#i do get my bloods tested regularly and i have never had any problems with my vegan diet

[cosmoseinfeld]

Can I ask what you did for your diet to stink less??? I am SO sweaty and I never thought about my diet as a potential cause!

hi anon! sure thing :)

i've been a vegan most my life but last year i switched to a vegan based keto lifestyle. i also mostly eat raw vegs/fruits (for different reasons - i cannot stand the smell of cooked food and i also have terrible executive dysfunction).

so, being a person with a high activity level on a raw vegan keto diet means: i do drink protein shakes several days a week to hit my protein target, lots of nuts & good fats (avocado, linseed oil, coconut oil...), fresh veggies. i usually have some fruit in my shakes or as snack but i keep it limited because fruit = sugar = carb. and I try to drink around 3 litres/day.

I don't treat it as a religion, meaning i still go out for a piece of cake or to dinner with friends or have the occasional junk days (*cough* period days), i do indulge from time to time.

but i try to limit these days because a) sugar is just another drug to my brain (like alcohol etc) and since i have an addictive brain, i am very bad with moderation. and also my stomach has become super sensitive from a lifelong ED (hooray.) and just eating a very clean natural diet most of the time.

i am not a professional nutritionist and every body and every brain is different (so what applies to my body and overall lifestyle and helped my individual problems might not be the right thing for you). but it can help to switch to a different diet sometimes :) . it's definitely helped me mentally & physically. in general, i think it's best to stay off processed foods, white sugar and "bad" fats if you can.

[certifiedsexed]

hi :) i asked about um.. pregnancy signs! I'm just resending my ask in case it got deleted in ur blog blipping away

In short: I've been told signs of pregnancy such as sickness will show up pretty fast after a sexual encounter if you are indeed pregnant? like in the days following, is that real? I am currently on the pill and active, and my gp recently forced me into a blood pregnancy test without even telling me and its now making me a bit.. pregnancy paranoid... i plan to get my tubes tied when i can but it is sadly not the focus of my life rn... would it be better to ask my partner to use condoms to be sure sure sure nothing happens or is the pill good in itself??? I never had any problems with it at all so .. yea :(

Hi! Yes, I legit answered that but I think it got deleted by tumblr, tysm for resending!! 💚

That's not real! Often, missing a period is the first sign many pregnant people notice, which can be quite a bit after you've gotten pregnant and some people don't experience any early symptoms at all! [Article about pregnancy symptoms here, if you're interested.]

I can understand how that would make you paranoid! I'm sorry your doctor did that, it's very wrong for them to have forced you into tests you didn't consent to.

As for the pill, it lowers risk of pregnancy but it doesn't guarantee it can't happen. Especially if you're regularly having sex that can get you pregnant without a condom, there is a risk!

If you don't want to take that risk [or, y'know, just want to make it lower], you're very much within your rights to simply ask your partners to use a condom if you're having sex that could cause pregnancy. But that's definitely your choice.

[Though if you're not regularly having sex that can actually result in pregnancy, like if you're doing fingering, oral sex, anal sex, ect, the risk is much lower already!]

I hope this helps! Lemme know. <3

[clatterbane]

Oh yeah, about that persistent anemia that the new endo pretty much flipped over...

Yeah, I developed some suspicions of my own there, and it took maybe 2 seconds of searching to turn up plenty of info about PPIs directly causing iron absorption issues too. 🙄 Besides the other minerals I already knew about. They're pretty well known for that, leading to bone density problems for some people. Most likely also the reason my sodium and potassium levels have kept coming back just under the acceptable range too. You fuck around with the balance of digestive secretions and pH, it may have some unintended effects!

I've been stuck on high-dose PPIs ever since that big DKA crash in 2020 damaged my digestive system. They've actually kept me on the maximum dosages approved for adult humans, but I've ended up cutting it back some myself to the point that it's just higher than usual. (Partly to hopefully also cut back somewhat on potential side effects like this, but also thanks to repeated pharmacy supply issues with formats I can reasonably swallow with my now fucked-up esophagus!)

Never had any notable reflux issues before, but with that damage there's nothing really keeping the stomach acid down where it belongs. With evidence of that from some truly unpleasant testing where they dangle sensors down your throat. And of course they're trying to keep more acid from doing more damage. Some of that effect if I don't have the meds is probably from rebound acid overproduction, but if I don't take them for whatever reason now it gets ugly within a few days!

So yeah, I do seem to be stuck on the PPIs for the forseeable future now, whether I like it or not. It's just good to know that I do need to make sure to take in extra of certain minerals on a regular basis to try and compensate for that.

Am I surprised that two endos now, and the GP I got referred to for more tests over it have just completely overlooked well-known effects of meds they knew I was taking regularly, and which are readily found immediately by plugging "PPIs iron" into your search engine of choice? Not remotely.

Nope, they'd prefer to mutter direly about rare liver diseases and all kinds of less likely possibilities--and order a zillion blood tests. At least they DO seem to like to order various testing here when something looks off instead of just ignoring it, I will give them that. Guessing they are not under the same kind of pennypenching pressure that kinda got me needing the freaking PPIs at all.

PPIs are more within primary care's wheelhouse than endocrinology's. But. the gastroenterology guy who has been prescribing the stuff for a good while now ALSO did not put together that the borderline low electrolytes he was concerned about in the context of anesthesia might have some connection there before I brought it up as a possibility. To his credit, he also did not act like I must be on crack mentioning it, or seem to take it as some weird challenge to His Authority. But, the guy--who does come across as smart and competent enough--had obviously never considered this as a possibility.

This shit may be anything but unexpected by now. But, it really does sort of bring home just how bad at least 95% of clinicians seem to be at diagnostic pattern matching, in general.

(I mean, working with patterns like this is just one of the things my own brain has Always Just Done. Getting it to fucking shut up sometimes when it's not being useful, and channeling it into actually productive avenues are the bigger challenge. Seems to be another on the less shitty side of those neuroweird superpowers. But, some of these otherwise intelligent people are just so damn terrible at it by just about any standards. At the risk of sounding like some kind of condescending prick.)

[takaraphoenix]

I'm overweight. That's not really news, that's been the case since about third grade. And I'm not stupid, I'm aware that certain medical issues can arise from being overweight.

However, even without a medical degree, I'm about 99,9% sure tonsillitis ain't one of them.

So I'm currently sick. On week three of this shit now, actually. The first week, I spent on antibiotics that... clearly didn't really help. But after they were empty, I went back to work, because I was feeling better. That worked for three days, over which things got... progressively worse again.

All the symptoms of the tonsillitis. The trouble breathing and swallowing, the extreme exhaustion, the dizziness when doing too much. Everything I'd been feeling back then, including the swollen tonsils, which was the deadest give-away for me as a non-medical expert.

So I went back to the doctor. The doctor that is not my usual doctor. But apparently it wasn't bad enough for another round of antibiotics yet. So she went on to investigate like something else must be the cause of this.

And now, to bring this back to the opening of the post, the "something else" had to be my weight, because her first question after that was how much I weight and how long I've been weighting that. And beyond a blood test, she also wanted to test my sugar ASAP.

I don't have diabetes. I know that. My grandpa and mom have it, my mom regularly makes me test my blood sugar levels, it's never done anything suspicious before.

And even if it did, I do not know how in the world my blood sugar levels would relate to the sore throat and swollen fucking tonsils that I came into the doctor's office with! But sure, test my blood and give me the Pikachu face at my normal blood sugar levels.

When she, later in the evening, called me with the results of my other blood tests, she noted a heightened liver reading, which I told her that my regular doctor already noted before and said we should get into at some point - to say that this isn't related to what's currently going on with me.

To which she replied she had his notes before her. And also that it ought to be a fatty liver, since I'm very overweight.

She didn't say that it was likely a fatty liver, or that it could be a fatty liver. She declared it. And also that it was also obviously because I'm overweight, in this definitive manner that places blame. You have this, that you brought onto yourself. This is your fault.

She doesn't even know if I have this. If that is what I have. She just has a slightly elevated liver reading. Slightly. Not even much. And from that, and my weight, she concluded, in a definite manner, that it had to be a fatty liver that also definitely came from me being overweight.

And I'm not a medical professional, but I still that there are other reasons for different liver readings. And also that there are different reasons for a fatty liver. Heck! Maybe I'm an alcoholic and that's why my liver is acting up (I'm not but hey).

I'm overweight and I'm aware of that fact and I'm aware that certain issues can be caused by that.

But the medical reason I came to this doctor for - my sore, aching throat and swollen tonsils that are the direct follow-up of me having been sick for a week straight with a diagnosed tonsillitis - are just not things that I think are in any way or shape related to my weight.

And even if they were! Her… declaration of a diagnosis without running any further tests, just has to be a fatty liver because it's a fatty patient.Her tone of voice. Her judgement. Because those were sharper than her actual words. It was about the way she said it, and the way that made me feel. Those were entirely inappropriate.

I've been overweight since third grade. And I had my preteen and teen years of body image problems and being bullied about it and all that cliche shit. But I've been okay with it since I was twenty. A singular person hasn't made me feel like crap about my body and weight like that since I was in high school.

The thing that infuriates me the most about all of this is that I know what's wrong with me. I knew it when I walked into the doctor's office. The tonsillitis is back. By now, full on, with all its perks aside from the fever (thankfully enough). But instead of prescribing me anything, anything at all, to help against the tonsillitis that isn't antibiotics, if it's not bad enough for antibiotics, this doctor had to turn me upside down to try and figure out how these symptoms could somehow relate to my weight.

And when she couldn't find a relation, she just... left me hanging. I mean, completely. She gave me nothing, and now, four days later, I feel so much worse, once again. But hey! Maybe now I am so much worse again that the next doctor I go to will try antibiotics again!

So I'm looking forward to taking my now progressively worse tonsillitis to the next doctor on Monday. And hoping to never see this one and her fatphobia again.

[yourgamemasterthewhiterabbit]

One of the things about all this kidney bullshit is that I think I need to make some long term changes.

I think the fact that I have such a clean diet and can't normally make use of otc medications has been masking that my kidneys have been slow or struggling a bit for a while, at least on and off, or that they are a preferred target for my immune system now. It's also possible having low atp levels has made it so slightly elevated phosphorus levels aren't showing on blood tests.

Even if a high phosphorus drink makes me feel like I have more energy short term, if it bogs down my kidneys over time, it's not actually healthy. I need to figure out what the balance is.

I also keep suspecting I get kidney stones -I have had some similar symptoms to my mother who is diagnosed with them- but I wasn't able to get someone to scan me for them before my doctor gave me that breakup call, so I should probably figure out what level of things in my diet will keep my uric acid levels high enough to help prevent mineral build-ups and what level will lead to gout.

Alcohol has never affected my liver much, I don't drink enough for that, but I might have to watch the impact it could have on my kidneys.

I still need to eat a lot of animal fats, proteins and fiber for my liver, but maybe I should be watching how much of it is high amounts of pork fat, for instance. Maybe being borderline jaundiced is okay for me most of the time if I live alone and won't be subjected to huge episodes of surprise stress all the time. Having high bilirubin levels -to a reasonable extent- can have a lot of health benefits, and maybe I don't want my liver using fats to avoid processing things when it doesn't have to. Gilbert's does make you prone to non-alcoholic fatty liver disease, and maybe I want to avoid that too.

I wasn't finding ways to have big juicy steaks often before, and I have started having steak again more recently, and I don't think it caused the problem, but maybe I don't get to make regular steaks one of my chosen expenses? Or maybe I do if I avoid enough other things.

I need to try to identify more vegetables and fruit I can eat without them making me sick.

I'm going to try to see if I can tolerate really watered down coffee again. I'm going to try to make sure I am remembering melatonin at night even when it doesn't particularly help me sleep because it also helps protect your organs from damage, even your kidneys, and I am going to try to figure out what dosage of magnesium keeps the blood mineral levels stable without making my heart feel bad or making my blood pressure too low.

And I am going to remember not to have any fucking multivitamins or more than an occasional bowl of breakfast cereal. FJKSEFSRGH

Because I am pretty sure the main culprit here each time started with an autoimmune attack from corona exposure and enabling my immune system with ammo.

I also need to find a new doctor closer to me. I can't believe I only got that doctor in 2018, that's yesterday and a lifetime ago! But one that lives closer and is maybe known for being trans friendly might be nice... I just am not finding anyone online. I could just start regularly using a preferred walk-in clinic, but there's no expectation with that for doctors to know my medical history or to track my health over time. IDK what good a regular doctor does if the most useful thing they do is just run the tests I ask for and write referrals, but whatever.

[andrasandreas]

I've been on synthroid for hypothyroidism since I was about 15, but I've always had these underlying health problems - which are symptoms of hypothyroidism - that I've brought up to doctors multiple times over a 10-ish year timespan, but they always act like I don't have hypothyroidism at all and just treat each symptom individually. the symptoms have never gone away by using bandaid treatments on each one separately, if you can believe it.

currently I'm dealing with heat intolerance, which I think I've had for a long time, but it's been hard to tell at what point am I being "intolerant" considering I didn't have a functioning air conditioner in my home for over a decade. I can only pinpoint it now because I actually do have an air conditioner, and if it's even one (1) degree above 75F I start getting a migraine & sweating.

that's not even a symptom of hypothyroidism though. cold intolerance is however, & I've also dealt with that for a long time. it's the same thing, if it's even one (1) degree below 75F I start shivering, and at a lot of points in the winter I have to wear gloves & Extreme Level 4 strength thermal leggings while inside my bedroom.

apparently I was supposed to tell my doctor if I kept experiencing symptoms of hypothyroidism after getting on a stable dose of synthroid (which happened like 9 years ago)? and heat intolerance is also apparently a side effect of Levothyroxine, which I was also supposed to tell my doctor about? my doctors never told me any of that.

they just do the yearly blood test for TSH levels, and if I'm seeing them for a health issue that's literally a symptom of hypothyroidism they just look at the blood test and go "Welp your TSH levels are normal, so there's absolutely no way this could possibly be related to your chronic autoimmune disorder that you have to take daily medication for the rest of your life to treat, which we have to regularly monitor in order to maintain the proper dosage"

[lunar-but-little]

Prompts: Test, catch, soft

Oh goodness this took so long. No wifi does that I suppose. But I like how this turned out and I'm definitely wanting to make it one of my official AUs! I hope it is to your liking. vwv

Allium duo pog as well.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Fairy's Trial

16. All the fairies of this colony know that is the age where children are deemed adults. If they survive their trial, that is.

Tommy knew this as well, even more so on the night of his birthday. His trial is simple. Go out and hunt an animal much larger than himself, then bring something back from it. He inhaled deeply from where he sat on a root. His current issue is finding what exactly he should hunt.

Something like a deer would be far too big, though he's not too hesitant to say he's tempted. He could show it off proudly and gain praise from the whole colony. But he was smart enough to know better. A squirrel or mouse would be the opposite problem. The colony hunted those regularly. This was supposed to prove he could handle more challenging hunts.

His colony made sure to train him well enough for this, if he chose the correct creature to go after. Tommy stood up and stretched his wings, beginning a wandering walk.

"A rabbit? No there probably aren't any nearby. Foxes are all in their dens by now. A raccoon would-" Tommy felt something hard hit his face and stumbled back onto his ass.

Cursing under his breath, he shot his gaze up and glared at the wooden fence post he'd surely walked into. Pulling himself to his feet, he looked around. It seemed he had made his way from the forest and onto the edge of a human's lawn. It was forbidden for a fairy to interact with a human, usually for the fairy's own safety. They've seen what the humans do to butterflies and bugs.

Tommy shook the thought from his head and turned to head back into the forest. He instantly froze in his tracks. Mere inches from him was the snout of a pure black cat, gleaming eyes locked onto his. Both were like statues for a few long moments and Tommy's hand twitched for his dagger.

The cat was faster.

Tommy fell into a roll, clutching the fresh scratch across his chest. The claws had mostly grazed him but blood had already begun to bead up and into his shirt. He shot to his feet with his dagger in hand. While it was difficult to read it's body language, the flicking of the cat's tail made it obvious it was toying with him. Tommy yelled and darted to one side of it.

Earning a giant paw to the face.

Tommy grunted as his back made harsh contact with the fence post. He glared at the cat. Fighting a predator like this alone was never a good idea but it was clear the thing wasn't going to let him go back the way he came. Tommy took a quick glance over his shoulder. Perhaps he could run into the human's yard far enough to take flight? It seemed like his only at the current moment.

With a short buzz of his wings, he took off running under the wooden slats. The black cat followed almost immediately. Tommy ran for a few moments, with a couple glances back at the cat, before flapping his wings to begin flight. A slow take off. Why was he-?

Instantly two paws slammed on either side of his body, yanking him back towards the ground. He felt his body collide with the dirt and his head with something much more solid. A weak squint of his eyes showed a pebble right next to his face, his left wing bent at an odd angle, and the cat crouched over him with a paw keeping him firmly pinned down.

Tommy squeezed his eyes shut. A sniff caused his hair to flutter and his heart to race. And it practically stopped beating with what he heard next.

"Enderchest, what on earth have you got this time?" A voice called from high above.

The porch light shifted and dimmed behind his eyelids and the pressure on his back was lifted. Tommy dared to open his eyes.

"You know I don't want you messing with bugs. The poor little things don't deserve it and you could get sick if you decide to ea-" The giant figure of the human stilled, Enderchest, the cat Tommy assumed, tucked snug under one arm. He couldn't make out many details due to the glare of the porch light behind them but the fucker sure was massive. Tommy might have even been afraid if he weren't quickly losing his grip on consciousness.

"If you... What the hell is that?"

...

..

.

..

...

Tommy curled into a tighter ball as he came to, his mind cloudy. He could tell if he opened his eyes it would hurt. Or sit up. There was a dull ache in his head and chest that he slowly realized were from the cat. The cat that he was trying to flee from. Hmm. Was he successful? He vaguely remembers a human. If only his mind weren't so fuzzy.

Fuzzy? He furrowed his brow and ran a hand along the ground. It was fuzzy like moss. Except moss wasn't quite this... Fluffy. Despite the urge to just drift back off, Tommy cracked his eyes open. He was right, the light stung and made his head throb. He certainly didn't predict the fluffy pink cloth against his cheek. He ran his hand over it again. Soft. And warm too. He fought his desire to sink into it and sleep once more by forcing himself to sit up.

Tommy's chest and back didn't hurt as much as he thought, but he definitely did not feel fine. He clutched his poorly bandaged chest and took a breath before looking up.

The room appeared plain, with a desk and bed and dresser, but most definitely human. The cloth he laid on was on the desk amongst many other items. The human he'd seen had clearly found and caught him. So why wasn't he in a jar or cage? Tommy would honestly not be sticking around for the answer.

He hauled himself the his feet with a slight teeter that wouldn't really matter while flying. He took a deep breath once more and flapped his wings. He... He only got a few inches of the ground before crashing back down, luckily onto the cloth.

Tommy made a noise of confusion as glanced at his back. He felt his heart catch in his throat. His left wing was bent, he remembered now. Fucking cat. He took a few shaky breaths and settled onto the cloth. A wing could take weeks to heal, if it healed properly. He not sure if he wants to wait that long with a strange human. He couldn't exactly get himself home like this. He wasn't trapped at the moment but that just meant he had no baring for what they were planning with him.

Tommy glanced around the desk for ideas. A tall plastic looking box sat just behind him look good enough for cover if the human came back. He made his way towards the edge of the cloth.

Just as he dropped off the far edge of the plush material, he heard the door open. Tommy froze as a tall human entered the room. They had stark black and white hair with colored glasses and casual attire. They seemed to be scolding the cat again.

"I'm gonna lock you in a god damn room if you don't quit messing with stuff. You're the reason this door is closed anyway," The cat made an incessant meow, "Yeah, no you're not going near them." They human closed the door again and soft pawing was barely audible from the other side.

Tommy watched, stock still, as the human sighed and walked towards the desk. He could see that they had a small tray on their arm but not what the tray held. His eyes widened as they seemed to scan the pink cloth with a breath of a gasp. They set the tray down on the other end of the desk and begin searching around the cloth.

They eyes found his almost instantly and his breathing became shallower. They stayed locked for what felt ages, what with them practically looming over him. Tommy didn't want to be the one to make the first move but he also wanted this staring contest to end. Luckily, the human was the first to speak.

"Are... Are you feeling alright now?" They asked in a soft voice.

Tommy didn't trust their concern in the slightest, but he didn't want them to know he was terrified for his life. So he settled on what he was known to do best.

"Be a lot fucking better if your fucking cat didn't try to murder me!" He shouted at them, coming out from behind the cloth some. He kept his wings tucked low in hopes of hiding the damage from the human's sight.

They flinched back in surprise, tripping over their words, "I... I'm so, so sorry about them! I've been trying to stop them from doing this kind of thing for ages before, well, before something like this," They gestured in Tommy's general area on the desk, "I'll try to help you any way I can with whatever you need to heal."

Tommy's head throbbed. With anger, with fear, the possible concussion he had. He was tired and had no way to get home, if they'd even want him there after failing his trial. Part of him wanted to take that offer, have somewhere to stay while his wing readjusted.

A bigger part was horrified at the possibility of this being some kind of ploy to make him easier to capture and use. It's rare, he's heard of it happening before, using a fairy for their little bit of magic. Several people have disappeared. But he was here all night and very much not dead...

