#but yeah i also doubt these offenses are even uncommon

[xenoblademisadventures]

I’m not too familiar with outdated Native American stereotypes, but I’m, like, 99% sure that the Tirkin dialogue in Ghondor’s ascension quest was an outdated Native American stereotype. The way the Tirkin in general have been handled has always been a bit questionable but borders on the “I simply don’t know enough about what I think is happening to say anything.” But I was wondering if anyone knows more about the topic? I’m only really able to flag the dialect as a stereotype because it was brought up in a LA class, otherwise I wouldn’t have noticed. But I’ve been wondering vaguely about the Tirkin enemies for a while. 

Even in the first game, it’s like, the Tirkin and Ignas are just weird enemy types that really shouldn’t have been in the game all things considered. Like, their role in the game was to be an enemy type that could chain attack the player, which is a cute gimmick, but it’s weird that the Monado can damage the Tirkin and Ignas. Also, I’m unsure whether the similar aesthetic to native american artwork in the Tirkin designs counts as inspiration or appropriation, but I also just don’t have a very solid grip on the concept of cultural appropriation, just the understanding that a lot of Native American shit is off-limits due to common bastardizations of it and its usage being not appreciated (in other words, just “don’t go out of my way to add this stuff into my works because it will be seen as disrespectful”). Which also makes me curious about the Saltat enemies in Xenoblade X, which feel like a less copy+paste take of the Tirkin’s as a visual concept. Like, where do they fall in this discussion? Also, I have to bring up the actual totem poles that appear in Future Redeemed. I’m, like, 90% sure that counts as disrespectful. So, actual irl totem poles are really fucking cool. I, again, have very limited understanding of them, but they’re basically stories that are also really detailed and really cool looking carvings. They are a piece of art, not a fucking war-flag. Treating them as such would be like having the Mona Lisa summon Italians for battle. Doesn’t seem right to give it a health bar.

There’s also the story presence of Tirkins in each game that I’m like “hmmm..” Just, with the context that they’re aesthetically derived directly from Native American art. They’ve always existed in a weird half-spot between being a generic enemy for the player to kill without sparing a second thought and as a fantasy race. In the first game, this status is accompanied by the Hodes and Ignas. Again, I’m guessing the purpose was to have the novelty of an enemy capable of chain attacking the player? But unlike the Hodes and Ignas, they’re given speaking roles in 2 and 3. In 2, this dichotomy is addressed by making them a bit of a joke whenever they get speaking roles. Like, in the main story the party kills a bunch of Tirkin chefs on the basis of “they must be up to no good because they’re Tirkin” then upon learning that they actually were innocent, the game’s like “lmao” and moves on. Like, bruh. ???? I assumed that moment has racist roots around it because that’s the only way that series of story beats makes sense to me, but I never really focused on it because 2 is just a giant fucking mess that is also racist in other ways (and in ways I’m simply not qualified to talk about). 

But yeah, figured I should bring that up because it’s annoying that the racism against Native Americans in the series seems to just be getting worse per entry. And it’s just odd for that to even be in the games in the first place considering their larger themes. It’s by no means the first or only case of a work about acceptance, unlearning prejudice, etc. also containing a blatant stereotype in it, but I don’t think I’ve seen anyone bring this up despite being in the fandom since the first game. 

[bumblee-stumblee]

i find it weird when they say radfems are hateful, if they mean your posts then they are unfortunate truths, they're not saying hate trans people more like bringing light to the amount of predators and abusers and insanity within the trans movement . why would they take offense to that it should had been obvious that this was a thing that would happen. that the worst of society would take advantage of these things. ..i also don't get the transmen anon.. was she a woman dressing as a man in school?no makeup? thats not uncommon lol girls wear slacks this isn't the 1920's. i highly doubt is enough to get uncomfortable around unless they were demanding something of others.

Apparently she was gender non confirming and a closeted transman and that was enough to make the girls uncomfortable to be changing around her, and mothers felt that their boys didn't deserve to be sexually harassed by having a girl in their changing room so they put her in a broom closet

Idk if that's something that would happen today with how much more accepting people are of gay teens, if she meant back in the 90s early 2000s? Yeah i could see the blatant homophobia that was around back then definitely having teachers and school admin thinking it was easiest just to give her her own changing room to avoid an issue even if she was just GNC.

But yeah, some of them don't seem to like being called out on their behavior, it's kinda fascinating.

[forebodingprophet]

Moirai || Clotho C2P1

              The next morning, Hikaze was hesitant to leave. He’d awoken to a fully-dressed Anastasios who’d hurried him to breakfast before handing him off to Théo.

              “Don’t take it personally,” Théo assured him. “With Lady Aria visiting, he has a great deal to do.  He’s also still managing the case that brought you two together, so he has quite a bit on his plate.”

              “So that cousin still hasn’t been found?”

              “Regrettably, no.  And Calypso was one of the aníschyros, so Anastasios feels especially compelled to act on his behalf.”

              “Aníschyros?”

              “The term is used for people like myself who are born without the house’s famous powers.  Some 5% of us are born this way, so it’s not entirely uncommon.”

              “No offense, but shouldn’t it be the opposite? Wouldn’t it be more worrying if a Seer was taken?”

              “That is concerning, but for other reasons. Anastasios is concerned about that sort of thing, but not for the same reasons as he is with us. Anastasios knows that, if he isn’t the one looking for Calypso, there likely won’t be anyone else who will. Those in the house with abilities tend to look down on us for our lack of powers- a fact that Anastasios dislikes, so Anastasios does his best to look out for us.”

              “Still such a mother hen,” Hikaze sighed.

              “Was the young master this way in his past life as well?”

              “More or less, although he had to be pretty comfortable with a person before he’d start fussing over them, which was uncommon. So you believe that he’s Esaias even though he insists he’s not?”

              “If Lady Celia says so, then it must be true. I know not the reasons he insists on denying it, but I do believe Esaias’ memories play a role in his decisions.  He’s also always been far smarter and more mature than others his age, and you must remember, one of our house’s traits is our intelligence.  Even those of us without powers are very skilled at whatever we put out hearts to.”

              “Ha!  That guy, mature!” Hikaze snickered.  “He hasn’t changed a bit since his last life!  You saw it yesterday, he threatened to ‘tear me to pieces’ over me calling him a girl.  Yeah, peak maturity, that one.”

              Théo smiled.  “In all honesty, that was the first time I’d ever seen him behave in such a manner.  He always conducts himself with confidence and superiority, so to see him show such childish rage was refreshing.”

              “Well, you’re going to see a lot more of it if I keep coming around,” Hikaze pointed out.

              “I welcome it.  Please remind our young master that he is a child and deserves to be one from time to time.”

              “Don’t gotta ask me twice!”

              Once they were back at the town gate, Hikaze waved Théo off until he vanished in a spark of light.  As soon as he was gone though, Hikaze’s heart dropped. Honestly, he’d kind of wanted Théo to come home with him in some childish naivety that it would stall the homecoming he was expecting.  He trudged back home, dragging his feet the entire way and no doubt giving his shoes a need to visit the cobbler.  When he got to his door, he took a deep breath, a shaky hand reaching for the handle. Maybe he could just play until it got late.  He’d roll around in some mud and make his mother mad at him again, and then everyone would be too exasperated to ask him about House Ofthalmós.  But he knew that was wishful thinking.  The glimmer in their eyes the morning before had been too unusual.  He knew they’d never just let it go.  He let the breath out and shoved the door open.

              “I’m back!” he yelled loudly, plastering on as best a smile as he could.  “Man, I almost never wanted to come back, it was so-”  He froze when he caught sight of his mother’s and aunt’s eyes.  They were paused their cleanup of the morning dishes, both smiling at him, but something about their smiles seemed just as forced as his own.  “Did I miss anything?”

              “No, nothing at all,” his mother replied sweetly, swiftly putting down the bowl she’d been washing and coming over to hug him. He hugged her back.  Maybe he was just misreading things.  Yeah, the other day and yesterday morning had been flukes. They were probably just excited about him maybe getting in good with a rich family.  That was a-

              His mother brought her hands around to hold his face and her fingers settled uncomfortably on his jaw.

              “Now, tell me how it went.”

              “It… It went well.”  Shit.  It took everything in him to keep up the mask.  Esaias had done stuff like this his whole life, so maybe it was his turn for a bit.  “I had a lot of fun.”

              “What all did you do?”

              “Umm…”  How much was he allowed to talk about?  Anastasios hadn’t talked this through with him.  What if he told them something he wasn’t supposed to?  How would he know what he wasn’t supposed to say?  “Um, apparently some big important people from another country were visiting, so they wanted a commoner to help with the less savory work.”  His smile twitched.  He hadn’t pulled a lie like that out of his ass since he’d been Kazuya.

              “Oh?”  Hikaze gulped but did his best to maintain the smile.  Was he found out?  “Why pick you?”

              “Umm…  I guess when I talked to the kid who visited the other day, their family god took an interest in me.  Hell knows what goes through the heads of beings like that, right?  Haha…”  He couldn’t stop the nervous chuckle that came out of his mouth, but hie hoped that he could write it off as just Celia having scared him while he was away.  She was capable of that.  His mother continued smiling and lead him over to the table to talk while his aunt not-so-discreetly eavesdropped from the kitchen a few feet away.

              “So, do you know who was visiting?  I hear they’re usually the ones doing the visiting, not the other way around.”

              ‘And how would she know that?’ he thought to himself.  It could just be common knowledge in this world.  His parents may have lived in this town before and known about certain aspects of life in the Ofthalmós estate before moving to the capital and having him…

              “I dunno, she had so many titles attached to her, that I can’t remember which one was her name.”  He almost cursed at himself, biting his tongue to keep his face from slipping.  Now they knew something.  Arceus, please let this end sooner rather than later.

              Arceus did not listen to him that day.  Hikaze returned to his room with Itsu and plopped down face-first in bed, the little fire soldier coming over to pat his back reassuringly.

              “Ugggghhhh… what do you think, Itsu?  Did I lie well enough?”  The little flame soldier chirped, but even he didn’t seem to know the answer to that question.  “Well, you’re no help…”  Hikaze had barely managed to avoid the last series of questions.  Towards the end, his aunt had chimed in, asking questions about Celia.  Finally, she’d asked if Celia slept at the estate, and all Hikaze could come up with was ‘I don’t know.’  If Anastasios hadn’t let slip that Celia sometimes left the grounds to feed, Hikaze would have just assumed that she was at his side 24/7/365.  But now that he knew there were times when the family’s favored protector was away, he got the distinct feeling that he knew something that he oughtn’t.  Something stirred inside him, and Hikaze looked over at the unhatched egg beside his bed.  “Itsu, remember that journey I wanted to go on?”  The Charcadet nodded.  “I think it’s time to take it.”  He wasn’t sure where he was going to go yet, especially since he was reluctant to be very far from Anastasios while they still hadn’t had much time to catch up, but he couldn’t stay here.  He was a liability if he stayed here.  Kazuya had never been malicious, but his ability to keep a secret was questionable at best.  The man had only ever known how to run his mouth, and it had gotten him in trouble more than once- sometimes, even so bad that Esaias nearly considered severing ties with him- blabbing secrets that the man still had no desire to share with the world outside his very small personal bubble.  This was different though.  This could get people hurt.  He wasn’t sure if his parents were actually involved in what’d happened to Anastasios’ relative, but he didn’t want to take that risk.  Kazuya had never been very particular about using his head for anything, but it was time that Hikaze started.

[sneezemonster15]

I thought the post was pretty comprehensive. Well okay. I will bite.

I am a little embarrassed to talk about this panel but really what teenage girl sits like this with her father and acts coy like she is at some bar with her boyfriend? Look where the father's hand is, how casual it is, like it's not the first time that this is happening. He is drinking, so he is under the influence of alcohol and his wife is cheating on him. He comes off as a reprobate. The way he talks to his daughter (and about his wife) doesn't make it look like he has much respect for women.

Maybe it's different in the west, but this is very unusual in the east. Asian cultures do not allow this. In my country, once the girl turns seven or eight, she is not supposed to share a bed even with her brother or any other boy/man, it's considered inappropriate. Japanese society is no different in that sense, in fact, Japanese society has more rules and customs than most other cultures. The Japanese etiquette is pretty strict. Lots of things that might be considered casual and inoffensive in the west are deemed quite offensive and inappropriate in Japanese culture, and even a lot of other Asian cultures.

Secondly, perception. For any successful professional who works in the field of audio visual media, the understanding of perception is mandatory. I highly doubt Gege thought - "You know what, I am tired of showing the run of the mill father daughter dynamic, so this time I will add a bit of pizzazz and make it like an opening to a family strokes video."

Storytelling is about show not tell. If the author cannot show something explicitly for some reason, or if it's a controversial or stigmatised issue, he will find a way to show it and will provide subtext, he will manipulate the reader's eye and mind, to convey his point/intent. You just gotta have your eyes open. Naruto is a very good example of this. American syndication has rules against showing controversial themes (such as incest, homosexuality,etc), so their mainstream media made for kids cannot feature such themes explicitly. But there are many ways of passing stuff under the table, to avoid being censored. A lot of creators do this type of stuff, Gege won't be the first. If the writer is talented, he will find a way to do it. If he knows how perception works. Any good creator worth his salt does.

If you know how typography works, you can tell how important perception is. But yeah, you need to have a keen eye to notice it.

Also, problematic themes such as incest, pedophilia (such as Hisoka from hxh or Orochimaru from Naruto) might not feature in western mainstream media for kids but it's not so uncommon or unusual in Japanese media, even shounen. Yeah, it baffles me too. But well, it's better to accept it than be in denial.

Okay now to the scene with Ozawa.

So Ozawa asks for Nobara's help. Nobara passes it on to Fushiguro who knows Itadori better. He certainly does. But her action of passing the buck makes Ozawa think maybe she doesn't want to get involved because she likes Itadori herself. It's a pretty understandable reaction. But Nobara denies this with so much force. She is Itadori's friend and classmate, but she is not an emotional fool, or at least she tries not to be. She will not shed tears for any man. But as Ozawa puts this idea in her head, Nobara realizes something that she was probably denying before. It has happened to all of us at some point or the other. You know, you have a close friend, you do everything together, you have each other's back. Sometimes it develops into something more without your conscious knowledge. But the idea of it being 'romantic' doesn't occur to you. Until someone remarks on it. Or something else that triggers a realization. That's what happened here.

It's actually very sweet, typical of high school romance. Hehe. Her heart skips a beat. What does this indicate? When does your heart miss a beat? Look at the context. Gege is not even being cryptic about it. This is pretty clear unto itself that Nobara has feelings for Itadori that she hadn't consciously thought about until Ozawa asked, but the germination has happened. However, denial doesn't go right away, there is still some resistance. She is a 16 year old, self sufficient and confident girl after all, whose character doesn't revolve around a man, we can give her the benefit of doubt hehehe.

She is also kinda clueless, she thinks if it's arrhythmia, haha. What this tells us is that something like this has never happened to her before. Well she lived in a village before this and she hated the village people so this isn't so surprising. But now she knows that what she feels is something unusual. She 'realizes how she truly feels'. It's really not that cryptic. Gege has made 'connecting the dots' pretty easy here.

The idea of Yuuji getting a girlfriend really annoys her. Hehe. Why though? She has no malice towards Ozawa and yet she is a bit jealous. She knows Yuuji likes tall girls, there's a reason Ozawa was made to be tall.

Honestly, I am glad that Gege didn't make it toxic by showing Nobara being unkind to Ozawa, Ozawa is also shown as a mature and considerate girl. Gege is good at writing female characters, the ones that don't conform to gender roles, someone whose character doesn't revolve around men. It's a welcome relief honestly, knowing how shounen tropes work, especially when it comes to female characters. On average, his ladies are as badass and mature as his men.

Not that Kubo gets it. 😒

Anyway. So Nobara acts on it and she decides that she wants a boyfriend before Itadori gets a girlfriend, maybe to save face? Maybe to not feel stupid or embarrassed? It's completely understandable. Like I said, she is a teenager, she doesn't have a mature response to something like this, and it is fine. We get it. What I found sweet was that there was no malice in her. She actually helps Ozawa anyway.

Also, why do you think Gege chose to talk about all this? Why is there all this talk about girlfriend and romantic preferences? So if gege wanted to give us some information about the characters' feelings, would he just make the character say it? No. What he WOULD DO, is he will orchestrate a situation, bring in the relevant characters and an additional/new character if necessary, and with the already established character dynamics and character traits, he will give this information to the audience, so it will look organic and seamless. That's the mark of a good writer. Look at the choices the writer is making. Ozawa was written for this chapter and this chapter only. She is not a sorcerer, she is not related to any other character in the manga, she has no relevance in the upcoming chapters. So why did Gege write her here? Because a character was required in order to give certain information about Nobara's feelings for Itadori, and Itadori's own sexuality, and Megumi's response to it. Since it's pretty much implied that Megumi and Itadori are more than friends.

Any good writer doesn't do anything without a reason. Every panel counts. Always ask questions, why did he do it this way? Why did he make a certain choice? There's ALWAYS a reason. If you really pay attention, you will get it. But honestly, Gege has already killed Nobara in the manga, where I am at, so I don't know where it will go from here. Nobara's arc is unfinished but it's not like Gege is so concerned with that. However, with Gege, you really can't tell.

Lastly. Mai and Maki. I didn't say their relationship or the development of their dynamic was romantic or romance coded, I said the kiss was romantic. It was not a sisterly kiss. How many Japanese shows/films do you know where sisters kiss each other on the lips? Like I said, perception is key to understanding media. Not everything has to be said out loud, this is a visual medium. With the right context, everything can be understood. Gege said this about Mai.

Her first love might be MAKI?? Really Gege? Now why would you say something like that? It is weird.

What information do you get from this panel? That Mai had a crush. What's Gege telling us? That Mai had a romantic interest in someone. And in his description of Mai, he says her first love might be MAKI? Does that make sense? Humans are complex creatures. Depending on their circumstances, humans are capable of feeling things that might not be approved by society, but the heart wants what the heart wants. Feelings aren't rational.

Mai felt betrayed by Maki because Maki abandoned her. She once promised her she will not leave her alone in the cruel and inhuman Ze'nin household, but then she did.

Maki was everything for Mai. Her sister, brother, mother, father, friend, confidante. They only had each other. Maki protected her and took care of her. There was absolutely no one else Mai could rely on. Maki was her whole world. Mai didn't have an ambition, she didn't want to be a sorcerer. She just wanted to be happy, even if she had to live as a Ze'nin servant, but as long as she was with Maki, she was happy. That's all she wanted. Why is it so surprising to think she might have loved Maki romantically? When you feel that strongly for someone, is it really possible to draw lines? Human beings are humans first, the conditional aspects of human relationships come after that. Some relationships are so intense and multifaceted, they aren't definable. They don't fit into a clean cut category. Which is fine.

