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this is fuckin' awesome

Open RP Post

⊛ find a character you want to play with and respond to their thread. can't find who you want? let me know!
⊛ we can make up a scenario, adapt a meme of some sort, or... something else? whatever the fuck we want.
⊛ if you need ideas, the random scenario meme has just about anything you could want.
⊛ wanna do a picture prompt? we can do some picture prompts.
⊛ FUCK YEAH WE'RE TOTALLY ROLEPLAYING RIGHT NOW!!!

Handy-Dandy Quick Links:
Vanessa Cleveland ⊛ Catty Turner ⊛ Finnick Odair ⊛ Belle Beaumont ⊛ Chloe Saunders
Commander Shepard ⊛ Piper McLean ⊛ Jordan Langley ⊛ Jaime Lannister ⊛ Eli Keaton
Sally Malik ⊛ Corey Carling ⊛ Shadow ⊛ Fenris ⊛ Meetra Surik
Revan ⊛ Keiko Nakagawa ⊛ Alyss Heart ⊛ Ava ⊛ James
Percy Jackson ⊛ Frank Zhang ⊛ Helen ⊛ Jason Grace ⊛ David Levin
April O'Neil ⊛ Galen Marek ⊛ Reyna ⊛ Jackson Swift ⊛ Jaime Reyes
Fran Zhang (AU) ⊛ Jasa Grace (AU) ⊛ Piper McLean (AU) ⊛ Gretel ⊛ Sirius Black
Cullen ⊛ Liv Durand ⊛ Maddie Moss ⊛ Daniel Bianchi ⊛ Finley Odair (AU)
Persephone Jackson (AU) ⊛ Derek Hale ⊛ Raleigh Becket ⊛ Allison Argent ⊛ Liam Hunt
Seph McCauley ⊛ Jonah Kinlock ⊛ Edward Kenway ⊛ Aveline de Grandpre ⊛ Gale Hawthone
Will Scarlet ⊛ Korra ⊛ Carswell Thorne ⊛ Scarlet Benoit

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If she knew who he was comparing her to, she'd probably throw herself at him all over again. Annie Cresta was weak, pathetic. Johanna isn't either of those things.

She's not.

"Haven't you been to enough rooms tonight?" she asks tonelessly, but there's nothing cutting or intentionally hurtful about how she says it. "It's the penthouse suite, obviously."

"Obviously not," he says with his trademarked grin, but there's nothing in his eyes. It's all for show, really. Finnick holds out a hand to her, to help her up to her feet.

She can dismiss it all she wants, he doesn't care. Why is he still here? Just, why. He needs to leave.

"Are you good to walk on your own, or am I going to have to throw you over my shoulder?"

She ignores the hand - she doesn't need his help doesn't want it. Her arm hurts from the way she grabs him, but she's taken worse. She levers herself to her feet without help, eyeing the ruined hem of her dress before just tearing it off.

"Don't touch me." Once her stupid clothes are sorted out, she rubs a hand over her face before lifting her head. Her make up is ruined and it's obvious she's been crying, but there's no trace of the broken girl that was lying on the floor bare seconds before.

She's not weak.

"What do you want?"

She's certainly a crowd pleaser, isn't she. Finnick wonders why Snow bothered with her in the first place. She's not ugly, but she isn't a Cashmere. She's not pleasant or polite, but it's true that the Capitol enjoys that sometimes.

He likes her strength, though. Her determination.

"To make sure you're not about to attack anyone else who couldn't defend themselves, mostly."

Johanna scowls, rolling her shoulder. The excess material from her dress gets dropped to the ground. "You defended yourself just fine." It's almost like she's annoyed with him for not just letting her attack him. Which, to be honest, she kind of is. It'd be nice for something to go her way for once.

She rubs her fist under one eye and then the other, getting ride of the smeared make up as best she can. "Whatever. Follow if you have to, I don't care."

His gaze flickers over her bare legs for a moment. Not because they're the greatest he's ever seen - not bad, though - but because of the dropped material. And then his gaze moves back up to hers, a slight smirk on his face. This one, as opposed to so many others, is definitely real.

"I said anyone else. That didn't mean me," he mutters before waving her on. "Lead the way."

That smirk makes her want to try hitting him again, but her arm still hurts. She's not eager to take on a Career twice in one night.

"Anyone else would probably deserve it, too." Anyone else is probably going to be from the Capitol, after all, and she's dreamt more than once of burying an axe in their pretty head. She sweeps on past him, reconstucting her mask as she does so.

It's a little less docile now, though, like she's begun the process of excising that numb little girl. That rage still roils in her gut, no longer blocked up by layer upon layer of unfeeling. She just needs a target.

