#wasn’t working in my pc or our friends

[mcdolann]

🤍 dream machine 🤍

[unusualtfs]

The Roommate Compatibility Program

this is my first time posting something like this to tumblr, hope it's an enjoyable read !

Arthur and Jimmy may have had the same last name, but that was the only thing they had in common.

Arthur Lee was, by all accounts, a nerd. When the Asian math major wasn’t dutifully taking notes on complex equations at his lectures or studying in silence at the library, he could usually be found holed up in his dorm, gaming until the wee hours of the morning. His only extracurricular activity to speak of was his weekly participation in the Chinese Student Union, if by “participation” one meant “sitting in the back of the room and not speaking to anyone.” His naturally pale skin was made even more so by a lack of sunlight, and his messy black hair resisted any attempt at styling. Short, shrimpy, and gay, he had clearly never seen the inside of a gym. In short, he was the exact opposite of his roommate.

Jimmy Lee was everything Arthur was not. Tall where Arthur was short, buff where Arthur was skinny, popular where Arthur was friendless. The straight white jock spent his days living out the all-American college fantasy — playing sports, pumping iron, and partying all night long. Of course, that hardly left any time for Jimmy to work toward his comms degree — but that hardly mattered, because everyone knew he was as dumb as a bag of rocks. His brutish Neanderthal features, extensive body hair, and blond buzz cut only added to that impression.

Maybe it would have been unrealistic to expect Arthur and Jimmy to be friends, but certainly no one could have anticipated the sheer antipathy that defined their roommate relationship. Arthur’s reasons for hating Jimmy were predictable — he was dumb, loud, and obnoxious; he left dirty clothes and sweaty exercise gear everywhere; and he stank up the dorm with his alpha musk. Jimmy equally couldn’t stand his prissy, prudish roommate. Arthur nagged him constantly, and he shot down all his invitations to work out or go out. Not to mention, he forbade Jimmy from getting laid while he was in the room, which was all the time. Nothing said unsexy like the presence of a judgmental Asian nerd hunched over his gaming PC at two in the morning.

Needless to say, it was not an ideal situation for anyone. So when a flier for the Roommate Compatibility Program was slipped under their door one evening, their interest was piqued.

Having issues with your roommate(s)? The Roommate Compatibility Program is here to help! Our trained experts use scientifically proven methods to ensure you and your roommate have a lifelong bond. 100% success rate, guaranteed!

In a rare moment of agreement for them, they decided they had nothing to lose.

That was how they found themselves entertaining a stranger in their dorm the next day. The man, who had introduced himself as “Mr. Thompson-Filipowski, from the RCP — but you can call me Mr. T.F. for short” had shown up out of the blue, giving them no time to prepare. So now they sat in their respective beds, answering Mr. T.F.’s questions as he appraised their living space thoughtfully. He wore a loud blue suit and had in hand a clipboard that he occasionally used to jot down notes, but otherwise he had no distinguishing features to speak of. Everything else about him, from his build to his skin tone to his hairstyle, was somehow impossible to pin down. He must have just had one of those faces.

“Thank you, boys,” he said after he was done interrogating them about their (lack of a) relationship. “I just have one more question for each of you before we can officially get started.” He turned to Jimmy first. “Jimmy, what would your ideal roommate be like?”

Jimmy had to think for quite a bit at that question. Finally, he responded in his vapid baritone: “Uh, I dunno… I guess he would just, like, be my bro.”

Mr. T.F. nodded, scribbling something on his clipboard. “Okay, excellent.” He turned to the Asian nerd next. “And Arthur, what about you?”

“My ideal roommate would be someone who’s, well, similar to me,” Arthur said, wincing at how his voice still cracked at every word. “Someone who shares my interests, and who I can spend time with, and… yeah.”

Mr. T.F. returned to his clipboard. “Right,” he said. “So, to summarize — Jimmy, you want your roommate to be your bro. And Arthur, you want your roommate to be similar to you. Is that correct?” There was a strange weight to his words, exuding the sense that something significant was carried within them, but Jimmy didn’t register this and Arthur thought it irrational, so both roommates ignored it. They nodded.

“Excellent!” Mr. T.F. said, the ominous presence now gone from his voice. “Okay, so often what we’ve found at the RCP is that roommate incompatibility is often a case of misapplied expectations. Often, our roommates do meet our expectations, you just need to keep an open mind about it. I’d wager you boys have much more in common than you think.”

Arthur rolled his eyes and Jimmy audibly scoffed at that, but they both kept listening anyway.

“For instance, looking around your dorm room, I can tell that both of you have a pretty similar fashion sense, wouldn’t you say?”

Arthur wanted to protest that all of the clothes strewn about belonged to Jimmy, not him, but the more he looked, the more he realized that wasn’t entirely true. That jersey on the floor definitely belonged to him, as did the baseball cap hanging from his bed and the sweaty white socks next to his desk. In fact, now that he thought about it, roughly half of the clothing he could see actually was his. Huh, he supposed he did dress similarly to Jimmy, then…

“I guess so,” Jimmy said as Arthur was distracted. “It’s hard to remember whose is whose sometimes because we dress the same and wear the same size, huhuh.”

As Jimmy spoke, his words became reality. He didn’t notice, but he shrunk down a few inches from his previously monstrous height until he was just under six feet — still respectable, but no longer anything more. Meanwhile, Arthur rose dramatically to meet him, until they stood at the exact same height. Since the two were equally small and shared the same taste in schlubby, sporty clothes, they essentially owned one wardrobe between them, borrowing and swapping constantly — although what looked tight and well-fitted on the muscular Ajimmy was loose and baggy on the lanky Jarthur. Curiously, the shirt Jarthur currently wore was the one item of clothing he wore that didn’t update itself to match his new reality; as such, it was now uncomfortably small on him.

Mr. T.F. continued, “And judging by the sports gear and gaming equipment in here, it looks like you also have similar interests, isn’t that right? Have you ever tried bonding over that?”

Again, it seemed Mr. T.F. was mistaken. Yes, their room indicated their respective interests in fitness and video games, but those interests were far from shared. Jarthur wanted to correct him, but then he had to reconsider. While he wasn’t into sports like Ajimmy, he certainly knew his way around them. He got as hyped as any other guy watching the Super Bowl, and he had fun whenever he was invited to play a quick game of basketball or soccer.

Meanwhile, Ajimmy was trying not to laugh at the implication that he liked video games. What did Mr. T.F. take him for, some nerd like Jarthur? But now that he thought about it… he did have fond memories of owning his bros with his mad gaming skills. He didn’t really want to call himself a gamer — he wasn’t into any of that anime or Nintendo kiddie shit. But Madden, CoD? Yeah, he fucked with those.

Imperceptibly, the dorm room shifted to match the roommates’ changing interests. Posters of popular players duplicated themselves from Ajimmy’s side of the room and pinned themselves into the wall above Jarthur’s bed. At the same time, the gaming computer vanished from Jarthur’s desk, swiftly replaced by a small TV between their beds. Well-used controllers popped into existence, one for each of them. The roommates themselves weren’t spared from the wave of changes, either. The tan leached out of Asjimm’s skin until he was quite pale, although not unhealthily so. Meanwhile, muscles made themselves known for the first time all across Joethur’s body. He was still lanky, but there was a definite sculptedness to his body that had never been there before, demonstrating his newfound appreciation of physical activity and straining his shirt even further.

“Yeah, all the time,” Joethur responded to Mr. T.F.’s questions. “I can destroy Asjimm at basketball in real life and in 2K,” he bragged.

“As if!” Asjimm retorted good-naturedly. “Next time, I’m kicking your ass, nerd!”

Joethur laughed. He may have had some problems with his roommate, but their shared competitiveness was not one of them.

“Ah, that’s lovely to hear,” Mr. T.F. said, checking a box on his clipboard. “The best way to become closer is to spend time together, after all. But that should be easy for you two — I’d imagine your class schedules are quite similar, since you’re in the same major.”

What was Mr. T.F. talking about? Joethur had never taken a comms class in his life, and Asjimm would certainly never be caught dead in a math classroom. But then Joethur went over his class schedule in his head again, and he realized that he did share most of his classes with his roommate. There was Accounting 101 on Mondays and Wednesdays, and Entrepreneurship every Thursday morning… In fact, aside from Joethur’s one math class and Asjimm’s lone comms class, their schedules were identical! But how could that be the case…?

“Well, I mean, yeah, I guess we do,” Asjimm said. His face twisted into a cocky smirk. “But just between you and me, it’s not like we bother to show up to class most of the time, right Joethyr?”

Everything suddenly snapped into place for Joethyr. Ausjim was right, of course — being a business major required confidence, charisma, and leadership skills more than anything else, and both Joethyr and Ausjim had that in spades. It certainly didn’t require studying or smarts, which was fortunate for Joethyr, as his brain was rapidly shrinking to match his meatheaded roommate’s. In fact, it was even smaller than Ausjim’s — he had scored highly enough in high school math that he was able to take an elective comms class for an easy A this semester, while Joethyr was being forced to struggle through calculus for a second time.

Records across campus rapidly rewrote themselves to reflect this new reality. Ausjim’s grades rose slightly, even as Joethyr’s GPA dropped from a 4.0 to a 2.0 — but whatever, C’s got degrees. In turn, the two roommates underwent their own changes. Joethyr’s unkempt hair retreated into his skull, leaving behind a slick fade. Moreover, the spark of intelligence retreated from his eyes, leaving them dark and hard. Ausjim’s hair experienced the opposite change, growing out into an impeccably groomed quiff that perfectly framed his face, neutralizing his unattractive Neanderthal features. His body hair also faded into nothingness, leaving him totally clean-shaven. The business classes he was taking had taught him the importance of presentation, after all.

“Yeah, bruh,” Joethyr agreed, now speaking in the same vacant timbre as Ausjim.

“Well, how do you boys spend your time then?” Mr. T.F. prompted. He was nearly at the bottom of his checklist — this far into the process, he didn’t even need to guide the roommates’ transformation. Their new personalities had largely subsumed who they used to be, and would be happy to fill the remaining gaps by themselves.

“Isn’t it obvious, bruh?” Ausjim said. “The gym — duh! Gotta get those gains!”

At his roommate’s proclamation, Joethy underwent a startling change. At last, his muscles ballooned all across his body until they were identical in size to Ausjim’s. No longer did he have to settle for merely toned — he was well and truly ripped. So dramatic was the change that his shirt was instantly torn apart, revealing his glorious pecs and washboard abs for the world to see. The Asian hunk subconsciously flexed as he thought about his answer to Mr. T.F.’s question, realizing something funny in the process.

“Hell, we probably even spend more time at the Chinese Student Union than class, right bruh?” Joethy nudged his equally jockish roommate.

The word “Chinese” resonated in Ausjin’s mind as he experienced sudden changes of his own. His lush hair was quickly thickening and inexorably staining itself midnight black. And as for the rest of his body, his lack of hair down there became much easier to maintain, as he naturally had less of it. Meanwhile, his facial features were shifting all at once — brow softening, nose broadening, eyes narrowing, lips plumpening. Eventually, they settled on what the rest of his body had already become — a carbon copy of his roommate.

“Yeah, bro, totally…”

At the word “bro,” the roommates’ final changes began. The physical refinements were over, but there was still work to do mentally. Ausjin’s brain was purged of the faces of his former family, their white features morphing into far more familiar Asian ones. Fond memories shifted as his mother’s famous meatloaf became her authentic dumpling recipe, and the destination of his childhood summer vacations was corrected from Europe to China. Through it all, he remained the dumb, popular jock he had always been. That was also true of Joethy, who could no longer remember being a lame, skinny nerd. Nights spent studying were replaced with nights spent partying, and members of an extensive social circle easily entered the parts of his brain that had never experienced true friendship. His memories of his family remained the same, however — with one key addition. The newcomer’s face was blurry, but the more that he focused on it, the more familiar it seemed. Almost like… his own face…? Or was it Ausjin’s face? That seemed closer, but… 

By Joethy’s side, Ausjin found his memories haunted by an identical face. The two jocks sat there in dumbfounded silence, both trying to recall who it was that featured so prominently in their memories. What was his name? Not Joethy or Ausjin, but rather… rather…

“Joey! Austin!”

Joey and Austin Lee snapped back to attention, refocusing on their strange guest.

Mr. T.F. chuckled, putting his clipboard away. “You boys zoned out there for a sec! It’s okay, I’ll get out of your hair soon. I just have one last question for you — are you getting along as roommates?”

“Well, of course we’re getting along, bruh!” Austin exclaimed.

“We’re basically the same person already!” Joey finished his twin’s sentence with a pure, dull guffaw.

Because it was true. Joey and Austin Lee were clearly cut from the same cloth: The identical twin Asian jocks were both brainless, buff, bisexual business-major bros. The only appreciable difference between the twins was their hairstyles. Austin fancied himself a pretty boy, spending hours by the mirror meticulously maintaining his gelled hair. Joey, meanwhile, rocked a utilitarian crew cut, confident enough to put his angelic face on full display. But other than that, they were totally inseparable — everything they did, from working out to gaming to partying, they did together. (Rumor had it that they even fucked together, only bringing a lucky girl or guy home when he or she was willing to share.)

“Great to hear that! Thanks for participating in our Roommate Compatibility Survey, you two — although I don’t know what results we were expecting from twins like you… Anyway, have a great one!” As Mr. T.F. exited the room, he allowed himself one last glance back at the Lee twins as they mindlessly bantered. Both of them had certainly gotten their wishes. Joey was exactly like Austin, and Austin was exactly like Joey, and they were certainly each other’s bros — in both senses of the word. Another success for the Roommate Compatibility Program.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind Mr. T.F., the Lee twins promptly forgot he had ever existed, returning to their existences as paragons of young Asian American masculinity.

“So, what’s the plan for today, bro?” Austin said. “Hit the gym, then hit the streets?”

Joey smirked, admiring himself and his twin in the mirror. “You know me so well, bro!”

[filmofhybe]

when enhypen sees a beautiful fan ( hyung - line )

pairing -enhypen hyung line ! x reader genre -idol! x fan! , fluff warning - none 400-450 words per member

> masterlist of my other works

> maknae line

© filmofhybe on tumblr — do not copy , translate or share.

희 승 heeseung

He saw you at those idol and fan interviews if ykyk

but if you dk is basically an idol and fan bonding and talking to each other, sometimes doing some activities

you were a famous gardener (among the engene fandom) and you thought it was just a normal interview with a company

But than your bias heeseung walked in.

You were shocked like you froze and than you greeted him with a bow.

But heeseung on the other hand.

BRO WAS WHIPPED. He did not know he was going to learn how to arranging a flower bouquet WITH such a pretty girl

And the fact he knew your bias was him, his heart was going 60 mph💀

The interview as well as the interaction was so calm

He would ask you lots of questions which made you blush

“How old are you?”

“What made you interested into gardening?”

“ I saw lots of engenes bring flowers from you to our fansigns. Is that true?”

Sometimes even look at you when you were focusing

The director and producers (basically everyone) was literally giggling behind the scene

After he finished arranging his flower bouquet, which he was so happy about he GAVE IT TO YOU.

“Your as pretty as these flowers.” He wasn’t lying though.

You giggled thanking him before waving bye to the camera.

everyone behind the scene was watching a live kdrama.

You guys took pictures together WITH HIS ARMS AROUND YOU and cute Polaroids for Instagram

You guys looked like a couple🤭

When the interview dropped. Everyone was freaking out and posting about it

“Luckiest engene out there.” “I see why he would like her.” “IDK IF I WANT TO BE Y/N OR HEESEUNG?!?” “Heeseung move is my turn with y/n”

Your business was so successful after that interview

Heeseung will secretly ordering a flower bouquet from you and gifting it to you cuz man was in love😞

박종성 Park Jeongseong

You know that one en’o’clock episode where enhypen was working at a café

that’s where this is gonna base on

You and your friend didn’t know enhypen was gonna be there AT ALL

so when you walked in and saw cameras everywhere it caught you off guard

But what you caught off guard the most was in front of you were enhypen.

Your friend was freaking out but calmed down after sitting down.

She was too shy to go up and order so you peer pressured you into it instead

You walked up the the cashier and jay was right there

When he saw you, bro was stunned by your beauty

Bout to risk it all for you😭

“H-hi can I please have uh green tea mocha and ice americano with strawberry shortcake and carbonara plea-please?” Bro you were stuttering cuz your bias is right in front of you. Like I would too.

He smiled at how cute your voice was like he was down bad

“ of course that would be 245,000 won please” you tapped your credit card WITH HIS PC covering the credit card on the card reader.

He saw. And bro was about to faint. WDYM a pretty girl like you is a fan of him?

“I love the pc by the way.” He smirked hoping to catch your attention

“Oh-oh thank you haha..” you were embarrassed for sure but you were glad he talked to you

“thank you for supporting me beautiful.” HE DID IT. THE MIC PICKED IT UP AS WELL. EVERYONE HEARD.

Bro your legs was giving up after that and you can’t even speak

Decided to deliver the food to your table and wrote his number on the napkin.

Again he was not slick about it cuz fans saw the black marker stain on the napkin on the video.

And the way he stared at you when you were ordering

Calling you BEAUTIFUL AS WELL

I want to be you so bad rn.

He was just so happy he met you and didn’t care about how his members was literally teasing him after you left the café that day.

심재윤 Sim Jaeyun

the type to flirt with everyone during fansign.

But when you arrived, he lost it.

HE COULDNT EVEN FLIRT WITH YOU

cuz you were that gorgeous it made his mind blank.

“Hi Jake how are you?” Bye. His heart full on stopped. He would listen to your voice every single day if he could.

“I’m-im doing well how about you?” He was trying so hard to maintain eye contact with you. Cause you looked like a Angel sent from heaven. (you are :p )

“I’m good! I Hope you enjoy the gift I gave you!” You flashes the sweetest smile he had ever seen.

He didn’t even realize the gift you put on the table for him cuz he was that mesmerized by your beauty

When he saw what you got him ( fifa 24 ) a card and a gorgeous necklace from his favorite brand

He fell in love. He was about to risk it all for you.

I don’t make the rules cuz man was trying so hard to get his hands on that game and than a beautiful engene just gifted him it? And the necklace? Just wait until he wears it every time on stage as his lucky charm.

“Oh my gosh thank you so much!” He was as happy as a child on Christmas Day. If only you were his he would’ve gave you the biggest smooch on the spot.

“Your welcome!! I’ll always gift you things you love!” You were happy he loved his gift. You don’t even know your bias jake, that’s in front of you rn has a massive crush on you.

He than held your hand while talking to you and asking questions. He was literally admiring you while rubbing your hands.

When is time for you to move to the next member. He didn’t want to let go of you.

Like he held onto your hand while you stand up

But the staff have to separate the both of you sadly which made him so depressed

but guess what. He wrote his number in your album. So you can text him.

That’s so fantasy but like HE WOULD

Fans at the fansign saw both of your interaction and was so jealous of how he looked at you.

The interaction was all over Twitter

“Ugh how do I be her?”

“HE DID THE RUBBING HAND THING!!”

“Stop she must be so pretty to get JAKE to stare at her like that”

“Bro was about to RISK IT ALL FOR HER😞.”

“He probably gave his number to her as well.”

“Jake I am not your strongest soldier”

BLAH BLAH BLAH ETC.

I mean everyone wants Jake to look at them with so much love in his eyes right?

성훈 Sunghoon

idk if anyone knows this but like idols would visit a bunch of girls in a company and they will take a group pic with the idol. (The girls around him would go crazy ykyk)

Bro let me tell you everyone in your company was looking forward to seeing him

You were chose to sit RIGHT BESIDE HIM LIKE YOU WERE GOING INSANE

I’m not even joking everyone was so jealous of the girls who were going to sit beside him

Especially you cuz they know how pretty you are

When sunghoon walked in, he greeted everyone politely

The girls was squeaking from excitement

When sunghoon sat beside you and looked over him

He saw you. A LITERALLY GODDESS.

He was im shock. Like his mouth literally opened a bit.

You greeted him with a smile but your heart was beating so fast

Your bias is sat right beside you rn.

Girls around him was tryna get his attention but later on realized he kept staring at you

Icl they gave up atp

But after he took a group picture with you guys

He sat there just processing the fact such a beautiful girl is sat beside him

Like he couldn’t believe it

All the girls was dismissed back to work after the picture and when you were about to leave

He handed you his BUSINESS CARD WITH HIS NUMBER ON IT

And let me tell you bro doesn’t do this unless is with some professionals

Like you hit the jackpot

Girls in your company was talking about how he was staring with you and how you were so stubborn to even realize it

“I want to be y/n so bad like the way he was staring at her ugh!!”

When the video of him visiting dropped fans of him was also going insane about you two

Saying how your so pretty and hope there’s more interaction between you both

How he should’ve bagged you before he left

a/n: maknae line will be out tmr!!

taglist : @surefornext @skepvids @spilled-coffee-cup

comment or reblog to be on the taglist :)

[loviingpedri]

they caught us - p. gavi

prompt: gavi x gamer!fem!reader. hard launching your relationship on stream

warnings: cursing, grammar issues

credits to owners for all images.

inspo for this story ^^

-

you were a growing streamer. big in the minecraft and riot games community. you appreciated your fans from the unconditional support. ever since being an exposed barca fan, your platform definitely grew. content was trending to the point where you met the one and only, pablo gavi. his simple message of complimenting you building camp nou in minecraft ended in a few date nights, a lot of kissing, and some risky nights. your fans wanted some player in barca to notice you, but little did you know that you spent your nights with your dream barca player everyday.

exposing your relationship was not in your agenda any time soon. it was the peak of your gaming career and gavi had big plans for the national team. the internet would practically blow up from the news. both of you were not ready for that amount of personal space to be invaded.

it was that time of the day to start your daily stream. it was a good balance of work and relationship. start your stream when gavi is at practice, and end it when he’s at home to solely focus on him.

“hello, hello everyone! welcome to today's stream." waiting a few seconds as more people started joining. “today will be a minecraft stream. i’m thinking of making the barca logo.”

reading the comments blow up by the mention of the club is probably the funniest thing you’ve seen.

“change your shirt on the minecraft skin the jersey of your favorite player. i love that idea, but i don’t really have a favorite player. maybe i’ll do xavi or something.” lying isn’t the best thing to do to your supporters, but personal business is personal business.

after playing for hours and halfway done with the logo, you hear the door opening. “one second guys, i think my roommate is home.” roommate meaning your boyfriend. the plan is really thought out. your best friend occasionally popped into the streams, pretending to be your roommate, and it works. thinking you muted and turned off your camera (which happens often), gavi walks into your gaming room.

“hi gorgeous,” walking in and instantly kissing you made both of you smile. “are you streaming?”

“yeah, i am. i was building the logo. i can show you later when i’m ‘done greeting my roommate’.” making quotation marks with your fingers.

“yeah i’ll sit over here. i’ll just look while you continue playing.” you blew a kiss at him as you put your headset back on.

“alright guys, i’m back. did i miss anything?” your eyes tried to keep up with the chat. it was going faster than usual. you thought it was a raid, but nothing was happening. everyone was going crazy. finally, a donation came through with a message.

read aloud from the automated voice, “viscabarcaaa_11 donated $10 with a message. 'was that gavi you just kissed?’” fuck. gavi quickly sat up from the seat. you realized your camera and microphone was never off. your eyes panning from screen to screen in panic. speechless, you turned red instantly.

you were kissin’ and they caught you whether you like it or not.

you cleared your throat, still don’t know what to say. gavi unplugged your headphones from your pc tower to be able to hear what was going on. he urged you to get up. you had no idea what he was doing, but you just listened.

sitting down, he spoke slow and steady. “hello everyone. this was a very unexpected thing for you. not to mention, an unexpected plan from us. y/n and i have been seeing each other for a few months now. it wasn’t really planned for us to be revealed this early, but thank you for supporting my girlfriend. i am glad to get this off of our chest, because i’ve been wanting to show her off.”

playfully pushing him to the side, “okay thank you for attending this stream, see you tomorrow. love you guys.” making sure you ended the stream fully before giving off a sigh.

“looks like i can show you off now.”

“okay, that’s enough fame for you.”

————————————————————

author’s note: this story has been sitting in my drafts for months and i’m deciding to complete it on a random weekday.

[dreamwatch]

Computer Love

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest

Day #22 - Prompt: Alternate Universe | Word Count: 995 | Rating: T | CW: None | POV: Steve | Pairing: pre-Steddie| Tags: IT Crowd AU, banter, my attempt at humour,

Ok, I wasn't going to write for today, but I was sitting on a work call and it made me think of the IT Crowd and that made me think of our beloved idiots. And honestly, I've been writing so much angst I thought I should try and redress the balance!

Steve wasn’t exactly over the moon about working for his dad, but one failed retail job after another and a few unpaid bills is all it took to have him crawling back to Harrington Senior. He didn’t want to be an office gopher, or work in the mail room, not at his age, but he’d suck it up.

Head of IT. His dad was making him Head of IT.

So far he’s told two friends. Robin, who stared at him like he had two heads before saying “Is he joking? Is it— is it like an April Fools thing?” And Dustin who was even less polite:

“What the fuck do you know about information technology?”

“Is that what it stands for?”

“Jesus Christ, Steve.”

He heads to the bank of elevators looking for his department. Harrington Industries is spread over twenty floors. He wonders if he’ll get a corner office. God the views… 

Steve runs his fingers down the list until he finds IT. Basement. No view then. Shit.

He exits the elevator into a dingy hallway, discarded PCs and printers stacked everywhere, and trips over a cable almost immediately.

Finally he finds his department. And… well…

Fuck.

Yeah. It’s all making sense now.

It looks like a frat house. There are two guys on a ratty couch playing video games, and another two at desks; one mop top making cat memes, and an admittedly cute guy with long hair with his feet up on his desk. There are phones ringing and no one seems bothered by them, until eventually Long Hair lets out an exasperated sigh and picks up.