Apparently he'd taken to long to answer.

"I, uh, could just help you back home if you'd prefer? I'd like to help to make up for what happened but if you'd rather just leave I get it," They rubbed their neck nervously, probably wanting him to give some kind of answer.

Tommy stared at them with a bit of shock before sighing. If they were offering to let him leave...

"Fine. I'll let you help me. Just keep that fucking thing away from me," He pointed towards the door.

The human let out a breath of relief, visibly relaxing, "Of course! I planed too anyway, for everyone's sake," The human stated before standing straighter. Tommy backed up several inches on shaky legs.

The human retrieved their tray as Tommy processed what he'd just done. He's trusted a human. With his life. The concussion must have make him insane.

"Oh! I'm Ranboo, by the way," They set a small plate of chopped fruits a small distance from him with a soft smile, "Could I know your name?"

He stared at the fruit a moment, slowly walking closer to it. He picked up a piece of what seemed to be strawberry and glanced up at th-Ranboo, "Tommy..." He takes a bite from the strawberry.

[nevertheless-moving]

Suicidal Misunderstanding AU Part V (SW Time Travel AU #27)

Part I - - - - -  Part II - - - - - Part III - - - - - Part IV 

After a meandering walk through what felt like every path the hanging gardens and marsh pools had to offer, Obi-Wan stopped to lean against a stone wall. 

“Obi-Wan? Are you ready to stop and eat something? As nice as this has been, I’m getting hungry and I’m guessing you are too.” 

Anakin was only being a little sarcastic. It had genuinely been nice to peacefully spend the day with Obi-Wan like this- they hadn’t been to the marsh habitats since the war started. He had resigned himself to watching Obi-Wan enthusiastically greet every wandering knight, master, and elder who they passed. 

It was actually starting to become impressive- Anakin never realized how many members of the Order his Master was friendly with- no wonder he was given a seat on the high council! But after the last heartfelt clasping of hands with a completely unfamiliar Bothan (thankfully for Anakin’s petty jealousy, Obi-Wan wasn’t hugging everyone), Anakin had asked who the knight was.

Obi Wan frowned. “No idea. But I suppose I must have seen him somewhere.” 

Anakin was no longer feeling impressed.

When a group of crechelings wandered by, Obi-Wan appeared briefly overwhelmed with emotion. His shields (apparently even better drunken than sober) didn’t let anything specific slip. But he knew Obi-Wan was feeling something intensely. Bizarrely, instead of saying hello, Obi-Wan hurried out and away with Anakin dragged behind, bringing them back to the stone wall and their skipped breakfast.

“Not yet.” Obi-Wan responded hoarsely. “I want to visit the Room of A Thousand Fountains first, and say a few more goodbyes.”

“Goodbyes?” Anakin asked, a slight chill running down his back. “We’re not shipping back out until the end of the week. Do you always say goodbye to everyone this thoroughly before redeployment?”

“No. Do you think I should have?” Obi-Wan frowned. “I feel like that would have been more upsetting than anything else.”

“Ok then, why are you saying goodbye now? To the whole order?” 

Obi-Wan didn’t reply, he just pushed off the wall to continue on his quest to apparently visit every corner of the temple.

“Master, please, you’re worrying me. If you won’t eat, then let me take you to the Healing Halls so they can check you over for drugs. We can visit the fountains after.”

Obi-Wan finally paused, thinking that over. “I would like to see Bant. She should be there, right?”  

Bant did end up being there, and was more touched than disturbed by Obi-Wan’s sincere joy to see her. While Obi-Wan wandered the halls greeting injured Knights, she ran several tests.

“As far as I can tell, all you had last night was human-appropriate alcohol. No force-user specific drug interactions, and no traces of Spice. It’s possible there’s something I missed, but your force presence doesn’t feel off balance in the manner I specifically associate with drug-induced altered perception. Your blood sugar is a little low and you’re somewhat dehydrated, especially considering you’re in the temple, not out on a mission.”

“I’ll take care of my physical needs after I visit the Room of a Thousand Fountains. Just because a vision isn’t purely induced by the force doesn’t mean I can’t draw meaning from it. I do appreciate how you always looked out for me though, Bant. I’ve missed your fussing.” Obi-Wan smiled, clasping one of her hands in his.

Bant sighed, “If Master Yoda wasn’t off world I’d urge you to talk to him. I haven’t seen you this shaken by a vision since we were younglings. Even if you do seem to be handling it fairly... calmly.” 

Obi-Wan laughed. “I’ll tell him you said that someday. I might be wrong, but I think he’ll be happy to learn about-” Obi-Wan gestured around vaguely, “all this. I’ll talk to him at some point. I’m sure of it.” 

She glanced over at Anakin, who had been a quietly looming shadow the whole visit. He seemed both relieved by the diagnosis as well as bewildered. “Can I speak to you privately?”

Obi-Wan nodded and Anakin stalked out of the test room. 

She scrutinized him, worry more obvious now, “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you slipping tenses this whole time. You’re still not sure where your vision ends and reality begins, are you? Do you even know when you are?”

Obi-Wan looked down. “I know what’s real and what’s not. I’m just...enjoying not fully living in the moment. I have every intention of waking up.”

“Yeah, that’s a BIG red flag, Obi-Wan. Force.” She tilted her head back and forth, examining him with obvious concern. “I am scheduling an appointment for a soul healer and you are going to go, understand?” She demanded.

Obi-Wan agreed far too easily. She reluctantly let him leave with an earnest promise to eat something real.

Obi-Wan came outside to find Anakin pacing. 

“I’m glad you’re still here,” he told his former Padawan, ignoring the ache in his chest.

“Of course Ori’vod,” Anakin said, ducking his head with a shy smile. “What did Bant say?”

“She wants me to eat something real and visit a soul healer.” Obi-Wan sighed. “Well, I can do at least one of those things.”

“A soul healer! She thinks you’re crazy?” Anakin asked offended. 

“First of all, you don’t have to be unstable to visit a soul healer. I’ve seen them in the past, when there wasn’t as much wrong with me. I’m sorry if I led you to believe you couldn’t seek out help for your problems.” Obi-Wan said. Another mistake.

“I-I know that. I just thought, you know, Jedi can be judgmental of that sort of thing. A good Jedi is supposed to be able to just, meditate stuff away.” Anakin said bitterly.

Obi-Wan thought furiously. Was this why he had been so blindsided by Anakin’s fall? Had his padawan been so afraid of judgement that he hid all of the warning sides of his struggles with darkness? Maybe he could ask Owen for some sort of petty assistance when he brought over bantha milk next time, to demonstrate to young Luke that it was ok to ask for help. No, he was probably still too young for those sorts of lessons to have much meaning. The insight would require meditation, when he was more sober. 

Unsure how ‘Anakin’ would respond, Obi-Wan tentatively said, “You’re right, that some Jedi might judge for seeking such aid. But I think in the last years of the war, that sort of opinion became less and less common. After all, an ideal Jedi shouldn’t be leading an army. I don’t know if anyone can be perfect during war, let alone a peacekeeper.”

When that failed to garner positive or negative reply, Obi-Wan let out a breath. “It hardly matters, since I can’t exactly visit a therapist, let alone a soul healer, given my present living conditions.” 

Anakin seemed to process that, giving Obi-Wan a long, searching look. “What’s your next point?”

“Hmm?”

“You said first of all, and I think that was all one thing, so what’s your second point?”

“Not exactly being able to visit a soul healer regularly doesn’t count as a separate retort?”

“I guess? I’m just trying to understand what you’re trying to tell me” A twinge of frustration crept into Anakin’s otherwise level tone.

"I appreciate that, truly, and I regret the number of hurtful miscommunications that sprung up from me failing to do just that. Well, I suppose, by most reasonable standards, I am ‘crazy.’ Getting some help with unraveling my mind would probably be best, if it were an option, but it isn’t so...” Obi-Wan shrugged.

Before any followup questions could be asked, they finally arrived at the main entrance to the Room of a Thousand Fountains. The archway was stunning, water flowing upwards along the stone in intricate, shifting tessellations. When they stepped through, Obi-Wan was delighted to see Mace Windu sitting on a bench by the entrance. 

“Mace! I was hoping to see you.”

Mace looked at him. He seemed at first, to be utterly unsurprised by the duo’s arrival. But the longer he stared, the more visible shock overtook his features. “Master Koon recommended I look for you...force what happened.”

Obi-Wan just chuckled. “Oh you know. What didn’t happen.”

“What’s wrong?” Anakin asked urgently. “What do you see, Master Windu?”

Obi-Wan tried to wave them both off, laugh a little more forced. “Please, I came here to relax. I’m sure it would be easier to say what’s not wrong with-”

“Kark it, Obi-Wan this isn’t a joking matter.” Master Windu’s voice was calm, but insistent. He slowly started approaching Obi-Wan as though the fellow council member were a feral loth-cat. 

“You look as if...nearly every shatter point around you has broken open. Force, I think you’ve been carrying some of these with you since you were a child. Usually when things that deep break...And some of these- some of these are too big to have just affected you.” Mace hesitantly reached forward, brushing against something invisible.

A chill ran down Anakin’s spine, again. What the kriff did Obi-Wan see in his vision? Last night he mentioned the temple burning, their rooms turned to ash, and Anakin had just...let that go in favor of greedily spending time with this addictively affectionate version of Obi-Wan.

“Mace...” Obi-Wan groaned. “I had been wondering what you might say to me but this is...please, can’t you just give me a hug and let me enjoy the peace for one more hour.”

“Master Kenobi,” Mace said, seeming to revert to an even more serious version of himself. “What I see cracked open around you is bigger than the reemergence of the Sith on Naboo, bigger than the first battle of Genosis. Whatever has happened, you cannot possibly keep it to yourself, practically or morally.”

To the shock of both Windu and Skywalker, Obi-Wan actually rolled his eyes at that. “Mace. You are not telling me anything I do not already know. And I am choosing to spend a little longer enjoying the unique joys of the Temple before dealing with the harshness of reality. Haven’t I earned a small break? I’m not abandoning my duty, but if I don’t take care of myself where I can I’ll go madder than I already have.” 

At no point did Obi-Wan’s voice get whiny or upset, he just calmly dropped a series of bombshells like he was repeating an argument.

Mace and Anakin exchanged glances, but if Mace was trying to communicate something, it was utterly lost on Anakin. 

“Alright, Master Kenobi. I trust your judgement.” 

And, to Anakin’s shock, Mace pulled Obi-Wan for a tight hug. “And I care about you, Obi-Wan.”

For a brief, hysterical moment, Anakin Skywalker wondered if he was about to witness his Master break down crying on the shoulder of Mace Windu the Master of the Jedi Order.

But Obi-Wan just let out a slow breath and returned the embrace before bowing deeply in Respect. Windu returned the bow with a placid expression. 

“If you’ll excuse me...I think I’d like to stand by the waterfall alone for a moment.” He paused, turning to address Anakin. “If you’re willing to wait for me, I’ll happily rejoin you by the glowing mushrooms.” Anakin nodded silently and Obi-Wan beamed before leaving the two alone together.

Mace turned to the young knight in a silent demand for answers, and, for once, Anakin was eager to share what he was dealing with. “He came back drunk last night, talking about the temple burning down, and being well-”

“Unusually emotionally expressive?” Mace offered.

Anakin nodded. “Took a blood sample to analyze in the morning. He woke determined to hug every sentient being in the temple. I actually managed to get him to the halls just before we came here; Master Eerin said there was nothing in his system and...I just don’t know. He’s been off today, but not in a bad way, exactly. Could a vision have caused the shattering you saw?

Mace furrowed his brow. “Not any vision like I’ve ever seen but...these are dark times. And Master Kenobi has had historically bad luck. If some new cataclysm is coming for us- I absolutely believe he’d be the first of us to stumble into it. Something terrible and extraordinary must have happened in the 24 hours since I last saw him in person.”

A beat passed.

“I should go to the mushrooms before I lose track of him,” Anakin said quietly.

Mace nodded. “Skywalker, if you need assistance dragging him back to the healers for whatever reason, comm me, understood?” 

“Understood. Master Koon said the same.” the Knight replied, heart pounding.

The Windu clasped him on the shoulder firmly, "I’m going to check in with Master Eerin. It’s possible she has some suspicions that my observations will help her confirm. Until then...”

“I’ll look out for him.” Anakin promised.

Part VI

[stylistiquements]

There was the silence and there were the stars | Corpse husband x reader -Among Us AU

Among us AU : There was something. Something in the silence and the harsh coldness -that only space was capable of- that turned your brain into a sarcastic and bored mess. Maybe that’s why you found yourself so interested by any sabotage pulled on the crewmates, maybe that’s what made him so interesting to witness. He was different from the rest of you. Different to an extend you were about to understand.

❚ Word count : 4.2k ❚ Warning : A bit angsty but you will get that fluffity fluff and touch starve feeling you require I promise ; swearing ❚ Note : there will be no mention of death or killing as it is basically a real life Among us, just some shenanigans. Y/C : your/color

A/N : This little thing was inspired by -⭐️ anon. It was a fun thing to write even though it took me way too long because I asked my brain “sir may I pls have the focus capacity I need” and brain said no (: so yeah, this is litteraly just me ranting n complaining about space. This is a bit angsty but as what if is way too happy for me that was a nice opportunity. I hope you won’t mind and appreciate it anyway. As always just let me know. As it’s my first time writing like a one shot thingy I’m really curious to know. Also it’s supposed to be proofread but if you find any mistake just take ur glasses off. Thanks. Enjoy the wild ride. 

You met him again. He was fixing wires while you were downloading some files on the computer. Difficulties happened regularly around here; various oddities that occurred from time to time, sometimes a few times a day. It would go from doors closing mysteriously to no electricity, you never knew which one it would be. Those inconveniences used to draw a smile on your lips, a grin you tried your best to hide from everyone else. The sound of the urging siren resounded in your head like a call, reviving the last spared spark left in your brain. At this point, you were pretty sure it was one of your crewmates’ doing, too many coincidences for any other options to be left. You didn’t mind though. The game started months ago but still amused you to this day. 

He never let a word escape his mouth. To your awareness, no one knew anything about him, no one had ever heard the sound of his voice which you could only dare to imagine since the two of you met. It felt silly, you fabricated this voice inside your head, a half-finished melody you played to keep your mind busy. It would have sounded just as an old piano would. So slightly out of tune that maybe, if you didn’t care enough or wished for it not to be true, you wouldn’t even notice. 

You called him black. It resonated with the color of his suit and the darkness that emanated from his soul. Not that he looked like a mischievous character, but rather like someone who would have been gnawed by life for years. A shade that reminded you of the bittersweet feeling 4 AM forced you to taste. Describing that presentiment was a challenge you couldn’t take. It was one of those things that had to be felt, not narrated. 

Shit.

He caught you staring again. How could you look any other way? There was something with him that appealed to you, that pulled your eyes toward his direction every time. Probably only a peak of unwarranted curiosity you couldn’t really be blamed for, probably the oh-so mysterious aura that floated so carelessly around him. He always had this way of sneaking in and out, just as if he was nothing but his own shadow. 

Yet, being near him was easy. Silence only felt comfortable when he was in your surroundings. The whole world stopped existing -and it had in fact since the first day you two met.

He had dark charcoal hair which fell so perfectly in curly strands around the two horns that crowned over his head. Paired with two ruby hued eyes, he truly was a sight for sore eyes. A wicked and breathtaking beauty, so unique it gave you the impression that he wasn’t even human. 

He used to hop in a vent after finishing his tasks. As if his true home was there; a secret hideout for him and him only. You didn’t even know it was a thing before you watched it with your own eyes. Who wouldn’t blame him. If you could have escaped that warmth deprived place too, even for 5 minutes, you would have. 

That’s why you never asked any question about it nor tried to investigate further. Being stuck in space was only a kid’s fantasy, nothing a fully conscious adult would inflict to themselves. Which, in itself, was pretty much self-explanatory about everyone’s mental condition in here.

It was also a pre-established rule, no questions. No one ever expressed it out loud, but you would have to be a fool not to guess it. Every crewmate grew accustomed to the deadly silence only space had to offer. A giant timeless hole where nothing really happened. With nothing but the smell of technology and the constant purr of engines as the only distractions left. See, living in a spaceship was no ordinary lifestyle : days and nights melted into each other until it became nothing but a groundless concept. The crewmates perceived it as comforting for some reason. You used to shrug it off, no questions. How unethical would you be to disturb their peace? 

If you had to be honest, you would probably say that you felt bad for Black. Nothing like pity, but being alone in this stark and brutal silence for this long must have been pretty life-consuming. That’s why, even though it made your cheeks and the tip of your ears flame up in a raw and unforgivable tint of pink, you always kept looking into his eyes for one more second after he noticed you. Just to be sure he knew that he wasn’t alone in this shit hole. You stared into the depth of those ruby eyes, hunting for silent answers to questions you weren’t even sure of in the first place. He never quivered, only stood motionless until his task was completed. Just locking the eye contact. After that, he always ran away as silently as he existed. Leaving your head disturbingly empty. 

Every single time. 

Something changed one day. You were about to prepare some test samples when it happened. He jumped off a vent and you followed his movements from the corner of your eyes, too distracted to remember about the task that was assigned to you. He ran to the door and proceeded to shut it. Within the last second, the one that always lasted hours, he put an index in front of his mouth. Silently asking for you not to say a word. And before the steel door could obstruct your vision completely, you noticed a smile on his lips. A smile that made the whole spaceship turn inside out, draining the blood out of your body in a painstaking, almost sore way. There you stood, intoxicated by stupefaction and trapped as a cat. 

Black mutated you into a self-depreciating joke : in here, you were only interestied in the impostor. The only one who made your day a little better was the one giving nightmares to the others. 

It was him, from the beginning. It was him and he smiled. A grin that twinkled maliciously from his lips to his eyes, wounding your heart in an insoluble way. It made every prejudice you had about him crumble : he was no longer that miserable existence you sensed he was but a quiescent sun that could radiate all around him once unleashed into the world. How did he do that? How could he be both the tunnel and the light at the end of it?

When red came to the rescue, she described you with a glare. She judged you in the not-so-pleasant way. You could always count on those glares to know their opinions about you. Because their judgment would have to be expressed one way or another. She thought you looked suspicious, with your half poured concoction into a hand and the rest of it in the other, just staring blankly into the void. You wouldn’t blame her for that. 

It stuck with you for days, filling your empty mind with the sight of a smile that could no longer be experienced. The scene shamelessly repeated itself in your mind until it became nothing but a progression of disassembled images, forcing you to taste the astonishment over and over again. The problem was, you hadn’t seen him for days. And, even though you wanted to know what happened, you couldn’t ask. That was the rule. 

What would you say anyway ? Black is the imposter and I watched him close medbay’s door ? Yeah, I don’t think so. You should have stopped him in the first place -and you would have if you weren’t just mesmerized.

So, you took each day -or night … or piece of time, whatever you wanted to call it since it was no longer existent- with composure. Forcing yourself to do any task with a meticulousness that didn’t look like you. Just to make sure your brain was busy enough not to think about it or him. Being trapped in a place and being trapped in your own mind are two different wrestles, yet in here those two intertwined perfectly. Just like the rest of it, it didn’t even make any sense : the guy smiled at you for ten seconds and here you were, an absolute clutter of questions and recollection. You were probably just too bored and he, as always, was the perfect distraction. That must have been it, right?

You walked in admin. Your heart skipped a beat before your eyes could process who stood in front of them. 

Look what the cat dragged in. 

His hair twirled flawlessly above his face, almost hiding a grimace that indicated so transparently his mind. You leaned against the door frame and crossed your arms, unabashedly watching him as he swiped his card frantically while sighting heavily every time that “bip” of failure rang. 

Eventually, he looked at you with an expression you couldn’t quite read. You tried anyway, staring at him as if he was some sort of work of art that needed to be decrypted. From the way his chest moved heavily under the pressure of the irritation to the way his glowing eyes witnessed you. This expression on his face gave him a funny look, a scowl which made the laugh that tickled your throat hard to hold back. 

“Y-you have to do it slower. Otherwise, it won’t work” you stuttered. “I guess it’s harder since …” 

You walked to him carefully, so carefully you forgot your words. Just as if he was a wild animal who could run away if scared. Making sure no step would fall out of line. He was so close, so close, maybe if you tried to catch him this time he would stop running away. 

“Since it’s not my job, right ? Is that what you were about to say ?” he asked with a low voice, a voice you would have never dared to picture for him. Not the broken tone you pictured but a melody so sweet and so unique it felt like it was made just for your ears to enjoy, taunting you to dive into his mind.

“Do you need help” ? 

“I- hum- You’re not supposed to help me, you know ?” he stuttered, visibly amused, judging by the way his eyes wrinkled under his smile. 

“Are you gonna lock me in the room once again ?” He shook his head as a chuckle escaped from his lips. “Then who cares” you finally breathed.  

Your fingers brushed against his warm skin as you grabbed the card. You tried to appear unbothered, hoping so intensely for the swipe to be a first try success. That way, maybe he wouldn’t notice the way you breathed heavily under the weight of your pounding heart. But those red eyes piercing through the depth of your soul were hardly bearable for those like you who suffered from unbeknownst afflictions. 

You grew aware of his every move, the way those eyes fell on you, the perfume that emanated from his skin, the sound of his slow yet noticeable respiration.

