apartment. You picked up several cameras, and your insides twisted nervously when you realized what was going on. They’d already found your apartment.

“Shouto’s a big boy, he can handle himself,” his manager explained, but you heard her only dimly, as if through water. A plan was suddenly forming in the back of your mind as you considered the crowds milling outside of your apartment. “We’ll come up with a plan later, and--”

“No,” you said, biting your lip nervously. “I think I--I think I know what I can do. I’ll just tell everyone the truth and then they’ll leave him alone.”

"Absolutely not," Shouto's manager said, sounding weirdly like your mom just before she was about to ground you. "You have no experience with the media, they will eat you alive."

You considered this. "But what harm is there in just telling the truth? It's not like you have to have experience for that."

"No," she said, like that would settle things. But you just watched the swarm of people, the feeling getting stronger. You'd gotten kidnapped, you'd suggested the izakaya, you'd held his hand. Shouto was in this situation because of you, whether you were to blame or not. You had to fix things.

“Y/N,” his manager called from the other end of the line, but you weren’t listening. You quickly ended the call, then logged into twitter, clicking into settings and immediately hitting delete on your account. You would not survive if the entire world found out just how thirsty you were for the man you were about to set the record straight on. You ran a quick hand through your hair, making sure that you didn’t look completely embarrassing, and straightened out your clothes.

Then, squaring your shoulders, you walked up to your building.

Immediately, you were swarmed with cameras, all manner of microphones ramming you in the chin and elbows.

“Y/N,” a woman shouted, her eyes bright with excitement, “How does it feel to be Shouto Todoroki’s secret lover? Why did you hide your relationship for so long?”

You’d anticipated the question, but you still couldn’t help the way you stared at her. “Um, I’m not sure if I’m qualified to answer that. We’re not, um--it’s not like that.”

Wow it was hard to talk in front of a camera. Your face heated.

She seemed to ignore you. “Why have the two of you been spotted together on multiple occasions, holding hands and hugging? You seem fairly close to me.”

You cringed. “T-that’s my fault. I drank a little too much and Shouto was helping me home. The hug was just between friends.”

“Todoroki took you home when you were drunk? Did anything happen?”

You gawped. “No, of course not! What are you--? Are you kidding me?”

“A man takes a woman home late at night, and you insist nothing happened?”

Your temper flared. You didn’t like the things she was insinuating about Shouto, and it was already embarrassing enough that nothing had actually happened. He all but thrown you inside to get away from you.

“No,” you said acidly, “It’s not like that for him. Shouto doesn’t feel that way about me.”

“And yet he was holding your hand?” the woman prompted.

Was this a fucking jury trial? Why the hell did she have so many questions? The words bubbled up out of your throat before you could stop them.

“No, I told you it’s not like that! Shouto has zero feelings for me and he was just being nice. If you want a story, you’re going to have to look elsewhere because there is no way on earth Shouto Todoroki would so much as glance in my direction, and he shouldn’t be put on trial for things that a drunk friend did. If Shouto has a secret lover, then that’s news to me too.”

The woman paused, then a grin spread across her face. “You say Todoroki has no feelings for you, but I notice you’ve not made the same claim. Could this instead be a case of unrequited love? Tell me, do you have feelings for a certain pro hero?”

It was a testament to how overwhelmed you were feeling, how much your brain was spinning, how unequipped you had come to lie, how completely and utterly stupid it was for you to have done this in the first place that the words that came out of your mouth next were not “no,” were not “are you kidding,” were not anything that gave you the safety of plausible deniability.

Instead, you opened your mouth, and in a move that would make you cringe until the literal day you died, you said: “Uh--wouldn’t you?”

[sapphicknightaesthetic]

Prompt #2: The winds call me back to you

Ireland had proved to be more than Eivor had bargained for. She sailed home on the wind-tossed sea, wondering if the trade routes, outposts, and alliances she forged would prove to be worth it in the end, compared to their exorbitantly high cost. She remembered Barid’s eyes, soft but desperate, pleading with her to ensure  King Flann’s allegiance with his last breath, paired with an intensity of his love for his son. He had built a thriving city all so that Sichfrith could prosper...

“...Valhalla need not be a place, Eivor. It can be a legacy…”

She thought about her own legacy. Her intention had always been a life dedicated to fighting for honor, for the glory of her people, for some measure of peace where she no longer needed to pick up her axe to defend them at every turn. But is that what England had given her? She had spent much of her energy and immense skills at the whims of others with political aims and goals, not always aligning with her own. She had placed more than one puppet king on a throne, often needing to choose between the better of two evils. Was this honor? Was this a legacy worthy of entrance to Valhalla? 

Eivor felt exhaustion roll through her like the tide, filling every crevice. She felt unsure of her place in the world, and just needed the comfort of home. Of Randvi. That was her raison d'être, as Estrid would say. Her reason for being. If she fought for the betterment of her clan, if she made connections and alliances to ensure their safety, that was all that mattered. She shook the sad cobwebs from her mind, determined to have a genuine smile for her wife when she returned. She leaned against the firm wall of the longship, and fell into an uneasy sleep.

Birna shook her shoulder. “Come on Sunbeam. Home time.”

Eivor’s eyes fluttered open, she blinked sleep back to its void. “Have we docked?”

“Not yet. We’re just around the bend.”

“Thanks for waking me, Birna.”

“I’m so glad to be rid of Ireland! Those Druids were something else, eh? Giving decent Pagans a bad name.”

“Mmmm.”

“Eivor, I don’t mean to pry. But you spent a lot of time with that red haired witch...what’s her name…”

“Ciara. I did. What’s your question, Birna?”

“I’m just wondering if you made any Druid magic of your own in that wet bog of a land?”

Eivor rolled her eyes. Birna knew full well she hadn’t, though this question seemed to pop up after every major journey they undertook. Eivor had tried to tell her multiple times that she would never be unfaithful to Randvi, that she could not bed anyone for the sake of it if her heart wasn’t in it. The concept had been lost on Birna, and so the questions had persisted. 

“You know I didn’t.”

“I’m just checking. You do have a type, Sunbeam. That red hair burns like fire.”

Eivor grinned ruefully, shook her head, and turned to look at their surroundings. They were just passing the trined point in the river that led to Grantebridge, the ruins of Duroliponte looming to the Southeast. One more bend and they’d be home. She wondered if Randvi would be there waiting; she had sent Sýnin ahead with a note. The evening was well on its way, Randvi might even be asleep. She pictured their bed, warm and soft, furs piled on top of them as they snuggled together, limbs entwined. More and more, this was what she wanted. The return home was always worth it, and was always something she looked forward to, but lately she no longer wanted to return, she only wanted the simple everyday fact of her and Randvi together, because she had never left in the first place.

She watched, wistfully, as the crew lowered the sails and started rowing, this part of the river too narrow to traverse safely. Her heart rate increased as the Raider’s hut roof became visible, growing closer with each stroke of the oars. She felt a swell of pride as more of her village emerged from the lowland fog. Her village . She had built this place from almost nothing, discarded hovels of canvas and sticks. Sigurd may have claimed it as theirs, but Eivor had been the one to turn it into something to be proud of, something worth protecting. She leapt to the back of the ship’s tail, standing on a ledge. “...Valhalla need not be a place, Eivor. It can be a legacy…” This was her Valhalla, and it would never be complete without the person at it’s centre, at its heart. 

Eivor realized then that while she was proud of Ravensthorpe, Ravensthorpe, much like her former idea of Valhalla, was only a place. Randvi was her true home. She’d go wherever Randvi was, without question. Their love, with all of its storied history of waiting, longing, and hiding, was her legacy. She saw copper hair, cloaked against the oncoming chill of the evening, waiting like a beacon between the posts of the village entrance.

The ship glided silently up to the dock, and Eivor immediately leapt off, running as fast as her exhausted legs would carry her. She grabbed Randvi, lifting her off the ground in a tight embrace, spinning her around. She inhaled Randvi’s scent, spice and fire blending with earth and ink and smoke. Her heart beat Randvi’s name in fast repetition, her hands holding onto her wife as tightly as she dared without hurting her.

“My love,” Randvi whispered, as she held fast to Eivor. “How I’ve missed you.” Her hands caressed the back of Eivor’s newly shaved head, luxuriating in the velvety feel. 

Eivor couldn’t speak, she did not want to break the moment with words, but slowly set Randvi down, quickly finding her mouth and communicating everything she couldn’t say with a long, slow kiss, paying attention to the feel of Randvi’s lips, the warmth of her mouth, the teasing nature of her teeth. 

Claps and pats of hands landed on her back and shoulders from the crew as they walked past the pair. Their hearts never failed to be happy for their Jarl, for the love that she had found and fought for. For all of her sacrifice, for the enormous work she had devoted to make their lives better, they gladdened at the sight of Eivor and Randvi together. They knew how hard her road had been, how much she had suffered, often silently, from such a young age. Her happiness was their happiness, and they showed her whenever they could. Birna let out a whistle. 

“You better get her to bed, Jarlskona.” Birna wrapped an arm around Petra, who had walked down to meet her wife when she saw the familiar Raven sails from her hut.

“Leave them be, love. I’d better get you to bed.” Petra wrapped an arm around Birna’s waist.

“You’ll hear no complaints from me, Petra. Good night, Sunbeam!”

Eivor and Randvi watched them leave, as Eivor sent them off with a wave. Randvi turned back around, seeing the edges of something in Eivor’s face. “What’s wrong, darling? Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine. I have a few cuts and bruises, nothing to worry about, my heart.”

“Thank you for sending Sýnin. I have a bath prepared. And some roast boar, thanks to Petra.”

Eivor felt overcome at the thoughtful care Randvi showed her in all things. “Randvi...thank you.” Was all she could manage. 

Randvi smiled at her, her wife was always so ready to display gratitude, a custom she never tired of, but she furrowed her eyes, wondering what was troubling her usually contented drengr.

“Let’s get you home.”

 

Randvi and Eivor sat in deliciously scented hot water. The worry and tension Eivor had carried home with her evaporated into the steam drifting to the longhouse ceiling. A satisfied smile now constantly fixed on her face. 

“This was a great idea, possibly the best you’ve ever had. And that’s truly saying something.”

“I aim to please, my Jarl.” Randvi felt self-congratulatory at the obvious change in her love’s mood. Years of observing Eivor, of seeing her come home in different states of health and happiness, of finding different ways of tending to that glorious body and soul made Randvi an expert in the proper care and maintenance of her physically ferocious wife. But one truth prevailed among her experience: Eivor always recooperated faster with a bath. 

“Are you ready to talk about Ireland?”

Eivor exhaled. “I will do my best. It still feels...fresh.”

Randvi sat up in the bath, giving Eivor all of her attention.

“You know I went to Ireland to help my cousin, Barid. And I did help, although Barid fell in battle. His High King did not heed Barid’s warnings. We were able to beat the Druids back, but I have been wondering if his death was needless, no matter how good and glorious his end. He died a hero, and is no doubt in Valhalla, but had his words been listened to, he would still be the King of Dublin, and his son would still have his father.”

“It is not up to us to change fate, Eivor. It sounds like the Nornir gave Barid a good death. What else can we ask in this life?”

“The love of the most beautiful and intelligent of women, for a start, at the very least.”

Randvi rolled her eyes and laughed, pleasure and embarrassment mingled together. When she looked back at Eivor, sorrow still crept in the periphery. “Is that all that troubles you, Eivor?”

“The Druids of Ireland are much like us, trying to carve out a life for themselves, trying to hold onto their traditions and culture, though the Christians would willingly wipe them, and us, away if given the chance. There was an extremist faction, the Children of Danu, that were causing all the strife while other Druids were forced to live in fear and even secrecy. It made me wonder if we will ever truly pacify this land. The Christians make no room for anyone else. I…I had to kill a Druid priestess who I thought was my friend, all for a Christian King who would rule over all. Was that honorable? I feel...stained, Randvi. I wonder if the decisions I’ve made in my time here are hurting our people, rather than truly helping. She was misguided, angry, she caused a lot of pain in the land there. I think King Flann Sinna saw the error of his ways in his treatment of the Druids, and he will make amends - he said as much. But these Christians...they can be false as well as unyielding. I’m not sure how far he can be trusted.” 

Memories of Fulke and King Aelfred made her skin prick involuntarily. The Norse and Danes were often met with a great deal more than suspicion and hostility, labeled as barbarians and savages for their voracity in war. But there was something honest and forthright in them as a people; they hid nothing, they lived openly and celebrated the customs and cultures of all who chose to live among them. Sharing resources through a community was their way, regardless of the people that community comprised; yet this was not the way of the Christians. From what she had seen, they feared all outsiders. She was unsure if this was unique to Anglo-Saxon Christians or not, but from all she had experienced, she was not keen to go looking for other examples. 

Randvi found Eivor’s hand under the warm water, and stroked soothingly. Her love never lost sight of the broader view and what it meant for her people. It was one of the many things she adored and cherished about her. She took Eivor’s fingers and brought them to her lips, kissing them lightly. 

“These are large questions, my love. Too large to confront in one night. But I promise I will help you as much as I can in our time come in this land. You try to take care of so many, Eivor Varinsdottir. I fear the world is too big, even for your very broad shoulders.”

Eivor felt her heart flutter. After all these years, after all this time, being with Randvi made her feel like she was falling in love with her over and over again. She never stopped falling. 

“But maybe, just for tonight, you can let me take care of you?” Randvi leaned forward, kissing one cheek lightly, then the other cheek, her nose, her chin, across her forehead, until she found Eivor’s lips, nipping lightly, until Eivor pulled her forward and kissed her with earnest desire. She opened her body, as Randvi lay on top of her in the bath, relishing the closeness after too many months apart. 

Eivor leaned her head back slightly, looking into Randvi’s eyes, darkened to forest green between her desire and the dim candlelight around them.

“Barid said something to me, before the Valkyrie came to claim him. He told me that Valhalla need not be a place, that it can be a legacy.” Eivor held Randvi’s gaze, needing her to feel how much she meant what she was about to say. “I think perhaps for me, it is not so much a legacy, as it’s you, Randvi. You are my home, my Valhalla. After all of our time in England, all of the campaigns, the politicking, the alliances we have paid for with sweat and blood, we could walk away tomorrow and I would not care. The winds always call me back to you, wherever you are.” 

Randvi felt strangely vulnerable, though deeply moved. She felt her heart race to echo and return Eivor’s sentiment. If Eivor ever left Ravensthorpe, Randvi would follow without hesitation. She used the moment to lean down and kiss Eivor again, with unashamed love and lust and pride and longing and hope. Their lives together had not been easy, but it had been worth every moment they had paid. 

