#i saw someone compare her and gale and yeah sure it works | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

theartofdreaming1 · 3 years

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

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

heart

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

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

mind

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

soul

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

Chapter 7

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter 8

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter 9

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#thgagain #thg #katniss everdeen #hunger games #thg meta #peeta mellark #haymitch abernathy #gale hawthorne #my sketches and drawings #thg fanart #catching fire

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spookysweet-heart · 3 years

Text

Vacancy

Request: No

Fandom: Battle Egos

Pairings: Battle Egos x Self insert

Warnings: NSFW, blood, cursing, gore, death of character.

A/N: Time to kick off October to a spooky start! Here part one, and two. this is part three of the on going Scream AU with the Battle Boys! hope you guys enjoy this chapter! Collage was made by me! Edited by @semiproeagle!

Gale set the air mattress next to Riot’s bed, bringing in fresh blankets and pillows for the both of them. “Alright, remember the door stays open. If you need anything, our room is just down the hall, and the bathroom is right across from it.”

“Thanks, mom. We got it.” Riot closed one of the windows by his bed. “Hey, uh, do you mind if I close the curtains?”

Fluffing up one of the pillows, Kimberly looked over at him, shaking her head. “No, go ahead. I sleep better in the dark anyway. Light just makes me uncomfortable.”

“What are you? A vampire?” Riot giggled at his joke but quickly stopped when he saw his mom glare at him.

“Well, I’ll leave you two to get comfortable.” Gale smiles, walking out of the room, making sure to keep the door open as she walked down the hall.

“Your mom’s nice.” Kimberly sat down on Riot’s bed. Crossing her legs, she watched him make the bed he’d be using.

“Yeah well, you haven’t seen her get angry yet. Just you wait, my mom can be a real bitch when she wants to be.” Riot looked up at her, his eyes landing on her blood-stained shirt. “I feel like you could use a clean shirt to sleep in. I don’t think you wanna sleep in that, do you?”

Looking down at her clothes, Kimberly only shrugged. “Yeah, but I didn’t exactly plan on almost being murdered on my first night here.”

Riot walked over to his dresser and pulled out some of his clothes. He tossed them over to her, giving her a sympathetic smile. “You can use mine. I’ll um- I’m gonna go shower. You can change in here and leave your clothes with my mom. She can wash them for you.”

“You know, you don’t have to do this-”

Riot interrupts her before she can finish. “I want to. I don’t want you to feel like you should push yourself away from us when we can help.”

“Help?” Raising an eyebrow at him, she leaned in a bit. “Help with what exactly?”

“Y-you know, making friends...feeling comfortable with us when everyone’s probably going to be pointing fingers at you tomorrow.” Gathering his things, Riot quickly made his way to the door. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make it sound bad. But it’s just...Lexi and I went through all that in middle school and the beginning of high school. I just don't want it to happen to someone else who’s in our position.”

“I can handle it myself, I always have. But thanks...I’m sorry. I’m just not used to people being...kind? I guess. Not many have been throughout my life.”

“I get it. Well, uh, yeah I’m gonna go shower. If you need anything, you know where my mom is.” Heading to the bathroom, Riot glanced into his mom’s room, seeing she was on the phone, probably talking to his dad. Getting into the bathroom, he locked the door before taking out his phone and sending a text to a group chat with Mare and Bones. ‘Is the camera working?’

Mare was the one to reply first. ‘Up and running.’

Bones replied right after. ‘Guys, why the fuck are you setting up a camera in Riot's room?’

‘Kimberly’s sleeping in there, duh.’

‘Mare is this just so you can see her undress?!?!’

‘Bones, don’t act so shocked, it’s Mare.’

‘And you’re helping him do it Riot, what the fuck!’

‘Hey, he gave me $40 to do this. Besides, it’s harmless. It’s not like he’s getting full nudity.’

‘PG-13 at best, Bones. Just enjoy it.’

‘No thanks, I might not trust her, but I’m not gonna be a perv towards her.’

Riot rolled his eyes and left the chat alone while he got ready to shower.

While carefully taking off her shirt, Kimberly looked at her bandaged-up arm, seeing red spots from underneath where the blood seeped through. Sighing, she looked down at the shirt Riot gave her, but before she could put it on, she looked around the room, feeling uncomfortable. “You’re in a stranger’s room, of course, you're feeling uncomfortable.” Feeling the strap of her bra start to slide down her shoulder, she picked it up quickly with her good arm, not wanting to risk him walking back into the room if he forgot something. After pulling on the shirt as fast as she could, she folded her clothes and took them with her down the hall.

Standing in the doorway, she was about to make her presence known until she saw Gale was on the phone.

Looking out her window, Gale sighed, feeling exhausted. “Are you sure? Well, what are we going to do? We can’t let her go back there. The girls went through enough already. Yeah no, I know that Dewey. We’ll talk more when you get home. I’m just glad you’re okay. Love you too.” Ending the call, Gale turned around and tossed her phone onto the bed, only to be startled when she realized Kimberly was standing in the doorway. “Jesus fucking Christ how long have you just been standing there?!”

“Um, just now?” Kimberly nervously looked at her clothes before looking up at Gale. “I’m sorry I startled you, but Riot said I could leave my clothes with you to wash.”

“Right, I’ll take them. You go get some rest.” Gale walked over to take the clothes from her hands and noticed her arm. “I’m going to have to wake you up a bit earlier to look at your arm. That okay?”

“Yeah, of course. Thanks again for letting me stay the night.” Handing her the clothes, Kimberly made her way back down the hall to Riot’s room. Sitting back down on the bed, she looked around the room at the movie posters he had on his walls. A lot of them were your standard horror movies like Halloween, Friday The 13th, Night Of The Living Dead, but one stood out from the bunch. A poster from the first Stab movie was hung by one of the windows.

“Why does he have this one?”

“Maybe because I like the movie?” Quickly turning to look in the direction of the door, Kimberly saw Riot walking towards the bed. “Might be fucked up for liking something that happened to my parents, but it was interesting to see.”

“You think that's interesting? I think that's disturbing.”

“So movies based on true events are only interesting to you when they aren’t directly based on something close to home?”

Kimberly leaned away when Riot leaned in, his hair still wet from the shower. Moving her hand away from him when she felt the drops of water land on the back of her hand, she wiped it off on her shirt. “Yeah, when your brother was the real villain, that tends to do that to you.”

“Oh, c’mon, you can’t tell me you weren’t just a bit curious about him.” Riot sat next to her on the bed, almost shoulder to shoulder despite all the space he had.

“Never, since my dad wouldn’t stop talking about him, comparing me to him nonstop, showing me those articles when I was a kid. That shit changes your perspective.”

“Yeah, but have you ever thought about doing what he and Stu did?”

Shoving a pillow into his face, she made him fall onto the air mattress. “Shut up and go to sleep. You have no fucking right to ask that kind of shit. What’s gotten into you?”

“Hey, I was just kidding. Seriously, that movie is only interesting to me 'cause the acting is so over the top, it’s hilarious. But I did get you going with that act, didn’t I?” Riot had a goofy smile on his face while tossing the pillow back.

Kimberly rolled her eyes at him, getting comfortable in bed as she faced him while laying down on her side. “You’re fucking weird, you know that?”

“I was just trying to be funny.” Riot sat up and stretched a bit. “Lights off?”

“Yeah. Night.” Taking off her glasses, she put them down on the bedside table.

Turning off the light, Riot glanced over in the direction of the hidden camera. Reaching for one of his books, he leaned it against the camera, blocking the view of his bed before getting comfortable.

Back at the Prescott house, Lexi and Sidney were laying in Sidney’s bed. Lexi rested her head against her mom’s chest, just barely being able to keep herself awake any longer.

“How do you know they won’t come back?”

Sidney gently pats down some of Lexi’s hair, holding her closer as she kissed the top of her head. “I’m not so sure, but it’s something I can handle if they do. I’m sorry this is happening to you.”

Lexi hugged Sidney back, being careful of her arm. “This isn’t your fault, mom. No one could’ve predicted this would happen again."

“I know, but you shouldn’t have to go through this.”

“Well, I’m in it, and there’s nothing we can do about it but fight back, right? I’ll be fine, though. I have the strongest woman in Woodsboro by my side.” Lexi sleepily smiled up at Sidney.

“Alright, kiddo, get some rest. Are you sure you’re up to going to school tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. I know things will be fine there, at least.”

“Alright. Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“Goodnight…” Sidney stretched her free arm out to turn off the bedside lamp before falling asleep, watching the blue and red lights shine into her bedroom from the window near her bed.

Sitting at the kitchen table, Riot worked on the last few problems from his math homework while Gale finished rebandaging Kimberly’s arm.

Dewey walked in, immediately going to fill a mug with coffee. Looking over at Gale and Kimberly, he finished filling up his mug and walked over to the table, setting his mug down. Nervously clearing his throat, he gains everyone's attention.

"Kimberly, there's some news that I have to inform you about."

"What is it?" Checking her arm to make sure the gauze was secure, she looked up at Dewey.

Dewey took a deep breath in before continuing. "It's about your godmother, Nancy. I'm sorry to tell you this after what happened last night, but she's dead. We found her body last night."

Kimberly's eyes grew wide in shock before she shook her head at Dewey. "No, I was just with her yesterday morning!"

"I know this is a lot to take in. Gale and I will be here with you, and you can stay with us-"

"Did that creep do this to her?! Did he kill her?!" Her eyes looked glossy as tears started to well up.

Dewey stuttered for a moment. "I- well- we suspect that might've been the same person because I got a call from them just before discovering the body…"

"I can't fucking believe this!" Slamming her hand against the table made Riot and Gale jump in their seats.

"Honey, it's going to be okay, we'll be here-"

Riot quickly closed his book and shoved it in his backpack. "I think we should leave. I still have to pick up Lexi and Phantom. Let's go, Kimberly." Taking her hand, he led her away from his parents and out of the house before they could say anything else to her.

Getting in the car’s passenger seat, Kimberly hit the dashboard in frustration.

“Hey! I get you’re going through it right now, but don't try to take it out on my car, I just got it.” Riot closed his door when he got into the car. Looking over at her, he started to feel bad seeing her start to cry.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.” Taking a deep breath in and out, she wiped her tears away with the back of her hand. “It’s just...she was all I had left of a family.”

“I’m sorry.” Riot sighs as he starts the car. “Do you want some coffee? Or anything to eat? We can stop by and get something real quick. My treat.”

Shaking her head, she just silently put on her seat belt. “It’s fine, I’m okay. If you wanna get something for yourself, you should.”

“You know what, I’m still getting you something. I don’t care if you say you’re fine. You need a little distraction right now.” Backing out of the driveway, Riot headed to the nearest cafe to get the group some drinks and breakfast before heading to pick them up.

Lexi grabbed her backpack from the couch, checking that she had everything she needed for the day.

Sidney walked into the living room. Picking up the remote, she turned on the tv, leaving it on the morning news. “Have everything?”

“Yup.” Hearing her phone go off, she checked it and saw a text from Phantom, letting her know he was waiting outside. “Are you going to be okay here alone?”

“I’m not staying home today. I’m meeting Gale and Dewey in a bit. Are you fine having dinner at their place tonight?”

“Yeah, sure. You’re going to be there too, right?” Adjusting her bag, Lexi heard her phone go off again.

“Of course I’ll be there.” Sidney brought Lexi in for a tight hug before letting her go out the door. “Stay safe and call me or Dewey right away if you need us."

“I will. See you later!” Walking out of her house, Lexi saw Phantom standing by the end of the driveway.

Phantom smiled when she made her way to him. Taking a hold of her hand he leaned in, kissing her.

Lexi smiled into the kiss before pulling away and kissing his cheek. “How’d you sleep last night?”

“On and off, I was too worried about you. How about you?” Phantom rubbed small circles on the back of her hand with his thumb.

“I slept, but not much. I was way too anxious last night.”

“No kidding.” Giving her hand a gentle squeeze, Phantom leaned down and kissed the top of her head. “I’ll be here for you though, no matter what happens.” Hearing his phone go off, Phantom took it out of his pocket to check the notification. “It’s Riot.”

“What’d he say? Is he close by?” Lexi rested her head against Phantom’s chest.

“He’s asking if we want anything from the cafe.”

Humming in response, Lexi wrapped an arm around Phantom's waist. “A muffin sounds good right now. Can you tell him he can get any kind?”

“Sure thing, babe.” Phantom smiled down at her before replying to Riot with their orders. Before he can put his phone away, he saw another text from him pop up. “Oh...shit.”

Lexi felt his body tense up a bit. “What’s wrong?”

Quickly replying to the message, Phantom put his phone away. “I feel like an even bigger asshole after last night. Riot’s dad told them they found Kimberly’s godmother dead last night, so she’s not doing so well right now.”

“Oh no, and she's going to school? She should’ve stayed home- fuck, she probably didn’t have a choice. What kind of fucked up shit is that. First her dad, and now her godmother.”

“She’s in our group now, and as much as most of us aren’t too excited about that, she’s also a victim till hopefully not proven otherwise. We can look after her, but we still need to be careful.”

“I think you and your brothers have seen too many scary movies. She’s harmless.”

“I hope you’re right…” Gently rubbing her back, Phantom rested his head on hers. “How’s your arm doing?”

“Sore, but better than last night. I can at least bend my wrist without it hurting much anymore.”

“Good. You sure you wanna go to school today?”

“You’re starting to sound like my mom.” Playfully rolling her eyes at him, she pulled away from his hold. “I’m alright. I wanna go. I don’t care what anyone is going to say if they have anything to say.”

Both turn in the direction of a car coming by when they hear it honking at them. “Looks like they’re here.”

Getting into the car, Riot immediately handed them their things after they got settled in. “Here you two go!”

Lexi smiled, taking the bag from him. “Thank you!”

“Thanks.” Phantom took the last coffee in the cup holder and carefully blew away some steam to take a sip. Glancing over at Kimberly, Phantom cleared his throat, putting the cup in one of the cup holders. “Um, Kimberly?”

Looking back at him, she tilted her head. “Yeah?”

“I’m sorry about last night. I didn’t mean what I said. It was uncalled for.”

Kimberly shook her head and looked back out her window. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not, I accused you of attempted murder when you were also attacked.”

“Look, you were scared. I get it. Just forget about it, I forgive you anyway. You were looking out for the person you care about the most. I’d do the same out of fear and protection.”

Lexi and Phantom shared a look before Lexi spoke up. “Um, we heard what happened and we want you to know we’re here if you need us. You know, for anything. We’re in this together.”

Kimberly just stayed silent for a moment. The only thing they heard was a barely audible ‘Thanks’.

Rose, Jem, Ebony were standing by Lexi’s locker. The three of them shared a worried look when they searched the hallway for the rest of their group. Bones made his way to them when he walked out of the restroom.

“Still not here yet?” He leaned against one of the lockers, looking in the direction of the front doors.

Jem shook their head, looking over at Bones. “Where’s Mare? Running late again?”

“Oh yeah, he had to go with Natpai to talk to his teacher. Had to clear up that he was sick and lost his voice, so he's asking them if Natpai could take the tests he missed while he was out.”

Jem nodded and turned their attention back to the front doors when they heard people whispering as they passed by the group.

Spotting their friends, the group made their way to Riot and Lexi, immediately engulfing them in a group hug.

Rose pulled away first, looking worried. “How are you guys holding up?”

Lexi shrugged while adjusting the strap of her bag. “I’m alright, just a few scratches here and there. Nothing serious.”

“I wasn’t the one who was attacked, so I’m fine.” Riot’s eyes followed Kimberly, watching her walk away from the group, heading to her locker.

The rest of the group heard the crowd whisper again when they passed by, their eyes all landing on Lexi and Riot.

Sharing a look, they both sighed, already feeling tired with the day. Whispers turned completely silent when a scream echoed through the hall. All eyes were on Kimberly who was sitting on the floor after falling back when something fell from her locker. There in front of her feet was a Ghostface mask and fake knife.

Looking around the hall, Kimberly’s eyes landed on the group, but before any of them could go up to help her, two sets of screams could be heard from the end of the hall. Looking in that direction, everyone saw two people running down the hall in full costume screaming as they passed by.

One of them almost got in Lexi’s face, but Phantom quickly grabbed her, holding her against his chest.

Riot took a step back when the other person almost bumped right into him.

“Jesus fucking Christ, what's wrong with these idiots?” Rose watched the two masked pranksters disappear out the double doors

Ebony looked over at Lexi who was shaking a little. “You okay?”

“Y-Yeah just...shaken up is all.” Letting herself relax into Phantom, she took one of his hands. He gently squeezed her hand reassuringly and kissed the top of her head.

Bones looked over in Kimberly’s direction, noticing Mare helping her up and leading her away from her locker. “Where the fuck are they going?”

Riot and Rose both looked at Bones, catching him talking to himself. Rose was about to ask what he was talking about till she saw Mare turn the corner with his arm around Kimberly’s shoulders.

“When did they get all friendly?” Rose crossed her arms in front of her chest, not happy with what she saw.

“Mare just has a way with women. Not surprising since she hardly knows him.” Ebony leaned back against the wall, looking over at the mask and knife still on the floor.

“She was probably talking to him since she got here. She’s just a slut wanting attention since no one can give it to her now.”

“Hey!” Phantom raised his voice at them, his expression turning serious from the soft look he had just a few seconds ago. “How the fuck can you say something like that? Don’t assume shit or spread rumors around like that. Especially now when people are dying around us. Mare’s just comforting her, that's it.”

“So what, now you’re on her side?! She’s a Loomis, Phantom! She can’t be trusted!” Rose stepped forward, but she was interrupted by the bell ringing.

“We’ll talk during lunch, this isn’t something we should be arguing about.” Phantom took Lexi’s hand, starting to lead her away and walk her to class.

Riot and Ebony looked at Rose before they also started to leave for their classes as well. Riot adjusted his backpack and looked back at Rose as they carefully walked backward. “You know, jealousy is not a good look on you.” Turning around, they caught up with Ebony, leaving Rose standing in the almost empty hallway.

Tag List:

@smolwash

@huffle-princess

@missrose-writes-stuff

@wildspeciallavender

@justwritingscibbles

@stuff-from-the-void-matron

@nekosounds

@stretch-time

@lady-bee-fechin

@twotimesforthewatw

@r1-0t

@captainrose35

#natewantstobattle egos #battle egos #battle boys #youtuber egos #natemare #phantom #natpai #bones #scream AU #slasher #horror #self insert

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katnissmellarkkk · 3 years

Note

I *DEMAND* part 3 of shattered pearl. I repeat. I *DEMAND*.

Hahahahaha omg. Well, I decided to legitimately dig through the archives of my writing drafts and found chapter three of the Peeta-Wasn’t-Hijacked fic. It’s been given like 1,000 different names on different sites. I’ve never loved any of them. And I don’t really think this is my best writing ngl. But I also figure ... why be so stingy, ya know? If I have an incomplete draft, that I probably won’t finish, why not post a little bit? Especially since I literally left everyone and their brother who were reading this fic on a cliffy for over a year.

With that said.... I wrote this part like ... 15 months ago? 14 ? 13 ? Something like that. And I haven’t edited it since so ... yeah! Here’s a small chunk of chapter three! 🥳🥳🥳 Hope it’s better than I remember it being!

But it’s lacking something and it’s only then I realize, what I’m searching for inside Gale’s mouth, is the spark that only Peeta’s ever ignited in me. I keep waiting in vain for the warmth that started in my stomach and then rose up and exploded in my chest, for the craving that no matter what I couldn’t manage to satisfy, for the thrilling, almost hysterical, tingly feeling, to overcome me and leave me lightheaded in a completely foreign way. A way that couldn’t be attributed to lack of oxygen.

But it never does. I pull back and wipe my mouth carelessly on my arm and sigh, already sensing Gale’s demeanor taking a nose dive at my lackluster reaction.

I’m not disappointed when I look to see his expression. His eyes are frustrated, his mouth is downturned, his eyebrows are pinched together. And I feel as bad as I knew I would. Because no matter what, I’m hurting someone I deeply care for.

But how I feel upon seeing Gale’s face isn’t even comparable to the amount of remorse that fills me, that overtakes my entire being, when I see Peeta standing in the doorway, having watched our entire exchange.

I yelled his name as he disappeared down the hall. I tried to rip out all the needles and wires connecting me to the machines and the stiff, sterilized bed but Gale used all his strength to push me down flat. I was overpowered and exhausted and my left side was screaming mercilessly, and I don’t even know what pain was the bruised lung and what pain was my hurt ribs and what pain was my heart violently smashing into the pit of my stomach.

All I know is that if I had been able to reach Peeta before he evaporated, I have no clue what I would have said to him.

What I could have said to make it alright.

Gale tried to talk to me again after that but I entirely tuned him out, no longer caring if I wounded his feelings, or anyone else's for that matter.

It seems like no matter what I do, no matter how careful or cautious or preemptive I try to be, someone still got hurt in the end.

I wish I could just shut out the world, like I did during those first few weeks in Thirteen. Hide inside closets when I had a flashback. Shove myself into a minuscule crawl space with every nightmare. Refuse to speak to anyone who wasn't Gale or my family. Only eat when my mother nearly forced me. Show no remorse for how rude or how clinically insane I came across.

But now there was an agreement in place, an agreement I made to protect the victors—namely the one who just disappeared down the hall on me—and the people who had no voice on their own. The people who’s only chance was a half-crazed, shell-shocked, battle worn seventeen year old girl, who was just gunned down on national television.

Even if I wanted to retreat to some safe haven inside my head—if such a thing even existed for me—like Annie Cresta, I knew it could never happen.

For me, that wasn’t an option. If I don’t fulfill my duties to Coin, Peeta, Johanna, Annie and probably countless more people will suffer. The districts would undoubtably suffer. Gale would suffer. My mother and Prim would suffer.

I was proven right when later that same night Plutarch came to visit me again. I'd been lying on my side to avoid having to see Gale, who was still soldered to my bedside. My good side was thankfully opposite his seat.

When the Gamemaker spoke I thought I would be forced back to work. Forced to head back to the rebels and engage in their plans.

And I was resigned to it, well aware all along that I wouldn't be given the luxury of time to grieve the hurt I just caused Peeta. Or even the pain I knew I was inflicting upon Gale. The constant seesaw my heart was bouncing up and down on.