You gave him his card back and he captured your fingers in the palm of his hand, making it impossible for you to escape his grip. Hiding those blushing cheeks from a sight that seemed to see everything was a defiance only the proudest people would be capable of. It wasn’t your case, but you counted on preserving the last sane cells left in your body. 

“Your secret is safe with me.” You whispered, avoiding any eye contact.

“I know that.”

 A simple answer that would never be enough to satisfy you. Yet, before you could review the best option of an answer, he left. Just as he always did, he walked away silently -still this time it seemed to last an eternity- while you just stood there inertly as you watched his black silhouette disappear into the endless gray hallways. 

You finally caught the breath you had been holding this whole time. Leaning over, you observed your reflection into the screen of the digital tablet as you rubbed your hands together, hoping for that strange spike of electricity that ran through your fingers to fade away quickly. A mess.

“There you are, Corpse” green said as he sat cross-legged in black’s secret place “I’ve been looking for you.”

Corpse was the name green chose for Black, feeling like it would be the most suitable image for the one who always worked in the shadow. Not the most refined nickname, yet black ironically related to that. Silent as a Corpse, he thought. A level of sarcasm that amused him and which probably led to him immediately falling in love with it. 

Corpse observed the little sprout on the top of Green’s head. It floated lightly and followed his every move. What a little freak. Just a thing deprived of any sort of self consciousness, out of this world just like he felt he was. Corpse remained fixated on it, hoping he could get as self-aware as it was. The last impromptu reunion he had with you was nothing he had planned, nothing that should have happened. He wouldn’t exactly call it a mistake and still, he had no one else but him to blame.

“Did something happened with y/c ? You seem a little flustered.” Green asked, pulling Corpse out of his overflowed mind. 

“I don’t know, I think I kinda fucked up.” He replied with a shrug. “I’ve been spotted.”

“Was it really a mistake ?”

Green was the only one who was granted with the privilege of learning how to understand Corpse. Because, deep inside, they grew up to be the same kind : the kind that didn’t belong here. Two sides of the same coin. 

Green’s social intelligence, on the other hand, Black didn’t like it that much. Thanks to that guy, he would be able to work comfortably in the darkness, where no one could see him, but it also meant that he saw clearly what was going through Corpse’s mind. Actually, it didn’t take him too long. 

What was the surprise when he realized it was you who lived rent-free in his thoughts? See, in Corpse’s eyes you were different from the others : too conscious about the reality that happened before yours eyes. It made you interesting to observe. What a delightful sight it was to watch you rolling your eyes in your crewmates’ face, to notice the serious look you had when you were focused on a task, the way your eyes sparkled every time a new sabotage was made. He wouldn’t track you, yet he would never resist a peek once your paths crossed. It happened often, more than you actually realized.

Yet, Corpse was no fool. You and him never belonged together. You were destined to a bright destiny and he was the obscurity. That’s why he was more than careful not to get too close, not to see his bare mind get burnt under the exposition of those peculiar feelings in the pit of his stomach. 

That’s why his previous reaction made no sense to him. But what could he say? You took him aback when those words were directed at him. You made his short-circuited brain unable to be sensible anymore. He just wanted to know what your touch would feel like under his fingers. Why was his skin blazing with electricity now ?

Corpse swallowed it all. From the blossoming feeling inside his body and mind to the warmth and the softness of your skin. He couldn’t feel that way. “I’m not really sure.” he finally said, as honest as he could be with himself. 

He would spend his next few days planning with Green, cornering you to a small part of his brain. You couldn’t be there, you had no right to be. The game was progressing faster than they anticipated it. It made him thrilled, accepting the challenge no one but the two of them could bear. 

However, a new unwanted seed grew into his mind. The idea that, maybe, you were only by his side in this game. That, maybe he would never be able to witness your existence in the real world.

“Have you ever noticed how weird the stars look sometimes ?” Corpse asked as he joined navigation. You jumped and your mind turned into a scattered place stuck between a task you battled to achieve and the proximity left between the two of you. Your heart beat in rhythm with his echoing, never ending footsteps. Still you had, indeed, noticed. “It’s like they’re not even real” you answered with a smile that made your voice higher. A melodic lift that betrayed your intention of ever finishing your job. 

When you finally looked at him, his lips moved into a satisfied curve. Shivers tickled your arms and your neck. Maybe because he was just standing so perfectly still in front of the glass window. So perfectly still that, among all those celestial bodies, he appeared to be the most beautiful one.  “Mind keeping me company for a bit?” Your mouth betrayed you when the question escaped your grip. But Corpse snorted faintly and shook his head.

“From all the people in here you want to spend time with me ? That’s probably not your wisest decision.” He said as he tried to muffle a high pitch laugh with a hand that covered his mouth.

See, that’s the words he had been afraid of since the first time he saw you. The words he would have to turn into derision since he knew he would have no strength to refuse. Yet, you stood there with those glimmering eyes and those eyebrows that arched in a strange manner, cutting every single inch of air out of his lungs. Even if he wanted to say no -and he should- he wouldn’t have been able to.

It was never meant to happen, not judging by your two so hostily opposed nature. Fuck that shit. Who cared about that speech when you were here and you were so beautiful?

You moved closer to him, a strenuous and slow tense that shouldn’t be disregarded. You’ve had seen the same scenery for months yet never it made you feel the same way as you did at that very moment. Because those balls of lights floating into the void shimmered in his ruby hued iris just as a dozen of fireflies would. He made your world a little blurry, narrowed to his presence at your side.

“You forgave me really easily the last time we met.” He noticed. “That’s a little sus if you asked me.”

“Well, what can I say ? You’re the only distraction I have left, so I’m not really in the position to hold grudges.” You shrugged sarcastically. 

“You’re really funny, I have to concede that” he said as his smile made its way to his eyes. 

Your brutally honest words intertwined with his chuckles and crewmates never heard the spaceship as lively as that time. That time when you got to discover who Corpse really was. A man who hid his blooming existence behind a silence.

“Why did you stay silent this whole time ?” You dared to ask before the silence fell upon the two of you, a silence that maybe you wouldn’t be able to endure this time.

“Because I never wanted to lie”

“I- ...hum- there’s really nothing I could say against that, right ?”

With every grin, every chuckle, every abrupt eye contact, your proximity kept embedding his mind a little deeper until you stole the stars’ show completely. It’s no good, you held his breath hostage when he realized he could feel the warmth stemming out of your skin. So tempted to get closer and witness it with further clearness. 

Thus, he lifted a hand that starved connection. He tried to close the gap between your two touches so prudently, so discreetly that you didn’t even notice. A touch, that would go beyond his movement, more like a proof he needed to make sure someone like you really existed in a shithole like this.  

He was so close. 

Yet, the alarm rang before he could embrace the object of his desire. “Better check that out quickly” you said with a sigh. Somehow, it felt peculiar just knowing that, this time, you were the one running away. A sense of some sort of joke played by space. As if space hadn’t done enough. When Green cut the communication, he couldn’t realize -If only he knew the double meaning of that sabotage. Ah, the irony of it all. 

“I’ll see you soon” Corpse informed you, more of a promise than a farewell and he stayed there long enough, staring numbly at his hand.

You ran until the communication room, holding this bittersweet feeling on the tip of your tongue. You tried to swallow it and almost found yourself praying that no one would arrive before you could. This way, maybe your fugue would make more sense. 

Blue was already sitting on the floor, trying to find the good frequencies. “I’m already on it.” she said on a plain, monotone voice. Of course, she fucking would be. 

Now what was left to do ? Corpse was probably already gone and-and the silence … the silence had returned. A dead, cold, cruel silence. It tested out your nerves, built up some pressure down your throat that made keeping your composure barely possible. Corpse slipped between your fingers again. The game was no longer a funny and pleasant diversion from the plain, austere daily life you had. You grew tired of that cat and mouse game. You just wanted him.

After going back to the oh-so empty navigation room, you completed your tasks. And you were finally done. You wandered around for hours, days -who knows-, searching for a purpose. 

The game was coming to an end, you could feel it. Something in the air changed, it became dryer than ever. Unbearable on your skin that ached for something you couldn’t apprehend. The crewmates were agitated, everyone kept running around day and night just to make sure the last tasks would be completed as soon as possible. New difficulties were triggered almost as soon as the last ones ended. Chaos. 

Just as if he wasn’t ready to end the game so soon, as if he didn’t want to get the hell out of this place as much as you did. From time to time, you almost found yourself eager to ignore the alarm. Taunting him one last time by neglecting his call. 

Maybe that way he would show up, maybe that way he would stay with you. Yeah, maybe that way he would stop being nothing but an ephemeral being that almost made you wonder if you finally gave up on your mind to the silence. Because at that moment he only felt like a chimera your brain created to protect you. Because you were just so fucking bored.  

You gave up on that idea, turning on the CCTV as you sighed. Just to see more colorful suits running around, trying to hold their shit together for what appeared to be the ultimate hour. Despite all the sabotages, it seemed like your number made your strength. You imagined Corpse’s face, probably piqued. A dark frown covering his pretty eyes. It made your lips twitch for a second. Who knew it would end this way ? Definitely not you. 

Yet that amused smile faded away when you heard the familiar sound of the door closing, locking you in yet another time. You rolled your eyes and turned around, unprepared to witness who locked themselves with you. His body laid against the door, guarding it as his chest moved frenetically under the weight of his rushing breath. 

“This is the end” he whispered frantically under his breath. He doesn’t look as worried as you thought he would, but it didn’t matter. You moved impulsively toward him, never stopping until he snaked a hand around your waist and slipped the other one in your back. That way, this time, there were no escape. 

He let his head rest in the hollow of your neck, soaking the divine and comforting warmth you had to offer. His warm breath on your skin sent shivers through your body which responded by squeezing him a little tighter, holding him as close to your heart as humanly possible. You could feel his, beating so fast.

“This is the end.” His whisper grounded on your skin. 

He lifted his head to dive into your eyes with the same sweet smile you offered him. The one which expressed the happiness, the relievment it felt to embrace him. 

“If it were for you, I would do it all over again.” You said, pressing your forehead against his, sharing a breath as you closed your eyes. One last attempt to memorize everything about him. You sensed his smile, so wide you didn’t even have to look at it to see. He left a trail of kisses on your cheeks and your hand wandered in his hair as a faint gasp escaped your lips.

Corpse looked back at you. And then, as his thumb drew light circles on your cheek. With glowing eyes that translated all the adoration he felt for you, he whispered “Maybe it was just meant to be”. And then, he closed the distance between the two of you, brushing your lips softly at first before capturing them completely once he was sure you felt the same way as he did. A kiss that tasted like 4AM and home. 

“I’ll find my way back to you, my love. I’ll find you in the real world.” He promised.

[gladerwolfstarkimagines]

Not just a soft princess - Azula x female reader imagine: Part Two

You arrive at the fire nation and things do not go as Azula planned, mainly because she didn’t expect to be putting her own neck on the line to protect you from her father...but that’s exactly what she finds herself doing more and more. 

Part one here

Part three here

Part four here

Part five here

Part six here

Your POV

The ship landed just as the sun was rising and you expected to be shown to a room to sleep but instead Azula started towards the palace and gestured for you to follow. The dai li were sent down another corridor and you hesitated but Azula called your name sharply and so you turned away. You had no idea where Azula was taking you, all you heard her say was “he will want to see her” to two guards who hastily got out of her way. You were so angry and scared you didn’t take in the grand decor or extravagant wealth of the fire nation. You just followed Azula as you went further into the belly of the beast. When you got closer Azula dismissed everyone apart from you but one person didn’t leave. Her brother Zuko stayed and Azula narrowed her eyes. She yanked him to the side and they argued in whispers but eventually Azula won. You wondered if she ever lost....Zuko turned back the way you’d come and disappeared around a corner. Azula carried on walking without saying anything and anxious not to be left behind you hurried after her. You finally reached a huge throne room lined with fire and gaped. "Father" Azula said sprawling on the floor in a bow. The figure in the fire turned and looked at you both before fixing it’s eyes on you. Azula shot you a look but you made no attempt to move "you said nothing about bowing, i am still princess of the earth kingdom". Azula narrowed her eyes when suddenly the figure moved out of the fire. Fire lord Ozai loomed before you and glanced over you “so this is the princess" Ozai said coming to stand right infront of you. He lifted your chin with his hand and stared in your eyes harshly. "You are now our ally so i will excuse this lapse in judgement just this once...but in the future you will bow to me and only me. We are allies but i your king, do you understand?". He jerked his hand away but you didn’t let you chin drop, the fire lord glared at you but you matched his eye defiantly. You saw Azula watching anxiously so eventually looked away "yes fire lord Ozai" and lowered your head. "Good" Ozai replied. You doubted you had a choice. “You will rest and prepare for tonight”. “What’s tonight?” you asked and Ozai smirked cruelly “why our victory party of course”.

Azula’s POV

After you left Azula stayed, anxious to hear her father’s praises but they never came. “She is your responsibility” he said simply and Azula looked up “the princess?”. “Well who else?” he snapped “it was stupid bringing her here, you should’ve killed her when you could”. “I couldn’t...there’s no way the city would’ve allowed it, they would not have surrendered if we harmed her, the only way to assure victory was with her help”. “She is not broken and that is a problem” Ozai glared “it will be your job to break her, if you fail or if she causes even a whiff of treachery....you will face the consequence” he glared “yes?”. Azula bowed her head “yes father”. Her father made a noise and swept past her, stepping on her sleeve as he passed. Azula frowned wiping away the dirt and stood up. If you were her responsibility then she had to make sure you behaved, she had work to do.

Your POV

You were led through another maze of corridors until you were eventually released into your room. As prison cells went it was beautiful. Large and tastefully decorated you found yourself admiring the room when suddenly the door was thrown open. Servants brought in boxes and boxes of supplies and you frowned “what is all this?”. “Clothes” Azula said appearing “you need to look nice for the firelord’s presentation tonight, the servants will choose what you are to wear and help you to get ready”. “Because I am incapable of doing that myself?” you asked and Azula glared. “Because this is too important an alliance to fail, you have no idea about fire nation customs or our traditions so if I were you i’d take every slither of help I could get...”. Azula backed away from you and went to leave but you weren’t done. “The dai li, where have you sent them? Tell me or I won’t go near any of these outfits”. Azula rolled her eyes “I have taken some for my personal protection but others will be deployed however I see fit”. You shook your head worried for the guards that had left their families because you said to. “I want to have some with me, I want them to be alternated regularly so I might make sure they are being treated well”. Azula glared “you are not in the position to bargain with me”. “Am I not?” you asked “you’re smart but you know if anything happens to me...if word gets back to the dai li or to Ba Sing Sei....your alliance falls away, what would your father think of that?”. You’d picked up on Azula’s fear of her father and felt bad using it on her but given what she’d done to your people you thought it fair. The servants all paused at the mention of Ozai and looked at you with obvious astonishment you’d dare test the princess but you didn’t care. If you were so important as Azula claimed she couldn’t touch you. With visible effort Azula’s shoulders lowered and she met your eyes. “I will see to it you always have a guard of four and they will rotate monthly, now is that all?” she asked sarcastically. You nodded your head and Azula strode from the room pushing over a servant that couldn’t get out of her way fast enough.

You unsurprisingly couldn’t rest and the ball came quicker than you expected. Before you knew it you were poked and prodded into a traditional earth kingdom dress nobody even wore anymore and thrust into the middle of the fire nation nobility. You were forced to sit by the firelord’s side for the duration of a large feast where he basically paraded you around as a trophy. He claimed you were allies working to strengthen your kingdom but you were a prisoner. Pretending to not be livid was hard and you took solace hoping your people were safe at least. That’s all that mattered.

Azula’s POV

"I feel sorry for her" Ty Lee sighed watching you “she looks so...awkward”. Azula glanced over to you and realised her friend was right. Despite looking every bit the beautiful exotic princess with a wide smile on your face your eyes were betraying you. You were miserable. “Well duh” Mai replied “do you think she’s happy to be here?”. The nobles had all certainly taken to you but Azula guessed that hadn’t helped. You were dressed in traditional earth kingdom clothes and primped like a delicate thing to sit in a display case. Azula noted you did look radiant and beautiful but you had been just as stunning when she first saw you in trousers and a loose tunic only that’d hadn’t looked half as forced. This, with your hair twisted up into an odd position and a corset squeezing you into a ridiculous shape, didn’t look like you at all...just a basic princess of the earth nation.

Azula watched as her father leant in to say something to you and you flinched away repulsed. You were still smiling but it was very clear you detested him. Her father either didn’t notice or didn’t care and he kept his close proximity to you. Azula thought it unwise for her father to keep pushing you, she wasn’t sure how long it’d be before you earth bent his chair away from you for coming close to you. Azula supposed that would be bad for appearances so made her way to her father. “Father” she said bowing “may I make a suggestion?”. Ozai nodded and she moved closer. “Perhaps if y/n could move around the room...people could see her better and it would look like more of an alliance, I could show her around if you liked?” she whispered. Ozai thought before nodding “yes that is a good idea”. Azula nodded and went to step towards you when Ozai cut her off “Zuko” he said turning to his son further down the table. Zuko jumped up and rushed over “yes father?”. “Y/n wishes to stretch her legs, take her for a walk around the room, give her a whole tour of the palace if you wish just make sure everyone sees the two of you together” he said pointedly. Zuko lowered his eyes and nodded “yes father”. You had evidently overheard and stood up as soon as Zuko looked at you. You rushed away from Ozai so quickly Zuko followed you in a daze.

Mai’s POV

Azula returned to Mai and Ty lee and she she evidently noticed Mai’s expression. “I didn’t mean for that to happen...”. “No, I knew it was only a matter of time before your father put his plan in place” Mai sighed. There were already chatters about you and Mai knew Ozai was anxious to assimilate you into the fire nation. An obvious and simple way would be to link your blood line to theirs and given you were only one year younger, you and Zuko seemed the obvious option. “I told you that won’t happen” Azula said sharply “she’s a princess she won’t be sold off like cattle”. “You sure about that?” Mai asked as the whole room followed you and Zuko with their eyes, whispers breaking out everywhere. Mai wasn’t so sure Azula was right this time. A marriage would so neatly tie up this whole business, any children you had would have claim to both the fire and earth nation meaning the fire nation could legitimately take over half the four nations. With you help Ozai wouldn’t even have to wipe the earth kingdom out, he’d more than double his population and reach an insane amount of power. Mai couldn’t see how he would resist that and so watched you warily.

Your POV

You’d only been in the fire nation a day but you were painfully aware of Ozai’s plan for you and so you were wary of Azula’s brother but honestly he seemed just as scared as you. He led you outside in silence, past all the people who muttered just loud enough for you to hear. He stopped at a balcony in full view of them all and silence settled. You were aware he probably also knew what his father had planned and were pleased he also seemed opposed to it. “So...how do you like the fire nation?” he asked awkwardly and you paused. “I honestly don’t know what to make of it, I haven’t been let out of my room all day so I haven’t had much chance to look around”. Zuko looked at you awkwardly “ow”. “Ow” you agreed and silence settled. Finally Zuko sighed “look I have to mention it...I know what my father has planned as do you...but I didn’t ask him for it and I won’t be speeding up the process I can assure you...er no offence”. You smiled surprised at his honesty “none taken, it’s a relief to hear you say that...no offence”. Zuko smiled dryly and silence settled again. You were confused by what Zuko had said though, why was he acting like he didn’t have a say? You were a prisoner but he was a prince, why didn’t he just tell his father no? “Not to sound rude but can’t you do something about it?” you asked suddenly and Zuko jumped. “Me? what makes you think I can do anything?”. “Well you’re the first born and the future king! Can’t you...refuse or something?”. Zuko laughed “things must’ve worked differently in your kingdom but here...lets just say speaking out against my father isn’t an option”. You frowned disheartened and Zuko touched his scar nervously before sighing “we should move around, my father wants them to see you...”. Zuko led you back into the party and you felt like a show dog being paraded around. You followed him dutifully until Azula appeared. “Princess Y/n” she said nodding to you “brother” she said sharply to Zuko “father has retired”. Zuko looked up and sure enough Ozai’s throne was empty. “He has?”. “Clearly” Azula snapped before turning to you “all he asked is that you stay at the party until the end but that does not mean you have to spend it with my brother, I wouldn’t wish that fate on anyone” Azula smirked. You smiled without meaning to but immediately felt bad for Zuko. The prince scoffed and barged past his sister most unimpressed and Azula laughed. “Not the most charismatic” she told you “but then we can’t all be so lucky to be blessed with people skills”. “You have people skills?” you asked and Azula narrowed her eyes, “just because I wasn’t trained to be a pretty smiley princess like you doesn’t mean I can’t handle people, i’m very good at getting what i want...you’re proof of that”. “Me?” you asked confused and Azula smirked “do you think you’d be here if I didn’t want you here?” and walked away leaving you confused.