She felt Eivor’s hands slide down to her lower back, holding her closely. She felt a hot rush in her center, and decided it was time to leave the bath. 

“Shall we adjourn to our chambers, my Jarl?”

Eivor smirked, knowingly. “Indeed, my Jarlskona.” 

Randvi made her way out of the bath, as Eivor followed suit. Randvi spied some new blade slices over Eivor’s body, and some fresh bruises getting ready to bloom; she’d be sure to kiss them all later. She took Eivor’s hand and led them naked to their bed. Their bed . A place she was never tired of acknowledging. 

Eivor pulled Randvi to her, wrapping her in strong, solid muscle. “I missed you, Jarlskona.”

“And I you, my Jarl.” Randvi pressed her teeth against Eivor’s neck, nipping and sucking her way along the tender flesh under her chin. She heard Eivor’s breath catch, and a gasp after she released skin from her teeth. She moved a hand, cupping Eivor’s sex, feeling the wet traces of her want on her fingers. Eivor bowed her head resting it on Randvi’s shoulder, her breathing deepening with anticipation. This fierce drengr, terror of England and Ireland, great Jarl of a proud clan, was made vulnerable and soft with a single touch. It was a power Randvi knew only she wielded, and she never took it for granted. 

She brought Eivor to the bed, guiding her down. “What would you like, darling?” She purred in a way that drove Eivor wild.

“You. I just want you.”

“I am yours, Eivor.”

And the sound of those words, said by the only woman in the world she needed to hear them from, snapped Eivor out of the worry she brought home with her. As the sounds of their love-making filled the longhouse, Ravensthorpe sighed relief, and for tonight at least, everything was well in the world.

[therealmintedmango]

Cerberus - Part One

Summary: ...”An eerie shadowy figure looms across the way making my murderous blood run cold. It looks smaller than a bear so the thought of running into a bloodthirsty wild animal leaves my mind. It looks not like a wild boar or cat. Wait. There appears to be not just one figure looming across the meadow but two. My eyes widen. The figures don't move but they both stand like humans would upon two legs. But they are bigger… Much larger now that I squint across at these two unknown figures. My stomach drops as I feel like a low growl is produced by the looming, unwavering figures… with… glowing amber eyes?...”

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

Genre: Werewolf/ Shifter AU; Medieval AU; Strangers-To-Lovers AU; Heavy Angst; Soulmate AU; Eventual romance/ smut

Beta Read By: @justanothergirlfromeurope​ Thank you so much my darling for helping me with this! You are wonderful! Thank you! 💖

Rating: NC 18+, Explicit 

Words: 5,379 

Pairings: (Eventually) ot7 BTS x Human Female Reader 

Warnings: Dark themes; Possible Yandere Vibes in the future; Death; Gore; Murder/ Killing; Implied Incest (nothing happens - I promise); Mentions of being naked/ being seen naked; I think that’s it.

It’s late July in the afternoon, the hot sun baking boils on exposed skin if you are a brave enough soul to show any flesh. The cicadas cry, the large winged beasts screaming into the scorching air, sounding like terrible, angry monsters. My giggles cut through the loud droning of the winged beetles, pleased to my core I even let out an unladylike snort, shoulders shaking as Seungkwan tells the group of us a joke. I sit with a few of my brothers - the princes of the land in which father rules - in the shade of the maple when the laughing ceases as a shadow blocks the sun from roasting us further. The younger crowd of my brothers and I look up to see it is men from the king’s court, walking over to our shady spot in the garden, solemn features, shiny hats, and a loyalty to my father is the only thing they share. 

They say that mother has passed.

My brother Minghao gets up and asks where the older kin of boys are. The advisors tell him as he barks at us to stay here. The castle, they say. Infection, they say. Seokmin gasps, the bright smile like mother’s downturned at the news. Seungkwan’s joyful attitude dies. Vernon covers his face with his hands, a sob ripping from his throat. Youngest of my thirteen brothers, Chan, clings to me suddenly, tears welling in his large brown orbs as I hold him steadfast. 

The food sitting in my stomach feels rotten and cursed all of a sudden. All the sound dies from my ears, my mouth hangs open as the breath escapes me. 

Infection they say? How could they say such a thing? She was never ill, I think as people are running in and out of the castle, screaming and crying—something I wish I could do at this moment. I flinch, hearing my most vicious brother - Soonyoung - bellow a sound I wasn’t aware he was able to produce. 

I feel the same, but only in my heart for my lips cannot utter even a simple, single whisper. 

I was never close with mother even being the only daughter she had out of the fourteen children she created over the years with father when she was fertile - the only job a woman of nobility has in these times. And when she is finished having many children she is to still retain her youthful appearance which she did easily. 

They said that she gave her children a little piece of herself when she birthed us all. Chan has her sparkling eyes, Seokmin her smile, Junhui has her high cheekbones, Soonyoung has her unbreakable spirit, Minghao has her sharp tongue, Jeonghan has her cunning brain, Jihoon has her feisty attitude, Mingyu has her ability to be understanding and kind in the midst of her fire and passion, Seungkwan retains her strange sense of humor, Wonwoo got her cool intelligence, Vernon got her uncanny skill to be so young but so strong at the same time, Seungcheol has her unyielding stride, and Joshua her wit. And they say that I am a twin of my mother physically: her hair, her body type, her smile, eyes, her wide hips, sharp shoulders, feet, hands, legs, and even my fingernails. 

I only wish I had her spirit and fire my brothers bear, but perhaps they took it all before I was created in her belly? They say that children suck precious things out of you. Did I take everything else from her? Was my guilt eating me alive? 

My father, the king of this land, kept her locked away most of the time in the high tower of the west portion of the castle. I don’t know much about father but I know he is easily jealous. He wants the best whatever that may be: the most children, the best cloaks, the best military, the cleanest streets, the shiniest coins, the happiest peasants, the most beautiful queen in all of the land. Father hated when mother would talk to anyone that wasn’t close kin at dinner time or when we went to the market when she would merely look at the fruit seller man. She would be gone for days, no trace of her for a week or so, emerging with tired eyes, brushing the stray hairs from my face as she smiled sadly at me. Little did I know there was no fruit seller in the cobblestone market either. 

Still, my heart aches for a mother I had and hardly ever knew. 

The sound of the boisterous cicadas fills my ears, hearing returning to normal as brothers Jeonghan and Joshua come to collect us shortly after that, faces made of what looks like stone. 

-

It has been many moons since mother has passed. The air that was once ripe with colors and sounds is quieter now. It’s cool, my peacoat and shawl wrapped around me when I roam the garden in the afternoon with a different brother each day. It’s almost time for a harvest moon which comes in a week, Wonwoo told me on our walk yesterday. The demons and goblins of the underworld are said to have sprung up from the dirt and mud during these times. We sent mother away on a burning ship out to sea so I can’t help but wonder if mother is in the sky, the ground, or the sea still. 

My brother Soonyoung and I walk quietly together, the brown leaves crunching under our boots. It is a rare time when his voice is still. I know he is pondering what to say to me. 

What can one say to me? 

I love them deeply though, their touch and affection they still bring to me after each day. Sun up to sun down they coddle me. They have always coddled me, even the elder ones who are fit and strong and ready to be wed treat me as if I am a babe. I used to hate feeling like this, like I am small and unimportant, a babe who needs protecting. The only daughter the king has ever had. One of fourteen. I am no one to my father, to his people. But to my brothers now I see, I am their youngest sister. Something they only have one of. They cling tighter to me emotionally and physically now that mother is no longer here. 

I will take this feeling and hold onto it. I am important to them for that is why they treat me this way. 

The sound of horse hooves clattering up the path behind startles me. Soonyoung shields me, pulling me into his warm chest. I am comforted and protected. 

“Prince Soonyoung, Princess.” The captain speaks monotone. They do not call my name for I am a woman. Even of nobility and the pride of my brothers, I have no name besides my title.  

The captain’s lips move. I have no idea if what I heard was true. Soonyoung snarls and tells them that it's preposterous and evil and to shoo before he cuts them with his blade attached to his hip. They turn on their stallions and leave, a fog rolling into the garden as I feel hot and confused. 

Did I hear them correctly? 

They say that father wants to marry me.

They say that he will never be able to find a bride as beautiful and as perfect as my mother. They said that I will wed at sunset tomorrow. 

It is my turn to be made of stone as I fall into darkness. My breath is gone, a warm exhale hits the cool air, leaving my lips in a wisp before I pass out in my middle brother’s strong arms. 

-

When I awaken, my eldest brother, Prince Seungcheol, is heard pleading with my father in the political hall. His usually calm voice echoes against the rock of the building, the fire crackling in his basins as my thirteen brothers all object to me being my father's next bride. His brows are kit, furrowed as his lips speak my thoughts for me while father watches with mild amusement, seated at his holy throne. 

“She is not ready to be wed! She has not even bled yet!” He remarks, flinging his hands out to his sides. Little do they know, I have, I have just kept it a secret, becoming a woman is nobody's business but my own. “She is your daughter! Think, father! Think! How the kingdom will hate you for that! It is vile!” His voice cracks, tears swim in his brown eyes as my brothers shake their heads in agreement. 

Yes. How vile indeed, I think watching them all silently behind a pillar from above the hall. 

Father gets up with a wretched smile stretched upon his lips. I take a few steps forward, uncloaking myself from the secrets of the darkness in my nightgown a maid must have dressed me in, looking over the stone railing. “She is our littlest sister! Our only sister! She deserves to be married for love and only love-“

SLAP. 

I gasp as my stomach pits into itself. My brothers flinch. 

“How dare you talk like this to me, Seungcheol!” Father spits, anger flashing in his eyes like the fire in the torch basins. “She is a woman. She has no rights no matter who and what she is. She belongs to me.” 

“How dare you treat Y/N like an object and not like your daughter!” Soonyoung snarls, mothers fire lit inside of him like the hot sun. He is brilliant and strong like a tiger who burns through the forest in his powerful wake. 

Father raises his hand striking Soonyoung across his cheek with a sound that echoes in the corners of the hall. Something falls from his hands, though its clanking sound is covered up from the shouts that follow. 

“How dare you thirteen boys!” Father is shouting, my feet are moving on their own, rushing down the stairs to my brothers. “All of you are utterly worthless!” He shouts as Mingyu, the tallest brother, rage ablaze on his face as he moves toward the king, arms raised as he acts like he is about to slap father. 

Please, don’t! Is what I want to say, but I cannot. 

“Guards!” My father shouts into the hall as they come running in at his command. “Flog them all hundred lashes each!” He smiles a wicked smile as I run up to the scene with the ones carrying swords and pointed sticks. “And if they make a sound give them ten more!”

My brothers are being beaten and detained and my heart is breaking into fragile glass as the noise and blood coming from their mouths is too much to bear.

I do the only thing I can do. 

It is my turn to protect my brothers. 

Please mother, give me all your strength to stand up to this vile, evil man who surely killed you for the sport of it. My gut twists thinking of the peril I may face rising to the challenge that is our father. 

“Stop!” I say, my voice shaking as the next few seconds feel like hours and the eyes of all the men in the hall are on me. I walk toward my weathered and old looking father as he smirks a devilish grin down at me ascending the steps to his throne. 

“Father please, I beg you: I will marry you and do whatever you say, as long as you let them go now.” My voice does not shake now. My voice is calm and steady. Mother’s spirit fills me at this moment as I speak up to my father. Before this, I have not spoken to him before this for what feels like eons until now. 

“No!” Several of my brothers yell as I stand in false confidence, inhaling the iron from the red liquid that fills the hall. “No! No! No!” They shout as I stand in front of the man that doesn’t see me as a daughter. I am an object to him, whether I like it or not. 

He smiles, stroking his wiry, grey beard as he sits back on his golden chair, cloaks draped over his shoulders pool and spill over the seat behind him. 

“Whatever you say?” Father quips and I nod, hands balling into fists onto my sides, nails that are not mine dig into skin that is also not mine. “Then strip.”

My eyes grow wide, my lips part in shock, my blood which is mine boils, white-hot and merciless trapped in this skin that should belong to my mother. 

“Father, please!” Jeonghan, my father’s son and second eldest, pleads now. “Be reasonable!”

“She said anything, boys.” My father, the ugly worm that he is, states calmly. 

“Should a virgin be seen like this before she is wed?” Joshua makes a good point while father rips his pupils away from me as Jihoon, smart bugger that he is, recites the article of the kingdom where it is unlawful for a virgin to be seen in such a state before she is made another man’s woman. 

Father scoffs as he says, “Flog them two hundred times if they don’t like-“

“No.” I say, holding my ground, brushing hair out of my face. All eyes on me again as Chan starts crying. “I will do what you wish.” 

“Then do it!” Father shouts, banging his fist on the arm of the golden seat as he gets up. “Do it now and if anyone makes a noise: I will behead you.” 

I do it. I find the buttons on my yellow nightgown, my hands do not shake or waver as I shake the comfortable garment from my shoulders. My slip is the only thing that covers me now. My brothers close their eyes, look away, Chan choking on his sobs but the only thing I can hear is the roar of the crackling of fire. I step out of my nightgown, walking up to my father's throne. I see it. Glinting in the torch light. A stray blade lies upon the steps close to the devil king that is my flesh and blood. 

Praise the gods for the viscous middle brother I have. 

I step out of my white slip now, distracting the men who have their wicked eyes set upon me, hungry wolves ready to take any meat they can. I hold my father’s gaze as it travels down my body, making sure he does not look upon what my right hand is doing. 

I have it. I move quickly, the spirit of my mother now fully alive inside of the body that is said not to be mine. 

But now it’s mine. 

I am not a disrespectful child nor have I lashed out against my parents ever. I followed the rules without exception, never spoke out of turn and always let my older brothers go first for treats and presents. Always. I am a slave to my family and the system that I was born into. The ugly demons and snaggle-toothed goblins are really alive and well during this time as my brothers have said. The scent of strong ale hits my nose the closer I get. Maybe the beings of the underworld have possessed him? I am looking for a way out, a way to logically justify the way father is. But no. I know the real answer. 

This man is evil. Has always been evil. And he needs to be stopped. 

I am not a killer. But I am sick of the mistreatment of my family. I know my father killed my mother. There was no infection. None. 

Like a crazy witch with eyes burning like white-hot coals, whose blood is singeing to be set free, I plunge the pointed blade into my father’s throat. 

