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ma1dita · 3 months

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buddy system

a ‘partners in crime’ installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 4.2k

summary: (pre-established relationship) The one where he comes with you to rescue your twin brothers, Pollux and Castor. A weekend 'quest' teaches you a lot about Luke, and about yourself too. Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader

a/n: um i cant apologize for this word count and ive been looking at this for too long so fuck. Anyways do yall think Luke felt bad when he found out Castor died in battle because of his army in this universe? just me?? okay :) also trouble gets a cool magic item that makes an appearance here, kinda works like polyjuice but with smoke

(posted 2/7/24 betad by lovely ellie @lixzey might edit again when i get some sleep)

—

“No. You might be my father, but you’re crazy, man!”

You’re standing in D’s office at the Big House, and what was supposed to be a short talk before the counselors’ meeting has turned into a full-blown argument. It’s hard to focus on anything other than the words leaving your godrent’s mouth.

You’re going to pick up your little brothers.

“Those two statements are both true, kid. You’re old enough to understand that!”

They need your help.

“You’re really letting your 16-year-old daughter drive down to Florida by herself to pick up some kids she’s never met? Won’t even send me with any quest companions, or like, Grover?” you say exasperatedly, before slumping down into a seat.

“Think of it as family bonding! They’re great from what I remember. You all need to get along anyway.”

Whether it was jealousy or the sudden urge to be petty, you impulsively grab your dad’s Diet Coke and chug it, crushing the can with your fist as a tiny act of rebellion.

Another one appears on the desk and you chuck it over your shoulder. Mr. D sighs as he conjures another one, to which you do the same thing.

“I can do this all day, kid.”

“So can I, and you know if I do, we’ll be sitting here until I’m 40,” you say expectantly, tapping your fingers on the hardwood surface of his desk.

“What do you want?”

The keys to his car are a start, as well as extra pocket money—but there was something, or rather, someone missing to make sure this weekend goes as smoothly as possible.

Your smirk widens at your father, and he wonders when you’ve gotten good at playing his own game.

It’s like looking into a mirror but his worst nightmare manifested as a teenage girl.

—

There are only two things Luke can think about when he hears the sound of your laughter.

The first is that, unlike your angelic singing that could rival the Muses, your laughter takes after the sound of a maniac, an incredulous crescendo that only something curated by Hades in the deepest pits of Tartarus could produce. It was almost madness-inducing, and it went off in his brain like you were a siren (although he means the kind used for weather advisory, he too gets lured in by your laughter each time he hears it like he’s lost at sea).

Second, as he watches you storm down the lawn of the Big House, your anger brewing something comparable to a Category 5, he raises an eyebrow and thinks, well this ought to be good. Or entertaining at the very least.

“You,” you growl at him, guttural and sharp like the finger you jab into his chest, “we’re going on a quest!”

“Me?” Luke blurts, eyebrows furrowing at you.

A loud groan echoes through the grassy space between the house and the counselors as everyone looks up to see Mr. D dragging his hands down his face at the sheer thought of his daughter causing him more gray hairs.

“That’s not what we agreed on, kid!” “If you want any of your children to come back to this hellhole in one piece I need backup!” “There’s more of you?”

Both you and your dad glare at Luke now, like he’s interrupting a private conversation.

“Since when do you like asking for help, princess?”

Mr. D’s arms are crossed over his chest as he speaks to you. Though your height severely differs due to the wooden steps of the Big House, the air is palpable with fear only an Olympian could invoke, reminding the counselors that the man wearing the ugliest Hawaiian shirt known to humankind, is in fact inhuman. You, however, are standing tall in the freshly-cut grass in your combat boots with wrath that could rival Ares’ as you stare your father down like the rest of them wouldn’t get struck into the next lifetime due to your impertinence, as Annabeth loves to call it. She looks up at Luke, with her eyes conveying that she thinks you must be clinically insane, but he knows that already so he shrugs.

“I’m not asking for it, I’m demanding it. Besides, he’s like my ESA,” you say, then taking Luke by surprise as you grab him by the wrist and drag him off the front lawn. You think you can hear Beckendorf and Clarisse bite back chuckles.

“Someone tell Rodriguez he’s in charge of 11!” you yell into the air, and words of affirmation and good luck are muttered in response.

“Don’t I get a say in this, trouble?” Luke says playfully, tugging at your arm lightly but unresisting as you sigh and pull him along. Who in their right mind says no to a long weekend away from this place? Monsters and demigods be damned.

“No. Besides, they’re gonna need more luck than we do.”

“Liam, I don’t know why she trusts you, but if my daughter dies, I’ll make sure you’re next!” Mr. D yells out to your retreating figures, and all of the counselors turn to face him realizing that without you, well… that means he actually has to be in charge.

“So what’s the meeting supposed to be about, Annabelle?” Mr. D says, looking at Annabeth only knowing that she’s supposed to be the smart one—and the small girl sighs.

This is gonna be the longest weekend yet.

—

You’re speeding down I-95 with the windows down and the wind brushing through both of your hair. While Luke watches you from the passenger seat with the road signs blurring past his periphery, he also notices that it’s the first time in a while that he’s seen you this carefree. With both of you taking up counselor positions a few months ago, and your dad appointing you to be in charge of all of them (because why have a counselor for a population of one), there’s a lot about you that’s grown up in the two years you two have known each other. But what type of demigod gets to enjoy their childhood anyway, right? Luke can only remember bits and pieces of his.

“How do you even know where we’re going? I can barely read the signs,” he asks.

“Cool blessing from my stepmom. Ariadne’s chill. We talk sometimes and she likes that I keep D in check, so now I can never get lost,” you grin toothily, violet eyes flickering to meet his.

“Was it true what your dad said? That you trust me?”

His voice is a bit louder than it should be over the wind tunnel that blocks out the sound of the radio as the air whips in and out of the car.

“Well, I wouldn't say trust,” you drag out, leaning back against your seat with your eyes still on the road, “More like if I got abducted by a harpy, I think you could cut its wings off and give me a fighting chance at living.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t invite Mason to come,” he mumbles, and you smirk.

“Who?”

His hands are clenched in his lap as a blush brushes his cheeks, windswept in the rays of the late summer sun.

“Your boyfriend. Wouldn’t he be a better companion?”

Something about the older son of Apollo always ground his gears. It was even worse that you both would sing Broadway musicals together during his sparring sessions. Your harmonious voices echoing from the amphitheater aside, the repetitive grating feeling in his stomach reminds him not to go see Hamilton if he ever makes it out to the city.

“He’s not…” you huff, tapping your fingers on the steering wheel as you think hard on what to say next, “He’s nothing serious.” You pull the sun visor down as you squint, tilting your head in case he says something else, but you hear nothing. Luke’s staring at your side profile, unable to hide his grin at the new information, biting his cheek.

“Besides, he’s a fucking terrible shot. And you’re supposed to be the best, so I’ve heard. Who else would I want on this trip with me?”

He chuckles at this lightly, your words bolstering his ego.

“So you’ve heard.”

And for a second, the sight of his smile distracts you enough that the car swerves a tiny bit closer to the median. You both ignore it and keep driving.

—-

Hypnos increases his hold on your senses as you finally take a break somewhere in North Carolina, taking refuge in a dimly lit corner of a gas station parking lot. The old car reeks of greasy fast food and all the sugar Luke could get his hands on at rest stops (it was really cute to see him indulge in more normal things like sweets instead of swordsmanship), and both of your seats are leaned back, but it’s hard to get comfortable after having your butt in the same seat for several hours.

You readjust yourself again, making the car shake a bit as you turn over to face Luke.

“What’s wrong?” he mumbles through closed eyes. His head’s banged against the window one too many times, and it was starting to get annoying.

“Sorry. Just can’t sleep. Thinking too hard.”

He sighs, reaching over to toss your pillow into the backseat, and as you sit up, he rips your blanket off of you too.

“Hey!”

You go silent when you watch him make a makeshift bed for you, turning back with tired eyes as he gestures, “Go ahead. I don’t mind.”

“I feel bad, Luke. You’re taller than me and your knees almost hit the dashboard.”

He rubs at his eyes, looking at you impatiently, and you know his body is calling for comfort too.

“I’ve slept in worse conditions, you gotta remember that, trouble.” The stories Annie used to tell you about the both of them sleeping on the streets pull at your heart, and as you crawl towards the back, you move before you think rationally–tugging on his arm.

“Come on over here.”

“You sure?” “Before I change my mind, yeah.”

You both move around trying to find a place both of you can be comfortable in, first starting with your heads at opposite windows, legs tangling in the middle before he laughs a little too hard at your fumbling and you launch your pillow at his face. Awkwardly, you climb over his legs into his outstretched arms, slotting yourself against his side as he pulls your hair up from getting trapped between his shoulder and your back.

It’s deadly quiet, and Luke thinks if you could move any closer to him, you might hear his heart thundering in his chest.

“You smell like french fries,” you grumble into his sweater, and his laughter shakes you like an earthquake, uprooting the faint traces of sleep in your mind.

“At least the monsters won’t find us. Gonna be harder when the twins get here. A lot of demigod smell to ward off.”

You don’t answer, and he thinks you may have fallen asleep until he notices your hand playing with the frays of his sweater.

“Trouble?”

“They’re really little,” you mumble, so low that he barely hears the hesitance in your voice.

“The monsters? Yeah, I fucking ho–” “Pollux and Castor. My…half-siblings, with really Greek names, and a mom that depends on me getting them to camp safely…” you trail off before your head jerks up to meet his eyes. It’s colder at night now, your bodies and the tiny throw blanket from your trunk providing ample heat even if his socked feet fight their way out from underneath.

“How old are they, nine?” He feels you nod against his chest before he continues, “I was nine when I left home.”

Your eyes get glassy at the thought of a smaller version of Luke, one who’s not all gangly legs and lean muscle—one much softer and innocent than the boy you lean your weight upon, running away from home to find a place he can belong.

“I didn’t know that. I’m sorry.”

He shrugs, the arm propped against the headrest wrapping around you and resting on your hip, tapping you to continue your previous thought.

“I don’t know how to do this, I guess. I’m ripping them from their home and I—” “You’re not some kind of monster y’know? You put yourself down too much sometimes,” he sighs, and he watches the windows slowly start to fog up, “What don’t you know how to do?”

Ignoring his question, you change the subject hoping to talk about something lighter, and far less revealing to the thoughts inside your head.

“Do you remember all of that? Going to school and chalking up the sidewalks on the way home, hopscotch and ice cream trucks… I don’t want to take them away from that.”

Luke ponders, digging through his brain for anything happy from his childhood, but through the years his memories started to collect dust in the back of his mind.

“I don’t remember much.”

“Gods, I’m sorry…”

Mason had told you of your habit of putting your foot in your mouth. You dealt in extremes, giving too much or too little, always saying the wrong thing—and it was the reason why things didn’t go further with the son of Apollo. As well as with the daughter of Aphrodite you saw briefly that told you you didn’t know how to love, not if you didn’t know how to share yourself with others (yeah that one hurt a lot).

Sharing.

That’s what you’re hesitant about.

“Don’t be. It was a long time ago now,” Luke mumbles, a beat of silence passing before he redirects the conversation like you did, “What don’t you know how to do, trouble?”

“How to share. Be a sibling. Someone likeable.”

Luke doesn’t mean to laugh at your expense, but he does, and you punch his stomach hard enough he gasps for air.

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. Everyone likes you.”

“Everyone’s usually scared of me because of D, or hates me because I take dessert privileges and write them up,” you say matter-of-factly, staring out the window above his head at the gentle shine of the moon on his features. It’s a crime for him to look so soft under the low light, and you realize you’re staring when he calls your name.

“No, you don’t get it—you’re the most selfless person I know. You give up sleep to sing to kids before bed, conjure juice boxes so they don’t pass out during training—I’ve seen you carry a kid almost as tall as you across camp because they broke their ankle. You’ve got a lot of love in that twisted heart of yours. I’d know… I mean—I have to share a lot… I’m basically an expert.”

You blink at him as if seeing him in a new light, and you realize then why you picked him to go on this weekend quest with you. Your heartbeat slows despite the show of vulnerability in front of him, and you understand now that Luke makes you feel safe. Biting your lip to hold back a sigh, you decide to just unload the rest of your thoughts, knowing that you’re in the hands of someone who wants to hold the weight. “I’m just used to being alone, I think. I mean who knows what we're like when we're alone but us, right? What a terrifying thought,” you deflect, and Luke closely watches the slope of your nose, down to the smoothness of your lips, unable to put the right words to how he’s feeling.

I know you, he thinks, and it's not as all bad as you make it seem.

“We’re never truly alone, y’know. Besides, even if you are, you still have me,” he says nonchalantly, and the warmth on your cheeks could generate enough heat to run the car for miles. Chuckling lightly as your eyes flutter closed, you know you need to rest before morning comes since you’re the only one between the two of you that can drive. You reckon you’ll teach Luke by the end of the year if he wants to.

“We’re getting pretty terrible at this enemies thing, Castellan,” you jest with nothing hard to back it, and a smile falls onto both of your lips.

“We were never really enemies, trouble. I just like getting on your nerves.”

Your laughs fall silent, settling into a comfortable silence, until his next words send you off into slumber as you listen.

“I remember my mom singing in the kitchen as she put peanut butter on my sandwiches. She'd act like she left the dishes out for me to wash, but let me lick the knife clean every time and I’d put too much soap and the sink would be filled with bubbles. I don't remember much else but that. Her kitchen. She smelled like…chamomile.”

A wandering hand pulls his free one into yours, holding it until sunrise.

—-

You push Pollux and Castor out the door before the sun rises after a short stay at their mother’s house, and as the engine heats up, you and Luke watch them say goodbye to her with the both of you thinking of last words with your own. The both of you ward off the hellhounds biting off at your heels for a few hours like how you deceived the police the day previous, a purple Zippo lighter in hand whose smoke grants temporary illusions wafting through the car, and it smells like grapes (thanks D!). The kids sleep most of the way, none the wiser and heavy with sleep and their emotions of leaving everything they’ve ever known. Your eyes flicker to their sleeping heads in the rearview mirror, ready to take them home.

Hours later, Luke decides to make you stop at a diner to get you a bit of rest, get actual food, and let the twins pee, and your head is bobbing slightly in front of your plate of food once he brings them back from the bathroom.

“You wash your hands?” you say tiredly, both Pollux and Castor shaking wet hands in your face in response, making you giggle before sipping at your coffee. Luke cut you off from Redbull yesterday, saying he was scared for your liver and saying you needed to drink something else for a bit. He bristles at the sight of you drinking more caffeine, and you smile as the mug touches your lips.

“You’re gonna kill yourself one day. At least your dad drinks Diet Coke.”

“Not by choice, though what a way to go!” you joke, and the twins giggle as the both of them gulp down root beer like it’s essential to their being. Luke sighs at the idea of you having two minions under your belt, who you’ll most definitely train to raise hell on Camp Half-Blood now that you’ve taken more of the administrative side of things.

“Is he your boyfriend, sissy?” Pollux, or maybe it’s Castor pipes up, swinging his legs under the table and you smile at the sound of the nickname, noticing the dimple in his cheek. Luke chokes on his burger, coughing until you elbow him.

“He’s more of my ESA,” you remark, and he still doesn’t know what that is, so he raises an eyebrow like your brothers do as they peer up at you from across the table.

“What’s an ESA?” Castor, you realize, who has no dimples, spits out behind munches of a pickle.

“Luke’s my emotional support animal.”

He eats the rest of your fries despite your confidence in that response, grumbling exactly how a resistant dog would.

As you’re paying the bill, a large shadow looms over the sunny disposition of everyone at your table—and then Luke shouts for everyone to cover their eyes. Glass shatters over you, revealing a hellhound the size of a minivan, and it pounces toward the twins, large teeth bared at their throats. Before Luke can pull his sword out, you whistle sharply and the sound whizzes through the air like a bullet as you toss the Zippo lighter at him as he’s pushing the kids to the car. Though he’s reluctant to lose sight of you, he wards them with an illusion, locking the doors despite their cries and he runs headfirst back into battle, you with your thyrsus and him with his sword, back to back.

“They okay?” you heave, jabbing at the red-eyed canine between the eyes as Luke pulls around to slash it across the neck, coming out of the tussle unscathed as you both watch it keel over at your feet into golden dust minutes later.

“Yeah. Are you?”

Though you originally found it funny, Luke does perform his job well, getting you to calm down as he holds you to his chest until you can breathe normally again.

“Mhm. Just scared me.”

The two of you run out of the destroyed diner and into the warded-off car before the police show up hand in hand as you escape without detection. As he falls asleep, Castor dreams that you two are Bonnie and Clyde like in an old Western movie he was definitely not old enough to watch.

—-

You’re finally back on the Island now, only an hour away from Montauk and Luke is getting restless in the passenger seat. He pulls apples out of his backpack, wiping them off with his shirt as you sing along to a Taylor Swift song playing on the radio.

And maybe someday when we’re older, this is something we’ll laugh about…. Foolish one… you hum, tapping the wheel to fight off your exhaustion.

Pollux and Castor are using their fingers to pretend to hop over obstacles in the smudged windows, babbling about something they did in class last week. The son of Hermes pulls out a pocketknife he nicked from a gas station this morning as he starts to cut the apples into pieces, putting some into a ziploc bag for the boys to share, and you smile at him, wistful at your trip nearing its finish line. If you weren’t enemies before this like he said, it’s crazy to consider him your closest friend. But he is, isn’t he?

His knuckles nudge yours over the console, pressing an apple slice into your palm.

“You know, Castellan, you’re sweet when you want to be. Shame you and that sister of Annie’s didn’t work out.”

Luke scoffs at the reminder of his ex, slicing another piece off for you to eat. She did say he had wandering eyes…always looking for you. He’s not going to admit that though.

“I just know you like your apples cut. Saw you battling it out with a butter knife last week. Couldn’t help but notice,” he says lowly like it’s normal for people to be that considerate about others, normal for him to care about you like that, a constant push and pull between you two.

“Hurts my teeth,” you mutter, and Luke chortles like you’ve told him something life-changing. Your hand bumps into his again, feeling nothing but his calloused fingers, and when you look up his cheek protrudes with the last slice.

“Tax,” he winks, and you’re delirious with this feeling that only he can bring you, almost comparable to being high.

The popstar’s voice continues to trill in the background, with my head in my hands, saying “How could I not see the signs?”

You both don’t realize you’ve stopped singing until Pollux pipes up asking for you to play Fireball by Mr. 305 himself.

—-

The car finally pulls into the driveway of the forest path and you’re all greeted by the campers holding blazing lanterns. Chiron, your father, and the nymphs are waving as the twins marvel at the fairy lights strung up along the way for a warm welcome.

“You’re alive,” your dad remarks, and this time he doesn’t say it in jest, sounding more relieved.

“I was in good hands,” you affirm, looking up at Luke amongst the noise of your cheering friends and the feeling that comes with calling this place home.

The boys are tucked in at your side, shyly looking at the crowd, Pollux holding your hand while Castor holds onto Luke’s, and Chiron calls your attention.

“I know you didn’t get your official announcement,” he starts, and you laugh at that, remembering the bubbles in the lake.

“Because I pulled a fast one on D.”

“Nonetheless, I would love for you to get recognized for your efforts. Dionysus. Storyteller, Herald of Chaos,” he continues by announcing your name, and then,” Pollux, and Castor– children of the grapevine, the God of Wine!”

The campers are kneeling and you look at Luke, who’s smiling from the ground beside you.

“Take a picture, trouble, it’ll last longer.”

“My children are home safe. And thank you, Castellan, for being a formidable companion. My deepest appreciation.” Mr. D sounds serious for once, pulling Luke up as he nods in respect.

It’s a crazy feeling to finally feel at home though you’ve been here for two years now. But you remind yourself quickly of why that is when you see Luke carrying Pollux on his shoulders as Castor latches onto his legs.

“You know, your family is a nightmare. You two hellions will fit right in,” he grins.

You can’t help but agree.

