Sweet Talk 101 END
Title: Sweet Talk 101 (4/4)
Author: Alsike
Fandom: X-Men/Criminal Minds, with a slight Glee (or at least Ryan Murphy) fusion.
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Emma/Sebastian, Emily/JJ, Emma/Emily
Word Count: 5106 (of 18,500)
Apologies: Sorry! This took me forever to get around to filling in the holes, and I didn't proof after I was done, so I'm sorry! But yay! Done! So what do you think of my take on 'the bet'?
Summary: Emma Frost doesn't like to lose. But the new girl, Emily Prentiss, might be a little more difficult to win over than she expected. A bet with Sebastian putting her ass on the line, literally, Emma will pull out all the stops to get what she wants, visual evidence included.
Disclaimer: Not my girls, not my premise, props to lady_a13 for the fic "Your Song" that provided the inspiration, and apologies to Cute is What We Aim For, who provided the tone, and the mood music, and the title. (Not beta read, let me know if there is a huge fail somewhere).
Pinching with a moment so tight
Undone and looking just right
No not tonight
No not tonight
A smeared kiss
A moment missed
Are you upset with it?
Smack.
Smack.
Smack, smacksmacksmack.
Emily threw up the window sash and dodged the next pebble that came sailing through. Then she stuck her head out. “Emma?”
Emma paused in her windup, and looked up.
“Emma? What the-“ Emily covered her face. “I have a doorbell. It’s not like you’re going to wake up my parents.”
Emma laughed. She cupped her stomach and laughed harder, and then she fell over.
Emily frowned. “Are you drunk?” She hurried down the stairs and out the door. Emma was still on the ground, laughing into her knees. “It’s Thursday.”
She gave Emma her hand and hauled her to her feet. Emma laughed, falling into her body and smelling her hair. “Hey.”
“Hey yourself.” Emily began to frogmarch her towards the door. “Did you drive here? Because that is seriously a DWI.”
Emma mumbled a little, pressing her face to Emily’s neck. “I needed a fucking drink.”
“Oh really?”
“You don’t hate me?” Emma’s knees buckled, and Emily hoisted her up. She carried her up the steps onto the porch, and then eyed the stairs to her apartment uncomfortably.
“Am I supposed to?”
“You will,” Emma said softly. “You’re really fucking strong.”
“You know, fucking is really not that descriptive of an adjective.” Emily mounted the last stair, hauled Emma into the living room and dropped her on the couch.
“Fuck you,” Emma said, grinning.
Emily dropped onto the couch next to her. “Now are you going to tell me why you’re throwing rocks at my window at two am on a Thursday night?”
Emma looked up at her, and her face was sad. “I thought about telling all day.” Emily looked sharply at her. “Telling about you.” She took a breath and leaned back against the cushions. “It would be a bargaining chip. I could… bargain. But you’d be sad.” She looked at Emily, moving slightly towards her. “You’re too pretty to be sad.”
Emily gaped. “You…”
Emma moved then, climbing on top of her, straddling her lap and cupping her face, one hand under her chin, the other touching her cheek. “Just one, please?” she asked, softly. “Just one.”
Emily’s lips parted to ask, ‘one what?’ But Emma leaned in, gently capturing her mouth. ‘Oh. One kiss.’
Then Emma slumped forward. Emily caught her, and slowly lowered her down. She was unconscious. Emily chuckled quietly. She brushed her fingers over Emma’s lips. No, that girl was nothing like she expected.
In the morning, Emma was gone. And one of the photographs from her fridge door was missing.
Emily went to school half panicked, and waited for something to happen. When it did, it was nothing she had expected.
She opened her locker to pack to go home that it did, and twelve photos tumbled out and scattered over the floor.
Emily bent and picked one up. She looked at it, and looked, she couldn’t move. Slowly, she slumped down, her back against the lockers, and sat on the floor, gathering the pictures up. She didn’t want to look at them, but she couldn’t not.
* * *
Twelve photos.
Six of Emma being fucked by various guys in various positions.
Six close-ups of her giving blow-jobs.
Emily almost wanted to laugh at how blatant the photos were. Emma’s head tipped back, rubbing a cock over her lips, cheeks hollow as she sucked hard, wincing as she took a shot to the face. She stared for a long time at the one with Emma’s hands bound above her head as she got banged against a wall. Doggy style, reverse cowgirl, splayed on a sofa with one guy on top of her, and the other pushing his cock into her mouth, riding one boy and jerking another.