Blood spurts from his neck, squirting against my bare flesh, his eyes roll back as he gurgles profanity, my body blazing as my whole existence is overcome with the desire to end this cycle of corrupt injustice. 

“Run!” Vernon shouts as the guards descend in my direction. I drop the blade in haste, my brothers scream for me to run away as the guards scream mutiny. 

And I do. 

—

-Somewhere deep within the neighboring wood...-

“I’m hungry.” A clear tenor tone sounds off in the dark wood, a small chuckle leaving his lips as he resumes a human form in all his naked glory. Hoseok’s lithe body full of sweat glistens under the moonlight as he reaches for his purple cloaks under the large tree in the middle of the bog they just finished running around in. 

“Me as well, brother.” A deep bass vibrates off the trunks of the thick trees, his wolf form morphing into his handsome, tan body. 

“Taehyung, Hoseok.” A soft voice wafts through the air. “We aren’t to feast before the full moon.” The eldest quips, melting from his shiny fur, shaking his dark locks free from his collar as he dresses under the almost pregnant moon. 

“I can’t wait.” The second eldest grunts as he comes into the torch light that was burning on the stump next to their favorite tree. “The air is ripe with so much wildlife tonight.” He wets the edges of his lips, the thought of fresh, pink, juicy flesh at the forefront of his mind as well as his brothers.

“Where are Jungkook and Jimin?” Namjoon growls as he quickly morphs into his tall self, sweaty skin glistening under the light from the mother moon. Their run through the dense wood was very fruitful in the sense that they let loose and got a lot of pent up energy out of their bodies.

“Weren’t they behind you, Yoongi?” Seokjin questions as he scoops up the younger one’s clothes in his arms, signaling Taehyung and Namjoon to take the torch light. Yoongi shakes his white hair back and forth with a solemn grunt. “Very well,” Seokjin nods, twitching his nostrils in the air. “Hoseok, you have the loudest howl. Will you please call for the troublemakers?” 

The man with the hair as bright as cherry pie chuckles right before he sucks in a large breath. The third eldest bellows a howl that will be heard throughout the wood surely. 

They wait with bated breath for two of the younger brothers to respond. The wind whips around them carrying the smell of fallen, rotting leaves, thick moisture in the atmosphere, and the odor of something unfamiliar in the air. They all exchange looks in the torches' soft, orange glow. Something doesn’t feel right. 

The five brothers start to become uneasy. Taehyung shifts on his feet. Yoongi wets the edges of his lips more. Namjoon shifts his eyes between his brothers, swallowing uncomfortably. Hoseok frowns, kicking a few leaves in the dirt as he waits for the brothers to return his call. 

After another moment or two, the second eldest bristles, anger flashing in his amber orbs. “I swear if those wild banshees from the Twicelands have set another trap for us in our forest-“

The white-haired brother is cut off by the sudden cry of both of his brothers they were in search of, coming east off the dense bog.

“Come quickly!” Jimin yelps, his higher pitch ringing around the wood. “Come see brothers!” 

Meanwhile, Jungkook only utters one word that has the brothers taking off like bats out of the deep trenches of hell. “Mate!”

—

My skin is on fire, my fingertips numb, and my feet hurt as I run naked from the castle into the blackness of the night. 

I escaped through the kitchens, not a sane soul awake at this hour so I quietly slipped through the cracks. I hear more yelling and shouting but I cannot slow down. The blood of my father drips down my naked body, making me feel like a painted warrior. 

A shout is heard from the stable. The men on my father’s court call my name but it is not a happy sound. It is a sound of lies, of deceit, of pain they want to inflict upon me. I shudder when I hear Soonyoung scream a throaty battle cry into the evening air, on his way to find these men and rip them limb from limb surely. 

Under the almost full, pregnant moon, a blood bath is occurring in the usually peaceful castle.

I trip on an exposed root from a tree beyond the stables. When I gather myself, pushing up off the ground, I see a bed sheet hanging from a line out to dry and I snatch it from the air. I tie it, tugging it around myself loosely, giving my legs room to carry me off into the thick wood that lines the backside of the castle. 

Dread and fear taint my senses as I pad along the brush barefoot, trying to maintain a quietness even though I am running. The fallen leaves crunch underfoot, the earth cold. My naked body starts to shiver, the adrenaline of my actions wilting away as I fly through branches and bushes. I have no clue where I am headed, the pale moonlight guiding me. Wherever I see on my path I go next. 

My feet slip on the slick ground under my feet. I trip over my heel several times, mud and dirt covering my palms as I right myself. I must not look like a princess, so disgusting, covered in blood and unkept in this feeble, white bed sheet. 

I have to press on, I remind myself.

My breathing is ragged as I climb through long, pointed branches and under low shrubs. I stop for a second to catch my breath as I glance at the almost completely blackened forest. The nightlife of the dark wood whispering around me: bats screeching overhead, crickets that haven’t died out sing into the cold night air, even a pack of wolves howl out into the throes of the velvet evening. 

I suck in a cool gust of air, ready to trek along the unknown path once more. 

Wisps of my breath leave my lips as the cold night air stings my lungs. It feels as though I have been running for ages, the torch light not visible through the thickness of the tall trees. Have I run far enough? I think as I come to a little clearing in the wood, a meadow of soft, lush clover encompasses the land. 

An eerie shadowy figure looms across the way making my murderous blood run cold. It looks smaller than a bear so the thought of running into a bloodthirsty wild animal leaves my mind. It looks not like a wild boar or cat. Wait. There appears to be not just one figure looming across the meadow but two. My eyes widen. The figures don't move but they both stand like humans would upon two legs. But they are bigger… Much larger now that I squint across at these two unknown figures. My stomach drops as I feel like a low growl is produced by the looming, unwavering figures… with… glowing amber eyes?

 A wind whips through the meadow quickly, breezing from behind me, whipping my hair and the bedsheet about like a flag on a pike. 

I hear the sound of horses and I gasp, covering my mouth with the noise I just made. I shake my head, snapping out of my trance of looking to the almost human like figures. 

Have they found me? Have the guards and the men of my father’s court located me? My brothers were surely fighting, right? I pray none of my kin have lost their lives because of me. Or are they not men from my father’s castle? Would they hurt me? Torture me? Deflower me?

I shudder. 

I turn to run east, looking over my shoulder to the figures that have disappeared in the trees. A fog sweeping through the thicket, blocking my vision. It was probably a trick of my scared mind, I remind myself. 

Another thought chills me to the bone as I feel the exposed skin of my legs and arms slice under the thorn bush I accidentally stumble into, making more noise than necessary. I squeak in pain. The more I try and pry myself of the spikes, the more I become entangled inside of the nasty, winding plant. I want to call for help but I don’t want to alert whatever is coming near me. 

It is almost the harvest moon. The line between realms is blurred meaning creatures that normally I think exist in fairy tales are real at this time of year. Could it be a wandering herd of ghouls? A pack of wild demons coming to devour my flesh clean off my bone? My body shakes with uncertainty as I paw about the dirt. 

Ever since I was a little girl, my brothers have warned me about the wood. I should never go in alone. I should always bring someone. I should always have a weapon or a horse or something to protect me. Monsters are said to lurk in the bog that the wood surrounds in a thick sea of lush brush and vegetation. 

An owl hoots overhead as the sound grows thicker, heavier. The footfalls inching closer and closer by the second. The wolf’s howl sounds off again, this time the cries from the beast desperate - the noise much too close for comfort. 

No, I think as I freeze with a bone-chilling noise that vibrates off the trees around me. Not just one lone wolf howl. There are two very distinct animal noises that echo off the earth I lie bound to. One softer and longer. The other a little nasally and short - more like a bark than a howl. 

I should have run to the market, I think, body shaking from the cold and acute fear that plagues my mind. I should have tried to hide with a peasant or two until this treacherous act blew over or married a nobleman’s family in a neighboring town. Mentally I chastise myself as the thunderous noise draws closer and closer. Why am I so rash?

My heart hurts, it clenches in around itself as I look up into the shimmering moon hanging low in the sky. In a bed of thorns I lie, blood from wounds of my own and from my father still flows down my body, exhaustion overtakes me finally. I’m entangled, suffocating in the sharp spikes that pierce my body, choking me from the freedom I so desire. I can’t move my muscles, my body tense and sore, my feet blistered and cold. I’m weary. A tear rolls out of my eye and falls onto my dirty cheek as I snap my orbs tightly closed, the horses almost upon me, I think as I hiccup a sob. 

All of a sudden, the boisterous noise of what sounded like a hundred horses pounding toward me, stops. I suck in a breath and prepare for the worst. An eye for an eye, right? So they should slit my throat like I did to father.

It is my turn to die. 

“Little bird,” a soft, steady tenor of a voice purrs out above me that I don’t recognize. My eyes fly open, revealing a glowing torch light and a few handsome faces I cannot place hanging around me. “It seems you’ve flown far from your nest.” He simpers, flames dancing off his puffy lips as he gently brushes a stray hair away from my unkempt face. He shows no disgust, only empathy as he gazes upon me trapped in this tangle of wild thicket. 

I flinch as the long thorn branches I have ensnared myself in are being removed from my shivering body. The other boys, I’m unsure of how many surround me, take extreme caution, trying not to harm me as they pull the plants off of me. 

“Are you from Royaume des Diamants (Kingdom of Diamonds)?” His puffy, pink lips utter quietly in the night. I stare at his sculpted face, admiring his accent as I feel like the terrors of the darkness are melting away with his soft speech. I say nothing but look up into the rich eyes that seem to glow a golden-amber shade in the torch light. They bewitch me and I am in awe. “Little bird?” His perfect brows twist into an expression of concern and I take a moment to glance away from his otherworldly face and to his other features for a second. 

Dressed in rich purple with gold medals hanging from his broad shoulders, I can tell he was from a family of prestige. His lips are giant and lush but they are not out of place on his pale face. He appears to be a prince from those fairy tales I’ve heard so much about from the stories my brothers have told me since I was a babe. His dark hair envelopes his face, curling just at the ends, making him look far younger than I am sure he is. They finish uncovering me from the thorns and all gaze upon me covered in blood, dirt, sweat - looking positively disheveled - the farthest thing from a princess. 

“Hyung,” a deep bass speaks from behind the broad shouldered noble-man, “she’s shivering.” A tan boy with thick eyebrows observes above me. His velvety voice makes my cold body feel warm with the way his timbre seems to echo off the wood of the trees around me. 

“I know you are probably frightened and it looks like you have been through a lot…” The prince-like man holds an arm out for me to take. “...and even though your lips don’t speak, I do not wish for you to freeze out here in the wood.” The boys surrounding me shake their heads in agreement with the handsome one speaking. “Will you come with us, little bird?” 

I don’t want to die and I don’t want to die out here in the cold night. Even if they want to hurt me or worse, I don’t want to die frozen to death in the thicket. Somehow, I don’t think they are bad men, but my threshold of trust was high due to the internal struggle I faced with my family. Still, I feel oddly comforted by the seven who are mostly quiet above me. 

As I go to speak - to tell them ‘yes’, opening my lips slowly, nothing comes out. Not a peep or a squeak I can utter. The boys share looks of confusion at my lack of acknowledgment. My orbs flit from one handsome face to the next. Are they all princes wearing the same cloaks of purple and gold? I register you all, I swear I think in my mess of a mind. My body is too exhausted, not being able to do anything but nod once. 

That’s all they needed to collect me it seems.

“Come, little bird.” The soft voice purrs again as I am being propped up gingerly, carefully by one of the boys around me. I lull my head against his warm body, a blanket or a cloak (I haven’t a clue which) was placed upon my dirty body. This boy is strong, not struggling to hold me up in the slightest I think as my eyelids flutter. I look up to him. He has long, black-as-night curly hair that falls around his neck, smiling tenderly down at me, his nose is long and rounded at the tip, a little mole under his lip catching my eyes that flutter more and more with every breath I take. Sleep was overtaking my body now that I know I am safe. “We will take you to a place where you will not suffer any longer.” 

And with that affirmation, I nestle closer in the arms of the strong, young boy, believing the prince-like voice that hums a sweet lullaby. I yawn while he continues stroking my matted, tangled hair as I fall fast asleep against this stranger's chest.

I miss the seven smiles and nods, drinking me in with their sparkling amber gazes.

---------

PART TWO 

[evarcana]

Courtiers + Christmas

Sorry, dear anon, it took me ages 😓 well at least I did it before xmas, right?

To avoid the whole discourse about why the bunch of demons and one morally corrupted human are celebrating Christmas, I should say that this is based on the MC inviting the courtiers to celebrate together.

Valdemar🎄😈

Not like they usually pay attention to silly human holidays. But if it is you inviting... “how delightful” - of course Valdemar is coming. The problem is that in their millennia of existence being busy with their research they sort of missed out on what Christmas was about. “MC, don’t give me that look, this is all fairly new”, you don’t even want to what is old for them. But it’s Valdemar so they lock themselves in dungeons and put all their inhuman determination into researching Christmas.

Valdemar’s research is ...advanced. After they excitingly start telling you whether you knew that red in decorations symbolises blood, you decide it’s time to intervene, hand Valdemar list of gifts to buy and encourage them to return to their usual work (who would believe you would ever say it).

They turn to the party/dinner dressed as Santa (or whatever equivalent). Are you shocked? Erm yes... But why are other guests loving it ?! Well they did become sort of xmas expert in less than a week so you guess it’s okay. Expects lots of stories on how Christmas celebrations developed over the last centuries.

Charms your grandma or elderly auntie by being the only person capable of listening about their chronical conditions and actually engaging on the topic. Your little niece/neighbour’s kid loves them too - they expertly removed all those bits of turkey leg they don’t like to eat in less than 5 seconds. Everybody loves them. But Valdemar still spends most of the time telling what a fascinating specimen you are.

When it comes to gift exchange part, you are glad that they only added a few medical books, plague masks and antiseptics to the list, could be worse.., but where is yours present? “You, my little silly duckling, are on the naughty list this year” with this Valdemar gently throws you in their sack grabs you and excuses you both from the party. You try to protest but they only say that they played along for long enough and now it’s their turn to play little game with you. Oh well you can leave early one year, it promises to be worth it.

Valerius 🎁🍷

Every year Valerius receives plenty of invitations to winter holidays parties arranged by the nobles but this is the first time he got invitation to something that personal. Tells you that he needs to check his diary and finally reluctantly agrees only because “there was a rather unfortunate cancellation”. But really in his head he is like “Omg does it mean that I am part of the family now? Cancel all plans NOW.”

