#IS THIS WHO I AM??? IS THIS WHAT I REPRESENT???

[markrosewater]

I want to speak out against the whole push towards DEI. I feel that ever since you made the push to make identity the forefront of a character it has hurt the stories you tell. Captain Sisay's race was never the focus of her character and she was a complete badass! And I fear if you did it over again Gerrard would be trans, black and disabled just because. It also cheapens the stories of world devastation when characters worry more about their gender than Bolas destroying everything.

The reason I started this blog is so we can have frank conversations about things, so please let’s talk about this.

Imagine if every time you turned on the TV or watched a movie, no one looked like you. For some of us, that’s never happened. We see ourselves constantly, so it’s hard to truly understand what not seeing yourself represented in media is like.

I do have a personal window to this experience. While I am white and male, there’s an area where I am the minority - my religion. Jews are just under two and a half percent of the US population. I have had many experiences where I’ve been in situations where everything is geared towards a group I do not belong to, and zero consideration is given that not everyone at that event is part of the majority.

You just feel invisible and like an outsider. It’s not a great feeling. And I just experience it a tiny portion of time, only things that are geared specifically towards something religious. Most minorities have this feeling all the time, whenever they’re outside their personal community.

Now imagine, after years of not seeing yourself ever, you finally see someone that looks like you, but nothing about the character rings remotely true. They don’t sound like you, they don’t act like you, the facts about their day-to-day life are just wrong. It’s clear whoever wrote the character didn’t truly understand the lived experience of the character, so the character feels fake.

You bring up Sisay. Michael Ryan and I didn’t technically create Sisay (she played a small role in the Mirage story), but we did do a lot to flesh out her character as the creators of the Weatherlight Saga. We turned her from a minor character into a major one.

And while I’m proud, in general, of our work on the Weatherlight Saga, I don’t think we did justice to Sisay as a character. Neither Michael nor I have any knowledge of what it’s like to be a black woman. Nor did we ever talk to someone who did.

And if you’re someone like us that has no knowledge of that experience, you probably didn’t notice. But that doesn’t mean it’s a good thing.

Imagine if we made a movie about your life, and we just made everything up. We invented people you never knew, we gave you a job you never had, and we had you say things you’d never say. The movie might even be a good movie, but your response would be, but that’s not my life - that’s not me.

Now imagine we put the movie out, and people that never met you assumed that was what you were like. When people met you for the first time, they assumed things, because, you know, they’d seen the movie.

That’s what misrepresenting people does. It not only makes them feel not seen, it falsely represents them, spreading lies, often stereotypes, making people believe things about them that aren’t true.

Our move towards diversity is just us trying to better reflect the world and the people in it. We’re trying to do to everyone else what a certain portion of people get every day without ever having to think about it.

But why are we “making it the forefront of their character”? We’re not. We’re making it a part of their character. But in a world where you’re not used to ever seeing it, it feels louder than it is. Things that are a natural part of the world that you’re used to feel like the background of the story because you understand the context to it.

If a man kisses his wife before going off to a battle, that’s not a big deal. It’s just a thing a husband might do to his wife when he leaves. It’s not the forefront of his character. It’s just part of his life. But you’ve seen it hundreds of times, so it feels normal.

When someone does something that isn’t your lived experience it pulls focus. It seems like a big deal, but only because it’s new to you. It’s just as mundane a thing to that character as the man kissing his wife is to him.

Even the turn “pushing” implies that it’s unnaturally here, that we’re forcing something that naturally shouldn’t be. But why? That thing exists naturally in the real world, and it doesn’t make the real world any less. Maybe you’re less aware of it, but is making you aware of how others live their life “pushing” something on you?

How you live your life is represented constantly, everywhere. Why isn’t over-representing your experience at the expense of everyone else’s “pushing” it? Why is media only being the experience of those in power the “proper way”?

Having more depth and variety doesn’t lessen stories. It makes them deeper, more rich, more nuanced. In short, it makes them better stories. In my former life, I was a professional writer. I took a lot of writing classes. One of the truism of writing is “speaking truth leads to better stories”.

There’s another famous quote: “When you’re accustomed to privilege, equality feels like oppression.” You’re used to being over-represented, so being a little less over-represented feels like something has been taken from you. But really it hasn’t. Having a better sense of the rest of the world comes with a lot of benefits.

I’ll use food as an example. Let’s say all you were ever exposed to was the food of your heritage. Yeah, that food is really good, but sometimes isn’t it nice to eat foods of other nationalities? Isn’t your life better that you have a choice? Isn’t your exposure and access to the food of other nationalities a positive in your life?

Exposure to variety is a positive. It allows you to learn about things you didn’t know, experience things things you’ve never experienced, and get a better sense of understanding of your friends and neighbors.

Our actions are not to harm anyone, and if you think that’s what we’re doing, please take a minute to actually absorb what I’m saying. You’ve spent your whole life metaphorically eating one type of food, and we’re just trying to show you how much you’ve missed out on.

And while this might not impact you directly, we’re making a whole bunch of people felt seen. We’re bringing joy. Think of it this way. We make a lot of cards. Not every card is for you. But if it makes someone else happy, if they get to include it in a deck, and it makes Magic better for them, how is it harming you that we include it? You have so many cards that you can play.

To this poster or people that share their viewpoint, the narrative that a gain for someone else is an attack on you is just not true. As I just pointed out above, you play a game all about personal choice, about players getting to choose how they play and enjoy the game. Why should life be any different than Magic?

Thanks for reading.

[ahermitinverted]

I am tired of liberals finding this post and yelling at me for getting Trump elected. I will attempt to put my thoughts together concisely.

First point: there is some mythmaking that Kamala did everything she could to win and the American public failed her and the Democrats. This is an inaccurate recasting of history. From the very beginning, Harris's internal polling showed that she was losing this election. You can come up with whatever excuses you want for why that is, but the point stands that she had a losing strategy that she knowingly committed to.

This USA Today article references the Pod Save America Podcast where Kamala's staff talks about this:

Second point: there is mythmaking that she simply had no winning strategy that she could find other than courting Republicans, because she was already too far left to get elected. This is inaccurate and we can see what voters wanted to vote for. I'm not going to go over every example, but I will point to a representative one. I don't think it's controversial to say that a major reason that Kamala lost Michigan is because of her hardline stance on supporting Israel's genocide of the Palestinians. Her strategy was to send Bill Clinton to yell at them to fall in line. Yet those voters didn't abandon Democrats for the Right because we still saw them vote for Rashida Talib. If Democrats wanted more people to vote for them, they could have met the voting base on the matters that they were asking for.

Here's an interesting article from some indie progressive new outlet that goes over some more progressive wins that got the votes that Kamala failed to find:

Third and most irritatingly, people are still mythologizing that third party voters voting for Jill Stein or whoever should have fallen in line and just voted for Democrats to stop Trump. I will acknowledge that it is absurd to demand that random people behave more Machiavellian than the literal politicians to mitigate harm, but that's a conversation for another time. We need to remember that Kamala didn't lose narrowly; she lost everything. She lost every relevant battleground state, and these losses were not due to third party voters.

Michigan: Lost by 80,103 votes. Jill Stein only got 44,607. Even if you give her Cornel West's votes, that's only another 6,664.

Wisconsin: Lost by 29.397 votes. Jill Stein and Cornel West only "stole" 15,028.

Nevada: Lost by 46,008 votes. No one voted Stein or West, but "None of the above" only got 19,625.

Arizona: Lost by 187,382 votes. Stein got 18,319.

Georgia: Lost by 115,100 votes. Stein found 18,229.

Pennsylvania: Lost by 120,266 votes. Stein got 24,538.

These are all states that Biden was able to win in 2020. I need people to understand that Kamala lost this election and it wasn't even close. The Green Party didn't steal it from her. Non-Voting Progressives didn't fail her. She lost so badly that they can't even convincingly run the normal "progressives abandoned us" playbook. They abandoned their own base and traded it for a handful of Liz Cheneys.

My issue with Liberal Electoralism is a desperate belief in the power of the individual voter. I get the impulse to think 'what could WE have done differently,' but ultimately it's not on 'us.' Democrats did not want to win this election, so it is silly to blame the people who pointed out the reasons they were going to lose as it happens.

So yeah I stand by my position. Go donate burritos to unhoused folks. It will do more good than yelling at people for not voting for Kamala. Mostly because the people that you're yelling at probably did still vote 'strategically' for Kamala and still saw her eat shit. Democrats aren't going to save you.

In conclusion vote if you want to. I don't care. But remember that the situation we are in was chosen by the power structures and not by the people who are criticizing them.

[thedissonantverses]

This is absolutely me being petty and feel free to ignore but as it concerns THE Scout Lace Harding and this fandom’s raging misogyny I’m gonna indulge:

Harding’s character was ruined in DATV is a take you could have sure. It’s not a good take but ya know. Oh you want reasons? Okay!

“Why couldn’t it have been Dagna?”

Because the literal entire point is that Harding didn’t have magic and that magic is returning to the dwarves on a broader scale. Dagna wasn’t relevant and that’s okay it’s cool there is more than one dwarf with magic out there. It’s expanding the universe. Again, in my opinion which feel free to take or leave, this is a good thing. It would have been cool to have Dagna but again I’m really glad Veilguard didn’t shove every unnecessary character they could to cameo and focused on telling a good story. Veilguard is purposely setting up a future where the dwarves have magic again.

“Harding’s character is different!”

Yes. It has been ten years. And she was a secondary character in Inquisition with barely a background because she wasn’t relevant. When you did interact with her you were doing so as one of the most powerful people on the continent. Now she’s a fully realized character and on much more equal footing with the team. Again, this is a good thing. Her story in Veilguard is wonderful and while I am incredibly biased toward her, her romance is a delight.

“She isn’t empathetic enough towards Solas.”

Ah here it is. Here’s the actual reason I made this post. Cause see there are people centering Solas’ feelings and character at every turn. Harding has EVERY fucking reason to be mad at Solas. I’d go so far as to say she can hate him but she doesn’t. He lied to everyone they knew and his original plan was to kill them all and tear down the Veil immediately. He’s responsible for the Inquisitor being forced to even be the Inquisitor and this includes needing to amputate their hand because his magic is the reason they are dying.

Yet Harding still gives more grace and empathy to Solas than just about anyone would in her shoes and yet people are still pissed at her for…telling him off? He killed her friend. He’s the reason her people don’t have magic. He’s the reason their empire fell too. What were you expecting????? People aren’t just mad they’re actually livid over this. They hate her and the writers.

It just comes off like you’re centering a man’s feelings over a woman’s because she has a spine and isn’t falling to her knees thanking him for wanting to destroy her world. Her entire arc is dealing with generational trauma and her story matters a lot to both the dwarves and Thedas as a whole. It is incredibly poignant and beautiful and it was so nice to explore the dwarven part of the lore through a woman who represents so much of what Thedas has become.

Once again it’s any excuse to hate Veilguard. Any excuse at all.

