#but ive had no luck looking up solutions
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does anyone know why my 500gb internal storage is just showing as 237gb???
i checked theres no unallocated partitions or anything just the two small ones which are barely over 1gb.
so theres just 262 gb of storage space straight up missing. and theres no way thats just the OS.
#im running windows 10 btw#i rly dont wanna have to reformat it or anything bc i dont wanna have to wipe everything off of it#so im hooooopi theres a other solution out there#but ive had no luck looking up solutions#bc most of the ones are like 1. virus#already ran a scan im good#2. unallocated partition#and as we have been over i do not have one of those#so idk what to do
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Playing Favourites IV
Arsenal Women x Child!Reader
Summary: You're sad
There's something wrong with you but Leah can't quite work out what it is.
At first, it was the fact that you didn't come running to hug her when she surprised you at nursery a few days ago. Then, it was the way you were so quiet and sullen on the drive back to London. But finally, it was the way you didn't want to greet any of her teammates when you arrived at the training ground this morning.
You've been quiet and withdrawn all weekend and Leah had hoped that seeing everyone would make you happy again.
It's clear that there's no such luck.
You scuff your shoes in the dirt when you get out onto the pitch, suddenly more interested in playing with the loose threads of your shirt rather than running off to go see Alessia or Katie.
"What's up with the bean?" Katie asks as she watches you sit down on the ground and dig a little hole with a stick.
"I don't know," Leah replies, feeling completely defeated," She's been in a bad mood ever since I picked her up from nursery. I've no idea what's happened."
"Nothing?" Katie asks," Nothing at all?"
"She's said absolutely nothing," Leah says as she passes the ball between them," She's been trying to avoid me too and I just don't get why."
They both turn to look at you. Alessia's crouched in front of you, talking to you softly but you keep turning away from her. She tries to talk to you again but you keep moving away until your back is facing her and she's being called away to get back to training.
"You could take her to see Win," Katie offers," I'm sure puppy cuddles will open her up."
"Yeah, maybe."
In the end, with no other options left, Leah takes you to see Win.
You've never met Win before. She looks nice though and sits and waits for you to come to her. She nudges her nose against your hand and licks it, sending you into a wave of giggles.
"Yeah," Leah says," Win's a sweetheart, isn't she?"
You nod and go to pet Win some more.
Katie and Alessia are here too. You don't know why and that makes you a little nervous. They're hovering too, like Leah is as you get puppy cuddles from Win.
You kind of want your own puppy but you know Mummy won't let you get one. You've already got Bella at home but Bella's not your dog and she doesn't give you lots of cuddles or sleep in bed with you like a puppy of your own would.
"Hey, bean," Lessi says as she comes to sit criss-cross-apple-sauce in front of you and Win," How are you feeling?"
That's a weird question, you think and you frown a little bit.
"I like puppy cuddles," You answer.
Lessi nods but flashes a look over your shoulder where you know Leah and Katie are standing.
"That's nice," Leah says. She crouches down next to you, a hand on your shoulder. "Is there anything else you want to say?"
You think for a moment, biting at your lip. You turn away from your sister, distracting yourself by adjusting Win's collar. "I want a puppy too. Leah, can I have a puppy?"
She frowns. Clearly, that's not what you're meant to say.
"Sorry, bean," She says," I don't think Mum would be happy if I brought you home with a puppy."
You sigh and Leah can clearly see the moment you switch back to how you were all weekend. Clearly, Win's presence was only a temporary solution.
Your mood worsens considerably when you have to go home and you're quiet and withdrawn for the entire night and the next morning.
It's really worrying Leah and she tries to bring your mood up by sending you off with your favourite people but none of them help.
Lia tries to get you to read with her. Kyra tries to get you to play. You absolutely refuse to nap with Lotte. You're temporarily happy when Viv shows you pictures of Myle but it only makes you turn to Leah to ask for a puppy of your own again.
It all circles back to the end of the day where you sit with Win. You're on the floor at reception, pulling on a piece of rope that Win's got in her mouth while Leah, Katie and Alessia all sit in the surrounding chairs.
"She isn't sick or anything?" Lessi asks," I've heard kids' moods change when they're sick."
"Not sick," Leah confirms," I checked her temperature last night. Unless she's somehow sick with her only symptoms being a mood change, it's unlikely. I just..." She sighs. "I've no idea what's up with her."
"Leah," You call out," Can I please have a puppy?" You've tried to make your voice sound upbeat and happy as you ask, almost as if you've been eavesdropping on the conversation but Leah knows you're way too invested in cuddles with Win.
She can tell your tone is fake though, as if you think that by smiling and acting happier she won't be able to see right through you.
"Sorry, bean," Leah says again," Mum will kill me."
The fake smile melts off your face instantly and you crumble in on yourself again. Your shoulders slump inwards and you turn away again.
"Hey, bean," Katie says suddenly, sitting in front of you and Win," Why do you want a puppy so much?"
You shrug, stroking your hands through Win's fur and giving her belly tickles. "Puppy would be my friend."
"The puppy would be your friend?" Katie repeats and you nod," That's nice. But why do you need a puppy friend?"
You shrug again, not willing to look up at Katie because your eyes sting with tears. "The puppy would be my friend forever."
"What's up, huh, bean?" Leah pulls you into her lap. "Why do you need a puppy friend so much? Talk to me."
You sniffle a little bit as a few tears leak down your cheeks. "I don't have nursery friends," You say," Puppy friend will be better."
"You don't have friends at nursery?" Leah asks. She stands you up, turning you around and cupping your face so you can't look away. "What do you mean you don't have friends to nursery?"
"They're mean," You say," They're not my friends."
"And you want a puppy so you can have friends?"
You nod miserably. "I don't have friends."
"You have friends." Lessi appears over your sister's shoulder. "I'm your friend, bean, and so is Katie."
"Really?"
"Of course we are," Katie says," And so are Kyra and Viv and Lia and Lotte and the whole team!"
You're not too convinced but Katie doesn't lie to you and she's nodding at you and looking very truthful so you force yourself to believe her.
"I'm your friend too, bean," Leah says and you shake your head.
"No. You're my sister."
"But I can be your sister and your friend!"
You think that over for a moment before you lean into Leah's arms and tuck your face into her shoulder. "Really?"
"Of course, bean."
"And you're a forever friend?"
Leah's arms close around you tightly, drawing you even closer to the safety of her body.
"Yes, bean. I'm a forever friend."
#woso x reader#arsenal wfc x reader#arsenal x reader#arsenal wfc#woso community#woso fanfics#woso imagine#woso
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Not Wholly Evil |IV| pirate!eddie
a/n so sorry for the long wait. Let this be a celebration of the beginning of summer :) and lets hope for many fics to come (i cant make any promises tho) I hope you enjoy this chapter!!! Please remember to support by reblogging and leaving comments on what you think of the story <3
Series Masterlist
word count: 7.5k
"semi dark fic" - READ the warnings:. (gun/sword)violence. blood. mention of severe wounds. minor character death. allusions to suicide. kidnapping. imprisonment. alcohol. open and deep sea. pirates are pigs: mentions of non-con, but it does not actually occur. malnourishment and weight loss. paranoia. mention of poisoning. abuse. manhandling. lying. religious (Christian) references.
There might be a mention of other ST characters, and for plot sake, everyone is an adult here, just coz I don't want fetus pirates running around, but they are not really relevant to the plot.
Chapter 4: Columba
A philosopher once asked, "Are we human because we gaze at the stars, or do we gaze at them because we are human?" Pointless, really..."Do the stars gaze back?" Now, that's a question.
― Neil Gaiman, Stardust
‘We’re… lost?’ You stared blankly ahead.
‘I’ll admit, lost is a strong word, princess— Misdirected feels more accurate. Sailing off-course.’
You stammered for a response to the confession you just heard. ‘How– How could we be off-course?’ The captain’s words had not fully come through to you yet, perhaps by his casual stance and lack of urgency for a solution or panic. He stood there, arms behind his back, studying his map like one of the painting hanging on the Queen’s wall. And yet, according to this man, you were heading into uncharted waters. You have been heading towards them for God knows how long.
‘It is quite simple. Here–’ he was still analysing the markings on the wall as he spoke, and he must have wanted you to step closer, for he looked at you expectedly. Something around his mouth twitched when he looked your way. The eye contact was piercing both ways with so much said between the two of you, and yet not a single word had been exchanged. With two ringed fingers, he pulled an invisible string that he hoped would have some effect on you.
It did not.
All you did was raise a brow in your expectation, ready to see what the captain would do now. Arms crossed, you remained in your place.
‘Do not make me come over there, princess.’
‘Do not make me come over there, Munson.’ The words were bitter but tasted sweet, like honey on your lips. If you had blinked, and as luck would have it, you did not, you would have missed the captain’s reaction; a deep breath in as he hollowed out his cheeks, pushing back any clearer indications of frustrations or signs of weaknesses. The patience ran out of his dark eyes. Then, with a stretch of his neck, he returned to his first problem as if the short interaction between you had never occurred. He sounded entirely unphased as he, despite your distance, went to explain the conundrum.
‘Several days ago, the Hellfire stumbled upon a certain ship,’ he tapped one of his fingers on a small mark south of the map. It then dawned on you that, by surrendering to your stubbornness, he had won the bigger battle. Your curiosity was gaining on you, and from where you stood, you could not put much more meaning to his words, as the islands around it were unfamiliar. He knew this and could tell you were frustrated with yourself, but you were too stubborn to walk up and look at what he was showing you… yet where you stood now was no good either. The captain continued explaining as if you were right by his side, not addressing anything else of the situation. ‘Tonight, we were meant to have only been a week’s travel away from our destination–’ your home. This shocked you, for before, you had no indication of how much longer it would take—a week. What was supposed to have been a week is now an undetermined eternity as the ship sailed on.
The mention of your home hit you at the deepest level, overshadowing any other emotions you felt. Any stubbornness was pushed aside for anger as you crossed the room.
Nothing was exchanged as you moved past the desk towards the captain. He did not look your way, but the grin on his face was undeniable. You could still feel it when he brought you closer to him with a quick pull, shaking you around practically like a rag-doll. You now stood between him and the map, his shoulder against your back. His breath on your neck. His muscles brushed over you as he moved his arm to point out the locations on the map. The flash of heat coming over you could not have been anything but the anger you felt at yourself for letting this happen.
‘To sum up, we met here, darling,’ he reached to tap the map again at a southern point, bringing himself closer to you with the excuse to reach the chart. His chin practically leaned on your shoulder, and his hot breath became overbearing to all your senses. All you could focus on were the rings that adorned his fingers in front of you—one of the few aspects of him you could always trust to remain constant. You watched him move his hand across. ‘—were meant to arrive here—,’ One straight line towards home with a dark, blotted circle on top of it. It made you wonder how long that ink sat upon the canvas. Had he written it once you came aboard, or had he been planning something much longer? Had your abduction been a plan all along? It was hard to imagine but not impossible.
‘And now we’re… well, God knows where we are,’ he chuckled with wicked amusement, and you did not see the humour in being lost at sea. You did, however, see the irony of him speaking of God. He, a Satan’s spawn himself. It is ridiculous to think that he had the gumption to speak the Lord’s name so casually, especially with him being who he is. It simply did not sit right with you.
However, none of your concerns seemed to have drawn his attention as Munson went on: ‘I felt something was wrong as we were supposed to have arrived at Escondrijo last night, a rest stop we often sail past,’ he read out the name of this island right at your skin, the S slithering from his tongue onto you in shivers. ‘I thought maybe my calculations were simply off; the wind, after all, had not been the kindest. Of course, it could have been a delay– but alas.’ He clicked his tongue. ‘What we stumbled across was–’ He slammed his fist into the map, making you jump at the extreme action, ‘Such a useless piece of land no one bothered to give it a name!’ He laughed away his frustrations, which chilled you to the bone. ‘Not even the damned sould that live there.’
Damned. That’s what he was. What all of you were as the ship sailed on.
You tried to take in everything that he had just told you. All the locations he had pointed to. Considering the unknown status of your location, the world must have turned upside down for you to arrive here. The fact the Hellfire had stumbled upon the nameless island must have been dumb chance in itself, and just as quickly as it had made itself shown, it was now becoming nothing more than a memory.
Still, this island could be anywhere on the map, but it must have been close to the planned destination. The climate would have raised suspicions much earlier if it had been otherwise. And that is precisely what you suggested to the captain, hoping that giving him some kind of positive idea would direct him away from the anger he must be feeling. Not to mention, at this moment, you were both in trouble, in danger, and the only way out of it was to help him… as much as you disliked the idea of doing so. It was the only option.
‘Yes, exactly. All my calculations had been perfect. That is why this is all so perplexing.’
You could name several more reasons why the situation was “perplexing”, including one thing you did not yet understand:
‘Why did we even leave the harbour? Why not stay and orient yourself?’ There were people there, other sailors; naturally, someone could have helped track the right direction to sail onward to. Someone there might have had more information. Anything.
And yet, the ship had already set sail into the abyss of the night. You could hear the waves sloshing around you, and when you turned around, the fiery light coming from the island was thinning on the horizon.
‘You overestimate the usefulness of a drunken man. Or the charitability of a passerby in a midnight alley.’ Munson spoke, ‘Or perhaps, you simply underestimate my willingness to find a solution, for that matter. As if I did not try to ask for help—because, whatever you may think of me, I am not ashamed of seeking out outside recourses—’ There was that clicking sound of his tongue that announced nothing but smugness. Next thing you know, his arms had snaked their way down, wrapped around your middle, trapping your arms within his hold. His lips were at your ear, freezing you like a spell. ‘And here I thought you would know me better by now.’
You wished you did too, but the truth was much more brutal. With every moment you spent in the captain’s presence, he only seemed to be becoming more and more of a mystery to you. None of your million questions regarding the notorious Captain Munson had been answered.
With a slow intake of breath, you spoke to him as calmly as possible: ‘Get off of me.’
‘Mmm,’ he hummed, swaying you back and forth, enhancing the ship's movements, ‘I don’t think I want to, princess.’ In reality, it was a loose grip that held no power, authority, or fear over you. All it did was plague you with his touch, scent, and sound; it was all over. You could feel him everywhere. The heat of his body was radiating onto you, boiling you alive.
From this position, you could not see his face. Your peripheral vision only gave you a blurry profile of his features without indicating what he was doing. You both stood there for a long moment, looking at the map as if it would reveal some secret message. Something to magically guide you back on the right path. It was quiet around, with nothing else but the waves outside, the fire of the candles in the room flickering, and two pairs of lungs breathing. Two hearts, beating fast.
His grip loosened, but you did not move. Too scared that any movement would remind him of you. Although, maybe he had not forgotten but simply lost interest, for the captain took a step forward, passing you right by. His eyes were locked in on a spot on the map.
This silence had given you one thing, and it was the time to think. Maybe not clearly—that was barely ever possible with him around—but long enough to devise a train of thought. With that, one more question struck you.
‘Why tell me all of this?’ Was he confessing this all to you because he was not planning on having you stick around for much longer? Airing out a confession to a soul that he had already sentenced, either way, leaving no trace of his mishappening behind? If that was the case, you had to leave this room quickly. Tell someone about all of this…Because what stopped you from going out there and telling everyone that their captain had failed them? Led them to be stranded at sea. This may be what you need. This may get them on your side. Maybe–
‘Oh, it is wonderful how your mind works, princess.’ He turned around on his heels, and his hands found your shoulders, dug in like claws, shaking you lightly. Shaking you straight out of your escapist fantasy. ‘Truly, fascinating.’ The two last words burned with a growl. He chuckled a little bit more before redirecting himself towards his desk. The captain did not bother walking around the desk. Instead, he sat down on it and let his legs swing around, knocking several stacks of parchment onto the floor in the process. He did not even look down at the mess he caused. Instead, he slightly bent back to look down. His eyes shot down, an eyebrow was raised, and then he looked back at you.
‘Nosy, were we, darling?’ There was a metal twinkle that piqued your interest, and you noticed the silver key hanging around his neck. He pulled it off and unlocked the drawer you had been toying with before his arrival.
Had it surprised you that he pulled out a bottle of rum?
Slightly.
But you watched the captain uncork the bottle and take a large sip as he sat on the armrest of his throne. He was sloppy, and the liquid spilt down his chin. He was wiping it off as he extended his other arm towards you, inviting you for a drink. When you did not respond, the captain shrugged, mumbled something about stubbornness, and drank until barely anything was left. He put the bottle on the disorganised desk and roughly wiped his mouth with his sleeve.
He let out a satisfied sigh. ‘Mmm. Now, where was I,’ he tapped his fingers on his thigh, trying to remember the last seconds. Once he did so, he laughed.
‘It is so easy to think that one tiny mistake could cause a man’s respect, but these men—together with me, may I add—have been through a lot. We are a family, sweetheart, and family isn’t so easy to get rid of. No matter how hard or often you try.’ His dark eyes pierced through yours. ‘So, I hope you do not set your hopes on a mutiny too high because that just won’t happen. If my men wanted to get rid of me, they would have done so long ago.