“IT Support, have you tried turning it off and on again? Uh huh. Yeah it’s the button on the front of the… yup, big grey button… can’t miss it… you know what, let me send someone up. What’s your floor? Uh huh, and name? Melanie. Melanie in Marketing. Well, I’m going to be sending my best guy up—“

And, finally someone has noticed he’s there.

“Uh, he’s on his way, bye.” Long Hair drops the phone. “Guys, we have company.”

“Hi, I’m Steve,” he says, smiling at the four faces now firmly fixed on him. “I’m your new boss.”

“Not for long,” snarks one of the guys on the couch.

“Matty, be nice!” says Long Hair, and god he has beautiful eyes. Shit, fuck, no, don’t go there. “I’m Eddie, that’s Matt, who is just about to head up to Melanie on four—“

“Oh for fu—“

“—That’s Jeff sitting next to him,” Jeff raises a hand, “and this is Gareth.” Gareth just scowls at him.

Steve finally gets a good look at them all. Ratty band shirts and sneakers, ripped jeans, totally unprofessional, they look like they’re in a band not an office. He’s going to be making some serious changes around here.

“Well it’s good to meet you all,” he says and finally catches sight of a small office. He points at it, “Take it this is mine.”

“Sure is,” says Eddie. “We didn’t know exactly when you were coming so you’re not set up yet, but Jeff will get that done this afternoon for you.”

“Why this afternoon?”

Jeff stares at him like he has two heads. “It’s Minecraft Monday.”

“Yeah, I have no idea what that is.”

Eddie laughs. “It’s fine, I’ll come in a few minutes get you hooked up. Why don’t you make yourself comfortable. Boss.” 

His office is small and cluttered with more junk, and definitely no window. God, this sucks. 

There’s a knock at the door and he turns to find Eddie leaning against the door frame, arms crossed against his chest. 

“How d’ya like the place?”

Steve runs his hand through his hair, pushing it back off his face.

“Uh, yeah, it’s, you know…”

“A shit hole?”

“Yeah, a shit hole.”

“I take it Donny didn’t exactly fill you in on the details.”

Steve drops into the torn office chair. “Not really,” he sighs. “He has a habit of that.”

Eddie straightens up. “You’ve worked with him before?”

He laughs. “Better than that. He’s my dad.”

“Oh shit.”

Gareth barges in. “Wait, Donny the Dick is your Dad?”

“Donny the— hey, that’s—he’s the guy that pays your salary, a little respect.”

“Pretty sure that’s Karen in finance.”

“What…? You know, never mind. Point is, this department is a mess and there’s going to be some changes around here. Starting with the way you answer the phones, you can’t just tell people to turn the computers on and off—“

“—off and on,” Jeff cuts in.

“Whatever, you can’t do it. You need to ask what’s wrong.”

Eddie laughs. “I mean, we could, but the answer would still be to turn your PC off and on again so…”

Jeff and Gareth nod along like those stupid plastic toys. God, is it too late to go back to Family Video?

“Well, that’s as maybe, but for now you’re… ah, dismissed.”

He doesn’t miss Eddie’s amused smirk, as he gestures for his troops to leave. But then he’s perching himself on the edge of the desk, leaning into Steve’s space, those big brown eyes pinning him in his seat.

“So, just between us, you don’t actually know anything about IT, do you?”

“I mean… I know… uh, like mice, you know and uh… oh!” Steve snaps his fingers and points, triumphantly. “HTNL!”

Eddie’s biting his lip, god he has beautiful lips. “It’s HTML, but you were close. Do you do a lot of coding, Steve?”

He flops back in the chair, defeated. “Up until last week I was working in Family Video.”

“In their IT department?”

“No, in their ‘this is due back in two days department.’” He groans. “What the fuck am I going to do?”

Eddie laughs. “Don’t sweat it, you’ve got a lot more going for you than the last guy.”

“I have?”

“Oh yeah. At least you’re pretty,” he says with a wink.

Yeah, Steve’s totally screwed.

[anim-ttrpgs]

Some History of Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy

Brandon and I have played a lot of TTRPGs, from nearly every edition of Dungeons & Dragons to half-finished playtests of things you’ve never heard of. Our history with TTRPGs is a love story, but one pockmarked with frustration. We found ourselves enjoying D&D 3.5’s vast character creation options, but wishing it focused more on  grounded characters and historically informed combat; being drawn in by Call of Cthulhu’s horror and existential dread, but disappointed in its investigation mechanics for actually getting the investigators to those moments of horrifying revelation; being intrigued by Monster of the Week’s juxtaposition of both normal and supernatural PCs (for horror and/or comedy), but finding its lack of character options and reliance on genre tropes a hindrance; being unable to find anything that would be good for a S.T.A.L.K.E.R. inspired TTRPG campaign. We eventually found the OSR movement and AD&D1e and 2e to be far closer to what we wanted on the medieval fantasy front, but we still had nothing on the modern horror or urban fantasy front, and Shadowrun is… Shadowrun.

So, with around 20 years of TTRPG experience between us, we set out to make the game we wanted a reality.

The story of Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy’s creation really starts in late 2021, when Brandon asked me to help playtest a very early rough draft of an investigative horror game he thought up. Living isolated, impoverished, and unable to find work in England at the time, I readily agreed. Noticing that the game didn’t have a combat system and desperate to set my mind to something constructive in between tedious job applications, I offered to write a combat system for it. I soon had to use the last of my money to move back home to Louisiana where I eventually did find work despite a variety of health issues, and continued to work on Eureka as a system for our personal use.

As 2023 drew near, it became clear that my current job wasn’t going to be a permanent career, and I needed a fall back plan. Work towards making Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy a professional release began in earnest, with Brandon and I founding A.N.I.M. a few months later. It was initially set to go to Kickstarter in April of 2023, then May, then June, but each time we realized it just wasn’t ready. No one had ever heard of us, and we wanted to break into an industry and customer base increasingly financially hostile to any TTRPG that wasn’t D&D5e compatible. We needed to build an audience, and build a greater appreciation for independent and small-budget TTRPGs within the community at large.

Thanks to some assistance from one of the team members from Tuesday Knight Games (makers of Motherhship), the first beta copies went public in September of 2023 to a splash of instant (relative) success, and the A.N.I.M. TTRPG Book Club was founded on Discord two months later, a community dedicated to buying, playing, and analyzing less well-known TTRPGs - which includes almost everything except Dungeons & Dragons 5th Edition.

Ash became friends with us through the book club, and after offering an increasing amount of assistance, joined the team proper in January of 2024, adding much needed copy-editing skills as well as another 15 years cumulative TTRPG experience.

The Kickstarter campaign for Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy launched on April 10th, 2024, was fully funded within 3 hours, and by the end of the campaign had reached a total of $15,455, 486% of the goal. That is where we are at now, working every day to put the finishing touches on the game and complete the stretch goals to the best of our ability before our tentative deadline of January 2025.

This is a far more ambitious project than a super-small team like ours should have attempted for our debut game, but with a mix of talent, luck, skill, and a whole lot of help, we have somehow managed to pull it off. We think the resulting game is a deep, robust, professional-quality TTRPG that provides a one-stop shop and extensive toolbox for any investigative or mystery game you’d like to run. A dark and moody noir, a classical British whodunnit, the lighthearted sleuthing hijinks of Scooby-Doo, Eureka does it all.  (You can also get the latest PDF for FREE for a limited time by joining the A.N.I.M. TTRPG Book Club!)

Elegantly designed and thoroughly playtested, Eureka represents the culmination of three years of near-daily work from our team, as well as a lot of our own money. If you’re just now reading this and learning about Eureka for the first time, you missed the crowdfunding window unfortunately, but our Kickstarter page is still the best place to learn more about what Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy actually is, as that is where we have all the fancy art assets, the animated trailer, links to video reviews by podcasts and youtubers, and where we post regular updates on the status of our progress finishing the game and getting it ready for final release.

Beta Copies through the Patreon

If you want more than just status updates, going forward you can download regularly updated playable beta versions of Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy and it’s adventure modules by subscribing to our Patreon at the $5 tier or higher. Subscribing to our patreon also grants you access to our patreon discord server where you can talk to us directly and offer valuable feedback on our progress and projects.

The A.N.I.M. TTRPG Book Club

If you would like to meet the A.N.I.M. team and even have a chance to play Eureka with us, you can join the A.N.I.M. TTRPG Book Club discord server. It’s also just a great place to talk and discuss TTRPGs, so there is no schedule obligation, but the main purpose of it is to nominate, vote on, then read, discuss, and play different indie TTRPGs. We put playgroups together based on scheduling compatibility, so it’s all extremely flexible. This is a free discord server, separate from our patreon exclusive one. https://discord.gg/7jdP8FBPes

Other Stuff

We also have a ko-fi and merchandise if you just wanna give us more money for any reason.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for saying I wasn’t having fun?

I (23F) have been playing dnd with some of my best friends for about five or six years. One of these friends (23M) is our most common DM and I’ve always enjoyed his games, even if he can be kind of brutal and can sometimes play favorites. His tough style, love of gritty/grim dark/dark souls kind of genres, and meticulous plotting are staples of his games and has always been a joke in the group (in his first campaign we wiped the floor with an encounter and then the next session he mercilessly tpk-ed us). “We‘re not here to have fun” has been a running joke for years.

In our current campaign, we were introducing a player’s new character (let’s call them K) during a combat that was rapidly getting more dire. It was getting late and the DM was getting tired so we cut the session short. Before we broke for the night, the DM pulled K into a different voice channel to discuss their introduction for next time. While they discussed, the rest of us (H and Z) started brainstorming how to get out of the current situation alive. We were all at half health or less and a fully fledged vampire had just shown up. We decided to put a joke item we got to use in a way that was pretty goofy but might just work. The DM and K got back and we told the DM that plan for next session. He was clearly exasperated and went off to bed for the night but K loved it and started adding ideas for how their character could help with the plan once they were introduced.

Fast forward to our most recent session and DM is in a pretty foul mood for a few reasons:

1.) We started much later than originally planned because Z and K had things to do that day.

2.) Our vtt didn’t import our items from a shopping episode three or four sessions back so DM decided to just let us pick new ones before the session but Z didn’t see the notification until the session started and decided he could look between turns and decided to get some things that would help us travel but were still very silly.

3.) the vtt also wiped K’s character sheet and they was basically trying to reverse engineer it and was asking the DM about things they’d discussed and agreed on.

4.) He told us if we went through with our silly plan K’s new character wouldn’t be coming to help us with a contingency plan and we’d basically be on our own but it was our ultimately our decision. We booed him because we were all looking forward to the plan but it was all in good fun.

Once everything was mostly sorted, the DM stepped away from his PC for a while (30-45 minutes) and we joked he was mad at us for messing up his plans. When he came back, he sighed and asked if we were actually ready to start now and what we were doing. I said “we’ve chosen to live rather than have fun” and got some laughs from my fellow players but the DM shut off his PC and stormed off according to his girlfriend (also a player). The next day I messaged him apologizing for hurting what I said and for pissing him off and that I appreciate all the work he does for us. He never replied and has been on invisible ever since (I know he’s online because I can see him streaming in other chats). I feel really bad if I upset that much and feel worse since he hasn’t been answering. His girlfriend has gone quiet on me too. Like I said this has been an ongoing joke for years that even the DM has made before but AITA for saying what I did?

What are these acronyms?

[raytm]

I know I don’t technically owe anyone and explanation but I want to put out there what’s going on and why I may have distanced myself or ended up losing mutuals because of cut contact.

on October eleventh my cat of eighteen years got put to sleep, which, has left me feeling empty and without reason to really do anything ? I was still working for a while and managing things but it progressed to a point where I was pacing any minute I was not doing anything and couldn’t sleep, spent the nights pacing the length of our property sometimes for hours at a time. my mum took me to the ER and they gave me sedatives which while acted to soothe it for a little bit didn’t solve the issue. when I returned home and was still exhibiting the symptoms she confronted me saying my cat was dead and I needed to get over it which ? was the last straw for me, she was screaming I was cowering it wasn’t fun. since then I’ve been staying with a friend who has taken me in and I’ve made progress but sleeping at night is still panic inducing for me and even with medication sometimes the insomnia still wins, I’ve been to the ER a few more times over the past two months and thankfully the pacing has stopped but the sleeping issues haven’t improved to the point where I’m able to sleep normally ? I still don’t know when it’s going to happen. I’m getting my PC from my mums house on the 28th so hopefully I’ll be able to write again but with how exhausted I am it can be difficult to even do the things I need to function day to day. I’ve had to give up my jobs as well so it’s just ? An on going ordeal. It’s been a rough two months but tbh I didn’t think I was going to make it to Christmas and I have so I’m just quietly hoping it improves even if it is slowly.

[daitranscripts]

Iron Bull Conversation: Investigate

Tell Me About Qunari

Iron Bull Masterpost

PC: I’d like to know more about the Qunari.

If asked before Iron Bull: All right. Hit me. [5]

First time asking Iron Bull: You writing a book?

Dialogue options:

Flirt: I want to know more about you. [1]

General: They’re a potential threat. [2]

General: They sound interesting. [3]

1 - Flirt: I want to know more about you. PC: It’s your culture, and I’d like to know you better. Iron Bull: You could just ask. PC: I am. [4]

2 - General: They’re a potential threat. PC: The Qunari pose a threat to all of Thedas. I want to know what I might have to deal with someday. Iron Bull: Smart move. [4]

3 - General: They sound interesting. PC: What I’ve heard about them sounds fascinating. Iron Bull: What you’ve heard was mostly horseshit. [4]

4 - Scene continues.

Iron Bull: All right, what do you want to know?

5 - Dialogue options:

General: What does “Qunari” mean? [6]

Investigate: How do they govern? [7]

Investigate: Do you not marry? [8]

Investigate: Day-to-day life. [9]

Investigate: How is it growing up? [10]

Investigate: And if Thedas fell to the Qun? [11]

General: Goodbye. [12]

6 - General: What does “Qunari” mean? PC: The word “Qunari”—is that the race or the religion? Iron Bull: Both, kind of. The humans and elves who follow the Qun are the viddathari. The Qunari who break away from the Qun are Tal-Vashoth. Deserters.

Dialogue options:

Special: And those who predate the Qun? [13]

[Back to 5]

13 - Special: And those who predate the Qun? PC: What about Qunari who existed before the Qun? Iron Bull: The people we came from… they’re called the kossith. But we don’t use that word for the race. We came south to Thedas because the kossith were… I don’t know. We had to leave. The stories aren’t clear. But I don’t expect that they look much like us, whatever they are. [back to 5]

7 - Investigate: How do they govern? PC: How do the Qunari rule themselves? Iron Bull: It’s pretty simple. We’ve got the matriarchy, the priesthood, and the military. The priesthood figures out how Qunari should live in theory. The matriarchy makes it work in practice… And the military keeps the Qunari safe from outside threats.

Dialogue options:

Special: Is there much dissent? [14]

[Back to 5]

14 - Special: Is there much dissent? PC: Does it actually work like that? Is there much infighting? Iron Bull: Not like you’re thinking of. People disagree, yeah, but the priests are there to solve disagreements. Here in Orlais, politicking comes from people putting their own gain ahead of the gains of society. If you do that among the Qunari, the Ben-Hassrath set you straight. Or kill you. [back to 5]

8 - Investigate: Do you not marry? PC: I heard there’s no marriage among the Qunari. Iron Bull: Yeah, that’s true. Qunari love our friends like anyone does, but we don’t have sex with them. PC: Qunari don’t have sex? Iron Bull: Oh, we definitely have sex. There are tamassrans who pop your cork whenever you need it.

Dialogue options:

Special: What, really? [15]

[Back to 5]

15 - Special: What, really? PC: Seriously? Iron Bull: Yeah. It’s not a big deal like it is here. It’s like… I don’t know, going to see a healer? Sometimes it’s this long involved thing. It takes all day, leaves you walking funny… Other times, you’re in and out in five minutes. (Clicks tongue.) “Thank you, see you next week!”

Dialogue options:

Flirt: You don’t know true passion? [16]

General: I don’t know what to say. [17]

General: That’s bizarre. [18]

General: Sounds great. [19]

16 - Flirt: You don’t know true passion? PC: So you’ve never really made love? Connected with someone in both body and soul? Iron Bull: I don’t know. One time they used this thing called the saartoh nehrappan. It’s a leather-wrapped rod on a harness… That wasn’t really my soul, though. Also, there were more than two people. [back to 5] ㅤㅤ ㅤ 17 - General: I don’t know what to say. PC: That sounds… different. Iron Bull: Yep. [20] ㅤㅤ ㅤ 18 - General: That’s bizarre. PC: Sometimes I think I understand how different the Qunari are… and then I talk to you. Iron Bull: Yep. [20] ㅤㅤ ㅤ 19 - General: Sounds great. PC: I could work with that. Iron Bull: I know, right? No drama. [20] ㅤㅤ ㅤ 20 - Scene continues. ㅤㅤ ㅤ Iron Bull: Still, it’s more fun here. Fewer rituals, more making it up as you go along. Plus, you folk have redheads. (Sighs.) Redheads. [back to 5]

9 - Investigate: Day-to-day life. PC: How is everyday life different for Qunari? Iron Bull: Depends on your job, I guess. Some are just about the same. A baker in Val Royeaux gets up, gets dressed, and starts work. A baker in Par Vollen does the same thing. They don’t care about the empire or the Qun. Mostly, they worry about breaking eggs and hope the dough rises right.

Dialogue options:

Special: Except that baker isn’t free. [21]

[Back to 5]

21 - Special: Except that baker isn’t free. PC: It can’t be exactly the same. The Qunari have no personal freedoms. Iron Bull: How many personal freedoms do you figure that baker in Val Royeaux has? Life isn’t about freedom. The baker in Par Vollen wonders if she’ll be given enough eggs to do her work. Will they come on time? Will the kitchen workers get her bread while it’s fresh, or will they come late and blame her ’cause it’s stale? Same crap in Val Royeaux. People are just people. [back to 5]

10 - Investigate: How is it growing up? PC: What’s it like growing up under the Qun? Iron Bull: The tamassrans raise us in these units of kids all our own age. They’re like teachers or Chantry sisters. They also help figure out what jobs we should do. They had me pegged for military work early on. When they learned I could hit stuff and lie, they started training me for the Ben-Hassrath.

Dialogue options:

General: So no families? [22]

General: You didn’t choose your job? [23]

General: You must have been proud. [24] +Iron Bull slightly approves

22 - General: So no families? PC: ou never knew your parents? Iron Bull: Nope. I know, for you folks, that’s a big deal. The tamassrans were like our parents, though. Taught us to read, helped us go to sleep, all the parent stuff. I remember the one who helped me build things with blocks. She laughed when I knocked everything down. [back to 5] ㅤㅤ ㅤ 23 - General: You didn’t choose your job? PC: So the Qun decided what work you would do? You didn’t get a choice? Iron Bull: I could’ve acted like I didn’t like hitting things, I guess. But why would I do that? I was good at my work. I liked doing it. Far as I can tell, the tamassrans made the right call. [back to 5] ㅤㅤ ㅤ 24 - General: You must have been proud. PC: That must have been a good day for you. Iron Bull: Yeah. It’s like being a block of stone with a sculptor working on you. One day, the last of the crap gets knocked off, and you can see your real shape, what you’re supposed to be. That’s a good day. [back to 5]

12 - Investigate: And if Thedas fell to the Qun? PC: Do you ever think about what would happen if the Qunari conquered Orlais or Ferelden? Iron Bull: Some folks, like Cassandra or Cullen, would do fine… if they didn’t die fighting. Those two love rules. But the mages…

Iron Bull (Vivienne and Dorian recruited): Vivienne’s too political, Dorian’s too arrogant, and Solas is just weird. They’d all end up dead… or worse.

Iron Bull (Dorian recruited, Vivienne not recruited): Can you imagine Solas trying his Fade-dreaming under the Qun? Or Dorian thinking of someone besides himself?

Iron Bull(Vivienne recruited, Dorian not recruited): Can you imagine Solas trying his Fade-dreaming under the Qun? Or Vivienne doing her political bullshit?

Iron Bull (Vivienne and Dorian not recruited): Look at Solas. All that wandering in the Fade? They’d at least kill him.

Iron Bull (Cole and Sera recruited): They’d kill Cole, ’cause, you know, demon. And Sera would end up with her mind broken, sweeping floors in some shop.

Iron Bull (Cole recruited, Sera not recruited): They’d kill Cole, ’cause, you know, demon. And Varric would mouth off one too many times, get reeducated by force.

Iron Bull (Sera recruited, Cole not recruited): Both Sera and Varric would mouth off until they ended up reeducated–drugged until their minds broke.

Iron Bull (Cole and Sera not recruited): Varric’s tall tales would land him a reeducation prison, drugged until his mind broke.

Iron Bull: So, to answer your question: no, I don’t think about it much at all. [back to 5]

13 - General: Goodbye. PC: See you later, Bull.

[caustic-caffeine]

my thoughts on the instagram ai situation, as a digital artist on the platform

figured i’d write and share this around so others in the community i’m in know my status. sooo, some basics for starters:

“Are you leaving Instagram? Where can I find you active?”

i’m staying on instagram for the time being. seeing as instagram almost certainly already has the data of my past posts, i won’t be deleting anything; going forward, i’ll be using ai disturbance filters and other anti-ai overlays for any stills i post. i anticipate using instagram for reels primarily, as well as staying in communications with mutuals and other artists. i do have a cara account, but will likely be posting intermittently until some issues i’ve noticed get addressed. going forward, i’ll most likely be at my most active over here! growth, fortunately, never was a priority in my social media presence so i’m not super concerned about that.

tldr:

instagram: gonna continue posting reels and occasional stills, will be primarily focused on interacting with fellow artists

here: most active! will post both rough and polished stills, as well as lore and whatever random thoughts pop into my head. (see pinned post for a tag guide)

cara: activity will be low unless shit really hits the fan on instagram and i can no longer protect my work via overlays. if you’re an insta moot, feel free to dm me if you want me to share your posts around, though! if the link doesn’t work: i’m @/asphodelity [EDIT] cara does work with an ai organization, hive; here is a post that goes into it and other things people have said about the platform! as i already wasn’t intending to use the platform all that often this won’t change anything for me, but make sure to do your research if you’re looking into the platform!

“Will this affect how much you post?”

not really! i already have a fairly sporadic posting schedule, so i’ll just be continuing what i’ve been doing: posting when i have things i wanna share :]

“Help! I’m an Instagram artist and want to know how to protect my art!”

i gotchu.

[EDIT] the non-glaze/nightshade/artshield filters are mostly ineffective! it won’t hurt you to use them, but if you can stick to using the glaze and nightshade sites!! if you don’t have a pc, you can apply to get a webglaze account!

how to (hopefully) opt out of your art being scraped in the european union (i think?)

how to (hopefully) do the same in the united states (note: post could be outdated)

other ways to protect your art: one, two, three, four

ai disturbance filters: one, two, three (set these to overlay at 30% as the top layer for most effectiveness! these aren’t as effective as using a website like glaze, but are better than nothing)

after june 26, no matter your region, you’ll be unable to opt out of ai data training. this affects, to my knowledge, everything you post, including captions.

“Any other thoughts?”

now, more than ever, we as a community need to stick together and support each other. don’t let anyone tell you your art isn’t worth anything; we as artists have something very special in our ability to create, express ourselves, and connect with the world around us, an algorithm and misguided techbros will never be able to take that away from us. keep pursuing what you love, my friends; we have to weather the storm to see the rainbow.

my dms are always open for art reasons. need a pep talk? i’m around. wanna collab or trade? i’d love to! need help boosting your social medias? i’m happy to help (although my presence is admittedly very small). whatever it is, i’m here and willing to help!

i’ll keep updating yall on this platform as my activity changes (or, perhaps, something big related to ai happens), so be sure to stick around if that seems interesting! also, please feel free to reblog this post and add more information i may have missed, that’s all for now, thank you for your time <3

[shipcestuous-two]

Daddy's Boy

So I was writing some short incest stories that involved father x son and it made me think of a real life one I witnessed long ago. 

Trigger warnings: Eating disorder, drug addiction and abuse mentioned. (These do not relate with the incest. The incest relationship here was consensual. Both adults.)

So back in 2012, I met this boy at school and we became close friends. Because we were both outcasts, gay and had family issues at home. And we have the same interests. And no, nothing romantic or sexual ever happened between us. I was actually in love with someone way older at the time, but never went for it. My friend, let’s call him Kol, he had an on and off boyfriend at the time.

Unfortunately, our love lives didn’t work out, we just never could find the right guy, but it gave us more time to hang out. Kol had finally revealed that he struggled with an eating disorder due to his mother, let’s call her Esther, mocking his weight and looks since he was little, and just making everything horrible for him, even hitting him or locking up all the food pantries to starve him if she caught him eating food that looked unhealthy.

And in return I told him about my drug addiction issues and conservative family hating me for the choices I make and all that bullshit. Kol talked about how he hated his mother, how she made his father leave when he was a kid and how he wished his father would come take him away. So I encourage him to try to look for his father.

Then in 2013 summer time, my friend had gotten in contact with his father, let’s call him Klaus, by getting his number from a friend of his father who worked at a store and thought Kol’s surname seemed familiar and asked if he was related to Klaus. Apparently Klaus was still in town, but lived out of town in a cozy cottage in the woods. But Esther was angry about this and did not let Kol and Klaus meet, which caused Kol to be depressed, that sometimes I wouldn’t hear from him for days.

2 months later, me and Kol were supposed to go a trip to the beach that Esther planned, but I had got into a fight with someone at school, then fought with my family back at home because of it, and then later I ended up taking too much pills to get high and almost overdosing to death, then I had to be taken to a hospital for a while. Kol kept in touch and visited me from time. I feel bad about this until now, but I stopped talking with him after I left the hospital. I just wanted to be alone and hid in my room forever whenever I wasn’t needed.