—

“I hadn’t told them about you, but they saw you bathing in my eyes. I hadn’t told them about you, but they saw you in my written words. The perfume of love cannot be concealed.” -Nizar Qabbani

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#luke castellan x dionysus!reader #luke castellan x reader fanfic #luke castellan x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo x reader #luke castellan fluff #made by ma1dita ♥︎#trouble!verse #thank you for reading my love ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

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heavensbeehall · 2 months

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"Mockingjay", Chapter 8

Part 1: The Ashes

Chapter 8: Boggs carries Katniss back to the hovercraft. She vomits on him. Katniss wakes up in her mother's hospital area. Mrs. Everdeen was not told that Katniss was going anywhere. They want to roll her hospital bed directly into Command but she wants to walk (our girl never wants to look weak) and they compromise on a wheelchair. She learns the names of her "insect" cameramen, Castor and Pollux. Pollux is an Avox. She worries the Mockingjay Agreement will be voided--and that Peeta might be hurt--because she didn't follow Boggs' orders, but no one has ratted her out to Coin. Coin "reruns" the first propo which has been aired in all the Districts already. Everyone is pleased, except Fulvia and Haymitch. But Cressida expertly placates Fulvia. So Gale wheels Katniss back to the hospital and she wakes up with an irritated Haymitch at her bedside. He resents (and probably was frightened by) her removing her earpiece. He threatens her with a "head shackle" or implanting a chip in her ear, also he ate her lunch. In the hospital, Finnick and Katniss watch a second propo air together. They are surprised to see another interview with Peeta aired after. Finnick helps Katniss by coming up with a lie that they did not see the interview. No one tells Katniss aboutg it.

I want to take off my vest, since I got a fair amount of vomit on it as well, but it's too cold to think about it. I lie on the floor with my head in Gale's lap. The last thing Iremember is Boggs spreading a couple of burlap sacks over me.

I'm going to point out all the Dad-ly things Boggs does as evidence of my theory that he helps Katniss with her trauma about her own dad's death (and also not having anyone look after her, just her looking after Prim and her mom at a young age). The fact that she vomits on him and he "sighs" is my favorite dad thing. Like she's an infant who just spit up.

They more than do their work, they take pride in it. Like Cinna.

I have a strange thought that if we were in the arena together, Iwould pick them as allies...

There's a theme of art and artists being the heart of the resistance in these books. Obviously Cinna and many of the Stylists were rebels, as was Tigris. Here we see that Cressida and her team also has that same Cinna-vibe. So filmmaking can be an artform, but the Hunger Games is not. Anyway, keep this in mind for the "76th" Hunger Games.

Coin and Gale are in the midst of some exchange that seems positively chummy. When Gale slides into the seat next to my wheelchair, I say, "Making new friends?" His eyes flicker to the president and back. "Well, one of us has to be accessible." He touches my temple gently. "How do you feel?"

His trust of Coin is going to get him into trouble. I want to yell at him to stop talking to her!

At least Finnick doesn't applaud or act all happy when it's done. He just says, "People should know that happened. And now they do."

I am glad Katniss has Finnick here. He gets it and a way others don't.

Peeta's physical transformation shocks me. The healthy, clear-eyed boy I saw a few days ago has lost at least fifteen pounds and developed a nervous tremor in his hands. They've still got him groomed. But underneath the paint that cannot cover the bags under his eyes, and the fine clothes that cannot conceal the pain he feels when he moves, is a person badly damaged.

Katniss realizes the first interview was taped earlier, and that Peeta has been tortured. How long, approximately, was he being tortured for, do we know?

In a minute, people will be here to do damagecontrol on Peeta's condition and the words that came out of his mouth. I will need to repudiate them. But the truth is, I don't trust the rebels or Plutarch or Coin. I'm not confident that they tell me the truth. I won't be able to conceal this. Footsteps are approaching. Finnick grips me hard by the arms. "We didn't see it."

Again, Peeta manages to make decent points in his interview even though he is obviously being forced to say certain things. Finnick, who is now--in my opinion--almost functioning in the role Peeta would usually occupy, again understands implicitly and comes up with a convincing lie for her.

#cressida #castor #pollux #boggs #finnick odair #cinna #art #thg reread #mockingjay

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4-horsemen-of-the-riordanverse · 3 years

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Why The Percy Jackson Adaptation Should Be Animated

We can have Heroes of Olympus/Trials of Apollo/Magnus Chase series

Percy shows up in four of Rick’s five (at this time) mythology series, those four series have eighteen books spanning six years

Even if Disney could crank out say three in two years, that’s still twelve years, the actors playing Percy, and Annabeth, and Grover, and Thalia, and Clarisse, and many more will be in their twenties when all the books are covered and that’s on a sped up timeline that is unlikely to work in reality

The reality is, we probably won’t get a Heroes of Olympus television series and we definitely won’t get a Trials of Apollo or Magnus Chase series, which is sad as many favorite characters won’t be seen

Grover, Thalia Chiron, and the Gods won’t age

Yes, technically Grover does age, so that title is a bit of a misnomer, but he ages slower than the others, either the whole he’s actually twenty-eight, but satyrs age slower will need to be axed, or he will have to be played by an adult so that he doesn’t age, which will look strange since he’s suppose to look fourteen/fifteen for the entire series

Grover is only a small problem though, how are they going to deal with Artemis or Hestia, both of whom are portrayed as very young ages, the twelve year old playing Artemis will be fourteen, minimum (though, if we want good cgi, she’ll be more likely around sixteen) by the time the show reaches The Last Olympian

Plus, Thalia is suppose to stop aging at fifteen, again, I suppose an adult could play her, it isn’t unheard of for adults to play fifteen/sixteen year olds, but unless they get an actor with a serious baby face, she’ll stand out amongst the children and teens playing the other characters

It’ll be bearable to watch in ten years

Cgi is improving everyday, which is great....until you watch something that’s more that a few years old, when we have newer and better cgi, the monsters and action of Percy Jackson is going to look....well we’ll remember that it looked good once

That is, if they pay attention to details, skimming over detail, especially when making living things with cgi, you risk falling into the uncanny valley (I’m most of us have seen at least a clip of Lion King 2019), if something is off, we will notice, even if we can’t place why

We can have it sooner

Animation for animated series are easier to make than animation for live action series, they don’t have to worry about matching the lighting and shadows because they get to choose the lighting and shadows, no need to worry how the actors are interacting with the animated monster (ex. the Percy actor bumps into Mrs. O’Leary, then goes to pet her, but moves his hand too far forward and now that has to be accounted for)

The battles will probably cause the most delays, anyone watch Game of Thrones? remember how long the final season took to get out? that was because of the major battles spanning multiple episodes, which is exactly what The Last Olympian will be

They wouldn’t have to use child actors

This isn’t a bash on child actors, there are some good ones out there, what I’m concerned about is the children’s well being

Ever read or watch an interview from an ex child actor, especially Disney child actors, it’s brutal and takes a toll on their mental health, there’s even instances where the child doesn’t want to act, their parents are forcing them to

If on the extremely rare chance someone from the Percy Jackson crew is reading this please: let the kids play when they aren’t filming, don’t make them feel guilty for eating, shield them from the inevitable criticism that always comes with an adaption, take care of them, very few people do these things and kids get messed up from that

It’ll be easier to relate to the characters

Acting just doesn’t doesn’t have the same feel as animation, especially when the actors are new to acting

Acting is obvious, we ignore that it is because that’s how you watch live action, but rarely will it ever not feel like people repeating back lines they memorized, that the expressions are calculated and filmed 20 times over to get it right

Animation doesn’t have that, characters feel real, not like they’re acting because they aren’t, making it a lot easier to relate to them

None of the fight scenes will have to be cut

These are children playing these characters, obviously fights scenes are going to be cut and the ones kept are going to be simplified, these kids will probably have limited fighting experience and even if they don’t, they can’t hire children to play stunt doubles for safety reasons, so they won’t do anything too risky

Just imagine the fight scene between Ares and Percy in The Lightning Thief, they’ll probably hire a bigger guy to play Ares, comparing that to tiny Percy, the battle is probably going to look more like a dance number with every movement scripted as to keep Percy’s actor safe

It supports social distancing

Social distancing is still important and animation is easier to do social distanced

We could see every part of camp, not just the parts they built sets of

Camp is big and fantastical and probably will be barely shown, that’s a lot of set to build, so they probably won’t see it all

The big house, interior of the Poseidon, Athena, and Hermes cabins, and the mess hall will most likely be made, but the lava wall? the forge? doubtful

It’s easier to replace actors

Like I mentioned before, there are 18 books if they were willing to make them all, even if /magnus Chase and Kane Chronicles were made along side instead of in between, a lot of actors, especially child actors, don’t want to be stuck playing a character for that long

while no one shows up in ever book, some characters get dropped and brought back, which when being adapted causes actors to be replaced, the actor playing Will in The Last Olympian will probably not be the actor playing Will in Blood of Olympus (that is, if they even make Heroes of Olympus)

They won’t have to sacrifice the small details

Wouldn’t it be cool to have a Nico and Bianca cameo in the Lotus scene? won’t happen, what about characters slowly getting more scars after each battle to symbolize the trauma half-bloods carry with them? Luke will probably be the only character with a scar, see a background character that resembles minor characters like Drew or Kayla or Castor and Pollux? that’s not going to happen

Small details that make the story will be tossed to the side, mostly because it isn’t feasible in live action, I think the Lotus scene is the best example, seeing Nico and Bianca there in the background would be so cool, but they don’t age in the Lotus hotel, and it’ll take probably 14 to 18 months to make a season, let’s say 14 months for now, that’s over two years between their cameo and they’re actual appearance, a very obvious difference when discussing 10 and 12 year olds

All in all, this is just in my opinion and preference

Will I still watch if it’s live action, of course, it’s Percy Jackson

It won’t be as good as something animated and I’m sad I’ll never see some of my favorite characters on the big screen, but at least we’ll be getting a decent adaptation

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fategranddisorder · 3 years

Text

Busy (Dioscori) -Request-

Warnings: slight obsession, fluff

Busy, you are always busy. If you weren’t preparing for a new lost belt, there are events you get roped into and not to mention everything that happens when a holidays comes around. Last but not least there are all the servants that call upon your last bit of free time.

Reading stories and playing with the younger servants. Playing mediator when a family drama ensues.

"Ah Dioscori!"

At the sound of your voice the twins stop their own conversation to look at you.

"Attached to hip as ever I see" you say with a smile, no malice behind your words, just a teasing lit.

Castor, as per usual, scowls "of course, we don't need anybody else, least of all humanity's last master." Even as you managed to max their trust towards you, Castor remained rather standoffish.

Pollux shakes her head at her brother. "Don’t mind him, do you need anything from us? We are always happy to lend a hand"

You shrugged. "It is alright, I know he means well.."

At your comment Castor sputters slightly before huffing causing you and Pollux to snicker.

"Anyway, I was wondering…" you start but before you finish your request a familiar voice calls you out.

Mash easily forces her way into the conversation, the twins stop listening as soon as you stop talking. Their pale blue eyes focusing on you.

How your lips twitch downward ever so slightly at the mention of another request. Before twisting upwards to a smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes.

You shift your weight from one foot to another, your gaze shifting from Mash to the twins. Noticing you had their full attention you open your mouth to something but snap it shut as Mash grabs your hand.

"We have to hurry senpai!" And Mash pulls you away from Dioscori.

Castor eyes narrows at that, the nerve of that demi servant. Firstly interrupting their time with you before rudely whisking you away.

You are his master, their master.

Pollux notes the change is her brother's demeanour and quickly calms him by grabbing his hand.

Before Mash and you round the corner, still find a moment to wave and smile at the twins.

Pollux returns your sentiment quickly and even Castor, before he even notices his own actions, raises his hand to wave.

Both of them notice that, even briefly, your smile reaches your eyes before you disappear behind the corner.

"Hmm Master is always so busy" Pollux mumbles as you get dragged away from the twins by your ever doting kouhai.

Not doting enough, in Pollux her opinion, as they could see fagitude clearly on your face and Castor clicks his tongue.

Pollux knows her brother shares her sentiment, they would do a much better job. You are burning the candle at both ends and it needs to stop, they need to make it stop.

Maybe it was the Avenger class of Castor, he is feeling awfully vengeful at everybody and everything just taking and taking every bit of your time but never giving you a moment to rest.

Castor grips his sisters hand more tightly before starting a brisk pace. Pollux doesn't say a word, knowing exactly what her brothers thoughs are. They are one and the same servant after all.

It was not hard to find you napping in an unusual place.

Castor scowls as Pollux pets your head. You are sleeping soundly while sitting behind a desk. Resting your head on your arms. The desk is scattered with papers and reports.

Was this the 'emergency' that demi servant had to drag you away from? The absolute audacity.

"Master looks so peaceful, right?" Pollux notes fingering some strands of your hair through her fingers.

Castor huffs but doesn't disagree with his sister. Pollux only smiles slyly.

"Don't be like that brother, I saw how you looked when that demi servant dragged our master away. You would have killed that girl on the spot but you knew it would only sadden our Master. "

Castor flushes, the tips of his ears turning red as his sister calls him out ruthlessly. He is glad you are sleeping, you would never let him hear the end of it.

"Well then, let's tuck master in"

Castor nods and hesitates. Pollux gives her brother an expectant look.

"Come on now, I know you are dying to princess carry our master to the bedroom."

With a roll of his eyes he manages to pick you up without waking you up. Acting like it is a chore, even before his dear sister.

Maybe it is because Pollux is his sister that he doesn’t want to give her the satisfaction that, like with her, you wormed your way into his heart.

Pollux holds her tongue as she sees her brother cradling you to his chest, his lips quirked up into a small smile. Deciding not to tease her brother about his obvious affection for you.

When they entered your room it was of no surprise that the demi servant was about to join them and Pollux blocked the way into the room.

As Mash opened her mouth to protest Pollux interrupted her, she wasn’t about to let that demi servant intrude a second time.

"I am sorry girl, but Master is exhausted at the moment. We would appreciate it if you could let her rest." Pollux spoke, Mash felt the underlying threat in the words of the Saber and Mash was about to protest but was again halted, this time by the brother.

"If you know what is good for you, you will leave Shielder. We like take care of Master, properly"

Castor is not above using a threatening tone, looking over his shoulder at the unwelcome servant at the door.

His eyes narrowed in a glare.

Mash swallows, but doesn't protest. Feeling hurt and guilty that she didn't notice your fagitude.

"Oh and could you let everyone else know to let up with all the demands? Or we might intervene and we won't be so kind"

They weren’t kind right now, but Mash only nods. It felt wrong to leave you with the twins but they outmatched her easily. Plus the twins had only your best interest at heart. Right?

So without further protest Mash left causing only further ire with the twins.

"What a horrible girl, when it doesn't suit her strength, she just disappears." Pollux huffs.

"It is to be expected from common humans" Castor sneers, sitting himself on the bed.

"So you finally admit that Master isn't a common human?" Pollux goads her brother and the Avenger stiffens and averts his gaze away from Pollux and to you.

"Then I guess it is up to us to protect and guide Master." Pollux concludes, back to her own cheerful demeanour.

You never put a lot of thought into why you suddenly had more free time or could have a proper night's sleep. Or why you found one or both twins hanging around you more often.

"Master"

Looking up from your tablet you smile as you see Castor and Pollux. The twins quickly take a place on either side of you on the couch. Pollux, as per usual more in your personal space and Caster just barely. Yet he never moves away as an over excited justle from Pollux pushes you closer to him.

It makes them happy to see that you don't look tired anymore. To see you smile and laugh in earnest again

#reader #dioscuri x reader #fgo #fate/grand order #k.writes✒#dioscuri

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everlarkficexchange · 3 years

Text

Hanging in the Balance

Written by: @ameliaodair

Prompt #29: I want to request a fic where Katniss and Peeta almost lose their first child and it makes their love and relationship even stronger. [submitted by anonymous]

The prompt pretty much says it all. On their way to visit Katniss’s mother, Katniss, Peeta, and their daughter fight for their lives. When Peeta wakes from the devastating crash, his life— and Katniss’s are forever changed as their sweet, baby girl has the fight of her life, with her life hanging in the balance.

Thanks to the amazing @taylerwrites for her magical beta skills!

Rated T for difficult situations

Warnings: (almost) losing a child

Hanging in the Balance

“How long has it been since the last time we saw your mother?” Keeping his eyes focused on the road and his hands firmly gripped on the steering wheel, Peeta glanced over to Katniss, his beautiful wife of six years.

“I don’t know, maybe … Actually, I think the last time we saw her was just after Prim was born; oh my god, I can’t believe it’s been that long. Oh, Peeta, did you rem—” Katniss tensed up, thinking they had forgotten an important item on their checklist.

“Calm down, Katniss. Trust me,” Peeta gave his wife a charming, yet reassuring smile and reached for her hand. “I went over the list three times before we even left the house, and then once more after loading the car up. We didn’t forget a single thing. And if, by chance, there is something we forgot, I’m sure it can be duplicated at the nearest department store.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Katniss murmured, catching a glimpse of the back of their daughter’s head before slowly relaxing into the passenger seat next to her husband.

“In fact, I’m almost certain we brought enough stuff with us to stay for a year,” Peeta gently joked with his wife, in hopes of easing her nerves. He knew the real reason for Katniss’s high-strung demeanor, and her incessant need to be in complete control. She had lost her younger sister when she was just a little girl and it nearly broke her. Peeta still wasn’t convinced she had recovered from that loss.

Katniss and Peeta were childhood sweethearts. While Peeta knew from the moment he entered his kindergarten classroom that he was destined to be with the beautiful girl with the stunning grey eyes, raven-colored braids down either side of her face, and a voice that could bring a stuttering, toothpaste-stained shirt little boy to his knees, it took Katniss a little longer. It required some convincing, but Peeta was persistent and finally, at seven-years-old, Katniss accepted his friendship-invitation. And the lovesick fool that Peeta was decided he would take what he could get. So, for years, they were friends— best friends.

Peeta was there the day Katniss’s sister, Prim, died. He had sat next to Katniss, gripping her hand like a lifeline while they stood vigil by Prim’s bedside, and watched as she took her final breaths. And it broke him too, but not like Katniss. She was devastated beyond belief— for so long. And for so many years after that devastating tragedy, Katniss vowed to never have children … she could not bear to love another person with so much of her heart, only to have them ripped from her life. They dated for five years before she finally agreed to marry him. And then it was another four years before she agreed, and quite apprehensively, to try for a family.

“I think I’m going to get off at the next stop for some gas and we can stretch our legs. It’ll be nighttime soon and I’d rather you guys not wander around in the dark in some backwoods city I don’t know.”

“You worry too much, Peeta,” Katniss chided, taking Peeta’s hand and entwining their fingers. She brought their conjoined hands up to her lips and placed a kiss against the crest of his knuckles. That’s why they were perfect together— because they balanced each other out. When one was overcome with fear and anxiety, the other was always there to level the other one out.

Peeta got off at the next exit and followed the signs to the nearest gas station, which was less than a mile away.

“Don’t go to the Shell, go to SHEETZ,” Katniss pleaded with her husband when she saw the direction he was headed.

“Why? Shell has better gas.”

“SHEETZ has cleaner bathrooms. Please baby,” Katniss whined, knowing the use of the pet name, in addition to giving him the wide, puppy-dog-eyes would be enough to melt his hesitation.

“Okay,” he conceded, “Anything for my girls,” he gave Katniss’s hand another squeeze as he stopped at the four-way intersection and then gently accelerated on the gas when he saw the coast was clear. Ever since their daughter, Prim was born, Peeta drove like an old man instead of a man in his late twenties— precious cargo and all.

“PEETA!!!!!” Katniss screamed when a set of headlights came barreling straight for them.

“Mr. Mellark? Mr. Mellark, can you hear me?” Peeta opened his eyes and tried to sit up. “Mr. Mellark, how many fingers am I holding up?” The uniformed man asked him as he waved his fingers in front of his face and shined a flashlight into his eyes.

“Three. Where’s my wife? Where is Prim?” Peeta responded, shoving the medic’s hand out of his face as he attempted to sit up again. “Where am I?” Peeta demanded, turning his head from side to side, surveying the small space he was in and called for his wife, “Katniss?” But she wasn’t anywhere in sight; as far as he could see, he was alone in the ambulance with these three strangers— medics.

“Sir, please calm down. You were in an accident. My name is Pollux and I am a paramedic. You have sustained some rather severe injuries. We are rushing you and your family to the nearest hospital.”