Then he learns that you plan to have Christmas dinner/party at your place. The consul of Vesuvia to go to that ...shack?? That’s unthinkable: The party will be in his estate, yes he knows that it’s incredibly generous of him to offer and no you cannot refuse.

And this is when things are getting extra. You know that crazy neighbours competitions whose Christmas lights are brighter and decorations are better? That’s Valerius, although he has nobody to compete with really. The massive xmas tree got delivered from who-knows-where and who-knows-how in 2 days, and there is no red, golden or green decoration item left in stock in entire Vesuvia, oh and some the palace’s best cooks suddenly took a sick leave for a week (no it was Valerius promising them triple wages).

You ask Valerius not to get any expensive presents, otherwise you will feel bad, he did indeed agree that it was reasonable suugestion. Everybody gets presents more expensive than life. The guests surpringly find Valerius a very good host, this might have something to do with those gifts which were definitely extra or with the fact that everybody got merry in like 20 min thanks to all the fancy wine. Valerius is gossip central, argues about politics with your annoying uncle and plays board games with children.

Insists that it would be better if you stay overnight and not travel home late. Falls asleep in chair with drink in hand like an old man. Later that chair somehow migrates to the hallway by the guest bedroom, under the strategically placed mistletoe. Wait, where did red silky robes come from? All planned. Let’s hope that the unfortunate relative of yours is not staying in the same guestwing.

Vlastomil 🎅🏻 🪱

It’s lovely of you to invite him but he is a busy worm man and cannot really leave his children alone. Maybe he can just stop by? “No, MC! Don’t get offended!!”

Then he learns that Christmas is usually about family, does it mean that his children can come as well?? Ugh while you are mumbling something about that worms may not be very comfortable at your place, Vlastomil decides that the Christmas party will be held in his garden so the worms everybody can enjoy it.

Prepare to have a ...thematic Christmas. There is white xmas tree decorated with the shimmery worms and candy canes which have worms wrapped around them. Okay, even you are not the biggest fan of worms you have to admit that the ice sculptures of worms are quite impressive. He even has little nativity scene but with the worms.

Everybody receives crystal tree decoration baubles with live worms inside. Everybody is shocked. Vlastomil explains that it’s only stocking fillers and there are more gifts. (Also crystal baublesare only for transportation, the worms need to be free range, how dare you). The actual gifts are... amazing. Somebody got a scarf that they liked but didn’t have enough money to buy on that day, another person got a album of pin up pictures of snake women even if it was supposed to be a secret interest of theirs and you got that sparkly princess teara you cried for your parents to buy at age 5 but they never did (cmon, x years later, you still like it).

Some little child says that Vlastomil is like Santa with how you he magically read people’s wishes (there there, little one, it’s just the power of gossip), but Vlastomil is vibing: wiggler gets elf outfit from somewhere and you get lots of invitations to “come to sit on Santa’s lap”. Yes you can stay there after all the guests leave (and yes you can keep your sparkly teara on).

Volta 🍪🥛

Was secretly dreaming to be invited since at least October. But is still genuinely surprised when you ask her to come. She asks tonnes of questions: who else is coming, are you sure they would like Volta, what are you going to do, will there be food?

Volta wants to help you with all the preparations. Not like she is super useful but she did dig out from the piles of stuff in her estate and bring you lots of old tree decorations and some nice tableware. She basically spends all your time with you in the build up to Christmas: you decorate the house together, make gingerbread houses (well more like you made one house from the 1000s attempt, they all got eaten before they were actually completed) and pack gifts for everybody.

You warned all the guests that there going to be lots of food this year, and no you finally don’t need to worry about what to do with the leftovers and crying “end me, I am sick of having xmas food for 10 days in a row” because they are not going to be any leftovers. But you didn’t expect Volta to turn up with even more food. “Volta does not want anybody to starve on Christmas!”. She surely eats lots but she is also looking after other people lots, passing them plates with food (just imagine her holding it with both of her tiny hands) and topping up their drinks, she wants everybody to enjoy the dinner.

Everybody at the table is talking of how adorable Volta is, and nobody can even hide tears when Volta presents little hand made gifts that she prepared herself. But Volta humming Christmas carols? How does she even know Christmas carols? This is illegal level of cuteness.

Volta wants to stay to help you to clean up when the dinner is over. It’s quite and it’s only two of you. Oh you might still have some sweet things in the cupboard.

Vulgora🔥🌟

At first super excited to be invited but the next second they ask what is Christmas about and what does it involve. You decorate, eat, chat to people and exchange gifts? That sounds awfully boring to Vulgora. Can they at least smash the tree in the end? What do you mean - NO?!?!

Eager to help too. They need to use their energy somewhere. You are not sure whether it’s the type of help you wanted. You asked them to carry the xmas tree from the market? There are 5 trees in front of the house, one of which is like is almost 10’ tall. You asked them to chop some wood for the fire? Well, there is enough to have a bonfire in the towncentre. But on the positive side, your house is lavishly decorated this year, Vulgora likes the red and golden theme.

Lots of battle stories at the dinner, some of which ...lack xmas spirit a bit. All the gifts are...war themed. Then Vulgora gets bored and wants to fight for the right to cut the turkey/ vegan nut roast, whatever you are having. Oh no. But they can smash nuts with their gauntlets - the guests are impressed and suddenly want more battle stories. On the positive side, it’s definitely not boring this year, Vulgora is load and energetic.

But then suddenly Vulgora suggests you all go outside, when you question them, they say it’s a surprise. It’s hard to believe what you see: they prepared fireworks and sparkle fountains !!! You cannot help but smile watching vulgora excitingly running around setting them all off (but hopefully not setting your house on fire).

You watch firework lighting up the sky with Vulgora hugging you from behind and then..they rugby tackle you to the ground?! Well whether there is snow or not, they want to have a fight. Luckily the fireworks are over and the guests can just...leave you two to it.

[shadowheartoffaith]

Her hands curl over the headboard, her head falling back against the pillows as a low moan tears its way from her throat. Cullen’s head is buried between her legs, his hands wrapped gently around her thighs, keeping her spread open for him as his tongue passes over her folds in a way that has her swearing she is going to die from pleasure. 

She had woken to his fingers trailing featherlight down the bare skin of her side, the room still warm from the fire and the down of the lavish blankets draped over the bed. The entirety of Chateau Desjardins is stunning and decadently over-the-top with its marble floors and foreign art lining the walls. Elodie had been enraptured despite her exhaustion the night before when they had arrived. Though she is now accustomed to long haul treks through Thedas with Inquisitor Trevelyan and his party, five days of traveling on horseback had left her tired and a bit sore. 

They had arrived late in the evening, the Inquisitor and his Inner Circle and Advisors being led to the formal dining room for a warm meal and then shown to their rooms throughout the winding estate. The soldiers had made camp on the grounds and Leliana’s agents had gone on ahead to Halamshiral to find places to smuggle Inquisition troops into the Winter Palace during Empress Celene’s peace talks.

The evening had been long with talk of dress code and etiquette and protocol. The list of nobles in attendance had been chattered about between Vivienne and Josephine and Leliana. Vivienne had even arranged for gilded carriages to take them to the palace and mercilessly questioned the Inquisitor about the famed Council of Heralds for the majority of the meal, leaving Elodie’s head spinning with the intricacies of the Game. 

Her head spins for another reason now. Her back arches off of the mattress and Cullen’s hands slip higher to pin her hips down. Light dances behind her eyelids, his name escaping her in a sigh and he slows his ministrations but does not stop. Her fingers dig into his curls, urging him closer.

A sharp rap at the door has her eyes flying open. 

She bites down on another moan. A leftover habit from their days in the Circle; she fears being caught. She tugs at Cullen’s hair and he chuckles against her, his nose bumping against her clit. She hisses out a breath at the sensation. 

“They’ll leave,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss to the inside of her thigh. 

Another sharp knock sounds before a heavily Orlesian-accented voice informs them that breakfast is being served in the dining room. A heartbeat later her ears twitch at the sound of footsteps receding down the hall. 

“We should go,” she grouses. 

Cullen hums against her, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses up her bare leg. “Do you wish for me to stop?”

His voice is so low, so roughened with lust. She trembles at the thick edge of his Fereldan accent as it creeps into his voice. He lifts his head to look at her. His pupils are blown so wide his eyes are nearly black and she watches as he licks his lips clean of her. 

Her toes curl.

“No,” she breathes and he is back to the pressing task of making her see stars. 

He strokes her leg as he circles a particularly sensitive spot with his wicked tongue and a cry catches in her throat. All of her nerve endings are alight with fire and she feels her muscles coiling tighter and tighter before she falls limp and boneless against the mattress. Another soft kiss is pressed to her hip and then Cullen is hovering over her, those amber eyes tender and amused. “Good morning,” he murmurs, bringing his mouth down to hers.

She cannot speak, she can hardly move, but she returns his kiss. 

An even sharper knock at the door has Cullen growling down into her throat in frustration. He pulls away to call “What?” over his shoulder. 

“If you two are quite finished,” comes Josephine’s haughty voice, “There are preparations to begin! We have much to do!”

Elodie lets out a quiet laugh and Cullen grumbles something about privacy. 

“It is time to greet the day, Commander!” Josephine sing-songs from outside before she proceeds down the hall to break down another door. 

Elodie traces her fingertips from Cullen’s jaw up and over the shell of his ear. He leans into her touch, his stormy expression softening. “Duty calls,” she murmurs. 

He drops his head down to nuzzle at her neck. “I had no idea this party was going to take up so much of our time. Or become an all day event.”

“From what I’ve gathered Orlesian parties are some sort of national pastime.” She strokes the back of his head soothingly. “I may be even less excited than you are,” she admits. “But this is important. And once it’s over we can do this again.”

“I will be holding you to that,” he informs her, his breath warm against her skin. 

She grins.

“Dorian Pavus! Open this door!” comes Josephine’s shout from down the hall.

Elodie shakes her head. “I hope they locked that door or Josephine is about to get an eye full.”

Cullen peers up at her questioningly.

“If you’d ever been camping with Dorian and Bull, you’d understand. Apparently qunari have very lax views on public decency.”

His cheeks flush at her implication. “Have you...have you ever seen-?”

“A time or two, yes.” She tries not to think too long on the few times she had been sitting at the cook fire and Iron Bull had come wandering from his shared tent without a stitch on him, Dorian shouting from inside.

“Maker’s breath,” Cullen grumbles, mortified, and pulls himself out of bed. 

She watches him gather up his clothing from the floor and splash water on his face. Something about watching him prepare for the day has always left her somewhat speechless. It is such a domestic and commonplace thing but it is also something so horribly intimate. She had never dared dream that a day would come when she would be the first to see him in the morning. His golden hair curled and bed-tousled before he tames it into submission, his amber eyes soft and still slightly glazed. 

He is lacing up his breeches when he glances back at her, still lounging in bed. He follows her gaze and can’t seem to help glancing down at himself self consciously. “What is it?”

Another smile spreads her lips and she shakes her head. “Nothing, vhen’an. I just cannot seem to move my legs yet, is all. You were very...thorough.”

His ears burn scarlet and he coughs to clear his throat. 

“For Maker’s sake! This is not a circus,” cries Josephine. “Find yourself a decent pair of trousers!”

The day is a flurry of orders and reports and dresses and shoes. 

The Inner Circle flits through the chateau as they prepare, sharing jokes and jabs in passing. Servants come through with trays of figs and roasted nuts and glasses of sparkling wine. 

Elodie is sat in front of a vanity mirror while one of the household servant’s carefully tends to her hair. Her long red tresses are carefully pulled atop her head in a coronet, a few loose strands curled into tight tendrils that frame her face. She has had no one to tend to her hair since Ormaline left the Circle. 

The girl is young, her brow furrowed in concentration as she threads diamond crusted combs into Elodie’s hair. She bobs her head with a satisfied smile which Elodie watches in the mirror’s reflection. “What do you think, my lady?”

“It is very beautiful, thank you,” Elodie tells her.

The girl’s smile widens. “What color is your gown, my lady?”

Vivienne glides into the parlor with Josephine and Cassandra trailing behind her. “You look marvelous, darling!” she praises, motioning with a hand. Two more servants enter, holding aloft the heavy dress boxes from Val Royeaux. Vivienne leaves them to arrange the gowns and comes up to Elodie’s side, studying her. 

“Madame de Fer?”

Vivienne purses her lips before turning to the servant girl. “Her face has such fine angles, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Of course,” the girl says instantly. 

“I think some rouge along her cheekbones will do well to accentuate that. And perhaps some coal for her eyes, yes?” Vivienne recommends and Elodie feels as if she has become one with the furniture. She has never worn cosmetics on her face. Has only worn a gown two other times in her life. 

She feels frighteningly out of her depth and cannot help but wonder what Cullen will think when he sees her dressed up like some sort of showy bird. 

“Now, now, darling,” tuts Vivienne. “Do not frown! You will thank me.”

Vivienne had been present at all of Elodie’s dress fittings in Val Royeaux, offering her opinion on fabrics and colors she felt would suit Elodie’s skin and hair and eyes. Things that had been entirely lost on the healer. 

She takes a steadying breath and allows the girl to do as Vivienne has instructed, keeping her eyes downcast throughout the process of brightening her cheeks and lining her eyes and coloring her lips. 

There is rustling behind her as Cassandra and Josephine ready themselves. 

Vivienne is humming in approval behind Elodie. “Stunning, dear.”

“You will draw many eyes this evening, my lady,” the servant adds in agreement.

Elodie dares a glance at her reflection and her lips part in surprise. Her grey eyes sparkle like starlight, a thin line of coal smudge beneath to make them even brighter. Her lips are full and pouty and the color of flower petals. And the light rouge sweeping high up on her cheekbones makes her face appear even sharper, a bit more exotic. 

“Fashion is a type of magic as well, my dear,” Vivienne informs her, her tone as gentle as Elodie as ever heard her. “I daresay our dear Commander will be unable to keep his eyes off of you tonight.”

That thought sits warmly in her belly. She wishes this were the sort of party where that sort of thing could be afforded. Where Cullen could simply look his fill and perhaps ask her to dance, sweep her away from the crowd and kiss her soundly. But she knows that these peace talks cannot fail and that Cullen cannot be distracted. Not by her, not by anything. 

