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#i haven’t been on tumblr for like 6 years
blue-jisungs · 11 months
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summary. by a rather unpleasant string of events you find out who… or what your boyfriend really is
warnings. swearing, blood, violence (?) but nothing extreme, (a pinch of angst if u will)
au. vampire!wonwoo
a/n. first of all i’d like to thank zanna ( @slytherinshua ) , ola ( @l3visbby ) and kermit (@humongousbiscuitvoidtree ) for helping me out with certain aspects of this work!! tbh without you i wouldn’t write it <\3 so thank you sm, love you and check their blogs if you haven’t already >:T
second of all, i don’t want to spoil everything but as you can see from the au its a vampire thingy teehee but! i based the creations of vampires on the witcher (mostly the books/part 3 of the game (esp blood and wine))! i’m such a sucker for the witcher (without the tv series lol) so you know i had to teehee!! it’s pretty much briefly explained later in the work but if someone is interested i definitely recommend diving into the witcher or even checking it out on wiki!
word count. 4.7k 😟 the longest work of mine on tumblr 😟😟😟
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wonwoo loves you. he’s sure that he never loved anyone like this before. if it was possible, he’d spend his entire life; infinity with you. if only.
you feel the same way, obviously. you can always feel the presence of his love, even if he himself may not be around. you love him so much that you sometimes feel as if your heart was about to jump out of your chest. he must feel it too because his pupils grow wider a bit (and he thinks you don’t see it). even his friends, including mingyu who knew him for like forever, told you he’s head over heels for you which made you melt on the spot.
you’ve been together for 6 years now and life with him is anything and more than you could have ever wanted. wonwoo is patient, funny and above all, caring. sometimes it makes you wonder what you did in your past life to deserve this; him.
“i’m home!” you call out, putting the groceries on the countertop. there was not only his shoes next to the doorstep but also someone else’s… if you were to take a guess, you’d bet it was mingyu.
you let out a deep sigh, reaching for a iced tea you bought for yourself.
your classes today were… harsh, to say at least. all you needed today was wonwoo’s arms around you. and a good nap.
overall your days were horrible lately. the ridiculous amount of uni work, your part time job and social life in general. there’s a new guy at your job and you can’t figure out what’s his problem with you. he’s always staring, throwing mean comments at you… the other day he almost got you fired.
you still haven’t talked about this with wonwoo. and you didn’t really want to because lately he seemed busy with something else. but if his - junwoo’s - behaviour is going to go on, you’ll reach out.
you closed your eyes, trying to forget it. you’re home now, it’s all good. just take a shower and go to bed.
you finished your ice tea and grabbed two that were left in your shopping bag. you passed by wonwoo’s office and knocked at the door gently. and before you could even move your hand away, your boyfriend called you in.
as you opened the door, as predicted, saw mingyu. he smiled at you. they were sitting at the desk, looking over at some papers.
“hi guys. hi baby” you hummed, trying to keep a positive tone. you walked up to wonwoo, placing a soft kiss on his forehead.
you put down the two bottles and smiled at them.
“i’ll go to sleep, i’m exhausted” you announced quietly and wonwoo nodded, sending you a warm smile.
“of course… i didn’t even realise it got so late. good night, dear” he hummed. you walked away, sending them a small wave and closed the door behind you. with a deep sigh you started mentally questioning if you have enough strength to do your skin care.
nowadays there is something important going on since wonwoo isn’t home a lot. he’s asleep when you wake up in the morning to attend your classes, sometimes you manage to share a quick cup of coffee. and when you’re back home from work late evening, he’s absent. you always text him once you’re home and when you check the other day, the read hour says something around 1am. it’s exhausting, it really is.
“nonu…” you mumbled quietly, entering your living room at some lazy sunday. weekends were the only days you could catch up, even a bit. he turned his head immediately, eyes landing on you.
“is something wrong?” he asked, concern in his voice.
“well… no. actually, yeah” you huffed and sat down next to him on the couch. he closed his book and a playful smile spread on your lips when you see it’s twilight, again.
“what’s wrong, darling?” wonwoo asked, shifting his full attention to you. he can sense you’re nervous so he grabs your hand. it feels like eternity since he did that, let alone kiss you properly or–
“i miss you” you pouted, avoiding eye contact.
“but i’m here” wonwoo teases you but let’s go when you don’t even snicker “‘m sorry. i know, work has been stressful lately. seungcheol got into some trouble and you know how it is…”
“i really don’t. we don’t even talk that much anymore. i know that it’s your work but it’s just….” you babbled, finally gaining courage to look up at him. your heart clenched at the sight of his sad frown “but i know how you can make it up for me…”
“oh?” the corner of wonwoo’s mouth shifts up, his smirk making you dizzy. asshole. with a tilt of his head, his gaze pierces you but at the same time, it’s soft. and loving. “tell me then”
“well, first of all a kiss. seco–“ you were interrupted by his plush lips on yours. as you melted into the kiss, wonwoo effortlessly grabbed your hips and put you on his lap. with a small bite of your bottom lip, he made you gasp. you felt him smile playfully into the kiss before he continued to knock the air out of your lungs. your hands travelled to the nape of his neck, playing with his hair.
when you finally pulled away, cheeks glowing red, wonwoo put a stray strand of your hair back behind your ear.
“done. and the second part?” he breathed out, admiring your flustered face.
“a date” you giggled, hands shifting to cup his face.
“a date?” he repeated, a small crease forming between his brows.
“we can even go and dig garbage out, i don’t care. just take me on a date, mr jeon” you squished his cheeks, causing him to playfully roll his eyes.
“okay, ms l/n, next friday then. we’re going to dig through garbage” wonwoo sent you a boyish smile and you smacked his arm. finally, your place was filled with your laughters again.
you were waiting impatiently, the minutes on the clock passing painfully slow. wonwoo was supposed to pick you up at 6pm and then you were supposed to go… somewhere. he said it’s a surprise, so you weren’t fully sure what was is.
you decided to wear a cute dress and a cardigan that he gifted you on your birthday. it was your favourite piece of clothing and it went perfectly with the dress.
you played a goofy game that was on your phone, trying to kill some time.
you figured it will be the perfect opportunity to tell wonwoo about junwoo, your co-worker. days passed and his behaviour got even worse. you were uncomfortable around him, your job draining you mentally. and you hated that because to be frank, you loved your job. you loved making baked goods, displaying them and serving customers. and now your, somehow, safe place is making you sick even when you’re just thinking about it.
suddenly your phone dinged.
nonu<3: darling i’m so sorry
nonu<3: i won’t be able to make it
nonu<3: let’s postpone it to next friday, okay?
nonu<3: seungcheol said he’ll pay
your heart dropped. putting down your phone gently you felt tears gathering at your water line.
nonu<3: love you
“love you too” you mumbled and went straight to bed, not bothering to take your makeup off.
when wonwoo came back around 3am, he wasn’t surprised to see you’re fast asleep. there was a little hope in him that you’d wait; that’d you won’t be mad. but who was he gonna fool? when he noticed you fell asleep without changing into your pyjamas, wiping off your makeup and clutching his pillow tight to your chest his heart stung painfully. then he went to grab makeup wipes to remove your mascara stains.
you haven’t talked to wonwoo since then. a week passed by, making you wonder if he’s truly going to take you on a date.
you were just ending your shift, unfortunately with junwoo. you were wiping the tables while he was counting up today’s profit.
“so, that boyfriend of yours…”
the question felt like a bomb, echoing in the empty room. you looked up at junwoo annoyed, his gaze piercing your soul.
“he’s very lovely” you scoffed, looking outside the window. it was already dark outside, not to mention that you still have to go through the park to arrive at your bus stop. normally wonwoo would pick you up…
“is he?”
you ignored the question, moving to the last table. last table and you’re gone. you just need to grab your bag. to do that you have to… shit. you have to pass him by. maybe you don’t need your stuff? you could leave it and– what are you thinking, your id and everything is in it.
“wonwoo is hiding something from you, isn’t he?” junwoo’s voice send shivers down your spine and when you gulped, you could hear his scoff. wait.
“how do you know his name?” you asked, hands trembling.
“i’m friend of a friend you see. but wonwoo once betrayed me…”
your grip on the cloth you were holding tightened, heart speeding up. why this feels like a scene from a crime show…?
“would you like to know something about your lovely boyfriend?” junwoo asked, done with his task.
“uh sure, hit me. we don’t have secrets though!” you laughed nervously and looked at the table. squeaky clean.
you heard footsteps.
looking up you noticed junwoo holding your bag with a playful smile.
“he’s a vampire”
you looked at him in disbelief. then you let out a laugh, shaking your head.
“that’s funny. you’re a funny guy junwoo, wow! a vampire, huh? good one, really–“ your voice died out in your throat when he stepped closer, his hand reaching out.
you snatched your bag from it, dropping the cloth on the floor.
“he’s a vampire. like me” junwoo hummed. normally you’d throw a joke about edward cullen but your coworker canines suddenly made sense.
“oh. cool. i’ll get going though, bye!” you yelled out panicked and rushed to the door. with a slam you ran out of the café, the fresh evening air making you realise how much you were suffering there.
you’re safe. just straight to the park and then bus stop and then home and then… your - apparently vampire - boyfriend.
you took out your phone with shaky and sweaty hands, the speed of your walk faster than ever before in your life.
you started bombarding him with texts - not even caring about the typos - and called him a couple of times but he wasn’t responding.
just when you were about to call him again, you felt… strange. mentally cursing at the city council for not putting lamps in the park you started running. your gut told you to. your gut also told you not to look around.
but you did.
you let out a shocked scream when you saw junwoo. in a blink of an eye he was suddenly one step behind you, grabbing you by your baby pink cardigan. the one wonwoo gifted you.
“leave me alone!” you screamed but the force of the pull was so powerful that you tripped back. luckily, you landed on your back first.
your phone fell out from your hand. you wanted to grab it, but junwoo stepped on your hand. you whined in pain, crunching up.
“see, i’m having a struggle right now. should i already kill you or wait for wonwoo to arrive. because… you think he’s coming, right?” junwoo’s voice echoed in your head.
to be honest, you weren’t sure.
your heart was beating at an inhuman speed right now, trying to figure out what to do.
“but we can have a small compromise” junwoo took off his foot from your hand, causing you to instinctively bring it closer. the tears in your eyes blurred your vision but you managed to suddenly roll over away. “i’ll scratch you up just a tiny bit. if he makes it in time, he might be able to save you”
“fuck off” you grunted and tried to stand up. as you wanted to run away, he kicked the back of your knees. you were helpless to prevent from falling, only to put the weight on your hands. if that hurt, you weren’t ready for the upcoming pain in your thigh, just in your femoral artery.
wonwoo came back home and from the moment he opened the door, he knew something was off.
your shoes weren’t messily thrown on the ground. you didn’t bring leftovers from the café. the apartment was quiet and dark. no smell of baked goods and your perfume, no sound of your calm breathing. or of your heartbeat. you weren’t home.
while nervously scratching his neck wonwoo tried to recall if he forgot about something. maybe you went out with your friends? but no, you’d leave a message… right? maybe you decided to leave him? or… oh. the date.
he pulled out his phone but didn’t see any notifications from you.
his - usually slow - heartbeat sped up, breath stuck in his throat. did you really leave him? he knew it was bad, he felt like he was neglecting you; duh, he knew it. he felt so helpless because seungcheol just needed help with that one guy who appeared in town lately but…
he couldn’t believe you didn’t even text him.
that’s when he noticed something on his phone.
a small moon icon next to the hour.
he frowned, swiping down. do not disturb. oh. how did he even put do not disturb on? after a five hundred years he’s still getting used to all of that technology but– whatever.
his eyes widened upon seeing like a thousand notifications from you and almost the same amount of missed calls.
the sun to my moon, my beloved y/n: wonwoo jelp
the sun to my moon, my beloved y/n: theres a guy ar mw work he creeped me our roday
the sun to my moon, my beloved y/n: he said youre a vampire lol
the sun to my moon, my beloved y/n: imomw home but im so fucking scared my hands arw shakinr so much
the sun to my moon, my beloved y/n: i love you sobmicj but please pick ip
the sun to my moon, my beloved y/n: km enywrinf the park roghr niw but i feel so strange
the sun to my moon, my beloved y/n: do i turn aeousn????
the sun to my moon, my beloved y/n: wonwoo please answer im so sxared
wonwoo slammed the door, almost tripping down the stairs. a guy at your work? why haven’t you told him? okay, you’ll talk later. right now he has to get to the park. you’re fine. you’re gonna be safe, he’ll get there quickly. even if you managed to get on the bus–
he entered his car, calling you. you’ll surely pick up, right? you’ll pick up and tell him you’re fine, you’re on the bus now, you’re safe.
suddenly his car door opened and someone sat at the passenger’s seat. wonwoo turned his head and looked at mingyu flabbergasted.
“what are you–” wonwoo breathed out, his hands shaking. you aren’t picking up.
“what’s the name of the café y/n works at?” mingyu asked. wonwoo threw away his phone, starting the car.
“moon made… something like that. why? i literally do not care right now, she’s–“
“junwoo works there”
wonwoo choked on air, taking a sharp turn. mingyu, who haven’t put his seatbelt on, slammed onto the door.
“fuck”
his friend quickly fastened his seatbelts and gulped upon seeing seeing how the numbers on the counter rose threateningly.
“y/n is in danger, she messaged me… and– what if– do you think he…?” wonwoo breathed out. mingyu, his friend of almost four hundred years, have never seen him so emotional. even when in 1722 wonwoo was about to literally die - because of a fight he got with a higher vampire, seungcheol - he was stoic. calm. normal.
“i don’t know. seungcheol is on his way, he told me he’ll rip his head apart if he hurts you or y/n but…” mingyu sighed, grabbing wonwoo’s phone. he put the password (the date of the day when you two started dating) and looked at the texts. it doesn’t look good.
“it doesn’t… look good, does it? fuck i’m so pissed at myself. somehow i put the do not disturb thing on and i missed all the notifications” wonwoo grunted and looked around “we’re nearby. please hold on…”
“wonwoo…” mingyu started slowly “i know you’re emotional right now but please… please don’t do anything stupid. you’re both higher vampires, this can end tragically”
“i don’t care. as long as y/n is safe and fucking alive. you know what that psychopath did in 1800!” wonwoo hissed, taking another sharp turn.
“i know! that’s the reason why we took seungcheol’s side!” just as he said that, mingyu was prepared for the turn and held onto his dear life to the door grip. wonwoo pulled over and left the car, slamming the door.
it didn’t take long before they located you. wonwoo’s heart clenched painfully upon hearing your cries and hard pants without seeing you.
“i smell blood” he grumbled, looking at mingyu. the thing was that mingyu stopped drinking blood like hundred years ago, he was fine. wonwoo, on the other hand, restricted his drinking but fully stopped when he met you. comparing 6 years to almost 500…
the smell was getting stronger and your heartbeat slower. then he saw you. on the ground, sobbing harshly. a growing puddle of crimson liquid was pooling under your right leg.
“y/n look, your boyfriend!” junwoo’s voice made him sick, not to mention that he nudged your leg with his. like you were nothing.
“nonu?” you whispered, fighting to keep your eyes open. it was barely a whisper to be honest but due to his hearing he was able to catch it.
he started walking towards you but junwoo clicked his tongue.
“stay there, traitor” he growled, putting his hands in the pockets of his pants “move an inch and she’ll be a lifeless body. same goes to you, mingyu”
“what do you want?” wonwoo asked, afraid that if he’s gonna look away for a second, you’ll…
“honestly? seungcheol. but i figured i’d be more fun to watch him suffer… and that human girlfriend of yours seems to matter a lot for you. and you mean a lot to him. well, her too. simple as that. the things in the way aren’t a big deal either. if i have to kill her or you to get to him… it’ll be at least endearing” he explained.
“listen i know i… betrayed you. but you killed innocent people, junwoo. just as you’re about to do with my girlfriend. leave her out of this and no one will get hurt” wonwoo talked slowly, your breathing getting slower.
“you didn’t hear a thing i just said, huh? i don’t care. or maybe i’ll give her to the werewolves? they’re not friends of mine but i’m sure they’ll like her” junwoo said and kneeled. he cupped your face, fingers digging into your jaw with force.
you felt like life was escaping from you, like air from a popped balloon. with the rest of the strength you had, you gathered your saliva and spat at him.
both mingyu and wonwoo were speechless.
junwoo slowly wiped his face and your boyfriend realised something. if junwoo wanted to bare his claws - and he just might to that - they’d go straight through your skin.
but something or rather, someone stops him from doing that. or doing anything in general.
seungcheol’s silhouette would go unnoticed by humans or even some lower vampires.
he yanks junwoo backwards by his shirt.
“if you wanted to talk to me, you’re more than welcome. but leave the fuck wonwoo and y/n alone” he hissed, immediately attacking him “and i made a promise to myself that if you hurt them, you’ll–“
“be dead, i assume. you’re worse than the werewolves” junwoo hissed.
wonwoo rushed to you, not caring about them. seungcheol will manage. he’s a higher vampire, probably older than all of you gathered here. he’s strong.
and you’re not.
he’s falling onto his knees, taking you in his arms immediately. wonwoo scans your face quickly, nothing than the marks from the grip, and moves to check the rest of your body.
then, he sees the wound. a deep cut on your thigh, precisely aimed at your main artery. other than that your hand was probably twisted. but the literal bleeding made him panic. because who knows how many time you have left considering the fact that junwoo cut open one of the critical parts of the blood system.
“wonwoo?” you mutter, fighting to keep your eyes open.
“it’s me, darling. it’s me, please– forgive me. i’m so sorry i should’ve-“ he started mumbling apologies like a broken record, tears gathering at his waterline.
“it’s fine, you’re here now” you mumbled, grabbing his hand with both of yours “i love you so much…”
“hey, hey. i know. i know, y/n, i love you to. but you’ll be fine. i promise” he breathed out, pressing his forehead against yours. his mind was racing with thoughts. he won’t manage to get you to the hospital. it’s way too far. he could stop the bleeding but assuming from the amount of blood you already lost— would it help? he feels helpless while you’re dying in his hands. it’s just a matter of seconds.
“nonu… you’re a vampire?” you gasp suddenly, one of your hands going to clutch his shirt. he nodded, still deep in his thought “then you can– turn me…?”
“bite her, wonwoo” mingyu suddenly appeared behind his back
“but i never– not on purpose–“ wonwoo grunted and stiffened once he saw your eyelids dropping “i don’t–“
“do it” a barely audible plea left your mouth, your hands slipping from his chest; your face scrunched up in pain. everything was going dark, your eyelids more and more heavy.
“it might hurt…” wonwoo warned before baring his fangs; he dived into the left side of your neck, a sharp sting bringing you back to reality for a brief moment. you sobbed harshly before a sudden blackout hit you.
your blood was sweet; the sweetest he has ever tried. wonwoo felt you losing consciousness, your body in his arms like a puppet. your heartbeat halted.
suddenly seungcheol came back, blood splattered on his face.
“that asshole is dead. what’s with y/n…?” he asked quietly. wonwoo pulled away, taking a deep breath. a trickle of crimson blood went down your neck. wonwoo looked at his friends; the tears in his eyes making seungcheol… sad.
“she’ll be fine” seungcheol mumbled. wonwoo grabbed your stiff body in a bridal style; he felt the warmth escaping from you “i can feel it”
“take her home” mingyu hummed, noticing the way wonwoo looked at you “let us know once she wakes up. because she will”
he nodded, for the first time in a long time not sure about the rightness of his decision.
you opened your eyes slowly, your body overtaken by pain. you felt weird; somehow cold.
the first thing you saw was wonwoo on the edge of the bed. his head was leaning downwards, eyes closed. he must have been thinking about something because his brows were furrowed, a deep crease between them. he looked like he haven’t slept for days.
you shifted carefully, noticing the bandage on your hand. the memories suddenly flooded you back; causing you to wince.
wonwoo suddenly felt your arms around his waist, his body jerking in surprise.
“y/n?” he asked, voice cracking.
“tell me it was a bad dream, please. or that you’re real” you whispered, shaking.
wonwoo hugged you back, placing a hand at the back of your head.
“i’m here, i’m real. it’s all good now i promise” he mumbled into your hair, afraid to let you go.
you sobbed into his chest, his embrace feeling like a dream after all of the events.
when you pulled away, he looked at you with so much care in his eyes in almost hurt. you tried to gather your thoughts, trying to think of the best way how to ask him about everything. as you did so, your hand traveled to your neck and you were surprised to feel a bandage there. right.
“i’m sorry if that hurt” he mumbled shyly
“it’s fine. but… what… what am i now? can you tell me everything…?” you asked quietly, your hand finding his. wonwoo intertwined your fingers, taking a deep sigh.
“i don’t know how much he told you but… i’m a vampire. and by biting you i turned you into one as well. you died but the venom from my fangs caused you to kind of… come back” he explained slowly “mingyu is a vampire too. well, all of my friends are”
“that would explain why you know each other so well” you chuckled, instantly regretting that. a wave of pain came through your body, causing you to wince. wonwoo’s eyes widened, sudden realisation hitting him.
“do you need anything? medicine? i can bring some pain killers” he said, pulling the duvet up. your thigh was professionally bandaged.
“it’s alright but… you could give me a kiss” you pouted.
“god, you don’t even know how scared was i…” he whispered before gently cupping your face and planting a tender kiss on your lips.
you wanted more, of course you did, but he leaned away. he wanted to look at you like this forever, without thinking about the possibility of losing you again.
“do you… want to talk? about what happened before?” your boyfriend asked. you sighed, nodding. even though you were glad you’re alive - and able to kiss him again - you had so many questions.
“just… explain everything to me. i’ll listen” you hummed, patting the spot next to you.
and he did. he explained to you that seungcheol is the oldest and that he was born as a vampire, that making him a higher vampire. due to that he can kill other vampires - because the regular ones like you aren’t able. you might hurt another vampires but won’t kill them if you’re not a higher one. wonwoo explained that junwoo and him were friends but his slaughtering of innocent people made wonwoo leave him and tell his location to seungcheol. they had some private fights going on hence the will of revenge. that’s what he was so busy with lately – seungcheol found out junwoo is in the city and wanted to find him. he explained that you’re not going to be a vampire that’s described in books. you won’t have shiny skin, you won’t have allergic reaction to garlic or sunlight, you’ll be able to see your reflection in a mirror. you’ll just feel cold at times and after some time and training you’ll get some supernatural traits.
“did you plan on telling me? that you’re a vampire?” you asked, gently grabbing his arms and pushing yourself onto his lap
“i… i did. maybe on our anniversary. i was scared but i promised myself i’d do it. i… i wanted to ask you if you want to be turned into one to” wonwoo smiled softly, looking at you “because the thought of you dying and me living without you… it made my heart shatter into pieces everytime i thought about this”
your heart swelled. it must’ve been so hard for him. this made you think if he was in a situation like that because but–
“and i messed up. i know work is work but i neglected you. it won’t happen again, i promise. and also… you need to show me how not to accidentally put do not disturb on” he huffed and then threateningly put his finger up, his ebony irises sending you a serious look “and next time tell me right away when there’s a creep at your work”
“do not disturb…?” you scoffed, putting his hand down.
the sun peeked through the window, framing his face in golden light.
“well then, mr jeon” you hummed, placing your hands on his arms for support “can i get a kiss? and can you make it last forever?”
you didn’t have to tell him twice; he finally had an infinity to spend with you. when wonwoo pulled you closer, his teeth grazing against your lips you realised that it all would explain his thing for biting.
[ masterlist <3 ]
taglist. @geniejunn ,, @luvhyun3 ,, @starlostseungmin ,, @elviransworld ,, @jnks6r ,, @sieunsgf ,, @ethereallino ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @duolingofanaccount ,, @slytherinshua ,, @jung0ne ,, @ka-ni-ma ,, @iliveforlixie ,, @moonacholy ,, @ameliesaysshoo ,, @dazzlingligth ,, @mark-geolli ,, @l3visbby ,, @w3bqrl ,, @ddenoudepression ,, @yourfavoritefreakyhan ,, @cinnamoroxie ,, @gyudiarys
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elodieunderglass · 2 months
Note
Hi. I just saw your post about the Camino while and proceeded to spend over an hour reading various things about it. Suffice to say I am extremely interested in making this happen for myself; do you have any more specific advice beyond what you already talked about in your post?
(In reference to this post: https://www.tumblr.com/elodieunderglass/739798088656502786/hey-looking-at-the-notes-theres-a-lot-more-oh)
(Referring to: The Camino de Santiago, or Way of St James, a medieval Christian pilgrimage route that leads to the Spanish city of Santiago. The most common pathway starts in the mountains on the border of Spain and France and proceeds across the north of Spain, a route that takes about six weeks for most people on foot. There are many non-Christian reasons to hike the Camino, which is scenic, safe and has excellent infrastructure; you only need to be doing the hike intentionally “in an attitude of search” to be a pilgrim. Pilgrims on the route are eligible for extremely cheap lodgings and meals, and are equipped with pilgrim passports to collect unique stamps at scenic points. At the end of the pilgrimage the stamps are checked, and those who have completed the required distance are issued a campostela, or special certificate, conferring the benefits of pilgrimage; for the religiously devout, this is often an absolution from sins. There are other traditions, such as bringing a stone from your home to place on a pilgrim shrine that has become a mountain of stones. It’s generally held to be one of the things you remember all your life, and that the fellowship and company of interesting people on the Camino is a standout experience. Given how many people on tumblr say things like “I wish I could do a real life pokemon journey” or “if only real life gave you video game quest awards” and so on, it’s actually a surprise to me that more people on here aren’t Camino dreamers.)
Anyway, unfortunately, although my Camino de Santiago has been deeply/realistically planned since I was 20, various startling events have meant that I haven’t started it yet. I have slightly spoiled myself for some key parts of Spain already, but I’m keeping that separate from actually walking the Camino. I’m afraid it’ll be in the 2030s before I do it, because I now have small children (too young to come with me or leave alone for 6 weeks.) I’m not worried - it’s a medieval hiking trail, it’ll keep - but I’m also not a lived-experience expert, just an armchair fan for now!
However, among the many benefits of a well-trodden path include the huge amount of information available about the Camino de Santiago. There are books, blogs, forums, a subreddit, lots of self-filmed YouTube documentaries from every flavor of influencer, from the insufferable to the admirable; and plenty of proper travel documentaries. the oldest guidebook is a thousand years old; the oldest traveller advice is found in gilded medieval manuscripts. It has multiple smartphone apps.
I wish you the best of luck on learning about this. I think it’s a very healthy kind of dream.
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solemnreads · 10 months
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My Love Is Here | jjk (part 6)
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pairing: jungkook x reader
au(s): best friends to lovers, unrequited love (?)
genre/warnings: angst, lots of tears, questions are answered, plz don't hate jk anymore, accident themes, pregnancy, future smut but not now, infidelity (ish?)
word count: 11.2k
rating: 18+
authors note: it's bts' 10 year anniversary today! so i decided to treat my lovely readers the chapter you've all been waiting for. i hope this answers some of your questions. my boy went through a lot. hopefully things start getting better from here. and i can no longer add anyone else to the taglist, tumblr only allows 50 poeple sadly. im sorryyyyy.
xo, ari
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Previous | Next | Series Masterpost
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You felt weird.
Scratch that, you felt uncomfortable.
Honestly, being uncomfortable doesn’t even begin to explain how you feel in this situation. 
You’re currently sitting in the spacious living room in Minji’s house. You scanned the interior of the room, there was beige and white furniture while a few potted plants sat alongside the walls of the room. Clean, chic, perfectly fitting of her personality.
When you were driving here, you didn't know what to expect. It was a small countryside village about an hour and a half away from Seoul. When you arrived you saw multiple children running around and elderly people making their daily walk.
You couldn't even begin to fathom the surprise you felt when the person that answered the call was the one person you've all been looking for.
And the sight in front of you adds to your bafflement. 
You watched as Minji placed down two mugs on the coffee table in front of you. You couldn't take your eyes off her. There she stood, as pretty as always. She slowly sat in front of you, slightly struggling because of the addition to her body. You would’ve offered some help but she was already seated before you could even get up.
You felt a lump start to form in your throat as you gazed at her. 
“I’m sorry, I know you prefer coffee but I’m only allowed to drink tea.” Minji told you with an embarrassed smile.
You shook your head at her. “Tea is fine, thank you so much.” You told her sincerely. 
It was awkward, the two of you sat down quietly as you sipped on your respective mugs. You didn’t know where to start. When Junghyun gave you a number, you didn’t expect Minji to be the one on the other side of it.
And she was pregnant too. For how long? Is it Jungkook’s? Does Jungkook even know? Well of course he doesn’t but…Did he?
You were so deep in thought that you failed to see your old friend place her own mug down as she looked at you expectantly. She let out a long sigh which snapped you out of your raging thoughts. 
“It isn’t Jungkook’s.” She said, getting straight to the point. You whipped your head up at her words as she gave you a sad smile. You were lost for words. You had no idea what to say…Does that mean?
“Jungkook and I haven’t…” She started. She looked down at her growing belly with a soft look as she rubbed it. “We haven’t been together like that since before the wedding, probably months before that.”
You had no idea what to say. Your brain could not even decipher what the hell is even going on. You had so many questions but you couldn’t even figure out one.
“Did Jungkook know?” You decided to ask her. 
She gave you a tearful smile before nodding her head.
“I know what happened to him, and I’m sorry I wasn’t there…But it was for the best.” 
You felt like there were a million words on your tongue but nothing could even bother to come out. You’ve never felt more confused in your life. You’ve resented her for years. You wanted to yell at her for abandoning your best friend, for not answering any of your calls, everything that she put you through. She’s the girl who had everything you’ve ever wanted. Money, looks, the man you loved. But here she is, with such a peaceful look that you’ve never seen her have before as she glowed due to her pregnancy. 
She looked…Happy
And you couldn’t feel any ounce of that anger as you looked at the person you once called one of your dearest friends. 
“I’m guessing you came here for some answers, huh?” She says out of nowhere. She looked at you with such a soft look that you couldn't do anything but nod your head.
“Where have you been?” You asked her quietly. You felt tears prick your eyes as you looked at her. You were worried about her, she basically disappeared off the face of the earth and with Jungkook’s condition, you couldn't help but feel guilty for being there instead of her.
“I had to stay here, Y/N-ah.” She told you pointedly, hoping you’d understand in some kind of way. You didn’t, not at all.
“I know this is all confusing, but let me speak first before you start to resent me more than you already do.” 
You were surprised, you never thought she would’ve known but then again, you’re not exactly good at hiding your emotions. You couldn’t help but feel guilt build up even more. 
“Things with Jungkook haven’t been the greatest, if I’ll be truthful with you.” She started as she gazed out the window of the living room.
“Of course, you know we met the night we all went to the club. I remember how he looked at you, like he longed to be by your side forever. But you barely looked his way, ironically even though anyone and everyone could see that you loved him. But the two of you were too blind to notice.” 
You were shocked to say the least. You wouldn't believe your ears. Jungkook looking at you like that? No way. He never looked your way.
You didn’t notice a small notebook in Minji’s arms as she brought it out from god knows where. She placed it on the coffee table and slid it to you.
You opened it to see multiple drawings from his old sketchbook and some notes written inside of it.
“I can tell you my side but this can help you understand his.” 
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“Jungkook, let’s go?” You asked him. He looked back at you, feeling a little guilty because he always brought you home. But he already agreed to bring Minji back to her apartment since your other friends were quite drunk themselves and he was the only one that wasn’t completely incapacitated. Luckily, you had your brother so that put him in ease. 
Once the two of you left, Jungkook and Minji went into their own uber and Taehyung and Ji-eun left for god knows where. Those two were too obvious and it’s ridiculous.
He looked back at your friend and he gave her a smile. “Ready to go?” 
She smiled at him as their uber stopped in front of them. The two of them sat in the backseat of the car, keeping a respective distance. He thought back to you and how beautiful you looked even though you had a long day at school. He wished he would have picked you up and cuddled with you in your shared couch in your apartment. 
He was so busy thinking about you that he didn't notice the car stopped right in front of Minji’s apartment. She looked back at him and gave him a smile. “Thank you for bringing me home.” She said sincerely.
She was stepping out of the car but he decided to be a gentleman and walk her to her door. You’d kill him if anything happens to your friend on his watch. 
As the two of them walked towards her front door, he felt small raindrops slowly come down on him.
Suddenly, it started to pour rain outside and Jungkook couldn’t help but groan in annoyance. He was about to run back to the car once Minji opened the door but once he turned around, the car was already gone.
“Shit.” 
“You can come inside if you’d like”
It’s not like he had any other choice, it’s better than staying in the rain while he wanted for another uber to come. He made his way inside her apartment, it was quite large. Just by the way the front entrance looked, he could already tell this girl came from money.
“Make yourself at home” She said. He sat down on her couch as she disappeared into one of the rooms, probably to change. He was gonna text you that he was gonna get home a little late but his phone suddenly died before he could even press on your chat.
“Uh…Minji?” 
He asked as he stood up. Minji came out with a tank top and some sweatpants. Her hair was up and she was in the process of brushing her teeth.
“Do you have a charger? My phone died.” He asked her.
She nodded her head before making her way back into her room. Not long after she came back out with the respective cable in her hands. Jungkook thanked her as she handed it to him before heading back into her room.
Jungkook plugged in his phone and sat back down on the couch. 
Minji then came out with something in her hands and sat on the couch, not that far from him but a good distance away.
She opened the small tray to reveal prerolls. She brought out one and took out a lighter from her pocket. “You don’t mind, right?” 
Jungkook chuckled before shaking his head. She proceeded to light one up and brought it up to her lips. She took a long inhale before puffing out the smoke from her mouth.
Jungkook was too busy looking at his dead phone as it struggled to turn back on. God damn, he needed a new phone badly. It’s barely functioning with the tape that held it together.
He turned his head when he heard her clear her throat behind him. She held out the light up blunt and silently offered it to him. Oh what the hell.
He took it from her hand and took a deep inhale as he felt the familiar tingles of the smoke make its way into his lungs. Minji turned on the T.V and they both sat there as an old sitcom played while they smoked the roll away.
Jungkook was so deep into the show, as he watched the two characters share a heated kiss. Maybe he was just high or something. But he couldn't help but imagine it was the two of you kissing like that. If he could just have a chance to kiss you, he would take it.
“You really like her, huh” Minji said randomly. He looked at her in surprise, wondering if she could read his thoughts.
“It’s all over your face.” She said as she pointed at him. He let out a soft laugh at her hooded bloodshot eyes. 
He didn’t reply as she closed her eyes and leaned her head on the back of her couch. “I envy her, she has a great goal, a great friend group, and a solid family…” She said, with a sad smile. 
Jungkook looked at her as she spoke. He wasn’t even sure if she knew what she was saying but he couldn’t find it in himself to stop her.
“My boyfriend isn’t talking to me because my parents are jackasses and trying to set me up with some guy.” She said as a few tears slid down her face. She wiped it as she put a hand over her face. 
Jungkook couldn’t help but pity her, she looked like he was having a hard time. “I’m sure you guys will work things out.” He said to her sincerely. She looked up at him and gave him a sad smile before laying her head back down.
It was silent again for a few minutes. Jungkook’s phone finally turned back on and he immediately booked an uber back home. 
ETA 5 MINS
He was about to tell Minji that he was gonna leave soon but when he turned to look at her, she was already asleep. He took out the joint from her hands and placed it on the ashtray on the coffee table. 
He grabbed the throw blanket on the side of the couch and moved Minji to lay comfortably on the couch as he placed it on top of her. By the time he finished, his uber had already arrived.
He quietly left her place without making much noise so he didn’t disturb her. She looked like she was going through a lot and from what he could gather, she wasn’t one to speak about it sober. Not wanting to bother her, he made his way home.
Once he got back to his shared apartment with you, there you were lying face flat on the couch. He chuckled at your position as he walked towards you. He bent down to see your sleeping face. There was a little bit of drool and your face was squished on the fabric of the couch. And he couldn’t help but think you never looked more beautiful. 
He gently picked you up because he knew if you slept there the entire night, you'd complain about how your back would hurt once you woke up. So he quietly brought you to your room and tucked you into bed. 
He sat down on your bed as you slept. He watched as the moon reflected its light onto your face. His pretty girl. 
He loved you so much that it hurt to look at you sometimes.
He wanted to be with you, kiss you, take care of you like he always has. 
Maybe someday.
Maybe soon.
He bent down to give you a kiss on the forehead before getting up to take a shower. He smelled like sweat, alcohol and weed. 
He turned one more time as he looked at you lying comfortably on your bed and smiled.
Yeah…Maybe soon.
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“Come on Dad, do I really have to do this?” Jungkook asks through the phone. 
“I’m sorry, Jungkook-ah. But can you do this for me? Please?” 
His dad worked for a major company in Korea. And much to his distaste, his dad set him up with his boss’ daughter for lunch. Does he know why? Absolutely not. 
“But I promised I’ll pick up Y/N from her class.” He told his dad. You were gonna come out in the next hour and he promised to take you out to lunch and go grocery shopping sincerely your shared stock was basically…Well empty.