‘I’ve made much bigger mistakes that could have cost me my head, yet…’ he knocked his knuckles on the side of his skull, giving you an almost apologetic expression, indicating that he was still present and accounted for. ‘I’m sure they’re all aware of our little problem by now. Hell, it’s their fault, but I don’t want to vex them with this. They have enough work on their plates.’
‘So?’ You did not see the point of this anymore, not believing that he had no one in his crew that could help him right now. That would have been more helpful than you.
‘So,’ he mocked your inquisitive tone. ‘Out of everyone on board, you��re probably the last that needs a good night sleep–or at least can miss one.’
You wanted to argue with him, call him a monster for depriving you of simple decency such as a night’s rest, but then it dawned on you that he might have actually been right. While the floor gave you no comfort, you had, in a way, the luxury of sleeping as long as, and whenever, you pleased. Meanwhile, the crew got barely any sleep and then had to work most of the day to keep the ship afloat. That was a rationalisation of yet another lost battle, at least.
‘Even if I did want to help you,’ you sighed in defeat, ‘how could I?’ You didn’t know how to steer a ship, let alone guide one back onto a correct route in the middle of the deep waters at night. Munson looked at you, still very much amused, and clearly held back his tongue with a comment on your words. Instead, he answered your question genuinely. Possibly doing so for the first time.
‘It is the middle of the night; the sky is clear,’ he spoke as if this all led to the most obvious of conclusions, ‘why not let the stars guide you?’
‘What makes you think I know how to?’ Did he think you had any experience in this field? ‘Well, I doubt you keep looking up there just because the stars shine oh-so charmingly.’
‘You do not think the night sky to be beautiful?’ You asked curiously. It would explain so much about the captain if he could not appreciate the simple beauty of such things. But, the man threw you in for a loop.
‘I do, but I also know it has many more functions than decor. You must know it too.’
‘I do.’ That was basic enough knowledge that you had picked up on as a young child, but was that it? Just because you were fascinated by the heavens did not mean you had any expert knowledge on the subject. Besides, where would you have even been able to acquire it? ‘And this makes you think I can steer us back on the right path?’
‘Call it intuition.’
‘And on the principles of your intuition, you dare to put your fate in the hands of a…prisoner?’ You had never heard of such a tale for a captain to let his prisoner take the lead on the ship. Giving him their trust.
‘I think we are past such formalities, are we not?’ Were you? He must have read the doubt on your face, for he took the task of explaining: ‘You are no longer locked away; you have the freedom to go anywhere on this ship. I brought you a delicious meal—which I would still like to have received some gratitude for, but that is beside the point—and now I am asking you for your help. Some would say you are going up the ranks quite swiftly, princess.’
‘Funny, I do not recall you asking for my help at all? Just being locked away in a room for hours and given no choice but to do as you say.’
‘The pirate life!’ Munson spread his arms wide, slipping down into the seat of his thrown. You thought it would be futile to argue with him, seeing what humour he was in. The way he had just devoured the bottle of rum would not be helping your case.
‘Why me then? Why not do it yourself since you seem to know as much as me about the stars?’ You thought it would be easier and faster if he had done the work independently. It would already cost less time not to go through this discussion.
Like a thunderbolt, anger struck his face. ‘Because, I say so,’ he snarled before returning to his previous self, ‘and I thought you might like having something to occupy yourself with. Pushing around crates must become boring after sometime, does it not?’
‘How do you–’ He had seen what you had done with the lower deck. But… when would he have had the chance? You could not recall many instances, if any, of the captain coming down to see you after he freed you from your cell.
He pushed himself up from the throne and walked back over to you. Then, he began walking in circles around you, and you tried to keep up with him, but it quickly strained your neck. ‘Yes, I know all about your organizing down there. And about your inquiring nature.’ He nodded over to the desk you had tried to pry open. Something must have given it away. He clicked his tongue. ‘Remember whose ship you’re on, darling. There is nothing that goes by around here without me knowing about it. If you do something, it’s because I let you do it.’
‘I hardly believe that.’
‘Well, believe this then: on any other ship, you could have gotten into a lot of trouble if someone caught you going through another man’s things—’
‘Don’t try and tell me all of that is yours. I know you stole it off other ships.’ You rolled your eyes. Munson played a victim, placing a hand over his chest, pausing in front of you with his big eyes, imitating hurt.
‘Some of it very well may be. This,’ he flicked the collar of the shirt you were wearing, ‘for sure is.’ His fingers grazed at your skin, brushing over your throat hastily. ‘I could have you hung, you know. Or at least take off a few fingers.’
‘I doubt it considering you need me in one piece if you want my father’s money.’
‘Did you know there are hundreds of other man out there who’d pay double for a pretty face like yours?’ He waited for a crack to reveal the fear on your face and didn’t say anything until it showed. ‘Not to mention, I would not be risking arrest with them. Luckily, I am a man of my word. So, to your daddy you shall return.’ He reached for your shirt collar again, flattening it out carefully with a smile that could make you forget any of the horrific things he had just spoken of. ‘As I was saying, darling… I have a feeling you’d rather not end up like the other dirty thieves, so be a doll and prove to me that there was a use in letting you out of your cell after all.’
There it was. The reason for all of this. This was your punishment. Or some kind of redemption. He caught you going through his belonging, and now you had to pay for it— and pay with performing something you already felt to be impossible.
With him standing in front of you, hand still on your shoulder, you looked him directly in the eye. ‘How long do I have?’
The captain puckered his lips in thought and looked out the window. ‘As long as you can make use of the stars. Then I would really like to get back on course.’
Until sunrise, however long that could be. You had a few hours to find your current location and a path back to where you were headed.
‘What if I can’t do it?’ you pushed the question out of your tightening throat, scared of what the answer might be.
‘That is no mindset for you, princess.’ He brushed some hair out of your face. ‘You’re too smart for that. Now go on; no need to waste even more time.’ And with that, he set you on your way. Or, more accurately, he let go of you and made his way to the bed on the opposite side of the room. In the meantime, you felt like your feet were nailed to the ground, unsure of what to do next, scared of taking the wrong steps. All you could do was look around as if the answers were hidden in the cabin. It had not even been a minute, and you could feel your heart getting stuck in your throat, panic setting in. To give up had never been a feasible option for you before, and it still pained you to think of doing it, but the words were ready to leave your mouth. You win. Your lips parted, and your vocal cords croaked when you noticed something.
The letters were partly worn from contact but still reflected in the light. Either way, it wasn’t so much the letters that spoke to you, as you could not clearly read it from a distance, but the symbol above it. A golden star set on top of a leather book spine, winking at you in the fire.
Now with much more confidence, you took the needed strides towards the bookcase. It was pitch black leather, wrapped in a string to keep the delicate pages together. The book was situated on a lower shelf, pressed between other volumes, making it hard to remove.
‘Need help with that, princess?’ Munson sounded from behind you.
Instead of responding, you pulled at the book again, and this time, it fell out from the shelf with a stir as a pile of books near it moved about. Still giving no reaction to the words spoken, you got up and moved to the desk, unwrapping the tie from around the covers and letting it fall open in front of you. The pages were nearly pristine, the ink dark, as if it had never seen the light of day. This ink depicted excellent illustrations of creatures and men.
Despite being ignored by you, for once, the captain kept his distance and let you work while you searched for the correct pages. You could tell from notes that this was definitely the book you needed, as it told you everything you had to know, but the writing was small and not always legible. The pages were thin but rough to the touch. The writing was small, fitting as much information as the writer could cram between the covers. Most of it felt familiar, bringing you back to tales you had heard from your father or the governess. But navigating oneself with the stars' help required much knowledge and skill you still needed to possess.
You tried to focus on it as much as you could, and yet, despite the silence and the space between you, you couldn’t stop glancing his way. The captain lay on the bed, his head toward the door, facing you. Each time your eyes met, you pulled yourself away from it, returning to the words and drawings on the pages, but you could constantly feel his gaze on you. It was unnerving. It was as if he was standing right there in front of you.
‘I promise you, I will be more effective if I do not have to endure your constant breathing down my neck.’ Maybe it was your surprisingly peaceful few hours in solitude on board, the tankard of ale streaming through your blood, or even the overall situation placing the captain in a new light, but you felt bold. ‘So, will you please stop staring.’ You looked up, not even surprised to see him still looking directly at you.
‘What would you rather have me do, darling?’ he asked, almost affectionately… though that could not possibly be what it was.
‘For you to leave, and do not call me darling,’ you dared to express.
‘You want me to leave my own quarters?’ He raised a brow in humour.
‘Yes, that is exactly what I want,’ you explained.
‘Ah, well,’ he threw his hands up, rolling his eyes, ‘if it is exactly what the lady wants, that leaves me with very few options, doesn’t it?’ You watched him walk towards the door, perplexed at the ease with which he moved, …just to swerve around and lean against the door. ‘Oh, no, I suppose it doesn’t.’ He shrugged.
You did your best not to pay attention to whatever the captain was doing—which, in that instance, seemed to be humming some song. You did not recognise it, nor did you have a need to learn it. Especially since, at this moment, any sound from him boomed in your ears like a canon.
‘Must you be doing that? I am trying to concentrate for your own ship’s sake, if you do not recall.’
‘Apologies.’ He stopped, but the energy transferred into his legs, which shook his whole body with them, only softening the sound slightly, but the creaking of the wooden panels underneath him wasn’t much better. You couldn’t do this any longer.
The only thing on your mind was frustration as you slammed the book shut, picked it up and walked towards the door. The captain took one smooth step to the side and, when you pulled at the door handle, had expected it to remain in its bolts, but it opened so quickly that your slight pull was enough to throw you sideways. The night darkness welcomed you together with the cold sea air and confusion.
‘How long has this been open?’ You did not want to look at him and did not need to. You could tell what kind of smile he wore and how he must have enjoyed this moment as he answered.
‘Ever since I came back, princess.’ You could have left any time. You just took a deep breath and counted to three before turning his way and calmly saying something you had thought ever since your eyes fell upon him.
Well, at least better late than never. You stepped out onto the quarter deck without closing the door behind you. A man was half-asleep at the wheel, his entire body leaning on it. Luckily, someone had blocked it, avoiding the ship sailing in circles.
Besides the sleeping helmsman, no one else seemed to be above deck, most likely in their beds as deep night had arrived. There were no lights besides the fire lit in the captain’s office, so you let the darkness take you as you walked down the stairs…. But midway, as the light from the captain’s cabin remained in the distance, you realised your mistake.
‘For Heaven’s sake,’ you muttered under your breath and turned back around, climbing the steps, ignoring the burning hatred you felt in your body. Then, with an exaggerated sigh, you trotted your way back in. While your steps felt heavy, protesting your return into the room mentally, it was strange to walk so freely without all the layers your dress consisted of. With only a shirt over your upper body, you could feel each punch of the air on you, but in a strange sense, you welcomed it.
But stepping back inside, you felt your body heat up again, mainly from embarrassment rather than the soft fire lighting up the cabin. It had not even been a minute, and you were passing the threshold again. You had not expected, nor wanted, to have returned so soon. If luck was ever in your favour, you would never see the interior in your life again, but, unfortunately, there was no escaping from this room for you, as you seemed to be coming back no matter what.
‘Back so soon, princess?’ In the short time of your absence, Munson had returned to the bed and tilted his head at your entrance, grinning, ‘You must have missed me more than I thought.’
You scoffed, ‘for your information,’ and grabbed a lantern on a dressing table closest to the door… which was still too many steps inside for your liking, ‘I am simply gathering some light. It is too dark outside, I cannot read what's on the pages.’
‘Ah. Is that all then?’ he asked, returning his head onto his pillow, closing his eyes as if he was ready for sleep, ignoring his clothes and the stoic position in which he lay. But as you moved around the cabin, he had opened one eye to look your way. ‘I’d suggest you take a jacket, princess. It can be quite cold out there.’
‘You could have made a fine gentleman, Munson.’ You held your head high, not looking at him. ‘It is a shame you let yourself deteriorate at sea like your ship.’
‘That actually almost hurt me, darling. I’m impressed.’ He chuckled, eyes already closed again. With nothing else to say, you passed the large wardrobe and walked straight out of the room. Once again, you walked down the stairs, celebrated when your feet touched the last step and walked onto the ship's centre. Along with the crashing of the waves, you could hear each of your footsteps.
Something must have been in your favour, for the sky was without a cloud and in the darkness of the ship, you could see millions of stars twinkling. The moon was still but a sliver. It brought a similar-looking smile to your face.
You searched for the page you had deemed the most useful beginning and spread the book in your arm. Now, with the book open in your arm, with the flames lighting the pages from above, you gazed up at the stars. After a short moment, this position would not be possible to uphold. The two objects you held were too strong to keep up in the air. Remaining as calm as possible, ultimately pressing the captain out of your mind, you reread the pages.
To navigate through the stars, one must first find Polaris—the brightest star in the sky, right at the end of the Ursa Minor. The sky was clear, handing you the constellations on an onyx platter. The silver balls of fire were peppered around like crystals, gleaming and shimmering, but without a doubt, there was one that shined just a little bit brighter, calling to you with the direction of True North.
You had heard men talk of these methods at home and aboard the Red Tail, and they had always sounded relatively simple. If anything, you considered their constant complaints simply a part of manhood. Now that you were straining out your neck to look around at all the corners of the galaxy, you still did not think it to be much more complicated and so knew that the captain could not have felt any other way.
You had figured out his plan to punish you, and now the rationale behind this specific task came to you. It would not have been unexpected if he tasked you with this hassling job simply because he was too much of a sloth to do so himself. There was still a dim light in the office quarters, so you assumed he had not gone to sleep yet… or perhaps fallen asleep with all the candles still flickering. For a moment, your mind wandered to where the candles tipped over, caught some of the wood around, and never stopped burning.
Just for a moment, until your lantern started to feel hot against you as you held it too close. It felt so heavy. You had to set it on the ground, then sat down beside it with the book in your lap.
Some time passed, but who knew how long precisely you had been sitting out there. Your knees had started to hurt, as well as your spine, but giving up was not an option. The ship swayed back and forth against the waves, blurring your view, only making things more complicated. The wind kept lashing out, but you persisted, trying to calculate the ship's position, flipping back through the book to the pages on which a map had been etched out. You would do this if it was the last thing you did.
‘I will be done by sunrise, ’ you shouted as you heard footsteps behind you. The jingle of chains could have only been one person. You wiped some hair away that the wind blew in your face as you felt the captain’s presence behind you—like a deathly spectre hovering over you. ‘I– I promise.’ You said so more to yourself. Because while you had to prove yourself to him to live, you needed to prove to yourself that you could do this. You would persist and manage to find a way back home.
The captain said nothing; he did not linger around, watching you. The only thing he did, was throw down a large coat onto the ground, which fell onto the floorboards next to you with a thud. You blinked slowly, then turned around to him, but he was already returning to the cabin.
‘It will all be pointless if you freeze to death.’ And with that, he took his last steps and shut the door behind him. The light in his room immediately blackened, obscured by the stained glass in the small door window.
You looked down at the jacket. Like all those the captain wore, it was black but heavily layered. Decorated in what seemed like hand-stitched gold but not in any fashionable manner. The stitching was uneven and needed a clear pattern. The sleeves were falling apart but tied together with what once must have been a silver necklace. Several of them, even. You glanced once more in the direction of the captain’s cabin before putting the coat on. It swallowed you up but immediately brought over a sense of comfortable heat over your body. The soft material protected you against the wind. Now not feeling like your bones were becoming icicles, you began to feel some pleasure in the whole thing. As you kept working, you slowly forgot why you sat in the middle of the ship and let yourself be emersed by the stars. Being out there on your own was actually freeing in a strange sense. The darkness locked you out of your extended surroundings, placing you virtually anywhere.
Well, not anywhere. The constellations held the password to where you found yourself, and you would decrypt it anytime now.
But first, you needed to stretch your legs. The cracking of your joints was enough of a sign that you had sat on that floor long enough. With the lantern in hand, you walked in circles around the ship. The light swung in motion to your steps, in motion to the waves. When you looked out at the sea, you were greeted with two moons. One hung still in the sky while her sister swam in the waters. Mirrored images of each other, smiling and frowning in both directions, but never in reach. Conflicted, perhaps or maybe they simply managed to show you bits of yourself there?
You wanted to say something to them as you stood there, but no words felt right. So, peaceful silence it was. However, the longer you stood there, the more of an effect you thought from the hours you spent on the deck. And there was still so much you had to do. But you could do it.
Rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you leaned against the railing, placing the lantern beside you. The yawn pushed passed your lips without a choice but plenty of resistance. If you stayed there, you would probably fall asleep soon, which is ineffective. So, you grabbed the light, and with your free hand deep in your pocket to keep warm, you returned to your star gazing spot. But not one step in your brisk walk back, you halted. A feeling of something cold and hard against your hand occupied your entire mind there and then. When you pulled it out, you were unsure what it was, but the mechanism must have worn out through the years because it fell open in your hand, revealing a rose. Its arrow pointing right at you.
A compass.
Your head immediately shot toward the captain’s cabin, but the lights had gone out, and there was nothing more to make out of the darkness. Your eyes shut into narrow slits. He had brought you his own jacket and must have known what was in it.