Adrenaline flooded Peeta’s veins, his heart accelerated until he was fuming, “WHERE is my wife and my daughter? Where are they? Are they okay? Please, you have to tell me,” he demanded, oblivious to the steadily increasing beeping in the background and needing some answers before his anxiety consumed him.

“They were air-lifted from the scene of the accident; we should be arriving at the hospital any moment now. We’ll know more upon arrival,” Pollux offered sympathetically and craned his neck to his shoulder to speak into the microphone attached to his uniform, “Hey Castor, what’s our ETA?”

Peeta didn’t realize there was already an IV connected into his arm, or that the paramedic injected something into it, which was the reason everything went black.

2 days later:

“Well! There are those marvelous blue eyes I have been hearing about! Good morning Mr. Mellark, my name is Dr. Trinket.”

When Peeta opened his eyes, everything was fuzzy at first. He blinked a few times until his vision slowly adjusted, and this Dr. Trinket came into view. She was a beautiful doctor, there was no denying that. Probably in her mid to late thirties with short, curly, blonde hair— so blonde it almost looked pink … and she was in the traditional hospital scrubs you normally see doctors wearing.

‘Seriously, bright pink scrubs?’ Peeta thought, wondering if he could go blind just by looking at her for too long.

“Can you tell me your name and date of birth?” Dr. Trinket asked him, shining a light into his eyes. “Good, good. Pupils are equal and reactive.”

Peeta recited his name and birthday for Dr. Trinket, and she nodded, satisfied with his response. “Do you know where you are?” Dr. Trinket asked, checking his reflexes.

“Um … a hospital?” Peeta thought that seemed obvious.

“And do you recall the circumstances that brought you here?”

Peeta closed his eyes and tried to pull the memory from his mind, only to come up empty.

“Mr. Mellark, you were in an accident,” Dr. Trinket began filling in the blanks for him, “You suffered a slight concussion in addition to a hairline fracture to your femur. After assessment upon your arrival to Tribute Center Regional Medical Facilities, you were rushed into surgery to repair your injuries. You have a splint on your leg and should heal just fine. I foresee a speedy recovery as long as you stay off your legs. Do you have any questions for me?”

Flashes came sputtering back, hitting the back of his eyelids like one of those slow, stop-motion picture films from Dr. Trinket’s words. “M-my w-wife and daughter—” Peeta croaked, his voice still dry and hoarse from days of not using it.

“Nurse, nurse, can we please get Mr. Mellark some form of oral hydration to quench his thirst?” Dr. Trinket pressed the call button on the remote by his bed and spoke into the intercom, “I bet you are just parched, aren’t you Mr. Mellark?” As upbeat and gregarious as the lovely Dr. Trinket appeared to be, he was not fooled by her deflection.

Before he had the opportunity to ask about his family again, a woman with kind eyes entered the room, carrying a styrofoam pitcher of water, a small tower of cups, and a handful of straws. She poured Peeta a cup of water and offered it to him.

“Thank you,” Peeta smiled at the woman, who returned his smile, and then disappeared from the room just as quickly as she entered.

Peeta took a long sip of water through the straw and wasn’t sure anything had ever tasted so good in his life. But then he met Dr. Trinket’s eyes and asked the question that was looming over them once again, “My wife? My daughter? K-Katniss and Primrose Mellark?”

Dr. Trinket’s face fell, and then she looked at him with so much pity, which only compelled Peeta to immediately jump to conclusions.

“No, no, they can’t be!” He cried, covering his face with his hands.

“Oh, no! No, no, my apologies Mr. Mellark. Your wife currently rests in a medically induced coma. She had some minor swelling on her brain, so the doctors felt it was necessary to allow her body adequate time to heal. She should be waking at any moment and her prognosis is optimistic!”

Peeta took another sip of water and braced himself for what came next, “And P-Primrose, m-my daughter?” Peeta faltered, afraid of her response. She was barely two years old; if he and Katniss were injured this badly, what happened to her? She was so tiny, she was—

“Your daughter’s—”

“Prim,” Peeta insisted. If his daughter’s condition was as critical as he feared, he would not allow the staff in this hospital to treat her as another ‘number’. He’d heard of horror stories and patients being neglected because of arrogant doctors. No, they would call her by her name.

“My apologies; Prim is in the pediatric intensive care unit. I do not know much about her case, but your daughter’s doctor will stop by shortly with an update on her status. I shall page him now to inform him that you are finally conscious. His name is Dr. Abernathy.”

“Okay,” Peeta nodded.

“I must warn you Mr. Mellark, Dr. Abernathy may come off a bit abrasive, his bedside manner needs much work, but—"

“Is he good? Will he save my baby?” Peeta implored; he could care less about the doctor’s bedside manner, all he cared about was if the man was good at his job. All he cared about was if he could save his baby girl.

“I may be a bit bias … but yes. He is the best. It is a fact that he is a world-renowned critical care pediatric surgeon. You will not find a more qualified physician in all of Panem.”

“O-okay, that’s good,” Peeta stuttered, feeling more optimistic as Dr. Trinket walked toward the door.

“Um … Dr. Trinket, if you don’t mind me asking, but why are you biased towards this doctor?”

“He is my husband,” Dr. Trinket answered proudly. “Oh, and please call me Effie, ‘Doctor Trinket’ is my mother … and besides, it makes me sound so old!”

“Mr. Mellark, I’m Haymitch,” a man with scruffy blonde hair covering his eyes strutted into the room. He had a white coat just like the other doctors Peeta had seen cruising the hallways, but this man looked far from any doctor he had ever met. Sure, he had the arrogance the other doctors seemed to have in spades, but he did not share the chiseled and clean-shaven faces he had witnessed on some of the other medical staff. He looked up, and above the breast pocket of this man’s jacket, the name, Dr. H. Abernathy, was inscribed in elegant script onto his coat.

So, this was Dr. Abernathy, Peeta thought. “It’s— it’s Peeta. Y-you have news about my daughter?”

“Yes, Primrose Ellis Mellark, twenty-six-month female,” Haymitch began, flipping through his notes. Then he dragged a chair across the room, its legs scraping against the floor, finally planting it next to Peeta’s bed before he took a seat in it— backwards. Dr. Abernathy— Haymitch put his notes away and crossed his arms over the back of the chair to look Peeta in the eye.

Yes, this was unlike any doctor I’ve ever come across before, Peeta thought to himself, but not necessarily in a bad way.

“Mr. Mellark, Peeta, I ain’t gonna lie to ya, yer little girl is in pretty bad shape. Thankfully, she was properly strapped in the car seat, and rear-facing at that— which is what will probably save her life. Most parents don’t follow the PAP guidelines—”

“I’m sorry, what is PAP?”

“Oh, my bad— I mean … sorry. It’s the Panem Academy of Pediatrics— you know, the guidelines— uh, the riff-raff of all the do’s and don'ts pertaining to childcare and whatnot. Anyhow, most parents turn their kids around before it’s time so they can see them … but uh— yeah— she’s beat up pretty bad, we’ve removed all the shards of glass from her skin and stitched up all the residual lacerations.” Peeta cringed at the doctor’s extensive description of his daughter. “She suffered some internal damage to her organs—”

“When c-can I see her?” Peeta stammered, interrupting the doctor and fighting back tears that were threatening to spill over.

“Soon. I’ll have someone page your nurse once she’s stabilized, and then we’ll get someone to bring ya up there. Ya got any other questions?” Haymitch asked Peeta, squirming to get out of the chair.

“Has … has anyone told Katniss— my wife?” Peeta warily asked the doctor. Part of him was hoping that Haymitch had already told her, while deep inside he knew it had to be him to deliver this crushing blow.

“No, not yet. I have to round on a few patients and then I’ll be stoppin’ by her room.”

Peeta gulped, “Would it—”

“Sure kid, it’s all yours. It’ll save me the trouble of havin’ to do it,“ Haymitch gruffed.

Geez, Dr. Trinket wasn’t kidding about his bedside manner, Peeta silently ruminated, all the while, wondering how in the world those two were married.

“Katniss? Katniss, baby, can you hear me?” One of the nurses hunted down a wheelchair and rolled Peeta into Katniss’s room. The sight of her broke his heart. She was lying there, unconscious and connected to an assortment of tubes and wires. As he sat by Katniss’s side, he found comfort in the steady beep, beep of her heart monitor, which he hoped was a good sign. He reached for her hand, holding it in his own, and closed his eyes, silently willing her to wake up.

I … I can’t do this alone; please Katniss, please wake up, with a quivering lip, he silently pleaded to her.

“Shouldn’t she be awake by now?” Peeta looked up and asked the nurse.

“I’m so sorry Mr. Mellark, but it isn’t an exact science. Patients can wake up anywhere between a few hours, to a few days once they’re weaned off the medication.” Katniss’ nurse, Annie informed him with a sympathetic smile.

“It’s okay, I understand.” Although Peeta was frustrated, he knew it wasn’t Annie’s fault and forced a smile to his lips.

Peeta wasn’t sure how much time had passed since he first arrived in Katniss’s room. He had already twice refused to return to his own room; he didn’t care about himself. All they wanted him to do in his room was rest, and he was perfectly capable of doing that from the comfort of his wife’s room, if not better. If he went back to his room all he would do is worry; at least in Katniss’s room, which was just across the hall, he could attempt getting a little rest.

“Mr. Mellark?” Annie slowly crept into the room. Peeta had fallen asleep in the chair next to Katniss’s bed, the cramp in his neck proof of the poor position he was in.

He jerked up when he heard Annie’s voice. “I know you don’t want to leave her side, but Doctor— I mean Haymitch just called and said we could bring you up to see your daughter. Would you like to—”

Peeta jolted up from his chair, forgetting about the injury to his leg for a moment until the pain shot up his spine.

“Oh no, no, no, I will get your wheelchair and take you up there. You wouldn’t make it to the elevators,” Annie smiled.

Annie rolled his wheelchair in from outside the room and wheeled Peeta to the PICU floor.

“So, does everyone call Dr. Abernathy by his first name?” Peeta tried to fill the uncomfortable silence with small talk.

Annie chuckled from behind him. “Yeah. He and Dr. Trinket— Effie; they don’t like formalities. They claim it helps eliminate the doctor/patient barrier; something about trust and bonding.” Peeta nodded and thought, ‘Yeah, I guess that makes sense.’

“Okay, I guess … I can see that. Have you worked here long? Do you know … is he a good doctor?” Peeta hoped he wasn’t being too intrusive, he just needed to know if Haymitch was as qualified to care for his daughter as Effie claimed.

“Haymitch? Oh, yes … he’s the best. If it were my son lying in a hospital bed— no matter where in the world I was, I would want Haymitch as his doctor. Heck, I would gladly pay him whatever he wanted and have him flown to whatever corner of the world I was in.”

“Wow, that’s … impressive. So, you have a son?”

“Yes, Nick is four years old,” Annie stopped and flipped her name badge over, stretching it out in front of Peeta’s line of sight to reveal a picture of a little boy with the greenest eyes, and wavy, sun kissed golden-blonde hair.

“He’s adorable … he’s going to be a heartbreaker when he’s older,” Peeta smiled, his heart aching to hold his own daughter.

“Thank you. His name is Finnick— well, Finnick Junior, after his father, but we just call him Nick. Oh, look! We’re here!”

Annie wheeled him into the PICU and spoke with one of the nurses who helped him to the “Scrub Room.” ‘Johanna’ first demonstrated the process of “scrubbing down,” which meant vigorously washing your hands with a medical scrub brush that contained a special, hospital-grade antiseptic soap. When it was his turn, Peeta “scrubbed” for exactly three minutes while Johanna stood over him, observing with her stopwatch in hand throughout the entire process. On the one hand, it made him feel self-conscious, but on the other hand, he was glad the staff was this precise. Then she checked his temperature, because, under no circumstances was anyone permitted to enter the unit with a temperature above 100.3. The last step was donning a sterile gown, gloves, and a facial mask before finally being allowed to see his daughter.

“So, if someone leaves and comes right back just a few minutes later, they have to do this all over again?” Peeta asked Johanna.

“Every single time—no exceptions. Hospital policy—or, well, Haymitch’s policy,” Johanna chuckled.

Prim looked so tiny in the incubator she was lying in, it reminded him of the ones you see premature babies in. It brought back memories of the day Katniss gave birth to their daughter, Peeta, silently thanking the heavens that his and Katniss’s newborn baby was full-term and healthy. He just hoped luck was on their side this time, too.

Peeta’s entire body quivered with trepidation when his eyes landed on his daughter. Prim was covered in stitches— they stretched across her entire body; on her arms, legs, her chest, and covered a majority of her face and head. It looked like they even had to shave a portion of her hair to place some of the stitches. She had IVs inserted in both her arms, a tube down her throat, and a tiny nasal cannula blowing oxygen into her nostrils. Peeta’s eyes began to sting from the sight of his beautiful Primrose, and the closer he inched toward her, the harder his eyes stung. Until finally, the dam broke, and the tears began pouring from his eyes, followed by uncontrollable sobs escaping his entire body.

“Oh, Primmie baby, I am so sorry. Daddy is so sorry; do you hear me?” Peeta cried to his little girl.

“Is she … will she make it? Do you think— can she— will she survive this?” Peeta looked up, meeting the nurse’s eyes, and wiping his face with the back of his sleeve.

“I honestly cannot give you a definitive answer Mr. Mellark. These little ones tend to have a mind of their own. Right now, it’s kind of touch and go. I would say that if she makes it through the night, then she’s got a standing chance. But I’m going to tell you something, I’ve seen babies much worse than your daughter bounce right back, but— on the flip side, I’ve seen others with barely any injuries—” Her words trailed off, hesitant to complete her sentence, but Peeta knew what she meant.

They didn’t make it. Peeta sucked in a breath, mustering all the courage he had to be strong for his daughter. What would he do if Prim di— if she … he couldn’t even think the word without his chest feeling as if thousand-pound bricks were smothering him.

“Why is that? What makes the difference?” He forced the words out. If Prim was to survive this, he needed to know.

“I think … Now, this is just my opinion, but I truly believe it depends on how hard they’re willing to fight. Their will, their drive to live. Right now, I would say, and perhaps this does nothing to ease your mind, but … hope and pray. As a veteran PICU nurse, I truly believe in the power of prayer. Talk to your daughter and let her know that you are waiting for her; that you are counting on her to survive this.” Peeta nodded, understanding what the nurse meant. “Give that beautiful little girl something to fight for,” Prim’s nurse finished with a kind smile.

“What was your name again? I’m sorry, I didn’t catch it, and how long will you be Prim’s nurse?”

“My name is Portia Rose, and I’ll be here all night,” the kind nurse replied, with an equally as kind smile. Peeta wondered if it was fate that brought them together. His daughter, named after Katniss’s lost sister, and this ‘Portia Rose,’ their names having an uncanny similarity.

“Peeta, Peeta what happened?” Katniss croaked, knowing something was wrong the moment her eyes opened and her husband’s tear-streaked face came into focus.

“Katniss, there was an accident. What is the last thing you remember?”

“I remember, we were going to the gas station … you wanted to stop before it got dark. We … we were on our way to see Mom … and then … and then … Peeta, what happened? Where is Prim?” Katniss asked, pushing herself up with her hands to straighten her position in the bed.

Water pooled in Peeta’s eyes and he bit down on the inside of his cheek to stop the flow of tears. He had to be strong for Katniss, he couldn’t show weakness, not yet. Not now.

Peeta poured Katniss a cup of water and handed it to her. “Here sweetie, I bet you’re thirsty.”

Katniss took the cup and pulled the water into her mouth, “Peeta, you’re scaring me. W-what happened?”

“Katniss, we were in an accident; w-we were hit head-on by a drunk driver.”

Katniss felt the heat spread through her face, and then slowly, it radiated to the tips of her fingers and toes. “And Prim?” She asked hesitantly, suddenly feeling nauseous and dizzy.

“She’s okay for right now. The doctors are taking really good care of her.”

“Okay, that’s good. That’s really good,” Katniss smiled. Peeta could see the tears welling up in her eyes and knew she was biting down on the inside of her cheek to quell her tears as she nodded. He instantly knew that something wasn’t right; this was the opposite of how Katniss should have reacted. His Katniss would be screaming, throwing a fit— demanding to get out of the hospital bed, adamant to see her daughter. But this was more like … like denial. He saw this once before … when her father died. Granted, that was years and years ago when they were barely teenagers.

Peeta observed Katniss for a few hours, occasionally leaving to check on his daughter. He knew the staff in the PICU were taking exceptional care of his daughter, and something told him his wife needed him more. After his most recent visit to Prim in the PICU, he made sure that Portia knew how to reach him in case … in case she needed him.

When Katniss was given “out of bed” privileges, she walked around the room, cheerful and full of smiles as she chatted jubilantly with her mother on the phone. She acted as if their daughter’s life wasn’t hanging in the balance just a few floors above them.

“Mom’s on her way Peeta, she should be here tomorrow,” Katniss informed Peeta after placing her phone on the bedside table.

Concerned for his wife’s emotional stability, Peeta spoke with one of Katniss’ nurses to find out when he could take her to their daughter.

“I don’t see why it should be a problem, she does seem to be basking in the river of ‘De Nile’,” Dr. Cinna noted, trying to lighten the mood. “Perhaps seeing Primrose with her own eyes will open her mind to the truth,” Peeta smiled, shaking Dr. Cinna’s hand; he was the first one to refer to their daughter by her name unprompted, and Prim wasn’t even his patient. It was at this time that Peeta decided that he liked Dr. Cinna— that he was perhaps his favorite doctor as of yet. Dr. Cinna provided Peeta with a wheelchair for Katniss, after first making sure Peeta’s legs were strong enough to haul her to the elevator.

“Come on Katniss, let’s go see our girl,” Peeta suggested, rolling the wheelchair up to Katniss’ bedside.

“Okay, sure. Mom’s on her way Peeta, she should be here tomorrow.”

“That’s good Katniss, I’m glad,” Peeta tried to feign enthusiasm. He frowned, wondering if she realized she just told him this only minutes ago.

Peeta wheeled his wife to the elevators and then pushed the “12” button that would deliver them to the PICU unit. He followed the arrows and pressed the button on the intercom, waiting patiently for someone to answer them. Johanna immediately recognized him, and took them through the same procedure from earlier of scrubbing down, a temperature check, and donning the sterile gown, gloves, and mask before Johanna led them to their daughter.

“Peeta, what— what are we doing here? I thought you were taking me to Prim?” Katniss asked, all traces of joy disintegrating as she was wheeled to Prim’s bedside.

“Katniss, honey— this is—”

“Oh, baby! Prim, baby, oh my God, what, how—” Katniss’ eyes filled with tears as she craned her neck up to meet Peeta’s eyes.

“No, no. NO!” Katniss screamed, standing up from her wheelchair, glaring daggers at Peeta. “NO, this is NOT happening!” Katniss shrieked, bolting from the room. Peeta did not follow her, he knew she needed time. The wheelchair was only precautionary, Katniss’s main injury was the concussion, which had healed during her medically induced coma.

He pulled a chair up to his daughter’s bedside, stuck his gloved hand inside the isolette and began to stroke her tiny hand. He needed her to know he was here for her and he wasn’t going anywhere.

“Oh, my sweet, sweet baby girl. My beautiful, beautiful, Primrose; Mommy, and Daddy are here for you and we’re not going anywhere, do you hear me? Mommy is just scared right now, and she will be back really soon. Oh, Primmie— we love you so, so much and we need you to get better. Oh, Prim; I know you probably don’t know this, or understand it, but you are the light of our lives. You have to get better, okay? Please fight, Primrose; you have to fight. I don’t think Mommy would survive if we lost you, I don’t know if I would survive. I know that’s a lot of pressure to put on such a little girl, but … but—” Peeta closed his eyes, held his head down, and did something he hadn’t done since he was a boy.

He prayed.

“If there is anyone out there who can hear me, anyone at all, I—” Peeta began, pleading with the powers that be as he sniffled, wiping his eyes with his free arm. “Please save my girl, she is my world, my everything. And— and my wife— Katniss needs her Primrose. I’ll do anything; if it’s a life you want— or need, take mine instead. Prim is just a baby; she hasn’t had time to live yet. She still needs her first day in kindergarten, her first best friend—a first boyfriend and a first heartbreak. I’ve lived, I’ve had all those things and more. I’ve lived a happy life, but please, just please, don’t take my girl.”