The Enchanter excuses herself to dress and Josephine takes up her place when the servant girl moves to retrieve Elodie’s gown. The ambassador is a vision in a soft dandelion yellow, her dark hair swept up into an elaborate updo of curls finished with shimmering ribbon. Long satin gloves cover her arms up to the elbow. 

Cassandra is in a pair of fitted trousers of black velvet, a purple doublet with the Inquisition’s insignia finishing off the look. The Seeker’s boots are polished to perfection and the entire ensemble fits her so perfectly that Elodie smiles. 

“You both look amazing,” she says earnestly. “Masen is not going to know what to do with himself,” she adds to Josephine.

The ambassador waves away the compliment, clearly flustered. “Oh, you flatter me much too much. He will have so much else to occupy his time this evening, I doubt he will even notice.”

Elodie doubts that very much and Cassandra says as much.

“Here we are, my lady.” The servant girl holds up Elodie’s dress and she rises from her seat and stares back at the emerald skirts of her ballgown. 

Now or never, she thinks to herself. She is suddenly nervous she will step on her trailing skirts and rip them. Or that she will trip in front of the nobility. Or-

The heavy fabric pools on the floor and she steps into the puddle of green tulle and satin. She holds out her arms to slip them through the thin cap sleeves that rest below her shoulders. The neckline ends just above her cleavage and the bodice is a masterpiece of embroidered leaves and flowers and the back dips into an elegant V baring her shoulder blades and the first few notches of the bar of her spine. She sucks in a breath as the servant girl laces up the corseting before stepping away to admire her work.

Elodie resists the urge to bite at her lip to avoid smudging the paint there. She sways in an anxious half-twirl, looking to Josephine and Cassandra for validation. “Well?” she asks nervously, bunching her hands in her skirts. “How is it?”

“Madame de Fer is correct,” Josephine says, eyes sparkling. “Cullen will not be able to keep his eyes off you. That is certain.”

“Perhaps it will be enough to distract him from how much he detests these affairs,” Cassandra laughs.

“Pardon me, ladies!” Dorian sing-songs as he strides into the room. “Ah!” He makes a beeline for the vanity, snatching up the stick of coal that had been used to line Elodie’s eyes before repeating the process on himself with practiced efficiency. He catches sight of her in the mirror and spins around. “Elodie?”

She laughs nervously, dipping her head.

The servant softly excuses herself, collecting the dress box and departing. 

Josephine smooths down her skirts before announcing she is off to see to the rest of the party, her concern seeming to center around Sera. Cassandra offers Elodie a nod and follows the ambassador out. 

“Is it so bad that you did not even recognize me?” Elodie teases Dorian once they are alone. 

“You must be joking,” he scoffs, drawing closer. “You are positively stunning.” He takes her hand and leads her into a twirl. “The color suits you. You will draw the eyes of the entire court.”

Elodie rolls her eyes. “Ah, yes. A rabbit in a ballgown. Simply magnificent.”

Dorian waves off her words. “We will look quite the menagerie, I am certain. You will be in good company with a Tevinter Altus, a Qunari spy and whatever Cole happens to be. And that’s not to mention Varric and his fan club and Blackwall’s beard. You just worry about wearing that dress as brilliantly as you are now.”

“Elodie, are you-Maker’s breath.”

She and Dorian turn to see Cullen standing in the doorway, obviously gobsmacked with his mouth hanging open. He stares at her, eyes roving from the diamond combs in her hair down to the embroidery of her bodice, trailing the length of her skirts. He blinks.

“Do you feel better about it now?” Dorian teases her. “I believe our Commander’s reaction says it all.”

“You look...that gown...it’s beautiful. You’re beautiful,” Cullen manages to stammer out. 

He paces into the parlor, his fitted coat a deep grey with the adornments afforded to his military position shining against the fabric.  

Dorian smirks. “It does look rather good, doesn’t it?” He gives her another once over, a 

mischievous glint in his eyes. “I do, however, think it would look even better on Cullen’s floor.”

Cullen pauses his advance, seeming to choke on his tongue. “Are you...are you flirting with her for me?”

Dorian shrugs. “I supposed I would get your evening off to as decent a start as your morning.” He holds up a hand before Cullen or Elodie can argue. “This house may be exquisite but the walls are not that thick.” He offers them a salacious wink before sauntering from the room.

Cullen watches him go, at a loss for words. 

“You look very handsome, vhen’an,” Elodie whispers. 

And he does. His coat hugs him perfectly, his trousers well pressed and flattering. And, of course, his boots are as immaculate as Cassandra’s. Thankfully his collar is high enough to hide the love bite she had left him with the night before. 

Cullen turns back to her, holding out a hand.

She takes it, their fingers lacing together as he draws her closer. 

“You are the most beautiful thing I have ever laid eyes on,” he whispers reverently. His lips press to the side of her jaw, lingering. 

She trails her fingers over the Inquisition insignia emblazoned on the breast of his coat. “Cullen, I-”

“Come now, everyone!” Josephine calls from the vestibule. “We must be on our way! Has anyone seen Cole?”

Cullen offers Elodie a wry smile. “Duty calls,” he murmurs her earlier words back to her. “Shall we?”  

She takes his arm, feeling as if this is all some sort of fever dream and she will wake alone in her bed in Kinloch Hold. She tightens her grip and draws herself up to her full height as Cullen leads her from the parlor and into the vestibule where the others are already waiting.

[ilguna]

Redamancy - Chapter Eight (f.o)

summary: it’s time to forgive and repair.

warnings; swearing, murder, HEAVY GORE, mentions of FORCED PROSTITUTION.

wc; 12k

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

–

If it weren’t for the irritating sun rays landing right on your face and into your eyes, you’d bask in this warm feeling forever. It’s like receiving an embrace from spring, herself. Bright sunlight, tolerable temperatures, bees, flowers, sundresses, picnics and comfortable afternoons in the park with your family. You can’t count how many good memories you have from grass fields and playgrounds in District Four.

Watching Alyssum run around the park, making friends and being a kid while she can is the most satisfying part. You can watch her for hours, lose yourself in her carelessness. Your sister hasn’t got a worry in the world to think about, it makes you envy her. A nice house, warm meals, a loving family. None of you are perfect, but you try to be for her.

There’s a lot she’s going to be missing out on already when it comes to parents. She has you, Reed and Mox to fill those roles for her. You’d like to say she can’t miss something she’s never experienced, you’d be lying, though. You miss a regular teenage life that you never got to live, thanks to the Hunger Games. The Capitol is always ruining something, even if they’re not actively trying.

Which brings you back to reality. As much as you’d like to lay here in the soft blankets and keep to your warm spot on the bed, you’ve got to get moving. If the sun is in your eyes already, it only means that your time is up when it comes to sleeping. Like a natural alarm clock, only somehow more annoying, even if it’s not loud and in your face.

You turn onto your back, slowly opening your eyes. You’re met with a white ceiling, smooth and crack-free. Back home in your room, your ceiling has plenty of cracks. When you don’t feel like getting up immediately, you’ll play a game with yourself. See which ones will start on one side of the room and make it to the other. You’ve gotten good at it, and confidently say that there’s a few that go beyond that, they go to the windowsill. 

With a gentle sigh, you sit up on the bed, turned toward the window, stretching your arms above your head. It feels good to get the blood pumping through your arms and shoulders again. You can’t really help it when the stretch extends down to your legs. A low moan leaves your lips, and stops dead in your throat when your thighs begin to hurt.

You hum, standing on your feet. It hurts at first, but the more you move around the room, the better you begin to feel. You stare out of the window for a couple of seconds to see that the Capitol is already alive. It’s definitely past noon at this point. So much for a rotating schedule with Finnick, you’ve already ruined it.

You look over the room you’re in, which definitely isn’t your own. It’s Finnick’s, with the bamboo bed frame, white sheets and the hammock across his room. You used to hear him say how much he enjoyed your room over his, something about the ceiling to floor windows that you have. Takes up an entire wall, gives you a great view of the city. Better than the tiny windows he has lining the wall.

The clock says that it’s a little after two. You two really have got to start moving before you miss out on anything inside of the arena. Not to mention, poor Gloss is sitting down there alone. He hasn’t had a friend to sit with since six this morning. A whole eight hours can be boring as hell, and quite frankly, lonely. He might have resorted talking to the sponsors, at this point.

Finnick is still sleeping on the bed, of course. His back is turned to the sun, explaining why he hasn’t woken up just yet. It’s not going to stay that way for very long. You’d leave him sleeping up here if it weren’t for the fact that it’s entertaining to see him hungover. It’s not often you get to see him like that, and you’re not really willing to pass up an opportunity. Plus, you might as well keep him around as company so it doesn’t get awkward later.

Before you wake him up, you find and put on your bra. He got to see all of you last night, there’s no reason to continue to walk around shirtless. You pick up your pants, and tank top, as your shoes are kicked off by the door. You begin to pull on your jeans, having to bounce slightly to pull them up all the way, when Finnick rolls over.

He groans, throwing his arm over his face to keep the sun from getting in his face. You’re satisfied to see that he’s about to get the same unpleasant wakening that you got, until you realize that his arm completely blocks out the light. What a shame, you were looking forward to watching him come to life like a zombie.

“Hey,” your voice is soft, not really wanting to disturb the peace. He doesn’t seem to hear you, or maybe you’re too quiet. You speak a little louder, “We should probably get down to the betting room, check on our tributes.”

Finnick freezes, and then jolts upright. His wide eyes land on you easily, face twisting as he slowly thinks over the scene in front of him. You pull on your tank top, raising your eyebrows as you wait for him to come to the conclusion himself. After a couple more seconds, he hums out a small tune and falls back onto his pillows, closing his eyes.

“I thought I was still at a client’s house for a second.” he breathes.

“Good morning,” you muse, “How are you feeling?”

“Besides the pounding headache, my back’s pretty messed up.” his eyes open, giving you a sly smirk. You grab one of his shoes, which aren’t as close to the door as yours are, and chuck it at him. Finnick laughs loudly, catching the shoe before it makes a hole in the wall, “I’m fine, considering that I finished half of your drink last night on top of mine.”

“One of us had to be responsible, and I figured that you wouldn’t want to be the one.”

“The next time we go out, I’m going to make you loosen up.” Finnick says.

“If you’re calling me uptight, I’ll shove a stick up your ass so you can see how it feels.” you lean against the wall.

He rolls his eyes, getting out of bed. He’s got a pair of boxers on, so he’s not completely naked either, “How are you feeling?”

“Well rested, actually. Your bed is pretty comfortable.”

“You’re welcome to sleep here any time.” Finnick says, kicking yesterday’s jeans into the corner, as well as the shirt.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” you snort, collecting your shoes, “I’m going to take a shower and get ready. I’ll see you in the dining room.”

“Sure.”

You leave his room, shutting the door behind you. In your own, you quickly change and throw the dirty clothes off to the side for easy collecting when the avoxes come around later. It’s not as hot inside of the Tribute Center as it was yesterday, but the heat is still apparent enough to be one of the first things on your mind. You settle for a pair of shorts, sandals and a white tank top.

You throw the pile of clothes onto the bathroom countertop. The door whooshes shut behind you, sending a cold breeze of air straight to your back. Much like yesterday, you turn the shower water to cold, just on the verge of being warm. You decide to skip getting your hair wet, since you don’t really have time to mess around. It’s a quick wash with sweet smelling soaps before you’re out again.

As you’re drying yourself with the cyan blue towel, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. And with what you see the first time briefly, you have to go back to check that you saw correctly. A scowl appears on your face when you get closer, fingers gently brushing against your collarbone. Little dark marks litter your skin. 

You press your lips together, staring for a couple of seconds longer. You have no choice, you have to cover these up. So, you pull on your clothes and get to work with the makeup, trying to find colors that’ll cancel out the hickey colors. You spend a good ten minutes blending, color correcting, and starting over when it’s too obvious. When you’re finally done, you can still tell that they’re there, but it won’t be the first thing anyone sees when they look at you.

You’d just wear a regular shirt if it weren’t for the fact that you’re already sweating with the tanktop on. You put on the sandals on your way out, making sure your ring is secured on your hand. Finnick is already sitting at the dining room table when you get out there, hair wet and he’s dressed in pink and white.

“Took you long enough.” he says, stabbing his fork into a pancake piece and placing it in his mouth.

You glare as you sit down on the chair, “I had a problem. Actually, you gave me a couple of problems and I solved them.”

His face twists, eyeing you now, trying to find the difference. When a plate of pancakes is served in front of you, plate hot to the touch, you cut up the pancakes, slightly amused by his determination to try and prove you wrong. Does he really think that he’ll be able to? You’ve gone through this plenty of times before with Anchor.

Finnick shrugs, “Whatever you say.”

At least now you have insurance that you did a good job. Finnick might be some type of moronic but that doesn’t mean he misses details. It’s the small things that you have to look out for. Another skill that you need when you’re mentoring, another thing to add to the list that you’ve gotten good at after these years. From what you remember, Finnick’s not too bad at it, himself.

The avox turns on the tv without either of you asking, but you thank him anyway. As you go for fruits instead of syrup this morning, you catch up on the arena with Finnick. Sanguin is in the cornucopia, a fire going in front of her. She’s got some sort of animal skewered using her sword, roasting it over the fire. She looks pissed, staring into the fire, letting the flames flicker in her eyes. 

You’d like to say that she finally lost her mind, but she lost it a long time ago. Way before Bauhinia. Maybe while she was being strategically trained to think that the other tributes in the arena were animals? Or maybe when she volunteered for the Hunger Games like it would be a walk in the park? It’s hard to say exactly, there’s a lot of moments in these past few weeks where she could’ve gone wrong.

At any rate, she’s got enough water to last her a while. You can confidently say that she won’t be leaving the cornucopia unless it’s to get more food. There’s no way that the sponsors are going to cough up any money just for her to eat. Especially when she’s supposed to be trained for the arena. She should know how to hunt and gather. Besides, you’re sure that Gloss would want them to wait until it’s something important, like that healing cream. Even then, it took a couple of people to pitch in. The prices are getting amped up, it’s harder to pay for things now.

You have a feeling that she’s sitting down there for a reason, instead of going off and trying to hunt down any other tributes. She’s healed by now, you watched her put more healing cream on her body last night before she decided to call it a night. Which means that this morning, the entire wound has got to be gone. She’s still going to be sore when moving around, but that’s an obvious nuisance. She technically should be able to work through it.

So, if she’s not interested in hunting Tekla, that means she’s waiting for Annie to come out of the village. And you’d say that’s a pretty big problem, except for the fact that it’s not. Annie’s got plenty of food and water from her raid on the career backpacks and whatever Marsh was holding before he died. If she doesn’t want to, she won’t have to leave the house unless it’s for some sort of Capitol-generated emergency.