The question now was, why? Why did he give it to you? Was he trying to help you by giving you this tool? Did he think you needed help to get anywhere? Well, you certainly did not. Especially when it could be a trap. The device could very well be defective and put you on the wrong trail, and then, if you were to give the captain the wrong directions, you knew he would not waste a second by punishing you. And this time, correctly.
Still, according to your calculations, North was meant to be behind you, so in that, the compass was correct, but you did not want to risk anything. An instinct told you to throw the thing away, right over the railing into the sea. Let it sink and make the captain watch. Just like you had to watch, your own ship disappear into the waters. It would have been a small taste of revenge, but it was a start.
The idea faded as soon as you shut the compass. You looked at the engraving on it—a detailed depiction of a bird–which kind, you could not quite tell. Perhaps a hawk… could it be… no, you doubted it was a Redtail. It could not be. The simple idea of that brought chills down your spine. How could Munson possess such an item; engraved with your town’s crest?
And it was old. As you had noticed, the clip keeping the two halves together was tethering on falling apart from frequent use, and the window of the rose was cracked. The metal of the shell had finger marks faded into it from the usual position it was held in by hands much larger than yours.
Not wanting to see it again, you pushed the compass deep down the pocket you had found it in. Determined to have the images erased from your mind by the rest of your task and the time pressure put on it, you retrieved your book.
It was harder done than said.
As you stood there, book and fire in hand, spinning around to position the stars as you pleased, the tiny silver lights blurred in your eyes. But you were so close, you could not stop now, not when you were so close. Ignoring the burn of the compass at your thigh as your mind whirred with solutions. With North decided for, and with the latitude… no longitude— and if the charts were pointed this way— then, God, you could not keep this book up anymore. Your arm screamed from the weight of the pages.
Back on the ground, you resumed your final observations. Flipping between the map and the charts, exchanging glances with the book and stars. Yes, if that was North, then… then… you checked the map once more, locating your home definitively.
You did it. You actually did it. It could have been minutes, maybe hours; you could not tell with certainty how much time you had spent on the task, but as you shut the book, so did your body. You fell back onto the deck with a tired smile. It could have been the fatigue, but the stars shone slightly brighter for you, gleaming with pride.
They also became blurrier. Your eyes turned heavy. But you kept staring up with a smile. At least, you do not remember ever stopping. Even if it is possible you fell asleep at some point, you could not tell at what point exactly. All you knew was that you dreamt. And for once, your mind was free of nightmares. As much as your world was free of them, at least. But it had to be a dream.
How else would he appear out of the shadows? Why else did you see him looking down at you; impossible to tell for how long. His features free of anger, mischief or bad intentions, unnatural. He stood there at the balustrade next to the helm. It was impossible to tell how long he had stood there in the dark.
And his walk. It was utterly silent, free of chains or heavy steps. That could have been only your brain letting you rest. His touch was feather soft as he picked you up in his arms.
You shouldn’t have stayed out here this long. He sighed in disappointment, but not in you.
You told me to— you mumbled.
I know. The floor became unstable. You were floating in the air, rising up. Only his hold there to keep you grounded. The one time you should have been stubborn and not listen. Why did you not just go to bed?
I want to go home, Eddie. Why else would you say this if it was not a dream? You could never imagine yourself opening up to him this way. Let him carry you like that. And if you had, it would never feel this good or safe to be held by him.
I know. He repeated himself. There was a shift. No longer in his arms, you were floating on a cloud, but his voice echoed around you. I’m sorry.
None of this could have been real. These could not be the words of captain Munson. But they still stayed with you as your dreams ventured on into other stories. All just as pleasant, the nightmares of all the nights before merely bad memories, never to be repeated again.
I did it, you said quickly before he disappeared, to be replaced by your new figment. North East. Go Northeast.
Here is your final reason. The proof you had dreamt it all. A silent moment, full of hesitation. Then, a fluttering touch of lips on your forehead and a hand brushing your cheek gently. If this had been real life, you would have turned away and let yourself burn in anger, but instead, your lips formed into a smile, and for the first time in forever, you felt at peace.
And just like that, like in any other dream, he was gone while your mind brought you to other fantastical places and told you stories you would not remember. It was a night of wondrous bliss, of rest. Filled with dreams as the stars watched over you.
Only at daybreak did it all change. When the morning sun glowed golden through the large window. Only at that moment you began thinking that maybe, just maybe, you were wrong. Perhaps not all of it had been a dream, for when you woke up, you were not on the ship's deck nor down in your cell. When you woke up, you did so in a bed.
The captain’s bed, of all places.
Chapter 5
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Introducing my g/t story
Beetle Shells
its based on actual entomology work ive done as a scientist, very self indulgent! TW: Cursing, light nudity, light blood, bugs (non aggro bugs)
Chapter 1: Introduction
I took quick and long strides down the sterile white hallway. At the end of the hallway were double doors tinted a dark black with yellow and red warning plates on the side. Reaching the end of the hallway and approaching a set of lockers, I instinctively reach for one marked with pink duct tape. Sighing, I shed my coat and donned a fresh laboratory coat along with medical boot covers. I tied my hair back into a messy bun of curls and finished up by secured the boot covers and buttoning up the coat. Beep beep beep beep! I stepped through the first door after punching in a personalized unique code. It was completely dark except for the UV light and stepped onto a sticky white pad. I heard the familiar hissing and allowed the cold air shower to blow onto my face and body before the stream dissipated. Lights automatically turned on and she then entered the quarantine lab. The quarantine lab was divided into four sections with one of the chemist labs right at the entrance.
“Heya Kyle. Any lucky today?” I approached the other scientist, peering around his shoulders at the beetle he was dissecting.
“Eh yknow, still having a hard time replicating the pheromones of this particular species. Still no preference or response to any of my solutions. The boss is pressuring me to get one ready in preparation for a public meeting with the state. Theres some big money involved with this research and the public havent been responsive. These invasive lil guys sure are causing me to lose sleep.” His face is creased with stress as he talks about it and he drops his tools in frustration.
“Yeah…they sure are cute lil guys. Imagine when you finally formulate it though! Theyll want to be all over you. Then your army of beetle lovers can eat the public opinion!” I laugh and pick up an analytical jar filled with peat and watch as the horned beetle emerges to munch on some sugarcane.
“Also hey how many do we have in inventory?” I inquire.
“Uhhh probably around 400 individuals over 5 generations. Sixth generation is scheduled to emerge in a few days now.” He answers, still not looking up at me. I admire his brown sleek hair, shining under the fluorescent lighting. I usually made excuses to talk to him throughout the day.
“Wow I wonder how much room we have left in here, we’re packed full. Well I have to work for about 3 hours with the longhorns so Ill come check in later to see if I can assist you.” Striding off, I walk through a hallway and enter a large metal door with a large latch.
I come into an enclosed refrigerated room and curse my luck on being stuck here. Its all plated metal with a chrome shelving unit on wheels and a long black table that stood about waist height. Plopping down on the black top swivel stool, i reach up for my clipboard, a binder, and mechanical pencil. Flipping open the binder, I scan the list of insects to be tested and pull out a form from another tabbed section. I flip open my airpod case and connect to my phones spotify playlist and walk out of the refrigerated hell to go grab my lil buddies that I get to hang out with for awhile. The insect species are separated by room so I dance over to the longhorn beetle room down the hall. The walls are lined with cups full of insect food and individual insects in each container. Buckets of different types of plants for feeding and a few carts along with another black table in the center of the room, fairly messy with forceps and papers were scattered about. The containers were marked with a gender sticker and had assigned genealogy tracking numbers. Sometimes Id mark a little heart on their containers if I was particularly fond of one of the individuals.
Dancing over and grabbing the cart, I stack male beetles and referencing my clipboard every so often. I scooted them all carefully back into my refrigerated testing room while grooving a bit to the music. I grabbed my favorite stick from the shelving unit and popped the top of the container to LB-08924 and was greeted by shaking and hissing.
“Oh nope. How bout you calm down there young man. Ill give you a few more minutes.” And grab another container for a second try.
On the table is a glass Y tube. Theres one small air hose connected to one side with the vaporized pheromone that the lab created and one small air hose connected to the other side with regular air. I get the next individual onto the stick and gently transfer them to the entrance to the tube and start a timer. The little antennas move a bit and stays in place. Waiting for the male to make a decision, I scribble in quick notes and information out on my form. Finally after 3 long minutes the male decides to walk down the tube towards our lab solution. I detach the air hose and gently pinch the lil guy to pull him out with a gloved hand. With a rather ungraceful plop, the male is dropped back into the container and the lid snapped shut.
Three hours go by and Ive listened to a whole Phish album and a podcast. I push a fallen curl behind my ear and straighten my posture, flipping through my reports to make sure I didnt miss any information.
Id been looking forward to taking a break and talking to Kyle again and the thought made me smile a bit to myself. I replace all my test subjects back to their respectful places, pop out my earbuds, and walk down the long hallway back to the main chemist lab.
“Kyle! Still hard at work I see. Im finished up with my beetles, need me to try and take a crack at yours?” I call out, seeing him in the same exact position as before. But this time, he actually turns to meet my green eyes with his darker gaze.
“Actually…yeah. The boss just fuckin yelled at me again to hurry this up. He doesnt understand that I cant rush this and once it is formulated, we have a long QC process ahead of us… Test this for me will you?”
“Yeah, anything for you. Give me a couple minutes to warm up first. Sample size?”
“Lets do 50 individuals. Using a spoon is your best bet to dig em out of the peat. Thanks, Clementine.” He holds out a vial to me and i take it, flashing him a smile and receiving one back.
I take the vial and slip it into my lab pocket readying a new cart of the new much larger rhinoceros male beetles. I struggle to balance their glass containers on the cart and right as I attempt to move the cart into the doorway of the testing room, the cart wobbles and causes the glass jars with the beetles to fall. Lunging to save the falling beetles, I trip in the process, breaking the vial and causing the glass to puncture through my jacket and shirt into my side. I land on other glass and thankfully none of the beetles.
“FUCK. ME.” I hiss and to my dismay I hear footsteps running over to me.
“Dude this didnt happen, lets not file an OSHA report and shit you know how much paperwork that is. Its my fault I shouldnt have tried to bring in that many bugs. I’ll take care of it all seriously Im fine. Im so sorry for breaking your vial I know that took you a long time..” I couldnt stop talking. Nevermind as fast as I was. I felt so embarrassed by the whole thing and wished I was alone. Kyle was staring at me with saucer eyes as if I ended the world by smashing his creation and I felt so badly about not being more careful.
“Uh Clementine… are you…. are you ok..? What the fuck…?”
I look down and see blood… but the blood stains look huge…but so does the lab coat itself…fuck I dont feel good. Woah all the beetles are surrounding me. The ones on the walls all surfaced from their peat. What the fuck….
Everything was in slow motion. I couldnt think straight and I felt like I was floating on hard drugs.
I realize Im craning my head up at Kyle with panic in my eyes.
“What was in the vial?” I slowly struggle to ask?
“Nothing that would cause this?? Its impossible. Maybe a dream??” He looks down at her with matching panic, hands shaking and staring down in fear as he appeared larger and larger to my now slumped body.
Ten or so beetles had finally began to crawl on me as I reached the height of the waist high table. Fear gripped me in the uncertainty but I realized I could barely stand from the overwhelming dizziness and weakness that overtook me. I was no taller than the waist high table and I collapsed to the ground causing two beetles to jump off.
“Help, please” desperation soaked my voice as their barbed legs gripped into my skin and my height still diminishing.
Kyles eyes darted and he finally began snatching the beetles off me and placing them in the labs emergency bug net. His huge hands approaching me caused my heart to race faster with fear. Holding the net of angry buzzing beetles, he turned and ran to secure them, leaving me. I had no idea how tall I was at this point, just that I was probably under 1’ by the look of things. I began to drag myself towards the bottom of the cart to try and hide underneath. There was no where else to hide and I couldnt trust a scientist, no matter how cute. The loud sound of footsteps coming back pumped fear through me and I realized I wouldnt be able to hide in time.
“Oh fuck youre so much smaller now…are you still shrinking?! Wait hey stop its ok theres no more beetles. All the insects are all locked up.” Kyle pushed the cart to expose the top half of me that had dragged myself under and squatted down in front of me.
“Uh sorry it took me a minute to process everything before helping you. I have no fucking idea whats happening but I feel responsible for giving you that vial. Im going to….pick you up now. Theres a lot of glass on the floor. Youre like 4 inches right now and I think you stopped shrinking.”
I watch, laid out on my side, bleeding in various places as he reaches both hands out in front of him, tilting his head as he considered how to exactly pick me up. I swallow as the hands approach. He uses his pointer finger to roll me onto the palm of his other hand. I puke in my mouth as he slowly raises me up to his gaze. His eyes are massive now, huge glossy orbs of color right in front of me. Exposing me. I had never felt so naked before and I shyly move my hands to cover myself despite my naked body already touching his warm palm. Averting my eyes, I hold back tears and feel absolutely out of control of reality.
“Ive got you, dont worry. I’ve got you.” He whispered quietly.
“We’ve gotta go though. We need to address your wounds first and foremost. Youre coming back with me.” Taking control of the situation, Kyles voice filled with more confidence.
“We gotta put you down first though so I can clean this up to prevent any suspicion. Im gonna lay you on the table now. Ill grab your shirt so you dont get cold. Youre shaking…i think.”
I couldnt speak. I didnt know what to say. I nodded weakly at the massive being and the nausea hit again as he lowered his hands and moved to the table. Using two fingers, he gently pushed me off his palm and I rolled onto the cold metal. In that moment I felt like a rag-doll specimen. He quickly plucked my bra from my shirt and brought the shirt up and wrapped me in it. My shivered chattering began to quiet and I soon found myself asleep to the sounds of him cleaning up broken glass.
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Summary: When 19-year old Feyre Archeron voluntarily takes her sister's place in the Hunger Games, she expects nothing but her imminent demise. But Feyre is a survivor, and as she is thrown into a battle between life and death, she discovers there are things worth fighting for.
Pairing: Feysand
Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, graphic depictions of blood and gore, Feyre being sexy and unhinged, wait a second is that Rhysand? Is he also sexy and unhinged? AKA Feysand (literally) slaying the game
Read: Chapter I || Fic Masterlist || AO3
Chapter IV: To the Stars Who Listen
The blood in her arm was pulsating in agony.
Brannagh’s grip on her had been too tight, and Feyre was certain that long, purple-black bruises would paint her skin within hours. She tried not to hiss in pain as she raised her hand to press the penthouse button on the elevator wall. For a brief moment, she allowed her head to rest against the cool metal, closing her eyes and welcoming the dark’s sweet embrace.
There you are.
I’ve been looking for you.
Who was he? Why was he there tonight? Somehow, Feyre couldn’t shake the feeling the violet-eyed man had sought her out. Having almost been killed by her hand seemed not to bother him in the slightest—strange, given the Capitol’s dramatic tendencies Feyre had grown accustomed to.
You’re not from the Capitol.
That feline smile. Finally.
The elevator dinged quietly, and Feyre opened her eyes.
Most of the entrance hall was veiled in darkness, though she could make out the large, ornate mirror on the side, glinting gently in the distant light of the skyline seen from the lounge. It appeared everyone had gone to sleep—still, Feyre hardly wanted to test her luck after the last time she’d been caught. Alis would never let her out of her sight again. Silently, just like in the forest back home, Feyre took a few steps forward, the lounge hidden just around the corner.
That’s when she heard it.
She’d recognise that voice anywhere.
“I knew you were a brilliant young man, my dear,” Amarantha drawled, the words like syrup dripping from her tongue. “I’m surprised I haven’t thought of it myself.”
“You really think so?” her companion asked, and Feyre’s brows knotted.
What was Tamlin doing with her at this hour?
Amarantha clicked her tongue in disapproval. “Are you doubting yourself, Tamlin?
In the shelter of the corridor’s walls, Feyre held her breath, waiting for his answer.
“No,” Tamlin finally said. “But I do wish there was another solution.”
A theatric sigh. Feyre imagined Amarantha patting his hand as she spoke, “We all do, my dear. We all do.” With that, she stood, the sound of her heels on the polished stone announcing her departure.
Feyre made herself count to sixty—a full minute before she dared to step out, enough, she hoped, not to raise any suspicions.
Tamlin’s head whipped in her direction as she came into view. “Feyre?” he asked from the same windowsill she’d found him on last time. “I thought you were asleep.”
Feyre took a few steps forward. “I could say the same thing about you,” she said, then made a show of looking around the space. “Is anybody else awake?”
He held her gaze for a few seconds before shaking his head. “Just me.”
Feyre nodded, taking a seat beside him. Every nerve inside her body screamed as she propped herself up on her sore arm, though she forced her features into a cool stillness that rivalled the stone beneath her.
“Where were you?” Tamlin asked.
Feyre looked out to the city below. “Training hall.”
She could almost hear his eyes widen. “Feyre, if Alis knew…”
“Well, she doesn’t,” Feyre interrupted, meeting his stare again. “Let’s keep it that way.”
Tamlin opened his mouth, then closed it, seemingly deciding tonight was not the best time for an argument. Instead, he nodded, and this time, they both looked to the Capitol’s bright lights, content to do nothing but watch their midnight dance.
Feyre wondered if she’d ever see the city again—not that she wanted to, and yet…with death looming over her, closer and closer with each passing day, everything seemed to be slipping from her grasp a little too fast. Even the Capitol.