I was endlessly thankful that I was still pumped with morphling when Plutarch said that I was needed in Coin's office, because it heavily suppressed any real emotion I had brewing deep inside.

Morphling can cause you to let down your guard sometimes, make you say or do things you wouldn't otherwise or allow things to happen you'd ordinarily have the sense to stop. But it also causes all your severe emotions, all your heightened feelings, to dull as well. And for that, in light of everything that had just transpired, I was eternally grateful for.

When the doctor had removed all the needles from my arm, and I had been given a robe to go over my hospital gown—which, shockingly, was even uglier and thinner and itchier than the gowns they gave in the Capitol hospitals—Gale escorts me down the halls, through the corridors and to President Coin’s office.

I don’t speak to him the entire time. Looking at him makes my stomach churn with remorse and regret, though I’m not even sure who those feelings are directed towards. I’m not even sure how to articulate the way I feel right now.

And, as much as I try to force him out of my mind—as much as I do my best to rip him out from wherever he crawled beneath my skin and flooded into my veins—I inexplicably miss Peeta.

In more ways than I even know how to decipher. Even inside my own head.

I thought that feeling of longing would have ebbed away once he was rescued from Snow and his twisted mansion, but even knowing he’s safe here in Thirteen, I still crave his presence next to me.

I still want him next to me almost all the time.

It’s at least partially attributable to the fact that for so long, it was me and Peeta against the world. He has been my partner in this whirlwind rollercoaster since the first games and, even when I feel like every single aspect that could potentially go wrong has, sometimes it seems like I couldn’t have gotten luckier with who was chosen that fateful reaping to stand by my side the entire horrific ride.

I wipe my eyes as inconspicuously as I can but Gale sees and almost instinctively puts his hand on my shoulder. And proves he knows me better than I give him credit for. “I’ll talk to him, Katniss.”

“Don’t,” I immediately hiss. “You’ll just make it worse, Gale. He-he,” I struggle with explaining what I want to say and I curse my best friend for even addressing my moment of weakness because now I have to go talk to Coin, looking like an unstable mess—with a near bullet wound—and I blurt out the very first thing I can think of. “He doesn’t even know you, okay? You’ll just-“

There’s no malice in Gale’s voice as he softly replies, “Well, he was fine when I went and saw him before you woke up.”

I stop now, dead in my tracks. “You saw him? After I was shot?”

He nods slowly. “Yeah, I felt like should check on him. I know...” He pauses and looks upwards and I recognize, once again, this whole thing isn’t easy for him either. “I know he means a lot to you. And I heard what happened when he saw you go down. So I went and checked in on him...” He stops again before shrugging nonchalantly. “He was calmer by the time I saw him. He was nice. He’s always been nice.” At that Gale rolls his eyes. “Too nice. Probably why Snow wanted to hurt him.”

I start walking again, moving ahead of him a few paces. “You’re not helping,” I state, my voice a monotone.

“I’ll talk to him,” Gale offers again, running to catch up.

“Please don’t, okay? Just let it be. I don’t even know if he’ll speak to me, I don’t want to have to worry about what you’ll say to him.”

I vigorously shake off his hand on my shoulder when he tries to comfort me again, and feel him root into place as I make the rest of the way to Coin’s office.

And I wonder if I hurt him now too.

I wonder if I managed to completely annihilate them both from me in one night.

Much to my surprise and, to be completely honest, my utter disappointment, Coin doesn’t want me to head back out and fight for the rebellion. She doesn’t want me to even film more propos.

Plutarch does, but his ideas now are pretty frivolous and have more to do with him being still stuck in the fantasy of putting on a good show and less to do with fighting for the good of the country.

Coin simply says, “You did your job, Miss Everdeen. You united the districts,” in her calm, disingenuous—completely unsettling—tone.

And argument I put up is met with a simple shake of the head and a pursing of her lips. All indisputable rejections, her cold, blank eyes telling me wordlessly that in no way could I sway her once her mind was made up.

Still doesn’t stop me from trying though.

“I want to help the rebels,” I plead, looking to Boggs behind Coin’s chair, his face still stoic but his eyes giving me a look that isn’t altogether dismissive.

That was something. It was more than I was getting from either Coin or Plutarch.

Coin though brushes off my words and cuts me down infuriatingly quick with a single sentence. “Plutarch wanted to see Peeta earlier, talk about some propos. But when he sent for him, one of the doctors working with Peeta said he wasn’t having a good day.”

Her tone is smooth and pleasant enough but there was an undercurrent to her words that she knew I would hear. “Do you know how Peeta is? I would have thought with your waking up this morning, he’d be in better shape than he was but if you two aren’t getting-“

“Me and Peeta are fine,” I snap, not liking whatever she’s implying.

She nods, slowly at me, choosing her next sentiment carefully. “Well, let’s hope so. We need both of you now to remain the faces of this revolution. And I wouldn’t want you to do anything rash because of... problems between you and your... between you and Peeta.”

I’m shaking my head, feigning certainty, before she even finishes. “That’s not why I want to help the rebels,” I insist firmly.

“Irregardless, Miss Everdeen, we don’t have a job for you. You aren’t qualified to go into the fight and we no longer need your propos to unite the districts. Your job is done. Thank you for your help.”

And I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I’m being definitively dismissed now. Indefinitely.

I don’t make any effort to keep my cool, instead choosing to storm out of the room, slamming the door cacophonously behind me and wonder why I let that woman get to me so much. Why her words and implications slice me open like a knife.

Why no matter how much I try, I just can’t like her.

Something about her rubs me the wrong way and, once again, I wish Peeta was here with me in the room, because he of all people could understand what about Coin felt off and strange and so familiar.

I curse myself again, as I suddenly miss him even more than before.

Unable to force myself to put my focus elsewhere—especially now that Gale is surely angry too—I change directions and head towards the recovery room.

I don’t even knock before entering. I push the door open, only to find him sitting on top of his bed, a sketchbook in hand, a lot more tranquil than I pictured.

He looks up as I enter—and then, simultaneously freeze in the doorway, like the coward I truly am inside. Before he can speak though, I blurt out, “I know you’re mad about me kissing Gale and I don’t know how much you saw or heard, but it wasn’t... it wasn’t exactly...” I stop because once again, I’m unprepared and out of my element and have no rhyme or reason in what I’m trying to say. I don’t know the right thing to say. I never know the right thing to say.

Maybe if I did, I wouldn’t screw always everything up. “It wasn’t,” I finally force myself to continue, off his patient and somewhat bewildered glance. “It wasn’t what I wanted... I didn’t want it to happen. I don’t, I don’t even know what-“

He finally puts me out of my misery now. “Katniss,” he speaks my name along with a sigh. I watch carefully, feeling a lump build in my throat, as his blonde brows furrow over his baby blues.

He shakes his head, slow and calm. Far more reasonable than I ever anticipated. “I’m not mad at you, Katniss,” he promises, with all the genuineness in the world.

I bite my lip, befuddled by his words. “But... where have you been then?” Why did you leave me? A small voice in the back of my mind demands.

He shrugs, his gaze falling down to his bed now. His demeanor is almost embarrassed, I realize with a start.

“I wanted to give you and Gale space. I’ve been practically mauling you since you woke up so I thought-“

“But I didn’t want you to leave,” I abruptly burst out, unable to shove the words down any longer.

A pang of embarrassment shoots through me though, for the pathetic crack, evident in my tone. And I mentally berate myself.

Not for the embarrassment. For the pathetic crack itself.

And for the fact that somehow I’m the frenzied one here and Peeta is the voice of reason.

Which used to be our norm but after everything that’s transpired, I would have thought things would be reversed by now.

He just stares at me for a long moment, carefully considering his next words.

Finally, he opens his arms slowly and utters, “Come here,” in a tender murmur and I practically fly into his arms before I can second guess the offer.

I feel my injured side screaming as I curl up like a ribbon in his arms, but I surpress the wince to the best of my ability and instead bury my face in his shoulder, breathing in his sweet scent like a mad girl.

He softly presses his lips to my messy locks, carefully massaging the back of my head soothingly. “I’m sorry I ran away,” he whispers, barely loud enough for even me to hear. “I was just embarrassed. I know—I’ve always known deep down—that it’s not right for me to constantly hold you to the things you said in the games. Or to project my own feelings onto you.”

“You didn’t,” I refute venomously, my brows knitting together.

“Katniss, I know you and Gale have had something between you for a long time.”

“Gale was just a friend until me and you came back from our first games. Maybe he wanted to be more even before, I don’t know, but I never felt anything romantic for him. I swear.”

“You don’t have to defend your feelings to me,” he states softly.

“I know, it’s just...” I sigh, moving to sit upright across his thighs. “No matter what I do, it’s wrong. If I say I’m confused, you’re both hurting. If I say I want to kiss you or sleep with you or just be with you, I’m leading you on because I can’t-I can’t make any promises about my feelings right now, because I don’t even know up from down anymore. And if I say I do or don’t want to kiss Gale or be around him or hunt with him still, I’m hurting him or giving him the wrong idea or telling him the wrong things, and it all gets confused and there’s an entire rebellion that I’m the face of, and now I don’t even know if I’m a part of that, but Snow and his followers all hate me still so I know family still won’t be safe until this is all over. And you. You and Johanna and Annie went through the ringer over me. And Gale gets upset whenever he sees us together—it hurts him to see us—but I can’t always seperate you two from one another and I just-I don’t know what I can do. I don’t know what to do anymore.”

Peeta lets me rant the whole entire spiel out, his hand slowly moving in circles to rub my back, from the top of my spine down to my backside. “Katniss,” he whispers once I’m done. “You don’t have to defend yourself to me. I get it. You’re under immense pressure. The last thing I want to do is make things harder on you.”

“You’re not,” I say, shaking my head insistently. “You’re not making anything worse, Peeta. It’s-it’s not you.”

“Okay,” he concedes and unconsciously wraps me up tighter in his arms. “Just relax, okay? Relax and breathe.”

I quiver and quake against him. “I don’t think I can.”

I barely realize I’m crying until Peeta leans down to kiss my tearstained cheek softly. “Katniss, it’s okay. I’m not mad. And Gale shouldn’t be. If he is, then that’s on him. The rebellion isn’t just your responsibility. Do not let them put all that weight on your shoulders. I know they already have but it’s not all your responsibility. And no one is going to let anything happen to your mom or sister.” He pushes my hair away from my forehead, pressing his lips there for a long moment. “Or you. I promise I will not let anything else happen to you.”

I swallow hard as he rests his forehead against my temple. I squeeze my eyes shut in hopes that it will make my head stop spinning somehow. Deep breaths to center myself fail miserably and in the end, I feel my bruised ribs and lung disagree with the movement and ache worse than before.

Peeta feels me cringing against him in pain and remains careful as he shifts, reaching for something off his bedside table.

I’m in too much pain to react as pushes off my robe and tugs my hospital gown down in order to slide against my skin, his hand holding it firmly to my side.

The icy temperature brings some sort of relief to me almost instantly, and I let out an audible sigh of relief, feeling my rigid body relax even a minuscule amount for the first time.

“I don’t blame you for having feelings for Gale,” Peeta murmurs, drawing my attention back to our conversation and away from my painful left side. “And if you want to be with him, I won’t hold it against you. I’m not going to lie, I’d be ... sad but... it doesn’t mean I wouldn’t still be your friend. It doesn’t mean I wouldn’t still be at jere for you however you needed me. There’s no ultimatums here, Katniss. I’m still here for you, even if you’d rather be with Gale.”

I pause for a long moment, absorbing his words. He’d be willing to be my friend, even if I hurt him? Even if I chose someone else over him? Even after everything we went through, even after all the ways he’d been abused because Snow could see how much I care for him? How much I need him. He’s still willing to put it all aside and be there for me, no strings attached.

And I try not to compare but my brain draws the conclusion almost involuntarily, and I can’t stop myself from realizing that, in the same position, Gale would likely not be telling me the same thing.

I burrow my face deeper in his shoulder, shutting my eyes in exhaustion.

Peeta catches me off-guard, moving my hair aside to kiss my neck, eliciting a flare of heat in the place where his lips brush my skin, and I may not know exactly how I feel, but I know in that moment exactly what I want right now.

“The only person I want to be with tonight is you,” I whisper honestly, looking up at him with pleading eyes, begging him to somehow understand an emotion I don’t know how to admit. “The only person I want right now is you, Peeta.”

#everlark #thg #hunger games #my writing #asks 🦋#everlurked 🌸✨

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starlight-vixen-emiko · 3 years

Text

WIP Wednesday 6/16/2021

Hello everyone! It’s 1 am here in California and I plan on working on Wedding Roses Chapter 3 once I got to sleep and wake up in the morning, because I feel bad for making everyone wait and I noticed everyone else in the Lukanette writing fandom is writing fanfics of Luka and Marinette married or getting married......I am so proud!

But until then how about a WIP from your beloved Lady Emiko.

For background I wrote this unfinished fanfic for Lukanette June 2021 prompt “Choice” but it got really long so I stopped...But I kept the document in my files because I kind of liked it even though I wasn’t sure which direction it was going.

I wonder if you guys will enjoy it as well. And since feedback really encourages me, if you honeybuns sweet talk me a little I may feel motivated to finish it and publish it.

Also to note, this fanfic contains cheating. I didn’t want to make Adrien the bad guy here but that’s how it turned out.

Anyway, enjoy this little piece of late night reading!

Marinette was the luckiest girl alive.

She built up all her courage to confess to popular teen model Adrien Agreste and he accepted her feelings and agreed to date her.

And the part few months were blissful. Marinette decided to go to Adrien's mansion with a box of delicious peppermint ice cream (his favorite) and surprise him. But Marinette noticed something strange in the garden by the entrance.

Marinette's curiosity got the better of her and she decided to walk through the beautiful garden only to be completely shocked to see Adrien smiling and giggling with Zoe Lee.

Marinette paused for a moment, not being able to process that her boyfriend was acting strange.

Then her mouth dropped as she saw Adrien pressing a kiss on Zoe's lips. Zoe looked utterly surprised and Marinette couldn't help but scream a little. Then Zoe screamed realizing that Marinette was right behind them and Adrien's dazed smile turned into horror as he saw Marinette watched him in the act.

"Marinette!" Adrien cried. He and Zoe looked absolutely horrified as Marinette's face was anger laced with tears. She dropped the box of ice cream on the ground.

"Marinette this isn't what it looks like!" Adrien cried.

Marinette could listen to this no more and ran off.

"Marinette I'm sorry!" Zoe cried.

Adrien ran for Marinette as she ran out of the garden crying. But as Adrien reached out her his girlfriend he tripped and landed on the concrete and Marinette was able to run free. But at that point Adrien realized it was pointless for him to chase after her now.

Everything changed at that moment. Marinette laid in her bed with tears still streaming in her eyes. Her room was dim because of the dark grey clouds outside not allowing any light in. Marinette turned off her phone because she was getting multiple notifications as Adrien announced that he and Marinette were no because he cheated.

Sure Adrien was being honest but Marinette didn't want everyone pitying her.

Tikki let Marinette rest after Marinette came home and cried out that Adrien cheated on her.

Marinette turned over in her bed and finally started to fall asleep but Tikki floated down to comfort Marinette.

"Marinette, I am so sorry!" Tikki cried.

At that point Marinette made a choice to not believe in love.

The next day Marinette sat with her friends at lunch for comfort. And Marinette was relieved she was surrounded by friends and Adrien and Zoe weren't here to apologize with their tails between their legs. But then Alya suggested there are some other good guys out there and Marinette was slightly irritated.

She said nothing and walked away from her friends, there was a hint of guilt on Alya and Nino's faces.

"There is someone out there who will love you right Marinette, I just know it!" Alya cried.

"Yeah, just because Adrien cheated doesn't mean you have to suffer," Nino cried.

Marinette ignored them and walked to the drink machine. With her pocket money she bought herself a strawberry milk to sweetened up her sour mood but then she sighed when the milk cartoon got stuck in the machine. She was about to give the machine a harsh knock but then she heard someone behind her.

"I can get that for you Marinette."

Marinette held her heart jump at the sound of the familiar voice from a handsome boy with blue hair, it was Luka!

Marinette turned quickly. "Oh Luka!" She felt a bit frazzled. "You don't have to do that for me I was going to get it by myself."

Luka said nothing and got on his knees and stuck his long arm inside the drink machine. There was a little bit of struggle but he managed to dislodge the strawberry milk carton and catch it was his hand. He presented it to her with a smile.

Marinette couldn't help but blush as she hesitated to take the drink. But she took her sweet strawberry drink and briefly felt his gentle hand.

Marinette smirked. "Thank you Luka."

Luka gave her a suave smile. "No problem," he said as he turned to get his own beverage.

Marinette quickly grabbed her wallet.

"Luka!"

The blue haired boy paused and turned to her, seemingly unbothered that Marinette interrupted her. "Yes Marinette."

Marinette's wallet shakes in her hands with the sound of coins. "I-I can pay for your drink!"

Luka smiled down at her but he reached into his pocket. "There is no need," he said.

But then when he pulled out the money he had in his coat pocket he paused for a moment to see the amount.

Marinette ran to the drink machine. "I have plenty of money Luka!"

Luka gestured at her that it was alright. "I just wanted blueberry root beer it's no big deal."

Marinette said nothing and quickly placed in money for blueberry root beer. This time the drink fell down perfectly and Marinette took it and presented it to Luka.

Luka didn't accept it at first. He was touched by Marinette's kindness and Marinette smirked at him, her way of showing him she can also be chivalrous.

Both of their smiles bursted into laughter and then Luka accepted the root beer.

"Thanks Marinette, I owe you," Luka said.

"No!" Marinette cried. He just saved her strawberry milk. "It's alright."

"I should thank you." Marinette said, a genuine smile on her face. Luka taking the time to shove his arm up a drink machine to save her milk was a small thing that made her day.

Marinette gave Luka one last glance before she tried to run back to her friends but her friends were packing up and Alya and Nino gestured to Marinette to stay with Luka.

Marinette gave them an exasperated look but at the same time. After Alya and Nino left Marinette looked back and saw Luka was still beside her. So she chose to spend the rest of lunch with him.

They stood next to each other with their drinks while watching the blue sky and clouds.

Marinette admitted it was nice to spend time with Luka. It was easy to be happy with him.

"I'm happy to be spending time with you Marinette," Luka said. "I just hope I am good company as well."

Marinette's strawberry milk tasted sweeter than usual.

"Mmm! Of course you are!" Marinette said. "I feel…"

"Amazing." Marinette finished.

Luka finished his bottle of blueberry rootbeer. But Marinette was a bit concerned. She dogged into her lunch pouch for an extra wrapped sandwich and presented it to Luka.

"Here, you should eat something!" Marinette said.

Luka was flattered but he looked as if he didn't want to accept it.

"Please, I have too much," Marinette said.

Luka finally gave in and accepted the sandwich.

"No need for paybacks!" Marinette said.

Luka was happy, he almost held the sandwich close to his heart. Marinette leaned against the column and smiled.

"I heard about Adrien," Luka said. "And I'm sorry."

Marinette figured Luka would bring this up at one point. She would be annoyed but Luka was showing genuine concern and he was being sweet about it.

Marinette forced a smile, as she didn't want Luka to be her security blanket.

"I'll be ok," Marinette said.

Marinette threw her hands up. "I mean who needs romance anyway when I have friends!"

Luka chuckled. "You're right, but I am here if you ever need me. Remember that."

Marinette felt herself loosen up a bit. She felt like putting up metaphorical armor but with Luka she felt she could be vulnerable. What was this feeling?

Suddenly Luka's phone rang and he checked it. "Well, actually I have to go now, but I will see you later."

Luka gave her one more look with his ocean blue eyes.

"I would like that," Marinette said.

Marinette watched as Luka walked away. She felt a stirring in her heart that felt different after so much emotional numbness.

But then Marinette snapped out of her euphoria and remembered why she decided to put up walls. She wanted to choose not to get hurt again. Besides, Luka was just a good friend, there was no reason to read too deeply in it.

But even though she couldn't know everything she did have to admit Luka wasn't like Adrien. Comparing Luka to Adrien would be an insult. Maybe she would end up being a bad girlfriend.

Either way she was done with romance!

Marinette felt a familiar critter on her shoulder.

"Luka certainly is as sweet as strawberry milk!" Tikki said.

"Tikki!!" Marinette yelped.

Marinette agreed she could just ignore everyone's suggestions.

Author’s note: Yes somebody please give my handsome son a blueberry root beer, he deserves one! Yeah, I thought this was freaking cute, Luka willing to stick his arm up a drink machine to save Marinette’s strawberry milk.

I could use a strawberry milk myself...The kind made from real strawberries not the artificial stuff!

Anyway, there is more to this fanfic so if you lovebugs are interested in reading more go ahead and send me some feedback.

This is Emiko Gale signing out and sleep well my lovely lovebugs!

#pro lukamari #lukanette #my fanfiction #my writing #wip wednesday

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awhiskeyriver · 4 years

Note

Yay! So happy that you're writing AND that we get to have some more insight on TheBet! Peeta! :) I'd like to know what was going on his mind on thanksgiving, with K being there with his family. Also, it's not Peeta's POV, but I was always wondered what Madge's thoughts on Katniss were when they accidently met at the boys apartment door for the first time, and also when she sees K in the dunk tank and Peeta stops to "save" her. Did she recognize K from the bet? Was she curious?

Thank you so much!

Okay, so this isn’t *exactly* what you requested...but this is the scene at the dunk tank from Peeta’s POV with some insight into Madge as well! I had a few requests for the Thanksgiving scene, so keep an eye out for that one later on as well! :) Hope you enjoy!

+++

“Hey, I know her.”

I turned to Madge, following her line of sight down the pier to where Katniss Everdeen was sitting above a dunk tank clad in nothing but a soaked-through bikini. As if on cue, a gust of cool wind struck and I watched her shoulders instinctively hunch while some guy with a megaphone encouraged people to visit the booth.

“Yeah, everyone knows her,” Gale snorted, looking away with a shake of his head. “She’ll go down in history as the dumbest sorority girl at Panem. And that’s saying something.”

Why would they choose a dunk tank for a party in the middle of October? It wouldn’t surprise me if there was snow on the ground in a few short weeks, and yet they had people sitting out at night in barely anything? Made no sense. Megaphone guy looked warm enough in his fleece jacket...