[mcacomulada]

The trolls as insects (i might draw them later)

Aradia Megido - Maroon Ghost Moth (Elhamma australasiae)

Moths have been repeatedly portrayed as a sign of death. Also, their fluffiness matches the one of Aradia's hair XD. When I read this one's name it was inevitable (ghost???, maroon??, literally her oh my gooood).

Tavros Nitram - Question Mark Butterfly (Polygonia interrogationis)

Mostly based off of the Summoner and Rufioh having wings, I didn't want to make it a monarch butterfly because Tavros is in no way royalty.

Sollux Captor - Western Honey Bee (Apis mellifera)

Pretty self explanatory, Sollux always had a connection (and obsession) with bees. They also sting, which is kind of a metaphor for the psionics.

Karkat Vantas - Seven Spot Ladybird (Coccinella septempunctata)

Ladybirds are always seen as special, even though this instance is not a mutation per se, it's special and red. Also, ladybirds are commonplace pests (which is kind of what Karkat is to HIC).

Nepeta Leijon - Pale Green Assassin Bug (Zelus luridus)

I looked up some good bug hunters and I got assassin bugs, nepeta is the mightiest of huntresses, so it fits.

Kanaya Maryam - Green Headed Ant (Rhytidoponera metallica)

I was doubting wether to make Kanaya an ant or a silk moth, but ultimately, moths are a better representation of Aradia, and ants mimic jade-blood's function in troll society better. A part from being green, this species of ant apparently has a nice bite, which is representative of Kanaya's fierceness.

Terezi Pyrope - Ebony Jewelwing (Calopteryx maculata)

I am aware that the dragonfly pictured is male, just ignore that lol, headcanon the trolls as hermaphroditic (i will post about their biological cycle hehe). Dragonflies are said to be insect's best predators, Terezi is also a vicious and precise hunter, if not of other trolls literally, of outcomes and possibilities (she is intelligent, and a Seer of Mind).

Vriska Serket - Peacock Tarantula (Poecilotheria metallica)

Also pretty self explanatory, it's a blue spider, therefore Vriska Serket. Spiders in general are already a good representation of how she is percieved (with fear lol). Yea, simple explanation.

Equius Zahhak - "Pure Blue" Giant Flower Beetle (Mecynorhina torquata)

The strongest of bugs are beetles (among some types of ants, who are better described as proportionally strongest). This particular one is also pretty big and strong, and coincidentally presents this type of coloration.

Gamzee Makara - Purple-Winged Grasshopper (Titanacris albipes)

Originally was going to be a praying mantis, but the orchid mantis was just too perfect for Feferi. Locusts also have ties to religion and mythology, which was my main focus for finding Gamzee's insect (they have been, fittingly, a symbol of destruction for eons).

Eridan Ampora - Canopy Mosquito (Sabethes cyaneus)

Tbh, I based most of this decision off of the fact that Eridan is annoying (I don't hate him, it's just his personality, unfortunately). Also, mosquitos breed in water (at least that's what my parents always told me) which matches the aquatic theme.

Feferi Peixes - Orchid Mantis (Hymenopus coronatus)

Feferi is the troll I had the most trouble with. Originally I tried keeping up with the aquatic theme and had found Ranatra linearis, a stickbug that looks like a mantis and hunts little fish. I discarded the option because even though it was aquatic, the connections with Feferi kind of ended there.

I then tried to search for a bug that had "empress" in the name, and had chosen Megapomponia imperatoria, a giant as fuck cicada. It didn't convince me either though.

I chose the orchid mantis because, mantises are cutthroat, good hunters and pink as fuck. If that's not a description of the tyrian blood caste I don't know what is.

I wanted to make one of these drawing comparisons to different species of ants. There exist some cool af ants out there, I might do it.

[clairerosetarot]

What’s your Dark Feminine Energy? PAC Tarot Reading

Decks Used:

Goddess Power Oracle & Intuition

Pile 1 ❤️

-

Hi Pile One,

I pulled Persephone, Aphrodite and Morrigan for your cards, and right away what I’m sensing is that this represents a powerful arc in your story that you have gone through, are going through, or will get through. This story is of a young girl, carefree and full of naive passion who then through some from of external influences and relearned her true nature and powers within herself.

You could be someone who is discerning on the inside and calm/shy/quiet on the outside. Your energy is placed perfectly and with meticulous concentration, I’m hearing. And you might not even know it yourself?

Your dark feminine energy is war-ful and lush. What I mean by that is these goddesses aren’t afraid or back down from a fight, to protect those they love most, but perhaps weren’t always depicted that way. You might be the same, and could have had to ‘fight’ to get your way through things and recognition. I also sense loads of s*xual energy here. Your darker energies can take center-stage in those moments and your current/past/or future partners love it 😊.

I also don’t know if these speaks to anyone directly but you may feel a particular heavy-heartedness towards goddesses not being worshiped in the modern era as gods are. You could have a strong tie to powerful women and this manifested within you. You are the black sheep who is okay with not painting themselves white. Love that energy!

♠️🦓Celebrity with your dark feminine energy: 🦓♠️ Angelina Jolie, Rihanna and Bollywood actress Rekha.

Remember to take what resonates leave what don’t and let yourself be loved. <3

——————————————————————————————————

Pile 2 ❤️

-

Hi Pile 2,

I pulled Hathor, Lakshmi, and Hera for you. I am getting that you come across to others as a very joyous and even a bit innocent. You could have big doe eyes that unknowingly cause people to trust in you or over share to you. However, for your dark feminine energy, while it’s not as ‘dark’ as most women. I still get that with Hera being here, you have a very rigid, Virgo-esque maturity and knowledge to you that many overlook.

People might underestimate you a lot, and assume you are just 100% bubble and maybe even an airhead on the inside because of how you look/act/seem. However, you dark energy lurks beneath the surface and might never come up and manifest itself out worldly like many other women. It could your hidden superpower that no one really sees coming or your biggest secret that thwarts your haters and knocks them off their feet 🤭.

Some advice I would give to you is to keep your dark energy hidden. Not to be “fake” per se, but don’t show everybody the depths of your soul, and let them be fooled until you pull the rug from out underneath them at the last second. I’m getting that you are someone who doesn’t think revenge is sweet but trust me girl sometimes it is necessary!! ♠️🦓Celebrity with your dark feminine energy: 🦓♠️ Selena Gomez and Character Edwina Sharma from Bridgerton Season 2. Remember to take what resonates leave what don’t and let yourself be loved. <3 ——————————————————————————————————Pile 3 ❤️ -

Hi Pile 3, I pulled Maat, Artemis, and Persephone for you. You have similar energies to pile 1 so perhaps you feel the need to go read that one as well. I see one big difference in your energies however and that is you have reallly big “girls-girl” vibes, to the point where you might feel disconnected from other women because you either decanter what doesn’t serve or maybe even are an outspoken woman in a place where that isn’t accepted unfortunately 🥺. Oh dear, I’m also hearing you might even be closed off from your sexuality due to trauma reasons which causes you to disconnect with other women 🥺 Please keep a safe mental space for yourself bae

I think you might even be tomboy-ish either on the inside or outside or both and could see this whole dark feminine energy thing as sexist or as a joke.

Well i’m here to tell you that for you, your dark feminine energy is much less to do with looks and all about the thinks you say. You are a real truth teller in your community/ maybe even the world. Perhaps when you were younger you believed in a lot of societal lies society sells young girls but you have awakened and are reworking your mind.

You totally march to the beat of your own drum, and many are jealous. If I could give you one piece of advice it is to be humble and never look down on other women who aren’t as “free” minded as you, it your role to either help them or move on silently as talking/thinking bad about these kinds of women is dangerous because they have evil eye/ strong karma. Hope you be safe!

♠️🦓Celebrity with your dark feminine energy: 🦓♠️ Malala and Emma Watson.

Remember to take what resonates leave what don’t and let yourself be loved. <3

[elgaladwen]

I am not trying to fight with anyone here, because I know this is coming from a place of wanting to help with the current situation, but this is so silly that I have to say something. (And thank you to the people in the comments who note that this is also a common feature of Teams itself) I don't know all the details, so maybe I am missing something, but the way this is presented is seemingly just hearsay and fear-mongering over a normal business process. It's perfectly common in government (and I imagine in the private sector too) to be able to search through Teams chats, emails, or any other records (because yes, Teams chats are records) for keywords for legal and public disclosure, disciplinary actions, or a number of other reasons. As someone else in the comments also noted, they might have installed third party software to do this in a better or different way than Teams itself. (We use a third party program at work to search emails so that we can be more thorough than what's out of the box with Outlook, for example)

I guess this sounds weird if you've never worked for the government or for a big company who issues you a computer, but this is how it works. There isn't any expectation of privacy for anything said on work devices or though work channels. Usually it's less nefarious than this sounds, like you want to make sure you got everything for a public records request, or even just something like someone needs to look up something you talked about because they forgot, but it could also be to make sure you weren't doing something that you shouldn't. And I can't speak for every employee, but in my job, we are not allowed to talk about politics during work time, because we are supposed to represent all the people of my state and that silliness, so yeah, I could get in trouble for talking about Trump and Musk on work channels, and I can't imagine my state and agency is the only one like that.

Now yes, if some random dude is doing this separately from normal processes, that is bad. But this reads as if some employees only just realized that their computers can be monitored and searched. "Some federal employees say" and "some think" is not basis for fact. I'll try to see if I can figure out what, exactly, they're talking about, but regardless, i just want people to realize that this is a very common thing. There are many insane things Musk is doing that we can worry about, without adding red herrings.

Elon Musk's teenage hackers have inserted bots into the backend of the federal system so they can spy on government workers and sniff out any disloyalty to Felon47.

This is not only highly illegal but qualifies as an act of espionage and sedition.

Remember when First Felon accused Obama of spying on him through a microwave oven? Always a projection.

[kashverse]

Hi! I don’t know if you’ve seen but there’s like cats reacting to the meow version of Creep by Radiohead :D how would Mr. Pickles and Baby react?

i don't know what is the meow version of it so i just came up with my own version of it ☆ kunafamily masterlist

it is an unusual evening in the sukuna household. not because babykuna is wreaking havoc. not because sukuna is having another existential crisis over her growing up too fast. not even because choso is here—choso is always here. no, this time, the cause of disturbance is something else entirely. choso, self-proclaimed ambassador of alternative rock, has taken it upon himself to introduce the feline representatives of the household to what he considers a modern classic.

the meow version of creep by radiohead.

he sits cross-legged in the living room, phone in hand, speakers at full volume. the room is silent except for the first melancholic “meow.” mr. pickles' whiskers twitch. baby’s tail stops flicking, going eerily still.

the trial has begun.

as the song begins, mr. pickles exhales. not a normal sigh—a sigh burdened with decades of wisdom.

"oh, this again."

his tired, half-lidded gaze shifts toward baby, the young, impulsive, emotionally volatile tabby sitting beside him.

baby is tense. his fur bristles. his ears flatten just slightly, the universal cat sign for offense. mr. pickles doesn’t need to look at him twice to know exactly what’s happening in his head.