Suddenly he got a text message and ironically it was from you.
You: Sorry Kook! I’ll be coming out a little later, I forgot I had a quiz today :(
Great.
Well there goes those plans.
He forgot his dad was on the phone, still speaking. He placed the phone back on his ear.
“Please Jungkook-ah, it’ll be beneficial for all of us.” 
Who knows what the hell that even means. Running a frustrated hand through his hair, Jungkook let out a sigh. 
“Fine.”
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Jungkook made his way into this fancy restaurant his dad told him to go to. He didn’t want to do this. Why did he have to meet with his father’s boss’ daughter? Like what good will this do? Whatever, the faster he gets this done, the faster he gets to see you. 
He walked into the restaurant and the hostess looked up to greet him.
“Hi, what’s the name?”
“Uhm, CEO Lee”
The hostess gave him a smile before leading him to the inside of the restaurant. Suddenly he comes to a stop in front of a table and to his surprise, Minji is sitting there. Who by the looks of it, is just as surprised to see him.
He bowed in thanks to the hostess before sitting down in front of Minji.
“Hey, it’s been a while.” He said to her.
She gave him a smile in return. “You look good.” She said, sincerely. He nodded his head in thanks as a waitress came to give him a cup of water.
“I’m guessing you’re the son Mr. Jeon was talking about…” She says with an awkward chuckle. Jungkook only nodded his head, finding this entire situation quite uncomfortable.
“I’m guessing this is the thing you were talking about that night.” He replies.
She looks down at the cup of water in her hands before nodding. 
“Are you okay?” He asks. She let out a sad sigh before booking up with tears in her eyes.
“I wish I had a choice, but I guess not…”
Jungkook suddenly felt just as she did. If his father put him in this situation, he can’t imagine what she’s going through right now.
“What about your boyfriend?” He asks her. She suddenly lets out a loud cry causing some people to look in their direction. Wrong question to ask…Whoops.
“He broke up with me” She said as tears made its way down her face. A little panicked, Jungkook gave her a tissue to wipe up her tears.
He didn’t know what he was expecting when he came here. Just to find out their parents were trying to set them up. It kind of pissed him off but it’s not like they knew who he held in his heart and who held hers. But he couldn’t help but have a strong feeling that this situation was much bigger than he originally thought. 
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“Dad, you can’t expect me to date her, I barely know her.” He sternly said on his phone. He was waiting outside of your lecture hall, trying to see when you’d come out. 
“Son, if you get together with this girl, it’ll be great for not only me. But for you, it’ll help you get a position in their company, you know how hard it is to find a position right now.” He wasn’t wrong, he’s been bending over left and right just to land one single interview to find a job that fits his business degree.
But this isn’t the way he’ll go through it. He won’t date a girl just so his family can benefit from a name alone.
“Please, just think about it at least.” 
He looked down at his phone after his father hung up. He had no interest in dating her. Minji is a nice girl but she's your friend but you’re his best friend. He loved you and only you. It just isn't fair.
Suddenly you came out of the lecture hall with a guy following close behind you. He was talking to you and you smiled at something he said. Jungkook didn’t recognize him, it is probably one of the friends you made while you studied here. 
“So, Y/N…Are you down to go out with me on Friday?” 
Oh. 
Well that stung.
He looked at your face and he could tell you were a little shocked to be asked out. You let out an awkward smile before looking down.
Jungkook stayed in his spot as he eavesdropped on your conversation. 
“I’m sorry…” You started. He couldn't help but feel a little smug at the sound of your rejection. He felt a little bad for the guy who had some kind of a disappointed expression. But he couldn't feel any happier at that moment.
And with that, he finally made his appearance known. He walked up to you and placed an arm around your shoulders.
“Hey, Y/N-ah.” He said with a smile. You looked up at him with that beaming smile that was only reserved for him and he couldn't help but feel his chest flutter with warmth.
“Kook” You said.
He looked up at the guy in front of him and saw an uncomfortable expression on his face.
“Who’s this?” He asked. You awkwardly glanced at the guy in front of you before looking back at your best friend.
“Oh this is Jihoon, we’re in the same class”
Jungkook nodded his head before looking back at the guy. “Well man, we gotta go” He said before leading you away.
He didn't even glance back at the guy behind him as he walked alongside you outside of the building. 
“Where are we going?” You asked him with wide eyes. He gave you a smile and told you to choose.
You pretended to think hard about where you wanted to go but you just looked at him with a smile.
“Can we just go home and watch movies? You asked him with a sheepish look. He chuckled at your cuteness and nodded his head. 
For now he can forget what his father told him. He just wanted to spend his time with you and you only. He just knows that whatever happens, he knows you hold his heart. 
He just hopes that he will have yours.
But that wasn't the case.
A few days later he came home from a long day. He went to visit his parents because apparently it was ‘important for him to attend’ a dinner with CEO Lee and his family.
He hated the pressure. He hated this entire thing. He can see what they're doing and he absolutely despises it. His mother looks at him in pity but even she can't do much to stop it.
As much as he resists, as much as he says no…They're still pushing it. He just wanted a nice day at home, maybe to eat some good dinner with you. 
“Y/N, you can't give into him anymore.” He heard coming from your room.
He peeked his head in to see Ji-eun sitting in your bed. You looked at her sadly before picking a strand on your jeans. You looked sad. 
“He hurt you so many times and you still continue to fall for him.” 
“I know…”
Who hurt you? He couldn't help but feel like he knows exactly who you guys were talking about.
“Y/N-ah…”
“I know…It’s just hard to let Jungkook go.”
He felt his heart drop in his chest. You guys were talking about him. 
He hurt you? When? How?
All those years, he thought it was just something he had to do. He dated to take his mind off of you. Been with girls but the only person he could possibly think of is you. When he saw you with Eunwoo that day, he never felt more discouraged in his life.
He's been protecting himself for years but he didn't take to account how much he's been hurting you in the process.
They were right. You deserved so much better than him. 
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“Are you sure about this?” Minji asked him. He sighed out a shirt breath before nodding his head. She wasn't over her ex boyfriend and Jungkook wasn't over you. 
But if this is what he had to do then…Fine.
What's the worst that can happen? 
They're mostly just doing this so their parents will get off their asses.
But he hates knowing that it will hurt you in the process. He can’t handle it. 
They announced their relationship to their parents a few weeks later. He hasn't told any of his friends. But he couldn't bring himself to do it.
While he was deep in thought, he suddenly felt pressure against his lips. He snapped his head back in surprise to see Minji with her eyes closed. She just kissed him.
“What are…What are you doing?” He asked, slightly alarmed. It caught him off guard.
She opened her eyes to see tears. “Please, just help me forget just for now…” She said. He can see how much she's hurting about this. And honestly he is too. 
He couldn't help but feel bad so he just nodded his head and she dove in. The kiss was heated. There was no passion in their connection, only sadness. Minji was forced to do this while Jungkook got dragged into this as well.
The man she loved refused to stay with someone who had to be with someone else. While Jungkook longed for someone who he knew deserved much more than what he could give. 
He got so lost into the make out session that he didn't even notice that his shirt was off and she was straddling him on your shared couch. 
He was about to break the kiss before it got too far, but the door suddenly burst open. 
Startled, he and Minji jumped back at the sudden noise only to see you. 
He felt panic rise in his chest. He didn't know how to explain this. But your face was so blank, so indifferent, that he couldn't even utter a word. 
“Don't stain the couch.” You said before walking off towards your room.
Minji scrambled off of him while he got up to retrieve his shirt. He was gonna go to your room but Minji held him back.
“Leave her alone right now…She's angry.” She said with tears in her eyes. He took a deep breath and sat on the couch. He rubbed his face with both hands, feelings absolutely stupid. 
“I'm sorry.” Minji suddenly said. Jungkook shook his head and got up.
“I think you should go, I have to talk to her.” He told her. Minji luckily didn't debate with him on it. She knew he was right. So she got up and wished him luck before heading out the apartment.
He looked at his phone to only see a missed call from you and he couldn't feel any worse than he did right now.
Jungkook left you alone for a little but he couldn't help but feel bad about leaving you there feeling whatever you're feeling. So taking up all the courage he can possibly muster, he made his way to your door and softly knocked. 
You gave him the go ahead to come in. 
There you were on your desk studying. Almost like nothing happened. But he can see your hands shaking as you hold a pen in your hands. 
“Hey, I’m sorry I missed your call. Do you wanna grab a bite to eat?” Stupid. She’ll definitely say no. But he didn't know what else to say. He just wanted you to come out of your room. 
“Okay.” 
He never felt more relieved to see you grabbing your things. He led you out of the apartment complex to take you to your favourite place to eat ever since you guys were in high school. Anything to make you feel better in some kind of way. 
You guys ate in silence for a little while but Jungkook couldn't handle it anymore.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about me and Minji.” He said suddenly. You looked at him with curious eyes. No mirth behind it or any sadness. Just…Wonder.
Until you gave him a soft smile. 
“She better not be like those other girls, she’s my friend and she's been doing well with us.” Jungkook laughed out of nervousness. He hated lying to you. But it's just what has to be done. 
He and Minji agreed not to tell anyone about how you guys got together. And what your parents did. He didn't want to involve anyone because frankly you guys wouldn't understand.
And it sucked.
“Yeah she has, and don’t worry, it’s not like that with her. I really like her. I haven’t felt like this before, even with Yeri.” 
Lies. All lies. He was talking about you. But did you know that? No, of course not. How could you when all he does is hurt you? 
He saw how your smile became a little more strained. He mentally punched himself for that but too late. He already said it.
Fucking idiot, he thought to himself.
“So how did that happen?” She asked suddenly. Letting out a strained breath, he practiced what the two of them rehearsed. Of course they hung out a little bit but he never considered them dates. It was just then forced together by both of your parents.
That night when you both went to your respective rooms, Jungkook got a text from Minji asking if you already knew. 
He replied that you do and he feels like shit about it. She understood because that means she's hurting you too.
But what a way to do it. You already knew, might as well finish it off.
He sent a picture that he took for his parents into your friend group chat. 
Look who’s together? 
After he sends this, there's no going back now. With a sigh and some tears in his eyes, he presses the send button and puts down his phone. 
He knows he's doing this for his family. But it just doesn't feel fair. Not any of it.
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The next few months were interesting. He barely saw you, he was always attending company dinners with Minji or having to do something for either his dad or hers.
He felt guilty when he saw you hate at night, sleeping on the couch. Or when he left early in the morning but you weren't even awake. 
He just wanted to spend time with you, but he can't. 
And it doesn’t help the fact that Minji has been acting up recently. For some reason she’s been much different than how she was a few weeks ago. He was just at his usual job, and his coworker asked if she could use the tablet he was holding to clock herself out. But Minji was also leaving the office that same time and before he could even say anything she stormed up to the girl and started yelling at her to leave him alone.
He was angry, this isn’t what they agreed. They agreed that this is strictly for the benefit of both of their families. He was quiet the entire ride back to his apartment, he just wanted to go home. But Minji decided to join him on the ride back and he couldn’t be more irritated. 
She’s been doing this a lot and it’s been irritating him to the core. 
He walked into his apartment with Minji trialing closely behind him. “Are you going to keep ignoring me?” She asked him. He let out an irritated huff before turning to her.
“You literally embarrassed me at the office. Why would I not ignore you right now?” He snapped. Minji rolled her eyes before she placed her hands on her hips in irritation.
“Of course I was going to say something! She was trying to flirt with you!” Minji said in an exasperated voice. He couldn't help but scoff, this was getting out of hand and he didn’t want to say something he will regret.
“Min, she’s literally my coworker, she was just asking me if she could use the tablet to clock out herself!” 
“Well it didn’t seem like that!” 
He had just about enough of this. He let out a groan at your silent footsteps. He can recognize them anywhere. He felt so irritated and embarrassed. This was never supposed to be like this, not at all. 
He couldn’t help the next words that flew out of his mouth. 
“Well if you have such a problem with it then we should just break up! I don't want to be with someone who doesn't trust me!” He said to her with a loud voice. He couldn't help it. He didn’t want this relationship. 
Why out of all people does it have to be him? 
Before he could say anything else, Minji grabbed her bag and left his apartment. He ran a hand through his hair and heard you in the hallway. He sighed out and made his way towards you only to see you and Ji-eun trying to run back into your room.
He would have laughed if he wasn’t so irritated right now.
“You guys aren’t that quiet, you know.” He watched as the two of you had a silent discussion before Ji-eun stood up straight. 
“Well that’s my cue.” She said before bolting out. 
His friends were a bunch of knuckleheads. But that slightly made him feel better…Only slightly.
He saw you cursing her out but he just wanted to be with you, hold you in his arms.
“Y/N” He called out while you looked at the door where Ji-eun left. 
He was tired. He hated all of this. Acting like everything is fine when it’s not. But he just…He couldn’t do it anymore. Before he could even fully register it, there were tears clouding his vision and you were in his arms as he held you close.
Your scent always made him feel better.
He was just so mad. Why would she ever think he’d do anything like that? Cheat on her? Please, even though he wasn’t one hundred percent fond of the idea of being in this relationship with her. And his track record with girls isn't exactly the cleanest. He had morals. And cheating, no matter the circumstance is on that list. 
You took care of him that night, let him drink to his heart's desire even though he knew he would wake up with a killer hangover. But he just wanted to feel something else. 
Not the sadness or the frustration.
He remembered everything that happened that day. How he held you close that night.
“I missed this.” He said as he snuggled into you. He wished that this could be him every single night. Without the constant watch from his parents. Or the judgment coming from his friends. Just the two of you, like it’s always been.
He looked down at you, cuddled into his side with you eyes closed. “Why can’t it be you?” He said. 
He felt a few more tears slip out of his eyes before sleep overcame him.
The next day he woke up with a pounding headache and an annoying ringing sound coming from his phone. 
He looked down only to see his Dad’s caller ID and let out an internal groan. 
“Yeah, what’s up dad?” He said quietly, hoping not to wake you up. Which is probably easy because you sleep like a rock. 
“What happened to you and Minji? CEO Lee told me she came home with tears in her eyes.” He said to her, letting out a frustrated huff he knew he messed up.
He cared for Minji, he really did. But it’s just hard to do something that you didn't want to do in the first place.
“I’m sorry dad.” He said quietly. His father was silent on the other side of the line for a little. He thought he hung up but before he could even speak again, his father spoke up.
“I’m sorry I laid this on you, Jungkook-ah. I know it’s been hard for you and I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. But please just…try? For me?” He pleaded. Jungkook closed his eyes and bent his head down. 
He owed everything to his parents. Especially his dad. When they moved away from Busan, his father worked hard enough to be able to sustain their family in Seoul. Day and night this man was constantly trying to make ends meet until he got his break at Lee Industries. 
And since then, they’ve been living easy. No debt, no worries. He was able to achieve so much because of his father’s hard work. Who is he to stop that?
“Okay…” He said, making his decision. He got off call with his dad and looked back at your sleeping form.
He had to do this for his family as much it hurt him.
He had to try.
Later that day, he bought a bouquet of flowers and asked Minji to meet him at the park near his work. He could try. That’s what he’s willing to do. He can’t promise anything, but he will do this.
“I’m sorry for how I acted.” He said as he held out the flowers to her. She accepted them with a smile before bringing it closer to her so she could sniff it.
“I’m sorry too…It’s just been hard lately. I miss him and you’re the only one who understands. I just took it out on you…” She said sincerely. “But I can admit something though…I think I’m starting to fall for you.” 
Jungkook was a little taken aback form this but he kind of figured by the way she’s been acting lately. His heart yearned for someone else but he had a responsibility to take upon for his family.
Letting himself build up some courage he gave her a sincere smile. “I’m willing ot try if you are…” He said.
She let out a beaming smile before jumping into his arms and giving him a kiss. It felt weird to kiss her again. But he just allowed it to happen. 
It’s the least he could do.
But that bliss didn’t last for long. He came home to look for you only to see your room packed and a packet on your bed.
And that’s when he knew things will never be the same again.
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The next few years were different. He stayed with Minji and he tried. He treated her as well as he could but he couldn’t help but think of you. His dad was happy, Minji’s parents were happy, and the company was happy too. The only person who wasn't but did one hell of a job hiding it was him. And it’s been especially hard because you’ve been gone for almost three years now. 
And everyday, he couldn’t help but think of you. If you’re eating well. If you’re getting the rest you need. If you were happy.
God he hoped you were happy. 
When you left that day at the airport, he knew you did this for yourself and he had to learn how to live without you constantly there. It was an adjustment. You were there for almost his entire life and then suddenly you weren’t. You guys talked occasionally but the time zone differences and the constant workload made it a little hard to talk to you all the time.
It was different. And it sucked. But you needed this.
And he couldn’t blame you. 
It was your time to heal. 
So imagine his surprise when he got an email with an invite to your gallery opening. He never felt so proud of you. You’ve always wanted to become a professional artist and the fact that you’re showcasing your work in a gallery is literally the first big step.
He called Minji and asked if she got an invite too and luckily she did. So they both agreed that they’ll go. 
It was two weeks from now and for the first time in years, he could finally see you again.
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Rage that's all he felt when he saw him. Cha Eunwoo. 
Once his really close friend but now just seeing this guy irks him to the bone. 
He was always everything Jungkook wasn't. Good looking, great at basketball, got any and every girl he wanted.
The day he saw you talking to him showed how much of a coward he actually is. How could it not. He had big eyes, a nose too big for his face, he was scrawny and awkward.
Everything Eunwoo wasn’t. 
But there you were. So effortlessly beautiful that it was such a hard time grasping that you guys were friends. That he was your best friend. 
It just didn't make sense. 
But after that day he refused to feel inferior to him again. He wanted to be someone that was worthy of you. But of course, he did it in a way that probably turned you off more than on.
And he couldn't ever forgive himself for that.
Especially as he sees you hugging Eunwoo after your showcase. 
You did wonderful of course. But he couldn't feel a little bit bitter when he saw the guy he was once close with hug his best friend. Something that he should've been doing.
And when you were all sitting there at dinner, he couldn't keep the rage bubbled inside him.
Minji on the other hand noticed his tense posture. She kept a close eye on him all night. How you immediately enamored him and how his brows furrowed in frustration every time that Eunwoo guy talked to you.
Everything that she could never do. 
Have Jungkook’s full attention.
She doesn't know when it happened, but he was constantly there for her. He understood her like no one else, probably because he was thrown into this as much as she was.
She liked him, maybe even loved. But sometimes she still thinks back to the man that left her doorstep a few years back.
Being with Jungkook helped her forget that. But as she watched his gaze stick to you all night, she couldn't help but feel the green monster in her chest slightly grow.
Which led her to announce her engagement.
It was something that was discussed the night before with your families. Her parents randomly brought up the topic of marriage during their weekly dinner.
Jungkook of course was against it. But Minji on the other hand, couldn't help but think about it. 
She watched as Jungkook’s dad placed a velvet box in front of her. It wasn't the usual engagement, none of this was usual. 
But she looked up in surprise when she opened it.
Jungkook let out a soft gasp at the sight of the ring. It was Jungkook’s mom’s engagement ring.
“Mom, are you sure?” He asked her. She gave a timid smile before nodding her head.
“Your father thought it would've been a good idea.” She told him. Minji couldn't help but feel a little bit bad at the thought of taking her engagement ring but Jungkook’s mom just smiled at them in reassurance.
It was okay. 
She looked at Jungkook who was in deep thought. 
“Just think about it… Okay?” Her dad said. 
Later that night, Jungkook and Minji went back to her apartment. He was about to leave before she called him back.
“What's up?” 
“I think we should do it”
Silence. That’s all that there was in the room. 
Jungkook just looked down at his hands. He looked…Defeated.
“Alright.” He said, pulling out the box.
He got down on one knee and gave her a sad smile. 
“Lee Minji, will you marry me?” 
She can feel him slipping from her the second he sees you. Like he always has. Maybe it's the jealousy that you’re still there and her lover isn't. But she just said it aloud.
And she never regretted it more. 
She regretted it the second she saw the happy glint disappear from your eyes. She regretted it the second your shared group of friends looked at her in shock. She regretted it the second she saw Jungkook look at her in the largest pit of rage in his eyes.
She was selfish, she knew that. 
But it was too late, she already said it.
And she hurt you.
A few nights after that, she went to the bar. The words of anger that Jungkook shared with her stayed in her head. She felt stupid. 
Why did she do that? 
She never felt more disappointed in herself. Her family definitely influenced her more than she thought. Their cunning ways, their professional way of making you feel like you owe them something when you don't.
She was never like this before. But the constant pressure to be perfect got to her. She wished she could go back to when she was close friends with you and she was still with the man that held her heart.
She felt the emotions run through her body as she went shot after shot. Suddenly someone sat beside her and she immediately felt her heart spike at the familiar pair of eyes.
“Hobi…”
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It was early morning the day Jungkook came home from Busan. That trip was supposed to be a nice relaxing getaway but he had to go ahead and ruin it by kissing you.
He was tipsy and curious to know how your lips tasted. He shouldn't have been so selfish because you won't even look his way. Taehyung is right, he keeps hurting you.
And this was the cherry on top.
He opened the door to his shared apartment with Minji. Putting down his bag, he placed his key on the counter before making his way to their shared room.
“Min?” 
As he opened the door, he never felt so shocked to see Minji and some guy sleeping on their shared bed.
Letting out a soft exhale, he was about to close the door when Minji suddenly stirred awake. Her eyes widened at the sight of Jungkook standing in the doorway.
She immediately got up and put on her robe to cover up.
Jungkook went outside to their living room and sat on the couch as Minji came outside of the room before softly closing the door.
“Jungkook…”
“It's fine.” He told her, sincerely. “I'm guessing that's him?”
He knew that her heart belonged to someone else just like how his heart does. He watched as she looked down at her lap as she twiddled her thumbs in nervousness. 
She nodded her head and he just gave her a sad smile.
“I’m sorry…” She said to him, he looked at her with a tense look before his eyes dropped to the floor.
“I kissed Y/N.” He told her. If she was gonna be honest, it's only right that he does the same.
“How was that?” She asked with a teasing smirk. He let out a sarcastic laugh before closing his eyes because felt the familiar burn behind his eyes.
“She hates me.”
She was surprised, she didn't expect that answer. But Jungkook didn't get the luxury of explaining everything to Y/N like how she explained everything to Hobi. Well he already knew.
Jungkook couldn't help but finally make sense of it all. She's been acting weird for the last few months and now he gets why. He's happy that they finally reconnected.
“Do you… Do you still want to go through with the wedding?” Jungkook asked her. She looked at him before shaking her head no.
He figured. It makes sense. She loved him, always has. It was too good to be true for them to actually work out when their hearts belonged to other people. They promised to try, but they failed.
“Alright”
For the first time, Jungkook and Minji gave each other wide sincere smiles that are only reserved for the two of them. They both agreed on it. The wedding wasn't going to happen.
Suddenly the bedroom door opened to reveal Minji’s boyfriend. He came outside looking slightly embarrassed. He looked like he was about to leave but Minji got up and grabbed his hand to sit him down beside her.
The two men looked at each other in silence. Jungkook thought he had such a youthful and soft look. Completely opposite of Minji but makes so much sense.
“Hey, I’m Jungkook” He said as he held out his hand. Said man looked at him a little warily before putting his hand in his and shook it,
“Jung Hoseok, but you can call me Hobi” 
Jungkook gave him a smile before retracting his hand. “Wait so, you're not mad?” 
Jungkook let out a soft laugh before shaking his head. Hobi looked at Minji and Jungkook in confusion. She placed her hand in his and gave him a soft smile.
“He knows about us, I never shut up about you.” She told him. Hobi’s cheeks started to tint red in embarrassment much to Jungkook's amusement. 
“So you’re okay with this?” He asked. Jungkook looked down at his hands as he traced the tattoos on his knuckles. 
He looked up at him and nodded. “Minji and I…We’ve always known that our hearts belonged to other people. I can't really blame her, nor can I blame you either. So yeah, I’m okay with it.” 
“And we decided that we’re gonna cancel the wedding.” Hobi gave him a beaming smile that he couldn't help but reflect. It was the right choice and he knew it.
He could make it up to his family.
But now, he’s choosing himself.
Minji and Jungkook decided to head to the office together later on that morning. As Jungkook drove them to their destination, they were rehearsing what they would tell both of their fathers. He could tell Minji was nervous but he reassured her that they’ll understand.
And if they don't… Then they’ll have to accept it eventually.
As the two of them arrived at the company building, they walked through the doors and watched as multiple workers scrambled to get their morning work done. Minji requested a meeting with her father and luckily his dad was there today too, so it won't be a hassle to break the news to them.
They rode up the elevator in silence. Jungkook noticed how Minji kept fiddling with her hands, an anxious habit of hers that he realized over the years. The wedding is supposed to be tomorrow, and if this conversation goes as smoothly as he hopes, then they can finally breathe easily. 
He looked at Minji once again. “Hey, it’ll be fine” He told her. She looked at him with a tense expression before she took a calming breath. He couldn't blame her nerves. Both of their dad’s have been so adamant in them getting together and this last minute change might piss some people off.
Once the doors opened to the floor CEO Lee’s office was located, Jungkook felt a lump form in his throat. He began to walk out of the elevator, but he saw Minji hesitate in his peripheral vision. He turned his body towards her and held out his hand.
She stared at the door that held her father behind it and looked at Jungkook. “I’m scared”
He nodded his head at her in reassurance. She took a deep breath before stepping out of the elevator and grabbing his hand. 
“It’ll be fine” He repeated like a mantra. He didn’t even know if he was saying that for her or himself.
Minji took the initiative to knock on the door. They both silently waited before hearing CEO Lee tell them to come in. They gave each other a look before Jungkook opened the door. He allowed her to go through first before making his way inside himself.
“Ah, just the two I wanted to see. Please have a seat” CEO Lee gestured to the guest chairs on the opposite side of the desk. Minji slowly started to make her way over while Jungkook scanned the office. This wasn’t his first time inside, but he was still in awe over how spacious it was. There was a large scenery of Seoul just outside of his window. 
He let out a shaky breath before sitting on the chair beside Minji. 
“So, about tomorrow…” CEO Lee started. Jungkook knew he would go on and on about the upcoming wedding so he gazed at Minji who only gave him a nod in return. 
“Actually, that’s what we came here to talk about” Jungkook said. Suddenly another knock cut the tension, his father made his way into the room with his mother trailing behind him. Perfect. He nervously glanced at Minji before he took a deep breath.
“Oh Jungkook-ah, Minji-ah, I wasn’t expecting to see you two here.” 
Jungkook couldn’t look at his parents right now, especially his mom. She can basically read everything that’s on his mind just by one look and he doesn’t want to lose his courage. 
“Ah yes, we were going to discuss tomorrow…” They started talking amongst themselves, much to Jungkook’s annoyance. He could tell Minji was starting to get agitated at the slow pace. The nerves were killing them both.
Suddenly her mom came into the room as well. Great, the whole squad is here.
“Minji and I decided to cancel the wedding.”
Pin drop. 
Silence overtook the room. He glazed over at Minji who held her head high. He looked towards his mom who gave him a sympathetic look. “What are you talking about?” His dad asked.
“We don’t want to get married.” 
They all looked at each other in confusion. 
“That’s absurd” Minji’s mom said, suddenly. Well that’s not what he was expecting. “You’re joking, right?”
“Mom…”
“Is it because of the theme? Or is it because it was so sudden?” She started to ask multiple questions. Minji shook her head at all of them. But they weren’t allowing any of you to speak. Jungkook’s mom rubbed his back as his father and Minji’s mom started questioning them. 
The only person who was silent was Minji’s father.
“I’m in love with someone else.” 
They all looked at her in surprise. Jungkook didn’t expect her to say that to be honest, but it seems like they weren’t accepting their statement.
“I am too…” Jungkook said. He looked at Minji and gave her a reassuring smile. “We tried, for all of you but it just wouldn’t work between us.” 
Jungkook’s mom gave him a knowing look, like she knew immediately who he was talking about. His dad went silent while Minji’s mother paced around the room. 
“If that’s what you guys decide…” His father said. He felt hope light in his chest at those words. Him and Minji both snapped their heads up in surprise. He could feel Minji practically shake in excitement.
“No.”
“What?”
“No, I won’t allow it.” Minji’s father bluntly said. 
The others looked at him in confusion. He saw his father bend down to say something but CEO Lee slammed his hand on the table. Minji flinched in surprise while Jungkook narrowed his eyes at the man.
“But dad…” Minji pleaded.
“Do you have any idea how bad this will look in the company? The amount of people who will lose respect for us because my daughter decided to whore around another man?” 
Minji let out a gasp at her fathers words. “That's going too far” Jungkook sneered. They watched as Minji’s father rubbed his eyes with a tired hand.
“The two of you are getting married tomorrow. End of discussion” 
“But–”
“No buts.”
Jungkook angrily stood up from his chair. “We aren’t a business plan, this is your daughter's life and mine.” 
Minji’s father stared at them with a dead expression. He’s never seen that look before. It was the look of someone who held a lot of influence and power over the economy. Someone who did everything to get what he wanted.
“If the two of you don’t get married tomorrow, I’ll make your lives as horrible as I could possibly make it. I will blacklist Jungkook from joining any company. Nobody will take you and I’ll make sure of it. I will fire your father and make sure your mother’s business goes down the drain so you will be left with nothing.” He threatened. Jungkook felt his hands start to shake from anger as he listened to this man's words.
“That little friend that you’re so in love with, I’ll frame her for plagiarism and make sure her work never sells.” Jungkook was ready to prance at the man sitting behind that oak desk but his mother held him back. 
CEO Lee then turned to Minji. “And you, I will make sure that little boy toy of yours will lose his license from malpractice. And I’ll make sure you never have any dollar to my name” 
“What the fuck?!” Minji was crying. Her father was going too far. Jungkook was practically vibrating from rage as the threat started to sink in.
“That’s enough…” He heard his mother weakly say. But he didn’t even listen to her.
“Your choice.” He said with a smug smile. 
“Fine. Do it. I’d rather lose everything than be included in this god forsaken family.” Minji said. Jungkook had to agree but he looked at his mother and father. They looked defeated. 
He looked at his mother who was standing behind him as she held his arm. “Mom…” He quietly said. She gave him a tearful smile but nodded her head.
“It’s fine, Jungkook-ah” She said truthfully. He felt his heart constrict in his chest. 
He was so conflicted, but he threatened everyone he possibly cares for. And for what, just for himself?
He couldn’t do it.
“And I won’t help your little friend's father if you don’t go through with what I want.” Jungkook’s head snapped up at his words. 
Is he talking about your father?
“Mr. Park?” Jungkook whispered. He saw his mom lean her head down as she silently cried. His dad gave him a pleading look, to just listen.
“What…”
“Park Jihoon, he has a benign tumor in his brain. It’s not cancerous but if he doesn't get it removed, then he can die.” His father says with a frown. “I promised to help him.”
He felt his eyes prick with tears. This is too much. “Does Y/N know?” He asked weakly. 
Jungkook’s mom shook her head. “Y/N already has a lot to take care of, we promised we wouldn’t say anything to the kids…” 
Jungkook sat back down on the chair and started to cry. This wasn’t fair. Why does it have to be like this?
“Dad, you can’t do this…” Minji pleaded. She looked at her mom who was standing near the window. 
“Mom?” She refused to look at her. 
“If I marry Minji…You promise to leave them alone?” Jungkook asks. He looked at Minji, her eyes were bloodshot red from all the crying. She shook her head as she covered her eyes with her hands.
“No…”
“That’s the deal.”
Jungkook took a shaky breath before looking at Minji. “I’m so sorry” She cried.
He shook his head. It wasn't her fault. It’s not like she wanted this either. 
“Fine.”
The next day as he stood at the altar, he watched as you walked down the aisle with your beautiful dress. He wished you were the one walking to him. That this was your wedding. But this was for you, for everyone else. 
He had to do this.
“Do you, Jeon Jungkook, take Lee Minji to be your lawful wedded wife?” 
Jungkook took a deep breath as he gazed at you with tears in your eyes behind Minji. He felt his eyes burn but he held it back. This was for you.
“I do.”
He closed his eyes and imagined you were the one he was kissing as they sealed their marriage with a liplock.
And with that, Jungkook’s heart broke in two.
He danced with you under the shining moonlight as he gazed at the woman he loved. He could never forgive himself for hurting her. But he knew this is what had to be done. For your future, for the sake of his family, and for Hoseok’s. 
It’s the least he could do for hurting you.
Is this what it’s like to have something so close yet so far, that the heart practically yearned and weeped for it. 
As you held his hand on your chest, he knew there was something different. It was like a final goodbye. 
And he couldn’t accept it. 
Denying the inevitable is what he’ll do if it means he’ll keep you close.
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You stared at Minji with tears in your eyes as she explained the last few years from their perspective. You’ve been so caught up in how you felt that you failed to see that they were struggling too. Especially jungkook.
He sacrificed so much for you. For his family.
His pride. His happiness.
You.
He sacrificed it so you could have the life you wanted. Even if it meant hurting you.
You didn’t know what to do with that information. You felt your breath start to quicken as Minji’s words sunk in. All this time, he loved you but he chose to stay away for your sake and for everyone else.
How could someone be so cruel?
“You…You guys couldn’t do anything?” You asked her as tears rolled down your face. Minji’s eyes were glistening with tears of her own as she watched you comprehend what she told you.
She shook her head and looked outside of the window. “I come from an influential family. If my father says something, it always happens…Jungkook knew this.” 
You held your face in your hands as you cried. 
“The day you left without telling him and I completely broke Jungkook.” She started. “He ran to the airport to see you but you were already gone by the time he got there…”
“Kook, you have to let her go” Jimin said to him. He looked up at his friend as tears rolled down his face. He knew his friend was right. He hurt you so many times that he wasn’t worthy of you anymore. He couldn't tell you why he did all of this. 
But in the process, he broke your heart.
He silently cried as Jimin brought him into his arms. He just wanted to see you one last time. But he knows he never will again.
And it’s all his fault.
“He blamed himself for a long time.” Minji told you. She gazed at you with a sad smile. “He never meant to hurt you.”
You’ve been hurting for so long. Jungkook was your rock for years. But the way you guys drifted apart was probably much harder than any of the things you’ve been through over the years. And you know that Jungkook felt the same. 
You wiped your face with your hands as you got up to sit beside Minji. She looked at you in surprise, not expecting you to come close to her.
You didn’t say anything, you just brought her into your arms. “What about you, are you okay?” You asked her. Minji’s breath stuttered. 
“Yeah…” She said before letting go of you. She looked at you with a sad smile.
“Hoseok wasn’t happy of course, we spent some time apart for a while after the wedding but Jungkook was the one who told him to give me a chance.” 
“So Jungkook knew that you guys were…”
“Of course. He was fine with it, as long as I was happy.” 
Jungkook gave up so much. He allowed Minji and Hoseok to be together while he stood on the sidelines and watched. He longed for you while he worked his ass off to make sure he had a stable life. He suffered just to keep you safe. 
Minji of course tried to get her dad to change his mind but he refused. It was annoying to be sneaking around with the person she loved when all she wanted to do was scream at the top of her lungs that she was in love with him.
The next 5 months were hard, she was fighting a battle that she knew she would never win. She was about to admit defeat when she found out she was pregnant with Hoseok’s baby. 
Jungkook found out a few days after the two of them did. And he made the decision for them.
“Are you sure?” Minji asked him. It seems like she was always asking him this question but Jungkook was adamant on it. Their baby needed a whole family away from all this chaos and drama. 
He pulled out a few documents from his bag and held it out to her. It was divorce papers. His signature was already signed, all it needed was hers.
“But…” 
He hushed her and placed the papers on the coffee table. “Once you sign this, you know you’ll be in danger. You have to get out of here before your dad finds out.” He said as held her arms. Minji looked at the papers with hesitance.
Jungkook nodded his head at her. She picked up a pen from the table and signed them.
Letting out a breath, Jungkook promised to get these officiated as soon as possible. 
Minji and Hoseok left the city a day later. They chose to move somewhere far but close enough for Hoseok to work in the city. 
Jungkook on the other hand was mentally preparing for the heat that will arrive. He needed to get to you as soon as he could. He knew what Minji’s father was capable of, and if he got to you before he could, he’d never forgive himself.
With that thought, he quickly packed his bags and booked the earliest flight to New York.
On his way there, he was passing a bridge with construction. He was slightly distracted with the time, trying to get there as soon as he could before he missed his flight. He didn’t notice he was speeding. Until a car struck his vehicle, causing him to slip off the bridge onto the road under. 
Which led him here. In this state. 
“I’m so sorry.” Minji said as she held your hands in hers. “I knew Jungkook loved you but everything that’s happened is my fault. I shouldn’t have ruined your showcase. I should’ve tried harder to stop all of this… I should've…” You shushed her as you hugged her again.
She was just as much of a victim as you were, as Jungkook was. You were all young, naive and wanted to do right by everyone. She was destined to be the perfect daughter. Jungkook wanted nothing more than to be a perfect man. 