Madge shot Gale a disapproving look before pressing on. “I meant that’s the girl who came to the apartment the other day.”

“Stop pointing,” I hissed, rubbing a hand along the back of my neck subconsciously. The last thing I needed was for her to catch us talking about her.

When coach heavily implied we all needed to spend more time together off field ‘bonding’--aka, I needed to leave the apartment for more than practice and class--the only option worth consideration was to head to Greek row. It was the place most students could be found on a Saturday night, and this weekend more than most, since it was their fall fundraiser. Chances of encountering Katniss were high, and I knew that, but I could hardly convince my team mates and coach that I was over the entire bet if I kept avoiding social settings like the plague.

So, to the frat house we went. And sure enough, there she was.

I swallowed heavily, hating the way the sweat on the back of my neck felt ice cold when the wind hit. And the way it made me pity Katniss for how cold she must be.

Shit, she caught me staring.

Our eyes met for a short moment before I looked away, uncomfortable heat encompassing my body at being caught.

Madge, who had no shame, continued to look on before nudging me in the side playfully.

“She’s got a smokin’ body.”

“Jesus, Madge,” I grumbled, afraid someone would over hear her. My embarrassment only made her laugh and she patted my back lovingly as I stared down at my shoes.

I could feel Katniss looking over in my direction still. The heat of her deep gray eyes boring into the side of my head. Her full lips pursed and eyebrows slightly downcast.

“Am I wrong?” she asked, the question open for any takers. I wasn’t stupid, I saw the lingering glances a few of the guys gave before trying to feign indifference. If it was for my sake, there was no point. I knew she was good looking.

Hot.

I chanced another glance, and for a heated moment we stared at one another. Swallowing hard and stuffed my hands down into my pockets for something to do.

Who was I kidding, she was fucking stunning.

Which made me all the more an idiot for ever believing she was interested in me.

“It’d be kind of funny to dunk her,” Gale pointed out, wrapping a protective arm around Madge to starve off the wind. I watched in the distance as Katniss gave into the struggle and finally wrapped her arms around her bare stomach.

How much longer would they seriously make her stay up there?

“Try your chances to dunk a Theta. You can’t convince me you haven’t thought about it at least once,” Megaphone guy continued to taunt. “If for no other reason, it’s an excuse to see one soaking wet…”

My feet moved without permission, before I was even fully aware of what I was doing, but I heard Finnick ask where I was going and saw the wide-eyed stare of Katniss as I walked up to the dunk tank.

The guy attending it lowered his megaphone to the table and leaned forward with an easy grin. Either he recognized me, or thought I was a scumbag who gave into his pitch. Or both.

“Five bucks for three hits, bro,” he said, holding a hand out.

“How many rounds until she’s done for the night?” Something about her sitting there on display, shivering so hard her teeth were chattering, made me ask.

The guy looked confused, and I was staring to lose my patience.

“You want her to get down?” he confirmed, and when I gave a short nod his eyes narrowed.

“That’s not really how this works.”

“Will it work for two-hundred?”

“Dollars?”

I pulled out my wallet, handing him the cash with ease that should’ve given me pause. I was in too deep to care, now. Focused on my goal.

“You can do whatever you want with her for two hundred dollars,” the kid joked, and he seemed to sense my disapproval as he turned to the megaphone to announce to anyone within a five mile radius that I’d paid a pretty penny to play the game. Surrounding us a few people cheered or clapped, but mostly we went ignored as he slapped a bucket of bean bags onto the table for me to take the hits I’d paid for. I ignored it, walking past the table and over to the booth where Katniss eyed me with a level of distrust.

“Hey,” she said slowly, crossing her legs which were eye-level with my face.

I cleared my throat before returning the sentiment.

Her eyes darted between the untouched bean bags and me for a moment before a sly smirk tickled her lips.

“Come to warn me that you’re about to pelt me with a bucket worth of bean bags?” she laughed, eyebrows raised in question.

“No,” I said, and my answer seemed to surprise her. Did she really think I was going to throw bean bags at her? “I came to tell you that you can get down.”

She wasn’t convinced. Katniss folded her arms across herself, doing wonderful things to her chest that I fought to ignore as I kept my eyes trained on her face, which was still painted with unease.

I realized then that my request came off more instructional and demanding than I intended, like I was ordering her to get down or something. It hadn’t occurred to me until that moment that maybe she was having fun. Despite the cold, she might’ve been enjoying herself and there I was, coming to ruin it.

“If you want,” I added, lamely, wondering if again I was about to be rejected, left to walk away awkwardly after yet another failed encounter with Katniss Everdeen.

I’d barely gotten the words out before she nodded eagerly though, reaching out for help to get down from the high seat above the tank. I lifted an arm up to help, not letting go of hers until she was firmly back on the ground.

“Thanks,” she said quietly, pushing a piece of curly hair back behind her ear before crossing her arms again.

“No problem.” I was glad my voice came out normal, masking the way my heart was pounding inside my chest with her standing inches away from me practically naked.

Practically naked.

Shit.

“Do you, uh, have a towel or a blanket?” A blanket? Really? I looked around the ground stupidly for anything resembling such, but came up short.

“I left it inside,” she admitted, biting down on her lip.

“Here.” I pulled my sweatshirt off, smoothing the material out before holding it out for her to take. It wasn’t much, but comparatively it was something at least.

She took the offering without complaint, pulling it down over her head before turning up to me with an appreciative smile.

She was drowning in the fabric, the thing almost reached her knees it was so big and she had to roll the sleeves several times before the material stopped falling over her hands.

“Sorry,” I said, sheepishly. “It’s huge.”

“It’s comfortable,” she argued, and the bright smile she gifted me was enough for me to return it. We stood there a moment longer, but with nothing more to say and the temperature only dropping, I figured it was best to let her go inside to warm up.

When I chanced a glance over at the group of people waiting for me, their reactions to the exchange between Katniss and I varied, but Madge gave me a wink that had me turning away quickly.

“I’ll come find you after I change to return this,” she said, motioning to the sweatshirt.

“Don’t worry about that,” I said quickly, not wanting her to feel like it was all part of some elaborate ploy to make her come find me later tonight. She could keep it forever, for all I cared. It looked far better on her than it ever had on me.

Her expression looked doubtful though, and sensing she needed some reassurance, I added, “You can give it back to me another time. Just go get warm. It’s freezing out here.”

“Okay,” she said almost shyly, a far cry from the girl I’d originally met. But, I guess that was where we were now that things had fallen apart. Awkwardly tip-toeing around one another, unsure of how to proceed. Not really friends but...what? Not enemies, at least. It didn’t seem like it.

“Peet, let’s go!” I heard Finnick call out and the realization that they were all still standing there watching, that anyone could be, made my skin heat.

“I’ve uh, gotta get going.”

She waved goodbye as I turned to walk away, unsure how I felt about the exchange. But when I made my way back to the waiting group, Madge gave me one of her clever looks that couldn’t go ignored.

“What?” I asked, hesitantly. I really didn’t feel like being the center of conversation--especially one to do with Katniss Everdeen--for the rest of the night.

“That was a good move, giving her your jacket.”

“It’s cold,” I insisted.

“Yeah, but now she’ll have to return it.”

“I mean, she doesn’t have to,” I said quietly, trying to remember if I’d asked her to or not but the whole conversation was honestly a blur.

“She will.” Madge was leaving no room for debate. “And in order to do that, she’ll need to set up a time to see you again. Sly dog.”

“It’s not like that,” I insisted, but Madge only shrugged before walking quicker to catch up with Gale.

She was a helpless romantic, it wasn’t her fault, but that didn’t change the fact that there was nothing between Katniss Everdeen and I besides guilt and awkwardness. Maybe in an alternate universe, before the bet things could’ve been different.

But in this one, she is somebody with endless options. Beautiful, popular…

And I’m just me.

#anon #ask #the bet #peeta pov #fanfic #thg #the panem nightlocks series

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paige-and-opal-inc · 4 years

Text

Mr. Jolly

Warnings: Self mutilation, self harm, cannibalism, demons, panic attack

Summary: The path up the hill was where people disappeared. It was where lost tourist and people who had a death wish went. Only people who had no sense went up there. But no one knows what happens, no one knows the fate of those who travel the path. But when Gales only choice is to travel the path, it's only a matter of time before they find out what happens to those who travel the path.

Link: Wattpad

The old hill was where people disappeared. It usually happened to new people, people who didn’t know better. Having lived in this town my entire life, I’ve seen many people come and go, many more mourn the loss of loved ones. It was almost a tradition. Years would go by without an accident, then someone would follow the path up the hill and never be seen again.

After that, the entire town would be disconsolate, then Mr. Jolly would host a bittersweet feast. It would mostly have the favorite foods of those who disappeared, along with some of his bestselling recipes.

I had gone up the path because it began to rain, which meant flooding was to follow. The only options were to swim home or follow the path up the hill. Taking a deep breath I had started walking, trying not to run and fall.

There was a single tree on top of the hill, it was probably as old as the town. By the time I reached it my clothes were soaked through, and I couldn’t stop shivering. I would be lying if I said that I didn’t scream a bit when a flashlight blinded me.

“It’s okay it’s just me!” Mr. Jolly’s familiar voice said, “It was storming and I just wanted to check if anyone was up here. It’s dangerous y’know.” My heart rate starts returning to normal, of course it was only him. “My house is close by, how about you stay there for the night, and I’ll tell your Mom, then drop you off in the morning.”

“Yeah, yeah okay.” I say, grateful to finally get out of the rain.

We drove back to his house. It’s nice, if not plain. A few pictures color the yellow-beige walls, while worn down furniture is neatly placed. I honestly can’t think of a better example for a “dreary house”. I don’t need to be told twice to go take a nap, and the guest room is surprisingly cozy compared to the rest of the house.

An annoyingly loud bird is the thing that finally wakes me up. It takes me a few moments before I realize how bright the room is and how late it must be. Throwing off the covers I get up, rushing out the door into a hallway. The inviting smell of cookies comes from the left, and as I enter the kitchen in search for the source of the smell a note on the table catches my attention.

Went to store. Stay put until I get back

“Sorry,” I say to the note, “Mom’s gonna kill me, even if you did tell her I was here.” Turning to the counter, a plate of cookies and a glass of milk are waiting to be eaten. I down the milk quickly, eat a cookie, and grab another for the road. The doorway that leads me to the living room is decorated with polaroid pictures, Mr. Jolly with people that are long dead. I start to wonder how old Mr. Jolly really is. Or maybe that’s a relative? I really don’t know that much about him.

Well revelations aside, I need to get home. I continue to the door, and turn the knob only to find it locked. There are no back or side doors that I can find, and the windows seem to be locked too. Alright that’s fine. Everything... is... fine… Time seems to slow, and the room starts to get blurry. As I stumble onto the couch, I can’t help but slide down into a more sleep tempting position. The sound of an open door catches my attention, and I muster up enough energy to lift my head in the direction of the noise.

Someone’s talking, but all I can hear is, “See you… found cookies… no… leave…”

I need… to… go home is my last thought before everything goes black.

Everything's cold, and there’s a light behind my eyelid. My throat is sore, and my lips feel glued together. It takes me a few minutes to get my bearings, to even remember anything. I should be at home, but instead I’m at Mr. Jolly’s, I have to be. I can’t remember how I got here, only that I was with him. My bare skin is exposed to the air, but there’s no wind, no breeze. Only a chilling stillness. I try to move, but there are restraints on my ankles, wrist, hips, and even around my neck.

Finally I open my eyes, and from what I can see I must be in some sort of hospital or a butchery. There’s a smell of sterilized equipment, but beneath it is something more foreboding. I’m at least able to turn my head, and see some papers proudly framed on the wall. The curly handwriting is familiar, it’s from Mr. Jolly’s shop, and they get rid of any doubt I have that I’m with him. They’re too far away to read, but I can tell they’re old.

When I look to my left chills are sent down my spine. Tools line the wall, mostly knives. The first real thought runs through my head, GET OUT. I try to struggle but it’s no use, I can tell this has happened before. There are stains on the knives, and this is just too thought through for someone to have just begun. My fingertips are just at the sides of the table, but it’s all smooth, not a thing can be used to help me escape. That’s when I hear it.

Footsteps. I close my eyes, and pretend to be asleep, a skill I mastered for when it was 2 a.m. and my mom checked on me. Oh god. My mom. I didn’t even say goodbye, I just stormed out. I’m gonna be just another missing kid. Wait...

The missing kids, the fact that on the hill where everyone goes missing Mr. Jolly just happened to be there, that after eating a cookie he made at his house I passed out and woke up bound to a table. But what was he gonna do?! Rape me and cut me up?! Torture me for fun?! Then what, get the town's pity and admiration by holding a grand feast? It only took about two minutes before the second realization hit me like a train.

After he killed us the town then got a feast. With special dishes made only for the feast. He didn’t just kill them, he cooked them. He cooked them and gave the entire town what he made. I swallow puke. I had eaten people. Multiple people. That cute guy that had stopped at town for a few nights. Bailee Maddison, who I had a crush on for years. Neighbor, friends, people I never got to know. I had eaten them, without noticing.

The footsteps get closer and stop that train of thought. I hear a door open and shut, then after waiting for a moment I open my eyes again. I can just make out the door, on the wall near my feet. I take a second, slower look, trying to keep my panic at bay. I can make out another door, and an open doorway that has what looks like some sort of machine inside. I try but I can’t find anything to help.

Tears start to well up in my eyes, I’m gonna die. I’m actually gonna die. Despite the bands I try to curl up into a fetal position, and here a sort of scratching sound when I move my left foot at a certain angle. I try a few more times before I feel it. It’s very subtle, but that part of the band is moving. Of course it is! There had to be some way to unfasten them, and a giant lock would get in the way when he… gruesome pictures flash through my mind, finishing that thought for me.

At first, nothing happens as I constantly move my foot, panic and tears make me attempt a kick. I swallow a yell, and feel some blood where I had scraped my skin against the bands. But this time I feel it moved a bit more. I take a deep breath and try kicking again, this time harder. I’m not able to contain my yell when the band digs in deeper, but even though it’s moving more I still can’t get my foot out. It takes probably close to an hour before I can get it loose enough. This room has to be soundproof, or else he would have heard me.

Finally I can get my leg off the table a bit, the band around my hips has also been loosened. I can feel the pole going down from the corner, and run my feet along it as far as it can go, but there’s nothing there. When I lift my leg it screams, I had to have broken something. Then, I notice the cart has moved forward a bit. The tools aren’t too far away, and if I lift my leg I could knock a few of them down. It’s gonna hurt like a bitch, but I’d rather leave with a broken foot than not leave at all. After more pain I manage to get close enough to the wall to where I can reach it.

Taking a deep breath, I prepare for what I think will be unimaginable pain. It is even worse. Most of the knives just cut my foot, but the one thing I’m able to get makes me (more) nauseous. A bone saw hangs around my foot, it’s one of those old timey ones that you’d see in a Saw movie. Tears blur my vision, but after more work and a few more cuts it’s in my hand.

Now what? Am I gonna cut off my hand then die of blood loss right after? Am I gonna try cutting through the metal? I can’t. Either I kill myself or I lie here waiting to die. The hopelessness and despair I’d been trying to hold back... crushes me. I let the tears flow, I call out for people I know I’ll never see again. I don’t know how much time passed, how long I was there, just waiting for him to come back and kill me. But I was gonna die anyway, so why couldn’t I die doing something. I could be his last victim, I could catch him by surprise. But first I need to at least be able to move.

And so I start cutting. I don't have the strength to cut my wrist, so I settle for trying to make my hand smaller. There’s so much blood, and from my screaming I’m pretty sure I lost the element of surprise, but I continue on. Back and forth and back and forth, until finally I can slip my hand out.

As I move it across the table I close my eyes, thankful that I don’t have to look at it. It’s kind of funny how easy it is to undo the band around my other hand, even with my mangled fingers. It was so easy, and yet I had to break a foot and cut off part of my hand. I use my good hand to unlock my neck, then hips, then foot. My entire body is sore.

Swinging my good foot over the table with my other foot, an attempt to lower myself down ends up with the table rolling out of the way and me on the ground in pain. There are a few knives near me, I reach out and grab one. I curl up and bring the knife close to my chest. When the initial pain passes I drag myself to the wall and sit up.

I made a mistake, I can’t do this. I can’t even get down from a table without crying, how could I kill someone?!

“Is this what you want?!” I scream, if he’s going to kill me might as well be sooner than later, “Come down here already! I already did half the work for you!” My throat is raw, and just yelling makes the room spin.

Finally I hear the door open, and footsteps make their way to me. After a few moments of me crying hands wrap themselves around my neck. I’m lifted up roughly without any regard for my foot or hand, and after a yelp of pain I look into his cold, emotionless eyes.

“You ruined yourself! What am I supposed to do-” He stops talking as his face goes pale, he slowly looks down at his chest. The knife I lodged in it is covered with my blood, and as I wait for his to start gushing he drops me, earning another scream. I roll onto my side, but I can’t cry. All I can do is watch as Mr. Jolly stumbles around, knocking down the frames and slamming into the wall.

He finally falls, but there’s still no blood. Instead a small black liquid starts to bubble from where I stabbed him. It bubbles slowly, and runs off his sides, forming little puddles. I watch and watch, and as more blood comes out Mr. Jolly starts changing. When the last of it pops from his chest, he isn't a he anymore. Instead a girl a few years older than me is sitting there. I can recognize her from a newspaper article I read. She was one of the first to disappear, but soon my attention is drawn to the puddles of black. I watch as the puddles seem to grow, until I’m surrounded. I grab a nearby knife and throw it at one, but it just smiles and reaches out to me. I flinch, but something about its milky white eyes keeps me a bit still.

My hand goes numb when it touches me, and suddenly there’s no reason to fight. Everywhere they touch me goes blissfully numb, my foot, my arms, everywhere. My throat goes numb, and my breathing slows as they take over my lungs. My heartbeat becomes slower and slower until I can’t feel it. I sigh as they reach farther and farther, as all the pain goes away, pain that I didn’t even know was there. I can’t tell if the darkness came from me closing my eyes or them. I don’t care. My thoughts are stifled when they numb my brain, and through the darkness I smile.

#horror #tw self mutilation #tw cannibalism #tw panic attack #ocs #orignal story #tw demons #horror story #original writing #kidnapping #gore

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forkanna · 5 years

Link

Back To The Future and related concepts © Robert Zemeckis/Bob Gale/Universal. Frozen and related concepts © Diznee. This story, plot, and prose © Jessica X and Fruipit. Artwork ©Captnducky. All rights reserved.

WARNING: This story will contain coarse language, incestuous romance between a mother and daughter, and some smut. Also contains Punzanna (Rapunzel/Anna) content. If you have a problem with any of those things, DO NOT READ.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is where the plot begins to diverge a lot more from that of the films. Part I followed the movie very closely, but the many little differences made it impossible to stick that close to the Part II script – or close to it at all. So we went where the writing took us. Sorry for it taking so long for us to get it out there to you, but we hope you are still along for the ride!

[AO3 LINK] [EF LINK]

---------------------------------------------

The sky flashed. The lightning struck.

Time seemed to freeze for a moment. All ten fingers clamped down around the steering wheel as Anna accelerated toward the thick cable strung between the lampposts, sparks erupting all around the DeLorean. The flux capacitor was ready and only needed the nuclear reaction to power the time-jump. And it was getting it; no sooner had Doc connected two wires at the last possible moment was he blown back from the force of the electricity racing through the connection into a shrub.

Anna McFly squeezed her eyes shut, praying she made it home.

…And then suddenly she was coming to a stop, skidding sideways into a bus stop bench. It made an awful screeching din as it was uprooted from the ground and sent flying back into the nearest building, cracking a single brick with its corner before clattering to the ground.

That could be worried about later. For now… she had to look around and hold her breath.

Cafe 80s. GameStop. Verizon.

She was in 2015. It worked. Despite all the odds, she and Doc had got the stupid time machine working and sent her back to the future.

"FUCK YEAH!" she screamed, slamming the heel of her hand into the steering wheel. "I didn't die!"

Opening the door to the car, she was seconds from jumping out and doing a happy little dance when a familiar van came tearing down the street. Oh no. She didn't die, but someone else would, and soon, if she didn't get a wriggle on.

But it was okay. She could do this. They were from out of town. There were multiple shortcuts she could use to get there before they did. She could do this. Twisting the key in the ignition, the engine roared to life. Briefly.

"No, no, no!" Anna screamed, whacking the steering wheel with her hand. She tried again; once more, the engine sputtered, and died. Why? Of all the times for an engine failure…

She didn't have a car. She didn't even have a skateboard. As she took off running down the street, she had only one thing: desperation.

Never before in her life had Anna run that fast. She lost sight of the van, of course, but she knew Dell Valley like the back of her hand. She was heading straight for Twin Pines Mall.

But one lone teenage girl couldn't outmatch angry armed nationalists in a van, and as she rounded the hill that led to the mall, she knew she was too late. No time to call out, no time to warn Doc the way she had hoped. Only enough time to see bullets raining down onto his chest, blowing him backwards and onto the pavement from the far side of the parking lot.

Before she could even cry out, she heard her other self scream. That was eerie; even worse was watching a radiation suit-clad Anna come around the corner of the truck, shaking with anger and grief. The newly-arrived Anna shared the rage, and could only look on helplessly as she peeled out in the DeLorean. She wanted to do something else, but what could she do? If she interrupted, it would be one of those paradox things. No… all she could do was wait until the flashes of light and fire-trails gave proof of her disappearance.

Then she saw the nationalists firing off the rocket from their launcher, which streaked for the car… and instead blew a huge crater in the ground in front of them. Unable to swerve in time, they drove straight into the crater, totalling the van and probably knocking everyone inside unconscious.

"Good," she managed to mumble through her veil of tears. Hastily, she started running down the grassy hill, tripped, and rolled the rest of the way down. Then she hopped up to sprint for Doc's side.

It only took a few seconds for her to reach him. Collapsing on the pavement next to him, she brought a hand up to press at his face. "Doc…" she whispered. But no answer came.

Goddammit. Barking out a rough sob, she removed her hand. It had other things to do, like wipe at her tear-streaked face. God life wasn't fair. There was a cough – and it must have been her. After all, she was completely alone now…

"Anna…?"

Fuck, she could even hear his voice…

"Anna!"