"he did not just exhale like that. he did not just disrespect radiohead in my presence."

baby’s claws flex against the floor, kneading out frustration that only a cat snubbed can feel. mr. pickles knows this tension well. it is the tension between an old cat who has seen everything and a young cat who thinks everything is revolutionary. mr. pickles ignores him. he has been on this earth for far too long to engage with a radiohead purist. he chooses peace. he closes his eyes.

baby, however, chooses violence. his tail lashes against mr. pickles’ side. a direct challenge. mr. pickles does not react. but in his mind, he is already thinking, “this kid has no sense of musical history.”

as the first chorus hits, baby visibly tenses.

"but i'm a creep, i'm a weirdo, what the hell am i doin' here?"

it is as if something has awakened deep within his soul. he yeowls. loud. raw. guttural.

a cry that carries the weight of every lost midnight zoomie session, every betrayal when a door was closed before he could enter a room, every ignored demand for food. he is the creep. he is the weirdo.

his butt wiggles.

mr. pickles does not react. baby kneads the floor aggressively, eyes shiny with emotion.

mr. pickles does not react. baby turns to him, expecting validation.

mr. pickles is........asleep.

baby stares at the older cat in pure betrayal.

he nudges mr. pickles. no response. he nudges harder. still nothing. he lets out a small, scandalized chirp.

"you fell asleep?"

mr. pickles, without opening his eyes, flicks his tail dismissively.

"the 70s did it first. when albert hammond and mike hazlewood released ‘the air that i breathe.'"

baby gasps. the ultimate disrespect. he huffs, whipping his tail aggressively before marching away to sulk—dramatically, of course. choso, completely oblivious to the musical war that has just taken place, simply shrugs.

“guess they liked it.”

a/n: how old is mr. pickles really????

[makeitmingi]

When Flowers Bloom In The Dark [Chapter 14]

Genre: Romance, Mafia!AU, Violence, Angst, Slow burn

Pairing: Hongjoong x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Florist!Reader, Mafioso!Hongjoong, Mafioso!Seonghwa, Mafioso!Yunho, Mafioso!Yeosang, Mafioso!San, Mafioso!Mingi, Mafioso!Wooyoung, Mafioso!Jongho

Summary: When you appeared and wept at his mother's funeral, Hongjoong found himself wanting to find out more about you. A regular girl, who owns a flower shop in his territory and has a relationship with the mother that he hasn't spoken to in years, why hasn't he ever noticed you before?

[Warning(s): 18+ for violence, use of weapons, smoking, alcohol consumption, slight gore, gang affiliation, tattoos and character deaths. Minors DNI. This is a work of fiction and does not represent the Ateez members in real life.]

Word count: 3.3K

After Hongjoong gave you a mini tour of the place that day, you honestly couldn't remember all of it. The only place you remembered was the library and Hongjoong's office, in case you ever needed to find him... For whatever reason...

"Have a nice night, (y/n)." Seonghwa smiled as he stood by the front door, watching the chauffeur open the car door for you.

"See you, Seonghwa. Goodnight." You bowed your head and waved before entering the car. The chauffeur bowed to Seonghwa and got in to drive you home.

'She's gone. - Seonghwa'

Seonghwa sent the text and retreated back into the house, the maid closing the door behind him.

"Thanks, Hwa." Hongjoong limped into the house and fell onto the couch. His fringe stuck to his forehead from the sweat since he spent the past 30 minutes waiting in the carpark.

"Damn, they got you bad." Seonghwa frowned as he stood in front of his best friend.

"Yeah, I think I know." Hongjoong winced.

"I already called the doctor." Yeosang said, coming in as he was tucking his phone back into his pocket. Except for the cut on his lip, Hongjoong didn't have any other open wounds so he went to take a shower before the doctor came, he wanted to get the dried blood and grime off his body.

*KNOCK KNOCK*

"Who is it?" Hongjoong asked as he dried his hair.

"Hyung, its me and Doctor Lee." Yeosang's voice was heard on the other side of the door. When Hongjoong let out a sound of acknowledgement, the two came in.

"Good evening, Hongjoong sshi." The doctor bowed and Hongjoong just nodded, moving to sit on his bed.

"Just wanted to make sure there's nothing internal." Yeosang said to the doctor.

"Of course, excuse me, Hongjoong sshi." The doctor wore gloves and began to check Hongjoong's injuries. Yeosang stood across the bed, leaning against the dresser as he watched the doctor work.

"I'll have to remain hidden for a while, especially when (y/n) comes to the house." Hongjoong sighed.

"Why?" Yeosang tilted his head.

"How am I supposed to greet her like this, Yeosang ah? She doesn't know what we do. I can't suddenly see her like this, all beat up and injured. She'll definitely suspect something and I'm not ready to tell her what we do for a living." Hongjoong stated.

"Well, you'll have to tell her some day, cap. You can't hide it from her forever... Especially if you... plan on keeping her around you and us." Yeosang shrugged.

"Don't... say it like that." Hongjoong hissed as the doctor disinfected his wound.

"Ah, you know what I mean." Yeosang rolled his eyes. There was another knock on the door and San came in.

"What's the damage?" He asked Yeosang and the doctor.

"From my assessment, nothing major. Just some minor bruises and cuts but I would advice you to take it easy, Hongjoong sshi. The hit to your knee wasn't major but still bad." The doctor said.

"I know myself. I can't just stop working because you tell me to." Hongjoong scoffed, putting his shirt back on and buttoning it up.

"Besides that, thanks for dropping by, doc. I'll walk you out." Yeosang said and walked the doctor out.

"Easy up, hyung." San chuckled, to whom Hongjoong just rolled his eyes at. He sighed and wanted to get out of bed but winced and just leaned back, letting San come over to fluff his pillow and prop it up for him. With a look of defeat, Hongjoong leaned against the pillow on his headboard.

"Anyway, I've got... not so good news to share..." San said, sitting at the foot of Hongjoong's bed. Hongjoong raised his eyebrows in anticipation of what San had to say.

"My fight club was bugged. I went back and did a sweep, I found bugs in the VIP room." San crossed his arms.

"And we have no clue how long it has been there?" Hongjoong asked.

"I'm having my boys run through the camera videos now but I'm not sure how long that will take. These people wanted something, knowing where the VIP room was and how to bug it." San sighed.

"This is not good. We don't need this now. We need to find out when and who bugged your place." Hongjoong rubbed his temples.

"I'm on it, hyung. I'll get the footage to Yunho and Jongho, see if they can find out where the video was transmitting it." San assured and Hongjoong nodded.

"So, how are you going to face (y/n) like this now?" San changed the topic.

"Gosh it's like you and Yeosang rehearsed what to ask me. I'm not, I'll just stay in my office or say that I'm out working when she comes. I shouldn't take too long to heal up. No big deal." Hongjoong said. San nodded his head slowly, seemingly convinced.

"Woah, where are you going now?" San rushed to Hongjoong's side, seeing him suddenly swing his feet over the side and attempt to stand on his feet.

"My office. I need to get something." Hongjoong mumbled.

"Tell me where and what it is. I can get it for you, you should be resting in bed." San urged.

"I'm fine, San ah. Just let me get it and I'll come back. Don't worry and don't follow me." Hongjoong pointed to the younger, whose hands droppd by his side in defeat.

"Alright, goodnight hyung." San wished and Hongjoong nodded before they split way. He limped to his office and turned the lights on.

"Now, where was it?" He sat at his desk and opened the drawers. Finally, he spotted wha the was looking for.

"There you are." Holding the jar of leftover medical balm that you made in his hand, he smiled with content and stood back up. But when he saw his office door open, he quickly shoved the jar into the pocket of his sweatpants. Seonghwa stood there with a raised eyebrow and folded arms.

"What are you doing in here?" The second in command asked with much suspicion. Seeing Hongjoong so skittish, he knew that the captain must be hiding something.

"Nothing. How did you know I was here? Did San rat me out?" Hongjoong asked back.

"No, I was walking back from the library and saw your office lights on. No one comes in while you're not here." Seonghwa stated.

"Right... I just came to get something and I'll go back to bed." Hongjoong said, limping out from behind his desk, over to the doorway where Seonghwa stood.

"Good, I thought you might have snuck here to continue working." Seonghwa wrapped an arm around Hongjoong to support him.

"No, I wouldn't dare. Not when I know you're awake." Hongjoong teased.

"I only nag you because you don't take care of yourself." Seonghwa sighed, having repeated that line to his best friend since they were much younger. Hongjoong hummed, letting Seonghwa help him back into his room and into bed.

"Just spend the day resting in bed tomorrow, let the rest of us take over what you have to do." Seonghwa said as Hongjoong adjusted his pillows so he wouldn't be in pain.

"I'm fine, Hwa! I swear." Hongjoong grumbled into his pillow. Seonghwa rolled his eyes.

"Goodnight, Joong." He ignored the sulky captain's whining and turned the lights off before leaving the room.

After the door closed, Hongjoong sat up, leaning over to turn the nightstand lamp on. Then he fished out the jar of balm from his pocket and set it there so he could remember to use it tomorrow.

-

It was weird that the other night, Seonghwa was the one that walked you out. You hadn't seen Hongjoong for practically the entire day but you figured he must be busy working.

Then this week, when you went over, Hongjoong wasn't there at all. But you still did your job, with the other boys coming to bother you, occasionally. You wanted to text him or ask the others where he was but after thinking about it, it sounded too clingy so you decided against asking.

Something felt off, not seeing Hongjoong for two weeks when you saw him every week at his house. But you were not in the position to pry about his wareabouts.

"(y/n)!" Nana came into your shop during lunch time. You broke out of your thoughts and looked at her, blinking in confusion.

"What are you doing tonight?" She asked.

"Nothing. Once I close shop, it's just me and my couch. Plus dinner." You chuckled, gesturing for her to take a seat at your work table. She smiled, satisfied with your answer.

"Your smile is scaring me... Why do you ask my plans for tonight?" You asked with caution.

"There's this thing! Like an event of sorts... I wanna take you and Eve to experience it. Perfect that you're free." She clapped her hands.

"What event or thing is this?" You raised an eyebrow.

"Ah, don't ask so many questions! It's a surprise! You'll see when we get there. Just get dolled up, it's an outdoor event. Think... Outdoor party?" She tilted her head.

"That worries me even more." You squinted your eyes at her. Nana merely smiled innocently at you.

"We'll come by your place to pick you up tonight. Be ready by 9!" She patted your hand and left your shop before you could ask her any further questions. You let out a long sigh, shaking your head with a knowing smile.

'Hey, Hongjoong, haven't seen you at the house. Busy with work? Not playing hooky anymore? ;P - (y/n)'

After sending that message to Hongjoong, you put your phone away and went right back to work, preparing orders and attending to walk in clients.

"No, you don't have to!" You shook your head.

"I insisted, (y/n). Anyway thanks to you, my aloe vera is flourishing! So please just take some." The lady slid the bag of aloe vera back.

"Ah, alright. Thank you so much. This is great for treating sunburns and wounds." You smiled, looking at the aloe vera. After that, you walked her to the door to see her off.