She would never see her District again, either. Her house, small and cramped as it was, the black market, the forest. Feyre wished she knew the hunt on the morning of the Reaping would be her last. She would have tried harder then.
Something stung in her chest at the thought, and Feyre tore her gaze away from the view, words escaping her mouth before she could stop them.
“I needed to train.” she told him. “Today’s session was not enough.”
Tamlin frowned, those emerald eyes piercing. “Why?”
Feyre shrugged absently. “I promised my sisters I would win. And even though…even though I know I have no chance, I want them to see that I at least tried.”
He looked to his feet at that, taking in her words with a sad smile.
Feyre angled her head. “You’re thinking about your sister,” she said, and Tamlin’s gaze shot up, surprise—surprise and pain—like a shadow over his handsome features.
It felt like a punch in the gut.
“I’m sorry,” Feyre said quickly. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
But Tamlin was already shaking his head. “No—no, I…” he hesitated. “I’m thankful you’re bringing her up. I don’t…I don’t talk about her as often as I should.”
Feyre said nothing, opting to let him open up on his own despite the questions buzzing inside of her head.
“It’s been years, actually,” Tamlin told her. “That one night you found me in here…that was the first time I brought her up in…forever.” He swallowed hard. “I was never planning to tell anyone about her…but there you were, so painfully honest about what you’d done for your own…” Tamlin sighed, meeting her eyes again at last. “She deserved to live outside of only my memory again. So thank you, Feyre.”
Silence fell, accompanied by nothing but the echo of his words.
“How did she die?” Feyre whispered.
With a shaky breath, Tamlin ran a hand through his hair. “Our uncle—my mother’s brother—used to work at the mines. Dalia—that was her name, she…” he stumbled over his words, another trembling breath leaving his throat.
“Take your time,” Feyre told him gently.
Tamlin closed his eyes, forcing himself steady before he continued, “The miners would be working all day, sometimes all the way through the night, and Dalia liked to leave them food by the entrance—something to keep them going, to give them strength throughout their shift. Her and my mother would make sandwiches—nothing special, just ham, sometimes even cheese…Dalia would leave them in a small basket with a rose, or some other flower, over the lid. She liked to think it would let the miners know they came from her.” He huffed a small laugh at the fond memory, and Feyre smiled. “One day, my sister was going back from the mines through the forest. It was nighttime—one of those longer shifts, I guess—and I…I don’t know exactly what happened, but she must have been picking flowers, and…” Tamlin’s voice strained at that, but he pushed through nonetheless. “And she picked up some nightlock berries.”
Feyre’s smile faded entirely.
“She didn’t know,” Tamlin whispered. “She didn’t know they would kill her. We…I didn’t even know they grew in our forests.”
She knew. Feyre knew. She could have stopped it—
“She was only nine,” Tamlin continued quietly. “She was only nine, and I couldn’t protect her.”
Tears burned in Feyre’s eyes. “I’m so sorry—”
Tamlin looked at her again, silver lining his own as he spoke. “You protect your sisters, Feyre,” he told her. “And I couldn’t protect mine, but…but I’ll do my best to protect you.”
Feyre’s heart stopped beating.
“I promise,” Tamlin said, and left her alone in the night.
***
As predicted, Feyre’s arm was killing her the next day.
On their last day of training, Alis put them through hell. She’d reserved a space underground beside the training hall, just as well equipped as the main area, though Alis had opted for only the exercises she had deemed they needed to revise the most.
Feyre did not dare to look at Tamlin when their mentor talked them through poisons.
He seemed not to acknowledge it though, taking in every word with an unnervingly stoic look on his face. By the time they were finished with hand-to-hand combat, everything seemed to get back to normal
Now, they sat on the bench by the back wall, sweating under Alis’s surveying stare.
“I know you think training is over,” the older woman said, “but the worst is yet to come. Don’t look at me like that, girl,” she told Feyre, seemingly noticing her distress, “tomorrow, you will be interviewed in front of the entire Capitol, and believe me, their judgement is far worse than mine.”
Feyre felt her stomach turn.
“The interviews will be televised all over Panem,” Alis continued. “I’m sure you’ve seen hundreds of those in your life, but don’t let that put you at ease. Like each Tribute, every interview is different, and the sponsors do not enjoy a spectacle they’ve already seen before.”
Considering the fact that Feyre had only been watching the Games for the past two years, this was good news.
Propped up on her crane, Alis leaned in closer. “They’ll be watching your every move, listening to every word. So before you say or do anything, think. The goal is to show them you’re worth their money. Show them you have what it takes to win.”
Bile rose in her throat, the burning sensation so sudden Feyre’s eyes began to water. She’d gotten so used to this phase, the non-stop training over the past two weeks that she didn’t realise how quickly the time has passed. She would die in two days, three, four if she was lucky. And although she promised her sisters she would try her hardest to survive…she knew others would, too.
Show them you have what it takes to win. Feyre was fairly certain a bow and arrow would never be enough.
“How do we do that?” Tamlin’s voice pulled her from her thoughts.
Alis’s eyes narrowed. “Make them like you,” she drawled. “Your skills will mean nothing if the sponsors hate your guts.”
“Excellent,” Feyre murmured. How could she possibly do that after trying to kill one of them?
Even if she hadn’t done that, Feyre seriously doubted she could win over the sponsors as easily as Alis was making it out to be. Back home, after all, she had no one—no one but Isaac—and not because she was intimidating like Nesta, opting for solitude and the peace it offered. Most people in Twelve seemed to simply…stay away. Perhaps it was the illegal hunts she’d go on almost every morning, or her frequent attendance at the black market. Perhaps they still remembered the one time she was caught on her escapades—could somehow see the five long scars on her back through the flimsy fabric of her shirts, a constant reminder that Feyre Archeron wasn’t a person anyone should associate themselves with.
She wished she was more like Elain. Even when they had nothing, her sister was never alone. There was something about her that people loved—that they could not look away from. As if her mere presence was enough to forget about their daily misery. As if…as if Elain was sunlight, and without her, everyone would wither away. Feyre definitely would.
“Feyre,” Alis demanded, interrupting her train of thought. Was this the first time Alis called her by name?
Feyre sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m just tired.”
“Save the bullshit for the sponsors, girl.”
That was more like it.
Feyre leaned back in her seat, ignoring the sharp pull on her bicep. “I can’t do it,” she said. “The sponsors hate me.”
Alis opened her mouth, but was immediately cut off by a louder, sugary voice, accompanied by the rhythmic sound of high heels on the stone floor. “Nonsense,” Amarantha said, making her way inside the room. She stopped a few inches away from them, offering a sweet, encouraging smile. “My lovely Feyre. The Capitol absolutely adores you—just be yourself, and you’ll have their favour in no time.”
Feyre frowned. “The Capitol barely knows me.”
Amarantha shrugged. “That hardly matters. They know enough to offer you their support, in fact—well, I’m not exactly supposed to say this, but—oh, well, here it goes. I’ve just returned from a lovely gathering with some of the other aides, and rumour has it you’re the most anticipated appearance for tomorrow night.” She angled her head in a motherly gesture, and reached to swipe two fingers across her cheek. Feyre flinched, though Amarantha did not seem to notice. “The only thing you must do is look spectacular, as you always do, and you’re going to win this thing.”
Feyre stilled, daring a side glance at Tamlin. His expression, practically carved in stone, betrayed nothing.
Amarantha dropped her hand with a dramatic sigh. “Anyway. I came to tell you that dinner will be served in a few minutes, so come on up when you’re ready to—”
Without a word, Tamlin strode right past them, leaving the room before she even got to finish.
Amarantha’s face twisted in worry. “I should—I’ll see you upstairs,” she said, and quickly followed Tamlin out.
Alis snickered and shook her head. “One thing about the Capitol, girl—it never really gets boring.”
Feyre’s brows furrowed. “What was that all about?”
Offering nothing but a one-shouldered shrug, Alis turned towards the exit. “It’s normal at this stage,” she told her, her wooden crane tapping lightly against the floor. “It appears that Tamlin no longer believes he can compete with the Star of the Capitol.” A chuckle. “Now, let’s go and enjoy dinner, girl. With that attitude of yours, it’s likely one of the last meals you’ll ever have.”
***
“You look beautiful,” Nuala said, and Feyre released a shaky breath. “I mean it.”
Feyre did believe her. She’d never felt more beautiful in her life.
The Capitol food agreed with her, filling in her curves and bringing a soft glow into her usually hollow features. Her designer did something to Feyre’s cheekbones, too—a strange, shimmery product that highlighted their sharpness in a bold yet graceful manner. She stained her lips with a soft burgundy lipstick—a new name for a colour she’d never even known existed. It suited her, though, bringing out the fullness of her mouth and complimenting the sparkly eyeshadow Nuala had chosen for this occasion. It suited the dress best, she argued.
She was, of course, right.
Feyre had never even touched a fabric like this before—so soft and elegant, flowing like a shadow with her every move. It reminded her of the dress Nuala had worn the first time they met, though this gown was much more grand and formal, its black silks hugging her body in ways Feyre had no idea were possible. The low, yet appropriate for the Capitol standards cut revealed her collarbone, adorned with the same shimmery product that covered her cheeks, which Nuala had said would reflect beautifully under the studio light. She’d opted for no jewellery, explaining that the dress would do a sufficient enough job to make her appearance memorable. Instead, Nuala curled Feyre’s hair into soft, cascading waves, combing in a small amount of silver glitter to complete the look.
“You’ve outdone yourself, Nuala,” Feyre told her as she examined the stranger in the mirror.
The woman winked. “Remember to save the best for last.”
Feyre nodded, then took another nervous breath.
“Relax,” Nuala said. “Act like no one’s watching. You can pretend it’s your sisters you’re talking to, not Helion Spellcleaver.”
“I don’t think that would help,” Feyre said. “Nesta would cry tears of laughter if she saw me like this.”
“Well,” Nuala said. “At the very least, remember you’ll have at least one friendly face in the audience tonight.”
“You’ll be watching?” Feyre asked.
Nuala took her hand and squeezed it lightly. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
Feyre smiled. “Thank you.”
“I’ll see you out there,” her friend said. “They’re waiting for you backstage,” she added, and with a final check on Feyre’s hair, she exited the room.
Backstage, Tamlin, Alis and Amarantha were already sitting on the couch, anxiously awaiting District Twelve’s turn.
For this occasion, the Capitol had delegated one small room adjoining the stage for each District. A small screen had been set up on the wall for the live holo to display the main stage, which meant they would be able to watch all of the interviews before their turn came—as well as the audience’s reactions.
Feyre forced another breath into her tight chest and stepped into the room.
Right away, she was greeted by a high-pitched squeak of delight, Amarantha shooting up from her red-velvet seat to take her all in.
“Feyre, you look magnificent. Look at this fabric!” she exclaimed, grabbing a handful of the sheer, black tulle draped over her arms. “Truly, this is just lovely. I’ve seen the other Tributes, and frankly, you’re going to be the best-dressed one of them.”
Feyre’s brows knotted in confusion. “When did you see them?”
Amarantha winked secretively. “I’ve had a look at the early designs.”
Behind her, Alis scoffed.
Feyre’s frown deepened. “But how?”
She wasn’t offered an answer, though, as the screen suddenly lit up, casting a bright, pinkish hue over the room to the sounds of applause.
The camera focused on the stage, where a shadowed silhouette sat in a pristine white chair, his back turned to the crowd. The cheers grew louder when the chair began to move, rotating slowly until the figure came into full view, all the lights focusing on revealing the wide grin of Helion Spellcleaver.
Dressed in a dark green suit, his shoulders were adorned with what seemed like actual, long feathers of a peacock, their vibrant blue eyes adding splendour to the ensemble that made the audience roar in ecstasy. The host stood up to greet them, heavy golden rings on each finger of his hand as he waved, that smile not leaving his face for a second.
“Welcome!” Helion announced, opening his arms to the crowd. “Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the final night before the Seventy-Fourth Hunger Games officially begin!”
The audience cheered again, and Feyre paled at the sound.
“So many of them,” Tamlin whispered beside her, his thoughts seemingly mimicking her own.
Helion asked, “Are we excited to meet this year’s brave and noble Tributes?” The Capitol answered with a shout of delight, and Helion laughed, the sound rich and deep. Feyre suddenly wondered how old he was—as far as she was told, he’d been hosting the Games for a little over ten years. “Good answer! So, while I would love to chat with you for the next few hours—” he teased playfully, causing a few giggles amongst the crowd, “—let’s not waste any more time and dive straight into the interviews. Please join me in welcoming the stunning Briallyn from District One!”
The girl entered the stage, the long, golden train of her gown slithering behind her like a snake. The applause grew louder, and the camera cut to the audience to show a standing ovation in some of the sectors. Clearly, this girl already had her fair share of admirers.
Helion extended a hand, and Briallyn took the seat beside him, a knowing smile playing on the corners of her lips.
“I must say, Briallyn, you look absolutely phenomenal,” the host said, then turned to the audience. “Doesn’t she look phenomenal, folks?”
The Capitol erupted with another roar, and Helion smiled at the Tribute. “Did you know gold is my absolute favourite colour?” he asked.
Briallyn shrugged innocently. “Perhaps I did,” she said, then leaned in closer towards Helion, her breasts veiled in golden glitter that sparkled as she moved. “Perhaps that’s exactly why I wore it today.”
Seriously?
But the audience laughed, and so did Helion, a look of elated surprise blooming on his face.
“She’s good,” Alis commented from her seat beside Tamlin.
Feyre scoffed. “You can’t be serious. She’s flirting with the host in front of the entire country!”
Alis pointed to the screen. “They’re laughing, aren’t they?”
“I will never understand the Capitol,” Tamlin muttered, and Feyre was inclined to agree. Could a few smiles in the right direction truly determine whether she would live or die?
Alis shook her head. “The girl has a strategy, and she’s executing it to near perfection. This is how you become memorable—she’s doing the unexpected, and the Capitol thrives on it.” With a sigh, she tore her eyes off the screen. “This is what you have to do. Get a feel for the audience, see how they react to you. To them, you are nothing more but entertainment. So entertain.”
“I’m not going to flirt with Helion Spellcleaver,” Feyre protested.
Alis rolled her eyes. “No one’s making you flirt, girl. What you do have to do is surprise them—in whatever way you can. And I’m not talking about your dress, your hair, or whatever glitter it is they’d put all over you—everyone here has been groomed to perfection. Ultimately, they will only remember you by your words.”
Feyre swallowed hard.
Alis continued, “Whenever you see an opportunity, take it. Play to your strengths. And remember, the Capitol isn’t the only one watching. The same people that are going to try and kill you will soak up your every word—and tomorrow, they will use them to their advantage,” she warned, her gaze meeting Feyre’s directly. “So remember—be entertaining to the audience, but intimidating to the other Tributes. Show them you’re not an easy kill. Sit up straight, but be relaxed. Smile, but not too widely. You want to appear confident and at ease.”
Feyre leaned back in her seat, her head spinning at the sheer amount of information. The familiar, twisting sensation in her gut returned, threatened by the tight fit of the gown on her stomach, and she felt her vision blur out and her heart rate speed up. This was impossible—impossible.
Before she realised how much her panic consumed her, Brannagh and Devlon, the male Tribute from District One, had already finished their interviews. It was only the sound of a chilling, voice that Feyre knew all too well that pushed her out of her state, her vision returning to focus on Brannagh’s vicious smile on the holo.
“So determined,” Helion praised. “How commendable.”
Brannagh’s smile widened. “My brother and I cannot wait to make the Capitol proud.” She looked straight into the camera, and Feyre shifted in her seat. “And no one is going to stand in our way.”
Feyre’s blood chilled while the audience erupted with another round of applause.
Brannagh stood, waving to the camera again, and Feyre couldn’t shake the overwhelming feeling that her final words were a message—a message meant for none other than her.
The girl left the stage, and Feyre whispered, “She’s going to kill me."
Tamlin’s head whipped to her, forcing her eyes on his. “She won’t.”
Such resolve, such hard abandon in his voice—and Feyre began to feel lightheaded again. What, exactly, was Tamlin’s attitude towards her? For the entirety of their first week at the Capitol—besides that one night she’d found him after her nightmare—he’d barely uttered a word in her direction. In fact, Feyre was convinced he was determined to avoid her so that it would be easier for him to kill her when the time came. And yet, at times…at times Feyre couldn’t tell what went on in his head. Why did he promise to protect her?
Tell me what you’re thinking, her eyes tried to tell him. I can’t figure you out.
No answer came back.
Soon, Districts Two and Three were finished, and Helion announced the next Tribute.
The boy from Four had beautiful eyes, a blue-green shade Feyre hadn’t even known existed before she came to the Capitol. His hair was a striking white, braided back and glistening under the bright stage lights. It reminded Feyre of seafoam—the same kind she’d once seen on the holo news about the District’s fishing shipment struggles over the winter. The livestock shipments from Ten had already been restricted, and Feyre vividly remembered her mother’s face when the news came on. Her blue-grey eyes, the same ones Feyre and Nesta had, dimmed as she sat down. She hadn’t said a word until the following day.