Her hands were pulled roughly away, and Anna found herself staring at a very surprised, very not-dead Doc Pabbie. His eyes were wide and concerned, and he looked as though he were expecting Anna to say something. But she was entirely mute. Finally letting go of her hands, he brought his own up to his chest, slowly peeling away the lapels of the hazard suit. There was something underneath, and when Anna realised what it was, she felt she could have sobbed again.

"A bullet-proof vest," she croaked. "How… how did you know?"

He looked away at that question, lined features a little ashamed. "Back in '85, your video. And then your insistence to tell me something. Even if you didn't specify… it really doesn't take a genius to figure out something truly heinous would befall me." She looked at him, and he smiled. "Also… an elf left me this."

And from his pocket he pulled out a letter, weathered and yellow. Anna recognised it immediately. She had left her plan B, which had felt as pathetic a backup as a Plan Z when she left it; had he truly found it? She was a little surprised he hadn't just thrown it out.

"The letter," she breathed, eyes streaming so much that she could barely see it. "Oh… it's ripped down the middle…"

"I did start to tear it up when I first found it," he sighed. "No man should know too much about his own destiny. But then I figured…" A little shrug. "What the hell?"

Laughing, she threw herself into a hug, gripping him tightly – full of so much more happiness than the last time she had. The man hugged her back, even though his laughter was punctuated by a groan of pain. After a minute, she pulled back to ask if he was alright.

"Just fine," he grunted, pushing upward and onto his feet as they gathered up their things and prepped the truck to drive away. Olaf had to be coaxed out from underneath, but eventually he responded to his master. "Though I'm sure I'll have some beautiful bruises from the impact of the bullets, at least they didn't puncture."

"Right; guess that would still hurt, even with the vest. But… I'm so gla-"

"Please, Anna," he chuckled softly, though his eyes were full of an almost grandfatherly affection as he opened the door for her to hop into the passenger's seat. "I'm fine. But I do believe we have some debriefing to do."

"Right… guess that's true." Taking out her phone to call the police about the terrorists, she hesitantly muttered, "But I'm just so damn glad to be home."

CHAPTER 1

By the time they got back to Lyon Estates, the non-functional DeLorean stowed safely back in the confines of the truck, Doc looked quite a bit more sober than he had after cheating death. She had debriefed him about her adventure into the past, understanding that the details were much fresher to her than to him, leaving out some of the more risqué parts that he certainly wouldn't have approved of – but still filling in more details now that they could freely discuss them instead of worrying about past-Doc knowing too much. She felt a blush rising to her face as she recounted what had happened at the dance, leaving out the grisly details from their romp in Elsa's car. Of course, he was there, and knew about the attraction from Elsa's perspective. He did a very good job of not blaming Anna for everything that had happened in 1985, but he certainly didn't look pleased about the turn of events.

"I suppose I should have warned you about the Butterfly Effect when I was doing my demonstration in present day," he sighed. "Well, you're here now, so at least our attempts to correct the issue went off without a hitch…"

"Yeah… at least there's that."

Silence fell thick, and quite uncomfortable. She was sure he could – and probably already had – filled in the gaps that she'd left out. Bone-weary exhaustion was setting in, along with some sadness. The near-miss of the universe ending was now minuscule when compared with the reality of losing her Elsa. The one she'd actually come to know. It would be hard, she thought, adjusting to her new-old life here… but she didn't have any choice. Might as well start getting used to it.

With nothing else worth sharing – at least, not that night – Anna bid Doc farewell as he pulled alongside the kerb in front of her house. Creeping inside, she half-expected to see her mother still waiting up for her, but there was no one. When Anna finally got to her bedroom, she collapsed on the covers, still fully dressed. It only felt like it was about 10:30 – which it was, according to her body.

It still didn't take very long to drift off, despite apprehension for the coming day filling her dreams. But she needed sleep or dealing with reality would be impossible.

~ o ~

When she awoke the next morning, Anna's bones ached from the awkward position in which she slept. At some point, her shoes had fallen off so at least she didn't dirty up her sheets, and she had thrown off her vest before crashing. Could have been worse. Her clock radio had probably been blaring out an old Huey Lewis song for almost a full two minutes before she sat up.

Was it a nightmare? She had to at least address that possibility as she rubbed at her face, stood up shakily. She was definitely starving; she hadn't eaten much last night… whether or not last night was the same night Adult Hans wrecked her dad's car, or the Enchantment Under The Sea dance. So she decided to turn off her brain and go get something to eat.

She only got as far as the living room.

It took a few moments to figure out why she felt an impending sense of disorientation, and when she did, it hit her like a freight train. Everything was different. The bare layout of the house was the same, including the furniture placement and one or two of the art pieces, but the furniture itself was completely different; much more high-end than anything her family ever owned. Some of the uglier paintings were gone, replaced with more tasteful, simple ones, or family photos that looked much less depressing than the ones Anna remembered. The wallpaper was gone, replaced with an elegant coat of paint that couldn't be more than a few years old. And sitting at the breakfast table were John and Wendy…

Except… since when did John wear a suit this early in the morning? Or at all?! And since when did they have grapefruit and muesli on the table instead of Pop Tarts and Froot Loops? Not only that, but there was also a quiche that definitely looked freshly-made, with a few wedges already cut out.

"Uhhhh," Wendy began when she saw Anna pause, staring at her siblings. She probably looked as confused as she felt. "Are you okay, Anna?"

"What- what's all this?" she asked as she slid into a barstool, staring at them. Wendy stared back.

"Breakfast."

"In a suit?!"

At that, John gave a light chuckle. "You know I've been pulling long days at the office," he said.

"Oh, yeah. Hah. Right. The office."

Obviously this wasn't exactly the same world that she had left. Her brother was, at least mildly, successful – at any rate, he no longer seemed to work at the local Pizza Planet. When Wendy stood up from her seat, the differences with her also became obvious; Anna hadn't noticed, but her glasses actually looked… nice, expensive trendy frames. Her hair wasn't an oily, limp mess; instead, it bobbed about her chin in tight curls. Definitely with a curling iron – but they'd never been able to afford stupid luxuries like that.

Maybe she needed to call Doc and have a conversation about that Butterfly Effect thing. Because she had a feeling somewhere, something she had messed up had made a huge difference.

She was just about to ask where her parents were when she heard the front door open. Mr McFly's voice rang through the house, though it was missing some of the reediness. Elsa's voice came through with a reply, and she sounded different, too.

And then they rounded the corner and Anna fell off her seat.

Her dad was in the lead, reaching out to lay his keys on a sideboard in the hallway. He looked to be in great shape, lacking the potbelly of the father she knew, and his grey-streaked blonde hair was in a rugged "rock" style that hung just past his ears instead of slicked back with oil to get it out of the way. On top of that, the pale blue button-up was open at the collar to show off a fine gold chain over his broad, toned chest.

"I… what… you…"

"What's the matter, honey?" he chuckled at her with a slight smile, reaching down to pull her back to her feet. It was still a gentle hand, but a lot more self-assured than he had ever been with her before; the grip was firm, his biceps more than enough to haul her upward.

"What are you wearing? What is anybody wearing?!" she burst out, knowing how stupid she sounded.

"Sweetheart," her mom sighed as she rounded her husband. "Did you fall out of bed and hit your noggin' again?"

And then she saw her. Not her mother… not frumpy Mrs. McFly. This was Elsa, aged thirty more years. Blonde hair in a much more tasteful braid than the younger model, but still braided, still well-maintained and elegant. She was a little plumper, but definitely not out of shape; this Elsa had shed her pregnancy pounds in the name of keeping healthy. Once she pulled her sunglasses off, she saw that there were still slight crows feet at the corners of her eyes, but not the enormous bags that her mother had always been sporting.

This was a woman who loved life rather than suffered through it. And she was beautiful.

"Mom?" she breathed softly, completely confused.

"Ohhh, sweetie," she whispered, leaning forward to kiss her forehead. When Anna froze solid to feel the lips there, Elsa did draw back to look at her for a moment, curious. "Sweetie?"

"Wh-what?"

Then Elsa's expression changed completely – as if she were seeing her for the first time. "Oh."

However, they didn't have much time to exchange that look, or for Anna to respond. Not with the family hovering – and Anna had caught the attention of everyone in the house with her glaringly unusual behaviour.

"By the way, Anna," Wendy was saying behind her, prompting her to whirl around in a circle and look at her sister. "We're not your answering service; that Jennifer Punzel dropped by while you were still asleep and asked what happened to you last night."

"Oh, that's right," Kristoff was saying as he sat down and drew half a grapefruit toward himself. "Wasn't last night supposed to be the big trip up to the lake?"

Anna frowned at him. It was, but… "Yeah, but the car was totalled, Dad."

Immediately, everyone sprung into action. There were cries of, "what?!" and "the car!" as everyone bundled out the door. Anna was swept up with the movement, pushed along until soft hands came from behind, securing her.

"Careful," her mother murmured. Anna swallowed and nodded, trying not to pay any mind to the butterflies. This wasn't fair! She was supposed to have left this Elsa behind, back in 1985. She was supposed to get her alcoholic, depressed mother. She was supposed to help her.

Anna wasn't given time to think on that, though, because soon she was peering out the fly-screen. "Anna Victoria McFly. Don't scare us like that," Kristoff chastised – which was strange enough on its own! If she'd still been sitting, she probably would have fallen from her chair again when Kristoff leaned forward, and called out to the man kneeling in front of the bumper of a distinctly not-totalled car, one that was much nicer than she was used to seeing out front of her house. "Now, Hans, I want to see two coats of wax on that car."

What? Hans? What was that lowlife doing to their car- and Victoria? That wasn't her middle name! Everything was too weird!

Even as Anna looked out, she felt Elsa step closer behind her. "He's lucky he could even get a job after that night," she said, voice low. "A little ironic that it's with cars… since he seems to have so much trouble with them."

Kristoff gave a light chuckle, then moved away, saying something about saving the grapefruit. Elsa didn't move, which meant that Anna couldn't move. Coughing, she cleared her voice. "What night?" she asked softly. Elsa's hands tightened briefly on her arms.

"Oh, you know. You were there, right?"

A spasm of electricity shot through her stomach when she heard those words. What could her mother mean? It didn't make any sense… unless…

"I don't have time to finish it," her father's voice cut through her thoughts. "I'm going to be late for my flight. Just wrap it up."

"Okay, okay, Dad," Wendy sighed. "But I hope you're all packed and ready to go, because I'm meeting Craig for lunch and I don't want to stand him up again."

"Okay, okay, slavedriver." As he passed Anna, he did a brief double-take – seemingly when he saw her hair in its semi-ornate bun. Then he glanced over at his wife, who nodded the barest amount. "Hmm… maybe I should cancel this stop on the tour."

"Tour?" Anna rasped, clutching at the sideboard for stability. Just then, as if he had been waiting for the cue, Hans burst into the house carrying a large cardboard box.

"Guys! Mr. McFly, I think this is it! The proofs for your new one!"

"Proofs? New one?" Anna felt dizzy. Her head was spinning, hands shaking. She was powerless to stop when Elsa pushed her forward again, back towards the kitchen.

"Don't you dare cancel," Elsa said, smiling fondly at him. "You've worked too hard. Leave the… domestics… to me."

Anna had a very strong feeling that Elsa was talking about her, and the panic from mere seconds ago rose up again. There was no room – or time – to make any sort of escape. Kristoff ripped open the box, eyes lighting up as he lifted something from inside of it. And it was…

A book?

"Wow…" he said, giving a low whistle. "Damn, that illustrator is good." Passing it over, Anna's mouth went dry. Her father's name was on the cover. This was his book! So he had continued his passion, after all! This Kristoff certainly did seem happier.

That wasn't what caused the lump rising in her throat, though. Splashed across the cover was the title, jagged future-font displaying the words Blast to the Past. Below that was a girl, clambering from a very stereotypical alien aircraft.

Oh shit.

A loud beep broke the silence, and Kristoff hissed. "Sh…oot," he said, glancing at Anna. "I better get going if I don't wanna miss my flight. Hon, are you sure…?"

It was Elsa's turn to smile. She finally let go of Anna, moving over to her husband to place a peck at the corner of his mouth. "I'm sure. Go enlighten the world, or whatever."

He gave a nod and a smile, eyes flicking between Anna and her mother before he turned away. "Wendy? Are you ready to get going?"

"Psh, yeah, Dad. Just waiting on you. If you moved any slower you'd be a glacier."

So out they finally went. John went along with them, kissing the top of his mother's head in a way that made her sigh and roll her eyes; he wasn't that much taller than her. There were a few scattered goodbyes, but Anna didn't participate; she was too shell-shocked.

Then she and Elsa were alone in the house. For a few seconds, her mother remained at the open front door, watching Hans' auto detailing truck trail away and John and Wendy's cars pulling off toward bigger and better things. Then she gently pushed the door closed.

"Mom? I… are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she sighed, turning back to smile at her. Her eyes held an odd mixture of excitement, dread, and curiosity. "But… I have a feeling we have a lot to talk about… Tori."

TO BE CONTINUED…

#Fractal The Future #elsanna fanfiction #elsanna #fruipit #forkanna writes #jess the writer #Back to the Future

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fuzziekins · 4 years

Text

The Post-Frozen II Dream You May or May Not Have Asked For

After seeing Frozen II again last weekend i had a dream about some potential events post-movie. This is my attempt at writing a more detailed story version of that dream based off my thread of tweets. It’s actually not as long as i thought it was gonna be and is in less detail than usual for me and while it differs slightly from my typical writing, for the most part it’s still pretty a pretty simplified idea. And just that - an idea. Not really any spoilers for the movie unless you count the subtle mentioning of how the movie ends with where Anna and Elsa are. And maybe one other brief scene. I can’t speak for how accurate the potential of this sequence even is let alone if i was true enough to any of the characters but here’s hoping you enjoy it! ❄️❄️

Autumn in Northuldra was so different from Arendelle. Arendellians had their own process of transitioning from summer to fall. Fashions changed. Decorations went up. But in Northuldra, before Elsa’s eyes she could see the season change. It was steadier. And, perhaps to the naked eye, the change could occur in the blink of an eye. But the Northuldra were in tune with nature; they could sense and see the little things. And slowly but surely, so could Elsa. The leaves began to change their hues and the breezes were beginning to return, slowly putting an end to summer’s humidity. It was relaxing. The peace that Elsa felt living in the forest could no longer compare to what it was like living in Arandelle.

“Enjoying the view?”

Elsa tilted her head, watching Yelena approach from behind. A soft smile crossed her face in response.

“As are many of my people,” Yelena commented. “Some still cannot believe the clear sky. I myself had almost forgotten what it looked like.”

“A lot has certainly changed in a year,” Elsa observed. “Oh! And I must thank you for helping to teach me the ways of the Northuldra. I know it’s been...a process.”

That wasn’t to say it as a negative; there were things that made both Arendelle and Northuldra unique. Still, once in a while something came up in which Elsa had to relearn. Something that was perhaps more prominent in Arendelle compared to Northuldra. Or that meant something completely different.

“It was also a process dealing with the soldiers for over thirty years,” the elder reminded her. “However that was during a time of darkness. There is no comparison.”

Elsa furrowed her brows slightly. “May...may I ask you something?”

To that, Yelena nodded.

“When we first arrived here, you nor the soldiers could stand the sight of each other. Yet when the Earth Giants came or the fire raged, it was the people that mattered rather than from where they hailed. Why was that, if there was such hatred?” she inquired.

“We have had our differences. And yes, the war has brought out the worst that we saw in each other,” Yelena acknowledged. “But in moments of crisis such as that, our goal was the same - to survive. For that brief moment our feelings did not matter. Because in nature there is no hatred. It does not dictate who thrives and who suffers because of who we are or where we come from. That, we determine on our own. The Northuldra work with nature; we try our best to remain in tune with it. And that is why we try to follow such thinking.” She gestured behind her, taking note of a pair of men with a reindeer. They were grooming it while occasionally stealing glances from each other. One appeared to say something, causing the other to laugh in response. “Nature knows no judgment, nor do the spirits. We may live as we desire, love as we desire. So long as our connection to the forest and the spirits remain in tact and we are respectful of them, as well as each other, that is all that matters.”

And yet no matter how short or long Elsa has referred to Northuldra as her home, the beauty of it and its people never ceased to amaze her. She could not help but bask in the moment, continuing to feel such acceptance in a way that had always seemed to be lacking in Arendelle.

The winds increased slightly, resulting in Elsa’s locks lifting from her shoulders. Blinking, she ran her fingers through them and then turned her head. A folded paper crane began descending in front of her. That could only mean one thing - Anna. Elsa’s smile grew; though they no longer resided together it seemed as though they were never truly apart.

“Thank you, Gale.”

She gently removed the note from Gale’s hold, allowing the spirit to continue on her way. Gently unfolding the sides, Elsa began reading.

“Anna and Kristoff are hosting a family dinner and game night,” she summarized. “It’s tomorrow night. I suppose they wanted to do something before the wedding planning became overwhelming. Anna says I should bring someone along; you are all family after all.”

“How thoughtful,” Yelena complimented. “You will leave in the morning, I presume?”

“Yes. And only for a couple of days,” she promised.

“Why don’t you invite Ryder and Honeymaren?” Yelena suggested.

“I would not ask Nokk to carry more than one other person. That would not be fair to it,” she answered. “Nor would it be fair for any one of the reindeer to leave you or their home even for a short amount of time. The next time they go, that everyone goes is, at least I believe, for Anna’s wedding.”

The leader nodded in understanding. “Very well. But, if memory serves, Anna and Kristoff got on nicely with the siblings. They might enjoy seeing one another again. I recommend at least asking. I believe Ryder is with a group of the reindeer.” Yelena turned to return to her people, rolling her eyes in the process. “After all, where else would he possibly be.”

---

“Ok. Ok. You can do this.”

“Of course you can.”

“Do you really think so?”

“I believe in you Ryder!”

“But what if I mess up? Again?”

“Maybe you’ll get her to laugh this time.”

Honeymaren shook her head. Watching her brother converse with the reindeer, especially in such ridiculous voices, was typically either entertaining or frustrating. In this particular case it was certainly the latter.

“Maybe you should quit while you’re behind,” she suggested.

Ryder scoffed. “No way! This time I’m really gonna follow through! Even Walter thinks so!”

Honeymaren sighed. “I’m not sure what’s more painful. The fact that that you actually think you have a chance with Elsa or that you named the reindeer Walter.”

He held up a finger. “Hey! Walter wanted something unique and different, ok? And at least he actually believes in me, unlike my own sister.”

“I’m just saying, all of these so-called grand gestures of yours either seem to go over Elsa’s head or they fail miserably,” she commented. “What about the time-”

“We don’t talk about that.”

“Or the time that-”

“Or that.”

“Or when you got your foot stuck in the-”

“Never speak of that again!”

To that, the reindeer rolled his eyes.

Honeymaren sighed. “You’re a romantic. You mean well. I get it. But with all the times you failed miserably beyond belief with every other woman you ever remotely came into contact with...”

“Appreciate the sugar coating,” he commented sarcastically.

Still, Honeymaren continued. “What makes you think you have any sort of chance with Elsa? She’s the fifth spirit. She’s incredible. She’s powerful. She’s caring. She’s a protector. Not to mention she’s beautiful...”

“Yeah, ok, I’m gonna stop you right there,” Ryder decided.

Honeymaren bit her tongue as if that would help fight off the blush that she was sure was rising to her cheeks. There was no way Ryder possibly caught on.... Could he?

“You obviously know nothing about the inner workings of women,” he scoffed.

Was that a relief or an insult?

“I think I know more than you,” she responded in attempt to brush it off.

Ryder sighed. “You only say that because you hang out with her so much. I don’t know how you do it. Whatever you say to her or do with her, it’s like when you guys get together there’s no one else.” He leaned against Walter in disappointment. “I just...wish that could be me, you know?”

Honeymaren bit her lip. He wasn’t wrong...she and Elsa did hang out a lot...they had gotten close...they enjoyed each others’ company...but did Ryder have to say it that way? Like it was such a bad thing? Like it meant nothing? Unless...it did mean something?

Fortunately, the sound of footsteps approaching would get both of them off the subject.

Honeymaren shook the feeling off. Whether Elsa was coming or not, it was the perfect opportunity to end this uncomfortable conversation. “Maybe this is your chance.”

“Yes! Let’s do it!” Ryder cheered. “Walter, get ready!”

Walter knelt down, allowing Ryder to climb on him. Signaling for Walter to remain steady, Ryder attempted to hold his balance. He wobbled a bit, as he opted to stand on his back rather than sit. Once Walter was standing straight up Ryder puffed out his chest. He cleared his throat, doing a few tests to make it sound deeper. He placed his hands on his hips as if to strike a power pose. He closed his eyes, seeming to embrace the feeling as well as the anticipation of his next action.

“Elsa! Wielder of ice! Oh powerful spirit! Protector of our land! Goddess of my heart!” he declared.

Honeymaren hit her head, closing her eyes in embarrassment. “Oh my god.”

“Please! Weill you do me the honor of going ooooo-ooooo-aaaaaaah!”

Midway through his question Walter knelt down and Ryder took a step forward. However instead of stepping forward as if to put on the guise of a pungent reindeer king, Ryder lost his balance. Specifically, he somehow tripped over one of Walter’s antlers. The action caused the reindeer to jump back in shock which, in turn, resulted in Ryder tumbling forward with a scream. He ended up sliding through the dirt head first, landing at Elsa’s feet. The Ice Queen took a step back, bringing her arms up towards her chest as a defense mechanism. Certainly an improvement over using ice first, in her opinion. She bit her lip, staring at her now unconscious friend. There was a pause before she allowed anything to escape her lips.

“Is he alright...?”

Honeymaren rose to her feet. “He has a thick skull. He’ll be fine.” She approached Elsa, though took a brief detour at Walter. She rubbed his head gently. “Keep an eye on him and don’t try that again.”

Wasn’t that obvious? Walter grunted in response.

“So what’s up?”

“I’ll be leaving for Arendelle in the morning for a few days. Anna wants to have a family dinner,” Elsa explained. She paused briefly before shrugging her shoulders. “She has also extended the invitation. Would you like to come?”

Honeymaren blinked. “Me?”

“Oh, only if you want to of course,” Elsa responded quickly.