"Fresh aloe." You smiled happily and placed the bag into the fridge so you could use it later.

"That's order number #5019 done." You checked off your list on your phone. Curiously, you opened the chat with Hongjoong.

*read*

He had read the message but didn't reply. He could just be really busy with work but then looking back at the message, you realised that maybe you were acting a little too familiar and friendly with him. Maybe you were not at that level of friendship yet and he still viewed you as nothing more than a gardener working at his house.

"Once again, you have overstepped." You scolded yourself with a sigh, tucking your phone into your pocket to finish up your work for the day so you could close.

"Could I maybe add some greenery around the back?" The customer requested.

"Of course. I'll be right back." You went to your bins to retrieve some stalks of green to add to the bouquet.

"You've got a good eye. It compliments the bouquet and flowers nicely." You smiled as you added the extra stalks to the bouquet you had already bundled together.

"Thank you." The male blushed, watching you wrap everything with colourful tissue and securing it together with a pretty ribbon.

"There you go." You handed it to him and sorted out the payment with him.

"Have a nice evening!" You wished. He smiled and bowed while leaving the shop. Once he stepped out, you closed the door and locked it, turning the sign to 'CLOSED'. Now, it was time to pack up and go home.

'(y/n)! No skipping out tonight! See you~ - Nana'

'Yes, yes. Can't wait to see you! And don't try to hide from us, we know where you live... Okay, that sounded a lot more stalkery/ evil than I expected... - Eve'

You laughed at your friends' messages and slung your bag over your shoulder before making your way home.

"What to wear? What to wear?" You sighed.

*KNOCK KNOCK*

"Coming!" You went out, knowing it was your friends at the door. They stood there, all dressed up, staring at you who was still wrapped in your robe.

"I don't know what to wear because I don't know where we are going. You guys need to help me." You said.

"Ask Nana, she picked my clothes. I, too, don't know where we are going, remember?" Eve shrugged, sitting at the edge of your bed.

"Alright, let's see what we have." Nana looked through your closet. You chuckled and sat at your vanity to do your make up, watching as Nana sifted through your closet to put together an outfit for you. Eve watched on with amusement, trying her best to help by giving opinions on colour coordination.

"Yes! This works." Nana smiled proudly and you went over to see the outfit.

"I don't think I've ever worn these clothes before." You chuckled, picking up the skirt. Eve shooed you off to the bathroom and you went to change.

They picked an oxblood leather skirt and a black tube top with a racing jacket to wear over.

"You look cute!" They clapped happily.

"Seriously, where are we going?" You laughed as your friends hurried you to wear your shoes so you could leave.

"You'll see when we get there! Stop asking questions." Nana pushed your out of the house. Typical her, she already had a car waiting for the 3 of you, the driver knowing the destination prior.

"I'm starting to question where we're going..." Eve nudged you, trying to freak you out even more.

"And we're here!" Nana squealed. You and Eve looked out the window, unsure of where you were, but got out of the car anyway. It was a deserted area but there people standing around with the revving of car engines being heard.

"Nana, where are we?" You held her arm.

"Street racing." She grinned. You and Eve stared at her with wide eyes, totally not expecting this. There was a lot of people, cheering for the race that was happening.

"This doesn't feel safe..." You looked around. Nana laughed and led the two of you further in.

"There are bike races and car races." She explained as you watched the two bikers race, getting loud cheers from the crowd.

"How did you find out about this place?" Eve asked.

"From a... friend." Nana grinned, cheering on the bikers like she knew them. You were still a little in shock, this was definitely not legal and you weren't really into racing, cars and bikes to begin with.

"And of course, our winner is still undefeated!" The winning biker removed his helmet. Your eyes nearly bugged out of your skull.

"S-Seonghwa?" You whispered to yourself.

"What did you say?" Your friends turned to you but you shook your head, denying having said anything. If Seonghwa was here, that means the others might be here too. If there's a possibility Hongjoong might be here, you felt your stomach sink a little. You couldn't face him now, at least not here.

"I need to use the bathroom. I see the portable toilets there, I'll be right back." You said, patting your friends on the shoulders before going to the bathroom.

"Gosh, even here, I run into them." You mumbled.

"Hey pretty, what's your na- (y/n)?" Mingi's eyes widened when he saw you. You gave an awkward, shy wave.

"W-What are you doing here?" Now Mingi was stumbling over his words, having dropped his cool guy persona, exactly like the person you knew back at the house.

"Here with some friends. I didn't even know I was coming here, have never been to anything like this before." You chuckled.

"Oh, you've never been to a race before?" He tilted his head. You shook your head.

"Mingi ah! What's taking you so lo- (y/n)?!" San stopped in his tracks, blinking at you like he was dreaming.

"Hey, San. Yes, it's me." You chuckled and waved. San smiled, sending you a friendly wave back. He sent Mingi a look and the taller just shrugged in response. In your head, you wondered if you should ask them if Hongjoong was here.

Then you saw him, dressed in a nice suit and talking to Seonghwa. But you were not staring at that. You were staring at the bruises and cuts on his face, and that he walked with a limp.

"Wait." You spoke. San and Mingi turned around to see what you were staring at and immediately blocked your view.

"Guys, is Hongjoong okay?" You looked at them.

"Uh, yeah! He's fine, you know busy with work at home. He's not even here." San waved you off.

"Yeah, you must be seeing things. It's dark." Mingi added with a smile. You gave them an odd look, wondering why they were lying to you about Hongjoong being here. Or maybe you really were hallucinating.

"Guys, Wooyoung's race is gonna start soon. Oh, (y/n)! What are you doing here?" Yeosang smiled.

"Just here with some friends. Speaking of, I should be getting back to them. Bye..." You waved and left to find your friends.

"Hongjoong hyung, Hongjoong hyung. (y/n)'s here! We just ran into her, she saw you and asked about you." Mingi said with panic. Hongjoong stopped talking to Seonghwa and turned to look at his younger brother with wide eyes of shock. San and Yeosang could only nod to confirm the taller male's statement.

"And what did you say to her?" Seonghwa raised an eyebrow.

"We told her she was seeing things and that you were not here." San replied. The two oldest facepalmed and sighed.

"You guys... Why did you... You know what, nevermind. We're in the VIP area anyway, she won't be able to come look for me. It's fine." Hongjoong assured.

"Wait, you're still avoiding her, hyung?" Yeosang asked.

"I just want to wait until I have recovered then everything will go back to normal." Hongjoong said.

"Yeah, wouldn't want her to see hyung with his grandpa cane." Jongho added with a snicker. Hongjoong glared at the youngest, using his cane to hit Jongho.

"Seonghwa made me use it okay." Hongjoong hissed then turned to glare at his best friend.

"It was a cane or crutches, Joong. You know you're supposed to be resting and keeping your weight off your knee." Seonghwa shrugged.

"Anyway, guys. You know while we're here, we have to avoid her. We cannot be seen with her and she cannot be associated with us, it may put her in danger. We're here as Ateez, not AURORA Corp." Hongjoong reminded. The boys nodded obediently.

"Go, Wooyoung!" San cheered loudly as Wooyoung stepped into his car. As they all cheered Wooyoung on, Hongjoong looked out into the crowd and met eyes with you.

"Get ready, racers!" He tore his eyes away from you and focussed on Wooyoung's race instead.

RINGGGGGG

"Shit. I think there are issues at the club." Hongjoong cursed and excused himself, going to the back of where his brothers was sitting to answer the phone.

"Okay, handle it. If you need me to come down and handle it, call me again." He said to the manager and hung up.

"Hongjoong?" Hongjoong cursed and turned to see you there.

"(y/n)... Didn't know that you were here..." He nodded over to you. Seeing his entire condition, your eyes widened. You didn't see him with a cane earlier but now that you did and you saw his injuries a lot closer, it just made you assume that his condition was a lot worser than you initially thought.

"Hongjoong, actually I-"

"You shouldn't talk to me or approach me." Hongjoong said and turned to walk back to where his brothers were sitting, leaving you there alone.

~

Series masterlist

[thrashkink-coven]

Shi there’s so many racists and white supremacists in the luciferian scene and it makes it so, so hard to be true to my path because i just can’t escape them and it makes me doubt if what i believe is right or just like. edgy racist white man bullshit. idk what to do im sorry for yelling in ur inbox

Unfortunately, this is a thing that cannot be escaped in most pagan communities. There are terrible people in every pagan space; white supremacists have heinously appropriated Norse paganism and their symbols, Greek deities have been used as mascots for misogynists, etc. etc. The thing about hateful people is that they're not very smart. Prejudice is a signifier of low intelligence, whether that be emotional or cognitive. They're not smart or creative enough to come up with their own symbols, so they appropriate the art of others.

This happens all the time in every crevice of our culture beyond spitituality. Conservatives, white supremacists and Nazis have always tried to infiltrate punk spaces, for example, because they enjoy the sound of the music but disregard the message. They're doing the exact same thing with Luciferianism. Lucifer is Liberation. To someone who does not understand what liberation is (because they do not accurately understand what oppression is), Lucifer is just an edgy bad boy who hates God. The "non-conformity" of true Luciferianism isn't inherently contrarian, nor is it actively pursued. My goal isn't to be different from the mainstream; I am different. My goal is to seek freedom from mental bondage. It's fun to cosplay as a Luciferian because the aesthetic is cool, but it is nothing more than an aesthetic for these people.

The "do as thou wilt" philosophy enables people to believe that hate is intrinsic and justified under the pursuit of free will, without understanding that racism and supremacy in themselves are conditioned forms of thought that only benefit the elite. People love to use gods and demons alike as justification for their deplorable behavior or beliefs. It usually comes from a fundamental misunderstanding of what these deities actually represent.

Western demonolatry and Luciferianism in general have always had a problematic history. It doesn't help that many of the most famous figures in these spaces are problematic people. The waters get all the more muddied when Satanism is considered. I have never personally identified with the idea of Anton LaVey's Satanism, the idea of Lucifer as a symbol of defiance against religion; in fact, I see my Luciferianism as a religion itself. I don't think pure instinct and desire should warp your perception of morality, and I am very theistic. My brand of Luciferianism is very different from what would be considered traditional. There's no rule book for Luciferianism. Your beliefs and path are your own, unlike any that anyone else has; calling yourself a Luciferian or a Lucifer devotee does not mean you believe the doctrine of other so-called Luciferians. It means you follow Lucifer.

So, my only solution so far has been to laugh and drown them out with positivity. When people spout off about how Lucifer hates gay people, thinks women are inferior, thinks one race of people is better than the rest, I just think they look goofy as hell. No, little buddy, you're just too embarrassed to say that on your own accord, so you pretend "Lucifer/Satan said so." You're the silliest clown at the circus. Lucifer and I are pointing and laughing at you. I'll enjoy the free entertainment and throw tomatoes at your garbage takes. Or I'll just block you and keep it pushing. The more we shun the behavior, the less of it we'll see, and maybe the community can actually turn a new leaf.