“Prim …” Peeta began after a moment, hoping to reach out to the sister Katniss lost so many years ago, “if you’re out there, and you can hear me, please … please look over our girl. Please, don’t … you can’t take her, it’s not her time,” Peeta sniffed again, his head perking up from the sound of footsteps behind him.

“Mr. Mellark?” It was Dr. Abernathy— Haymitch, looking no worse for the wear.

“Hi, Dr. Aber—”

“Haymitch. Call me Haymitch.”

Peeta nodded and met the man’s eyes, “Peeta.”

“Peeta, we’ve done everything we can for your girl, now it’s up to her.”

“What does that mean?” Peeta asked with a befuddled raise of his brow.

“It means that medically speaking, there is nothing more I can do for your girl. Now, it’s up to her, whether or not she’s willing to fight. If she gains consciousness before the night’s over, I am optimistic that, in time, she’ll make a full recovery.”

“And if she doesn’t?” Peeta asked, trembling with fear as he awaited the doctor’s answer.

“Then it’s not likely she’ll wake up at all, and then … we’ll discuss extraordinary measures. But let’s not cross that bridge until we get to it. In my experience, kids will fight to live if they have somethin’ ta fight for.”

“Thank you, Dr.— Haymitch. I … I need to find my wife— what are visiting hours?”

“I’ve cleared it with the nurses; you and your wife can stay as long as you want.”

“Thank you,” Peeta smiled and shook Haymitch’s hand, eager to find Katniss. As he made his exit from the PICU, he noticed Haymitch taking the seat next to his daughter and cleared his throat. Peeta slowed his pace, straining to hear what the doc had to say.

Haymitch cleared his throat once more and began to speak in a soft and gentle voice that Peeta almost didn’t recognize from the hardened doctor. But it was— without a doubt, him. “Listen, sweetheart, I know you don’t know me and all, but my name’s Haymitch and I’m your doctor. I know you’re little and all and you probably don’t understand how the world works, so, I’m gonna tell ya. You see, doctors give orders and patients are s’pposed ta listen. I’m the doctor, you’re the patient, got it? Alright, well now that that’s settled, I’m ordering you to stay alive, alright kid? That’s all you gotta do; stay alive. I’ll do the rest.”

With that, Peeta went on a quest for his wife, knowing his daughter was in good hands.

After Peeta wheeled Katniss to their daughter’s bed, it all hit Katniss like a ton of bricks. That was her daughter lying in that miniature hospital bed. Her Primrose. She had already lost one Primrose; she wouldn’t survive losing another— she just wouldn’t. Unable to face the truth, she ran from the room and took the elevators to the top floor. Once she exited the elevator, she went to the nearest door, which led to a stairway. She took the steps two at a time and passed through another door that opened up to the roof.

Katniss ran to the edge, leaning against the banister; not to jump, but just to look out into the sky.

For the first hour, she cried. She cried and cried, trying her best to convince herself that wasn’t her Prim lying in that bed, but someone else’s baby. It couldn’t be her daughter, it just couldn’t. The universe couldn’t be that cruel, right? But deep down, she knew it was. And then, she was consumed with guilt—for wishing that fate upon someone else’s child.

During the following hour, she did something she hadn’t done since she was small, since her own parents forced her to do it. She didn’t necessarily believe there wasn’t a God exactly, but she didn’t really believe there was one either. But what if there was? Would he still listen to her after all the years of silence?

Deciding it was worth the risk, on the off chance there was some kind of higher power out there, she begged, she pleaded for them to save her little girl. And then, she resorted to begging, dropping to her knees as she bargained her life away. She didn’t know that at the same exact time, her husband was doing precisely— the same exact thing. She was on her knees sobbing when she heard the door whoosh open, her husband’s beautiful blue eyes piercing into her own grey ones.

“Katniss, are you okay?” Peeta asked her, worry glazing over him from the sight of her on her knees.

She wanted his comfort, needed it even. But then, she was angry at him. No, not angry, but furious, enraged. This was all his fault, after all.

“Go away!” She shouted at him, seething with rage.

“Katniss, what?” Peeta shrunk back, hurt by her rejection.

“This is all your fault Peeta. If you hadn’t— YOU’RE the one who wanted kids, not me. If YOU hadn’t convinced me to have kids, this wouldn’t be happening. We wouldn’t be losing her.” Katniss stood up and inched herself closer to Peeta, sending him a cold, icy, glare.

“You don’t mean that Katniss,” Peeta told her, holding his stance with pain-filled eyes. He knew deep down that she was just hurt and needed to channel her frustrations elsewhere. Lashing out at him was the easiest, and fastest way to achieve that goal.

The closer Katniss got to Peeta, the angrier she became. The tears began streaming down her face until she could no longer hold back the uncontrollable sobs. She began hitting and pounding her fist against his chest, she was so angry. But Peeta didn’t budge. He didn’t try and stop her, he just stood there, taking each hit and allowing her to use him as her own personal punching bag. He knew it wasn’t actually him she was angry at, she just needed somewhere to divert her anger.

Peeta pulled Katniss into his arms and within seconds she ceased pounding his chest. He held her, crying his own silent tears while Katniss sobbed in his arms. Once the tears subsided, Katniss looked up to see the pained expression on her husband’s face, in addition to the tears streaking his cheeks and she felt … guilty.

“I’m sorry Peeta, I’m so sorry. Oh, Peeta, I— I’m sorry, I didn’t mean what I said.”

“Shhh, sshhh. I know, I know,” Peeta whispered into her ear, stroking circles against her back as he tried to comfort her.

“I can’t lose her Peeta, I— I won’t survive if I lose her.”

“I know Katniss, I know. Me too. But … but I won’t survive if I lose you. So, let’s pull ourselves together, go to our baby girl and give her something to fight for,” Katniss sniffled and nodded her head. Together, they walked back to the PICU to be with their daughter.

They re-entered the PICU and headed straight for Prim, only to see a swarm of nurses huddled in a circle; in what looked like them holding vigil at their daughter’s bedside. One look on their faces and Katniss and Peeta knew something was wrong— devastatingly so.

“I’m so sorry Mr. and Mrs. Mellark, her vitals are steadily declining. It won’t be much longer now; would you like to hold her before— before—”

“I … I wasted so much time,” Katniss cried, nodding as the tears streamed down her face. One of the nurses pulled up a rocking chair for one of the parents to sit in. Peeta was adamant that Katniss hold her first— just in case.

They opened the tiny incubator and placed Prim in Katniss’s arms, draping a blanket over them while another nurse made a call to Haymitch.

“Oh, baby girl, momma loves you so much. Mommy and Daddy love you so, so much sweet girl.” Katniss hummed through her tears. “You are so special Prim, so, so very special, my sweet, sweet girl. You are so special and so loved and …” Katniss sobbed through her tears, placing kiss after kiss to her little girl’s forehead. Peeta squatted next to Katniss and with one hand, he linked their fingers, and with the other hand, he stroked his little girl’s foot. The floodgates were open— he didn’t think he could cry any harder until he heard Katniss’s beautiful voice singing the lullaby to their daughter.

Deep in the meadow, under the willow

A bed of grass, a soft green pillow

Lay down your head and close your eyes,

And when they open, the sun will rise;

Peeta’s heart plummeted in his chest as he heard Prim’s heart monitor “flat line.” As difficult as it was with the splint on his leg, he inched closer to his wife and daughter as they both cried and overwhelmed Prim with kisses. They showered her with as much love as they could muster, telling her how much they loved her. They told her how special she was and how they would never forget her. As badly as it hurt Peeta to say the words, he finally told his baby girl that it was okay for her to go. The last thing he wanted in this world was for her to suffer.

The nurse reached up to silence the heart monitor when, suddenly, the steady beeping from the machine resumed all on its own.

“What the—” the nurse exclaimed just as Haymitch burst through the door.

“I thought you said code red?” Haymitch growled, seeing the normal heart rhythm on the monitor.

“She—she flatlined, and then— she just— came back,” Portia stuttered in complete bewilderment.

“Little slugger had something worth fighting for, what’d I tell ya?” Haymitch chuckled, looking at the teary-eyed parents.

One Year Later:

“Happy Birthday to you, happy birthday to you …” Katniss and Peeta sat on either side of their daughter on her third birthday, slightly less than a year after the devastating car accident that nearly took her life.

“That is one happy little girl,” Effie looked up and smiled at her husband. “Thanks to you,” she added in a whisper.

“Yeah, yeah.” Haymitch pretended like he didn’t care, but Effie knew—she always knew; he cared too much.

“What did you wish for, sweet girl?” Katniss asked her daughter after she blew her candles out.

“A baby brudder,” Prim said, her face smeared with chocolate frosting and a mouthful of chocolate cake.

Simultaneously, Katniss and Peeta’s eyes locked and Katniss inadvertently reached up to palm her belly.

“Should we?” Katniss mouthed to her husband who gave her a slight nod.

“You’re going to be a big sister Prim, but not for a few more months,” Peeta informed their daughter, loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Yay! I like wishes, Mommy!” Prim squealed, wrapping her tiny arms around her mother’s neck.

#ameliaodair #prompt 29 #Springtime edition 2021 #submission

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slytherinbarnes · 3 years

Text

Sub Rosa [87]

iii. false gods

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x reader

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: violence, fighting, angst, mentions of drowning, blood, language.

Summary: with your ticket off of Skyring destroyed, desperation sinks in...

a/n: this is one of my favorites :) the taglist for this series is open! I hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think!!!

previous chapter // season masterlist // series masterlist

As you kneel, staring at the shattered pieces of the memory viewer, you hear Gabriel gasp, “Do you realize what you've done?”

The man’s raspy voice answers, “I couldn't let you leave! For all mankind! You don't understand!”

And in that moment, you swear you see red. You feel nothing other than the anger that pulses through you, white hot. It heats your blood until you're sure you’re boiling, a volcano just ready to explode. And the man's insistence that you don't understand when it’s clearly him that doesn't understand? It’s enough to make you erupt.

You rise to your feet and cross the room lightning fast, before anyone can even process your movements. You catch the prisoner off guard, which makes it easier for your first punch to land. And the second. And the third. You feel your knuckles split when they make contact with his cheekbone, but you keep punching, your black blood mixing with his red blood. You don't stop swinging when you hear the others yelling your name and begging for you to stop, and you don't stop when someone grabs your arm and tries to hold it still. You just shake them off and swing again, but your fist doesn't land this time, because someone suddenly wraps their arms around you and lifts you off the ground, carrying you backwards, creating space between you and the madman.

You see Hope and Echo staring at you as you are carried backwards, and you know that Gabriel is the one restraining you. You kick and flail and scream, trying to wiggle free and reach the prisoner again, prepared to keep punching him until there is no anger left and the fire in your body cools. But Gabriel just holds you tighter, and Hope yells to be heard over your screaming, “Stop! He can't help us off this planet if he's dead!”

“Help us?” The words practically leave your mouth as a growl as your anger turns feral. You still your movements long enough to direct a glare Hope’s way. This time, you’re sure she is the one thankful that looks can't kill, because yours are nothing short of murderous in this moment. Your voice steadily rises as you yell, “He just destroyed our one way off this planet! Does he look like he can help us?”

Everyone turns to glance at him, the prisoner’s face a mix of red blood and black blood, his breathing slightly labored. And you know that at any other moment, the regret and shame would start to kick in now. But in this moment, Wanlida is in control, and she doesn't care that he's injured. She just wants him gone.

You start to fight and try to free yourself from Gabriel’s arms again, and your movements must spook the man, because he takes off running out the back door, disappearing into the trees. Frustrated with Gabriel’s iron grip, you lean forward then send your head back, headbutting him. Your skull makes contact with his brow bone, and Gabriel lets out a grunt of pain before dropping you straight onto your butt. You don't even take a second to check on him before scrambling to your feet and running out the front door, ignoring the calls of your friends behind you. This time, you're not searching for the prisoner, because your feet are taking you in the opposite direction. You’re not even sure of where you're going until you break free from the treeline and your eyes land on the lake in front of you, a faint green glow beneath the water's surface.

You can hear Gabriel, Echo, and Hope calling your name and clambering through the woods after you, and without another moment of hesitation, you take off running again, closing the short distance between you and the waters edge. You slosh through the first few feet, and then you take a deep breath and dive under, opening your eyes to look around you. The green glow of the Anomaly is straight ahead, and you begin your frantic swim towards it, each stroke of your arms and kick of your legs taking you deeper and deeper into the lake.

You swim until your legs feel tired and your arms are sore, and still the Anomaly seems no closer than when you first jumped into the water. You redirect yourself and start swimming straight down, fighting through the fatigue so you can get to Bardo. As you swim, you think only of Bellamy and Clarke, using them as your motivation to get off of Skyring, because five years here, means five years without them. You’ve already spent six years without Bellamy when everyone left you and Clarke behind, and that was agonizingly long enough. You hated it then, and you don't want to do it again now. The only time you spent without Clarke was when you were locked up in the Skybox, and then the few months she left after Mount Weather, and all of these moments only serve to remind you how important it is for you to get back to her. Because the two of you need each other. You're the twins, the Griffin Girls, the moon and the stars, Wanheda and Wanlida, Castor and Pollux, Azrael and Azazel. You need each other more than anything, because you're stronger together, and she probably doesn't even know you’re missing right now. You need to get back to her before she realizes you're gone, before she has to experience the heartbreak of losing her twin right after losing your mother. You can’t do that to her. You won't do that to her.

Which is why you keep swimming.

Your ears start to pop as you get deeper, the pressure squeezing your body. Your lungs start to ache and burn, the oxygen rapidly running out, and you turn to glance back at the surface of the lake. At this point, you’ve made more progress than you realize. You're deep down, down below in the dark part of the lake, the only light now coming from the Anomaly. If you turn around now, you might not even make it back up for air.

Which is why you keep swimming, your body moving towards the green glow.

The loss of oxygen starts to become painful, the dull ache now akin to a fiery burn, your lungs feeling like they've shriveled up and died without the air they need. But the Anomaly is so close now, and you swear you can just reach out and touch it, if you only swim a

few

feet.

But those few feet turn into a few meters, and those meters turn to miles, and suddenly you realize that your vision is starting to blur. Everything is getting fuzzy around you, and it's not because of the water. There is no oxygen left in your lungs, and your body starts to twitch, unable to process life or movement without the precious substance. Your vision starts to go black, beginning at the edges and then moving towards you slowly, and you reach your hands up to your necklace, clutching the moon charm in your grip, and letting the finger of your right hand rest on the ring on your left. You let your eyes close, accepting the death that approaches you, dying with the knowledge that you really tried everything you could to get back to Clarke and Bellamy. You swam until there was nothing left for you but the bright green pulse of the Anomaly below you.

You feel a sense of peace wash over you as the darkness rushes in, the last few inches filling your vision until it is all you know. It stretches out in front of you, endless like the sky, and you know your time has come.

You feel someone collapse on top of you, waking you from the darkness.

You groan, your mind and body only asleep for a few hours before whatever rude awakening has just occurred. The body wiggles, trying to get your attention, and you pry your eyes open with another groan, your eyes landing on someone stretched across your lower half.

Bellamy Blake is laying across your legs, a huge smile on his face.

You grab your blanket and tug it up and over your face, closing your eyes again and inviting the darkness of sleep back to you. But Bellamy has different plans, because he stands from the bed and yanks the blanket off of you, exposing you to the cold air in your room. Your eyes fly open and you glare at your boyfriend, who stands holding the blanket with a mischievous grin. “Bellamy, give it back. Lincoln kicked my ass in training this morning, and then Kane kicked my ass in guard training this afternoon. I’m tired, I want to sleep.”

“No. No sleep.”

You roll your eyes before closing them, turning away from him and curling into a ball in an attempt to keep yourself warm. But Bellamy grabs your ankles and tugs, pulling you towards the edge of the bed, and you let out a shriek of surprise. “Bellamy, what the hell are you doing?”

He smiles down at you, completely unbothered by your grumpy attitude. “It’s what we’re doing.”

“We’re supposed to be sleeping.”

“No, we’re going swimming.”

You give him a confused look. “I don't know how to swim.”

“I know, that’s why I’m going to teach you!”

Your confusion only deepens. “Now? In the middle of the night?”

“It’s the only time we both have free these days. Besides, you never know when it’ll come in handy.”

You stare up at your boyfriend’s eager face, noting the clear excitement he has over this prospect, and you know you’d do anything to see his joy continue, especially these days. With Clarke gone and the burden of Mount Weather weighing heavily on both of you, you can’t resist the desire to see him happy. Which is why you hide your smile and groan back, “Fine, let’s go swimming.”

Bellamy’s smile grows wider and he scoops you out of bed, setting you on the ground before handing you your clothes. You dress quickly and the two of you slip from your shared room and out of the camp without any issues, heading down to the lake that borders your home. There’s talks to extend the fence around the camp to one day include this lake, but for now, it sits just outside, bordered by the home of the sky people.

When you and Bellamy get to the water’s edge, he quickly strips until he's left in nothing but his underwear, and without hesitation he dives into the lake headfirst, his body arching through the air in a way that seems so beautiful to you. His head pops back up a second later, his curls clinging to his skin and the big grin still on his face. “Your turn.”

“Yeah, right.”

He laughs, light and happy, and you think about how you rarely hear that laugh these days. Just another thing the Mountain took. Bellamy senses the dark cloud you've invited to hang over you, always so eager to appear at the thought of Mount Weather, and he shakes his head and calls out, “None of that. Take your clothes off!”

You laugh and quip, “This is just an elaborate ruse to get me naked, isn't it?”

“Maybe.” He draws the word out, before the two of you start to laugh, the happiness chasing away the darkness of Mount Weather, at least for a little while. You strip quickly until you’re left in your undergarments, and then you stand just at the edge of the lake, looking at Bellamy with skepticism. “Now what?”

He swims towards you, walking the last few feet and coming to stop in front of you. He holds out his hand, his voice soft and serious. “Do you trust me?”

“With my life.” Your tone is just as serious, and he knows you mean it. You take his hand and he walks backwards towards the water again, leading you into the lake until the water reaches your waist. You feel your anxiety spike a little with each step you take into the water, but you meant it when you told Bellamy you trust him with your life. You know he won't let you drown. So when he leans down to scoop you up in his arms, you let out a little laugh and let him. The two of you lock eyes, and his voice is still soft, trying not to break the serenity of the moment. “Lie back. I’m not going to let go of you.”

You nod and lean backwards until the back of your head is in the water, your hair fanning out around you. Bellamy holds you in place as your body bobs along the surface of the water, and after a moment you realize that you’re floating. You turn slightly to lock eyes with your boyfriend again, a wide smile on your face, and he's looking at you with awe and adoration. You feel your face heat up beneath his gaze, and you try to break the seriousness of the moment by asking, “Wait, I've been with you almost every day since we landed. When the hell did you learn how to swim?”

Bellamy lets out a laugh, short and light, before shaking his head a little, amusement lighting up his face. “Believe it or not, I learned on the Ark.”

“You learned how to swim on a spaceship in the middle of the sky?”

He can hear the disbelief in your voice, and he nods. “I taught myself how to swim in our bathtub.”

Laughter takes over your body as you picture Bellamy teaching himself how to swim in less than a foot of water in his bathtub, the mental image making you wish you could have seen the real moment with your own two eyes. For now, you just have to let your imagination run wild, allowing the laughter to roll through you, nearly taking you under the water. Bellamy's arms keep you on top of the water as he watches you laugh, your amusement bringing a smile to his face. When your laughter turns into soft giggles, he gives you a fake serious look. “I need you to focus, Miss Griffin. You have to master floating before you can learn to swim.”

You give him a similar serious look, using it to hide your smile. “My apologies, Mr. Blake. I’m ready to try again.”

You lean back again, letting yourself be weightless as your body rises in the water, supported by Bellamy’s arms. After a quiet moment, he whispers, “Good. I’m going to let go now, but I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be right at your side.”

He must sense the flash of fear that has washed over you, because he adds, “Just look up at the sky and focus on the moon. Don't think about it, just let your body do the work.”

You let yours eyes search the sky until you find the moon, a pretty crescent shape, shining her pretty light down on you. You focus on her as Bellamy slips his arms from beneath you, but as promised, his body stays close to your own, his warmth still finding you in the cool lake. Your eyes stay locked on the sky, the darkness of the night the only thing you can see. From one edge of your vision to the other, there is nothing but stars and the moon. As your body floats on the surface of the water, your ears underwater, muffling the sound of the night, it’s easy to think that you're swimming in the sky. Floating with the stars, weaving between them, part of the sky, the way you always dreamed you would be.