1 week later

You soon realised you’d been premature to complain about your treatment on your first day in the fire nation. The day after the party you were awoken early and forced to dress and show your face around the fire nation nobles. Then you were drilled incessantly by some twin women about everything fire nation. The correct titles to use, who you must bow to, how you must style your hair....the list was endless and the women cruel and harsh. Your days were spent being prodded around by them, your evenings been paraded around whatever formal event was being thrown and the fire nation seemed to have an endless amount of events to prove their honour and pride. You soon caught on that the events were merely a way for Ozai to force you and Zuko in proximity to one another and so in response you tried avoiding the prince as much as was humanly possible. In truth you had nothing against Zuko, he seemed fine but you didn’t want to encourage any more contractual alliances, a marriage least of all. The only good thing about the situation was Zuko wasn’t the only fire nation royalty around. Strangely Princess Azula had been...helpful in that respect. Anywhere Zuko could go so could Azula, so anytime Ozai demanded Zuko go somewhere just so he could force you to do the same, Azula would also show up. So what would’ve turned into a date was just a royal outing. Even tonight, the fire lord had purposefully attempted to seat you and Zuko at the centre of the table. Azula had swiftly placed herself in the centre instead, both of you blocked by her and you found it rather entertaining. She was definitely the brains of the fire nation and for whatever reason she did not support a union between you and her brother.

Azula was oddly the member of the royal family you saw the most. On your “royal outings” you and Zuko largely ignored one another and with Azula and Zuko not getting on, it would be the two of you trading quips or light insults at one another all day. She’d also regularly appear in your schooling sessions too and when she did the women were a lot nicer to you. They obviously wanted to impress the princess and needed you to do that so went from shrieking furies to kind old women. You began to look forward to Azula’s visits in your lessons and found her presence oddly comforting in certain situations, like the formal events. Nobody dared approach you when Azula was next to you and it was refreshing. In her presence you were protected from the stares and rude behaviour of the fire nation nobels who had gotten bolder with their behaviour to you. Zuko would just look away but Azula would directly challenge anyone who showed you disrespect. She claimed it was because disrespect to you was disrespect to the fire lord but you weren’t so sure...there was something oddly endearing deep down in the princess. You didn’t see it often but when you did...you liked it.

But Azula wasn’t often vulnerable and you more often saw the harsher side of her, especially if she was in a bad mood and particularly if you were too. The two of you would clash and after a hard day of training you suspected the same could happen tonight. You’d had a bad day from being summonded to oversee the contract of your alliance you had no control over to the painful dress you’d been placed in tonight but the worst bit was Azula hadn’t shown up to your training session like she did every week and your teachers had taken it out on you. So you were already slightly miffed at her when she sidled up beside you in the throne room.

You were stood watching the other nobles lost in thought and clear confusion showed on your face. "What’s wrong with you...never been to a party before?" Azula asked. "Not one like this" you admitted and glanced at Azula. You were annoyed to see she looked nice (as always) but she was constantly dressed so formally. You hadn’t once seen her in normal clothing and it seemed as if the fire nation lived in formal wear. “So what’s with the face?” Azula asked jolting you out of your theory. "Is there no dancing in the fire nation? I’ve been here over a week and not once has anyone danced at any of these things" you said dismissively and Azula smirked "you like to dance?". You shrugged "my uncle loved it as did Bosco...it was infectious everyone would get up and dance too" you smiled at the memory "but here nobody seems to do much smiling or laughing…do you know how?". Azula narrowed her eyes "maybe if your city focused less of bears and parties it wouldn’t be ours now". You’d provoked her with your comment but you hadn’t meant to make her so angry. You’d learnt her temper could be far more fragile than your own but you were sick of appeasing it. She needed some to snap back at her and you’d give it her. You sighed deeply and glared "don’t pretend you won on merit alone you got lucky...the avatar gone, long feng over thrown, it wasn’t all your talent that won you the city and what was the point of it all anyway? Even with my city the fire nation’s still a miserable place. Nobody here seems happy or to like each other. That’s probably why you focus so much on other nations but what happens when you've conquered the world and you’re all left to your unhappy selves? At least we were happy on our own could the fire nation say the same?".

Azula’s POV

You turned and strode away before Azula could reply and she slammed her drink down in response. How dare you get the last word! It angered Azula so much she tried looking for you to continue the argument but couldn’t seem to find you. She was sure you’d disappeared on purpose and that made her even angrier. You were so spirited and had such a sharp tongue, it matched hers and that infuriated her. She had to admit you were similar to her in many respects and that made her both interested and agitated by you. "Princess Azula" a servant called and Azula snapped "what?" she yelled and the man cowered "your father wishes to speak to you and your brother...before the contract signing with princess y/n tomorrow". Azula straightened and ignored the people looking at her. She made her way to Ozai’s throne room and was annoyed to see she was the last one there. "Ah finally" her father called and Azula resisted the urge to point out if he’d have told her earlier she’d have been on time. "The contract is all drawn up, we will present it to y/n tomorrow. AIl the agreed terms are there plus an added clause for us". "What sort of clause?" Zuko asked and Ozai glanced at him "a clause that ensures y/n will always be of use to us". Azula found said clause and tensed, the clause basically signed your life over to the fire lord, he could use you however he saw fit. This meant Ozai could do whatever he wanted to you and it would be part of your alliance. Azula knew exactly what her father had in mind and he was stood across from her. Zuko looked at Azula confused as she stared at him and Zuko went to say something before she looked away. "It all seems to be in order why don’t i take it to her tonight?". Ozai shook his head "no it needs to be overseen by officials so there can be no question of it’s legitimacy". "We have a room full of them, i can get it sorted for you by tonight why wait for tomorrow?". Ozai frowned before nodding "why not" and handed it to her. Azula nodded in relief and clutched the document to her chest "i will return for you to sign it after y/n has" and she set out to find you.

1 hour later

Two dai li agents and two fire nation nobles gathered as your witnesses. You and Azula stood beside one another as she explained the terms to you. Hearing her voice made you angry again so you just sighed "give it here". Azula paused "but i haven’t finished". "I don’t care i know what we agreed to and i know the fire nation is stubborn so you obviously put it all in there, i read it before i don’t need to read it now". Azula shrugged and handed it over. You signed it and managed not to flinch as you saw your name printed on the line. "Done" you said "i’m officially fire nation property". Azula didn’t reply, she stared at the contract her mind clearly elsewhere. "Azula?" you asked and she looked at you "what?". "I was saying...never mind, can i leave?". Azula nodded her head "yes" and she sushed from the room.

That night

You were still moping in your room unable to get any sleep when you heard yelling. Your room was annoyingly close to the firelord’s and so you could hear when he was in a mood and that was often. However this one seemed particularly bad. You heard many feet running past your room to his study and frowned. You opened your down and called to one of your guards “what’s going on with the fire lord?”. The guard frowned "i shouldn’t say princess". "Is it bad?" you asked as doors slammed shaking the palace "can you tell me that at least?". The man frowned and you looked at him, he was one of your dai li, a man named Guomir that you had known since you were a child. “Guomir please?” you asked. You kept your gaze on him and he eventually sighed rolling his eyes “okay but don’t tell anyone I told you”. You smirked and gestured for the him to come into your room. He shut the door and turned to you “If the rumours are to be believed it is in relation to your treaty". "What" you cried "but i haven’t done anything, i signed exactly where they told me to". "There was a hidden clause it seems and fire lord Ozai thinks you betrayed him over it". "Hidden clause?" you asked "but i didn’t even write the contract!". "Yes but he thinks you have wormed your way to those who did, it has ruined his plans for you". "What clause is it?". "A marriage clause, it prevents your marriage to the prince of the fire nation permanently".

You were called to the throne room an hour later despite the time and you walked in with your head held high. You saw the two officiates who had been there when you signed the contract and neither of them dared to meet your eye. They stood close to the princess Azula terrified and you were sure they both figured you were doomed and you supposed you were. You’d been summoned so abruptly you knew this wouldn’t be good but you surprisingly weren’t scared. You kept your head up as a few more people appeared in the room and then the doors were sealed shut. The fire lord entered and you managed not to jump as he slammed the door. "Lets not waste time, do you wish to confess?" Ozai barked at you. You stared at him and shook your head "i had no part of this, i signed where you told me to sign". "So you expect me to believe as the only person to gain from this you didn’t do it?". "She didn’t" someone spoke up and you froze. "I added it" Azula said simply. There was silence and then suddenly Ozai reacted. “Leave us” he yelled and you saw Azula flinch despite her brave face. The men filled from the room leaving you, Azula and Ozai. "Azula! You know what this marriage could’ve done, why did you do this?". "Because y/n is more use to us than as Zuko’s wife, she is a princess and we have her loyalty, we don’t need to hand too". Ozai rolled his eyes "but whoever else she marries has claim to the earth empire that could sway her loyalties. A marriage would’ve fixed that". "No it never would’ve ensure her loyalty and actually could’ve resulted in the opposite. The earth kingdom would know her and Zuko didn’t fall in love within a week, they’d see you were selling her off like cattle and we could’ve lost the city. We have her contractual word, we do not need anything else". “If she ever shows questionable loyalty” Ozai yelled in Azula’s face “I won’t just banish you, your fate won’t be that kind...do you understand?”. “Yes father” Azula said and she stared at the ground. Ozai pushed her and stormed from the room. You watched as Azula unclenched her fists and her hands shook in fear. She was terrified of her father and she risked his wrath for what possible reason?

You intended to find out but Azula didn’t seem keen on sticking around. “Azula” you called but she strode from the room following her father. Nobody telling you not to, you rushed after her calling her name. You caught her arm and she pushed you away “leave me alone I saved you what else do you want from me?”.  "An explanation, why did you do it?" you asked angrily "what do you want in return". "In return?" Azula asked confused and you nodded "well you don’t strike me as a person who does anything without expecting something in return. You must want payment". Azula’s angry expression relaxed and she looked at you "you're right i don't act for no reason but i do not expect payment actually". Your jaw dropped and it took you a few seconds to form a sentence "but....why?". Azula smiled and went to walk away. "No” you said grabbing her arm “please don’t...you’re the reason i’m here but you’re also the only one who acknowledges me and not just as someone to sell off...just tell me why you did it”. Azula brushed your hands off her and carried on walking. You sighed in defeat when suddenly she looked back “are you coming or not?”. You smirked and rushed after her.

Azula led you around the palace grounds and you stared like a tourist. You’d not been allowed free reign of the palace and so this was the most you’d seen of it. You were happy to walk in silence but Azula seemed to want to answer your last question. "I don’t agree with arranged marriages" she said suddenly "my father’s first attempt to arrange one for me was when i was 12, he said he would wait a few years of course but he was still planning it all out" she spat "so i made him a deal, if i finished at the academy with the best record anyone had ever seen, beating any man or woman who came before, he would postpone his plans. He agreed smugly and i smashed every single record ever set in this nation" Azula grinned "he never brought up the marriage again". You laughed "that’s amazing...how did you do it?". "I guess i’m just the best the fire nation has ever seen" Azula boasted and you found yourself agreeing "you must be...that or you’re the most determined one to ever exist. Either way that’s impressive". Azula stared at you as you said that making you blush at her smirk. "I know" she replied and you realised you’d reached the corridor of your apartments "it is late you should retire”. You nodded your head unable to meet her eye and Azula smiled “goodnight princess". She bowed never taking her eyes off you until she had to and when she did you felt cold. The princess may be hard to read but she was making things interesting. She was quickly becoming your favourite thing about this damn nation and something told you that wouldn’t be changing any time soon...

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[everlarkficexchange]

Just Close Your Eyes, You'll Be Alright

Written by: @alliswell21

Prompt 154: Soulmate au where your soulmates injuries and scars show up on your body tinted in their favorite color. Katniss through the years as she discovers new marks, pondering what it could possibly be, finally figuring out that her soulmate is being hurt way too regularly and in very specific places. Do her parents figure out Peeta is being abused? How do they find and “rescue” him? Or does Peeta live his whole childhood being abused before turning 18? Does he runaway? How do he and Katniss find their way to one another? [submitted by @lovely-tothe-bone / @peetamewllark]

Teen and up

AU- Modern setting (but like without cell phones). One Shot. 

Warnings: Canon typical violence, Language, child abuse and neglect, injuries, implied (non-descriptive) underage smut. Nobody dies! Unbetaed. 

-lyrics of Safe and Sound by Taylor Swift, Feat. The Civil Wars - Songs from District 12 and Beyond (2012)

Author’s note: Thank you to @lovely-tothe-bone for her inspiring prompt and to the organizers of EFE, for bringing the challenge back so faithfully, you ladies rock! 

KPKPKPKP

“Look at her!” Papa screeched at the policeman, lifting the back of my favorite pink polka dotted shirt. “You have to do something about this, Sheriff Cray!” Papa demanded, angrily.

  The man just watched, like he didn’t care. Then sat back down lazily, “There’s nothing much I can do, to be honest. Unless you can produce the child sporting the actual bruises, my hands are tied.” Said the policeman.

  I had no idea what the problem was, I felt fine, but ever since my 5th birthday, every time Mama helped me out of my day clothes for my bath, she wept and held me close to her chest, whispering “No child deserves to be treated so poorly,”

  Papa too always made a face and looked sad and angry when Mama showed him my back after my baths. 

  It was funny how bath time could easily be my favorite time of day, but it made the grown ups upset somehow. I just liked that mama would rub ointments on my back, bottom and thighs, carefully and without fuzzing about the time she was spending away from my baby sister, Primrose. Is not that I didn’t like Prim— I thought she was as lovely as a doll— I didn’t mind sharing mama’s snuggles with her either, but it was nice to just feel mama’s warm hands caressing me to sleep every now and then. 

  Either way, I wished someone would tell me what was so wrong with my behind that had the grown ups acting so weird. 

  They were starting to scare me, really.

  “There has to be something we can do! There are genetic tests to determine matchless people, couldn’t we use the same technology to find the markers matching my daughter’s counterpart to identify him?” 

  “Mr. Everdeen, I’m not a geneticist. I wouldn’t know about anything like it… and who’s to say we could use it to find your girl’s soulmate? Then we what? It’ll open an unknown Pandora’s box situation, people would start tracking soulmates illegally or something less than honorable. It’ll certainly set a precedent we cannot foresee the ramifications of!”

  “You’re telling me that there’s some kid out there, somewhere, getting beaten week in and week out, and you’ll do nothing about it?! You’ll allow the abuse to continue uninterrupted?” 

  The man nodded slowly, “You said it yourself, Mr. Everdeen. The kid’s ‘out there, somewhere’, we don’t even know if he’s local, or his age. In any case, I only have jurisdiction over District 12, and I can’t very well launch a country wide investigation on an alleged case of abuse, specially if  we have no victim,”

  “But my daughter’s soulmate is suffering! Who knows what permanent damage this poor child may have as an adult! It’s my daughter’s future we’re talking about!”

  “Most unfortunate, sir. I don’t wanna seem unsympathetic, Mr. Everdeen, but unless your little girl can figure out a way to communicate with her soulmate, find… an address— at the very least a name— there isn’t anything we can do to help.”

  Papa huffed, his nose flared, “Fine. Thank you for your consideration…Sheriff.” Papa put his big ol’ hand on my shoulder and guided me away, “Come on Katniss, it’s time to go home.”

  I looked up at Papa and reached for his hand. I smiled at him, “It’s okay, Papa. Mama says to give grumpy people time, and they may be nicer the next time we talk to them.”

  Papa smiled at me, but it didn’t crinkled the corner of his eyes, like real smiles did, “That’s nice sweetie… although, that usually only applies to people just waking up from naps, like you and me,”

  I giggled when he picked me up and tickled my tummy. 

  Papa kept talking to grown ups about my back, but nothing was ever done about it. 

  ———————-

I was 11 when our world pitched upside down. 

  Papa was one the foramen on shift at the town’s coal mine when the earth shifted and an entire tunnel collapsed. 

  Prim and I were in school when the sirens went off. There’s nothing worse than to hear the end of your world being advertised so loudly and without mercy. 

  I grabbed my sister’s hand and rushed to the mines; we found our mother there, clinging to the yellow tape cordoning off the site. 

  I should’ve known something wasn’t right when I was the one seeking Mama out, trying to comfort her, instead of the other way around. It was the first time the concept of a soulmate stopped being an abstract notion, and became a reality, because my mother stopped functioning altogether the moment she realized Papa had been hurt.

  I saw how much a soulmate could affect you. It wasn’t only the marks on the skin— those came without conscious pain— it was the fear of knowing that someone you loved was hurting, sometimes badly, and not being able to do anything about it. 

  Mama’s left leg started glowing pink from the shin down at first, and the color began to shift to a darker red the longer Papa laid underground. 

  Unbeknownst to us, my father had been pinned under fallen rock and dirt after pushing a man to safety, risking his own life. The sharp end of a pickax perforated Papa’s leg in the cave-in. The pickaxe worked as a plug, keeping him from bleeding out while he waited for the rescue crew to reach him. 

  Papa laid on the floor of the very last lift to surface with rescued miners. He was unconscious. Had suffered extensive blood loss. The lone medic in the rescue crew couldn’t fix him up right away, but Mama was a nurse, and like a switch flipping on, she ripped off the bottom of her skirt, and tied a tourniquet around my father’s thigh, saving his life at the cost of his limb. 

  My father lived, but his leg had to be amputated. 

  He couldn’t work in the mines anymore, and what little money we got as compensation from his injuries, were put into paying off the mortgage, because Papa decided that having a roof over his family’s heads was far more important than having a leg. 

  The rub was, a roof didn’t fill our stomachs or put a coat around Prim’s shivering shoulders. Mama put a hold on her nursing career, obsessing over Papa’s care, despite his protests. Someone had to pick up the pieces, and that someone turned to be me. 

  I started selling everything I could carry out of the house in my arms: tools, kitchen appliances, small furniture, etc. But we never had many possessions to begin with, so my wares ran out soon, and I turned to our closets for their meager treasures.

  I sold my parents best clothes, along with my sister’s winter boots that didn’t fit her anymore. I looked at my own shoes with longing, but put them into Primrose’s shoe rack, deciding I could manage with Mama’s boots, if I stuffed them with newspaper. Mama never left the house anyway. Neither did Papa for that matter, but he wasn’t dead, just convalescencing, so I left him a pair of footwear just in case, and sold his work boots and his Sunday loafers. 

  The day I was down to the last pair of clothing, we had been slurping on mint tea for the third day in a row from a few old leaves I found in the very back of the pantry. It was the last of our food, besides Papa’s bland diet, but I refused to let on on how precariously stocked we were, until absolutely necessary.

  But, nobody wanted the hand-me-down baby clothes I had for sale, nor the slightly beaten stroller I was pushing around with my ‘merchandise’. 

  Icy cold rain, soaked me to the bone. I was so tired and downtrodden, I ran to the first awning I found, unwilling to go back home to Prim’s sunken blue eyes and chapped lips, asking for something to eat, while my hands were empty. 

  I tripped and fell face first on the umbrella stroller, breaking it irreparably and soiling the few onesies I’d been trying to sell. 

  With my wares ruined, and winded by a sharp pain shooting through my elbow, I limped towards a scraggly apple tree a few feet away. I recognized the place as the alley behind the town’s bakery, just by the smell alone. 

  I cupped my elbow, wondering if I’d broken it or merely banged it up? That’s when I saw the dumpster. 

  Big ugly thing, dirty and smelly. I climbed a wooden crate to dig for anything edible inside, but before I could lift the lid, a screeching voice shouted at me.

  “Get out of there, Seam brat!” 

  I jumped off the crate, startled, and cowed behind the dumpster when I saw the baker’s grumpy wife sneering at me from the warmth of her kitchen’s back door. 

  A boy about my age— I recognized him as one of my classmates from school— peeked his towheaded face around the woman, and although they were a good five yards away, I could see his blue eyes widened as he took me in. The boy slipped back inside, as his mother spewed threats of calling the police on me and whatnot.

  I started debating whether I wanted to trace back and drag my broken stroller over; pretend I was merely trying to dump it in the garbage, while inspecting the trash for food… but the baker’s wife was nicknamed the Witch by all the neighborhood children for a reason. 

  Before my mind was made, a loud, metallic bang resonated into the street from inside the bakery. Yelling ensued, then the sound of a meaty hand against a small face. 

  A few seconds later, the witch was chasing the boy out the back door, “Toss it in the trash, you stupid creature! Nobody will pay money for burnt bread anyway!” 

  The boy scurried by with his head down. 

  My eyes stuck on the bread in his hands, was probably the reason I missed the shiner under his eye. He stopped right in front of the dumpster, but instead of throwing the ruined loaves in, he tossed them in my direction. 

  I didn’t wait around to ask if he meant for me to grab them. I just scooped them up and fled like a bat out of heck. 

  When I got home, Mama gasped in horror. She grabbed me by the shoulders and pressed me to her chest. “Oh no! It’s getting worse. They don’t even care to hide the bruises anymore!” 

  Mama lathered my face with all the medicinal herbs she had at hand, while apologizing profusely for abandoning me and Prim to our own devices. She vowed to find a job, and to take better care of us. 

  “No child should ever suffer like this!” I couldn’t tell if she meant Prim and I, or whoever my soulmate was.

  Mama interrogated me about my whereabouts and how I came upon the bread in my arms, but she seemed to rest easier after a while. 

  When I was finally able to look at my face in the mirror, I was horror struck by the deep orange bruise swelling under my eye. It took three days for the bruise to go away completely even with mama’s careful fingers.

  Coincidentally, the baker’s son didn’t show up to school for the next four days. By the time he did, I had lost any confidence in myself to go up to him and thank him for the bread that fed us for a few days; the loaves were perfect! Only the crust had been charred, but I had a hunch the boy knew that when he threw the bread to me; I was also convinced he burned the bread on purpose, I was just too chicken to ask him why? Which made it even harder to hold his gaze when we crossed each other in the school hallways. 