Mai meeting Takada and finding it so exciting, is omake, not canon, but even Mappa followed suit. Hehe. They get it.

However Gege did say in an interview that when Mai talks to women, it appears like they are dating. What could he mean?? It's really not that cryptic.

Good writers, and Gege is one, know how to write their characters. How to establish them, their role in the story, their character traits which are generally drawn out with the help of a second character (s) who needs to be different from them in their core character aspects, so as to bring out the contrast and conflict even better. He calls it dissonance between characters. See how he explains their characters and their dynamic.

You can see this dissonance between other characters such as Geto and Gojo, Itadori and Megumi, Maki and Yuuta, Gojo and Nanami, Jogo and Mahito, etc etc.

And lastly, now that I have talked about the relevance of the author's intent and the specific mindful choices he makes, don't you think Gege could have shown the transfer of cursed energy by doing literally ANYTHING ELSE.

Why a kiss?

Two things :

1) That one needs to kiss is NOT established or hinted at in the manga before, like at all. So it's not like it is a rule that Gege had to abide by; that two characters HAD to kiss for the transfer to happen. He was under no such limitations. He could have literally shown the transfer ANY OTHER WAY. So why choose a kiss to do it? It means that it says something extra, no? Because like I said, sisterly bonds are hardly ever shown with a kiss like this. Not in Japanese media at least. I have seen it in that American film, My sister's keeper, but the contexts are completely different.

Perception is key to understanding media. The more developed one's understanding is, the better the perception is. And understanding can be developed. Writers have to have a very keen sense of perception in order to be a good one.

2) Look at the timing and the circumstances. Mai is sacrificing her life. It's the last thing she will do in her life for the person that means the most to her, more than even herself. This is important, this is significant. If you loved someone, and if you were about to give up your life for them, wouldn't you want to let them know before you died? Like Hinata does in Pein arc (even if her case is twisted). Or when Sasuke does it in the Land of waves arc. Why is it so difficult to believe? Fiction writing is about suspension of disbelief, and to make it possible, the author has to make it believable, no? And what happens here is entirely believable. We already know how Mai feels about her own predicament and Maki.

Plus it's not like there aren't other examples of incest in this manga. So I don't see why people are having such a hard time believing it. Hehe.

I know when fans don't like something or approve of something, or when something makes them uncomfortable, they choose to deny it. Despite all the glaring evidence. I get it. But I think it's much better to accept it. It enhances the way one consumes media, it makes them understand it more and hence enjoy it more, to its optimum level.

when you talk about incest, you mean between mai and maki? it’s funny, because while gege dis portray them sharing a kiss, the way it was made, i didn’t feel like it was romantic… more like it was supposed to represent trough closeness that maki and mai are two parts of the same person, since they’re twins and all. but yeah it definitely can seem disturbing at first lol 😅

It's more than that. Not only Mai is shown to be having a crush, which she doesn't tell Maki about, but also at Todo's request, she goes to see Takada, that pop icon, and she is thrilled. Her reaction to Takada does not look platonic at all. Also the kiss itself doesn't seem platonic. I think Gege meant it to be romantic or at least sus. With Takada, Gege made a point to show Mai being attracted to a woman and not a man. She is also shown to voluntarily talk about her romantic interest, which means she certainly has one. And she kisses Maki on the lips at such a tragic moment when Mai sacrifices her life for Maki's sake, which I simply cannot deny, is quite unconventional and not used to depict sisterly feelings. I think it's romantic. And hence incestuous.

There are other instances with incestuous themes.

And this too. Imo.

Plus, Mai won't be the only person in the manga who is 'not straight'. Megumi is pointedly shown to prefer 'person' over a girl. This is not even that cryptic, it's Gege telling us he likes men, and not women. Itadori is pointedly shown as confused about his preferences. Like yes, he likes tall girls with big heads or whatever, but he picked Ozawa of all the girls in his class when his friends asked him to pick. He was quite nonchalant about it, even though he knew the context of the questions, but he still did not objectify a woman like a straight boy would probably have done, when he easily could have. He has a poster of a girl, but no girlfriend, instead he is very close to Megumi. Megumi is the first name on his lips no matter who else is there, when he is concerned. When Todo asks him the question about what kind of women he likes, he is baffled and he doesn't really think about his answer the way Megumi does, he just gives the same answer he had been giving his school friends, but he still picks Ozawa, a short girl. Who is then pointedly shown to have grown tall. But Itadori is still not romantically interested in her. Itadori is also pointedly shown to be indecisive. Gege has described Itadori as indecisive. There is so much conversation around the height of Itadori's prospective mate, and some emphasis is also put on Megumi's tall and lean build and big head lol, and all this is deliberate. Plus, Itadori and Megumi show accountability towards each other, Gege shows them taking stock of their feelings for each other and acting accordingly. Of course it's not black and white, but I am sure Gege is telling us something here. He is being cryptic, like Kishi was. That whole episode started with Itadori talking about the worm man movie, and its theme is 'love'. This is foreshadowing. And then the episode shows Ozawa liking Itadori but not able to do anything about it until just then. Nobara is shown to have feelings for Itadori. And Megumi is shown as the person closest to Itadori, like c'mon, they were together for a mere two weeks and they were already making meatballs together. They spend time with each other outside missions, their rooms are right next to each other, they know how the other person thinks and acts, what they like and dislike. That whole episode shows how close Itadori and Megumi are, and it's not the only instance. Gege is certainly showing us more than he is telling. Once I finish the manga, at least the current chapters, maybe I can write about it in more detail.

But well, jjk world is not as old fashioned/traditional as Naruto world. The characters aren't so prejudiced or narrow minded as they are in Naruto. Well except for people inside the clan system, jjk folks are more open to express themselves, less bound by convention. They are all practically crazy, they have got to be, and they own it. It's more healthy than what Naruto's characters do. And there are people like Gojo to guide them, a good leader (unlike Kakashi) who fights the corruption and obsolete convention of their world, who will fight for his students, who will empathize and try to understand them without judging them harshly, and won't deprive them of the simple pleasures of youth.

I can't surely say that Gojo and Geto are also of the same inclination, but I guess it's a little ambiguous the more I look into it. Since Gege is a fan of non linear storytelling, one can certainly expect to see more in that direction and I am still reading the manga. Well, what I can say is that there's more reason to think SatoSugu are romantic than not. So I will wait.

I think Gege knows what Naruto the story is about. He knows. It's like he is trying to break specific shounen conventions with his manga...

[mammonshuman92]

- It Takes Two -

(Mammon x GN!MC)

Genre: angst/hurt/comfort

WARNINGS: alcohol, drunkenness, cheating, **

** There is a moment where a character is drunk, and someone makes moves on them, character is too drunk to realize it’s not who they thought it was. Groping and making out, no penetration; character doesn’t consider is SA. I apologize if it is offensive.

Ya better hurry up, or we’re gonna be late!” Mammon was pulling you by the hand down the hallway to your first class of the day.

“I wasn’t the one who overslept because they kept saying “just lay with me for 5 more minutes.”“ You said, giving your best impression of him.

You’d become best friends rather quickly after your arrival in the Devildom, practically becoming attached at the hip instantly. It didn’t take long for that light, warm feeling to invade your heart. Now you’d been dating for a few months and had become even more inseparable.

“Details, details!” He responded, laughing.

The two of you came barreling through the door with only seconds to spare before the bell rang; hand-in-hand, laughing like fools.

You took your seats across the room from each other, being the professors current punishment for Mammon talking to you during class.

As you sat down you felt eyes on you and looked up.

A few succubi were not so casually looking at you and whispering.

It wasn’t uncommon though. I mean, you are a human in the Devildom. You also live with the 7 rulers of the underworld. You’d gotten quite used to people whispering about you. You decided to ignore them, and pay attention to class. Whatever they were whispering about was surely nothing you hadn’t already heard circulating throughout the gossip mill.

Throughout the day, you noticed the same group of succubi whispering and giving you looks. They even giggled a couple times. You tried your best to keep your cool, but it had been going on all day and it was really getting under your skin.

What is so damn funny? You thought to yourself.

The final bell rang and you couldn’t be happier. Now you got to put the day behind you and go home with Mammon. Tonight is movie night. Cuddling and eating junk food is just what you need after a day like today.

You rushed to the usual spot where you meet Mammon. Seeing his face would definitely make you feel better right now, but he wasn’t there yet. 

He must have gotten hung up in class or something.

You leaned against the wall, pulled out your D.D.D. and started surfing Deviltube to pass the time. You were so engrossed in your video that you barely noticed that same group of succubi walk past.

Until they made sure you noticed them, that is.

One girl bumped into you on purpose, sending your D.D.D. to the concrete, via crash-landing.

“Stupid human.” She sneered.

You rolled your eyes and bent down to pick up your D.D.D. It’s nothing you haven’t heard, quite a bit actually, since coming to the Devildom. She’d have to try a lot harder than that.

When you stood back up, the succubus in question was standing in front of you, arms crossed with a smug grin.

“Do you think you’re special?” She asked, looking you up and down. You didn’t respond and resumed your scrolling through Deviltube. Ignoring her made her mad.

“As soon as he gets tired of you, he’ll move on to the next one.”

Excuse me? 

“I don’t think MY relationship is any of your concern.” You said sweetly, slapping on your best fake smile. You looked around them, desperate to see Mammon walking up, but he wasn’t there.

Where is he? 

She was practically laughing in your face. 

“He made me feel special too.” Her words, full of venom as they left her lips, triggered something in your brain.

Flashbacks of your first day in the Devildom came rushing back. Specifically what Satan had said after Mammon made his grand entrance.

“Whenever he takes a liking to someone, they suddenly find themselves awash in money. But from what I hear, if he decides to break it off with someone, that wealth evaporates. They’re left without a Grimm to their name.”

The memory made your chest feel heavy. 

Could that pertain to people as well? They said a pure soul is like a shiny gem. What if..

“Everything he’s said to you, he probably already said to me.” She spat.

Your head was spinning, a knot forming in your throat. Her earlier words replaying in your mind.

“As soon as he gets tired of you, he’ll move on to the next one.”

What if..? No.. He wouldn’t do that...would he?

You quickly got so lost in thought as anxiety started to take root, plaguing you with ‘what ifs’ and hypotheticals, that you almost didn’t notice when someone stepped between you and the succubus. Putting a hand on either side of your face, he tilted your head up to look at him. Irises the color of tropical waters, instantly melt away your anxiety, calming the angry sea inside you.

“Let’s go home.” He whispered with a smile. His voice was soft, but you could see the anger in his eyes. He slung an arm around your shoulders and turned to start walking toward the House of Lamentation.

“We weren’t done talking.” She said vindictively.

“Don’t ya have anythin’ better to do?” Mammon snarled, glaring at the succubus.

She scoffed and rolled her eyes, leaving with her friends.

By the immense tension you could feel between them, you could tell that they had indeed been together at some point.

The walk home was quiet, which left you with ample time for your thoughts to run wild. 

Did she know him like you do? His little habits and his favorite things? 

Did she stick up for him when his brothers were dogging on him? Or afterward when he was down, did she try her best to drown out their hateful words with affirmations of love?

Did she play with his hair while he laid on her stomach, arms wrapped tight around her middle after he loved her? Hold her in his lap as he rubbed soothing circles on her back when she was sad? Whisper sweet nothings to her when he thought she was asleep?

...Did he love her?

-

“Whoa! Did ya see that, MC?!”

The two of you were curled up on the couch in Mammon’s room, watching a movie on his projector, just like you did every week.

Did they do movie night?

It shouldn’t be bothering you. Of course he’s had other partners. He’s been alive for thousands of years.

And you’ve had other partners. So what? No biggie. That wasn’t the issue.

The thought of him saying the same things, doing the same things with someone else...loving someone else, is what bothered you. It hurt to think that maybe you really weren’t that special; another weak, insignificant human, just like all the rest.

But the things she said kept playing on a loop in your head.

“As soon as he gets tired of you, he’ll move on to the next one.”

“He made me feel special too.”

Could she be right?

“Babe, are ya okay?” He had paused the movie and was now staring at you expectantly.

“Hmm? Oh, yeah I’m fine.” He saw through it quickly.

“Ya know, you’re not good at lyin’. What’s wrong? If ya don’t like the movie we can watch someth-”

“That girl earlier, at RAD? Is she your ex?” You didn’t want to bring it up, but you had to know before your thoughts could torment you further.

His face fell and he sighed heavily. “I was wonderin’ when you were gonna say somethin’..”

You remained quiet, watching his face, waiting for him to begin talking.

“We were together a long, long, time ago. Nothin’ serious. I broke it off when I realized she was only around for what she could get outta me. She didn’t take it too well.” He explained, his expression turning sour. “She had a different story, huh?”

“She didn’t say much really, except once you get tired of me you’ll move onto the next one. That I’m nothing special because everything you say to me you’ve probably said to her.” You said, keeping your eyes down as you fidget with the hem on your shirt.

He started laughing.

Your head snapped up, looking at him in shock.

“What’s so funny, Mammon?” You asked, getting a little irritated by his reaction. He stopped laughing when he looked at you and realized you were serious.

“Ya don’t actually believe her, do ya?” He scoffed, getting offended.

“No? I don’t know..” You replied, not meeting his gaze. Of course you wanted to believe him, but you already felt like you weren’t good enough for him, and that succubi’s words just watered the seeds of insecurity in your brain and helped them flourish.

You had always been the opposite of his brothers. You always believed Mammon, even when everyone else was against him. You were always on his side. Ready to stick up for him no matter what. To hear you now, was like a slap in the face.

Mammon’s face distorted in pain. And anger.

“What? Whaddya mean ya don’t know?” His voice was soft, “Ya don’t trust me?” He asked, meeting your gaze.

“Mammon, that’s-”

He shook his head. “No, I get it. A few bitter words from some random demon and now my words mean nothin’. “ He jumped up from the couch, making a beeline for the door.

“What about the last few months, huh? After all the time we spent together you think I’d do somethin’ like that to ya?” His voice cracked on the last sentence. He paused; hand on the knob as he stared at the door. You heard a small sniffle as his other hand came up to angrily wipe his face.

“I thought ya knew me better than anyone.” His voice was barely audible, but you could hear the hurt. He felt betrayed.

And with that he left, slamming the door behind him.

When he didn’t come back after an hour and wouldn’t answer your calls, you grabbed a few things and headed to your room. You still felt uneasy about the whole “his ex confronting you” thing and after what had just happened, you just wanted to be alone. 

Your bed seemed huge and your room felt odd. It’s not like you didn’t spend time in there anymore, you just didn’t usually do so alone. The silence was deafening.

I shouldn't have doubted him. He used to try and hide his feelings, although he was bad at it. But since we got together, he doesn’t hide how he feels about us to anyone.

You thought of all the times his cheeks had flushed scarlet when you caught him staring at you. How he sits and endures scary movies because they’re your favorite. The way he will randomly bring you your favorite snacks or other little gifts because he was thinking about you. Relentlessly tickling you just to hear your bright, uninhibited laughter. That even in his sleep, he has to be constantly touching some part of you, or he gets restless. 

You slowly drifted off to sleep, with tears staining your cheeks.

-

“Have you seen Mammon?” 

He never came looking for you last night and he wasn’t at breakfast. He even skipped RAD.

Asmo shook his head, “Not since yesterday. Did something happen?”

You decided to fill him in with all the details. He is the Avatar of Lust after all, so surely he could give you some advice regarding love.

He gasped dramatically, “No she didn’t! What a tart!”

“I know I shouldn’t have doubted him. He’s never given me a reason to, but I don’t know. She just got in my head, I guess. Poked at some insecurities.” You explained. “I haven’t seen him since he stormed off.”

“He won’t pout for long, he never does.”

“It’s more than just pouting. I hurt him just like everyone else. He feels betrayed.” You said, voice small.

You just wanted to pepper his face with kisses and profusely apologize for ever doubting him. Why did you ever let some random succubus get to you like that? To make your trust for Mammon falter, even slightly. Did you honestly believe he would toss you aside after he got what he could out of you? Really? 

Satan said it too though, in the beginning. That when you’re with him you find yourself drowning in gifts and the like, but once he outgrows you, you’re left with nothing. That’s the Greed.

You refuse to accept it though.

You know Mammon, better than anyone. He has changed so much since you came here. He’s not the same demon he used to be. He is more than just his sin.

“When he is ready, he’ll come back. He always does.” Asmo said, placing a hand on your shoulder, giving you a warm smile.

“Now, let’s go and change! You are depressing me and it’s ruining my skin. We are going out tonight!” He was practically vibrating with excitement. You, not so much.

“Ugh, no way Asmo. I’m not in a party mood.”

“Nonsense! It’s exactly what you need. We will have some drinks and dance and you’ll feel better. You’ll see.”

You relented, knowing that once Asmo got his mind set on something like this, there was no getting out of it. Maybe a few drinks really would make you feel better.

-

“Trouble in paradise?” She said, motioning to the drink in his hand.

His clothes were dishevelled, his hair mussed, eyes red-rimmed and puffy. He looked like he’d been through the wringer. Felt like it too. He’d been in the private lounge at the club for a little while now, nursing drink after drink, attempting to drown his sorrows.

“Go away.” He growled, turning his attention back to his drink.

“Is that anyway to greet an old friend?” She asked innocently.

“Nah, but it is a good way to greet a snake.”

“Ouch.” She put a hand over her heart, feigning hurt feelings.

“Haven’t ya caused enough problems? Leave me alone.”

She scoffed, plopping down onto the couch next to him.  “Oh, come on Mammon. You’re this hung up over a human?”

“Don’t talk about MC.” He snarled. In one big gulp, he swallowed the remainder of his drink. No matter what kind of situation the two of you were in, he wouldn’t let someone, anyone, say anything cross about you. At all.

“Oh, come on. You can’t seriously say you don’t miss being with me. A demon.” She leaned in close, her lips next to his ear, “Not nearly as fragile as a human. You can be as rough as you want..” She purred.

He jumped up from where he’d been sitting, attempting to get away from the succubus. “Get the fuc- Whoa.” He slurred, staggering slightly before quickly sitting back down, head lolling back to rest on the back of the couch. His vision was pretty blurry; the room spinning. He closed his eyes, hoping it’d help. 