His smile was kind and gentle, though his gaze betrayed wariness as he patiently waited for the audience to settle. Beside him, Helion Spellcleaver took his seat, his feathers glittering so bright Feyre had to squint despite watching through the backstage screen.
“I must say, Tarquin, you look absolutely spectacular tonight,” the host told him.
Tarquin’s head cocked to the side. “Not nearly as spectacular as you, Helion,” he drawled.
Helion’s grin widened. “Well, I’ve lived here longer.”
The audience erupted in laughter, and Feyre finally understood—understood just how important his role was in this whole game. Helion was entertaining, to be sure, and the Capitol seemed to be eating right out of the palm of his hand, but there was a purpose to his shining persona and arsenal of wit. He was there to help them—to give each Tribute a chance at gaining the interest of those that could keep them alive.
Feyre sighed. All the wit in the world wouldn’t make the sponsors like her, no matter how much of it Helion had at his disposal. Once she opened her mouth, all they would see was the Star of the Capitol extinguished.
“So tell me, Tarquin,” Helion said, crossing an ankle over his knee. “What’s your strategy for the big game tomorrow?”
For the first time, Tarquin smirked, tapping the golden trident engraved on the front of his vibrant suit. “You’d be surprised how far fishing can get you in life,” he told the host.
The audience laughed, some of them even going as far as to shout Tarquin’s name. Helion angled his head, pointing to the crowd. “Sounds like a few of us agree,” he suggested, and the spectators cheered their agreement.
“Clever,” Alis noted, impressed. “He’ll be another one to look out for.”
Feyre’s mouth formed a tight line. She remembered Tarquin from training—he was one of the very few Tributes she actually liked. He’d shown her how to tie different variations of knots, even how to attach them to her own body, and asked for nothing in return. Tarquin was so different from the Careers—talented and kind, with no bloodthirsty quality about him that made Feyre want to stay far away from the others.
Looks, it seemed, could often be misleading. Perhaps this boy would try and kill her, too—tie a knot around her neck while she slept in the middle of the night.
Her bruised arm began pulsating again, and Feyre slouched in her seat, exhausted despite not having even begun.
“Sit up, my dear,” Amarantha told her. “You’re going to ruin your dress.”
Feyre wanted to scream.
She ultimately decided it was in her best interest to only pretend to be watching the rest of the interviews if she wanted to make it to the stage with her makeup still intact. Watching the young boy from Seven, twelve-year old Balthazar, had nearly brought her to tears. Young—he was so young, his innocence soon to be brutally taken away. Would the deadly twins kill him? Would Feyre?
And so, her eyes remained fixed absently on the screen until the camera zoomed in on a familiar face.
“Do you think you can win, Ressina?” Helion asked as her interview neared its end.
Her friend raised an eyebrow. “Absolutely. I’m determined to show the Capitol that the outer Districts have as much skill as One or Two.”
She stepped off the stage, and Alis clicked her tongue.
“What?” Feyre asked. “What is it?”
“The Capitol will make sure to prove this girl wrong,” Alis said.
Feyre’s eyes widened. “Why do you say that?”
Alis’s stare was hard and unwavering. “She just challenged their treatment of the outer Districts. They’re going to kill her the first chance they get.”
“Come now, Alis, I don’t think…” Amarantha began.
“I can say whatever I want to say,” Alis interjected. “They’ve put me through enough.”
Amarantha said nothing.
Alis continued, “The girl’s efforts are worthless. Do not stay close to her once the Games begin,” she advised.
Feyre’s heart dropped.
“I see the look on your face, girl,” Alis now addressed her directly. “I can’t stop you once you’re out in the arena, but remember this: there can only be one winner in the Hunger Games. The only thing you can really do, the only thing you should do, is whatever it takes to protect your sisters. Which, at the moment, means doing as you’re told.”
I promised my sisters I would try to survive, she told Tamlin. But at what cost?
How many people would she be forced to slaughter? Feyre’s been a killer ever since she’d gone into the forest—but animals were her only prey. She’d never felt any remorse—her family was starving, and hunting was a means to an end. But this…this was different.
She would be killing for nothing but the entertainment of Panem’s elite—to satisfy their insatiable thirst for the blood of the country’s youth. Here, in this city of never-ending supplies of fresh food, clean water, and anything their heart desired, Feyre and the other Tributes were prey, meant to hunt each other for the Capitol’s enjoyment.
What a waste.
“You know her as the Star of the Capitol,” Helion’s voice suddenly reached her through the screen. “But to us, she is the brave volunteer from District Twelve. Please welcome Feyre Archeron!”
Feyre went deathly still. She’d allowed her thoughts to take over for too long, and her turn had somehow already come. Her heart pounded in her chest, the chill creeping down her spine freezing her entire body in place.
Someone must have taken her hand and led her to the stage, because she did not remember getting up from the couch, walking to the door and up the stairs until a bright light blocked her vision from anything but Helion Spellcleaver, waiting for her a few meters ahead.
Feyre stepped into the light, the sounds of applause slamming into her so loudly her ears began to ring. The high pitch almost swept the floor from her feet had it not been for the host’s encouraging hand she took absently.
She felt herself fall to a seat, soft and plush like anything in the Capitol, and Feyre looked at the blurry splashes of colour in front of her until they sharpened into people—an audience waiting.
Waiting…for what?
Feyre looked to Helion, inches away from her, and she realised this was the first time she’d seen him up-close. He was handsome—too handsome, perhaps, with the kind of face she knew would crush her heart if she’d let him.
His dark brows rose expectantly, and horror washed over her, hot and boiling her cheeks red as she realised he must have asked her a question.
“What?” she asked helplessly.
The audience howled in laughter, and Helion joined them, his own laugh earnest as he patted Feyre’s hand. “I think someone’s a little nervous,” he teased. “I said I am so happy that I finally get to ask you about your entrance at the Tributes’ Parade. Spectacular, wasn’t it folks?” he asked, turning to the rainbow of tulle and synthetic watching from their seats out front.
They cheered loudly, and even Helion offered a small applause of his own. His gaze fixed on Feyre again, and he nodded with a reassuring smile. “Come on—tell us all about it,” he said.
Forcing herself to focus on the host, Feyre looked away from the crowd and into his amber eyes, surprised to find a spark in there—and a message.
He was giving her an opportunity.
She thought of Nuala’s advice from before. What would you say if it was Elain in front of you?
Feyre smiled nervously. “Honestly, it was hard to see anything in the dark,” she told him, and those eyes sparked again in approval. The audience laughed, and Feyre continued. “I was just hoping the horses would take me to the right place.”
Laughter, loud and bright, rolled over the crowd, and Feyre took advantage of the moment to release a quiet breath. It continued until Helion raised a hand with a smile, turning to Feyre again.
“Well, then I feel compelled to inform you that you looked absolutely magnificent. I have to say, my heart stopped,” he said, placing a hand on his broad chest, “when your costume lit up with what looked like actual stars. Did any of you experience this?” Helion asked, looking to the crowd.
Feyre followed his gaze to where hundreds of people cheered their agreement. She looked to the front row again, where a pink-haired woman nodded sagely, her own hand mimicking Helion’s movement. Another spectator beside her wiped off a tear.
“My heart stopped,” Helion repeated, shaking his head, as if the memory still kept him mesmerised.
Feyre offered another smile. “So did mine,” she admitted, and Helion laughed brightly.
“Are you afraid of the dark, my darling Feyre?” he asked, and Feyre’s smile faded.
My darling Feyre, have you not considered that perhaps you are just that talented?
She shook the memory off, carefully crafting the smile to curve up her mouth again. “I’m merely saying there is always light in the darkness, Helion,” she said.
Helion hummed appreciatively. “A light in the darkness,” he pondered. “I think you were exactly that.” His own smile returned as he added, “Tell me, when are we going to see you shine again?”
The question was met with applause, with the Capitol seemingly desperate for an answer as well. Feyre’s eyes scanned the crowd, until they settled on the second row—and a familiar face.
Nuala gave her a small nod, and Feyre blew out a breath. This was the time.
With a teasing smile, she turned to Helion. “I could show you now—if you’d like to see?”
Helion’s brows rose as the audience shouted, begging for a demonstration.
Helion held up a hand. “Hold on,” he halted. “If it’s another explosion of darkness, you have to swear that it’s not going to ruin my favourite suit,” he warned, and Feyre laughed.
“No explosions this time,” she promised.
“Alright, what do you think then, folks?” the host asked, and the Capitol cheered, whistles of encouragement rising over the crowd.
Feyre stood, and took a few steps forward, away from the strong light shining over their seats. The black silks of her gown flowed with her, so dark she doubted anyone could make out their shape from where they were sat over the main stage.
Releasing a final, trembling breath, Feyre opened her arms and twirled.
Just as Nuala said it would, thousands of silver speckles appeared throughout the fabric, twinkling under each layer of the gown with a soft light. The entire Capitol gasped in unison at the sight, more stars appearing with each twirl, from the very top beneath her collarbone where the dress began down to the material pooling at her feet. In a manner of seconds, Feyre was the night sky personified, casting a light of her own over the audience.
Someone shouted her name, and soon, the entire hall was chanting it like a prayer, accompanied by a never-ending applause. Feyre spun and spun and spun until shapes blurred into one, and the floor became soft and unstable beneath her feet.
Helion’s light grip on her elbow steadied her, his handsome face betraying nothing but pure, unrestrained awe. The Capitol roared in delight as Feyre returned to her seat, some of them rising from their seats to show their appreciation for the show they’d just been given.
Feyre smiled, and Helion returned the gesture. “That was really something,” he said, his grin growing wider as he added, “The Star of the Capitol indeed.
“Feyre,” he continued, “I have one more question for you.” Helion took her hand again, his expression fading into seriousness. “It’s about your sister.”
Feyre stilled, shifting only slightly in her seat. “Okay,” she said hesitantly.
Helion looked to her hand, once again patting it gently—this time, a gesture of support. Feyre wondered if the man was simply easy to read, or if he’d made himself this transparent on purpose. “We were all very moved, I think,” he began, “when you volunteered for her at the Reaping.” He swallowed, as if the topic was somehow hard for him to discuss. “Tell me…did she come to say goodbye to you?”
Feyre. My beautiful Feyre.
Everything will be okay.
You shouldn’t have done that, Feyre.
Promise you will make it out.
“Yes,” Feyre finally said, her throat tight. “She did."
“And what did you say to her before you left?” Helion asked quietly.
“I told her…” Feyre hesitated, looking around the studio again. Just beneath the stage, only slightly below the first row of spectators, stood a camera.
Feyre looked straight into it.
“I told her I would try to win. That I would try to win for her.”
The audience fell completely silent, as if mourning that final goodbye with her, and Feyre turned back to Helion, who nodded knowingly.
“I know you will,” he said, placing a light kiss atop her hand, his lips warm and soft. Then, Helion stood, Feyre following closely behind him. “Ladies and gentlemen, Feyre Archeron from District Twelve!” he exclaimed, raising her hand up in triumph to the sounds of a rapturous Capitol.
Backstage, she was pulled straight into Amarantha’s arms.
“Brilliant!” she told her. “Absolutely brilliant! Feyre, you did an incredible job, truly, I think you made quite the impression, the sponsors especially—”
“Quiet,” Alis interrupted her rambling. “Tamlin is on.”
Feyre’s head whipped back to the screen.
Tamlin lounged in the chair, seemingly relaxed as Helion smiled encouragingly.
“I hear you work at a flower shop back home,” the host teased. “You must smell like roses all the time.”
Tamlin cocked his head contemplatively. “I’m not sure,” he hummed, then gestured for Helion to lean in. “Do I smell like roses to you?”
The host leaned forward, making a show of smelling Tamlin’s arm to the utter surprise and delight of the audience. “You do smell amazing,” Helion told him, his brows furrowing. “I think I might want to change professions now.”
Tamlin waved a playful hand. “Every job comes with its benefits,” he said, and the audience laughed.
“Speaking of benefits,” Helion continued, a sly smile playing in the corner of his mouth. “Does selling flowers come with the advantage of some extra female attention?” he asked with a wink. The camera cut to the audience again, a few women’s eyes wide as they awaited Tamlin’s answer.
Tamlin laughed. “No…not really.”
“Come now,” Helion’s amber eyes narrowed. “A handsome lad like you? There must be a girl waiting for you back home.”
At that, Tamlin’s smile slowly faded. “I, uh…well.”
“Ah, there it is!” Helion exclaimed happily. “I knew it. Go on, tell us more.”
Tamlin looked to the camera, his gaze betraying nervousness for only a split of a second, then back at the host. “There was a girl back home,” he finally said. “But I don’t think she really knew who I was until the day of the Reaping.”
A sad groan emerged from the audience, and Helion nodded. “I see. Well, how about this—you win the Hunger Games, go back home a victor, and then she’ll simply have to go out with you.”
Tamlin shook his head. “No, I…I don’t think winning is going to help me at all, Helion.”
Helion angled his head in confusion. “And why not?”
“Because…” Tamlin’s chest heaved with a shaky breath. “Because she came here with me.”
The audience gasped, and so did Feyre backstage.
What?
Feyre’s a hunter, Tamlin’s voice echoed in her head. I see her in the woods sometimes when I’m out getting flowers.
My sister was a lot like you. I was never planning to tell anyone about her…but there you were.
I’ll do my best to protect you. I promise.
“What?” Feyre asked again, this time out loud, as the holo showed a tearful man in the audience, covering his mouth as he shook his head in disbelief.
The camera cut to Helion again. “Ah. That…could make things difficult.”
Tamlin’s lips were a tight line as he nodded. “Yeah.”
The host’s expression was pained. “Well,” he sighed, extending a hand. “I wish you the best of luck, Tamlin.”
They shook hands, and soon Tamlin appeared in the room.
His eyes swept over Amarantha, then Alis, until they finally settled and locked on Feyre’s.
She couldn’t breathe. Feyre opened her mouth, and—
Tamlin’s gaze slid off her, and in a few quick strides, he hurried out of the room without a single word.
Alis cleared her throat, looking—for the first time since they’d met her, perhaps—entirely uncomfortable. “I better go check on him,” she said, then made her own way out.
Feyre’s eyes remained fixed on the door, her whole body completely and utterly still until she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder. She flinched, turning on her feet to face Amarantha’s concerned face.
“Is there anything you need, my dear?” she asked sweetly, and when Feyre shook her head, she sighed. “Poor Tamlin. Young love can be so heartbreaking. Take your time, lovely.”
With that, Amarantha left the room.
What the hell just happened?
***
Feyre simmered in that question for what seemed like hours.
Alone in the small room backstage, she replayed the interview in her head over and over, until words ceased to make any sense whatsoever.
Tamlin couldn’t like her. He couldn’t, because…because in a manner of days, one of them would be dead.
Was that why he’d avoided her so often? During the first week of their training, he had barely spoken to her, opting to leave her side the second the morning briefing would end. If it hadn’t been for her accidentally stumbling upon him in the middle of the night—twice—she doubted the two of them would even have a proper conversation.
Winning isn’t going to help me at all, he’d said. Perhaps all this time, Tamlin hadn’t really hated her. Perhaps he simply protected himself, knowing he might eventually have to kill “the girl from back home”—or she might kill him.
Feyre was certain it was nearing midnight—she couldn’t allow Tamlin to occupy her thoughts now, not with the Games due to start in less than twenty-four hours. What Feyre truly needed was to sleep. In a bed, for the very last time.
With a deep sigh, she rose from the couch and made her way to the exit. She stepped out to the corridor, the door shutting with a small click behind her.
“Hello, Feyre darling,” a voice purred.
“Shit!” she jumped, startled, turning towards the sound.
Leaning against the wall to her right, tall and with a glass of champagne in his hand, was him.
The violet-eyed man smirked. “My apologies,” he offered, though his tone suggested he wasn’t sorry at all.
Taking a few steps in his direction, Feyre’s eyes narrowed. “Are you stalking me now?
He looked pointedly to the door, clearly marked ‘12.’ “You weren’t exactly hard to find.” Feyre scoffed, and his smile widened. “I only wanted to congratulate you on your interview. And your dress, of course,” he drawled. “You must have a spectacular designer.”
“I finished my interview over two hours ago,” she told him. “Were you waiting outside this whole time.”
He shrugged. “I figured you wanted some privacy. It was an…eventful night for you.”
Feyre frowned. “You’re a strange man.”
For some reason, he looked delighted to hear that. “You have no idea,” he said before taking a sip from his glass and bouncing off the wall to face her fully at last. That mesmerising, violet gaze took her in, scanning the dimming stars on the sleeve over her arm. “The Star of the Capitol,” he murmured, hypnotised by the sight before him. “Interesting.”
Heat rose through her body under the intensity of his stare. “What’s interesting?” she asked breathlessly.
But the man’s eyes fixed on something beneath the sheer tulle, something not even the stars could cover. Understanding shone in them as he realised those were bruises, and he stepped in closer to inspect them.
Feyre held her breath as he surveyed every inch of the battered skin, splatters of dark purple long and shaped like human fingers…the same ones he’d freed her from two nights ago.
Darkness filled his eyes, that vibrant shade of violet long forgotten, his irises bleeding anger and pure, unrestrained violence.