  All I knew was that because of the selfless actions of the boy in my year at school, my mother seemed to wake from her single minded obsession. The boy with the bread gave our family a sense of hope, despite the fact that it would take some time for Mama to find work and produce enough money for the family. Papa’s medical needs had to be met as well, and he was due a new leg. 

  While those thoughts churned in my head, my eyes focused on a bright yellow bloom across the school yard. The first dandelion of the season! I picked the cheerful blossom, and the idea on how to feed my family until Mama was back on her feet, came to me. 

  After school, I took Prim’s hand and a clean bucket in the other; together we scoured the yard and the woods nearby for all the dandelions we could fit in the bucket. That night, we gorged ourselves on dandelion salad, and the next day, I pulled from under my parent’s bed, the only thing of value we had left in the house, Papa’s hunting bow. 

  “Are you sure you can handle it, pumpkin?” My father asked, watching me carefully.

  “You taught me how to do it,” I said, trying to hide my nerves.

  “I taught you with a smaller bow,” he pointed out, “why don’t use yours?”

  I shouldered the heavy bow, and took a few loose arrows in my hand, “I sold it. These are all we have left now,”

  After a handful of days practicing, I actually shot  something worth eating. Seeing my mother’s blue eyes pop in surprise when I dropped the dead rabbit on the table, was priceless. 

  ——————-

  One early morning, right before summer break, I happened across another hunter… a trapper, to be precise. 

  A lanky, scowling boy, with three fat bunnies tied to his belt, and a fourth hanging in the air by a simple— yet elegant— wire snare. 

  I’d seen his traps before, his prey with their dead eyes and lolling tongues, just high enough off the ground to keep other animals from taking off with them. Papa told me that hunter etiquette was to be observed; if I happened across a trap that wasn’t mine, I was not to touch it, out of respect for my fellow hunters. That still didn’t discourage me from looking! After all, the snares looked like works of art, and I had no idea how to set any on my own.

  “Stealing is a punishable offense, you know,” Snapped the boy, and suddenly I realized just how tall he was. 

  From up close, I could see the beginning of some stubble under his chin. 

  “I wasn’t gonna take it…” I stepped away from the twitching bunny, with my hands raised in surrender. “Admiring your work, that’s all. By the way, I’m Katniss Everdeen, what’s your name?” I asked, trying to be friendly. 

  “Name’s Gale. Hawthorne. So… you know how to use the thing hanging from your back, Catnip, or is that just for show?” He practically bumped me onto my butt, stepping passed me while pulling a knife from his belt to cut his kill down. He turned to watch me, smirking. “That thing looks bigger than you, are you sure you can lift it up?”

  I scowled at him, wondering if he was expecting to see me squirm or something. I was smaller than the average 12 year old, but I was fast and scrappy. 

  “My name is KatNISS. I can shoot my own food thank you very much,” I held my bow aloft and moved so he could see my quiver full of arrows, “my weapons aren’t props or fakes,” I said, haughtily.

  “Yeah, well, it still looks bigger than you,”

  I rolled my eyes, fed up. Any other time I’d meekly shy away, and let him be; but I was feeling stubborn and confrontational, so I pulled my bow, nocked an arrow and let it fly, all in a fluid motion. 

  Gale gaped with a hint of fear in his gray eyes. 

  I felt smug and satisfied. 

  I wasn’t aiming at anything in particular, I just wanted the obnoxious boy to shut it, but by a stroke of luck my arrow pierced a falling leaf, and imbedded itself deep into the knot of a gnarly looking tree trunk. 

  “Wow! That was amazing, Catnip!” Gale said in awe. 

  “It’s Katniss… I’m okay, my father was better,” I said, puffing my chest a little, “I haven’t managed stealth yet, not like Papa before the accident, anyway. He doesn’t hunt anymore.”

  Gale frowned. “Was your dad in the cave-in?” He asked grimly.

  I nodded. 

  “So was mine. He almost didn’t make it.”

  “Same.”

  He just stood there, staring at the ground for a moment, then I tried to play cool, “Hey, I’d be willing to spare some shooting lessons, in exchange for some snaring techniques,” 

  Gale watched me, intently. He finally nodded and stuck his hand out for me to shake, “Deal!” 

  I smiled. Papa always said that good hunting partners were hard to find, and while I didn’t want a new hunting partner— I already had my father!— I could always exchange knowledge with a fellow hunter and improve my game. 

——————-

Papa was fitted with a basic prosthetic leg. He couldn’t run or swim with it, but having the ability to walk without crutches gave him a “new lease in life”, as he called it. 

  He found work doing odd jobs for Haymitch Abernathy, a hermit drunk, with more money than he knew what to do with, and no family to spend it on. The man needed someone to talk to every now and then, and seeing as he and my father were close in age, they developed a strange rapport between them. 

  Still, Papa wasn’t completely confident with his fake leg, no matter how many physical therapies he attended; he still walked with a pronounced limp. Yet, he always had a word of comfort for Mama. 

  My mother often blamed herself for Papa’s disability. 

  He’d tell her that she did the right thing, that it was thanks to her torniquete he was still alive, and she should never doubt her own healing skills. But every now and then, my mother would catch a glance of her permanently grey skinned leg, and silent tears would slide down her exhausted, pretty face.

  By then, I was old enough to know that the soft orange marks hidden under my clothes, meant a kid somewhere in Panem, probably my age, was getting beaten on a regular basis. It was sad to think about, but I’d grown so used to the marks, they felt like a distant happening without a meaningful connection to me. The bruises were there… just shy of a shirt sleeve, or around mid thigh, where they could be concealed by shorts; the way I saw them, they were like oversized freckles that came and went. A nuisance. That’s why watching my mother weep over her shadowy leg, was always unnerving and a little odd. 

  Was I supposed to despair the same way she did over my own soulmate marks? Was I broken or heartless if I didn’t feel as strongly? 

  Until I saw my mother’s grief over her soulmate’s leg, it didn’t register to me just how much the orange bruises were supposed to affect me. 

  I started to think if I wasn’t any better than the person dispensing the punches.

  One day, I was leaning on my parents bedroom door, watching Mama applying soothing oils to her gray leg with the utmost love and care.

  “Why do you rub so much medicine on your leg? It doesn’t seem to be bringing back your normal color,” I asked, staring where her fingers massaged into her flesh. 

  Mama stopped and called me over, to stand on her side of the bed. 

  “Papa is fast asleep, do you see?” She pointed out, kindly.

  I looked past her shoulder, where my father was sprawled on the mattress on his stomach, dead to the world. 

  I nodded.

  Mama smiled, “Do you remember all we’ve told you about soulmates? I’m sure they’ve taught you at school other stuff as well,” 

  Again, I nodded, just a little puzzled. “Soulmates have a very strong bond. They can’t feel when the other hurts, but they can see the marks, tinted in their favorite colors. That’s how we identify our soulmates, because we match and they can see themselves reflected back.” 

  “Exactly.” Said my mother, beaming. “Now, your papa and I are soulmates, and we love each other very much. When Papa’s leg was separated from his body, my body reflected that loss, despite still retaining my own leg. We match. The one thing most people don’t seem to realize, is that the connection goes both ways. I may not feel the physical pain Papa does, but I can still do things to my leg to help him feel better.

  “For example, when he feels phantom itches, I scratch and his itching sensation goes away. When he can’t fall asleep because he’s uncomfortable without his leg, I massage lavender oil on mine, until he relaxes and goes to sleep. Everything I do to heal my body, and take care of it, helps my soulmate feel better.”

  “Is that why you put lotions on my marks? To help my soulmate feel better?” 

  Mama’s lips thinned out; she didn’t like talking about the orange marks on my body. 

  “Katniss,” she said very seriously, “I tend to your bruises because I love you. I worry about your soulmate, because I love you. I try to keep you as healthy and happy as possible, because that will help your soulmate heal faster… because I love you. I can cure your soulmate’s body through yours, but I cannot protect his heart, mind, or feelings. Right now, you both are too young to feel the pull of your bond, but one day, when your bodies have matured, you’ll have this… yearning, to find one another, and then, I just hope, whoever your soulmate is, knows we tried to help.”

  I cocked my head, “Should I be sad every time new marks show up?”

  Mama inhaled a deep breath, “We should feel sad every time a child is mistreated, darling, no matter how we’re related,”

  From that day on, I paid close attention to every child in my class for bruises matching mine. I also kept pomades and tinctures in my school bag, in case I ever saw another kid getting hurt. I wouldn’t say I started to develop deeper feelings for my soulmate after that, but I did feel deeper empathy for my classmates… I just couldn’t stomach big injuries, gore or vomit, but smaller cuts and bruises… those I could manage. 

————————

“Silver Anderson figured out her cousin was dating her soulmate!” A girl in my year was telling a cluster of other 15 year-old girls in the locker room. “Do you remember how Silver has been wearing a turtleneck for the last two days with this darned awful heat?”

  The other girls hummed their yeses. 

  “Well, is because Silver’s soulmate had a hickey on the throat, given by Silver’s cousin, who was his girlfriend or whatever. But apparently the cousin went over to visit Silver with her boyfriend, and one look at the guy’s neck, and Silver recognized the mark!” 

  There were gasps all around. 

  It wasn’t rare to hear of soulmates having relationships with other people before finding each other, but it was almost unheard of a relative dating somebody’s soulmate so close.

  I finished tying up my shoelaces, and started rebranding my hair, making a mental note to double shampoo, to get all the sweat out.

  “What an idiot! Who gets hickeys from their ‘whiles’?” Snorted somebody. 

  I wasn’t much for gossip, but even I had to agree. 

  ‘Whiles’, weren’t permanent romantic interests, they were just to pass the time while waiting to find your soulmate. ‘Whiles’ were people to satisfy ones curiosity about dating and that kind of stuff, with no strings attached or substance; ‘whiles’ had a bad connotation associated with. 

  “Oh, the boy had never gotten one mark in his body that wasn’t his, so, he assumed he didn’t have a soulmate, and the cousin has already been confirmed to be a matchless.”

  A big “Oh!” Swept the room. 

  Matchless were born without a soulmate, which meant they could choose to be with whoever they wanted as long as they were matchless as well, or with nobody at all. 

  Sometimes I envied their freedom to choose, but other times I felt a sense of safety, knowing there was a person somewhere in the world meant just for me and me to them. 

  Soulmates were genetically evolved to complement one another, but some just wanted to experiment before settling down. Lately, though, matchless births were growing in number, and that upset people for whatever reason, as if the freedom of choice was scary or a curse, then again matchless were usually whiles and those were looked down on. 

  “That’s awful!” Said a girl.

  “I knew Silver’s near freakish obsession with keeping her skin pristine and hidden would bring her issues finding her soulmate someday,” Declared another.

  “I don’t think she wanted to find him,” whispered someone else.

  “Oh well, they did find each other! You can’t hide from your destiny. That’s just silly!”

  “Either way, I feel bad for the cousin, because apparently she and Silver’s soulmate were talking about marriage, since they thought they were both matchless.” Informed the first one. 

  I lost interest in the conversation when it turned speculative, and stood up to shove my P.E. uniform into my locker. 

  Someone suddenly called, “Everdeen, how about those orange blooms on your arms?” 

  My eyes widened, and immediately, I dropped my arms, pulling my sleeves as far down as they would go to cover my soulmate’s private marks.

  “Oh… um… yeah. My mother thinks my soulmate might be an athlete,” I stuttered; Mama had only said such a thing in passing once, when a couple bruises appeared that didn’t match the usual ones. “Also, he seems to work with his hands. Lots of nicks and scrapes.” I wiggled my fingers in front of me. That much was true, my soulmate probably wore those marks freely.

  “Oooh!” A girl, Delly Cartwright, reached to take a closer look. “Could be a carpenter. Or a locksmith? Maybe a farmer!”

  “It could be the blacksmith’s son! Doesn’t Silver have an unmarried brother?” Asked another girl.

  “Yeah… a kid like 10! Ugh, Everdeen, I really hope he’s not your soulmate… can you imagine being so much older than your soulmate?!” Interjected the same girl that spotted my bruises. 

  I scowled. Age was a stupid thing to complain about. It wasn’t out of the ordinary to have an age gap between soulmates… my father was six years older than my mother, and Mrs. Sae from the Soup Corner at the market, was a handful of years older than her soulmate. 

  Still…

  “No. My soulmate is most likely my age. I’ve gotten his marks my whole life,” I shrugged, absently rubbing my arm, where the brand new bruise appeared that morning. 

  “Oh… at least that’s something. Knowing that your soulmate isn’t so much younger than you, and that he might at least have an apprenticeship somewhere,”

  “Right,” I said, turning away, wondering if it was awful of me to wish for a boy who never got marks on his body, like Silver’s pristine skin? At least that would mean my soulmate was safe and treated fairly. 

———————-

Papa and I shared many qualities. I inherited his coloring: olive skin, gray eyes, dark, straight hair, our penchant for singing mountain ballads, and the same quickening of the blood when we got a kill during hunting. Prim favored our mother more closely, with their fair skin, blonde wavy licks and blue eyes, they also were more skilled as healers and more soft-hearted towards animals. 

  The day Prim brought home a half dead cat, riddled with fleas and missing an ear to be patched up and adopted into our family, my first instinct was to drown the orange pelt and be done with it, but Prim got upset and worked up, and I just couldn’t stomach her cries over what I considered to be the world’s ugliest cat… his face was flat, like it’d been smashed against a wall…

  It took a long time to calm my sister down, and Papa made me pinky promise that I wouldn’t kill the fur sack and pretend it ran away, which I only did reluctantly, because I loved my sister and didn’t want her to be crossed with me. 

  Papa asked me to walk with him into the woods, afterwards, which I did readily. 

  Before he lost his leg, we used to go hunting all the time; everything I knew about hunting and foraging, I learned from him. But after losing his leg, we’ve only gone to the woods to hike and get him used to his prosthesis in the uneven terrain. 

  It was good exercise for him. The fresh air seemed to lift his spirits too. 

  We didn’t hunt together anymore. Papa’s tread wasn’t feather-like the way it used to be, prey scattered away before we even saw it.  

  It was alright. We enjoyed being out there together, and he still had lots to teach me about edible plants. Sometimes he’d find one of his old spiles, and then it would hit me: all his knowledge would’ve been lost if he’d died in that cave-in. I would’ve never known where to look for those spiles; I wouldn’t have the slightest idea how to harvest sap and turn it into syrup. 

  Sometimes, I had to sit down and catch my breath when those thoughts knocked the wind out of me. 

  I was having one such moment, when out of the blue, my father spoke in a low, calmed tone. 

  “There’s a new chief of police,” he said while sitting on a log, next to me. 

  “I heard.” I wasn’t trying to be snippy with him, but every time a new chief or sheriff was appointed to our district, Papa wanted to run back into the precinct, and demand they look for my soulmate. 

  Appealing to the police never led anywhere. It didn’t matter if they had new staff, they always gave us the same spiel: can’t investigate an abuse case without a victim. They couldn’t go looking for a person without a name or an address. 

  After a while, one just started feeling like it was an impossible task, to help one child feel safe. 

  Papa sighed. “We could try ourselves. I’ve been saving some money, and we could—“

  “What? We could what?” I snapped. “We could go door to door visiting every little town in Panem until we find the bruised up mutt matching me?” I was at the verge of tears. 

  Mama said that once my body was matured enough, I’d start feeling the pull. Well, I kinda felt it, calling desperately. It started around my 14th birthday, when I started having a regular cycle, and puberty was at its summit. 

  First, I was curious about my other half and began cataloguing all the soulmate marks I could see easily. Suddenly I had whole maps of my hands and arms, and legs. Mama suggested I keep track of my hidden marks too, just in case. The curiosity persisted and evolved into an incessant wondering: where was he? How was he getting along? How could I help him protect himself? 

  “Haymitch may have a way, sweetheart. He knows people, and he likes you… he says you’ve got spunk,” Papa smirked.

  I’d met Haymitch Abernathy countless times. He was rude and sarcastic. I usually responded to him in kind, earning myself a host of reprimands from my parents— although Papa still couldn’t hide his pride, despite trying his hardest. 

  “What would he know about soulmates anyway?” I muttered.

  Papa shook his head, standing up, “Haymitch lost his girl, mother and brother all at once during a special outing. There was a car crash. Haymitch was badly hurt, but survived. His family didn’t. His soulmate was 16, so was him. The government paid him excessively for damages and the loss of his soulmate, because it was proved the city had skimped on roadside safety that caused the accident. But money didn’t fill the void of losing his loved ones. Haymitch never recovered. 

  “He told me once that losing a soulmate is akin to drowning. Except you’re still breathing without filling your lungs with oxygen…” Papa picked up the bucket we brought to collect sap, and smiled sadly at me. “Katniss, I may be exaggerating by hounding the police about your soulmate, but sometimes I worry that if we don’t find that kid soon, you could very well share Haymitch’s fate. Believe me when I say that I’d do anything in this world, to keep that from happening to you.” 

  I turned 16 that spring.

  I started carrying a small mirror on me, to try and look over my shoulders into places I couldn’t reach, obsessing over every little mark that sprouted anew on my back. 

  I wasn’t sure if the all consuming watching, and the doubts that kept me up at night, not knowing what was being done to my soulmate, wondering if he’d survive another day, was the pull Mama talked about, or simply terror at becoming the next Haymitch Abernathy. Either way, I became more vigilant for injured teens around me, but a sinking feeling in my gut started nagging at me, that my soulmate was an expert at hiding in plain sight by now… how would I ever find him if he was as adept at camouflaging as I suspected?

—————————

“This spot is perfectly in the middle of the turkeys’ path.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest to glare at Gale, “You just spilled a bunch of blood there. No critter is gonna come this way anymore with that stink.”

  “Turkeys aren’t that smart, Catnip,” Gale looked up from his belt after securing his new catch— his pants were covered in gore from where the rabbit nearly cut its own foot off trying to fight the snare’s grip. “I’m more than confident that if we set traps here, we’ll catch at least a fat Tom…more if we set up a system wide enough,”

  After a somewhat rocky start, Gale and I learned to respect each other’s skills, even joining forces for certain seasons, like deer and turkey hunting. We also fished together on occasion. It was safe to say we had a friendship after three… almost four years of partnership in the woods. At 18 Gale was less obnoxious, but still a stubborn ass. 

  “And I’m telling you, the path is tainted now. We need to put feed on the other side of the bushes, to keep them in the area.”

  “That’ll take weeks!” 

  “Then you shouldn’t have let that bunny bleed to death in here!” 

  “Listen here, Catnip—” whatever he was about to say, died in his throat.

  “What?!” I demanded, angrily, when he just stared at me horror struck.

  “Your nose!” He roared. “Your eyes!” He tumbled forward, and squished my cheeks in his one, long-fingered hand. “There’s more coming!”

  I yanked myself away from him. “Cut it out!”

  “I think your soulmate is getting the shit beaten out of!”

  I grunted and brought my fingers to my face, as if I could feel the changes. 

  Gale had seen some of my bruises, enough to be sure I had a soulmate, but not enough to realize my soulmate was being abused.

  I rubbed under my nose, and the tip of my index came back bloody. 

  I gasped. That had never happened before. 

  “How bad is it?” I asked Gale, frantically. 

  “Um… orange keeps popping up all over your face. There’s some running up your arm right now.” He sounded careful, but frightened. “It’s like… burn marks,”

  I looked down, where indeed, long, fat tongues of intense orange glowed up my left arm. I’ve seen glowing marks before, but always in the tip of my fingers or the sides of my hands, I never connected the glowing with fire— burn marks— but it made sense. I guess my soulmate must handle fire regularly. 

  “What’s happening?” I pulled my little mirror from my pocket, to see my face, and nearly sobbed at the sight.

  One eye was completely covered in orange. Burn marks ran all the way from my elbow up to my cheek, and part of my forehead. My nose had a tiny, bloody smear, and my lip had streaks of orange here and there. 

  Whatever happened, was bad.

  “Fuck… Do you know where he is, by any chance?” Gale winced. 

  “No… but I’m about to find out!” I looked around for a place to sit, then pulled my small knife out of my boot. 

  Once seated, I examined my forearms. The flaming marks started at the elbow on my left arm, and went up on that side, my right arm was free of injury, except for my palms. Both were glowing orange, but not too bad. 

  “Okay… here goes nothing!” I gritted through my teeth, placing the tip of my knife to my arm, I traced the word, “WHERE?” crudely, and just deep enough to break the skin.

  Gale made a face, but crouched closed by, staring intently. “Do you think it’ll work?” He asked dubiously. “He might be unconscious for all we know,” 

  “We’ll see.”

  The minutes rolled by and no answer came. I was starting to panic; all I could think about was would that be the day I became the next Haymitch Abernathy? At least he got to meet his soulmate and have a relationship with her before she died; I had no idea who mine was. Was it worse that way, knowing them and then losing them, or was it worst to never meet them at all? Would I become soulless? Would my entire body turn gray? Would I ever find another soulmate? Haymitch never said if he ever looked for another, but I knew it was possible to get a secondary soulmate if enough time went by. 

  “Look!” Gale shouted. 

  A shaky “D12” appeared under my message. 

  A relieved gasp left my mouth. 

  “District 12! That’s good! He could’ve been all the way in District 4, and then what were you gonna do? Call the authorities there?” Gale muttered, clearly invested in what was happening to me.