Your eyes fly open and you take a sputtering breath, before you turn to the side and cough, water spewing from your mouth and onto the dirt beside you. You cough and wheeze for a few moments, until you're sure the water has left your lungs, and then you collapse back onto the dirt again, your eyes landing on the open sky. Stretched above you, arching across the sky like a halo, is a set of rings.

Your mind is already starting to question your whereabouts, your suspicions confirmed when Gabriel’s worried face leans into your view, a cut running through his eyebrow, already scabbing with black blood. You grimace a little, remembering the headbutt that gave him the injury, and he must notice, because he shrugs, “Can’t even feel it.”

Echo’s face appears on your other side, looking down at you with concern. “Do you know where you are?”

“Skyring.”

A third voice chimes in, “Do you know what happened?”

You try to sit up, struggling a little until Echo and Gabriel pull you into a sitting position. “Yeah, a bunch of people from a different planet stole my fiance, and we got stranded here after a crazed man that talks to dead people smashed our one way ticket out of here.”

“And you nearly drowned.”

Your teeth chatter slightly, your hair clinging to your face as you level a glare at Hope. “Yes, and I nearly drowned.”

“That was stupid. Octavia was here for ten years, six of which she spent trying to reach the pretty light at the bottom of the lake. She never drowned herself though.”

Your glare deepens, your embarrassment starting to set in. Hope pulls herself to her feet, glancing at the others. “Come on, we have a lot of work to do if we’re going to spend five years here.”

Gabriel and Echo hesitate, both of them looking at you with worry, but you shrug them off. “I’m fine.”

Gabriel levels a look at you. “Hope’s right, you nearly died. You should take it easy for the rest of the day.”

You nod, too exhausted to fight him on it. With your agreement in place, he holds a hand out to you, and he and Echo pull you to your feet, helping you walk back to the cabin. Gabriel leaves you at the edge of the garden with Echo, disappearing into the house briefly before returning with a blanket. He drapes it over your shoulders, your teeth chattering harder than you realized. He leaves to help Hope, and Echo stays with you for a while, clearly worried about leaving you on our own. You can tell she isn't sure what to say, obviously unfamiliar with the type of desperation that leaves you willing to make stupid decisions that might get you killed. But after a while, she can tell you’re craving some time to yourself, so she too leaves, though she makes sure to linger close, in case you decide to bolt again.

But you don't move. You stay solidly rooted in place, unmoving for a while, your thoughts practically eating you alive. You are stuck on Skyring, truly stuck, all of your options spent. The only way off is when the crazy man gets to leave. But until then, you’re stuck here. The thoughts that you had while swimming to the Anomaly come flying back to you. Five years on Skying means five years with no Bellamy and no Clarke. They likely won't even notice you're gone. They won't feel the passage of time without you, but you will. You will feel each passing second that you spend separated from the two most important people in your life. The thought is agonizing.

Also agonizing is the thought that you nearly drowned trying to reach them both, almost leaving them alone in the world without you. And you know now that if you want to save them, you need to be smarter. No more hasty decisions that result in near death experiences. You need to be calculating and calm. No more emotional choices. No more thinking with your heart. Your head is the one making the rules now.

You were the one that dove into the water, but Wanlida was the one that was dragged out, still and unbreathing. And when Gabriel brought you back to life, it was Wanlida that opened her eyes. She’s here with you now, hanging in the background, leaving you feeling cold and icy and empty. She’s ready to take over, ready to make the decisions for you. She knows that your heart will always rule you, but Wanlida? She’s ruled by her head. She doesn’t feel pain or loss or sadness. She calculates and decides, bringing death to all who stand in her way.

That's why you sit at the edge of the group, ignoring the light banter of the others behind you, your Grounder knife now in hand. You grab a discarded garden tool that lays nearby, and use it to add notches to the list of your kills. One line for Asher, who nearly killed you and nearly killed your twin. One line for the disciple that almost shot Hope on your way to the Anomaly. Your total count now up to 13, and that’s just kills from this knife.

When you start to add up all the kills Wanlida has helped you make, the number grows larger than you can stand, and you stop, pretending it's because you lost count. But really it's because you’re starting to wonder if you can really do better when Wanlida lives inside you. You can't get rid of her now, because you need her to save Bellamy. You need her strength and willingness to kill, but who will you be if you accept that help? Can you come back from that? Can you come back from her?

As soon as Clarke gets back from school, she makes a beeline past you, heading straight for the bathroom you share. When she runs past, you don't miss the tears that streak down your twin’s face, or the sob she tries to stifle. But by the time you make it to the bathroom door, it’s locked with you one one side and Clarke on the other. You knock tentatively, your voice soft. “Clarke? What’s wrong?”

She doesn't answer, but you can hear her quiet sobs from the other side of the door, and your anxiety grows, wanting to know what happened. “Let me in, shining star. Talk to me.”

Her crying softens for a minute, but you can't hear anything else from inside the bathroom, and your fear spikes until you hear the click of the lock receding. You twist the knob and tentatively push the door open, your twin somehow back on the other side of the bathroom, tucked in the corner, her knees pulled to her chest, her face hidden from view. You still don't know what happened, but you get the sense that Clarke doesn't want to talk about it, at least not yet. So you do the only thing you can think to make her feel better, and you start to draw up a bath.

You know you shouldn't. The Ark has water allotments, even the Privileged, though they tend to be more lax with your group. But your twin is upset and she doesn't want to talk about it, and it's the only thing you can think to do. So you run some quick math in your head, and you think you can make up for the loss of water if you skip your next few showers. You never see anyone besides your family anyways, so it’s not like it really matters.

You fill the tub as much as you can before it makes you anxious, hoping it’s hot enough to do the trick. Warm water is never a promise on the Ark, it’s more like a surprise. Sometimes the heaters work, sometimes they don't. Today is one of those days where thankfully, they seem to work really well. With the water warm enough, you walk over to your sister and drop down in front of her. “Get in the tub, I’ll be over in a second.”

She looks up at you, her face puffy and tear stained, before she weakly nods and moves over to the tub, quickly undressing with her back to you. You turn away and walk over to the sink and drop to your knees, reaching for a loose panel near the floor, prying it off and moving it aside. There, tucked away in a hidden spot, is the last of your special soap.

It was something your dad managed to get for you, though you have no idea how, because you didn't even think they made soap like this on the Ark. Most Ark soap is practical, made out of whatever they have on hand, pressed into lumpy bars that don't smell great, but don't necessarily stink either. They just smell like..Ark soap. There's no other way to describe it.

But this soap? This soap is special. It’s smooth, and unlike the gray green blob of Ark soap, it’s pale blue. It smells like vanilla, and your father etched a moon onto the top before gifting it to you for your 13th birthday. Your parents both said 13th birthdays are a big deal, which is why Clarke got her nicest art set yet. You don't have any specific hobbies like Clarke does, and your dad said he wasn't sure what to get you until he discovered the soap, and once he saw it, he knew it was perfect. You have treasured this bar of soap, using it as sparingly as possible over the last year and a half, because you rarely have access to nice things. You rarely have access to anything. Still, this is important. Clarke is upset, and this soap is magic, you’re sure of it. It has always cheered you up on bad days.

You take the soap back over to the tub, grabbing a small cup along the way, and you glance at Clarke, who is now situated in the warm water. You sit on the edge of the tub and use the cup to gently pour water over her hair, wetting it well. Then you grab the last of your soap and rub it between your hands, creating a lather, which you transfer onto Clarke's head. You massage the soap into her hair, making sure to cover every strand, using every last bit of soap that you have. As soon as Clarke gets a whiff of the smell, she whispers, “Your special soap.”

Her voice is raspy from crying, but you ignore it and nod, before you realize that she can't see you. You whisper back, “You need it more than I do.”

She’s quiet for a minute and you start to rinse the soap from her hair carefully before she breaks her silence. “Do you remember Katie?”

“The girl that you like?”

Clarke nods weakly, and you continue rinsing before she continues talking. “I told her I liked her today.”

You suspect the response wasn't a good one, but you know Clarke is waiting for you to say something, so you ask, “What did she say?”

“She said I was a selfish, privileged snob and she would never like someone like me.” Clarke starts to cry again, the tears falling down her face and landing in the bathtub beneath her. “I just don't understand what happened. Two days ago she was holding my hand during lunch, and today she’s calling me a snob.”

You squeeze Clarke’s shoulder in comfort. “She doesn't know what she’s missing, Clarke. You’re the least selfish person I know, and you're not a privileged snob. I don't know what happened or why she's acting this way, but you're the best person I know. You're a shining star, bright and brilliant, and one day Katie will realize that she's missing out, but it'll be too late.”

Clarke nods, her crying already starting to slow down, your words bringing her comfort. She glances at you over her shoulder, meeting your eyes for the first time since she got home. “Thank you, la lune.”

“I’ll always be here for you, Clarke. I’d do anything for you, no matter what.”

She smiles a little, her voice sounding stronger when she mutters, “Stronger together.”

You smile back and repeat, “Stronger together.”

next chapter

#the 100 #the 100 rewrite #bellamy blake #bellamy blake x reader #bellamy blake fanfiction

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365days365movies · 3 years

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March 12, 2021: Jason and the Argonauts (Review)

We gotta revitalize the mythology epic film.

I loved this movie...mostly. I’ll get to the “mostly” of it all, but I need to first say that I love the idea of this film. I desperately want more films based (faithfully) on Greek mythology. Please. PLEASE. And I know, I know, Paramount made a Clash of the Titans reboot in 2010, and it was...

...bad. It was really bad. Also probably ended Sam Worthington’s career, because dude VANISHED into the aether of Hollywood after this movie, and its equally bad sequel, Wrath of the Titans. I know, OK? But I still desperately want Greek mythology films.

And yeah, this would be an...OK start, but there’s so much potential! We’ve had Troy to cover Homer’s Iliad, and Troy wasn’t terrible, but we NEED an Odyssey movie, for the love of GOD. Do you know how much goddamn potential there is for an Odyssey movie?

And I’m fully aware of O Brother Where Art Thou, but it’s loosely based on the story at best. We need an Odyssey movie, is all I’m saying. Not just that, though. We need a new movie about Hercules (non-Disney, and NOT starring the Rock), a movie about a normal Greek dude navigating the complex world of the gods, maybe a movie about Theseus or Perseus (again, yes, I know), and, of course, a Jason and the Argonauts movie.

I need this. I need this more than I can express. Oh, and I really want these films to be accurate, not the fast-and-loose approach to mythology that 1963′s film incarnation played. And oh...let’s get to THAT, shall we? Check out Part One and Part Two of the Recap for more on that, if you’d like more details!

Review

Cast and Acting: 9/10

Much to my everlasting surprise, the acting in this film is actually pretty good! Yeah, it’s definitely got that stereotypical 1960s flair, but it actually makes sense for an epic film based on Greek mythology. It all feels very epic, very grand, and the actors definitely help to contribute to that feeling. Up top, of course, you’ve got Todd Armstrong playing the noble Jason...kinda. Yeah, we’ll get to that, but he only played the character physically, while his voice was overdubbed by Tim Turner. Which...yeah, again, more on that later. But Armstrong is backed by some good support, especially Honor Blackman, Laurence Naismith, and Nancy Kovack, whose turn as the future murderer Medea actually shows her potential villainy in her sparse performance. Seriously, I was impressed by her characterization! This movie surprised me in terms of its acting. Although...Nigel Green as Heracles is only OK, and I’m a little chuffed that he only lasted through some of the film. Of course, that harkens to my BIGGEST issue...

Plot and Writing: 7/10

...OK, look, I know in my heart-of-hearts that judging the story of this film, adapted by Beverley Cross and Jan Read, as based on The Argonautica by Appolonius Rhodius, is unfair. It is. I’m aware of this, don’t worry. But that said...it’s not as good as the original story. Or, at the very least, it makes some weird choices that could’ve been changed. I went through the major inaccuracies in my Recap (too much, at that), so I won’t touch on most of that here. BUT, I do have some points to get through. Bear with me (or just skip this section, let’s be honest).

Missing Argonauts: Literally, the only major Argonaut from the story that actually gets to do something is Heracles, and he DOESN’T GET TO BE HERACLES. Dude is the most famous demigod of all time, and he never gets to do anything more than hold open a door and piss of Talos. Yeah. Disappointing as HELL. But that’s not THE WORST of it. Sure, Atalanta can be unused, as she wasn’t in many versions of the myth anyway. But the Wind Brothers? They’re necessary for defeating the Harpies, but they’re nowhere to be seen. Castor and Pollux? Oh, they’re in the movie, and they don’t do ANYTHING. Orpheus? ORPHEUS? YOU DIDN’T INCLUDE ORPHEUS AT ALL? Orpheus is arguably the most important of the Argonauts outside of Jason and Heracles, and he’s just...nonexistent. That’s just patently offensive. You really couldn’t give Harryhausen the chance to make Sirens? That would’ve been amazing! Speaking of them...

Missing and Misplaced Perils: Yeah, OK, this one’s a little unfair, because I don’t think putting Talos in here was a bad idea AT ALL. It’s actually my favorite part of the film, not gonna lie. But yeah, he was present on the return journey, not the journey to Colchis. But OK, whatever. At least we have the Harpies, the Clashing Rocks, the Sirens, the...oh wait. Where are the Sirens? I guess with no Orpheus, there are no Sirens, but...we really should’ve had both in here, come on.

Acastus: Yeah, here’s a weird criticism, but Acastus really was misused in here as well. He was actually one of Jason’s Argonauts, and came back from the journey on good terms with him...until Medea manipulated and tricked his sisters into cutting their father into pieces in order to gain promised immortality and boil those pieces for consumption. Yeah. Medea’s evil as SHIT. But turning Acastus into a heel-turn villain was...unnecessary, I think. Not that bad, though, so I guess this is a nitpick. I guess I would’ve liked to see the group return, and have had Acastus side with Jason against Pelias. I think that would’ve been neat. And speaking of Pelias...

The Ending: WHAT THE FUCK WAS WITH THE ENDING? Really? No conclusion to the story? What happens on the journey back? What happens with Pelias and Jason? Does Jason become King of Thessaly, now that Acastus is dead? Come on, man, what the hell! I HATE how that film ends so much, because there’s just nothing. Jason escapes by jumping off a cliff, the soldiers are still around (and are probably gonna kill the Colchian soldiers out of bloodlust), and Jason and Medea kiss, AND THE MOVIE ENDS. GAAAAAAAH

...Yeah, the plot could use some work, I think. But the worst part is...it’s still not a bad version of the story. Yeah! Despite all of my problems with it, most of the changes narratively make sense, outside of the original Argonautica. So, all things considered, I’m probably being too harsh on this film for personal reasons. What can I say, I love Greek mythology? But, I can still admit that this film is well-plotted out...for what it is.

Directing and Cinematography: 8/10

Is it the most groundbreaking direction by Don Chaffey, or the best cinematography by Wilkie Cooper? Well, no, but it’s still good. There aren’t exactly any amazing and groundbreaking shots here, but I also have no complains about either of these categories. So, yeah, not bad, guys. However...

Production and Art Design: 10/10

...the film still LOOKS fantastic. Because the production, set, and art design of this movie are all fantastic. From the costumes, to the Argo, to the authentic-looking sets, this movie looks great. And, of course...there are the effects by Ray Harryhausen. Which deserves the biggest chef’s kiss I can muster. Some of you may be thinking, “I dunno man, those effects don’t fully hold up.” To which I must remind you, that this film is 57 years old. FIFTY. SEVEN. Look, for the time period, this is groundbreaking, and it honestly looks pretty good today, even with the advent of better technologies. And the fact that these are technically physical objects does make this film look more...well, real, to be honest. It all looks pretty real, in a way. And they’re even pretty well-integrated with the live-action actors, much to my surprise. Gotta say, I love it. Antiquated, maybe, but also authentic. I love it.

Music and Editing: 9/10

Music, done by Bernard Hermann, is stellar and BOOMING. It’s an epic score for an epic story, and I also love it. As for the editing by Maurice Rootes, it’s also pretty great. Except for the sound editing. Yeah, um, the sound-editing for this movie isn’t great. It’s not bad, but it definitely isn’t amazing, especially in the base of dubbing for Jason and Medea. Oh, yeah, she’s dubbed over by Eva Haddon, forgot to mention that. And it’s pretty obvious. It’s a weak point, is what I’m saying.

88%, which might be a little...biased.

I love Greek mythology (he said for the eightieth time), and that may have colored my perception of this film. And yet, I do still really like this movie! It’s a classic film, and I’m looking forward to the other film of it’s caliber coming in a few days!

For the next one, though, I’ll have to do something non-Greek myth based. I mean, to continue the previously established trend...back to Japan for 3 HOURS? Oh...oh shit. I may have to break this next one up.

March 13, 2021: Kwaidan (1965)

#jason and the argonauts #don chaffey #ray harryhausen #todd armstrong #nancy kovack #honor blackman #gary raymond #laurence naismith #greek mythology #argonauts #argonautica #apollonius rhodius #user365 #365 movie challenge #365 movies 365 days #365 Days 365 Movies #365 movies a year #movie review

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dawn-of-tomorrow · 3 years

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shoutout to @punishing-gray-raven-ocs for this ask game~!!

original post is here

god, this became much longer since i now i have 5 PGR OCs, ahahaah :'DDDD

1) Are you excited about Autumn starting? Why or why not?

Yoko: Of course~! After all, who wouldn't be excited to either sleep an extra hour in or just be around the people you love, all cozy indoors~.

Higetsu: Looks like things will become noisy again, but I don't mind it. After all, it's fine to have fun every once in a while.

Artemisia: I personally do not mind it. What comes and goes, will come and go. Such is the seasons, after all.

Pollux: Halloween~! Hot cocoa with 'mallows~! Food~! Hehe, so many things to choose from, wonder what I'll prepare for Castor~. Maybe if I ask Teacher for an extra day off, she wouldn't mind.

Castor: Uncertain. Castor has no opinions regarding the changing of seasons. It is simply a natural order of the world.

2) If you are excited about Autumn, what is your favorite Autumn activity?

Yoko: Seasonal activities aren't complete without any festivals~!! You name it, I'm gonna try out everything! Halloween is definitely a part of the fun~.

Higetsu: I'm already expecting both Yoko and Kamui to drag me into any and all celebrations they can join and come across, so scratch sleeping an entire day off from my list.

Artemisia: In the past I used to bake seasonal pies to share with my friends and family whenever Autumn arrived...... haaah. It's been so long. Apologies, don't mind my answer.

Pollux: Castor and I used to roast chestnuts whenever we could, hehe~. Even to this day, I can still remember the smell of the last chestnuts we roasted as humans. Ah, of course, I'm pretty confident in my pumpkin carving skills-- you'll regret doubting my abilities, haha~!

Castor: No comment. Castor has no preferences for any activities. ... However... it might be nice to... attend an Autumnal festival along with brother, Teacher, and everyone........ no, it is nothing. Do forget about it.

3) How would you like to enjoy Autumn once the war is over?

Yoko: Of course, I'd invite everyone to a slumber party back at home. There's a lot of guest rooms that we haven't used in a long time, so everyone can either share a room or have their own~! ... Ah, but I'd probably have to ask dad, er, father about that.

Higetsu: After the war Autumn celebrations, huh.... haven't really thought about that. ... Maybe, I'll sleep an entire day away? Then plan out a relatively small get-together between Gray Raven and Strike Hawk.

Artemisia: ..... I have no plans yet. But... it would be nice to just spend the day with the kids(Pollux and Castor), taking them on an outdoor trip, or even just a peaceful stroll and shopping spree in the stores

Pollux: Mhrrmmm.... Argh, too many things to decide on~!! I'm decide then!!! But I'll definitely make sure Castor survives until then, so we can experience an Autumn where he can live a peaceful life again.

Castor: I....... Castor is.... uncertain. After the war... Castor has never thought about what to do after the war. What does Teacher and brother have to say about this? ....Is that so? Then I will follow their guidance.

4) Do you enjoy Pumpkin Spice-scented foods and/or products?

Yoko: Hehe, yeah~. Ah, I'm not a glutton though! Even I can't eat too much without hurting my stomach, uuuh.