“No...I mean, no, not no. Of course I...don’t want to...not come....” Honeymaren paused, pondering over her choice of words. That didn’t sound right. She shook her head. “What I mean to say is, I’d love to.”

However, shortly after she answered her face fell. Honeymaren’s gaze tilted down towards her brother, who was still out cold. She couldn’t do that to him...could she? No, probably not.

“But...are you sure you don’t want to ask Ryder?” she asked.

Elsa scoffed lightly, almost as if she were responding to a joke. “I don’t need another Kristoff around. One is plenty.”

“But Ryder does get along with him and Anna. Actually he...” Honeymaren scrunched her nose. “He seems to idolize Kristoff for some reason.”

Elsa giggled. “I know. I don’t understand it either. But I’d rather take you. So?”

Honeymaren bit her lip. She stole a glance away from Elsa and placed her hands behind her back. A break from Ryder...just the two of them....

“Then I guess I can’t say no.”

---

“ELSA ELSA ELSA ELSA ELSA!”

Anna’s excited screams echoed through the streets of Arendelle as she rushed to greet her sister. Her hands clasped her dress tightly, lifting it up just enough so her feet could pound against the cobble. Passersby nearly jumped out of the queen’s way to allow her through. Once in a while Anna did manage to get out a “hi” or “excuse me” to someone she ran past, but as soon as the question escaped her lips her eyes darted straight ahead to the water. Sure she could see Elsa on Nokk approaching she returned to excitedly screaming for her sister. Once Anna reached her, Elsa had barely descended from the water spirit before the sisters were reunited in a tight embrace.

“ELSA ELSA ELSA ELSA ELSA! I MISSED YOU SO MUCH! I CAN’T BELIEVE IT’S BEEN SO LONG SINCE I’VE SEEN YOU I’M SO EXCITED I MISSED YOU!” Anna exclaimed.

Elsa giggled. “I missed you, too, sis.” She pulled out of the hug, though only slightly. “But it’s only been a couple of weeks.”

Anna blinked. “Wait, what? No! There’s no way it’s been that quick. It was definitely way more time than that. Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” Elsa promised.

Anna bit her lip. “Huh....” She paused, eyes darting at the nearby surroundings before returning to Elsa. “Let’s never go that long again. Promise?”

“I promise,” she nodded. Elsa turned to Nokk, gently rubbing its snout. “Thank you for the ride. Keep an eye on everyone.”

With a soft neigh, the water spirit liquidized and galloped back into the water, slowly descending into its depths.

Honeymaren exhaled. “That was everything I imagined it would be.”

Anna excitedly grabbed her arm. “What was it like, riding a water horse? Or was it an ice horse? Or is it both? Was it wet? Cold? Magical? Dreamy?”

“What about riding me?”

The deep voice could have only belonged to Sven - or rather, Kristoff speaking for Sven. The two finally reached the women, Sven wasting no time in rubbing his snout against Anna followed by a petting from Elsa while Kristoff took a moment to catch his breath.

“You know...you could’ve just, I don’t know, waited? For me to get Sven? Instead of rushing ahead like that,” Kristoff said. He exhaled, toying with his shirt collar. “Man is it hot out here?”

“Sorry Kristoff,” Anna apologized innocently. “I just couldn’t wait to see my sister again.”

He narrowed his gaze. “Yeah, never would’ve guessed that.”

“Nice to see you, too, Kristoff,” Elsa stated.

“I’m sorry,” he said. He climbed down from Sven and, once Elsa opened her arms, he gave her a hug. “Hi Elsa.” He followed the same suit with Honeymaren. “Good to see you again Honeymaren.” He then stepped back and went to hug a third person - only to nearly fall into the water in front of him. “Hey Ry....WHOA!” He stumbled briefly, waving his arms in attempt to regain his balance. He managed to bend his body back just enough to allow one foot flat on the solid ground. “Where’s Ryder?”

“He’s back home,” Honeymaren answered.

“Wait he’s where?” Kristoff’s face fell. He looked to his fiancee. “I thought you told Elsa she could bring anyone.”

“I did,” Anna nodded.

“But then where’s Ryder?”

“He’s not here.”

“So he wasn’t invited.”

“I don’t make the rules.”

“Who’s fault is that?”

Honeymaren sighed. “I should’ve fought more for him to come.”

“No, I made the choice who to invite,” Elsa replied.

“It’s fine. We’re all going to have a great time!” Anna promised. “Oh, you have to see what Oaken did with his shop! He remodeled, got new inventory, his family all started working there with him, oh and last week he told the funniest story! We have so much to catch up on while you’re here!” Squealing with glee, she led Elsa and Honeymaren towards the castle. Once again, Kristoff and Sven were left behind.

Sven let out a moan.

“I know,” Kristoff pet his friend’s head, “I miss him, too.”

“It was just so nice to have someone who understood me,” Sven replied.

“Yeah I...” Kristoff started but cut himself off. “Oh, and I don’t?”

---

“And the Snowgies are still working on repairing that barn window!” Anna laughed. “Sometimes I think they just end up falling asleep there. One of the stable boys was afraid he stepped in something no one wants to step in!” She quickly straightened her posture and then lifted her fork to continue eating. Anna may have still been quirky as ever, but she was still the queen. “True story.”

“I knew you would be perfect for Arendelle. I could have never made it this lively,” Elsa complimented.

“Yeah but we knew you would protect us from anything when you were queen,” Anna stated. “I could never do that.”

“Being queen isn’t all about being protective or in charge. Sometimes it’s just giving people hope. You do that every day,” Elsa assured her.

Anna’s smile grew. “Really?”

Elsa shrugged. “You did that for me every day when I was here. I was able to rule for as long as I did because I had you by my side.”

Anna’s hands jumped to her face. “Awwww Elsa!” she squeaked.

Beside her, Kristoff sniffled. He picked up his napkin and rubbed his eyes. “I promised I wouldn’t cry at dinner. It was just so sweet.”

“Aw, you’re so sweet,” Anna grinned, pecking his cheek. She sat back up in her chair. “Are there family game nights in Northuldra, too?”

“We’ve tried a few nights,” Honeymaren admitted, “but truth be told there are moments were many of us forget we’re not trapped anymore. So there’s still the expectation of the Earth Giants attacking.”

“Oh no! I’m so sorry!” Anna gasped. “I didn’t realize...”

“It’s fine,” Honeymaren assured her. “Some changes just still take some getting used to.”

“Is there anything we can do to make you feel more at home while you’re here?” Anna wondered.

“You’re letting me share this with you. That’s plenty for tonight,” she answered.

“But you are going to let me win at Charades, right?” Kristoff asked hopefully. “I mean let’s face it, with Olaf visiting Marshmallow and the Snowgies I’m at a horrible disadvantage.”

“Serves you right for letting Olaf rearrange,” Anna commented. Her gaze returned to her sister, who was delicately moving part of her salad onto her fork before indulging. It really was almost as if Elsa had never left. The way she was when she entered the castle again it was exactly like old times. Almost too much so. The way she remained poised. How she spoke so politely or elegantly, at times almost softly. The way she carried herself, almost as if she had so much to prove with all of Arendelle relying on her. The way her braid rested on her shoulder....

Wait.

Anna blinked. She hadn’t realized until now. The last time they saw each other, when it was just the two of them, Elsa kept her hair down. The way she had since becoming the fifth spirit. Why did she change it?

“Oh, Elsa...”

Elsa’s blue pools reached up and across the table. “Yes?”

“Your hair...”

“Is there something wrong?” Her hand reached up, gently caressing her braid.

“No, not at all. Just that....” What was a good way to word this? Was there a good way to word this? She didn’t want her to feel self conscious. Still though, it was almost like...like looking at a past Elsa. The Elsa that kept to herself. The Elsa that had so much to live up to. The Elsa that was still learning to control her powers. The Elsa that was Queen of Arendelle. “You...you can let your hair down.... I mean if you wanted to, of course. But it...it suits you.”

Elsa’s hand moved down, towards the bottom of her hair where the final knot was tied. “Thank you. I suppose it’s....” She stopped, furrowing her brows in the process. It was almost as if she, too, was unable to find the correct words. Ultimately, she shook it off. “Alright then.” She gently untied the bottom knot, her touch light as she began to undo the ones that followed. A few later, Elsa looked to Honeymaren. “Could you? Please...?”

“Oh...sure,” she nodded, a bit taken aback. Shifting her seat back slightly, Honeymaren turned her body so she was facing Elsa’s back. Almost as delicately as Elsa undid the first knots, Honeymaren began untangling the rest. And in front of her Elsa sat with her eyes closed, still poised as always, and yet almost at ease.

Anna watched the interaction between the two of them. She tilted her head, eyes following Honeymaren’s motions. How she was careful not to pull too hard. How she gently caressed Elsa’s blonde locks after undoing them. How her eyes were glued to them, focusing on every inch, every detail, every motion. Almost like she was taking in the moment to last. And not once during any of that did Elsa flinch. The woman who was once so guarded, who kept herself so apart from everyone else, who was once even nervous to hug her own sister. She, too, was at ease. When was the last time Anna had seen Elsa like that? Was there a time where anyone had ever seen Elsa like that? Let alone with anyone? She raised an eyebrow, thinking back. But nothing came to her. That is, until....

“OOOOOOOOOOOOH!”

Elsa’s head darted to Anna immediately with wide eyes. The action caused Honeymaren to let go of Elsa’s hair and jerk back. Even Kristoff stared at his fiancee wide eyed, holding his hands up in defense and dropping his fork.

“Anna what’s wrong?” Elsa gasped.

“Nothing,” the redhead squeaked.

And though her voice implied one thing, most likely a lie, her wide lit up eyes spoke nothing short of pure delight.

“But you’re making that face,” Elsa observed.

“What face?”

“The one that you do when...”

“I don’t make a face.”

“Yes, your excited face that...”

“No don’t have that.”

“Oh how does Olaf describe it...?”

Kristoff raised an eyebrow. “Like she’s about to explode because she has to go to the bathroom so bad?”

There was a moment of silence.

Then Elsa scrunched her nose. “Yes...that’s the one.”

“Nope don’t know what you’re talking about hey Kristoff can I see you in the other room for a sec kay thanks let’s go we’ll be right back!” Anna breathed out as fast as she could. She grabbed Kristoff’s arm, pulled him out of his chair and dragged him out of the dining hall. Once they were in the next room, enough out of eyesight and earshot, Anna began excitedly jumping up and down.

“Oh my gosh oh my gosh oh my gosh!”

“Uhh....” the blond stared at the queen, taking in her sudden burst of glee. “Can you...maybe...stop making that face?”

Anna folded her arms, narrowing her gaze. “Ok first of all, I do not make a face like that and you also said my face is adorable no matter what. Now that we’ve got that covered....” Letting out another squeal, she tightened her grip on Kristoff’s arm. “OH MY GOD DID YOU SEE THAT?”

“See what?” he shrugged.

“THAT! Them! Her!” she exclaimed.

“I don’t follow,” he shook his head.

Anna exhaled. “Ok maybe you haven’t noticed because it has been a while, but Elsa NEVER lets anyone gets close to her.”

“Uh yeah, I knew that,” Kristoff replied as-a-matter-of-factly. “She has to be the one to initiate for anything. Why do you think I always wait for her first? As much I love ice, I don’t want her to actually make me ice.”

“Ok yeah, fine, she has to be comfortable enough around someone to even want to invite them,” she acknowledged. “But do you know what this means? Elsa is comfortable! With another person!”

Kristoff raised an eyebrow. “And....?”

Anna groaned. “Kristoff you don’t understand Elsa like I do. She doesn’t let anyone get close to her. No one really ever stood a chance of being anything to her. And now, just now, she was sitting in there, in that dining hall, asking someone else to touch her hair and actually letting her do it! No reaction. No nerves. No hesitation. No...no.... Nothing!”

“Are you jealous?” he smirked.

Anna furrowed her brows. “What? No. Of course not! It’s just....” Her eyes wandered back in the direction of the dining hall. “I know this is going to sound crazy but...I think...I think maybe Elsa likes her. And...I don’t know, maybe...maybe Honeymaren does, too.”

Kristoff stared at her blankly. There was a lull. He gave no other reaction save for standing in front of her like a statue, arms folded and empty stare.

“So what are you, like a love expert now?” he asked half joking.

Anna grinned proudly. “Yes. Yes I am.”

He moaned. “Have you been hanging with my friends again?”

“Yes but that’s not the point,” she brushed him off. “The point is, I know my sister better than anyone. I’m the only one she lets come close to her. No restrictions. No hesitations. No questions. I’m there and she...she just lets me. And I think....” Cautiously, she poked her head around the corner hoping to even for a moment steal a glance at them. It didn’t look like they were saying anything, at least not verbally. But Honeymaren did look to her side at Elsa. However when Elsa reached for her glass of water, her brown eyes darted back to her food. And for a brief moment, one that should have lasted longer, Elsa seemed to gaze at Honeymaren from the corner or her own eye. “I think Elsa should have that with someone else, too.”

Kristoff’s face softened. He gently placed a hand on Anna’s shoulder, turning her back to face him. He meant no ill will nor to seem like he didn’t believe Anna. That much she could see in his face. But there was still doubt. Why should there be when Anna had to be right?

“Look, I’m not trying to put you down. I would never. And I know you mean well and that you’d do anything for Elsa. She’s the most important person to you. I know that, I accept that, and I would never question it,” he explained. Pausing, he softly exhaled. “I just don’t want you to get your hopes up is all. Your intentions may be out of love, but that doesn’t mean they’re what Elsa wants or needs. Or that it’s true.”

Anna smiled softly. She knew she could count on Kristoff to tell it to her like it was. He trusted her and he believed her. He just didn’t see everything from her perspective, and sometimes Anna needed that. And it was ok.

She placed her hand over his, giving it a light squeeze. “I know. And that’s why...” her tone quickly shifted from loving to confident, “I am going to talk to my sister!”

To that, Kristoff chuckled. “Yeah, since that worked out so well the first time.”

---

Before anyone knew it, the time for playing games as a family passed and it was time for bed. Elsa retreated to the room she once called hers. She took in all of her surroundings; nothing seemed to change at all. It was just as she had left it. Without a doubt, Anna had kept it exactly as it was for when Elsa visited. Though, the bed sheets were not completely made. Elsa covered her mouth, holding in a faint laugh. Of course Anna must have slept in Elsa’s bed once in a while. It was as close as they could get to each other without being under the same roof. But then, at the same time, it also relaxed Elsa. It meant that no matter how far apart they were, they were still sisters. They would always have something of each others’. Be a part of each other.

Stepping quietly towards the vanity, Elsa picked up her hairbrush. She ran it lightly through her hair, softly singing the song of the north in the process.

Aaaaah aaaaah

Aaaah aaaaah

The doorknob turned. Elsa’s body shifted, one hand lifting but releasing no ice. Anna poked her head inside.

“Am I interrupting?”

Elsa exhaled. She should have known. “Of course not.” She set her brush down as Anna walked in, holding something close in her arms.

“I brought you something.” Holding out her arms, Anna revealed Iduna’s scarf. The fabric unfolded slightly as Anna presented it, yet still it appeared as though little time had passed. Its condition had barely shifted since the passing.

“Mother’s scarf....” Elsa breathed.

Anna nodded. “It’s your turn to have it.”

Elsa shook her head. “Oh no, I couldn’t.”

“Yes you could. You can and you will. I want you to have it,” she replied.

“Anna I really can’t,” she insisted.

“Yes you can. No exchanges. No refunds. No take backs. This is yours to hold onto until I have a baby and then I get to pass this down and wrap her or him or them in it so they can always have a piece of Mother,” Anna said. She blinked. “Oh wow, what if I have a them?”

“Anna...”

“Sorry, getting ahead of myself.”

“It’s not that.”

“Oh good because I’m so not ready for a them!”

“About the scarf-”

“You should absolutely have it.”

“But I can’t take it from you.”

“It’s both of ours to give and take.”

“That may be so. But....” Elsa stepped closer. She placed her hands on the fabric and then gently pushed it back towards her sister. “This is all we have left of Mother. I’m reminded of her every day in Northuldra. It was her home. Where she came from. It was a part of her and now a part of us. I want you to be able to have her, too.”

“I do. Because I have you,” Anna promised. “You’re part of her. And I love you for that. For you.”

Leave it to Anna to always know the right thing to say. Even when they were kept apart, not once had Elsa felt a judging glance from Anna behind her back. When Elsa’s powers were revealed Anna showed no fear; she never once thought ill of Elsa. There was immediate acceptance. And there had been love, support, and admiration ever since.

But that couldn’t be all there was.

“This isn’t just about the scarf is it?”

Anna shook her head. She sat at the edge of the bed, patting the empty space next to her. Elsa obliged and sat beside her sister. “You were a gift to Mother and Father. And to me, because you got to be my big sister. And everything you did was for them. For me. You kept yourself away from us to protect us, because you never wanted to hurt us. You’ve spent so much time trying to be who you thought they wanted or needed you to be for Arendelle. Because it’s their home, our home. What it means. You’ve tried your best to stand for everything they believed in, to keep their traditions going. You’re the fifth spirit of the Enchanted Forest! You’re the bridge between us and the other spirits so basically you’re like the sworn protector of everything and everyone in it! You do so much for everyone around you. I just want you to be happy.”

“I am happy,” she assured her. Elsa reached across, placing her hand on Anna’s. “I have you. Believing in me, encouraging me, and standing by me every step of the way. You are a gift to me, too, Anna. Because there was once a time when I feared we would never have this.”

Anna squeezed her sister’s hand. “But you don’t just have me anymore. It doesn’t just have to be me. You can let anyone else in, anyone that you want.”

As well as Anna meant, she didn’t understand. But then again, much as she tried or wanted to, she would probably never fully understand.

“It’s easier said than done. Not everyone looks at me the way that you do.”

Anna shrugged. “I...think I know of at least one other person.”

Elsa tilted her head. There was only one Anna. “Who?”

“Oh...you know....” Anna’s tone increasingly became more sly with each description. “Long, thick, brown hair. Usually in a braid. Doesn’t like to fight. Has a brother that talks to and for reindeer.”

Elsa blinked. There was only one person like that who could possibly fit the description. “Honeymaren?” But where did Anna get an idea like that? Where was any of this coming from? It wasn’t like Elsa had said or done anything. She never lead her on. She didn’t recall ever seeing such a look from her. Unless...had Elsa been giving off a vibe? One that she didn’t even realize? Just because they enjoyed each others’ company? Because they spent so much time together? Because when she was around her, Elsa was never the snow queen or the fifth spirit; she was just...Elsa. “I.... I’m not sure I understand. When...? How...?” She could almost feel her heart rate increasing, her powers reacting in response to her emotions. Elsa tried to think back; to something, to anything, that she could have missed. Had she even been that way with anyone else before? What did it mean? Was she...? Could she...? What if she was thinking too much into it? That had to be it. There was no chance that any other way would work let alone be allowed.... Would there? After all Elsa spent so much time alone; isolated from the people she cared about most. Maybe it no longer had to be that way but.... But what if on some level that’s how it had to be? How could she....?

But as quickly as the fear and nerves rose, they sunk. Any ice that was ready t stem from her hand practically melted away. Her powers calmed. Because there beside her was still Anna. Squeezing her hand. Supporting her. Loving her.

“You don’t have to be scared of letting someone else in,” Anna said softly. “You’ve spent your whole life doing what’s best for everyone else. You’re allowed to do something for you now.”

Elsa shook her head. “It is not that simple. Everything I knew growing up, so much of it I’ve had to unlearn. There are times where I have to remind myself not to shut you out. Some things are easier said than done.”

“But you have a choice now,” Anna said. “And if you’re not gonna say it then I will. You can’t possibly choose worse than Hans.”

“Oh!” Elsa gasped, covering her mouth with her free hand as if it would stop a laugh.

“See, I knew that’d get you,” Anna teased.

“Yes, that’s exactly why I’ve avoided men,” Elsa commented half sarcastically.

Though it was debatable if her statement was true or not, what Anna said was true - she knew exactly how to bring a smile to her sister’s face. But if only it were so simple to explain to Anna what a difference it was. How Anna made a choice with the best of intentions while Elsa’s decisions were out of fear. And though it could have been interpreted as coming from a positive place, it was also from a selfish one. Though Elsa wanted to protect those that meant the most to her, she also chose to allow her fears to consume her rather than letting others lift her up. It brought her to a place of darkness, one that she at times still fought against. As quickly as the Hans came and went, Anna rose with both Elsa and Kristoff. It was not the same. Perhaps there was a simpler way to show Anna.

Moving her hand and holding it out in front of her, Elsa began twisting her fingers. A few flurries began to fall, ultimately creating scenes with snow. The first was Elsa’s battle against the Wesleton minions at her ice palace. “Remember when my powers were first revealed? This is what they caused. People reacted from fear. They had never seen my magic before; and because I could not control it nor did they understand it, I was unwelcome. As the Queen of Arendelle, even as an Arendellian. Rather, I was a monster.”

The next scene she created was one she saw at Ahtohallan, from the water’s memories. The snow showed silhouettes of King Runeard and one of the soldiers, specifically when he was explaining the meaning of his so-called gift. “Grandfather himself even stated that people who trust magic, who use it, who wield or support it in anyway, are a danger and cannot be trusted. That was why the war began. He could not accept what was different from what he knew, because he did not understand. What people don’t understand, they fear.”

Anna squinted, taking in the flashbacks. It was almost unbelievable that they were even real events because they were from so long ago. But then, Anna was also the kind of person who didn’t have a bad bone in her body. How could she accept, even knowing the facts, that these were true?

“I don’t get it. That was the past. That was....” She shook her head. “But if people can accept magic now then what would be so wrong or weird about accepting you with someone? Anyone?”

“Some people are closed-minded. It’s how they are,” Elsa sighed.

“Is it like that in Northuldra?” Anna wondered.

Elsa reversed the movement of her fingers, forming a miniature Enchanted Forest in her palm. Within the miniature snowy trees there were faint hints of the other spirits as well as a few humans. “Yelena described part of their culture as following that of nature. Nature does not judge. The primary rule may be survival. But as long as the people respect nature, respect the land and the creatures in it, then we are free to live and love as we desire.”

“But Arendelle...” Anna started.

“Stands for many positive things,” she acknowledged. Elsa closed her palm, causing the snow to disappear into thin air. “But it is also a place where, if one does not ask then one does not tell. It’s like with my powers. People didn’t ask, so they weren’t told.”