  Tears stung my eyes. I wrote: “ME 2” 

  We’ve been in the same district the whole time, and I still had no idea where to find him! 

  I turned the knife back to the first word, and traced a line under it “WHERE?”

  The answer came back faster. “S H”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I moaned,  “What kind of abbreviation is that? Ugh! I’m trying to help you!” I screamed at my arm as if my soulmate could hear it.

  “Seam House?” Gale mused… “No, there are hundreds, if not thousands of houses in the Seam,” he said.

  The Seam was the poorer part of the district, where people like us lived: low income families, miners, laborers and the such. 

  “Ah! Ask if he means Slag Heap? If I was trying to pick a fight with someone, that’s where I’d go.”

  “He didn’t pick a fight!” I snapped, defensive and angry. “He’s been beaten every other day, since I can remember. My parents used to go to the police station every year to see if they could do something about it. Nobody ever did! They always said we needed to figure out a way to communicate with him… well, I’m doing it now!”

  Gale frowned, “That’s shitty. I’m sorry to hear that. The Slag Heap could still be it, though. Many people go there to be alone… if they’re running from someone, there’s plenty hiding spots,”

  That sounded logical, “Okay… but the slag heap isn’t exactly small, and there’s some woodsy area to consider too,”

  “Mmm… asking has been working so far,” 

  “Yeah, but the whole mutilation part is getting to me…” I glared, he wasn’t the one cutting his arm, “I’m starting to get woozy,” 

  “You’re a hunter, Catnip! Blood is nothing,”

  “Animals, Gale! Not my own blood,”

  “There’s no difference,” Gale cupped my face in his hands, to keep my eyes on his gray, steely ones. “we’re all animals. We all bleed the same. Your soulmate needs your help, if I knew who mine was, and I knew she was in trouble, I’d be rushing to them… you can do this, Catnip,”

  I took a deep, cleansing breath, and nodded. “I’ll ask him. As soon as we know where to go… could you please fetch my father? He’ll know what to do,” 

  “You got it, Catnip!” He let go of me, and I felt renewed courage after his weird pep talk.

  Once again, I trace the tip of my knife on my skin, “SLAG H? WHERE?”

  “YES    NE”

  “North East! I told you it’ll work!” 

  “Yeah,” I grumbled, spelling making one last message: “W8 4 ME”

  “K”

  With half a plan in motion, Gale rushed to find my father, and I made a mad dash to the slag heap, where years and years of dumping dirt and rocks removed from the mines had formed small hills and mounds at the edge of the district. 

  “Hello!” I called out loudly. “Can anybody hear me?!” 

  There wasn’t a whole lot of vegetation in the slag heap, only hundreds of disturbed soil pits and little mountains… some were tall and wide enough they’ll easily conceal a person or two looking for privacy. 

  “Anybody here?” I called again.

  A weak cough answered in the distance. 

  I rushed in it’s direction, hoping it was my soulmate, and not a couple trying to steal away a few minutes alone. 

  “Please, tell me where you are!” I called before another round of coughing reached me. 

  “Here to finish me off, sweetheart?” Came a weak, raspy voice from behind me.

  I turned around but saw nothing besides dirt, and sticks, and moss on rocks. 

  I swallowed, “Where are you?” I stepped closer to the heap in front of me, and then…

  “Well, don’t step on me!” 

  I jumped back and looked downwards, and finally saw dirty pieces of flannel and denim, incongruous with the area, and under all the debris, I realized a person had dug a little wedge at the foot of the hill, and thrown the stuff he’d dug out back on top of himself. The disguise was clever, camouflaging himself into the terrain. 

  I gasped and dropped to the ground, pulling handfuls of earth out of the way. A jolt of recognition hit me when a pair of bright blue eyes blinked open and shut, slowly, as if fighting off fatigue. 

  “Don’t go to sleep!” I warned.

  “I’m sorry, but it might be too late for that already. There’s an angel hovering above me, and I’m not sure I’m not dreaming it,” a row of white teeth appeared from the soil.

  My knee-jerk reaction was to chuff and roll my eyes, but if he was throwing me those cheesy lines, it meant he was somewhat lucid, and it was imperative to keep him that way. 

  “How do you know is not a nightmare?” I countered.

  “Because Katniss Everdeen coming to my rescue, and being my soulmate could never be a bad dream. On the contrary It’s only my deepest, most desperate hope, really…” he trailed off, and closed his eyes again. 

  I was momentarily frightened.

  “Keep talking,” I ordered, brushing dirt off his head. Some of it mixed in with his blood and sweat, turning into a thick mud. I could see more of his battered face; my heart beat erratically against my rib cage, there were so many bruises. “Peeta, keep talking,” 

  His untouched eye opened slowly, a lazy, sideways smile greeted me, warming me up. “You know my name?” 

  I chuckled, startled, “You know mine,”

  “Everyone knows you, Katniss ‘the huntress’ Everdeen!” He reached up, tentatively, and touched the tip of my braid, whispering under his breath, something that sounded like: unreal.

  Just saying his name felt otherworldly; like breathing for the first time. I’ve never uttered it before, for fear of bringing forward memories of that awful day in the rain, by the bakery’s scraggly apple tree. 

  “And you’re Peeta Mellark, the boy with the bread. I’ve known your name for a long time, baker’s youngest son, whose kindness saved my entire family from starvation,” I cupped his injured face in my hands, and I couldn’t help the slight tremble in my voice. 

  He seemed to melt at the sound of my voice; then his hands came to touch my face. “I can’t believe it’s you. I can’t believe you found me!” He said, an edge of incredulity and awe colored his tone, but then his face fell, “But, your sweet, beautiful face… it’s all…” a fat tear rolled down his muddy cheek, while his thumb gently caressed my temple and the side of my face. “I’m so sorry, Katniss… I never wanted you to look like this! I always tried to shift positions, so you’d never had to see how bad it got. I’m so sorry,” he was crying so hard, he started to shake and cough.

  It took inhuman strength not to cry myself; I knew he needed me to protect him, and there would be time later to fall apart and feel emotional. 

  “Shush, I’m here now.” I knelt next to him and locked my arms around his head, pulling him against my chest, so he could hear my heart beating only for him. “I’m going to take care of you.”

  “I really hoped it was you. I really did…” he heaved into my neck, his arms wrapping gingerly around my waist, “thank you for finding me,”

  “Of course I found you… I’ve been looking for you for ages,” I whispered, finally giving in, shedding some tears, relieved that the tension, fear, uncertainty, and frustration were finally gone. My soulmate was in my arms, where he belonged! “My parents started looking for you when we were little. But we’re together now,”

  Peeta calmed down some, but he was still breathing too fast, “Now that you have me… what are you gonna do with me?” He asked meekly. 

  I smiled down at him, “I’ll put you somewhere safe, where you can never get hurt again,” 

  He closed his eyes. “I’d like that…” 

  “Peeta, you can’t go to sleep just yet, okay?”

  “I’m so tired, Katniss,”

  “I know,” I cooed. I had no idea I was capable of speaking with such softness. “My father will get here soon, and then we’ll patch you up real well.”

  “I can’t go back to my house though—“

  “You ain’t going there, kid!” Papa said from a few feet away. Gale and two police officers followed closely. 

  I must’ve been completely enthralled with my soulmate, because I never heard them coming, 

  “Even if it’s the last thing I do, I won’t let you go back to that place!” My father stated. 

  And that was that!

  ——————————-

“Tell me what happened,” Officer Darius asked in a soft tone, trying to be encouraging.

  My soulmate inhaled; one eye was so swollen it was completely shut, his other one roved around the room nervously. Peeta locked his gaze with mine, beseeching, and I offered my hand in support. He clung to it like a lifeline. 

  “My mother asked me to burn a pile of leaves and branches in the backyard that had been there since fall, but the branches were damp and it was taking me a while to fire it up. Since it’s the last week to burn stuff, my mom got impatient. She screamed at me, called me incompetent and useless… the usual stuff—“

  “Does your mother call you names regularly?” Asked the officer. 

  “My mom calls everybody names. I guess that’s how she was raised. Her mom used to call her names too…” Peeta shrugged.

  “That’s no reason to keep the cycle going,” my mama grumbled quietly, so only I could hear her.”

  “After insulting you, what else happened?” Prompted the police woman, Officer Purnia.

  Peeta scowled. “I told her I’d pour some lighter fluid on the pile and let it soak for a few minutes, but she wouldn’t hear it. Said I was doing it wrong, I was too stupid, I would never accomplish shit if I couldn’t even light up some dead branches… and, well. I got fed up. I told her she could start the fire herself if I was doing such a lousy job… my mom… she—She doesn’t like to be talked back…” He sagged on his hospital bed, and turned his face away. 

  “What do you mean?” Asked officer Purnia, taking notes, trying to keep an impassive mask on.

  “The first slap landed across my ear because I dared to move away from her flying hand,” Peeta said tersely, “She didn’t like that either, so she took aim again, but with the bottle of lighter fluid on her palm. She practically smashed it against my face.” He stopped to gasp for air, while his good eye filled with tears. “I think fluid squirted everywhere, I smelled like my hair and clothes had been doused in the stuff,” he raked a shaking hand over the singed hair at his temple. 

  I caressed his arm to sooth him. 

  He smiled gratefully at me, and faced the officers to continue. “I’d just put a piece of burning cardboard into the pile. I guess the leaves caught fire during the squabble with mom, and I must’ve lost my balance after taking a plastic bottle full of liquid to the face, because next thing I know, I’m bracing my hands on the ground, on burning sticks, and then I’m on fire myself.”

  Peeta sustained first degree burns on the different spots from his left forearm, up. Luckily, his wounds were managed as soon as we got to the emergency room, and his treating doctor said he would recover, with minimal scarring.

  “How did you end up at the Slag Heap?” Asked Officer Darius. 

  Peeta sighed, “My mom kind of freaked out when she realized I was on fire. She picked up a rag from somewhere and started hitting me with it…” he paused, “in retrospect, I think she may have actually been trying to help me, but… I just saw it like she was still trying to beat me, so I ran off. I tripped, fell, then rolled on the ground, she started calling my name, coming closer to me. I was scared. I took off again and didn’t stop until I fell at the foot of that mound of dirt in the slag heap. That’s when I noticed my soulmate’s note.”

  Officer Darius quirked up a reddish eyebrow, “Your soulmate’s note?” 

  “Yeah… these,” Peeta tried to peel back the bandage over his arm, but my mother put her hand over it, and shook her head. 

  “Here!” I said, immediately shoving my own arm in front of the officers. 

  Both examined my arm. “How did you think of doing that, Miss Everdeen?” 

  “I was inspired by your bosses actually,” I snarled.

  “Katniss!” Mama chided, and then politely addressed the officers. “You see, my husband and I have come to the authorities for many years, urging them to find a way to locate our daughter’s soulmate. You see, she’d started exhibiting her soulmate’s bruises from a very young age, which in my professional experience, were inconsistent with normal toddler scrapes and bumps—“

  “The chief of police always said to find a way to communicate with him, ask where he was… so I did,” I interrupted, haughtily. “I got you a real life victim to investigate. You’re welcome.”

  The officers stared at me, flabbergasted. 

  Mama made a dismaying noise in the back of her throat, but Peeta’s face— burnt, bruised and swollen— lighted up, with the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen a person direct at me. 

  Mama interjected, conciliatory, “My husband and I believe, your department should have enough evidence to investigate Peeta’s case, now?” My mother’s searching blue eyes seemed to x-ray the officers. 

  “Well, Miss and Mrs. Everdeen, Mister Mellark, I think we have everything we need for now. Thank you for your cooperation. We’ll be in touch.” Said Officer Purnia snapping shut her notebook. 

  “Mr. Mellark, your case worker, Miss Trinket, will be in as soon as the matter of your emergency custody is settled.” Informed Officer Darius, right before wishing us a good evening.

  Peeta frowned, “Are they sending me to like a home or something? What about my brothers? They can’t stay home with my mom… she’ll go nuts on them!” 

  “No, no, Peeta,” Mama spoke softly, “Miss Trinket is already on it. Haymitch Abernathy has offered his house for your brothers to stay at for a few days while things get sorted out. You’re welcome to join them, of course, but your injuries need supervision and several cleanings daily, so Mr. Everdeen and I feel it is in everyone’s best interest if you stay with us, at least until you’ve healed enough.” Mama hesitated, and then patted my soulmate’s hand, “I hope that’s okay with you, but if it isn’t—“

  “It’s absolutely great, ma’am! Yes, I—thank you,” 

  Mama nodded, “Well, I’m gonna go get some stuff taken care of, and check on that case worker. Then they’ll hopefully let us go home… Katniss, I’ll need your help with something before we leave, alright?”

  “‘kay.” 

  “Mrs. Everdeen…thank you,” Peeta said meekly. 

  Mama just stood stoically by the door, “You’re family, Peeta, it’s the least we could do for you.” The door clicked shut leaving me alone with my soulmate.

  We were both silent for a minute. Then Peeta said half amused, half shyly, “I think the guy cop liked you. I caught him smirking a couple of times after your ruthless answers.” His smile was crooked. Boyish. I almost swooned. 

  I shrugged. “I don’t think he cared that much,”

  “Are you serious?” Peeta laughed, “Katniss, you have no idea the effect you can have,”

  I scowled at him, and he just shook his head. I couldn’t tell if he was teasing me or complimenting me. He changed the topic before I could decide which. 

  “So, you’ve been looking for me then?” He sounded nervous, and a little uncertain, “isn’t it weird…we are soulmates, but the only thing I know for sure about you, is that your favorite color is green?” He rubbed his fingers together, then showed me the tips, where he had dark green spots, exactly on the same place I had permanent calluses from pulling on my bow string. 

  I bit my lower lip, studying the thin spidering of green nicks and scratches, were I surmised my own marks have appeared after my daily trips into the woods. 

  “Your favorite color is orange. Not bright, but muted…”

  “Like the sunset,” he finished for me. 

  Mind bonding wasn’t out of the realm of possibilities between soulmates, but my understanding on the matter was, that the bond had to be physically sealed before a pair could develop those empathic connections, where soulmates shared perfectly synchronized thoughts, as if they had one mind. Peeta and I weren’t there just yet, but it felt like we understood each other pretty well already. 

  He just stared at me in fascination, before his face fell, “I hope you don’t get permanently disfigured, if my burn scars don’t go away completely… you are so pretty.”

  I rolled my eyes, pleased that he thought I was pretty, but not really knowing how to respond graciously. I’d never been called pretty by a boy before, not that it’d have the same effect as when Peeta said it… “You’re just saying that I’m pretty because I’m your soulmate,” 

  He smiled sadly, “No… I really mean it. I’ve had a crush on you since I can remember. I just new I belonged to someone since I was like 4, when I saw my first soulmate scratch on my knees. Your favorite colors back then were teal and pink. Your marks were always swirls of the two colors. I liked them. I liked that I belonged to someone who enjoyed colors, like myself… I wondered what your marks looked like, but then, I hoped you never had to see my marks. I was ashamed of them.”  

  My chest tightened, I climbed onto his bed, and pressed my side right against his, “Hey… I’ve like your marks.” I stuttered, “my parents never let me see the ones on my back until I was older, but I liked the ones you got in normal places. Yours appeared as rainbows where we were little.” I held his hand in mine. “I don’t care if we stay fire mutts forever, Peeta, the important thing is that we are together now,” 

  “Thank you for finding me,”

  “Thank you for leading me to you,”

  We leaned our heads together, and fell into an easy silence.

  “Katniss…”

  “Mmm,”

  “We are soulmates.” 

  I tilted my head away, to look at him, “Yeah. We already established that,” I said suspiciously.

  Peeta smirked, “You know, we’re supposed to be madly in love…so, it’s okay to kiss me whenever you want to,” 

  I snorted and rolled my eyes, but he was right. In any other circumstance, I’m sure we would’ve already progressed into couple-y, lovey-dovey stuff. 

  “If you’re already fishing for kisses, that means you’re healthy then!” I kissed his forehead. “But let me tell you right now, cheek and sass won’t take too far, sir,”

  “It won’t?” he pouted, “then I’ll just have to swoop in when I see an opening,” he leaned into me, and I let him plant a peck, full on my lips. 

  My first kiss ever, and all I could register was how chapped his lips were… besides the small fluttering of butterfly wings in the pit of my stomach, of course. 

  “Well, time for a sip of water, and you should rest some too.” I said feeding him the straw in the Styrofoam cup full of icy water by his bed. 

  After he drank, we gravitated towards each other, meeting in the middle. Our second kiss was short, sweet, and full of relief. 

  I liked it. In fact, I wanted another, but Peeta was drowsy after the day we’ve had. 

  “I remember you used to sing, so beautifully, even the birds would stop to listen,” Peeta said, shyly… “would you… mind singing for me?”

  “I don’t sing all that much nowadays, but if that’s what you want…”

  He stared at me expectantly, so I had no other choice. I combed back his freshly washed hair, and started.

  “Just close your eyes;

The sun is going down.

You’ll be alright;

No one can hurt you now.

Come morning light,

You and I’ll be safe and sound...”

  When Mama came back, Peeta was asleep, and so she took me outside while my father sat in the room with the case worker, signing in my soulmate’s release papers, waiting for him to wake up. 

  “I want you to take these,” Mama produced a packet of medicine from a white, pharmaceutical baggie. 

  “Birth control?!” I groaned, embarrassed. 

  “Don’t look so scandalized, Katniss,” Mama rolled her eyes, “You and Peeta are healthy, newly acquainted teenaged soulmates, who will suddenly coexist together in close quarters. Papa and I agreed that starting you on contraceptives is the right thing to do,” she fixed me with a stare that broker no protests, “That said, we are not giving you carte blanche to act on pure hormonal instincts, Katniss. While we aren’t so naive to believe you won’t explore intimacy with your soulmate, we fully expect you to use caution, and make responsible decisions. Is that clear?” 

  I nodded, and snatched the pills from Mama’s outstretched hand. My face was burning with mortification, but I was grateful for my parents’ wherewithal and openness. 

  The next few days proved harsh and blissful at the same time. After 11 years pestering the authorities, Papa finally got the law to prosecute my soulmate’s parents for abuse and neglect. To call it a victory, was understatement. 

  Peeta’s father was declared another victim of the Witch’s abuse, but court ordered him to see a therapist and get evaluated by a professional, before he could come back home to his sons. 

  Mrs. Mellark was charged with endangering a child, battery, abuse and arson. She was court ordered to seek anger management and psychological counseling. She had been abused as a child too, and after watching her son in fire, it finally clicked in her head, that she needed to put a stop to the cycle… late as it may be. She went willingly when the police served her arrest warrants. 

  Since Peeta and his middle brother were still minors, they were temporarily placed under their eldest brother’s care; but the eldest brother was only 19 and had no idea how to be a father figure, so strange as it was, my parents insisted on having them all bunk in our tiny house, which was comically insufficient. Thank heavens Haymitch Abernathy was still willing to help. 

  The grumpy old drunk invited the lot of us to stay at his place for as long as we needed, and after cleaning up all the empty bottles and general messes around his huge house, we could enjoy the place at our leisure. 

  The boys kept working at the bakery, since they needed a source of income, and something to keep themselves occupied. Mama said they needed the normalcy of their business to cope. 

  It was a good thing Haymitch’s house was so big, since Peeta started having horrible nightmares after his mother was released from holding, after making bail; her trial was still pending, but my poor soulmate suffered severe PTSD from the events that brought us together. Neither of his brothers wanted to share a room with him at night…which allowed me to slip in when I heard him crying out desperately and fearfully.

  Peeta would only go back to sleep after I laid beside him and sang, while carding my fingers through his sweat-damped, ashy blond waves. 

  “I’m not okay until I can see you’re safe,” he told me once. 

  After the third night in a row of this happening, I just stayed with him in his bed. My parents didn’t exactly approve— we were still 16— but there wasn’t much they could say to stop us. After all, our soulmate bond trumped any other familial bond; we just couldn’t legally get married and apply for housing until we were both 18. 

  Peeta still woke up in cold sweats at night, but my arms were there to fend off the terrors, and so were my lips. 

  On the night I felt a hunger so consuming and devastating, gnawing at me from my core, radiating to the tips of my being, I was glad my mother put me on birth control. 

  My soulmate gently, but steadily joined us together, cementing our physical bond for the rest of time, while branding his love and adoration to me into my very skin, with fevered lips and shaky hands. We gasped and whispered vows of devotion to one another, and then an explosion of feelings and emotions went off… I couldn’t tell where his life force started, and mine ended. We were one. Sharing a single soul. 

  After, we laid tangled together, our hearts beating as one. Peeta kissed my knuckles, and asked.

  “You looked for me, for years. Real or not real?”

  “Real.”

  He kissed my forehead, “Will you sing?” 

  “Of course,” I combed back his hair with loving fingers, and sang.

  “Just close your eyes;

You’ll be alright;

Come morning light,

You and I’ll be safe and sound.”

[ajaviary]

Shatter Me

Summary: One misstep and your carefully crafted world will shatter and reveal the truth you’ve worked so hard to hide. The ugly, shame filled void that you haven't been able to drag yourself out of. You never expect to be on his radar, a string of circumstances bring you two closer and unfortunately he’s drawn into your world.

Some Dark Content with mentions of physical & emotional abuse. Hints at self harm in later chapters.