"They're too stupid to deserve it," Finnick mutters back at her. For the most part, it's true. Most Capitol citizens are little better than children in his mind, so blown out on decadence and expenses and being treated like mindless idiots only worried about the latest fashions that Snow barely needs to have control over them.

He follows after her because... He doesn't have a reason. He just does. To protect her, maybe. To protect other people. Because she's sudden;y more interesting to him than she had been before.

"This is a better look for you."

Johanna honestly doesn't care. Smart or stupid, they're all culpable.

She lasts maybe two seconds with him behind her before abruptly slowing down. Johanna doesn't trust a Career at her back, especially not one she just attacked. She falls into step with him instead, although she resolutely avoids his gaze.

"Stop looking at me."

Finnick doesn't even bother to hide his grin, or the lofty tone his voice holds now. It's like she'd never attacked him, like he hasn't just seen her really cry. That's just how it works with him.

"But with all of that exposed thigh, where do you expect me to look now?" He heaves a great sigh, adverting his gaze slowly so that he's looking forward. Like it's just that hard.

She does it without thinking, her arm lashing out into his shoulder. He'll probably catch her fist but she doesn't really care. It's the principle of the matter.

They're all dead the back of her mind whispers, and she stamps down on it, hard.

"You're a fucking creep, you know that?"

He doesn't catch her fist, and instead rubs his arm where she's hit him at. Wow, that's pretty rude. Rude little girls, all over the place.

"Most people seem to enjoy what I have to say."

That gets her to glance over at him, startled. Honestly, she'd half expected to end up on the ground again.

"You're a victor, no one cares what you have to say," she points out after a moment. "They only care about what the Capitol's saying through you."

He looks back at her with a small smile. Look, she wasn't attacking him. There's no threat here.

"Plenty of people care what I have to say, and I'm not always parroting Snow's words." He runs his fingers through messy, damp hair. A shower is desperately needed. "But that's our little secret."

She frowns at the smile, not understanding why he's giving it to her. Not understanding how she got in this situation to begin with. She's angry, she's enraged, but the comforting emptiness calls to her too. Because she knows that when she stops being angry, it'll hurt all over again.

"We don't have any little secrets," she snaps, except she doesn't exactly want him broadcasting her little episode around there. "How do you stand it? How can you do that to yourself?"

Honestly, Finnick has stopped trying to figure out things for years now. It happens, and he's left slightly bewildered, but he still goes for it. He feels... Bad for her, not that she'd appreciate it, but he does. And now she's alone.

"Because I don't have nearly as much pride as you to keep watching the people I love die," Finnick tells her, point blank. There's no softening of the blow there. "And because I was just a kid who had no idea what was going on. One day, I'm on the top of the world, the next I'm bottoming."

Literally.

She flinches like he hit her, and her fingers twitch, balling up before she forces them to relax again. For a moment, her breath comes shallow in her chest rattles around in there even as she forces herself to keep her face blank, uncaring.

This is how things are now. This is how things are always going to be. There's no absolution here, so there's no point on lingering on it.

"Winning was supposed to be the end."

Finnick thinks she can be as angry as she wants, but in the end, that was her decision. It was her fault. No choice is a good one, when you're a victor. But he sees the way she reacts.

She's not some drone.

"We didn't win, Johanna. We survived. Some of us do it better than others."

That drags a snort out of her. She tips her head up to the ceiling, crossing her arms over her chest. "Nice to have a talent, I guess."

Because she has survived. And despite the hollow ache inside her, she knows she'll keep on surviving, because she didn't make it through the nightmare that was the Games only to have what she'd fought so hard for taken away from her.

Because she hadn't been fighting for her district, or her family, or for glory. She'd been fighting to live. That was all that had mattered in the Games. And after everything, it was all that really mattered now.

"It's what we're good at, or we wouldn't be victors."

His skin is starting to crawl, but he wants to see her back to her room at least, wants to make sure she'll be okay for the night. Not that he really cares. There's no more room to care these days. Not when there's Annie and Mags and a family that will have nothing to do with him anymore.

They reach her room at the top of the hotel, the supposed seat of honour. It could be a hole in the ground for how glad she is to see it, but it's not like she has anywhere else to go.

"Look, we made it and no one died. Happy?"

Finnick shrugs. "I wouldn't go that far." Happy is a strong word, but he's glad that there weren't any problems, at least. Nothing that can come back and do more harm along the way.

"You going to be okay?"

She tugs her security card out of the bodice of her dress and swipes it; the door opens, and she steps through. "Probably not."

Johanna's pretty sure she's never going to be okay again. That's apparently the way it goes, for victors.

He nods slowly, looking her over again. She's a survivor, and too proud to just kill herself, so he's not going to say anything about that. "I'll see you tomorrow, Johanna Mason."

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