She looked at them, over and over again, trying to make an estimate of how many guys were involved, considering whether or not she really could see the hint of a condom, but it was academic, there was a problem with them, and she was trying to figure it out.
And then she did. The angles were all different, chosen specifically for the sex act involved. They weren’t amateur sex shots, not even peeping-tom hidden cameras, like Emma had. These were stills taken from porn videos.
She flipped them over, and looked at the backs. There was a URL on the back of one, with a name and password. When Emily got home, she logged in. There were eight videos. She watched them all.
* * *
Messy, aroused, and sick to her stomach, Emily went to her apartment. Emma buzzed her up, and when she came up, the door was unlocked. She found her in her bedroom at her desk, fucking with the computer.
“Hey.”
And Emily didn’t know what to say, or how to say it. “You did porn.”
Emma shrugged. “It happens.” She turned around, looking Emily straight in the eye, her expression flat and unmoved.
“It happens?” But that wasn’t what she wanted to say, it was, ‘you knew, you knew he’d do this, and you didn’t stop him. Why didn’t you try to stop him?’
“What do you want me to say?” Emma just smiled, it was bitter and arrogant and smug, and Emily wanted to hit her. “I like sex. Sebastian filmed us a couple of times, and then he brought people over so he could actually work the camera. It was hot.” She looked at Emily through half-lowered lashes. “I filmed you, you know, beating me. I could watch that every night.”
“You did what?”
“Do you know how beautiful you are with that cane in your hand? You work it like a master, and I just scream and scream. And it’s real. I can only watch porn when I’m already horny, but that film can turn me on from nothing.”
“I didn’t give you permission to do that!”
Emma blinked. “Permission?” She frowned. “It’s my house, my bed, my camera.”
“It’s my body!”
She shrugged. “Sebastian never asked me for permission. He just filmed me a couple of times and showed it when he had cut it down as a surprise.” She shrugged. “It was already online by then. I’m kind of surprised you didn’t know before. Most of the school knows.”
“How many of those guys had HIV?”
Emma looked at her like she was an idiot. “I’m clean. I’m not my sister. I don’t even fuck Sebastian without a condom, and I haven’t fucked him since we started this bet. You want to see my last blood panel? You’ll let me win then?”
“I want to know that I haven’t- haven’t-“ Made the same mistake again, let something as worthless as sex destroy her.
“Become me?” Emma stared her down. “You’ve kissed me. You let me suck your fingers after you masturbated. You took a stick and beat me black and blue. We haven’t even come close to having sex. Did you want to? I’d eat you out. You can fuck me if you still don’t want me to win.”
Emma turned away and grabbed a strap on out of the chest, tossing it on the bed. It was long and thick and black and made of something that really didn’t look like plastic. She added a box of condoms. “You don’t even have to take off your clothes. You can fuck me any way you want without even having to touch me skin to skin.”
Emily didn’t know what she had expected, but it wasn’t this. She wasn’t sorry, she wasn’t even ashamed. She knew she would get called on it eventually, and she just smiled, and offered her body up, as if it was worth anything anymore.
Or maybe she offered it up because it wasn’t worth anything. It made Emily sick. She had been working for years on the same thing, scraping together tiny bits of worth, to try and build up a body she would want to own. After it had been taken from her, after she had thrown it away, given it to the first person who asked, and then had it wrenched away, turned inside out, and changed into something she couldn’t even recognize, something than made her sick, made her hurt, nearly killed her… she had tried so hard, becoming strong, running fast, trying to look at herself in the mirror and like it, and she had thought… But Emma didn’t understand. Emma had thrown herself away and would do it over and over again.
“Any way I want?”
Emma grinned. “Any way you want. I’ll give you my ass. Seb will be sad, but.” she shrugged. “I’d really rather it were you.”
When she had said that before, Emily had thought it was sweet. She didn’t any more. she didn’t want to feel like this, want to beat her until she understood, until she was weak and crumpled and broken, and she had learned not to fuck people around like this, not to act like you cared when all you wanted to do was make them like you. And Emily didn’t even care if she were on camera. Emma had invited her to be one of the nameless, faceless fuckers, and she would take that. She wouldn’t let them have any more of her than she did. “I want your wrists bound.”