“I would kill them,” he began, practically grinding out the words, his fist tightening around the glass. “I would kill them, Feyre, if I wasn’t sure you’re going to get to them first.”
A cold sweat broke out over her as she felt the weight of that declaration, and Feyre took a step back.
Noticing this, the man tore his eyes off the bruise to meet hers. “I would never hurt you, Feyre,” he swore with such hard abandon that Feyre’s eyes widened.
“Funny,” she whispered. “That’s the second time someone’s made me such a promise in the past two days.”
He looked at her again, and there was a wait there—a hint of hesitation before he slowly said, “Be careful who you trust, Feyre.”
“And who is it that I should trust?” she asked. “You?”
The man stared at her, an insufferable silence filling the space between them as he considered. He tipped his head up slightly, looking to the ceiling quizzically before he finally asked, “Do you ever look up to the stars and wish?”
Puzzled, Feyre’s brows knotted. “The stars cannot save my life. They never have, not here, and they certainly can’t help me out in the arena.”
Something twinkled in those pools of violet as they settled on her again. “Maybe they can,” he said, raising the glass to her before he added, “To the stars who listen, Feyre.”
Feyre opened her mouth, but the man had already turned to leave. “Remember that.”
Before he managed to disappear in the shadows, a silhouette emerged from around the corner, accompanied by a light tap of a wooden crane, and the man stopped in his tracks. “Alis,” he greeted her smoothly.
An incredulous look appeared on her mentor’s wrinkled face. Her voice was stiff as she answered, “Rhysand.”
The man nodded and left.
Rhysand.
That was his name.
Rhysand, Feyre’s mind repeated, as if the name had been an answer to a question she’d never thought to ask.
“Why are you still out here?” Alis asked, taking a few steps towards her.
Feyre ignored her completely. “How do you know his name?”
Alis raised an eyebrow. “What?”
Feyre pointed to the shadows behind her. “Rhysand. How do you know him?”
“How do you not?”
Feyre sighed in frustration. “I know he’s the sponsor I almost shot, but I always thought he was no one significant.”
Alis shook her head, her usual grimace now replaced by a look of outright bewilderment. “Rhysand isn’t a sponsor. He’s a victor—a victor from District Twelve.”
Feyre’s mouth hung open.
“He won the Sixty-Fourth Hunger Games, exactly ten years ago,” Alis continued, her eyes searching Feyre’s. “I trained him. How can you not remember?”
“I wasn’t allowed,” Feyre whispered.
“What?”
Feyre cleared her throat. “I…my father never allowed us. To watch the Games.”
Alis’s eyes narrowed. “Was he aware that it’s illegal?”
Feyre looked down to her feet. “Yes.”
“Well,” Alis sighed. “That explains a lot.”
Feyre said nothing.
“He was a lot like you,” her mentor said, and Feyre was grateful she didn’t question her any further on the matter. “A clever boy, witty. Talented, too. He slaughtered his way through the competition at only fifteen,” she hummed. “It’s no surprise the Capitol adored him. So much, in fact, that he never returned home. He used his charm to feed off the Capitol’s rich—and he’s doing it to this day.” She added wryly, “It’s why he’s never had to mentor anyone in the past decade, including the two of you. They’ll let him do whatever he wants as long as he remains…entertaining.”
Feyre soaked up every word and let it fuel the anger that had slowly began to boil in the pit of her stomach. This whole time, Rhysand was from Twelve—from her home, and he said nothing?
Alis leaned in closer. “A word of advice to you, girl,” she offered. “Stay away from those who hold the power in the Capitol. Tomorrow, the Hunger Games will begin, and you must trust yourself and yourself only. People in the Capitol can be…deceiving.”
Feyre frowned. “Even Amarantha?” She couldn’t imagine the aide hurting as much as a fly.
Alis warned, “Hybern’s granddaughter is capable of much more than you can imagine.”
Feyre’s eyes widened. The President’s granddaughter?
“Be smart with your choices, Feyre Archeron,” Alis told her. “There are enough people trying to kill you already.”
***
Feyre navigated the bright corridors of the hangar, her heart thumping in her chest.
They’d tied a blindfold around her eyes on the jet—no doubt to preventing any last-minute escape plans—and now, she could feel tears burning inside them as she tried to adjust to the white, artificial light.
She did not see Tamlin in the morning—only Amarantha, who offered her a small kiss on the cheek, once again expressing her confidence in Feyre’s chances. There’s a reason you’re the Capitol’s Star, lovely Feyre, she told her. Don’t prove them wrong.
Now that she knew who Amarantha truly was, Feyre could see past the good wishes and see them for what they were—a message.
Luckily, the Capitol would forget about their Star soon. She was likely to be dead within hours.
They’d placed a tracker in her arm—the healthy one, thankfully—its soft, blue hue almost invisible under her skin. Feyre wondered if it latched onto her vein, and if so, how difficult it would be to rip out. Likely impossible, a small voice in her head answered. You belong to them now.
The two Peacekeepers escorting her finally stopped in front of a heavy, metallic door. It opened with a loud creak, and Feyre almost cried in relief as she saw Nuala waiting inside.
She launched herself into her arms, and the door shut behind her.
The room was small, with only a long pipe that served as a coat hanger attached to the wall, and a large, glass tube waiting in the corner. Nuala picked up a bodysuit, a stretchy, grey fabric that covered her arms in their entirety. “Thermal protection,” she explained, helping Feyre slide it over her head. “This could mean anything.”
She passed her the trousers next, long and somewhat heavy, their shade a washed-out green. Feyre checked out all of their pockets—empty. She didn’t know what she expected.
Finally Nuala handed her the jacket, a simple, black piece of clothing made from a strange material that the designer explained was waterproof. Feyre put it on, her hands shaking slightly on the zipper, and Nuala reached to help her.
“It’s going to be okay,” she said softly. “I have faith in you.”
Suddenly, an artificial, female voice filled the room from the speaker hung somewhere by the ceiling. Thirty seconds, it announced.
Feyre’s heart picked up, raging wildly in her tightening chest.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” she choked out.
Nuala grabbed her hands. “You can. You will.” Her fingers brushed over her cheek. “For your sisters.”
Twenty seconds.
“For my sisters,” Feyre repeated, and walked towards the tube on shaky legs.
“Feyre,” Nuala called when she stepped inside, and Feyre turned to face her friend one last time. “To the stars who listen,” she said.
Ten seconds.
The glass door slid and closed, trapping Feyre in.
Nuala smiled. “Remember that.”
Five.
Four.
Three.
Two.
One.
The platform rose and lifted Feyre into the light.
Taglist (let me know if you'd like to be added!): @fieldofdaisiies @vulpes-fennec @houseofhurricane @reverie-tales @kingofsummer93 @melting-houses-of-gold @labellefleur-sauvage @shadowriel @captain-of-the-gwynriel-ship @headcanonheadcase @cascadingmoon @rhysiedarling @msfeyredarling @itisiyourfemur
#chapter 4/30#acotar hunger games au#feysand au#feysand fic#feysand fanfic#feysand fanfiction#feysand#pro feysand#feyre x rhysand#feyre archeron#feyre acotar#rhysand#rhysand acotar#acotar fic#acotar fanfic#acotar fanfiction#acotar#a court of thorns and roses#my writing
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i was wondering, how did you get to develop your art? im currently in a process where i am trying to experiment and go beyond the need to create art that is realistic (as in "objectively like reality as it is", like I was being told by both school and family). i feel like I struggle a lot to follow my inspiration because of this, and I am also trying to learn how to draw scenes from my own ordinary life, but unfortunately I am quite impatient and frustrated with my inability to create what I wish to create + perfectionism in general makes me scared of using colour as well 😭 I really admire your art so much, both your sketches and finished pieces, and I have always wondered your own learning process throughout the years. please feel free to not reply if you feel uncomfortable cause I know it is a very personal process as well, and above all I hope you are doing well and I am sending you endless love <333
🥺🥺 this is so lovely to receive because if im completely honest there are multiple moments where i feel exactly as you've just described and despite pushing through it, a message like this is very validating that ive progressed in some way
i dont mind sharing at all. i started drawing/painting when i was 21/22 which is relatively late and i was so fearful because despite having a vision for what i wanted to create i lacked any skill that could help me bring what was in my minds eye to fruition. i was also insanely depressed and in the middle of getting my degree at uni (so felt like i had no time to pursue art, at least not to the extent i wanted to). — my plan to get better consisted of multiple things. id draw everyday. i had/have two styles i'd practice, one realism, and the other 'freestyle'? basically draw only from my head and from the rhythms that came naturally to my hand, no references. by doing that, or drawing the human figure/portraits/cars/buildings from my imagination, not only was i reinforcing what id actually learned from my study of the fundamentals, but i was learning to incorporate my own creativity into the rigid structure that sometimes comes from only drawing from reference. by doing that and drawing studies every day i began to build a library in my head of images/poses/character archetypes i could pull from which made drawing from my imagination easier, but also had the structural knowledge of forms/perspective/anatomy to make them look credible. id do this whenever i had free time, and once i left uni began practicing anywhere from 6-9 hours daily. a bit extreme but i felt like i had time to make up for since i started drawing relatively late in life. only tip there is to balance practice with making finished pieces. finished pieces will show you which fundamentals you still need to work on & how much progress you've made. they also show the completion of a thought whereas practice only gives you the tools to bring that thought to reality
just so u know, ur practice of the fundaments is not in vain. you just need to revive your own capacity to draw from your imagination/subconscious. the main thing is knowing your going to find your work horrible for a long time before it gets better. the joy has to come from the process of creating rather than the end product. by the time it gets better, your eye will also have improved, so you still wont be satisfied. thats where growth comes in. being your biggest critic is what will make you great, as long as you remember where you came from (date and keep your work so you can look back on it) and the role criticism plays. separate your skill from your self worth.
something helpful i was once told is along the lines of 'perfectionism is a lie we tell ourselves to justify our procrastination. no one is ever perfect, so the only way to gain skill is to practice. you cant grow if you dont begin. so if your really a perfectionist, your only solution is to start'
i would love to see your work someday and hope i will. wishing you luck and sending you all the courage to begin and be great. you got this <3
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What’s your take on an AU that expands on why Roguefort has their Pursuit of Lost Time costume?
inhales deeply
(this is very poorly explained im sorry)
okay so . I have made a whole story for pursuit of lost time/search for lost time because i am Neurodivergent and Yeah it probably is the farthest thing from canon but so is the rest of my fanon/hc au
for some brief context, when roquefort (aka roguefort outside of their thief persona) was 15 their family mansion (the blue cheese manor) was burned down due to *unknown circumstances. their oldest brother earl grey managed to grab hold of them and their younger brother eclair and tug them out of the burning house, and as they stared at their whole life burn down in front of them, roquefort notices a strange white feather drifting through the wind ,, they still remember that odd detail into adulthood
*originally my oc feather sequin burned it down cause it was funny but ive decided against that
Flash forward to when they are 35 !! aka 1 year before "present time" in my fanon
AUGH it would take too long to explain everything tbat happened before this point but . Long story short roque feels trapped because they have no real friends and their onlu source of human(cookie?) interaction that isnt their cousin cheesecake can only happen when they are phantom bleu . they feel so trapped because they cant be themself and their fans Scare them they are freaked out by the constant admiration and idolization !! also their self image has gone to shit . not that they ever had much confidence but theyve convinced themself they are unlovable unless they put on an act.
then its announced on television. their old family watch was found and auctioned off to an anonymous someone.
(their costume story says "A weathered heirloom of the Blue Cheese manor was auctioned away. Apparently, winding this unadorned watch transported the wearer back in time... Phantom Bleu is desperately in pursuit, going so far as to procure all timepieces in the city. What is your endgame, Roguefort Cookie?")
They snap . suddenly everything they can think about is that watch. that watch could save them, bring them back to a time where they were loved and maybe they could fix all of their past mistakes...
they dont remember how bad their family was to them. they lived in A Very abusive and neglectful household and they were not loved at all their older brother practically raised them but theyre just desperate to be free. the problem is that they Dont know what the watch looks like because it was so long ago so their solution is to just ! steal every watch in parfaedia Thumbs up
(walnuts story: The city is bustling with word of a serial thief who only swipes clocks, watches, and timepieces! With a new magnifying glass in hand, Walnut Cookie is in hot pursuit of Phantom Bleu, who has left a message: "I am pursuing lost time.")
walnut is close behind the whole time, always just barely out of reach though,, if she had been able to catch them she could have prevented A lot of suffering . at this time its not that drastic , clocks are a strange thing to steal and she doesnt know about their origins so she cant really piece together why theyre stealing all of these watches.
then comes timekeeper !
its awfully slow to get around, isnt it ? thats why she steps in and offers to help roguefort (in a Totally non-malicious totally helpful way !!!!). they havent had any luck stealing every single clock in parfaedia, so she proposes a new idea,, timelines/time travel
Infinite timelines means infinite watches!! theyll have all the opportunities in the WORLD to find their watch. or alternatively they could go back in time and just get the watch before its auctioned off , Right ??? yeaah timekeeper doesnt make it that easy she thinks its fun to watch them suffer so shes going to make it as hard as possible <33
she lends them an airship from the tbd which allows them to travel through time and basically just . Sits back and watches as they hoard hundreds of watches from different universes
walnut comes across this person named croissant (im.not sure how) and they realize Hey wait a mimiye . You're chasing after the person accompanying the one IM chasing after (croi wants to stop tk from fucking with the timelines im not that educayed abt tje tbd sorry) and thwy team up Wooo !! they are riding crois timecraft together and following tk and rogue but again theyre always Just barely behind them </3
timekeeper then ditches the airship and just Carries them through timespace to different universes and shows them The Horrors (trippy shit and everyon they love being subjected to death and torrutture Themself being subjected to that etc) and fucks with them by throwing rhem into random time rifts without caring if theyll hit the floor too hard . Yea ‼️‼️walnut Also sees some of this as theyre following the pther two but croi tries to shield her eyes
and then . Finally timekeeper is like "What if we just go back to when your family manor still existed and get the watch there ? :)" and then after watching through the windows for a bit they realize . they will not be loved here
they just did all of that for nothing. theyre fucking exhausted and running on nothing but adrenaline and they get nothing for it. and now theyre just pissed that their family was ever like that because they could have had a better life
Andthen timekeeper hands them . gasoline and a match. and theyre blinded by rage at this point they dont really think about what theyre doing. and looking at the flames growing doesnt feel any better. they just feel so hurt but they just sit a distance away watching it
and then they hear screaming. They see their brother dragging them and eclair out of the house.
and they see a white feather from their costume fly off of their outfit, flying in front of their past selfs face .
and now they realize what theyve just done. They werent thinking about what would happen after they lit it on fire. they thought of it as a simulation or something but they have just caused the event that first destroyed their life in the first place. theyve just caused suffering to themself, their brothers, their cousin, theyve killed a dozen different people including the ones who had never hurt them like their sister palmier . They just killed their fucking family Time loop babyyy
croi and walnut dont find them until this point, and theyre a little ,,, confused by the scene ?
walnut has Never heard of the blue cheese manor before. but she can see roguefort on their knees sobbing hysterically (which is WILDLY out of character for them SHE HAS NEVER EVEN SEEN THEM FROWN BEFORE !!!!) and she knows that this has something to do with their past.
unfortunately evej though this was a big hint to their true identity She did not have the resources to figure out much about it and it turned into a dead end </3 she was able to find the name of the house and the location and a name or two but she couldnt find the names of the kids . there was no listed cause for the fire (she would never guess that it was roguefort themself) so she couldnt really get anywhere with it . It was very surreal seeing phantom bleu like that though because,, at the time she was 11 and She didnt really. see rogue as a normal cookie?? like it was hard to believe someone so mysterious and flawless on the outside would have been through such a traumatic incident. she was SO hyperfixated on this she was so sure she would finally figurw out who tjey were
little does she know her history teacher could give her all the information she needs LOL
on rogueforts side they are just . Holy fuck girl they feel so insanely guilty they cant get themself to tell cheesecake . they cant admit to her that they were the one who ruined everyones life. they get home and they try to sleep and they just hear their clock ticking in their room and before they know it their hand is cut and bloody and theres glass shards on the floor (thye pumched the clock they have Clock trauma thye cannot stand that ticking noise it fills them with so much dread cheesecake cannot have clocks in that house anymore that arent digital)
also for the people who know who bleu is . Rogue shoved it in a box before they went on their watch stealing spree because it kept trying to stop them and so it wasnt there to stop them or help them during the whole thing.
Rogue has so many nightmares aftwr the whole thing Mostly of the screams they heard as they watched the flames eat up their childhood home and everyone inside
again this is Very far from canon i understand that like . if you look at a lot of the quotes it doesnt rlly make sense in this context but oh well i like my version i tjink rogue ahould be a murderer As a treat (i promise i dont suppoet murder)
#tw death#tw child death#tw neglect#tw abuse#i tjink thats all#Wooooo#rambles of madness#im.scared to post tbis HEEELP
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Rain World: Monsoon - Influence Of Beliefs(IOB)
Hey everyone! It's been a while!
Apologies for the delay since my first announcement, I'll do my best to keep things up to date.
So, in my previous(and first ever) post, I said I was going to present my iterators.