When Minji met Hoseok again, she never understood Jungkook more. To love someone so much that you’re willing to give up everything for them.
She owed Jungkook so much for everything he’s done.
You on the other hand will never forget all the hurt he put you through. But it helped you understand him a little more. To forgive. 
All this time, he felt just as you did. But both of your sides were different. The two of you were hurting, and for the first time, you stopped putting the blame on them.
For the first time, you finally felt your chest ease up at the tension. 
Later that night you went home to see Jungkook watching T.V.
He doesn’t know what happened, from what you know. But this boy has done so much for you that you couldn’t help but feel fondness for the man.
“Y/N” He said when you came into his view. You sat beside him as he stared at you. 
“I'm so sorry for ignoring you, I know I shouldn't have…” he started. He was still hung up on what happened last night. That was the furthest thing from your mind at the moment. You shook your head at him and laid your head on his shoulder.
“It’s okay…”
Jungkook let out a sigh in relief. You stared at the screen in front of you as an old cartoon played on the screen. After everything you learned today, you never loved this boy more than you did right now.
After everything he’s done you couldn’t help but feel a little bad for not being here for him. He went through so much, but you didn’t know. You didn't know what to do with what you learned. If any of it matters anymore. 
But you know one thing…You’ll never abandon him again.
Jungkook gazed at you as you fell asleep on his shoulder. He softly laid you on the couch and got up. He couldn’t bring himself to wake you. 
You just looked so peaceful. He put a blanket over your body and slowly made his way to his room. 
Suddenly a throbbing pain spiked throughout his whole head. He faltered for a second, having to hold onto the wall for support. But just as fast as it came, it was gone. He felt his body shaking from the intense pain, sweat covered his brow as the pain slowly subsided.
What the hell was that?
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@felicityroth @joonwater @bangtans-momma @glossyyyymin @unicornlover25 @appleh4ad @kikookii @sugaslittlekookies @kalea04 @jeonjungkookswife14 @jm1003myg @chelseasoto @jamlessstars @kelsyx33 @yoongisducky @nellyboosworld @doseiiii @lilyflowerguk @jessasarah @jiminshi20 @yoooonie @acquiescence804 @blaaiissee @jjaanneetthh3 @embrace-themagic @ahintofsin @butterymin @02010802faves @vidazarolis @hoseokteardrop @bbtsficrecs @mafiulaputaama @junecat18 @nays2112 @pasteljoonie @j3oooonsnsns @welcometomyworld13 @sheylamc @jungkooksseuphoria @kooromiwrld @thvkives @lh1ava-blog @destructive-memories @allamericanuniverse @ellesalazar @andioopsworld @whoa-jo @xjiminsthighsx @royallyjjk @neverthefirstchoice
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taglist is officially closed :)
648 notes · View notes
joblrcensus · 2 months
Text
it’s time for the JOblr census results 🧡🙌
before we start i want to thank everyone who took their time to answer this silly little project, gathering responses from 203 baby boos!! it’s my first time doing this so hopefully i can bring some excitement with the results <3
so buckle up and let’s get into it
general questions
Which continent are you from?
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Unsurprisingly, the majority is European with a total of 80.8% but it’s amazing to see that they’ve crossed the continent’s border and we also have 9.9% people from North America, 3.9% from Australia & Oceania, 3.4% from Asia and 2% from South America. No person chose the Africa option.
Which country are you from? (optional)
With this being an optional question, 162 respondents out of 203 opted to answer it. Let’s take a look at the top countries by number of people in JOblr (small note: I counted the few people who wrote England or Scotland as part of the UK answer)
Drumrolls 🥁…..
Finland - 29
UK & USA - 15
Germany - 11
Poland - 9
Italy - 8
Australia - 7
Sweden - 6
Austria, Spain, The Netherlands - 5
Croatia, Slovenia - 4
Czechia, France, Romania - 3
Belgium, Canada, Denmark, Hungary, Lithuania, Norway, Philippines, Portugal, Ukraine - 2
Bolivia, Brazil, China, Estonia, Greece, Iceland, India, Luxembourg, Malta, Mexico, Russia, Switzerland - 1
How old are you?
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45.8% of us are between 18-25, following by 23.6% between 26-30, 18.2% between 31-45, 10.8% under 18 and two people who are over 45 years old.
Are you part of the LGBTQ+ community?
Remember when they said Joker Out are for the girls and gays? 🏳️‍🌈
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Well that was absolutely not wrong since 77.3% baby boos answered that yes they are part of the community, while 11.8% are questioning and 10.8% have answered no
tumblr activity questions
How do you participate on JOblr?
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a majority of 98 people are mostly reblogging posts in the fandom but sometimes making posts of their own, 38 are only reblogging while 36 lurkers have stepped out of the shadow and made themselves known. The least amount of people (31) said to be active posters
Do you post any of the following?
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It’s already known this fandom is mad talented and entertaining!! It’s always a joy seeing everyone’s creations and posts no matter the type. And the people who are only enjoying and supporting the content are just as important 🫶
Do you also post about Käärijä?
Since these two fandoms are basically overlapping, sometimes even seen as one fandom, I was curious just how much
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50.7% also post about Käärijä outside of Joker Out, while 35% don’t post about him at all (or perhaps very rarely). 14.3% are mainly coming from Käärijä’s fandom
joker out questions
How did you find out about Joker Out?
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Another unsurprising result, with 89.7% of us finding out about them through Eurovision. But it was really cool to see that there are people who discovered them differently. Ten people found out about them through Tumblr or other social media, to four they were recommended by someone and one through a music platform. The “other” option was chosen as well and included:
finding out about JO through Käärijä
through a music blog review
on slovenian radio
Who from the current members is your favorite?
One of the hardest questions but it had to be done
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So Tumblr’s top favorite members areee:
Bojan - 69 votes
Jan - 42 votes
Kris - 40 votes
Nace - 35 votes
Jure - 17 votes
Have you been to a Joker Out concert?
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I did not expect this one to be so balanced but I am pleasantly surprised! 104 people have been to a JO concert, while 99 haven’t. It often feels like you’re the only person who hasn’t seen them live yet but it’s nice to see that you’re not alone, so if anyone feels the same don’t worry our time will come too 🥹
If you answered yes, have you seen them multiple times?
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Out of the 104 people who previously answered yes, there’s still a balance between those who have been to only one concert and those who have been to multiple
If you’re into RPF, which one of the most popular ships (according to AO3) is your favorite?
Another optional question where 181 out of 203 opted to respond to.
Oh boy, ooooh boy this was a tough battle. It felt like I was watching a horse race. I can tell you that all three ships have been at some point in the first place, or even equal. Are you ready to see the most interesting result yet?
Drumrolls again 🥁…….
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BoJere - 58 votes
BoKris - 57 votes
Jance - 56 votes
The “other” option was also chosen and the following ships were included:
BoMartin
Jan/Jure
Kris/Jure
Nace/Kris
Nace/Jere
poly!JO
aaaand that’s it, you made it to the end 🫶 hope you enjoyed and why not see you on the next census!!
139 notes · View notes
3d-wifey · 22 days
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And They'd Find Us in A Week - Chapter 14
Pairing: Finnick Odair x Reader Word Count: 32.5k Synopsis: Here! Playlist: Listen up! Tag list: - @melancholicmelanin, @yvy1s, @glomp-me, @honethatty12, @swftlore, @hashcakes, @antoheartit, @finnickodaddy, @lilifl0wer, @antoheartit, @kermitcrimess, @persophonekarter, @aawdrea, @obaewankenobis, @xyxlyn, @meandurdaughtergotaspecialthing, @innercreationflower, @kisskittenn, @xngelsau A/N: 32.5k....uh, i...this is fucking crazy, years in the making basically. and tumblr let me post all of It!!!!
Present (XIII)
THE ARENA; THE BEACH (4:10 am—4:23 am)
The female morphling gasps raspily in Peeta’s embrace as he soothes her and Finnick feels fuzzy, blurry around the edges. He turns his back to the display, his gaze sweeping the treeline. He can’t look—won’t look—as she takes her last breath. He doesn’t know her, but he can’t shake that feeling of helplessness. There’s nothing more he can do but watch as she dies. 
Would you have thrown yourself between Peeta and certain death just as readily as she did? Like Mags did? He grips his trident and tries to keep a grip on his sanity as well, but that’s a lot harder to hold on to than the metal in his hands.
The monkeys have all but disappeared back into the jungle. They wouldn’t come onto the beach, toppling over themselves as they snarled and spit at him. Finnick knows he’s threatening, a formidable enemy with his trident wielded as an extension of himself. Still, even he knows that shouldn’t have been enough to intimidate a rabid pack of apes with a preference for the blood of victors.
It was almost like they couldn’t come onto the beach. From what Katniss told him, the fog behaved similarly after they fell down the hill. Billowing upwards along an invisible barrier. 
She was so close to making it. Just a few more feet and Mags…
He feels his throat tighten, tears gathering behind his eyes. His nose will start running any second now, which means it’s a perfect time to collect Katniss’s arrows. He stays on guard, but there’s nothing—not one chitter or screech. He pulls blood-stained arrows out of monkey carcasses with the sound of cannon fire dogging his steps.
SECTION 6  (5:47 am—6:38 am)
You have no idea how long you’ve been roaming, but the sunlight sprinkling through the treetops tells you it’s finally morning. The sun isn't very high, yellow rays don't envelop you. Instead, you stumble under the lethargic blue hue between night and day.
You can see again, fully. That's an obvious plus. But, on the downside, the heat will only get hotter. Not that you’d be able to tell with how hot your injury has already made you. 
It’s gotten worse— you’ve gotten worse. It’s made you hazy, you’ve lost track of time. 
You escaped the blood rain, got separated, fought killer beetles, and skulked around like a fox with a lame paw, hiding in the shadows from any predators looking for an easy kill.
You left behind one of your sickles somewhere in the last mile. Having two weapons seemed like such a novel idea when you had other people with you. But after being attacked, wielding them both has only been a nuisance. You could have placed it in one of the belt loops meant for weapons if it didn't pull at and weigh down your tourniquet.
You now hobble along on numb legs as you apply pressure to the wound by pressing your free hand against the blood-soaked cloth you have tied around your waist. 
Between now and the bugs, you had received a sponsor gift. Some sort of thinly sliced dried meat and a seeded roll from Eleven. You hid yourself in the thick underbrush and scarfed it all down; there was no time to savor it while you were so vulnerable.
You’re still vulnerable. As if being alone in an arena deadset on killing you isn’t bad enough, your injury, and whatever is in it, has you moving at half your normal speed. But, for better or for worse, you haven’t come across anyone else. You know not to expect anyone from your original group, but you haven't seen anyone. Your only company is the pounding in your head, the burning in your side, and the odd little creatures that scamper in the trees. 
You thought, perhaps, you’d come across Chaff and whatever’s left of his group. You know from last night that he didn’t die in the bloodbath. The same can’t be said for the male morphling. You sigh, long and heavy. 
So much for trying to learn his name.
You remember how it felt to see Cecelia’s face in the sky. Cecelia and old man Woof, his mind hardly there but still hellbent on keeping her safe. Your throat reflexively tightens. You hadn’t thought she would make it far, but you had hoped—you shake your head. You don’t know what you hoped for, but you can’t help but think of her three children clinging to her as she was reaped and your own mother’s scream when you volunteered. 
You’re all dropping like flies.
You stop for yet another break. Eyes squeezed tight as you gasp in the muggy air—you’re winded. Again. You wipe your forearm across your forehead, sweat wetting the dry blood. It runs down your hairline, dripping a salty mixture into your eyes and mouth.
You can’t keep going on like this. At this rate, you’ll succumb to your injuries before anything else kills you, and, had it not been for the revolution, you’d be fine with that. Dying in the arena was your plan as soon as you raised your hand to volunteer. But things are different now; your plans have changed, and you refuse to break your promise to Finnick. The only way out is through. And your only way out is by getting sponsored. 
You can’t mistake survival for self-sacrifice, which is what this is. Survival. You’ll lose no part of yourself in return for their help.
They’re not taking something you haven't already given—that they haven't already taken before. 
You lower your head, feigning exhaustion as you catch your breath, though you don’t have to act much. Subtly, you adjust your hand, ensuring any movement escapes detection. At most, it might look like your fingers are involuntarily twitching, disguising the deliberate pressure you're applying to the wound. The pain makes tears spring to your eyes, but that isn’t enough. They need to feel your anguish like it's their own. With a grimace, you dig deeper. Your body flinches away from the feeling, but you don’t let yourself get far. Your nails, trimmed and well-kept, still manage to cut into the fabric, aggravating and stretching one of the already gaping wounds. 
It's an odd feeling—the strike of pain in a place you never imagined you could feel it, fingers worming around like a flimsy stick wrapped in barbed wire. An even odder feeling to scratch at something that was never meant to be felt.
You sob, abandoning any attempt at stifling your groans and ragged breaths. Tremors wrack your body, muscles spasming weakly under your merciless touch. There's a harsh rasp in your lungs, labored breathing, a tang of something metallic. The relentless pressure sears through you, yet you persist. You continue to wiggle your fingers around until you feel the warm trail of tears tracing your cheeks.
You look to the sky and swallow your pride. You’ve done it your entire life; what’s one more time?
You can imagine how you look now. Your face streaked with tears and blood, a mix of desperation and agony etched upon your features. The rivulets of red fluid mingling with teardrops, tracing sorrowful paths down your cheeks. The pain and exertion must be painting your expression, your eyes wide and brimming with torment, the viscous liquid obscuring the once familiar contours of your face. And you top it off with a pitiful pout.
“Seeder, please— please ! I need…I need…somethin’. Any— anythin’ .” You hiccup, gesturing toward your likely festering wound. “I need help. I don’t wanna die.” You allow your face to screw up in anguish, really playing it up. After all, it’s not actually Seeder you’re performing for. 
" Please ." Your plea, a soft sniffle, is barely audible, and it's almost comical how quickly the package arrives. They were waiting, just like you thought. Waiting for that moment of surrender.
That familiar three-note tune pings from above you. The sponsor gift floats down languidly as if it has all the time in the world and you aren't being slowly poisoned. 
You move closer, but it's stopped before it can reach its destination. Instead of falling before you like it should have, the package hangs precariously among the branches. You scan the mess of white, brown, and green. The parachute has gotten tangled in the lower canopies.  
“You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me.” You bemoan. 
You stare despairingly up at the package. It tweets that little tune, taunting you from its high perch, and it won’t shut up until you get it. It’ll only draw attention the longer you stall.
From down here, the climb seems daunting, but you’ve climbed higher than this in Eleven when you were younger, starved, and overworked.   
You touch the trunk and the bark is different than what you're used to, but it’s still firm enough that you have faith it’ll hold your weight without breaking. The bark back home is rough and sap-sticky with little to no give. These trees are somewhat slippery and damp from the excess humidity, no doubt. 
You swallow hard against the rising nausea, your fingers gingerly probing the covered wound as you attempt to ground yourself. Your arms tremble as you place your weapon among the gnarled roots. Your side sears with raw hurt that pulsates with each breath, made worse and reopened by your little stunt. With that at the forefront of your mind, the urgency of retrieving the parcel tethered between the two trees outweighs the agony.
With gritted teeth, you reach out for nearby branches, using them as anchors. The mud-slicked roots serve as precarious footholds, threatening to betray you with each move. Each upward pull sends fiery jolts through your injured side, but you ignore the throbbing ache, fingers finding purchase in the deep grooves. You wince, fighting against the dizzying waves threatening to overwhelm you. You realize, perhaps a bit late, that you've been overestimating the adrenaline's ability to numb the pain. You claw your way up, inch by agonizing inch. 
It’s within sight and then within reach. It hangs above you. You position yourself a little higher until both feet rest on one branch. You shimmy, your chest pressed against the trunk as you hug the tree with one arm. Your other arm stretches up, fingers barely brushing the bottom of the silver canister. You pant open-mouthed as the stretch brings your attention back to your injury, destroying the brief blissful second you forgot about it as you came upon your gift. 
You relieve the pressure along your side by pushing to your tiptoes, batting at it like a cat, before you’re finally able to get it in your grasp. It’s a dodgy hold at best. Only your thumb, middle finger, and ring finger have any real grip on it as you attempt to shake it from the branches. It’s not enough. The tendon in your forearm flexes as you rock back onto your heels, using your full weight to dislodge it, and it feels like the entirety of your abdomen twinges with the reintroduced stretch.
But the suffering was worth it. You got it, bringing it to your chest, relishing in the feeling of cold metal in your hand. Each breath is a pained gasp as tears blur your vision. Whether they’re from pain or relief is anyone’s guess. You can't help but smile, laughing with each pant. It's a small accomplishment, barely an accomplishment at all, but—"You did it. You fuckin' did it ." 
You steady yourself before opening it and reading the attached note.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      
A rose by any other name is watered just the same.
You flip it around and it reads:
For the venom. Drink up.
- S
The price of medicine in the Games is nothing to scoff at. And who knows how much the prices may have inflated for a Quarter Quell. You'd like to pretend that one of your higher-end patrons sponsored this. That Seeder pulled this together through numerous donations. 
But you know better. 
Snow is supposed to be impartial regarding who survives in the arena. The president sponsoring someone is unheard of, but you know the man better than most. You know what echoes through that dark abyss he calls a soul. There’s always a way around, a way to cheat if you have enough power. It wouldn’t surprise you if he bent the rules in whatever way benefited him. In fact, you know he did. And it seems your survival benefits him. You’re no use to him dead.
Volunteering wasn’t enough to escape him. You’re alive, because he allows it—in the arena more than ever. Your life isn’t even yours to take. It’s his.
You'd throw up if you could afford to lose the food in your stomach.
You pick up the bottle from the canister. It's clear and about the size of your palm. There’s no label, no indication of what may be in it. You pop the cap and sniff it. It smells herbal, almost minty. When you bring it to your lips and tip it back, it goes down fast, leaving an oily film on your tongue. It has no taste.
You wait. You aren't expecting it to instantly fix you, but wouldn’t it be lovely if it got rid of the nagging ache in your wound and the sheen over your vision? Or maybe just your migraine? 
With a sigh, you close your eyes as you thump your forehead rhythmically against the tree, not helping your headache in the slightest. 
Something is bothering you—something you can’t understand. This antidote. Why would this even be a sponsor gift? Sure, at face value, it’s just medicine—there’s tons of medicine a mentor could send in—but it isn’t, not really. There are salves and sleeping aids—those sorts of things. Things that’ll assist a sick or injured tribute, but they won’t cure them. 
This? This is quite literally a cure. What fun would be in that? Where’s the entertainment value? Wouldn’t betting on the stakes lose its appeal if there was something a mentor could buy to instantly get rid of them? 
Did he…? No. No, he couldn’t have. But nothing else makes sense. He must have had it made after you were attacked. For the venom , he knew exactly what was causing your rapid decline—something that can’t be picked up through the camera. The only reason you know those beetles left a toxin in you is because you feel it. You doubt something like this is even available to buy in the shop. If someone else gets poisoned by those bugs, they’ll no doubt die. But not you. Because of Snow, you’ll survive something that should be a death sentence.
He’s cheating. For you.
You look to the ground and contemplate, only briefly, if a fall from this height, in your current state, would be enough to end it all. If you aim for your head or neck, would it kill you instantly or paralyze you? 
It’s because of these morbid musings that you’re able to catch it—the man barreling through the jungle through vines and low branches—but you surely would have heard him with how loud he is. You freeze like a deer, hardly breathing as he stumbles over his own feet. 
The man from Ten. 
He's not a part of the alliance. And it’s just your luck that he falls below you, crashing face-first onto the ground hard enough for you to wince. He crawls up, panting loudly as he spins in frantic circles before focusing back on the direction he came from. It's almost like he’s being chased—
Whoever is chasing him enters your line of sight like they read your mind. Not who, you correct yourself, because the thing stalking forth is certainly not a person. You see its vague, hulking shape in the low light.
You don’t know if it’s something native to the jungle, a mutation of an existing animal, or a completely original mutt. It’s bipedal, bigger than any human you’ve ever seen. Bigger than any bear you’ve ever seen. 
He’s gonna make a run for it, you can see it in his tense stance. It’s a horrible decision, but the only one he can make. The urge to warn him not to turn his back on that thing, because it will give chase is strong enough that you have to bite your tongue, iron bursting in your mouth as your canines dig in.
He tries to run again, but, as you predicted, it easily catches up to him with its much longer strides. He dives down to grab something off the ground. A fallen branch—nothing you could have picked up as weak as you are right now. He aims it at his pursuer. 
“No! No ! Stay–stay back! Back,” he swings the stick threateningly, unbalanced by its heavy weight, and you remember being in a very similar position in your first Games. Your heart seizes at the reminder. The glassy-eyed desperation in the other tribute as he ran towards your scythe, the sound he made as he held his intestines, the resistance and then the sudden give of his neck under the knife—you barely register dropping the metal canister, distracted as you are. It tumbles down a branch before getting stuck in its leaves. 
The thing freezes and perks up at the sound, listening intently, before seemingly letting it go. Go for the kill you do have over the one you could.
The man warns it back again, and to the astonishment of both him and you, it listens. A momentary pause follows, during which the beast regards him with an uncanny semblance of animal intelligence, only to abruptly lunge forward. The beast is unnervingly silent as it moves, despite its enormous size. He tries to flee again, but this isn’t the terrain for a fair fight. From this height, it’s hard to tell if his legs get caught on vines or ensnared by a dead log, but he tumbles again. In an eerily swift motion, the creature seizes his waist, effortlessly hoisting him into the air, holding him aloft like he’s a doll.
You watch on in horror as it grabs his shoulder, nails digging into where his upper arm meets the joint of his shoulder blade and pulls, wrenching his left arm out of the socket. His scream is blood-curdling, echoing back through the trees so clearly that it sounds like jabberjays flying around you. Despite that, it doesn’t drown out the sound of his severed arm hitting the ground.
You’ve heard a mountain lion and their vixen screech before, their mating calls that sound like a woman shrieking in pain. They could be heard from miles and miles away and you would know not to wander too far into the woods for a while. His screams put them to shame.
Its claws are like a hot knife cutting through butter as it tears through his flesh with ease. It shreds muscle and tendons with a sickening squelch. You slap your free hand against your mouth, digging your fingers into your cheek. You want to climb further up to escape having to witness the carnage, but what if it hears you?
You glance down to where you left your weapon on the ground. Why the hell didn’t you bring it with you? If you had , maybe you could’ve helped him. Could’ve thrown it at the beast’s head or dropped it for the man to use. As it is, it’s too far away to be of any use to him. You’re no use to him. You’re helpless. You can do nothing more than watch and you feel sick with this strange, unplaceable guilt. He isn’t your ally, you shouldn’t care, but you do. You care a great deal.
You make the mistake of making eye contact with the man and you wish it were still nighttime. You wish you couldn't see and you were only left with the sounds and your imagination. You wish you hadn't seen the palpable desperation in his eyes. You wish you hadn't looked down and saw a human staring back. 
“Help me! Please!” He lifts his remaining arm towards you as if you can do anything of significance. As if all you need to do to save him is reach down. “ Please !” The Beast doesn’t seem to understand English since the man’s pleading doesn’t draw its attention up to you. Or maybe it’s just too busy relishing in its kill. 
“I’m sorry.” You whisper an apology, shaking so hard that you're scared you’ll fall out of the tree. You turn your head away as the Beast starts pulling at the man’s legs, forcing him into a position he shouldn't be in if the series of pops are anything to go by. 
His screams become piercing. You close your eyes, pressing your forehead into the rubbery bark. You’ve never been an awfully curious person or particularly morbid by nature. You’ve never wondered what it sounds like for limbs to be ripped off the body, but now you know. 
Stop. Stop fighting. Just die. Just die, please, just—
There’s a sound of what can only be entrails hitting the ground. 
You whimper, slapping your other hand against your mouth to stifle a sob. Sniffing and chest hiccuping loud enough that it might draw its attention. Luckily, the man’s agonized screams of pain distract the beast.
You start counting, shaky mumbling muffled by your hands. You keep getting interrupted by the wailing from below. 
It takes under two minutes in total for him to stop screaming. Screaming for help, screaming for mercy, screaming for God. It’s replaced by the groans of a dying animal, a death rattle mixed with what you can only assume is the beast playing in the mess it’s making. 
It takes another forty-three seconds for the cannon to fire. 
The nearly silent, but not quite, sound of the hovercraft is the only thing that convinces you to open your eyes. You chance a glance down and it is horrific . It’s what you imagine the aftermath of the blood rain looked like. Your brain can’t make sense of it. It’s almost like you’re staring at a complex math problem you never learned to solve. You can only see the numbers and the symbols, but not the equation they’re making up. You can’t see how this barbarity used to be a human being with thoughts, and feelings, and hopes, and dreams, and people who cared about him.
The claw drops down to pick up his remains. The light shines down, and it’s in this faint light that you're able to get a better look at the beast. Its dark blond fur works terribly to hide the blood stains, which it’s covered in. It’s congregated on its hands, arms, stomach, chest, and legs, but not on its face. That has to count for something, right? That it didn’t…didn’t eat him. It has to count for something.
You push yourself flat against the trunk of the tree, but it doesn't even look in your direction. Still, you try to make yourself as small as possible as the giant thing lumbers off. Just in case.
The hovercraft claw drops down five times to collect the man—a leg, another leg, an arm, a torso, a head —
The ground isn’t safe. That much is clear. 
You told Rue she’d be safe in the trees. Maybe you should take your own advice. It takes you a while to finally move. To convince yourself that, while you’re not safe by any stretch of the word, the beast isn’t coming back for you. Your muscles are sore from being tensed up for so long, joints stiff and aching as you move out of your position.
As you push further up the tree, something makes you pause. You strain your hearing, listening closer to your surroundings. It’s completely quiet now. Even when the beast came thundering through, the animals were still around like nothing was amiss. Yet, now, no bugs are chittering, no birds chirp above you, and no small critters scurry in the foliage. The jungle is completely silent. 
It’s strange because it sounded like someone was calling your name, but that can't be right because that voice—You whip your head to the right. You heard it again. 
You squint, your eyes moving rapidly to spot anything through the underbrush. It's still quite dark—dark enough that it feels like you're peering through a pitch-black pool. But you swear you can see a shape, a black mass stalking through the trees.
And whatever it is, it's calling your name.
You grab an especially thick branch, your stomach turning as you clamber up. It’s a desperate climb as you propel yourself up the tree, ignoring your body’s protests. 
You put your foot in a crevice of the tree trunk, but your wound throbs with the stretch, and your foot slips. You wheeze like you've been punched in the gut, footing faltering on the slippery bark and sending another tremor of agony through your injured side. You react in enough time to tighten your grip so you won't go plummeting to the ground.
You breathe deep and try again, leaning forward to account for the pain in your side.
You grow light-headed as whatever that thing is stalks forward, but by the time it comes close enough for you to see it, you're already perched high on a thick branch—straddling it so you can observe it.
You look down at the animal and big, brown eyes stare up at you. Big, brown human eyes. The light peeking through the trees illuminates its black fur and when it finally stops moving, you're able to get a good look at its face—a familiar face . You don't know how, why, or from fucking where, but you know it. You know that face.
It stands up on its hind legs, clawed front paws leaning on the tree. Not like an animal, it stands almost like it's human and like the beast and—what the fuck is it ?
Its collar turns—its collar ?
“What the fuck?” You whisper, staring with your mouth agape. Why the fuck is it wearing a collar?
Its collar turns with its movement, revealing the number ‘11’ and the insignia for the district.
It opens its mouth and calls out to you. You see its too human tongue and too human lips fold around the syllables and your ears ring with recognition.
It sounds like, like Rue?
That's exactly who it sounds like and now that you've given a name to the voice, the resemblance jumps out at you.
That's her face, her little face, meshed with the monstrosity of the Capitol. And those are her eyes so big and trusting—so uncanny and so human—that you're almost certain those really are her eyes.
It's horrific and cruel; it's inhumane and revolting—it's the Capitol and its hatred staring up at you.
She couldn't even find peace in death.
You grind your teeth together as it scratches at the tree, its voice growing more desperate the longer you watch it. It—it isn't being aggressive like mutts normally are. Not like the beast from before. It's whining like a dog, like a child , like it's hurt.
"Please, don't leave me down here!"
Your resolve falters. Maybe, maybe they found a way to bring tributes back. Maybe Rue really is in there, trapped. And if she is—
This is what they want . They want to bait you, bring down your defenses, and make you vulnerable. If you go down there, it'll tear you apart instantly. Leave you in pieces.
And if that doesn't work, they'll torture you with her voice. Torment you with what they made her into.
You pull your legs up on the little space the tree provides and close your eyes, ignoring the sting of dried blood cracking apart and retearing your wound open. She doesn't like that; her little voice grows monstrous. You don't bother looking down.
You wish you could cover your ears, but you need to be able to hear if something approaches—something else . 
This is hell.
THE BEACH (10:04 am—9:07 pm)
Johanna has no idea how much time she spent searching for you before she decided to just cut their losses and head towards the beach. And, of course— of course —Beetee became too faint to walk on his own two feet, forcing Johanna to drag him through the vines, underbrush, and whatever the hell else was on the jungle floor. 
Her feet finally sink into the sand and she almost cries. The breeze carries the salty smell of the water and each breath of air is already thinner and cooler than any she’s taken since walking into the jungle. The dramatic shift from solid ground to soft mounds is disorienting but not enough to stop her. She keeps walking forward when she realizes she’s the only one carrying Beetee’s weight anymore. She drops him once they’re a few feet away from the tree line. There’s no telling what else could be in there and he makes for an easy target. She looks down at his blood-caked form, scrutinizing him. His eyes close behind skewed glasses, his face slackens, and—he’s passed out. 
He is completely unconscious. 
“Great. This is just— ugh !” She stomps her foot, kicking up sand. You’ve disappeared off the face of the Earth, Blight is dead, and Beetee is well on his way to being next. “This is shitty. This is so shitty.” She snarls down at Beetee’s unresponsive body—soon to be his unresponsive corpse, she’s sure.
And Wiress—Johanna sighs.
Honestly, she’s surprised Wiress didn’t wander off at some point. Instead, she almost walked herself in circles around Johanna. You’d probably say she reminded you of a bird or something, but if anyone asked her, she’d say it was more gnat-like. Just consistently buzzing nonsense into Johanna’s ear—tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tock— God !
Wiress circles near her— gnat, gnat, gnat —and Johanna is fed up with just about everything, but especially this. She shoves the older woman down onto the warm sand and she lands next to her district mate, acting for all the world like she wasn’t just pushed with a considerable amount of Johanna’s strength.
She knows that isn’t what you would do; this isn't how you’d handle the situation if the roles were reversed and you were the one stuck with the invalids. You would probably find a way to treat Beetee's injury so he doesn’t fucking die. Then, you’d tend to Wiress with kid gloves and figure out some way to fix her in the process. But you aren’t here and that’s sort of the entire problem, isn’t it? 
She searched for hours and there’s no sign of you. She’s worried; of course, she’s worried. The number of people Johanna actually gives a shit about can be counted on one hand and she’d still have fingers to spare. You happen to be one of them.
When she first won her Games, Johanna hadn't been looking to make friends. Prickly and irritable, she didn't hold back from making this known. She was condescending and scathing and vindictive—she still is—but you just kept coming back.
And then something changed.
Johanna had made the mistake of underestimating just how much Snow hated when things didn’t go his way—just how much he hated to lose. But Coriolanus Snow always got his pound of flesh, whether it was given willingly or not. 
She refused his offer and her family paid the price. Her mother, her father, and her big sister were all taken from her and killed on the president’s orders—framed as a freak accident with them as the only casualties. At sixteen, she was a victor with nothing but three graves to show for it and a fury burning in her chest like a forest fire, never to be extinguished.
So she lashed out, striking at anyone who got too close to her with cutting words that were meant to hurt as much as she did. She kept her distance and she tried to convince herself that it was much better that way. That being alone was her choice. And yet, you were there. You were there despite how much she claimed to want otherwise and you brought Finnick along with you.
Finnick, who just so happens to be another one of those counted fingers. What is she supposed to tell him? 
Oh, hi, Finnick. Why isn’t the love of your life with us? Yeah, we kinda lost her hours ago. Absolutely no clue where she might be or if she’s even alive. Oops.
Yeah, fat chance that doesn’t end with him walking into the ocean, never to be seen again.
She knows you’re not dead. She just needs to find you. She refuses to put another finger down.
Johanna stares down at her allies—her dead weight, more like—as Wiress climbs to her feet, heading straight for the water. If the revolution didn’t need these two so badly, she swears she would’ve drowned them herself to get it over with. If it weren’t for them, she could’ve covered more ground in her search for you like she wanted without having to keep a leash on Nuts and carry Volts. That’s the only thing keeping her here on the beach instead of in the jungle looking for you like she wants to. 
“ Johann a !”
Her head whips up, looking over her shoulder at the quickly approaching figure. “Finnick!”
The relief is almost blinding. Or at least, it would be if it weren’t for the guilt. He descends the slight hill and she sees him looking for you, eyes searching and finding nothing.
She starts prattling off before he can say anything. She doesn’t know why, maybe to buy herself some time before she’s asked the question she doesn’t want to hear and forced to give him the answer she doesn’t want to give.
“We thought it was rain, you know, because of the lightning, and we were all so thirsty. But when it started coming down, it turned out to be blood. Thick, hot blood.” Just describing it makes her remember it all in disgusting detail, makes her sick. Wiress fluttering around certainly doesn’t help.
“Johanna—”
“You couldn't see, you couldn't speak without getting a mouthful. We just staggered around, trying to get out of it. That's when Blight hit the force field.” She gestures roughly to the jungle, but Finnick is already looking, eyes combing the treeline as if you’ll come hobbling out any second now and she feels a bloody bead of sweat drip down her neck.
“Johanna—”
“He wasn't much, but he was from home.” 
“ Johanna! ” He shouts, scaring Nuts into a brief, but blissful silence. Honestly, she’s more surprised he lasted as long as he had without fully cutting her off.
“I’m sorry about Blight, Johanna.” He says, all at once calm again. “Where’s Star?”
Let it be known, Johanna Mason has never found a bush she was willing to beat around, even one as prickly as this. "We lost her in that blood shower." People have called Johanna many things since she became a victor, namely a vindictive bitch—which was more true than not—but no one can ever claim that she’s cruel. She doesn’t enjoy watching the color drain from Finnick’s face, and with it, whatever tentative hope he managed to hold onto. She’s quick to add, “She didn’t hit the forcefield, I know that for sure. It was nearly impossible to see anything, but the hovercraft only picked up Blight.”
Peeta and Katniss come up to them, but no Mags. No response from Finnick either.
“Finnick?” She prods, but he doesn’t reply.
She prepared herself for any reaction he may have. Crying, running off to find you himself, letting himself get carried away by a current, a combination of all three. She doesn’t know what to do with no reaction at all.
He’s silent as he stands alarmingly still, face clear of any discernible emotions. She regards him warily despite her concern winning out over the caution. She’d seen enough animals freeze up just like this before striking. Not that he had ever acted like that before and he’s not the kind of guy to take his anger out on others, but…grief isn’t logical.
Finnick stares off somewhere over her head sightlessly. She might as well be having a conversation with the crashing waves and the salty breeze. He doesn’t answer when she calls his name again. He doesn’t say a thing. And then, all of a sudden, he drops all at once like whatever’s been holding him up has been cut at the root, strings snipped abruptly. 
She and Katniss move forward on instinct to try and catch him, but he crashes down into the sand on his ass faster than either of them can move, his trident landing beside him. She blinks, then blinks again as he collapses in on himself. His back takes on a miserable curve as his elbows lie propped up on his bent knees. He looks completely gutted and Johanna can tell the drastic shift in his behavior has left Katniss confused, but not Peeta. Peeta stares down at Finnick with more pity than she’ll allow herself to show.
" Jesus , Finnick, I'm not saying she's dead. She's just by herself.” Which is almost as good as dead in here. Johanna squats down beside him. She grabs the back of his neck when he won't look up, getting in his face until he has no choice but to meet her eyes. They’re watery and it’s the closest to crying she’s ever seen him. "But she can survive, you know that. She’ll find a way, she always does."
She throws in a scoff like it’s ridiculous that they’re having this conversation in the first place, leaving out the panic she felt when she realized they had lost you. 
“...Right.” He croaks. He doesn’t nod. But he isn’t crying either, so she’ll take it. He sniffs and she worries he’s about to prove her wrong. “Yeah. Yeah, um. You’re right.”
“Let’s just try to stay in one place. Let her find her way to us.” She gives him a pointed look. Meaning no running off.
He doesn’t say anything else. He just continues to stare down at the sand. She'll cut him some slack. After all, she's never loved anyone the way Finnick loves you. She doubts she ever will.
She stands up, getting an armful of Nuts for her troubles, still wet from her dive into the water. Johanna pushes her in another direction that isn’t her personal space. She nudges Beetee with her foot when she notices him slowly gaining consciousness. 