Emma looked at her, eyes intent. “So that’s a yes?”
Emily shuffled her sweatshirt sleeve over her fingers and gingerly picked up the cock. It was heavy, some sort of metal maybe, and she started putting it on over her jeans. The weight of the base pressed right against her clit, even through three layers of cloth, and the images from the photos blurred in her head, leaving only the memory of Emma’s lips, everywhere.
“Get on your knees.” Emily threw the box of condoms at her. “Put it on.”
Emma snagged it out of the air and raised an eyebrow, her lips pursed in a way that made Emily want to fuck her throat. She dropped to her knees, tilted her head, and started unbuttoning her shirt. Just the top three, enough to give a teasing glimpse of her white lacy bra. She mussed her hair, and then took out one of the packets. She started rolling it on, dragging the head over her lips, and looking up at Emily through her hair.
“You don’t have to act like a whore.”
“Isn’t that what you want? You want to fuck the porn star, right? You want to feel the dirt and pretend it can’t touch you through your clothes.”
“I want to fuck you.”
“But you don’t want to touch me.” Emma stared at her, her face flat and expressionless. “No one’s ever fucked me. I’ve been someone else for everyone I’ve slept with. I can be whoever you want. Who do you want?”
“Shut up!”
Emily grabbed her by her shirt and dragged her off the floor. She backed her against the wall, shoving her into it, her back and the back of her head smacking into it. Her hips hit her, the cock digging painfully into her gut. Emma gasped and Emily kissed her, mouth open, forcing her chin up, biting at her lips, and pressing just a little harder than she needed to on her throat. She let go and Emma gasped for breath. “What?”
Emily caught her under the knees and slid her hands up her thighs, under her skirt, curling over her ass, and then taking hold and ripping the flimsy material of her underwear apart. “I want to fuck you. I need to fuck you! You wrecked my life. You poison everything you touch, and I won’t let you pretend you’re getting away with it.” Her fingers sank into her, wet and hot, and she found the head, firm and cold under her hand, and pressed it against her. “I’m going to fuck you, and not any of those people you pretend to be. Why would I want any of them? I hate you.” And with that she thrust in and up, and Emma made a sound like a gasp and a cry trying to emerge at the same time. Emily caught her thighs and jerked up. Emma locked her ankles around her waist, riding her hips, and Emily held her up, drew back, and fucked into her, slamming her up against the wall with just the force of her hips. Emma sobbed, her fingers tangling in her hair, her mouth wet against her cheek.
“Emily.”
* * *
By the end Emma’s fingernails had cut through her shirt and her skin, staining the white oxford with traces of blood. Emily had come, her underwear and jeans a sticky mess, and Emma was limp and immobile on her bed. It hurt her to move.
Emily unfastened the buckles and let the metal dildo drop to the floor.
“You’re going to go?”
Emily stared at her, skirt rucked up, shirt rumpled and torn, her hair a mess, lips swollen and glistening with spit, thoroughly manhandled, and thought about staying.
“Yeah,” she said softly. “I need to.”
Emma nodded, her body staying still. Emily moved towards her, hovering over her. Emma’s eyes were open and hurting. Quickly, she leaned down and rubbed her thumb over her kiss-bruised lower lip. It was absurdly chaste, after having fucked her up against the wall, harder than any man could manage, but even if Emma never asked for anything more, Emily always seemed to be walking away, leaving her bruised and broken behind her.
* * *
Emily wasn’t picking up her phone.
“Dammit,” Emma hissed, and threw her cell at the wall. It smacked hard and broke into three pieces. She whirled, storming to her computer and pulled up Photoshop.
A picture of Emily was already on the screen, blown up to full size. She had been standing there, looking horrified as Emma told her the truth, her lips slightly parted, eyes wide. She had just started capping the last video she had taken, and opened it, flipping through, frame by frame, seeing, as if it were an animated flipbook, Emily catch her thighs, and lift her, bracing her against the wall, and then enter her. She flipped back and watched the sequence again, slowed down to see the way her own head tilted back, her mouth coming open in a silent cry, and her hips canting towards her, leaning in, to take more, take every scrap of the fucking Emily was giving her.