[evilsoup]

nobody is required to take karl marx as an authority of course, but fwiw here's an extract from a letter where he tells a socialist novelist to improve her craft by reading the reactionary, Balzac:

I am far from finding fault with your not having written a point-blank socialist novel, a “Tendenzroman” [social-problem novel. DM], as we Germans call it, to glorify the social and political views of the authors. This is not at all what I mean. The more the opinions of the author remain hidden, the better for the work of art. The realism I allude to may crop out even in spite of the author’s opinions. Let me refer to an example. Balzac, whom I consider a far greater master of realism than all the Zolas passés, présents et a venir [past, present and future], in “La Comédie humaine” gives us a most wonderfully realistic history of French ‘Society’, especially of le monde parisien [the Parisian social world], describing, chronicle-fashion, almost year by year from 1816 to 1848 the progressive inroads of the rising bourgeoisie upon the society of nobles, that reconstituted itself after 1815 and that set up again, as far as it could, the standard of la viellie politesse française [French refinement]. He describes how the last remnants of this, to him, model society gradually succumbed before the intrusion of the vulgar monied upstart, or were corrupted by him; how the grand dame whose conjugal infidelities were but a mode of asserting herself in perfect accordance with the way she had been disposed of in marriage, gave way to the bourgeoisie, who horned her husband for cash or cashmere; and around this central picture he groups a complete history of French Society from which, even in economic details (for instance the rearrangement of real and personal property after the Revolution) I have learned more than from all the professed historians, economists, and statisticians of the period together. Well, Balzac was politically a Legitimist; his great work is a constant elegy on the inevitable decay of good society, his sympathies are all with the class doomed to extinction. But for all that his satire is never keener, his irony never bitterer, than when he sets in motion the very men and women with whom he sympathizes most deeply - the nobles. And the only men of whom he always speaks with undisguised admiration, are his bitterest political antagonists, the republican heroes of the Cloître Saint-Méry, the men, who at that time (1830-6) were indeed the representatives of the popular masses. That Balzac thus was compelled to go against his own class sympathies and political prejudices, that he saw the necessity of the downfall of his favourite nobles, and described them as people deserving no better fate; and that he saw the real men of the future where, for the time being, they alone were to be found - that I consider one of the greatest triumphs of Realism, and one of the grandest features in old Balzac.

as a communist i think that that "conservatives can't make good art" is pure cope whether coming from liberals or other commies but "republicans aren't funny" is just kinda true

[tls12lessthan3]

So I’ve talked before about how the star stream systemically dehumanizes the incarnations and strips them of autonomy and how this represents the similar forms of dehumanization and losses of autonomy people (and particularly women) go through under capitalism. I wanna zoom in on one particular scene as a demonstration of that representation - the scene where Yoo Sangah and Kim Dokja almost kiss under Dionysus’s influence. 

Under the star stream it is repeatedly demonstrated again and again that people become products. Not only this, but your survival then becomes dependent on selling yourself - on becoming an entertaining enough story to keep people watching, or an attractive enough product to be worth investing in. Take the scene where Kim Dokja, surrounded by the stories of his fellow incarnations turned into literal consumable products, has to try to convince Persephone to invest in his own story by promising that devouring him will be satisfying enough to justify it. Metaphorically selling himself as a cut of meat (although of course he fully intends to smash the table before she can partake). A very evident form of dehumanization and loss of autonomy prompted by a money-oriented system..

So, how does this come back to the capitalistic hellscape we currently live in? 

When Yoo Sangah is drinking, Kim Dokja observes that she has a very high tolerance. This is because when out at drinking parties for work, many of her coworkers sought to take advantage of her, and so she did her best to stay aware by building up a high tolerance. From this we know that Yoo Sangah faced a vicious type of dehumanization in the workplace. To them she was a body to be consumed, rather than an individual whose autonomy was deserving of respect. And yet Yoo Sangah could not simply avoid these coworkers or these parties - not without fear of losing her job (especially considering one of such men was her boss Han Myungoh) and thus damaging her economic prospects. A terrifying loss of autonomy.

And then, almost immediately following this revelation, Yoo Sangah is made to almost kiss Kim Dokja by Dionysus. Here she faces the dehumanization inherent to being an incarnation, a dehumanization that parallels both types she faces in the above paragraph - that of a woman who is only seen for her potential as a sexual ‘’’’’’partner’’’’’’ (however unwilling she may be) for the men around her AND that of an employee who is reliant on her betters to keep her alive. Dionysus makes her lean in towards Kim Dokja because she’s a pretty girl, and because he, as one of her constellations, views her as a fun toy to play with. Kim Dokja can also be seen to represent an economic lesser put into an uncomfortable situation by an economic better who dehumanizes him here. 

Kim Dokja and Yoo Sangah have lost their autonomy in this scene, turned into dehumanized dolls who the constellations can mess with for an entertainment that incarnations need to sell to survive. Am I reading into it somewhat? Yeah, probably. Do I hold that this scene is a good representation of how the dehumanization and loss of autonomy, influenced by gender/misogyny, that the incarnations face under the star stream is not something new but rather a continuation of that which occurs under capitalism - also yes. As shown by Yoo Sangah ending up in the same place no matter what - drunk, uncomfortable, being pressured into something she doesn’t want and unable to simply leave considering who exactly is (literally or metaphorically) keeping her fed.

[rednexxsaysthing]

Someone on reddit: guys what songs would be good in mouthwashing?

me: *deep breath*

Anya:

1. "Truth or Dare" - Ricky Montgomery The lyrics "Hiding in the closet//trying not to vomit//didn't even want it" always struck me as lyrics about SA 2. "TV" - Billie Eilish Idk, it just seems fitting for her 3. "Every Window in Alcatraz Has a View of San Francisco" - foxtails Once, again seems fitting. 4. "Mr. Rager" - Kid Cudi I saw some edits of her w/ this song 5. "Winner" - Conan Gray "The only thing you've proven is that there's no one, who ever has done better, at making me feel worse"

Curly:

1. "Trying" - Cavetown "I realize how hard on you this must seem, but trust me, when I say: it's far, far worse for me" Always makes me think about when Anya told Curly about Jimmy 2. "Gilded Lily" - Cults "Haven't I given enough?" I feel like Curly was always trying what he saw as his best, and no one really appreciated him that much for it (in his opinion) 3. "Body" - Mother Mother I feel like this one's pretty obvious if you've listened to it 4. "Motion Sickness" - Phoebe Bridgers "I hate you, for what you did, and I miss you like a little kid" You in these lyrics being Jimmy 5. "The Exit" - Conan Gray "Feels like, we've got matching wounds but, mine's still black and bruised and yours is perfectly fine" Curly talking to Jimmy I feel like

Daisuke:

1. "Class of 2013 (Audiotree)" - Mitski This is that one audio people keep using for him where it goes "mom, I'm tired, can I sleep in your house tonight?" 2. "I Don't Smoke" - Mitski "So if you need to be mean, be mean to me, I can take it and put it inside of me" I feel like this would be how he handles everything Swansea says to him 3. "Little League" - Conan Gray Since he used to play baseball and also it has a more goofy/lighthearted tone 4. "Don't Say That" - Ricky Montgomery Just listen to it trust me 5. "Mama's Boy" - Dominic Fike I feel like the name itself is self explanatory

J*mmy Neutron:

1. "Just Take my Wallet" - Jack Stauber "Your mama's crying do-do-do-d-do-do//your mama's lyin, what's she tryna do?" and so much more of this song. Except it's like insead of "mama" it's Jimmy or Curly, ykwim? 2. "Not Strong Enough" - boygenius "Always an angel never a god" Always co-pilot, never "pilot" or some shit 3. "Remember My Name" - Mitski Idk, just reminds me of him 4. "End of Me" - Mother Mother "Or am I jsut a lot like, all the rest? A little egotistical, a little self obsessed?" Idk the song gives Jexual Jassaulter vibes (unfortunately) 5. "Crack Baby" - Mitski "Crack baby you don't know what you want, but you know that you're needing it" in reference to him wanting to pilot or sum

Swansea:

1. "Fine, Great" - Modern Baseball "I hate worrying about the future, cuz all my current problems are based around the past" and "I'm so tired, or maybe just bored, I can't really tell the difference whenever I'm talking to you" (you as in Daisuke lol) 2. "Real Men" - Mitski (I listen to a lot of mitski ok) It just gives off the kinda vibe he gives off or that he was raised with 3. "Coffee" - Jack Stauber This song highlights the struggles of addiction 4. "Lemon Boy" - Cavetown I feel like this really represents he and Daisuke's relationship 5. "Dear Winter" - AJR I feel like he'd sing this for his daughter(s) if he has any i cant remember if thats canon (im really fuckin tired forgive me)

For the game in general:

1. "Sippy Cup" - Melanie Martinez PLEASE PLEASE JUST TRUST ME ON THIS

[chaos-and-recover]

As a born and raised Torontonian I am absolutely delighted by every victory lap Kendrick Lamar is taking with Not Like Us. 5 Grammys? Incredible. Getting 83,000 people to enthusiastically sing along to a line about Drake being a groomer? Exquisite. That "You know they love to sue" dig? *chef's kiss*

We all know all about The Allegations but I feel like you have to be FROM Toronto to understand what a like. Menace. Drake is. He'll just turn up at an event. He'll show up on stage with your favourite artist. He was CONSTANTLY at Raptors games, but ONLY during the 2018-2019 season when they were good and also not if he could get Warriors tickets. I don't think I've seen him at one since? He's ~representing the city~ ok but who asked you to. Sit down.

I genuinely can't think of a single public appearance Drake has made since Not Like Us came out and I think we should give Kendrick Lamar the key to the city for that alone.

[bogleech]

I'm actually not going to let this go until Gerry is at least as widely ridiculed as Human Pet Guy. That guy still didn't do anything half as disturbed as this fucking loser, let me pull up my favorites again:

Gerry messaging me from an alt pretending not to be an alt

Gerry claiming again that it's antisemitic of me to say the IDF are bad guys who do not represent the entire Jewish population. This is not, in fact, the same as saying they're "not jews anymore." Also bragging about supposedly baiting and sealioning me into saying whatever they believe I said wrong. I guess the stupid ass hell thing????

Calling me a "blorbo" like I'm a fictional character rather than a human. Also, I went and got the original hell comment to double check it:

.....This doesn't even say the IDF should go to hell. It says I hope people "excusing" the IDF's actions should go to hell, I just typoe'd it as "excising." I guess Gerry successfully gaslit me, since I fully believed I had said specifically "the IDF go to hell." Thanks!

Gerry accusing me of "lumping them in as pro genocide" in response to a comment in which I specifically state I do not see them that way. How else am I supposed to read them NOW, though? Because I defined that as "someone who thinks kids deserve bombs dropped on them," and Gerry's response is "how dare you say that about me......???????" What?? Not once do they ever simply say "no one deserves their town to be bombed" or anything like that. They absolutely refuse, because they do in fact believe that it's okay to bomb a whole community if some of that community might hypothetically be "hamas." They do in fact think it's acceptable that people who never hurt anyone else should die that way for some sort of greater good, or that only hamas can be blamed for those deaths by "forcing the hand" of the ones with those bombs.