“I got left alone with these two.” She nudges Beetee, who's barely conscious, with her shoe. “I don’t even know if we can consider him alive. And her—”
“Tick, tock. Tick, tock.”
“Yeah, we know. Tick, tock. Nuts is in shock,” Johanna says. This seems to draw Wiress right back in her direction and she careens into Johanna, gripping her and refusing to be steered away again. “Listen, just— stop it .” Johanna manages to get out of her hold, shoving her to the beach. “Just stay down, will you?”
Katniss rushes in and pushes Johanna away, finally opening her big mouth to say, “Hey! Lay off her!” As if Johanna is the one accosting Wiress.
Johanna narrows her eyes in hatred. “Lay off her?” She hisses. Before anyone can react, Johanna rears her hand back and slaps Katniss hard enough that her palm stings with it. She could have done it a lot harder and she probably should have for extra measure.
Finnick finally reacts to that, standing up to pull them apart. “Hey, hey, hey !”
He lifts Johanna over his shoulder, but she doesn’t make it easy for him. Twisting and writhing in his hold like a rabid badger as he carries her to the water. And Johanna is so very tempted to chuck her axe at Katniss’s confused face.
“I got them out for you!”
-
The mood amongst the group is rather somber. Wiress was killed right under their nose. Preventative, if they had only been paying attention. Their canary is dead, as Katniss said. But they noticed too late. It’ll cost them somehow, Finnick is sure.
After making sure a waterlogged Beetee is breathing more air than water, Finnick can’t look at him for long. For no reason other than the fact that he can’t stand it. What is there to see other than a man mourning his district mate, his friend? Someone who’s been in his life longer than they haven’t. It sparks a resigned anger in Finnick, an anger that simmers and smolders. An anger that burns but doesn’t have the room to spread. An anger that’ll consume him and only him. He burns for Beetee and himself, for Wiress and Mags. It’s an anger that prays Chaff will survive, or else it’ll consume you too.
Beetee rolls his thin, golden wire between his fingers and Finnick knows he’s thinking of Wiress. He looks away, down at the low-hanging branch he’s leaning against. What is there to do? He won’t apologize to Beetee for his loss, because that means he’ll be acknowledging that he’s lost something too. 
Katniss is the first to speak after a long stretch of silence. "So, besides Brutus and Enobaria, who’s left?”
“Maybe Chaff?”
“Star.” Finnick reminds them, loathed to leave you out of the count. 
Peeta nods. “Just those four.”
“They know they’re outnumbered. I doubt they’ll attack again. We’re safe here on the beach.” Or, at least, safer than they’d be if they made camp in the jungle. 
“So what do we do? We hunt ‘em down?” Johanna asks, still somehow able to make the only viable option sound like the dumbest thing she’s ever heard. An admirable skill. Finnick isn’t that eager to go marching back in there either. He’d much rather stay in one spot to make it easier for you to find them, but there are only two careers left and he’s confident that the four of them could make quick work of Brutus and Enobaria—
“Katniss!” A girl yells Katniss’s name somewhere behind them, somewhere deep in the jungle. He doesn’t recognize it at first, doesn’t understand what’s happening until—
“Prim!” Katniss is up in mere seconds, darting off faster than he’s ever seen her move. He lunges for his trident, rushing after her. This has trap written all over it, using her little sister to lure Katniss away from the group. And here he is running right after her. 
Shit.
Finnick is the fastest out of the five of them, no doubt. It’s no chore at all to catch up to her. Though it would have been impossible to lose her with how loud she screams, “ Prim !”
By the time he gets there, the screaming is cut off abruptly. 
“Katniss!” He crashes into the small clearing that she’s stopped in, panting. “You okay?”
Before she even opens her mouth to answer, they’re interrupted. The shrill screech that rings throughout the jungle isn’t Prim’s. It’s—
“Annie?” He asks, but he knows those screams and they are without a doubt Annie’s. She screams again as if to answer him and his heart drops. He doesn’t think, doesn’t have time to before he’s running. “ Anni e !”
He chases the sound of her voice deeper into the jungle, but it feels like he’s simultaneously getting closer and further away. “Annie! Annie !”
“Finnick! It’s not her! It’s just a jabberjay. It’s not her.” She says as she catches up to him, but that does nothing to soothe him.
“Well, where do you think they got that sound? Jabberjays copy .”
“You don’t think…?”
He doesn’t bother answering, chest heaving, because he does think. He knew the Quarter Quell would be a death sentence for more than just him and Mags. He knew that despite her many triumphs and growth since her Games, Annie wouldn’t make it alone—not yet. But this ? This is a worse fate than he could have ever imagined for her. 
“Katniss ! ” This voice is different from the other two, more masculine. Finnick doesn’t recognize it, but Katniss must if the fear in her eyes is anything to go off of.
“Gale.” She whispers, and that’s when the birds stop hiding.
His eye twitches at the next scream, his shoulders hunching closer to his ears. “Finnick! Finnick, please!”
“Star?” Your name falls off his lips as a faint whisper, but it feels like a razorblade as he forces it out of his throat. Because putting your name to that tortured voice is torture in and of itself.
But that doesn’t…how could they have—if, if you’re here, then how would—But he doesn’t know that for sure, does he? He doesn’t know where you are, does he? None of them do. He wouldn’t put it past Snow. 
He could see it now: Snow plucking you out of the arena during the bloody chaos, dragging you kicking and screaming somewhere deep in the walls of the Capitol, and letting animals in lab coats draw these horrible sounds from you. There really is no limit to his sadism, is there? There’s no line he won’t destroy as he crosses it.
The birds start diving low to pinch at their skin, pull their hair, and strike at them with their wings. He tries to swat them away when dodging doesn’t work before realizing the only way out of this will be by getting out of the four o’clock wedge, like with the fog and the monkeys.
“Come on, come on, come on!” He shouts, pushing Katniss to run back the way they came from and he can barely hear himself despite the way his vocal cords protest at how loud he yells. They run— sprint away from the birds, unsuccessfully. They draw blood but the wounds the jabberjays leave are more than skin deep. When they finally spot the others, Finnick almost feels the relief viscerally. 
It’s this that makes him blind to the fact that the other three don’t approach them, that they hold their hands up to tell them to stop. He only sees it when he runs face-first into the barrier with a crunch of something important. He groans, barely catching himself from falling on his ass. His eyes water as something warm and metallic dips into his mouth and he doesn’t need to touch his face to know his nose is bleeding.
They try to get Finnick and Katniss out from the other side with their weapons as Beetee stares on with palpable sadness. It’s a good effort, Johanna with her axe and Peeta with his machete, but they don’t even make a dent. He’s stuck here for the next hour. When that sinks in, Finnick can’t stop his ears from listening to the screams around him.
“Help me, Finnick! Please!”
“Finnick!”
Finnick stumbles backward over his own feet as he stares up at the hundreds— thousands of jabberjays circling above them. The sheer number of them, they almost paint the sky black. Some fly just out of reach, tauntingly, while others settle into tree branches. But they all open their mouths to sing a cacophony of horror. He looks over at Katniss and he knows she’s screaming. He can’t hear it, but he can see it in the way her entire body quakes as she bangs on the barrier. 
The wails of pain are deafening and he gives up before Katniss does, dropping to the floor. Finnick hunches over, making himself smaller as he clenches his hands over his ears and digs his nails into his scalp, hoping the pain will distract him. It doesn’t. He presses the heels of his palms into his skull and the throbbing ache does nothing to take him out of the moment. 
He’s trapped.
Even though there must be at least five voices surrounding him, including Katniss’s, Finnick can only focus on two. He only hears you and Annie, your begs and screams swimming together to grate against the confines of his skull. He apologizes but it’s more of a vibration in his chest than any sound said aloud. He tries to think, but he can’t, he can’t—can’t think of anything else. What could they have done to make you scream and plead and cry like this, reaching out for him when he can never reach back? Helpless, yet again, as you and Annie are tortured. 
He’s helpless and he’s hopeless and Finnick sobs, his forehead thudding against the ground over and over. He imagines your hand rubbing his back soothingly as you run fingers through his hair and it only makes him cry harder, chest rocking with painful hiccups.  
-
Coming to the beach feels like admitting defeat, but your chances of survival in that jungle decrease substantially the longer you stay there. You don’t know how long you cowered in that tree, but you know you stayed long after the Rue mutt went silent. 
You limp along in the sand. Your only hope is that you’ll spot Finnick when he comes to the water to fish. That’s when you hear it. A masculine voice yelling, screaming something. You poise yourself to start running in the opposite direction. You don’t know who’s left, but it would be difficult to take on Gloss or Brutus even if you weren’t injured. Something makes you stop though, something tells you to listen. You can’t make out what he’s saying, but you can make out who’s saying it. 
Peeta !
Your feet carry you back into the jungle, tripping over your boots and vines and anything else in your path, but you don’t fall. You don’t allow yourself to. You speed up the louder Peeta’s voice becomes, closer and closer and closer until you see them. 
You don’t quite understand what it is you’re looking at. Beetee looks to the sky underneath his glasses, scanning for something. Johanna is slamming her axe against a clear barrier, clear like what you saw the beetles bumping into. And you were right, Peeta is the one screaming. 
Johanna spins around as you approach and her eyes light up at the sight of you.
“You found us.” She pants, axe falling to her side. “Oh, thank God.” She moves and it’s only then that you see him.
Finnick is curled up on the ground with his hands covering his ears.
“Finnick!” You rush forward, falling to your knees without a second thought, reaching for him and meeting nothing. “Finnick, it’s me!” You bang your fist against the barrier but it’s like he can’t even hear you.
“Jabberyjays.” Johanna says from behind you, and, suddenly, you understand.
You don’t take your eyes off of him, to do so feels like you’re leaving him in there alone. It becomes even clearer why Peeta is yelling, because curled beside Finnick sits Katniss. Peeta’s yelling, because he’s trying to be louder than whatever voices are being used to torment her. 
This isn’t how you wanted to reunite with Finnick, but, you sigh shakily, blinking back the water in your eyes, you’re so damn glad to see him. 
“It’s no use.” Johanna huffs, you feel her pacing behind you. “He can’t hear any thing, not even you.” That may be true, but seeing him in such a state is making you desperate in your panic. 
“But he can read my lips.” You realize, you just need to get his attention. He needs to know you’re here, that’s it. You don’t know how long you kneel on the ground yelling, screaming yourself hoarse alongside Peeta, focused only on Finnick. But, by some miracle, something makes him look up. Maybe he can feel you, sense that you’re there—regardless, he looks up and you smile, laughing in relief. 
He’s crying, tears making tracks in the dirt along his face and it breaks your heart. There are a few scratches along the right side of his face and there’s crusted blood under his nose. The birds got him good and you don’t just mean physically. 
He stares at you like he doesn’t believe you’re really there. Like he can trust what his eyes see as much as what his ears hear. 
“Finnick! Finnick, baby, it’s not real.” You enunciate, shaking your head rapidly. “ It’s not real.”
Star? He mouths and you nod eagerly, pressing your forehead to the transparent wall. He clambers up, shuffling forward to copy you. He presses his big hands to your smaller ones, forehead to forehead. His eyes slip closed, lips quivering and you can see the same relief you feel shake through him. His shoulders quake with his sobs, but his eyes don’t stay off of you for long. He’s scared to look away from you, you can tell. 
You take in a deep breath, and then another, each one less unsteady than the last. Telling yourself not to cry proves to be fruitless. You can only imagine what it is he’s hearing.
“Remember when I ate fish for the first time? I think you had just turned eighteen—no, nineteen and, I don’t even know how it came up, but I told you I never had fish before and you were appalled .” A small crease develops between his brows as he watches your lips, but eventually, he nods, beautiful eyes flickering up to yours. They almost look gray whenever he cries, a glossy film muting the color. But they’re still breathtaking. A thousand and one poems, you think. “You made me try more fish than I even knew existed and I ended up throwing up over the balcony. And, and you felt so bad, and you kept apologizing, but I couldn’t stop laughing at the idea of some Capitol elite wearing my puke as a hat. Do you remember that, Finn?” He blinks a few times before his mouth tilts into a small smile, one you don’t even realize you copy. 
Yeah, sweetheart. I remember. 
Your heart flutters at the pet name even after all this time. 
You go on like that, saying whatever comes to mind with Finnick watching your lips carefully, reverently like your words are the only thing keeping him upright for twenty minutes, thirty minutes, maybe even forty. 
“The hour’s up,” Peeta says, relieved, though you aren’t sure what he’s talking about. But then the jabberjays start falling to the ground dead, wings flapping pitifully before they still, and you know it’s coming to an end. It’s an unnerving sight. Not that Finnick notices with how closely he watches you. “The hour’s up.”
Something shifts. The air goes still and then, suddenly, you feel warm callused skin under your hands and a damp forehead against your own. Finnick falls into you, his big frame feeling incredibly small in your embrace as he trembles. 
“Star.” He breathes almost mournfully. 
“Hey, baby.” You grin, taking his face into your hands. You rub blood-smeared thumbs along his cheeks. His eyes are puffy and you want to kiss them. Something rushes over you, because you can do that. There’s no reason not to now. You’re not acting for the cameras anymore, not hiding anything to make your patrons feel special. You’re together now, they can’t use you against each other as punishment. You lean forward and he closes his eyes like he already knows what you’re going to do.
Or maybe it’s a case of your desires syncing up so intrinsically that you’ll know what the other will do without being told. 
Just like it used to be.
You press your lips against each of his eyelids, savoring the feeling. You pull back—he freezes momentarily, probably at the thought of you letting him go—but only enough to see his face clearly. “Are you alright? You okay?” He doesn’t have to say anything for you to know the answer is no.
You wind your arms around his shoulders and he buries his face into your neck. You whisper reassurances into his ear, running your fingers through the hair curling along the back of his nape. One of his hands reaches up to grip your bicep while he folds his other arm around your waist.
“It’s over. It’s okay. They’re gone. The hour’s gone. The hour’s up. It’s alright.” You look over to see Peeta comforting Katniss, coaxing her out of the protective ball she’s curled herself into. She jumps, gasping once he touches her. 
“Prim! Find Prim!” She yells, to your slight confusion. 
“No, no. Prim’s okay.” He reassures her and, though seemingly impossible, Finnick’s grasp on you tightens.
“They used your voice.” He says into your neck. Your voice? Why would they do that when it’s something so easily disproven? And why your voice specifically? Another protocol broken by Snow? You wouldn’t be surprised. You’ve got more questions than answers and the only person that can answer them is the last man you’d want to speak to again. “Yours and Annie’s. I-I thought, I thought you were gone. I,” he inhales, “I thought they took you.” He croaks despairingly and you just might start crying again.
“I’m right here, Finn. No one’s gonna take me.” You whisper, a promise meant for his ears only as you curl around him protectively.  
“Okay? They won’t touch Prim. Alright?” Peeta talks her down and you wish you could help.
“It was fake.” You say, loud enough for the others to hear. Their gazes swing to you. “Apparently, it’s not hard to take a regular recording of someone’s voice and—”
“Modify it,” Beetee picks up, nodding in agreement. He was the one who told you about it a few years back. It has always stuck with you. It made your skin itch then and it makes your skin sting now. “Change the context, in a way. Our children learn a similar technique in school. Fairly young, at that.”
“Your fiance’s right. The whole country loves your sister. If they tortured her or did anything to her, forget the districts, there would be… riots in the damn Capitol.” Johanna attempts to help in her own blunt way, but there’s an undercurrent of jealousy. Something every victor must feel. You know you do. What makes Katniss’s family more lovable than your own? Doesn’t your mom deserve the protection that comes with that kind of public acclaim? That safety net? A part of you hates how envious you are of Prim, this little girl, but it can’t be helped.
“Hey, how does that sound, Snow? What if we, what if we set your backyard on fire?! You know you can’t put everybody in here!” She shouts to the sky. You all stare at her, silent. Even Finnick who still clings to you watches her. “What? They can’t hurt me. There’s no one left that I love.” You know that to be tragically true. 
When it happened, it spread amongst the pool of victors like a plague. A factory fire in Seven? The same district whose entire industry is lumber just so happened to be negligent enough that a fire started in one of their sawmills? Only killing three people, no less?
Snow has never been subtle, not when it falls and not when it sticks. Not when it builds and certainly not when it traps. He’s much like his namesake in that way. But he has no need for subtlety. Not when he’s exacting his own special brand of justice. Not when he’s teaching someone a lesson. Because a lesson for one of you is a lesson for you all.
He attempted to trap her just like you feared he would and Johanna told him no, perhaps very loudly and colorfully. She told you she doesn’t regret it, she only regrets that Snow took it out on her family. And that she didn’t curse him out more before she was escorted out. Johanna Mason has always been the bravest girl you know.
She huffs like a bull. “I’ll get you some water. You too.” She points her axe to you before she storms off. You almost forgot how thirsty you are. 
-
Finnick can’t sit in this jungle anymore surrounded by these fucking birds, even if they are dead. 
He needs to go back to the beach, back to the water. He doesn’t say any of that, and yet you stand, pulling him up with you. He grabs both his trident and your sickle in one hand while you intertwine your fingers with his. He doesn’t ask where you’re leading him, because he’d follow you anywhere. Beetee follows with Katniss and Peeta not far behind. 
His nerves feel raw and exposed, but seeing you, holding you loosens a knot between his shoulder blades. He doesn’t know how he would have fared after the jabberjays if you weren’t there. If he couldn’t get some kind of confirmation that you were okay. If you weren’t there to hold him together. 
They clear the jungle, stepping onto the beach and he sweeps for enemies. When he sees none, he buries the hilt of his trident into the sand and lays your weapon next to it. He notices something as you pull him to the water. 
He looks down at the hand he had wrapped around your sickle to see…blood. You held his face earlier. He uses the back of his hand to rub at one of his cheeks. He pulls back and sees—blood. He thought it was just sweat but both of your hands are covered in fresh blood.
The blood rain your group got caught in happened hours ago, it should be dried and tacky by now. So unless you’ve had the severe misfortune of being caught in it twice—
He stands still, pulling you to a stop.
"How much of this blood is yours?" He asks, dreading the answer. Already, he looks you over, but it’s hard to find anything amiss when you’re drenched like this. You stare up at him confused, brows furrowed before they raise in realization. 
“Oh!” 
Oh? What does ‘oh’ mean? ‘Oh’ isn’t what he wants to hear. ‘Oh’ sounds nothing like ‘none at all, Finn’. ‘Oh’ suggests something substantial that you remembered, ‘oh’ means bad .
"More than you would like." You shrug indifferently like your words aren't kickstarting Finnick's heartbeat double-time. He looks you over again and finds that you’re favoring your right side.
"Let me see."
You sigh, reaching down to your waist. You’ve tied your sleeves together in a tourniquet. You grit your teeth as you untie it and he winces as the cut on his thigh twinges in sympathy. He squats down to get a better look, carefully pulling back the sticky fabric of your shirt and cursing. 
God.  
What could do this? He raises his other hand to your back to steady you. The wounds are, he doesn’t want to say bad , but they’re far from good. There’s no discoloration to suggest infection, he thinks. There’s harsh bruising, but that’s normal, right? It’s to be expected for any injury. There’s nothing to suggest that it’ll kill you. 
He looks up at you and you seem fine, all things considered. You know more about medicine than he does and you would tell him if this was fatal.
The two crooked circles make him queasy to look at, but at least you aren’t bleeding any more. Your entire side is covered in your blood, so that doesn’t promote much confidence. There’s loose skin and jagged cuts and, and…
He tries not to outwardly show how freaked out he is, he doesn’t want to scare you, but, of course, you can tell anyway.
“I’m alright.” You place a bloody hand on his head, lacing bloody fingers in his hair.
He looks between you and the wound in disbelief. This does not look alright. 
He shakes his head, stunned. And more than a little amazed. “How could you forget about this? Even for a second?”
“I saw you.” You say and smile and he knows you’d shrug if it didn’t hurt so much. “And, I, uh, I guess it…it didn’t seem that important. At the time.”
“Star,” he scolds, despite the way his chest feels tight and his eyes feel scratchy with the need to cry again because this is very important. 
But . 
He felt the exact same way when he saw you. He doesn’t know what told him to look up at that moment, doesn’t know what made him lift his forehead from where he pressed it into the dirt, but he did. And there you were. And he could suddenly hear again. Not the screams of pain and anguish around him, but you. He read your lips as you talked and it was like you were beside him, he could almost hear you. The real you. The you that the jabberjays couldn’t mimic. He could feel again and it wasn’t the feathered wings hitting him or the tears trailing down his face. It was you. You were there and that meant nothing else mattered because you were there .
Even now as he stares up at you, at the way you glow under the sunlight, he can barely feel the sting on his cheek from a jabberjay’s talons that got too close for comfort.  
He looks back down at the wound before your beauty can further distract him and frowns.
“What happened to you, sweetheart? Another victor?” He asks, but he can’t even think of what kind of weapon could do this kind of damage.
You sigh wearily. 
“No. No, nothing that simple. I’ll explain later, I promise. C’mon.” You pull at his wrist and he stands. “Come help me wash all of this shit off.” He’s conflicted. You do need to clean up, but he doesn’t know if you should be so blasé about this. He looks over his shoulder at where the others sit a few feet away.
“Okay. But we need to get that taken care of, Star.”
“Of course, Finn.”
“Katniss helped Beetee. With, like, moss. And…Water and stuff. He was in much worse shape, so she can definitely help you.” You let him ramble.
“Okay, Finn.”
-
Katniss sits in the sand, warm despite the permanent chill the jabberjays have left behind. She jumps at the sound of metal on metal, an arrow being added to her quiver. She looks up and behind her at Johanna’s smug face, probably getting a particular kick out of scaring her. 
She hands Katniss an opened coconut full of water and she takes it hesitantly, still more than a little confused about where the two of them stand. “Thank you.”
Johanna says nothing back, not that she expected her to. Instead, she picks up a stray stick and sits to the left of her. 
"What's the deal with those two?" She asks, running the risk of sounding like one of the older women back in Twelve—as rare as they are—who loved to gossip. Not that there was ever anything to gossip about in the Seam. Katniss thinks they just liked the distraction.
Johanna glances up at her before looking to where you and Finnick sit in the water a foot or two away from the shore. Or, more accurately, Finnick sits in the water as you lay across his lap. He washes the blood off of you with the kind of gentleness Katniss thought he only had reserved for Mags. He takes your face between his hands, seemingly taking a moment just to look at you, and the exact nature of your relationship only further complicates in Katniss' mind.
"What isn't the deal with them," the older girl throws the stick a couple of feet, giving up on whatever she was trying to draw. "They won their Games so young, fourteen and fifteen. They practically grew up in the Capitol together. You don't go through half the shit they've been through without growing a little attached."
Ah. She can believe that. You won your Games before her father died, so she remembers some of the fanfare—the interviews you and Finnick used to do together, all of which were projected in the town square, had always confused her. From what she learned in school, Four and Eleven couldn’t be any more different. What was the point of pairing you two together? 
She isn’t a strategist like Peeta, she can admit it’s not her strong suit. But if she thinks less like the districts and more like a victor, it makes sense.
Two victors who are close in age, both attractive and charismatic. Who wouldn’t want to see them together? Usually, victors from the same district get paired together for their television appearances, but neither Four or Eleven had another victor appropriate for public consumption, either too old or too crazy. 
“Hmm.”
When she was younger, she imagined victors like you and Finnick—pretty, charming, well-loved—were living the dream. 
But if two of the most beloved and revered victors are miserable, what chance did she and Peeta stand? No, she knows the answer to that. She doesn’t have a chance. She can’t handle it, the Capitol. She’s barely been subjected to it for a year, and even then, that’s only the tip of the knife.  
You were right, she realizes. In comparison to you and Finnick who’ve been on this ride for nearly a decade, she’s incredibly lucky. She’s already slipped up once, and it cost a man his life.
The weight of Snow’s threat looms over her and without the Quell, it would have only been a matter of time before she did something else to displease him. But Peeta knows how to play the game, he knows how to sway the audience. He came up with the romance, with the baby. It took her some time to understand the significance of those two plays, but she gets it now. She couldn’t have done that, couldn’t have possibly thought to.
Nobody worries about Peeta and whether or not he's selling the romance. She's the risk factor here.
Yet another reason why he should be the one making it out of here and not her.
"Then what happened?" They didn't act this close during training . In fact, while she was unsure of Finnick's intentions, Katniss was almost certain you hated him. That was, perhaps, partially the reason she found it so hard to trust him. 
"The same thing that always happens when Snow sniffs out that someone has an ounce of happiness. He cut it at the root.” Katniss attempts to understand the implications of that statement. How much is she not saying? Suddenly, Katniss glances to the sky, remembering all at once where they are and that this conversation is far from private. How much can she say? She looks back to where you and Finnick have huddled even closer together, noses nearly brushing. She’s too far away to hear the conversation, but she can tell from here that whatever is being said is done in a whisper. As soft as freshly hung sheets drying in the sun. Maybe softer. 
You two are a mystery she hadn’t even been aware of. And maybe it isn’t her place to try and solve it, but she knows one thing for certain. It’s becoming increasingly clear that the only real victor is Snow.
Suddenly Johanna sighs, long and weary like the old bloodhound Katniss used to stop and pet when she sold her catches in the merchant area. “Love is weird.”
-
“So it’s a big clock?”
“Yep.” The water has become a murky red, just diluted enough to not be opaque. “Wiress figured it out—in her own special way.” He didn’t think twice about her weird little chanting. There was too much going on in his own head to wonder about hers.
He can’t dip you into the water like he did Johanna. It would be far from productive and certainly less fun. You need a gentle hand which he’s more than happy to provide.
He’s heard of saltwater washes being used for wounds, but that might be a little different from the water in the arena. There’s sea life swimming around, which means bacteria. Not to mention the blood of victors unlucky enough to be slaughtered during the bloodbath. All of which will open you up to an infection. 
So instead, he thought it best to lay you horizontally across his lap, propping your torso up to keep your wound dry. 
“That makes so much sense. It feels so damn obvious now.” You scoff, shaking your head. 
He smiles and says, “I’m sure you could’ve figured it out too.” 
You huff. “Mhm. Sure.”
The blood comes off of you in thick clots before disintegrating in the water. The real problem presents itself when he attempts to wash it out of your hair. The blood sits heavy and congealed in your curls, oily enough that rinsing it out proves nigh impossible. The salt in the water helps, but only barely. 
Finnick’s fingers are gentle as he works, diligent yet soothing. You inhale, relaxing into him. He finds himself hunching over you protectively, curling his body over yours like a shield. 
“and…Wiress?” You ask, not so much about her absence. It isn’t hard to guess what the absence of a woman like that means in a place like this. It’s what caused said absence that you’re after. Finnick sighs.
“The careers came. Snuck up on us while we were busy mapping out the arena. And then Gloss ran a knife through her neck.” He says. He knows you wouldn’t want him to spare you from the details. You asked him because you want to know.
“Oh.” You say, the subtle waves withdrawing and climbing around your shoulders and your head. It might get in your ears. Should he scoot back? Maybe further up the beach? “How’s Beetee taking it?”
“He’s…taking it. The man’s a robot.” He grumbles with less snide than it should have come out. The people expect him to be catty, but Finnick’s been declawed for a long time now. Your eyes stay closed but there’s disapproval written in your brow. Because you know him. You know where to look when he’s hiding.
“Finnick…” You sigh, and he sniffs.
“I don’t know. I guess…he didn’t really think she’d make it.”
“I’m sure he hoped though—that it wouldn’t be so violent, I mean.” You peek an eye open as you catch yourself before relaxing again. He chuckles. And then he remembers where he is.
There was an agreement, something all the victors wanted if they were going to do something as risky as openly rebelling. Immunity for their loved ones. Plutarch agreed to make it a priority ‘if possible’. He knows you asked for your mom, the same way he asked for Annie. But Beetee came into the arena with the only person he cared about. He doesn’t think Beetee has any family other than Wiress. And now, other than you and Annie, Finnick doesn’t either. 
“Yeah. Well. See how well that hope worked out for him.” Instead of replying, not that there’s really anything to say to that, you grasp his hand tenderly, pressing a kiss to it. You open your eyes to look up at him, lips pressed to his knuckles and he can feel the apples of his cheeks along with the shell of his ears go warm, flushing with something other than the heat. It’s not that he isn’t used to physical affection from you, he’s getting reacquainted with it. All while being on national TV. Caesar’s gonna have a field day with this. He wonders how he and his odd little cohost are narrating this, but his mind doesn’t stay on them for long. You let your lips linger, idly drifting to the tips of his fingers, and the muscle in his hand flexes with an impulse he can’t quite explain. Though he is particularly distracted by the drag of your lips against his skin as you talk.  
“I’m sorry about Mags, Finn.” His lips twitch downward. 
“Me too.” You didn’t get nearly enough time with Mags. It adds insult to injury. 
It’s quiet. But it’s not heavy like he’s gotten used to it being since they’ve entered the arena. It’s light, there’s nothing expected of either him or you. He can breathe. The salty smell of seawater calms him almost as much as your humming does. He recognizes it as one of the songs you composed.
“This is technically an ocean, isn’t it?” He pauses, looks around, considers it. 
“I guess you could call it that. Albeit, a rather small one.”
“And, that would make this a beach then? Right?” Your mouth twitches, you’re trying not to smile. He rubs his thumb along your cheek because he wants you to.
You sit up with a little difficulty that you try to hide. He sees it, because he always sees you, and helps you sit beside him. He’s been done for quite some time now. He just wanted to keep touching you. Making sure you’re real, and you’re here with him. In your time apart, he forgot that he didn’t need to find his own assurance. All he had to do was ask. He holds out his left hand and you take it.
“It’s the first I’ve ever seen in person. I haven’t had the chance to take it all in considering, well, y’know.” You laugh and Finnick assumes the birds can only listen in jealousy. Not even they can sing a song as sweet as that. “I could do without the circumstances that led up to it, but, hey.” You nudge your shoulder into his and stay there, sides pressed together, and he leans into you. “We’re here, aren’t we? We’re side by side in the sand.”
His head tilts in confusion before his eyes widen. Side by side in the sand, just like he wanted all those years ago. A childish wish that never stood a chance of coming true, but a wish he sent to you in a letter all the same. Looking back, that sort of hope should have been drained from him—it had been drained from him. But not with you. No, hope is your currency and Finnick had been in massive debt before he met you. 
He wants to kiss you. He wants to kiss you more than he’s wanted anything in his entire life, it seems. It’s been a long two years and, before that, a long couple of months. He needs to kiss you and, he realizes with a buzz of excitement that he can.
“Star?” He coos, tracing circles on your palm. You hum in reply, turning away from the view to look at him. He leans forward, closing the distance between you, and finds you more than eager. His lips meet yours in a tender, slow kiss, a culmination of two years' worth of longing. One hand goes to the back of your head to pull you closer, the other goes to your jaw. It’s always been easy for the two of you to get carried away, to get lost and found in each other.
The softness of your lips against his ignites a flame that had been dormant for too long. Time seems to stand still as the world fades away, leaving only the sensation of your touch and the caress of the sea breeze. He’s a symphony of emotions—passion, longing, and the sweet relief of finally coming home. The taste of salt from the sea mingles with the sweetness of something familiar, creating a flavor that is uniquely yours. It’s a rediscovery of something he feared might be lost. 
As he pulls away, the echo of the kiss lingers in the air. He’s slow to open his eyes, but when he does, they lock onto yours. Your lips are wet with spit and slightly open as you stare at him with open awe, like he’s something to be admired. The entirety of Panem has witnessed your reunion. And he’s still holding you close. Pride probably isn’t the right emotion to feel right now.
His smirk says otherwise.
He and his silver tongue grasp and flounder for something to say. He wants to tell you how beautiful you look, how beautiful you always look, even when covered in scrapes and the Capitol’s vitriol. But that’s obvious in the way he’s gazing at you. Hasn’t been able to look away from you.
He wants to tell you how thankful he is that you’re finally here with him, but that’s obvious in the way he’s kept a hand on you—always touching somehow since that barrier came down. He wants to say all that and more, ardently and profusely, but you already know how the sky is blue. Instead, he says something you don’t know.
“I saw a monkey.”
 You grin in excitement, still so close that he can feel it against his own smile. “Really?” 
-
The two of you fall back into step with each other, synchronous like no time or space has passed between you at all.
What they know so far is enough to keep them alive. The arena is a clock and each section houses a special horror that rears its head twice a day. Twelve to One, Lightening. One to Two, Blood Rain. Three to Four, fog. Four to Five, monkeys. Five to Six, jabberjays. With you here, they’re able to map out two other sections. 
You explain to them the other active wedges you’ve been through. In the wedge between the blood and fog, Two to Three, you draw a crude circle with spikes. 
Finnick tilts his head. And then tilts it in the other direction. "Pineapples?" He guesses. 
"No," you say with an offended pout. "Beetles."
"Right." He nods like that was his second guess.
“Venomous.” You add.
“ Venomous?”
He regards your wound with a new kind of fear. It’s not just infection that you’re fighting, but now there’s venom working through your bloodstream? Finnick’s ears ring for a second, out of tempo with his elevated heartbeat. He looks you over. It isn’t like he didn’t notice how drawn and fatigued you look, but now he can attribute it to something deeper than just the arena draining you. 
A surge of panic seizes his chest. The image of you in pain, alone and vulnerable, haunts him. His grip on his composure fluctuates as he struggles to comprehend the new threat for what it is. For what it’ll do to you. But before his anxiety can fully manifest into something he can’t predict, your eyes meet his over your shoulder. Silent reassurance is given while a wordless plea for his composure is asked for in return. 
The warmth of your presence soothes and settles him. 
You turn back to the group, addressing them calmly about something that should normally cause, well, the exact opposite of calm. 
“The beetle’s venom is poisonous, but I was… fortunate. A Sponsor sent in an antidote.” Finnick’s eyebrows furrow. A mixture of relief and bewilderment clouds his features. He meets Johanna and Beetee’s eyes and finds that same relieved confusion reflected back at him. A sponsor gift like that shouldn’t be possible. Your touch grazes his arm gently, and the value of that kind of gift is only lost on Katniss and Peeta. As well as the realization of who could pull off such a thing. Who has enough money, enough power, enough sway to have such a gift at the ready and sent into the arena? Who else but their president? Who else but Coriolanus Snow ?
Finnick feels sick at the realization, a queasy anger that's unfortunately laced with gratitude. Because Finnick Odair refuses to be thankful to Snow for anything . His brain knows that—swears by it. But you place a hand over the one he has resting on your shoulder, a reminder that you’re here when it so easily could have ended differently. He can be grateful for your resilience, your strength. And that has nothing to do with Snow.
The group says nothing for a while. Peeta and Katniss look around in bemusement, look at each other, and then look around again.
Briefly, you look to the sky, the back of your head pressing into his stomach, and Finnick copies you. He looks up and sees nothing but an artificial blue sky with formulated clouds drifting by, but he knows you see something different. 
A bird squawks in the distance and Finnick stiffens. But it's not a jabberjay. Only a seagull. 
“The sun had just started to rise, so…here.” You say, finally coming back down to Earth. You point at the Six and Seven o’clock wedge in Peeta’s rough sketch of the arena. “There are multiple mutts here. All of them monstrous.” You say as if it’s something you were taught, not something you know for certain. Detachment. 
“Well?” Johanna prompts. “You can’t just say something like that and not elaborate.” She pokes and he glares at her. He has half a mind to scold her for pushing you, for poking at a crack in a glass just to see what’ll spill out. 
“What?” She asks, incredulous at the lack of support for her probing. “What’s the point of mapping any of this shit out if we don’t even know what we’re looking for?” She huffs.
“You don’t have to—”
“It’s fine. It’s fine.” You cut Peeta off. Exhaling sharply, you start, pause, and then start again. “There’s a beast. It’s twice the size of a normal man and covered with fur. It walked on two legs and it was strong . Like, like a human-bear hybrid. I wouldn’t believe it myself if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, but it tore the man from Ten apart. In the most literal sense. The claw had to dip down four more times to collect all of him.”
“God.” Finnick places a hand on your shoulder, thumb rubbing soothing circles along your nape. He can’t imagine it, doesn’t want to imagine it. Because if he does, it would be all too easy to imagine you in the man’s place as Finnick is forced to watch. He takes a deep breath and squeezes your shoulder momentarily. 
“...Alright then.” Peeta is the first to speak after a short silence. “Beast, six to seven o’clock—” 
“ Beasts .” You correct, not rudely. “There’s, um, there’s more than one thing in there. There was another mutt—a, uh, a dog. It was Rue. It had her eyes an–and it spoke. I was already hurt, lost a lot of blood. Too weak to run, to do much of anything. So I stayed hidden in a tree and she... it begged me to come down until the hour was up. Then it was gone."
"...That's—" Finnick starts, pressing the line of his leg to your back from where he stands close behind you, but he doesn’t know how to finish it.
"Fucked." Johanna says, looking around at their stunned faces like they're weird for not saying it first. But, she's right. Finnick can't think of another word to adequately describe it other than ‘fucked’. "That's fucked. "
“I can’t imagine.” Katniss pipes up to the surprise of, most likely, everyone. She hasn’t said a word to you until now. Is she picturing herself in your position? High in a tree, hiding from the remnants of a little girl you both cared about. “What that must’ve been like. I can’t imagine.” 