2 years passed and it was 2015. Me and Kol were 19 now, we haven’t spoke since, but he saw me playing a video game again on Steam PC one night, because we were still friends there and he messaged me. I apologized for being a shit friend and ignoring him, then he told me he was so upset, but he forgives me. He then went on to tell me that he finally met his father recently after just texting only each other back in 2014 and had been hanging out at his cottage now. I was happy for him and then Kol invited me to stay over at his father’s place anytime.

I figured why not. I can’t rot in this room forever. So I packed up and met up with Kol at our favorite juice shop we used to go to. We both changed so much. I used to dress in a more conservative clothing, but went with an all black wardrobe. But Kol looked amazing. He used to be really thin and dressed in hoodies and sweats. Now he’s toned with muscle and dressed in shirts and shorts that were tight, clearly to get attention.

So I finally met his father who was driving us. I guess I should also mention Kol told me back then that his mother and father had him at a very young age, so it wasn’t really that a shock to me that his father would look young just like his mother. Klaus was really handsome. He had dark hair, green eyes like Kol and it was obvious he was really buff under that suit he was wearing. Klaus said he would need to be in the office soon and he drove us to his cottage, so I assumed he was one of those rich office workers.

Alright. Let’s go to the incest now.

I started hanging out at the cottage quite a lot. I would notice things with Kol and Klaus. I should also say that I’ve been an incest shipper since forever so I wasn’t freaked out by this. I thought it was cute. Sometimes would even ship them together in my mind. Like when we were watching a movie together one night. Kol would sit on his father’s lap and Klaus would have his arms around him. Then they would give each other loving looks every few minutes. Or sometimes I would fall asleep in the living room. Then I would look for Kol, just to find him snuggled in Klaus’ arms in his father’s room. Or I would find Klaus sleeping in his son’s room, then later Kol would take a nap and join him, and Kol would just be in his boxers getting hugged by Klaus.

I pushed thoughts of them being lovers out of my mind, because they haven’t seen in each other in forever and maybe they’re just close and affectionate like that. Because they both sure didn’t get love from that evil creature of a mother. So a few weeks later, I was at the cottage again. Yeah, I probably spend way too much time there than my own home. But whatever keeps me away from my own rancid family. I actually walked there by myself to, it’s really not too far. At least to me.

So I saw that Klaus had brought a man and woman, who look like they were in their 30s over and they stayed the night. They were both attractive and dressed like they going to a party and they both made flirty comments to Klaus, which he smirked at, and I took that as Klaus being bisexual. I could tell Kol wasn’t happy about it. He seemed jealous and just quiet, but pissed off.

The next day, me and Kol were in the kitchen eating sushi, talking about a weird dream I had about waterspouts. His father came in, shirtless just in his pajama pants, and the same man showed up, also shirtless, then the woman showed up as well, just wearing a shirt. They tried to introduce themselves to Kol and me, but Kol got up and slammed the table in anger and said “You’re both done fucking around with my father! Now get the fuck out!”

Me and everyone was shocked at that. I mean I was kind of laughing inside. He was so jealous. The man and woman said nothing and quickly left. Then I heard Kol and Klaus in the other room. Kol was crying and accusing Klaus that he’s gonna find someone else and abandon him back to his mother, which Klaus explained, he did not sleep with that couple, they were just his friends and that he loves Kol only. I peeked through the crack of the door, because I’m fucking nosey, and saw Kol jump into his father’s arms crying. They hugged for a long time.

“What a daddy’s boy.” I thought. I was actually kind of jealous myself. He was so close to a family member and I fucking hate all of mine. So then thoughts of them being in love came back to me when Kol had a little party at the cottage with people who I don’t even recognize. Turns out, they were girls and boys who Kol met up at college while I was rotting in my room back then.

During midnight, the rest of the party goers left and we were with 4 girls and 4 boys at a bonfire near the woods. They were all drunk and telling dumb stories. I met a guy earlier and we started liking each other pretty quickly. Let’s him Stefan. So I found some fruity candy that melts if you put it in your mouth and started to play a game with Stefan where I would take a candy in my mouth and put it into his mouth, which resulted in kissing. The rest of the group saw us and started copying us.

I didn’t expect Kol to join us. He put a candy into his mouth and I thought he was just gonna eat it. But then he went into his fathers lap and pushed his face into Klaus’ face who didn’t stop him, their mouths quickly touched, while they made eye contact and Klaus took the candy and ate it.

I was the only one who saw this happened, the others were drunk laughing about something with Stefan. I was so surprised. No father and son would do that together at all. Now I really thought they were a thing or at least secretly wanted each other.

This is when I get full confirmation. I started becoming close to Stefan and we got together and I started seeing Kol less, because I was spending more time with Stefan at his apartment, but me and Kol texted everyday. A year later, 2016, it didn’t work out with Stefan, he had cheated on me and I decided to stay single for a while. So then I realized I can go back to hanging out with Kol again since I didn’t have some guy bothering me anymore.

It became June and Kol had invited me to his 20th birthday party. When it came to that day, I noticed there wasn’t really much people involved and I know Kol, he liked inviting tons of people when he threw parties. It was just Klaus, Kol, me and a few college friends and his father’s work friends, but they all left early after the cake. I asked him about this and he told me he just needs his father and his friend (me) with him, that’s all that matters. I thought it was sweet.

Later on, I was getting ready upstairs so I can use the hot tub outside, when I heard a woman’s voice down stairs. I secretly got by the banister and looked down into the room below and saw that it was Esther. Kol’s toxic abusive mother who had another man by her side, who I assumed was her new boyfriend. She came uninvited and she was screaming at Kol and Klaus.

This is when I finally get my answer. Esther had revealed that she was still so disgusted at Klaus and Kol, because she caught them having sex in the lake near the cottage. So yeah, they were a couple after all. I fucking knew it. Them being lovers wasn’t just something my incest shipper rotted mind made up.

She then threatened them she was gonna tell the police, but when Klaus was telling her she had no proof of what they had done and warned her to leave. Kol snapped and told Esther that if she tries to do anything that keeps them apart, he will also let the cops know she beat him and starved him for days.

This made her shut up and back down. This is when I come downstairs. They were about to leave, but then I made a snarky comment towards Esther about how “So that’s why I was smelling dead skunk.” and Esther’s boyfriend didn’t like that and attacked me. He punched me and Esther called me a white trash crackhead. And I had lost my temper and fought back, I hit him many times. The cops were called, but I made it seem like she came over here to start shit with me and had her boyfriend attack me. They both were taken away. 

Kol asked if I heard everything. Meaning If I know about him and his father. I told him yes. Kol and Klaus both explained that there’s no abuse going on with them. That they fell in love and truly really love each other and make each other happy. I told them I understand and support them. And I also admitted they look cute together. Me and Kol hugged for a while, because sadly I wasn’t gonna see him again after this.

My stupid family finds out about my fight and then decides to move away to a different state where my aunt also lives to start fresh. Because according to them, I caused so much trouble in this town and now everyone talks bad about me and my family. When it happened in 2017, I ended up leaving my parents new home and moved with my aunt and her new husband. They were much nicer to me.

I keep in contact with Kol, but we hardly talk that much anymore, because he got busy with work. Which is totally understandable. Last I heard in 2021, he and Klaus moved somewhere new and are still secretly, but happily together. I’m glad for them.

--

A lot of speculation about others gets sent in to this blog but you actually got to find out the truth. 

Thanks for sharing this with us and for including all of the details. It was like watching a movie!

I hope everyone is happy and doing well. 

[k-writer1998]

Through Your Eyes (3/3)

w.c: 2.6k

a/n: Sorry for the delay but here it is cause I finally got back to my pc! Did I also go back and change the title after so long? Yes... I did... it just fit better with everything okay? ;-;

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Although a bit shaky and oddly centered it was an endearing photo nonetheless with a natural feel and a genuine energy radiating from our smiles. What surprised me though was my expression, I didn't know I could make a face like that. Softened features, relaxed expression and a certain sweetness captured in my eyes. Feeling a familiar twisting in my stomach, I bit back the words that wanted to spill out. I knew what this was but I was scared. Instead my eyes tore away from my face and moved to his. His eyes were as clear and captivating as usual with their flecks of bold purple among the milk chocolate of his irises. Wait a moment… Instinctively, my hand moved to run through the ends of my hair, spilling ash brown and purple strands into my view. Setting the camera down, I look back at the ocean as my thoughts slowly fall down a rabbit hole. Am I overthinking it? Does Seungmin know? If he did, why didn’t he tell me? Maybe-  I felt his body rest on me before his head found its way to my shoulder. For a moment I swear my heart stopped at the momentary thought that entered my mind, but I could still feel the steady rhythm of his breathing.

“Tired?” I ask, now focusing on the boy beside me.

“Yeah… will you keep talking to me?”

It was coming… that was the only thing my brain could scream at me. The words danced on the tip of my tongue but I couldn’t do it, to give him a false sense of hope when I wasn’t even sure. What if I tried and it didn’t work? Our mark is too common to jump to conclusions so I’ll take the burden of hope onto myself and quietly go along with his last wishes.

“Of course. Hmmm… any more interesting stories about your soulmate mark?”

“I thought you didn’t care for those things?”

“Just because I’m not actively scouring the world for mine doesn’t mean I’m not interested. I’m still hopeful.”

“Well I’m sure whoever it is will be lucky. You’re pretty okay after all.”

“I’m honored to receive such high praise,” I joke.

“You know what I mean. Oh. Before I forget,” he placed his hand on mine before guiding it to the small box he brought along with him. “Could you do me a favor and deliver this to someone when you go back to the city? I left their business card inside.”

“Simple enough. Is it your elusive friend you kept this a secret from? I’ll have to figure out how to break the news if it is.” I explained, earning me a quiet chuckle from the boy.

“Nothing crazy like that. He’s just my senior at the hospital.”

“I don’t think that’s the condition he wanted you in for your next visit.”

“If you don’t like a psychiatrist as a fall back career maybe you should do stand up comedy.”

“Wow, are my photos really that bad that my dear friend has to try to find me a new career?”

“Enough,” he says, although I could hear the smile in his voice. “You wanted to go on about soulmates right? Well, do you have any fun stories?”

“My eyes have always been straight black my entire life. Like I said, my soulmate is a bit boring,” I chuckle. “What other colors have your eyes changed to?”

“Aside from red there was lime green, silver, pink, orange but not the natural kind, more like the highlighter shade. With all the bright colors I had a lot of talent scouts trying to recruit me.”

“Look at you rockstar. You're already handsome so I’m not surprised. Any idol skills up your sleeve?”

Even though my lips continued to move and converse with him my mind was elsewhere placing all the pieces together. Seungmin is my soulmate… I am Seungmin’s soulmate. As the conversation winded down I felt the weight on my shoulder lighten as I turned to look at him, a camera lens greeting me instead. Instinctively my lips pulled into a smile as I furrowed my brow.

“What are you doing?” 

“You said you like the world through my eyes right? My final gift for you is to see yourself in that view.”

His words struck a chord in my heart, the finality of that statement leaving an unsettling feeling in the pit of my stomach. I had to turn away to blink back tears that threatened to fall.

“Stop it. At this rate you’ll get the waterworks you’re trying to avoid in the first place.”

“Fine, fine. I'll keep it short. Thank you for accompanying me till the end.”

Somewhere between his sincere words, the camera shutter blinked before I felt the gentle thud of his head once again followed by the sound of crunching sand and a silence that stretched as the minutes passed. One can imagine the shock on my manager’s face when he saw my tear-stained face sitting there with a listless Seungmin. He was forced to make do with the short explanation while we collected our things and brought Seungmin to the car. Once the loose ends were tied up with Granny Jeong, we headed back to the city as I told the whole story.

“Okay so let me get this right. I let you run off to the ocean to clear your head and you somehow met your terminally ill potential soulmate?

“That's the extremely abridged version of it, yes. If you want to blame someone, blame fate.”

Once we arrived at the hospital the person I contacted from the card came out to greet us. He had dark curly hair with glasses who looked no more than a few years older than myself. After situating Seungmin in a room, he sat me in his office and from the title on the card he was a love disease specialist. It was obvious he didn’t agree with Seungmin’s plans as I explained everything. At the end of the story he sighed in resignation before reaching out to take the box. Instinctively I pulled it back, having yet to explain potentially the most important factor of the story.

“I know it’s gonna sound crazy but I fell in love with Seungmin… and I think I’m his soulmate.” He pondered carefully before speaking.

“What makes you believe you guys are soulmates?” 

“Our mark is a common one so it’s hard to give a definitive answer. The only real “proof” I have at this time is this. Everything else is circumstantial.” 

With that I handed the man my camera, the image zoomed into Seungmin’s eyes showing the noticeable flecks of purple that streak through his iris just like the streaks of violet that highlight my hair.

“And your feelings are… genuine?”

“I’m not sure how I can prove it, but yes they are. I honestly surprise myself with how easily I can say that. Am I making sense?”

“Yes I think I understand.” The doctor’s gaze softened as he spoke. Was I making that face again? “I think I can guess why you’re hesitating with handing over the fragments.”

“I may not have gone looking for him but I won’t let him get away that easily. I don't know if these fresh feelings or the fact we are soulmates is enough but I have to try.”

“Love diseases are finicky when it comes to what is defined as “true love”. Some people get away with just being soulmates while others need raw genuine feelings in full force. Everything is a gamble left to fate. I'm not trying to speak against this idea or anything, I’m just surprised that both my juniors are just as reckless as I was.”

After that, Dr. Bang walked me through the whole procedure of attempting to treat the shattered heart disease. Although there was a surgical piece to it, piecing Seungmin’s heart together had to be done myself and were it not for the doctor I would have pieced it together without rest. Frustratingly after a few mandated breaks, the heart was completed after the thirty-second hour. With that done it was now time for the anxiety inducing part. Before Dr. Bang could finish the procedure, the heart has to sit within the body for twenty-four hours to see if the body accepts or rejects the transplant. Because of this, I was sent home and they would call me with the results. To not be left alone with my thoughts, I went to my friend’s salon to ramble my worries away. As it was within business hours I had to practically pay for her time as she sat me in the salon chair, my lips spilling all my anxieties and worries about the procedure. Her soothing words alongside the relaxing stroke of her hands through my hair chased away the tension built up for a bit. Half my day was spent going in circles with her and by the end of it I had calmed down enough I wasn’t bouncing off the walls and new colors were added to my hair. 

That didn’t stop my anxious pacing once I got home though. Sleep escaped me as the twenty-four hour mark ticked closer and closer until it passed and yet there was still no call. One hour later, then two, to four… I had to turn to my manager and work on the exhibit before I really lost my mind although he banned me from actually coming to the gallery in fear I would tear down the photos for the second time when the exhibit is only a few days away. By the fifth hour I was about to make my way to the gallery regardless when my phone rang and I jumped to answer it. Good news. I was at the hospital within the hour and without much thought I barged into the room to hear a monitor beeping in a familiar steady rhythm. My unannounced entrance startled the doctor patient duo. Giving us a knowing smile Dr. Bang closed their conversation quickly before giving us some space. I made my way to his bedside as silence filled the room. The boy who always broke the silence first was now at a loss for words so I took the initiative this time.

“You weren’t expecting this development were you?”

“Honestly? No, but is it weird to say I’m glad?”

“I would hope you’d be glad, all things considered.”

He gave me a soft smile as a reply but my mind was too preoccupied taking in every little detail as if his life would slip away from him once again if I even so much as blinked. The jagged cracks have now faded to the faintest scars and his eyes were still as clear as ever with the fluorescent lights catching the faint flecks of violet, the newest shades of blue and pink now present as well. So engrossed with tracing over every little feature of the boy in front of me, I was startled by the sudden warmth that fell onto my hand.

“Hey, I’m fine now. I’m okay and it’s because of you.”

The sound of his voice seemed to quell my racing mind only for a blush to burn across my face as I realized the meaning of his words and the hand now holding mine.

“So, I guess Dr. Bang already told you everything…”

“To a certain degree, although I’d much prefer to hear it from you.”

“Well wouldn’t I sound a bit crazy to say that I fell in love with you in less than a week?”

“Crazy is just part of your vocabulary Miss-I-trashed-an-entire-exhibit-before-its-opening. Plus it wouldn’t sound as crazy if I said that you earned my trust in the span of one day and became one of the most important people in my life shortly after, right?”

If I didn’t already understand what Seungmin was trying to convey, the small squeeze to my hand was confirmation. After everything that was all he could give and that was enough because that was his way of saying it which made it all the more endearing. 

A few days passed and it was my exhibit’s soft opening. With the permission of Dr. Bang, Seungmin was able to attend. Upon my playful request he reluctantly covered his eyes as I slowly guided him into the gallery before allowing him to open his eyes. My eyes traced over his expressions as he examined the photos that adorned the walls as realization hit him.

“Wait, aren’t those-”

“Your photos? Yeah… I know I didn’t have your permission but I wanted to tell a story of finding my spark again which ultimately includes you. You are referenced as an anonymous photographer I collaborated with and we can work out the business details later or I can remove them if you aren’t comfortable. I just couldn’t help it-”

“You’re fine,” he chuckles as he grabs my hand to reassure me. “I’m glad you think so highly of my photography skills as a professional. Walk me through it?”

Although he was there for every one of these photos, I still went and explained each one to him as he intently listened to my endless rambling until we reached the final wall and main attraction. There were three photos lined up next to each other. The first being the very first photo I took of Seungmin’s silhouette, followed by the crooked selfie of us together, and ending with the final photo Seungmin took of me.

“You know it was this very photo that made me realize you were my soulmate?” I said, pointing at the center photo.

“I stopped looking in the mirror because of the disease so I never noticed the hints of violet.”

“Well in retrospect, I do apologize for calling you boring because you are far from that.”

“So what’s the explanation for all the crazy colors I had to suffer through?”

“My university roommate needed a victim because she was trying to be a hairdresser.”

“And here I thought it’s because you’re an artist and don’t fit in a box.”

“Don’t quote me to bully me.”

I playfully slapped his shoulder as we shared a laugh. Since it was the soft opening there were far fewer guests in attendance, mainly friends and close work connections. I made my rounds greeting everyone with Seungmin by my side but at the sight of this person I squealed happily before glomping them in a hug, noticing the person beside them shortly after.

“Dr. Bang I didn’t expect to see you here. So you are my sunbae’s beloved 'Chanie' I hear about often.”

He awkwardly laughed at the mention of his soulmate’s name of endearment for him as the tips of his ears turned red. We chatted a bit more before I continued to make my way through the guestlist, introducing close friends to Seungmin along the way. Upon spotting the pair I was looking for, I called out to the boy on crutches.

“Hyunjin! I’m so glad you can make it! I see you’ve been promoted to crutches.”

“Y/n, your photos are stunning as usual.”

“He’s been hard at work during physical therapy so he’s ahead of schedule,” his soulmate responded excitedly.

“That’s amazing,” I congratulated before dramatically clearing my throat which earned me an eye roll from both Seungmin and Hyunjin. “As my closest friend I’d like to introduce you guys to my collaborator in this exhibit and my soulmate, Kim Seungmin. This is my stubborn best friend Hwang Hyunjin. You can thank him for being the practice dummy to learn how to handle love diseases.”

[emilycollins00]

Act 1 re-read! The show must go on!

. To be honest the show being next month is really insane given that they at this point didn’t even have a script

. And oh wow I didn’t expect that shout from Sakyo, it spooked me a bit

. 10 million yens I had to make the change and it’s like 63,602 euros holy molly no wonder Tsuzuru’s like fuck and Izumi like double fuck

. Question nº1 Why did Sakyo act like bad guy? Do we know what response he hoped to get? Trying to scare Izumi? 

. Enjoyed the slap. That was stepping WAY over the line with the tricks.

. Also this game might have been just a tiny bit funnier funny had they been allowed to swear ksdhk

. Last condition being Izumi as the director now I’m like ok but what if she you know, had a job?? Did Sakyo expect her to leave it?

. Izumi is too good for Yukio there I said it

. Sakuya’s situation again tho oof, the fact he didn’t even tell their relatives?? And the FACT that he was already 2 days in right? My heart. The "thank you for calling for me” felt devastating. Feels like Sakuya reeeally didn’t want to even try to take any chances with them (ALSO crashing with friends?!! DIDN’T REMEMBER THAT!! Oh that’s a lot to take in)

. First time having his own room, I might really cry

. Masumi mentioning dating at this point wow, his vision is so… narrow I really feel conflicted, how lonely must you be to reach this point with someone you met on the same day

. In another universe where Masumi got paper kdhkfh  Tsuzuru and Citron roomies waaah, I think it’d have worked but yeah, who better than to learn to take care of others for masu than tsuzuru

. LEGEND OF CURRY. Gotta love Izumi’s “what can I possibly with these leftover….?? Mmm I don’k know… oh wait?? CURRY!” <- has if that wasn’t your only option ma’am/j

. Can I just mention that this might have possibly been the first dinner both Masumi and Sakuya might have spent with others feeling this content? I cry

. “Our scriptwriter-“ misumi grandpa right? I love already knowing stuff

. “Paying my own rent on (place) is just scary” aint that true when you first begin to live alone

. MASUMI AGAIN BEING A SAVAGE NO HE DID NOT CALL TSUZURU HOMELESS

. IZUMI KEEPING AT IT AS WELL

. “With all due respect, are you nut” kissing location again

. Honestly they were lucky Citron and Itaru where there on their 1st day

. Tsuzuru my BELOVED, still I’d be with Izumi here, they took their chances but that was better than nothing. Making a 2-hour-play is A LOT in week what the- He’s so amazing pls

. ACTOR WHO WAS EXCELLENT WITH FEMALE ROLESGHJ KAZUMI (I still have to read about the story but-) I LOVE U

. Itaru felt scary talking so… like that and unlike him now that we know him more. I would have run away sdnk poor izumi

. “Tsuzu became one with his pc” help I can’t imagine the pressureee. Question nº2 I can’t help but think if he had done stuff like this before?? Or was this the start of him overworking himself?

. The script is done awwwiieee!! A LOVED hearing him so happy!! His VA did such a good job seeming so relieved/happy for real

. This part was SO scary, somehow, his way of talking as well

. Did itaru just try to (I don’t know if I’m using the word correctly) gaslight izumi??

. Masumi was reaaally not having it with Sakuya, again you can see somehow the only-child/big bro in a huge family differences

. Sakuya knowing all that from Masumi it’s wow. He truly remembers stuff

. I’m curious that for all that Itaru seemed to be hiding, he didn’t seem that surprised when the rest found out he was a gamer. Or maybe he didn’t really hide but just, went on his business?

. Someone let Sakuya in the manzai duo, these 3 are hilarious (I had absolutely forgot that Yuzo was from the spring troupe?? Oh WOW that was something. Also he really went hard, it was needed tho)

. SLEEPOVER AWW

. FIRST PICTURE AWWWWWW!

. That situation felt like an asmr with little snoring noises ghjkl

. That the first thing Yuki does when he appears is to give each of them a nickname while taking note for the costumes is sending me

. OH citron, and this scene. Him being honest with his feelings about him probably not being the best choice broke me a bit.. and Izumi being like, “then ill protect you” SOB, first breathing moment for citron maybe in that aspect since he came to japan. I love their friendship so freaking much

. “When did this goofball start acting like a prince?” MMMM I don’t think he’s acting Izumi

. OH again bc the drama when Itaru says he’s leaving was skdjn. Izumi “WHAT, WHY??” (also me in my room knowing it was gonna happen: WHAT, WHY??”)

. Question nº 3 Itaru says something along the lines of wanting to say it now so they had plenty of time to change it before it was late but like, how far could they be? They had 1 month so 4 weeks, 1st week was for the script, let’s say this is somewhat by the end of the 2nd is when Yuzo comes and they sleep in the stage, in less than 2 weeks you want someone to change? A bit all over the place for my taste

. But also he’s just over the place himself look at him? And then the iconic family play kauhsdkjk this was the beginning. (I COULD STAND TRUSTING SOMEONE AGAIN I CRY)

. Related to Q3 I’m still so confused with chapter 20 bc they say they only have five weeks to go?? I need help understanding

. I have to say, have we ever seen Sakuya speaking like this later on? I feel there was so much at risk here too so maybe its bc of that but wow Sakuya so… raw, hit me more than I expected

. Chap 23 broke my heart, fav out of the episode so far I think. Sakuya is SO strong as a character. ALSO feeling the need to be loved in a place? Masumi can relate this time and citron as well with the family stuff

. SDFGHJK their fight with godza I was like, “Just u wait just u wait just u waiiiit”

. Tsuzuru is so freaking relatable, not just bc we all have our circumstances that sometime stop us from doing things but like, time passes by so so fast and I was told so many time as I grew up but like, it’s so true. More true than I think I understood. Each year passes by even faster and I blink and we are already in August oof

. KAZUNARI APPEARS AWW I loved his enthusiasm since the beginning (“He’s annoying” “Masumi I know. Quiet” FGHJKL)

. No but I have to say Kazunari saved half the spring play somehow. Aside from Itaru talking in his gameplays, because the fact that he informed this many people, helped with the TV… I love him

. I also loved Yuki buying one, he definitely saw how much the spring troupe put themselves out there

. I don’t really get what brought Masumi to suddenly act like that after hearing “don’t act for me” from Izumi… I mean I kinda do but mmm felt forced to bring up his situation?

. The fanclub always felt all over the place and toxic honestly

. Anyway I loved how they all gave their opinion on how they react with love to make Masumi see it’s not the end of the world.

