skills for the hugner games: -hot butt
-i can start fires (by how hot i am)
-im very argumentive
-i feel No Guilt
-hot in general

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
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@trainsforemma
skills for the hugner games: -hot butt
-i can start fires (by how hot i am)
-im very argumentive
-i feel No Guilt
-hot in general
it's not a blood sport until the blood spurts
gayvanni replied to your post:hunger games au where it’s just a big board game...
that’s the true reality to make this event less depressing
why in the world would we want this event to be less depressing
pinkpyromania replied to your post:where is my gf, lavana kardashian
EXCUSE
THERE SHE IS, MY BEAUTIFUL GF, LAVANA KARDASHIAN
where is my gf, lavana kardashian
hunger games au where it's just a big board game and we're all waiting for mom to bring us snacks
Dashing. There was a good word for him.
"Right, that’s exactly it. It makes me look dashing,” he agreed quite proudly, having been promoted from ‘cute’ to something far less embarrassing. He was smiling, this time because he was actually in a better mood— not at all hard to believe considering flattery was his weakness. He wasn’t even entirely aware of it, but if somebody knew that all they had to do to play him like a violin was tell him his hair looked nice, he’d be killed in a split second.
"I think it really complements my face, also," he added, now gladly rambling on about his appearance— but he suddenly frowned. "It’s going to be a pain in the ass in the arena. Today is the last day I can actually style my hair and make myself look decent in the morning,” he complained. “It’s probably going to be muddy and disgusting out there… that’s the one downside of this whole thing. If my sponsors love me, they’ll send me hair gel,” he grinned (only half-joking).
"Hm. Your hair doesn’t look entirely horrible, either. Like I said, intentional imperfections. Stylish unkemptness can work for you.”
Was... was that a compliment?
"Th...thank you?" Emma felt strangely flattered. Confused as all hell and stunned into silence for a few moments, but flattered. "I... don't think I've ever been told that before. Well, no, I know I haven't been told that before, but... thank you."
That was oddly nice. Hopefully Lavana wouldn't mind him coming along. Emma wouldn't give the other girl up for the world, but maybe it wouldn't be bad to have him there too.
"But, you know, I don't think it'd look too bad undone. I think it might look kind of... what's the word...." 'Puppy cute' and several other (intentionally embarrassing) adjectives were on the tip of her tongue, but she thought to humor him this time, "Rugged?"
She made a face, trying to hold back an ugly laugh. That sounded so silly. 'Rugged'. He was far from rugged. 'Baby-faced' was more accurate. The fact that he was solidly built and trained to kill should have taken off some of the boyishness but it most certainly didn't.
How old is he? I can't remember. Maybe 16 at most?
"Or 'charming', that works," she said offhand, "You'll look better than me, anyway. I don't think I'll have the time to braid my hair back, I didn't today and we're not even fighting yet. If we're all going to be a mess, you and Lavana will be prettier messes."
Alberto’s face once again turned flushed. He noticed that this happened pretty often now.
"O— Of course it’s intentional. My hair looks fantastic. My hair is naturally wavy, but— do you think it looks bad or something? I just can’t get some parts to stay down, but I always thought that some intentional imperfections made the look even better— you know, like when people do the intentional ‘windswept’ look? Wind normally ruins a hairstyle, but when you make it look like that on purpose, it’s— it’s for an effect!” He rambled, finger combing his hair. It looked amazing. He was devilishly handsome. He was.
"And it’s not meant to be ‘cute.’ It suits me because it makes me look regal. Not cute,” he mumbled. That actually was the effect he had been going for. A fancy hairstyle, but fluffed up with some dashing curls. Like a prince.
It’s not like he minded being called ‘cute,’ though. He was never one to resent positive attention.
She let him ramble, immensely amused by his reaction and not even bothering to hide it. There was a pause, an intentional one because he was acting dramatically different than before and he almost seemed bashful, before she chuckled and shook her head.
"I know how you feel," she said, "mine never looks right because of the curls, a tangled mess in the morning." A small hum and she continued, "You make it work."
Emma took a moment to look him over again, mostly for his benefit. "Hm, I can see what you mean by regal. Like a... noble or something?"
She let her tone fall somewhere between teasing and sincere, "It doesn't change the fact that you look cute, but... uhm..." she snapped her fingers, "Dashing. There's a word, it's supposed to make you look dashing, right?"