After yesterday, you can’t see them doing something like that. You don’t even think that both tributes dying were intentional. They like to watch the last couple of teens fight it out, since they’re the ones that are either: one, completely trained for the arena and know how to take another tribute out with a simple tree branch and a rock. Or, they’re completely lucky and know how to blend into their surroundings and stay there until the Capitol is forced to step in. They only do it when there’s been several days without any interaction between tributes and the Capitol citizens are starting to riot.

Those tributes are the ones that can go days without food. Water, not so much, but they’ll find a source nearby and stick with it as long as they can without getting suspicious. It’s not an impressive feat to go days without eating, it just goes to show the horrible living conditions inside of the other districts. Fortunately, your family hit rock bottom, but you never had to keep digging.

As for Annie, she’s still looking pretty dead inside of her house. She’s moved to a different corner that gives her a better look to see. It looks like she’ll doze off for a second before jerking upright, hand tightening around her sword. You saw her sleep last night, it was the whole reason why you and Finnick decided it was acceptable to leave the betting room in the first place. With the peace of mind of knowing that Annie was finally getting the rest she needed.

When you were at the bar, you didn’t really keep track of what was going on inside of the arena. Which, looking back on it, probably wasn’t a brilliant idea in the first place. If there was an emergency with Annie, knowing as soon as possible would’ve hypothetically saved her life. But you also just wanted one moment for yourself, with Finnick and a drink. It wasn’t much to ask for, and you’re sure that it was well-deserved. If it wasn’t, Annie would be dead in a ditch right now.

To some extent, she might as well be. While Sanguin is fueled with hate-fire right now--literally. Annie looks like her soul has been ripped out of her body. She’s pale, the previous kind girl light in her eyes is gone. She looks like a corpse, freshly pulled out of the coffin. You wish you’ve seen this before, because maybe that would make it easier to understand why she isn’t grieving like normal. Normally, tributes cry for hours, sometimes days until they have to pull it together to win. Annie is just… she’s completely lifeless. Actually, she looks like she’s given up with trying to survive inside of the arena. Which is a dangerous mindset to adapt, especially now.

Just two more tributes to burn through, all she has to do is hold on. Let Sanguin and Tekla fight it out, hope that one kills the other, and the one gets severely injured enough to bleed out and die. It would make the whole thing a lot easier on her, you know that. The last thing she’d probably need on her plate right now, is another death. She’s already got two genuinely impressive ones--taking out the male careers? You’re the only other person who has done that in the past five years. And she’s witnessed the death that would affect her, and it’s taking its toll already. It’s been two days.

Well, as long as Annie stays where she is, eats, drinks and sleeps when she needs to, she won’t have to worry about anything. However, this idea also goes for Sanguin, on the assumption that Tekla isn’t bold enough to go ahead and attack her uninvited. Sanguin’s also set for days--if she has extra food stored somewhere in the case of emergencies.

The only person that might get bored and start causing havoc is Tekla. She’s in the woods by herself, in a patch of grass unguarded by trees. She lays in the sun with her eyes closed, hands laced behind her head. Looking exactly like she did on the first couple of days inside of the arena. This time, she has a good reason to be carefree. Before, she had more than ten other tributes to worry about, all fighting to go home. Now it’s down to two others. It should be a walk in the park, if it weren’t for the fact that she’s being put up against two careers.

You wonder what her odds look like right now. They hadn’t changed last night, not even after she killed Seven boy. But now that it officially looks like she’s going to make it to one of the final fights and be crowned victor, she’s gotta have moved up. District Nine hasn’t had a victor in a long, long time. Their last one was a guy, and he’s the first male to be put into the mentor spot. If you remember correctly, there’s only five victors in Nine, which means that four of them are female. 

Figures that their new potential victor would be a girl, right?

It looks like you don’t really have anything to worry about arena-wise. Really, if you wanted to, you could just stay inside of the apartment. With half-alive Annie, vengeful Sanguin and cheerful Tekla, it’s safe to say that today’s a free day. Things could change, but that’s just your prediction. The only reason you’d have to go down to the betting room is to show up for Gloss, but he doesn’t really matter, does he? You can just go and see him tomorrow.

“You’ve got a look on your face.” Finnick says, your eyes find him to see that he’s staring.

“So?” you stab a strawberry and place it in your mouth, resisting the momentary sour expression before the sweetness takes over.

“It’s your indecisive look.”

Now, your face twists, “I do not have an indecisive look--”

He laughs, “It’s unmistakable! You get the look when you’re thinking over something important.”

“Like a decision?” you ask, trying to be serious, but you end up laughing.

He seems to let it go for a moment, until he’s looking at you again, “What was it?”

You shrug, “I was just thinking that we wouldn’t have to go down to the betting room if we didn’t want to. The silence in the arena gives us a couple of liberties that we wouldn’t have on a normal day.”

“Oh, so you do have a relaxed side.” Finnick thoroughly enjoys the face you make, raising your fist as a threat to punch him in the arm again. You wonder how far he can push you before you finally give him a nasty bruise, “And you also woke me up for nothing.”

“Technically you woke yourself, I just spoke.” you shrug, “Can I get some more coffee?”

“Might as well go back to bed while I can, then.” Finnick says, but he doesn’t move from where he’s sitting.

You wait, receive your coffee, and let him stare at you for a little while, “What are you waiting for?”

“It wouldn’t be responsible--” he mocks the word in your voice, “--to go back to bed, wouldn’t it?”

You glare, “Finnick, you have the night shift, anyway. Stay awake, go back to bed, get drunk at The Victory Speech, have dinner with Gloss, I don’t give a shit.”

“You seem like you want me to go away.” he says, “I think I’ll stick with you, then.”

“Fine by me.” you scoop up your coffee mug, taking it with you when you go downstairs to sit on the couch. You pull out a coaster to not ruin the pristine glass table.

There’s not much to watch the tributes do at all. Sanguin roasts her food, and you think she ends up daydreaming some, because she burns the bottom side of the meat. Doesn’t even wrinkle her nose or look fazed when she bites straight into that part, even when it disintegrates in her mouth the more she chews. After she’s done eating, she moves to the back of the cornucopia, hiding behind a stack of boxes to take a nap.

Annie turns her knife over in her hand, spinning it between her fingers before she knicks herself one too many times. After that, she settles for pulling out a line of rope from her backpack, tying and untying knots. It’s a common hobby that people use to soothe anxiety and pass time when there’s nothing else to do. Doesn’t surprise you that she’s resorted to this. Although, you do begin to worry slightly when you watch her jump at the slightest of sounds and nearly get up every single time to check.

You’d say it’s a reasonable response, thinking that Sanguin is after her. But the house creaks the same way every time, lets out the same groan each time the wind blows too hard. It’s not like they’re new sounds. She should’ve picked up on this by now, realized that there’s no need to get ready to hurry into battle. Watching her grab her knife, lean forward, and listen for any other sounds over and over begins to make you feel antsy.

“There’s something wrong with Annie.” Finnick says.

You hum, “Yeah, I’ve noticed.”

“What do you think it is?”

You shake your head, “Still working on that idea.”

“Anything you’ve seen before?”

“If I have, I don’t remember.” You lean back into the couch, “Let’s just wait and see how bad it gets.”

And the truth is, it gets worse, because it can always get worse. The good news is that you’ve figured out how to help her, on top of figuring out the problem in the first place. The bad news is that it requires a sponsor. And like you said earlier, all the prices have gone up. Getting one now would be a nightmare, but you have to try anyway.

As you go down to the betting room with Finnick, you think it over.

Annie is suffering from paranoia. She’s obviously shell-shocked from watching Marsh die, otherwise she would be acting normally. You guess that allowing two tributes that have known each other for a handful of years, go inside of the arena together wasn’t the brightest idea. But it’s not like you could control it. You don’t think that they even planned for it to happen, it was just a coincidence.

This is just one part of the problem, watching Marsh die. She also might be feeling guilty because she didn’t try harder to keep him from going. It makes the most sense. She tried to convince him to stay, but the second he showed resistance, she caved and followed. Guilt like this will haunt someone forever. If she wins, she’ll be stuck with thinking that Marsh could’ve gone a better way.

You know this, because you carry around a considerable amount of guilt, too.

The last part, concerning Annie, is the fact that she hasn’t slept in a while. Paranoia feeds off insomnia. Getting an hour or two of sleep after watching your friend die right in front of you, in arguably one of the worst ways possible, is an unfortunate series of events. She can’t prevent not being able to sleep, so you’ll just help her as best as you can.

When you presented all of this to Finnick, he agreed. Said that he was thinking something along the lines of what you are. The only hiccup that he’s worried about is finding sponsors wealthy enough to sponsor this late into the games. They also have to be betting on her too, so that if she does win, they’ll get the return in full. 

The betting room seems slightly busier than usual. Like you predicted earlier, Gloss decided to go ahead and take company in the Capitol people. Tekla’s mentor seems busy off in the corner, with people that don’t look like they nearly have enough money to sponsor this late in the game. It wouldn’t be any use trying to steal them, just a waste of time.

Gloss knows people, but that would mean to interrupt what he’s doing right now, which seems fairly important. The group of people that Finnick had approved of is thin, pooling their money together wouldn't even buy a loaf of bread. Much less what you’re thinking about right now.

It only leaves a couple of people, ones you haven’t talked to in days. You stop a couple of steps inside of the room, allowing Finnick to come in and shut the door behind him. He waits there for a moment, before coming around the side.

“What are you waiting for?” His voice is slightly hushed. No one has really taken notice of your appearance just yet. If needed, you could probably slip out the door and no one would know the difference. 

You look at him.

You made an agreement, take his advice on who to be around and who to stay away from, and he’ll help you. You thought that it would be easy then, because you didn’t need the sponsors. Annie and Marsh had a strategy down, they didn’t look like they’d be needed help anytime soon. They had everything they needed at the moment. But now that Annie needs something more, you’re stuck.

Having Finnick around to be a second body, a second pair of hands and eyes and ears, has made a difference. You’ve slept well, you’ve been allowed to hang out with friends when given the opportunity, and you can finally pace yourself. No more running around like it’s life or death, or being afraid to sleep because an arena is particularly dangerous. 

However, you can do it alone. Annie’s needs right now is going to come before whatever requirements Finnick has. Bringing a tribute home is crucial, buddying with Finnick is a perk. If he gets mad at you for this, there's always next year.

“I need you to come with me and not intervene, or go back upstairs.” You say, squeezing the finger your ring is on.

His face twists, “It depends—“

“No. You go upstairs, or you don’t intervene.” You start towards the sponsors, “I mean it, Finnick.” 

You’re not even halfway across the room before they spot you. You smile at them, letting them welcome you. When you don’t feel Finnick’s presence behind you like normal, you turn to look. The door is sweeping shut, you briefly catch a glimpse of him leaving. 

The sponsors are happy to see you again, you talk with them for a while, and watch what goes on inside of the arena. It’s all small talk, or questions about what you feel like is going to happen. Until they finally bring up Annie, how she’s doing. And just because you can’t hold it in, you spill it all out, being completely honest with them. 

Annie is hurting right now, and she can’t help it. She can’t simply fall asleep because she’s afraid of the nightmares and the vulnerability that comes with it. There’s always the possibility that her body simply isn’t letting her sleep, too. She’s not physically tired, so why would she lay down and try? So, you think that if you find something that’ll make her drowsy, she’ll feel more inclined to.

You can’t guarantee that it’ll work, but it’s worth a try if it means that she wins the games, right? The sponsors seem to think so, and with a budget, you bring them over to the sponsoring table. Everything under the sun is allowed to be sent to them. Name it, and thye’re probably have it. It’s just the price that makes it impossible to work around.

You know for sure that pills are out of the question. The second you see the price, you’re switching gears. Medicine? Maybe. You look at all the options they have for tributes for when they’re sick. You’ve seen a handful of these brands in District Four, all of them expensive. With the money that the Capitol gives you, you can finally afford them. Which means that Alyssum doesn’t have to suffer through colds like before. The medicine works wonders, but the Capitol version will be too much for her to handle. It might as well be a tranquilizer.

Something more natural, then. Those are always cheaper. You go through it, seeing the little vials of brightly colored liquids and the contents. Ones to make you throw up, give adrenaline if the tribute is dying, allergy medicine to save them from anaphylactic shock. And finally, one for sleeping. Without a moment of hesitance, you tap on it.

They all pitch in a certain amount, allowing the vial to be covered in full. You thank them, with assurance that it won’t go to waste. Annie is a tough tribute, she’ll be able to win. All she needs is a little sleep to reset her body, hopefully start her over. It’s like shutting something completely off before trying again.

You take a breath before writing on the paper, ‘Drink it all’.

You get to stand back and watch as the gamemakers find the best way to send it to her. You don’t doubt that she’ll hear the noise that the gifts make. Especially if she’s hearing noises that aren’t being picked up on the microphones. It’s where they have to drop it off to make sure it doesn’t get caught on anything on the way down, like a corner of a roof.

The chiming is a sound that you still hear in your nightmares. You watch as the silver parachute glides through the air, slowly moving between the houses. At first, it doesn’t seem to alarm Annie, but then she jolts, pauses to make sure she’s hearing it right, and then gets up. She shoves her knife into her belt, carefully goes down the stairs so that it doesn’t break beneath her.

She looks more alive like this, the color has returned to her face slightly, she’s got a smile hinting at the corner of her lips. When she finally comes out of the house, swinging the door open and letting in the natural light, she cries out in shock and covers her eyes. She mutters out a few curse words, squinting through the sun until her eyes adjust.

She spots the gift in the middle of the walkway. The smile grows more, scooping the tin into her hand. She gives the area around her a little look-around before disappearing back into the house, shutting the door and locking it. Even though it looks like the lock won’t do much for her anymore. The doorknob is practically falling off.

She makes it all the way to the third floor, back into the corner of her room. She slips down the wall and pops open the lid of the container. The first thing that Annie sees inside is the note, which she reads over carefully before moving it out of the way for the vial. It’s small, not at all as big as they normally sell them earlier on, but those ones also have the tendency to knock a person out for a whole day. This will just keep her asleep for a few hours, maybe the entire night if she drinks it now. You hope that she’ll be up at a reasonable time tomorrow.