Even in his deeply inebriated state, you were all that was on his mind. The feel of your hand running through his hair, lightly scratching at his scalp. The warmth of your body pressed against his, your lips; soft and delicate like rose petals, leaving small kisses across his face before finally meeting his lips. The bubbly sound of your laughter, beautiful like music. The way your eyes shine every time you see him, even if he only left your side for a tiny moment. 

After the fight you had and leaving the way he did, and now being away from you a whole day, not hearing your voice, feeling your touch, he was ready to go crazy. And although he did sneak back into the house after he was sure everyone was asleep, and slept in the backseat of his car so no one would find him, it wasn’t the same as sleeping next to you. He missed you.

But, it was more than that. He felt so incredibly stupid for reacting the way he had. If he were in your situation, and felt how you did, he would’ve had questions too. You love him, and all you wanted was a little reassurance that he in fact does love you. Man, does he love you. More than he’s ever loved anyone or anything.

With the attention span of a tuna sandwich, mixed with the levels of alcohol in his system, and being so deep in his thoughts of you, he hadn’t noticed the sudden shift of weight in his lap.

One hand found its way to the back of his head, fingers tangling in his hair. The other hand resting on his chest, slowly moving down his stomach, intently feeling every muscle. His mouth opened slightly, a breathy sigh escaping. He had missed you so much, your touch lighting his skin ablaze, craving you more and more.

Your hand moved lower, earnestly caressing his growing stiffness. Your lips crashed into his suddenly; hungrily, your tongue brushing his bottom lip. His hands moved up your thighs before firmly gripping your hips, grinding you against him.

Small alarm bells were going off in his head, something didn’t seem right. You didn’t giggle like you always do when he grabs your hips. Your kisses seemed sloppier than usual too.

He tried opening his eyes, blinking lazily several times. The room was still swirling around in his drunkenness, making it nearly impossible to focus.

Your hand moved to his pants, undoing the button and zipper. He removed a hand from your hip and grabbed your wrist, but didn’t attempt to move your hand from his swollen boxers. As he was about to break the kiss and suggest heading home and picking up with this make up where you left off, he heard a voice nearby.

“What the hell?!” They shrieked. 

Asmo?

“Mammon..?” You barely choked out.

That was your voice. He’d recognize it anywhere; the musical sound gently floating into his ears as it always did. But you sounded like you were crying..

And it didn’t come from the figure straddling his lap. How is that possible? He’s been making out with you, getting pretty heated actually, for the last several minutes.

He broke the kiss with you, confusedly turning to his left and blinking several times until his surroundings started to come into focus.

There you stood in the doorway of the private lounge with Asmo next to you, your eyes wide as s tears streamed down your cheeks, gaping at him in horror.

The alarm bells that had been going off, the red flags popping up trying to warn him that something wasn’t quite right, were about to become very clear.

- part two coming soon! -

[novantinuum]

Contact (ch. 1/4)

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: T (TW: depiction of vomiting, this first chapter is pretty whump-esque)

Words: 3.0K~

Summary: The first (and with any luck, only) time it happens, he’s almost 16.

So this fic is Steven and Amethyst centric, set during the 2 year time skip. It’s also kinda in conversation with An Indirect Kiss, and explores the idea of what could happen to a hybrid with a cracked gem. Do note the warnings above. The first chapter is the only one that’s especially whumpy. It will be exactly 4 parts.

AO3 link can be found in the reblogs! Support there or here (via reblogs) is very much appreciated! <3

____

Chapter 1: The Mission

The first (and with any luck, only) time it happens, he’s almost 16.

His birthday’s only half a week out. Exciting as always, or at least it would be in other circumstances. Unfortunately, the Diamonds are breathing down his neck for him to celebrate his sweet sixteen (not that they understand what that is) on Homeworld. Even unfortunatelier, (is that a word?? He has a gut feeling Connie would tell him no, but oh well), the last time he saw Blue Diamond face-to-face, she mentioned wanting to personally throw a huge planet-wide ball in his honor.

And yeah, maybe he’s a little selfish for spurning their desire to spend more time with him, but truth be told, the center of attention is the last place he wants to be right now. He’s already spent so much time in their company over the past year, being carted around from planet to planet, formerly introduced in front of thousands of Gems on those outer colony worlds, tirelessly working to spread the news of the empire’s dissolution day in and day out. He’s tired. He misses his friends. He craves the privacy of his home, where he’s not constantly flanked by the volunteer guard when he so much as moves to fetch a midnight snack. More than anything, he needs familiarity. He wants to celebrate his birthday on Earth— like he always has— guilt-free.

Which is why it sucks that Blue didn’t take his gentle turn-down well.

“Seriously, and then she made you cry again?!” Amethyst spits out, kicking a rock as they tromp through the dense woods. “I thought you said she was getting better with that!”

“She is,” he says, and ducks to clear a low branch. “This is the first time she’s done it in like, five months. Growth isn’t always linear, y’know? And I get it, I do. They just wanna spend time with me, wanna learn more about all the human stuff that makes me who I am. That’s fine! I just...”

Steven sighs softly and pauses to lean against a sturdy tree trunk, puffy moss coating its entire diameter. The blistering summer heat coaxes droplets of sweat from his brow, which roll across cheekbones and towards his jaw. (And in the wake of this, he can’t help but be reminded of that bizarrely foreign feeling, of crying tears that aren’t his own, without consent, without resolve...)

“Wish it didn’t happen right before your birthday?” she tentatively completes, tone softer.

He shrugs, expression guarded.

Her lips purse as she regards him, and she goes silent. For a split second he wonders if maybe she heard something stalking around nearby— perhaps one of the straggling corrupted Gems they‘re trying to track down today? But no, more than likely, she’s probably lost in thought. That’s not uncommon for her, outside the heat of the moment. Even though she has the reputation of being the most impulsive of the four of them, there’s a clear deliberateness about her nature that often goes unstated. Her actions and words may be blunt, but when it really matters she does stack a lot of intent behind them.

Heh. She’s the mature one, alright.

“What did you tell her? Specifically?” she asks after a brief pause, peering at him with a careful eye.

He squints, grasping to remember the fine details of what he said. “Just... that I normally spend my birthday with all of you here on Earth, and after all the nonstop planet touring kinda, maybe wanted to take some time alone?”

Amethyst nods, giving a sharp bark of laughter at this.

“Hah! Then don’t worry about it, m’dude! Sounds to me like you stood your ground and spoke your mind. Don’t be guilty about that for even a second.”

“But- it’s not like her wanting me to spend time with them is wrong, so by turning her down, wasn’t I being kinda ru—“

His rapidly spiraling thoughts are cut off at the root by a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“Okay, listen,” she says in that unmistakable ‘Serious Amethyst’ voice of hers, which of course means that she’s— well... that she‘s absolutely 100% being serious. “One thing ya’ gotta learn is that some people are just super tiring to deal with 24/7. It’s not wrong to set boundaries with them. All this junk? With Blue D? Far as I’m concerned, you handled it perfectly! And if she wants to cry about it, then that’s her problem.” Smiling, she reaches over to playfully muss his hair. “I’m super proud of you, ‘kay?”

He responds with a weak grin. Inwardly he still has his doubts, but he knows all too well that trying to argue against her when she’s in ‘Serious Amethyst’ mode is like standing on the shore trying to single handedly hold back the tides of the sea. Even a powerful terraforming Gem like Lapis would eventually be worn down by the ocean’s ceaseless tenacity. It’s best, then, to keep one’s objection silent.

So he’ll just stew in guilt quietly, no problem. Absolutely no problem here, no siree!

Before he can let that stew churn in the pot any longer however, a tree crashes to the forest floor with a colossal rumble nearby. A cluster of unsettled birds shoot into the sky from the boughs. Ground shaking under the unrest, the two of them dart to cling upon anything they can— bark covered trunks, each other— for balance. Thankfully it’s over in a few seconds, the local ecosystem quickly rebounding to its usual chittering atmosphere. But there’s now a lingering unease hanging like a curtain over this forest, a physical aura of dread, and despite his best efforts it’s one he can’t manage to ignore. He lets out a still breath. The back of his neck prickles. Geeze, just how big is this corrupted Gem they’re after?

Instinctively, he summons his shield, brings it in front of his torso. Pearl’s training echoing like a catchy earworm in his mind, he steps one foot back to widen his stance. Truth be told, with all of his political service on Homeworld it’s been a while (easily half a year!) since he’s actually used his shield in active combat— but he’s sure muscle memory will carry him through. It’s fine. He’ll be fine. It’s gotta be like riding a bicycle, right?

“You see something?” she whispers, lowering on her haunches. Her fingers twitch with anticipation at her side.

His brow furrows tight, eyes skittering through the visible tree line. “Not yet, but...”

Then, in a resolute answer to the question of the hairs raised at the nape of his neck, a skinny blur of steely blue and moss green suddenly swipes down from the branches at breakneck speed. He jerks his shield over his head in a flash.

Clang. Perfect timing.

(The force of the collision against reinforced hard light sends vibrations up his arms.)

Meanwhile, Amethyst yelps, only barely ducking from the spiked tail in time. She somersaults forward and immediately summons her whip as she regains her footing. In one fluid motion she snaps it at the rapidly moving blur. He grins at the sight.

Contact!

The corrupted Gem— her body long and willowy, able to skitter between limbs and leaves with zero effort whatsoever— screeches at the assault. All four of her beady eyes hone in on the pair of them.

They square up for battle, standing back to back.

“Here we go,” Amethyst says, flicking her wrist to switch the weapon’s tri-ended tip into its spiked counterpart. “Keep me covered. Whatever you do, don’t take your eyes off the trees.”

With a mighty yell, she moves to attack again. However, the creature anticipates it this time... and dodges.

Once. Twice. Thrice...

Every single lash she tries to land fares the same, with the Gem perfectly zig-zagging out of range at the last second. Even when Steven hurls his shield in coordination with her offensive strikes. Even when the quartz brings out a second whip to the party. It’s like trying to desperately keep hold of a wet bar of soap. The very moment you think you have it secure in your grasp, it slips away once more. Weird... he swears that thing is predicting their every move. What kind of Gem is she? A sapphire, maybe? Surely there had to have been a few other sapphires on Earth at the time of corruption. They’re a rare sort, but it’s certainly not impossible. Not at all.

They’ll know when they poof her, of course. No sense fixating on it in the heat of battle.

In the corner of his eye he catches that barbed tail swing from above, vying to surprise them from their blind spot, and summons his bubble around them. Its surface ripples upon impact, but holds strong. His fellow battle partner follows the creature’s erratic movements rapturously as she recovers.

“Tell me when,” he huffs for breath, watching the Gem circle around them and slash at the surrounding trees in a vain attempt at intimidation.

“Drop on three,” she says. “Your call.”

“Okay...”

Steven steels his nerves, inhaling deep, and focusing on the reliable hum of hard light running from his core outwards. Just relax. It’s all training. All stuff you’ve done a million times before. You’ve got this.

Working off the emerging rhythm of the creature’s strikes, he begins his count.

“One—“

Amethyst’s fists clench tighter.

“Two...”

The creature’s tail slams against the bubble and rebounds once again.

“Three!” he shouts, and throws his arms out, popping the bubble in a startling explosion of glittering pink.

The Gem howls. She’s thrown against a cluster of trees by the force of his magic’s kickback. Amethyst throws all of her energy into her spin-dash, and surges towards her with all the strength of a typhoon.

He summons two shields in turn, working light on his feet as he hurls them full force one after the other, desperately hoping to poof this poor creature as quickly and painlessly as he can manage. She’s strong, though. Incredibly strong— which gives more credence to his theory of this Gem being aristocratic in origin. Before Era 3, Homeworld used to endow the most ‘important’ Gems with greater durability. If she were a corrupted quartz or ruby, both easily poofed Gems, they’d have finished the fight by now.

“Hey!” Amethyst calls as she continues on the offensive, finally looping the Gem’s torso. “All this?” She gives a mighty battle cry, and swings her slender, scaly body over her head. Screeching, the corruption crashes headfirst into the dirt a good twenty feet away. “Is starting to get way too annoying. Ya’ wanna let Smoky take this one?”

Steven gives a playful laugh, averting his normally watchful gaze from the creature for a split second to face her. “You bet I do!”

And that’s when what should have been an incredibly straightforward mission goes very, very wrong.

All because he forgot to be careful. For one tiny, should’ve-been-insignificant moment.

He’s reaching out for a high five, fingers splayed outwards. His gem glows, the two of them so intrinsically in sync by now that he’s already anticipating their fusion.

But his hand never finds its match.

Instead, the end of the corrupted Gem’s mace-like tail swings back around and slams into his gut with the force of a freight train, knocking the wind clear out of him.

Contact.

Following momentum, his body spins a good hundred feet away from Amethyst before she can ever try to catch him with her whip... and he crashes headfirst into a startlingly solid tree trunk. He falls to the forest floor like nothing more than an abandoned rag doll.

“Steven!!” she shrieks from afar.

Ears ringing. Head pounding. Heart throbbing. Veins pumped full of static.

(Inhale.)

H-he- surely he‘s not—!

(Just inhale!)

Black feathers the edges of his vision, looming like a reaper. It’s wrong. It’s real, but it’s all so distant, so wrong. Stubbornly, he gasps for breath. Refusing to let himself go unconscious. Not here, not now. But it’s so tempting, gosh is it tempting. His whole body feels numb and battered, his whole body feels...

There’s a twisting in his gut. His eyes shoot wide.

Oh...

The sensation (again, wrong, sickly and wrong) rises in his throat faster than he can identify it by name, and it’s then that he’s thrown back into sobering reality. Arms quivering to hold up his weight, he pushes his upper body up off the dirt just before he retches. Once, twice, three times- all on quick succession. Ugh. So much for breakfast. His muscles ache as he desperately attempts to recover, attempts to shift his view away from the appalling sight of his own vomit. Everything is woozy, blurred, spinning around him. His- oh stars, his head is suddenly as heavy as lead...! Where’s Amethyst?? Why do his arms and legs feel all tingly and faint? Why can he only barely lift himself up? He gives a keening cry as a pulsing throb of static shoots in staccato bolts like lightning from his very core, his center, h-his— he can’t think, he can’t think, he can’t—

Breathing ragged, he collapses onto his side and rides through the spasms, his every muscle jerking against his command. His cheek sags against the ground once the fit reaches its end.

He lays there in a daze for a good long while, letting his vision grow unfocused and blurred in his exhaustion. From his creased brow, sweat drips in the sweltering August heat, staining the soil below. Conflict rages on in the distant background—  Amethyst running solo?— yet he can’t keep track of the action by sound alone. It’s... too much sensory input. More than he can handle, by a long shot. Every bit of his universe now is faint and weak and pain pain pain pain pain, but he manages to shift his arm just enough to slip his hand under his shirt, blindly grasping for his gem... working off a terrible, horrifying hunch.

Shaking fingers find their way to warm crystal, tracing the outer edges, and then—

He traces a deep gouge, running diagonal clear across the center facet.

Cracked.

And with that realization, any remnant of calm he had left flies straight out the window. Another spike of static rips through his body (fuzzy images of Amethyst, 100% hard light body glitching out and unable to hold its shape, pervade his mind) as he makes rapid shallow gasps for air and seizes, trying in vain not to think too hard about what’s physically happening to him.

(I’m cracked I’m cracked I’m cracked I’m—)

“Steven!” Amethyst shouts, diving to his side in an instant. “I’m here, I’m here, I’m so sorry, it wasn’t safe, an’ I knew I had to bubble her before I- ‘fore I could—“

His wide eyed fear silences her even faster than his words. “H- Amethyst,” he rasps, voice hoarse. He blinks as tears begin to slip from between his lashes.

Near indistinguishable blurs of purple and black are his only metric for her movement now. He’s rolled onto his back. A hand moves under his head, stabilizing it.

“Whoa, dude, you’re like, pale as milk! What’s wrong? Did you get hurt?? Can’t you heal it?”

He somehow manages to push coherent words through his warbling cries. “I, I- I dunno, I’m c- cracked, I’m—“

“Wait, wait, wait, you’re WHAT?”

Giving no thought to courtesy in light of the situation, she yanks his shirt up to see for herself.

He hears her inhale as her fingers delicately brush against the gouge marring the center facet of his gem. It’s sharp, sympathetic. The kind of reaction only a Gem who’s lived this horror could offer him. Ever so slight, her hand recoils upon the no-doubt triggering sight. He— stars, he doesn’t wanna... doesn’t want to have to make her remember that, remember that awful time she herself got cracked, but here he is, so clumsy, s-so useless, an—

His chest trembles with every pitiful, bubbling gasp as he succumbs to the terror of the situation and begins to openly sob. Hot, fat tears pour in rivulets down his cheeks, but he knows instinctively there‘s no magic within them. Not today. Not when h-he’s... when he’s like this.

What’s even gonna happen to him now? How’s he gonna— Deep breath. This time, he feels it coming. Every muscle in his body contracts on automatic as that awful, awful static tears through his nerves like an arc of electric current.

It hurts it hurts it hurts ithurtshurtshurtshurtshurtshurts—

Amethyst does her best to lightly hold him as he seizes, cradling his head to ensure no more damage is done. When he stills this time the fight’s practically draining from his body. The boughs of the trees above him pirouette like dancers. Oh stars, everything’s... so... woozy...

“Aw, geeze,” she mutters, and reaches to her gem to pull out an object, thin and rectangular, too blurry in his view for him to make out with much detail. “I, uh... listen. I’m gonna call up Pearl, and we’re gonna fix you up, okay?? We’re gonna take you to the fountain, an’ then...” Her words (reassurance, but for who?) grow thick as her glance flicks downward at his stomach again. “An’ then you’re gonna be fine...”

“B-b-but... I don’t think— I can’t walk,” he blubbers.

“Then I’ll carry you.”

“Am- hnng- Amethyst—“

“Shh-shh, don’t talk, bud. Save your energy.”

“I- I’m so scared,” he blurts.

And it’s so true. Because everything is becoming so blurry and indistinguishable, and the more his body seizes the more fractured he feels, and he’s so close to closing his eyes and drifting off now, he’s sure he is, he’s gotta be—

“Steven,” she says, voice firm yet soft. “Steven, common’, look at me.”

Serious Amethyst. He recognizes the tone. No arguing now.

So slowly but surely— knowing there’s no sense in fighting back oceans when he can barely stay afloat amidst the shallows of this river— his weary, tear stained eyes meet with hers. They’re blown wide with fear, with genuine concern, but between the swirls of black and indigo blue stirs a deeper courage: the unwavering gaze of someone who will have his back to the end of the line.