Maybe feeding his ego wasn't too bad if he kept acting like a flustered schoolboy every time she gave him a compliment. She did mean it, however, and that made it all the more hilarious.
He did find it funny, just not in the way that she did. He found it funny that Lavana was probably going to be ruthlessly killed while crying and begging for mercy despite how tough she had acted before the games.
Again, he didn’t voice these thoughts.
"That sucks for your friend. Also, what the hell are you talking about? Quit acting so weird and focus on now," Alberto demanded, feeling a little uneasy about what Emma had just said. The word ‘obscurity’ made his heart sink. If there was one thing that Alberto was terrified of, it was being forgotten— if he was going to play these games, he was going to win and be known and remembered and hailed as a hero.
And if he didn’t, he’d die, but he was going to make sure he went out with a bang.
Alberto attempted to steer the conversation in a much more comfortable, harmless direction. “And with hair as great as mine, who wouldn’t care about appearances? I’d rather be killed in these games than be seen on a bad hair day.”
Emma just giggled and took on a teasing tone, "So that hairstyle's intentional? I wouldn't have guessed, I thought you were always in a rush."
She inspected it for a moment before continuing, "Does it always stick up in the back? And at the top, and-- do you have naturally curly hair? Or wavy?" She knew her own was more than a little wavy. Waking up usually meant dealing with a mess of odd curls and cowlicks. Lavana seemed to be in a similar boat, but the girl was also far more pretty than Emma and her hair almost always looked nice.
"Either way, it's cute. I like it, it suits you," she declared, wholly sincere.
Part of her knew he was just trying to get out of an uncomfortable conversation, but another part wondered how soft his hair was and how quickly he'd break her hand for trying to find out. Obviously image-conscious and arrogant, but he owned up to it well.
Not that she'd tell him that yet. She might have already fed his ego too much.
heavy shit at fuck o' clock brought to you by a delirious giant
"Funny? I don’t know if I’d call it funny. Exciting, scary, maybe. But not really funny.” Alberto almost continued with ‘unless you’re bashing your someone’s head in with an axe while they beg for mercy, then it’s funny.’ But, probably for the better, he didn’t.
"And no, I’m not shy, but I wish you’d stop with your stupid jokes," Alberto scoffed. He actually loved appearing on camera. Hell, that’s 80% of why he volunteered for these games. Sure, he had a good chance of winning, but the glamorous outfits— the interview— his charming smile being broadcasted to every citizen in the country. He’d be flat-out lying if he said he didn’t enjoy it.
"I don’t care if people look at us. I care that people are looking at us while you’re giggling like a maniac and I have a bloody nose from being punched by that wench,” Alberto mumbled, the metallic taste of blood still fresh on his tongue.
"Jokes? I'm not making jokes," she said, raking her fingers through her hair, "if you thought about it, you'd find this funny, too." The day before certain death and she almost felt at home.
"You remind me of a friend I used to have. Kind of an asshole but an okay guy, one of the only people who ever bothered to talk to me, and it was probably because we had to work together. Always worried about how others saw him."
Emma let out a breath, feeling more relaxed than ever, "He had his head stomped on the pavement and no one talked about him again."
With a shrug, she continued, "Why would you be so worried about your appearance if that's what you've got to expect? You die, you die in obscurity. You win, you win in obscurity. No one is going to care when this is over because the next bunch will show up and fight for their lives."
She stretched, languid as a cat, "There's nothing to worry about. Never was and never will be," a pause, "Unless you want something. Then you can worry."
Alberto just stared at Emma for a while.
"What the hell are you laughing at? What’s so funny?” He demanded, his face turning pink. He did NOT enjoy being laughed at, that was for sure, and the worst part was, he had no idea why she was laughing. Did he have something in his teeth? Was his hair a wreck? Did his nose start bleeding again? Did she just think he was funny? I wasn’t trying to be funny!
"I don’t care if you leave me alone or not, I just want you to stop laughing— Christ, Emma, everyone is looking at us now!" For once, he didn’t want to attract more attention. And now he was starting to wonder if this alliance had been a good idea after all. This chick was gonna randomly crack up during the games and give away our location.
"I-I'm sorry," Emma replied, finally starting to sober up. She had the grace to look sheepish when she walked back to him. "It-- all of this seems so funny. Just... everything," she let herself slouch, fatigued from everything including her recent giggle-fest.