Annie uncaps it carefully, and takes a small sniff. You can’t imagine that she recognizes the smell, even though it is sort-of distinct. If the medicine is fresh, it’ll usually smell sweet. If it’s not, then it’s stale, maybe a little sour. Obviously, one is more desirable than the other, but it works the same either way. Whether or not it’s fresh doesn’t affect the way it works.

When Annie is satisfied with the smell, she goes ahead and caps it again. There’s no directions, so she’s going to have to decide how she wants to do this. The sun will be setting in an hour, maybe two. Annie eats some dry foods, drinks some water. It’s smart, her wanting to get food into her body beforehand. If it were you, you probably would’ve just settled for drinking it straight, it might have worked faster that way.

She drinks it, slipping to the floor. She pulls the sleeping bag over herself, closing her eyes. It’s going to take a second to kick in, but it’s enough time for you to go upstairs and out of the betting room. You’ll be back down here bright and early tomorrow, there’s no point spending more time than you have to.

You thank the sponsors, shake hands and exchange hugs. Before you leave the room, you see that the Afternoon Line Odds are all the same. Sanguin’s is 2-1, Annie is 3-1, Tekla is 7-1. All very good odds, but not as good as Sanguin. Hopefully, that’ll change within the next couple of days. You leave the room before Gloss can see that you’re down there.

You spent a good hour or so just talking to the sponsors. The fastest part was getting them to agree on sending Annie a gift. It wasn’t nearly as bad as you thought it would be. Finnick makes all of them out to be like criminals, constantly looking for their next fix. But they understand that you’re not like that. They can have their eyes on you all they want, it’s not going to happen. 

Just before you go inside of the apartment, you’re sure that Finnick isn’t going to be out in the living room, or he’s not going to be inside of the apartment all together. However, when you step inside, you’re surprised to see that he’s on the couch, his arms crossed. He doesn’t bother to look over, not even after you shut the door. You almost feel guilty for doing what you did.

Almost.

You sit on the couch next to him, pull your legs up beneath you, and sit in silence. There’s no point to try and talk to him right now. You know that he’d probably like a moment to cool off. It might even be better if you didn’t sit in here at all, so he won’t be fuming next to you. But it’s not like you have much of a choice. You can’t just go back downstairs and sit in the betting room, that would be stupid. If Finnick’s right about the sponsors, there’s no reason to stay around them more than you have to.

So, silence it is. It’s a while before either of you have anything to talk about. Annie should be asleep by now, an entire hour later. There’s no way that the vial would take more than five minutes, even with a full stomach. Still, you watch as her eyes open, a frown appearing on her face, eyebrows turning in.

Your mouth falls open, you stand from the couch, “That’s not good.”

“What did you give her in the first place?” Finnick asks.

“It’s one of those natural sleeping medicines, the expensive ones?” you briefly look at him, before you go back to the tv, “Costed a fortune, so it should’ve worked. The gamemakers wouldn’t send a dud, right?”

“Probably not.” 

You sit back down onto the couch, hands falling into your lap. You made sure that it was the sleeping medicine, and not the sick stuff either. The only other option that was left for Annie besides this, was the herbal tea. And that shit hardly ever works for you, or your siblings when you use it back home. The most the tea would do anyway, is make her drowsy, not even a guarantee.

It’s a good thing that you didn’t even consider the tea, because if the vial did nothing, Annie would be able to drink the entire box of tea and still not feel a single thing. The medicine was a waste of money, and who knows what it’s going to do to her. Make her even more delirious than she already is? Like she, or you guys, need that at all. You were already worried over her paranoia, now you’ve got to be worried about her accidentally killing herself?

There’s nothing you can do about it now. You’ve just got to sit back and wait to see if it kicks in, after all. There’s no point in going downstairs to tell the sponsors it was some sort of mistake, because you really didn’t know that this was going to happen. If you did, you probably wouldn’t have bothered in the first place. Everything is worth a try until it’s wasting resources. You might have been able to use the sponsor money later on.

Still, you have to sit and painfully watch as Annie progressively gets worse. Turns out, that if you don’t fall asleep with the medicine, it starts to work as a hallucinogenic. On top of Annie’s paranoia, she’s not hallucinating she’s hearing noises, and maybe even seeing things. You close your eyes and rest them against your palms when you lean forward, not really liking to hear Annie go through it.

It’s stupid. You’re not even sure how Annie’s resisting the drug, anyway. She’s not doing it on purpose, she clearly recognized the smell if she laid down immediately after. And it’s not like they had any sort of drugs available for hallucinations. No mentor would willingly give their tributes something like that, so why would it be offered?

No matter what happens, though, you’re glad to see that Annie doesn’t leave the house. She stays where she is, clutching onto her knife, staring into space. She’s just like how she was before you sent her the sponsor gift. Only this time around, she’ll randomly jump as if there’s been a loud sound, and then her eyes will follow things in front of her, even when there’s nothing there.

Elysia comes into the apartment around the same time you guys normally eat dinner, a little out of breath, “Oh, there you guys are!”

You look over your shoulder to see that she’s dressed in lime green and black. The black helps accentuate the green part, which you’re not really sure is a good thing. You’re sure that everyone can see her coming from a mile away, literally. 

“You were looking for us?” you ask, she nods, heading over to you and Finnick.

“In the betting room, I thought you’d be down there since you normally are.”

Figures that the one time you wouldn’t be down there, she’d go, “Looked like there wasn’t much going on today so I thought we could stay up here. I only went down there to send the gift.”

“I saw that.” she says, “That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about.”

You three do it over dinner. With Elysia hardly eating and doing most of the talking, Finnick watching the tv and only chiming in when he’s needed, and you trying to do all three at the same time. It’s easy for the most part. Remember when you said that you got good at multitasking? This is an example of that.

She mostly tells you what you already figured out, which is that it turns out to be a hallucinogenic after a while. It should wear off, but it’ll take hours to do. Like, for the amount of time she should have been asleep for. She’s already got a couple of hours under her belt, you’d say that by tomorrow morning, she’ll be back to normal. So, there’s no reason to sit around and wait. 

You and Finnick can get a full night of sleep for once. You just have to get up early tomorrow morning to assess the damage. You’re sure that it’ll be fairly easy to do, you’ll have to get yourself into the habit of waking up early again, anyway. You’ve got the boarding school to worry about. Anchor won’t want to do it alone forever.

Before you give it up tonight, you check the tv one last time. Annie is in her room, so she’s fine. Sanguin looks like she’s officially laying down to sleep, her weapons are displayed around her, all ready to be picked up and used at any time. As for Tekla, she’s made a bed in her little clearing in the trees. However, she’s bold, with a fire going that is distinguishable in the dark. She’s lucky that the back of the cornucopia is turned towards her, otherwise Sanguin would be more than tempted to take Tekla out.

You head back to your room after dinner, mainly to brush your teeth. You pace in your room for a moment, caught in the decision of whether or not to talk to Finnick or to leave him to be angry on his own. You’re sure that he’d appreciate being by himself, but there’s also this morning and last night to talk about. You can’t really just leave those alone, who knows what kinds of problems they’ll cause in the future.

“Okay.” you sigh, heading out of your room and to his. You knock on his door, waiting a second, “Finnick?”

It’s a couple more beats of silence, “Yeah?”

“Can I come in?”

“Sure.”

You open the door to see that Finnick is sitting on the corner of the bed. He looks up when you step inside, you shut it behind you, and lean against the door, “I’m sorry about earlier. I know we had an agreement, but the sponsors were at my disposal. I decided that I might as well, because I was sure that it would work.”

“And it should’ve.” Finnick mutters, “I would just like it if you wouldn’t go and do it again.”

“Yeah, I won’t. I don’t even have the options for it.” you laugh slightly, he cracks a smile, “You should probably know that I prioritize my mentoring job over everything else. If it’s the needs of the tributes versus you, I’m going to pick the tributes every time.”

“I know, you don’t have to be sorry for it.”

“Good, cause I wasn’t.” you grin.

Finnick rolls his eyes, “There’s something else, isn’t there?”

“You can probably guess what it is.” 

“It wouldn’t have anything to do with the horribly covered up hickeys, would it?” He’s cheeky now.

“Maybe.” you give him a soft smile, “I’d just like to know what we’re doing, and if we’re going to continue on with it.”

Finnick makes a face, “This is going to sound like shit, but I’ll go with what you want.”

“You’re right, it does sound like shit.” he laughs first, and then you join in, “The thing is, Finnick, is that I don’t have a problem with it. But the last time I checked, you were the one that told me that we weren’t good together. So are you sure that you’ll go with what I want, or are you going to break up with me in a couple of months after you realize it again?”

Finnick opens his mouth, and then closes it. “I deserve that.”

“It wasn’t an explanation, Finnick. In fact, it made things worse when we were just fine on the train, and then you come back from seeing Snow and--!” you’re shaking your head, giving yourself a moment before you start speaking again, “and suddenly I was supposed to know that we weren’t together anymore.”

“But you know why now, right?” Finnick asks.

“Parts of it.” you rub on the ring, “I know that it was because of Snow and the sex work. He made you break up with me to make you more available to the Capitol, right?”

“No, I actually made that decision myself.” he says.

You raise your eyebrows.

Finnick stares, tilts his head for a moment like he’s unsure, “There’s more to it.”

You wait, thinking that he’s just going to give up the information, but he doesn’t, “Okay…?”

“I don’t want to make you feel guilty.”

“Then why’d you say anything at all?” 

He laughs, “To not make me look like an asshole.”

You snort.

“Alright well,” Finnick pauses, “President Snow had me taken to his mansion after the train, you know this. He told me that it’s not uncommon for victors to be well received by the Capitol, but I was different because I was handsome or whatever,” his face twists, “And since I was sixteen, I was finally eligible since it’s more morally correct to sell a teen into sex slavery when they’re sixteen and not fourteen.

“Snow said that I didn’t have a choice. I had to get into it or…” Finnick shakes his head, “There wasn’t even an or at the time. He just said that it was something I had to do, and I told him no, because I was finally feeling better and I had you. Then he urged me to say yes, didn’t even tell me that there would be consequences, so I told him no again….”

He’s angry, “And he fucking killed my entire family, gave the order right in front of me. I thought he was kidding, like it was some sort of sick joke until I had to fucking listen to it.” Finnick looks at you, “He didn’t even flinch when the screaming started, or when my brother started crying. I didn’t even know what to do. And after it was over he told me that the next person he’d kill next would likely be you, or your family if he could get to them. Or worse, sell your body too.”

You can feel the blood drain from your face.

“And I didn’t want that to happen, so I said yes. And then I broke up with you because I hoped that it would make the decision a whole lot easier but I think…” he grits his teeth, “I know it would’ve been easier with you to support me.”

No words form in your mouth, you stand in silence as you try to absorb the information.

“I’m…” your eyebrows draw in, “...selfish.”

“No.” Finnick says, “You’re not. You didn’t know, how were you supposed to? I told you nothing, I wanted a clean cut but it turned out to be messy, I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing, Finnick?” you look at him, “I’ve been giving you a hard time--why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t you come around later?”

“Because you moved on, like you should’ve.”

“I didn’t!” you laugh, moving forward, “Finnick, I hardly spoke to anyone after the year we broke up. My brothers fucking hated you for that entire year because of it. It took forever to convince them otherwise. The entire time, I was hoping that you were going to come around and tell me that it was some stupid prank. I would’ve forgiven you!”

He gives you a smile, “It’s better that I didn’t.”

You give him a look, and then sit on the hammock, “I guess that explains a lot.”

“You guess?” He laughs, “That’s it?”

“There’s not much to say, Finnick.” you shrug, “You said you didn’t want to make me feel guilty and I do anyway.”

“I didn’t have a choice. If you want, you could thank me for saying yes.”

You stare at him, he develops a cheeky smile, “Come on, that was mildly funny.”

“Mildly is the key word.”

The two of you sit in silence for a second, and then you dip your head, “I would be willing to give it another try, if you are.”

“Yeah.”

He’s got a grin on his face, like you just told him he’s getting a car for christmas.

“My brother’s will have to warm up to you again.” you warn him.

“Okay! They liked me before, right? What’s one more time?”

“They hardly give out second chances so you’ll have to consider yourself lucky.”

Finnick softly smiles, “I already am.”

--

A sharp pain in your chest wakes you in the morning. Your eyes shoot open, sitting upright in bed. It spreads immediately, like your heart is pumping it out; the source of the problem. You try and take a deep breath, hoping that you’ll get your mind off of it, but it makes the pain worse. Mid-breath, you stop, and exhale too deeply, causing another shock to go through you.

A groan leaves your lips, tears appearing in your eyes. You carefully get out of bed, wanting to be on your feet, hoping that laying down was the problem. You make no sudden moves, allowing the blood to make its way to your feet as you pace the room. With your palm, you rub small circles around your chest, which seems to relieve some of the pressure.

The clock on the stand reads eight in the morning, four hours before you actually have to get up and get ready for the day. You have a feeling that if you go and lie back down now, right when the pain is beginning to subside, you’re only going to make it worse. Plus, you don’t think that you’ll be able to fall back asleep, not with the adrenaline running through your body.

You take deep breaths when it doesn’t hurt, starting to feel dizzy from the self-hyperventilation. In no time, the pain is almost completely gone, only lingering in aches every now and then. You stand around for a few minutes longer, watching the sun rise high enough to finally come through the window before deciding that you might as well get ready.

The Tribute Center seems to have found its happy medium between too hot and too cold, as last night it was like existing in a frozen tundra. You’re lucky that the blanket they provide retains heat, otherwise you would’ve been bundled up a lot more than you were. Because of this, you think that you can settle for a lukewarm shower.

You lock your bedroom door before disappearing into the bathroom. The shower runs in the background as you undress, throwing all the dirty clothes by the door. You look over the tattoo on your collarbone, which is practically done healing by now. With the cream that the tattoo artist gave you, it doesn’t take weeks to heal like it does in the districts. As for the one on the back of your neck, it looks like it was done yesterday, when really it was years ago.

When you step inside the shower, you allow the water to run through your hair. You might as well wash it today. The shampoo you use smells like straight sugar, same goes for the conditioner. The bottle says it’s good for your hair, but the list of chemicals on the back is seriously concerning. The bathroom provides a matching body wash that smells exactly like the shampoo. You know for a fact that you saw a body lotion in one of the drawers, a part of you wonders if that’ll be overkill.

You turn the shower off and let the machines dry your body and hair. You decide to use the body lotion anyway, and by the time you realize that it’s glittery, it’s too late. You stare at your hands for a couple of minutes in shame, watching the white shimmer in the light. However, when it’s completely spread over your body and dried, it doesn’t transfer onto your surroundings, so that’s a good sign.