Amethyst clasps her palm against his shoulder, solid and reassuring.

“Whatever it takes, I promise you... I’m gonna get you there.”

[not-poignant]

"I don’t think it would ever happen for Gwyn, and I’ve never planned for that to be an option for him? It wouldn’t happen for Augus. I don’t even know if it would happen for someone like the Raven Prince." I understand Augus,but why not Gwyn and Raven Prince? I mean *now* that Gwyn doesn't have light anymore - yeah, sure. Plus I'm fine with "he wouldn't want to". But technically his light was pretty out there? No? And Raven Prince could just like "*snap* ya'll animals now, bark and snarl, deal".

(For folks who don’t know, because I had to scroll back a bit to remember, this is about Albion potentially ascending and becoming a demigod, and the likelihood of this happening to anyone else in the canon).

It’s not even a case of ‘he wouldn’t want to.’ We literally know no other character that it’s ever happened to in the canon, which indicates how rarely it happens. But also, consider that Gwyn’s powers are mostly that he’s really good at killing a bunch of people, but aside from that, doesn’t currently have any momentous powers. Like, I think he’s a momentous, powerful character, but he’s a blip compared to someone like Olphix (even with his light) and the Raven Prince.

Albion on the other hand created an entirely new sea, and controlled the weather literally all the way to the horizon. It had nothing to do with killing people, it wasn’t offensive war-like power, it has nothing really to do with people at all (like the Raven Prince’s power). It was the kind of power that could literally change the entire fae world and its physics just because he felt in the mood to do it. Some upperworld gods noticed and were like ‘hey, you probably don’t belong there anymore.’

But for the rest? Killing a bunch of people, even in a very showy way, just isn’t enough to merit that kind of notice from upperworld gods or underworld gods. Gwyn is also super young by the standards of who gets offered these kinds of positions, I don’t think there’s any way he’ll live to the end of a natural lifespan (not with the kind of life he leads and is drawn to leading, even if he lives for 100,000 years that’s still not as old as Albion was). The vast, vast majority of fae never live long enough to get an offer. Maybe the Nain Rouge could get one, but she hasn’t been given that offer - she’s definitely old enough and powerful enough, but I don’t foresee her getting one in the universe.

As for the Raven Prince, he definitely has some momentous powers, but the offer is just too rare frankly (and, for all that he is older by fae standards, he’s just not old enough). But, additionally, like Gwyn ap Nudd, his powers are people-focused rather than ‘the entire earth’ focused. There’s a reason we’ve never hear of it happening to any other character in the universe, including some of the most legendary. And there was a reason that even the fae sometimes talked about Albion being offered a position as a demigod like it was a rumour - because none of them knew of any other fae (even in stories) where it had happened in a definite manner.

Many, many generations can go by where it just doesn’t happen at all. And Albion himself continues that, by remaining mostly vague about what’s coming. I mean to him, it’s still death. He can no longer enter the fae realm. It’s basically like a human knowing they’re absolutely going to the afterlife, but they still have to die and leave everything behind to get there. Albion has confronted his mortality, and is prepared to will himself into death as a result.

Gwyn is powerful in his position as King, in part because of his training. But his actual powers on a spectrum - he has less control over his light than someone like Taronis, and though he talks about how he could potentially destroy the world etc. he’s never actually done more than kill some soldiers with it in battle and to survive, as well as destroy a large but still very contained landscape (that isn’t really in any way comparable to creating an entire ocean).

So yeah, there’s just zero plan and likelihood that this will ever happen to any of the characters we know in the universe, except maybe figures like the King of the Forest, or pooossibly the Nain Rouge (but I doubt it with her too). Not even on a ‘offered and then rejected’ level. It’s an anomalous and uncommon event that doesn’t just happen because a fae is old and powerful. First of all, the gods have to be paying attention (which they don’t often) and then second of all, they have to like the fae enough to want to offer them a place with them (which they don’t often), and then third of all they have to make the frankly difficult and sometimes impossible journey into the fae realm to make that offer (which they don’t often) and then fourthly, gods don’t reckon timespans like fae do, and even if they think of making the offer, the fae they’re often ‘watching’ has died by the time they check back in, heh. (And then an additional fifthly that other gods frown on the behaviour in the first place and try and discourage it).

I mean none of this is in the story, it’s all background worldbuilding, but there’s a reason the only god we’ve ever seen/met is Kabiri, and the only reason we’ve ever seen him is that he got tied up in the affairs of the ambaros and dragons a long time ago, and can’t really let it go. And we’ve seen just how sick and ruined he’s become because of it. It’s not like gods are coming down on a semi-regular basis to offer fae a place beside them, no matter how powerful they are. Like, it happens less often than people winning the big jackpot in the biggest lottery draws.

[studpuffin]

The Richie Diaries Chapter 2:

Read on AO3 

Richie Tozier talks a lot. In fact, most of his friends would say one of his defining features, is that he never shuts the fuck up.

But right now Richie is speechless.

Not only is he completely at a loss for words, but he’s also mildly horrified that his estranged grandmother is three feet from him with an expectant smile on her face, like he’s supposed to start jumping for joy that he has yet another thing that’s going to make him a freak to his peers.

He’s barely surviving high school. How the fuck can anyone expect him to run a country?

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” It’s out of his mouth before he can find a nicer way to say it, although he does get a quick flash of joy at the horrified look on Claria’s face.

“I beg your pardon. Does your father let you get away with that language?”

“You can’t just waltz into my life and tell me this. And are you SURE you have the right person? I mean look at me!” he frantically gestures to himself in all his frizzy-haired, chipped nail polish, dirty sneakered glory.

His grandmother gives him a sympathetic smile, “Richard, I know this is a big change in your life. And I know that the adjustment won’t simply happen, but once you’re all settled in Genovia you’ll see it really isn’t-”

“I’m sorry what?!” Richie slumped lower in his seat, “Move to Genovia?”

“Of course,” She smiled in that cool, calculated that made Richie want to knock himself out on the heavy marble table, “You’ll meet parliament and get to know the traditions of the country.”

“Who said I was doing it?” he cut in quickly, “You can’t make me do this,” he shoved his chair away from the table, “No FUCKING way,” he grabbed his backpack and bolted from the room.

Half an hour later, Richie stomped into the apartment and was instantly furious with the scene in front of him. It wasn’t that the scene was particularly offensive or even that uncommon. Went and Mochi was curled up on the couch watching some Simpson’s rerun. What made Richie fume was that his father could act like life was completely normal when the world was clearly falling apart.

Richie slammed the door loudly, causing Went to look over from the television.

“Hey Rich. How was seeing grandma?”

That was the final straw, “Like you don’t know how it was,” Richie huffed, flinging his backpack into an empty chair, “You knew!” he rounded on his father who was giving him that look. The look parents give as if to say, ‘sorry for lying to you but I have an excuse.”

“Rich…”

“Oh no, you don’t get to make me feel bad for being mad. You lied to me! For 18 years!” He kicked off his sneakers, and shot up the stairs, his bedroom door slamming shut behind him, blocking him off from whatever excuses his father could have made.

Richie’s alarm blared the next morning, beeping loudly until he kicked it off the table near the foot of his bed, flinching as it crashed to the floor.

Fuck school today, he thought to himself, pulling the blankets over his head and tugging Mochi to his chest. He buried his face in his pillow, letting the events of yesterday circle around in his head.

This has to be a nightmare. That didn’t happen. He shifted onto his back, letting Mochi push her paws into his stomach and make herself comfortable. He lay there a few more moments longer until the grumbling of his stomach forced him out of bed.

The sight in his kitchen was not at all what he expected. His father was reading the paper and drinking coffee and sitting across from him was his grandmother, daintily eating a toaster waffle and sipping coffee.

His brain spun so fast, he felt a wave of panic and nausea rising in his stomach. This wasn’t supposed to happen. If they were in the same place that could only mean one thing.

They were going to make him do this.

“Dad...what’s going on?” he cautiously walked over to the counter and picked up a cup of coffee. His eyes darted quickly between his dad and grandmother. Wentworth looked up from his paper and ran a hand through his hair, much like Richie did when he was nervous.

“Rich...we have to have a talk.”

“No kidding,” he mumbled, taking a sip of his coffee and scowling at the neon green floor tiles of their kitchen.

There was silence for a moment until Claria cleared her throat, “Richard-”

“Richie,” he snapped, glaring at her.

“Richie,” she amended, “This...whole situation was supposed to be avoided. You...you were born out of wedlock and your mother was meant to come home and get married. But when she...well she had some health complications that made it impossible for her to have another child, leaving you as her sole heir. Our country's sole heir.”

“But no pressure or anything,” he deadpanned.

“Quite the opposite. The future if the nation rests on your shoulders.”

Richie barely suppressed a snort, and looked over at Wentworth, “Do they not have sarcasm in Genovia?”

Wentworth gave him a warning look, “What your grandmother is trying to say,” he looked over cautiously at Claria, “is that there are...some expectations. However,” he held up a hand as Richie tried to protest, “I know this is a lot to spring on you. And I completely understand if you don’t want to do it or if you need to take your time to make a decision.”

Richie narrowed his eyes suspiciously, “What’s the catch?”

Claria gave him a small satisfied smile, “You’ll be attending lessons with me.”

Richie scrunched up his nose, “Lessons?”

She nodded, “Lessons. In diplomacy, fashion, etiquette. Every day after school until the Independence Day Ball that is a month away.”

Richie choked on his coffee “A month? I’m supposed to learn all of this in a month?!”

Claria gave him a smile smirk and he shudders at the sudden realization that there were, in fact, facial similarities with the woman who was attempting to ruin his life, “Trust me, Richard. In my hands, you will.”

“Richie you promised!” Bev slammed her history textbook on the table, “You said you would help me edit tonight!”

Richie looked up from where he was listlessly poking at his cafeteria food, “Bev, believe me, I’d rather be with you editing for the newest episode of Breakfast with Bev but Madam has made it explicitly clear that if I’m not the Plaza at 3:30 sharp she’s going to send the entire NYPD after me. Get Ben to help you.”

“Can she do that?” Eddie’s eyes widened in concern.

Richie shrugged, “Legally? Probably not. Will she anyway? Most definitely.”

Bev huffed, “I wish you’d at least bring the camera. Your grandma would be a great interview subject for the family history episode.”

“Something tells me she’s not the family history project kind of person,” he mumbled before turning to Eddie again, “Hey Eds did you fix my baby yet.”

Eddie had quite the talent for cars. He loved to help people and fix things, and that coupled with his dexterity and patient nature is what made Richie come to him with the insane project of fixing up his 1985 Mustang.

Eddie cringed, “Err...kinda?”

Richie gulped, “Kinda?”

Eddie gave him an apologetic smile, “sorry Richie. Come by later though. Mike might be able to fix it.”

Eddie...sweet caring Eddie. Always going out of his way to help

Richie shoved his shoulder gently, “At least lemme pay you for staying late this time.”

Eddie smiled shyly and shrugged his hand off, “No way. Come one you know that the Hanlons just let me stay late and practice anyway. Not like my mom would let me bring the keyboard home.”

What a gem this kid is. Seriously Richie why haven’t we wifed him up again?

Are we seriously still gonna sit here and pine over Denbrough until we graduate?

Richie shook his head slightly and sighed, willing himself not to think about what was coming after school as he got lost in whatever story Bev was telling now.

3:45 pm. Richie slumped lower in his chair, scowling at the clock. 15 minutes and she still wasn’t there. He jiggled his foot, watching it come dangerously close to an intricate looking statue on the table in front of him. He narrowed his eyes in annoyance, picking at his nails.

“Mr. Tozier?”

The voice startled him, making his foot slip, causing him to hit the statue and knock it off the table where it shatters on the floor. He looked up, making panicked eye contact with a pretty girl with long auburn hair, pulled up in a neat ponytail. She surveyed him with a look of vague amusement on her face.

“I can fix that…” he whispered.

“I doubt it,” she laughed, flipping her ponytail over her shoulder, and held out her hand, “I’m Patricia. Your grandmother’s assistant,” she nodded towards the door, “She’s ready for you.” He scrambled to stand, accidentally knocking over the chair he was sitting in. He cringes as he hears the dull thud and the tinkle of what he assumes was the expensive looking vase on the table next to it breaking. He quickly through another, ‘sorry’ over his shoulder at Patricia and takes off down the hallway toward the large wooden doors.

She’s ready for you. God that makes her sound like a fucking bond villain. He thinks to himself as he pushes the door to her suit open. Sure enough, there’s Claria, sitting in a plush high-backed chair with her white Persian cat Elsa perched on her lap. She looked up when he entered and regarded cooly.

“I’ve been expecting you,”

BOND VILLAIN called it!!  

“Yeah...I’ve been here for like 15 minutes already.”

“Do you realize adding ‘like’ into your sentence makes you sound exponentially more uneducated than you are? I’m sure that fancy school of yours doesn’t allow it.”

“Uhh…”

“And they ‘uhhs’! You young people today. You don’t know how to speak I swear.” She stood, shooing Elsa from her lap, “Let me have a look at you. Come on now come here.” She crossed the room to him in easy strides and looked him up and down.

“Turn.”

“What?”

“A circled Richard. Turn in a circle.” She gave him the same look he’d often given Audra as if to stay ‘what are you? Stupid?’

Richie turned slowly, feeling his skin prickle uncomfortably.

“Patricia! Patricia come in here and take a list! And phone Stanley. Tell him I’ll need him for tomorrow!”

Patricia nodded, “Right away your majesty.” she clicked her pen as Claria circled Richie again.

“Hair is far too long for a boy his age, and far to mess. I swear Wentworth knows better than to let you galavant around looking like one of the Wild Things,” she clicked tongue in disapproval and then continued, “Eyes, beautiful like his mother’s,” she paused for a moment to give him a soft smile, and then immediately launched back into her rant, “Nail, horrid. Clean nails from now on. And we’ll be taking your measurements,” It takes Richie a full 30 seconds to process she is, in fact, speaking to him, “I want you in pants that fit not those baggy monstrosities you’re currently wearing. And no more street shoes. Oxfords or dress shoes from now on. Are we clear?”

He’s too stunned to do anything but nod. No more Chucks? No more nail polish? She was going to cut his hair? This was too much. He had to run. Say ‘no no thank you, not for me’, book it back to the Village, and spend of the afternoon watching Eddie work on his car while he and Bev edit videos for her youtube channel. But before he can even move, a tall older man with sunglasses, who had been standing so quietly Richie hadn’t even noticed him, was shutting the wooden door and moving to stand in front of it.

“Alright,” she settled back in her chair and gestured to the chair across from her, “Let’s begin.”

Tag List: @tinyarmedtrex @dyslexictozier @sunflowertozier @richietoaster @jem-carstairs-is-perfection @totaltozier @richardxtozier @reddie-for-anything @aizeninlefox @reddiepop @oldguybones

[everlarkficexchange]

A Tangled Web - Part 2

Written by: @demisexualkatnisseverdeen

Prompt 100: “See, this is why no one lets you make the plans.” Pregnant, unwed, underage Prim will be punished unless Katniss hides the pregnancy, pretends baby is hers. Caught and tangling others into deception, Katniss agrees to another plan: marry Peeta, pretend it’s his so Prim can move on with her life. But then Rye forfeits bakery, claims child, wants to marry Prim. Only way to keep up lies and to let Prim have her own baby now is for Katniss to get pregnant, too, because of strict antiabortion laws. [submitted by Anonymous]

Rating: M for sexual violence, language and sexual situations. 

Author’s Note: Thanks to @ryrous for betaing this story. You took my hot mess of a story and made it better. Thanks to Anonymous for submitting this prompt. I had to split this story because it was so long but it was meant to be a one shot. Note the trigger warnings. I tried to make it as non triggering as possible but the situation itself is very disturbing. I have never been sexually assulted although I have faced sexual harrasement. Also there is very severe homophobia in this universe. I based this off of various posts I’ve seen about how Panem treats the LBGTQ community especially the headcanon that District 13 is very homophobic. We know in canon they were extremely focused on fertility and likely hetrosexual relationships. They would likely view gay relationships as a waste of resources and pro-Capitol (Because the Capitol always seemed fairly accepting of the LBGTQ community at least within the Capitol itself.) I use the term “homosexual” despite its offensive conotations because it seems like the type of pseudoscientific word that District 13 would use. My characters don’t agree with the treatment of the LBGTQ community nor do I. (Obviously this is horrible and I really hope that I am not playing into negative sterotypes about futures.) Yeah, this place is pretty damn horrifying. And as usual there is implied racism but that is more localized. I don’t see District 13 as a particularly racist place. 

Trigger Warnings: None for this section but there will be scenes of sexual violence and homophobia/homophobic language.

Katniss ought to have known the peace wouldn’t last. Prim was five months pregnant when the baby began to move. She squealed and said, “Katniss, feel this.”

Katniss rushed over and pressed her hand against her sister’s stomach. A few minutes passed with no movement, and then she gasped at the distinctive feeling of the baby shifting around. 

Rye was home that night, and it was the first time he had been home while Prim was still visiting. For some reason Katniss thought he disliked her sister. But at the outburst from Prim he dropped the newspaper he had been pretending to read and stood up. 

“I won’t do this anymore,” he said. “I don’t care what Mom says.” 

Katniss stared at his retreating form and then glanced around the room. Peeta’s face turned concerned as they could hear the sound of raised voices upstairs. Mrs. Mellark had been gradually failing, but she clearly hadn’t lost use of her lungs. Prim had a strange look on her face. She looked almost…proud.

Then it all hit Katniss. How could she have been so stupid? Of course, Rye was the father of Prim’s baby. That’s why Mrs. Mellark had been so willing to see Katniss marry Peeta. That’s why everyone had been so accommodating. Clearly Rye’s prospects of finding a merchant wife were better than Peeta’s, and so they had cooked up this whole scheme to protect him. Katniss felt the pain of betrayal hit her hard. She had thought Peeta had done it because he hadn’t wanted to see her go to the Community Home and because he said he loved her. But it hadn’t been that at all. He had just been following his mother’s orders. What else had he lied about?

“Prim, is Rye the father?” Prim tried to deny it, but she’d never been a particularly good liar. Her face crumpled, and she started sobbing, “Oh Katniss, I wanted to tell you, but I was afraid his mother would kill him or something!”

“It’s not your fault,” Katniss replied automatically, like she always did with Prim. There were few limits to what she would do for her sister. “I’m just glad the baby is doing well.”