Higetsu: Just to an alright amount. I'm not so crazy over such things that I'd eat them almost constantly you know.

Artemisia: Hm, perhaps just a little. It's fine to enjoy such delicacies every once in a while.

Pollux: ALL OF IT~!! Ahaha, sorry sorry~. But the more the merrier, right, right? Plus, that means there's all the more I can pretend I can't to eat anymore so I can give to both Castor and Teacher~.

Castor: No comment. It is simply a matter of which is the most appealing to my taste and smell regulations, that is all.

5) Are you going to decorate your dorm for Autumn or Halloween?

Yoko: Naturally~! Gray Raven will celebrate Autumn, and I'm already planning out our Halloween decor layouts with Lucia, Liv, and Lee.

Higetsu: Kamui already begged me and Chrome earlier if Strike Hawk could also decor the base with seasonal decorations. I didn't mind it, and though Chrome needed just a bit more pleading, he was fine with it so long as everyone cleaned up the place once the season is ending.

Artemisia: I've already given Pollux and Castor permission to decorate the base as they see fit. I trust that they won't go too overboard.

Pollux: That's such an obvious question with an obvious answer~. Of course we will! Teacher's already given us the go-ahead to decorate the Aegis squad, and we already have the decor ready~. Castor and I'll begin right after this interview.

Castor: Affirmative. Brother wished to celebrate the Autumn season and Halloween, thus we are to put up decorations in our base soon.

6) Hot cocoa or pumpkin spice latte. Which one would you pick, and why?

Yoko: It's gotta be pumpkin spice latte! Hehe, the foam one reason, but the taste is the best part! I hear people say it's too sweet for them, but personally I think it's fine? Mhm, well, everyone's preferences are different after all, so I don't judge~.

Higetsu: Hot cocoa, although pumpkin spice latte is alright too. It's nothing much really, I just prefer the taste of cocoa over the latte.

Artemisia: I have no preferences for either. If anyone were to offer me one of the two, then I'd take the one they're willing to give away.

Pollux: Both! Because Castor likes both, I can just buy either of the two and we can just have one of each. Hehe, don't tell Castor this, but I can tell that he enjoys having hot cocoa with 'mallows, so I often sneakily put in at least a few of them in his drink when I can~.

Castor: .............both. I... Castor is uncertain. The flavor of the beverages simply taste exquisite. That is all. ....but hot cocoa with marshmallows dipped in... I am uncertain as to why, but my chest is heating up at the thought of it.

7) If you're a Commandant, are you throwing any Autumn or Halloween related activities for your squad?

Yoko: Naturally! Lucia, Liv, and Lee all deserve to have have fun and enjoy the season too! They keep pushing themselves to do a lot, and I wanted to give them even just a bit of fun before going back to work.

Higetsu: ....So what if I am. Everyone at Strike Hawk has been working hard, so is it such a surprising thing that I want them to also take a time-off and enjoy themselves? ... Don't you dare tell them though.

Artemisia: Certainly. Although it's been a long time since I threw any Halloween or Autumn-related parties, even a simple celebration of the seasons would suffice. ... But if those two want a grander celebration, then, I suppose I could ask "that person" for a favor or two.

8) What would be the perfect Autumn-themed date for you?

Yoko: Hmmm, there's so many choices for that~.... but spending the day inside the cozy indoors with Lee doesn't seem like a bad idea either... hehe~. But it would also be nice to go out and have a picnic with everyone, just having fun.

Higetsu: Making jack-o'-lanterns, having a horror movie marathon night, going shopping for Halloween costumes and other related stuff, making seasonal pies and donuts.... What? I'm only saying these because Kamui's a huge bubble of energy, so he most certainly would wanna do a lot of things for a "date". ...It's not that I wouldn't enjoy it either though.

Artemisia: A date? No comment. I have no time for such things. Besides... I'm not qualified for such normal and mundane peaceful activities.

Pollux: Bzzzt-!! Nobody will be taking anyone on a date here~! Ah, but an outing with Castor and Teacher word be nice though. I wanna see those two happy, since they're... bah, nevermind. You heard nothing~.

Castor: Negative. A date is an event one goes with a lover, is it not? Then Castor is unable to go to one. ....Hm? You can go on a date with either friends and/or family instead? Is that so. ... Then, perhaps going to a carnival would be nice with brother and Teacher would be nice...

9) Do you enjoy rainy weather, or does it make you gloomy?

Yoko: Well, so long as it's just a light rain or a heavy rain that doesn't last long. The best part of the rain is afterwards, provided the weather didn't disrupt the surroundings too much, aha~.

Higetsu: I don't have any particular feelings towards the rainy weather to be honest. ...Except for the fact that it makes me feel a bit drowsy, damnit.

Artemisia: The rain, huh.... the weather has given me both joyous and grieving moments. I don't hate it, but I don't like it either.

Pollux: I hate the rain. ...Shut up, I won't elaborate why. Move on to the next question before I tear your throat out.

Castor: I.... I don't have fond memories of the rain. But if a mission requires to trudge through even rain, then so be it.

10) Cuddling up next to your favorite partner, on a rainy afternoon, while watching your favorite movies. Would you enjoy this activity? Why or why not?

Yoko: Ehehe~. Is it that obvious I'd enjoy experiencing that with Lee? Honestly, anything I get to experience with Lee would become a good memory, because it means that we're still together, by each other's side then.

Higetsu: Yes. Ah, wait, no I didn't mean to answer that so quickly-- oi, what's with that smirk on your face!? Quit it, you--!! And don't you dare tell Kamui anything I've said here!!!

Artemisia: That sounds like a lovely scenario, I'm sure everyone would enjoy for that to happen. ...That is why I must work harder for that future, for everyone's sake. ...Hm? What about me then, you ask? .... It matters not. So long as I can preserve the happiness of others and their loved ones... then I can get through anything.

Pollux: Something so mundane and tranquil as that.... heh. Not everyone's deserving of that~. But, it would really be something if Castor were to ever finally experience something like that, Teacher too. 'S why I want them to find even the smallest bit of happiness in this crappy world. ....Oi, cut out that footage afterwards and don't share it, else I'll kill you. Heh, am I joking or not~ that's the question~.

Castor: Negative. This scenario requires a lover for this to occur. As Castor has none, then Castor cannot answer this question. ...Hm? Then choose someone close to you instead? A fine alternative. .... would it be alright if I answered a group? Specifically.... the Gray Ravens, Strike Hawks, brother, and Teacher....

#ask #ask game #oc ask game #punishing gray raven #pgr #パニシング #战双帕弥什 #戰雙帕彌什 #パニシンググレイレイヴン #pgr ocs #ocs #my ocs #pgr yoko #pgr higetsu #pgr artemisia #pgr pollux #pgr castor

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snowe-zolynn-rogers · 4 years

Text

Pairings: Romantic Romile (Roman x Emile), Romantic Prandy (Andy x Pryce), Romantic Anxtober (October x Virgil), Romantic Intrulosleepceit (Remus x Logan x Remy x Deceit)

Word Count: 1135 Words

Summary: Deceit's hair, Putting Others First, and poly cuddle piles.

Warnings: Sex Mentions, Cursing, Cancer Mention, Sick Character, Immunocompromised Character, let me know if I should tag anything else.

Note: Bolded and blockquoted are actions in their chatroom, not a message.

Usernames, a quick translation guide: Andy: Raccoon Man (the trashiest hero), Belladonna: hazelnut, Castor: schrodingersdumbass, Dayd: carniverousroomba, Dice: Dr. Bitch, Emile: Thera-pissed, Eve: wall-e, Halley: aspermylastemail, Janus: SnekBoi, Logan: Momgan, Noah: nope, October: eatpavementido, Orion: birdgeoisie, Patton: Papa Bear, Pollux: satantakemehome, Pryce: SwEeTvErUcA, Remus: Octopussy, Remy: Coffee Bandit, Roman: waaahluigi, Sirius: literalsunshine, Teal: uwu, Thomas: shrexy, Virgil: spipples, Vita: þiccness

A Very Sanders Group Chat: Chapter 11

8:34 AM

SnekBoi: Remus, come to me room. Right now.

Octopussy is now online

Octopussy is now offline

Momgan: What happened, darling?

SnekBoi: My hair again.

Coffee Bandit: It's just hair, babe.

SnekBoi: I know but this means it'll be an even longer time before I can feel normal again.

Coffee Bandit: Normal's overrated, babe. Let's be weird together.

SnekBoi: Remus get the clippers.

spipples: Wait you're not going to

SnekBoi: I can control this. This is the one thing I can control this time.

Octopussy: I'm keeping it, emo, don't worry.

spipples: This doesn't worry me any less.

9:04 AM

Octopussy: twinsies.jpg

Momgan: So you shaved your head with him?

Octopussy: yup! I did this last time too and so DeeDee didn't have to be bald alone.

Momgan: Even the white?

Octopussy: well, it'll all grow back white anyway so why not.

Momgan: As long as you both are happy with it.

Octopussy: Dee's not happy about it, he loves his hair, but this is better for him than slowly losing hair every night.

Octopussy: plus now he gets to rock his old wigs without maybe pulling out hair.

Coffee Bandit: Yup, both of 'em still look cute.

12:12 PM

Octopussy: @SnekBoi sugarbutt, I'm going on a quest with Virgie-poo. if you need anything, Logan is off today and Remy's off too.

spipples: I'm unwilling please help me.

SnekBoi: Have fun you two. I'll be fine. I'm even starting to feel better.

Octopussy: that's good, honey. I love you! I'll see you tonight, promise!

Octopussy and spipples are now offline

5:20 PM

Momgan: Be careful. Please.

SnekBoi: I am. I'm fine.

Thera-pissed: I have a feeling I'm going to have several mental health appointments scheduled this week.

Coffee Bandit: You probably will, yeah.

Thera-pissed: Not surprising. Usually I get to schedule more appointments after these big discussion talks.

6:14 PM

SnekBoi: I guess I'm now known by name.

shexy: And I couldn't be prouder to have you onboard, Janus.

Momgan: Were you non-strenuous on your body?

SnekBoi: I'm considerably drained but I'm lying down so I shouldn't have any fall risk right now. Boogeyman is guarding me very well and retrieving anything I need but I'm probably just going to go to sleep.

Coffee Bandit: Please be careful with yourself, babykins.

SnekBoi: I'm careful, just tired and achey. I'll sleep and then I'll feel better, promise.

Momgan: Get some sleep, dear.

Coffee Bandit: I'll come over and stay with you if you can't sleep alone.

Momgan: If I may, I'd like to extend the offer to myself as well.

SnekBoi: Get over here then, you nerdy puffballs.

Momgan and Coffee Bandit are now offline

SnekBoi: Ah yes, to have two of three boyfriends smother me into oblivion. I can't wait.

6:30 PM

SwEeTvErUcA: Will someone explain why my little brother refuses to leave his room?

Thera-pissed: He and I have made an agreement that he not interact with others until his scheduled therapy session tomorrow morning. After then, he's all yours unless something has gone wrong with his stress levels and he happens to endanger his health.

SwEeTvErUcA: Cryptic, why's my brother's boyfriend being so cryptic? What are you two hiding from everyone?

Thera-pissed: Because I, despite being your brother's boyfriend, will be completely professional when it comes to his mental health and me and my patient have a strict contract of what others outside of the sessions can and cannot know, his current status, the one I believe you're questioning my knowledge of, being one of them.

SwEeTvErUcA: This answers none of my questions but fair enough.

SwEeTvErUcA: Hey, at the appointment, make sure you tell the little bastard I love him.

Thera-pissed: Of course.

9:45 PM

spipples: Wow, I leave for like 9 hours. The fuck, guys?

literalsunshine: Alright, so Auntie Jan and Auntie Roman are mad at each other, Grandpa Patton is happy but not about either of them, he's happy about Thomas. Auntie Jan finally got Thomas to trust him and Roman seemed really sad so I think Thomas is mad at him or something.

spipples: I have the urge to hit my head into a wall again.

literalsunshine: Mom, please don't.

spipples: I know.

literalsunshine: Take a shower, we can watch a movie together in your room.

spipples: Done deal.

spipples is now offline

11:55 PM

nope: so I guess we're not telling him tonight.

literalsunshine: not after this morning.

nope: I'm sure it's not his, though, Siri.

literalsunshine: And I'm sure it is, Noah.

þiccness: Can you two not be cryptic? Everyone is so cryptic today.

literalsunshine: No.

nope: absolutely not.

þiccness: I hate you both.

literalsunshine: Anyway, we can wait a bit longer to tell him, anyway. Or I guess, I'd like to wait just a bit longer.

nope: I guess it couldn't hurt to wait a little longer. Just know that mine are getting suspicious so we might want to figure it out soon.

literalsunshine: I know, it's just yours has less drama than mine, Noah.

nope: I know, babe. Want me to come cuddle?

literalsunshine: Please.

hazelnut: I can't wait until everyone in here is honest with each other.

shrexy: Says the one I only know by username.

hazelnut: Oh easy, Belladonna Hazel Sanders, my mother and father are functions of yours. You don't know me because the only adults that know of my existence besides my school in this big ol' brain box of yours is my two Aunties and my new step-dads.

shrexy: Well, hello, Belladonna.

hazelnut: I like Bela, by the way.

shrexy: Bela.

shrexy: Bela, by chance are your mother and father Remus and Janus?

hazelnut: Oh hey, first time, right guess. Never had that happen before. Everyone always switches me and Vita's parents because we both act a lot like each other's parent.

shrexy: Soooo yeah?

hazelnut: Yep. Remus is my dad and Janus is my mom.

shrexy: I thought Janus said he and Remus were never romantic before?

hazelnut: I do not control whose womb I arose from, Thommy, all I know is that's the one that housed me for like seven months. Also, he never said anything about being together in the past.

shrexy: Bela, it's nine months.

hazelnut: Nah, mom got sick while pregnant so he had me early so he could start chemo.

shrexy: Ah, makes sense.

hazelnut: Oh yeah, look how cute they are.

hazelnut: polyamorouscuddlepile.jpg

shrexy: Awwww. Like a box of kittens.

hazelnut: I'm just glad they're happy. Mom and Dad are emotionally constipated idiots who couldn't figure out for 14 years how to confess that they like each other as more than just friends-with-benefits.

shrexy: You know what? I believe it.

spipples: Ah yes, the specific brand of chaotic dumbass that is Remus and Janus is unrivalled by any other besides possibly Vita.

Taglist: @glaxyjellyfish @chronophobica @fear-ze-queer @imma-potatoo

#sanders sides #sympathetic deceit #immunocompromised deceit #immunocompromised janus #deceit sanders #janus sanders #remus sanders #logan sanders #remy sanders #virgil sanders #emile picani #thomas sanders #pryce sanders #snoweywrites #a very sanders group chat #tw cursing #tw sex mention #tw innuendo mention

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hayffiebird · 3 years

Text

Taste of Strawberries, chap. 24 (part two)

Chapter 24 (part two) A gift worthy of love Haymitch ducked low as they passed the willow tree with its pink colored branches and mint green leaves stretched far over the road. Miriam’s Road, Effie called it. Miri Road for short. The gravel pathway was the same pale yellow as a slice of fresh pineapple. He wouldn’t mind a cab ride but Effie preferred walking, even now and the house wasn’t far. “As long as we take it slow.“ Her arm was looped around his, just like in the old days. 27 weeks into the pregnancy she was more than grateful for the support. It drew many looks but then again, they always did. “I love this garden.” Days in the sun had painted a rosy layer across her nose, now sprinkled with freckles. “You would,” he said and Effie smiled. “The colors are rather intense, I admit but you see, I spent so much time here as a child. I used to chase ducks, jump after soap bubbles bigger than my head. I sang for the swans, badly.” She chuckled at the memory. “Mother clucked at me. ‘Be a lady, Euphemia!’ But it was like her words just flew past my ear. And when evening came and I got tired my father scooped me up and I watched the fireflies from his shoulder. All those little lights in the flower bushes. It was magical. I was so happy.” She fell silent, her smile fading. Mrs. Q used to join as well. Not often, of course. She was never one for outings and daydrips. The only times mother might convince her were on very special occasions, like anniversaries. “You simply must come! You’re part of our family too and Euphemia would just love that.” She brushed the thought away. It only made her sad. Sad and angry. Angry with herself most of all.