Finnick can’t see your face from this angle, but he knows it’s deceptively blank.
“I’m just glad my dad passed before my Games. Don’t know what I would’ve done if they used him too.” You laugh, dry and humorless. He didn’t even consider that.  
Katniss stares at you a little longer, contemplating something, before looking away.
-
It’s a little while later that a parachute arrives. 
District Three has sent loaves of bread if the bite-sized cubes can even be called loaves. Finnick counts them, methodically thumbing them over before placing them in neat, even rows. By the time Beetee asks for the amount, he’s already counted four times.
“Twenty-four.” He says. Four pieces for six people. 
“An even two dozen, then?” Says Beetee.
They’re coming on the third day, tomorrow, but the time doesn’t make much sense. Unless they’re using the twenty-four-hour clock, that is. In this instance, he assumes they’d have to. He’s familiar with it, more than just familiar. He’s lived by it for most of his life. Four primarily uses the system since so much of their time is spent out at sea. After his Games, it was a shock having to get used to the twelve-hour clock used throughout most of Panem with the exception of Two, Three, Five, Six, Twelve, and, of course, Four.
So then, that’s when they’ll come. On the third day, at twenty-four hundred. Midnight. For whatever reason, the plan has changed. Not just the time, but they’ve bumped the day up too.
Beetee will understand it, even if you and Johanna don’t. That’s his role in the plan, after all.
And Finnick reiterates, “Twenty-four on the nose. I’ve already divided them.” 
He passes out each pile to the group. Four for each person with an extra fifth to you from his pile, bringing him down to three.
“I can’t, it’s yours.” You attempt to deny the extra loaf, but it’s perfunctory at best because you and he both know he won’t take it back. 
“It’ll go to waste.” He says. Because no matter how frivolous those in the Capitol may be, that particular trait never rubbed off on you. He also knows after living your entire life in Eleven, you’d never let food go to waste if you can help it. Luckily, no one in the group is enough of an ass to try and claim the loaf of bread for themselves. It’s more than apparent to everyone that you need the extra sustenance. “If you don’t eat it, no one else will.”
So you do so while leaning heavily into Finnick’s side.
-
In the time it takes for everyone to settle in and finish eating, Beetee calls their attention to him.
“I have a plan.” He nods to himself, still rolling his wire between his fingers. “I have a plan.” It makes Peeta a bit apprehensive. Not because of the man himself or anything. Moreso the possible complexity of whatever it is he’s about to say.
Despite how much he wishes he could act otherwise, that brush with the force field has taken more than a physical toll on him. His ability to…to think is hindered, if only slightly. A bit slower to connect the dots sometimes, but that’s all it takes for things to go wrong. He had trouble understanding Beetee before the shock that stopped his heart. But now? Peeta fears that his brain may end up being his own worst enemy here. 
He can’t afford to mess up and force Katniss to save him. He certainly doesn’t want a repeat of what happened to the morphling, to sweet Mags, happening to any of his allies—to Katniss. 
Peeta can only hope that nothing else happens, some other enemy catching Peeta off guard and someone, taking pity on him and putting more value on his life than it’s worth, takes the knife or the claws or the razor-sharp teeth for him. No , he decides. He can’t keep being the deadweight someone else has to carry. He means that literally, in Finnick’s case. It might have worked in his favor during his first Games, but it won’t fly here, especially if he plans on getting Katniss out alive.
He leans forward on the knee he’s kneeling on, digging his machete into the sand to use as a crutch, eyes trained on the older man so he can’t possibly miss anything important.
“Where do the Careers feel safest? The jungle?”
Johanna shoots that down. “The jungle’s a nightmare.”
“Probably here on the beach.” Peeta theorizes. It’s where he’d want to be if he was by himself in the arena with no allies. But it’s more likely he’d be forced to hide in the jungle, blending in enough that anything bloodthirsty—both human and man-made—wouldn’t find him.
“Then why are they not here?” Beetee counters. And Peeta isn’t able to answer him right away, his mind taking a little longer to formulate a response.
“Because we are. We claimed it.” Right. That’s the response he was making his way towards. Only, he’s walking to it rather than sprinting like Johanna seems to be. Hell. Even then, he’s more hobbling than walking.
“And if we left, they would come,” Beetee says, a statement this time instead of a question.
“Or stay hidden in the tree line.”
“To spy on us or find food. They’d be able to see an attack from the jungle or the beach, escape ahead of time.” You finish Finnick’s thought from where he stopped it. Peeta’s thankful for the explanation that nobody else probably needed. “It’s the position with the best advantage.” 
Unlike Johanna and Finnick, you’re sitting down with your back against Finnick’s shins, probably largely due to those holes in your side. Peeta winces thinking about them. He only got a glimpse of them over Katniss’s shoulder as she tried her best to patch you up before he looked away, but he doesn’t think it’ll ever leave his mind. Plus, he doesn’t think he’ll be able to forget the look on Finnick’s face as you told them everything you had been through.
When you were recounting your journey before you stumbled across them, all he could think about was how strong you are. Certainly stronger than he is. If not physically, then in, perhaps, every other way possible. 
“Which, in just over four hours, will be soaked in water from the ten o’clock wave. And what happens at midnight?” Beetee turns to Katniss, prompting her to answer just with his stare alone. It all reminds him of some of the school teachers back in Twelve. The ones that actually cared about the kids learning anything, at least.
“Lightning strikes that tree.”
Instead of confirming whether she’s correct or not, he continues on. “Here’s what I propose. We leave the beach at dusk. We head to the lightning tree.” Beetee points towards the twelve o’clock wedge where the tree towers in the distance. “That should draw them back to the beach. Prior to midnight, we run this wire from the tree to the water. Anyone in the water or on the damp sand will be electrocuted.”
Peeta picks up a handful of the damp sand underneath them, rubbing the grains between his fingers. It seems like a sound plan, but what would Peeta know? He hardly knows anything about open bodies of water or the conductivity of sand, let alone electricity. Twelve’s curriculum didn’t really have room to fit anything in that wasn’t about coal.
“How do we know the wire won’t burn up?”
“Because I invented it.” Is that why he wanted the wire enough to get stabbed in the back over it? Peeta assumed it was because it would’ve been Beetee’s only chance of survival. Maybe it’s both. “I assure you, it won’t burn up.”
Beetee pauses, looking around. Waiting for the rest of them to shoot the plan down, but nobody else has a better suggestion. Peeta goes to say just that but notices Beetee isn’t looking at him. That by itself is normal, he’s used to it. What he isn't used to is the fact that he isn’t looking at Katniss either. Beetee is looking at the three older victors behind them. 
Peeta first looks to you. You tilt your head, picking at the skin around your nails as you contemplate something. You turn to look up at Finnick who’s already watching you. Something is said without words between the two of you, Finnick places a hand on the back of your neck before you both turn to Johanna. Johanna answers with a slight tilt of her head and a minute twitch of her eyebrow. You’ve all agreed to do it together then, he can tell that much.
He and Katniss look at each other.
“It’s the best we’ve got.” You say, and Peeta agrees.
“Well, it’s better than hunting them down.” Johanna concedes.
“Yeah, why not? If it fails, no harm done, right?” Katniss says.
Peeta purses his lips into a slight frown, followed by a nod. “Alright, I say we try it.” 
Finnick asks, “So what can we do to help?” 
“Keep me alive for the next six hours. That would be extremely helpful.”
-
Peeta suggests they take turns getting some rest in. First go Peeta and Beetee, curling up in the sand under some shade where they made their temporary camp.
“You should rest,” Finnick says to you. You’ve been through hell and you couldn’t have grabbed more than a scant few hours before being pelted with bloody rain. 
“Yeah, I should.” You agree, too tired to put up much of a fight. He can see just how exhausted you are in your eyes. Instead of leaving to lie down, you grab his hand, staring up at him with beseeching eyes.
“Sleep with me?” He wants to, really, he does, but then he looks over to where Katniss sits cleaning the fish he caught. 
By now, he can trust her not to kill him in his sleep, but can he trust her not to bolt? She won’t leave without Peeta, but what’s to stop her from sneakily waking him up and ditching them? As if hearing his thoughts, you nod towards where Johanna paces the shoreline. 
She watches the stretches of open land around them before glancing over to Katniss. She does this again, over and over, all while idly swinging her axe beside her. Deceptive in the way she isn’t on guard. She could handle Katniss long enough for the rest of them to wake up if she tried something. And the siren song of sleeping beside you is too beautiful to resist. 
“C’mon, Finn.” You pull him along and he goes. Of course, he goes.
-
When Peeta comes to, it’s to the sound of unfamiliar birds and the movement of water. He must have fallen asleep outside the bakery, but…he can’t remember there being any water in Twelve. 
There shouldn’t be. He sniffs. Especially not salt water.
He turns over expecting grass and finds something grainy instead. 
He shoots up, eyes opening. 
Sand. He’s sleeping on sand. He’s not outside of his family’s bakery. He’s not in Twelve at all. Had he been, sleeping during the workday would have ensured him a beating from his mother.
He’s on a beach. In the arena. 
He finds a head of chestnut brown. It’s mostly dried by now, made wavey from being in her signature braid for so long. Katniss. He’s on a beach, in the arena. And he’s with Katniss.
He relaxes. Beside him, on his right, sleeps Beetee. If you asked Peeta how well someone could sleep on sand, he’d say fruitlessly. But Beetee sleeps like the dead, clutching his spool of wire to his chest. If he tried taking that spool, Peeta’s sure he’d find that Beetee is gripping it like the dead too. 
To his left, curled into each other like the roots of a tree, lies you and Finnick.
Face to face, legs entangled, Finnick’s arm that isn’t cocooned between your bodies is draped over your waist, somehow mindful of your wound even in his sleep.
He probably doesn’t have the right authority to call two seasoned killers cute, but, and maybe it’s the hopeless romantic in him, but right now, you two don’t look much like killers.
You do, however, look quite young. And, if his minimal prior knowledge is trustworthy, quite in love.
He was more than a little shocked by how intimate of a reunion the two of you had, but, honestly, he was glad to see it. He doesn’t know Finnick well and, in retrospect, he doesn’t know you all that well either, but he thinks he’s an apt judge of character in a way that Katniss isn’t. And he thinks…he thinks you guys deserve each other. He can say that much, right?
You and Finnick deserve whatever moments together you’re able to grab. Peeta doesn’t know how it’ll end for you, doesn’t know how it’ll end for Finnick. Who knows how much time will be left before one or both of you meet cannon fire? Peeta doesn’t seem to know a lot of things, but he knows he doesn’t want to be here to find out.
He doesn’t know what happened before the Games, what led to the strain in your relationship. Honestly, with the way you stared at Finnick—similar, much too similar to how he knows he looks at Katniss—he was a little too scared to ask. But whatever it was apparently can’t touch you two in here.
From what he saw, you two hadn’t even interacted much before that spectacle the night of the interviews and he was tempted to ask you what was talked about after you got off the elevator together. Regardless, words didn’t need to be exchanged for anyone to see how much you two cared about each other. Not for Peeta, at least. And what you told him that day in the Training Center struck a chord.
"You shouldn't have to go into the arena with someone you love. It's cruel."
It is cruel. Crueler still to be the one waiting for someone who doesn’t want you back. You deserve to have that kind of love returned tenfold, and he’s happy you found that in Finnick, that whatever those hurdles were could be cleared, even in here.
He stands and goes to sit with Katniss. For a while, they don’t say anything, just sitting in comfortable silence together, back to back. 
Finnick is the next to wake up, and once Finnick is up, it doesn’t take long for Johanna to go down. Beetee wakes up slowly, and Peeta’s able to convince Katniss to take a short cat nap. Through it all, Peeta notes that Finnick doesn’t leave your side. You’re the last to wake up.
They all meander around, idly talking, until the sun has almost completely set and everyone is awake, coiled, and ready to enact the plan.
-
Johanna is more relaxed, Beetee notes, now that you’re back. He may have been somewhat incapacitated for the majority of your absence, but from what he can recall, she had been snarling and pacing like an anxiety-ridden dog. Even after they finally came across Finnick and the others, she had been tense, maybe even more so. Only after your return did she regain her composure. She’s still rather volatile, but, in comparison to before, she’s almost docile now.
“Do you think it’ll work?” She asks after a moment of silence between them and he knows she’s not just referring to his plan to get rid of the remaining Careers. He knows she’s talking about their escape. “Like, really, honestly work.”
He removes his shoe, turning it upside down to empty it of the sand it’s accumulated. Shaking it, patting the outsole, and slipping it back on before repeating the process with his left shoe.
“It’ll depend on more factors than just us. There are a number of variables we can’t control. Outcomes we can’t account for until they happen. I can’t say for certain, but,” he puts his left shoe back on and adjusts himself on his spool of wire that he’s using as a seat, “yes, I believe it’ll work. One way or the other.”
“Great pep talk.” She mumbles, but he knows she’s being sarcastic. 
A few feet before them are you, sitting, and Finnick wading in the water. They watch Finnick twirl his trident for your enjoyment. He does a complex maneuver, of which you applaud him for.
“Bravo! Bravo!” You laugh and Finnick bends at the waist in a bow.
From the corner of his eye, Beetee sees the divots in the sand Johanna is making with the blade of her axe. “I think it’ll work too.” 
“Mmh. Good.” He nods.
-
The sun beats down on you as you lean back. It’s disorienting to feel the ground shift beneath your hands. And under your nails. Sand is far coarser than you thought it would be. You always imagined something softer when you saw it in textbooks, like powder. Instead, it’s gritty, like salt. Getting in almost every crevice, something Finnick did not warn you about.
Finnick crouches before you, both hands on his trident as he digs its end into the sand and uses it as a crutch, filling you in on even more things you missed. You hadn’t thought too critically about what your other half would be doing while you worked your way back to him, but, even if you had, you certainly wouldn’t have guessed any of what happened.
“You should have seen her after I got his heart beating again. I mean, she was beside herself. Crying, laughing, snotting. The whole nine yards.” Almost absently, Finnick gathers a handful of sand to pour over your shin, adding to the growing pile he’s already gathered at your ankles.
“‘s that right?” You ask, though it’s not really a question, peeking an eye open to regard the couple and closing it again when they go in for a kiss. For the cameras? “She’s so…stoic. It’s a little hard to believe.” You, much like everyone else with two brain cells to rub together, hadn’t put much stock into the romance as a whole. Unlike everyone else, however, you knew it was very much real for one of them—Peeta. The way Peeta talked about her, described her, you’d think she was some sort of angel, but, personally, you think butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth.
“Only because you didn’t see it with your own eyes. I was honestly a little worried I was witnessing a nervous breakdown.” Finnick shivered dramatically. “Shush.” You push at his shoulder when he laughs even though you’re hardly any better, barely holding back your own amusement. “And I don’t think I’m all that torn up over missin’ that.”
The last nervous breakdown you can recall happening in the arena with any real clarity is Annie’s. You’re not hurting over not seeing anything like that again or seeing Peeta laid out, dead to the world.
You imagine yourself in Katniss’s position, a snot-nosed blubbering mess curled over Finnick’s body, listening to his renewed heartbeat. You bite your lip. What does it mean that you can understand her?
Finnick rubs a thumb over the furrow between your brows you hadn’t realized was there, before moving down to free your bottom lip from its sharp prison. “What’re you thinking about, beautiful?”
“I haven’t really had the chance to talk to Katniss.” In fact, she’s talked to everyone but you. It was hardly noticeable during training. But it certainly sticks out now. She’s giving you, one of her few allies, a wide berth. Why?
He hums, no judgment in his voice, only curiosity. “You’ve got something to say to her?”
Do you? “Maybe.” You look at her again. “Won’t know ‘till I say it.” 
No time like the present. No point pushing it off for later when you might not survive the next hour. You shift like you’re about to stand and you think you do a pretty good job of pretending your side isn’t spasming with such little movement, like these wounds aren’t slowly killing you.
“Where’re you going?” He asks, offering a hand for you to grab and push your weight against to help you stand before straightening back to his full height.
“Off to get some one-on-one with our bride-to-never-be.” You joke, smile dropping into a scoff when he wrinkles his nose at you. “Oh, come on. That was funny!”
“Mm-mmm. No. Bad joke. Bad wordplay.” He shakes his head, treating your shoulders as an armrest and ignoring the elbow you dig into his ribs—and you just know he’d lean his full body weight on you, making your knees buckle if you weren’t injured. You can literally feel him holding back. ”I’d say have fun, but I doubt that’s possible.” The arm around your shoulder curls inward, his bicep flexing against the back of your neck so his fingers can play with the ends of your hair. You lean into his heat despite the arena supplying you with a surplus of it. “Want me to go with you?”
“No.” You say, before grinning up at him. “Why don’t you keep the others company? I think it’s your turn to babysit anyway.”
His scowl tells you what he thinks of that idea. Now, that’s funny.
-
Katniss’s lips are still tingling with the distinct pressure of Peeta’s mouth against hers when she notices you approaching them.
She’s expecting to see the rest of the group behind you, or even just Finnick, but it’s just you. 
Peeta says your name, “It seems you’re moving around fine enough. I’m glad you’re alright—relatively speaking.”
“You and me both.” You nod.
You say a joke, she thinks, because Peeta laughs, but she didn’t catch it over the beating of her heart in her ears.
“I’m gonna head over.” Peeta nods over to the rest of their allies as he stands. She bites her tongue to stop herself from begging him to stay.
She isn’t afraid of you, necessarily, but she isn’t exactly fond of what you remind her of. Guilt.
Once she learned you were Rue’s mentor, she’s tried her hardest to avoid you. She didn’t want to give herself the chance to ask you questions she knows will only hurt to hear the answers to. Or give herself the opportunity to apologize for things that you won’t forgive. Rue. Thresh. Whatever it is she sparked in Eleven. 
Katniss supposes it’s not your fault that being around you fills her with an overwhelming sense of remorse. She can’t explain any of this to Peeta, who already seems to have taken a liking to you. Instead, she just nods with a grimace of a smile.
She can’t blame anyone but herself for believing that there wouldn’t be a confrontation eventually.
“How’s your side treating you?” She asks.
Her eyes flick to your stomach. She had never felt such profound shock from the severity of a wound before, except perhaps when they had to attend to Gale's back. Genuinely, it’s a wonder you're moving around the way you are with your side so mangled. She was able to clean it with some fresh water Johanna got from tapping a tree, before pressing some of that absorbent moss against it with the tourniquet you made from your sleeves. 
You were an easy patient, with some slight difficulty considering Finnick glared at her like he caught her kicking a puppy whenever you flinched. You sat still, even giving her advice despite the pain you had to be in. She’s seen men twice your size weeping from sprains—though they were usually from the merchant side of Twelve. 
“Better, thanks to you.” You lower yourself to sit beside her in the spot Peeta previously occupied. Now that it's just the two of you, she notices that you speak with a distinguishable drawl that she doesn't think was there the last time you talked to her. It's familiar, almost. Similar to how her father’s folks sounded, from the little she remembers of them. “Is that common in Twelve? Being a healer?”
“No. I’m a special case,” is all she says, but you, surprisingly, don’t ask her to elaborate. “And you? Is that something everybody learns in Eleven?” Rue knew so much about natural medicine and she hadn’t even been in her teens yet. Who knows how much more she would have known had she been older? There’s so much she’ll never have the chance to learn because of Katniss.
“If we want our kids to live into adulthood? Then, yeah, it has to be.” You, surprisingly, elaborate with a wry laugh and she wishes you hadn’t. Hadn’t been so truthful. It’s a privilege in Twelve to have this kind of knowledge, something to use to their advantage. For Eleven, it’s a necessity. The closest thing she can equate to it is hunting. Without it, neither her or Gale's families would have made it long after the mine accident. Many families hadn't.
She waits for you to say something, ask her something—do something to explain why you’re here. But you don't. Instead, you pick up a handful of sand and let it spill out of your hand, somehow impervious to Katniss’s expectant stare.
Do you think she wants to ask you something? Did Finnick send you over? She glances over at his exceptionally bored expression as he idly spins his trident and decides that can't be it. She knows that if she had been separated from Peeta with no way of knowing he's safe only for him to show up injured, she'd want to keep him as close as possible.
Are you trying to wait her out then? If so, for what?
Well, not for nothing. There is one question on the tip of her tongue. 
She hadn't asked before because it didn't seem important to know. She was also wary about mentioning Eleven at all after what happened the last time she was there. Whatever answer she'd get wouldn't help her in the arena, so she never asked.
But now, now that she's aware of what the Gamemakers put you through with that mutt, aware of just how badly she would have handled that, aware of the fact that you cared for Rue—she didn't know how much, but she knows that you did care—and it suddenly feels very important to know. 
“...Was it you?” You look at her with a raised brow. She looks away to watch the sun begin its descent. Fake or not, a sunset will always be beautiful. “When Rue…I was sent bread. I know it was from Eleven. It was meant for Rue. Was it you?”
You pull your left leg up, forearm resting over your knee as your hand flexes open and closed.
“If I said yes?”
“I’d ask why.”
“Why do you think?” 
Weirdly enough, she wants to get the answer right. Almost like she doesn’t want to disappoint you or something equally as stupid. Does she care what you think of her? If she does, it has to be because of your connection to Rue. And, apparently, Haymitch and Peeta.
She knows why she would have sent the bread in your position. “A repayment. For what I did for Rue. And I, I guess so it wouldn’t go to waste.”
You look at her for a moment, long enough that it makes her, no stranger to staring, shift a little. 
The way you stare at her, always slightly amused. Like she’s a long-winded joke you already know the punchline too, but want to hear again. It’s hard to explain. It doesn’t feel malicious or like you’re making fun of her. But it’s confusing and more than a little intense. Another thing she noticed about you, especially in your interviews. Haymitch had explained once, how it’s a part of why you have so much influence in the Capitol. Sure, you’re beautiful. But more than that, you’re captivating, persuasive. Your stare is a snare that prey willingly walk into. Even Katniss feels it, which is saying something.
It’s vastly different from how Finnick looks at her like she’s a puzzle he keeps finding pieces to, with no clue where to put them. Or how Johanna looks at her like—well, like she hates her. Of the three, she can’t tell which she prefers.  
“I have no siblings. Shockin’, right?” The only shocking part is you bringing that up seemingly out of nowhere. The shift in topics makes her blink. “I’m sure you learned that each family in Eleven has, like, ninety kids with full smiles and even fuller stomachs.”
Truthfully, Katniss is too embarrassed to say what she learned about Eleven, which is close to nothing. When they were being taught things about the other districts, as rare as it was, it was typically kept to their purpose and how they utilize the coal Twelve provides, if at all. Other than the little the teachers went over about how food is produced and the assumptions from other children that were treated like facts, Katniss can’t say she actually learned anything about your district. And she learned that from Rue. “Something like that.”
“If you get rid of the full stomachs, then it’s not too far off, honestly. More kids mean more workers. I’m sure it would have happened eventually, might’ve ended up with twenty brothers and sisters.” You joke. Or, at least she thinks you’re joking. She doesn’t know, but she’s too embarrassed to ask. She does know, however, that they’ve definitely cut the cameras away from the conversation by now. 
“Why didn’t it? Happen, I mean.”
“I’d imagine you’d need two parents for that.” Despite the blankness of your face that gives nothing away, you somehow manage to slip some humor into the statement, so you can’t be too upset at her for inadvertently making you mention your dad again.
She wonders how it happened. An accident like her father? Or…?
The punishments for minor crimes are distributed harshly in your district, Rue told her this much. And she’s seen it with her own eyes. Just how brutally the citizens of Eleven are treated by Peacekeepers. A feeble old man executed swiftly and without a word like he was no better than a dog with rabies. If that’s what they’re willing to do publicly, she can’t imagine what it’s like when there are no eyes on them. 
Is that something she can ask you? Does she even want to know? You choose for her.
“He and a few other men were hung in the square on grounds of treason and conspiracy.” Rebels . You don’t say whether the claims were founded or not, but Katniss can tell by the way you say it that, rebel or not, your father was an innocent man. Your eyes cast around aimlessly. She’s relieved they aren’t focused on her anymore. “I was eight. So, yeah. No big family.” 
Eight. Even younger than she had been.
“But I always wanted one growing up. Wanted kids of my own. Someone to love them with.”
With a level of fondness Katniss hadn’t expected to see, maybe, ever, let alone in the arena, you look over at Finnick who—despite Peeta’s best efforts to engross him in a conversation—keeps glancing over here. And, she squints, he’s slowly edging closer. Poor Peeta seems none the wiser about how unengaged his audience is. It would be a funny sight. How desperately Finnick seems to want to be around you. The most eligible bachelor in Panem so very obviously in love. He’s nothing like he was before they entered the arena, or even a few hours ago when Johanna had to pull him off the brink of what seemed to be a panic attack. Funny if they weren’t in the arena. And funny if it wasn’t so very sad.
“You lived in the Seam, right?” She turns to you, surprised that you knew that, before nodding. The ignorance about other districts isn’t as universal as she thought it was. She isn’t sure if that says more about Twelve or her. “I grew up in a Shacktown, somethin’ similar. So you know bringin’ a child into that is practically a death sentence and, and…” You sigh. Suddenly, Katniss feels incredibly guilty for this fake pregnancy. “Forget I said any of that. None of it’s important. Just, just got a bit sidetracked.”
“It’s alright.” But it’s not alright, is it?
“So, no kids. But I had my tributes. And I cared. About every single one of them.” You say with a bit of steel in your voice as if she might claim you’re lying. 
She just nods, recalling you telling her she’s lucky to never have to worry about being a mentor. Thinks of how Haymitch treated them before their first Games. She thinks of you and him both having to train and send off kids from your districts that you knew had no chance of winning, having to do it year after year. 
“Rue—she was a good kid, real good. But she never would’ve survived after the Games anyhow. Young girl like her? They would’ve eaten her alive. And then thrown her right back up to make room for more.” You purse your lips together, slightly twisting them to one side. “Just tradin’ one arena for another, really.”
She doesn’t wanna think about how true that is. Do you see her too? In the song birds and the meadows? Do you see Rue in the small animals that scurry high in the trees, too trusting to not fall victim to the snares and traps? You must. With how much you care, you must see her too.
Katniss has a moment of clarity. 
It’s possible she completely misunderstood what you told her at the chariots. She was under the impression that you hated her a little bit, different from Johanna’s general ire. She thought that your hatred, valid and pointed, came from the fact that she survived only because your tributes saved her. That’s what she thought you meant before Finnick interrupted the conversation and you left like you were allergic to his presence. 
But you never said that. You made no indication that you blamed her for anything, for either of their deaths. That was all Katniss projecting, wasn’t it? 
She doesn’t know what to say, so she says nothing at all.
“I held her. The night before. We couldn’t sleep, we talked and…gossiped. And then I held her. And, for that small moment that wouldn’t really matter to anybody but me and her, I guess…I guess I could imagine what it would feel like to be a mother.” Katniss frowns and has to look away from your wistful face. It’s horrible, the things you’re saying. A lesser woman would be crying. But you say them with a smile. It’s also horrible, she realizes absently, that had the circumstances been different, had you met at a nauseating Capitol party or grieving over your respective tributes, she could see you and her being friends.
“Seems you’ll be livin’ that out for the both of us, huh?”
“What?” You look down at her stomach. “Oh.” Right. The baby. That is supposed to be inside of her. This is the third time she’s had to be reminded. How did she forget that fast? She’d be better off writing ‘remember to be pregnant’ on her arm.
“ Oh .” You mimic, an amused smirk growing. “It’s alright. Your belly’s still flat, must be pretty early in. I almost forgot myself.” You wink and, stupidly, Katniss feels herself blush. Now, if it’s from embarrassment at her misstep or being the focus of all of your… you is anybody’s guess. 
She doesn’t understand how Finnick can stand to be at the center of it. Not only that but actively seeking it out, if how visibly impatient he seems to be to head this way means anything, shifting his weight from foot to foot. You snort. He locks eyes with you, pulling a face that turns your snort into a laugh that you hide behind your hand. He seems to be begging you for something and Katniss never realized how much could be said with just eye contact and some funny faces.
Nothing’s happening, per say, but it still feels like she’s intruding on a private moment despite neither of you saying a word to each other and being a good thirteen feet apart. Still. The air around you two feels so constantly charged that she can’t help but notice it.
And that kiss earlier…
Katniss wills her ears to cool down, but it appears her body is just as good at listening as she is. Caesar must be beside himself about the whole thing. It’s not hard to imagine him fainting live over it. She wishes she could see it.
“So I did send the bread because it’d be wasteful not to and because it’s what Rue would’ve wanted. But, also, as a thank you. For protectin’ her when I couldn’t, even for a little while.” You sniffle, rubbing at your nose. “Sorry. For, um. Makin’ that so long-winded.” If she knew you better, she’d be confident in saying you sound embarrassed. There’s no reason to be. It didn’t even feel like the two of you talked for long, but the sun is barely peeking over the horizon now.
“I should be the one apologizing. For Rue. And Thresh…For the old man…”
“Briar.” You say. Your district is massive. So much vast land that barely houses its population. Unlike Twelve, Eleven is far too big for you to know everyone. It should surprise her that you know his name. But it doesn't.
“For Briar.”
“Katniss…Nobody blames you for a damn thing that happened except for you.” Obviously, you haven’t had a chat with the president recently. As far as Snow’s concerned, anything bad that’s happened in Panem since her win is entirely her fault. And almost as if you know what she’s thinking, you say, “Nobody of any real importance, at least.”
She scoffs but doesn’t argue. There’s no point. Something tells her you're the kind of person who can convince anybody of anything. And no matter how desperately she wants to believe it, she doesn’t need you to convince her that she’s faultless. 
She remembers Peeta vouching for you. At the time it didn’t make much sense, and a small part of her had wondered if it was because he liked you. Stupid . 
You taught him, he had told her, about plants. From their toxicity to their edibility. A subject Peeta was particularly lacking in. Valuable information given away freely when you didn't have to. In fact, it would have served you not to help your competition. She doesn’t understand it and she has a feeling Finnick wouldn't either. But you do, and so does Peeta. And she knows that means it was strictly kindness that drove you. Between you and Finnick, she’ll never be able to get rid of this debt. How could I possibly kill them now?
“It seems I have a lot to be thanking you for.”
You regard her for a moment.
“You don’t owe me anythin’, Katniss. That’s what you’re thinkin’, right?” It seems even her thoughts, like her secrets, are public knowledge known to everyone before they’re known to her. “Well, here and now, I absolve you of any debts.” You wipe your hands together like you’re clearing them of dust. “How’s that sound?” It sounds like you’re only making her predicament worse.
“That sounds very generous.” And too good to be true. In fact, she hopes it’s too good to be true. It would make this whole thing easier. She unsticks her tongue from where it feels frozen to the roof of her mouth and asks, “How was it? The mutt, I mean.” Katniss doesn’t even know why she asks. Maybe because she knows it’ll hurt.
The mutt hybrids of Foxface and Thresh tearing Cato apart are still seared into her mind just as much as the flinch that went through Marvel’s body as her arrow struck him dead. Who knows how she would’ve handled it if they had turned Rue into one so soon after she lost her?
Instead of describing it in vivid, painful detail, your eyes get flinty as your fingers tap your thighs in no specific rhythm and you say something much worse. “When I was fifteen, after I won my Games, I thought I’d eventually become—jaded to all of it. That the blows would be dulled. And, after eight, almost ten years, you think you’ve seen all they had to throw at you. That they can’t possibly hurt you worse than they already have. But that? That was… mean. That’ll haunt me more than havin’ to watch her die.”
“...Oh.” She wants to apologize again, and she would if she thought you would accept it. Most of this conversation will be cut from the final product, and that’s if the Gamemakers are even risking keeping the cameras on them. 
Finnick is the only one still standing among the other group, his hands on his hips as Peeta recounts some sort of story. It looks like Beetee is the only one actually listening, following along. Johanna watches on in amusement, seemingly cutting Finnick off every time he tries to interject. He does nothing more than sigh in response, but his growing frustration is evident as he crosses his arms.
“Ah. That’s my queue.” You chuckle as you clamber to your feet, slow and cautious. She’d almost forgotten you were even injured. You wear your pain so well. “I better head over there before he pulls somethin’.” 
You smile at her so easily that it makes her smile in turn. Small and without teeth, but it’s not as tense as she thought it’d be. “Right.”
You turn away, getting a few steps before abruptly turning back around. What stopped you?
“You know, Cattails mean peace and prosperity. At least in Eleven. Many a feud and petty squabble has been patched up just,” you snap your fingers, “like that once people start exchangin’ Cattails.” 
“I…didn’t know.”
“And Katniss, the Arrowhead, brings to mind protection, courage, strength. And they can be surprisingly sweet.”
“...What do they have in common?” She can’t help but ask.
“They both have ‘ cat’ in them.” You say it so matter-of-factly, completely straight-faced, that it catches Katniss off guard enough to make her laugh. “They’re both resilient, adaptable. Bred for survival. You’d look them over at first glance, but they can save your life. But I’m sure you already knew that part though, huh?”
“Some of it.” Mostly learned from her father. “Why are you telling me this?”
“I think you have a lot in common with both—”
“Not just the stuff about the flowers. All of it.”
“Why not? Just seems like things you should know.” You shrug and, despite herself, she believes that you really believe that. “There doesn’t have to be some convoluted reason behind everyone’s actions. I wanted to tell you, so I did. You’re allowed to do things just because you want to.”
“...Right.” The last time she did that, a man had been killed.
 “Don’t brood over here for too long, Cattail. It’s bad for the baby.” Cattail? So close to Gale’s nickname for her. She doesn’t hate it, but she won’t encourage it. Things are hard enough as is. “I’ll go save my boy from yours.” She’s taken aback at Peeta being referred to as her boy, that you feel like her and Peeta’s relationship is worthy of being held up next to yours and Finnick’s. Maybe she’s a better actor than everyone gives her credit for.
You wave over your shoulder at her and she realizes with a dawning sense of horror that you’re more like Peeta than she wanted to be true. Seemingly kind without reason. Genuine. A good person.
If she hadn’t been convinced before, then she certainly is now. She and Peeta need to leave. Because if she has to shoot first, she’s not sure her hand won’t shake as she notches her bow. She looks over to the group. To where Finnick’s face lights up with a grin at your approach and Johanna, Beetee, and Peeta sit in a semicircle and talk like friends. Only one person gets to leave here alive, and she needs it to be Peeta. That hasn’t changed. But it’s the first time she’s felt something like guilt because of it.
SECTION 12  (9:20 pm—?)
When he and Katniss guesstimate it to be somewhere around nine, they all start heading to the twelve o’clock sector. Not before he had Katniss check your wounds despite your insistence of, I’m fine, Finn. It hardly even hurts anymore. But he knows you’re lying because you hardly argue when he prompts you to get on his back so he can carry you.  
Finnick leads the charge, precariously stepping from rock to rock. He uses one hand to shift away obstructant vines and the other to hold his trident. Your arms are looped around his shoulders, your right calf resting in the crook of his elbow—the same hand gripping the shaft of his weapon.
As he slows down a bit so Beetee and the others can catch up, he’s glad they decided to head to the tree earlier than they previously planned. It’s not that they aren’t making good time, rather, he doesn’t want there to be any reason they’ll need to rush. No reason for any possible slip-ups, no potential to become sloppy.
They hike forward, led by nothing but artificial moonlight. Finnick keeps a good pace even while carrying you, leveraging himself uphill, gripping tree trunks to support the both of you. When he gets to a high point, the others a little ways behind, the Capitol anthem trumpets throughout the arena. 
You huff, warm breath hitting his ear, when Cashmere’s face flashes in the sky. He hadn’t been friends with her, just two Careers out of dozens floating around in the same circles, and as far as he knows, you hadn’t either. But he knows you don’t need to be friends with someone to care about them, that’s just who you are. He squeezes your calf. Effortlessly compassionate, one of the reasons he loves you, but it must’ve been exhausting. 
Gloss follows behind her, replaced by his victim, Wiress. He glances over to Beetee who’s looking under his glasses at her portrait mournfully. Finnick looks away, right into Mags’s kind eyes. His nostrils flare, something in his chest pinches, but he doesn’t cry. Not again. You tighten your arms around his chest, keeping the blade of your weapon away from his face. You kiss his temple before laying your head on his. Some of the tension leaks from his shoulders as you move to press your cheek to his. You don’t say sorry about Mags again, which he’s thankful for. He squeezes your calf once, twice. A comfort. You’re a soothing weight on his back.
Other than Blight and the female morphling, no other people of interest appear. No Chaff, which is relieving. 
The music cuts out and they move forward in silence, the sound of bugs chirping following them further into the jungle. Thankfully, no birds.
When they get to the ginormous tree, he pauses, gawking a bit at the sheer size of it. Its branches cut a cruel figure above them. It looms all the more in the night, with shadows and a lack of good lighting making it look even bigger. 
So this is what gets them out? It certainly looks the part. 