The confused look on Anna’s face remained. “But....” She shook her head. “But I can change that. I can make it a rule that everyone can decide for themselves. They can say or show or do whatever they want. As long as they represent everything good that Arendelle stands for, as long as they’re not hurting anyone then why should what they do or look like or love matter?”

Elsa smiled softly, admiring her sister’s good intentions. “If only it were that easy.” Exhaling, she looked away. “But a rule does not change how people think. Not everyone would be accepting.”

Anna reached over, taking Elsa’s other hand. “They accepted you as their queen once. They still welcome you here with open arms. If they can accept you for your magic and love and admire you the way I do, then it won’t matter who you’re with or not with. You don’t have to live by our rules or for anyone. Just yourself. Whatever that is.” She then wrapped her arms around her sister, squeezing her in a tight hug. “You’re still the most incredible person I know. I love you.”

Elsa smiled, returning the embrace. Once again Anna was there for her when she needed her. Whatever it meant for Elsa, at least she had the most important person in her corner.

“What would I do without you? I love you, too, sis.”

---

What time was it?

Late.

And no matter what Honeymaren did, she couldn’t seem to get to sleep. Not that it should be a surprise. She was so used to sleeping outside, at least in some capacity. Even when the sky was covered somehow she always felt it above her. She knew that somewhere, deep in that mist, it was there. She just couldn’t get that same feeling in Arendelle. She felt...blocked, in a way.

But she was invited there. How would it look if she showed any discomfort? Acted as ungrateful for the invitation? She was welcomed with open arms. Some reaction.

Maybe she needed to wander. Tire herself out some more. Then it wouldn’t matter where she slept. So Honeymaren quietly exited the bedroom. She glanced briefly back and forth down the halls. No one appeared to be up. She hoped they wouldn’t mind her exploring.

It was huge. There were so many decorations, so many things, so many portraits.... Eventually Honeymaren found herself stopping in front of a pair. One of a young Anna and Elsa with their parents, and the one beside it representing the sisters, Kristoff, Sven, and Olaf. Honeymaren took in the latter first. Everyone looked so happy. At peace. Even if, for that brief moment in time, there was nothing wrong with the world. They were together. Then there was the former. It represented simpler times. It was before everything became so...how did Anna describe it once...? Crazy?

Honeymaren’s eyes followed up the portrait, starting with Anna whose eyes led her to Elsa, then to King Agnarr, and finally Queen Iduna. Her gaze stood.

Iduna of Northuldra.

What must that have been like, Honeymaren wondered? For Iduna to have escaped the trapping and ending up in Arendelle? Secretly living all that time as one of them? Being separated from her people? From nature? Learning to be someone completely different?

But she wasn’t, not really. Because she and Agnarr fell in love. He knew that she hailed from Northuldra. That their people had become enemies. That there’d been no interaction between them for so long. Yet he still chose her. But in the end she had to hide who she really was. From her people. From her own daughters. Was that how Elsa felt for so long as well? Knowing she was so different but could never truly speak out about it? Always having to fear for fitting in? For acceptance? Truly neither Elsa nor Iduna should have experienced such a pain.

“Hi.”

The soft whisper came from out of nowhere. Honeymaren gasped quietly before turning to her right and seeing Elsa. Honeymaren exhaled.

“I’m sorry. Did I wake you?”

“I’m alright,” Elsa promised. “What about you?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” she admitted. “I hope you don’t mind; I was just looking around.”

“Not at all,” Elsa said.

The two returned their gazes toward the portraits. Neither spoke another word. There was complete silence. But it was comfortable. Though there were a couple of instances in which Honeymaren wondered if she should say anything, she didn’t want to break it. Still, she pondered what could be going on in Elsa’s head. Did she maybe want to speak as well? What was there for either of them to say? But then again, were words even necessary? It was just the two of them. Nothing else mattered or even existed.

Eventually, however, the silence was broken.

“Come with me,” Elsa encouraged. She began down the hallway, and Honeymaren trailed behind her. They retreated into Elsa’s room. Honeymaren carefully closed the door behind her as to not wake anyone else. Elsa approached the door leading towards the balcony. After unlocking it, she opened the doors wide. A gentle breeze blew into the room. There was the faintest chill to it. Was that because it was so late? Or was it for another reason?

“I hope this helps,” Elsa spoke, “so you don’t feel cut off from the outside at all.”

“I’m sorry you have to go through the trouble,” she apologized. “Imagine if you brought Ryder instead. You wouldn’t have to worry about him at all. He would be completely amazed by everything here.” She then bit her tongue, “Of course then he wouldn’t shut up about it so you probably wouldn’t get any sleep.”

Elsa scoffed softly. “This is no trouble at all. Besides,” she sat on her bed and leaned her back against the soft pillows, “then we wouldn’t be able to continue our own family night traditions.”

Honeymaren folded her arms. “You really think I’m going to fall asleep just like that because you sing?”

“Why not? It works every other time,” Elsa shrugged.

Honeymaren shook her head, but obliged and sat next to Elsa. “I don’t know if I would exactly call it a family night tradition though. It’s not game night like you and Anna have.”

“No...but it has helped me,” the blonde confessed. “When I first settled in Northuldra it took a while for me to get comfortable and fall asleep. Then you sang the lullaby to me. And it made me think about my family. I felt connected to both my homes. And it’s been working ever since.”

“That doesn’t mean I fall for it every time,” Honeymaren stated.

Elsa gave her the faintest of smirks. “It worked well the other night.”

Honeymaren blushed and averted her gaze. “Well then...I guess we could give it a try....” She turned her stare back to Elsa, though her eyes moved down towards her shoulder. “May I...?”

Elsa nodded. Honeymaren waited for her to straighten her posture into a more comfortable position before tilting her head. She was sure she felt a slight flinch from her before making full contact, though that was no surprise. It was just like the first few times they did this. But as Honeymaren fully pressed her head against Elsa’s shoulder, she could feel it lighting and sinking slightly with every breath. Elsa was at ease. And so was Honeymaren. The brunette closed her eyes and focused on Elsa’s beautiful voice.

Where the north wind meets the sea

There’s a river full of memory

Sleep my darling, safe and sound

For in this river all is found

This must have been what Elsa meant. To feel out of place and far from the place she called home for so long, but there was this one thing that reminded her of both. The song that came from Northuldra, but the song that also gave her memories from the happier times of her childhood in Arendelle.

In her waters deep and true

Lie the answers and a path for you

Dive down deep into her sound

But not too far or you’ll be drowned

Seriously what was it with the dark, depressing warnings in lullabies?

Yes she will sing to those who’ll hear

And in her song all magic flows

But can you brave what you most fear?

Can you face what the river knows?

It really did remind Honeymaren of Northuldra. She could imagine herself gazing up at the sky. Watching the leaves blow through the wind. Eyes following the stars twinkling in the night sky. The soft ground beneath her, admittedly, with the occasional rocks or pebbles against her. Though her eyes were closed, she could feel the walls of the castle dropping. She concentrated on the wind. Maybe that was what was brushing up against her hand. Except it was warm. Welcoming. Protective.

And before she knew it, Honeymaren drifted off into a deep slumber.

---

Elsa’s fingers gently clasped the blanket beneath her. Her brows furrowed at the heat of the sun escaping into her room. It must have been morning. But she didn’t want to get up; at least not yet. She was so comfortable. Maybe it was being in her room...?

No. She had felt like this in the morning before, few if any at all from her time in Arendelle. This was a more recent sensation, something that was still a bit new to her. One that she didn’t want to shake. Why was that?

Elsa’s eyes fluttered. She squinted, adjusting to the sudden light. Across the room she could see her balcony. Standing there, staring out into the distance was Honeymaren. The first person she saw in the morning.

Elsa turned onto her back, focusing on the ceiling. Another good, sound sleep. She felt calm. Relaxed. Refreshed. She always did after nights like that. But it couldn’t have possibly been because of moments like that. Just because the two of them confided in each other, talked to each other, sang to each other. Anna had to have been so far off in her assumption.

But....

She placed her hand over her heart. It was steady. There were no nerves. No fear. No discomfort. Anna was the only other person who could make Elsa feel such a way. After all, who could she possibly have a stronger connection with than her own sister? Anna was the most important person to her. No one could ever take that place. No one understood or knew Elsa better than Anna.

Huh.

No one understood or knew Elsa better than Anna.

Did Anna see something that Elsa didn’t? Pick up on something? Notice anything at all? Elsa was so guarded; at times she continued to be. Was it possible that she had let someone else in without even realizing? But Anna was also an optimist. And a bit of a romantic. Was she simply overcompensating? Looking into something that might not even be there so that when Anna eventually started her own family Elsa would also have someone? Or was it because Anna balanced her out? She was able to see what Elsa couldn’t? What Elsa closed herself off to for so long to the point where she truly wouldn’t be able to recognize something right in front of her?

She turned her head, focus returning to Honeymaren. What would I do without you, she couldn’t help but think.

It was a thought that so often crossed her mind with Anna. She had just asked her that last night. It was the first time Elsa allowed herself to ask that of someone else. To realize that, at least to some extent, she had opened her heart to someone. Someone that now she couldn’t picture her life without.

Sitting up, Elsa tucked a few locks behind her ear. She stepped lightly towards the balcony, ultimately leaning forward on the banister. She kept some distance between her and Honeymaren if, for no other reason, because of the wind blowing through Elsa’s hair. She didn’t want it to hit Honeymaren.

“Good morning.”

“Oh...morning,” Honeymaren responded almost suddenly. She must have not heard Elsa approaching. “I got up with the sun. Force of habit.”

“I know that feeling,” she nodded in agreement. Elsa ran a hand through her hair. She proceeded to lift her other one, ready to tie her hair back into a braid, or even a ponytail. Then she stopped. She no longer had to present in a particular way. She didn’t have to keep a face nor represent the kingdom. She wasn’t someone who had to stand so poised, put together, and to an extent, stiff. She could be free.

Free as whoever she desired. Whether it was as the fifth spirit or simply as Elsa.

Realizing that, she released her hair to the wind and placed her hands back on the banister. “Did you sleep well?”

Honeymaren scoffed. “Are you asking permission to say ‘I told you so’?”

Elsa raised an eyebrow, fighting back a smirk.

At the unspoken response, Honeymaren let out a laugh. “Ok, fine. You were right. It worked, just like always.”

“Now I will say I told you so,” Elsa commented. Her head tilted, implying she was looking out towards Arendelle. However, the corner of her eyes was still on Honeymaren. Watching her stand so still. Probably basking in the breeze. Feeling the heat of the sun against her cheeks. Her bangs flapping gently against her forehead. Yet she didn’t lift a finger to even try to stop or fix them. What must that have been like, to not play with her hair? Had anyone ever...?

“Actually I was wondering...”

Honeymaren’s sudden inquiry caused Elsa’s grasp to tighten on the banister. She let out a faint gasp. The next thing she knew, she had frozen part of the railing. Icicles sprang from it, attaching Elsa’s hands in the process. That...almost never happened.

“Oh!”

“I’m sorry...”

“It’s alright.”

“I didn’t mean to...”

“I’ve got it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I just need to...”

“Is there anything I can...”

“No, I got it.”

Elsa managed to pull her hands out, cracking off a few pieces of ice in the process. She took a small step back, rubbing her hands. It was just a sudden burst of nerves, she told herself, you didn’t expect her to speak suddenly.

“I’m sorry. I surprised you,” Honeymaren apologized.

“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” Elsa replied. “It’s not like the cold bothers me anyway.”

Not like anything suddenly became awkward at all.

“So...you were about to say something?”

Honeymaren blinked and shook her head. “Right.... I...I didn’t just get up to see the sun rise. Or because of habit. I was also thinking. About last night. The lullaby.”

Elsa blinked. Was it different because they were in Arendelle? Did she sing off key? Did it really not help Honeymaren sleep better? Many other questions ran through Elsa’s mind. Why could she possibly want to talk about that right now? Today of all days?

There were likely a few responses Elsa could have conjured. Yet somehow the only one that seemed to escape her lips was, “Oh...?”

Honeymaren’s look softened. Her teeth clenched lightly. She was hesitant to continue. Was she fearful of hurting Elsa’s feelings? It wasn’t like she was going to suddenly launch a burst of ice because of her increasingly powerful emotions which almost completely dictated how strong her powers were as well as the way they were used in the first place.

Again.

She had control of them now.

Complete control.

She was fine.

“I just...I think...I mean, I’ve been thinking about this for a while now....” She looked at Elsa apologetically before closing her eyes. “I don’t think we should do that anymore.”

There was a heaviness in the Snow Queen’s chest. “Is...is everything alright? Was it something I did? Or said?”

“No. No, nothing like that at all. You...you’re amazing,” Honeymaren promised.

Elsa attempted to ignore the heat she felt in her cheeks.

“I just...” Honeymaren paused, biting her tongue. “I need to tell you something...”

Elsa’s heart pounded. She needed to tell her something. That sounded an awful like a confession. Was this...? Was she going to...? Was Anna right?

“Is everything alright...?” she asked hesitantly.

“Yes...? I think so....”

That didn’t sound very encouraging. It came across more as...conflicted. But there was no way she was going to say what Anna thought she was going to say. There was no way.

Unless Anna was right. And Honeymaren wasn’t sure if she should say anything. She must have thought Elsa wouldn’t respond. Or might, but negatively.

“I’m actually not completely sure if I should be saying this...but I think you should know,” Honeymaren admitted. She took a long, deep breath, leaving Elsa waiting in anticipation. “Ryder’s in love with you.”

Elsa’s head jerked back. Her arms went up in front of her. Her nose scrunched. She stared with almost a complete blank gaze. What did Honeymaren just say?

“I’m sorry.... What?”

Now it was Honeymaren’s turn to be confused. “Ryder’s in love with you...?” she repeated, though that time it sounded more of a question than a confession.

Elsa blinked. A long pause ensued.

“Since when?”

Honeymaren tilted her head. “You mean you had absolutely no idea?”

“No. No!” Elsa gasped. “Why would I?”

“He’s only been trying to impress you with these grand gestures for the better part of the year,” she explained.

“What gestures?” Elsa asked.

Her friend scoffed. “Where should I start?”

Apparently with the obvious ones?

Instead Elsa merely shrugged.

“Well there was that one time he rode in on one of the reindeer with a huge flower crown to present to you but you sneezed snow onto him, freezing him and the reindeer in place. He claimed he couldn’t feel his fingers for a week.”

“I only sneezed on him because I was getting over a cold. I had no idea he was doing anything.”

“He tried to invite you on a magical reindeer ride complete with a blanket on the reindeer for you that was supposed to remind you of your mother’s which would lead you to a sunset picnic on one of the ledges.”

“Why would I ride on a reindeer when I ride with Nokk?”

“He created a whole musical number involving multiple voices for almost all of the reindeer each describing something he loves about you and was only trying to serenade you with it at dinner.”

“That was singing?”

“The last time you came back after seeing the Earth Giants he welcomed you with a spectacle of tricks he spent two weeks training his reindeer for. But he ended up tripping, getting knocked down by one of their butts, falling into a bush and ended up scratching every part of him like a monkey for the next week.”

“I thought he was training to be a clown.”

“Then there was time he got his foot stuck in the-”

“No need to finish that sentence.”

Honeymaren held her hands up, waving them back and forth. “Ok wait, so you’re telling me that every single attempt Ryder made to impress you you just thought he was being a clown?”

Elsa bit her lower lip. How should she ask this without coming across as ill intentioned? “Wasn’t he...?”

Honeymaren paused.

“Ok, yes, he can definitely be a clown,” she admitted with a laugh.

“It’s just that everything he does with the reindeer...” Elsa started.

“Screams clowning?” she finished.

Elsa covered her mouth, attempting and failing to hold back her own laughter. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You’re not wrong,” Honeymaren assured her, laughter slowly fading. She let out a breath, taking another pause. She appeared ready to open her mouth to speak again.

But Elsa got the chance first, albeit with confusion in her tone. “But then...why would that make us stop what we do? The....” What was a proper word? “...Tradition?”

Honeymaren rubbed her arm. “Sometimes it just felt like...like I was betraying him, in a way. I saw how hard he was trying for you and...and I didn’t say or do anything. I just took up all of your time with us. What we do. I...I guess I liked having that time with you to myself.”

The admission brought a blush to Elsa’s cheeks. “I like it, too,” she confessed softly.

Now it was Honeymaren’t turn to blush.

And for that brief moment, despite how much they both wanted to, they couldn’t seem to make eye contact.

“And it’s...it’s not. A betrayal,” Elsa spoke. “You’re not being disloyal to Ryder. You’re not taking any time away from me that I’d rather spend elsewhere. There’s nothing wrong with us doing our thing together. Or anything together. It’s just....” What was a good word? How could Elsa remotely describe the sensation? Not even just the nights where she or Honeymaren couldn’t sleep? The time they spent together? The connection they had?

Huh.

The connection.

Them.

Together.

“....Us.”

That time, the two of them were able to make eye contact. It remained brief yet somehow felt like hours.

Finally, Honeymaren’s shoulders dropped in comfort as she exhaled. “So...you...don’t...like Ryder....?”

For the first time since returning to Arendelle, Elsa was asked a question she could easily answer.

“No.”

She glanced at Honeymaren softly and then made her way back towards her room. However, when she reached the door, she stopped. ‘No.’ Somehow that answer didn’t seem like enough. It was only part of the answer. Elsa took a moment, recalling what Anna had said to her the night before.

She can let anyone else in.

She can do something for herself.

She had a choice.

There was nothing wrong with who she was.

She didn’t have to live by anyone else’s rules or standards; just her own.

Finally, she recalled the latest lesson she learned from Yelena.

That everyone is allowed to live and love as they desire.

Maybe Elsa still wasn’t entirely sure of what that meant. If she couldn’t see for herself, if she still needed Anna to interpret for her, how could Elsa openly admit to something - her own feelings - beyond a shadow of a doubt? How could she undoubtedly fully give her all, anything and everything that she was, to someone else?

Despite all that, she was sure of two things. She was sure that she felt something. That Anna may have still been the most important person in her life, but she didn’t have to be the only one. That she was slowly but surely letting someone else share that title.

And that was why she was so certain of her correction. Or, rather a declaration. And why she was able to turn on her heel and face Honeymaren with such a confident stare. As their gazes met one final time, Elsa flashed her a coy smile and raised an eyebrow. Even if she was questioning anything else, if she still had anything else to learn about herself, there was one thing she could say with such assurance, ease, and just a hint of sass.

“I do not like men.”

#frozen #frozen 2 #short story #fan fic #elsa #queer elsa #give elsa a girlfriend #disney fan fic #based off a dream #which should exist on some level because elsa is totally queer #just give elsa a girlfriend dammit #can i also cannon her as a demi lesbian?#or is that just me?#probably just me #let's just make her a gay icon #let us have this disney

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imgonnabeyourbubblegumwitch · 5 years

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Lies Sleeping - A Review

Lies sleeping by Ben Aaronovitch

Chances were I was going to like this book - I liked the rest of the series after all. So how did Lies Sleeping compare?

The spoiler free bit -

This book was one long call back to the first book, the most obvious being the return of Mr Punch (not counting this as a spoiler since its announced in the blurb). As with the previous books I found there was no way I could really follow what was happening - I'm no good at remembering names of people or places and these are often key to "getting" the plot. Not only are you bombarded with people and places and companies and names, so much happens and you aren't sure what's important and what's a random side trip somewhere. I think there are a couple of reasons why that has never bothered me historically with this series and why it didn't bother me this time round.

The first is that the books are still an enjoyable read (even Foxglove Summer) even when I don't have a clue what's going on. Another is that things do make sense in retrospect with a second read, and I really do enjoy reading these books a second, third and even in the case of approximately 60% of the series (skipped Whispers Underground and Foxglove Summer) a fourth time. Four times is by no means a personal record for me rereading, but these books still have a lot of life left in them and I don't see myself getting bored of them anytime soon.

There is another reason why I tend to give these books a pass at the fact the plot absolutely escapes me, given that this would normally be within my top three complaints (others being boring/unnecessary and/or boringly unnecessary love interest with bonus points for tired clichés applied lazily, and character (lack of)). It only really occurred to me in Lies Sleeping, but the flood of information is (probably) what an investigation is like. A series of events and you have to figure out what's connected and how. Aaronovitch tends to be clever enough with his foreshadowing that I connect enough dots to keep me happy, but the hints are hints enough that I'm never 100% sure of myself so that if I'm right I get to feel smug and if I'm wrong I get to feel delight at being tricked.

An example of this from Lies Sleeping, kept to a spoiler free minimum but expanded below the cut, is the sense that this book was a gamechanger. I thought it would be as such before I'd even read the first sentence: the reintroduction of Mr Punch in the blurb and the fact The Faceless Man was unmasked suggested this book would further change the status quo somehow.

That's probably all I can get away with saying spoiler free so I'll carry on below the cut.

So continued from the point above I knew we'd end on some kind of shift in dynamics. By the time I was approximately two thirds of the way through I had narrowed this guess down to a) Nightingale dying or b) Martin Chorley actually accomplishing what he wanted to do which somehow altered magic's status possibly even bringing it into the public consciousness. What we got, of course was Peter being suspended. I didn't expect it but I didn't feel cheated in any way. And then there was the second game changer - Beverly being pregnant. In retrospect comments about Peter acting as Abby's parent have more weight - at the time I took them to be hinting towards a baby but maybe in a couple of books time. I'm actually really excited about Peter and Beverly having a child because I think it will bring an interesting new dimension to Peter - will he act the same when he has a child to think about? Is he still going to be as reckless? Will magic start to worry him?

And of course there's Lesley.

If I liked the Peter being suspended thing and the baby thing, I loved Lesley shooting Chorley. It's going to add another layer of changed dynamic and world shift. Peter isn't fighting a "Faceless man" (pardon the pun) anymore, someone he doesn't have any particular personal history with other than the two repeatedly trying to outwit and maim each other. Now it's Lesley and that's a whole different kettle of fish. I really like how Lesley's arc mirrors that of Mr Punch. Lesley has always seemed preoccupied with law and seemed more frustrated than Peter whenever she saw someone from the magic-world apparently getting away with crimes, just as Mr Punch was originally fond of the law and order the Romans brought. You could argue that Lesley is now slipping into chaos, however much she believes that she is trying to make things better: shooting Chorley for instance is not something I could see her doing in previous books but it felt right at this point in her journey.