Gerry admitting the IDF bombs, loots and tortures, even though most comments they call antisemitic are calling out just that very behavior. Gerry to my knowledge has never willingly blamed anything negative on the IDF since this comment and continues to attack people who do.

Gerry admitting the honest core of their beliefs and behavior. This isn't really about me, though. I mean, part of it is, I can definitely be vindictive. But I mostly ignored this asshole for the past year until the doxx comment, and now I'm getting more messages than ever from people who feel actually hurt and terrorized by this motherfucker. I've suffered ZERO fallout from their attacks, I am evidently too big I guess, but there are people who change their username to hide from this piece of shit, even fucking minors who dared to say "free palestine" once. Then there's @stoptheantisemitism, who is NOT gerry, but is impersonated by gerry's alt account @spottheantisemitism and other alt accounts, @stop-the-antisemitism and of course @stop--the--antisemitism in this very thread. Creating so many variants is a deliberate attempt to make it as hard as possible for casual rebloggers to remember which one is the real person. I mean, two alts only add dashes to the same username, and the other only moves one letter "p." I have no idea how tumblr staff can rationalize that as okay. But, again, if there's a guy who can't show his face without human pet jokes because he was just generally creepy, or everyone remembers sixpenceee's family having slaves, why can a user devote this much of their miserable life to "baiting and sealioning" people from multiple accounts and still have a usable blog left? ONE LAST THING!!!!!!!

In the notes on this very post, gerry is so bent on finding people to call out and slander they tried to find "misogyny" in a comment saying that women like studying bugs????????

Gerrysherry, the user who tells people I'm antisemitic because I think IDF soldiers are killing innocent civilians (rather than framed by some kind of Hamas conspiracy), believes my real name was a secret that I only just now accidentally revealed rather than the default way I've signed all my web content since the 1990's. Also believes that I have an employer, that "telling my parents" would affect a grown man, that my hippie mom would disagree with me anyway, and that the hatemail they got last year was all me rather than the natural and inevitable fallout of the supremely fucked up shit they say about the victims of a mass murder. Apparently would gleefully leap at any hypothetical chance at "doxxing" me though. Good to know. Literally wishes they could ruin my real actual life because I don't think Netanyahu is a hero.

[10yrsyart]

Ok you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but this has been eating at me. Without beating around the bush, do you think now that it’s wrong to be queer or trans? When I saw that one of my favorite good omens artists from back in the day was a devout Christian, it really helped me. There’s so few queer people of faith because there’s so few non-queer Christians who will leave us be. It was seeing Christianity in lgbt spaces that made me want to take my faith seriously. I longed to have that personal relationship with God that the people around me talk about, but didn’t think I was allowed to. I realized it wasn’t Him pushing me away, and it wasn’t Him who was slamming the door in my face unless I was willing to become a hollow simulacrum of myself that I can’t recognize. I decided I’m gonna be with God the way I am whether other Christians like it or not. People like to remind trans Christians all the time that we’re “fearfully and wonderfully made” as a way to place a caveat between us and God. I like to remind them that I’m more than a body. You were part of what helped me come to this conclusion, what pushed me closer to God, but I don’t know if you believe this anymore.

yes, as i’ve gotten to know the Lord better, i’ve tried to align myself with His principles. studying the Word as a cohesive whole, there are things like queer/trans that He considers to be out of alignment with His original intended purpose. while that’s the Truth, it’s not the end all/ be all of life. 

you’re absolutely right that He’s not pushing you away. He’s actually urging you closer! He is infinitely more kind, patient, merciful, compassionate than anyone there is. we all have things about us that feel like they separate us from everyone, including God. but He died to bridge the gap of that separation. true freedom is only in Him, and He’s /eager/ for each individual to reach out, because He’s reaching back. “Come as you are.”

i’m so glad that even back then my influence helped you turn to the Lord. i’ve been in your exact position with the same thoughts as you, and Jesus was my guide. i have zero hate for queer people and intense empathy for trans people, because i’ve gone through that. i’m not here to rip anyone apart; everyone is deserving of compassion and understanding. but i also don’t want to be someone encouraging “do whatever you want, God doesn’t care!” i don’t think that’s representative of the Word of God. 

i’m sorry if this reply is disappointing. but y’know.. what i think doesn’t really matter. what Jesus thinks matters. He loves you and is the only One who can lead and guide you. 💗

“And I am certain that God, who began the good work in you, will continue His work until it is finally finished on the day when Christ Jesus returns.” (Philippians 1:6) 

[farfromhome87]

Message Received- Part 4/5

Previous parts here. Inspired by @mollywog I wish you would write a You've Got Mail inspired fic

***Peeta***

Peeta holds his breath as he waits for her reply. The three dots have sprung to life and then paused three times already, as if she is considering her words carefully. Peeta’s palms start to sweat. He’s not exactly sure why the stakes feel so high. So what if a stranger he’s been texting for a few weeks doesn’t want to see him? How many times has he been ghosted on dating apps? It’s hardly the first time he’s experienced rejection. But still, something feels different with her. Her works stick with him like those burrs that latch onto your clothing when you tramp through a thick patch of woods. You try to pull them off, but keep finding them weeks, months, years later, clinging to the heel of your wool sock, tucked in the fold of your jacket’s cuff. They poke at you until you pay attention.

The phone pings and Peeta rushes to unlock it.

Bullseye Hmm if I agree to meet… how do I know you’re not a serial killer?

Peeta puffs air out of his cheeks in relief. He grins

Peeta Mellark Isn’t that what you’re looking for? You begged me to kill you the other day…😉 Bullseye True… Peeta Mellark Plus, i think i’m the one more likely to be in danger Bullseye Oh really? Why’s that?

Peeta’s glad that he’s still outside alone in his car–he doesn’t need his nosy, wiseass roommate, Finnick, seeing the uncontrollably large smile cracking across his face. He pauses just a moment before tapping out a reply.

Peeta Mellark Well first of all, I know you’re in the market for targets. Which means you have access to a fairly antiquated but no less deadly weapon.  Guess my only hope is that practicing with those off-center targets has thrown off your aim And second of all, you were the one who texted me first. This could be a targeted hit! Bullseye WOW, you’ve really thought this through. Guess someone would if they had done something to merit a hit… What was it? Something classic? Bank heist?

Peeta snorts, his fingers flying across the screen.

Peeta Mellark Um excuse me. BORING Bullseye Ah, you slept with the mob boss’ only daughter then? Peeta Mellark A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell Bullseye Is that what you are? A gentleman?

Peeta bites the side of his thumb, considering. He supposes he fits the bill in the sense that he is considerate, respects boundaries, and is well-mannered, maybe to a fault… But the term “gentleman” also feels weirdly co-opted by misogynistic assholes who think women should fall at their feet if they hold open a door or pick up the tab at dinner. 

Peeta Mellark Actually, yes. But not in a condescending way Um I hope Bullseye Quick, which Jane Austen beau best represents you?

Peeta lets out the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. Then he scans his mental catalog of the author’s works. He’s read most of them, but Pride and Prejudice was the most recent. And the 2005 film adaptation is one of Annie’s favorites, so it's been background noise in the apartment lately. Her and Finnick typically rewind and replay sections several times when they get…distracted. 

Peeta Mellark Ugh putting me on the spot. It’s probably Mr. Bingley

Peeta winces a little as he types it–it’s not the sexiest answer– but if you can’t be honest with the perfect stranger in your phone, then when can you be? The fact is, historically, he’s been a Bingley. Optimistic. Affable. Quick to fall in love….

Bullseye Mmm golden retriever energy. I see… Peeta Mellark Am I putting you off the meeting? Bullseye Nah I can get behind it as long as you don't jump all over me and lick my face 😜 Peeta Mellark I make no promises. Depends on if you have treats in your pockets Actually, lately I've been a little sassy. It's kinda giving Elizabeth Bennet Bullseye Well that works out. I have major Darcy vibes 

Peeta smiles idiotically at the phone, his heart feeling lighter than it has in days. They agree on a time and place to meet before Bullseye says goodbye so that she can get on her twice weekly Facetime call with her sister, Prim. It’s odd, Peeta thinks, that he knows so many intimate details about her–her deepest fears, her hopes, her dreams, even the name of her beloved sister, but at the same time he doesn’t know her at all. It feels surreal that in less than one week this all will change. 

___ ___ ___

***Katniss***

“So you’re really going to meet this guy?” comes Prim’s skeptical voice over the phone. Virtual Prim scrunches up her nose. “You, Katniss Everdeen, queen of introversion, princess of canceled plans, lady of constant solitude?”

Katniss scoffs. “Hey, I meet plenty of people. I’ll have you know I was propositioned by every single member of a bachelor party last night at Abernathy’s.”

“Ew. You know that drunk meatheads sexually harassing you at your workplace is not what I mean.” She plops her head on her hand, the giant poof of her blonde bun bobbing on her head. “It’s just–this feels so out of character. How do you know he’s not some creep?”

“Prim, he told me he’s Mr. Bingley. He didn’t even hesitate. How many creeps do you know that have Mr. Bingley at the tips of their tongue?” Katniss says matter-of-factly, as if this settles things. She pulls a few items out of the fridge so that she can wipe down the bottom shelf. Katniss can’t sit still while she’s talking on the phone–it’s either anxious pacing that gets her a noise complaint from the crotchety old man downstairs, or cleaning.

Prim still looks unconvinced. “This isn’t because of Gale, is it?” she asks quietly.

At this, Katniss lets out a snort. She swipes her cleaning rag over the white plastic surface and then replaces the contents of the shelf, wondering vaguely how she has ended up with three half-eaten jars of pickles. “Definitely not. Prim, I know Gale and I dragged things out, but that relationship was over months before it was official. We’ve been over this. There’s no one I’d rather bag a buck with, but life isn’t a hunting trip. Just because you grow up skinning rabbits with someone doesn’t mean you’re compatible romantic partners.”

The corner of Prim’s lip lifts. She looks relieved. “Yeah, that’s true.”

“Anyway, this isn’t serious.” Katniss continues. “And I don’t see how it's any creepier than a Tinder date. And… I dunno, he’s nice. And I could use a friend right now.”

Prim’s face softens. “I wish I could be there. Especially with everything going on with the woods.”

“I know little duck,” says Katniss, pausing her frenetic cleaning to look her sister in the eye. Prim looks so grown up in her Panem U hoodie over a pair of scrubs, her modest apartment in the background, the brown men’s loafers of her live-in boyfriend visible by the door. She’s doing her residency at one of the most prestigious hospitals in the country and is well on her way to becoming–in Katniss’ opinion–the best pediatrician Panem has ever seen. “You’re exactly where you’re supposed to be. I’m so proud of you. You know that, right?”

Prim gives her a long-suffering look reminiscent of her teenage years. “No, Katniss. Not once have you told me this. Not once. ONCE!”