He helps you off his back, ushering you in front of him as the others step closer to the tree. He looks over his shoulder, scanning for enemies hiding in the dark as hard as Beetee is inspecting the tree. Finnick grabs your wrist— “ Stay close to me .” He whispers, looking away from you to the sky beyond the branches. Soon enough, it’ll split open and they’ll be free. It hasn’t fully sunk in yet.
“Minimal charring.” Beetee notes. They all look back at the tree trunk to try and see what he sees. “It’s an impressive conductor.” Nobody agrees or disagrees. How could they? “Let’s get started.”
Anticipation bubbles in Finnick’s stomach, making his hair stand on end as everyone follows Beetee closer. You raise your eyebrows at him, lips pursed briefly. You feel it too. They’re steadily approaching the climax.  
“Typically a lightning strike contains five billion joules of energy. We don’t want to be anywhere in the vicinity when it hits.” Finnick keeps his back to the tree as Beetee works his wire around a part of it, keeping his gaze glued to the tree line. But, for a split second, he glances behind him in enough time to catch Beetee looking you over from under his glasses, a quick clinical sweep before he says over his shoulder to Katniss and Johanna as he unspools more wire, “You two girls, go together now. Take this. Unspool it carefully.”
Beetee pushes the handle into Katniss’s hands, speaking so surely that you don’t even object to being excluded—which Finnick is very grateful for. You’re the fastest of the girls, have the easiest time moving swiftly between the trees and rough terrain. On a normal day, when you didn’t have an injury sinking you. “Make sure the entire coil is in the water. You understand? Then head to the tree in the two o'clock sector. We’ll meet you there.”
Beetee nods at them, heading back to the tree, and Finnick thinks that’s the end of it.
“I’m gonna go with them as a guard.” Finnick freezes momentarily, before turning back around to face Peeta. That won’t work. He can’t emphasize enough just how much that won’t work. Not only are the two of them active flight risks, no matter how well they think they’re hiding it, but they also need to handle the trackers as soon as possible. Johanna is strong, but not strong enough to take both of them.
“No, no, no. You’re staying here to protect me. And the tree.”
Finnick alternates between watching the trees, watching the increasingly tense conversation, and watching you. Working to not treat this interaction like it’s as high stakes as it actually is. They can’t make it seem like they’re eager to separate the two of them—which they are. It’s actually a large part of the plan. Some might say the crux.
“No, I need to go with her.” Peeta stubbornly digs his heels in. 
“There are two careers out there. I need two guards.”
“You have two guards.” Peeta gestures to you and Finnick.
“Allow me to correct myself. Two able-bodied guards.”
“Hurt or not, I’m sure she’d be much better at fending off the careers.” You shift enough behind Finnick to grab his attention. You purse your lips into a frown, one that he returns. He hadn’t anticipated Peeta being a problem, especially this close to their escape. Katniss makes sense, he was almost banking on her making this difficult, but Peeta is a surprise. You raise a brow, tilting your head minutely. But not a surprise to you. "Besides, Finnick can protect you just fine on his own.”
“Yeah, why can’t Finnick and Johanna stay with you and Peeta and I’ll take the coil?”
Finnick fully turns around at that, slowly creeping up to stand slightly in front of you. He doesn’t want it to escalate, but if push comes to shove, he and Johanna will just have to move in quickly to incapacitate them. And it really looks like Peeta’s ready to push and shove. Finnick subtly has his weapon at the ready, not enough to draw attention, but just in case. He can see Johanna do the same, moving her axe to her dominant hand.
“You all agreed to keep me alive till midnight, correct?”
“It’s his plan. We all agreed to it.” Johanna bites out, making the two of them seem all the more unreasonable to be arguing over who’s paired with who when they’re all trying to do their parts.
“Is there a problem?” Finnick asks, working to keep any aggression out of his voice, trying to make it seem like he’s just supportive of Beetee’s plan and won’t let anything obstruct it. However, he must not work hard enough because you grab his elbow. An anchor. 
“ Excellent question.”
Katniss’s eyes flick from Beetee to you and then back.
“No. There’s no problem.” Whatever trust she has in you and Beetee to not hurt Peeta apparently outweighs the distrust she might still harbor in him and Johanna. Peeta, however, doesn’t seem as convinced. 
“I’ll go with ‘em, Peeta.” You pipe up and step forward past the protective wall of Finnick’s body. “Six hands spreadin’ the wire will get us done three times as fast.” Finnick tenses at the idea, teeth grinding together. That’s not the plan. You going where he can’t protect you, again, has never been part of the plan. Maybe if you weren’t so grievously wounded—no, not even then. 
His hand lands on your shoulder, sliding limply down your arm to latch onto your wrist. “ Star .” He rasps, dismayed. He understands a situation as delicate as this might require improvising and flexibility, but this isn’t something he’s willing to bend to. He’s not letting you leave his sight if he can help it.
You lock eyes over your shoulder, and that split-second look holds a thousand and one words. All of which tell him that you have no intention of leaving him, but Katniss and Peeta don’t know that. The fact that you even offered to go in your current state just to appease Peeta’s worry should be a grand enough gesture of goodwill to extinguish some of that lingering apprehension. 
If Finnick is willing to send you on your merry way to lay the wire without his protection, then why can’t Peeta do the same with Katniss? His thumb brushes the shell of your bracelet before letting you go.
He leans away, listing leisurely against his trident—he’s all lax lines as he regards Katniss and Peeta almost apathetically. “Well?” He raises a brow at them. Your move.
If he was Peeta, he’d pull the baby card, the only good argument he’d have for wanting to stay with her. But Finnick isn’t bringing that to his attention if he’s clearly forgotten.
“Like Katniss said, there’s no problem.” You eye Peeta uncertainly, much like how he looked at you in the elevator. Maybe that’s what makes him concede in the end. “And it’s probably best if you stay up here.” Finally , something Finnick can agree with.
Beetee nods, an infallible thing that conveys no further arguments. “That settles it, then.”
Of course, it isn’t that easy.
The two of you have stalked further away, out towards the outreaches of the tree’s massive roots, speaking in low tones. The distance is intentional and not just to keep him from overhearing anything. Peeta will feel more compelled to stay close to Beetee and watch his back, less likely to sneak off or outright run if he’s the nearest one to him. 
He leans down to hear you better, as you take turns subtly watching Peeta and less subtly watching the trees. 
“It’s almost over.” You mumble. “Not much longer, I’m sure—” Something cuts you off. A soft metallic sound, not so much loud as it is sharp. The sound a spring makes when abruptly bouncing back to its original position. Or, more accurately, the sound of a very taunt, very thin wire. 
In sync, you both turn and watch the suddenly lax wire coiling at Beetee’s feet. You turn to each other. He reads fear in your eyes that he knows is reflected in his own. The wire’s been cut and cut very suddenly. He hears voices so faint he thinks he’s imagining them, before a scream that can only be Katniss rings out. 
You don’t even hesitate to run towards it, which makes sense, he shouldn’t be surprised by it. Katniss is a key factor in their escape if not the rebellion as a whole. Every rebel vowed to put their lives on the line for Katniss and Peeta. Knowing that doesn’t stop his stomach from dropping at the sight of you running head-first into danger. 
“ Star !” He yells after you, but you’re already too far ahead to think about stopping. He tells Peeta, “Stay here and guard Beetee,” before chasing you. 
“Finnick, wait! ” He ignores Peeta calling his name well enough, focusing on not losing you.
Despite your head start, he catches up to you. Quickening his stride, he overtakes you, jumping over a log to skid in front of you. You crash into his chest, but he’s able to steady you. You pant, sagging against him. As tough as you are, the wounds are doing nothing but crippling you.
Making noise isn’t a privilege either of you have right now. There’s no telling where Brutus and Enobaria are skulking around, no telling if Katniss still considered anyone an ally other than Peeta. You’re too hurt for this, and you’re only getting worse. He needs to get you out of the open. Head whipping around frantically to find— “C’mon!” He whispers, steering you away from the moonlit path.
"I need you to hide here, okay?" His voice shakes, heartbeat in his ears as he crowds you behind a tree where large leaves hang low and the grass grows tall. No one will see you here.
"What? No, we need all hands on deck.” You say, a Four phrase you surely learned from him, trying to stand up straight despite the way your shoulders shake. You’re starting to look pale, sweaty from more than the humidity.  “We need to keep Katniss saf—”
"No. No, me and Johanna can handle that. You're hurt—"
"I can still help, Finnick." You beg, moving away from the cover that the tree provides and Finnick can feel the clock breathing down his neck.
" This isn't up for discussion, " He whispers harshly, softening when you flinch back. "I can't watch you and help Johanna at the same time—I know I don't have to, but I will anyway. You know that."
He hears feet hitting the forest floor in the distance and curses.
"Once we handle the other victors and get Katniss and Peeta to the tree, I'll come back for you, okay? Just," you turn towards the sound of someone yelling and he grabs your face, "focus on me. Do you trust me?"
Your eyes are glossy as they look between his, face resolute despite the pain he knows you're in and the absolute hell breaking loose around you both. But for a split, vulnerable second, Finnick sees the mask slip. Your lips quiver as you nod.
"Then, please . Stay here. I'll come back for you, I promise." You grab his wrist, your grip tight. You're scared. He is too. Not just for himself, but for the rebellion. What it'll mean for the cause if this all goes to shit.
He's scared for you.
"I promise ." He repeats, presenting his pinkie for you to take with your own. You hesitate. You hesitate long enough for Finnick to become hyper-aware of the sweat dripping down his neck.
You hook your own around his tentatively, and then certainly. Putting an insurmountable level of trust in him.
He leans forward, lips meeting yours, and he savors the feeling. He’d drink poison from your mouth if it meant he got to kiss you. You're soft against him, but he knows how tough you really are. He knows it must kill you to sit back and let someone else handle the situation, and you're right about them needing all the help they can get. But you're letting him be selfish and he loves you so much. 
"I'll come back." He swears into the air between you and him and you keep your eyes closed. "My Star." He whispers into your hair and hopes you can hear the declaration of love hidden in it. You squeeze his wrist one more time before stepping back.
He waits for you to hide before he runs off to look for Johanna and Katniss.
“Katniss! Johanna!” He sprints through the jungle, down the slope, looking for any sign of either girl and giving up any attempt of discretion. “Where are you?!”  
He leaps through the underbrush, pushing past vines and leaves, coming to a stop when something glints out of the corner of his eye. He reaches his hand out, grounding himself against the bark. On his left, down in a deep ditch, he sees some of Beetee’s wire, but not the spool and neither of the girls that should have been with it. He squats down, squinting at what looks like blood next to the wire. “Johanna!”
No reply. No shout, no groan, nothing. He rushes further down the slope and realizes it’ll only be a matter of time before he stumbles onto the beach, which reminds him he’s working on borrowed time. He turns around, looking up at the slope he just sprinted down.
“ Shit .”
He doubles back, passing that same ditch in time to hear a cannon. It’s not you, he knows it’s not you. You wouldn’t have left your spot after promising him, and no one would even think to look for you there. It’s not a spot someone can just stumble upon. Which means it’s someone else, a complete gamble. The chance of it being a good thing is tragically low. He pushes himself forward, suddenly very worried about how vulnerable Beetee is. There’s no way Peeta actually listened to him, especially not after that cannon.
There’s shouting, and it sounds like Peeta, but he’s very faint and very far away. Almost as soon as Peeta starts yelling, Katniss yells back and she sounds much closer. “Peeta!”   
His relief is quickly followed by fear, fear that he won’t be the first person to get to her. There’s no telling if she’s hurt or not, but she can speak at least, which is a good enough sign for him. 
Another cannon fires right before he rounds back to the tree. He has chills despite how scorching hot he feels. Nothing. He sees nothing . Not a damn thing. His heart sinks.
“Katniss, where are you?!” He yells, chest heaving. He takes a second to scan his surroundings, hoping to see a head of long brown hair or maybe the light glinting off Beetee’s face from wherever he’s hiding. Hopefully hiding. There’s a very real chance one of those cannons was him. Just as he’s about to turn and look in another section, he sees her. Or, more accurately, he sees an arrowhead pointed right at him.
Silence. Neither of them speaks, both panting and wired. He raises his free hand slowly, trying not to give her a reason to let her arrow fly. 
“Katniss.” He had hoped it wouldn’t have come to this, had hoped for a lot, it seems. Hoped that he wouldn’t need Haymitch’s plan B. But it’s the last chance the revolution has and it depends on the next words out of his mouth. “Remember who the real enemy is.”
He holds his breath at the same moment it looks like Katniss holds her. That reaction could mean a lot of things. Could mean Finnick will leave this arena in one piece or it could mean he’ll leave with an arrow between his eyes. 
Please. He prays. Please don’t shoot.
She lowers her bow, slowly and then all at once. They regard each other for a moment. The sound of thunder cracks the silence, making him flinch.
Finnick eyes the gathering clouds warily. Glaring into the swirling storm. Suddenly, he remembers that Beetee said they shouldn’t be anywhere near that tree at midnight. “Katniss, get away from that tree!”
She doesn’t listen. Of course, she doesn’t listen. She must have some kind of death wish, she must not understand just how unlikely it is she’ll survive. She wraps Beetee’s wire around the arrow she had pointed at him and Finnick doesn’t think he can comprehend just how poorly this will end.
She aims at the sky, and Finnick rushes forward on instinct. 
“Katniss, get away from that tree!”
There’s a flash of blinding light as the tree is struck and Finnick goes flying back.
He feels warm. Too warm. The warmest he’s ever been. This heat. It vibrates through him, so deep that his bones must be shaking with it. 
No. 
His muscles. They’re vibrating, they’re tensing, they’re cramping and straining. It leaves him breathless, like a kick to the diaphragm. The pain is almost as blinding as the light was. 
In the second it takes for Finnick’s body to go numb, to become paralyzed, to become deafened by the bombardment of sound, his heartbeat speeds up so rapidly that he can feel it contract and relax. 
Every time he blinks, he loses time. 
He blinks and the hovercraft lifts Katniss’s limp body into the air. Katniss is taken away and he needs to find the others, needs to—Star, Johanna, Peeta, Star, Star, Star —he blinks and he’s fighting to stay awake as they airlift Beetee. 
He doesn’t know when his eyes close, but when he opens them, it’s to the expanded claws of the hovercraft. Fear seizes his chest as the claw descends to him because he knows . He knows if they lift him up, if they take him out of the arena, they’ll never find you. He knows you won’t move. Knows you won’t come towards the sound. Towards the pickup point. Because you promised him. And he promised you.
I promised, I promised, I promised.
He tries to move, to shift, to scream . To give you some kind of sign, some kind of signal. But he can’t. He can’t fucking move.
But even if you do move, you’re too injured, too far.
The metal talons slip underneath him. His eyes blur and he can feel the tears slipping down either side of his face. As he’s lifted, his eyes slip shut and don’t open again for a long time.
DISTRICT THIRTEEN; HOVERCRAFT 
The first time Haymitch talked to you, you called him a jackass. 
Not that it wasn’t well deserved. He was being a jackass. No more than what was usual at the time, but enough to put anybody new off. That wasn’t what happened though. You weren’t put off despite it being your victory tour and having met hundreds of people who were no doubt far nicer to you than he had been.
But that didn’t deter you. You called him a jackass, yes, but not to be mean. It was an observation of a grown man who was purposefully acting like a drunkard. Haymitch was even more of an acquired taste back then than he is now. Instead of scoffing and turning your nose up at him, you left and came back with a flute of what he thought to be champagne, but was actually water. 
Even though you were forced to entertain dozens of people cloying for your attention, you kept an eye on him for most of the night. He would have thought Chaff and Seeder put you up to it, but, even if they had, the fact that you were taking the time to actually look after a stranger was insane to him.
The last time Haymitch talked to you, he reassured you that they would get you out—that he would get you out. You were skeptical, as you always are, but you trusted him. He saw it in your eyes, you let yourself believe, just for a moment, that it was possible. You believed in Haymitch. 
He looks at your picture now, the one Finnick gave him for safekeeping. It’s aged with love. A little worn around the edges, but loved. 
Stop shaking , he tells his hands, stop fucking shaking. He wills his body to listen to him just this once so he can actually look at you. Just let him look at you smiling, so it can replace the last time he saw you. Replace seeing your body getting airlifted by the Capitol with you happy and smiling. Safe and whole. When he hadn’t broken his promise to you and Finnick. When he hadn’t failed you.
-
When Finnick wakes up, it's with the biggest headache known to man and the intuitive feeling that something is very, very wrong. It takes a moment for his brain to tell his body he's awake. And when it does, he’s sore in places he didn’t even know could feel sore. 
He’s on a padded bed. There’s a pain in both of his arms, though he can barely feel them—as heavy and limp as they are at his sides. A twinge in the crease of his left elbow. He tries to bend it and it’s a laborious effort, but when he does, it’s to the unfamiliar sounds of beeping. 
His hearing is back, followed by the smell of antiseptics and burnt hair—the stale taste that comes from sleeping for a while. He’s in a medical ward of some kind. There must be an IV in his arm then, pumping him full of fluids. And in his right arm, there’s a deeper throb. His forearm itches, wrapped in a scratchy gauze—his tracker. Gone now, surgically removed. He tries to open his eyes, but it’s like there are hundreds of anvils tied to his eyelashes.
Star.
He floats in and out of sleep, he thinks. It’s hard to tell. 
The final time he wakes up, it’s to the silver-gray ceiling of a hovercraft. He panics for a second, not entirely sure whose hands he’s wound up in. He paws at the oxygen mask on his face, heartbeat picking up sluggishly. It’s new; it wasn’t here the last dozen times he gained consciousness. When he gets free, he waits for the beeping. But there is none. The IV hangs from the machine on his left. Weakness clings to him like a heavy blanket, tucked into all his joints. 
He pushes himself up, arms straining under his weight. Even that winds him and he sits, dazed. 
Something’s wrong.
He can’t remember, but something, something, something…
Something terrible has happened. 
It’s like his memory is filled to the brim with piles of rope tied in an impossible knot. He pulls and pulls, but there’s no end in sight. A chill goes through him as he swings his legs out from the blanket and over the side of the bed, feet bare. He’s still in his arena getup, though they removed his shirt and there are more than a few sizable holes in his pants. He’s bruised all over. Ugly splotches of purple, blue, and yellow paint the majority of the skin he can see. Various cuts and scratches are twining in between, like vines or the lines of a constellation—
“ Star!” And just like that, the knot unravels. He remembers the feeling of being paralyzed, stuck on the jungle floor as the sun streamed in and Katniss and Beetee were lifted out. He remembers the guttural fear, not at the prospect of death, but because he knew, in your current state, getting there on your own before the hovercraft left was incredibly unrealistic. He remembers how you gripped him as he kissed your forehead. 
But that’s just what he remembers. He’s been asleep for who knows how long, so they must have gone back for you. And Johanna. And Peeta. He does a sweep of the room. To his immediate right, Katniss lies in the same state he did. Only, she’s chained to her bed. To her right is Beetee, hooked up to more wires than he and Katniss had combined. But the reason behind that is the least of his concerns. 
There are more gurneys, all with medical equipment on standby. But they’re empty. All perfectly made, not a sheet out of place. 
He lurches to his feet. His stomach sways almost as much as his vision and saliva fills his mouth as acid burns his chest. There's a reason why you aren’t here with him. An explanation for why he didn’t wake up next to you. Your injuries were more extensive than theirs were. Needed closer monitoring, maybe even surgery. So he just, just needs to find a different medical wing. That’s all.
Each step is a conscious effort. Even now, his body doesn’t feel like his own. Every muscle protests his movement, even his brain. You’re here, on the hovercraft somewhere. He’ll walk every square inch until he finds you, because you are here. He doesn’t know how long it takes him to get to the automatic door. He just knows that there’s a pounding in his head like a grandfather clock. It feels nearby. If he could just press his fingers into his eyes, he could rub away the pain like an aching muscle. 
Instead, he presses his hands against the walls, using them as crutches as he shuffles and limps to—well, he doesn’t know where. He has no idea where he’s going. The lights in the hall nearly blind him, any brighter and his nose will start bleeding again, and whatever brain injury he has won’t allow him to focus on any signs. He needs, needs to…He needs to find Haymitch. 
Haymitch!  
He needs to find Haymitch. He’ll tell him what happened, explain it all away. He’ll bring him to you. He drags his battered body toward the sound of voices. He finally gets to the room where two men are arguing. Haymitch and it takes a moment for Finnick to recognize the calmer voice as Plutarch Heavensbee. Whatever he’s saying, Haymitch doesn’t like it.
“That’s it? Really? You’re a smart man, Plutarch. You and I both know that shit’ll fly over as well as a lame bird. You can’t expect them to just… deal with it.”
“That’s exactly what they’ll do, Haymitch. There was no guarantee they’d all get out of the arena. It’s a shame, but casualties happen in revolutions.”
“Yeah, I’d like to see you look those kids in the eye and say that to their faces. We’ll be lucky if they don’t end up planning a coordinated attack to crash your fancy hovercraft.”
The words he’s hearing don’t make sense, but he attributes it to whatever the hell is wrong with his brain.
The door opening cuts their conversation short. Finnick pants as he leans heavily along the frame. He can’t help but look for you, but the two men are the only ones in the room. Medbay it is, then.
“...Kid.” Something painful flashes in Haymitch’s expression, but Finnick dismisses it. He’s sure he looks pretty beat up, that’s all. “We, uh, didn’t think you’d be up moving around so early.” He approaches Finnick slowly and stares at him expectantly. He’s waiting for something, bracing himself for an approaching wave. 
“Haymitch.” He nearly jumps at hearing his own voice. It’s hoarse and raspy, and he’s acutely aware of how dry his throat is. “How long have I been out?" The older man grabs his shoulder, places a guiding hand on his back, and directs him over to the table they’re speaking over. Something he’s thankful for because he isn’t sure how much longer his legs would have held up. When he leans most of his weight on the cool metal, he realizes it’s more than just that. It depicts moving treetops and mountain ranges in light blue projections, presumably what they’re flying over. 
“Nearly ten hours,” Plutarch answers. Good. More than enough time for you to be out of surgery. 
“Where’s Star?” Haymitch goes still beside him, looking at Plutarch, and then back at him. Your injury must have been worse than any of them anticipated if you’re still in surgery. “Is she still in surgery? Or, or if she’s recovering in a different med bay, I wanna go sit with her—”
“Kid.”
“—I won’t be in the way, I swear. I just, I’ll feel better if I’m with her and I don’t want her to wake up alone—”
“ Finnick .”
He opens his eyes, though he doesn’t remember closing them. His fists are clenched as he leans on them, nails working their way into his palm.
With the kind of blow he received, it’s expected that Finnick will be a bit absent. The medics told Haymitch to prepare himself to talk slower and repeat questions when necessary. But Haymitch didn’t prepare for this. He should have, but he wasn’t expecting the earnest hope in Finnick’s eyes as he determinedly clung to his senses. This has nothing to do with being electrocuted. He genuinely thinks you’re here. As the seconds tick on, Haymitch’s need for something alcoholic claws at him. 
“Here, drink some water. It sounds like you’ve been gargling razor blades.” Haymitch forces him to take it into his weak hands. It goes down uneasily. Though, luckily, it doesn’t come back up. 
The thick silence sits heavily upon them. Before he can ask where you are again, Haymitch sighs. 
“She’s not here.”
“...I know. Tha–that’s why I asked—”
“She’s not here.” Haymitch interrupts him. Finnick can feel his brain working desperately to make the connection, to fill in the blanks—of which there are many. Haymitch pauses, looking to the side and then down. He licks his lips. “We…we didn’t get her out.”
“What? What does—? Wha—” He laughs in disbelief, shock coloring his otherwise pale features. “What the hell do you mean?"  
Finnick sways, his determined gaze faltering to give way to terror. Haymitch prepares to catch him, but he doesn’t fall. He visibly steels himself, but the walls he builds aren’t nearly as high or impenetrable as they usually are. As the truth sinks in, those walls start to crumble, and Haymitch can’t feel sorry enough.
Plutarch takes over, though Haymitch isn’t sure how good of an idea that is. “We were only able to retrieve Katniss, Beetee, and you.”
Finnick doesn’t know what’s worse, that they’ve given up on you so resolutely or the fact that Haymitch doesn’t bother hiding how remorseful he is.
"You said that if we did this, we’d be free. You said you’d get her back to me." He hisses. Despite how his circumstances shaped him, despite how his father tried to raise him, Finnick isn’t a violent person. It’s something he’s capable of, but it doesn’t come easy to him. He wasn’t born with it in him, rather it was tattooed into his skin. You, however, wear violence like a heavy coat you’ve borrowed. It was never meant for you. With that in mind, Finnick lashes out with an anguished scream that rips his throat to shreds.
He lunges forward, his feet still clumsy and his mind disoriented, but Haymitch still struggles to hold him back. Finnick doesn’t know what he’s trying to accomplish, not sure whether he’s attempting to hurt anyone other than himself, but his fist strikes Haymitch’s jaw. 
“Whoa— stop !”
“You were supposed to get her out! What was the point!” Haymitch tries to restrain his wrists. “ What was the point! ”
People rush in. Medical personnel with syringes, ready to put him to sleep. I’ll let them. Before they can get close, Plutarch raises a hand and they freeze. 
"Finnick, we couldn't find her. Or Peeta and Johanna for that matter." He’s calm and rational, distantly sympathetic like Finnick is just overreacting. Like hearing this should be enough for him to see apparent reason. But it only makes it worse because—
"I know where she is! Just turn around and we can get her! Please ." He pleads to Plutarch, to Haymitch, to anyone who’ll listen. 
“Believe me, Kid, I want to go back.” Haymitch grunts. Finnick’s weakened, but he’s not weak. At this rate, Haymitch will be as bruised as he is.
“Then go back .” 
"We're too far away with too little time. We go back, this’ll all be for nothing." Plutarch says. Like there’s nothing else to be done. Like it’s the end of the conversation. And for everyone but Finnick, it is. If you got left behind, then it was all for nothing. He struggles against Haymitch before his body betrays him. The anger that powered his attack evaporates and in its place now stands despair. His legs give out. He’s heaving and practically limp in Haymitch's arms.
Haymitch allows him to sink to the floor, and Finnick allows himself to cry.
Tremors wrack his body as he stares ahead sightlessly, lips quivering as he weeps. Cool air brushes his back like a feather, but he doesn’t even feel it. He can’t feel anything, only your absence. He feels it more than he did over those torturous two years he spent apart from you. 
His shirt had been so badly singed, they had to cut it off of him, is what Plutarch says, but Finnick is done talking to him. The man is saying something else, Finnick can see his lips still moving out of the corner of his eye, but he’s done listening to him too. 
Haymitch puts his cardigan over Finnick’s shoulders and slides a paper into his hands. Instinctively, his thumb rubs over it, over the subtle grooves and creases and he recognizes it even without looking. He presses a kiss to it, dry and cracked lips caressing your picture as he asks you, "What was the point?”
"I just got word from my men.” Finnick looks up, hope clear even through his tears. He should know better than to have hope, but he just can’t seem to help himself when it comes to you. “The remaining four victors in the arena...have been taken by the Capitol. They never took their trackers out."
That breaks him, Haymitch can see it. The kid just, he just deflates . Curls in on himself, forehead touching the ground— sobs .
 “You, you should have left me in there. Why didn’t you leave me in there? I wasn’t,” he gasps, hardly breathing at all. “I wasn’t supposed to get out. Not without her.” 
“I’m sorry, Finnick.”
Finnick says nothing, because what good does that do? Haymitch’s guilt, what good is it? Who does it help? It means nothing to Finnick, nothing to you.
“I’ve given special orders for Annie Cresta’s retrieval, if possible.” Plutarch reminds him. “With Snow’s attention split between the arena and Eleven seizing control of transportation, it should be fairly easy to slip into Four unnoticed. If that’s any consolation.” It’s not.
Eventually, the weeping tapers off. Not the crying, no. When Finnick eventually sits up, the tears are still streaming down his face. Haymitch is used to seeing him trailing behind you with a cocky grin, shoulders back, and carrying arrogance like a shield if his sharp tongue wasn’t enough. The man that Haymitch has grown close to over the years isn’t here, neither is the boy he once was. And neither are you.
“Do you see that?” Haymitch nods over to the shell of Finnick Odair. “You see that reaction? That’s what I tried to warn you about. Now, how do you think Katniss is gonna react? You think she’s gonna be any better?”
“He’s in shock. She will be too. But they’ll have no choice but to see reason.” Plutarch says and Haymitch’s face twists in disbelief. For how strongly he feels for the rebellion, Heavensbee is still Capitol raised. That ignorance shows like a flashing sign now. People aren’t ruled by logic, they don’t make decisions based on what they know to be true, not really. Especially not in this case. Emotions will be high. And considering it’s Finnick and Katniss they’re talking about, the one less adapted for it, they’d be lucky if they don’t go catatonic.
He nods. “Sure, sure. Once they stop seeing ghosts. And as long as their ghosts are leashed by Snow, you’re gonna be short two rebel leaders.” He says. His jaw aches from Finnick’s right hook, and his chest aches for, well, many reasons. And he is shockingly far too sober for the rest of this ride.
“They’re both intelligent people.” Plutarch counters. “They’ll understand that the revolution is more important than any singular person.”
“Of course they’re smart. There’s no doubt about it. But they’re also strong-willed. They’re stubborn . They’re kids. Pair that with them also being… stupidly in love.” Haymitch can see that none of this is particularly clicking with the other man and sighs, throwing his arms up in frustration. “You know what? Nevermind. You’ll find out just how much we need them more than they need us.”  
“Hm.” The ex-Head Gamemaker hums, not entirely convinced. But he will be. God , will he be. He’ll learn the hard way what happens when you live for someone else, and Haymitch will run as much damage control as he can. He’ll keep these two alive even if they hate him for it. He owes you and Peeta that much.
Finnick sits in silence as Plutarch and Haymitch speak in low tones. He thinks Plutarch attempts to talk to him a few times, tries to rope him into the conversation. Maybe to ask for his input or some type of council. But what good is Finnick to the rebellion now? How could he possibly think of the future of Panem when his future is trapped in the Capitol? 
Eventually, Plutarch stops trying, probably dissuaded by Haymitch. Finnick’s standing now, leaning heavily on his hands like he’s drunk. Haymitch must have helped him up.
“Maybe,” he wonders aloud, an open stream of consciousness that he doesn’t bother to censor. He doesn’t need to look at the other men’s faces to know he sounds as desolate as he feels. “Maybe if I’m dead, they’ll let her go.” They could broadcast it live. A hanging or execution by gunfire. Or lethal injection, so he can drift away with thoughts of you. 
Plutarch raises his eyebrows. It’s the first thing the kid has said in the last hour and a half.
Haymitch’s reaction is as upset as Finnick thought it would be.
“No. No, are you crazy? Your dying won’t help anything. Hell, it’ll probably make whatever treatment she gets worse. And you and I both know Snow didn’t take her just to fuck with you.” If Finnick was more present, he would have noticed Haymitch softening. But he’s not and he doesn’t.
Haymitch is right. Of course, he’s right. But it’s increasingly hard to see that past the tears in his eyes.
Later, when Katniss barges in and lashes out, as angry and despondent as he was, and has to be sedated, Finnick sits beside her in the same bed he woke up in. What a cruel twist of fate to be sitting at her bedside, wishing she was someone else while knowing Katniss was doing the same with him.
But there’s nothing to be done for that because he isn’t Peeta, and she isn’t you. And they’re both here when they shouldn’t be.
He stays out of the way as medics bustle around the room. They check her IV drip, measure out more medicine, and contemplate aloud if they should tie her down again. Ultimately they decide against it and leave the room one by one until it’s only them. Three patients in a room that should have held six.
“Katniss. Katniss, I’m sorry.” He apologizes, but even then it doesn’t feel like it’s really her he’s apologizing to. He wants to picture you in her place, lying here beside him, but Finnick’s imagination has never worked that way. 
He stares at your picture.
She mumbles something incoherent, which is more than he thought he’d get from her. Her voice must be shot. She’d been wailing. For so long. Even after they drugged her. He hadn’t minded. It gave him something to focus on other than his thoughts. A ringing in his ears that wasn’t from head trauma or grief. It was the kind of animal-like keening he’d only heard once before—from his father when his mother died.
And then she went deathly quiet. But even before that, she refused to talk to anyone. Like she was a wounded creature surrounded by predators and the only way she could communicate was by screaming and sobbing. He gets it, they wanted to put him on IV fluids as a precaution. You can cry yourself into dehydration and, apparently, he’s already at risk. Luckily, Haymitch talked them out of it.
Not that he would have noticed. Or put up much of a fight. 
“I wanted... to go back for Peeta and Johanna. For Star...” He trails off, blinks his puffy and watery eyes, and tries again. “I wanted…to go back for them, but I, uh, um..." He sniffles, “I couldn’t move ,” he says. Not as an excuse, or an admission of guilt. He doesn't need her to validate or coddle him. He tells her because she has to know, somebody other than him has to know that he tried . 
And that he failed. 
She says nothing, but that deliberate silence speaks volumes.
“They, um, they took her, too. Th–they took…they took Star.” That gets a blink out of her. Or he thinks it does, his eyes feel swollen from crying. They offered him something for it, but he refused. He continues, feeling the need to fill the silence.
“It's better for him than her and Johanna. They'll figure out he doesn't know anything pretty fast. And they won't kill him if they think they can use him against you.” He shrugs even though she can’t see it. “Knowing Snow, he won’t kill Star either.”
“They’re bait…aren’t they, Finnick?” Her speech is delayed as she talks at the ceiling, the sedative doing its job. “But you get rid of bait…when it gets no bites.”  
They should have given her some kind of tranquilizer or anesthetic, those would have put her to sleep. He wishes she was asleep, that her vocal cords were so strained that she couldn’t speak at all. He wishes she hadn’t said that, hadn’t brought logic into his delusion.
He tries to imagine what they’ll do to you, but his mind whites out to the sound of static. No. Not static. Your screams in the arena, once fabricated, but now made real. 
No. 
It’s both. 
Static and screams and static and screams and he covers his ears, weeping. 
“I wish she was dead. I wish they were all dead and we were too.”
-
Epilogue
-
THE CAPITOL
There are snipers at all possible vantage points. 
All hovercrafts have been grounded. 
Should anything be picked up by the sonars, he has given express orders for it to be shot down immediately. He had peacekeepers previously stationed in Two brought to the Capitol overnight, almost tripling their numbers. This close to an attack like that, he can’t afford to be lax in his security. 
Despite the extra muscle milling around, or perhaps because of it, the citizens cheer as he steps out onto the balcony.
Even after all these years, the sight of his faithful, if not at times inane, people falling over themselves at the mere sight of him is invigorating. It’s what he is owed, of course, what he’s due. It’s invigorating all the same.
Coriolanus allows himself to relish the feeling. He’s worked tirelessly to get where he is today, to get his country where it is today. Day after day, making the difficult decisions needed to keep the scales balanced so those unsuited for the task didn’t have to. Moments such as these, it wouldn’t do to squander them.
He raises a hand and a hush falls over the crowd, quelling the unrest. He surveys the audience, taking in their fears and hopes. He has no need to contemplate the approach he should be taking. He knows what his people need to hear. 
“Esteemed citizens. Today, we stand in the shadow of a grievous attack. An assault upon the very heart of our beloved nation. Yesterday's events in the arena were not merely an affront to our sovereignty, but a blatant act of terrorism perpetrated by those who seek to undermine the tranquility and stability we have fought so very hard to maintain since the Dark Days."
He pauses, allowing the weight of his words to settle over the assembly. There are very few people who witnessed the Dark Days firsthand and lived to tell the tale. Even less so now than when the war initially ended, their names almost all lost through death or forgotten by time. Despite that, he made sure the generations that came after were taught about it, and the words ���Dark Days’ became synonymous with ‘horrors beyond comprehension’. Bringing it up has the desired effect. He watches as they shift uncomfortably. 
“I know many of you are concerned by what you witnessed last night. Frightened by the events that have left us all shaken. Your safety is my top priority. I will not deceive you, my dear citizens, I will not shield you from the harsh realities of our world.” A lie. A necessary one. But a lie, nonetheless. “Hear me when I say you have every right to be afraid. Rebels have infiltrated our sanctum, defiled our most cherished institution. They have stolen into our home, wreaking havoc and sowing chaos.”
A murmur ripples through the crowd, a tide of uncertainty underscored by a palpable sense of unease. Fear, apprehension. The perfect state for susceptibility. 
“But, they could not have done it alone. It is with a heavy heart that I must inform you that some of our own, once celebrated as champions—as victors , have now fallen into the clutches of treachery, their allegiance swayed by the insidious whispers of our enemies.” He grips the sides of his podium, leaning forward. “As of today, they shall be branded as terrorists. Enemies of the nation.” He declares and so it is true.
There are gasps and cries of dismay, of outrage. Aghast and stricken, the people begin to speak over each other. Murmurs turn into shouts. He allows it as he already predicted this very reaction. Accounted for it, even. He lets them stew in their despair for a moment longer before raising his hand again. Silence.