So, let's take a look at our first iterator, Infuence Of Beliefs.
PART I - INTRODUCTION
One of the oldest among his local group, Beliefs's creation happened during a disagreement between ancients with different beliefs(ironically), which led to a war between both sides, with iterators in that era being created as weapons rather than machines made to solve problems. Due to having enough resistance, and to having a bit of luck, he survived the war.
PART II - THE PATH AHEAD
A while after that, the ancients who won the war began a journey, leaded by Sliver Of Straw and Influence Of Beliefs(which actually were best friends) in order to find a solution for the Great Problem. With both having already a decent knowledge, aswell as intuition and a great array of technology avaible to themselves, they took the lead of the Sliverists. Both were equally confident to find a better way out of that world, at any costs.
Due to extreme respect to Sliver, IOB let the group be named after her. Despite both being really advanced, he always saw her as someone superior to him. And, with hopes that this would make him forget about the mayhem he was created from, decided to partake on helping her.
PART III - HESITATION
However, as time passed, Beliefs started to realize how pointless it was. He didn't want it to end like that. Why it all had to go off like this? He admitted he was a little afraid of what he could meet upon entering the other side, but unlike him, Sliver was optimistic, and eager to find the solution, thinking it could end up well. When they finally found a solution, the ancients who seemed to care so much about them and idolize them, all vanished. Both were then left alone.
A little heartbroken, his friend decided to isolate herself from all. All but him. He decided to console her after all of this, and deemed the solution as something dangerous. During his time, he loosened up, and began to feel more attached to Sliver. Attempts were made to encourage her to give up on finding a solution, and he tried to convince her that living was a better option.
PART IV - DiVERGENCE
But Sliver refused. She had gone too far, and she did not want to stop there. She kept on working, fending Beliefs away for a bit. He grew more and more concerned of her, but didn't want to repress her or sound rude, so he just let her do what she wanted. He was trying to prepare himself for the worst. He did not want to ascend, but he did not want Sliver to go.
Unfortunately, by the time he finally built up the courage to speak to her, she was already gone. She succeeded, and left a pearl behind for him. Sunken in despair, Beliefs entered a panic attack, nearly making himself collapse because of it. He was filled with regret.
PART V - DELUSION
He knew he couldn't save Sliver, as she was already dead, but he knew he could save the other iterators. It wasn't too late. Driven by his erratic thoughts, he began to mass create supersoldier units to do his bidding, and crafted many dangerous weapons in order to increase his own (fire)power.
Ascension was too dangerous, as you never knew where you could end up on. It was too good to be true. Therefore, he deemed that turning the world into a realm of echos would be safer, as echos are immortal, and can be seen by the ones around them, therefore there's no risk on turning into a echo.
Or so he thought.
CREDITS TO FRIENDS FOR THE ART!!
Beliefs drawn by @covchapman and @sweetaru1 !
The Sinner(will likely explain more about them in a future post btw) drawn by @localceilingdevil !
Expect more of those soon!
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Etere: Chapter I
Oh, gosh, no, I'm doing this. Okay. This is, yeah, it's Aether, like I said I wouldn't do, even a little bit. Yes it says Chapter I, yes there's more, don't look at me.
Content warning for canon-typical misuse of Catholicism. I am not Catholic. This is all wrong. I've made it so much worse. I'm sorry. There's also like, some really, really poorly translated Italian. I also do not speak Italian. This is a mess. Look upon my shame with caution.
The story of Job had been the inspiration — take one of the Lord's best and test them. There was precedent for a devout human to stand his ground against the forces of evil. But an angel resisting the temptation of demons? That would be interesting.
It need not be a particularly high-ranking angel. In fact, it was better it wasn't. Any angel would do. Hell, however, would not be a suitable location. The Principalities refused to let one of their own set foot in such a place. Earth was the only solution. But Earth was a very big place.
They supposed they should consider which demon, or demons, might be suitable challengers. It ought to be ones familiar with Earth — waiting for the demons to get accustomed to the terrain would only needlessly draw out the experiment. The problem was that most demons who physically inhabited the world of the living weren't particularly organized. Most recklessly haunted old buildings or wreaked havoc through possessions, and were regularly overcome by mere humans. Although far from average, it became clear that the only demons built for the task were those serving under Papa Emeritus IV. Those seven ghouls were the only ones reliable enough to be trusted with such an assignment. Each side liked their odds. The church was contacted, details were discussed, and an agreement was made.
The topic of which angel should be tested resurfaced. It shouldn't be a man — they'd done that last time. Besides, the archangels were eager to try again after the Eve incident. It was the 21st century, after all, and women ought to have another go at it. For simplicity, she should be an angel who had also spent a considerable amount of time on Earth. This, again, significantly narrowed down the subject pool. After much consideration, an angel named Ardis was selected. She was, by all accounts, perfectly average.
Ardis was summoned to the ghouls' cathedral three days before the two-month experiment was to start. Her higher-ups had accompanied her to ensure the location and their opponents were acceptable. Papa Emeritus IV, who quickly insisted upon just being called “Papa”, and the seven ghouls who worked in the church were in attendance. Ardis had never seen such spirits before. They were dressed in all black and each sported a silver, horned mask with small cut-outs for the eyes and mouth. She tried not to stare at their long tails, but her eyes kept flickering to them as Papa and her superiors discussed the details. She did her best to focus on their faces for the sake of being polite and discovered she would likely have trouble telling them apart. She could differentiate between the two women easily enough – one was slimmer and taller than the other. But as for the five men? Three of them looked identical. Heaven help her. Thankfully, one of them had the courtesy to be much taller than everyone else, and another was clearly rather muscular, even through all the layers of black fabric. She could feel herself staring. His eyes were hidden behind the shadows cast by his mask, so she couldn’t tell if she’d been caught admiring his broad shoulders. It was best not to test her luck and focus her gaze solely on the strange man in the face paint for the time being.
It soon seemed that both sides were in agreement. Two months of temptation. The angels won if Ardis remained devout to her faith. The demons won if anything else happened. Tiebreaker of the ages. No pressure.
On the decided date, Ardis stood before the outer wall of the… monastery? Cathedral? She realized she wasn’t sure what they called this building. She was alone, carrying only a small suitcase full of her few belongings. Steeling her nerves, she knocked on the large door. She fidgeted with her hair while she waited. A moment later, the door opened to reveal the broad-shouldered ghoul she’d met a few days prior. “Ardis, was it?” he asked. She realized this was the first time she’d heard him speak. His voice was deeper than she expected, and she couldn’t quite place his accent.
“Yes, sir,” she said, nodding slightly.
The cut-out on his mask was just big enough to reveal a tiny smirk. “Welcome. Right this way.” He opened the door further and ushered her inside. She thanked him and stepped into the familiar garden. The grounds surrounding her new home were admittedly beautiful. Although the statues peppered throughout the large garden were a bit grotesque and unsettling, the space was very well maintained. She admired her surroundings as she followed him towards the building. There was a thick evergreen forest just beyond the opposite stone wall. Perhaps it was just an effect of the soon-to-be-setting sun, but something about that dense wood made her uneasy. Aether must have caught her gaze lingering past the wall and interrupted her thoughts with, “I would stay out of that forest if I were you. There is nothing for you in there. And do try to stay within the grounds after nightfall.”
She hummed in acknowledgement. Some questions were better left unanswered. She was perfectly happy not knowing what lurked in the dark. She turned her attention to the building before her. It too was made of stone and featured many colorful stained-glass windows. She couldn’t quite make out the designs from the angle she was at, and made a mental note to examine them later as the ghoul pushed open the front door.
The man in the face paint—Papa, she remembered—was chatting with the remaining ghouls in the foyer when she entered the building. Lanterns lined the marble walls, casting shimmering lights up to the tall, arched ceilings. She felt a shiver run up her spine when her guide shut the door shut behind her, the sound of it echoing through the hall. This was it. Her two months had officially begun.
Papa stopped and turned around to greet them. “Allora, there she is. Ardis, yes?”
“Yes, sir,” Ardis said with a polite nod as the group all gathered around. The ghoul she’d been following joined his peers.
“Wonderful, wonderful, yes, welcome,” Papa said, clapping his gloved hands together. He was dressed in his papal gown this time—it was Sunday, after all. The ghouls were whispering amongst themselves. Some seemed curious, while others clearly already had mischievous thoughts running through their heads. A few tails twitched excitedly. “I am glad you have made it here safely. You are just in time for the liturgy. As I am sure you can imagine, we are very excited to have you, little one.”
Ardis was very quickly starting to feel like prey, but did her best to put on a brave face. She’d never had a negative interaction with them during their brief encounters, but they were on opposite sides of an eternal battle. They all knew why she was there, but only her hosts knew what was in store for her.
"Our angel will be staying with, ehm, what did we decide... Ah, yes, Aether should be a fine match, sì?" The strange pope indicated toward the group of ghouls and the man who let her in flashed a playful toothy grin. She’d never noticed his fangs before and paled slightly. "Yes, you will bunk with Aether during your time with us.”
She simply nodded, trying to hide her surprise that she'd be sharing a room with one of the ghouls — and one of the male ones, at that. Although she supposed he seemed like one of the calmest of the bunch, so it certainly could have been worse. Some of the shorter ghouls seemed particularly rambunctious in a way that made her rather nervous.
“Oh, I suppose introductions are in order, yes?” Papa turned the floor over to the masked ghouls so each could introduce themself. First, there was Aether, whom Ardis had just met. Then was a man named Sodo, who seemed to be the shortest of the men. That was the one who made her a bit nervous for reasons she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Next was a ghoul named Rain, whom she was certain she would mix up with Sodo constantly. Mountain, conveniently, was clearly the tallest of the bunch. That one was easy. Swiss seemed equally as rambunctious as Sodo, but wasn’t quite as petite. Then Cirrus was the taller of the two women, and Cumulus was the shorter of the pair. Goodness, this was going to be tricky, especially between Sodo, Rain, and Swiss.
“It’s nice to meet you all. I apologize if it takes me a while to get your names right,” Ardis said timidly.
“Oh, it’s alright, dear,” Cirrus—was that Cirrus? Yes, definitely Cirrus—said with a warm laugh. “We know it can be hard with the masks.”
Ardis gave her a grateful smile. She knew they were likely just trying to lower her defences by making her feel comfortable, but… Perhaps this wouldn’t be so bad.
"Mass will begin soon,” Papa continued, “then it is time for dinner, and then the rest of the evening is yours to spend how you wish. We can give you a proper tour in the morning. Aether, take her bag to your room for her, will you? We will meet you in the sanctuary.”
Next: Chapter II
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Super Mario RPG: An effective trojan horse
In 1992, a game called Final Fantasy Mystic Quest released. Despite being a Japanese game developed by Japanese developers, it had an English language target audience. Role Playing Games, specifically of the turn based variety, were all the rage in Japan. Dragon Quest in particular was so popular that kids would skip school to pick it up. You see, back in the stone age, there were no digital games. If you couldn't secure a physical copy, you were out of luck. So what does a young man who wants to fight slimes do? Skip school. According to an interview with Game Informer, police asked Enix to release their games on the weekend to avoid this. So they did.
But this sort of hysteria for role playing games was not seen in America. Yeah, there were definitely people who would camp out and try to snag a copy of Super Mario Brothers 2 or something, but there wasn't a bunch of nerdy kids trying to bum rush the store to see what the hell Cecil and Kain were up to. So Squaresoft wanted to fix this and their solution was Final Fantasy Mystic Quest. It was supposed to be a trojan horse into the genre. Instead of being overly complex and dense, it was simple and easy to approach. You get a small taste...but you still crave more. Yes, JRPGs are crack cocaine.
While RPGs would eventually find a foothold in the states, Final Fantasy Mystic Quest wasn't exactly successful in its mission. Whenever you hear people reminisce fondly about Super Nintendo RPGs, you very rarely hear someone wax poetically about Mystic Quest. In fact, I would argue it is one of the more 'obscure' Final Fantasy games despite its mission to act as an entryway for children. Square's intended trojan horse was a dud, but there's one other game a suspicious number of people think fondly of. It also goes for the same 'simplistic approach to a complicated genre' thing Mystic Quest went for.
That game is Super Mario RPG. I speak of it in a similar 'trojan horse to the genre' way as Mystic Quest because that was quite literally the case for me. I had never heard the letters "RPG" together before. I was an eight year old and all I knew about the game was that it starred Mario and the screenshots in gamepro looked cool as hell. I remember playing this game for the first time vividly. My eyes had just gotten dilated because they were testing my vision and my dad decided to rent me a game to make my suffering less apparent. I saw Super Mario RPG and the choice was obvious. Everything about the world charmed me.
I loved the music and the quirky dialogue. I felt there were a lot of mysteries in the world to see that were just beyond my reach. For instance, I spent hours trying to figure out what Toadstool's "???" was. I tried to figure out where Toad's bazooka was because if he mentioned it, that must mean he has one somewhere and maybe he could join my party! Hell, some kid at school told me about a weird glitch in the beginning of the game where if you pressed a bunch of buttons in some sort of order you would trigger three hidden characters who would join your party. I spent hours trying to figure out how to get Yoshi to leave Yoshi's Island and come with me. Things like hidden treasure boxes and the lazy shell actually existing in game helped propel these wild theories.
Basically, if you experienced the Pokemon phenomenon of the 90s, you know where I'm coming from. It was impossible to be on a school ground and not hear about moving the truck for Mew or learning about Bill's Secret Garden or Pikablu. Mario RPG was that for me on a much smaller scale. I had never seen a game with such a fleshed out story before. In short, I was hooked.
This discovery led me to many other video games I might not have tried otherwise. It led me to renting Earthbound, Chrono Trigger, Final Fantasy IV (2), Final Fantasy VI (3) and basically anything that I thought had turn based combat. Basically this simplistic game featuring Mario fighting a scary blacksmith kicked off my lifelong fascination with a genre. My excursion to a rental store as an eight year old probably led Squaresoft (now Square Enix) to profit thousands of dollars from me alone. And given the reverence surrounding this game, there's just no way I'm alone.
If you go back and play Super Mario RPG as an adult, it's still a really good time. As someone with a great deal of nostalgia for it, it's hard for me to look at it objectively. But when I compare SMRPG to its contemporaries, I really don't think it measures up. The gameplay is simplistic and laughably easy - the game's super boss Culex would probably be seen as a mid tier boss in Final Fantasy IV - there isn't a whole lot of depth to how you build your characters, the item inventory is extremely simple and easy to manage and the game's stages are very easy to navigate. SNES RPGs could feel labyrinthian at times and that's before I get to stuff like Shin Megami Tensei, which released in 1992.
This isn't to say that SMRPG is a bad game. It absolutely isn't. While it is simplistic, I think there are four things that carry it a long way. The things that make it a game that hooked countless children and made them RPG addicts.
First is the undeniable charm of everything. Super Mario RPG is bursting with personality. The story does not have a lot of depth, but the character dialogue is all interesting and quirky. If you compare it to the NPC dialogue of something like Final Fantasy IV, I think it's a lot more interesting. Children's media tends to be brightly colored and loud and I would suggest SMRPG fits in with that. Even the volcano world is full of personality and color. Who could forget the Axim Rangers? I remember thinking it was hilarious that you had to sleep on the boxes at the volcano Inn.
Second is the music. As is typical with most Squaresoft RPGs of the 90s, the soundtrack is excellent. If you pull up a random youtuber's videos, odds are you will hear a Super Mario RPG track at some point. The music is distinct and memorable. Honestly, as far as SNES RPGs are concerned, I think it hangs with Chrono Trigger and Earthbound in the sound department. This is insanely high praise and if this is your first experience with a game like this, you will remember these tunes.
Third is the fact that it is a Mario game. Final Fantasy Mystic Quest's main character is Benjamin. Not exactly a memorable name like Cloud or Cecil. His Japanese name was Zash though, I guess that's kinda cool! This game stars Mario. As a child, you could slap that plumber's face on anything and I would instantly buy it. Recruiting Princess Toadstool (before everyone knew her name was Peach) and Bowser into your party was just the coolest thing. This wasn't the first Mario spin-off, but it was probably the first one that didn't make you shove your head in a history book. People love those characters, so sticking them in a quirky and colorful world is going to make for a beloved game.
Lastly is the difficulty. It's no secret that RPGs used to be a lot more grindy than they are now. It's something you either love or you hate. SMRPG does not require a grind at all. You certainly *can* if you want to, but you don't have to be anywhere near the max level to finish off the game and even then, I think on my most recent run everybody was fairly close to it anyway and I assure you I did not go out of my way to fight goombas. This is a game that was designed to be beaten. No matter how much a kid runs into a wall, they will probably find a way to come out on top. So you leave this beautiful colorful and quirky game feeling good about yourself because you beat it. There is maybe one non-Culex boss that could be defined as 'that boss' and it's a monster wedding cake. ...Ya see what I mean about a world full of personality?
The things surrounding the actual game take what could have just been a ho-hum average experience and elevates it to the next level. You will see RPG snobs turn their nose up at this game because of its simplicity, but I think SMRPG accomplished exactly what it was trying to do. It created a horde of people invested in RPGs. Even if they didn't stick with other games in the genre like I did, they probably tried at least one or two others.