Sebastian wouldn’t like it. Neither of them were naked. Emily still had her stupid black hoodie on, and Emma’s skirt was her plaid uniform skirt which didn’t ruck up like the tight ones. But Emma would keep it. Maybe in a couple of years she could watch it and just enjoy remembering how deeply the cock had plowed into her. You weren’t supposed to strap the hard ones on. If someone else used them on you, you wanted hand control, and she had gotten them mainly for self-pleasure purposes. Sebastian was a traditionalist when it came to his movies. He didn’t like toys.
She could hardly walk the whole next day. The metal had been cold when it pierced her, but it warmed right up inside her, almost like a real boy, except so much better.
But she couldn’t lie about that, not to herself. The best part was Emily’s hands gripping so tightly around her thighs, the little sounds she made as she drew out and then fucked into her, the scent of her as Emma buried her face into her sweatshirt, and the fierce way she had kissed her, right as she was on the edge of coming, biting into her lips, and turning her orgasm from excellent into mind-blowingly sublime.
And then she had taken her to the bed, stripping off her sweatshirt, and pinned her down, changing the angle and fucked her again.
No, that first picture was the one she wanted. She opened a text box.
“Emily Prentiss’ Darkest Secret!”
The video was on the side. She hit play, watching Emily’s hands curl around her deltoids, shoving her deep into the mattress as she rocked her hips, long, slow and relentless. It had burned and Emma had been sobbing, but she hadn’t wanted her to stop. She hadn’t ever wanted her to stop.
“Illicit sex!”
She needed a better pic for that part. She knew what she wanted, Emily’s head tipped back, her mouth kiss-bruised, letting someone else take control. But that was the point of the bet wasn’t it? Emily didn’t let other people take control, not anymore.
That was close enough, Emily reaching to continue a just-broken kiss. She would continue it. She had caught Emma’s head, pulled her back, plundered her mouth. Very carefully, Emma cut herself out of the frame.
“Pregnant at 15?”
Emma stared at the picture she had chosen, at Emily shocked and hurt, hurting for her, and Emma had just made her hate her again. Then she glance down at the picture of Emily, looking horrifically uncomfortable as she held that little girl, she hadn’t even scanned it yet, and her hands tightened into fists.
“Fuck!” she hissed, and closed the file without saving it.
* * *
“You look like shit.”
Emily spun, glaring at JJ. “What do you want?”
“She threw you over already? What was it? Four days?” JJ smiled tightly. “I guess you believe me now. The whole school knows she’s a whore. The new girl’s finally catching up.”
“Just… shut up!” Emily hissed. “You don’t know her.”
“You can’t tell me I’m wrong.”
And Emily couldn’t, but it wasn’t like she could deny it about herself either. “She might be a whore, but you’re turning into a real bitch.”
JJ flipped her off and stalked away.
* * *
“Look, we can fake the video if you want.”
Emily looked bewildered, which wasn’t surprising, since Emma had found her at the party and dragged her into a closet without even a word.
“We can set up the angle so you can’t see that well, and I’ll get between your legs, and you can fake it, just look pathetic and whimper a bit and Sebastian won’t know the difference. Lesbian porn is always faked anyways.”
Emily just closed her eyes. “I’m not… I’m not going to do this anymore. I don’t want to be around you. You just want to win, and you’ll go back to him, and let him fuck your ass anyways, let him film it and sell it online, just like he does with every other part of you.”
“Maybe I don’t want to do that anymore!” It was more than she had wanted to say, more than she had ever dared to admit to herself, after Trevor, after he had run. “Maybe I want to find someone who I can… can fall in love with, someone I can trust. Maybe I want that with you.”
Emily looked like she had slapped her in the face. She didn’t believe a word of it. Emma didn’t really either. She had good instincts. “You chose me because you were bored. You ruined my life. I hate you. Do you not get that? I can’t be that person for you because I hate you!”
“So you’ll just let Sebastian fuck me, won’t you? Just start it again. It’s not like I have a choice. It’s not like anyone else will ever want me, not after what I’ve done, who I’ve been. Maybe I need someone to protect me, because no one ever has before.”
“Don't tell me you didn’t enjoy it?”