Katniss barks out a laugh. “Yeah, yeah…”

“Look, will you just take Johanna with you or something? She can wait outside in case things go south.”

***

Johanna is entirely too gleeful the next day when Katniss broaches the subject during their lunch break. Her angular face splits into a grin so saucy they could probably serve it at the Olive Garden. The fact that Johanna is this excited sends alarm bells off in the back of her mind and Katniss immediately tries to backpedal.

“Maybe this is a bad idea–”

“This is a GREAT idea,” cries Johanna, actually rubbing her hands together in anticipation of Katniss’ inevitable mortification. Johanna puts a bracing hand on her shoulder and peers down at her through a curtain of purple tinged hair. “Plus it’ll take your mind off the hot nerd from the Conservation Department, since you seem so determined to hate him. Or on second thought, maybe it will be so terrible that it’ll drive you straight into his arms. Either way, I’m seated.”

Katniss groans, feeling her cheeks flush without her permission. “I do NOT want to think about Peeta Mellark right now.”

It’s true, she doesn’t want to think about him, especially not in the same sentence as 007. For some reason it feels weird, like the two of them can’t coexist in the same reality, like they are on separate planes in some metaverse. When Katniss tries to examine this feeling, she comes up empty. Honestly, feeling her feelings has never been her forte. At least not since her dad died and Katniss' mom sank into a deep depression that held her captive somewhere between life and her husband's grave. So that's why it's odd, these prickles of emotion, the heat that rises in her cheeks and pools in her core when she thinks of Peeta Mellark, her nemesis. And likewise, the twinge of guilt, as if she's betraying the man in her phone. The one who seems to see her soul. She just needs to meet him already, it feels like it's the only way to quell this confusing storm raging inside her.

***

Katniss lingers outside the agreed upon spot, a cozy wine bar in the regional capitol, suitably far enough from her home town that if 007 turns out to be a catfishing weirdo, she can more easily block his number and fade into obscurity. She smooths down her forest green sweater that Prim says accents her curves, and twists the end of her braid with restless fingers. She almost left her hair down flowing around her shoulders, but it seemed like trying too hard, especially since she had already done something out of the ordinary by swiping mascara on her short eyelashes. She had always wished they were long and luscious like her father's in the old photo hung over the mantle at home. And then an intrusive thought pokes her like a pesky stinging nettle–Peeta Mellark has long lashes, too. She accidentally noticed them the other day at the Hob after she chucked a cheese bun at him. Peeta had blinked those lashes in surprise and she wondered how they didn't get tangled up. Katniss rubs her temples in frustration and puffs out a breath of air. Stop thinking about him! She reminds herself.

Johanna clears her throat from her hiding spot in the alley where she has a good view of the interior through a window if she stands on a milk crate. She jerks her head toward the door and makes a “what are you waiting for” gesture with her hand. 

Katniss takes a deep breath and pushes open the heavy oak door. The sound of clinking glasses and conversation fill her ears. The place is nice, but not ostentatious. She's not surprised 007 has good taste. It's also quiet thanks to the plush cushions on the furniture and the intimate set up of the tables, nestled into alcoves, between lush potted plants. Her heart buoys thinking he clearly remembered that she gets overstimulated in a crowd. Katniss selects a small booth in full view of the window into the alley. A sweet-smelling candle is flickering on the tabletop and there is a painting of a meadow full of wildflowers on the wall. She can't stop staring at it, marveling at the way she can almost feel the wind rustling through the swaying grass and the sun on her face. Longing bubbles and fizzes in her chest, longing for her father, longing for the girl she used to be by his side in their meadow. 

Katniss shakes herself from the vivid memories, pulls out her worn copy of The Hobbit and a single dandelion plucked from the lawn outside Abernathy's, and places them prominently on the table. She smiles a secret smile feeling the candy bar in her jeans pocket, a subtle nod to their golden retriever banter. He'll surely find it hilarious. And maybe, thinks Katniss with a shiver, maybe she won't mind if he does bound into her personal space. She's surprised that the thought thrills rather than terrifies her. 

Then Katniss waits. She waits. And waits. And waits.

Every time she hears the faint tinkle of the bell above the door she perks up, adjusting the book and flower, hoping it's him. And each time it's not, her heart grows heavier.

— — —

***Peeta***

“Finnick, so help me god, if you ruin this for me I am going to tell everyone that you sleep in a silk bonnet!” Peeta grits out, casting a disparaging look at his best friend’s carefully styled bronze locks.

Finnick scoffs. “Go right ahead, I'm not ashamed of my beauty routine.” He examines his nails coyly, then gives Peeta a noogie. 

“Gah!” yelps Peeta, desperately smoothing down his hair. He actually put in effort today, used some goopy product that Rue recommended for curls. He glances nervously at the door, worried the scene Finnick is creating will draw attention. “I told you I don't need a chaperone.”

“Pfft,” tuts Finnick. “Not a chaperone, I'm your second. Y’know, like in case the “woman” you're sexting with is actually some burly catfisher and you have to duel him or something.”

“I'm not sexting with her!” Peeta protests, dropping his voice an octave on the sexting part. There's a little old lady waiting for the bus on the corner and she is giving them the hairy eyeball. “And unfortunately I left my dueling sword at home, so if you'll excuse me–”

Finnick grips Peeta’s shoulders before he can proceed, his expression sobering. “Ok, ok,” Finnick concedes. “But c'mon, man, you have to admit that you let yourself get hurt sometimes. You always dive in head first with that big ‘ol heart of yours.”

Peeta rakes a hand through his curls out of habit, wincing as his attempt at looking dapper is foiled. “Yeah, I know…but this one's different,” he says, rocking up on his toes, a nervous, hopeful current buzzing in his veins. “I can feel it.”

Finnick still looks skeptical, but he doesn't push it further. He's a dick sometimes, but at the end of the day, he's a great friend. “Ok, Peet. But at least let me take a look first.”

Finnick ambles over to the open door through which a welcoming amber light spills onto the darkening sidewalk, and peers inside.

“She’ll have a book with her,” mutters Peeta, wiping his sweaty palms on his dark wash jeans. “And a flower. A dandelion.”

Finnick stares for so long, and with such a curious expression on his face, that Peeta wonders if it actually is someone duel-worthy.  Finally, Finnick gives a low whistle. “Well, she's pretty, that's for sure.”

Peeta waves the comment off impatiently. He already knows this. Her beauty transcends the bounds of his shitty, outdated iPhone. It’s wrapped up in her words, the funny little expressions she uses, the way she can be poetic one moment and then snarky the next. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt chemistry like this with anyone, except maybe, well…Peeta’s stomach somersaults as a flicker of silver and a sweep of a dark braid flash in his mind and then shimmer away like butter in a hot griddle. Peeta coughs as if he can physically dispel this ridiculous notion from his body.

“Harmless then,” he says, attempting to push Finnick aside. Enough is enough.

Finnick resists, still looking mystified. “Well, I wouldn’t say harmless,” he chuckles.

“Ok, this is getting ridiculous. I'm a grown ass man.” Peeta dodges Finnick with the practice of a former star wrestler and launches himself at the door. Then just as quickly, he is reeling back, his eyes wide as cinnamon rolls. “Is that–?”

“Katniss Everdeen,” they say together.

Both Peeta and Finnick are silent for a long time. The old woman on the corner gets onto the bus and it belches a cloud of putrid fumes as it drives off. Finally Peeta scrubs a hand over his jaw and breathes, “Well, shit…”

Emotions are raging inside Peeta at the speed of weather changes in the mountains. First shock, then gut wrenching disappointment, then disgust, then relief? And then, at last, he lands on anger. White hot anger. And somehow that feels like the only emotion he knows how to handle in the moment. When he is fired up like this there is no chance of anyone stopping him, so he easily sidesteps an alarmed Finnick and marches into the wine bar without so much as a glance behind.

She’s at his favorite booth, the one with the wildflower painting. Because of course she would choose that one. How infuriating to realize that your rival has a chilling psychic power over you, that she can see inside you, instinctually know your likes, your dislikes…Is this how she has been pushing all his buttons?! 

Peeta skids to a halt in front of the table and slides into the booth across from Katniss, mastering his rage and training his face into a smirk. He drops his eyes to the bulging pocket of her jeans. “Is that a Snickers in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?” he says smugly.

Katniss gasps. The shock in those sharp silver eyes tells him this was not a targeted catfishing exercise. She has no idea that the man in her phone is him. But she quickly composes herself, folding her arms across her chest in a way that pushes up her small, pert breasts and instantly draws his traitor eyes. Peeta blushes, feeling like she has already scored a point against him.

“Ugh gross,” she bites out. “It's an inside joke. For my friend.”

Peeta feigns nonchalance, digging his hand into the bowl of complimentary popcorn in the center of the table and shoving a handful into his mouth.  “Kind of rude for your friend not to show up.”

Katniss narrows her eyes. “Kind of rude for you to speak with your mouth full,” she retorts, not missing a beat.

Peeta doesn't react, which only serves to annoy Katniss more. “What's he look like?” he asks her, glancing around the bar. “Maybe he just doesn't see you tucked away in here.”

Katniss flushes a delicious shade of strawberry and Peeta chalks one point up for himself. “I don't,” she starts, “I don't know.” She holds her head aloft proudly, but doubt flashes in her eyes. She looks so vulnerable for a moment that he almost feels bad about twisting the knife.

“You don't know?” repeats Peeta incredulously. “What do you mean? Is this some kind of blind date?”

“No!” she says too quickly and the attractive bloom of pink stays painted on the apples of her cheeks. Her cheekbones are so high and sharp that they look like they could cut glass. “It's just…a-a pen pal.”

Peeta plants his forearms on the table and leans toward her, trying to throw her off balance by the proximity. This ends up backfiring, however, because he catches the scent of her hair and it transfixes him with memories of spring. There's no other way to describe the earthy freshness, the subtle notes of cherry blossoms. “A penpal?!” he scoffs, sitting back against the plush backrest and attempting to get a grip on himself.

“Don't you have a PhD or something? she hisses through tight lips. “Do you really only have the capability to repeat back what I'm saying like a giant, bespectacled parrot?” 

Peeta can't help it. He barks out a laugh, pushing his black-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Touche,” he allows. “But you gotta admit, I think not many of us have had a penpal since the third grade.”

Katniss just harrumphs, crossing her legs and looking defiantly at the door, refusing to meet his eyes. She looks nice in her fitted green sweater and wide-legged black slacks, and there's something so oddly charming about how those worn leather hunting boots she always wears are peeking out from the hems. It's just so her. 

“Maybe he got caught in traffic,” Peeta suggests mildly, turning around to follow her gaze toward the completely empty street.

Katniss makes an irritated growling noise in the back of her throat. There's no traffic out here in West Panem. Ever.

“Or he got kidnapped by a gang of mountain trolls,” he grins, nodding cheekily at the copy of The Hobbit on the table. Her eyes flash and she pulls the book toward her possessively as if Peeta is sullying it with his razzing.

“I know what you're trying to do, ok?!” snaps Katniss. “Trying to make me feel like some kind of undesirable loser for getting stood up.”