. Ok I really, really liked how Masumi told her that it didn’t matter if her acting wasn’t good. It was about putting yourself out there and how much passion and work you gave. Good boy Masumi (also good for Izumi for mentioning a later talk about boundaries)

. First play IM SO EXCITED!! I also love that the main thing despite what’s at risk that Izumi wants them to have a good first experience above everything. I love her so so much for real. (Also Matsukawa sounds so pro on the intercom!) this is it

. “we can ditch this town and travel the world!” we’ve heard this 93849 times and I don’t say this in a bad way bc VA did an amazing job, you can truly see the differences up until the finale oof/pos

. Oh my GOD they did it oh my god im so freaking proud, I swear im so happy I got to experience this again they worked so freaking hard good job everyone!! (I forgot Masumi being speechless and it made me even more emotional if that’s possible bc I already sobbed when they thanked the audience)

. More asmr <3

. WE SOLD OUT LADIES GENTS AND NONBINARY FOLKS I'M SO HAPPY I LOVED THEM HUGGING ONE ANOTHER

. Now I forgot Itaru was hurt what a reality check. For someone who wanted to leave, hiding an injury to keep going is a lot. Also I adored Citron intervention and his tone of voice. He can see the change in Itaru but doesn’t want him to overdo it, I love him <3

. Sakyo you tsundereee

. Man chapter 34 is a sea of tears in here I don’t have the strength to talk about it.

. Sakyo yakuza with a heart of gold indeed!! And Muku and Tenma (snott-looking boy ajshkhdk) aw

This was a perfect 1sr episode!!💕💕💕

[foreveralwaysanauthor]

Scattered Screams (Part 12/12)

March 29, 2023

Notes - I only intended for this part to be maybe 30 pages at most, however, I wanted to cover some of the things that happen after the Games like the books do, so here we are at 52 pages and I am so proud of how it came out! Coming in at a grand total of 263 pages, this entire story is actually longer than my first novel. I might still write an epilogue since I have a few things I want to write out, but I'm not sure just yet. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the final installment of Scattered Screams!

These violent delights have violent ends.

Sterility is the first thing that fills my senses. The smell of the labs back home after a deep cleaning. It’s the same, citrusy cleanliness that stings your nostrils with how strong the bleach is and refuses to leave the air no matter how many other scents you try to spray to fill the air. The stench is strong, but it brings me home just as much as the sound of keys clacking on a keyboard would. Maybe I fell asleep at my desk again, slumped over onto my keyboard, typing random letters every time my face brushes the keyboard. It wouldn’t be the first time. Though, most of the time, Riven would come in to make sure I hadn’t fallen asleep, picking me up like I weigh no more than a small child, and carry me home to get some decent sleep. The only thing missing from this scenario is the soft whirring of my PC, the fans cooling it off despite being unused. As unlikely as it is, maybe I had remembered to turn it off before I fell asleep in a pile of snack crumbs.

It takes me a while to register that I’ve fallen asleep on my back, most likely having decided my desk wasn’t as comfortable as I make it out to be. However, as I attempt to reach a heavy hand up to swipe at my eyes, I find a blanket has been tucked around me, locking me in place. Weakly peeling my eyes open, I find myself staring up at an eggshell white ceiling - a far cry from the robin’s-egg blue ceiling that usually looms high above our lab. I follow the ceiling to where it meets the wall next to where I’ve fallen asleep and find a white circle with a small cross in the center of it, the word “Medical” written inside the cross. How did I end up in the hospital?

Glancing around, I find the head of the bed I’ve been tucked into is pressed against the wall and a series of medical equipment surrounds me - heart monitors, intravenous drips, and other technology I would only know if I took them apart piece by piece. What did I do to end up here? I would know if I got into another fight with the idiots at school or if I hurt myself at work. It wouldn’t be the first time for either, sadly. I’ve fought off many morons on behalf of my friends and family and I’ve accidentally wounded myself numerous times on the job, but I’ve never gotten hurt so badly that I needed this much medical attention. This was almost unthinkable. 

Maybe I needed to be incapacitated. Perhaps I had gone so far off the deep end that one of the lazy-ass Peacekeepers had to knock me out. It would be a first, but it probably would have been deserved if that were the case. I never gave up a fight if it was necessary. Who knows, maybe it was just something stupid like me falling down the stairwell at work again. I kind of remember falling and hitting something hard, but I can’t recall what it was. Maybe I hit my head or something. That could explain why I couldn’t recall what happened.

If that is the case, I can’t wait to become the laughingstock of the building. The others on my team will probably tease me relentlessly for a few months while the other groups will give up their taunts after a warning or two from my mountainous protector, Riven. That overprotective sap will probably only take it easy on me until I’m completely healed before taking the teasing remarks to new levels, giving me some kind of nickname for whatever ridiculously idiotic thing I had done. He’d just cool like that, you know? I briefly wonder where he is, but I bet he’s either finding something to eat or waiting outside for my parents to arrive.

A thin curtain surrounds my bed, blocking me from the rest of the room, but from the one ear I can actually hear out of, I hear soft voices arguing not far from me. Maybe that’s where Riven is - arguing with the medical staff or telling off some people from work who dared to visit before my family could arrive. Before I get the chance to force my scratchy throat to make any noise, I hear someone ask, “Are you sure she’s alright? It’s been three days.”

I know that voice. It’s that warm, usually soft spoken voice that reads me stories until I’m drifting in and out of consciousness. I recall resting my head on a lap, reaching up to that comforting voice, and finding downy waves of coiled curls threaded between my fingers. Ringlets tangled around my fingers after days of being left untamed. Red and blue flowers on a dark shirt. A crooked smile, a faint scar on a lip, and a flurry of freckles. The faint smell of old books and something similar to chocolate, but softer and not nearly as sweet.

Memories flood back to me like a tsunami wave crashing against an unsuspecting beach and it suddenly occurs to me that Royce is here. How is that possible? He’s not supposed to be in District 3. Did we win the Hunger Games; is that how he’s here? Is this how I return home - escorted by my best friend and lover? Are the three of us victors now? Can we live in peace?

Then, another voice cracks through my fantasies and sends my hopes to the floor in a pile of cracked fragments, “As long as she wakes up before the week is up, she should be fine other than a probable concussion.” As much as I hate to admit it, I know that voice as well. It’s as clear as glass and sharp as a knife, slicing through my soul with every word. It’s Jade, the girl from District 1. We’re still in the arena.

My eyes burn as though I’ve stared at the sun for a while and a blurry burn stings to the surface as flashes of memory fill the gaps I have been missing. I recall seeing Royce running to get the parachute from our mentors, Riven holding me back, the two of us flying through the air, me hitting something hard, a cannon blasting, and a machete being thrown. I killed someone, I know I did, but my head hurts trying to think about it. I suppose that means it wasn’t Serena. To be honest, I probably wouldn’t have felt all that bad if it had been her; she’s insane. But no… this was something more personal. It wouldn’t hurt this way if it had been some random tribute or someone who had intentionally come after us. This burns of betrayal.

I feel something wet and hot slide down from the corner of my eye as I remember a flash of pink - Lexi’s shorts. Anger overlaps my sinking dread and despair as I finally piece together what happened. Lexi attacked Riven. She attacked all of us. Maybe she set off the bomb that sent us flying. Even if she hadn’t and it was one of those Capitol-made traps, Lexi took full advantage of it and attacked us all. She betrayed our trust. I wonder if Riven is in a bed like I am, getting patched up from the fight. That could be the reason for the curtain surrounding my bed - a little blockade they set up so that I can’t see the bloody remnants of the attack. It’s a nice gesture, but I wish for nothing more than to see Riven and make sure that he’s alright. I need to see it for myself.

Tugging an arm free from the tightly wrapped blankets the others have trapped me in, I have to find the strength to push the blankets away from me. Cool air hits my skin and I nearly sigh in relief as it relieves me of the sweltering heat the blankets had encased me in. It takes me a while to sit up, pushing my weak form upright so that my legs dangle over the side of the raised bed, but once I manage it, I look around for my glasses. They aren’t far from me, having been set aside on a small rolling table that looks as though its only use is as a serving tray. A braided bracelet has been left there as well - thick strands of string weaving my initials and Riven’s together. The fraying strands have been crusted together with some reddish-brown fluid - dried blood, no doubt - but I have to wonder why they bothered to take it off him while they worked on his body. Perhaps Royce wanted to make sure it didn’t get lost while they cleaned Riven’s clothing. I could understand that.

Using the bed as a brace, I slowly eased myself onto the floor, standing on two wobbly, weakened legs. I try sliding myself forward a step, only to feel my knees tremble under the stress, so I take a deep breath and sit back down on the edge of the bed just as the curtain moves aside and Royce’s curly locks come into view. Our eyes meet and, for a fleeting moment, I wish for nothing more than to stare into those tawny pools for a few hours. The utter shock in his gaze makes me smile, a weak grin that cracks as the corners of my desert-like lips pull almost painfully upward. He inches closer, a hand outstretched toward me yet just out of reach, almost as though he’s afraid that I’ll keel right over if he so much as looks at me the wrong way.

A breath catches in his throat as he looks around at everything from the blankets I’ve cast aside to the rolling table I’ve taken my glasses from. Finally, Royce meets my gaze once again and he steps just a hair closer before breathing out, “Vivien?”

Although my voice is scratchy from remaining unused for who knows how long, I manage to croak out a soft, “Royce.”

He remains frozen in place as the curtain moves further aside, Erica and Jade filling the space. Tearing my gaze from Royce’s golden brown eyes, I look down at his still outstretched hand and raise a shaking hand to it, sliding my fingers between his. Looking back up, I find him still watching me in stunned wonder as Jade quickly leaves and returns with a cup of water. “Drink,” she orders, extending the cup to me. “You’ll need it if you plan on talking much.”

My free hand wraps around the cup and I take in what I can, the cool liquid flooding my body with a faint chill and relieving some of the dryness that clogs my throat. By the time the cup is drained dry, Royce has come out of his daze and has brought his free arm around me, holding me impossibly close. I let out a soft chuckle over his shoulder as he leans down to my height, “I could get used to this.”

Royce chuckles wetly, drops of something I assume are tears hitting my shoulder as I watch Erica smile from her spot nearby. “He hasn’t left your side since you’ve been unconscious,” she says.

My grip on Royce tightens ever so slightly before I pull away just enough to see him. I bring a hand up to his face, my thumb brushing across the flurry of freckles that dot his face like constellations in the night sky as he smiles. Sending him a small grin, I look around at the others and softly ask, “So, how is Riven holding up?”

Almost instantly, Erica’s eyes widen as she turns to Jade in something akin to surprise. Jade places a hand on Erica’s arm and shakes her head before turning to me and asking, “You mean you didn’t see what happened?”

I manage a small shrug and minutely shake my head before stating, “Not that I’m aware of, no. Why? What happened?”

Royce’s arm loops around my shoulders as he slots himself into the space on my left, bringing me close as he asks, “Do you remember anything from before waking up here?”

Meeting Royce’s gaze, I find an almost pleading look in his golden irises, urging me to recall anything of importance from the last few days. My gaze drifts to the wall, staring blankly ahead as though it will give me all the answers I’m looking for. It makes it easier to think, not having the distraction of Royce’s hopeful gaze, his constellation of freckles, and his gentle warmth that pulls me in and refuses to let go. “We were on one of the upper decks,” I recollect. “You spotted a sponsor gift and went after it. I tried to follow you, but Riven held me back. Then,” I snap my fingers, “just like that, I’m flying through the air.”

“There was an explosion,” Royce says, finally giving me the answer I had been searching for earlier. “I was by the pool and it sent me into the deep end with the gift.”

“Are you alright?” I ask.

Royce smiles, giving me a nod as he squeezes my hand and says, “I’m fine.”

Not giving us much time to think, Jade clears her throat, catching both of our attentions as she brings us back to the topic at hand, “Do you remember anything else?”

I take a deep breath and try to relive the rest of that moment, “I remember hearing a loud boom and trying to call out for Royce, but then I turned back to Riven and… and I saw something pink.”

“Pink?” Erica questions.

“Bright pink, almost electric,” I tell them with a nod. It takes a moment for me to fully realize just what happened, but once I do, I slowly turn my gaze to Erica and Jade as I mutter, “It was Lexi, wasn’t it? Those were her shorts, right?” 

Jade gives a solemn nod as Erica ducks her head and admits, “Yeah. Royce says she was on top of Riven when he found you.”

“I thought you all were dead,” Royce claims softly. “I heard one cannon just as I was getting out of the pool, so I ran to find you guys, but just before I got to you, another cannon went off. All three of you were unconscious when I got there.”

With a soft hum and a nod of understanding, I say, “I think they both were alive when I last saw them. Lexi had a bloody knife and was sitting on top of Riven. I’m pretty sure that, if I hadn’t grabbed Riven’s machete and thrown it at her, we would’ve been killed.”

Erica sighs, crossing her arms as she shakes her head, “I still can’t believe she would go so far as to kill Riven with you two nearby, still obviously alive.”

Her words catch my attention and my gaze snaps to hers, “What do you mean? Riven’s still alive. I got Lexi off of him with that machete, but I don’t think it would have killed him unless she was still holding the knife close to him.”

Royce’s grasp on my hand tightens as Erica fumbles over her words, muttering out a sequence of nonsensical stutters before Jade cuts her off with a statement that gives no room for argument, “Riven was dead before you threw the machete.”

“No,” I argue adamantly. “I would have heard the-” 

“That noise you heard when your hearing came back was his cannon,” Jade states firmly. “Like Royce just said, the first cannon went off as he was getting out of the pool and the other one came just as he got to you three. That second one had to have been Lexi’s if you threw the machete at her.”

Riven can’t be dead. All this talk of him sacrificing himself for me, for us, was just his way of showing his love for us. He didn’t mean it. He wouldn’t do something like that knowing that we need him around… That I need him around. Without him, we’re just kids in a floating deathtrap, waiting for someone to kill us off. Riven is too strong, too protective of us to just leave us alone in the arena, waiting for death to come. He wouldn’t let himself be killed. He’s too tough for that. Riven’s strength is something I’ve seen both in and out of training and I know that he’s practically indestructible. As Royce has said before, Riven is practically a walking tank; he couldn’t be taken out by some random girl with a knife. He’s a fighter.

This can’t be real. Erica and Jade have to be lying. Riven swore to us that he would be our protector in the arena and he’s the one with the plan to help get us out of here; we need him here. Is it possible that this could be a part of his plan? Did he fake his death and everyone else is just trying to convince me that it’s true so that it appears real for the cameras? That has to be it, right? They’re lying for the greater good. They have to be. Riven isn’t dead.

Turning to Royce, I find him already watching me. His shoulders shudder with every breath he shakily sucks in and despite his glossy, bloodshot eyes, no tears have fallen just yet. I search his expression for a sign - something, anything that will give me hope that the two girls before us are just straight up lying to our faces, but as Royce squeezes my hand and softly mutters, “I’m sorry,” I feel hope dissipating.

Dread settles in my stomach like a rock; heavy, oppressive, and immovable. If Royce is apologizing, the severity of the situation must have hit him hard. I see guilt in his eyes, telling me that his words are true, yet I refuse to believe them. “No,” I breathe. Royce apologizes once again and my voice only gets sharper as I snip, “No.” Turning to the girls in front of me, I scoff and shake my head, “No, you’re lying.”

“I wish we were,” Jade states, finding it impossible to meet my gaze.

Erica steps closer, reaching a hand out for mine as she softly apologizes, but I slap her hand away and push myself to my feet. “No, you’re fucking lying!” I exclaim as Royce rises next to me, gripping my arm to hold me steady. “Riven’s stronger than a fucking knife! He’s not dead.” Royce takes in a sharp breath and I meet his gaze as he looks ready to say something, but I cut him off, “Don’t you lie to me too, Royce. Tell me the truth. Where is he?”

Royce’s eyes flicker between mine as his mouth opens and closes like a freshly caught fish. Finally, he closes his mouth, looks away, swallows thickly, and takes in a deep breath before sighing it out and meeting my gaze once more, “I watched the hovercraft take him, Viv, I-”

Wrenching my hand from his grasp, I take a few stumbling steps away from the group, feeling their eyes on me as they each try to reach out for me. “Don’t!” I hiss as Erica reaches for my arm, making the trio in front of me freeze. With my untamed hair and fearful gaze, I must look like a wild animal to them; a scared, wild beast ready to run at the first sign of danger. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

Her arm lowers as I take a few steps back, inching closer to the ladder I know is hidden in a storage closet. Royce seems to understand my intentions as his eyes widen and he takes a step closer to me, softly telling me, “Viv, please think about it. You know I wouldn’t lie to you about something like this. We’ve both lost a sibling before, why would I put you through that pain all over again if it wasn’t true?”

But the thing is, none of our siblings are truly dead. Sure, we lost Mick and Miles temporarily, but neither of them is dead now. We both know this, but I suppose everyone in the Capitol doesn’t. Why would he bring them up? Thoughts flood my head and I find myself jumping to every possible conclusion I can think of. As rough of a point as it would be, this could be the cold, hard slap of reality to drive home the idea that Riven is dead. However, I highly doubt Royce would be so cruel to someone, especially someone he cares about. Perhaps this is his way to signal to me that he doesn’t believe his own words, but the grave look in his eyes tells me otherwise. 

The thought of his words being true hits me a lot harder than I wanted to let them as my eyes begin to blur with unshed tears. I look around the room for any sign that maybe, just maybe, Rivne had stayed in one of the other hospital beds at some point, but the only trace of him that I find is the old, stringy bracelet I made for him - his token. Staring blankly at the fraying, tattered trinket, I feel something hot and wet slip from my eye. I should have replaced Riven’s bracelet years ago. He deserved so much better than a shabby, shoddily-made string bracelet. Riven deserved the world. He didn’t deserve to die at eighteen years old on some dumb cruise ship for the Capitol’s entertainment. He deserved a long life, a family, and that stupid fucking horse I promised him before the Games. 

Taking in a breath so sharp I worry about it stabbing through my lungs, I swipe a hand under my leaking eyes, tear my gaze from Riven’s bracelet, and meet Royce’s concern-filled, chocolate eyes. “Take me to him.”

“What?” he breathes. I repeat myself and Royce’s irises fill with hurt as he stammers, “I don’t- Viv, I-I can’t.”

“He’s not there anymore,” Erica softly says. “The hovercraft took him.”

Meeting her gaze, I give a quick nod and say, “I want to see that for myself.”

I choose to meet Royce’s gaze as Erica and Jade begin trying to talk me out of returning to the scene of the crime. He’s the only one I know I could rely on to get me where I want to go. The girls don’t know me as well as he does. Royce and I have both been in this situation before with Mick and Miles; he knows just as well as I do that I need to see proof that Riven is gone to believe for a moment that he could possibly be dead. He may have seen Riven’s body with his own eyes, but I need to see it for myself. I need proof that he’s not coming back, that one of the Capitol hovercrafts took him out of the arena.

A breath hitches in Royce’s throat as he seems to realize just how deadset I seem to be. Though I see the pained emotions flickering in his eyes, he doesn’t try to look away. Instead, Royce sucks in a deep breath and slowly shakes his head, cutting off the girls as he says, “Let’s do it.”

“What?” Jade questions, taken aback by his sudden statement.

For the first time in a while, Royce tears his gaze from mine and says, “Viv and I both lost siblings in last year’s Hunger Games. Neither one of us believed they were dead until we saw some kind of proof. Even if she doesn’t believe it now, she needs to see what happened in order to somewhat accept it.”

I give a nod of confirmation and look between Erica and Jade as they watch me, coming to a decision without saying a word. They must know that they can’t stop me and Royce if we’re set on something. Erica is the first to break, telling Jade, “Let’s just bring her up to where it happened.”

Jade sighs, “It looked worse than the fucking bloodbath up there, Erica, do you really think she’s ready for something like that after being out cold for three days?”

“And, in those three days, we had a shit ton of rain,” Erica claims. “If anything, it will have washed out some of the blood.”

“It might still be too much for her to handle,” Jade argues. “She’s still recovering from the attack and this could set her back mentally.”

Letting out a scoff, I sass, “She can hear you, you know.” Jade and Erica’s conversation comes to a halt as they turn back to me and I continue, “Besides, if it sets me back in any way, that puts you three at a better advantage of winning. You should be happy if it does.”

Royce is the first to react, an almost wounded expression filling his features as he steps closer, taking my hands in his as he gently presses, “How could you say something like that?”

I shrug, “It’s the truth.”

Allowing Royce to pull me forward into a hug, I allow my arms to come up to his back as he declares, “We’re in this together, Vivien. Wherever you go, I’ll be right with you every step of the way.”

“I can’t ask you to do that, Royce.”

“You’re not asking; I’m telling you that is what’s going to happen,” he says, leaning back just enough to see me. Royce takes my face in his hands before softly muttering, “You jump, I jump, remember?”

I chuckle, fighting hard to keep my eyes from rolling as I shake my head, “That was just a joke because of the force field and-”

“And I meant it as a promise,” Royce interrupts firmly. I find nothing but honesty in his eyes, which gives me pause. Royce chuckles at me - most likely finding at least an ounce of humor in my stunned expression - and says, “You’re stuck with me now, Viv.”

Breaking the moment with a smile, Erica cuts in, “Jade and I promised we wouldn’t attack you guys before we entered the arena. We intend to keep that promise, right Jade?”

All Jade gives is a nod and a soft hum, but seeing as she’s spoken a lot more today than I had ever heard her speak before, I take that as seriously as I would a verbal confirmation. I accept their statements regardless of how much a part of me is screaming to run and leave them to their own devices. With only five people left in the arena, having them around feels like Royce and I are just dancing on the line between life and death, but they seem just as keen to keep to their promise as we are, so I try to force my fears down and relax at least a little. In the end, Royce and the girls usher me back to the hospital bed and convince me to at least wait until after lunch before going up to Deck 17. 

In a fit of defiance, I make sure to wolf down what little is given to me, insisting that I feel fine despite my stomach clenching at the idea of movement after my plate is cleared. I try to ignore the looks of disappointment my behavior earns, focusing my worry on the trip we will have to make. Erica forces me to sit long enough for her to weave my hair into a single braid, insisting that it will keep it from getting in my way while Royce and Jade gather everything they think they’ll need for the trip. I walk around the medical center for a while until Jade decides that I appear strong enough to handle the trip and, once Erica and Jade decide we’re ready to go, Royce hands me my backpack before hauling his bag onto his shoulders and shoving a third into a cabinet. 

My eyebrow raises and my head tilts to the side as I question, “What was that?”

“Riven’s backpack,” he replies, offering me a hand to hold. “I don’t want to leave it out and risk it being taken.”

My chest clenches at the thought of that truly belonging to Riven, but I take a deep breath and allow my hand to slip into Royce’s, determined to find out the truth before letting my emotions get the better of me. Instead of using the ladder to find our destination, Jade insists that we take the stairwell, letting Erica reassure me that the coast is clear. “We don’t have much to worry about on the upper decks,” she explains. “Jade and I make sure to clear them once a day.”

I nod as we head up to the next floor, but I can’t resist saying, “I’m surprised Serena hasn’t tried to take us all out while I’ve been out.”

Royce squeezes my hand with a small grin as we reach the landing of another deck, “We don’t have to worry much about her right now.”

Confusion fills me, but as Erica turns back to me with a chaotic gleam in her eyes and a brilliant smile, I allow her to explain before I can question them, “It will all make sense later, but just know, you missed one hell of a show!”

As Erica turns back around to continue her trek upstairs, my attention falls back to Royce and he shrugs, “I don’t know either. I was with you the entire time, so I have no clue what happened.”

Warmth spreads through my veins at the thought of Royce sitting by my side, keeping me company even though I wasn’t exactly talkative. “You stayed with me even though I was unconscious?”

“Of course, I did,” he claims as though it should have been the most obvious thing in the world. Royce brings our joined hands up and kisses the back of my hand before bringing them back between us as he says, “I promised you and Riven that I would stay with you no matter what and I meant that.”

The burn in my cheeks is hard to fight, but since nobody else is around to see it, I don’t bother trying to hide the crimson that colors my face as a ridiculously giddy smile splits my lips. The rest of our hike up the million stairs inside the ship is filled with idle chatter and small comments on things we all had found on our journeys through the ship. We make it to the seventeenth deck a lot slower than we would have if I hadn’t been as weak as I felt, but the climbing seems to have helped encourage my strength to come back at least a little. Jade takes the lead, as she seemingly does often, and we find our way through the short hallways to a large, already open door. Jade walks through the door and continues forward while Erica continues looking back in my direction, watching me as though I might run as soon as I step through the doorway even though Royce’s grasp on my hand would prevent any such endeavor.

My eyes burn as I step into the open air of Deck 17, the midday sun burning my retinas almost as badly as Mick’s dad burns breakfast before work. It takes a while for me to register everything - the location, the positioning as opposed to where we came from the other day, and the overall look of the place. Looking up, I search around for the wheelhouse, faintly recalling the sight of its charred remnants in my bits and pieces of hazy memories. I take a few steps away from where we’ve emerged, rounding a large pillar and keeping my eyes toward the skies, nearly stumbling over a fallen deck chair as I spot the wheelhouse looming high above the inner workings of the ship. We must have emerged around the same place the secret passageway led us out of the other day.

Looking around, I discover the deck in complete disarray. Chairs that once had been placed in neat rows have been tossed into each other and scattered over the deck in charred piles. Burn marks scorch the once-pristine wooden deck, a sign of an explosion in the area. I follow the marks and discover a large hatch not far from the door we’ve left that barely clings to its metal hinges. We had stood there, looking out over the deck, waiting to see what our mentors would send us. Turning my back to the hatch, I look out over the area, looking for any sign of where Riven and I had been thrown. Like before, I find the pool in the distance and large pillars bridging up to the next deck, but smudges of bloody streaks are the only indications that anything major had happened. To the right is where I suppose I ended up since the remnants of blood are minimal there. Pressing a tentative hand to the spot on the back of my head that slammed the pillar, I realize it’s no wonder how I was unconscious for so long after connecting with the obscenely large, chalk-colored pillar. The thing is massive and it’s honestly a miracle that I didn’t have any worse injuries.