Whenever Mrs. Q. made a comment about the districts or the new government Effie always made excuses for her. Blamed it on her upbringing and the great losses she suffered during the wars, both wars. And when it came to her strong opinions about Haymitch, his drinking and very un-Capitoly ways Effie truly believed it all stemmed from a place of genuine concern for her. Because she cared for her and wanted her happy. Mathilda Quinlan’s true colors were brighter than fireworks and still Effe didn’t see them. A mistake that nearly cost her… No! She refused to finish that thought. They hadn’t spoken since that awful day over at her apartment. Mrs. Quinlan just sent her notice. Told her to pack her bags. By then everyone already knew her sins. Mrs. Q was a quick worker. Always had been. She didn’t even have to do all that much. All it took was a few words in passing to one of the biggest gossipers in town and the Capitol did the rest. When Haymitch first arrived he probably thought it was all Gloria’s making. Honestly, she wished it was. The outcome wouldn’t change but at least then the betrayal wasn’t made by someone she loved. By someone she thought loved her back. When all of this was happening June and Annabel were in District 11. Effie never told them but news of her predicament reached them anyway and Annabel was on the next train. It was so cold that day. Early March and the Capitol was covered in a glitter of crystals. The last frost before Spring. Annabel had to look all over town for her old friend before she found her. Here in Cupid’s Garden, by the Roman Stairs. Haymitch didn’t know it but as her pregnancy progressed Effie had spent more and more time by those steps. Castor and Pollux’s mind flights were everywhere. Sprinkled over the Capitol like confetti. Some obvious, some hidden, all of them lovely. But the ones by the Roman Stairs were her favorites. The very reason she walked there day in and day out. Not because of her parents or any good or half-good memories she had from around here. No, because the final image showed District 12. When those woods engulfed her, that’s when she felt the closest to Haymitch. Even if it was only an illusion. The day Annabel showed up Effie wasn’t looking at pictures though. Not moving pictures anyway. She stared at a sonogram, for the first time without her hands shaking. That’s after she spent the past three hours at the hotel crying her eyes out. How strange to feel happy and so utterly destroyed with despair, all at the same time. Those two little dots. How many hours did they sit there in the biting cold, talking, while the wind nipped their noses? She had no idea. A lot of her memories from that chaotic time were a blur. Too many life-changing things, good and bad, had happened so fast. But for the first time Effie confided in someone. Someone other than Haymitch. After Mrs. Q, she didn’t think she’d ever trust anyone here again but that’s just the thing about Annabel. She was different. She was an outcast too. Had been one for a long time. Everyone else thought Effie Trinket suffered a fate worse than death but not Annabel. She was the first person to tell her she was happy for her sake. For it was happy news. Those long weeks and months alone in the Capitol, Effie felt worried, distressed, heartsick, guilty, jumpy, furious, constantly choked up and panicked about the future. But not a day went by without her feeling happy, grateful for those two growing inside her. Annabel was also the only one who knew about the incident with the pennyroyal tea. Effie wisely decided to keep Haymitch out of that loop. It would only upset him and what for? Mrs. Q. had already fired all of her guns, big and small. She couldn’t hurt them anymore. “You got mail,” Haymitch said as they walked the path toward June and Annabel’s house. He reached inside a fork in the apple tree and got out a handful of pink paper hearts. So many they slipped through his fingers. Gracie and the others had not returned since their first visit. Undoubtedly someone saw them and ran for the phone. The girls weren’t exactly quiet there by the window. June and Annabel laughed when they first heard of the visit, with all of them seated around the roast chicken. Effie was concerned that the parents would be angry, not only with her and Haymitch but with the two of them as well but Annabel waved it off. “Let them. It’ll be a refreshing new round of name-calling. ‘Traitor’ and ‘turn-coat’ and ‘back-stabber’: it gets old.” Either way, after their initial visit, the girls didn’t come knocking again. But, as Haymitch so correctly pointed out to Effie: “They never actually promised you anything.” They just found new ways to get the message across. Snuck little notes in Effie’s windowpanes, used them for sail in bark boats and sent them cruising across the pond or, like today, hid them in the tree. How they did it was a mystery because they were never caught red-handed. Haymitch understood the appeal. This cat and mouse game they played with June and Annabel’s hawk-eyed neighbors. He had the same rebellious tendencies as a kid after all. Same “fight the power” response when told he couldn’t do something. He opened the door for her and closed it behind them. Effie headed for his room which was closest but Haymitch took the route through the kitchen first. He plucked two pomegranates from the fruit basket and got out his knife. When Jerome, the big-bellied, always-good-for-a-joke man who sold Effie her groceries every week, heard what happened on the square he got mad as a mad dog. Next thing they knew, three wooden crates arrived at June and Annabel’s doorstep, filled to the brim with large, fragrant pomegranates of the finest quality. All cultivated in his greenhouses. Next to chocolate wafers, the dark pinkish fruit had been Effie’s ultimate craving ever since she got pregnant. She inhaled the stuff, one glass at a time. “Oh, thank you. You’re an angel,” Effie said when he handed it to her, fresher than fresh and clinking with ice cubes. She sat leaned back in the recliner with a pillow against her back and he crawled up in his usual spot in the bay window. Hands knitted over his stomach he watched Effie sip her glass and read the little notes on those paper hearts. She always said the girls shouldn’t keep doing this but he knew she was happy for them. These hellos from her protégées. Held them more precious than gold. He saw it in her smiles, like right now. Even if they were laced with sadness. “Aren’t you angry?” he asked. “Oh, you should be inside my head sometimes.” She drew a breath that couldn’t quite count as a sigh. “I saw it coming, really. They never liked my teaching methods. Or the fact that I spoke up. Trust me, they’ve wanted to be rid of me for a long time. When they found out about this,” she said and placed her hand against the top of her stomach. “Well, let’s just say it was the final straw. Professor Sickle gathered a name collection. Written complaints from concerned parents. I was summoned before the Board and they told me, as much as they wanted to, they simply could not renew my contract with a good conscious.” “What a lot of bull,” he said and she gave him a joyless smile. “Indeed. Most of all I worried about my students. What would happen to them. But from what I hear, the Board already has a problem with Talisha.” “So?” “It means she’s good, Haymitch. Not quite in my league of course but then again: who is? Beetee’s told me about her and her background. They knew each other way back in District 3. Gracie and the others, they’re in good hands.” She had herself another sip of juice. “You should see professor Sickle,” she said. “To hear her tell it Snow will one day rise up from his grave and everything will resume to the way it was. But Pallas and Appollo’s Academy are a thing of the past and good riddance! The date for the new school is set and it will be long before the end of Talisha’s contract. A co-ed school with teachers from all over the country. They’re building universities, did you know that? In District 4 and 7, in addition to the one we have here. No more School boards where class and wealth gives you power. So if Sickle and her flock of vultures and eye-servants wants to fire me as one last death twitch, they can have it! The future is coming whether they like it or not.” Yeah, Haymitch thought. That’s my Eff. Damn it, he thought right after. Not “his”. Effie wasn’t his. Never would be again. Why was that so hard to learn? The ice clinked as Effie tipped the glass up. She caught a drip of juice before it escaped her lip and said, “But to change the subject, Haymitch. I was thinking.” “That hurt?” “When my father was born, it was grandfather who chose his name. And ‘Euphemia’ was actually picked out by my mother. So you could say it’s a Trinket tradition for the fathers to decide the boy’s names and the mothers to decide the girl’s. And since our children are half-Trinkets, I think it would be beautiful to carry on that tradition. What do you say?” ”Not a chance, sweetheart.” ”Why ever not? I have full confidence in you.” “You think I was born yesterday? You’re just saying that cause you wanna lock your name down so when you call our daughter ‘Amandagram’, I can’t say anything. And even then, I bet you’ll still find some way to pick the boy’s name, too.” ”I certainly would not. And who said anything about ’Amandagram’? What kind of a name is that? Amandalyn, on the other hand…” ”Is too long. I never even heard of it until today. Besides… what?” he said, at the sudden wide smile on Effie’s face. ”My dearest Haymitch. You always tell me I pick all the long, weird names but you never stop to think about the name you’ve got. ‘Haymitch Abernathy’ doesn’t exactly roll easily off the tongue, does it? All these years and I still can’t find a decent nickname for it. How did your parents come up with ’Haymitch’ anyway?” Too late she realized her blunder. Felt it in the tense silence that followed. They never spoke of his dead family. To cover the slip-up, she said, ”What about Florentinus then? For the boy. That’s fancy.” ”No.” ”I still think Haymitch Junior has a nice ring to it.” ”No!” He rubbed his forehead, like getting a headache. “Please, Eff. Spare the poor kid. One of me is enough.” xXx A week passed. The heat wouldn’t let go of the Capitol but the same could not be said for the rest of Panem. One day a call came from District 11. They were just setting the breakfast table. Haymitch placed the largest bread basket by the coffee pot. No smaller would do because ever since Katniss and Peeta sent him the trunk of clothes and whatnot, the boy made a habit of keeping them all with baked goods. Raspberry and blueberry muffins. The light and fluffy brioche bread baked with honey that Effie liked. Even crescent-moon rolls dotted with seeds that he baked especially for June and Annabel. Effie poured orange juice into a big glass jug but before she could lift it off the counter Haymitch was there. He didn’t let her carry anything heavier than a book and even then, only the light ones. That’s when the phone rang, June answered and they didn’t think much of it at first. Not until the blonde woman re-appeared, face flushed. “Bel, Eustace’s on the phone,” she said. “He says the tree blew over last night! Half the top floor is gone!” For the next three days the two ladies hardly ever came off the phone. “That blasted tree!” Annabel said. “We should’ve listened to Eustace and cut it down when we had the chance.” Haymitch got a call through to Katniss and Peeta but apparently the storm missed District 12. He remembered well, the harm they could do. Storms. Not Katniss and Peeta. There was a reason Seamers were fixers. One had to be if you wanted to survive the winter. All those ramshackle, dry-as-a-bone houses before the rebellion. It was a full-time job just to keep the walls from caving in. Something always broke or bailed on you when you needed it most. Frozen pipes, clogged drains, leaky roofs, cracked chimneys. The list just went on and on. In his prime, grandpa Harold was a sought for carpenter. Haymitch often came with on one of his jobs and he learned a thing or two. From his visits at the woodshop as well. He would have offered now. Gone to Eleven and helped with the repairs. Pay off an ounce of his enormous debt to June and Annabel. But what about Effie? She was due in August. Late August, but still. He bet that with his famous luck, the moment the train rolled into Eleven she would go into labor, just because. “I know people you can call and put the bill on me,” he told Annabel but even that he wasn’t getting. They already hired people from The Cidery. But it changed the plans for all of them. Disrupted the schedule, as the former escort would say. June and Annabel wanted to be there. Back in District 11.They didn’t say so out loud, not outside their own bedroom but Effie knew it more than well. A lot of people cringed when they heard Caesar Flickerman’s daughter went and bought a place in a district. An outer district no less! But Effie knew how much they loved that house. For the last few years June and Annabel had spent more time in District 11 than in the Capitol. They led a life there. One they left, because of her. “You should go,” Effie said, one night when she had a moment alone with her old friend. And it didn’t take much to convince Annabel. Now that Haymitch Abernathy was there, by Effie’s side. But even then she squeezed her hand and promised, “I’ll be back before you deliver.” xXx And so, Haymitch and Effie were alone again. It was so hot out. “The hottest summer in living memory” Effie said which made Haymitch laugh because he was from District 12. Still, the almost tropical heat took its toll. On Effie because she was pregnant and on Haymitch because he was Haymitch. So they didn’t mind a day in. Or three. Surprisingly calm days they were too. Sane. For them anyway. Maybe because Effie spent the majority of them resting or consumed by her new, favorite hobby. Whenever Haymitch joined her and no matter the hour, Effie’s nose was always in a baby book. She had like a hundred of them, stocked sky-high in both their rooms. Haymitch even made a few attempts to follow her example but he always shut the book tight within the first minute since about 95 % of those pages were about everything that could go wrong. His imagination was bad enough. He didn’t need specifics. But most of the time life was just one calm, uneventful, boring day after another. Just the kind Haymitch savored. When he got to spent them with his annoying, pregnant escort, that was. So Effie read and Haymitch made her pomegranate juice while he tried to wrap his head around the fact soon two new people would join the party. Their little ones, to use Effie’s words. Besides, when they could just keep to themselves, within these walls, it was easier to believe the world had finally forgotten all about them. Course, like so many things in the Capitol it was only an illusion. Effie was re-reading chapter 14, “When you bring your twins home” and Haymitch took his chance and snuck into the bathroom. Crouched before the cabinet he got out his shower bag. Well, “his” was quite a stretch. He more or less stole it from Effie and stuffed it with shampoo bottles shortly after he moved in. The thing was printed with glossy red, almost obscene flamingo flowers but it was spacey and that’s all that mattered.

He dug inside, rummaged through the camouflage until his hand closed around one of Ripper’s trusty bottles. Good and heavy. He was playing his own cat and mouse game with Effie. After June and Annabel left for Eleven he resumed to his old habit of hiding bottles around the house, at arm’s reach but out of her sight. The night was his new best friend, just like when he and Effie were together. When he could get some alone time with the bottles, without Effie hanging over his shoulder. By morning there wasn’t so much as a wine cork on display for her to get all stressed and worked up about. Only difference this time around was now he kept himself on an even shorter leash. He aimed to get in a couple good mouthfuls throughout the day as well. As long as he always stayed a little drunk he wouldn’t lose control. Because he couldn’t just disappear in a booze fog and leave Effie on her own. He tipped the bottle up. Her face, tight with disappointment, flashed before his mind’s eye, but he brushed the image away so he could take another sip. It was walking on a knife-edge. He knew that better than anyone, but what options did he have? He would be of no use to Effie or the kids in withdrawal. He zipped the bag up and returned it to the cabinet. His elbow nudged into the pile of books by the toilet and almost knocked it over. “1000 names for your bundle of joy” announced the one on top. Silly title. He picked it up. Green, yellow and orange arrow flags stuck out from between the pages. If memory served him right, yellow was for the names she liked, orange was for the names she really liked and green gave him headaches. -He flipped through it. Already knew what he’d find there. Amandalyn. “Worthy of love.” With a heart drawn around it. Silly, ol’ Eff. He turned to a different page. Over at the boy’s section, still on the letter ‘A’. And yep, there it was. He stared at it for a long time. How odd to see the name printed in ink like this. He was only used to the big, jiggly letters written with lead pencils and crayons. Effie didn’t know. How could she know? Sae wasn’t a blabbermouth, neither were the kids and most importantly, Effie would never insist on the name Amandalyn if she knew the connection. It was all just a coincidence. He didn’t even see it himself. The resemblance. Not straight away. Not consciously. But perhaps his immediate veto of the name wasn’t so much that it was long or unusual. It just reminded him too much of his brother. Amadeus. Amandalyn. They even had similar origins. To love and be loved. He heaved a sigh and put the book back where he found it. His shirt clung to him with sweat and he pulled it over his head. Standing in the shower, under the cool, soothing rain he brushed his teeth with such vigor it foamed pink around his lips. He spat and reached for the pocket of his bathrobe where he kept the peppermints. As a boy he sometimes watched the older kids, all scrawny, gaunt teenagers, gathered by the slag heap where they passed a cigarette or a quarter bottle of white liquor between them. Before they went home they always stripped the needles off the nearest pine and chewed the stuff, to cover any tell-tale breath. This was his second-best choice. Still chewing, he squirted a blob of shampoo onto his palm, since he was already in here. While he massaged it into his hair, Amadeus’s grinning face floated back into his head, followed by that same old pinch in his heart. His brother would have loved it if someone was named after him. Absolutely. The shy and withdrawn little boy who hardly ever spoke to people outside the family would tell everyone. Sae, the Hendersons, his school teacher, the Mellarks. He wouldn’t shut up about it. Good God, my life for a drink. He tossed another handful of peppermints into his mouth and with a towel around his hips he walked into the kitchen. “You hungry? We can order some…” He silenced at the sight. Effie stood by the dish washer, her back to him. The china clattered as she put the plates and cups away in the cabinets. A house chore that was getting increasingly difficult as her body took up more and more space. Her once swift motions were slower now because of the pregnancy but Haymitch could still tell she was out of sorts. “What’s wrong?” “Nothing,” she muttered. “I’m just cleaning up.” She took the soup tureen and tried to put it away on a high shelf. A light groan slipped between her lips and Haymitch was by her side in half a heartbeat. “Don’t do that,” he said and took the bowl. He put it on the shelf with ease and got a clear look on Effie’s face. Her flushed cheeks, her tight lips and he realized she was barely holding it together. “What’s the matter?” His eyes flitted to her belly. “You’re not feeling alright? Is it…” “No, no,” she reassured him. “We’re alright.” “What’s happened?” Effie rubbed her palms against her upper arms, like suddenly feeling cold. “Nothing. I just got a call. While you were in the shower. That kind.” Haymitch’s face tightened. “Gloria?” “No, I don’t think so. I didn’t recognize any of their voices.” “What’d they say?” “The usual. ‘I hope they’re stillborn. We’re all keeping our fingers crossed that you’ll bleed out. If you had any common decency you would jump in the river.” Her words made his head throb. That’s how tightly he pressed his jaws shut. “They’re nothing,” he said and it was a miracle his voice didn’t quiver. “Less than nothing.” And I’m gonna beat those assholes to a pulp! June and Annabel’s got caller ID, don’t they? “It’s so ridiculous,” Effie sniffed and brushed a tear before it could fall. “I should be thick-skinned by now. At least Gloria dared to tell it to my face.”