Leaven came back into the room and said Mrs. Mellark wanted to see Prim. Prim walked tremblingly up the stairs, and Katniss had to resist the urge to follow. For some reason she trusted Leaven to protect her sister, and she doubted Mrs. Mellark would be able to physically attack her pregnant sister. Something told her Prim’s merchant looks would be more appealing to Mrs. Mellark than Katniss’s Seam looks. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Katniss turned on Peeta and disguised the pain she felt with a sudden rush of anger. 

“I didn’t know. Not when you came to me. I had a suspicion. I caught them kissing once behind the bakery, but I had thought your sister was dating the Hawthorne boy. That night Rye confessed. I did what I have always done. I had to protect my brother. Just like you protected your sister.” 

“So you married me so Rye could be free.” Katniss fought the tears that wanted to fall by biting her lip and glaring at him.

“No… I wanted to marry you. But I didn’t want to marry you like this. I wanted it to be real.” His voice sounded so sad that she felt a little relenting in her heart. Then she remembered how he had kept something so important from her. 

“Well, good luck with that when you lie to me. I thought this was my only option. I was happy on my own before…” Katniss turned away, and this time the tears did fall. It was a lie, of course. She had been reasonably content, but Peeta had made her happy. She wasn’t going to give him that power, though.

She ran up the stairs and pushed open Mrs. Mellark’s bedroom door the precise moment Rye was clearly saying: 

“I’m marrying Prim tomorrow and we’ll move to the Seam. I’ll get a job in the coal mines, but so help me I’m taking care of my girl and my baby. I’m not going to have that child grow up not knowing his real parents. I thought I could handle it until I saw what it was like to have the baby move.”

Mrs. Mellark glanced at her son and then at Prim, “You’ll not move to the Seam. Or get a job in the coal mines. No son of mine will ever work there. You’ll stay here. It could be worse I guess. You’re a pretty thing, and most people will forget you’re from the Seam.”

Katniss saw that Mrs. Mellark’s pride had ended up being in Rye and Prim’s favor. The woman was unwilling to see her son live in the Seam, no matter how much she might dislike his bride. Then the woman’s eye found her. “So did you know about this?”

“No,” Katniss replied shortly. “Things would have been different if I had.”

“Well, that certainly poses a problem. You signed those papers that you were pregnant. You’ll be having a visit from Thread and Cray. Unless you are pregnant?” Mrs. Mellark glanced at her stomach. Katniss shook her head. 

The Peacekeepers, with a doctor in tow, visited women who were pregnant to enforce the laws against any type of behavior that could lead to miscarriage. They also inspected women randomly. There were horror stories about the “examinations” Cray had forced on women. Katniss shuddered. 

Katniss went to Peeta’s room and changed into her nightgown. She glanced around the room and, for the first time since her wedding night, regretted their sleeping arrangements. Her resentment against the whole Mellark family grew as she realized that she would have to pay the penalty for everyone else’s lies. She would be the one facing Cray’s “inspections” and abuse. 

The next morning Katniss went home with Prim to stay for a few days and prepare for the wedding. At least, that was the reason she gave everyone. In reality it was because she wanted to get away from them. After her sister went to bed Katniss told her mother the whole story.

“Oh Katniss,” her mother reached out and took her hand. “If only I had known.”

“I can’t believe he didn’t tell me. I would have done the same thing as I did, but I would have also pressured Rye to marry Prim. They do love each other, and it’s better for the baby. Peeta only married me because he was ashamed of his brother marrying a Seam woman.” 

“I don’t think so. Why would he have married you? I think he just wanted to protect his brother from his mother. You must remember: she hadn’t told anyone about her illness. Merle Mellark is on her death bed and she knows it.”

Katniss hesitated, as she thought over her mother’s reasoning. The only thing she could think of was that Peeta was willing to bear the shame of marrying someone like her but didn’t want his brother to go through the scandal. Then again she knew her new mother-in-law well enough to know that if anyone crossed her they quickly regretted it. 

She was still so angry at Peeta and his family regardless of the reason. She helped Prim with her wedding as she tried to stuff down her resentment. She wasn’t very successful, but Prim was so radiantly happy at her marriage that she didn’t even notice how Katniss felt. Katniss didn’t blame her sister. She was marrying the boy she loved.

“Oh Katniss, you must get pregnant soon. Think of it. Our children will be only months apart.” Prim smiled and added, “I don’t think that will be too hard. I saw that very close hug you two had.”

Katniss winced and said sharply, “I’m not planning to get pregnant any time soon.”

“But what will you tell Thread?” Prim asked, suddenly alarmed.

“I had a miscarriage. It’s not uncommon.” Katniss replied. 

“Oh Katniss please be careful.” Prim said. “But as long as he can tell you’ve been trying I suppose it’s all right.”

Katniss didn’t tell her sister that she was still a virgin. She wasn’t sure if the medical tests would be able to tell since her mother had indicated that proofs of virginity were notoriously flawed. With all the hunting Katniss had done more than likely any proof was long gone. But it was a risk she would have to take.

The wedding went off without a hitch. Mrs. Mellark wasn’t well enough to come down so they had the toasting in her room under her watchful blue eyes. Prim had to wear an old dress of Mrs. Everdeen’s that she had worn when she carried Katniss and Prim. It was an pale pink cotton with tiny yellow flowers printed on it. Her stomach was growing larger by the day. Prim looked radiantly happy and glowing, and Rye actually smiled for the first time in what seemed like forever. While Katniss was genuinely glad for her sister, her joy didn’t help the ache in her own heart. 

“Katniss, please, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” Peeta’s face looked desperate as he held her hand that night. 

“I just want to know why you didn’t tell me.” Katniss looked up at him.

“Because I didn’t want my brother to get attacked by mom. She didn’t care so much who I married. I was never her favorite son. I’ve always taken care of him. I was afraid you would try talking to her or to Rye, and she’d end up taking out on everyone.”

Katniss sighed. She understood the urge to protect younger siblings. “I get that. I probably would have done that. But now I’m in trouble. Cray’s going to come out, and when I’m not pregnant…” 

“Tell him you lost the baby.” Peeta said. Katniss nodded. 

Things weren’t all right between them, but at least Katniss didn’t feel like throwing a hive of Tracker Jackers over him. She lay down but fought back the terror as she contemplated what might happen. Her only hope lay in lying to Cray over the baby. She tried to hide her discomfort from both Peeta and Prim. Prim was fairly easy to deceive since she was a newly wed with a baby on the way. Katniss tried not to think about what must be going on behind closed doors with her sister and her new husband. As much as it might bother her that Prim was old enough to be married she was glad Prim was spared the horror of the examination. Peeta was harder to deceive. He wasn’t distracted by newly wedded bliss and he could see through Katniss with stunning clarity. He didn’t know that Katniss’s hunting trips had been strictly business or that she had never frequented the Slag Heap. Katniss knew most people thought she was a wild woman who had sex in the woods without a care in the world. Peeta knew she wasn’t doing that now but he must have thought she had done something in her past. Katniss hoped her “reputation” gave her something to use when Cray came. 

Thread and Cray came two weeks later. Katniss let them into the bakery, which was nearly deserted. Peeta and his brothers were at the train station picking up supplies, and Mrs. Mellark was upstairs. Prim was with her mother. For the first time in her life, Katniss wished Mrs. Mellark was up and around. Somehow she suspected the woman wouldn’t be afraid to take on Thread. Then again the woman would have probably fought Katniss more if she wasn’t dying.

“How may I help you?” She asked calmly as the panic fought its way to the surface.

“I understand you are pregnant, Mrs. Mellark?” Thread said as he sat down at the kitchen table.

“I was, sir, but I lost the baby.” Katniss forced herself to speak. She was so genuinely terrified she thought she did a passable job of being grief stricken.

“I understand your sister is also pregnant. And both of you seem to have conceived around the same time. How coincidental…” Thread’s voice trailed off.

“Yes… it was.” Katniss replied. “She’s luckier than I.”

“Mrs. Mellark, I’m sure you won’t mind a short medical examination with Dr. Cray here. We just want to make sure you are physically able to bear a child. You must understand the desperate need our country has for healthy children.” Thread’s eyes narrowed as Katniss stood there. She took a deep breath. An examination. The horror of all women in District 12. 

“Is that really necessary? I don’t like the idea of someone apart from my husband seeing me.” Katniss thought it sounded logical.

“Oh well, I’m a doctor, Mrs. Mellark. I don’t count.” Cray’s eyes filtered over her figure making her skin crawl. Thread gave an imperceptible nod to his companion. 

“Take me upstairs, Mrs. Mellark. It will only take a few minutes. Peacekeeper Thread here will be right outside the door to make sure everything is safe.” Cray’s promise sounded more like a threat, and Katniss had no choice but to do what he asked. She had no recourse. She had no weapons on her, and even if she had her bow, Katniss knew Thread’s gun would kill her long before the arrow was strung. 

“Now Mrs. Mellark, why are you so nervous? You almost remind me of a virgin. Surely a married woman like you shouldn’t be this uncomfortable.” Cray’s eyes fixed on her face as he sat her down on the bed. Katniss couldn’t bear the idea that this was the bed she slept in. With Peeta. Oh Peeta, I’m sorry. 

“I don’t like the idea of a strange man touching me.” Katniss snapped back.

She put on the faded and stained medical gown and lay back on the bed. She was bare beneath it. At first it did seem like a normal medical exam. Her mother performed them often. Katniss wouldn’t have minded if her mother had done this. Cray’s examination only lasted a few minutes. She started to breath a sigh of relief. Maybe he was fooled. 

“Well, Mrs. Mellark, it seems that your hymen is not intact but your vaginal walls are extremely tight, making me think you don’t engage in sexual activity frequently. Then again you are a small woman. I also found no evidence of a recent pregnancy.” Cray’s voice sounded professional but Katniss heard the threat in his voice. 

“I was sure I was pregnant. I lost my period and felt sick. Perhaps I was mistaken.” Katniss felt nausea well up in her stomach. 

Cray reached out and touched her thigh. “Or maybe your husband isn’t doing a good job. Tell me, has he ever even touched you?”

Katniss tried to pull away, but his grip on her body was surprisingly strong and he glanced significantly at the door where Thread was posted. “Of course he has.”

“Well, it sure doesn’t look like it. Tell me, is he a homosexual? Is that why he hasn’t touched you?” Crays leering voice was in her ear now, “I assure you there are others far better at showing you a good time. And getting you pregnant.”

“No, of course not.” Katniss knew of District 13’s hatred of people they deemed “homosexuals”. People had been killed or forced into prisons where they came home scarred and broken shells of their former selves. Nobody willingly admitted to being homesexual. People had even been accused without proof. Katniss realized she had been spared the accusation by her close friendship with Gale. Otherwise her outspoken dislike of marriage and children would have probably made her a potential target. Cray was just trying to get her. He had no proof of Peeta being one. He was only trying to frighten her. 

“Well, Mrs. Mellark, I have to remind you that homosexuality is treatable with proper care. If you have any evidence of your husband being a homosexual, I will have to know. I assure you that he will be taken care of and returned safely to you.” Cray’s hand moved up her thigh. Katniss fought back a scream.

“He’s not.” She gasped out. 

“Well, then maybe you are. Maybe this whole thing was you hiding…You certainly seem a frigid bitch.” Cray’s hand slipped higher. Katniss shook her head. She felt like throwing up. 

“Katniss.” She could hear Peeta’s voice outside the door. She got the courage to move away from Cray. 

“Are you ok?” He sounded frantic. 

Katniss turned to Cray and said, “Are you done, Doctor? I assure you that neither my husband or I are homosexuals. As for the pregnancy, I was mistaken. I must have had the flu.”

Cray turned to her and said, “Well, we’ll go now, but if you haven’t fixed your little problem I’m sure I can help you.”

Katniss shuddered as he opened the door. Peeta and Thread were standing there. Cray said smoothly, “Well, Mr. Mellark, I’m sure that you will be glad to know that your wife is in good health. No evidence of any abnormalities. I see no reason for any fertility issues. You’ll just have to be patient.”

Thread noticed how Peeta’s face tightened and how he looked about ready to attack Cray. It was the look his face got before wresting matches. Thread seemed to notice because he said, “Come on, Dr. Cray. We have a few other people to see.”

“I’ll be back in a few months to make sure that you are following the treatment I proposed.” Dr. Cray stared at Katniss for a few seconds before turning and walking down the stairs. Katniss waited until she heard the door click below; then, she pushed Peeta aside and flew to the bathroom, barely making it before she lost everything she had eaten all day. Her skin still seemed to crawl and her body felt as it was trying to expel her stomach. 

She was vaguely aware of Peeta wetting a wash cloth and laying it against her forehead. She sat up and let him finish washing her face. She still couldn’t stop shaking, but she let out a shuddering sigh when he pulled her close. It had to be her fault. What could she have done? Perhaps if she had lied more convincingly they wouldn’t have examined her?

“Katniss, what happened? I came home to find them there. You’re scaring me.” He rubbed her back and she felt the tears start to fall. 

“I can’t…” Katniss couldn’t stop them now that they wanted to come. 

“Ok. Just answer me this. Did he touch you?” She could feel the tension in his body even though he kept his voice calm.

“Yes, but not…” Katniss tried to explain but saying the words made it all seem real. She hoped he understood without her getting more explicit. 

“Please, you have to promise me you won’t do anything. Promise me that. Ok…It will just hurt us all.” Katniss lifted her head and looked into his eyes. They had grown icy cold and almost scary in their intensity.

“I…That man. What he did…” Peeta glanced down at her and then said, “I shouldn’t have left. I should have stayed with you. If I had stayed, they wouldn’t have been able to do that.”

“It’s not your fault. And you know what would happen if you did anything against Cray.” Katniss knew how the whole family would be punished in horrible ways. 

“I know. I won’t do anything. I promise for your sake.”

After what seemed like hours, he pulled her up and carried her into the room they called the nursery. It was really just a storage closet. “I’m going to get Rye and Prim to switch rooms with us. It will be better anyway since it’s closer to the nursery and farther away from mom.”

“Thank you.” Katniss laid down on the blankets he had laid out for her. “Don’t be gone too long. Please?”

“It won’t take long.” He promised.

Katniss lay down again and stared at the wall that seemed to glow in the late afternoon sun. She remembered how warm and wonderful she had felt in this room kissing her husband. The sense of pleasure she had experienced hadn’t lessened. She had known then that somehow this would have happened anyway. But now all she could remember was the way it had felt to be touched without permission and helpless she had been. The worst of it had been the fact that there had been nothing she could have done. Even if she had been armed, the Capitol would have been sure to retaliate for killing a Peacekeeper. 

“I moved all our things into the other room.” Peeta came back into the room and knelt beside her on the floor. 

“Thank you.” Katniss whispered. “I’m sorry I’m being silly…”

“You’re not silly. You’re so damn strong. All the things you’ve done. Taking care of Prim. Marrying me. I love you so much. I just can’t handle what they’ve done to you.” Katniss could feel his shoulders shaking and the warm, wetness of tears. 

After awhile she said softly, “ I better tell you what he said. He told me that…I…ugh I…I can’t say it. It’s so humiliating…”

“You don’t have to tell me.”

“I do. He knew I was still a virgin. And then he started to accuse you of being a homosexual. When I denied it, he said maybe I was the one. That’s when he kept touching me. And saying that if…if I wanted someone to help me… I should go to him…”

“ Shit. That means he’ll come back. Or…” Peeta shook his head looking more and more disturbed by the second.

“Or he’ll have one of us taken to the hospital for “treatment”.” Katniss finished. They called it hijacking. Nobody survived hijacking. They were broken messes of people afterwards. 

“That won’t happen. I won’t let that happen.”

“No you won’t. Listen, this would have happened. We just got sidetracked with finding out about Rye. It’ll be fine. We’ll just do what they want. And maybe…” Katniss took a deep breath and tried to say the rest. “I really liked kissing you.”

A touch of a smile hit his lips, but his face looked just as distraught as before, “Ok. But promise me that you’ll tell me if anything makes you uncomfortable.”

“I’ll be fine,” Katniss murmured. She wanted to kiss him to try to wash away the horrible feel of that man’s hands on her. She wanted to regain some control of her body. She leaned forward until her lips touched his. It was a different kind of kiss. Soft, gentle and tender. 

“Can you eat something?” Peeta asked when she pulled away. Katniss nodded suddenly aware of how depleted her body felt. 

He made her cheese buns, an unimaginable luxury for her, and sat there watching her eat them. Prim came home, and Katniss did her best to hide what happened from her sister. Fortunately just talking about Thread and Cray’s visit was enough to explain Katniss’s distress. Prim’s face grew more and more alarmed.

“I’m sorry. It’s my fault. I should have gone to the home.” 

“No, it’s not your fault. It’ll be ok. I’ll get pregnant soon, and then he won’t have anything to use against me.” Katniss couldn’t bear the idea of Prim being the one to face this abuse. Better her than her sister. 

Prim seemed to have faced the enormity of what her sister had faced to protect her. She stopped crying but kept glancing at Katniss. When Peeta left to take care of something in the bakery she whispered, “Is Peeta treating you right? Are you…happy?”

Happy? Katniss didn’t know the meaning of the word, but she had felt brief flashes of it. Certainly she had to admit Peeta made her happier. He gave her a sense of peace and serenity. He offered her the support she needed. He was like the dandelion she had picked long ago after he had given her the bread. “Yeah, he does.”

Things seemed to change between them after that day. Katniss woke up nearly every night fighting nightmares about Cray and his horrible threats. But every time she woke up screaming Peeta was there to sooth her and remind her that it was just a nightmare. She couldn’t imagine sleeping alone anymore. They started kissing a lot too. Gentle kisses that meant comfort and safety. Quick kisses that meant familiarity. And the kind of kiss Katniss was becoming increasingly accustomed to. The passionate, soul searching, knee weakening kiss that made her head spin. Once they started, it seemed to escalate all on its own. The only problem was that there were always people around in a crowded house. On nice days they would spend the evening in the meadow lying on the grass and looking up at the sky.

One night they were lying on the grass watching the sunset when he said, “I wish I could freeze this moment in time and live in it forever.”

Katniss had her head in his lap weaving a flower crown. Her hair was unbound because he had taken a liking to playing with it. It didn’t bother her since she could braid it quickly back into neatness before going home. “I’ll allow it.” 

She sat up rapidly and flung the flowers aside before diving in and pressing her lips to his. Almost immediately she realized that this was one of “those” kisses. She loved how the heat seemed to grow and expand within her, but she hated how she was always left wanting. They were extremely careful to avoid anything that might cause her to get the panic to come back. Once he had laid his hand on her thigh and she had freaked out. He always let her control their encounters. She appreciated the tenderness he always showed her. 