You brush your teeth while manually putting your hair together. You go for half-up, half-down since it’ll keep most of the hair out of your face. In the end, you still pull out a few strands to make sure that your face isn’t bland. Before you can do anything else, you have to get dressed.

The dresser holds plenty of skirts to work with, which you’re not opposed to. You sift through them, figuring that white will be fine. When you hold it up to your hip, you see that the skirt ends above the knee, so Finnick won’t have a reason to freak out. As for the shirt, you settle for a light pink, scoop neck bodysuit, with white underwear. When you finally get the entire outfit put together, you look at yourself in the mirror.

You’re very pretty today. The skirt doesn’t ride up too bad, even when you move quickly. The bodysuit prevents anything serious from showing, just in case the skirt does find a way to get stuck, or you spin too fast. You apply mascara, pull on white slip-on tennis shoes and the ring. Needless to say, you’re looking extremely girly today.

The clock says it’s reaching nine, you’d say that breakfast will take thirty, and then you can meet Finnick in the betting room at ten. So, you go out to the dining room to see that Elysia is nowhere to be seen. You refuse to believe that she left before you got up, she has to be sleeping in. Normal Capitol people stay up late and rise at noon. But then again, Elysia is an escort and she’s far from normal sometimes.

An avox turns on the tv, so you sit down at the table and wait as they serve brunch in front of you. It’s hashbrowns, steak, and a bowl of assorted fruit. You pick through your food, not super hungry and in the mood for all of it. Nevertheless, you’re sure to thank the avox that serves it to you, and continues to come back around to give you orange juice and coffee.

The arena screen is split into three, which isn’t new. It was like this last night, since there aren't many tributes to focus on at the moment. If there’s only three, you might as well show all of them and what they’re doing. At least one of them has to be doing something mildly interesting.

Tekla is still in her small clearing in the trees, which is fairly close to the dam, now that the gamemakers have marked it on the map. It’s a beautiful place to rest, you’d even picnic there if you had the opportunity. It’s not a good spot, though. It’s too close to the dam, too easy to kill her if and when it breaks. Still, she lays on her back, eyes closed. You can’t tell if she’s awake or not, but you’re going to guess that she is, judging by how her hands are intertwined over her stomach.

If she were sleeping, she’d probably be more annoyed by the sun. Instead, she’s directly under it, which might actually end up giving her a sunburn if she isn’t careful. That’ll be miserable to work with inside of the arena. You can’t even do anything to remedy the burn this far in, except for natural leaves and plants. You can’t think of any off the top of your head that you’ve seen so far.

Sanguin is in the cornucopia, she’s awake and stretching. She doesn’t look tired, despite the fact that it’s obvious that she just got up. Judging by her ratty blonde hair and the way her face twists each time she leans over. She stands up straight, and then grins slightly, turning around and going back inside. She combs through her hair with her fingers and sits on the edge of a box, sword right next to her. Maybe she’s planning on going out hunting today? You hope she doesn’t actually think she’ll get anything out of the village.

Especially with how awful Annie is looking. She’s got her arms wrapped around her body, knees pulled to her chest. The good news is that she looks to be asleep, mouth slightly open, leaned up against the connecting wall in the corner. But she’s got deep purple bags beneath her eyes, she’s only recently fallen asleep. You wonder how long it’ll last before she’s jolting awake.

It’s good that she’s sleeping, with no thanks to the medicine that you sent her. It probably drove her insane into early this morning, like you said would happen last night. You’d say that it’s a good thing, but with the way that Sanguin keeps looking to the village, it’s not. Annie needs to get up and be ready for a fight. Unfortunately, there’s no way you can warn her of this. You’re all out of options.

You finish your food, thank the avoxes, and leave for the betting room. There’s not a lot going on right now, it’s early morning. Everything big that happens in the arena is normally dedicated towards the afternoon to the evening, for the gamemakers at least. As for the tributes, they’re welcome to make and wreak havoc as they please, when they see fit. 

The betting room is quiet and empty when you get down there. Finnick and Gloss are sitting by each other on the couch. You hold the doorknob on the door, carefully setting it against the doorframe so that they won’t hear you. If they thought that you scaring them was bad when they were semi-expecting you, it’s going to be worse when you’re supposed to be sleeping.

You stand behind them for a moment, squinting down at them, wondering if they have the same sixth sense that you do when people are standing over you. Your question is answered when Finnick barely glances over his shoulder, and then jumps three feet in the air when he realizes that they’re not alone. Gloss has the same moment, inhaling sharply.

A laugh erupts from you as you go around the couch to sit on the arm next to Finnick, “You two are too easy.”

“You’re like a fucking ghost, I didn’t even hear you come in.” Gloss says.

“That was on purpose.” you cross a leg beneath your thigh, “Woke up early by accident, thought that it wouldn’t hurt to come down and keep you two company for a little while.”

“Well, the afternoon schedule was nice while it lasted.” Finnick mutters.

Your face twists, you look down at him, “You’re a bad liar. There’s no way you like waking up at midnight and going to bed at noon.”

Finnick tilts his head for a moment, making a face, “I mean…”

You slap the side of his head before he can say anything else, “You don’t have to prove you’re a teenage boy.”

The Morning Line Odds say that everyone is still at where they were yesterday, so there’s no need to take in new information. You’re really just left to sit and wait for anything important to happen inside of the arena. In the meantime, you talk to Finnick and Gloss about the unusual silence. With your guys’ luck, it’s not going to last very long. There’s no way that the gamemakers will allow two normal days in a row.

However, today’s the ninth day of the games. You’re sure they’re going to want to keep it going on for a little while longer, so maybe they will allow fate to be in the tribute’s hands. In that case, you all might as well buckle up for a long day, because it’s going to take hours for Sanguin to make it to Annie, with the pace she’s going right now.

It’s almost ten in the morning when people begin showing up inside of the betting room. All brightly dressed, and particularly chatty this morning. This is when you decide to officially sit between Finnick and Gloss, not wanting the sponsors to see that you’re in a skirt today. Finnick seems happy, which is all that matters.

Unfortunately, Annie wakes up. She jolts, eyes flying open as she reaches for her knife. She gets to her feet without a word, carefully making her way across the bedroom to the window, where she rubs it down to look outside of it. Her eyebrows are drawn together, staring straight at the dam. 

She seems satisfied for a second, gently nodding to herself. She goes to move away, until Sanguin comes into clear view. For half a second, you think to yourself that it’s a good thing that Annie is paranoid, because she just spotted the threat she’s been waiting for. After that, Annie scoops up all of her belongings, not leaving a single trace that she was there, besides the now-clean window.

She carefully goes down the steps, making it to the base floor without falling through the floorboards. Outside, she takes a deep breath, shuts the door and tries to jam some rocks beneath the door to make it harder to open. She tiptoes in grass to make sure that there’s no footprints, makes it a few houses over before she even considers walking through the dirt again.

None of it matters in the end.

A thunderous crack echoes throughout the arena so loudly that it breaks the microphones and makes several people scream out in surprise. You all watch in deafening silence as the dam continues to crack, and water begins to spurt out in large streams.

Your heart pounds in your chest. Today is the day.

You stand from the couch, moving a few feet forward to see better. Finnick and Gloss join you, not a single word passes between you three as you watch in awe. If such small cracks are already sprouting in streams big enough to create rivers, then how will the rest of the water fare? You have no choice but to wait and watch.

The screen is now in four, with one long screen on top completely dedicated to the dam, and three bottom squares for the tributes.

Tekla is on her feet, already rushing down the hill. She’s got no weapons on her hand, no backpack to weigh her down. She’s left it all behind in her peaceful circle in the woods. She whips through bushes, swings around trees, barely makes it over root and rocks on her way down. She’s freaked, struggling to keep her hair out of her face, constantly tucking it behind her ears.

Her feet look like they have a mind of their own, though. With the way that she goes down, it’s almost like she’s dancing, how flowery it is. However, her panic isn’t easily masked. She’s obviously shaking, and sometimes she’ll fuck up and have to catch herself before it’s too late.

Sanguin is standing on top of the hill, everything still on her as she stares at the water making its way towards her. Her eyebrows are pushed together, trying to assess the situation and if it’s worth worrying over. The answer is yes, because it’s only a matter of time before the rest of the concrete blows, and she’s left with a real problem. She slowly turns her back to it, picking up her pace, jogging through the grass. She’s still carrying all of herself.

And finally, Annie is also running through the buildings, just as panicked as Tekla is. The only thing that Annie has is her knife, clutched with white knuckles. She’s as white as a sheet too, breathing heavily through her mouth. You can empathize with her, even if she’s a while away, she knows that she can still be reached.

Another large crack sounds, Tekla slaps her hands over her ears and risks a glance behind her. There’s a jagged horizontal crack that runs from the right side to the left. It’s a matter of time before it goes. The concrete is spider-webbing, developing into a worse problem. Tekla tries to quicken her pace, but there’s only so fast you can go downhill before you risk hurting yourself.

Sanguin has dropped her things, running as fast as she did to catch up with Bauhinia. Her feet slam into the ground, and launch her forward another couple of feet before she’s connecting with the dirt again. She makes it across the second lower clearing, going uphill again. Those hills are going to be an absolute killer when it comes to the water.

The gamemakers are evil. It’s been exactly nine days, ten minutes and forty seconds since the tributes got inside of the arena. You said a week and a half? It hasn’t even been that. They’re in a hurry to get the big event over before one tribute can kill another. Why? Because it’s more fun cheering on the running tributes than watching them kill each other. It’s like betting on a running horse, who’s going to make it to the finish line first?

Annie stops, taking in deep breaths as she watches the dam through a row of trees. She’s able to watch as the final crack breaks the dam open like an egg. Concrete and debris go flying into the trees as the water creates a nasty flattening path through the woods. Almost every tree that the front water initially hits, is uprooted and brought with.

Tekla’s scream is piercing, lasting a couple of seconds before she’s completely cut off. She doesn’t die immediately, you’re able to watch as the water brings her along. She’s suspended in the middle, legs kicking, hands wrapped around her throat. She has half the mind to hold her breath, so that’s good news. The bad is that she’s a quarter mile underwater. There’s no way she’ll make it to the surface in time, if she did know how to swim.

You think you’ll have to watch her drown when she runs out of air, but an entire tree branch goes straight through her back and out the middle of her chest. Bubbles erupt around her face, hands grabbing the wood just before the cannon sounds. One down, three to go.

Sanguin has one more hill to make it up before she’s in the village. Her arms are pumping, face a bright red, her glances over her shoulder are quick and spared. She doesn’t do it often because it slows her down, it’s a brief check to see how far ahead she is in front of the water. And the truth is that it’s catching up on her. Just like you said, the hills are a nightmare.

Not only because she has to run up them, which tires her out more. But because the water gains momentum and unpredictability with every hill it surges over. The water doesn't seem to endlessly pour out of the dam, though. It seems like the gamemakers had a prepared forcefield. They just wanted to let out a controlled amount of water. Big enough to kill a couple of tributes before it thinned out and became a minimal threat.

Sanguin starts uphill the same moment the water hits the hill just behind her. Down it goes for a couple of seconds, before it’s surging above her in a giant wave. Sanguin makes it into the village, running beneath the roofs as if it’ll protect her from the water. She runs straight for a while, before starting to zig zag towards the corner. 

She must realize that it’s not worth it, and that the diagonal running only slows her down, because she goes back to running straight, heading closer and closer to where Annie had been staying. 

Speaking of which, Annie’s on the run again. You can tell that she’s keeping track of the height of the water. Even though the houses are decades old, they seem to be slowing down the water, since they’re all individually filling up inside. Sanguin doesn’t seem too focused on the fact, mostly wanting distance. She’s almost on the brink of losing it, though. Her steps are getting sloppier the more she goes.

Annie goes around a corner and into an alleyway, effectively blocking the water from her sight. It’s stupid, she’s not going to be able to keep track of it the same way she has. Sanguin has a point when it comes to running straight away from the water.

And then she starts climbing the walls. With how narrow the walkway is, she can scoot her way up little by little. It burns a lot of her time, and cranks up your anxiety, watching her do this. You know that she’s trying to get herself above the tide now. The houses where she’s at, are at least two stories tall each, not counting the roof.

Annie grabs the gutters, using her arms to pull her onto the red-orange shingles. You get a glimpse from where she’s at now to see that the water is lower, but she’ll still have to swim, even if she gets onto the high point of the roof. She takes one last look at her knife before she frisbee’s it to her right, making sure that it’s far away from her when the water does come.

Sanguin is losing ground. Soon, she’ll be stuck swimming too. It seems like that their times are lining up. Annie bends her knees, cracks her fingers, prepares her arms. Sanguin’s glances get more and more frequent, anticipating the moment the water hits her.

Annie dives straight in, letting the water welcome her. She doesn’t waste time, swimming straight to the top. Her face is serious, she has her eyes locked on the surface, kicking her legs hard, arm over head. While Sanguin holds her breath, fingers squeezing her nose shut, eyes following the structures in front of her. She narrowly misses the wall of the first house, before slamming right into the neck.

Just like with Tekla, there’s a large burst of bubbles. Sanguin struggles now, trying to swim to the top. She makes a few inches at a time, but it’s hardly noticeable, or comparable with how well Annie is doing. In fact, she’s reached the surface already, inhaling loudly.

The water directs Sanguin into a wall again, this time her head cracks against the wall. The water turns a light shade around her head, and it’s minutes before the cannon finally sounds. Which signals the water to drain, lowering Annie onto a roof nearby.

Her dark hair is stuck to her face and neck, clothes completely drenched. Her mouth is slightly parted, breathing loudly.

You grab onto Finnick’s arm, “Oh my god.”

“Congratulations, guys.” Gloss has got a grin on his face, he slaps you on the back.

“She did it.” you say, “Annie’s done it!”

Claudius Templesmith’s, the announcer, voice comes over the arena, “Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to present the victor of the Seventieth Hunger Games, from District Four, Annie Cresta!”

Annie’s face drains of color again, before it’s bursting in red, “I win.” she murmurs at first, barely audible, before tears of relief are filling her eyes. Much louder, this time she screams; “I win!”

--

REDAMANCY IS PART 2 OF A TRILOGY //MASTERLIST//

add yourself to the TAGLIST

@f1nal-g1rl / @starlight-selene / @neenieweenie / @amixedwitch / @accxio / @suranne-doesstuff