Rating: M (Explicit) - 18+

Chapters: 1

Word count: 4168

A/N: Thanks for reading and feedback is appreciated. I decided to expand on my Vulnerable Piece, this is the first chapter of that expansion.

-------------------

You felt your phone vibrate in the pocket of your leather jacket, but you ignored it as you leapt back out of the way of a fist that smashed against the street. You frown, doing a quick glance at the civilians in the area, too many were still lingering at the intersection, all the cars stopped, but that wasn’t before some of them had swerved to avoid hitting you as you’d suddenly appeared in their way. Your litheal body tucked itself, the palm of your hand glowed for a moment before you were able to attach the small gemstone to the car in a form of a really strong molding and pulled yourself in a twist onto the hood effectively avoiding the prospect of being roadkill.

You were a little too pretty to wind up the bug on someone's windshield today.

The radio in your ear clicked on effectively telling you the eta of your team. Kamui Woods was on his way, he’d gotten held up about three blocks away and that was still long enough for the guy you were facing to cause problems if you didn’t hold his attention. You hoped down off the hood of the car, your boots walking over the torn up roadway. “Throwing a tantrum now, what are you two years old?” you wonder with a tease as you grin. You’re not just the Pro Hero Gemini for shits and giggles, no you had earned the name and it was rising in popularity and your recent joining of The Lurkers.

You were rising in popularity. It was through your hard work. Everything you did was because of your dream to help people, but you weren’t delusional in assuming it wasn’t going to be hard fought to claw your way to the top, you weren’t aiming to be number one, but you were going to do your best.

“All that effort to rob that bank and to think you almost got away with it too, if only it wasn't for that meddling little Gemini.” Your grin was wide as you watched the large man sneer at you, his body glowing a brilliant blue at the center of chest and the color expanded outward along hands and down his legs before he was suddenly rushing you.

So predictable, but then again this is hired muscle for you.

You darted to the left avoiding his swing as you cupped your hand along his ear with a hard slap of sound. The blow left him staggering to the side, but blood oozed out his ear down his cheek. You’d blown out his ear drum.

This sort of thing affects things like balance and depth perception. Not to mention regular things like one's perceptions of sound.

“Oh look at you, all weak in the knees.” Your laughter is enough that even if he can only hear it out of one ear, he’s raising his venomous gaze to you and throwing out a large hand to smack you down.

The crowd expected you dodge and weave out of the way, but their cheers erupt as the smoke clears and your standing there having taken the blow, unmovable as you’d anchored your feet, and your legs are reinforced with the gemstones that gave you your Pro Hero name, your arms raised to block the swing as you hold him back.

The crowd cheering for Gemini shouldn’t have been such a booster to your confidence, you shouldn’t be looking for recognition in the public, when you should get that in your private life too, but you didn’t. When you took off the mask, took off your hero costume you were left with a shattered, broken (Y/N). Your freedom fell away and with it your confidence.

You break in thought, in focus is what left you realizing too late that he’d only hit you as test, but he’d been charing his attack for something else as his wide mouth opened and blue energy swirled inside his mouth, your eyes widened and you knew you couldn’t block that move, couldn’t move out of the way either, not with the civilians clustered behind you.

Shinji Nishiya (Kamui Woods) showed up just in the nick of time, shouting out his special move. “Lacquered Chain Prison!” He throws out his arm as wood from his left arm and entangled the bad guy, his branches curling tightly over his mouth and noise and along his body forcing his hands to his sides and his body back away from you. The crowd was stunned for a moment in silence before their was the clicking of cameras and the sounds of cheers. You should have been upset by your mistake, you were and yet in that moment, as you had stared your death in the face, you were disappointed he hadn’t fired. It was that dark though that left you shaken to your core for more reasons than you wanted to look at right now. Instead you plaster a smile on your face and pull all the emotion you needed too into playing your role for just a little longer. Hoping Kamui hadn’t noticed anything that might give you away.

“I hope you have a good reason for being late,” you joke, poking him in the chest and he only stammers out an apology. He was a little too easy to tease.

“There was a- “ he paused, looking away. “There was a what?” You pressed, sly grin widening. “A cat, ” he mumbled, embarrassed. “that almost got run over in all the confusion,” he defended.

“I always knew you were a softy Kamui-Ichi,” You teased good-naturedly.

You squeeze his shoulder and the ribbing stops as the two of you were just discussing what you were going to do about the muscle head whose part of the crew in charge of a string of robberies lately.

The rest had slipped away in the chaos.

“We keep being a step behind, we have to do better,” your words are low and spoken so only he can hear you. It’s been no secret that this crew has been making a fool out of the heroes who wind up chasing them. They’ve been dubbed Resurgence, but it's their leader the mastermind behind each and every successful hit.

It didn't help that every time their scapegoat was caught he was effectively let go, with the team escorting him to Tartarus unable to provide any details on how it happened, their memories seemed to be altered and in some cases, completely wiped.

“Report Gemini, ” Edgeshot had arrived on the scene, you frown slightly surprised and yet not that your boss had shown up, it wasn't just your reputation on the line after all. He’d become increasingly frustrated that this group kept slipping through their fingers making quite the mockery of all involved.

You efficiently relayed everything that happened to the current moment. How you’d been patrolling and had stumbled upon them as they had fled. You gave chase, but in the confusion, you were left chasing Mr. Humanoid Godzilla over there. You should have been able to do more, you knew this was your fault, but if you were honest you couldn't be too upset. You were alive and that sentiment couldn't be shared with the others who faced them and were left in far worse shape than a scrap or two. You got lucky and you tighten your fist all, too conscious of that fact.

“Let’s double back to the bank,” Edgeshot advises and as a team you head that way it was only a few blocks and traffic wasn’t permitted to pass around the area. Mt. Lady was currently guarding Mr. Godzilla, you hadn’t bothered to remember his real name, it had been in the file this morning, but well you had paid more attention to his looks and his quirk than feeling it necessary to remember his name. It will come back to you eventually.

The bank doesn’t seem very special and you head for the door first as the others are talking a few paces behind you discussing possible scenarios. Your hand curls around the door and pulls it open just as the door opens fully there is a rush of heat and explosion as you’re thrown back.

Edgeshot had reacted by pulling you from the explosion, before you could get hurt by any of the buildings as it exploded outward. You react on instinct, even as you're pulled back into the air your body hardening, golden gemstones extruding from every visible area of your body, even as your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, as he pulls you closer. “Careful, you’re bleeding,” his voice was hard to hear around the ringing in your ears, but you nodded after a moment as he set you down in the middle of the street and the three of you were left to stare at the rubble of the bank as several other Heroes arrived on the scene to put out the fire, and help with clean up miraculously no one had been hurt.

Your phone buzzed again in your pocket and you swallowed as it vibrated again signifying a call coming in, your hands were clammy as you stepped away from your boss and put a little more distance between you. Your face grim as you were all too aware of the camera’s recording every second of your life. Your heart was pounding in your chest, he knew and he wasn’t happy.

--------

It was a few days later before you could convince Eizan to agree to let you go out with Nemuri at a bar she regularly frequented, you hadn’t been expecting any visitors, it was just supposed to be you and her and then you wouldn’t be lying. He always knew when you lied to him. Luck wasn’t on your side, not when two other Pro Heroes showed up, not when he'd shown up with Hizashi. The meeting hadn’t been planned, but they had been invited to join all the same, Nemuir didn’t realize the predicament she was putting you in, the danger. Nemuri knew so many heroes sometimes you were still left with your head spinning trying to keep up with them all.

Eraser overheard what you had said about your boyfriend, his most recent show up at your interview, how he’d been possessive, harboring a quiet anger over the fact that your interview had been a surprise appearance with you boss Edgeshot, you were there to dispel the rumors of any sort of romantic relationship, a picture that the was running had been of the two of you just a tad too close to each other, but there hadn’t been anything to it, but it hadn’t looked great either way, not when his arm had been around your waist as he’d used his quirk to swiftly curl around you and pull you out of harm's way, only to reform with his hand along your hip and your fingers carefully pressed against his chest, bleeding from a blow to the head. Shinya Kamihara had handled the situation well, and you had too, you knew what to do in these situations, but that didn’t mean the internet wasn’t blowing up either way.

After the interview you’d stepped off stage and Eizan had been there, chatting with your coworkers like it was the most casual thing in the world. Shinya had given him an accessing stare and looked to you, you gave a subtle shake of your head and he didn’t comment, but he wasn’t happy and you could have sworn you saw concern in his gaze when he’d left the station, but he hadn’t made a comment or a scene and instead let you handle it.

Aizawa had shared a quiet look with you before he left to get a drink at the bar before he and Hizashi would join you at the table. Leaving you to finish your conversation with Nemuri in private. She’d placed her hand gently over yours and softly told you that you needed to drop him, that he wasn’t safe for you to be around.

“He was just in the area, ” You grin widely as though to help ease her misgivings, hoped that your smile would be bright enough, convincing enough to hide the truth. You knew she had a right to be worried about you. It hadn’t been a secret that Nemuri wasn't his biggest fan when you guys had started dating. You had been too blinded by love to see him the truth and now you were in far too deep to get out.

You knew that, deep down you knew and the reason you hadn’t left yet was because you were in denial, and then deeper than that was the fear and then shame that you were in this situation in the first place.

It kept you up at night as you wondered what signs you had missed, this sort of thing happened to others, you saved people from abusive relationships and yet here you were in the exact same situation and it was suffocating. It felt like you were walking on a tightrope and it would snap at any moment if any more weight was put on your shoulders.

The conversation didn’t go much further into the subject once the boys came back. The night wore on and eventually you were the only one still sober, nursing a coke with some ice. Your limit was one drink, and that was it, you knew your limit and you had to protect the pretty glass house you had built. If you had a little too much, you would spill your guts to anyone who would listen. You dirty little secret exposed to the world.

Aizawa had stayed with you at the table and sipped his whiskey occasionally, his muscular arms exposed at the forearms as his dark grey long sleeved shirt was pulled up and he leaned his cheek against his fist. You hadn’t expected him to stay there once Nemuri and Hizashi went to play a game of darts as drunk as they were.

Instead you two had talked quietly about life, UA, the hero world and eventually movies and books. He’d warmed up to you after your animated telling of how Kamui had rescued a cat today and how you two had gone back and dripped the little guy off at a no-kill shelter after your patrol was over.

It was crazy for you to get along so well with anyone, most of all a guy who you’d just met, who didn't shut you up or seem like he wanted you to talk about something else. He listened to you, really listened.

You always had to be on, to say the right thing, to have your hero persona on.

This, this was just you, just (Y/N). No special title, just a young woman in way over her head.

“You should be respected and trusted,” the words were soft and you glanced at him, seeing the way he nursed his whisky, but wasn’t nearly as intoxicated as Nemuri and Hizashi as the two played darts in the back. “No man should own you.”

His words wouldn’t normally have caused tears to fill your eyes. You knew that, you knew that, but it was sort of like a wake up call. You blinked and a tear trailed down your cheek. You hastily reached up to wipe it away, an apology on your lips, but he beat you to it. His thumb brushed gently over your cheek as he wiped it away, you shouldn’t have leaned into his hand. It was just so nice, so warm. It wasn’t laced with possessive rage.

“Don’t apologize, ” he cut it, a soft smile curving up his lips.

You stare wondering if he can read your mind and he only slowly draws back and gives you a soft smile before taking a sip of his whisky.

The sounds from Nemuri as she lets out a screech of trumpet has you twisting on reflex toward the noise that he had ignored, but glanced toward once the laughter at Hizashi’s groan. You were just about to thank him for the advice; when fingers curl around your wrist and jerk you from your seat, you stumble in your strappy heels. Only barely managing to catch your feet.

Your mouth is shooting off before you can formulate or stop your words. “Who do you-” the words die in your throat as you take in the form of someone who has their fingers tight along your wrist and they only seem to tighten as he glares at the dark haired man with his hair pulled back into a low ponytail and tipped up, exposing his sharp features.

‘What is he doing here?’ You can’t help but wonder.

Aizawa who had set his glass down and was watching the scene with displeasure in his dark eyes and barely banked anger. He had been taught to respect women, he may have been brash, and inconsiderate sometimes, but he knew what not to do. He didn’t like what he saw, but he was giving you a chance to handle it. He didn’t want to step on your toes, but his hand tightened into a fist under the table, as the other was relaxed and curled carefully around the glass.

“Baby, I thought you said you were getting drinks with Nemuri, you didn’t mention anyone else would be there,” he pulled you closer to him, his grip bruising your slim wrist with the mark of his fingers. You wince, unable to help the movement...to hide it. This side of the abuse is what you desperately tried to hide from the world, you were (Y/N) (Y/LN)...the slightest negative news about Gemini could topple everything you’d been working so hard for. Everything you built and he knew that.

“These are friends of Nemuri, Eizan...her coworkers from UA High. Don’t embarrass me, please. People are starting to stare,” she dropped her voice at the last part, but it wasn’t low enough that Aizawa couldn’t hear every word. He’d also noticed that Nemuri and Hizashi were coming back to the table, Nemuri looked furious like she was ready to go to war for you.

“Embarrass you?!” he suddenly exclaimed loudly, as he jerked you closer forcing you on the tips of your toes, any higher and he’d have you off the ground as he stared with angry eyes down into your own. “Fucking seriously (Y/N)?” he sneers. “You’re embarrassing yourself out here dressed like that for all the men to see. Just trying to get a quick fuck, is my cock not good enough for you, now that you’ve gotten a taste of fame Gemini?”

For a moment you are stunned into silence, unable to formulate a set of words to go with what you had just heard and been accused of. You’d never cheat on him...that was then’t who you were. Guilt courses through you though anyway, as you wonder if you had done something wrong and then you were angry, angry because you hadn’t done anything!

‘You should be respected and trusted,’

Those words from earlier give you an unexpected rush of conviction in your next action, a rush of resolve. You dropped your weight and tried to gain back your footing. “Let go Eizan, just let me go! I’m out with my friends, you don’t get to act like an obsessive jerk!” Her gaze slid to the people who were starting to notice, and someone had their phone out. “Just go home, we’ll -” you fumble here, finally telling him completely what you wanted. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

‘No man should own you.’

You can tell by the way his eyes widen he’d never expected you to attempt to turn this around on him, to make it out like he was the bad guy here, no he expected you to apologize like you always did. He was so hyper focused on you that he almost didn’t notice that Nemuri had come up on your left, her bare hand flush against his chest as she waited to shove him back or activate her quirk and put him to sleep and gladly watch him clumple to the ground. Hizashi was next to her, his hand on her shoulder, his eyes hard behind his glasses and Shota was on your right, his hand curling and tightening on his wrist, his grip was heavy, hard and held no remorse.

Eizan balled his hand and shot a nasty glare toward the man with long black hair. He was stronger than he looked, but now that he gave him another closer look, he recognized him. He was Eraserhead. Did everyone just think you were going to spread those pretty little thighs for them if they came to your rescue?

“You heard the lady, I suggest you take a walk before we get the authorities involved,” It wasn’t a threat exactly, there were plenty of other things he’d like to do, but Aizawa didn’t want to cause anymore of a scene, too many people were paying attention to them and some had heard your name dropped.

Eizan was livid and the look he shot Nemuri was murderous, it was clear who he blamed for this level of defiance. He smiled slowly and released your wrist and somehow that made your heart pound in your chest with a rapid cadence, so loudly it was all you could hear. It left you with such a stark fear, that you were sure something gave you away, because he slowly raised his hands, palms out in front of him. “We wouldn’t want any trouble, of course not,” he said passively, he gave up too easily but it was clear to you as he widened his smile in your direction for a moment before he turned and headed for the door he’d come in...this wasn't over.

“(Y/N)” Nemuri’s touch was gentle on her hand as she raised your wrist that had dropped to your side, the skin already darkening with a heavy bruise, one you knew you’d have to hide tomorrow. Her touch was so feather light you hadn’t felt it, still struggling to try and hear more than the pounding of your heart.

You didn’t wait to watch him leave, you were suddenly in a twist of limbs and legs as you blindly got some space as quickly as possible darting between your little group and shot for the restroom in the back, you didn’t run, but you moved with a stumble that was clear of the alcohol in your system. The shaking started the moment you shoved the door open, your arms curled around your shoulders as you shoved your fist against your mouth to silence the broken sob that tore from your lips.

No. No. No!!!

This isn’t over. You saw him, you saw him, you saw him!

Those were the only words your mind wanted to shout in your head as you flashed back to the look on his face, the dangerous glint in his eyes.

You were in trouble, you knew that, something bad was going to happen, something was going to happen, he was going to get even with you, he was going to hurt you.

“(Y/N)” the sound of your name spoken softly had you tensing, but you knew who it was, you knew the sound of her voice and somehow, somehow it made everything so much worse. You couldn't hide it now, everyone knew, everyone had seen.

It was another crack against your armor, another break in your chain, it exposed who you wanted so desperately to hide from the world.

Her arms were thrown around you as she drew you against her. “It’s going to be ok,” her words were soft and low in your ear.

Someone telling you everything was going to be ok, holding you with such care...it broke what tiny shred of your self control remained, your knees buckled and heavy soul wrenching sobs were expelled from your body as your fingers curled into the back of her shirt.

Nemuri sank to her knees when your legs gave out, she held you as you cried.

Outside Hizashi and Aizawa lingered outside the bathroom door, they had seen just a glimpse inside, but even the closed door couldn’t stop the sounds from escaping. Hizashi shoved his hands in the pocket of his jeans and looked up at the ceiling as he leaned his head against the wall. “What a night,” he muttered as he pressed his shoulder against his friends. Aizawa was silent for a long while, his gaze on the door, he was going over the night in his head looking for anything he might have missed. He knew leaving either of them alone wasn’t a good idea, not tonight...not for a while. Guys like that didn’t just give up. He sighed softly in the dimly light hallway. “Yeah,” he agreed as he let his gaze drift to the hand that he’d wiped your tears away with.

He knew he wouldn't be able to let this go.

[willowbird]

3! 4! 7! (for the prompts yo) .... oh. and. kandreil. (duh)

Be GAY do CRIME, on a violently orange yacht. Oh, and they kiss for the FIRST TIME 😘 For Kandreil!

This is my first Intentional Kandreil y'all (as opposed to like.. the three Accidental Kandreil I've done so far), I hope I don't fuck it up for you XD

----

"Kevin I swear if you peak I am going to go leak those photos of you from last Halloween."

Kevin snorted at Neil's empty threat, though he dutifully kept his eyes closed, letting Andrew tug him out of the car and lead him down what felt like a wooden walkway. A deck, maybe. Or a pier, Kevin thought as he registered the smell and sound of water, the squawking of gulls above and around them.

"Even if you did, no one would believe they were real."

"I'd leak them right to the Trojans." The laughter in Neil's voice warmed something right in the center of Kevin's chest. It wasn't so long ago that Neil was so... terrifyingly cold. He'd joined them as a rebellion against his father, the bogeyman of the east coast and loyal lapdog to the Ravens - who were the direct rivals to Kevin's much smaller, much wilder group of Foxes. But whereas the Ravens were a legit syndicate that dealt with such things like human trafficking and heavy drugs, the Foxes were a group of barely-organized criminals that mostly just liked to say 'fuck you' to the laws they didn't agree with.

The problem? The laws the Foxes didn't agree with tended to be the ones that directly benefitted the Ravens' front businesses. After all, the Ravens controlled several of the biggest corporations in the country, and they were regularly stepping all over average folks, ruining their lives.

Every member of the Foxes had, in some way, been hurt by the Ravens. They were all determined to get back at them in whatever ways possible. Sometimes that meant framing their executives for fraud. Sometimes that meant blowing up a few buildings. They were a multi-talented group.

The Trojans were a similar group of not-quite-but-still-criminals based on the west coast, and they'd combined forces a few times by now. They also were pros at anything that had to do with the internet. If Neil wanted to make something go viral, the Trojans were definitely the place to go to.

"Jeremy would never help you soil my good name."

"Jeremy would think it is hilarious, do not fool yourself, Day." Andrew's tone was dry and deceptively uninterested, but Kevin knew him well enough by now to hear the amusement hidden between the carefully articulated syllables.

Kevin rolled his eyes while still keeping them dutifully closed. He didn't bother to hide his smile though, knowing the other two would see it and not really caring that they would. It was kind of strange to think of, honestly - that he was here, comfortable being led around with his eyes closed, smiling without care. It was because of these two men, and that... that warmed something inside him. Made it glow. Made it blossom. Made it live.

"Okay, alright. Kevin, you may open your eyes." Neil's grin was audible in his voice, and it was the first thing that Kevin saw when he opened his eyes.

The second thing he saw, though, was the absolutely impossible-to-ignore explosion of orange directly behind him.

"What the actual fuck?" Kevin half-spluttered, but he was grinning, too. He could feel it. One did not look at a violently orange yacht and not grin. He laughed. "This is my surprise? You saw an orange yacht in the marina and had to show... me..." His voice drifted off, distracted and confused as he saw the name of the boat in sharp white script along the side.

The Brightest Day

"Neil?" Kevin blinked, and something giddy bubbled up right below his throat, catching and fizzing. He had to swallow it down, and it took effort to do so, especially as he saw the warm, pleased look on Neil's face, then turned to see a similar expression on Andrew's.

To see a similar expression on Andrew's face.