“Enjoy what? Enjoy learning to make men slaves to their baser instincts? Enjoy ruining your life? Enjoy sweaty rancid cock when I could have my tongue buried between your thighs? But yeah, of course I enjoyed it.” Emma sneered at her, the idiot. “I love sex. I love being able to be in my body, and use it, and make people scream because I’m just that good. I’m not ashamed. I didn’t suck one more cock than I wanted to, I didn’t ride one more boy, or lick one more pussy than I chose. And if you tell me you don’t understand, that you kept your legs pressed together like a good little girl, I will laugh in your face. My escapades might be caught on camera, but there is hard evidence of yours.” And there, now she ought to look like she’d been slapped. “And maybe I’m bored. Maybe that’s all it is. But I’ve been bored for a while now. And you… you’re interesting.”
“Get away from me.” Emma had her backed against the far wall of the closet, but she wasn’t touching her. If she was afraid of something as stupid as words, it was her own fault.
“I could make you love your body again. I could make you open up, and remember how awesome it can feel to give someone else control. I could make you come and come and come, no strings, no risks, no commitments. But you, my darling teenage mother, think I’m disgusting, because you got to watch.”
* * *
Emily hated her, hated her vicious, manipulative ways, hated seeing her body used and manhandled by those men, hated that she had fucked her anyways, fucked her when she was angry, spread her and penetrated her, knowing all she really wanted was for Emma to cry, and get on her knees, and tell her it was rape, and that she was hurt and victimized and ashamed, and let Emily be magnanimous in her forgiveness. Like Emma had been for her, she wanted to say, but Emma hadn’t forgiven her, she hadn’t even pitied her. She’d been shocked, and interested, but she had just accepted it. That had been what she had wanted too, hadn’t it? She hadn’t wanted forgiveness, or pity, she had just asked for acceptance, and Emily hated the pride that made it not enough.
Sebastian would win. He’d bend her over that same bed and take the one thing she hadn’t given to anyone, but had offered Emily freely. “It would be different if it were you.”
She looked at the clock. Half an hour and the bet was done.
* * *
Emma stood next to Sebastian by the window in the lunchroom, watching the minute hand on her watch tick towards noon. Sebastian leaned against the wall, smiling. “You’ve already lost. You have fifteen minutes. She’s not going to magically appear pierced through on your cock.”
“I know.” She looked at Sebastian, her eyes dropping to the bulge at his crotch. He was already hot. He wouldn’t want to wait to take his prize, but he would. He’d wait until they were in her room, and then he’d bind her. He’d want to remind her that she was his. Fuck her every way he could think of, cover her with his sperm and his sweat, and she had long ago lost her chance to tell him no. There would never be anyone willing to take her away from him, accept her after all she’d done, with all the smut and stains on her soul.
For a moment she had thought Emily could be the one. Even with all her rage and hate, everything that Emma deserved after what she had done to JJ, she had cared, enough to give her a chance. But, just like Trevor, she couldn’t handle seeing the evidence of all the things that Emma had done.
Trevor had thought she was perfect though, maybe a little overwhelming and slightly oversexed, but he had thought she was nice. Emily had never been fooled about that. And Trevor had been different. He had liked her, not her last name, and had worried about whether she enjoyed herself rather than who saw them together or what the position looked like from the camera angle. And she had been naïve. She hadn’t realized that when she told Sebastian that she wasn’t interested in sleeping with him or whoever he had found anymore, that she had a boyfriend, and was sort of curious about how that went, he would get angry. Of course he wouldn’t let her go. And of course Trevor would never understand. But she had thought Emily might. Just because you had a past, it didn’t mean you didn’t want a future.
Maybe she was scared that Emma would tell her secrets, use their tapes in the same way that Sebastian did. And she could do it, made sure Emily never had anyone else, break her spirit until she came running back. But it wouldn’t be enough. Emily would be hers, but she would still be his. Still, even hurting her a little bit would be more satisfying than letting her go. But she wouldn’t. Emily had those pretty eyes that were already always sad. She didn’t need to make it worse.
“Time’s almost up.”
“Emma.”
* * *
Emma looked up. Emily was walking down the aisle between the tables, in a short red dress that barely brushed her thighs and her combat boots, red lipstick and sunglasses, and Emma couldn’t breathe.
“Emma,” she repeated, and she caught her by the shoulders, backed her into a chair. Her knees hit it and clumsily, Emma collapsed into it. Emily took off her sunglasses and looked at Sebastian. “You wanted visual evidence, didn’t you? So pay attention.”