Katniss shifted until she was practically sitting in his lap. She couldn’t suppress a tiny smile at how absolutely wonderful she felt at this very moment. She let out a tiny squeak when he pressed a kiss against the sensitive skin of her neck. Hearing her reaction, he continued trailing kisses against her neck until he reached a spot right below her ear that made her moan. “Keep doing that and I’ll really allow it.” She murmured.

“Hmm…good to know.” She could hear the laughter in his tone. It was nice that they could laugh even now. Her inexperience didn’t feel quite so insurmountable when they didn’t take things so seriously. She decided that she was going to take a step forward. Taking a deep breath, she took his hand and pressed it against her breast. “You can touch me…here.”

It took a bit of exploring to figure everything out. She discovered that she was ticklish right under her ribs which she suspected he would use to his advantage some time when they weren’t feeling all this pleasure. She unbuttoned her plain blouse, hoping nobody was around to see. The meadow was always deserted, but it still made her nervous. Her equally plain bra hid her tiny breasts. She knew that compared to the town girls’ breasts, they were unimpressive, and she hoped Peeta wouldn’t be disappointed. 

Peeta fixed his eyes on her face as if he was afraid she would be angry if he looked down. Katniss learned forward and kissed him again to cover up her embarrassment at being so exposed. He reached out a hand and touched her so gently she relaxed against him. There was absolutely nothing to be afraid of. She smiled again and nodded slightly. He gained confidence and began putting those kneading skills to good use. Katniss couldn’t suppress the soft gasping moans that passed her lips. When he started using both lips and his hands in combination, she cried out softly, “Ohhh.”

Her body was rushing towards something she had experienced before by herself, but it felt very different when it wasn’t a simple case of relieving a vague bodily need. Somehow she knew this wouldn’t be enough. He lifted his head and whispered, “Can I touch you?”

Then the memories came hurtling back. The examination. Her stomach tightened. The idea of anyone’s fingers touching her between her legs made her nervous. Her breasts were fine since Cray hadn’t touched her there. “I… I don’t know.”

She saw the sadness fill his eyes. The warm feeling was slowly dissipating with the memories. She didn’t want to lose it. “Can we try something else?”

“Would it be ok if you…ah… touch yourself?” he asked.

Katniss considered and then nodded. “I think so.”

It seemed to do the trick. Katniss wasn’t afraid when her own hand slipped between the layers of her pants. She was in control. She pushed aside the disappointment at how even now her life had been damaged by what had happened. At least this was familiar though it felt so different. Soon though, there was absolutely nothing to think about besides the coiling inside of her body and the sensation of his tongue sliding across her tight bud. And then it happened. The coil broke, and she cried out as warm wave of pleasure washed over her. 

“Was that ok?” he asked and she almost laughed. Who asked that sort of question when it was clear it had been way more than ok? Instead she only nodded and took a second to catch her breath.

“Of course it was, silly.” She whispered as she started to reach for the button on his pants. He made a noise of protest, but she added, “I want to.”

It was true that she had absolutely no fear trying to give him the same kind of feeling she had experienced. But she still flushed because while she had seen her share of naked men because of her mother’s healing she hadn’t been in this situation before. He helped her to figure out the movements and she felt a surge of triumph at the way he seemed to lose control. She didn’t know what she was doing, but whatever she was doing seemed to be doing the trick. She tried following certain cues, repeating what made him groan. 

Afterwards she wiped her hands on the grass and curled up beside him against the tree. It was growing late, and she knew they ought to go home, but she didn’t want to. She was afraid that once she went back into the place where everything had happened, she would be scared again. 

As the days passed Katniss found her life changing in more ways than one. Prim was getting bigger by the day and was perpetually cranky due to her lack of mobility. Mrs. Mellark was not interested as she swore the baby was a boy due to the way that Prim carried the baby. Katniss’s mom said that was something of a myth but Mrs. Mellark wouldn’t have cared. Her health had seemingly rallied after Katniss had found a combination of roots that limited her pain and gave her energy. The woman had resumed coming downstairs to boss her children around. She seemed to have a certain grudging respect for Katniss although she still hated her. Prim was merchant looking enough to be accepted with half-hearted approval, but she still treated Peeta and Rye as if they were the dust off of her feet. Katniss hated that but realized she couldn’t do anything. There was nothing she could do to make the woman start acting like a mother. 

On the bright side,  almost every night she and Peeta explored each other’s bodies under cover of darkness. She started to understand things about herself and him that she had never really thought of. It was a wanton, completely useless kind of pleasure that would neither help them with the situation of Cray or get her pregnant. But it didn’t matter. She learned to crave the sensation of heat and hunger and the overpowering relief of release. The first time he asked to use his mouth on her she was hesitant. It wasn’t that she was scared exactly it was more that it was unfamiliar. She knew people did it all the time, she had heard girls at school talking, but it still seemed strange. But it felt so overpoweringly amazing she knew they had been right. She had to press a pillow against her face and nearly smother herself to keep the rest of the house from knowing exactly what they were up to. 

“Don’t be so smug.” Katniss tried scowling as she saw the wide smile tip his face as he pulled her closer and drew the sheet up higher. It wasn’t a very good attempt though.

“I’ll be smug when I make you scream sometime.” He replied with a smirk. Katniss raised her brows. He had gotten pretty bold, especially when talking dirty. She secretly liked it. 

“There are people in the house.” Katniss whispered. 

“I know. That’s why I’ll know I’ve succeeded.” Katniss glared at him. She knew he had a competitive streak. And the worst of it was she felt sure he would win the bet. 

One night not long after she said, “I’m ready.”

It was scary. Her memories of what had happened filtered through her mind. The awful man’s description of her body and his hands on her haunted her. Her mother had indicated that being nervous made things more painful, so she forced herself to take deep breaths. 

“Are you sure?” he whispered. She nodded. Then she pressed her lips to his in a kiss that said that she trusted him. And yes, she loved him. It seemed hard to remember a time when she didn’t. It had grown up and taken root inside of her so slowly she hadn’t realized until now exactly how much she loved him. 

Peeta was so gentle with her. She had wanted to hurry through this in her usual reckless way. It was far less frightening. But he kept slowing her movements down even while letting her set the pace. She glanced down into the blue eyes that looked so lovingly into her own and focused on the bond between them. Somehow she knew that in this moment he was just as much at her mercy as she was mentally to him. The anxiety was probably the worst. Certainly it was worse than the pain which wasn’t that bad and Katniss was no stranger to aches and pains anyway. The fear surfaced again and again, making her breath catch and causing her to lose her rhythm. She fought through it, focusing on his face and how much he meant to her. She knew that this time there was no way that she would come, but it didn’t matter. This moment was a huge victory. 

“Katniss… you’re so…beautiful,” he choked out. Katniss leaned down to kiss him. It had been a long time since she had thought herself beautiful. Maybe not since her father died. 

“Let go,” she murmured when she saw the telltale signs that he had reached the brink. The pleasure still lingered in her body, but she had to admit that this experience had been difficult. She believed that soon the anxiety would go away. Until it did, she intended to fight it for all she was worth. 

“Katniss, are you ok?” His eyes looked so sharply into her own that she knew she hadn’t fooled him. 

“Yes,” she replied. 

When he had a chance to catch his breath she said, “It was hard. I mean, after what happened I knew it would be difficult. But I’m glad I did it. And…”

“And what.” He asked. 

“I think I love you,” she replied. 

“What can I do to persuade you to know so?” Peeta grinned and took her hand under the covers.

“Keep being you,” she replied, “And I’m already there. I’m just not very good at talking.”

She glanced over to see the biggest smile on his face. She couldn’t help a small smile of her own as she snuggled closer. Maybe she was pregnant, even now. The idea of children scared her, but she also knew that any child of theirs would be well taken care of. It gave her a strange thrill to imagine that.

Prim’s baby was born on the day that had once been Reaping Day. It was now known as Independence Day. Little Bram Mellark was a healthy, extremely loud baby that took Prim a tremendous amount of pain to deliver. Katniss was desperately hoping her suspicions were wrong, and she wasn’t pregnant as she saw her sister in agony. When her nephew was born, Katniss knew that he held a special place in her heart, just like his mother. She hadn’t imagined loving anyone in quite the same way as Prim. But Prim’s little boy was worming himself into her heart at a rapid pace. The only person who was disappointed was Mrs. Mellark who had been hoping for a girl. 

Cray and Thread came back, but by the time they did Peeta was there, and he didn’t allow either of them a second alone with Katniss. Katniss wouldn’t have let him leave anyway. She was pretty sure she was pregnant. Her mother had examined her and said she was sure of it. A three minute test revealed that her suspicions were correct. She was producing yet another child to replace the terrible losses of life due to poverty, disease and the war in Panem. 

“Congratulations, Mrs. Mellark. It seems your efforts paid off.” Cray said stonily before taking his leave. Katniss kept her composure until he left and then collapsed in a heap to process the whole situation. 

“He’s not coming back.” She said at last. “And I’m pregnant.”

Peeta didn’t seem to know whether to be over the moon with joy over the baby or upset at having seen Cray’s face. Katniss wasn’t sure either. She decided that whatever she was feeling was acceptable. 

“Please, just stay with me.” It would be impossible to make it through the months of uncertainty and fear without him by her side.

“Always,” he promised.

Violet Mellark was born on a wet day in April. She proved to be far less boisterous than her cousin. The moment she opened her stunning blue eyes Katniss was entranced.

“She’s so beautiful.” Peeta whispered as he kissed her tiny cheek. Katniss positioned Violet so they were both holding her. Violet’s eyes were darker than her father’s and closer to a silvery violet color Katniss had never seen before. Her hair was the same Seam black, but her skin had only a faint olive tinge to it. 

Mrs. Mellark, who had been once again slowly failing, had seemed to hang on out of pure force of will. Once she saw her granddaughter, it seemed as if she was finally satisfied. Katniss actually saw a smile cross the woman’s stern face. She seemed almost satisfied with Katniss for finally breaking the line of boys and producing a girl. A girl with such beauty, too. 

Katniss sat by the window with the baby in her arms. Prim had just left the room to change Bram and put him to bed. The sunset was just ending. She looked down at Violet and said softly, “I guess someday I’ll have to tell you about how your parents met and got married. And how you were made. But just know that it’s worth it.”

And then she began to sing. The night came on but she didn’t look up to Peeta watching her with so much love and adoration. She was so focused on the subtle rise and fall of Violet’s chest. It would be ok.  

[ladytrollfishes]

Heist. Pt 1

It takes you ages to plan. You're agitated constantly; your attention skips and jumps, you zone out, you get frustrated, you give up. But you have to get back on it, so you do. It's hard to concentrate with the imps around. You don't know them, not really. You don't trust them even half as much as Herlyn and Mysmus. They have the advantage in case it came to combat. It would not be all that difficult for them to tear you apart and you have a some difficulties controlling your imagination when you think about how easy it would be for any one of them to kill you. Tomie isn't so bad at least. He's an open book and his psi isn't offensive. You could probably pre-empt an attack and disappear. Nanako bounces around cheerily, but you're fairly certain she could crush your skull with a punch, much faster than you could run or even turn invisible. Vadaya's the worst. He's unreadable, and the ways he could kill you are basically only limited by imagination, which you have a lot of. You wouldn't have a chance as long as you were inside his range, which you were going to be. A lot. You don't exactly sleep the first day out of the base, and it takes about a week for you to finally trust they weren't planning on turning around and slitting your throat. And while you get why they're following you, you're not entirely sure why they don't bolt once they have Vadaya out of the base, and make their own way out. You know you're competent, most of the time, but you'd think highbloods would have a hard time taking orders from a younger, flinchy, hemoanon. You miss Mysmus. His absence was a serious ache. You missed his quiet humor, his steady presence, even the Heyfel sayings you were pretty certain he was just making up at this point to watch your nose wrinkle. You missed being able to reach out and grab onto that coat of his and tuck yourself into it when you were panicking, or afraid or really just because you felt like it. Between him and Herlyn, you actually felt safe.

But you don't exactly have room to complain. You did this to yourself, after all. You just didn't really expect it to turn out like this, when you burst in to rescue Vadaya. You didn't think it through and you have no one to blame but yourself. You just... panicked, really, at the idea that your side was doing something that terrible, insisted you do something about it and as they usually did, Herlyn and Mysmus followed. They were coming more frequently now, the panic attacks. When you're traveling, there's fewer places to escape to, when you feel the panic coming, and it's a whole new set of people you don't trust trying to learn your triggers. You don't explain why you can't bring yourself to eat rice or white fish, or drink soup. Nanako caught you once, when you tripped, which resulted in an immediate panic attack, and Herlyn had to get you somewhere quiet and tucked away from what you were sure prying eyes. It doesn't start an immediate coup, like you expected. Tomie insists on helping, up until Vadaya tells him to stop bothering you. Nanako doesn't say much about it, just puts herself between you and everyone else and makes sure you can get peace and quiet when you need it. After that it gets easier to trust them. You told Vadaya what happened to you, when you were trying to make him believe you wouldn't hurt Tomie. You're not sure if he told the others, and you're not sure if you should be grateful if he did. It's not exactly a walk in the park for him either. He's stopped taking care of his appearance. When you had found him he still had his hair trimmed and his beard shaved. He's got scruff now, and you don't think he's touched a hairbrush except when Nanako fusses at him.

He also gets about as much sleep as you do, you're pretty sure. You can't afford to sleep one to a room, not on your dwindling funds. The second Herlyn snores, or Tomie rolls over, you're awake. Sometimes you'll hear Vadaya sit up, after you both jerk awake, and you'll hear Vadaya shuffle quietly into the hall. Coffee is an investment, for the both of you. You settle into a schedule. You rarely stay in one place for more than a night. You separate and walk somewhat apart from each other so you don't look like one big group. Too many adults in one place draws attention, especially when none of them are in imperial dress. They look like draft dodgers than anything else. You keep to big cities where adults aren't uncommon, and you go out quite often with just Herlyn for company. You think you're boring the imps. When you do need them, it's a lot of standing watch thirty feet away from you as you talk to your various contacts. You have them handle some of the transactions- it'd look to weird for the child of a group to be making the decisions, but otherwise, there's not so much to do. You think Nanako is at least getting very antsy. But despite your doubts, you'll have something to do for them soon. You're pulling together a plan but first you're going to need some funds. You're running low. You clear your throat when you enter the hotel room you've rented out, and you see four pairs of eyes turn towards you. "I have a plan," you say quietly. "And I'm going to need help. You take a deep breath to try and ease away the nerves. "You're all okay with assisting me in the field, right?" you ask. "Of course, lah!" Nanako exclaims, her leg bobbling as she leans back in her chair. "We here for a reason, yes? Let us off the leash!" She gives an excited clap and grins at you. Tomie nods eagerly, and when you glance at Vadaya, he nods, impassive as ever. You really wish you knew what was going on inside his head sometimes. Herlyn just gives you a thumbs up and a grin. "Alright," you say, taking a seat yourself. "Our target is Gastra Hilben. She's the CEO of a security company that specializes in storage. She's got a couple private vaults in just about every major city. But she's got her headquarters here."

Tomie grins widely at the mention of vaults. "Never met a safe I couldn't crack! We're gonna steal all her stuff then yeah? Looking for something in particular?" You shake your head. "We're going to take her reputation," you say. "We don't have enough time to worry about fencing stuff." "Time? We're running out of time?" Tomie asks, looking mildly alarmed. "We've got enough money to stay here for a little less than a week," you say. "Then its sleeping on the streets for all of us." You really don't want that to happen. You and Vadaya wouldn't be sleeping at all, if that was the case. "Oh," Tomie says, deflating. "The goal here is primarily money," you say quietly. "But we're looking at an excellent opportunity for blackmail. Hilben has a lot of different clients who use her services to hide their secrets. Discretion is a big part of her business model." "Double pronged blackmail," Herlyn says, nodding approvingly. "You blackmail Hilben with her own clients." "They won't be very happy with her, for letting their secrets escape," you say quietly. Nanako shakes her head, clicking her tongue. "Scary, lah," she says. "Security will not be easy! How we getting in?" "We need recon first," you say. "First she had to let us in. Vadaya, can you make something that weighs and feels like a gold coin?" You look at him, and his brow furrows just slightly, pausing a moment, before he says, "I have not attempted such a thing." "Can you try?" You're not surprised. His constructs are all purple, there's been no point in trying to figure out if he can mimic something else. He focuses for a moment before he forms a large purple coin in his hand, his flesh one. He frowns, and it disappears before he tries again. This time, he seems satisfied and holds it out to you. You take the coin and consider it in your hand, nodding. You turn the coin over in your fingers and take a deep breath, then take the leap of faith. With a flourish of your own psi, you paint its purple color over with gold. Metallics and their shine are a little harder than just a color change, but it's nothing you can't handle. "Oh shit!" Tomie exclaims. "Was that psi? What did you do? Can I see?" You toss the coin over to him, keeping focus on it, and he ooos and aaahs and hands it over to Nanako, who bites it, then squints. "I have illusion psi," you say. "It's not actually gold. But whatever Vadaya can construct, I can make look real." You watch their faces as they nod. Tomie looks excited, Nanako a little more pensive, and Vadaya, who simply nods. "I'm asking you guys to keep this a secret," you say. "There aren't too many people outside this room who know about my power." "Not even the other rebels?" Tomie asks, and you shake your head. "Sipara knows I have psi," you say. "She just doesn't know what it does." "Secret illusions stay secret when no one thinks, ah! Little one makes illusions, lah," Nanako says, nodding. "We keep your secret." She looks to the others, who nod in turn. You take a shaky breath and try to believe they'll actually do it.

"Okay," you say. "So here's the plan."

[heroes-of-our-hearts]

Chapter Thirteen: Dad Might TM

Silence hung between you and Toshi.

It wasn’t uncomfortable, per say, but it was full of anticipation.

He knew you had something to say. You figured it was as good a time as any, especially now that your identity was out- at least to class 1-A, Shouta, Thirteen, and himself.

That didn’t lessen your nerves at the approaching topic though. Not to mention, you were still shaking yourself out of your own grief.

After your sister’s death, you should’ve grieved like a normal person. You should’ve shaken your fist, asked God why, then cried until you couldn’t anymore.

Instead, you got angry.

You got sloppy.

You took your emotions out on villains, you secluded yourself, then, upon the discovery of a plot to kill you and those around you, you fled.

You’d been living with it buried for months now.

You’d convinced yourself that if you ignored it, all of the pain and the grief and the sadness and the anger would just go away.