"I'm not laughing now, see?" She pointed at her grin and peered down at him, lazy humor still present on her features. "I don't know why you're so worried. Everyone's always looking at us, remember?"
Something sardonic slipped in, and she whispered, as sweetly as she could, "Smile for the camera, Alberto. That's what I do."
Emma paused, then turned fretful, Shit, "Ohhh, are you shy? I'm sorry," guilt slipped over her features and formed a knot in her gut, "I shouldn't have done that. I didn't mean to make you upset."
This is becoming a cycle. Be more careful.
Alberto paused for a moment, seriously mulling over Emma’s words.
His conclusion: He fucking hated how right she was all the time.
If she had come to him with the same stuff about Lavana, he’d never believe her if Lavana wasn’t there. But the thing was, he wouldn’t believe her even if Lavana WAS there. Lavana hated him and it’d be a trap either way.
But he was being sincere. He wasn’t trying to trick anybody (not this time), but he just didn’t want to face Lavana. He wouldn’t consciously acknowledge this, but he was a little nervous. Lavana was even more unpredictable than both him and Emma. If he came along, what if she flipped out and attacked him again? They were still both pretty pissed at each other, and even Emma couldn’t stop Lavana from attacking him a few minutes ago.
He felt better imagining Emma kicking Lavana’s ass for it.
”Alright. Fine. I’ll go with you, but later. And I’m not talking to her. You’re doing the talking,” he declared, “but I’ll be there to prove I’m being sincere. And if I have something to say, then I’ll tell you and you can tell her.” He paused. “And since I refuse to listen to a word she says, if she wants to tell me something, tell her I’m not listening to her and that she should tell you whatever she wants to say so that you can tell me.”
He was totally conscious of how childish he sounded now. But fuck. He hated Lavana.
She patiently waited for him finish his little spiel before she replied...
By giggling at him.
Emma just couldn't help herself, something about all of it was so funny. The way he was acting reminded her of the siblings on the trains and trams. Just more murderous, and even that had a dark amount of humor. Luckily, unlike the last debacle, her voice wasn't nearly so thin and it actually sounded like laughter. Or unluckily. He didn't seem the type to appreciate getting laughed at.
She managed an "I'll make it happen, cap'n," before starting to crack up again. Her composure was wrecked, she wasn't sure if she could keep up a serious act for quite a while. Absently, she checked to see if her bite was going to keep up a mess, and found that yes, it was, and she probably looked like a loon.
"I'm guessing you want me to leave you alone, now, right? Don't want to talk to the crazy 8 unless absolutely necessary?" was all she could say, a bit breathless and dizzy. She hoped for otherwise. She wanted to talk to him more, actually get to know him because Why not? If we're going to die, what's stopping us? Isn't it better to die with friends instead of enemies?
She neglected to say that out loud. He'd disagree. Everyone did.
And somehow that made her want to laugh harder.
Alberto huffed. He could see Emma’s point, sure, but Lavana was so damn annoying! He’d at least rather wait until he didn’t want to kill her before he was dragged over to talk things out with her.
But Emma seemed set on going now.
Alberto caught up with Emma, trying one last time to persuade her. “Look, I understand your concerns. But I’m not pretending. I’m serious about allying with you. I’m very appreciative of your promise to protect me. You said it quite well yourself, I need allies to survive.” He frowned. “But I still don’t want to talk to her!” As he said that, he realized how much he sounded like a whining child— oh well.
He stopped. “Just talk to her without me. Tell her that I pinky promise I’ll be a good boy.”
She didn't exactly expect him to stop so suddenly, and her long legs led her a bit of a distance away from him when she finally stopped as well.
Hm.
She turned and looked him over-- once, twice, three times, four-- and tilted her head again.
"...actually... we should probably wait, shouldn't we. At least until Lavana is less inclined to cave your skull in. I'd like us to last maybe a few days, y'know?"
And it was true. The fight wasn't too long ago and Lavana was... inclined to hold grudges. Violent grudges. Grudges that made her throw her score out of sheer spite at the Capitol. Yeah. May be best to wait.
"You're still going to have to talk to her at some point. And if I pull that 'pinky promise' stuff, she'll think you're lying. Preying on my naivety. Planning to kill us as soon as we got out there. Revenge, asshole-ry, blah blah blah. That stuff."