“It is a grave tragedy,” he says, voice heavy with somberness he doesn’t feel, “that the people we have allowed into our hearts, have put upon our very shoulders in an effort to uplift them— raise them from their stations, would throw our generosity into the mud and our benevolence into our face. A tragedy,” he nods along to his words. “But not a surprise. While we mourn the loss of innocence, we must also acknowledge a glimmer of hope. We have reason to believe that some of our victors, unwitting pawns in this treacherous game, remain untouched by the poison of rebellion. Swift action was taken to rescue the innocent and the unaware, to shield them from the grasp of those who would seek to corrupt and manipulate them. They were spared from the rebels’ clutches only by our decisiveness to intervene despite great risk. And we will continue to safeguard them from the horrors that would have awaited them at the hands of the rebels.”
There is a discernible note of relief in the air, a whiplash of emotions as they look to him for guidance. He had always been focused on the marketability of a victor, even when he was a boy. How to best sell them to the audience, what skillset should they develop, what makes them charming. As he gained power, climbed the ladder, those questions became someone else’s to answer. But it’s possible he has set the foundation for the job too well. Though it was his intention, the citizens have become far too attached. And the victors, far too comfortable.
“But let me assure you, we shall not cower in the face of fear or despair. Our resolve remains unyielding, our commitment unwavering. We shall stand tall as we unite to root out this insidious threat. Let it be known that those who stand against us are not only enemies of the state but enemies of peace and progress. Enemies of every man, woman, and child in Panem that cherishes the stability and prosperity of our nation.” 
“Even the children?”
“What animals!”
“Where do they draw the line?”
The irony of their outrage isn’t lost on him. It’s why he said it, after all.
"Our path forward is clear. We shall embark upon a thorough investigation of every remaining victor and sift through the ashes of betrayal to discern friend from foe. We shall leave no stone unturned, no shadow unexplored. And mark my words, justice will be swift, and it will be absolute."
A sense of righteous fury and determination sweeps through the crowd as if they’re getting ready to fight the war themselves. He would scoff under his breath if didn’t irritate the sores. Realistically, many of them would think about this for a week, a week and a half at the most, before moving on. Shopping frivolously, partying excessively, hoarding their wealth gratuitously. Living naively in the bubble he formed for them. Over half a century later and Coriolanous is still bitter that they’ve never had to understand the disparity. But that is how it must remain, this is what he strived to keep. The Capitol citizens relishing their opulent lives as a right and not as the privilege it actually is.
"Together, we shall weather this storm. Together, we will emerge stronger, more united than ever before. For in the end, it is not the darkness that defines us, but the strength of our collective will to overcome it.” He stands resolute as the cameras zoom in, just as he instructed them to. Fervent applause echoes around him so loudly, it wouldn’t surprise him if it could be heard across the Capitol. He raises a hand in farewell, his mind already turning towards the trials that lay ahead. He finishes with, “Panem today, Panem tomorrow, Panem forever.”
-
“Panem today, Panem tomorrow, Panem forever.”
“And that was our brilliant president, making sure to reassure us all in these uncertain times.” Caesar Flickerman opens after Coriolanus’s speech. Showmanship has certainly become more wooden since the days of Lucky Flickerman, but it was a change needed to fit the times. He’s paid to be a distraction and he does it well.
“Wonderful speech.” His cohost, whose name he doesn’t know and doesn’t care to know, tacks on. He has no idea how the man has kept his job for as long as he has while being utterly forgettable. Though, it’s most likely they’ve just forgotten to fire him.
“Wasn’t it? Doesn’t it just make you wanna get out there and kick some rebel butt?” Caesar throws one of his legs out in the semblance of a high kick before breaking into his clenched jaw laughter.
“Now, although no names have been officially said, I do have my fingers crossed about which victors were saved.”
“You know, I hadn’t even thought of that, Caesar. I know I’ll be in the minority in this, but, out of all the victors left in the arena, I hope Enobaria was saved.”
“ Really?”
At the mention of her, he recalls the image of four victors strapped down to gurneys and unconscious.
He could have done without the woman from two, Enobaria. The rebels know better than to allow a potential mole in on their plot. As such, she’s completely useless to him, most likely to just be sent home. Johanna Mason, always so willful, so self-assured—well, no longer. He’ll see to that. 
Capturing Peeta was almost better than capturing Katniss herself. He told her to convince him of their romance and convince him, she did. It was nothing short of pure stupidity to leave him behind, but Snow isn’t wasteful. He’ll have a use for him undoubtedly, and he’ll have it soon.
And you. It wouldn’t be hard to find out if you had any part in the rebellion, and he knows you must have. For all your supposed obedience, you’re still defiant at heart. You can bat those pretty eyes of yours however much you want, it doesn’t hide the hate in your gaze. He chuckles. Always so resentful. But you’re far more clever about it than Ms. Mason and far more convincing than Ms. Everdeen at hiding it. They’ll squeeze every last drop, every morsel of information out of you—-he’ll see to that personally. 
A clash was inevitable, it had been too long since the rebels had last made their move. Katniss and the heat her win garnered had all but handed them their opportunity on a silver platter. All of it was an annoyance, one he’d been preparing for. And, truly, it seems Coriolanus has gained much more than he’s lost.
There’s a knock at the door that breaks him from his musings, followed by a Peacekeeper pushing it open. Behind them stood a timid girl, one of the assistants.
“President Snow?”
“Yes.”
“Your granddaughter is waiting.”
Coriolanus hums and says nothing else, the sound of leather rubbing against leather as he squeezes his hands into fists making her squirm.
He decided long ago to lead by example when teaching his children etiquette and virtues, and his grandchildren after them. Punctuality is one of them. With that in mind and without looking away from the recap, he says, “Very well. Bring her in.” No point in keeping her waiting. The girl rushes to do just that, almost tripping over herself when he uses two gloved fingers to motion her in. 
She sets up the communication device, connecting the call, and his granddaughter’s grinning face is projected before him.
“Grandpa!”
“Hello, darling.” He smiles briefly, irritating the sores in his mouth. “Was there something you wanted to share?” He wonders momentarily if she was saddened by his announcement, knowing how much she idolized the victors.
“I learned a new song today! Would you like to hear it?”
“Did you?” He asks though he knows saying she ‘learned’ anything is being very generous. “By all means.”
Calliope places the violin between her shoulder and her chin, getting into the correct position. She knows that much at least. Discreetly, he lowers the volume right before she drags the bow across the strings. He winces once she starts playing, another word used loosely, lowering the volume even more. She’s abysmal, to put it simply. So bad, in fact, that he can’t notice the improvement she and her instructor swear is there—he never does. 
But she only started her lessons very recently, she’s a novice. Unlike you, the entire reason she even wanted to take lessons. Your skill with the violin is truly something to marvel at. After your moving performance, she’d been taken with the idea of playing herself. He’s happy that was her main takeaway from that night. And you’re a far better person to emulate than Katniss Everdeen. 
Coriolanus, for a long time now, has been of the mindset that music is only good for causing trouble. And he’s been proven right time and time again. Despite that, he’s always been partial to your playing. The way the notes soar and dance through the air, each one carrying its own emotion and story. You become one with your instrument, movements sure and fluid like you’re channeling something other .
You’re not a singer, it’s part of why he prefers you. You played so often, not because you enjoyed it, but because he willed it. Perhaps that’s where he went wrong in the past. He didn't need a performer. A bird couldn't truly be tamed without breaking its wings, after all. They were meant to entertain you with their primitive songs from afar, heard not seen. Birds weren’t meant to be cared for or doted on. 
You, however, invoke memories of the wayward lap dogs that once roamed the desolate streets during the Dark Days—lost, yet in need of guidance and a firm hand. You responded with surprising grace to both rewards and punishments. The sort of unwavering loyalty that could be harnessed. Akin to those loyal canines who, once taken in, never strayed far from their master's side. Indeed, there was no need to break you; you were already tamed, domesticated by circumstance and necessity.
His mind wanders to a time long past, to his grandmother's cherished garden. He remembers the times she would force him up to the roof to help her, tending to the whims of the temperamental woman and her equally temperamental plants, diligently pruning away the encroaching weeds. He could never claim to have a green thumb, but there was one plant he remembers being fond of: lavender. A hardy plant that survived longer than many of his neighbors had and was always so rewarding to see grow. Splashes of purple and green on the ever-present backdrop of gray had made those days a little less dreary. The memory brings a faint smile to his lips that leaves just as fast as it arrived. 
The woman is long since dead and so is her garden.
Coriolanus absently adjusts a vase of pristine white roses on his desk, contemplating the parallels between you and that resilient lavender plant.
So, yes. Perhaps you aren't an animal at all. Instead, a flower that endures. Beautiful and useful. And a Snow only surrounds themselves with the best. 
You’ll need tending to, of course, some nurturing. Just as well. You have quite a few weeds he'll need to prune, but he’s certain the end result would be just as rewarding as those sprouting lavender buds in his grandmother's garden. He’ll need that splash of color in the foreground of this eternal war.
And who knows? Perhaps he’ll have gotten you under control in enough time to have you perform at Calliope’s birthday celebration. You might even be able to train her yourself. A mentor yet again.
While Calliope continues to play, his eyes drift back to the recap. 
“Now, let's lighten the mood a bit, shall we? Did you catch that electrifying moment between two victors? I mean, talk about sparks flying!”
“Pun intended, I hope?”
“You know it, Claudius. Ha ! If you don’t know what I’m talking about, or you were unlucky enough to miss it, two of our very own victors shared a fiery moment on the beach.” They pull up a short video of your and Finnick’s pitiful display on the beach. “ Oh, the passion! It was so unexpected, so intense, that yours truly couldn't contain his excitement, and well, I might have had a little tumble. But fear not, because we've got the clip ready for your viewing pleasure. Let's roll it!" 
“What’s this?” Finnick pulls you forward into a deep kiss with crashing waves and the setting sun in the background. “I—excuse me.” Caesar holds up a finger before passing out. 
"Ah, classic Caesar, always getting carried away by the drama!” He speaks in the third person, laughing at himself as the clip of him is played again in slow motion. “But seriously, folks, wasn't that kiss something else? Oh, what a moment! I think I need a fan myself after that!" 
"I was on the edge of my seat, practically squatting the whole night!" 
"Words right out of my mouth. Is it possible this fiery little dalliance flew under our radar all these years?"    
"You know, I wouldn't be surprised. Those two had always been prett y close. So cute." 
"Too true, my friend. Too true. And you can bet your Capitol couture that we'll be talking about those two in-depth later.  For now, let's dive into more highlights from the Games. Who impressed you the most? Which victors left you speechless with their skills? Which death rocked you the hardest? Share your thoughts with us about our all-star season, because the excitement never ends here at Capitol TV!"
-
END OF PART 1
A/N: I know this was a doozy, like WOOO. right? But that's the end of part 1, next part is mockinjay. might take a hiatus in between just to breathe and like, give me some air and time to plan. Come yell at me over on tumblr!!!!
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aro-comics · 9 months
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Aros In Relationships - Update Post
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Oh god, everyone, it’s been SO long. I Just wanted to say (even if the bulk of my life updates soon here), that I’ve missed you all so so much, and I’m so glad I get to finally be able to share my work on these. It’s certainly been a long time coming.
But onto my personal note for this series - I’m really grateful that I’ve had the chance to transcribe their stories. Talking to these people, hearing their stories, their words … I can’t even describe how many times I couldn’t believe what I was hearing/reading, because everything they were saying felt so similar to something I would have said. I almost felt like they were reading out the thoughts and experiences in my own head!!
And I guess that’s why they call it a community – we do have a lot in common! But obviously, our experiences haven’t been identical on the romance front, and it was really nice to get to hear from other aromantic people about what this is like.
Image Descriptions:
Title Card: Cover Image. This Comic series is titled “Aromanticism and Romantic Relationships”. A subtitle underneath says that it is a collaborative sketch comic series. Four people are illustrated on the cover. On the far left is Arrow, a person with an undercut and wavy brown hair. Standing next to them is Lucien, who is wearing a hoodie and a collar with a pentagram charm. They have short brown hair and tan skin. Further to the right is Dot; she has pale skin with light freckles, long slightly curly brown hair in a high ponytail, and a grey hairband. On the very right is May, who has long curly brown hair, tan skin, and is wearing a maroon shirt with a striped dark jacket, and a necklace with a ring on it.
Slide 1: Celia  faces the reader, hand at the back of her neck. “Hey everyone – it’s been an eon (ok, like a year or so). I’ll explain more about where I’ve been on my tumblr, but for this series I thought I’d make an intro for what it’s all about.”
Slide 2: Celia continues,  “A while back, I was asked to make a comic about being in a romantic relationship as an aro person – Which, given the nature of my comics –I can’t really do, because I’ve never dated anyone.”
Slide 3: “Thankfully, some arospec people who had been in romantic relationships reached out – and were really kind in volunteering their time and personal stories to help me record their perspectives.” 
Celia sits at a table, typing away at her laptop while interviewing May. Celia says: “Wait – you too?” in surprise as she realizes she relates to the story May is telling her. They reply: “Yeah! And when…” as they continue their story. 
Slide 4: “And they’ve had *such* incredible patience for me these past two years I chipped away at these comics –” 
A scene from the two years it took to get this comic series out the door. This was during Celia’s completion of her university thesis project. She holds a draft in her hands, reading out to the participant that she calls on her phone, “On page 9, I wasn’t sure exactly what to draw… I could show the progress of what y’all did on the date?” 
They reply: “That works! The sketch is mostly accurate…”
In the background, references to upholstering a bench like padded chair, design sketches, and a poster with a map and circled possible apartment locations is depicted. 
Slides 5-6: The scene switches to a group shot with Celia and the participants. She stands with one hand on her hip and the other outstretched, gesturing to them. 
 “So, without further ado – please welcome May, Arrow, Dot, and Lucien!”
The four are sitting at a table with nameplates set in front of them. Arrow waves a hand at the reader, while Lucien has their arms folded and resting on the table. May and Dot both smile in a friendly manner at the reader. 
Celia continues, “You’ll be hearing from them over the course of this series – which I’ve adapted as long form comics like my “What is Love” comic over on my tumblr.”
Slide 7: “My process for these comics was highly collaborative. I worked together with these people as I wrote the script and drew the storyboard, because I want to be as authentic to their voices as possible. If they read a little different from my usual work – that’s because they are! And I hope you’ll enjoy getting the chance to hear from other Arospec folks' perspectives.”
Slide 7: “I’ll share each person’s comic with their cover page on Tumblr – the whole thing!” The cover page for May’s comic is shown, decorated with doodles of stars. It has the caption: “May – They/Them * Aro Demiace”
“And in parts with a collaborative IG account opened for each person’s comic.”
Also shown is a screenshot of an account named arosinrelationships_may. The description of the account reads: “May’s comics as part of @aro_comics series posted here”
Celia signs off on the note ‘See you soon!’ and a heart.
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heartbeat-eras · 2 months
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~Intro Post ~
Hi everyone!
Long time cardiophile in the community but just discovering tumblr for the first time.  Please bear with me while I work this out 😅
About me:
My first memory was me, maybe 3 years old, with my head on my Mums chest asking her what that was. Ever since then it’s always been a thing I’ve been fascinated in. 
My cardio-interest can be many things and have evolved over the years. I have the curiosity about what certain things make it do. How it reacts to exercise or caffeine or nicotine or standing different ways. How holding your breath makes it skip and slow down. I love seeing the reactions to different things. This was the era I started in. 
Then there is the emotional side. The heart can’t lie. If you had a stethoscope on my chest right now, while these words could be trying to portray confidence - you you hear her thrashing in my chest with nervousness / excitement. (Talking about hearts, even anon, gives me anxiety). It’s one of those things that in my real life I would love to be more open about but the level of trust to do that is something that needs to be earned. 
And the dark / …. Adult side… if you asked me years ago I would have said hell no. It depends on the day, month, mood, etc. I’m more open to it these days. Electro, breath play and cpr is what I would lean into, but I’m either in the mood or definitely not. There’s no in between. 
RP / Messages - I’ve never RP before. Maybe I want to try? I’m not sure. I need to be comfortable to talk about hearts so it would have to be a slow intro into it. I also never know how to answer a blind message saying “how’s your heart?”  It kinda feels intrusive and personal so unless it’s a comment about a post PLEASE just start how you would any message to any friend 😊
About my heart
My heart wasn’t all the exciting. Sleeping she gets into the high 40s - low 50’s. Just sitting around working she’s chill around 68. It’s the exercise that gets her. I’ve been a smoker for about 16 years (the last 3 of those vaping instead). When I exercise she shoots up and stays in the 170-188 range on a run. Her recovery is ok considering nic. Slows down initially pretty quickly but says just about 100 for a while. She doesn’t throw many skips and I can induce a couple from a breath hold / push but usually will just beat really slowly after that. 
… well all that was until 6 month ago. Yo girl was diagnosed with ADHD as an adult and started on stimulants. Now she feels completely different. I needed to go through the full heart check prior to this, I wanted so bad to see the ECG and see her beating but I was mentally not in a good place and didn’t get to. 
They say that Dexadrine is meant to only increase your resting by 5-7 beats. I would end up sitting at my desk and her beating away happily in the 90s. I haven’t exercised yet but when they wear off at night I can definitely feel her pounding a bit harder and faster than she used to. I’ve now noticed late at night she will occasionally get skippy and throw 5 or 6 beats in a row. But only occasionally and then goes back the normal pounding rhythm. 
Last night I wore my chest strap to bed to see how she was behaving. When she would usually be around 50, last night she didn’t get lower than 65. Today I decided to test her and record her without getting up and taking my meds. A true resting test. She was steady around 68 for 45 mins. Then she increased to about 72 as they kicked in. So maybe they weren’t lying. Maybe just being up is enough to jack her up into the 90s 🤔 she is pounding really forcefully though. I think I’m going to continue monitoring and see if this the norm. 
Anyway, you’ve made it this far you probably deserve some of her sounds. After she didn’t take off into the 90s like I thought she would I decided it was time to have my morning nicotine. This is where the changes took place. A short sound for you to hear hear speeding up. This is before I’ve stood up still. 
What do you hear? How fast is she beating? What do you think she’s feeling? 
Soon I’ll try some exercise and we will see how that goes. 😅
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feyres-divorce-lawyer · 7 months
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*claps and rubs hands together* alright you miscreants, behold! epic literature provided by moi
~ You Might Be King Of Half The World, But You’ll Not Own Me As Well by WickedTheRedHorse (a literal masterpiece, i’m being so serious rn. when i say i only ship fanon darklina, this is what i mean)
~ the reports associated with my existence have been significantly misconstrued by davidstennant (multi-media fics aren’t usually my jam, but this, this is good jam. exquisite jam. would gladly slather it over some challa bread and feast) [note: hasn’t been updated since may last year]
~ Liar’s Waltz (based on the poll) by @sunlightsage (first rhysta fic i ever read🤌🏾🤌🏾)
~ House of Mirrors by ae_neon (love a widow whose husband died under mysterious circumstances — @ae-neon)
~ Burial Rites in Crepuscular Hours by Existential_Teatime (badass alina rights, badass alina wrongs, when she makes the darkling question his intelligence>>>)
~ #8024 by SimplyAnotherWriter (marinette in arkham. that’s it)
~ The Journey to You by Thisishowitbegins (responsible for my resolute belief that timinette is the superior maribat ship, can’t believe this the author’s debut fic) [note: updates may be long as author grew incredibly busy]
~ Feylin Oneshots by Bookish_Gal (let’s be honest here, it’s by @bookishfeylin, need i say more. if you haven’t read it, what are you doing? alexander and adora live on my heart. also dragon tamlin, like hello???)
~ A Court of Frost and Embers by Midnight_Wishes (i made a whole, 6 minute long tiktok abt this on my first acc (that got banned because that clock app is so damn sensitive) really took my feycien obsession from brainworm to brainrot. the absolute longing and devastating angst because lucien knows feyre needs to break the curse yet falls for her anyway, but feyre doesn’t know so she just thinks lucien’s avoiding her for no reason. crushes my heart in the best way. and their calanmai scene, whew) [edit: @goforth-ladymidnight is the author’s tumblr)
~ heaven can’t help me now by disarmed (completed, perfect, there aren’t enough feycien infidelity fics out there)
~ The Girl and the Wolf by MythNinesevenine (miss janet dreams that she was as good at writing as @longsightmyth, DREAMS, i said)
~ A Court of Family Secrets and A Court of Flames and Shadows by flamesandshadows (feyre not going back to rhys after she finds out, nesta not going on that stupid hike, feycien friendship revival, eris and elain sibling relationship, elucien, azris, feyre ruling hewn city. literally all i could ask for)
~ Riddles in the Dark by flamesandshadows (feyre never gets sa’d utm. that’s it)
~ Sacrifice by flamesandshadows (rhys doesn’t get his powers back in acowar)
~ Reputation by flamesandshadows (nyx learns that his family isn’t as innocent as he grew up believing, especially his father. my favorite part, he goes absolute ape shit and deadass almost kills rhysand when he finds out what happened utm)
~ The Great Ikea Game by IcedAquarius (have you ever played hide and seek in ikea with your brothers and then you meet a girl that helps you with god-like magic because she’s bored? well that happens to damian wayne) [first work in an incomplete series but this work itself is completed]
~ Second Best by stormpill (Second Best Cinematic Universe is an actual collection with 75 works across 15 fandoms, Inspired by Second Best - stormpill is an actual tag. SB was a cultural reset. two sun summoners? genius. fjerdan barbie is the best inside joke i know. this shit was so good y’all, i’m so sad it was deleted)
~ Dragonlight by Anonymous (tgt/asoiaf crossover. alina lands in king’s landing (ha, get it) and ends up in a sacrifice by that mad king dude to bring back dragons, except due to her small science, it works. so now alya’s a dragon mama to six firebreathing cuties. alina and that rhaegar dude (that’s his name right?) marry to protect alina from his father cuz bro is called the mad king for a reason. political intrigue, yum.) [sporadic updates]
Veiled Wings and Shattered Panoramas — A Series by Dragonfly08 (@dragonfly0808 S4 REWRITE IS TOMORROW🥳🥳. best winx rewrite like ever. netflix wishes, WISHES, that they could ever be as good as writing winx as dragonfly is. btw A Withering Pretense is the best rewrite, argue with your mother)
if you don’t read at least one of these, i will cry🙂
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xxspirit · 4 months
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Hi guys!! Sorry I haven’t been active for a while, just wanted to check in since it’s been like half of a month lool
I was taking a break from tumblr and drawing in general to focus a bit more on school, but now I think I’m stuck in art block which is poo cause I wanna draw now rgrgrggr 😡😡😡
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But I figured I could share with you my upcoming projects that I’ll be working on sooner or later:
✦first I have some asks, about 4-6 of them I can’t can’t remember how many :V I’ve been trying to work mainly on 3 of them, but haven’t really gotten anywhere :c
✦Second I have a silly comic idea I want to draw soon. featuring the baby boy- well it’s mainly about Dream and swap but baby boy will be there too- I’m waiting to start after I respond to at least 1 or 2 asks
✦I want to do something for Christmas, prolly nothing big but something simple and sweet, which I’m aiming to post it on Christmas or the day before(I’m thinking of drawing sum ship kids for this one :>)
✦I have super cute Dreamberry drawing idea, I’m hoping to make it animated(gif)!! Have no clue when I’ll make this but I really am excited about the idea and I hope I stick with it
✦finally, I was also thinking I could do art dump for end of the year- kinda like a new year special—idrk(not posted drawings, unfinished pieces & decent doodles)
And that’s all for now, I’m hoping to get this all posted before the end of the year, I do have a break coming too, which will be awesome so I can have more time to draw but ya-
Thanks for letting me blabber! Hope u have a good day or night!! ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧
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fanby-fckry · 24 days
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🕸️ angie-fluffy-bootz Follow
4 hr. ago
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🌈 hells-disney-princess Follow
18 min. ago
🥺
🕸️ angie-fluffy-bootz Follow
3 min. ago
alright, alright, princess puppydog eyes. i’ll keep healing.
#fr tho thanks charlie #i think i needed to hear that #irl source
( 104 notes )
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🪡 niffty-lady Follow
24 min. ago
smut writing tips: sexualise guilt
#writeblr writing tips #irl source
( 3,510 notes )
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🕸️ angie-fluffy-bootz Follow
1 hr. ago
You can't spell advertisements without putting semen between tits
🎀 charlies-angel Follow
1 hr. ago
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🕸️ angie-fluffy-bootz Follow
1 hr. ago
I’m right tho
#cut me some slack vaggs #i’m trying to distract myself from fomo intimacy issues and crushing shame #irl source
( 6,966 notes )
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📻 real-radio-demon Follow
2 hr. ago
I like the term "gallows humor" because it always makes me think of someone getting sentenced to death and thinking "I have GOT to be the funniest person at my public execution"
📻 real-radio-demon Follow
2 hr. ago
Your impending execution should be your second priority! Your first priority should ALWAYS be your commitment to the bit!
🐸 jest-fizzarolli Follow
2 hr. ago
remember, they can’t kill you if you never tell them the punch line 😎👉👉
#jester’s privilege #irl source
( 55,728 notes )
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🕸️ angie-fluffy-bootz Follow
3 hr. ago
What’s the word for horny but not in a sexual way like I’m horny for Halloween but I don’t wanna fuck a pumpkin you feel
🎀 charlies-angel Follow
2 hr. ago
do u mean excited
🕸️ angie-fluffy-bootz Follow
2 hr. ago
That’s it the bitch, thanks Vaggs
#changed my mind tho #would fuck a pumpkin #irl source
( 649 notes )
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🪡 niffty-lady Follow
3 hr. ago
i don’t have rizz i have one (1) big doll eye and many unsettling things to say
#irl source
( 1,622 notes )
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🕸️ angie-fluffy-bootz Follow
4 hr. ago
The fact that makeup is considered to be “mature” and “sexulized” implies that being a clown or mime is the sluttiest job out there
🐸 jest-fizzarolli Follow
3 hr. ago
damn, angel, just @ me next time
#🤪 #jester’s privilege #irl source
( 17,379 notes )
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🌈 hells-disney-princess Follow
5 hr. ago
how can people be so rude and not feel bad afterwards… When I don’t say thank you or don’t smile back I’ll think about it for 3 months straight and have flashbacks
#vent post #🌈 posts #irl source
( 18 notes )
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🕸️ angie-fluffy-bootz Follow
Jul 1
if I make it outta this alive, I’m gonna tell my crush I’m in love with him.
🕸️ angie-fluffy-bootz Follow
Jul 1
fuck
🕸️ angie-fluffy-bootz Follow
Jul 3
ya know, I don’t think I’ve confessed to someone and meant it in over a decade?
🕸️ angie-fluffy-bootz Follow
Jul 3
haha would it be crazy if I said I forgot how?
🕸️ angie-fluffy-bootz Follow
Jul 5
today’s the day. i’m gonna do it.
🕸️ angie-fluffy-bootz Follow
5 hr. ago
guess what I did not do yesterday
#fuck why is this so hard? #i don’t know what’s wrong with me #fuck i need a drink
( 316 notes )
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🍎 luci-goosey-666 Follow
Jul 4, 2013
Do you think Dad stays in Heaven because He too lives in fear of what He's created?
🍎 luci-goosey-666 Follow
6 hr. ago
I made this post 7 years ago after my wife left me and my life was falling apart.
These 7 years have been some of the darkest times in my life, and considering how fucking ancient I am, that’s really saying something.
I thought humanity was beyond cruel, that Sinners were nothing but awful, irredeemable monsters. My daughter and her hotel have taught me otherwise.
My life is finally looking up. I’m starting to regain a sense of clarity I haven’t had since fucking Eden. And I have her, her Fallen gf, and their rag-tag bunch of Sinners to thank for that.
So thank you, Charlie. I’ve said it in person, but I’ll say it again here. Thank you for showing me that the gift of free will was not wasted. That what I did wasn’t all bad. I love you, sweetie.
#wholesome
( 92,616 notes )
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⬜️ voxblr-meta Follow
7 hr. ago
Fanby’s Fake Dash Masterpost
#meta #fake tumblr dash
( 29 notes )
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alphajocklover · 28 days
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Unmoved
**beta read by my friend J-bro. Had to post on mobile cause tumblr was being weird. Hope it still looks good**
For the 11th time in his life, Maxwell Hawthorn was moving.
It was his senior year of highschool, shortly after Maxwell’s 18th birthday, and once again Maxwell was moving. The Hawthorns, which consisted of Maxwell, his parents, and his younger brother Chase, were a military family, Maxwell's father being a low level General. Even for military families, the Hawthorns moved a lot. Where most military families moved every two to four years, the Hawthorns moved almost annually, much to Maxwell's frustration. Since he was 5 years old he had moved nearly every year, each time moving to a different state and a different school with a different house. When he was younger Maxwell had been a friendly, adventurous kid who easily made friends, but after making friends just to lose them over and over again Maxwell had formed an anti-social, almost jaded personality. He never got close to anyone anymore, almost always keeping to himself. He kept his room almost completely bare, since he knew he’d probably need to move eventually, and avoided connections. Even his hobbies, mainly sketching and writing, were done alone. Until recently Maxwell had been resigned to the fact that he would probably not make any meaningful friendships till college. But there was something different about this move. He wasn’t just moving, he was moving back.
Willistown was where Maxwell had spent his final 2 years of middle school, and despite only having stayed there 2 years it was the place Maxwell had been most reluctant to leave. It had been before highschool started, so his spirit hadn’t been completely crushed yet, and unlike many of his other schools he had actually been able to make friends. Hell, he had been almost popular. He had actually connected with people and gotten out of his shell. Maxwell had been crushed when he had to leave. He tried to keep in touch with his friends, but he hadn’t heard from Leon or Marigold, his two best friends from Willistown Middle school but he hadn’t heard from either of them in years. Leon had been like a brother to Maxwell, one who shared his love of art and his social awkwardness, well Marigold had been his first crush and girlfriend (though, as it was a middle school relationship, all they did was hold hands). Despite losing touch, Maxwell hoped his old friends would make the final year of highschool more bearable, or maybe even enjoyable.
As Maxwell entered his second class at Willistown high he was worried he had been too hopeful. So far no one had recognized him, or even seemed to remember him. It had probably been too much to expect everyone to welcome him warmly or act like he was an old friend. It had been 3 years after all, and he didn’t remember everyone either. Still he was starting to worry that maybe he had gotten his hopes up too high. Homeroom had been boring as hell, and the school seemed pretty obsessed with sports. The upcoming football season for the Willistown Wolves was all anyone could talk about. Still he hoped he could find someone who remembered him.
“Max?”
Maxwell looked up from his sketchbook to see a truly impressive sight. The jock in front of him was over 6 feet tall, with long dark black hair and piercing sapphire blue eyes. He had a sharp jawline, a charming smile, and bulging muscles that were hidden by his letterman jacket. Maxwell could immediately tell that this was the big man on campus, the stereotypical golden boy, the prom king. This was-
“Leon?” Maxwell realized in shock, almost dropping his sketchbook
“Hell yeah bro! It’s been years dude, how the fuck are you?” The large jock said as he took Maxwell into a bro-hug that Maxwell, in his shock, responded to in kind. “The hell are you doing here man, I haven’t seen you in years!”
“I, I moved back. Today's my first day. I tried to tell you but I guess you changed your phone number or something.” Maxwell sheepishly said “Leon, what… happened to you?” Maxwell asked in shock
Leon cockily flexed one of his biceps, letting it strain the fabric of his jacket “Hehe, yeah, I guess I have changed over the years. Joined the football team in freshman year. Turned out I was a natural athlete.” Leon said. “But look at you man, you haven’t changed a bit. Still got your head stuck in your sketchbook and shit.” Leon said with a deep, slightly dull chuckle.
Maxwell was in shock. The nervous, artistic kid he had been best friends with had been replaced by a huge, cocky, arrogant jock. He didn’t expect Leon to be the same guy he was 3 years ago, but he hadn’t expected him to change that much. He was unrecognizable, and looked like he’d probably have more in common with the jocks who usually made Maxwell’s life hell than he would with Maxwell.
“Bro, we need to hang out after school sometime. Catch up and shit. I got football practice afterschool today but we can meet up after that.” Leon said with a charming smile, playfully punching Maxwell’s shoulder in a way that really hurt. Maxwell scowled at the punch, but held his tongue. This was Leon. He had been his best friend. Even if he was a dumb jock now, Maxwell had to give him a chance.
“Uh, sure. I’ll see you then…” Maxwell said quietly. Leon grinned a charming grin and strut over to his own desk.
Art class had been… interesting. Maxwell had spent most of the class watching Leon chat with his fellow jocks, thinking about how much his old friend had changed. It was clear that 3 years hadn’t just changed Leon physically, but mentally as well. Leon seemed to have lost all interest in art, and was only taking art for an easy A. As Maxwell made his way to the cafeteria for lunch he wondered how his friend had changed so much. 3 years was a long time, but it still seemed like a drastic change in personality. Maxwell was so lost in thought he almost walked straight into… one of the most attractive girls he ever met. Long blonde hair, beautiful green eyes, pouty red lips, d cup tits and a juicy ass, she looked like she had walked right out of a teenage boy's wet dream. Maxwell was so flustered he nearly didn’t recognize her
“Oh my god, Marigold?” Maxwell asked in shock. The blonde in front of him gave a haughty sneer as she looked over Maxwell. Thoroughly unimpressed “Uh, it’s Marie. And who exactly are you?” Maxwell, shocked by her entitled tone, looked at her in shock for a moment. Before he could answer another familiar voice interrupted
“Marie, babe! There you are.” Leon said, strutting over to the blonde without acknowledging Maxwell. He grabbed her by the hips, his manly fingers sinking into her juicy ass, and kissed her deeply and dominantly. Marie almost moaned into the kiss, a submissive, lust filled look coming over her
“Hey baby…” she said, slightly breathless as, after what seemed like forever, the kiss ended. Leon grinned cockily, and finally noticed the shocked Maxwell
“Oh hey Max! Didn’t see you there bro!” Leon said with a charming grin as he put his arm around Maries waist
“Max?” Marie asked, sudden recognition shining in her eyes. She grinned, a happy unrestrained grin that made her look completely different from before and reminded Maxwell of the nerdy girl he had dated “Oh my god, it’s been years! What are you doing here Max?” She asked kindly
Leon answered before Maxwell could “Max just moved back babe! We’re going to be spending senior year with him!” He said excitedly.
“It’s Maxwell.” Maxwell corrected, his voice slightly shy. “And… yeah, I’m spending my senior year as a Willistown Wolf.” Marie lit up at this.
“That's totally awesome Max! I mean, Maxwell.” The blonde said perkily
“You too Marigold. Or should I say Marie?” Maxwell asked, a questioning look on his face. Marie blushed slightly, as if being reminded of an embarrassing old memory
“Yeah. I decided to start going by Marie about 2 years back. Marigold was a little… frumpy, you know?” She said with a bashful smile. Maxwell nodded in agreement, even though he didn’t really agree. What was wrong with Marigold? He always thought that name was pretty. He changed the subject, not wanting to make things more awkward than they already were.
“... So… Since I’m new here, and I don’t have many friends… would you guys mind if I sat with you?” Maxwell asked. Leon and Marie’s faces fell almost in unison, and an awkward feeling came over the trio. Leon was the first to speak.
“Uh, sorry bro. The people we hang out with these days can be kind of… picky, about who sits with them. You gotta prove yourself to them before they let you in. Marie and I have a reputation and shit now and…”
Maxwell didn’t need to hear anymore. Each word was like a dagger to his heart. He tried to keep his emotions in check as he answered, but failed to stop the crack in his voice. “Oh. It’s ok. I understand. I’ll just… go.” Maxwell said, turning and running off, tears rolling down his face as he did. He could hear Leon and Marie yelling for him, but he didn’t stop till he got to the bathroom.
Maxwell's first day as a senior officially sucked. Not only had he been rejected by his two former best friends, but everyone in the cafeteria had seen him running away from them crying. Rumors about what was going on between the two most popular people and school and the geeky new kid were already circling, and none of them showed Maxwell in a good light. Some people said he was a stalker who had been confronted by the couple, others said he was a pervert who had propositioned them. He heard one rumor that he was an old ex, which was technically true but not the reason he had run away. The details changed but the general consensus was that Maxwell was a loser who had deserved whatever he got. His social life was dead in the water.
As soon as Maxwell got home he headed up to his bedroom without a word to his family and went to sleep. The day had been exhausting and he had lost all hope that this year was going to be any better than the one before. He needed to just… be unconscious for a while. By the time Maxwell woke up it was late at night, if the night sky he could see through his bedroom window was any clue. Maxwell sighed. He couldn’t believe how fucked everything had gotten. His eyes locked on a particularly bright star. Without thinking, Maxwell made a wish “... I wish I had never moved away from Willistown…” As he spoke the star got brighter and brighter…
And in a flash, everything was different.