Your sleep had been dodgy since then too. It was hard for you to get more than a few hours, and when you did your dreams were plagued by nightmares.

Or, at least, you assumed they were nightmares. It was almost always the same: the peak of a mountain, flattened enough for a person to sit, yet nobody around. It was cold, cloudy, and there was a distinct pressure in the air. When you stood atop the mountain, you felt the chill of power, and the eyes of doubt.

You didn’t know what it meant, but you kept going back.

A frown appeared on your lips.

Why did life have to be so complicated again?

If you were being honest though, you’d take those dreams over the other dreams anyday.

Those dreams were unspeakable, and made you blush just thinking about them.

Damn Shouta.

You coughed, clearing those particular thoughts from your mind. You managed to get Toshi’s attention once more.

You felt a little bad for distracting him from the sports festival, but you two beat up the worst of the worst villains for a living, you had faith you could talk and watch at the same time.

“So, I couldn’t help but notice a few things… about your quirk,” you began gently, gauging a reaction.

He was keeping a cautious facade, but you saw the subtle widening of his eyes and raise of his brow at the start of the conversation.

Okay, maybe if you bit the bullet?

“Midoriya’s quirk,” you shoved a thumb in the kid’s general direction, “It’s nearly identical, not to mention your sudden interest in him. He was also quirkless for almost all of his life but suddenly developed a quirk that’s very close to yours.”

Toshi laughed. Your eyes narrowed.

“What are you suggesting?” He asked, a hint of suspicion on his tongue.

The man was closing up before you. Whatever kinship he’d offered before had all but disappeared. This wasn’t the number one hero anymore, this was Toshinori Yagi, a man with a secret.

You crossed your arms over your chest.

“I’m just going to be honest with you,” you told him, “There’s a bit I’ve learned about my quirk from a teacher I once had. It’s not like other people’s quirks.”

He raised a brow, leaning forward an inch.

If you looked closely, you could see a little spark in his eye. He knew what you meant. There was somehow an understanding in his mind.

“When I die, my quirk is passed onto another person, a person that’s just taken their first breath. I was told that my spirit gets reincarnated into them as well, but I’ve never really had an experience like what they’d explained, so I’m not sure if that part was true.”

You felt odd admitting that. When you’d told Roshan that you’d never had any connection to the so-dubbed ‘spirit world’, he’d been surprised, and almost disappointed.

He’d even started to pack his bags, so sure that you weren’t the person he was looking for.

You’d convinced him to stay, but he was cold after that. There was a distance that hadn’t been there before, a doubt that seeped through the bonds you’d once thought were unbreakable.

And then he’d left. It was before you were even a pro hero. He looked you in the eyes, told you that you weren’t worthy of the mantle you possessed, and left without another word.

“So my quirk is different, not a natural quirk like everybody else’s, and that’s why it’s so powerful.”

Toshi grumbled under his breath. You took a moment to admire him.

He truly was the pinnacle of strength.

Physically, he looked emaciated. He was thin, nearly skeletal, and his eyes were dark. His brow still shadowed his face, though it looked less ominous and more concerning. His cheeks were gaunt, his hair messy. He often wore a frown, and it wasn’t uncommon for him to cough up blood.

Still, he was unwavering in his convictions, and undying in his bravery. You knew, if anything were to attack, he’d be the first to defend.

He would risk everything- his secret, his life, his health- just to protect the innocent.

He was the definition of a hero.

And, you found yourself questioning his quirk.

You didn’t need to really. It didn’t matter his origin to you, it wouldn’t make a difference in your eyes, but you could understand why he kept it a secret. The world needed the story of All Might, just as much as it needed the actual All Might.

So, you were surprised when he spoke without omission.

“My quirk has been passed down for generations,” he told you, staring down at his hand like it held all of the answers in the universe.

Covertly, you peeked too. Just in case.

“It’s called One For All.”

“Oh,” you added lamely. “A name… that’s official.”

He clenched his fist, then met your eyes. There was an intensity in them that sparked a fire in your own. No, not your eyes. You felt it in the echoes of who you were, like he was speaking directly to the quirk that had made a home in your mind.

“We are the pillars of our society, the keepers of peace.”

As much as you were determined to make a witty remark, nothing came out. You were frozen, stuck feeling the drumming of the power inside of you. It was pumping through your blood, moving like a part of you, not just a power you could utilize.

Deep down, you could feel yourself on that mountain top. The breeze ran through your hair, blowing whispers of the past to your ears. You were reaching out towards them, though your hand was just in your lap, a blue silhouette of it rose from that spot.

You felt someone so close, yet they were muted by the cheering around you.

Whatever connection you felt to your quirk died, and you were pulled back into reality.

“Are you okay?” Toshinori asked, leaning towards you a bit.

“Yeah,” You answered instinctively. “I just… keep having a weird dream and I was thinking about it I guess.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Toshi questioned, genuine concern in his eyes. “Because, your eyes kind of looked like they were glowing blue for a second.”

Your breath caught.

No, no, no, no, no.

You needed to learn control. You had to have control. You couldn’t lose it again. You couldn’t be the person you had become again.

You couldn’t be that monster.

“One For All,” you redirected, “What is it?”

Toshi sighed. Clearly, he knew you were avoiding the question. Whatever this part of your quirk was, it seemed to have you spooked, and he wouldn’t push unless he felt he needed to. He was sure you’d tell him in your own time.

“The power grows with each successor, used to fight evil wherever, but especially All For One.”

The way he said it was harsh, like a particularly bad memory cropped up. His fists were clenched tight, and regret settled on his brow.

“All For One?” You echoed. “Can you guys do any less confusing names? The whole ‘same letters, different direction’ is tripping me up.”

You attempted a soft laugh.

Toshi appreciated your attempt, but couldn’t offer more than a gentle upturn of his lips. You knew the memories that haunted him more than likely plagued his life. You wouldn’t ask for more.

“We’re a lot alike, you know?” Toshi said instead of continuing the conversation.

He leaned back, watching as Midoriya dodged another attack. For almost the whole match, he’d just been running thus far, which was the best course of action considering he did have the highest headband. The match was well over halfway done, and his team had done an outstanding job dodging. You wouldn’t count Team Bakugo or Team Todoroki out yet. They both had outstanding students with them who were eager to show off their skills.

“Both have some weird, ancient quirk that we couldn’t possibly fully understand the intricate details of?” You inquired, managing to keep a straight face.

Toshi let out a loud laugh.

“No,” he pondered that for a moment, wincing when someone got particularly close to Midoriya. His team managed to jump and fly a short distance away though, all while being protected by Dark Shadow.

“I meant being a hero has a different meaning to us than it does to a lot of people today.”

You hummed in agreement. Lately, the hero world had gotten rough. Many people only cared about profit or fame. They used excessive force and would let situations escalate just to put on more of a show.

And in America, heroes were industrialized. Corporations often owned heroes and made them their own brands. They were in movies and tv shows, on billboards, and restaurant chains. Being a top hero in America was the highest paying job, and it attracted many people for all of the wrong reasons.

“That’s why I chose Midoriya as my successor.”

You arched a brow at him. So there had been a connection between the two beyond teacher and student.

“Just as you seem to have taken the young Todoroki as your own,” All Might commented.

The two of you watched as Team Midoriya and Team Todoroki stared one another down. They were clearly getting ready for a scuffle, and you both watched with bated breath.

“I’m trying to help as many of them as I can,” you admitted honestly, on the edge of your seat as Todoroki went on the offensive.

“Todoroki and Bakugo are just the easiest for me to mentor, as their quirks are elemental based.” You murmured.

If All Might heard, he gave no indication, fully focused on the match before him.

Todoroki’s group suddenly boosted forward, the boy ready to grab a headband. Midoriya stood, ready to defend it.

They were going to clash, two insanely powerful quirks going for one object.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away, a cry leaving your lips at the sudden appearance of fire. Even if it was imperceptible to most, you could feel it in the air, the gentle pull of the elements.

Even though you should’ve been watching, you couldn’t help but move your gaze upwards, to where Endeavor was stood.

His eyes were narrowed, practically begging his son to use the side of his quirk inherited from him.

You scoffed.

This man was so arrogant, and so damn smug. You wanted nothing more than to splash some water on his dumb, fire stache. Seriously? Who the hell did the man think he was?

Rihanna? Because that’s the only person in the world who could pull off a look that dumb.

Cheering began, pulling you from your focus. Hizashi called the end of the round, and you found yourself blinking.

Had you really been so distracted you missed it?

“He didn’t make it,” All Might breathed.

“What?” You nearly yelled, leaning so far over the edge of the balcony that All Might grabbed the back of your hero costume just in case you took a tumble. “I can basically fly,” you reminded him.

He gave a sheepish smile, letting go immediately.

“There’s no way,” you continued, begging your eyes to just see better.

For a few tense seconds, Hizashi announced that Midoriya had lost the number one headband, but had managed to snag another. Though, the one he snagged wasn’t nearly enough points.

Just as you’d been about to deflate like one of those wavy-arm-dudes, Dark Shadow revealed another headband, one that had enough points to put them in the top.

You jumped, unable to contain your excitement. Only, you didn’t just jump, you had maybe-kinda-possibly used some airbending and ended up over seven feet in the air.

All Might coughed, sputtering as he grabbed your foot on the way up and tugged you hard back down.

“You’re not really good at this covert thing, huh?” He asked, his eyes wide like you’d nearly put him into cardiac arrest.

You giggled.

“Not at all,” you admitted with a toothy grin.

“You should be more careful,” he advised you sternly, his jaw set into a permanent frown.

“You know, I always wanted an older brother when I was a kid,” you told him, ignoring the look of surprise that passed through his face, “Now I’m glad I never had one.”

“I’m just being realistic,” he urged.

“Okay, Dad Might ™,” you joked.

He blanched.

“Did you just say ‘™’ aloud?”

Teasingly, you stuck your tongue out at him.

“Don’t hate the trade, Yoshi.”

You stretched your legs out in front of you, debating on what you’d get for food. There was a substantial break before the next event.

“Yoshi?” Toshinori piped up.

“Yeah, Like Yagi and Toshi, Yoshi,” you claimed triumphantly, making it seem like you’d just made it up on the spot and was not calling him a weird dinosaur thing from a game about a small Italian plumber with a fancy hat.

Toshi hummed.

“Anyways, I’m going to get some food,” you announced, “and hunt down the number two hero,” you added, your voice barely audible.

Toshi, however, had heard it.

“What do you want with Endeavor?”

You laughed nervously, standing up to get a little further from his questioning gaze.

“Just going to talk about Todoroki, no big deal,” you played it off, taking a few steps back.

Toshi noticed your retreat.

“I won’t tell you to not do what you’re planning, but please be cautious, he’s an… intense man.”

“Don’t worry Yoshi, I’m always charming.”

You gave him your best smile, offering a two finger salute as you made your exit.

Next stop: Endeavor.

[cherrywineandmagic]

Wild City

A/N: Here at last! The first installment of my very first Mythology/CM AU. As I mentioned before this story will most likely contain every kind of folklore from faeries to greek gods. I’m just having fun with this! So don’t take it so seriously :) All CM characters will probably seem slightly OOC but you definitely have to bend them a bit to make them into mythological creatures.

Spencer was used to the scene. The lights were always dim, the music always loud enough to feel its vibrations through the floor. Drinks were being distributed as he watched his people pass around a red bottle with them, each placing a few drops into the alcohol before passing it on.

“Get off, Cat,” he grumbled as he pushed a slender arm away from his shoulder. She huffed, staring down at the man who sat in his usual seat, a throne made of marble.  

“You don’t have to be fucking rude,” she replied with contempt as she folded her arms across her chest. He rolled his eyes, forever annoyed at her ever constant attempts to seduce him. It was never him she was after, it was always just his power.

Instead his eyes flicked around the scene in front of him. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves like they did most nights. He even caught sight of a few faeries lingering around, batting their eyelashes at the handsomer vampires. It wasn’t uncommon to find fey here. They loved a good party just as much as anyone else.

“Humans again,” he muttered as he recognized their mundane scent. He sighed internally as he watched a few scantily dressed girls unknowingly mingle amongst them, undoubtedly brought in by someone looking to have some fun and a midnight snack. Humans weren’t able to perceive their differences. Most were too mesmerized with the good looks and charming wit that made vampires the excellent predators they were to notice the slight red color around their pupils and the fact their teeth seemed a little too sharp. The thrill of attending a party in an abandoned hotel also clouded their judgement.

He didn’t mind the Legion feeding on others as long as they didn’t kill. He always believed in simply taking what you need and then loading their dizzy prey into a taxi that would take them home. They’d wake the next morning feeling slightly woozy but not remembering a thing with only the bite marks to show. By that time the marks would appear as small as mosquito bites and they would think nothing of it. 

A scream interrupted the night’s festivities. Spencer’s attention was immediately drawn to the man who had let out the sound, now heaving up blood on the floor as sweat trickled down his face. In an instant the crowd panicked and backed away, unsure of what to make of the scene.

“Cat. Get the humans out. Now. Lock the doors behind you,” he ordered. She quickly obliged, being less than gentle as she shoved the girls out. Everyone else stilled as Spencer walked towards the man.

“Spencer,” he breathed out. “Help me.”

“Adam, what did you do?” He asked as he bent down. His body convulsed, shaking until it finally dropped motionless. Spencer frowned as he noticed the purple taint left on his fangs.

He hesitantly reached out, wiping the violet liquid onto his finger. He examined it carefully and felt his stomach churn as he realized what it was.

“Valkyrie,” he whispered softly with wide eyes. He stood upright, towering over every person and commanding the attention of everyone inside. He had just lost someone, a man who belonged to his clan, and the culprit was still somewhere in the room.

“Reveal yourself!” he demanded, anger over his loss beginning to show. His eyes roamed the crowd, most faces showing either fear or confusion after witnessing one of their own fall to their death. A loud laugh erupted from the back of the room.

“God, dramatic much?” she chuckled as she made her way forward. His eyes narrowed as he took her in. Tall and slender, he immediately understood how she had so effortlessly blended in with the crowd. She was beautiful, her violet eyes mocking him as he eyed the puncture wounds on her neck.

“Clean this up,” he growled to a nearby vampire as he grabbed the stranger. “Everyone who doesn’t belong here needs to leave.”

The room began to clear out, hushed whispers exchanged as they all watched their leader drag away the girl. 

“Whoa, you sure know how to treat a lady,” she commented, only earning a scowl as he dragged her towards the back of the building.

“Who are you?” He immediately demanded to know. 

She winced, having been thrown roughly into what seemed to be an interrogation room. The metal chair was uncomfortable beneath her and the room was set up with just a table. Spencer circled around her and she was momentarily reminded of the cop shows she would watch late at night. She eyed his demeanor, realizing that she had already gotten well beneath his skin.

“Depends. Who wants to know?” she replied with a small smirk. Her violet eyes landed on Cat who had followed behind them with a look of distaste. “This your girlfriend?”

“Leave us,” he sighed, turning to look at Cat. She hesitated. “Now.”

“Fine,” she replied with a roll of her eyes. She had no clue who this girl was but already she felt a sort of hatred towards her beginning to build. “You’re the boss.”

Spencer sighed in exasperation at her words before taking a seat across from the party crasher, his expression blank.

“What’s your name?” he tried again. She stared at him and contemplated whether she wanted to reply or not. Her lips pursed as she assessed the immediate danger.

“Kari,” she shared with a shrug after deciding he wasn’t a threat.

“Kari. That name means ‘pure’.”

“Yeah, what can I say? My parents had high hopes for me,” she replied with a wolfish grin.

“You must be quite the disappointment,” Spencer replied smoothly, unaffected by her obvious need to toy with the conversation.

“Oh, you have no idea.”

Spencer stared at the mischievous look that flashed through her eyes. Her lush lips were pulled back in a mocking grin that caused two dimples to appear on her cheeks. Her dark hair cascaded down her shoulders in perfect waves. She looked innocently beautiful, something that he would have admired if he didn’t know exactly what she was.

“You killed Adam.”

“Was that his name? You really should instill some manners into your people. He didn’t even ask for my blood. He just went for it,” she scoffed in disgust. “Serves him right that he died.”

“He was always…impulsive,” Spencer begrudgingly agreed.

Spencer knew drinking Valkyrie blood when you hadn’t been formally allowed to meant sure death. Their blood was like a myth among vampires. It was rumored that it was deliciously sweet when offered, but toxic if taken by force. His death was not a surprise considering the circumstances.

But Valkyries themselves had turned into sort of a myth among myths. It had been decades since the last one had been seen, and he only knew as much because of the time he spent in his library. There were fey out there who would laugh in his face if he claimed to have found one.

“Why are you here?”

“I heard there was a party.”

“You’re joking.”

“I’m a young Valkyrie with no place to stay, do you really think I’d pass up the opportunity to get drunk and party with some vampires?”

Spencer remained silent as he observed Kari. There was a certain unapologetic honesty that exuded from her. He didn’t doubt her when she claimed she had no place to stay.

“You can stay here for now. Don’t tell anyone what you are. Understood?”

She nodded, losing her fight for just a second as his generosity took her by surprise. Within a moment that vulnerability was gone and her confidence had returned.

“So are you ever going to tell me your name or should I just refer to you as Fang?”

“It’s Spencer. This is my clan. I protect it and they won’t be happy that you’re here considering you killed one of us,” he replied with a frown. 

“No offense but I’m not staying here if your little shadow legion is going to murder me.”

“We’re just Legion,” he corrected blankly without any reaction to her mockery. “Wait here.”

Cat was busy twirling around her knife, something she always kept on her, when Spencer finally emerged from their interrogation room. The room had only been used a few times and to much to her disappointment the encounters rarely ever turned violent. 

“Take her to my bedroom and lock yourself inside with her. Don’t let anyone touch her until I get back.”

“We’re keeping her?!” Cat asked incredulously. She turned to stare at the young Valkyrie through the open door, her annoyance boiling over as Kari waved back with a smug smile.

“I’m keeping her. You just keep an eye on her for now. I have something I have to do.”

[creative-writing-sanders]

lifehelds - chapter one

read it on ao3

a/n: currently working on chapter six for this after way too much homework, so if i can’t post the next chapter, may as well post part of it here.

__________________________________________

Virgil kept walking, trying not to let his limp show, it made his leg hurt more, but it was more important not to stand out. Not in this neighbourhood, and not on a day when he was specifically instructed to stay on the Lifeheld Only side of town. The law stated anyone caught outside the Lifeheld Only boundaries were accountable for any ill actions that may be taken against them on the Night of the Pure.