To the left, I find something like a scene out of those horror novels the librarian back home keeps under lock and key, but I always find a way to sneak out. Blood streaks down one of the ivory pillars, the rain that supposedly blanketed the arena having kept the crimson fluid almost vibrant against the pale, cream-colored details of the cruise ship. If I didn’t know any better, I would say the blood looks fresh, but if the others claim that it has been three days already, I know that can’t be so. From where I stand, frozen in place, I can’t see the floor where the blood must pool, but I doubt it looks much better than the gory scene I can already make out. I can tell from the bloody pillar alone just how much blood was lost and I know Riven would have had slim chances of survival. There is no use trying to dispute facts when they’re right in front of you, blatant truth staring you down, waiting for you to question it. I take a hesitant step forward and, for a fleeting moment, a part of me begs for me to change my mind and go back inside, to turn away from the evidence before me and go back to the security of the medical center, but I force it down and smother its intentions, refusing to appear weak in the face of truth. I already told the others that I need to see the evidence of Riven’s death to prove their statements are true; if I turn back now, that makes me a coward. Riven didn’t die to save a coward.

Royce allows me to pull away from him, moving wordlessly past Erica and Jade as though my body is being controlled by someone else. My sneakers tap against the wooden floorboards as I inch closer to the scene, the new boards creaking as I step over a broken, lightly charred deck chair. My senses are overtaken by the scene long before I even lay eyes on it - the overbearing smell of blood, the sound of flies buzzing nearby and crows singing their songs of death overhead, the sight of thick, rich blood trailing from the milky-white pillar into a watered-down puddle on the practically untouched deck of the fairly new cruise ship. Logic strikes me long before I allow any emotions to and I realize just how much the poor Avoxes that will be tasked with cleaning this mess will have to scrub and bleach and scrape what had once been the lifeblood of some living, breathing human being from this spot.

Anguish hits me like a wave, pinning me somewhere between wrath and despair as my irises burn with unshed tears and realization dawns on me; this blood came from someone I know. Just a few days ago, this person was telling me shitty jokes and making me promises of safety. Riven wasn’t just some tribute the Capitol could mop up from their precious ship and scrub away from the history books. He was my family, my protector, and my sense of stability in a world of uncertainty. He was the same boy who would carry me home from a late-night work session or spend hours with me on our few days off, following me around to the different places I felt like exploring or making me listen to him ramble on about the dumbest things that interested him because he knew I was one of the few people who actually bothered to listen to him ramble. Now, Riven’s long-winded ramblings, comforting piggyback rides home, and love of exploration are gone and there’s nothing I can do about it. Riven is gone and there’s nothing I can do about it. He’s dead.

Despite the glasses on my face, my vision blurs as steaming hot liquid burns trails down my cheeks, dripping off my chin onto my swimsuit top and the deck below me. Sharp, shuddering breaths wrack my body as the severity of the situation begins to sink in. My trembling lower lip catches between my teeth and I hold it there long enough for the taste of copper to graze my tongue. No matter how hard I try to appear unfazed, unbothered, and far stronger than I am, I must not be as convincing as I wish I could be as a pair of arms come around me and pull me close, securing me in the grasp of someone close to my height - someone who isn’t Riven.

Soft mutters of reassurance and gentle promises of protection fall on deaf ears as I stare over the person’s shoulder at the blood that once belonged to someone I loved and trusted with every fiber of my being. A choked sob comes from somewhere deep in my chest as my already weakened legs give out under me and the person holding me has to guide me to the floor so I don’t hurt myself any further, their grip on me only tightening as I find fistfuls of their shirt have gathered in my hands. I hate showing weakness of any kind, especially now that I’m surrounded by people who could easily kill me, but the tears won’t stop no matter how hard I try to force them down; it’s almost as useless as using duct tape to stop a dam. 

Royce’s grip is tight, almost unbearably so, but it anchors me in place and I can’t find it in me to fight him off. After a while, his grip tightens slightly and he moves so that I can’t see where crimson meets alabaster, locking me in place so that I can’t turn in his arms. A choked sob escapes me as I cling to his shirt, “He’s gone.”

“I know,” he mutters near my ear, the heat of his breath and the sorrow in his voice sending a shiver down my back. “I know. I’m sorry, Viv. I’m so sorry.”

I want to dissolve into the floor with the remnants of blood still puddled on the deck behind me, joining Riven in whatever place exists after we die, but I know I can’t. I can’t allow Riven’s sacrifice to be in vain. Even though everything in me wants nothing more than to have one of the others kill me off and be done with this fucked up game of survival, Riven’s determination to get us out of the arena together drives to the surface the need to fight my way out. He knew of a way to get out - he had a plan - yet he never told us the details as he wanted our reactions to be genuine. Without him, how will we ever get out of the arena?

Every time I feel as though my eyes have burned through all of the pent-up tears I’ve stored for so long, the thought of Riven fills my mind, a new wave of emotion takes over, and I’m back to square one. Eventually, my sadness is replaced with rage at Lexi’s betrayal and my tears stop as I slowly ease my way out of Royce’s hold. My blurry gaze falls on the two girls who have found a place to sit amongst the fallen deck chairs and I have to clear my throat of the thick ball that has settled there before asking, “Did I kill her?”

They both nod, but Jade is the only one to meet my gaze. “You did her a favor,” she says matter-of-factly.

“How so?” I ask as Royce takes my hands in his.

Jade lets out a sigh, glancing away briefly before admitting, “Lexi was already going to die. She had some disease that would have killed her sooner or later.”

This statement seems to surprise not only me and Royce, but also Erica, whose focus snaps from the wooden floorboards to Jade’s nearly emotionless face. “Since when?” Erica scoffs.

“Long before the reaping,” Jade breathes with a small shake of her head. “She told me on the first day of training when I asked her if she wanted to be on our team.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Erica presses.

“She asked me not to tell anyone,” Jade says firmly. “The only reason Lexi even volunteered for the Games was that she wanted to go out on her own terms. I doubt this is entirely what she meant, but in the end, she got what she wanted, I suppose.”

Was Lexi truly willing to let herself be killed off in the arena? I didn’t think anyone would think that way. Maybe, if I had been in Lexi’s position, I would have thought the same way she had. I can’t imagine knowing you could die from something other than the Hunger Games at such a young age. In a way, her situation feels similar to Della’s back home. Della’s health isn’t exactly spectacular and every day is a battle for her, but she fights for every breath she takes with a smile on her face. I guess Lexi didn’t feel like being some inspirational fighter for whatever time she still had left. 

While I still hold a grudge against Lexi for killing Riven and I doubt I’ll ever be able to let it go, I don’t have it in me to be angry. It won’t bring Riven back to life. A moment of silence passes between us and I decide that it was meant for Riven and Lexi and the other tributes who were killed off for the Capitol’s enjoyment. None of them deserved this regardless of how determined they may have been to win or how many people they hurt along the way. A hollow pit settles in my ribcage as the silence spreads thickly between us, creating an empty, heavy lump in my chest that refuses to leave. With Riven dead and his body out of the arena, the only person I have left in this shit hole is Royce. How are we supposed to make it out of here alive without Riven around? 

Royce and I aren’t exactly fighters. If anything, we might be able to survive if we try to wait things out like Lotus tried to. With four out of the five remaining tributes in agreement that they won’t kill each other, Serena doesn’t stand much of a chance if she plans on turning us against each other or manipulating us the way she did Lotus. If Royce and I can continue using the passageways to hide out, chances are, we can wait her out. We can wait everyone out. In the end, we’ll have to figure out what to do when it comes down to just the two of us, but for now, I doubt either of us has thought that far in advance.

My mind races as the crisp ocean air spreads its icy wings over our skin and silence saturates the air. My watering eyes finally meet Royce and I find him watching me with reddened, bloodshot eyes. He looks about as bad as I feel. Reaching up, I slowly pry my glasses from my face and wipe them free of tears as Royce takes my face in his hands, swipes under my eyes with his thumbs, and presses a quick kiss to my forehead. “We’ll make it out of here,” he mutters against my skin. “I promise we’ll get out of here somehow, Viv.”

I nod just enough for him to feel it and allow him to pull away, guiding me to my feet and holding me in a way that I won’t be able to look back at the gory scene we’ve left behind. Erica and Jade allow Royce to lead me away, the two of them following at a safe distance so that I don’t feel smothered by their presence. The numbness that has filled my veins makes it easier for me to take the stairs back to the medical center, keeping the pain from my mind until I find myself perched on that hospital gurney once more. I can’t recall most of the walk back, but there wasn’t much conversation anyhow, so I don’t feel so bad. Royce refuses to leave my side once we’re back in the safety of the medical suite, my right hand still clasped in his while his left hand absentmindedly strokes the hair at the top of my head and I lean against him. We find comfort in each other as Jade and Erica converse about food and things neither of us bother to care about.

Most of the rest of our day is spent working up my strength and trying to get me to eat more than my stomach can handle, but Royce never once leaves my side, something Erica tells me has been a constant since the incident. Neither Erica nor Jade seems to have any idea how the explosion could have happened, but we all have our guesses. They don’t think Lexi had the chance to construct any explosives with them present all the time, so they believe it had to have been a Capitol-made pod that was set to explode when someone stepped on a certain board or something. I believe differently and so does Royce. I believe Lexi could have easily asked her mentors for help as Riven had and maybe received some kind of explosive device in a parachute. Royce, on the other hand, admits to me that he is entirely unsure of how the explosion could have happened, stating that either of the scenarios we’ve laid before him could have potential, but he claims to be more focused on me and my wellbeing than what happened that day.

In the end, Jade and Erica decide to leave us alone for the night, telling Royce where to find them in case we need anything during the night and letting us know that they’ll meet us back in the medical center in the morning. Erica winks in my direction before closing the door behind her, leaving me alone with Royce in the silence of the medical center. Royce pulls a plastic chair over in front of the bed I’ve slept on for the last few days, sinking into it with a sigh as I finally meet his gaze. There’s a gleam in his eyes that tells me that he has something he wants to say, but he doesn’t speak his mind as freely as I do, so we sit in silence for a while, staring each other down as though one glance away would kill the other person.

As per usual, I’m the first to say something, clearing my throat before awkwardly declaring, “This bed is so hard, my ass is going numb.”

A part of me hopes for a quick, Riven-esque quip like, “Oh, yeah? Well, I guess it matches your skull now,” or maybe he would poke himself a few times and turn to me with that stupid, lopsided smirk and say, “I don’t feel numb, Pip.” To my dismay, however, Riven’s quick remarks never come. Instead, Royce sends me a small grin and suggests, “We could always go back to that room we stayed in the other day. You slept really well there.”

I can feel my small smirk falter in mild disappointment, but his suggestion brings it back around fairly quickly as I lean closer to him and mutter, ”You think we could?”

Royce shrugs, a soft chuckle leaving him as he leans in and asks in return, “Who could stop us?”

Riven. Riven would. He would tell us to stay in the medical center for another day or until he felt as though I should be anywhere other than where the surplus of medical supplies are. He would argue with me on it until I either called him an ass or whined to him that it was hurting me and he’d buckle instantly. I try not to linger on that train of thought for long, forcing a smile onto my face and extending a hand out for Royce to take in his as I say, “I can’t think of anybody.”

Royce’s thumb brushes my knuckles as he smiles a beaming, brilliant smile that almost makes me forget the lingering pain that swims in my soul. He helps me to my feet and works on grabbing everything we’ve strewn about the medical center, stopping to grab Riven’s backpack from the cabinet before returning to me. I swing my backpack onto one shoulder as Royce grabs Riven’s bracelet from the rolling counter and tucks it into his pocket before lacing his fingers with mine once again. I allow him to guide me to the room we stayed in before, watching as his tangled curls bounce and bob with every movement he makes. Once we’re inside, Royce shoves a chair under the door handle for protection while I move to the living room and ditch our belongings in a coat closet.

He joins me once he feels as though he can’t secure the stateroom any more than he already has. For a moment, it feels like we’re simply waiting for Riven to join us, the two of us standing in the living room of the cabin in near silence. I glance past Royce to the room Riven had slept in before taking in a deep breath and sending Royce a smile, “If you don’t mind me being a totally lame roommate, I think I’m going to try getting some rest.”

A soft laugh leaves Royce as he shakes his head, “Go right ahead. I probably won’t be up for much longer either.”

“Alright,” I breathe, slowly making my way around Royce. “Well, um, goodnight, I guess.”

“Goodnight,” he says with a grin, watching as I back my way to the room I’ve chosen for the night. “Pleasant dreams.”

I hum gratefully, sending Royce a jerky nod as my back collides with the wall beside the open door. I turn to send a glare at the wallpaper before hesitantly chuckling back in Royce’s direction, “Sweet dreams.”

Royce’s smile only seems to have gotten brighter, but his tone remains the same as he bids me good night once more. I duck into the bedroom and quickly close the door behind me, pressing my spine to the cool wood before letting out a heavy sigh and allowing my head to thump dully against the door. That was so stupid. I swear, whenever I have some alone time with that boy, my brain melts into a useless pile of mush that sloshes around in my skull until I decide I need it back again. After a while of trying to get my mind back in order, I allow gravity to do what it was meant to, letting myself slide down the door until I feel the carpet under me. Distantly, I hear Royce moving around in the other room, but eventually, I hear him open the door across from mine, presumably disappearing into the confines of his room. I never hear the telltale click of the door closing, but after a while, I’m almost entirely sure he’s retired for the night.

Pushing myself from the floor, I stare at the bed across from me and sigh. I have no choice but to sleep in the same spot Riven had once claimed for himself. Pulling my glasses away makes it easier as my eyes blur my surroundings almost entirely. It takes me a while to shove aside the covers and slide between the sheets, but once I’m tangled in their web, I feel the emotions of the day come crashing over me like an icy wave. My nose tingles as salty water stings at my irises. I try desperately to cling to what little grasp I have over myself, but it proves futile as I take one of the pillows and use it to muffle the shuddering breaths I try to take.

I don’t want to believe that Riven is dead. I can almost refuse it. This is similar to what happened last year with Mick. I never saw him actually die, so I can’t prove that he’s dead. For all I know, the Capitol took him into one of their hovercrafts and brought him back to the Capitol until after the Games are over. Maybe once Royce dragged me inside, he got up and ran off to some other place in the ship and is trying to find us. I mean, Royce’s mentor, Kona, technically died in her arena and was found alive in the end. Maybe this is something like that. Maybe I have no reason to be upset and he’ll pop up out of nowhere when we least expect him to. 

Taking a deep breath, I wipe my face dry and try to force myself to relax into the mattress, yet it proves far more difficult than I anticipated as I find myself staring blankly at the nightstand where I left my glasses. I wonder how the people back home are handling this. Della, Acer, and Mac are probably going through their own forms of grief. They’ve had a few more days to process it. I can only imagine their rage. It must have been similar to when we thought we lost Mick. I can still picture Mac, the quiet, soft-spoken, tech genius who could never hurt a soul, screaming in anguish at the loss of one of his best friends. Acer, the half-Capitol smartass who never knew when to keep his mouth shut, crying silently on the floor, staring up at the television with wide, disbelieving eyes. Then, I can see Della, the mild-mannered child of the wealthiest bakers in our district, disregarding all of her prim and proper upbringings to throw things around and take her rage at the Capitol out on anything within reach of her wheelchair.

We’ve been through this song and dance before. Last time, it took ages to get an answer. It took ages to find that Mick was alive and well. Could it be that Riven was already brought back to District 3? Could he be home with Mick, watching every movement we make with scrutiny? Even if he isn’t, I bet Mick has been watching. Through my glasses or not, I don’t know. She hasn’t said anything. Maybe my glasses are broken. I never tested them after waking up, so I don’t have any idea whether or not they are even functional. 

Pushing myself onto my elbows, I reach across to the nightstand and take my glasses. They’re more than a little scratched after the explosion pulled them away from me and sent them clattering to the wooden deck somewhere I never found them, but the lenses themselves aren’t terribly ruined. The tiny rivets are still in place - the cameras presumably operational. I can’t try to talk with Mick right here, right now. If I did, the Capitol cameras that are no doubt in this very room, would see how we snuck such a valuable tool into this arena of chaos and death. We would all be under intense scrutiny; me, Royce, Riven, hell, maybe even our mentors, and the people back home! It would be unfair of me to put them through that. There is only one place in the arena that could allow me to speak freely with Mick if I still can, and I would have to sneak past Royce’s open bedroom door to get there. My attempts will just have to wait until morning.

With a sigh, I pull the glasses on just enough for me to make out the time on the clock and I finally realize just how late it’s gotten. I don’t see myself sleeping anytime soon, however. The day has worn me out, but I can’t bring myself to be tired. Reading could help, but I have no idea where our little collection of books is, if we even have them anymore. Deciding I just can’t bring myself to lie awake, staring mindlessly up at the ceiling, I toss the blankets aside, nudge my glasses into their rightful place, and push myself from the bed. I half-heartedly throw the sheets and comforter back to where they’re supposed to be before making my way to the door, slowly twisting the handle until I feel the wooden door move away from the frame.

I try to be silent as I move into the hallway, the fairly new floorboards remaining noiseless as I pass over the rug. Royce’s room is dark and windowless, making it impossible for me to tell if he’s sleeping as soundly as I believe he is. Taking in a slow, deep breath, I turn toward the living room and begin making my way there, creeping along slowly so as to not wake Royce. Breaching the archway leading into the living room, I find that I am not alone. Softly humming a song to himself on the windowsill is none other than Royce. His finger traces a design on the window as he peers out at the inky sky and the sea below. Why is he out here as well? 

So as to not scare him, I lower my voice to something just above a whisper and mutter, “I didn’t hear you come out here.”

Despite my efforts, Royce jumps slightly, his curls flaring around him as his head jerks in my direction. He calms upon seeing me, the tension in his shoulders melting away as he meets my gaze across the dimly lit room. With a small smile, Royce shrugs, glancing out the window briefly before turning back to me, “I couldn’t sleep knowing that you might need me.”

“Need you?” I echo.

“If you have nightmares or feel like jumping off the side of the ship, I want to be there to protect you,” Royce tells me. My first instinct is to be mad at how easily he insinuates that I’m willing to kill myself to be with Riven, but honestly, I can’t argue that the thought hadn’t crossed my mind a time or two. The look in Royce’s eyes tells me that he didn’t want to say that, but we both know that I needed to hear it, so I nod in understanding. A flash of light outside the window brings me from my thoughts as Royce turns to glare at the window next to him. With a sigh, he admits, “The storm definitely didn’t help.”

Inching my way closer to Royce, I ask, “You don’t like the lightning?”

Royce’s tawny eyes return to mine for a moment before his gaze hits the floor and he solemnly shakes his head. “I’m not overly fond of what follows.”

Before I get the chance to so much as open my mouth to question him, a loud, grumbling roll of thunder surrounds the ship and I watch Royce flinch, a grimace taking hold of his expression. Instead of letting Royce struggle to explain his fears, I bring up one of my own before he gets the opportunity to speak, “I’m scared of ending up alone.” 

Royce pauses, a curious gleam shining in his eyes as he asks, “What?”

“Blood, small spaces, and ending up alone,” I recite to Royce as I push myself into the windowsill across from him. Then, I take in a deep breath and, all at once, everything I’ve held in simply tumbles out as though his single word broke the dam within me, “That’s what I’m most afraid of. I think it started when Mick died last year. She was like a sister to me and I thought she would make it out, but then she died. Then, a few weeks later, my grandpa died. A while later, most of the people on my tech team left for someone else and our team of fourteen dropped to five. I thought it was because of me. That I wasn’t ‘good enough’ for them to want to stick around.”

Royce’s hand traps mine and he softly interrupts my rambling with, “I’m sure that wasn’t the case.”

“Maybe not,” I agree with a shrug, “but it felt like it was. Then, when the reaping happened, I thought I would be fine. Riven promised he would help me get as far in the Games as he could and I had hopes that we would make it out together. Now he’s gone as well and I’m scared of what comes next.”

“‘Next?’” Royce repeats. “What do you mean?”

I remain silent as I meet Royce’s gaze, his dark, rich eyes searching mine for an answer that he hasn’t come to on his own. Mustering a small smile, I take in a breath and mutter, “Now I have you. What happens when it comes down to just the two of us?”

Realization floods Royce and I watch as his expression flits between emotions faster than he probably registers them. With a shake of his head, he firmly declares, “I won’t hurt you.”

“Nor will I, you,” I say. “But the Capitol won’t take two victors, Royce.”

It takes Royce a while to say something, but when he does, his response is nowhere near what I thought he would say. “The way I see it, so far, we have two options.”

“We do?”

He nods, “Option one, we take the easy way out. We find some of those berries District Five got and go out on our terms. From what I’ve read, nightlock is quick and relatively painless.” Royce pauses, giving both of us the chance to think on it before shaking his head and saying, “I’m not exactly a fan of option one.”

I can’t help but hesitantly ask, “What’s option two?”

Intense brown eyes find mine and I can’t find the strength to look away as he says, “We fight.”

It would be a losing battle for me. I couldn’t fight Royce even if I wanted to. I care too much for him. Maybe I’m turning into Mick and Riven - an emotional, sentimental sap. “You’d win. I won’t fight you.”

“Not that kind of fighting, Viv,” Royce chuckles, a smile crossing his features. “I mean, think about it; there are a million ways we should've died before today and a million ways we can die before tomorrow. But I say we fight the Gamemakers for every second that we get to spend with each other. Whether they give us two minutes or two days…” he shakes his head, “I don't want to give that up.”

Royce’s words are filled with sincerity and I can tell he means every word. The impact hits me like a punch to the gut, but a smile splits my face as though I’ve felt nothing. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Royce echoes.

I nod, squeezing his hand, “We’re in this together, remember? You jump, I jump.”

A grin tugs at the corner of Royce’s lips as he repeats, “You jump, I jump.”

We sit for a while as rain pelts the window beside us, but I take one look at the clock on the television and sigh, “You should probably try to get some sleep.”

“I could say the same about you,” Royce states with a smirk. His expression turns mildly serious for a moment as he offers, “You know, you could always stay with me if you don’t want to be out here by yourself.”

Before I can stop myself, I allow a sliver of the teasing Riven instilled in me to shine through and I ask Royce in a mockingly serious tone, “Is this your way of asking me to sleep with you?”

I watch scarlet flood Royce’s cheeks, burning his face a brilliant shade of red as his eyes widen and he blurts out, “Not like that! I mean, technically, yes, you would be sleeping with me but you wouldn’t be sleeping with me. I-I just figured that-”

Reaching over, I press a finger against the tip of Royce’s nose and I watch as his eyes zero in on the intrusion before following it up to my face. “Calm down,” I gently order with a chuckle. “I was just fucking with you.”

“You were?”

“I was,” I tell him with a nod, removing my finger from his face before sliding down from the windowsill. Holding a hand out to Royce, I ask, “Are you coming or what?”

Royce lets out a chuckle and reaches for my hand, pushing himself from the windowsill as his fingers lace between mine. Thunder crackles outside the window as we depart, but the only sign that Royce is bothered by it is how his hold on my hand tightens by just a fraction. We return to the sides we had slept on a few nights before, but this time there is an unspoken acceptance of closeness that brings us together faster than gravity itself. As though we are magnets, pulled together by some unseen force, I lower my head to Royce’s shoulder and curl into him as his arm loops around me, securing me in place with no point of escape. Not that I’d particularly want to escape anyway…

The storm surrounding the ship sounds like nothing more than wind howling in the distance, something I can tell Royce finds to be a great relief. Tension in his frame dissipates as he brings a hand into my hair, brushing it away from my face as I tip my head to look at him. “I thought you were dead,” he whispers. “The cannon… I thought it was yours.”

“It wasn’t,” I offer in the hopes that he’ll take it as comforting.

“I know, but when I got to you and you were unresponsive, I…” a brief pause stills the air as Royce glances away and takes a sharp breath, “I was ready to join you.”

“You’re with me now,” I try to reassure. When Royce meets my gaze however, I allow a smirk to appear as I continue, “You’re here and I’m alive and there’s nothing you can do about it now. You’re stuck with me, Romeo.”

Finally, a laugh bubbles up from Royce and I don’t fight the beaming smile that begins to hurt once it’s there for a while. Royce shakes his head and turns to me with a matching smile before asking, “Does that make you Juliet?”

“I suppose so,” I shrug, “but only in this circumstance.”

Royce’s eyebrow lifts past his curls as he questions, “Why?”

“Because that’s my stylist’s name.”

We both attempt to look serious, but the ironic humor in the statement forces a laugh out of both of us. It takes us a while to finally calm back down and settle into the comfort of the mattress, but once we do, it doesn’t take us very long to fall asleep. By the time we get up and leave the bedroom to collect our things, the storm has turned to simple rain showers and the sun is struggling to breach past the thick, gray clouds. We return to the medical center hand in hand, talking through everything. Royce allows me to let out all that I remember from the day of the explosion while he adds in his own memories and we discuss our opinions on how things went down.

Jade and Erica are already there when we arrive and, almost immediately, I notice Erica wiggling her eyebrows suggestively at us - well, more me than Royce. Seemingly ignoring Erica’s silent insinuation, Jade rises from her seat and asks Royce if he would mind getting out the grill while she gets to work on preparing the food for breakfast. Reluctantly, I allow Royce to slip away, watching him follow Jade over to a counter on the far side of the room as I meet up with Erica. Her smile, while infectious, is one that I’d like nothing more than to rid her of, but she keeps the commentary to a minimum as she brings me to the bed I stayed in for three days and has me rest on it while she hooks me up to some of the machines around the bed. 