Maxwell woke up slowly, his eyes not yet open. Something was… different. His head felt funny, his body felt heavy, but what was really bothering Maxwell was… the warm feeling surrounding his cock. Maxwell’s eyes slowly opened at first, but shot open as he took in the sight in front of him. Sleeping soundly next to him, completely naked, with her pussy surrounding his cock, was Marie. In shock Maxwell tried to pull out, moving backwards, but found a shiver of pleasure go through him as he felt something inside his ass rub against his sweet spot. Did someone have a cock in his ass? Before Maxwell could panic he felt the muscular arm of whoever was inside him reach over his side and grab at one of his pecs as that someone also kissed his neck. The man spoke, his familiar voice sending shivers of pleasure down Maxwell’s spine.
“Hey babe. You ok? You seem tense.” Leon said, his voice so sensual and erotic that Maxwell almost moaned. He answered without thinking, his voice deeper than he remembered
“Yeah, I’m ok. Just excited for today. First day of senior year only happens once. I mean, hopefully.” Maxwell said, before he and Leon both let out an identical dumb chuckle.
What was happening?! Why was Maxwell having sex with Leon and Marie? As Maxwell internally panicked, memories suddenly flooded his mind.
Maxwell, or Max as most people called him, never moved away after middle school. He went into highschool with his best bro Leon and his girlfriend Marigold by his side. Maxwell’s friendly, adventurous personality made him just as popular in highschool as he had been in middle school, but it was when he and Leon joined the football team together that their popularity really took off. Leon’s story, about joining the football team and turning out to be a natural athlete, was true, but now it included Max joining the team right alongside him. Leon was the quarterback, and Max was his left tackle. Together they were the perfect team. As they got more and more into football their bodies changed, packing on muscle, they became even more popular. It didn’t take long until Max and Leon were the two most popular jocks in school. Marigold had gone through a similar glow up and was the school's head cheerleader. By the end of sophomore year the three ruled the school, and Max was the king.
It had been halfway through junior year that Max got together with Leon. He and Marigold had been dating for years now, and they had long come to the agreement that Max’s massive cock couldn’t be handled by one person. Leon, Max’s best bro, seemed like the only rational choice and quickly proved to be a natural cock sucker. Soon the three were a power throuple, and now, at the start of their senior year, they were ready to take on the world.
Max smirked as he remembered this, and looked down at his new body. Bulging muscles, gigantic pecs and biceps, an 8 pack of abs and a footlong cock that was currently fucking his girlfriend. He looked around his room, seeing his weight set, his football gear, his football trophies, and his multiple naked sketches of Leon and Marigold. Slowly Marigold came too, kisses Max deeply as Leon teasingly kissed his neck
“Are you ready for senior year?” Marigold asked.
Max smirked, looking at his partners “... fuck yeah I am.” High in the sky, invisible in the daylight, a supernova blazed, another wish having been granted.
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rocketturtle4 · 5 months
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Only Friends, Shipping Culture, Cross-Generational Differences, Themes and Endgame
Strap in, folks. This is a long one.
What finally pushed me to make this post was a very interesting discourse between @lurkingshan, @waitmyturtles, and @twig-tea here around the way this show has subverted norms to a lesser extent than first hoped and how the fans themselves, and the creator’s interactions with these fans, have impacted the creation and completion of the show, as well as the way themes built through the series may now feel less clear after the latest episode.
I wanted to offer my understanding and perspective because it differs somewhat, but it is also very much informed by this post and the larger Tumblr discourse around Only Friends and shipping culture that this show has sparked. I will note, for the record, that I have been much busier since about episode 5 of OF than I had been for the first episodes (or than I was for BMF), so I have missed a lot more of the fascinating discourse that this show has sparked than I would wish.
Let’s do this.
Shipping Culture
I had never heard of this before joining Tumblr this year (in May) despite watching 50 BLs before that, due to being completely disengaged from the actors as individuals prior to joining Tumblr, and while Tumblr has opened my eyes to how much fanservice is part of these people’s lives and jobs and the problems surrounding that phenomenon. I remain largely disengaged from the actors personally. I do not have Twitter, Tik Tok or Instagram, I rarely watch BTS and even my revelation that First is the most beautiful man ever to exist (and I say that as a person who is both aro and ace) has only got me to watch one First & Khao Armshare interview (The Eclipse one). I have also never purchased merch or event tickets so I am in fact, not a good fan in terms of profit making or engagement.
I do, however, love the shows an awful lot and may engage with BTS more once I have fewer things to watch…
All this to say is that my firsthand knowledge of such things is limited at best, but I am still here to say:
I think Only Friends is doing excellent things here, even if all the ‘couples’ end up together.
Is it burning them to the ground like so many hoped? No, but I have watched 47 Thai BLs at this stage and not many of them explored relationships beyond the pairs in any way, shape or form, and OF HAS DONE THAT.
Of our main six characters, NONE of them have only kissed their “other half.” They’ve literally all at least made out with one other person from the core six, and thus far Mew, Boston and Nick have ALSO kissed other people.
This is, in my humble opinion, A PRETTY BIG DEAL.
I am currently watching Not Me (for the first time, haven’t finished, no spoilers please), and I have been informed somewhat reliably that the original novel included a Gram/Black plotline that was cut/altered (to Gram/Eugene/Black love triangle), and I posit that was due in part because they couldn’t have Gun even KISSING Mond even if he was also kissing Off. Black and White would have been a great way to shift things even a little by having the branded pair be together while ALSO having half the brand with someone else at the SAME TIME. Can you imagine??
And yet as recently as 2021 that didn’t happen.
Sometimes change takes time and patience and I think OF is doing really good work, even if it doesn’t go as far as we might wish.
EVEN IF all our branded pairs end up together unsubverted (which is not what I am hoping for but EVEN IF), this show will have still begun paving the way for more varied storylines and pairings in shows
The Clash of Generational Lenses
Speaking of the end game, lets talk about a little thing called hope.
I had a very interesting discourse back around, hmmm episode 6, with @shouldiusemyname and @plantsarepeopletoo , about the sheer confusion I felt about Tumblr’s idea that every one of these characters should end up apart simply because they’d done bad things or something? (this is extremely generalized. I was missing a lot of nuance from both Tumblr and my own lens hence the unpacking then and now).
Now I went into this show fully prepared for this to end sadly and I largely viewed this expectation of  sad as everyone ending up broken up and alone. I don’t normally watch sad by choice, but I was willing to try this one because Jojo’s stories are SO beautifully compelling that I knew it would be worth the journey. I have watched Love of Siam (not Jojo but sad) and Gay Okay Bangkok (complicated), two very different shows reflective of their times and their creators and from the beginning, Only Friends did not feel like those (although the links to Gay Okay Bangkok and the exploration of real queer relationships has been fascinating and I am very glad I watched that one before OF).
So why was there this, almost prescribed hopelessness, being projected onto these very young characters who were just in the process of finding themselves? Why were these young people’s flaws and choices so linked to the idea that they would end up alone?
Now @shouldiusemyname told me the following (in the context of a much wider discourse):
Ahhh I like this cos this is something I take very much for granted and I think it’s a generational gap thing. This is a reaction to the way we were brought up (again generalizing cos sometimes it’s necessary). There was no alternative to monogamy and being queer meant that you can’t have that for 2 reasons: 1.    Law doesn’t allow 2.    Socially unacceptable cos being gay was seen as what kind of sex you were having as opposed to relationships. If you don’t have the gay sex, you’re not gay. This is also the reason for being anti het norm. We couldn’t have that so we needed to find the alternative and have ALL of it.
We were both generalizing A LOT, but this idea was MIND BLOWING to me at the time.
(For the record I am born late 1990s, Shouldiusemyname is born early 1980s (and Plantsarepeopletoo is born late 80s so we have variety covered lol!))
Because while, (as @waitmyturtles for example has pointed out on multiple occasions) the imposition of purity culture and monogamy on queer culture (and in general) is wrong, the idea that no queer people are desiring commitment or monogamy is also wrong. (I am not here suggesting that even in an ideal world where queer people TRULY HAD equal rights they would magically all want monogamous long-term relationships because that’s just not true. In addition hets regularly oppose the het norm as well, long-term monogamous relationships are unwanted by many of them).
I come from a strong biological background (which unequivocally supports more than two sexes and more than two genders, do not come back here and make this about that, got it!) and am currently doing a PhD in Palaeontology so a lot of my relationship understanding is informed by a wider understanding of breeding, monogamy and nonmonogamy in reproduction across the animal and plant kingdoms just by exposure (and yes reproduction in the plant kingdom is very much included, some plants have both male and female parts, it’s fascinating!). And monogamy is present in a hugely wide range of species, it’s not soley something humans came up with just because of religious norms. Addtionally, there is the development of consistent monogamous and/or committed polygamous relationships (historically, most commonly men with multiple wives) across a huge number of cultures throughout history largely for the fostering of children. Most of this influence has been more irrelevant for the queer community because of their inability to produce children in monogamous pairs*, and children are a huge sticking point for the NEED for long-term stable relationships. So, without this sticking point (combined with the aforementioned factors around law and discrimination), relationships are viewed as less permanent. Thus, I had to unpack my own casual assumptions that relationships normally have a long-term goal. (*Generalizing hugely, obviously there are lots of variations that can produce biological children without assistance, but these points most strongly apply to same-sex relationships)
For example, I find the way this plays out in a show like What Did You Eat Yesterday particularly fascinating, and have realized since starting Season 2 that I had missed a lot of this subtext in the first season because, to me, the idea that the central couple would stay and grow old together was a given. PARTLY because of monogamous cultural lenses, but ALSO because they loved each other and wanted to be together, so why wouldn’t they assume they would stay and grow old together?
I also realized that I am further sheltered in this mindset by not just my age but by the acceptance of my wider family of non-marriage as a concept (or even just not having to have children) as normal and okay. My Grandfather (in his 80s) is one of 10 children and has multiple siblings (my great uncles/aunts) who 1 never married or 2 married but chose never to have children. While I am not going to pretend that my uncles/aunts were never judged for such things, that judgment was NEVER part of my upbringing and we visited my single and/or childless great-uncles just as often as those with children.
I seem to have gotten sidetracked…What is the wider point I am making here?
Ah yes
Only Friends is so interesting because it’s shot like it’s set in the 80s & 90s, before the turn of the millennia, with so much homage paid to the queer stories and reality that the youth of this time grew up with. But the generational change that the last two decades or so have brought is inarguably huge, and so these characters, all born after the turn of the century, are not truly from the world that, in some ways, it looks like they’ve been placed into. @wen-kexing-apologist did an extremely comprehensive post about gay cruising culture and Boston that was extremely relevant to his character and the story being told, but it also was a specific throwback to something that is different in the 2020s. Not because people like Boston don’t exist, but because the turn of the century brought with it so many things that make this exact thing more complicated.
And OF has been showing us why! Surveillance, SO MUCH surveillance, every character has been recorded or recorded other characters or shared recordings of other characters, sometimes all of the above, and this surveillance does have a deep impact on the relationships today’s young people engage in! Not just the queer community but all young people of today are under near constant scrutiny and surveillance, and the young people born in the last couple decades have grown up like this, queer or not.
One last thing to mention here is the specific, observable, phenomenon that has been going on in Thailand, it is clear when you look at media like Love of Siam (2008) and compare it to ITSAY (2020) (which I haven’t even seen yet gah but I still know this is a great example). The phenomenon of BL, for all its flaws, has wrought change in the psyche and culture of the people of Thailand, ESPECIALLY the young people, and this is absolutely informing our six main characters views on relationships because they would have gone through high school with this as a major part of their culture.
Themes and Endgame: I Think Hope is the Point
All this draws me back into how I think OF will end, because it’s been at the heart of the show throughout, and that is hopefully, Only Friends will end hopefully.
Jojo has (I believe) stated outright that his primary goal for this show was to represent his community in truth, the messy non-het non-monogamy of queer youths in their 20s has been playing out across our screens, but the thing that has been keeping my attention riveted on Only Friends is the heart of it all.
The journeys of growth and discovery on this show have been magnificent. @thegalwhorants has been pointing out the intentional parallels of language this show has been using to highlight some of that growth, and that is just one very interesting fraction of the way this show has used words, music (@plantsarepeopletoo), colours, styles and more to represent the transformation characters are going through as they grow into themselves before our eyes.
A few very brief examples:
Mew’s switch to wearing Ray’s wardrobe when he is trying not to care but cares so much about Top.
Ray’s changed wardrobe to match the style Sand picked out for him even as he tried to choose Mew and couldn’t, because he’s already moved on, even when he couldn’t accept it.
Nick’s whole makeover to catch Boston’s attention later even catching Dan’s attention and the way that in that scene with Boston outside in ep10, Nick had returned to his shorts and t-shirt because he finally felt seen the way he sees Boston.
One’s sense of self is often built in part, around their relationships (family, friends, sexual and romantic), ESPECIALLY in collectivist cultures, and so much of our 20s involves growing and learning who you are through these relationships. I have seen arguing about toxic friendship groups and how they all need to just let each other go, and maybe that is the best endgame, I don’t know. Sometimes, growing together can be so much stronger, and sometimes, growing apart is the only way to move forward.
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But these last two eps in particular (but honestly every moment of this show) have left me with the feeling that hope is the point. Because things HAVE changed, the world is moving and the things possible in 2023 are often utterly unthinkable to the youth of the 1980s, 1990s and before. The world is growing, acceptance and love have always been there but, surveillance or no, it’s so much easier to find now.
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To be queer is no longer to be isolated, not in the way it once was, it is not a sentence of aloneness. Nor a stamp of irrevocable pain. Are things good now? HECK NO, you look at any statistic: homelessness, mental health, suicide rate, poverty; Being queer makes your life harder.
No matter how hard you try things might get worse and while that’s true for all people, queerness compounds that and often makes the consequences of your choices harder through isolation.
But the isolation is less now and I think OF wants to show that
You may do many things and sometimes these things will hurt no matter how careful you are, Not caring isn’t the point, Not feeling isn’t the point, God every character on this show feels so MUCH
This episode had moments of complete heartbreak
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Complete regret
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And complete Joy
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And there is much more still to come
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So when I think about endgame, I think about hope, and the lessening of isolation for all, and this does not mean 3 perfectly happy couples in perfect monogamous relationships wrapped up with a neat little bow, It means six individuals who have learned and grown through friendship and love, this may mean healed relationships, it may not, this may mean healed friendships, it may not. (It may mean Top, Mew and Boeing in a throuple but maybe I’m the only one hoping for that lol). We’ve clearly got more drama and pain to come but I am confident now that things will end with hope.
I do not know how Jojo and co will show that, but I trust them, and I can’t wait to find out.
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80sanime · 1 year
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Long time no post!!!!
It’s been awhile! My life got hugely busy. In the back of my mind, I’d keep thinking... gotta update my Tumblr! But somehow, 6 months passed by without my getting around to doing so. 
That’s partly due to all my boring adult responsibilities. But it’s also because, after almost (or over? I can’t remember lol) a decade of regular posting... I have admittedly almost run out of content. Nearly all my art books and magazines have been scanned (and I haven’t been collecting new ones as much due to annoying post-pandemic international shipping price increases) and I don’t have the time or energy to make batches of gifs like I used to.
But! That doesn’t mean I consider my work on this Tumblr to be done with. I do have plans for the new year, albeit ones that are a little more sedate. They are as follows:
-Update all my existing scans to be better quality; bigger and cleaner! -Finally finish that infernal 80s anime primer. -Make posts highlighting notable animators, artists, directors etc. from the era. -Crosspost any and all retro anime articles or translations from my personal blog. -Streamline the main page to include more tags for easier archiving/browsing of all the accumulated content. -Reblogs, the occasional gif or screenshot, etc.
A big thank you to all my followers, new and old. Sharing my love of old anime with you throughout the years has been a real honor and source of fun for me.  I hope you’ll stick around even with the new, more relaxed pace. I’m looking forward to how 80sanime will evolve in 2023!
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putnamcapital · 3 months
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Some love for the YR writers, and their OCs
As a small gesture of thanks to the incredible creativity and generosity of fanfic writers, during this time of holiday excess and the AO3 YR tag being just lit!, I thought i’d pull together some favorites to share. Hopefully if you’ve haven’t read these fics yet, they might entice you. I know we all know and love the endless iterations of Wille and Simon, and Sara, August, and Felice, but did you know there are some truly incredible original characters in the YR fanfic library? Here are just a few of the characters that have stayed with me. Made an effort not to spoil in the descriptions! I’ve tried to spread the love across lots of writers and have tagged you if i know you're on Tumblr. And i mostly read AUs. If you’ve got other OCs you just love, please add to this!
So, in no particular order … Part 1 of ?.
Chetna from Tis the Damn Season by littelbluefish, (M, 15/15) - “in a near-constant state of dancing readiness” (i love her for that alone), also witty meddler, dispatches unwanted men with savage accuracy, pitch perfect level of snark, loves Simon to pieces.
MJ and Mario from And that’s how you make history baby by waybeforeyourtime (T, 16/?) - it’s difficult for me to choose between the two, but i think maybe the author would agree they are inseparable. MJ and Mario run Benders, a bar where Simon ends up performing. They literally jump off at the page at you. MJ, appearing as Mary Jane, gets one of the best entrances i’ve seen in a while. (“Mary Jane sat in front of the door of Benders in a crudely made replica of the Iron Throne from Game of Thrones, except it was dildos that adorned it, not swords. She wore a pale pink strapless dress, white fishnet stockings, and black patent-leather Mary Jane platforms.”) His partner, Mario’s, first words to Simon: “"I don't have time for games. Violet, kill the light.”, but it was a match made in heaven. The dialogue between these two!!! Read this fic! Run! Don’t walk!
Melvin from Simon Eriksson: Just some guy from biology (G, 1/1) by fandom_commitment_Issues (@zee-has-commitment-issues) - good student, considerate partner and father. On this list because he does deadpan so well. He kept a straight face when W huffed “I’m getting married to an idiot”.
Alba from Taking me Back (M, 6/?) by wilmonlibrarian - for being one of those too smart for your own damn good teenagers who sees straight through her own father, Simon. (Alba isn’t buying it. “So, you’re saying nothing I experience in the next few years will matter to me in the future?”) and yeah karma really is playing a terrible joke on poor W & S in this.
Luis from All the Places we’ve been (M, 10/10) by This_time_its_just_me (@in-amor-veritas) - Simon’s roommate in New York, Simon who has his own life and successful career as a singer. Gives Simon essential advice on what to wear to meet his ex (yes, you know the ex). (“Oh please, none of your clothes fit you correctly, Simón”) He works at one of NYC’s biggest fashion magazines. Think Devil Wears Prada, friends. Just the absolute funniest and most loving wingman, takes absolutely none of Simon’s bullshit or his polyester. Has entirely the correct reaction when he finds W in his bathroom.
Lotta from Heart and Homeland (M, 33/ ) by @bluedalahorse and @heliza24 - An intrepid, loyal, and revolutionary woman with a heart of gold, who holds the key to a major plot twist in this masterful AU set in the early 1800s, where Wilhelm is at the center of a fight for Sweden’s future, and everyone writes each other a lot of beautiful letters. (“Lotta sighs and giggles like we are best friends and says we should tell one another romances or fairy tales and I want to tell her that princes are not the same in real life as they are in stories.”) Don't miss this fic!
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wosounited · 10 months
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The offer is on the table (Alessia Russo x Reader)
Part 6 of:
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She was right. It was a long window. But it was a window that eventually came to nothing. Alessia and United had rejected every offer that came their way and she remainder a United player, thankfully.
The weeks ticked on and on and United were adding point after point, and winning in tournament football. England were also thriving still being unbeaten.
But deep down you weren’t happy for her success. It all felt like a ticking time bomb tick tick ticking away for her to leave. If not during January, when? where? why? The thoughts have been flooding your head every single day since she stayed with United but still hasn’t signed a contract.
You can’t dare speak to her about it because all you get back is her waving her hands in the air telling you “no y/n/n I haven’t made up my mind about United. I told you you’ll be the first person I tell” and then she distracts you with talking about literally anything else.
You’d left it out of conversation for weeks now. Afraid nearly to mention it incase one day you get the answer that she is in fact going to move away. Away from Manchester, her friends, her club and you.
Otherwise, you and Less’ relationship was still blossoming. At its early stage in its first year. For your 6 month anniversary she took you for a nice meal in an Italian restaurant that she knew you would love. You did. You’d never felt closer to her, or in fact anyone in the moment she told you she loved you on the way back to your car when you were now driving you both home to your shared house. How long would we share it for? Stop thinking about it y/n.
When you arrived home you both slumped on the couch and put a movie on. Less lay happily in between your legs as you played with her hair.
“Less?” You asked
“Mmm?” She groaned scrolling through her phone.
“You know at the end of the season?” You said softly.
Alessia put her phone on her lap forcefully and was blunt in her tone when she said
“God y/n are we really going to talk about this again?”
“What?” You asked. “No less, I was just going to ask” you started but she interrupted you.
“You’re letting football drive a bridge between us. Whether I’m playing in Manchester or Australia it shouldn’t be such a big topic of conversation, all the time” she moaned sitting up now at the other side of the coach.
“Well, I’d liked to have thought you would have cared about not seeing me every day or you know more than just when you’ll get a break to come home. But clearly you don’t” you matched her blunt tone.
“Are you trying to say I don’t care?” She questioned you.
“It’s sounding that way” you said folding your arms as she laughed.
“Pathetic” she said.
“Excuse me?” You whipped your head around and stood up all in one motion, startling the blonde who’s smirk had wiped off her face.
“Baby this is stupid” she stood up and put her arms on yours pulling you closer to her. You brushed her off immediately.
“Let go of me” you said as you shoved her hands away as she grunted and sat back on the sofa. She placed her hands on her head and looked at the ground. You thought about immediately rushing to her side as you had done whenever she was sad or angry. But you stopped yourself. You left the room and without thinking you slipped on shoes and grabbed your keys and left. You did it quietly so she wouldn’t hear and run after you.
A few minutes later Alessia walked up to where she thought you would find you, your bedroom. But you weren’t there. She scratched her head and made her way into your office, no sign of you there either. She peered out the window and noticed your car was gone. She called you but got no answer so she sent a message
Lessi 🐻
Baby where are you? I don’t want to fight x
Y/n 👩‍💻
I just need some space Alessia.
2 missed calls from Lessi 🐻
Lessi 🐻
Please y/n/n just come home and we can talk or tell me where you are and I’ll come to you. I love you
You sat unsure what to reply so you sent her a voice message. You told her you loved her too and you would be home soon. But you told her you didn’t want to talk about it tonight and you would appreciate if she slept in the spare room.
She hesitated but agreed, willing to do anything to keep you happy.
It was 11pm and you were in Alessia’s Manchester United jumper and a pair of joggers. You stopped into a shop to get a coffee as you decided you were going to keep yourself occupied tonight doing work.
You walked to the coffee machine and made yourself a coffee at the machine. When you had finished you popped a lid on it and grabbed a few snacks before you made your way back to the counter. It was there you bumped into two familiar faces, Mary and Millie.
“Is that y/n?” Mary asked the blonde struggling to pick between snacks but shot up instantly at the sound of your name.
“Holy shit it is” Millie said back as she began walking towards you.
“Ah shit” Mary said realising what she’d done.
“That’ll be £12.30” the cashier stated as he scanned your items.
“I’ll get that for you” Millie pushed by you tapping her card.
“Oh thanks. Oh Millie. Mary. Hey” you were startled by the action.
“Hey” Mary said looking apologetic.
“Nice to see you again y/n” Millie smirked.
“Yeah you too guys, how’re you both?” You asked picking up your stuff and Millie putting hers down.
“Good good” Mary said to you.
“That’ll be £8.90” the cashier told Millie.
“Here let me return the favour” you replied paying for Millie’s snacks.
Mary furrowed her eyebrows at the action knowing Alessia will never hear the end of this.
“Thanks y/n” Millie punched your arm and smirked. The same way Alessia does, used to do now you think of it.
All three of you left the shop and stood at your cars which were conveniently parked beside eachother.
“Nice car” Millie shouted at you.
“I know right? Company car but my baby” you laughed and Mary joined in.
You stood chatting for several minutes when Mary tapped her watch at Millie.
“Right we better be off” Mary began “I have an early meeting and you live miles from my house” Mary looked at Millie.
“Why where are you living Millie?” You asked for some reason you didn’t really know.
“I’m just up in Streford” Mille responded.
“That’s where I am too I can give you a lift?” You asked. “Would that suit you better Mary?” You asked the goalkeeper
“That’s fine isn’t it Mary?” Millie stared at her teammate. Mary was in a predicament here but nodded.
“Fuck” she mumbled slamming her car door shut and calling Tooney.
Millie got in the passenger and opened her bar.
“Don’t even attempt to eat in my car” you told her but she laughed.
The car journey was about 15 minutes long and you were surprised with how comfortable the chat was with Millie. You didn’t really know why Alessia didn’t get along with her, you had thought they’d been good friends previously. Millie pulled her phone out which was buzzing from a call from tooney but she ignored it.
“Do you need to get that?” You asked but she shook her head and gestured you to continue your story about the NFL team you were taking on as clients.
“So how’s Alessia?” Millie eventually asked.
“Good good. You probably see her as much as me” you laughed and she did too.
“Yeah. True. Although she doesn’t make eye contact with me since she almost punched me in training” Millie laughed and you nearly slammed on the breaks. Alessia punching someone?
“Wh-what?” You softly asked the smirking girl beside you.
“Oh she didn’t tell you?” Millie smirked as you shook your head and furrowed your eyebrows
“Yeah it’s dumb really. I saw you at the training ground that day and I asked Ella who you were because I thought you were really attractive” she paused for a minute trying to see your reaction but it was emotionless. “But when I found out you were Alessia’s girlfriend I apologised to her and well yeah, she didn’t take it well” Millie knew she twisted a few facts but went with it.
“I’m really sorry she did that Millie” you said apologising for your angry protective girlfriend.
“Don’t be. It’s not your fault” she said placing her hand on your thigh and that’s when you actually slammed on the breaks.
“Millie listen” you tried to start.
“No I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I know you’re with Less. But just if it doesn’t work out, would you maybe?” She began to mumble.
“I don’t want to think of us not working” you firmly stated to the woman now removing her hand.
The rest of the drive was silent until Millie pointed to her house and thanked you for the lift. You drove home and banged your head off the desk when you sat down with your cold coffee and the snacks.
The hours ticked on and you were following the world clock checking in with international clients who were in okay time zones to speak to. At 7am you heard your girlfriend come down the stairs and make her way into the kitchen. You followed her in and wrapped your arms around her.
“Morning” you said kissing her cheek.
“Morning baby” she reciprocated.
“I’m sorry about last night” you began but she waved her hands up.
“Let’s not” she kissed your lips this time.
“I will have an answer for you by next week” she said pouring you a coffee.
“About?” You asked.
“Next season” she mumbled.
“There’s no rush Lessi” you stroked her hand that you took the coffee out of.
“I promise” she planted a kiss on your cheek.
You had breakfast and not once did you mention your meeting with Mary and Millie last night.
Alessia kissed you again and again and one last time before picking up her gear bag and heading out the door.
You decided to work from home today due to lack of sleep and your lack of a busy schedule from clearing most up last night.
You finished up work at around 12 for the day and decided to take a nap. Alessia had another breakfast when she arrived at training. She sat with Katie and Ona as nobody else had arrived yet.
Millie walked through the door and smirked and waved. It had been a bit easier the last few weeks between them so Alessia waved back.
Mary and Ella walked in frantically after the rest of the team had almost finished breakfast. They grabbed some food and made their way to Millie. Alessia furrowed her eyebrows at Tooney ignoring her. The conversation seemed heated and Alessia nudged Katie and pointed.
“What’s going on?” Alessia asked.
“No idea” Katie shrugged causing Ona to turn to look.
Alessia noticed the steam coming out of Tooney’s ears but Katie noticed them pointing at the table they were on and back at her.
“Let’s go get changed” Katie suggested staring at Ona to agree as the Spaniard instantly got up.
“Vamos” Ona said to Less pulling her up and into the changing rooms.
When they got out on the training ground Alessia pulled Ella to one side during a partner drill.
“Ella what was all that with Millie this morning?” Alessia asked passing the ball back and forward.
“She was out of line last night Lessi” Tooney hit the ball back at her hard.
“What happened?” Alessia asked
“She made a move” Tooney replied hesitantly now sensing she was going to be the bearer of bad news.
“A move? On who?” Alessia tried piecing the puzzle together.
“Y/n” she said softly.
“What?” Alessia said louder not hearing what her friend had said.
“She made a move on y/n” Ella said louder this time.
“How? Y/n was home last night. I was with her this morning?” Alessia said starting to struggle with her breathing.
“Mary said they bumped into y/n getting a coffee at the shop and she drove Millie home and Millie made the move in the car” Ella said to Alessia quietly now whispering in her ear. Ella grabbed Alessia’s hand as she went to make a move of her own.
“Alessia not here” Ella said calmly. Noticing Mary stepping infront of Millie preparing for the impact.
Alessia kept her cool somehow until the changing rooms. When Millie said
“Hey Less? When did Y/n get her car? God those seats are comfortable for.. you know” but she didn’t finish her sentence. Thank god most of the team had left by now as Alessia was now going to flip.
It took 5 people to pull Alessia off Millie after a few punches had caught Millie causing her lip to bleed and Alessia’s knuckles to swell. Alessia turned and punched the wall as Millie was pushed out of the changing room and into the bathroom by Katie.
“She fucked my girlfriend” Alessia screamed.
“Less no she’s winding you up” Tooney said.
“Why would y/n do this to me. With her?” Alessia shouted again as Mary pulled her in to calm her down.
“Less come on there’s no way y/n cheated” Mary said calmly.
Alessia sobbed and sobbed until eventually she calmed down and headed back to your house. She slammed the door shut and startled you awake on the couch.
“Babe?” You called as she walked in to the room.
“When were you going to tell me?” She shouted.
“What? Tell you what?” You asked rubbing your eyes
“You and Millie” she said.
“Millie? I ran into her and Mary last night and dropped her home. What’s the deal?” You stood up to face your girlfriend.
“You slept with her” she shouted as you burst into laughter.
“What?” You laughed rubbing her arm. “Are you insane Lessi?”
“She said..” Alessia started
“So you believe her? The person you hate? Over me?” You asked her folding your arms.
“Lessi listen. I’m sorry for not speaking to you this morning I just didn’t sleep and I was a bit all over the place. I’ll tell you everything just calm down and sit with me” you pulled her down and told her everything.
“Fuck y/n/n I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I freaked” Alessia sobbed.
You wrapped your arm around her.
“Less, I’m yours. And I told her that too”
“I have an answer for you by the way” you added.
“What was my question?” Alessia asked.
“Wherever you go, I’ll always be yours” you said as you planted a kiss on her cheek.
The next day you found Alessia in the kitchen waiting with your coffee like she did every single morning since she moved in.
“Hey” she said looking anxious.
“Morning baby” you said back.
“I have the answer” she said and you knew it was coming.
“I got a call from my agent this morning. I’ve spoken to Marc. And I’ve made a decision” still not making eye contact with you, you knew she was going but where?
“I’ve got 3 options and I wanted to pick the one I thought was best suited to us” she continued rambling.
“Alessia where are you going?” You asked.
“Lyon” she said.
You stopped for a minute taking in the news before hugging her tight.
“Lyon it is then” you said kissing her, the relief she felt as she melted into the kiss.
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Text
Dead Seagull: Do Not Eat – Albatrosses, Seagulls, and Guilt in Our Flag Means Death
(for future reference: written 10/6/2023, ~36-48 hours after the first 3 episodes of S2 were released)
Hi, all! I, like many of you scrolling the #ofmd meta tag, have a head filled with nothing but the Gay Pirates. This has been the case since 12am PST on 10/5/2023 and will remain the case for several months to come. On my 3rd watch-through of the first 3 episodes of season 2 of OFMD, I started paying closer attention to potential symbolism so that I could maybe predict how the rest of the series is going to play out and get a better idea of what’s going on in these little guys’ brains. This post is the introduction to a short series of long posts wherein I rant about symbolism that may or may not be in the show. Enjoy.
Disclaimer: I haven’t written anything even close to a literary analysis since high school, and I generally don’t know wtf I’m talking about. I’m just having a lot of very normal thoughts about The Pirate Show and I need to put them somewhere; if anyone has more ideas relating to this please add to it!! And to the best of my knowledge, the thoughts I express here are my own – please let me know if there are other analyses that say similar things that I should link to.
TWs: animal death, blood, eating animals, starvation, emotional abuse, physical abuse, gunshot injuries, suicidal ideation, canon-typical mental health problems
MAJOR OFMD SPOILERS THROUGH S2E03!!!
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What originally prompted this whole rabbit-hole exploration was the conversation that Ed has with Frenchie at the end of s2e01.
You know there's a bird that never touches ground?
It's born in the air. Never once lands. Spends its entire existence in the sky. …
As Frenchie astutely notes, this seems…kind of impossible. How could a bird be born in the air? I could see potentially never landing, but surely every bird has to come down at some point to lay eggs (or to hatch from them), right? So I did a quick Google search for birds that spend their whole lives in the air, and the first result that came up was the common swift, which apparently spends up to 10 months out of the year in the air, never once landing (or only landing very occasionally) during that time. They catch food in the air, sleep while drifting on air currents, mate in the sky, and only land to nest and lay their eggs.
So that seemed…promising? I guess? But not exactly what Ed was talking about. After all, these birds aren’t “born in the air,” and they certainly don’t spend their entire life without landing. And this still could be what Ed was talking about; it matches fairly closely, and it’s possible that whatever Ed heard was either mis-told, misheard, or intentionally exaggerated. But I think there’s a more elegant answer to what bird Ed is referencing here, and it has much more potential for analysis than the common swift: the albatross.
This is the second thing that I found while searching, and this piqued my interest much more than the last result, since - as many of you probably know, spending time reading tumblr metas – the albatross is an extremely pervasive metaphor in literature. It usually represents a psychological burden that one has taken on, most often as a result of having made a mistake that resulted in others getting hurt. I’ll go into more detail about the source of this symbol in a little bit, but the basic gist is that a dead albatross gets hung around one’s neck until whatever guilt they have is resolved – albatrosses are huge birds, so this represents an enormous weight.
Before I go on, I’ll add that, at first glance, the albatross actually seems to fit Ed’s description less well than the common swift does – albatrosses are known for being able to glide for a long, long time, but they do land…on the water. One of the first things that comes up when you search for “birds that never land” is that albatrosses spend years and years never landing on shore. There’s a similar problem here to the common swift in that no bird actually hatches from an egg while in the air like Ed is implying here. But I would argue that the albatross is indeed what Ed is talking about. Whether he misheard, someone misspoke, or a tale got distorted from it being verbally passed down, Ed is referencing the image of an albatross that spends its entire life above (or on) the sea, never once going to land.
And this fits. In the context of the conversation that Ed is having with Frenchie, Ed is lamenting the fact that he can only exist in one place, fulfilling one role – on the sea, performing the role of Blackbeard. He imagines the life of this fictional albatross as quite lonely, I think, never once leaving the place it has spent its entire life (again, this isn’t exactly how the birds behave, but I believe Ed views them this way based on how he’s interpreted whatever he heard about albatrosses). He’s resigning himself to never leaving his habitat, and quite literally never going back to shore.
“…We’re gonna sail…rob…raise hell forever…and ever…without end.”
Right. So, if I am to be believed, we’ve established that Ed is actually diegetically referencing albatrosses. So what?
Well, as another disclaimer, I’m not 100% sold on these ideas myself. Especially only having the first 3 episodes of S2 to go off of, there’s plenty of time for these ideas to be proven wrong in as few as – checks watch – 6 days. There are lots of different, potentially overlapping, potentially conflicting ways to interpret this information. I’m probably going to split this up into parts, for ease of access and reading. Because all this so far has just been the introduction :))
In one part, I’m going to talk about what is probably the most intentional reference: The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, the original poem that the albatross metaphor is pulled from. Beyond just the link to the “Impossible Birds” conversation, there are some other elements in OFMD that seem like pretty clear references to this poem. Based on references to this poem in popular culture, I suspect that parallels here would be non-diegetic – meant to be apparent to the audience, not to the in-universe characters. Link Here!
Next, I’m going to talk about another poem, simply titled “The Albatross” (French: L’albatros). This particular poem is maybe less likely to have inspired references in OFMD, but if there is an intentional link, this poem reflects a lot of how Ed sees himself and his life thus far. I’ll admit that I’m a bit biased toward this poem since I had to memorize it in French class in high school and it’s stuck with me – but it was also one of the first things on Wikipedia that was linked on the page of the metaphor of the Albatross. Parallels in this poem are what I would suspect to be diegetic – despite it being an anachronism, I think Ed has at some point read this poem, and he relates to the albatross/poet. [Link Here!]
Lastly, there are some loose ends that I’d like to pick up that may not tie into anything, but I feel like they’re worth mentioning, especially as they relate to the albatross metaphors and parallels. This section is going to talk more generally about birds and bird imagery in OFMD, and how these instances can support or refute my albatross theories. [Link will go here: haven't written yet :)]
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