The Night of the Pure was a weird concept to him. Why did the Pure need a night? It wasn’t as though those with Life were going to stop them- they didn’t stand a chance. Not when the Pure were statistically stronger than any Life being would ever dream of naturally being. It wasn’t uncommon to find Pure children bullying the Lifeheld children in the schoolyard.

Which actually explained Virgil’s injury. The day before, one of the seniors at the Integrated School for Exceptional Pupils had felt the fact Virgil lived with fellow Lifeheld people, and had not been born or created by the Pure highly offensive, causing him to go… well, ape shit, for lack of a better word. Ape shit on Virgil for simply existing the ‘wrong’ way. Luckily, one of the more respectable Pures had stepped in scaring off the other, which is why the injured teenager wasn’t in the Lifeheld sector, instead of walking through the rapidly darkening community that Patton Fields lived in.

It was comical to imagine Patton being scary- he was known around ISEP for his cheerful demeanor. No, it wasn’t outward intimidation that had persuaded Loki to fuck off, but instead, it was the status Patton carried. Virgil never spent much time in the wealthy Pure neighbourhoods, they were very exclusive typically, just seeing the houses lined up was enough for him to understand why Loki had scrambled like a worm thrown onto hot asphalt. The houses all had a Victorian aesthetic, with extravagant porches, and three to four storeys (which was two too many, in Virgil’s opinion).

He felt some weight fall off his shoulders after coming up to a house that almost screamed Fields. Maybe it was the good old fashioned mailbox that read the surname in bold letters, or maybe the perfectly groomed lawn with bikes strewn across it. No matter, though, it was obvious enough that the seventeen year old found little doubt it was the right door he had to knock out. While walking up the driveway, there was a slight hammering in his chest. Would he be in trouble for being out during the Night of The Pure? Well… Mr. Fields wasn’t his parent, it would be fine, right?

‘Maybe this could wait until- oh.’ The door opened before Virgil could actually raise a hand to hit the solid wood (or back out, both were likely to happen). He was greeted with a woman who had to have been just entering her forties. Her eyes were a warm, welcoming brown, and but her stance was somewhat guarded. She glanced the teenager up and down. There was a critical look in her eye before she sighed.

“Honey, what are you doing out here? The North Side is no place for you to be!” Perhaps his facial expression betrayed how taken aback Virgil felt- it was a very casual way of speaking, as though they were old friends because she quickly continued. “Sorry, sugar. I’m Martha Fields. You must be here for Patton, but dear, you know it isn’t safe now, right?” How Mrs. Fields knew he wasn’t Pure was beyond Virgil.

Instead, he nodded mutely. “Er- I’m Virgil Masterson. Sorry, I just, I needed to tell Patton something. I can just- go.” The purple haired boy turned on his heel, only to have a disapproving Mom Sigh™ sent at him.

“You’re already here, I’ll go get Patton, but you aren’t walking home, it’s far too dangerous to go alone.”

“That really isn’t necess—.”

She shushed Virgil before lightly jogging up the stairs. “Patton, there’s someone here for you, and I’ve got you a job.”

While Martha had temporarily gone, perhaps talking to her son, he took the time to study the area. The house seemed to have an open plan on the first floor, seeing as from the doorway he could see a lived in living room, one with Barbies strewn around and a few coffee mugs on the table. A ways away there was a kitchen as well, which didn’t make much sense as Pures were known to not require Lifeheld food, but it was, of course, none of Virgil’s business.

Hearing footsteps come down, the kid looked at his feet, scuffing one toe against the other. Martha seemed to have stayed upstairs, so it was only Patton.

“Hi!” There was confusion in the older’s eyes as he looked down towards Virgil. “I hear you’re here for me?”

He nodded, “I wanted to say- thanks?” Virgil winced as his voice trailed off to a much higher pitch as he realized how dumb it was to sacrifice safety to thank the other. To be fair, though, he had been thinking that if he didn’t acknowledge what Patton had done, he wouldn’t help Virgil if the situation were to happen again.

“You’re welcome!” The eighteen year old smiled, “Why are you welcome, though?”

He didn’t even remember-! That made Virgil ten times creepier. “You- uh… helped me out with Loki yesterday.”

“No need to thank me, kiddo!” Kiddo-? Virgil was only a year younger than Patton! “I was just doing what a decent person should! I can’t stand bullies.” He looked away before smiling once more. “Now we should probably get you home, before it’s officially night.”

Checking his phone, Virgil found the time; 5:38. They had twenty-two minutes. Patton did the same, but with a watch on his wrist, his eyes widening.

“Alrighty, well we should hit the road!” The senior slipped on a pair of shoes, Virgil failed to notice their house was one where you didn’t wear shoes insides. Interesting. He followed outside, prepared to begin a walk, only to find Patton walk to the garage he had ignored upon the initial house review.

The car was somewhat new appearing, a van that looked like a rich soccer mom would drive in a sky blue. Not Virgil’s style, but pretty still.

“Hop in, Virgil! This is Bertha!”

He did. “Bertha?”

“Yep!” Patton nodded, doing his seatbelt up and waiting until Virgil did the same to even start the engine. “She’s a Bertha-day car.”

The purple-haired teenager snorted, and looked at the GPS that was equipped. “Can I-?” He questioned, gesturing to it. Patton nodded enthusiastically, setting up the radio.

When the address was tapped in, and a route mapped, Patton hummed. “I know that road- one of my friends lives there! I practically live there for some weeks!”

Virgil just nodded. He also lived there some weeks, but- that had to be obvious.

______________________________________

The rest of the drive had been relatively silent. Patton was a careful driver, even if he was a little jumpy when someone- a Pure- looked into the car. He danced in his seat to the bubblegum pop music that played on the radio, and never went a mile above the speed limit. Virgil often found it difficult, terribly difficult to relax when there was a driver he didn’t know well, but with the older student, it only took half the ride before he could release the tension in his shoulders.

Soon enough, the familiar line of a single tree on each property rolled up. Unlike Patton’s neighbourhood, this one had many children still playing around; parents hovering through windows. Outside his own house was the familiar face of Virgil’s older brother. Even with the sunglasses obscuring his face (why was he wearing sunglasses? The sun was just going down!), it was evident enough that he was irritated.

Patton whistled in sympathy as he pulled into the driveway. “Someone’s unhappy.”

“Yeah. Thanks for pointing that out.” The other rolled his eyes. Remy being angry was uncommon. He was never more than irritated at most with Virgil, but it seemed that this time he was legitimately upset. With a long-suffering sigh, Virgil opened the car door, “Uh- thanks-- again. I wouldn’t have gotten out of the Pure district on time if it wasn’t for you.”

Patton just nodded, “Stay safe, kiddo!” With that, the cardigan-clad teenager backed out, driving down the road and back to the North side of town.

The walk to the landing Remy stood on was daunting. The crunch of gravel under his off-brand canvas shoes was suddenly very interesting; the shoes themselves, too.

“Virgil,” He greeted. That was startling. Remy hardly ever called the shorter male by his full name. Virge, V, anything but Virgil.

“Hey… Rem,” There was a weak attempt at nonchalance from Virgil. “Whatcha doin’ out here?”

“Wha-” The brother sent a look to the emo. “What do you mean, ‘what am I doing’?” He flipped up his glasses to rest on top of his head. “You know the day. You know you shouldn’t, like, be out without telling me or mum where you’re going on the Night of the Pure!” He paced around, “I tried to text you, man, I did- and you didn’t answer me, like, not even once!”

Did he really? Virgil pulled out his phone. There was, in fact, maybe fifty texts from Remy alone. How did he miss those beforehand? They weren’t recent. “I- yeah. Okay. Valid. I understand.” Virgil raised his arms in mock surrender.

“I don’t think you do Virge.” Remy sighed. He was usually so lighthearted and fun, it made the… scolding much worse than it would it have been if it was his mother.

Virgil flushed from the scorn, guilt evident on his face as Remy pulled the younger into a hug. It was more emotionally charged than normal. The embrace lasted too long for the teenager as he wriggled out of Remy’s grasp. “Can we go inside?”

There was a nod, and then the more comforting, warm house welcomed Virgil home. To the left, he could hear the hum of a cooking show that his mother listened to (“Raw chicken again! It’s fucking redder than your beard!”), and to the right was the sound of his brother’s boyfriend banging around in the kitchen.

“Mom!” Remy called. He looked at Virgil to silently say he couldn’t escape to his bedroom yet.

The sound of the television turned down. “Yes, Rem?”

“I found a rat.”

“Hey- mmph!” Virgil tried to protest, but a hand went over his mouth before he could successfully defend himself.

“A rat-?!” She repeated. Mrs. Masterson was a chef, and rats were one of her declared mortal enemies. She refused to let Virgil buy one for his sixteenth birthday, declaring they were ‘plague children’. “Remy, you know how much I hate- oh.” The fire in her eyes lessened upon seeing Virgil. “Oh! Virge!” She rushed over, squeezing him tightly before smacking the back of his head. “Don’t- don’t do that! You scared the shit out of me!”

Virgil patted her shoulder. “I know, I’m sorry. I had to talk to one of the guys from school. You know how is it, right?”

“It couldn’t have waited until tomorrow?!”

Virgil shook his head. “It’s okay, though! I got back before 6:00,” He purposely ignored the cough from Remy that covered the ‘barely’ he uttered.

Mrs. Masterson shook her head, hugging Virgil again before ducking into the living room. “You’re grounded!” She called, jokingly.

‘Jokes on you, to punish me you’d have to make me stay out of the house.’ He thought to himself, fondly smiling at his mother’s antics.

“Emile’s making dinner,” Remy informed the youngest Masterson, watching him climb the stairs to the bedrooms. “Be down, like… soon-ish?”

“You got it, Rem.” He nodded, finishing the climb.

Up in the safety of the dark purple room, Virgil pulled out his journal, writing observations on the Pure neighbourhood, his interactions with two members of the Fields family, and their compassion that was scarce to find directed towards Virgil.

His journal was a simple one, Moleskin, with doodles and stickers all around the cover. Inside, however, there was a mix of entries, and what Virgil learned about the Pure. Bullet points on their lore and history, adding to it as he found new information. The journal was three and a half years old, he started it once being accepted into ISEP, joining Pures on equal ground.

The sound of a gel pen scratching on the paper filled Virgil’s room, along with the soft hum of the obscure band, Moose Blood, playing as he wrote the day’s events. All too soon, the destresser was interrupted.

“Virgil! Come downstairs! Dinner!”

[billssefton]

my beloved boss was fired, is curly hair unprofessional, and more

It’s five answers to five questions. Here we go…

1. My beloved boss was fired

My company has been going through a long, drawn-out restructuring that has been very painful and anxiety-provoking. For example, we were told in December that the department I work for was going to be restructured, and are finally scheduled to hear in April what that will look like and whether we have jobs. 

The latest axe to fall is that my beloved boss was fired last week. He was literally here at 10 a.m. and gone by 10:15. I’m gutted. This man was the best boss I have ever worked for, and the company treated him like crap. I’ve heard rumors that the reason for this firing is so our VP can bring in someone she worked with at her previous company. This would be the third time she has done that.

I’m fairly new to business and I’m not sure I’m cut out for it, because my reaction to this has been extreme. I’m so depressed that getting myself to work is difficult, and once there, I can’t focus. Is this just how the world of work is? My teammates seem to be bouncing back better than I am.

Are you sure you have enough information to know that they treated him like crap? It’s pretty normal to have people leave right away when they’re fired or laid off (in part for security reasons and in part so that the people remaining can begin the process of moving forward), but good companies will give severance and sometimes other forms of support. If you know that they let him go without severance, then yeah, that’s crappy … but it’s possible that they treated him reasonably well and you’re just not privy to the details (which would make sense; you wouldn’t normally know those details).

Restructurings and layoffs are stressful. It’s hard to do them well. If you don’t give people notice, they’re upset they didn’t have notice. If you let them know it’s coming, they spend weeks or months being anxious about it (which sounds like it’s what’s happening in your case). But they are a thing that happens, often for good reason. It’s also not uncommon for new senior execs to want to bring in their own teams. It’s possible that your boss would have seen that coming or even was explicitly told this was coming. Or maybe not. It’s hard to know from the outside, and even from where you’re standing.

It does sound, though, like you might be taking this unusually hard. That’s understandable if this is the first time going through it, but I’d try to keep in mind that you probably don’t have all the details.

2. Is voluminous, curly hair unprofessional?

My hair is naturally thick, curly, and voluminous. I do my best to keep it in neat spirals, but every once in awhile it gets a mind of its own and starts to frizz. When this happens, I pull it back into a ponytail (even though that makes it look like I have a bush growing out of my head). I used to straighten it when I was in college, but it was very damaging and took many hours a week to maintain, so I’ve learned to live with the curls.

I am a receptionist at a university in a wealthy and conservative area. On a recent humid day, my hair began to frizz mid-day. Before I got the chance to grab a ponytail holder from my bag, I interacted with a parent who told me my hair looked unprofessional and I later found out complained to my boss about it. My boss told me this wasn’t the first time he’s gotten a complaint about my hair and asked me to do something to make it look more “normal.” I’m stumped on what to do. I don’t want to spend a ton of time or money straightening it. Updos aren’t a great option because my hair tends to be too thick for pins or clips to hold for extended periods of time. Are daily ponytails my best bet? I would love to hear if you and your readers have guidelines on professional hair or experience with this. Also, in case readers are wondering, my hair texture is not indicative of any ethnicity or culture that might get my boss in hot water for his “normal” hair comment. I am a pale white girl from the southern U.S.

People are complaining to your boss about your hair? And a parent even complained to your face about it? Unless your hair is a crazed rat’s nest, this is ridiculous.

You have voluminous hair. That’s how your hair is. As long as you’re keeping it reasonably well groomed, a little bit of frizz is not offensive or unprofessional. You certainly don’t need to straighten it!

The one thing I’ll note is that you didn’t say how long your hair is. It’s true that long hair — whether curly or straight — sometimes does look more professionally polished when it’s pulled back, and ponytails are a good option for that. If you’re working around people who are the type of complain about other people’s hair (and apparently you are) and you feel like you need to mollify them, ponytails might be your answer.

But truly, if your boss makes any more comments about “normal” hair, it’s reasonable to point out that this is your normal hair.

3. Telling my new boss about a chronic medical condition

I’m wondering when the right time is to tell a new boss about a chronic medical condition. I was offered a job last week (yay!) and accepted. I start in a couple weeks. However, it has occurred to me that I need to let my new boss know that I sometimes have medical issues.

I don’t need any special accommodations and it doesn’t affect the quality of my work or my ability to work, but when the condition flares up I usually find myself needing to work from home for a day or two until things calm down again.

I doubt this will be an issue because the company is known for being very flexible and they openly encourage telecommuting and whatnot, but I do want to be very upfront and transparent about it, and let my boss know as soon as possible. How would I approach such a thing?

At some point during your first week, ask a bit more about how telecommuting works — how often do most people on your team do it, does your boss prefer that it’s scheduled in advance, etc. Then, assuming that her answer does indicate that they’re as flexible about it as you expect, say something like this: “I have a medical condition that sometimes flares up and when that happens, it’s much easier for me to work from home for a day or two. It doesn’t happen often — usually it’s about once every two months (or fill in with whatever is accurate) and it doesn’t impact my productivity. It sounds like that won’t be a problem, but I wanted to mention it to you ahead of time.”

4. Working with a traumatized volunteer

I work in a small no-profit organization of 10 people. We are all one- or two-man shows in our departments. We have a new volunteer coming in today, and it is about this individual, Sansa, a young woman and recent graduate, who I’m writing to you about.

I first met her yesterday, when she was being shown around the office by my colleague. We exchanged only a few words and greetings, but my impression of her was that she was someone who had very recently undergone a severely traumatic experience, and was broken as a result. This was later confirmed in a group text to that effect by that colleague, informing us all that Sansa would be coming in as a volunteer, introducing her as a philosophy graduate and writer, as well as mentioning that “she had a traumatic experience while overseas and her helping out here is a form of therapy for her.”

Because of Sansa’s skills, it has been heavily implied that I am the one she’ll be working with most closely. The problem is that I’m a young man – which I’m pretty sure would mean discomfort for her at best and a trigger at worst. Do you have any tips on how I can best handle this? My initial thought is to just handle her like how I would any other volunteer, but I would definitely welcome other voices of experience, wisdom and advice.

They’re handling this oddly. Certainly they shouldn’t share details of Sansa’s trauma without her okay, but it’s not especially helpful to say what they said without providing any additional guidance about what that might mean for you and how you work with her.

In any case, I think you could go back to your colleague now and ask for guidance about whether you should do anything differently with Sansa than you would with any other volunteer. But otherwise, yes, I would work with her like you would with anyone else. (I also wouldn’t assume that being a young man will make her uncomfortable. It’s certainly a possibility and it’s good to be sensitive to that, but that’s not necessarily the case so don’t take it as a given!)

5. Should I send a movie recommendation to a recruiter?

I spoke to a recruiter at a job fair and don’t think I made that much of an impression. Indeed, it’s hard to make an impression when there are many other candidates who have stopped by with the same intention – to get a job. He gave out his email to contact him about a particular position that I would possibly be a good fit for but it seemed like he was giving out his email to everybody, so nothing special.

As I do with everybody I meet, I check them out on LinkedIn to see if we have any mutual contacts or just to gauge their personalities. On the recruiter’s profile, there was a request for movie recommendation. Out of the ordinary request on LinkedIn, but there it was.

What I’m wondering is, should I mention the movie recommendation in the cover letter that I am writing to express my interest in the aforementioned position, as a way to make me stand out from others? My recommendation is actually quite spot on to the specifications that he requested and not something just anybody would know. But would it be inappropriate and expose that I was doing my due diligence in researching/stalking the recruiter on LinkedIn?

It wouldn’t be inappropriate to make it clear that you read his LinkedIn profile. (Facebook would be different, but LinkedIn is for business so it’s fine.) But giving a movie recommendation in your cover letter isn’t really going to help you stand out — standing out in this context means that something about your qualifications stands out.

And really, it doesn’t make a lot of sense to include a movie recommendation in a formal cover letter; that’s not what your letter is about or the reason you’re writing to him, so it risks looking a little gimmicky or you’re trying too hard to build rapport. Instead, go for warm, friendly, and interested in the job, and focus on why you’d be great at it.

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my beloved boss was fired, is curly hair unprofessional, and more was originally published by Alison Green on Ask a Manager.

from Ask a Manager http://www.askamanager.org/2018/03/my-beloved-boss-was-fired-is-curly-hair-unprofessional-and-more.html