Anytime I try to catch a glimpse at what she’s doing, Erica scoffs and shoves my face away with a chuckle, “Just chill and let me work.”

“What are you even doing?” I ask once she shoves me away again.

“Checking your vitals, you little shit,” she breathes in a laugh. “Now sit still so I can make sure you’re alright.”

“I’m breathing, aren’t I?” I ask sarcastically, glancing up at the machine and sending Erica a smirk before receiving yet another hand to the face that pushes me back into place.

“Keep that up and you won’t be for long,” Erica snarks in return.

Before I get the opportunity to fire back a remark of my own, I spot Royce whirling around toward us, a look of concern growing in his eyes. I wave him off with a smirk and he slowly nods, turning back toward the grill as he helps Jade cook. Once Erica decides that I am, in fact, fine for the most part, she pulls a plastic chair to the side of the bed and chooses to fill me in on everything that has happened in the last few days, which isn’t much of anything at all. She says that Serena has become something of a ghost, hiding out somewhere in the ship, keeping herself safe from any potential fighting matches that could break out if she nears any of us. Erica tells me that, while Royce was glued to my side the last three days, she and Jade would go out looking for Serena all hours of the day, just to fuck with her. They found her late the first night, holed up in some cafe on Deck 13, and chased her through the ship until eventually losing her on Deck 6. I stop Erica there, asking her what was down that far in the belly of the ship.

“Not much,” she shrugs. “I think it’s mostly storage, a few cabins, some stores, and a couple of rich people clubs. Why?”

“We never explored below Deck Eight,” Royce explains as Jade begins to plate up the food.

Jade hums as she places some meat onto a plate, softly admitting, “We explored the lower decks pretty early on. There isn’t much down there, but anything below Deck Seven is under the waterline, so we haven’t gone down there much.”

Erica’s adamant nod makes their statement easy to find truthful. “Have you guys gone very far?”

I shrug, “Mostly the upper decks. I stayed on Deck Nine the first night before joining the boys in the library, but since that’s been vandalized by Serena, I don’t think we’ll be returning there anytime soon.”

“That’s for sure,” Royce huffs. Erica watches us curiously, but she doesn’t get the chance to question what happened to the library as Royce’s eyes light up and he turns to me and cheerfully exclaims, “That reminds me; I found some things in Riven’s backpack that I figured you might want to see.”

“Oh, yeah?” I question, watching as Royce pushes himself from the bed and makes his way to a set of backpacks that have been abandoned against the wall opposite my bed. Wordlessly, Royce pulls Riven’s backpack from the pile and rifles through one of the pockets for something before standing, snatching something off of a nearby counter, and returning to me with the objects behind his back. Instead of handing me something, he places the items on the mattress behind his back and pulls Riven’s old bracelet from the pocket of his shorts, taking my hand in his and sliding the fraying strings around my wrist before securing it in place. “How did you get this out of his pocket?” I ask softly, examining the crusted blood that stains the old bracelet. 

“Riven was already holding it,” Royce explains as Jade rolls over a table with our plates on it. “I had to shove Lexi off of him to check if he was breathing or anything, but when I did, I found it in his hand. I guess he was trying to make sure it got back to you. I figured I would help him.”

While I love the sentiment, I can’t help but feel as though he should have left the bracelet with Riven. While it would have done him no good and the tattered old bracelet probably would have been burned with the rest of his bloody clothes, the idea that a piece of me could have stayed with him until he got back home would have been nice. Despite my thoughts on the topic, the feeling of having something of Riven’s with me makes it feel as though he’s watching over me, protecting me without me knowing. Mustering a smile, I turn to Royce and say, “Thank you, Royce.”

He hums in acknowledgment before reaching behind his back and pulling a small stack of books into sight. “He kept some books in case we wanted to read, but there’s a bookmark in one of them, so I guess we aren’t the only ones who have been reading to pass the time.”

Looking over the books, I find the same books Riven had offered us the day we stayed in the Family Villa Suite - The Outsiders, Gone With The Wind, The Fault in Our Stars, and Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. A small piece of paper sticks out of the Harry Potter novel and I flip through the pages to where Riven left it - a page far toward the back of the thick, seven-hundred-and-something page-long book. The bookmark itself had once been a page of my little notepad, the little, torn frays of paper at the top a clear sign that Riven had torn the paper from the rings of the notepad. Riven had, at one point or another, used the paper to scrawl out a short message - ‘Page 699. Lines 19-23.’

Glancing up at Royce, I tell him, “Riven left a note.”

“Really?” he questions. I nod. “What does it say?”

“He wrote down a section on the page,” I say. “Page six-ninety-nine and lines nineteen to twenty-three.”

Royce takes the cover of the book and reads the title before shrugging, “I’ve never read that before.”

“Well, what’s the quote?” Erica asks.

Curiosity piques within me and I scan the bottom of the pages Riven had tucked the bookmark into. After finding the correct page, I use my finger to count down the paper until I reach the first line mentioned and begin reading aloud, “‘Does it hurt?’ The childish question had escaped Harry's lips before he could stop it. ‘Dying? Not at all,’ said Sirius. ‘Quicker and easier than falling asleep.’”

The room falls silent and, almost as though a switch had flipped, I feel three sets of eyes on me at once. Are they worried that I’ll fall apart and start crying? They shouldn’t be. I think I just about emptied my tear ducts yesterday. So, instead of breaking down into a teary puddle of a person, I allow a small smile to tug at my lips as I read over the lines again. I can almost feel the confusion radiating in the small space between us all, but the only one to act on it is Royce.

He reaches up and places a hand on my spine, gaining my attention as he asks, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” I tell him and, for once, I don’t feel as though I’m lying through my teeth. “I think that, if Riven thought to leave this note, he must have had the feeling that this could have happened. Even if he didn’t and it was just something he liked while he was reading through the book, it’s still a nice notion.”

“You’re not upset about it?” Jade questions.

With a shake of my head, I explain, “Not really. I mean, what better quote to choose? It’s almost reassuring, in a way.”

Erica shrugs, “I guess so.”

Feeling as though I’ve said enough, I place the book aside and reach for the cutlery Jade has left with my food, stabbing it into the piece of meat she’s left for me. The others are a bit slower to follow suit, but eventually, we eat breakfast and go about our morning in relative peace. Once we set everything away, the girls insist on making sure I’m not weak after three days of being off my feet. 

“We made sure to do some exercises while you were asleep to try to keep your leg muscles working,” Jade explains as she leads us to the stairs.

“Well, they don’t feel as though I’ve been out of commission for a few days,” I reply with a shrug, “so I guess it worked.”

“Good,” she hums, guiding us to the stairs leading down.

Erica hops along after Jade, taking the steps a couple at a time while humming to herself. Turning to Royce, I ask, “Where are we going?”

In return, he shrugs, “Not a clue. Maybe to find leftover supplies?”

Erica turns to us with a smile and says, “We’re going down to the atrium. We stashed some of our things there a few days ago, so we’re going to go grab them before we split off from you two.”

She turns back around and I turn to Royce, finding him already watching me. We share a shrug and continue with the journey. I had never been to the atrium, but I recall seeing on the map that it spans the 8th, 9th, and 10th Decks. Once we reach Deck 10, it becomes evident that whoever built this ship designed it so that all the Capitol’s finest would spend the majority of their time and money in the atrium. Looking down over the glass partition, I see many shops and small restaurants, a few seating areas, and a few little booths with signs above them that I can’t quite make out. While Erica and Jade take off down the stairs inside the atrium, Royce and I take the chance to explore. 

The first store we come across has some… interestingly dressed mannequins, to say the least. And I can’t help but roll my eyes at the horrendously pink lighting shining down on the half-naked plastic people. “I just don’t know why people would even buy this stuff.”

He turns to me with a raised eyebrow, “Do you need me to explain it to you?”

“Oh, haha,” I laugh humorlessly. “No. I mean, I know why, but it just looks so… uncomfortable.”

A smirk tugs at his lips as he questions, “You mean, you don’t want to walk around all day with a tiny strip of fabric up your ass?”

I have to laugh, “Not particularly, no.”

“Aw, shucks,” Royce sighs sarcastically, snapping his fingers in defeat. “There go my plans for later.” 

I shove him aside with a scoff and shake my head before continuing, heading further into the atrium as I look around at the other stores. There’s a boutique across the hall with some long, flowing gowns and fancy tuxedos in the windows, a shop with a tiny rat-dog-looking thing wearing a large, wide-brimmed hat as its mascot, and a large, glittering shop with words I can’t understand written on the sign above it.

“Le Bijoutier de l'Amour,” Royce reads aloud as I stare up at the sign in confusion.

“What does that mean?”

“The Jeweler of Love,” he replies, walking around me to the door of the shop. “It’s French.”

“How can you read that?” I ask as he pulls the door open and holds it for me.

“My mom was French,” Royce explains, watching as I pass him. “I learned to read it from her old books.”

We disappear into the store, discovering a large, white room lined with glass cases full of glittering gems set inside gold and silver jewelry. On the wall is a large sign asking “What’s your birthstone?” in large letters with a list of months. Scanning the list, I distractedly mutter, “I guess I’m a peridot.”

“What?” Royce asks from the other side of the room.

Pointing up at the sign, I say, “I guess they have this thing where you tell them what your birth month is and they give you a fancy rock based on it.”

I hear Royce hum and ask, “What am I? I was born in June.”

Two away from my birthstone is June and I find that Royce has not just one, but three colorful rocks designated to his birth month. “Whoever came up with this list must have been born in June too.”

“Oh, yeah?” Royce questions as he crosses the gap between up. “How come?”

“Because you get to choose between pearl, alexandrite, and moonstone,” I say, pointing up at the sign once again.

“So weird,” Royce breathes with a shake of his head.

I have to shrug, “Rich people will buy anything, I guess.”

Royce chuckles, but nods, “That’s for sure.”

Before we really get the chance to explore more, the door to the shop opens and Erica sighs, “There you two are!”

Royce and I share a look of confusion before I ask, “Were we missing or something?”

Jade appears, glancing around the room before settling her gaze on us. “We wanted to tell you we were leaving.”

Erica nods, sending us a small smile as she explains, “We’ll try to keep Serena at bay, but your best bet is to keep moving so she doesn’t find you.”

Royce glances my way before sighing, “Guess we’ll have to find a new place for the night, then.”

“That would probably be for the best,” Jade agrees before turning to leave. As she reaches the door, she turns back to us and says, “Good luck.”

“You too,” I offer with a small wave.

Royce nods, saying something similar before Jade leaves the jewelry store and the door closes behind her. Erica makes her way to us and hands us a plastic bag of supplies before following Jade out to the atrium. Royce and I don’t spend much more time in the jewelry store, determined to find a safe location to stay in for the rest of the day. The idea of going further into the ship is quickly written off as Royce recalls Jade and Erica telling us about them cornering Lexi on a lower deck. Instead, we make our way up a floor to the library we had called home for a while and tuck ourselves into the little hallway nobody else seems to have ever discovered. Setting up camp there seems to be one of the safest options we have available as the library was ransacked, the wheelhouse was burned, and we both fear that staying in one of the staterooms could put us in danger of being found. Our other choice was to hide out in the Cornucopia, but we rule it out fairly quickly as the idea of being cooked alive inside of a giant metal horn in the noonday sun isn’t exactly appealing to either of us.

Once we lay out our sleeping bags and eat something for lunch, Royce decides to fill me in on something I can tell has been bothering him, “My earbuds stopped working the day I fell in the pool.”

The snarky tech geek in me wants to scoff and tell him that it’s a no-brainer that they stopped working; water from the pool he fell into had probably ruined the entire operating system and shorted everything inside the case. However, I find myself in a similar state of hurt as I solemnly nod and say, “I think my glasses are broken too. I haven’t heard from Mick at all.”

Royce sighs, “The day of the explosion, I tried to get an answer from Miles and they wouldn’t work. I was asking him for help since I had no idea what to do to help, but I couldn’t make out a word he was saying and they just stopped working after a while. They wouldn’t charge or anything.”

“You said you fell into the pool, right?” He nods. “The chemicals in the water and the water itself probably ruined it.” I watch as Royce’s expression worsens, any hope of talking with his brothers ebbing away. Taking in a breath and mustering a smile, I suggest, “I could take a look at them if you want?”

“Do you think you could fix them?”

I shrug, “It’s worth a shot. I mean, I am from District Three.”

A small smile appears on Royce’s face as he softly chuckles under his breath. Reaching into his backpack, he pulls out a small green container and places it into my awaiting palm. “They’re all yours, MacGyver.”

“MacGyver?”

Royce chuckles, “A guy back home who can fix anything under the hood of a car if he’s got enough duct tape.”

“I don’t know about duct tape,” I say as I look from the earbud case to Royce, “but if I think there’s any hope of fixing it, we can go looking in the stores for some replacement parts tomorrow morning.”

With an eager nod, Royce smiles and watches as I open the case, take the earbuds out, and begin looking for a way into the inner workings of the device. A thin line separates where the earbuds sit from the case itself and I feel a smirk tug at my lips as I ask Royce for a small knife. He scrambles through the three bags we’ve left around us and finds a small multitool among the mess of things Riven had collected in his bag. Slipping the only thin, non-serrated blade into the hairline crack, I drag it carefully along the seam, listening for almost inaudible pops as the barrier between the case and its mechanisms widens. Eventually, my efforts pay off and the earbuds’ resting place pulls away from the plastic case, leaving me staring at a fairly common battery, some wiring, and a logic board. Thankfully, the logic board appears to be just fine, so my only assumption would be that the battery had fried or something.

“This should be simple enough,” I murmur to myself. “If I can find a replacement battery, I should be able to get the case to charge them again.”

“Really?” Royce asks, making me jump slightly at how close he had leaned into my space. He chuckles, “Sorry.”

Taking in a breath, I nod slowly, “That solves that issue, but I haven’t taken a look inside the earbuds themselves.”

Royce quickly nods, leaning back so he could observe from a slight distance. Tracing his finger across his lips, he mimics closing them with a zipper before muttering, “I’ll let you get back to it, then.”

I give him a short nod before taking in a breath to focus myself once again and picking up the two green earbuds. I’ll give Royce credit where it’s due, he’s kept good care of them externally, cleaning the earpieces far more than half of the people back home probably do. After I pop off the silicone caps, I use the sleeve of my swimsuit to ensure the speakers and microphone are dry. Then, I set them aside and examine the multitool, switching out the blade for a thin corkscrew. At the back of the earbuds are a pair of small, almost invisible buttons set inside a thin hole, so I use the pointed tip of the corkscrew to press into the holes, effectively popping the speakers and microphones out of their casings. There isn’t much to see inside the casing, so I replace what I’ve taken apart and set the earbuds aside on the floor before turning my focus back onto Royce who is already watching me expectantly.

“Well?” he begins softly. “Do you think you can save them?”

“Maybe,” I tell him. “Riven would be able to take them apart, figure out the issue, and fix it in a few minutes, but I’m not as skilled as he is. We’ll leave them out for the night in case there’s any residual moisture, but we might need to head to one of those clothing stores to see if they have any of those little packets in the shoes.”

Royce’s head tilts to the side a fraction as he asks, “Why?”

“They absorb moisture,” I explain. “We use something like them at work from time to time. If there’s any water still in the earbuds or the case - which I don’t see, but it’s still a possibility - those little silica packets will get rid of it.”

Royce thanks me and sends me a smile before asking, “What about your glasses? Can you fix them?”

“I don’t know,” I reply with a shrug. “I didn’t make them, Mick did.”

His eyebrow raises, “Why would she make you a pair of glasses that have little cameras and microphones?”

“She knew I would probably get reaped this year after everything that happened last year.”

With a nod, Royce sighs, “Before the reaping, Miles said he had a feeling one of us would get reaped too, but he thought it would be Bentley since he’s younger and I would volunteer in his place.”

“Riven volunteered for my little brother,” I mutter. “He was the only one I couldn’t protect and I couldn’t even return the favor by protecting Riven.”

Silence fills the air between us as Royce stares at me, a look on his face that I just can’t seem to read. Taking in a deep breath, he softly asks, “Do you really think Riven’s dead?” I meet his gaze and he continues, “I didn’t want to say anything in front of any potential cameras, but I don’t know if he is.”

Taking in a slow, deep breath, I slowly shake my head and say, “I don’t want to believe that he’s dead, but you said you checked to see if he was breathing and he wasn’t, and I-”

“I lied.”

Like a spear of ice to my chest, the faintest brush of betrayal strikes at my heart. “You what?”

Royce’s eyes glow like rivers of gold in the shine of my flashlight, his almost hesitant stare never leaving mine. “The cannons went off, I was panicking, and I checked on you first. You were breathing, so I knew the chances of Riven or Lexi being alive were slim. Lexi was obviously dead - she had a machete in the side of her neck - but I still checked on Riven so that, if he was still alive, I could get him to safety after I helped you and… and I think he might have still been breathing when I checked on him.”

“But his cannon went off?”

“It did.”

“Are you sure he was breathing?”

“I don’t know, but I swear I felt it.”

The honesty in Royce’s eyes makes me want to believe him, but at the same time, I haven’t seen Riven in days and, after seeing all of the blood where I know he had been, I don’t want to get my hopes up just for them to be torn down again. Maybe this is like what happened with Mick and Miles. Maybe he’s alive somewhere and we just don’t know it. Deciding to voice my concerns, I take in a deep breath and ask, “Do you think this is another thing like last year where the cannon went off, but the person wasn’t dead?”

“I’d like to think so,” Royce shrugs.

“So, where is he, then?” I press. “Do you think he’s somewhere on the ship?”

Royce is quick to shake his head, “I know he isn’t.”

“How?”

“I brought you inside and left you with some of our belongings so that I could go back and get Riven without smacking him in the face with one of our backpacks,” Royce explains. “When I got back there, he was gone. When I met up with Jade and Erica, they claimed they saw a hovercraft take two bodies away before disappearing.”

“Where were they in all of this?” I have to ask.

“The Cornucopia,” he says. “They wanted to enjoy the sunshine, so they went to the one place they could see almost everything from.”

I cross my arms over my chest as I lean back against the wall, my eyes flitting between spots as I try to think of what’s happened since then. “The Capitol took him out of the arena.” Royce nods. “So, they must know he was really alive, right?”

“Unless he’s really good at faking being dead.”

I shake my head. While Riven can put on a good act for the cameras, I doubt he’d be able to convince Capitol doctors that he miraculously came back to life once he was on the hovercraft. Either he really is dead or the people who found him alive brought him back to the Capitol. The Capitol, especially the Gamemakers, hate being told they were wrong about something. If Riven was alive when they got him out, who knows what could have happened to him since then? They could have killed him to save their reputation or brought him back to the Training Center to await questioning or who knows what else. Regardless, there’s one thing I know they wouldn’t have done: put Riven back into the arena. They wouldn’t want the rest of Panem to know they got another death wrong for the second year in a row.

For the rest of the afternoon, Royce takes to reading while I try to examine my glasses. It’s difficult, to say the least. Considering I need my glasses to see how to fix them, I end up giving up after almost two hours of trying to take them apart. Once he notices that I’ve given up working on my glasses, Royce moves closer to me and reads aloud in an attempt at keeping me as calm as possible. We eat something quick for dinner before crashing for the night and I wake up to Royce cooking breakfast as quietly as he can manage.

“What time is it?” I yawn.

He shrugs, “I don’t know, but I checked the library and it’s already bright out.”

“How long have you been up?”

“Maybe an hour or so.”

“You could have woken me up,” I sigh, pushing myself to sit up as I bring my glasses to my face.

Royce shakes his head, offering me a gentle smile, “You needed the rest.”

“I slept for three days, Royce, I think I’ve slept enough already.”

Royce hands me a plate of food when he feels it’s done and, once we’re done, we gather our things and prepare to scope out the stores for the supplies we need. We use the ladder to get down to the atrium and find ourselves in the back of a bar, surrounded by bottles of alcohol that neither of us can pronounce easily. Leaving the bar, we make our way to the open area of the atrium and find a map on the wall that tells us what stores are in the area. Other than the shops we checked out yesterday, most of the other outlets on Deck 10 are coffee shops or restaurants that offer foods we had never heard of prior to being on the ship. The floor below us, however, has two shops next to each other that might just have exactly what we’re looking for. Finding the stairs to the floor below us, Royce and I reach Deck 9 and first head for a small, doorless shop with the most simple name out of all the shops we’ve seen so far - Tech at Sea.

Finding a battery for Royce’s earbuds is easy enough once I climb over the counter and look at all of the supplies by the register. Once the battery is secured in its rightful place, I put the case back together, listening for the telltale clicks of it slotting back into place. Slipping the earbuds into their case, both Royce and I are relieved to watch it come to life, a small red light signaling that the earbuds inside the case are now charging for the first time in days. If the chest-high, marble countertop wasn’t between us, I’m almost positive that Royce would have tackled me in a hug, his proud, beaming smile telling me just how excited he is with our project. Once I’m back on the other side of the counter and Royce has pocketed his earbuds, he wraps an arm around my shoulders and holds me close, softly praising me and thanking me for my efforts before walking alongside me to the store next door - Perspective’s Eyewear. 

My first order of business is finding the tools I need for the job, which is easy enough. The next stop on my mission to repair my glasses is a bit harder - finding a pair of glasses to use as a substitute while I work on mine. Royce makes the work easier, having me sit across from an eye chart and running me pairs of glasses to try out until I find the right one. In the end, I decide on a pair that reminds me of something my grandfather would wear and we make our way back to the security of the hidden passageway where we relax for lunch before I begin to work on the glasses. 

Even with the replacement glasses, I find it difficult trying to see where the glasses could possibly split open. My head thumps dully against the wall as I stare up at the ceiling, groaning out, “This is such bullshit.”

“Language,” I hear faintly.

Turning to Royce with an incredulous look, I ask, “Did you seriously just ‘language’ me?”

Royce’s hands come up in surrender as he lightly shakes his head, “I didn’t say anything.”

“Well, someone just told me not to cuss and you’re the only one here, so…”

Royce’s eyes shine with obvious confusion before I spot a hint of disbelief in them. My own confusion melts away as I slowly turn back to my glasses, turning them toward me before softly asking, “Mickie, are you there?”

“Viv?” I hear faintly.

I know Mick’s voice anywhere. “Yeah, it’s me. Can you hear me?”

“I can hear-” her voice cuts out before coming back in a static haze, “-can’t see- I- explosion damaged the cam-”

Royce’s confusion comes through in his tone as he asks, “Did you understand that?”

With a nod, I chuckle, “I actually did. She said she can hear us, but can’t see us and that the explosion damaged the cameras.”

“Yeah, that,” Mick agrees. “Are- two safe?”

“We are,” I say, nodding even though I know she can’t see me. “We’re in that room behind the library.”

I can almost imagine Mick breathing a sigh of relief as she says, “Good.”

Without giving her the chance to say anything more, I ask, “Do you know what happened to Riven?”

However, instead of Mick’s voice coming through the glasses, Royce and I both jump at the sound of the Capitol’s infamous trumpets. Both of us roll our eyes and Royce dismisses the announcement with an indifferent sigh, “Let me guess, they want a feast to get us to kill each other off?”

As we both expected, Claudius Templesmith’s voice comes out of thin air, announcing just that, “Commencing at noon, there will be a feast tomorrow at the Cornucopia.”

“Good thing we aren’t hungry,” I scoff, turning my attention back toward the glasses in an attempt to ignore the rest of his announcement.

However, Mr. Templesmith has other ideas. “Now, hold on. Some of you may already be thinking of declining my invitation. However, this is no ordinary feast. This is an offer of immunity.”

“Immunity?” Royce asks softly. “What does that mean?”

I shrug and we attempt to pay more attention as Claudius continues, “There is one place on this ship that offers complete protection from intruders. This room requires a key that is only obtainable at this feast. The one who takes the key to The Haven will have access to amenities that will only ever be used by the victor themself. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and it will not be happening again.”

Royce and I are safe in this little hideout where the cameras aren’t up our asses for every second of the day; we don’t need the safety of some random room. I doubt Erica and Jade need it either; they have plenty of supplies and I don’t doubt they can hide out in the ship perfectly fine. That leaves one person on this ship who could take Claudius Templesmith up on his offer.

Royce shakes his head, turning to me with a sigh, “We don’t exactly need it, do we?”

“No,” I reply, “but I can think of one person who might want it.”

Almost instantly, it seems as though Royce has come to the same conclusion I have. “Do you really think Serena is dumb enough to go after something so obvious? It feels like a trap.”

With a nod, I say, “I don’t doubt that it is, but if she feels like it might keep her protected from Jade and Erica long enough to gain some strength or get some food in her, she might just go after it.”

“Do you think the girls will have that figured out as well?”

“Most likely.”

Royce takes a deep breath and shakes his head, “I guess we’ll find out tomorrow.”

“I guess so.” Turning back to my glasses, I ask, “Did you hear that, Mick?”

In return, all I get is silence. I try a few more times to get a response out of Mick before deciding there must be something wrong with the glasses and putting them back on with a sigh. Royce and I read for a few hours before having dinner and turning in for the night. The morning starts off with our new routine of eating breakfast and picking a new place to hide out for the day, but as we’re climbing the stairs to Deck 13 where we plan on hiding out, we hear a faint scream echo through the stairwell. Figuring the others may be somewhere nearby, Royce and I make our journey as quiet as possible, but as we reach our destined deck, the telltale sounds of fighting only grow louder. Something solid hits the floor above us just a few steps from the landing we’ve reached, followed by a grunt we both hear loud and clear, telling both of us that the fight is just a deck away.