I'm very interested to see what happens next with Lesley and where she's going to go. Did Chorley have something in the pipeline in case the whole Arthurian thing didn't work out, that she'll now take over? Or perhaps she'll go her own way.

One thing is certain: this book felt like the end and a new beginning and I think the series will continue to shift from here. It's not just the big details that have changed: this was the first book where it wasn't just Nightingale and Peter helped somewhat distantly by whichever police were involved in the crime of the day. With magic seeping into the police as a whole and what with the exchange about other societies not revealing magic between Peter and Nightingale I wonder if we are going to start dealing with magic becoming common knowledge as was my original prediction for the ending of this book.

I'll leave the speculation there - I'd like to re-read Lies Sleeping, and possibly the whole series - before I get into any serious guess work. I'll finish off this review for now with some little things I enjoyed that weren't to do with the ending as well as my one little niggle.

The first thing I really liked was the introduction of Foxglove (which I'm only know realising ties into Foxglove Summer - yeah I'm slow). I didn't really have much to say for the reveal that Molly might be high fae. It didn't annoy or upset me but equally it didn't really interest me. But with the introduction of Foxglove and the links to the Pale Lady, the Pale Nanny and the awful strip club I have changed my mind on this revelation. I really like how threads I thought were finished with come back later on - as confusing and haphazard as the worldbuilding can feel at times, I enjoy when it comes back together and pulls tight. On a more basic level I just really like that Molly has a friend.

I enjoyed the way the book followed a trajectory of Rivers of London, while remaining it's own story. It'd be more precise on this but I'm lending out Rivers of London at the moment so can't check on all the things that felt familiar but the more obvious ones are the back through history to meet Mr Punch ending, the actor's church, Mr Punch being in it at all. As a beginning and an end this provided a nice symmetry.

Nightingale is my favourite character by a fair amount and so I really enjoyed that we got to see more of him being kickass. I especially enjoyed his command of magic in the interview with Patrick Gale. I mean I enjoy any and all magic Nightingale does, but after seeing his explosive, fighting magic seeing him perform something more subtle was a treat and gives us a better indication of what he really could do if he set his mind to it. Let's all be glad he's on the side of the "good guys". Continuing with the Nightingale is incredibly powerful line, the list of reasons why Nightingale is absent to allow Peter to get into all the dangerous situations is fantastic. One of the problems with having one significantly more powerful character is the well why haven't they just stopped the bad guy already? Nightingale's absences from key moments allowing Peter to get into trouble are noticeable, but they do feel organic enough that though I find it funny I don't find it distracting or unrealistic.

On the magic front I also enjoyed hearing more about everyone's signares. The first description of Nightingale's as being "as heavy as a mallet and as sharp and as controlled as the point of a needle" was a great description that completely sums up his character, while the later descriptions of it as the precise tick-tock are lovely. Lesley's being a combination of Nightingale's, Chorley's and a cry like a seagull screaming was both hilarious and somehow completely fitting.

On the favourite character front my favourite rivers (plus possible war spirit) are Lady Ty, Effra, Oberon and Ash. I was disappointed to not hear much from Effra, Oberon and Ash therefore (he wasn't even at the Summer Court) but I wasn't surprised either. Can't have everything. I did, however, greatly enjoy the Lady Ty scene where Peter offers her a sacrifice as well as the return of the original Tyburn who I love as much as his modern counterpart.

Continuing with character for a moment is my one niggle with the book. I'm not sure if it was because this book had more continually high stakes, as the team tried to predict and forestall Chorley, but there didn't seem to be as many character moments. As many isn't no, and some were really unexpected but lovely such as Seawoll reminding Peter and Guleed to look out for each other and talk to someone if the pressure gets too much.

I think the main place it was noticeable was the reunion between Nightingale and Peter, or lack thereof. And I know Nightingale isn't the sort of hugging, crying, making a scene sort of guy, and they had other operational priorities at that moment as well as an audience. I wasn't expecting a huge scene at that moment. But information later on in the narrative about what Nightingale had done to try and find Peter would have been fitting in with the character and the time limits the characters have - could have come as an offhand comment from Guleed or someone else during a conversation about work for example. A kind of well we know Nightingale can do a-awesome-thing because he did it while searching for you thing. Or even Nightingale looking tired, Peter commenting on it and someone, probably Guleed or maybe Abdul, answering it was because he'd barely slept while looking for Peter. Nightingale has shown he feels responsible for Peter, so the lack of acknowledgment of the fact Peter was missing for a considerable chunk of time just felt like a missed opportunity to me.

Still it wasn't enough to ruin this book for me by any stretch of the imagination and I'm excited to re-read it and connect all the dots I missed the first time around. A great, read and a solid addition to the series that has me desperate for the next book.

Lies Sleeping: 5/5

#rivers of london #lies sleeping #lies sleeping spoilers #book review

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weekendwarriorblog · 2 years

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Review: SCREAM Returns with All the Self-Awareness and "Stabbiness" the Fans Expect

It has been many years since Scream 4 – ten, to be exact – and a few less years since the tragic and untimely death of horror master, Wes Craven, but it was only going to be so long before someone revived the definition of high-concept horror franchises.

It’s tasked to the filmmaking collective of Radio Silence (Ready or Not) to try and create a new incarnation of the horror premise while bringing back things fans love… all while trying to change things enough to not make a stale remake. I have no doubt they went into this fully knowing the scrutiny they would get from the sometimes toxic fandom, not unlike the onus put on David Gordon Green when he took over the Halloween horror franchise, receiving mixed reactions from critics and horror fans alike. (If you want a laugh, try to get a few diehard horror fans to agree on whether either of Green’s first two movies work or not compared to the Carpenter classic.)

The entire “Scream” franchise was built around the idea of Craven making these meta horror-comedies that poked fun of the type of slashers he made earlier in his career. They also thrived on the gimmick that tied any new kills kills back to the very first movie, and the horrible past experienced by Neve Campbell’s Sydney Prescott. This doesn't completely break the mold, but I’m going to presume you haven’t seen the trailer and maybe you know nothing about this new movie that decided not to number itself. You won't find any spoilers beyond the basic set-up.

Most people seeing this will already be cognizant that this new Scream, like all the others, will open with the first “kill” as young Tara (Jenna Ortega) is alone at home, the phone rings, and she’s attacked by a killer in a Ghostface mask. Yes, kids, we’re back in Woodsboro, where no teenager is safe. Tara survives the attack but her estranged older sister Sam (Melissa Barrera) returns home with her boyfriend Richie (Jack Quaid), and of course, they’re aware both of the previous Woodsboro killings plus the “Stab!” horror franchise based on them. Sam has a deeper and more personal connection to them, a secret that tore her family apart and separated her from Tara for nearly five years.

As usual, the movie is extremely self-aware, and all the usual horror rules are in place, as well as a few new ones added to mark the changing times. Although the younger generation has more resources than teens in the ‘90s – like Googling the answers to Ghostface’s deadly trivia game – they're still capable of all the dumb things teens tend to do in these types of movies. As before, much of the movie involves trying to guess who the killer is and/or who will be killed next. (When I saw that Kyle Gallner was in this movie, I immediately thought, “Yeah, he must be the killer.”)

The movie’s biggest problem is that when Ghostface isn’t attacking someone, the movie deteriorates into soap opera-level melodrama, which may be necessary to get the viewer invested in the new, younger characters, but it still feels weird. Of the new breed, my personal favorite was Jasmin Savoy Brown’s Mindy, who takes the place of the know-it-all Randy in terms of explaining to others how the horror film they’re in works, plus she offers much-needed humor throughout.

David Arquette is given many moments to really shine as former Deputy Dewey, as he’s coerced out of retirement to help these kids, though you will have to wait a good hour if you’re looking forward to seeing Sidney Prescott or Courteney Cox’s reporter Gale Riley. They both play key roles in the story, for sure, but it’s still a little time before they get involved, so don’t start worrying that you were fooled into seeing the movie based on their prominence in the trailers.

Trying to outdo Wes Craven would have been a folly for any filmmaker, yet Radio Silence has made a Scream movie that’s not only more violent than any of Craven’s movies but also more gory, which would surprise no one who saw Ready or Not. Let’s just say that this Scream earns its R-rating even if it mixes cheesy jump scares with some real curveballs meant to change things up from what people might expect from a Scream movie.

The original four movies offered a lot of action with Sydney Prescott frequently fighting back against her assailant, and the filmmakers maintain that kinetic energy that mixes action into the horror. Without giving anything away, the new Scream probably sports the most satisfying last act of the franchise going back to the original, coming full circle with a “requel” that has a few weak moments, but it’s still a Scream movie that would have made Wes Craven proud.

Rating: 7.5/10

#Scream #Movie #Review #Neve Campbell #Ghostface

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everlarkbirthdaygifts · 6 years

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Happy Birthday, finnickfoxes!

We wish a very Happy Birthday to @finnickfoxes! We hope you had a wonderful December 21st full of cake and surprises. To help kick the birthday cheer up a notch, @ally147writes has written a story just for you!

AN: Happy Birthday, @finnickfoxes! I apologise for the short delay; I’ve been a tad unwell these past few days. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this blend-up of a little enemies-to-lovers with a bit of kinda-sorta fake relationship. (I may expand on this one in the future, too, just to flesh it out a bit and make the ending a tad better). Unbeta’d, untitled because titles are hard when you’ve got a headache, and rated M-ish for language; all errors and questionable decisions are my own. Enjoy!

In between another sharp nip of his teeth and a vengeful swirl of his tongue, Peeta Mellark, pain-in-her-ass jerk wad for the better part of her senior year of high school, then her entire college existence, whispers against her lips, “You plan on explaining yourself anytime soon, sweetheart?”

She bites his lip, hard enough to make him groan into her mouth. She swallows the sound and kisses him again. They’re forceful things, rough and punishing. But they’re addictive, too, and full of so much intensity and indefinable feeling. Nothing at all like a kiss should be. At least, not one you’d have with a guy you hate, let alone in public.

“Not yet.”

She should, though. She owes him big. What’s the going rate for accosting a guy, with whom you’ve had a mutual hate-fest going on with for the past three years, in the middle of a busy guild coffee shop and kissing him with no explanation?

(In her defence, she’d like to point out that she had no idea it’d be Peeta she’d be turning around and landing lip-first on. She just thought it’d be another blond-haired, broad-shouldered… literally anyone else she could have explained the situation to and bought a coffee for to apologise).

But his kiss is nothing like she expected. Nor is his reaction. He should have shoved her away — she would have, if the roles were reversed — not drawn her in even closer with one hand cradled around her head and the other wrapped around her waist like they’re… like they’re an actual couple or something. He tastes… sweet. And spicy. Like cinnamon sugar. Funny. She figured someone with their head so far up their own ass would taste like —

He slows the kiss to something that threatens to melt her. She shouldn’t be enjoying this anywhere near as much as she is. She tries to drive the kiss back to the hateful roughness of before, to match the tone of all their interactions so far, but he doesn’t let her. His lips are soft and strong, wresting control away from her. They’re in dangerous territory, but there’s not much she can do about it. Hell, there’s not much she wants to do about it…

He pulls away at last with a soft, damp smack and smirks down at her; the expression he wears is unreadable. Par for the course for the two of them since high school ended. She doesn’t think she’ll ever understand the smarmy bastard and just what it is he does to her.

Still, she stares as he licks at his red, swollen lips and fights the shiver that threatens to take her over. She needs her head checked, that’s for sure.

“Well, princess,” he drawls, but he doesn’t move away; his warm breath fans over her face with each exhale, and he draws small circles against her hip with his thumb. It’s lulling, and almost enough to make her forget about… “Is he gone?”

She darts her gaze to her right where, just beyond the window, Gale Hawthorne — the second-biggest pain in her ass for the better part of her entire college existence — stood just a moment ago, tapping on the glass to get her attention. Or was it even longer ago? Seconds and minutes seemed to bleed and meld with Peeta’s lips on hers, though it couldn’t have been more than five, ten, fifteen seconds, surely…

She jolts back and shoves Peeta away from her with more force than necessary, and gains a little more satisfaction than she should when he stumbles into a (mercifully) empty table and lands ass up. The café goes silent, and he stares up at her like she’s the insane one.

Maybe she is. The kiss addled her brain something fierce.

“Yeah, he’s gone,” she says with a shrug, though it’s hard to act casual when you can’t get your breathing back under control. “We’re done now.”

He quirks a brow at her from his spot on the floor. People are gawking, but they all seem enraptured by what might happen next. She doesn’t blame them; it’s like a scene out of a bad soap opera. Even she kind of wants to know what happens next.

“We’d have had to start for us to be done, sweetheart.”

She almost freezes. They came so close to starting, all those years ago. It scared her how much she wanted them to start. “Don’t care, Mellark.” She waves him off and turns to leave. The sooner she can leave his stifling, baffling presence, the better.

“Don’t I at least get a thank you?” he calls after her. “Anyone else would have bought me dinner before they start batting around my tonsils. Or at least paid for my tea for me.”

She flips her middle finger over her shoulder and steps out into the sunlight, far, far away from Peeta Mellark and his confusing lips. “Screw you, Mellark.”

XXX

She’s beginning to wonder if there’s such a thing as far, far away from Peeta Mellark’s lips.

The memory of the kiss follows her for the rest of the day. To her classes and to the dining hall, and consuming every step in between. It’s not fair for a fake kiss with a guy she hates to be the best kiss she’s ever had.

She wants to be angry, that it could affect her so much, but Peeta Mellark isn’t really to blame, is he? She’s the one that initiated it, that allowed it to happen. Just that thought pisses her off more than she ever believed possible.

It even follows her to the library later that evening, where she’s pretty sure it’s illegal to have any sort of even remotely smutty thought. Her lips still tingle with a vivid sort of after-memory, still feel swollen and chapped. She’s sure everyone she walks past can see it on her face, can feel the conflict rolling off her in waves.

But the library is deserted, so quiet that Katniss can hear her footsteps padding over the carpet. She passes a few people on her way to the elevator, and thankfully shares it with no one as she mounts it to the fifth floor, where Gale said he’d be waiting.

Her respite from Gale was never going to last long, not when they’d been partnered up for an ecology paper at the beginning of the semester. It’d been all right at first; they’d compared their similar upbringings, shared similar tastes in music and pop culture. They both hunted to keep their families afloat, lived a mere town over from each other back at their respective homes, and were forced to grow up too fast when their fathers died (in the same mine explosion, they’d later learned). But where Katniss could laugh off the suggestions from their classmates that, with their matching black hear, grey eyes, and dusky olive colouring, she and Gale could almost be siblings, Gale would glare them down and scoff, like he’d been offended in some way.

Something in him shifted after that. From then on, he’d touch her more — never anything inappropriate, just light, fleeting things she thought were accidents until they were happening all the time. Next came the innocuous invitations to parties, movies and cafés he thought she’d like, and not-so-subtle hints about a cabin by a lake he knew about in the woods. All the while she’d smile tightly and decline. But he never quite seemed to get the message…

She finds him at a table in the farthest corner of the floor. He’s hunched over his computer, his back facing her. Katniss takes a deep, bracing breath and pads closer.

He doesn’t even look up, or turn around at her approach. “Hey, Catnip.”

She grits her teeth. One day, she’s going to snap and strangle him for calling her that. Soon, too, she thinks. “Hey, Gale.”

He looks up from his computer like she’s inconveniencing him somehow, and fixes her with a blank look. “So, how you wanna do this?”

Katniss slips her bag from her shoulder and takes the seat opposite Gale. “Well,” she says as unzips her bag. “We should probably get the rainfall data down, so we can start on the actual report.”

He nods and shrugs, like it has no real bearing on his grades or anything, like the report’s not worth sixty-percent of their final grade. “Whatever.”

Katniss rolls her eyes, but says nothing. He’s an ass, but it’s a welcome change from him ploughing her for details on her personal life. She takes out her notebook and a pen, and carefully writes down the stats Gale recites for her, all while the memory of the kiss plays on repeat in her mind. She’s not sure she could banish it if she tried now.

They’ve been working together for close to an hour, drafting out their report and dividing up the tasks, when Gale clears his throat and says the words she’s been waiting for.

He doesn’t even look up from his laptop. “Saw you in the coffee shop earlier today, Catnip.”

“Really?” she says, hoping her complete and utter disinterest shines through. “I didn’t see you.”

Gale snorts. “Bet you didn’t, what with your tongue down that random Blondie’s throat.”

Katniss blushes, but a hot lick of anger is building inside her, too. Who the fuck does Gale think he is, and where the hell does he get off judging her?

“Uh… yeah. It’s not random, but it’s still kinda… new, so…” She doubts she sounds all that convincing, but Gale’s derisive slip of laughter tells her she managed it all right.

“Yeah, I bet. Madge didn’t even know about him.”

Her hand jolts hard enough to send the nib of her pen clean through the paper. She’s going to have a chat with Madge when she gets back to their shared dorm tonight. “You’re asking my friends about me now?”

Gale shrugs. “You weren’t going to tell me anything.” The fact that Madge has a giant, exploitable crush on him goes unsaid.

“And that wasn’t hint enough?” She slams her notebook shut and shoves it into her shitty bag. Gale glances up from his laptop for once and watches her pack her things away with a look of annoyance. She doesn’t think she could keep working, let alone glance in Gale’s direction again tonight.

“I’m not interested in you, Gale. I never was and I never will be. So how about you grow up and leave me the hell alone, all right?”

She storms away from him, ignoring his yells of her name. She’ll finish her part of the assessment on her own and email it to Gale in the morning. Colossal twat though he is, she admits that he’s much better at the design side of things than she is. Besides, Madge owes her a explanation, and it better not have anything to do with Gale’s arms…

XXX

All’s well that ends well, Katniss supposes as she wanders the campus, looking for lunch. After a chiding better suited to a small child than a good friend, Madge is off her back and more contrite than ever; Gale is cordial, if a little cold, but now that both their intentions are out in the open, they’re working together fine. And she hasn’t seen Mellark since that fateful morning. Hell, she’s barely thought of their kiss in days.

She skips the guild coffee shop. Something tells her she wouldn’t be welcome there after last time anyway. Instead, she ventures further across the campus, to a tiny restaurant run by the adjoining culinary school.

It’s not quite midday yet, so the restaurant is quiet and peaceful. Only half a dozen other students take up tables, eyes locked on their laptop screens while plates of pasta steam at their elbows.

She places her order at the counter — a big, cheesy bowl of spaghetti sounds more than perfect — and shuffles along the parade of two-person tables, until a sickeningly familiar voice stops her in her tracks.

“Katniss Everdeen.” She closes her eyes and bites back a groan.

When she looks up again, Peeta Mellark leans back in his seat and crosses his arms over his chest. “Back for more?”

She scowls. “Don’t be a pig, Mellark.”

He grins. “Not that I’d mind being ambushed for random kisses from you again.”

“Fuck this,” she mutters to herself, and starts to walk away.

“Katniss,” he calls after her, and something about the soft command in his tone stops her in her tracks. She turns back and watches him kick out the chair opposite him. “Sit down. We need to talk, all right?”

“If this is about the kiss and… shoving you, then I’m sorry, all right? Otherwise, I don’t have a damn thing to say to you.”

“Fantastic. You can sit and listen to what I have to say, then.” He nudges the chair out some more, until it bumps up against her shins. “Sit down, Katniss. Please.”

She does, but she’s not happy about it. She drags the chair back across the floor as she pulls herself in, the scraping both deafening and obnoxious.

He sighs. “Thank you. Look, Katniss. I’m not sure what I ever did to make you hate me so much —”

“— You know perfectly well what you did, you sorry son of a bitch.”

He slaps a hand down on the table, firm enough to rattle the cutlery. When she levels her gaze with his, his eyes are the same angry blue as a hot flame. “That’s the thing, actually: I don’t. I’ve got no idea what I did to piss you off. All I know, is that we were friends — as much as anyone could be your friend, anyway — and then one day, we just… weren’t anymore.” He shrugs, helpless. “You started acting like… God, I don’t know what, like I’d killed your puppy or something, and you never once told me why.”

“You ditched me for Glimmer fucking Carmichael,” she hisses. Even now, five years after the fact, the memory still threatens to suffocate her in humiliation. She’d only left the shitty hotel ballroom for a moment before Peeta was sticking his tongue down Glimmer’s throat.

At his slack jaw, she lets out a derisive snort. “You remember that? You made this huge fuss about that night, going on and on that we could just go as friends, and then you just —” She stops, unwilling to go further. The fact that she was then, and still is now, so incredibly hurt by what happened, makes her want to lock herself in a dank, dark cave forever and never come out. God she was such an idiot back then, wanting all of it, all of him, so much.

“I don’t know what I even expected out of that night,” she mutters to herself. “Of course, if given the option, you’d choose her over me.”

He’s silent for a long time, but when he speaks, his voice is soft, regretful. “Kat, no. I didn’t…”

She bites back a gasp at the nickname only he ever used. Mostly because he was the only one who ever bothered to give her one.

“Look, it doesn’t matter now —”

“Yes, it does,” he cuts in. “It matters a lot.” He runs a hand through his curls and lets out a noise like a growl. “I didn’t want Glimmer that night, Kat, or ever. I didn’t even know you saw her with me. She just…” He sighs. “I didn’t want to be rude. You went and did whatever you did, and she just started dancing with me, and before I knew it…”

“You didn’t look like you minded,” she mutters. The image of them pressed together with no ending or beginning is burned into her mind with no hope of removal.

“Katniss, I wanted to be there with you that night,” he says, and with the surety in his voice, there’s no way she can’t believe him. “I asked you there as friends because that was the only way I could get you to go there with me at all. By the time I got Glimmer off me, I couldn’t find you anywhere. I called, I checked your house… I looked everywhere I could think of for you but… nothing.”

She shakes her head. “That’s the general idea when you’re trying to avoid someone.”

He reaches across the table and covers her hand with his. She wants to pull her hand away, but can’t; with his warmth covering hers, she feels frozen to the spot.

“Please don’t shut me out, Kat,” he pleas. “Not when… god, this whole thing was just a stupid misunderstanding. I lost my best friend because of a stupid misunderstanding.”