She straddled Emma’s lap and grabbed her wrist. Emma was gaping at her, astonished and tortured, and Emily didn’t have the time to waste with kissing her, or telling her it was all right. She just pulled her hand between her legs and pressed it against her wet pussy, no underwear, nothing under the dress. Emma gasped.
“Come on,” Emily whispered. “Fuck me. You win.”
And two fingers slid into her, long and straight and talon tipped, and Emily ground down on to her hand. “I hate you,” she hissed and bit her neck, hard enough to make Emma scream. “But I hate thinking about you with him more. I’m letting you win, and you owe me.”
Her hips were rolling now as she fucked herself on Emma’s hand. A third finger pushed into her, and then a fourth, and her thrusts were harder, faster, desperate. Emma’s other hand was clinging hard to the back of her dress, and she leaned in, kissing her roughly, biting down on her lower lip, and in a gasping sob Emma managed to reply. “Anything.”
“Everything,” Emily commanded, and then she rolled in and Emma thrust, and she came, fireworks exploding behind her eyes. She gasped, and Emma thrust in again, sending another wave over her, and Emily came for a second time, and fell, her face dropping into the curve of Emma’s shoulder, clinging as weak as a kitten to her, and Emma slowly extracted her fingers, paused to lick them, and then closed her arms around her back.
* * *
“Everything,” Emma agreed softly. Why would she bargain, when that was all she had wanted in the first place?
“That- was fucking awesome!” Sebastian had collapsed into a chair, smiling, a wet spot in the middle of his pants.
“Mr. Shaw,” said a much less pleased voice. “Please keep your comments to yourself.” Principal Strauss stood in the middle of the cafeteria, Counselor Hotchner beside her looking utterly horrified. “Miss Frost, Miss Prentiss, once you are quite recovered and cleaned up, please report to my office, and we will discuss the extent of your suspension.” Behind them, the whole school was staring in shock. Apparently someone had run to tell.
Emily took a deep breath, straightening slowly, taking a moment to bite lightly at Emma’s shoulder, and then she turned to Sebastian. “I never want you to touch her again. I own her now.”
Sebastian froze, and then his face darkened. “I never made a deal with you.”
“You made a deal with me,” Emma said. She was almost shaking now. This was it, and she had to play it right. “If I recall, you promised me whatever I wanted.”
“And is that what you want?” He sneered. “To be her little bitch?”
“No,” Emma said, flatly. “I want every video, every picture, every file you have of me destroyed. That includes the ones online. I want my life back.”
Sebastian’s face contorted into a scowl. “What’s the point? Everyone already knows you’re a slut.” He made a gesture that encompassed the whole room. “I don’t think there are ten boys in this school who haven’t seen the videos. And this little display didn’t do anything for your reputation.”
“I don’t care what they think. I just don’t want you to have them. We played the game. You had the chance to have every last piece of me, but I won, and you don’t get to keep any of them.”
“And what would you do if I didn’t? What would you do if I sent your daddy my website?”
“I’d prosecute you.” She smiled tightly. “You’ve seen the videos. You didn’t get my consent to make them, and you didn’t get it to put it online. And I’m sixteen. Do you get my point?”
“You’d never do it. Your father would-”
“You threaten to tell him and then say I’d be too scared to tell him you’ve been using me? Delete them now. In fact, delete everything you’ve got. Because I don’t make threats, and in four hours the FBI are going to get an email from an anonymous source with the website and your IP address.”
Sebastian gaped. “You- you bitch!” He jumped up and ran out of the lunchroom.
Emma grinned, turning back to Emily in her lap. “I think I like it when you hate me.”
Emily stared. “What- what was that? Did you… plan all that?”
Emma blinked, pursing her lips. “No. I was totally bullshitting the whole thing. Was it good?”
Emily just looked at her, her expression utterly bewildered, and it was hilarious really, to know that she hadn’t worked it all out, that she had come and saved her, because she cared, and not because she pitied her, or knew how much Emma had wanted out. And now she was free, and she couldn’t help smiling, couldn’t help feeling like she could control the sun and stars with a motion of her fingertips, that she could go anywhere, and do anything, and that with Emily, stunned and well-fucked in her lap, she didn’t want to go anywhere at all.
Emma smiled, and Emily kissed her.
FIN
Epilogue and Ficmix