“Shit, Eff,” he mumbled. He tried to pull her into a hug but she wouldn’t let him hold her. Not for long. “Please,” she said and pulled away. “I’m sorry, I… I need a minute, OK?” True to character, he thought. She always excused herself when she needed a good cry. “Sure,” he said. “I’m gonna make some green pea soup. For later?” “Mm-hm,” she said over her shoulder and managed a smile. “Sounds delicious.” Usually when these things happened Effie was able to brush it off. Or got spitting mad, which was better. This incident had clearly gotten to her. He wished she would talk to him about it. Stressing over what went on in Effie’s head like this only made him constipated. Course, he thought. What’s to say she didn’t feel the exact same way about him? Yeah, that wasn’t even a question. Night came. Haymitch lay on his bed for a change and stared up at the ceiling with his hand against the back of his head. It was well past midnight and Effie was still up and about. He heard her when she left her room but she didn’t come back. It wasn’t the first time he listened to Effie’s slow footfalls after dark. The babies kept her up at night. Walking helped ease some of the discomfort. It was always the same route. Bedroom, kitchen. living room and back again. Bedroom, kitchen, living room. Bedroom, kitchen, living room. The sound made him feel bad. He put Effie in that condition, after all. Well, not all by himself. He wanted to help, of course he did. Every time. And yet he always remained in the bay window. Drunk and unsteady he was useless anyway. He would only make her nauseous and she had enough of that from the pregnancy, without his help. He felt the thick beat of music far away. Another mind-numbing party for mind-numbing people with so little going on in their lives they got a kick out of harassing pregnant ladies. Finally he got up. Hid his silver hip flask inside a house plant, just to be safe. It was still almost full. He hadn’t taken a drop since the shower. Her heard her murmurs from afar. Effie sat on the couch, wearing the same dress and dark, silk stockings from earlier. The over-sized bag lay open by her feet and all the items were rounded up in neat rows beside her and on the coffee table. “Socks, caps, pacifiers,” Effie murmured and counted them off her fingers. “Nappies, sleepers, onesies, baby bottles…” She looked up at the sound of his cough and flushed pink. “Good thing you thought about re-packing the hospital bag,” Haymitch said, leaned against the doorframe. “You’ve only done it… what? 16 times?” “I just wanted to make sure,” Effie said. “It would be so our luck if we realize we don’t have any receiving blankets the moment my water breaks.” She lifted a stray diaper from the bottom of the bag, silently counting again. “Alright, sweetheart. Break time.” “Hey!” Effie protested when he took the bag. “I have a system!” But she spoke to deaf ears. Haymitch just stuffed the items inside, all at random. “Oh, that’s splendid, just splendid! Now I have to start over from the beginning!” He zipped it up and joined her on the couch. Without a word he cupped her head, thumbs just behind her ears and rubbed his fingertips in gentle, circular motions. Effie groaned in relief and closed her eyes. It wasn’t the first time he gave her a massage. As her belly got bigger and bulkier it put a strain on the rest of her body. Her legs were swollen, her muscles all tight and aching and he did what he could to make her relax. He had a knack for it too. To their equal surprise. “Maybe you should consider a career in massage therapy,” Effie joked, after the first few times. “Finally gonna tell me what’s the matter, sweetheart?” he asked as he moved down to her shoulders. “Got all worked up ‘bout the birth? That it?” Effie didn’t response but she didn’t have to. Her silence told him everything. “Well,” he said and slid his palm down the side of her spine, close by her right shoulder blade and relaxed the knots he found there. “If only there was someone here that you could talk to. Someone who’s also in this, neck-deep.” “I can handle it,” Effie mumbled. “I’ve already done this once before, after all. Really, Haymitch, it’s fine.” In answer, Haymitch closed his hand around her wrist, fingertips right over her pulse. “Yeah, sure, sweetheart,” he snorted. “You’re so calm you’re practically a vegetable.” Effie breathed a sigh. Dropped the façade. “Fine,” she said. “I’m terrified. I just… I’m terrified.” “So tell me about it.” “And get you all freaked out?” “Well, that ship sailed a long time ago, sweetheart.” They had never talked about the birth before. Not really. Not the actual experience. The mechanics of it all. Frankly, just the word alone, “birth”, made him want to run and hide under the bed with his hands clamped over his ears. But he saved those feelings for another day. They couldn’t both be scared shitless at the same time. “Remember what the doctor told us,” he said when Effie wouldn’t speak. “It’s all going as planned. They’re in the right position and everything. And since it’s twins, it might even make the labor easier.” Effie huffed a breath and shook her head. Exhausted. “I wish.” Her hand came to a rest against her belly. “You know I’m really looking forward to seeing them…” “Course.” “To hold them, get to know them. It’s just… I’m terrified how much it’s going to hurt. How long it will take. And I know what I’m about to say is not rational…” “’But?’” he coaxed. She looked at him. No tears shimmered in her blue eyes now but they were redder than his. “I’m afraid I will get punished. For what I did during the Games.” “Eff…” “I didn’t get to keep Alex. What if something happens to the twins because I…” “Don’t.” He reached in and grasped her hand, the one on her belly. “No, don’t look away. Look at me. Nothing’s gonna happen, sweetheart. OK? You’re doing great. And if karma’s gonna come around and bite us in the ass, mine’s in much graver danger. I did worse things than you, princess.” “That’s not true,” she mumbled. “That was all Snow.” “So by that logic, karma owes me then. And those two cooking in there are my kids too, not just yours. Besides, if we’re gonna go down that road, you’ve already been punished, Eff, plenty. You were imprisoned, you were tortured, you got pregnant with my spawn. Call it a day, sweetheart. If you keep on thinking like that, you’re gonna end up like me so… better stop.” He gave her hand a squeeze. Effie swallowed and without a word she lay down on her side, with her head against his lap. This was a scene he remembered well, from their Games years. Course, most of the time the roles were reversed. With him seeking her comfort. But I can get used to this, he thought and brushed a wayward lock of hair from her face. The clock ticked away the minutes as Haymitch gently knead the tight areas in Effie’s back. Her breathing was slower now. So slow he reckoned she’d fallen asleep and he nearly flinched when she spoke up next. “You will be there too, won’t you?” The question was so unexpected, so outrageous it stunned him. Stunned him Avox mute. He just stared at her, like a fish. “Kane wasn’t.” The words were very hushed. “But you will? I don’t have to do it alone?” “Course I’ll be there. What kinda question is that?” He sounded like a whiny kid but he couldn’t help it. The fact that Effie could ever doubt if he’d be in the room when his children were born, that fucking hurt. “Seriously, Eff? You think I’m that guy?” His hand went to his pocket, on autopilot, but of course his hip flask wasn’t there. He cussed and said, “I ain’t goin’ nowhere, sweetheart. Katniss and Peeta would fucking kill me. You go around worrying ‘bout this kinda stuff?” Again, her silence told him everything he needed to know. “Effie,” he sighed. “Don’t be so bloody paranoid. Try and relax a little. OK?” “What are you doing?” she asked when she felt him move underneath her. He carefully lifted her head from his lap. “Don’t be mad.” “Again, sweetheart. Stop. Being. Paranoid.” He put a pillow under her head. “Just lie down, breathe and unwind. You’re making people for God’s sake.” And out of all places, Haymitch headed for the piano. He pulled out the chair and took a seat, his face a distorted reflection in the shiny cherry wood. Effie just gaped. Her head whirl with questions. Questions and memories. Of Annie and Finn and a mountain air and Haymitch in a corner in the dead of night. Eyes vacant and with blood on his face. “Haymitch, don’t torture yourself.” “You worry too much, sweetheart. No need. I already do it for the both of us.” He lifted the lid. Revealed those rows of ebony black and cream white ivories, his face impossible to read. He rested his fingers on top of them. “Here goes.”. And he played a melody Effie had never heard before. Soft and gentle notes that picked up and grew, swelled, only to soften again. Happy notes and sad, all at the same time. The music washed through her, all around her, like a warm sea. Vibrant with life. The babies stirred within her, like they were just as curious, wondering what those sounds were. Where they came from. What was it? Another mountain air? An old ballad sung around the fire for as long as there lived people in Haymitch’s part of the world? She tried to swallow the lump in her throat and all at once she was five again, wobbling down Miri Road on her first bike. Father panted as he ran behind her, holding the saddle. “Not so fast!” mother called and wrung her hands. “You’ll hurt yourself! The dress was really expensive! Oh, why did I agree to this!? Young ladies shouldn’t ride bicycles!” “Let go, daddy!” Effie said, out of breath. “I can do it. Let go of me!” And all at once it was only her. Her and the bike and the road and the wind. “Look mommy! Daddy, look! Look what I can do!” And the image changed. Suddenly it wasn’t little Euphemia Trinket who rode a bike down Miri Road. It was her son and daughter. Their son and daughter. “Careful you two,” Haymitch called, hand pressed against the stitches in his side. High on her children’s happiness, Effie failed to muffle her chuckles and she steadied him before he collapsed. “Look mommy! Daddy, look!” Smiling through tears Effie opened her eyes she didn’t even realize she closed and watched Haymitch by the piano. It was like the years fell off him as he played. Like he was that boy again who won the second Quarter Quell. No, before that. A person who had never set his foot inside an arena. Effie played too, a little but not like this. Not nearly as well. Not even in the same neighborhood. And she only ever did it because her mother insisted. Because it was expected of a Capitol girl. Her heart was never in it. This was something else. Even a stranger could see this was not a person who played because he had to. The last brittle note faded into silence and Haymitch sat still. If Effie’s mind had been in the future, Haymitch’s was in the past. Even from this distance she could see his hands trembling. Then he turned and looked at her and she saw something that surprised her even more. Playing had flushed his cheeks. From grief and heartache but not only. There was something else there too. Like an after shake of an old joy. An old love, half forgotten. Effie occupied most of the couch so Haymitch sat down on the floor, arm slumped against the seat, their faces on the same level. “What was that?” she asked softly. Haymitch shrugged. “Just something I wrote. A long time ago.” He leaned into his palm and rested his free hand on her belly. “I think they liked it,” said Effie. “I know I did.” But it was like Haymitch didn’t even hear her. He brushed her stomach in soft strokes. He’d done so a lot lately, to his own surprise. It got easier and easier. Like all he had to do was give himself a little time to get used to it. It was an odd sort of craving and one he couldn’t be without. Effie brushed her fingers absent-mindedly against his hair, his neck. Just like in the old days. Way back in another time, another life. “I hope they take after you,” she said. “I hope they have your eyes, your hair, your smile, your heart. Your heart, most of all.” “God forbid,” Haymitch mumbled. “Nah, I’m just glad if they get my sense of fashion.” He brushed his fingertips just below her belly button. Felt something there. Like a rhythmic twitching. Too weak to be actual kicks. “What’re they up to now?” Effie smiled. “I’m afraid one of them’s got a case of the hiccups.” “Really?” He brushed his thumb soothingly up and down. “Sit on your head, have a drink.” “You did not just say that!” Effie chuckled. “What? Works every time.” They stirred underneath his palm while he spoke. He liked to think they knew he was here. Sensed it somehow. “What else can they do?” “Well,” said Effie. “They can dream.” “’bout what?” “What, indeed. And they recognize our voices.” “Both of us?” “Both of us.” He felt another little nudge. On impulse he leaned in and brushed his lips against her belly. Twice. It was the first time he ever did something like that but he knew in his heart that it wouldn’t be the last. When he looked back at Effie, their faces were so close their noses nearly touched. Her heart fluttered in her chest like it always did when she gazed into those kind, gray, beautiful eyes. “Hey,” he said. “That name you talked about. We can call her Amandalyn, if you want.” “Really?” “Yeah. My broth…” His voice faltered. “Name’s kinda been growing on me, you know. Besides, it’s like you said. It’s not like we’re ever gonna call her that. She’ll be Amy to everyone.” Effie smiled. “Then you must choose a name for our boy.” “Yeah? What if I pick something awful?” “You won’t,” she said and had barely finished the sentence before their lips met. Afterward, neither of them knew who initiated it. Which one of them moved in first. Like their pregnancy, it just happened. They fell into one another, as surely as a fork falls to the ground when you drop it. “Maybe we shouldn’t,” Haymitch mumbled, but the words were so weak it was pathetic. His hand which had rested on her tummy all this time moved up until he cupped her cheek. His body acted on its own now while his mind and reason took the backseat. Effie sighed with pleasure as he deepened the kiss and he saw his own lust reflected in her eyes. “Take me to bed.” It was so late. Effie’s room was full of shadows. He pulled her inside, their hands entwined like a pair of virgins on their wedding night. He only ever let go to make sure the curtains were pulled, the blinds shut. His heart beat so hard and thick it made him butter-fingered but none of those nosey neighbors would get a show from this house tonight. Effie stood where he left her, in the middle of the room. “No, keep it dark,” she said when he reached for the table lamp. Even in this dim light he caught her blush. “I don’t look the same anymore.” “I kinda figured that one out m’self, believe it or not.” “I mean, I’m all sweaty and… I have stretch marks and my legs… well, I haven’t been able to shave them properly … I c-can’t quite… reach…” She was stuttering for he had grasped her hand and pulled her to him. “Always so superficial.” Despite the hot flashes, her fingers were ice-cold. Clasped between his warm ones he brought them to his lips. Effie swallowed thickly, from the sweet desire those simple kisses evoked in her. “Come here, sweetheart.” He brushed a kiss to her hot cheek, so near his nose got smushed. Effie sighed and breathed in the scent of his skin that never failed to intoxicate her. Especially now, fresh from the shower. She snuggled against his chest, as close as her big belly allowed. He sought her lips in a deep kiss and she moaned. He’d always been the greatest kisser. Grounded by his steady arms, Effie buried her hands in those soft, brittle tresses of dirty blonde hair. Her dress loosened, pooled, swam on her as he tugged the zipper down. Effie groaned against his mouth and yet her hand pressed to her bosom, delaying the moment when the dress would drop to her ankles. Her face was red as a stop sign and she gazed up at him, almost apologetically. Afraid he’d mock her for being self-conscious or sigh in frustration. She wouldn’t bear it if he did either. He didn’t. Instead he took a little step back and started to unbutton his shirt. It was quick work since most buttons were already missing. He shouldered out of it and dropped it in the old rocking chair. His hands went to the waistband of those knotty old sweatpants. He always did killer double knots, impossible to undo even for her and he made the process short and just pulled his pants and underpants down in one go. Pushed the garment backward with a light foot. Mercy, he was fine, striking. Effie still held on to her dress but there wasn’t much strength left in her grip. Not with Haymitch standing there stark naked in front of her and she could see with her own eyes he wanted her just as badly as she wanted him. He took her in his arms and when he kissed her this time she gave in to it, completely. She wound her arms around his neck, the dress pooled to the floor and she stepped out of it, safe in the knowledge he wouldn’t let her fall. It was the first time they ever undressed completely before they lay down on a bed. All to make it easier for Effie in her current condition. Haymitch drank in the sight of her. He couldn’t look away. Couldn’t keep his hands away. Everything about her was rounder now, heavier, softer. The curve of her hips, the swell of her belly, the shape of her breasts. He didn’t see anything he didn’t like. She was his Effie. Beautiful in a new and exciting way. The dull headache had diminished to almost nothing. Now all he wanted was her. The only crave stronger than his crave for a drink. He felt home. Out of the woods. Home. Still conscious of the two between them his hand found her tummy again. Tried to detect any sudden jerks or movements from freaked out twins. “Sure it’s safe?” he whispered, forehead against hers. “As long as you don’t put any pressure on my belly, we’re OK.” She brushed her lips against the hollow of his throat, feather-light and Haymitch screwed his eyes shut. She did that sometimes. Used to do, he should say. Kissed him and caressed him in his most exposed, tender places. You’d think after his time in the arena he wouldn’t like it. To be at someone’s mercy like that, in lack of a better word.

But like in so many other ways, Effie was the exception. With her, he let his guard down. Allowed himself to be vulnerable. That’s how he got his fucking heart crushed. And yet, here he was again. Doing the same thing. Memories preyed on his mind, called for attention. Memories of an icy platform. A train only minutes from departure. And Effie, her tummy still flat and with tears streaming down her face. But he brushed the image away, just like in the shower. He didn’t want to think about then. He didn’t want to think about later. All that mattered was now. Effie lay down on the bed and when he reached for the table lamp this time she didn’t stop him. Her hair fell in sandy waves over the pillow. She smiled at him, naked and rosy. “It’s not fair, sweetheart.” “What?” “Next to you I look like something the cat dragged in.” She laughed behind her hand and those little crow’s feet that he loved appeared by her eyes. “Then it’s a cat with excellent taste.” She pulled him to her and he crawled in with her, on top of her but still with plenty of space between them. He scooted lower, a little spooked they were actually four people in this room. “You OK in there?” he murmured, cheek against her tummy. “Maybe you two could just… look the other way for the next half hour or so? That’d be great.” Effie raked her fingers through his hair. Haymitch was the mother hen in this family, no doubt. But the smile soon melted from her face when she felt his hands on her. Those expert hands that could be just as rough as they were gentle and now tenderer than ever. Her socks were still on and Haymitch cupped her calf as he eased them off, one after another. He ran his fingers along the soft, blonde down on her leg. Effie opened her mouth but before she could say anything he dropped a kiss to her inner thigh and the words turned into a moan. “That OK?” “Yeah,” she nodded. These were the only moments she spoke in that manner, allowed herself such words. “Don’t stop.” He kissed her again, closer to his goal. Effie screwed her eyes shut. Groaned at the sensation of his stubble against the sensitive skin. He gave her knee a little nudge, to part her legs further and found no resistance there. “Ohh!” Effie pressed her knuckles into the headboard as the pleasure built. Haymitch’s face was now between her legs. She couldn’t quite see him, not with her belly in the way, but she felt it. What he was up to. “Oh, God!” He held on to her hip to ground himself and help his quest while his free hand roamed the curves of her body. He may not know his way around the Capitol but he knew his way around her. How to kiss her and where to kiss her, how to move his tongue and when to add more pressure, bringing her higher, higher, higher. She cried out in pleasure as the orgasm flooded her limbs, her brain, her whole being. Her legs quivered so badly it was a miracle she didn’t shake the bed loose. Her muscles contracted and Haymitch thrust his tongue in time with them. Added one delicious second to the next until she lay in the tangle of sheets, slack and limp and spent. “Goodness,” she panted and rested her palm against her forehead. It was slick with sweat. “You are certainly not rusty.” Haymitch wiped his mouth on the sheets and pulled himself up to her again, face to face. His hand went to her belly, first thing. “All good?” “All good.” But despite her words, the crease between Haymitch’s eyebrows deepened. “They’re kicking.” “Really?” Effie smiled. “Well, it’s good you’re here so I know these things.” “They’re kicking more than before. They know something’s up.” His face was marred in concern. “Maybe,” he said after a moment’s pause. “Maybe, we should just… leave it at this.” “What?” Effie chuckled. “Don’t you dare, Abernathy!” “They wonder what the fuck’s going on. Can’t you tell? I can’t traumatize them before they’re even...” “Haymitch,” she said, softer now. “They don’t know what we’re doing. They’re not freaking out. They’re well-cushioned. Even if you went all wild with me, which you won’t, to them it would only feel like they’re on a nice, bouncy boat ride. Why don’t you take your own advice and ease on the paranoia. Of course, I have to confess, it is rather cute that you’re so concerned.” “Course,” he muttered. “They’re my kids.” But he looked into her smiling face. The orgasm had flushed her chest all the way up to her cheeks. The dampness of her skin made her hair stick out in wispy little curls around her face. She looked so healthy. “Oh, sweetheart,” she mumbled in his hair when he dropped a kiss to her neck. If that word had come from anyone else or in any other situation it would only make him annoyed or embarrassed. But right here, right now, from Effie’s lips he found himself longing for her to say it again. Interacting with the babies had made him lose his hardon but as he kissed his way across Effie’s body - different and yet so familiar, it didn’t take long before he lit up again. She could never quell his desire, no matter what she looked like. It was silly of her to ever doubt it. For once, they took it slow. Her pregnancy forbade all the rougher ways they enjoyed in the past. Back in the day when they turned each other on so much, sometimes they didn’t even bother with all their clothes or made it to the bed before they were at it. Now he had to be gentle with her and to his own surprise he didn’t mind it. Not even a little. “Are you going to kiss all of me?” Effie smiled when he brushed one just above her hip and moved onward along her swelling side. All her embarrassment and self-consciousness were gone. How could she ever feel anything but worshipped when he kissed her like that, touched her like that. Each time his lips brushed against her skin sweet, warm tingled spread throughout her body, until she swam in a pool of pleasure all over again. “Come here,” she sighed. He moved in her and it was slow and rhythmic and quiet but not any less intense. His lips tingled from all the kisses. What would they look like tomorrow? But he immediately cut that string of thoughts. No tomorrow. If it was the pregnancy that made Effie extra sensitive or the long foreplay or maybe because she had thirsted for him just as much as he had for her, he couldn’t say, but she was coming again, mere minutes in. Usually he needed his fingers for aid to make her come so fast but not this time. Eyes screwed tight, lips fever hot, she climaxed for the second time. Haymitch almost followed right at her heels but at the last moment he managed to hold it in. God, she felt good. He thrust himself into her and tried to think of something disgusting to keep from doing the very thing he wanted. Effie felt him holding back and she was of no help whatsoever. She only skimmed her hand over his ass and gave it a soft squeeze, right in time with his next thrust. Haymitch sucked in a breath. “Careful.” “Come in me,” was all she said. A sigh in his ear. “You can’t make me pregnant this time.” The comment really shouldn’t add to his arousal but he was powerless against it. Maybe because it reminded him of that particular time. Best sex he ever had! Haymitch gritted his teeth until they hurt. Fought the urge that was as old as time itself. He wanted to make it last. He could last, just a little while longer. Maybe make her come a third time. But again he didn’t anticipate Effie. Her hand which had been stationed on his ass this whole time moved in between his legs to his testicles which had already tightened for the inevitable release. Before he knew it she gave them just a little tug. And he was screwed. What little shred of self-control he’d mustered shattered in a second. The pleasure hit him like an avalanche. Yes! he wanted to cry as the semen streamed out through him in waves that felt so good he damn near passed out and No! he wanted to scream, all at the same time. Because he didn’t want it to end. He didn’t want it to be over. But it did end. Like all good things. They lay on their backs, side by side. Both out of breath, hair on end. Haymitch’s heartbeat slowed from racing to normal and with each second that passed the unhappier he got until he felt like someone had shot a hole right through his chest. A car rolled past outside the windows. The head lights sailed over the ceiling. It was like a reminder. With the blinds shut and Effie in his arms he could almost pretend they were really in Twelve. But they weren’t. He was far from home. The sweat cooled in no time at all and he gathered Effie in bed. If only to warm himself a little. He spooned her like so many times before and still never once quite like this. He held his family in his arms and yet he’d never felt more alone. “Promise me, Haymitch,” Effie whispered. Tendrils of sleep tried to pull her under but she fought it. “Just one thing.” “What?” he mumbled in her hair. “Don’t be wasted when you see them.” She knew then. Of course she did. Between his rationing and sneaking and chewing breath mints til he puked she still knew exactly what was going on. Probably had from the beginning. And she asked nothing of him. Just this one thing. “I promise.” xXx Effie felt like she only just shut her eyes when she drifted back into consciousness. Nothing less than she expected. A night when the twins didn’t wake her at least once these days was an odd thing. She kept a journal over every kick and stir so she knew their schedule rather well and after her and Haymitch’s recent activities it shouldn’t come as a surprise that they were extra lively. Still only half-awake Effie rolled over to her other side, searching Haymitch. The bed was cold. With some difficulty she propped herself up and switched the lamp on, squinting in the sudden light. Alone. Even all their clothes which had littered the floor were gone. She found hers folded in the old armchair but Haymitch had just dressed and left. She didn’t have to look at the clock to tell it was still very late. Or very early depending on how you saw it. She crossed the room naked and pulled the dress over her head. Leaned back against the old apple tree, Haymitch brought the bottle to his lips. He stared at the shrivel of a moon, reflected in the pond. The only light in a black sky. The wind rustled through the branches which only weeks earlier were in full bloom, snowing apple blossoms over anyone who passed under it. Or sat under it. It was a warm night. Still and silent. Even here. Even now. He only ever looked up when the door opened and Effie appeared. Just like he knew she would. In her morning gown and pink slippers, her face framed by a disarray of strawberry blonde hair. Big and heavy with his children. Pretty as a picture. “You OK?” She remained by the threshold, unsure if he wanted to be left alone or not. The night was so quiet you could hear the slosh of liquor when Haymitch tipped the bottle up. “Why don’t you come back to bed?” He wanted to. Truly he did. More than ever before. Back to bed. Back in her arms. But he didn’t say it. Because he hadn’t changed. Their problems were still there. Still the same. He knew how this story ended and he wouldn’t survive losing her a second time. “I’ve been thinking,” he said. “About last night.” Effie didn’t speak. Not even to point out technically it was still last night. She only waited. “I think it’s best if it doesn’t happen again. Things are complicated enough as it is.” “Oh,” she said. “Well… I suppose you’re right.” They lapsed into silence. For almost a full minute. Effie’s gaze went to his hand. The one not holding a bottle. “What’s that?” was all she could think of to say. Haymitch held up the hardback. Turned it over, like he only just noticed it. It was one of the baby name books. “I think I found one,” he said. “A name for the boy.” “Oh?” “Yeah. How about ‘Ian`?” “Ian,” said Effie slowly, like tasting it. “It’ means ‘gift’. That’s what the book says.” “Ian.” And slowly a smile spread across Effie’s face.”Yes,” she said. “Yes. Ian Trinket Abernathy, that’s our son.” Haymitch put the bottle aside and offered her his hand. With the tree trunk for added support Effie lowered herself down next to him on the grass. Haymitch put his arm around her and she leaned into his side. “You never told me it was a wishing pond,” he said and nodded toward the water. Even in this scarce light you could still spot the silver and copper coins at the muddy bottom. “Made many wishes here?” “You don’t even know.” June and Annabel got most of his Games winnings these days but he kept some to pay for his white liquor and breath mints. And sure enough. When he got his hand out of his pocket he was holding two coins. He didn’t believe in it. Wishes never came true. Not really. And yet he held them on his palm while he made his and tossed them in to the pond. One for Amy and one for Ian.

Author’s note: Haymitch and Effie are a couple of sweet idiots, aren’t they? They want the same things, they’re on the same road and yet they just keep driving past each other. What do you think/hope will happen next? Leave a comment and tell me your thoughts! By the way, if you liked the song Haymitch played for Effie, you can listen to it for real. It’s called “Daydreaming” by Luke Faulkner.

#hayffie #haymitch x effie #and their trinket abernathy twins #thg #post-mockingjay #taste of strawberries fanfic #the capitol #coconuts #effie trinket #haymitch abernathy #the hunger games #fanfiction #myfanfiction

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