Katniss’ heart feels like it’s about to beat out of her chest. He’s not… he couldn’t possibly... “What are you saying?”

He squeezes her hand. “I’m saying, I never wanted Glimmer touching me. There’s only one girl I’ve ever wanted touching me, and if she stayed long enough to watch me push Glimmer off me, she might have understood that sooner.” He leans forward, close enough to kiss her again, but he doesn’t, and she’s not sure how she feels about that. “It’s always been you, Katniss. Always.”

She swallows, but it feels like there’s a lump of cotton lodged in her throat. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

He quirks a brow at her. “Would you have listened?”

“So, you decided you’d be a huge ass jerk right back?”

He smiles at her, and though it’s cliché as all hell, she swears her heart skips a beat. “Pot, kettle? Besides, Kat, that was literally, literally, the only way I could get you to speak to me after everything. I tried being nice. All you did was bite my head off.”

“Well, I’m listening now.”

“Yeah,” he says softly. His thumb is tracing circles over the back of her hand, kicking up a trail of goose bumps. “I guess you are.”

“Sorry for being… you know, a massive cow.”

His smile spreads even wider. “Thank you. And, uh… ditto.”

They’re quiet for a moment again, but it’s not an uncomfortable silence. Rather, it’s a charged, electric thing she can just about feel, so laced with hope and anticipation that she could almost choke on it.

“Kat, can we try again?” he suddenly says. “I just… I want what we were so close to having before. I never stopped wanting it, even when we were at each other’s throats. And before you say anything, just consider —” He trails off, his smile turning into something sly and mischievous “— we’re awesome kissers.”

She taps a finger to her chin and ponders all the infinite possibilities, just long enough to make him squirm. “I don’t know. Maybe that kiss was just a giant fluke.”

He grins another heart-stopping grin. “Maybe we ought to try again, then? Just to make sure we’re not getting into anything we might regret.”

She smiles back, and feels the same flutter in her stomach that she always felt around Peeta Mellark as a hopeless, awkward teenager with a crush. “That might be the best idea you’ve ever had.”

#everlark #everlark fanfiction #everlarkbirthdaydrabbles #everlarkbirthdaygifts #fan fic #by ally147writes

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mistressofmoonlight · 6 years

Text

December 25

The first thought that came to her mind was that the rule stating that hot air rises was bullshit-- if anything, it was colder on the snow-frosted shingles of the roof than it was at ground-level.

(That is a lie; rest assured, it is the only one to be found here. She had many thoughts before, after, during, around, within, and without that “first” thought, but that single thought is what took precedent in her mind while everything else jumbled around her subconscious like the agitated atoms of gas molecules in the great wide container called The Universe which were, in the case of those found in her present vicinity, comparatively un-agitated and the air comparatively cold.)

She lowered herself down to lie against the slanted roof. She shivered at the touch of the snow, and a worry arose that a wet spot might form across the back of her jacket and the butt of her jeans-- a worry was quickly drowned by a sea of more (or less) pertinent worries. From just underneath her back came the slightest vibrations of music, mostly the low tones of Bing Crosby or men who clearly wanted to be Bing Crosby. The lyrics were completely muffled, but a few strings of all-too-familiar melodies could still be made out.

She took in a deep breath and, upon exhaling, watched the fog from her mouth ascend to the cloud-hidden heavens. She breathed in again, then out again, then in, but a little too sharply, a touch unevenly, and the fog sputtered from her lips. She closed her eyes, and the next breath was a forceful sigh.

“God damn it,” she said. After a moment, she added, “It’s so fucking cold.”

From between the clouds, the eyes of the sky that could see her among of the millions that could not turned to look down (relatively speaking) at her, and the sky said, “There is heat just below you. If you seek it, rise, and you shall find it.”

She blew a stray strand of hair from her face and watched the thin cloud of her breath rise to meet its brethren. “Nah, I’m... I’m fine.”

“Do you find fault in it?” said the sky.

“I-- sorry, find fault in what?”

“The heat. It is possible that you do not find the current level of agitation in the air acceptable in the confined location you have left.”

“No, no, the heat-- it feels fine in there. I mean,” she sighed, “Physically, it’s-- it’s fine.”

“For what do you expose yourself to that which you are not designed to sustain?”

“I just-- look, man, I just don’t wanna be down there right now.”

The sky was awkwardly silent, but the vibrations from the building below continued, which was, in many ways, far worse than silence alone.

“My aunt and uncle showed up to the party,” she said, “And, you know, everyone was like, ‘Oh, it’s so nice to see you! It’s been so long! How’re the kids?’ And they were all smiling and laughing and digging in to this fucking egg salad they brought-- egg salad. Egg-fucking-salad. My aunt and uncle bring fucking egg salad every goddamn year to Christmas, and everyone always eats it-- like, the only ones who don’t eat it are me, obviously, and my cousin, because she actually has some fucking sense, I guess-- but couldn’t they, just once, bring, like, a glazed ham or something? You know, something people like? Or is being likable just too low on their damn radar because everyone else showers them with love anyway?”

A breath’s pause.

“And I guess I shouldn’t be so fucking-- I dunno, ungrateful for it, because I sure as hell didn’t bring anything, but I’m not expected to, and bringing that egg salad is... It’s almost as bad as not bringing anything. I mean, I fucking showed up. I put on a smile. I hugged a billion people. That probably took as much energy and time to do as it took them to make that egg salad.”

“You feel the work you perform is undervalued,” said the sky.

“I mean, I guess? That’s, like, a bigger issue.”

“The impulses of your brain are firing off in more directions than what is normal for brain activity. Your mind is cluttered and unclear.”

She ran her hand down her face, eyes closed. “Yeah, thanks for reminding me.” A sigh. “I blame that fucking song.”

“What song?”

A pause. “There’s this... Christmas carol, I guess, that comes on the radio every year. It’s stuck in my head. It’s just really annoying. It’s hokey and old and supposed to be a ‘classic.’ I thought Bing Crosby sang it, the bastard, but I think it was just some dude who sounded like Bing Crosby. Probably some imitation.”

“Tell me about Bing Crosby. You seem to have a distaste for him.”

“Yeah, that’s one word for it.” She put her hands behind her head, feeling the melted snow in her hair with her palm and the powdery snow on the roof with the back of her hand. “He was this dude from the... Fucking... The 40s? Or somewhere in there. He sang fucking everything. Christmas carols. TV specials. Love songs. I guess people liked him because he had this cool, relaxing voice or whatever, but he was also a fucking womanizer and a prick. So then all these other dudes, who were probably also womanizers and pricks, start making bank off Christmas songs by singing like Bing Crosby, and the whole thing just feels so hokey, y’know?”

She did not know if the sky knew, but the whole expanse of interconnected clouds seemed, almost, to nod.

“Anyway, I don’t think Bing sang this one, but he might as well have. Like, when it came on, my cousin actually said, ‘Is this Bing Crosby?’ Actually, she says that to every Christmas song that comes on. She’s the only bearable thing about this party.”

A pause. “Would you sing it to me?”

“What? No, I’m-- I’m a crappy singer.”

“As am I. I sing through frequencies of sound created by the slightest of collisions of matter within my form, often too soft to be detected. Otherwise, I sing through colors outside of my control, given to me by stars beyond my reach whose light is ancient and arcane enough to grant me sight so I may gaze down at you. You would hear this particular song if you listened, but I do not know if you would like the sound as much as the sight. Most often, you hear my singing in the melody of raindrops, the crash of thunder that follows behind the lightning-- the brightest light I make myself-- or in the percussion of hail. You may hear my voice on the wind of the gale. I do this in hopes of granting you many things vital to your life and comfort, but I fear that the destruction inherent taints the song, and for that I am unsure of the quality of my singing.”

She looked wide-eyes up to the stars, then turned her attention to the clouds, feeling that to be more intimate. She saw that snowflakes had settled on her eyelashes, and they reflected the light near her eye like minuscule crystals. “O-oh. Um... Wow. I...”

She sighed. Then, she sang.

“There’s... No place like home for the holidays... ‘Cause no matter how far away you roam... When you pine for the sunshine of a friendly gaze... For the holidays you can’t beat home sweet home.”

She gulped down the following lyrics and some cold night air. The vibrations underneath her seemed to subside.

The air was silent.

“They were, uh... They were playing that right before my aunt and uncle walked in, and all I could think about was... Was when my cousin came out to the family half a year ago, and I overheard my uncle talking to my aunt about... About her. About those “fucking dykes’ and how they ‘ruin everything’ and...” She grit her teeth. “Other things. Like he had any fucking right to talk about her like that. Like he has any fucking right to talk about my cousin like that. And then he walks in with his fucking egg salad, and everyone smiles, like there wasn’t someone in the very same house who had tried to open up to her family, her loved ones, about something important to her and was met with nothing but disdain from this one motherfucker who’s only good for egg-fucking-salad!”

It wasn’t until a few moments later that she realized she was seething and sitting up, her fists clenched and red and cold and digging into the shingles on either side of her, yet she was still staring at the sky.

“... I have that song stuck in my head, and I’m thinking, God-- I don’t even have a home to go to. There’s a house, sure, and maybe I’m ungrateful because I’m not satisfied with that, but a home is different. The closest thing I have to a home is my cousin, and I don’t get to see her all that often anymore because of her college, and when I do see her, I’m surrounded by these idiots who don’t support her-- who don’t really support her. And, y’know, I don’t even know who I am. I’m questioning myself too. Would they support me if I was different? You--” she took a sharp breath-- “You said earlier that I’m not designed for this weather. What the fuck am I designed for? Who designed me? Why is it so hard to fucking design myself?”

Her face fell then, and she wiped away at cold, wet streaks that had begun to descend down her cheeks. She choked down something between a yell and a sob.

“Look at me.” She did. “I am here. I am here, just above you, in every direction, always. I am a being just as I am a place just as I am a protector. You seek a home. Know that I hold in my grasp a limitless number of potential homes for your choosing. When you have the chance, you may explore to your heart’s content until you find a home that suits you. Until that time, know that you are under my protection, and I shall be your home, if you would let me.”

A pause accompanied by a growing smile. “Yeah. Yeah, I... I think I’d like that.”

“You are not a being of any one design. The code that forms your body is one matter. I am unsure of what designed that code if anything, just as I am unsure of my own design. Your soul is another matter, as are your thoughts. You may feel helpless in controlling your thoughts at times, but know that your actions and your actions alone determine your design.”

Smiling wide, she lay back against the roof, watching the clouds roll past and reveal the remaining stars, and a wave of warmth rolled over her.

“... Is the egg salad that bad?”

She snorted. “Oh, dude, you have no idea.”

#writing #I had to write something #I hope I can keep writing daily after this #Probably not whole pieces each day #but something #d slur #homophobia #existential shit

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ascensionstories-blog · 7 years

Text

Menace #42: And We’re Back

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“The Hero Association won’t like it.”

“The Hero Association will not like it.”

“It might make you a target.”

“For them?”

“Or for him.”

“I’m not worried about them.”

“Ms. Aethea…”

“Sir?”

“I’m concerned by your lack of concern.”

“I’m not.”

“This is abnormal.”

“I must, again, insist against it.”

“Then I must insist again.”

“It’s dangerous.”

“I’m not worried about him, either.”

“Pardon?”

“Being a target.” “He is very dangerous.”

“I know.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Very well, I’ll put in the paperwork today and update your picture.”

“Thank you.” “Stay safe out there, Menace.”

Patrolling the streets alone was not fun, Courtney decided. Her fingers tapped the goggles that she wore around her neck, stretching and clicking them as she walked. She put them on, then took them off. She sighed, sitting down on one of the benches that lined the city streets. Her new costume was colder than the last one; the dress shirt she wore was too thin, at least compared to her old sweater. It was the hood, she decided, that was most noticeably gone. The back of her neck felt cold. She patted the black-and-white bow that she had decided to wear instead, and winced as a breeze blew by. The sky looked nice. The sun was just peering over the horizon as it started to pull its sheets over its head and go to sleep. Courtney had not looked at the sky for some time. Her phone began to ring.

“What?” She said, answering.

“There’s some suspicious activity going on downtown,” he said.

“Zach — I’m going to have to ask you this — is this going to be another waste of our time? The last four times you called Nate to tell him about suspicious activity, it always turned out to be nothing. Do you know how embarrassing it is to break into warehouses only to find the space had been rented for a birthday party?”

“It’s your job to check now, Menace,” he reminded her.

“It’s my first day, cut me some slack.”

“You sound a lot like him.” “Oh, please. Don’t lump me in with that asshole,” Courtney scoffed. “First of all, it’s not like I’m calling you ‘Caff’ repeatedly into the phone.”

“It’s okay to still have some affection for him, I know you two were close.”

“Oh? Is it? Is it really okay? Good to know. I’ll pass the message on to someone who gives a damn. Zach, he’s a villain,” Courtney said. “Any affection I had left with him.”

“Good to hear,” Caffeine responded into the phone. “I still can’t believe we all worked with him so long without realizing.”

“Yeah, well, I guess you never really know how someone feels deep down,” she commented.

“So why’d you choose to take up his name?” There was a soft beat before she responded.

“Now, when he comes back,” Courtney took a short breath, “he’ll come to me first.” She felt her hand shaking. “And then I can kill him.” She felt the winds start to circle around her, as they often did when she worked herself up. “Text me the address of the suspicious activity, I’ll head down there.” She hung up the phone and then moved her hand to wipe her eyes. Her phone buzzed with the text. I think I know where that is, Courtney mused. How did Nate always know? She shrugged off the thought as the winds began to lift her into the air, slowly pushing her above the buildings that stood along the street. It was small, controlled.

“No games today?” She asked the surrounding winds. “Good. I don’t enjoy being dropped.” She started to head towards the old housing district of New Monmouth City, located along the southern edge of the territory. The warehouse Zach had sent her was located near the west end of the district — or so her phone told her when she plugged in the address — and as she flew she found herself wanting conversation. She thought about calling Zach back for the duration, but decided against it. Her mind shifted to Jenny, but she decided against that too; she wasn’t particularly fond of Jenny, and she wasn’t even sure she had her number. She thought she felt a slight rain dropping around her (perhaps, she thought, she was even causing it), but as she looked around, she saw nothing. Her outfit was feeling damp, though, and she tried to dismiss the feeling of wetness as just some discomfort at the fabric or newness of the suit. Eventually, she couldn’t help but ask herself: Am I sweating? Why am I sweating? She looked around once more to be sure there was no rain.

She felt it all across her body; a large, damp storm seemed to be converging on top of her, weighing her down, and she did not understand. Her breaths began to come quicker and quicker, short, weak gasps for air as she flew. No, no, Courtney told herself, stop being silly, this is just childish. She summoned more air to herself and felt the abundance in front of her as she gasped for it. It remained just outside her reach as her inhalation could not seem to find it. Courtney, chill, stop with this, she thought, continuing to heave and feel the weight of her own now-drenched clothes pull her down, inch by inch. What’s wrong with me? She asked herself as she continued her descent Why am I so exhausted? She asked trying to force the winds to sustain her. Why am I sweating so much? She glanced down and noted how close the earth seemed: she had been at least a hundred feet in the air only a moment ago, now she was hardly levitating at ten. She felt almost dizzy as she looked down and had a thought that she would later recognize as ridiculous: There’s nothing holding me. As soon as the idea crossed her mind, it was so, and the winds fled faster than they had come, dropping her squarely to the ground as she cried out.

“Fuck,” she said, lying on her back against the firm sidewalk of southern New Monmouth City. The street was called Second Street, so she knew Main Street must be just around the corner, and that meant she was still a mile or so from the warehouse. Courtney forced herself to her feet. She grabbed hold of the goggles that hung around her neck. She felt moist and disgusting as she began to trudge towards the warehouse, but she continued to trudge. “Step by step,” she told herself. “Step by step, that’s how we’re gonna do this.” So she walked, slowly, step by step, turning corners and crossing streets as the moon grew taller in the sky.

“I think it’s another false alarm,” Courtney muttered into the phone. The warehouse was littered with large cabinets and papers strewn about, all covered in a firm layer of dust. Most of it looked as though someone had attempted to push it against a wall or into a corner, but gave up halfway through, leaving the mess for someone else to clean up. The only light hung from a string attached to the ceiling, giving off a yellow, artificial light that made the entire room feel filthy. Several windows were placed around the ceiling; none provided any noticeable light. “Who keeps making these calls?” She asked.

“Concerned citizens,” Zach responded — to which Courtney thought: oh spare me — and an awkward pause polluted the phone line.

“What is it?” She asked. The pause lingered for a bit, she could only hear his breathing.

“Nothing, nothing,” he finally decided. “It’s just… I can’t stop thinking about Nate.” Courtney was about to reply with a “same” when Zach continued, “I worked very closely with him. Do you think — if he comes back — do you think he’ll come after me?” Courtney covered her mouth so that her sigh was not heard over the phone. “I mean, he’s dangerous, right? I’ve never actually seen him, but I’ve heard… didn’t he once tear the limbs off of the Mutation? And didn’t he almost beat the Forge to death? I’m not strong like them, Courtney, what am I supposed to do?”

“I don’t think he would attack you,” she responded, rolling her eyes. “And if he does, I’ll come and stop him.”

“Do you think the team is going to find him soon?” Caffeine asked into the phone.

“Yes,” Courtney assured him. “Earshot, the Engine, and the Mutation clearly know what they are doing; they’ll find him and they’ll make sure he’s not a threat anymore. Now can you get back to work? Let’s stop chasing these crank calls and actually find something that could help people.” “You’re right, you’re absolutely-”

The explosion cut him off. An orange and yellow fire engulfed the left side of the building, spitting out the papers and cabinets with a series of sharp cracking sounds. Courtney dove backwards, screaming as her ears felt like they themselves were burning. She turned her eyes to the fire but the heat kept her eyes from staying opening as she kept trying to scramble further and further back towards the opposite wall. She was still on a call with Zach, but she couldn’t hear him, so she ended the call and slid her phone into her pocket before turning back to the catastrophe at hand. Sparks were spiraling across the room, landing on fallen papers and other desks that seemed unlikely to catch, but she was still weary. Then she saw him. A tall, hooded man in a black cloak was walking among the refuge, emerging from the flames. She could not make out his face due to the mixture of cloak and flame.

“Hey!” She called out to him. “What the hell are you doing?” He appeared not to have heard her as he stepped further into the room, walking to the heaps of desks and cabinets and beginning to look through them. “I said,” she paused to summon a forceful gale of wind with her next word: “Hey!” The wind smacked into the hooded man, blowing him back and his hood off of his face. He collided against the back wall as Courtney moved closer, only to see that the man had no face. Is that an obscurity spell? She asked herself as the winds lifted her into the air. “So you’re a magic man, eh? Sorcerer? Wizard? Warlock? Beastmaster? Enchanter? Magus? Witch? What are we talking here?”

“How about ‘all of the above’?” He offered, then returned to his search. His voice echoed in an indiscernible fashion, and she got the feeling that he was telling the truth. Perhaps he was even more than all that.

“Sir, what are you looking for?”

“You wouldn’t know; leave before you get hurt.”

“I might know, I know a lot of things,” she replied, unsure herself of what she was trying to accomplish. “And you can’t just go around blowing up buildings willy-nilly; there’s a front door, you know?”

“It was locked.”

“No it wasn’t.”

“Shut up.” He continued his search through the wreckage. Courtney began to swirl winds around herself, lifting her into the air and blowing the surrounding mess all across the room. She stood, uncomfortably, at the center of a miniature tornado, feeling the wetness of her clothes press against her skin due to the furious winds. She resisted the urge to hold herself or to take her shirt off. The tornado began to blow towards the faceless man, further destroying the cabinets and desks on its way, with her still in the center. This was enough for the man to turn towards her. “Crude,” he commented. “Magic is an art,” he continued, “and you’re finger-painting by smashing the canvas with a palm of mixed colors. It’s sort of gross.” As the tornado approached him, he planted a gloved hand against the tempest, and it gave way, dissipating beneath the young witch. She began to plummet, frantically trying to summon more winds as she took the twenty foot drop, but the winds were not coming. The faceless man caught her and placed her down, gently next to him.

“What did you do to me?” Courtney screamed at the man.

“It will be back to normal in an hour or two,” he explained. “Your magic was unrefined; it wasn’t difficult to scramble. Now leave, as it’s clear you can no longer touch me.” He said this just before Courtney sent a firm fist across his faceless face. He recoiled for a moment before turning back and forcing his knee into her stomach, then pushing her down. “Now leave, before you get hurt more.” He said. “Please.”

Menace was writhing on the ground, trying to catch her breath as the wind had been knocked out of her. She felt like she was going to throw up. But she couldn’t just leave, could she? She managed to her feet. The man had moved on to another side of the room, looking through the drawers of the cabinets and desks. The fire was not spreading quickly, but it still gave off an uncomfortable warmth making her feel soggy and tired. “Who are you?” She asked the man. He did not respond. Her stomach was upset and her chest felt weak. “Who are you?” She asked again, quieter this time; it was all she could do. She decided to step outside; she pulled out her phone and dialed Zach’s number.

“Hey,” he responded. “Everything alright?”

“No,” Courtney coughed. “I need backup.”

“There’s no one else on shift.”

“Then could I please get a ride home?”

Sneaking out of her window that night was a challenge. Her magic had somewhat returned, but it still felt shaky, unnatural, and she refrained from using it to escape. She was staying with her mom now — after the whole Menace Incident, her mother felt it would be best if she could keep an eye on her — and that meant far less freedom. Dropping hard from the window, she was able to get on her feet and start walking into the dark night. The night was damp and colorless and a cold wind blew by every so often, as though to reminder her, to taunt her. Finally, she made her way to the Wharton State Forest, sneaking in under the yellow chain-link fence and making her way to the Cube, a natural treehouse in the center of the forest where she and Nate used to meet. As she climbed the wooden rungs, she almost expected to see him in the treehouse, with blankets and marshmallows and good story. But he wasn’t. He never would be. She fixed the goggles to her face as she sat in the Cube. “I have to do better,” she told herself. “I have to be better.” She looked down at the faded wood beneath her. The treehouse felt too large too vacuous. Courtney began to force winds too her, an immense furious gale that began to rip the wood apart, casting pieces of bark all across the forest. The destruction continued, tearing and destroying the floor of the house piece by piece and shattering the ceiling. Suddenly, it was just her, levitating in the winds above the forest.

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