Turning to Royce, I wonder if he’s questioning things like I am. Why are the others here instead of up by the Cornucopia? Is the Capitol getting the bloodbath they so desired? Once there is a clear victor of the trio’s battle, will the winner come looking for us? My grip on my crossbow tightens as the familiar blast of the cannon thunders through the area, followed by a heavy thump, a scream of agony, and yet another cannon, signaling the battle is over. Deciding we shouldn’t tempt fate, Royce and I move as silently as possible away from the stairwell. However, before we get too far, the sound of crying fills the otherwise silent air.

With two of the three other tributes dead, who out of them would be the one to cry? Jade doesn’t seem like the type to cry and I highly doubt Serena would unless she was injured or incredibly weak, but I could imagine Erica being the type to cry about something like that. Turning to Royce, I watch his expression shift and as he mouths Erica’s name curiously, I realize he must have come to the same conclusion. Steadying his grip on his bow just to be safe, Royce nods toward the stairs and I nod in return, following close behind him with my crossbow in hand. We tentatively head back to the stairwell and climb the ivory steps to the next floor where, just a few feet away, I spot Erica’s sapphire hair glowing in the sunlight that pours in from a nearby window as she leans over Jade’s motionless form. Nearby, Serena’s red hair nearly blends in with the crimson surrounding her head, her limp, lifeless body slumped against the normally pristine, white floor. The gory puddle surrounding Serena makes her look even paler than she already was, but it is the long blade emerging from her forehead that tells me that the attack was personal. 

My best guess is that Erica killed her for killing Jade, but I have no proof to say whether that was what happened. Regardless, Serena died painfully and whoever killed her made sure of that. Royce stalls my train of thought by reaching back to me and gesturing for me to stay calm. I take in a slow breath as he steps around Serena and softly calls out, “Erica?”

The blue-tipped blonde slowly turns to us, her eyes shining with tears that have streamed down her face like a waterfall. She sends us a small smile and says, “Well, if it isn’t the victors of this year’s Games.”

“What happened?” I ask her.

“Jade and I got the jump on Serena since we found out where she was hiding out,” Erica explains, looking back down at Jade and moving the hair from her deceased friend’s face. “We fought for a while before Serena threw a dagger at Jade.”

Royce spares a glance at Serena before asking, “What about Serena?”

“I think it should be obvious,” Erica chuckles, leveling her gaze on Royce as she smiles. “I tackled her to the floor, grabbed my butcher knife, and went to town on her face.” Before either of us can say a word, Erica adds, “She killed my girl and any kindness I may have shown her died when Jade did.”

The room is silent for a while as Royce and I absorb the information we’ve been given, but Royce breaks it with a soft, “Are you alright?”

Erica leans to the side just enough for the black hilt of a knife to catch the light, the blade of it buried inside her abdomen. With an airy giggle, she states, “I’m already dying, if that’s what you want to know.” 

“We could patch it up if you-”

“No,” Erica says with a shake of her head. “No, I don’t really see the point in trying. I wouldn’t be able to make the trip back to the medical center and, even if I did, I might still die because, as you told Jade and I before, Royce, neither of you has the best medical knowledge. I think I might as well let death come while I’m with Jade.”

“Are you sure?” I ask.

Erica nods, giving us a smile as she says, “I have no strength to stand, let alone fight. Anyway, like your friend said with the book, death should be like falling asleep. Once I take the knife out, I’ll lay down beside Jade and let whatever happens, happen. You two can go spend some time together before the Games end. Enjoy each other’s company and decide what happens next.”

“What about-”

Once again, Royce gets cut off as Erica waves us off with a hand. “I’ll be fine here. Just go have fun together before the Capitol decides to off one of you. I’ll see you again someday.”

Deciding arguing with Erica isn’t going to get us anywhere, I reach for Royce’s hand and lightly tug him closer to me. At first, he appears confused, but eventually, Royce decides something similar and he takes a deep breath before nodding. Turning back to Erica, I smile and tell her, “See you later.”

Erica nods deeply, holding her head down for a moment before looking back up at us with a small grin, “Good luck, you two.”

Royce and I make our way back to the stairs, waving a final goodbye to Erica before making our way back down a floor. Knowing we no longer have to worry about the other tributes trying to kill us, Royce and I sit on the bottom step and try to think of what to do next. Now that we don’t have to hide or run, we don’t know what to do. Neither of us feels up to eating, but we also don’t know what else to do while we wait for Erica’s inevitable death. After a while of simply sitting around, we head into The Galaxy Pavillion and gather the remaining berries from the laser tag arena before Royce suggests we go back to the library and try to relax. I follow him away from Deck 13 and we reach the library fairly easily. Once we climb past the shattered remnants of the door and drag the piano away from it, Royce and I get to work on taking the broken door out of the frame. The cleanup doesn’t end there and, by the time Erica’s cannon rattles through the arena, the library is almost back to its former glory and the sun is sinking past the ocean’s horizon. The cleaning distracts us from our situation enough that we can bring ourselves to eat at least a little, but it doesn’t make things feel any easier. 

Royce allows me to sleep while he stays awake for a while, keeping an eye out for any potential mutts the Capitol could send to kill us off. I stay awake until morning for my shift, but the Capitol doesn’t send so much as a butterfly our way, which is unsettling, to say the least. I make breakfast for the two of us while Royce reads the last of Romeo and Juliet aloud. The calm of the morning has a tense, unsettling serenity to it that I surmise we both feel as Royce looks just as rigid as I feel.

When Royce finishes eating, he sets aside his plate and softly asks, “How are we going to do this?”

“What do you mean?” I ask, setting my plate on top of his.

“This,” Royce replies, gesturing between the two of us. 

“Like you said,” I begin, taking in a deep breath, “we’re going to fight for every moment we spend together. If they want a victor, they’ll either have to take both of us or neither of us. We can go get some of those berries and take ourselves out together or they can get us out of the arena and we can win together. Either way, I won’t fight you.”

“Neither will I,” Royce states.

I nod and, as silence takes over, I allow myself to think about what we could do to force the Gamemakers to let us out. At first, I wonder if finding a camera to talk to would help, but without Mick’s guidance, the likelihood of finding one of the Capitol’s bajillion hidden cameras feels impossible. My next thought is, of course, taking the berries and going out on a high note like Volt and Elektra, but at the same time, I don’t like the idea of dying before I’ve even gotten the chance to live. Then, an idea comes that I feel could get us on the Capitol’s best side. If the Capitol citizens didn’t already love our little love story, we could make them want nothing more than for both of us to make it out alive. We could spend the whole day together, doing all the things a couple would; go on dates, dress up all fancy, buy rings, and, once the day is done, we go to one of the restaurants, blend up some berries and some other stuff, and act as though we’re just like Romeo and Juliet - dying together for the sake of love. Their love for us as a couple could drive them to beg the president to keep us alive. We could be the first pair ever to win the Hunger Games together.

Glancing over at Royce, I find he’s already brought out a book to read and settled down with it. Taking a deep breath, I softly say, “I have an idea.”

Royce lowers the book to his lap and curiously meets my gaze, “I’m listening.”

“Why don’t we spend the day doing everything we could possibly want?” I suggest. “We could go to the atrium and take some of those fancy clothes we’ll never get to try on otherwise, we could go to all the stores that don’t exist back home and just go wild, and, when we decide we’ve had enough fun, we go to one of the restaurants, have some dinner, and we’ll slip some of those berries into our drinks and leave this arena together like we wanted to all along.”

A look of anxiety wells in Royce’s eyes as he mutters, “Are you sure?”

“It was just a suggestion,” I say with a shrug. “As long as I’m with you, what we do doesn’t really matter.”

Silent contemplation fills the space between us and I watch as Royce’s eyes flicker between mine, searching for an answer that we both know he has to come to on his own terms. Ultimately, his eyes slide shut, he sucks in a breath, grins, and looks my way before replying, “What better last day could I ask for?”

Our moment of peace is disrupted by a loud screech and a sharp voice that I faintly recall as Claudius Templesmith argues, “That isn’t allowed. One of you must become the victor.”

“Says who?!” I snap back as I push myself to my feet. “We’re the ones trapped in here. We’re the ones the Capitol decided to kill off for their enjoyment. We never wanted to be your little lambs for slaughter. All we want is to be together for as long as we can and you’re trying to take that from us too?”

“Yeah,” Royce agrees, rising to stand beside me and taking my hand in his. “We’ve made it this far in the arena, you can’t tell us that we can’t go out on our own terms.”

“There can only be one victor,” Claudius states.

With a scoff, Royce grabs his bag and pulls the small handful of berries from the front pouch, pouring some from his hand into mine before holding his handful up for the cameras to see. “In case you haven’t noticed, we have the high ground,” he declares. “We can do this together at any time and be dead before your hovercraft can save us.”

“We would be dead in a minute,” I agree. “So, either you give us our day or we go out together right here, right now.”

“But the rules state-”

“The rules were made years ago by a psychopath who decided that killing children was necessary,” Royce states.

“Besides, the people are sick and tired of these Games,” I add. “They aren’t entertaining the Capitol anymore and everyone knows it - even President Harmon! He could easily tell you to stop the Hunger Games at any time and you know it.”

“Now,” Royce begins, squeezing my hand, “Viv and I are going to go spend our last day together. If you decide to call off the Hunger Games and let us win instead of letting us die together, let us know.”

Without another word, Royce dumps his berries into his backpack and hands me my bag so I can deposit mine in it before he takes me by the hand and guides me to the bookcase passageway. Once the door is closed, Royce presses his back to it and turns to me with wide eyes. I smile at him and exclaim, “That was so badass!”

“Did I really just do that?” he asks in a whisper.

“You did.”

“They’re going to kill us.”

With a shrug, I sigh, “I doubt it. If anything, the others will be rallying for us to get out.”

Royce sucks in a breath and asks, “You said before that your stylist is the president’s daughter, right?” I nod. “Does she like you?” I nod once more. “Do you think she can convince her dad to let us out?”

“I think so,” I confirm. “I think she’s been trying this whole time, but, with any luck, this might force his hand a little.”

Royce nods and we stop for a short time to secure our berries in little pouches that we attach to our belts for easy access. Once we’re done, we head to the atrium and head from the bar we land in to the boutique we came across what feels like a week ago. We look around at all of the ridiculously expensive outfits before deciding to pick something out for each other to wear. Royce shows me what racks have things that will fit him and I show him mine before we leave each other alone, chattering across the open floor to each other about things that we both enjoy before leaving something in the dressing rooms for each other. 

The dress I find waiting for me in room number 1 is a long, sapphire dress that drags on the floor in the back, yet stays just above the floor in the front. I assume this was made to be worn with those uncomfortable high-heeled shoes that are the Capitol standard, but Royce has left me a simple pair of golden shoes that have maybe two inches of height in the heel and a thick strap around the ankle to keep me from breaking any bones. I don’t try to fight the smile that creeps onto my face as I examine myself in the mirror. I pull my hair down from the loosely woven braid Erica made for me and draw my hair into a ponytail at the back of my head, hoping it will make my hair look a little less greasy before shoving my clothes into my backpack. I push the curtain aside and make my way to the front room with my bag, finding Royce standing near the wall, adjusting his clothes in a mirror.

His black and blue ensemble matches mine, surprisingly, but he doesn’t notice me watching him until he turns around with a smile and approaches me, pressing a kiss just to the side of my mouth. “You look incredible.”

“As do you,” I tell him, dropping my backpack to the floor alongside his and bringing my arms around his shoulders.

“Were you watching me pick out your outfit?” he asks, his arms circling my waist. 

“I should be the one asking you that,” I tell him with a scoff. “In case you’ve forgotten, I put your outfit aside first. That means you copied me, not the other way around.”

Royce contemplates the suggestion briefly before shaking his head, “Nah, I don’t think so.”

“Liar.”

“You can’t prove it.”

“You suck.”

Royce shrugs, brushing off my statement easily, “Eh, you love me.”

Tapping the tip of his nose with my finger, I tell him, “That doesn’t mean you don’t suck.”

With a chuckle, he nods, “Fair enough.”

“Are you ready to go have some fun?” I ask.

“What do you have planned?”

Instead of telling him my plans, I simply grab our bags, hand him his, take his free hand in mine, and drag him from the boutique to the hallway where we look around and decide to stop in a little gaming store a deck below us. We spend a while eating something small for lunch and playing games there before the Gamemakers decide to cut the power to them, presumably in an attempt to push us out of the area and into a fight. With heavy sighs, we decide to venture into the hallway and explore around a bit. We visit a few more shops before going back up to the jewelry store and picking out matching rings for each other. It takes us a while to find the birthstone rings we want, but in the end, he takes my peridot and I have his moonstone. Once we feel ready enough, we head up to the eighteenth deck where we find a restaurant and begin making something for dinner in the expansive kitchen we find there. After the food is done, Royce takes the berries from both of the pouches we had made and crushes some of them up before adding them to the glasses of some expensive wine we found in a cooler. 

Together, we take the food out to the outside dining area and sit across from each other, eating our dinner together and talking about all that we’ll miss. Our families and friends come into the conversation as we drag out the time we have together until the sun begins to set and our time for waiting is over. Royce gives me a reassuring smile and lifts his glass to which I follow suit, reaching across the table to take his other hand in mine as our glasses tap against each other in the center of the table. Bringing our glasses back to our respective sides of the table, Royce asks, “On the count of three?”

“The count of three,” I agree with a nod. 

Royce gives my hand a final squeeze as a signal, as a tragic goodbye, and we begin to count. “One.” Maybe we were wrong to challenge the Capitol, President Harmon, and the Gamemakers. “Two.” Maybe they don’t care anymore if they get their victor. “Three!” It’s too late to change our minds. We lift our glasses to our mouths and meet gazes so our last glimpse of life will be of each other. 

The thin, grape-like liquid has just passed my lips as the trumpets begin to blare and the frantic voice of Claudius Templesmith shouts above the music, “Stop! Stop!” His voice calms just enough to not sound absolutely terrified as he announces, “Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to present the victors of the Sixty-third Hunger Games - Vivien O’Brian and Royce Murphy! I give you the tributes of Districts Three and Six!”

I’m quick to spew the nightlock-laced wine back into my glass and I watch Royce follow suit. We both begin wiping any residue from our tongues with napkins before taking a bottle of water from our bags and flushing it all out as much as we can. Once we’re satisfied, we practically collapse into each other’s arms. Royce pulls back enough to cup my face in his hands and pulls me in for a kiss that I never would have anticipated before. I press our foreheads together and he says something to me, but I can’t hear him over the roar of the crowd in the Capitol that the Gamemakers are playing over the ship’s speakers.

The hovercraft materializes overhead and two ladders drop down to take us away from the arena, but we have no intention of releasing each other, so we manage to cling to each other and the ladder as it freezes us in place and drags us into the flying machine Royce’s district has had a hand in making. Neither of us is injured or in need of any medical assistance, but we are separated as two attendants whisk us off to different rooms to rid us of any remnants of nightlock that could still be lingering on our teeth. After that, I’m handed an icy cold glass that is filled with orange juice. I don’t entirely trust the Capitol to not poison us on the way back to the Capitol, but as I peer through the tiny window in my room I realize we’re nearing land already. We must not have been far from land. I try not to gasp as a large, red bridge passes underneath us, a faded memoir of a time long gone. I’ve seen the bridge before in old history books. I think it was something in an old state by the ocean - I know it started with a C, but that’s all I can recall.

Our hovercraft rises higher into the air and the windows darken, leaving me clueless as to where we are or how far we have to go, but the ride doesn’t last nearly as long as it felt it took on the way to the arena. One of the attendants enters and tells me that I am to disembark first as my district number is before Royce’s and I don’t see him at all as they lead me through the craft and onto the rooftop. My legs wobble as I step down from the hovercraft, but a glittering, golden head of hair is there to catch me as I stumble onto the roof. Halo’s voice is kind and oddly welcoming as she mutters, “You did amazing, Vivien.”

The stress of everything takes over once I’m guided back inside and I gracelessly meet the floor of the elevator as it brings us to the floor I knew so well. When I wake, I feel as though I cannot move. Blankets have been tucked under my arms and the ceiling glows a soft yellow, but the sheets are cold and it only takes me a few minutes to realize that Royce is not beside me. My glasses are nowhere to be found, but one look around the room makes me relax a little. I know where I am - it’s my room from before the Games started. I lift a hand to move the covers away and find that I’ve been changed out of my dress from the arena and scrubbed clean. My nails are filed into perfect ovals and the burn on my hand is far less prominent. My hair is silky smooth and, as I pass a hand over my right ear, I realize that I can finally hear out of it again; something the Capitol’s numerous doctors probably worked on for a few hours.

I push myself to slowly sit up and, as I lean back against the headrest, the door to my room opens and the dark-skinned Avox enters the room with a tray of food that he rests on my lap. I feel the need to ask him a million questions, but as he draws my glasses out of a drawer next to my bed and slips them onto my face, only one comes to mind, “Did Riven make it out?” Green eyes find mine and he turns back to the food before shaking his head and slipping a spoon into my hand. I stare down at the food - soup, bread, and a glass of juice - before me before sighing, “I guess it wasn’t just a bad dream.”

The voiceless Avox places a hand on mine and makes sure he has my attention before bringing a closed hand to his chest and moving it in a circle, mouthing one word, “Sorry.”

I brush him off with a shake of my head and say, “It’s not your fault.” I try to eat some of the soup I’ve been brought before asking, “Is Royce alright?”

A sharp nod is my answer. Of course, he is. He has to be. With all of the fancy tech they have in the Capitol, I’m sure he’d be fine even if he had one leg missing. The Avox I’ve yet to learn the name of leaves the room and the door closes noiselessly behind him, leaving me to the tray of food that’s been made up for me. I wonder how long I’ve been asleep and how they knew to bring me food. I know it had to have been long enough for me to be cleaned up and dressed in some cotton shorts and a plain, purple shirt, but not long enough for them to worry about hooking me up to tubes and wires like a hospital would. As I eat, the door opens again and, this time, my mentors appear and they both seem glad to see me.

“Hi,” I mutter as they sit on either side of my legs.

I set aside my spoon as Mack takes my hand in hers, holding it gingerly as she asks, “How are you feeling?”

“Glad to be out of there,” I reply. “How long have I been asleep?”

“About eight hours,” Brady replies. “We just got back from President Harmon’s mansion.”

Confusion fills me as I ask, “Why were you there?”

“To rally for them to take you out of the arena,” Mack explains. “Juliet had already convinced him by the time we got there, but he had some questions to ask us anyway.”

“About what?” I question.

Refusing to spill any information, my only response comes from Brady as he says, “You’ll see sooner or later. For now, work on getting some food into you before tomorrow.”

“Why?” I ask. “What happens tomorrow?”

���The crowning ceremony is tomorrow afternoon and the final interview is the day after,” Mack replies. “It would be best for you to get as much rest and food as possible to get your strength up before you’re made to go in front of everyone like that.”

I have to ask, “Did they do this for you guys too?”

Both of my mentors nod as Brady explains, “Ours took a while longer as we weren't in the best shape when we came out of our arenas. Riven made sure to keep you and Royce fed and strong throughout the Games, so you two don’t need as much medical care.”

Mack lightly nudges her husband, sending him a firm glare that I suppose is meant to shut him up, but it doesn’t stop me from asking, “He really didn’t make it, did he?”

“We won’t know for certain until after they run tests on him,” Mack says. “After last year, they made it a rule for all bodies to be thoroughly inspected once they leave the arena.”

“So…” I take a deep breath, letting my thoughts sink in before glancing between my mentors and asking, “So there’s a chance?”

They look to each other for an answer and I feel Mack’s grip on my hand tighten a fraction as she turns back to me and says, “For now, just focus on eating and resting. We’ll discuss everything later.”

I take that as a sign to stop questioning things and simply focus on everything else that’s going to happen in the next couple of days. They stay with me until I finish eating and each of them gives me a tight squeeze and a kiss on the cheek before leaving, telling me to get some sleep before the chaos begins again. I find myself staring up at the ceiling for a while before tentatively easing myself from the bed. My first thought is to go up to the roof to see if he’s there, but when I try to turn the knob, I find that my bedroom door has been locked from the other side. The first people I suspect are my mentors, but then there’s also a more insidious fear that the Capitol may be monitoring my every movement and decided to confine me to my room. The feeling of being trapped in a room that the Capitol is no doubt viewing feels invasive. It almost feels as though I’ve been imprisoned for a crime and am now awaiting my sentencing. Instead of allowing the feelings to overwhelm me, I return to my bed and at least try to get a few hours of sleep until Halo comes to wake me with a chirpy exclamation about another “big, big day!”

I’m given a few minutes to scarf down some toast and eggs before the prep team descends into my room. All I have to do is thank them for their style excellence and I find it unnecessary to talk at all for the next couple of hours. They all talk about where they were and what they were doing when certain events occurred. They tell me how everyone they knew was furious with the Gamemakers for not letting Royce and me out together and how they shouldn’t have allowed Riven to die at Lexi’s hand. It feels almost nice to hear Capitol citizens show distaste for the Games, like a reassurance that they were frustrated just as much as we were.

Thankfully, I’m not at their mercy for long as Juliet comes in and shoos them away with gentle, but direct words. For the first time since the catacombs, Juliet wraps me in a hug and mutters over my shoulder, “I knew you could make it, Vivien.”

“But Riven-”

Juliet leans back, yet keeps me in her grasp as she says, “I’ll talk with you about that later, I promise. Right now, we don’t have much time.”

“Why?”

“I ran into a friend on my way out of the mansion and then saw Carrie in the hall, so I practically ran almost an hour late,” she explains with a sigh, squeezing my hands in hers. “We need to get you dressed and down to the training floor before the crowning starts.”

The dress she slips over my head is a pale, almost mint shade of green with gold glowing over it with every move I make. My shoes are thankfully flat on the ground and I could easily kick them off if I wanted to, but I’m determined to keep them on until I’m out of the cameras’ sights. Out of all the outfits I’ve worn - the chariot costume, the interview gown, the arena clothes - this is my favorite. It’s simple, the dress leaves almost everything to the imagination, and I feel almost like myself in it. If I had fancy events to go to back home, I would wear it again, but I have no need for it, so I assume Juliet will take it back later. 

I find my own gaze in the mirror and wonder how much of a contrast there must be between now and when I was in the arena. A section of my hair has been braided into a sort of crown that tucks under the rest of my hair which hangs in ringlets down my back. Makeup rounds my face out and makes me look the part of a doe-eyed, chubby-cheeked child. My glasses don’t exactly match the dress, but Juliet doesn’t pry them from my face, which tells me that I can keep them where they are. My nails have been polished with little golden flowers, shimmering in the lights above us. The sheer fabric of my sleeves puffs out from my shoulders in a small bump before cinching just a few inches down on my bicep and clinging to the skin from there to my wrist. The dress gathers at my waist and falls to the floor, but I have no problems walking in it. I look young - certainly younger than nearly sixteen. I may have a little bit of height on my side, but the makeup and dress and, well, everything else, make me look as though I could only be maybe thirteen at most. I look childish. Dainty. Fragile. Harmless. Maybe that is exactly what they want me to look like; a little girl that drove the Capitol to end the Games early for the sake of love.

Looking at Juliet in the mirror, I wonder aloud, “I thought it would be more… I don’t know… adult-ish.”

Her hands feel warm through the sleeves as she takes my arms in her hands, rubbing gentle circles into my skin as she carefully answers, “I suppose you could say we were inspired by your romantic ending to the Hunger Games.”

I can read between the lines. Our romantic ending was inspired by Romeo and Juliet - the lovesick duo who decided they would rather die together than live without the other. This must be her interpretation of the outfits from the story. I have to say, it definitely isn’t something I could see a regular Capitol citizen wearing, but maybe that is why I like it so much. Worry sets into my bones as I wonder if this will only serve as a slap to everyone in charge of the Games. If this is how they supposedly dressed in Romeo and Juliet, this could be the one thing that tips them over the edge and practically lays our heads on the chopping block.

Then, my thoughts screech to a halt as I pick up on her wording - ‘we were inspired.’ Not ‘I was,’ ‘we were.’ Who is this ‘we’ that she collaborated with? My first guess is Riven’s stylist since they would have worked together for most of our designs, but I feel the only person Juliet would entrust with this would be none other than her friend, Carrie - Royce’s stylist. Curiosity piques within me despite coming to a decent conclusion and I turn to face Juliet who has now busied herself with adjusting her makeup in a small, handheld mirror. She seems too relaxed. Maybe she didn’t even catch her own little slip. Either that, or I’m reading too much into nothing. 

Deciding to find the answer regardless, I softly ask, “Who else worked on this with you - your friend, Carrie?”

Juliet turns to me with a look that almost answers my question for me, yet the door opens and Halo tells us that we have to go, forcing my question to go unanswered. We take the elevator down to where we had spent nearly a week training and find that the entire room has changed. Customarily, the victor and their support team would rise from under the stage to be shown off to the public. First the prep team, followed by the escort, stylist, mentor, and finally the victor. However, it appears that having more than one victor complicates things and they’ve had to rethink everything. My area seems to be the new addition as a shiny, obviously unused, metal plate has been installed in my dimly lit little corner. I can smell the fresh paint and spot small piles of sawdust in places the workers who built it just didn’t feel like cleaning.

After making sure I feel alright being left alone for a little while, Juliet peels off to change into her outfit for the event and take her position and I sit in the only chair left in the darkened corner of the gymnasium. Through the inky darkness, I can see a makeshift wall about ten yards away and assume Royce is somewhere beyond it. In a fit of boredom, my leg starts bouncing like it would at work, however, this time, there is no incessant squeaking with every movement, just the faintest tapping of my shoe on the concrete floor. There is a damp, moldy smell in the room that overpowers the scent of paint that I, honestly, would almost prefer.