Peeta’s grin drops. Shit. It's fun teasing her–it’s so easy, and well, she looks cute when she’s mad–but he never meant to make her feel small. That familiar voice pipes up in the back of his mind and ice fills his veins. Peeta, you worthless thing. Katniss is scowling at him, but it’s not her usual one. She looks almost defeated. And Peeta reminds himself that the restrictions on activities in the nature preserve are set to go into effect next week. He also reminds himself how he would feel if he were the one sitting here with a raw, open heart thinking Bullseye had rejected him.

“Katniss, no, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean–”

But before Peeta can beg her forgiveness, a smooth baritone that sounds uncannily like his own cuts through the air. “Peeta bread!” the voice cries delightedly. “I didn’t know you had a date?!”

Peeta blanches. Oh dear God. Rye. He’s not supposed to work tonight. It’s his business partner Thom’s night. Peeta checked the schedule! He checked that list twice, Santa Clause style.

Katniss’ head swings around so fast that her thick braid nearly knocks over her glass of water. She peers up at Rye distrustfully, her eyes flickering to Peeta's, then back again, clearing clocking the family resemblance. “This is not a date,” she says icily.

He winces at her tone. Would it really be that bad to be on a date with him? 

Rye just looks confused. He raises his eyebrows at Peeta. “Oh sorry, he just has a type–”

“Jesus, Rye,” grimaces Peeta. He wants to melt onto the floor and seep into the wine cellar. “Katniss is everyone's type,” he mumbles, stealing a glance at her. The crease between her eyes deepens and he hopes she doesn't think he's still messing with her.

Fortunately, Rye recovers himself and turns on the Mellark charm that Peeta normally has in spades, but seems to abandon him everytime he finds himself in Katniss' presence. Rye spreads his arms wide, now the picture of a debonair wine bar owner. “Well, any friend–er–” he shoots another bewildered glance at Peeta when Katniss' scowl intensifies, “acquaintance of Peeta's is an, um…acquaintance of mine. I'm going to have the kitchen send out a complimentary cheese plate and a bottle of our best red. Do you like Pinot Noir?”

Katniss' ears perk up at the mention of cheese and her stomach gives an audible grumble that Peeta pretends not to notice. She pauses before admitting, “It's my favorite.” She gives Rye a tight, concessionary smile as if to say, you seem nice enough, it’s not your fault your brother makes me want to run headlong through the plate glass window at the front of this bar.

Rye grins. “Well then you're going to love this.” Then he launches into a detailed description of the wine’s silky tannins and complex flavors, including the hint of baking spice that you get when you age it in French oak barrels, a nod to the family baking business.

Katniss looks bemused. The same expression that Peeta gets when Rye waxes philosophical about wine and that Rye gets when Peeta yammers on about biodiversity in broadleaf forest ecosystems. He notices there are specks of gold in Katniss’ right eye that catch the flicker of the candle light, just the right eye. Why can’t he stop staring?

“You know a lot about wine,” says Katniss generously, seemingly trying to make amends for her curtness earlier. 

Rye puffs out his chest. “Well, kind of comes with the territory. I co-own this place.”

“Oh, wow,” she replies, sounding actually impressed. Peeta feels a tug of pride deep in his chest that she approves of the place he selected for their first meeting. But then that heady tug suddenly feels like a trapdoor opening when he remembers that Bullseye is gone. It’s only Katniss Everdeen left. The most dizzyingly desirable yet utterly out of reach woman he’s ever known. “It’s a really nice place,” she says, gesturing to the decor with her olive hand–small, but sinewy, like she could definitely send an arrow sailing through his heart with ease…and perhaps already has. “I love the artwork.”

“Thank you!” says Rye warmly. “Most of the paintings are Peeta–”

Peeta’s eyes widen and he shakes his head at Rye, swiping his hand discreetly across his neck in the universal sign of “abort!”. Rye cuts himself off with an unconvincing hacking cough. Katniss’ shrewd eyes snap to Peeta’s  face and he avoids them. Will she remember that first conversation? The one where he said he was a painter? Even if she did, she probably thought he meant painter as in, house painter, commercial painter, right? Peeta swallows thickly, feeling her retina’s burning into his skin.

“Rye,” Peeta says, through gritted teeth. “How about that cheese plate, huh?”

Rye takes a hint and scurries off to the kitchens, leaving Peeta and Katniss alone, an unbearable silence stretching between them. The booth suddenly feels impossibly small. He shifts his bad leg into a more comfortable position and inadvertently grazes her knee with his. A flush creeps up his neck.

“So….Peeta Pie…” says Katniss, finally breaking the awkward silence. He’s surprised to see that her scowl has been replaced by a little smirk.

Peeta groans and pulls his hand down his mouth. “Bakery humor, you know? I come from a long line of bakers.” 

“Guess that explains the stuff you’re bringing to Hazelle at the Hob.”

“Yep!” he confirms.

Katniss presses her lips together, then says, “I don’t know why, but I just never pictured you as a baker.”

Peeta smirks and places his arms on the table in front of them, flexing shamelessly so that the outline of his biceps will strain at the fabric of his blue button-down, sleeves rolled up to the elbows. “Ah, I guess you think I’m too cut to be a baker’s boy, is that it?”

Katniss snorts and rolls her eyes. Peeta immediately regrets it.

What a dickish gym bro thing to say?! He has never, not once in his life, flirted so terribly. He had more rizz as a 16-year-old than this! Sure… he works out his upper body a lot more than he used to, he supposes his physique must look ok. But he has to, he needs to use his arms a lot more than he used to. When the prosthetic is off it’s surprising the strength you need to maneuver around. And maybe, says a voice that sounds oddly like his psychologist, Dr. Aurelius, you worry about your physical attractiveness more than you used. You wonder whether anyone finds you desirable, and that’s why what you just said is a cry for help, a need for reassurance?

The look of revulsion Katniss is giving Peeta mirrors his internal monologue. He has to fix this! He casts around for a topic that will neutralize the situation, something they can’t possibly disagree on. His eyes land on the book.

“What’s your opinion on the decision to excise the scouring of the Shire in Peter Jackson’s interpretation of the Return of the King?” he asks suddenly. 

Katniss blinks at him. “Huh?”

“C’mon, are you going to tell me you’re ok with the film completely leaving out the impact of war on Hobbiton? That it only shows war as some epic battle of elves and dwarves and men and not one of the common people?” Peeta raises his eyebrows at her expectantly. She still has her eyes narrowed, but she’s leaning in now. He knows she won’t be able to resist.

Finally Katniss blurts out, “And it totally sidesteps the commentary on industrialization!” The words come tumbling out of her mouth so fast that even Katniss looks surprised by them. She claps a hand over her mouth.

Peeta and Katniss stare at each other for a long beat, and then suddenly, they both erupt into laughter. It’s that kind of delirious laughter that you only get after unbearable tension. The kind of laughter that makes your eyes stream and coaxes the most unattractive and uncontrollable wheezing, snorting and gasping noises from the depths of your belly. The kind of laughter that wraps you up in a cozy, giddy blanket until you forget every painful thing.

A few moments later, Rye returns with a cheese plate (which Peeta notes is definitely custom made at twice the usual size) and two generous pours of the specialty Pinot. He gives Peeta a subtle wink before disappearing as quickly as possible. Katniss and Peeta dig into the platter, suddenly ravenous.

Now that the ice is broken, the conversation flows like water out of a washed out dam. They have the same taste in books (though Peeta knew that already) and music (though Katniss says he leans too heavily into sad-boy indie pop of the early aughts). And to Peeta’s delight, she tells him more about her sister, Prim, clearly the most precious person in the world to her. It feels like a gift to be trusted with those memories. Then Peeta makes Katniss laugh, recounting the time he and Rye played a prank on their big brother, Bannock, leaving “evidence” of a mouse all around the bakery, sending him on a Tom and Jerry-style wild goose chase to exterminate the ever-elusive pest.

It’s nearly 10 pm when their conversation falls into the first lull in hours. They have had second and third glasses of wine, a fact that left Katniss in stitches over his impossibly rosy cheeks, while she seemed cool, calm, and almost entirely unaffected. She tells Peeta she’s got stamina thanks to the drinking habits of her friend-of-the family, Haymitch–a  person too irresponsible to be a surrogate father (her dad was killed in a workplace accident when she was eleven), but too close to be without a family title. Her and Prim have always called him “uncle.” The wine bar has emptied out and the ambient noise around them has subsided to a dull hum.

Peeta casts another glance toward the open door. A cool evening breeze rustles through the leaves of the Monstera near the host station. “Guess your friend’s not coming, huh?”

Katniss pinches the bridge of her nose and looks down at the crumbs of chocolate fudge cake on her plate. She doesn’t look angry anymore, just so tired. “Just–don’t Peeta. I don’t need your gloating.”

Peeta holds up his hands in defense. “I’m not,” he tells her firmly. “I swear, I’m not. Listen…” Peeta pauses, searching her face, feeling her eyes lift to his like gray stones falling into the blue depths of a lake. “Anyone who would stand you up is making a serious mistake.”

Katniss blinks. She looks like she’s trying to figure out whether he’s being a prick or not.

“Big mistake. Huge,” assures Peeta, evoking Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman.

The reference earns him a half smile. She shrugs. “I should go.” Katniss begins rifling in her purse for her wallet, and before he can stop himself, Peeta puts a hand out to still the motion. He marvels at the way his fingers encircle her entire wrist, at the feeling of her heartbeat quickening in the delicate veins at the base of her palm. She gasps.

“It’s on me,” he says softly. 

Katniss doesn’t jerk away like he thought she might, but she shakes her head. “No way.”

“C’mon,” says Peeta. “It’s the least I can do after barging in and ruining your evening.”

“You didn’t–” Katniss cuts herself off and sighs deeply. “Peeta, I can’t. I have a thing about owing people.”

The corner of Peeta’s lips lift up in a hopeful grin. “Okaaaay,” he drawls. “Then buy me coffee at the Hob sometime?”

Katniss scrunches up her nose as she considers this. Her pulse thrums against the pads of his fingers. “Fine,” she relents, snapping the clasp on her purse closed. 

Peeta tries not to feel devastated as she stands up from the table and slips out of the booth. He releases her wrist and she immediately covers the spot where his fingers were with her other hand, caressing the soft skin in the way he wants to do. There’s an unreadable expression on her face. Confusion? Resignation? Or…could it be, longing? Pull yourself together, man, Peeta chastises himself. You’re projecting.

He stands up, too, and breathes, “So, see you around, then?”

“Well, seeing as I’ve got a debt to pay now…guess so,” Katniss snaps, but there’s something softer in her tone, something less cutting in her scowl. “Tell your brother I said thank you for the lovely meal.”

Katniss spins on her heel and glides toward the door with that soft footfall like one of Tolkien’s elves walking atop the snow. Before she crosses the threshold, she throws her head back over her shoulder, braid cracking like a whip, and calls, “Your coffee order is shit, by the way. Peeta bread.”

And then she steps out into the street and fades into the night.