Emma wasn't quite as foolish as people took her for-- Well. Maybe. She didn't actually know, maybe she was foolish and it was foolish to think she wasn't-- Okay, that train of thought was getting her nowhere--
"If I came up to you with the same stuff, Lavana nowhere in sight, there's no way in hell you'd believe me. Because someone you hated suddenly wants an alliance? And they don't even show their face? Obvious trap." There. That was more clear.
She let her smile become edged, "You'd laugh in my face. What a stupid, stupid girl. Or, you'd accept it and kill us as soon as we entered the arena out of spite. With her, you don't have to worry about the latter. Isn't that wonderful?"
"You— you bit through it?” Alberto said, giving Emma a strange look. Why was she suddenly so excited about everything? Even about getting blood in her hair.
Alas, she had gone before she could answer him. He waited there as she had asked him to, but more because he was stunned than because he was told to. Thank you so much. I’m glad I picked you. What the fuck? Did she have any idea what was about to happen in that arena? This wasn’t a game of middle school dodgeball. But still, as annoying as her giddiness was, it felt weirdly good to be treated with this much kindness. Alberto firmly believed that being nice during these games would get you killed, but hey, it was Emma’s funeral. Not his.
She walked back out of the washroom and he stopped her before she could say anything.
"What do you mean when ‘we’ talk to Lavana? I told you, I’m leaving her alone. Which includes not speaking to her, looking at her, being around her, thinking about her, you know, all that stuff."
Emma gave Alberto a tilt of her head and a bemused look, both glad he didn't ditch her and happy to answer his curious little question.
"We're going to be allies, so that 'avoid at all costs' bit of your plan will bite you in the ass, won't it? If I don't take you with me when we talk, she'll still want to kill you as soon as we get out there."
She hummed, thinking on how to word her thought process, "Your appearance will be mostly emphasis. If you're there, it won't look like you're just trying to trick me. It'll make everything more genuine, I think."
That cold feeling seeped back into her mind. Emma flinched and pushed it away. Now wasn't the time for that, this was a happy time, "And I hope it is. If you're serious about this alliance, it's best you act like it. Less likely to end in premature death, y'know?"
With a clap of her hands, she started walking towards the others, gesturing her new friend to follow. "Like I said, the deal goes both ways. If you try to kill her, I'll have to hurt you. She tries to kill you, I'll have to hurt her. Up until I die, I mean."
With a flash of a smile over her shoulder, she chirped, "You don't have to worry about it, I promise!"
Woah there.
From 0 to one fucking hundred in nothing flat. She had suddenly gone from ready to kill Alberto to practically jumping up and down, and he swore she was about to hug him. Better not do that during the games. It’d give someone the perfect opportunity to shove a knife into your back. Backstabbing, figuratively and literally.
At least she didn’t seem to care that he didn’t know her name.
"Uh… yeah. It’s nice to have you as well, Emma," he replied cautiously, though he was smiling— it was hard not to, in the face of this very excited six-foot-four child. And people normally weren’t genuinely nice to him, either. He was still dubious, and he knew better than to let his guard down, but at least he wasn’t totally alone in this games now.
"Tell Lavana about this. And tell her to suck it up, because she’ll whine about it. I’ll leave her alone if she leaves me alone," Alberto scoffed, crossing his arms.
"Also, your lip’s bleeding."
Emma scrubbed her lip, distracted and bounding with energy, "I know! I bit through it earlier after the fight stuff, it was kinda gross. It didn't hurt, just made a mess, I even got it in my hair--" Rambling. Speed it on up, you've got things to do.
She turned quickly to head back to the washroom, but nearly skidded to a stop to turn back around. "Okay, so just--" she made an exaggerated motion with her hands, "just stay right there, so I don't bleed everywhere when we talk to Lavana."
Grin never fading, Emma practically gushed at him, absolutely goofy with cheer, "Thank you so much for agreeing to this. I'm glad I picked you," before finally disappearing behind the door.
Thankfully, since she didn't ignore it like last time, she didn't take as long to clean up. The split still stung and she still had to wait for it to clot up, but at least half her face wasn't coated with red. That would have made for a bad impression, wouldn't it. Walking around, wearing blood like warpaint.
She scrambled back out of the washroom, having never lost her giddiness, and sincerely hoping her new teammate didn't ditch her as soon as she was gone.