Nobody comes to see me before the anthem begins booming overhead. Caesar Flickerman takes to the stage and greets the audience in his typical, debonair way, earning the crowd’s love and attention within seconds. The prep teams are brought out and introduced and I can almost picture them bouncing around and talking as though nothing matters. When Halo and Royce’s escort, Neptune, are brought out, I realize just how different they must be. While Halo is fairly proud of her Capitol heritage, Mick told me before that she can read people like books, so I’m unsurprised at how calmly she handles her brief interview. Alternatively, I can hear a slight slur to Neptune’s words, giving the impression that she’s either celebrated with a strong drink or has some kind of speech impediment. However, the solid thump that rattles the boards above me, tells me the former is more likely.

Juliet and Carrie are introduced together and I can almost hear the beaming smiles in their voices as they pile on praises anytime a question about me or Royce comes about. They talk us up as though they’ve known us our entire lives and, I suppose, with how much our mentors have no doubt talked with them about us, they must know a lot more than we’ve told them on our own. Once the girls finish raving about us to the Capitol and the rest of Panem, our mentors are brought on stage. Mack and Brady are first up since my district number is higher than Royce’s and, while they await the crowd’s deafening applause and screeches of cheer, I take my place on the metal plate and try to imagine how hard it must be for them to relive this event every year. They handle their interview with practiced grace and relative ease before assuming their position on the stage near where I’ll soon rise into the limelight. Royce’s mentors, Butchy and Kona, are next and, while the crowd’s reaction is just as incredible as my mentors’ had been, they handle the interview differently. Kona, in an act that I would expect to come from one of my younger siblings, teases Royce for getting so attached so quickly, but Butchy applauds him for finding love despite everything the arena threw his way and they both end the interview by declaring how proud they are of both of us. 

I wipe the sweat from my hands onto my dress as the plate beneath me begins to rise and suck in a shaky breath as the heat from the blinding lights focused on me makes a wave of warmth rush over me. The thunderous roar of the crowd rattles the metal under my feet and I fight to keep my balance as it locks into place under me. I look around blindly, blinking in an attempt to clear my gaze of the bright lights that have only been amplified by the lenses of my glasses and I eventually see Royce just a few yards away. His eyes shine in the lights around us and his hair is coiled to perfection, but it’s his smile that makes all of my nerves melt away. It looks the same as it did on our date or when we were listening to Riven’s shitty jokes or when we were sitting on the rooftop of this very building, throwing berries at the forcefield and catching them in our mouths. 

He says something to me that I can’t hear over the crowd and I take a few steps toward him before all but launching myself at him. I can almost hear his prep team whining about messing up his hair as I thread my fingers into it, but as we find safety in each other's arms, I can’t bring myself to care. There’s a faint buzzing in my ears and I hear a soft laugh that I know didn’t come from anyone present, but I pay it little mind. Caesar Flickerman attempts to get our attention so that we can finish the show, but Royce brushes him off by tightening his grip on me and spinning us around. Kona inevitably leaves her spot by the other mentors and pries us apart with a grin only a meddlesome thirteen-year-old could possess before good-naturedly shoving us toward the victor’s chair. We curl into each other and I cling to his left hand with both of mine as his right arm closes around my shoulders. His outfit is similar to mine - a pale green that glows a faint gold in the lights - and I find myself paying more attention to Royce than to the three-hour-long recap the Capitol has thrown together. 

Condensing seventeen days into three hours is no easy feat, but they manage well enough. My first day in the arena is shown quickly as I didn’t really do much of anything, yet when the morning comes and I declare my promise of hurting anyone who hurts either Royce or Riven, pride swells within me as the audience bursts into cheers so loud I feel like covering my ears. Anytime Riven is shown on screen, I feel myself slouch a little closer to Royce, to the comfort he brings, and he welcomes me with a gentle kiss on the head every time. I notice a hush fall over the crowd every time something intense happens on screen. I suppose our time in the arena wasn’t as entertaining to the filmmakers as everyone else’s was, but my relationships with Royce and Riven go over so well, I wonder how everyone reacted the first time we talked or joked or did something drastic. Our time with Jade, Erica, and Lexi is shown here and there while our moments with the pair from District 5 are shown in full. I notice myself high in the background of some of the more dramatic scenes, but I wonder if anyone in the crowd notices anything other than the intensity on Royce’s face or the deadly, sinister smirk on Riven’s.

The explosion comes and I notice people in the audience shushing each other, not wanting to miss a moment in the disaster. For the first time, I get to see what happened in full. Royce is furthest from the explosion, yet the blast knocks him from the edge of the pool to the far end of it, slamming him into the deep end with a wave of water that soars high into the sky before sloshing back down on him, dragging him back under the surface of the water. My body rams into the ivory pillar and I watch with a wince as Riven lands hard on the ground. He leans against a nearby pillar to gain some strength, yet pushes himself to his knees to crawl toward me once I don’t return his call of my name. Then, out of the smoke that blankets the area, a hand with neon pink nails grabs Riven by the ankle and yanks him into the smoke cloud. The cameras focus on me for a while, watching me struggle to breathe - or think, for that matter - before switching to Riven again, who appears to be struggling to get Lexi off of him.

It’s a struggle to keep my expression as neutral as possible watching the “fight” - if you can even call it that. I know Riven. I’ve watched him throw giant spools of wire like they don’t weigh more than a pillow; there’s no way he would be bested by a toothpick of a girl with a knife. There has to be something more to it that I just don’t know yet, but as the camera switches focus to me again, I’m forced to make note of it for later. The screen splits into two, showing me as I spot the machete nearby and Royce who has begun kicking his way to the nearest ladder, panting for air like a dog on a hot day as a cannon blasts, sending both of us into a panic. I try to call out to Royce and for the first time, I realize that he tried to call back to me. The machete is thrown and, despite the cannon, I can now distinctly make out Riven’s voice calling my name. Not Royce’s, not Erica’s or Jade’s - Riven’s. I would know his voice anywhere. Of course, I would; I’ve worked with him for years now. Knowing how expressive I typically am and how my every emotion shows in full clarity on my face, I turn into Royce’s side and tuck my face into his neck as though I’m overwhelmed with emotion, but as he wraps me tight in his arms, I wonder if he realizes just how many notes I’m making in my head, all the questions still burning inside of me.

We’re made to watch clips of the last few days and I finally get to see what truly happened between Serena, Jade, and Erica. Erica and Jade planned their fight, waiting outside of Serena’s little hiding spot until she emerged. Jade was the first to die, then Serena’s brutal slaying followed, then Erica died later on, softly singing a song while still holding Jade’s hand. The crowd watching is silent through it all.

On screen, Royce and I spend our last day together and, thankfully, the filmmakers cut out the parts where Royce challenged the Gamemakers, something I’m grateful for. Instead, the video focuses on the two of us spending the day together, acting as nothing more than a couple on vacation. The audience coos at our every interaction, and I don’t fight the smile on my face as Royce meets my gaze and presses a kiss to my cheek. The moment with the berries comes all too soon and the audience hushes each other once again so as not to miss a second. The filmmakers don’t end the film there, keeping the footage rolling until we’ve cleaned our mouths of the nightlock wine and are locked in a kiss.

Once the screen fades to black, the anthem begins to play and we rise from the loveseat as President Harmon takes the stage followed by none other than his daughter and my stylist, Juliet. Juliet carries a cushion with the victor’s crown on it, however, much to everyone’s confusion, there is only one crown. Instead of prolonging the crowd’s curiosity, President Harmon takes the crown and twists it, splitting the crown into two halves. The first crown is placed atop Royce’s curls and he tells Royce something that makes him smile and duck a nod in return. Then, with a smile, President Harmon approaches me and settles the second crown just past the braided crown my prep team wove for me. 

His aquamarine eyes are intense, yet kind up close and I can see a sort of humor in them that glimmers as he says, “Romeo and Juliet, hm?”

“Yes, sir,” I meekly reply, not daring to pull my gaze from his.

He spares a discreet glance toward his daughter before smiling back at me and remarking, “Wise choice, little one.”

“Thank you.”

President Harmon nods and gives a final, “Congratulations,” before taking his place off to the side so that all of Panem can cheer for us. I wave to the crowd so much that I worry my arm will fall off, but Caesar finally bids the audience good night and reminds them to tune in for the final interviews tomorrow. It isn’t like they have a choice in the matter, but the illusion of choice is there all the same. All too soon, Royce and I are whisked away to the president’s mansion for the Victory Banquet where we have little time to talk with each other and spend more time acting as though we care about the people in the city that we’ll never see again. After food is eaten and everyone has spent the night taking pictures of us and talking our ears off, President Harmon announces the end of the banquet and people begin to leave. Instead of allowing us to follow suit, a lady in a fancy, silver outfit stands in front of the exit, telling us the president has requested an audience with me and Royce. While the others are instructed to go back to the Training Center, Juliet and Carrie take me and Royce to a large, circular room they say is the president’s meeting room. A round table with a screen in the center is surrounded by chairs and I’m vaguely reminded of a place back home that we call the “Meeting of the Minds” where all of the top people from each of the factories and hubs of District 3 meet every month and have top secret discussions. I had been there once with the mayor’s daughter, Bissette, on behalf of our school and it was horrendously boring. I doubt this meeting will be the same.

The girls leave us in the meeting room and we’re alone for less than a minute before the doors on the far end of the room open and President Harmon enters. He takes one look at us and chuckles as he sets two boxes on the table, “Relax, you two. You’re not in any trouble.” 

I find that hard to believe, but as he takes a seat and gestures for us to follow, I swallow my opinion. Royce takes my hand in his and I can feel how cold his normally warm skin has become. He’s just as scared as I am. Why are we here? By the looks we received from the others, this isn’t normal. The president can’t kill us here, if that’s what his plan is. We still have the interview tomorrow and there will be a lot of cameras awaiting our arrival in our home districts, making it damn near impossible for us to be killed off and replaced with clones just yet. 

My thoughts derail as President Harmon presses a button on the table and the screen in the center disappears. Instead, he clears his throat and sighs, “I’ll make this quick so that you two can rest up before your interview and the ride back home. I want you two to be the first to know that you will be the very last victors of the Hunger Games.”

“What do you mean?” Royce asks.

“For some time now, Panem’s opinion of the Games has been steadily dropping,” the president answers. “I have been looking for a reason to end them before the next Quarter Quell. This year, you two have given me the perfect opportunity.”

“How so?” I have to ask.

“You’ve given the people something to root for other than death,“ he explains with a grin. “Your little love story - regardless of how true it may be - drove many Capitol citizens to plead for your safe return. I intend to announce the dissolution of the Hunger Games at the banquet I hold after your Victory Tour this January.”

Something about this doesn’t feel right. As much as I want so desperately to believe his words, I can almost hear Riven telling me, “If it sounds too good to be true, it probably is.”

Royce beats me to the chase, questioning, “What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” President Harmon says with a shake of his head. “You two are free to go back to your home districts. I will allow your mentors to escort you between districts if you wish to visit the other, however, until the Victory Tour is done and the announcement is made, I do ask that you never speak a word of this to anyone outside of this room - dead or alive.”

He knows. He definitely knows. He knows Mick and Miles are alive. I bet he has cameras all throughout the districts, just watching as people go about their normal days. Why didn’t he do something about it? As the president, he has the power to send a group out to kill them off with just the snap of his fingers; why didn’t he? If I question it, does that put my head on a spike? Or, even worse, Royce’s, Mick’s, and Miles’?

Instead, I swallow the nonexistent saliva in my mouth and nod, giving a simple, “Noted.”

Royce nods in agreement and President Harmon hums as he picks up his packages, rises from his seat, and begins walking toward us, “Good.”

“What happens now?” Royce asks as we stand, finally face-to-face with the president once again.

President Harmon holds out the two square boxes for us to take, “You take these, go back to your rooms, and don’t read them until you arrive back in your respective districts. Once the celebrations are over and you’ve made yourselves comfortable in the villages, take some time to read through those, and don’t hesitate to give me some feedback on what you think needs to be changed.”

“What are they?” I ask. A small lock with a fingerprint scanner is the only thing keeping it closed, so whatever is inside must be important. Judging by how heavy it is, there must be something more than papers inside the tightly bound box.

“A written copy of my announcement to Panem as well as some things I would like you to say at the announcement as well,” he states with a small grin. “Also, if you must know, there is a copy of my favorite novel in there as well, if you would like to read it over in your own time. I figured that, as fellow bookworms, you would enjoy it as much as I have over the years.”

Royce and I thank him and President Harmon nods before guiding us through his mansion, past the multitude of Avoxes cleaning the remnants of the banquet, and to the front door. The president holds the door open for us and Royce leaves first, obviously eager to be out of the man’s presence. I follow close behind, but I find an unasked question still lingering in my head. Turning back to the door, I ask, “Is that why the secret passageway was in the library? Because you love books?”

Something shines in President Harmon’s eyes as he questions, “What passageway?”

I go to respond, wanting to insist that he must know about it. Juliet told me that he used to be the Head Gamemaker and would always put an escape route in his arenas, therefore, he must know. However, I freeze as I meet his gaze, finding a mirth in them that tells me I’ve hit the nail on the head. Instead of pressing further, I allow my mouth to close and a knowing grin to take over as I wish him a good night. He bids me good night before closing the door and I allow Royce to lead me to the car that has been left for us in front of the house. We ride back to the Training Center and find our way up to my floor where everyone is waiting by the elevator, ready to press us for answers as to what happened with the president. Once their interrogations are over, Royce and his group go to their floor, and the rest of us head to bed for the night.

The rest of our time in the Capitol flies by faster than one of the hovercrafts. My nerves throughout the interview feel as though they’ve been shot at and I can’t remember much of anything I said apart from expressing just how whirlwind my relationship with Royce has been and how much I adore him, which is reciprocated with ease on Royce’s part. We’re brought up to our rooms to take what we wish to bring with us and I make sure to have Bissette’s hair stick in my bag before I worry about anything else. I’ve yet to remove Riven’s bracelet, my mom’s necklace, or my glasses, so all of my possessions from home are already set aside, but I do take quite a few things from my closet for the trip back to 3.

We’re driven through the Capitol streets in a car with blackened windows and eventually board the train. As there isn’t much distance between our districts, we’re allowed to ride the train together, which almost fills the gap I feel at not being able to bring Riven home with me. Once we’ve settled, the train begins moving and we’re plunged into the dark of night. At first, I go to my room to try to see if maybe I can speak with Mick again as I know she laughed at me when I was on stage at the crowning ceremony, but nothing happens, so I resign to eating with the others and watching a replay of the interview. The further away the Capitol is, the more I feel myself relax, but I can’t bring myself to be completely calm about the situation. I’ve still lost one of my closest friends and, sadly, this isn’t like the situation with Mick. The next time I’ll probably see Riven is at his funeral once the festivities have calmed and the Capitol sends the bodies home. Until then, I just have to deal with things like I always do - overworking myself.

I excuse myself to change into something more comfortable and slowly work on taking apart everything the prep team and Juliet built up so much. As I’m slipping into a pair of shorts, a quiet knock tells me someone is at my door. I open it to find Royce and welcome him in, asking him why he’s here. “I wanted to ask you something,” he starts and I can see the tension in his shoulders as he perches himself on the edge of my bed. 

“Go ahead,” I reply with a shrug as I sit in front of my vanity again, hoping the streaks of color I’ve begun wiping from my face in the mirror won’t deter him.

“Can I stay with you?” he breathes. “I tried staying in my room and I just… I can’t. It’s too quiet and cold.”

A soft breath of a laugh leaves me as I swivel my chair to face Royce, “I was going to ask you the same thing once I was done cleaning up.”

“You were?”

I hum, “I don’t like being alone anyway, but I may or may not have gotten attached to sleeping beside you. I was going to ask, but you beat me to it.”

Royce’s smile returns and pride fills me as I go back to cleaning my melting raccoon-esque face in the mirror. After a while, we leave the room to bid the others good night and disappear into the room we now declare as ours. It takes us both a while to fall asleep as we both take to talking, but after a while, it comes and we sleep nearly all the way to District 3. In the morning, we’re awoken by a swan-diving Kona who laughs like a little maniac at our expressions before being dragged away by Butchy who reprimands her for bothering us before coming back and telling us we’re nearing the station. Over breakfast, the others inform us that we’ll be docking in District 3 and staying there for the night before taking the trip to District 6 tomorrow where I’ll stay for a night before we split off and go our separate ways. Royce and I wait by the windows, watching as the scenery outside changes from a sunny sky and endless grass to the depths of a glowing tunnel that signifies we’re nearing the station. Watching through the window, I can feel the train slowing and see the glowing loading platforms grow larger and brighter as we near the station. A gathering of brightly flashing cameras line the platform as we come to a stop and I realize just how many people will be eagerly awaiting our arrival.

A hand appears out of the corner of my eye and I find Royce offering it for me to hold with a smile. My eyebrow raises and he asks, “Are you ready?”

“Not really,” I chuckle. Royce shares my soft laughter briefly before my fingers find their home between his and I smile, “But as long as I’m with you, I know I can handle almost anything.”

[suomeen]

Chapter 1: Discomfort zone

As the war started, the world opened up to embrace Ukrainians. But I didn’t go. The second day of war, when things looked pretty bad, I went to my sister who lives in a village in the heart of Ukraine. There we stayed in a small house with 8 people for a month and a half, until it felt safe enough to return to Kyiv.

Back then I got several concerned messages from foreign friends, offering help. One person offered to help me relocate to Germany, another even offered to stay at their house in England. I turned them down. I wasn’t desperate. I still had a home and didn’t feel eligible to go. I was also feeling excessively optimistic about the future. A few months ago, I looked back on those offers and seriously thought if I should have left back then. There was so much more support. And, as pragmatic as it may be, it was a window of opportunity. But the truth is, I was not ready.

After nearly 2 years of war, people grew weary of supporting us. And frankly, it was partly our fault. I heard lots of stories of our people acting entitled and rude, getting into fights for handouts, seemingly indifferent to the real suffering back home. And then there are a lot of us. By some estimates, 9 million people left Ukraine to go mostly for Europe. Over time, counties began to close up, the payouts and privileges got cut down. So, by the time we contemplated leaving, there weren’t many good options. The only countries who were still truly welcoming were the Baltic and Nordic countries. One of the most supportive ones was Finland. Sure, not as it used to be. At the start of war, Ukrainians could enjoy free trains and public transport and even things like zoo tickets. Little by little, it got cut down. Still, Finland was accepting Ukrainians and granting temporary protection almost to anyone with a UA passport. But the main reason for choosing it was that Mum had a friend in Finland who recently married to a local man. She had been telling us to come for a long time, offered her help, but we didn’t listen. 

For a long time, I resisted the idea of going abroad. It was too scary, too uncertain. Moving to a richer country out of convenience seemed wrong, even if a lot of people did it. And yet, things at home have only kept getting harder. There were more and more air attacks and explosions and the Winter was only beginning. The thought of leaving began to resurface.

I was desperately trying to cling to my comfort zone – my room, my PC, my things… Until there was no more comfort left. There’s no peace of mind when you sit in your corridor listening to killer drones fly in the skies above. Still, I had to ask myself “Do I deserve protection? Have I suffered enough? Sure, I heard explosions and sirens all day, had drones and missiles flying over my head, but the chances of me being actually killed are low. Surely, this isn’t for me. There are so many people who need this more.”

And then there was the guilt of leaving your country in crisis. But I realized that there was nothing I could do to help it. I admire the soldiers, the medics, the volunteers and everyone dedicating their lives to protect and help others. But I couldn’t be one of them. I don’t have it in me. I would be broken by trying. I was already broken by these two years. And I have battled depression and anxiety for most of my life. Things were hard for me and, just as I was starting to feel like maybe they might actually get better for once, it all broke down. 

Sidenote: I was the happiest I ever was in my life just before the war started. And it’s not like I won a lottery. I just got a job that I loved, that paid modestly but fairly and my health was alright. Of course, the war wasn’t a complete surprise. We have been anticipating and dreading it for months. We have joked about it at work just days before. One of our team members was Russian and I remember I made a joke about the invasion. Another colleague told me it was too much. Yeah… I was the closest to that Russian boy. He seemed very nice. Talked about wanting to work for Red Cross. Funny that, since I am now living under the protection of Red Cross here in Finland. When the war did start, all the guys from work wrote to me, asking if I was ok and if I needed help. Except the Russian boy.

It was even harder coming down from that high. But perhaps, it gave me a little reserve of resilience, a little joy I collected, like an extra life to spend. So, when shit went down, I was strangely calm and collected. I still was the first year. We were riding the high of our initial success. But hope is a volatile resource. After two years, there was nothing but burnout.

Initially, I rejected the though once again. It was too drastic and it felt like I’d just be swapping one type of stress to another. And, in a way, that was true. Though in the end, hearing sirens all day is not the same as asking strangers for directions.

But the last straw fell when I was trying to find a job. I got completely burnt out at my last job the previous year. Not to get too into it, but it paid very little and required me to write Economist-grade texts in a few hours. I remember sitting in the corridor, listening to explosions and worrying I had a text about Taylor Swift’s dogs to finish. Then came the blackouts. I was physically falling ill from the stress. So I quit. But there was nothing part-time and I couldn’t even get jobs I was ridiculously overqualified for. I tried to find something reasonable for months, but it was just no use. Finally, I passed a test for the country’s major TV channel, 1+1. They offered me a translation job. Except it wasn’t official in any way and the pay would only come some 2 months later. Also, the project was some MTV trash. I came up to my mum then and she said it wasn’t worth it. So I went “You know what? Fuck it! Maybe we should just go. It can’t be worse than this.”

So I catapulted myself out of my comfort zone way across 4 countries.

Finland threw a lifebuoy and I grabbed it.

[semper-legens]

131. Marked, by PC and Kristin Cast

Owned?: No, library Page count: 348 My summary: Zoey is just a regular teenage girl - until she is Marked, starting to change into a vampyre. She must move to the House of Night, an elite school for fledgeling vampyres, or die. But Zoey has been marked by the goddess Nyx, and pretty soon finds herself embroiled in a fight for vampyre-kind’s future. She’s changing so fast...but will she survive to become a full-fledged vampyre? My rating: Enjoyment-wise, 5/5. But for quality, it’s a 1 My commentary:

This book series is bad. No two ways about it. There are very few redeeming features about it. And yet, the whole thing fills me with a slightly-shameful and certainly unparalleled glee. I read these books when they were shiny and new, and I liked them because it was the Twilight era and I didn’t know better. Now I do! Honestly, this opening book isn’t so bad as the later ones, it gets way more batshit later on...but that doesn’t mean it’s good, either.

Zoey is such an annoying protagonist. Her POV is what I call #quirky - trying far too hard to be an awkward, kinda dorky, everywoman. The trouble is that she’s so judgemental of literally everyone she meets. She’s disdainful to her human best friend, keeps calling other girls sluts and hos without knowing anything about them, and her judgement is always right. This is to the point where the problem with mean girl Aphrodite’s midnight ritual is because she’s dancing ‘slutty’. Like, this is the actual quote: ‘It didn’t work because it seemed like a crude imitation of Neferet’s dance to ‘She Walks in Beauty’. If this music was a poem, it would be more like ‘Some Ho Grinds Her Bootie.’ There’s also a racial aspect to her POV - her friend who is black is constantly described as looking like an African princess, but Aphrodite’s mean girl friend who is black has long hair which ‘must be a good weave’. Zoey herself has Cherokee descent, which seems to exist just to make her more Special and connected to the vampyre goddess Nyx, who is also a Cherokee spirit when it suits her apparently. I do not know much about Cherokee religion and culture, but I doubt that this is it.

And yeah, this suffers from the problem that Zoey is just super special for no real reason and gets everything handed to her on a plate. Good people like her, bad people hate her. The token hot boy thinks she’s so interesting. She’s the only fledgeling to have her mark completely filled in ever (more on that later). The head of the school takes her on as a mentee. She’s connected to the goddess more than any fledgeling ever. And she doesn’t work at any of this, she just gets it handed to her. The only thing she actively does is a ritual at the end, and even that just comes to her naturally. There’s no real struggle, no real tension. All her friends are ride-or-die for her after like a week at best.

The politics of this book are also weird. I’ve mentioned the racial stuff before, but I wanna talk about Damien. He’s Zoey’s gay friend, and we’re told that Zoey hates homophobes and is totally okay with him being gay. Okay. Sure. Here’s how Zoey’s introduced to Damien. ‘And this is the token guy in our group, Damien Maslin. But he’s gay, so I don’t really think he counts as a guy.’ Damien is apparently okay with this. He acts as the stereotypical Gay Best Friend, he’s sassy, but he ‘wasn’t a swishy girly-guy; he was just a cute kid with a likeable style’. It’s so stereotypical and homophobic. There’s also this weird throughline with the vampyre kids - you’ve got four years to mature into a regular vampyre, or your body could reject the Change and you die. But the sign that you’re rejecting the Change is that you’re fat and lazy and greasy and a loser. It’s horribly fatphobic! Zoey hates ‘weird fat kids’ too, in her overly-judgemental way.

Finally, the worldbuilding here is...weird. I don’t want to be all ‘ugh vampires have to have these exact traits, no creativity allowed’, because they’re not real, people should have some freedom to put their own spin on it. That said, these vampyres don’t need to fear the light, don’t by necessity need to drink blood, don’t have fangs, have a goddess and participate in neo-Pagan rituals to honour her, have inherent magical powers, get a magical face tattoo to show they’re vampyres, are opposed by fundamentalist Christian groups...why is this about vampires, and not witches? A lot of this worldbuilding would make more sense if it was about witches. I get that this was during the Twilight vampire craze, but if this was about witches, like half of the worldbuilding weirdness would be totally eradicated.

Ugh. Fuck this book, but also, it was very fun to revisit. I did look to see if the library had the rest of the series, but it didn’t, and I’m not buying them. So, unless I find my old copies in the attic or something, farewell, House of Night! You were terrible.

Next up, a wholly better piece of YA, and a dystopian future.