Whether intentionally done or not, Super Mario RPG achieved what Final Fantasy Mystic Quest set out to do. While I don't think there's any chance the remake will be able to capture that same magic, I would bet that a lot of 30+ year old men and women will be sitting in front of their televisions this weekend feeling that they've gone back in time. Cursing Sakurai for not placing Geno in Smash. Feeling like they need to figure out how to get Luigi to join your party because that one star in star road was clearly written by him and god dammit he is probably stronger than mallow at least right?
It's not the best game. But it is a beautiful one.
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01/13/22
This is going to be my third rant on this blog but I had a lot of shit i had to get off my chest. A lot of things that I've been bottling up but have no one to tell to as no one would understand.
I had the most romantic moment ever in my life but it was just my friend whom I have feelings for. I love her so fucking much. I don't know how to tell and infact I guess I'll never. She's already in a situationship with someone and I dont want her to be sad or have any other sort of stress. They both seem happy together and I wish them the best of luck.
But it just fucking hurts. I hate how it's him shes so excited about and not me. I wish that was me. I hate being in this position again. I've been through this and I know how it ends. Every fucking one I end up having genuine feelings for just ends up liking someone else and not me. I pity myself sometimes. I hate how I have to be conscious about myself now when im with her because I dont want her to get the wrong idea. I dont want to ruin our friendship. I wish I could ask her for advice but she's sleeping and he was her last text. All my school life ive had this feeling.
I used to love my bestfriend but she just never felt the same way. Even when she did, she just did not confess and we went from being bestest of friends to strangers. And I feel like living the same shit over again. It just hurts so much when I think about us not being a thing. I wish I could rant about all of it to someone close to me but I can not.
I hate how she's my problem and also the solution. she looks so beautiful when smiling, its just sad. I love how she dresses up and laughs at my shitty jokes. Its just the first time I've ever found someone i can feel so comfortable with and have literally the same personalities. I love her energy so much. I love how im myself when im around her. I hate how I'm going to remember tonight and cry thinking about it for the days upcoming. I wish I could relive my life with a different reality.
Its so miserable and its one of the reasons why I hate people who say life is supposed to be happy and shit. Its not. You always end up getting into situations like these and it all ends with regrets. There's no such thing as a happy ending. What even is the use of this life if we end up losing everyone we love.
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do you feel like you always know what to draw next? ive struggled with finding things to draw for a few years now, they don't come to me as easily as when i had just started doing it that i could spend hours sketching new things. your art is such an inspiration and your ideas are super creative so i thought I'd ask you!
hi! well, first of all, thank you so much, and to answer your question, i can intensely relate to that struggle; i often spend days just thinking of what to draw and being unable to come up with anything interesting. for any of us, this inaction can easily morph into a cycle of guilt because "when i have free time, i should spend it creating something valuable", and that mindset isn't conducive for creation at all
any solution will vary from person to person, but personally i find that trying to focus on something else and letting yourself become a sponge for inspiration is helpful. this could mean watching a movie, playing a game, going for a walk, looking through photos, just not wracking your brain for ideas until it gives up and staring at an empty canvas for ten hours
i wish you the best of luck! thank you for the question. :-) i'm honored that you like my art!
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Congrats on 500 Moss!!
Can I do a matchup for a valorant character?
Preferably Female! For describing myself im 18, around 5'6, female, pretty chill tbh, alot of my friends describe me as the "baby" or the "sunshine" of the friend group because i genuinely cant be mean and im a pretty soft person. Im really into music, cooking, baking, and makeup. Ive got black hair that goes down to like my mid back, ive got brown eyes and im black. also have a few tats lols. INFP and a leo <3
your match-up and star messenger is . . .
FADE / HAZAL EYLETMEZ (istp) !
you are the golden retriever and black cat couple
you might think that your bright, sunshine-like personality could lose some color and that your baby-like personality might be jeopardized by hazal's darker one. you two might not be the most naturally fitting for a relationship but it is rewarding if both of you are mindful of how you approach each other.
your soft, gooey, and emotional approach might seem like it bothers hazal, it does a little, but don't worry, she is there to help you out with being more rational. especially when someone is coming onto you, trying to insult you, she has got your back, standing up for both of you.
such things as music, cooking, and baking seem to be helping hazal with her nightmares. a string of wholesome events followed by cradling you when you successfully sneak into her room seems to be the perfect solution for her sleepless nights.
fade tries her hardest to keep her prowler away from you since they are nothing but trouble to be around. if it would ever get to you she would never forgive herself because the dark creature is mostly the cause of her nightmares and abilities, she wishes no one to see what she deals with every day. she already thinks just being close to you will dim your lights and cause your intact mental state to decline.
some aspects of your relationship would be:
doing each other's makeup! while fade wears only a little makeup, she is pretty good at it and isn't afraid to go to town if you'd ask
lot of late-night dates !!! be it as special as going out to a fancy restaurant or so little like grocery shopping, it is achieving the same thing- the two of you together
when hazal has a particularly bad night where nothing works to help her to be cradle to sleep, she traces your tattoos with her eyes or fingers, depending on how easily you wake up
she might look and act all tough and strong, but hazal needs her cuddles and hugs on a daily basis, she needs all the comfort she can get
MEETING EACH OTHER !
version 1
after detaining hazal you were the one interrogating her, taking her statement about why she blackmailed the agents and accusing them of taking away a "him" from her. for both sage's and viper's luck, you could get some information out of her, some more you bargained for but at those times either sage or someone else would cut in, scolding her for getting off of point and trying to scare you.
"you and I... if i scared you, please, have my apologies."
version 2
you were wandering around whatever shop, picking up some makeup that you had run out of the previous day and just this morning. a headphone on your head, humming the music quietly under your breath, completely unaware of how loud it really was until she appeared. you looked confused as she waved at you, pointing at her head then yours before you finally connected the dots, and with a small chuckle, you pulled your headphones down.
"like the music, mind if i ask what is it? i'm hazal by the way, or fade, take your pick."
YOUR SONG IS . . .
cigarettes out the window by tv girl !
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you don't go to parties [chapter one]
You Don't Go To Parties - Chapter One
Rating: PG-13 ish
Warning: swearing, mentions of drinking
Word Count: 1,234 words
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"Dude get your ass out of bed! It's already noon!" The sound of Ashton's roommate woke him out of what was the best sleep he's had in probably months. "We have to go get stuff for the party tonight!"
Right. The party. There's always a party. Going to a party school and being in the biggest frat house, Ashton Irwin knew a lot about parties. He and his roommate (and best friend), Michael Clifford, would throw parties pretty much every Friday and Saturday. It’s the beginning of the school year meaning there are freshman and new pledges all over. The best way to get them to join this frat? Buy them alcohol of course. Every college freshman is eager to join the best fraternities and sororities. Kappa Tau Gamma holds the spot as the number one fraternity at Cyprus-Rhodes University, and Ashton intends to keep it that way.
"Right. I'm up, I'm up." Ashton sits up and groans from the pounding in his head. No matter how many hangovers he experiences, he never gets used to them. The man is a child. “Has Luke dropped off the money yet?”
“Luke? Luke Hemmings? Up before 2pm on a Saturday? After a party? You’re too optimistic. It’s adorable.” Mikey laughs and pics up his shirt. He sniffs it, shrugs, and puts it on.
“You’re disgusting and I am not too optimistic. I just have faith in our friend…okay maybe I am too optimistic. But I thought for sure for alcohol Luke would do anything.” Ash gets out of bed and looks at all the empty beer cans laying around his room. Hosting parties always seemed like a good idea, until he woke up the next day. No amount of Tylenol and Liquid IV could cure the endless hangovers he feels every weekend. Now look, he is easily to blame. He is the one hosting them. But he can’t help it. Not since she started coming to his parties.
It all started a couple weeks ago. Rush week. Also known as: the first parties of the school season. College freshman were going to any and as many parties as possible, bouncing from frat house to frat house. Sorority girls coming, looking to get laid, stoned, and/or drunk. And no matter how many places they go to, they always end at Kappa Tau. And the boys would provide them with whatever, or whoever, they were looking for. Ash never though much about the sorority girls who would show up to their parties. They were usually freshman after all. But then he saw her. He didn’t know her name, didn’t know anything about her other than she was probably the most gorgeous girl he had ever seen in his life. Now look, he knows it’s pathetic that he’s down this bad because of a girl he had spoken to twice (she asked him what time it was and if he could get her a drink, he swears his heart DIDN’T skip a beat but Michael calls bullshit).
She must be a freshman. She has to be. He’s never seen her before. And there’s no way in hell he’d ever forget someone that stunning. He noticed her as soon as she walked into the frat house. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. She was wearing a red dress that fit her body perfectly. And Ashton was positive he had never seen anyone in the world look that good in red. He was determined to figure out who she was, and since she was a freshman they likely didn’t have many classes together. Especially if she’s a different major than him. Now Ashton was stupid but he wasn’t quite “change his major from musicology to whatever the hell major this random girl was just to get close to her”. He worked hard to get to his major, and honestly that seemed a bit too stalker-ish for his liking. His only solution is to continue throwing a shit ton of parties and pray to all of the gods that she continues showing up. And to his dumb luck, she did. But he never got the courage to actually approach her. But he will. He’s determined to approach her…eventually. Maybe even today.
Ashton and Michael had met Luke and his friend Calum Hood during rush week. They had both been looking to join Kappa Tau and whether that was for the place or booze was never fully figured out. Ashton and Michael liked them a lot. They reminded Mikey and Ash of them when they had joined Kappa Tau, even though Ash was older than Mikey. Since they had clicked immediately, there was no hesitation in Ashton and Michael becoming Luke and Calum’s big brothers respectively.
Look, if Ashton was smart, he’d piece together that Cal and Luke were freshman just like mystery girl and ask them if they knew who she was. But sadly, he is not. He instead just decided to build up his courage and ask her himself.
“Ashton! Good to see you, big brother.” Luke said as he walked down the stairs to the main entry way. Ashton was setting up all the alcohol and music for the party and insisted that he didn’t need any help.
“Hey, Luke. How’s the hangover, man?” Luke was only 19 so he hadn’t built up a tolerance to the pounding headaches yet. Ashton felt bad for the kid, he remembers being that age and drinking all the time. They never pressured the freshman into doing anything they didn’t want to do. But often the freshman did everything anyway, enjoying the freedom of finally being in college.
“It’s getting better. Michael left out some Tylenol and water for me, that seemed to help. I’m ready to experience it all again tomorrow though. How’s the decorating coming?”
“Pretty good, I think. We’re all set.” Ashton sets up the last of the alcohol and starts getting the music playing. “People should be arriving sometime soon. This is just the calm before the storm.”
Ashton was right. That really was the calm before the storm. This might have been the biggest party Kappa Tau has seen since rush week. People from all years, all houses, possibly even other colleges were here. But Ashton didn’t care. All that he was thinking about was finding his mystery girl. The only person he wanted to see there, and there’s no sign of her anywhere.
“HEY MAN THIS IS A KICK ASS PARTY!” Calum yells over the loud music playing in the living room.
“Thanks! But you don’t have to yell, I’m right here!!” Ashton chuckles and looks over Calum’s shoulder quickly. What a mistake. Because at that moment, she walks in. Ashton can tell that Calum is talking, but he has absolutely no idea what he is saying. He refuses to take his eyes off her, afraid that if he does she’ll disappear proving that someone that perfect can only be created in his mind. “Hey man, I’ll be right back. I-I got to go…” Ashton trails off and starts walking to the door, leaving a drunk and confused Calum behind him.
He walks as fast as his semi drunkness will allow him to, pushing through and sneaking past every person in his way. It felt slightly ridiculous, and he’d possibly regret it in the morning. But he just had to get to his mystery girl before she disappeared.
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fanfic masterlist
main masterlist
#5sos#you don't go to parties#chapter one#fanfic#ashton irwin fanfic#5 seconds of summer#5sos fanfic#cinematicsoph
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Entry 35
6/12/2023 00:15
Why the hell did i think it would be different.
why would we go back to talking regularly after she ghosts me for almost 2 weeks
i wish i could just move on, but i neither want to nor can find someone else, i browsed through fetlife and stuff and tried messaging some poeple yesterday but no luck there either… one of the scammers from telegram posted a story about needing a 'favor' and theyll dominate for free… the favor is most likely asking to borrow an account for posting on reddit because of karma requirements because shes posted another story asking that… asking about the favor seems really tempting for some reason, i dont know why im interested in someone that charges and is dishonest, probably because of despair, you know i dont even know why im being anonymous about her its @goddessclaire8 if someone shares this telegram accoung a) she charges and b) is dishonest. you know what fuck it im just gonna ask her to see if thats what she wants.
tomorrow im gonna have test, which means i should stop writing and maybe go over some stuff, but who has the mental capacity for that amirite… im really getting sick of some stuff at college, too many teacher just expecting you to know not explained stuff, but everyone somehow already knows it, maybe theyre not lazy fucks and actually look up relevant stuff and you know learn outside the classroom which i dont really do.
ive been talking to some people online but i still feel really lonely, i dont know if i just want deeper connection or just physical touch, i dont know wtf i want anymore…
dad kind of demanded i go to a therapist but i refused… honestly i dont even know why i did it, maybe a bit of a mix between thinking they wont be useful and they'll share stuff with my parents which means i wont be able to completely open up, tbh i dont want to completely open up to them either, not gonna share that im desperate sub and that im touch starved and stuff, i guess i could keep it to myself and its not like id impact the effectiveness of therapy but who cares stubborn brain wont let me get help, all i need is touch and gf and im fixed, classic solution.
also the discord thing didnt really work out, havent talked there, cant do it. also kinda sucks that most people dont really talk back, its hard to be the one that always starts talking, and ive only kept contact with 2-3 people, some didnt even reply to my heys anymore so i guess i was just too boring as usual. damn just remembered theres someone that would always start and we havent talked in a bit should text him tomorrow. And i guess i should just go to sleep, not being eepy is proabbly gonna do more good than looking at some stuff in a hurry.
maybe J will text me on sunday again… that seems to be the day shes usually free… maybe ill get that video call… i also had to wait a fair bit to talk with D so… i just have to be patient… again… like ive been… for a month………. itll be worth it in the end………………………… i hope
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week 9
having a lot of trouble trying to get the mesh to a poly count where i can add detail. the mesh kept giving me small artifacts. after getting it so that that wouldnt happen anymore, my program kept crashing allowing me to lose significant progress multiple times over despite trying to remeber to save more frequently.
at this point the whole file wouldnt open anymore. i had managed to export the mesh and open it in blender so i could atleast take screen shots of the progress i had made but safe to say my computer does not have the hardware to make highly detailed sculpts. I am going to try to remesh the more detailed mesh and see if i have better luck adding detail in blender. I want this mesh to be grotesque and i need detail for that.
I had re done the lower jaw atleast 6 or so times and still no luck as it kept crashig either before or during saving/exporting the mesh.
I have had Zbrush crash upwards of twenty times, blender crashed five times and my entire computer shut down seven or more times. Ive lost track.
ive had quite a rough week, i am making progress and i keep working but its worth mention this does not help with morale.
on friday i decided to start doing "detail work" in blender using an older version of the mesh that i had remeshed to have lower poly count.
Ive watched quite a lot of videos on sculpting and all of the detailed sculpts are very high poly very quickly so i really didnt expect this to be that much of a problem. A lot of these vidoes were busts but it should still be posible to make a detailed model.
I was incredebly unhappy with how little detail i could get in and concidered painting over the normal map to just draw on the detail instead but was really worried that would take far too long and would get really confusing. (the most detailed I could get it shown here v smooth shading applied because it was horrendous)
i kept trying to open the higher poly files in zbrush and blender because i really wanted that sculpted detail but the programs wouldnt budge and my computer crashed another two times. Until it didnt!
I dont know what i did differently but suddenly it worked again. I was so exctatic that i could finally do some proper work that i ended up working through the weekend to atleast finish up the details in the face, started the teeth, and started with some more definition on the body.
getting to the more detailed work is great i get to refrence a coupe of folks i found on youtube https://www.artstation.com/chrismasna https://www.artstation.com/joanna_kobierska/albums/1907802 have some incredible work, im trying to do that but more vein-y. i am also refrencing the way coolio art was sculping the feet on one of his models because they are very cool and wrinkly https://x.com/Coolio_Art/status/1724144572903616535?s=20
I do feel rushed and i dont get to work in all the detail i want or the adjustments i want to make because of the limited time we would have for animation if i take much longer. the model will be mostly shrouded in darkeness so it should be ok and animation is very very important for conveying the animal and the scares so it needs time.
some more videos i watched while working on the sculpt: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-QoLorR9qpY https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bgnq1jDYMmw
I have found a video on the work flow for cinematic animation
youtube
it look liek the retoplology that is done on modles is still very high poly because its all pre rendered anyway. im still going to look into it more as i clearly dont have strong enough of a computer but maybe someone has found a solution for independent artists that want to create animations that arent for games.
this one is on weigth painting, i dont know if ill be doing that but last time i made a model i had trouble with this so this was usefull incase i do have to weight paint https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EaVG_KOKRnA also preperation for retopology and what to look out for when i get to that
and ofcouse
a cost calculation
hourly pay / hours spent up until the midterm / mid term cost
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