Kevin stared, because Andrew... Andrew wasn't one to emote. Even when it was just two of them, or the three of them. Even after all they'd been through. Kevin and Neil had learned to find the truths hidden behind his sturdy walls, to accept what Andrew was willing to give them when and however that may be.

And here was Andrew, in the open, looking at him with an almost-smile on his face and an expression in those natures-gold eyes that was unmistakably fond.

Kevin had to take a breath, and he wasn't at all surprised to feel it shake. Rough, strong fingers slipped between his own and Kevin looked over to see Neil's expression had shifted to understanding. If anyone would ever know what Kevin was feeling, how he was feeling it, at any given time, it was Neil. They were so similar in the way they processed the world, and how they appreciated the small gifts they were granted in a life that had been too dark and too unforgiving for far too long.

Andrew's smile was one of those gifts. Arguably, it was the grandest of all.

"Come on you idiots," Andrew sighed as he turned to walk up the short ramp already positioned to bring them onto the boat.

Without further word, and without unlacing their fingers from each other, Kevin and Neil followed Andrew up the ramp and onto the yacht. Something struck Kevin as inexplicably right about that. After all - no matter where any one of them went, the other two were sure to follow, hand in hand.

And when they needed to face a challenge they would face it hand in hand in hand.

"I don't understand," Kevin finally said as Andrew lead them across the deck. "The Foxes don't have the resource to --"

"It did not come out of the Foxes' coffers," Andrew cut him off. He nodded to the menace still holding Kevin's hand. "It came out of Neil's."

Kevin turned to Neil, staring at him in open shock. "You bought the Foxes a boat?"

Neil snorted. "No. I bought you a boat." He paused, then looked from Kevin to Andrew and something passed between them. Some kind of understanding, or agreement. Andrew stepped away from where he'd been about to lead them to the interior of the boat, instead joining the two of them. Once he had, Neil looked back at Kevin and said, "I bought us a boat."

It took a moment. Kevin wasn't stupid, but he also had never expected... This thing, this connection or relationship or whatever that was between the three of them - Kevin wasn't sure it would ever be defined and he had come to terms with that months ago. If they went on forever just being Kevin and Andrew and Neil, just as they were right now with no changes - he would be okay with that. As long as he always had these two men in his life, everything else, he decided, would work itself out.

"Us," Kevin said slowly, testing the word, making sure it really meant what he thought it meant.

"Yes," Andrew said. "Us."

And that... that was really all that needed to be said, wasn't it? At least he thought so, up until Neil tugged on his hand, bringing him a bit closer to the both of them, and said, "Kevin, can I kiss you?"

"Yes!" The word burst out before Kevin really made the decision to answer or even necessarily registered the question. A soft huff came from Andrew that might have been a laugh, but Kevin wasn't able to fully catch it when Neil was already pulling him down.

Neil smiled into the kiss. He kissed him slowly, with a graze of teeth and a hum of adventure. He kissed him like it was just the beginning. He kissed him like he knew it was a first kissed but by far would not be the last. Confident, pleased, satisfied.

Blood was pounding in Kevin's ears so hard he could taste the tremble of his own heart on the tip of his tongue, and when the kiss broke he gasped, already leaning in for more. This time, Neil was not the only one smiling.

By the time the kiss ended, they were no longer holding hands. Instead, Kevin had an arm wrapped around Neil's shoulders, keeping him tugged as close as possible, the other hand resting on the side of his neck. Neil was similarly wrapped around his waist and he was still smiling. Kevin rested his forehead against Neil's, then turned to look at Andrew to find the other man was watching them with heat and affection burning in his eyes.

"Andrew," Kevin said, and his voice rasped. He didn't say the words, but only because he was too high on Neil's fire to put the syllables together right now.

Andrew answered anyway, because he knew Kevin well enough to know exactly what question he was trying to ask.

"Yes," he said. And if Neil's kiss was fire and satisfaction, Andrew's was the ocean and determination. Andrew kissed him like he was going to carve his intentions on his bones. He kissed like he was going to take Kevin apart one sigh and tough at a time and Kevin melted into it, more than happy to yield to the power of that kiss. Anyone who lives near the sea would tell you the same - you don't fight the waves, you let them carry you - and that was exactly what Kevin did.

Neil's hand was stroking up and down his spine. Andrew's was cupped around the back of his neck. When the kiss broke, that hand squeezed firmly, then pulled him just a bit further down so Andrew could place one more kiss on his forehead before he turned to Neil.

Something perfect and delicate and yet, at the same time, positively indestructible filled Kevin up to the brim as he watched the way Andrew cupped Neil's face, the way Neil leaning into that touch, the way fire and ocean wave met in a promise while still in the circle of Kevin's arms. And finally, finally, Kevin had a word for it - for the feeling he got when he was with these two beautiful, thrilling, amazing men.

And it was, quite simply, home.

[ask-asexual-crystal-gems]

What's a common thread between ADHD and the asexuality spectrum? The answer might surprise you.

A while back, an ADHD user said in response to my question, “how did mindfulness exercises go?” a single word, “dissociation.”

It was only long after I had replied, that I had to remind myself that people think of dissociation as a scary thing.

I had to remind myself that a psychotherapist I once knew was pretty unorthodox, and gave me perspective on the matter that defused all the mysteriousness and internalized socialized discomfort surrounding it, which is ultimately rooted in both fear of the unknown or unfamiliar, and maybe a little bit of stigma, too.

Naturally, I do not talk about these sorts of things with general people IRL, so newly having a ‘conversation’ online about it did not jostle my awareness of others’ attitudes like it probably should have.

Things like anxiety and ADHD are, let’s say, more “ordinary” neurodivergences. (remember, the word applies to ALL mental illnesses, also, not just traits. Many don't consider most cases of ADHD an 'illness,' nor a lot of presentations of autism)

Those are more "ordinary." They don’t mash that “this is weird” button, so much as simply “this is very unpleasant.”

But dissociation can be the former, and not the latter.

Let me back up and explain that a bit.

People see dissociation as undesirable.

But why is it, you should ask.

Leave aside questions of physical safety. I’m just talking about sitting down somewhere, and there is no risk to you.

In the typical view, it’s not just another operation the brain can do, or an altered mind state, as we discussed it, rather, it is somehow considered a “bad” outcome.

When, ironically, for many forms of mind training, which we’ll put under the umbrella term “meditation” for simplicity’s sake, the end goal is a type of on-command dissociative state.

Whether you are internalizing your attention, externalizing your attention, or just trying to get that danged mind chatter to shut up for once and give you some peace, whichever way you are sliding along that scale, there is always the route open to you to pursue this ultimate peace.

So this person, who was trying out mindfulness?

Think, if you switched all the aircraft cockpit switches to check if everything was lighting up correctly. But instead of being an experienced pilot, you had no idea what would happen once you started testing everything out.

Accidentally withdrawing your physical senses, and seeming to distance your “self” from your body, which experienced practitioners do without batting an eye, (pun intended) would seem like a dysfunction rather than a built-in feature.

Quieting those areas of the brain dedicated to sense perception is quite a lovely experience, when you are educated on it, do it on purpose, and expect it.

Whereas anxiety is almost never a positive experience, unless it’s not really overwhelming or potent, and you’ve 'reframed' it such that it’s exciting, like any other adrenaline junkie bender.

The milder forms of dissociation, termed depersonalization or derealization, that seem to be quite common among asexual people, are also often considered as a negative thing, instead of just the current, value-neutral state of mind, which is trainable.

A much more common and even milder form happens when we sink into routine. Ever had a stretch of weeks on a job where you look back and you feel like you were sort of “automated”? Like you weren’t really present? You’re somehow a little surprised that that much time has passed?

That “time dilation,” accompanied also sometimes by a distorted sense of chronological sequence happens a lot with ADHD people, regardless of circumstances, but most everyone in the populace has experienced it at some point, barring perhaps the super privileged who have never been forced into a literally “mind numbing” job.

Maybe you’ve also experienced the sensation where you get into a car, perhaps when you’re on a familiar route you’ve driven a thousand times, or especially on long road trips, and you seem to zone out and lose time.

The brain is pretty good at conserving energy.

This is what she tells her patients, to calm their sympathetic nervous system. It circumvents that distress, that health-sapping stress response to this ultimately harmless “weird” experience, vastly improving their quality of life:

Dissociation is a continuum- many forms of it are common. Not some super strange thing corralled in a small corner of the sum total of human experience.

“Reframing” these things is essential to attaining incrementally improved mental health.

Clearing away all the internalized judgement, the feelings of wrongness, etc.

Just one more step out of the norm.

Just another neurodivergence.

It is conceptualized as unnerving when it happens suddenly and sharply, though, because it is so different from “ordinary” everyday experience.

The same way one person who hasn’t been around dogs much might react to a large dog barking with fear, and another person standing next to them having the exact same experience, trained and knowledgeable in recognizing true aggression versus excitement or mild warning, would not feel threatened.

Yes, having that particular toggle out of your grasp may be annoying and to those not given this perspective, frightening. (And if other personalities are involved, that gets much more complicated!!) But, consider. One of my mentors said calmly once, that she lost time for, say, 10 or 15 minutes while sitting down quite regularly, and felt very recharged and energized afterwards. It’s not exactly like sleep, because there’s not that head nodding and relaxation of muscles. Almost instantly gone, and instantly aware again, not that feathery transition as happens when drowsing or gradually falling asleep.

I hypothesize to her that this had probably started up because she’s involuntarily dropping into a deep delta or theta brainwave state for a bit, because that’s what she does in ‘brain entrainment’ recordings. (The frequencies are very good for relaxation when you're anxious and have a hard time unwinding yourself, others are good for focus during studying, and are therefore used by ADHD people) Unless she wants to pay some big lab to measure her neuron firing frequency though, there’s no way to tell for sure. The point is, that she directly benefits from this ‘taking a break’ from thinking. She is not bothered in the least by her mind occasionally saying, ‘you know what, I’m overwhelmed right now, gonna switch off for a bit.’ When someone gives their mind this permission to pause from its worries and senses, each the internal and external input, sometimes this is the outcome. It is not a problem to her whatsoever that this toggle occasionally moves of its own accord.

People are afraid of what they don’t understand.

But she understands it.

People are afraid of new experiences.

But to her, it’s old hat. On an MRI, each of the parts of the brain dedicated to the senses dim. Occipital lobe for sight, temporal lobe for hearing, etc.

If I were brushed up on the neuroanatomy of this process better, I could also name the parts dedicated to internal imput that would grow dimmer as she entered that state. Heck, they study this stuff so much, when interviewing meditation practitioners and testing for stuff like blood flow changes as their attention shifts, those images probably already exist.

Dissociation is not a mysterious thing.

It serves a purpose.

It’s your brain’s ‘energy saver’ mode.

Or in some cases, ‘recharge.’

So, to the person who argued that ADHD people should be cautious about using mindfulness? I must ask again, why?

Why would you forgo the benefits? Why would they tell others to do so??

Usually the main reasons dissociation causes problems, that aforementioned therapist says, is that people are overloaded to the point where it happens not when they’re relaxed, and can daydream or drift, but randomly when there’s too much pressure in their lives.

The fear response to it is just like any other overactive fear response or phobia- with time and therapeutic work, they are all resolvable.

/////////

#this post is NOT about dissociative identity disorder #only mentioned it in passing to separate it from the discussion

[illfoandillfie]

Don’t Talk To Me About Love

Day number 4 of the Platonically themed event! This is another idea thats sort of been bouncing around my head since I posted Platonically. In the months since then I’ve started and stopped this blurb about 60 times - at one point I intended it as a sequel but then ended up absorbing part of the plot into PNDDAOF. But here we are. It is somewhat complete and I’m much happier with it now then I was before. 

Yet again, this blurb is inspired by a song - Don’t Talk To Me About Love by Altered Images (less the lyrics and more just the title but it’s a bop so like check it out anyway lmao) 

Words: 2,150

Warnings: It’s about the Communication. There’s talk of an argument but nothing specific and honestly this is mostly just about the two of them Dealing with something out of the ordinary. 

Every morning with Ben follows the same pattern. No matter who wakes first, no matter how long it takes you to get out of bed, Ben will greet you with a kiss on the cheek. It’s a litmus test of your disposition and a lesson hard learnt. Most days you’ll lean into him, wrap your arms around him, press your lips to his, snuggle back into his embrace, and he knows that it means you’ll be okay with the actions that convince others you’re boyfriend and girlfriend. But every so often it’s different. Those days, what he has come to call your no romo days, his cheek kiss will be returned but you’ll pull back before he can sweep you into something deeper, a sign that you don’t have the patience or energy or whatever it usually takes, to deal with romance. Those days are few and far between, mostly occurring months apart, seemingly at random. But because of that it took quite some time before you got the hang of dealing with them as partners. On your own it had been easier to avoid romantic expressions, but with Ben it was harder to manage.  

The first time it happened after you’d started the QPR, you tried to push through, tried to ignore the tension you felt as he unexpectedly kissed you, his hands pulling you into him. There was a sudden urge to run away, your blood running cold, and Ben must have sensed that something was off. He was always observant where you were concerned. When he asked if something was wrong you pretended there wasn’t but he kept badgering you until you told him what was up. Unfortunately you sort of bit his head off, frustrated by the constant questions. You immediately regretted your tone and choice of words but the damage was done, Ben’s expression one of hurt and confusion. Before you could try to explain better he’d left the room. He gave you space for the rest of the day, barely crossing your path at all, but it was too much space, an overcorrection. And that made you mad more than anything else. After all you’d warned him that this happened sometimes, that you had days where you were repulsed by the thought of anything romantic, completely turned off by actions that could be read as such. How dare he be hurt by it, as if you were an inconvenience he had to endure. He was the one who suggested you do the QPR thing in the first place, why did he suddenly think it only included the times you were acting closest to a regular girlfriend. At that point you hadn’t yet moved into his house so you left and slept in your own bed that night, sick with worry that you’d ruined everything with Ben, that you’d wake up in the morning to find not only your QPR broken but that your best friend wouldn’t want anything more to do with you at all. You felt stupid to have thought that a QPR could work, that you could ever fit anywhere. Clearly you were meant to be alone.  

But the next morning brought rational thought and rational conversation as well as a higher tolerance for romance. Ben called to make sure you were okay, confessing to a fairly sleepless night spent worrying if you'd got home safe and feeling bad about how you’d left. But you could hear his smile when you invited him over to talk about it, could practically see it in your mind’s eye. And then you saw it for real, a proper grin, when you’d opened the door and dove into his arms, burying your face in his shirt. He’d squeezed you tight, relieved that things between you were still good. It took a serious conversation to sort out what had gone wrong. You tried to better explain what it was you felt - the queasy feeling at the idea of being involved in any sort of romantic act and the discomfort when confronted with romantic imagery or depictions of romance and romantic couples – reassuring Ben that it wasn’t anything he’d done, and he apologised for giving you the cold shoulder, admitting his distance had been because he wasn’t sure how to act around you. Talking it out helped and when you were done, both feeling like you better understood what would help the situation, you curled up in bed together to catch up on the sleep you’d missed.  

The next time, nearly six months later, you’d been better prepared and, though it was still a little rocky, it had gone smoother. Ben didn’t try to avoid you, so you didn’t feel as abandoned as you had the last time, but you made sure to maintain some distance from him, knowing his feelings were different to yours and not wanting to put him in any awkward situations. There were moments when neither of you knew what to do or say, moments when it felt like you were both treading on eggshells to try and avoid a repeat of the last time. But when you asked to take a break from the TV series you were halfway through because the romance plotline didn’t hold the same enjoyment it usually did, he seemed to understand and agreed to what you needed. The time after that had been barely a month later, far sooner than you were expecting. You supposed that your relationship with Ben was having an impact. After all it had been a while since you’d last been in a romantic relationship and though what you and Ben had wasn’t that, it did cross some of the same lines. Surely it was natural that your mind would try to balance things out by making you feel unequipped to deal with romantic subplots and sentimental love songs more often than before. Or at least that’s how to tried to explain it to Ben when he made a huffy comment about the increasing frequency of your romance repulsed days. If it hadn’t been for an interrupting phone call from his mum, you might have fallen into another fight. Instead, you spent the time he was on the phone thinking about why things felt so hard, trying to come up with possible solutions. You went over some activities in your head, comparing how you usually felt about them and what you felt when you were romance repulsed. Cheek kisses still felt okay because they were generally a way you showed affection to everyone you knew, but being kissed on the lips seemed to cross a line, no matter how it was done. Cuddling too could be okay depending on the context but you’d probably prefer not to just to be safe. Sex on the other hand was a big question mark You’d never tried having sex on a no romo day before, but you assumed if emphasis was put on the physical pleasure it could work, though maybe positions that didn’t force eye contact would be more enjoyable. But perhaps that was better left to be explored when you were both more comfortable with the situation. Even dinners out together and datey things like that could be doable if you didn’t have to deal with candlelight and intimate seating.  

As soon as Ben was finished on the phone you tried to explain your thought process to him.   “The way I think about it is like...regularly I have a mental picture of what actions I feel are platonic and what actions cross into romance. Sometimes those lines aren’t super clear like with kissing, but I know which it is when I see it or experience it.” “Right, like how you don’t mind spooning in bed and getting really close but on the couch you prefer to rest your head on my lap or whatever.” “Yes, exactly. It might all be considered variations on cuddling but to me there's a big difference in how they feel. Well a no romo day is like if you took all of those distinct lines and moved them over a little. The lines are still there but the image is distorted and not quite what I’m used to seeing.” “Okay,” he stretched the word out thoughtfully, “so...it’s not that everything feels romantic it’s just that your tolerance levels have changed?” “Yeah, I think so. It’s not easy for me to understand either. Especially since sometimes things change more than others. But yeah, that’s pretty much it. But my big question is what do you need? I don’t want this to become a big problem or cause fights every time it happens so, what’s going to help make it feel more normal for you?” Ben thought for a moment, “Physical contact. I don’t mean that in a sexual way either, just physical contact. I mean you know how touchy I can be. It grounds me. Even just a hug or, y’know, rubbing my back as you walk past me, things like that. A high five even. If we’re out with the others it’s not so bad cause they all know what I’m like too and none of them will mind if I lean on their shoulder or sit on their lap or whatever. But when it’s just us...I need that physical contact to feel settled and I guess it’s been harder to feel okay about it when you flinch away from me. Makes me feel wrong just because I want to be close to you.” You were a little stunned by the honest and carefully considered way he responded to your question, and felt a little bad about trying to force space between you, “I knew you liked that sort of thing but I guess I didn’t realise how important it is for you.” Ben shrugged, “Normally it’s something I don’t even think about. But with you lately it’s like I just haven’t known what to do.”He paused, biting the corner of his thumb nail as he thought, “I don’t think the way I love you is entirely platonic anymore. I mean it hasn’t been entirely platonic for a while now but those feelings aren’t going away. And I’m not saying that to make you feel bad or anything, it’s just how it is, and I think it’s part of why I’ve been so weird or whatever about this whole romance repulsion thing.” “Yeah it must be kinda hard to understand what I mean,” “I’m trying to understand it and I’m trying to be respectful. But you gotta give me a little more. And you have to be more understanding of where I’m coming from too.”

After that, you both made adjustments to accommodate the other and talked through what solutions worked and what didn’t. Ben spent some time consulting google for ideas and found you a playlist of songs that had aromantic vibes or at least could be reinterpreted so the romantic meaning was more relatable for you. And you made more of an effort to keep up a physical closeness with him – sitting shoulder to shoulder as you watched TV and shared a bag of microwave popcorn, rubbing your hand over his back as you stepped behind him in the kitchen, surprising him by placing a cold hand to his face or stomach when he wasn’t expecting it – even on regular days when you didn’t hate the way it felt to be held by him. You figured that emphasising those sorts of small physical gestures would help both of you in the long run. Every so often something would arise that needed a little extra discussion but you both took them in your stride and did your best to be accommodating and patient.  

And by the next time a no romo day occurred, things were as close to perfect as you could hope for. You wriggled out from under Ben’s arm when you woke, better able to recognise the sick feeling  creeping up on you. Stepping out of bed you switched Ben’s oversized sweatshirt for one of your own and tiptoed down to the kitchen putting your anti-romantic playlist on softly as you made coffee and toast. When Ben eventually surfaced he pressed his lips to your cheek but he already felt you wouldn’t want anything more than that, putting together the pieces and proved right as you gave a small shake of your head. He gave your waist a brief squeeze in acknowledgement before turning toward the fridge to begin his own morning routine. And just like that you knew things would be okay. You couldn’t say you knew what he felt or that you entirely understood it but, yet again, Ben had shown that his love for you was less about Love and more about you. And you hoped he could see that you cared for him just as strongly, even if you felt it differently.

[followthebluebell]

FIP: Feline Infectious Peritonitis

Sprinkles contemplates some birds.  We’re re-doing the catios right now, so they’re all closed off.  I think she’s looking forward to being outdoors again.

I’m putting a cut here because this is a LENGTHY READ and, in case of further developments, I’d like to be able to easily update this article. 

In October 2019, she was diagnosed with ocular FIP (Feline infectious peritonitis), which is a mutation of feline coronavirus (FCoV, which is very distinct from SARS-CoV-2, the virus that causes COVID-19).   FCoV is ubiquitous in the cat population: almost every cat has it or is exposed to various strains of it.  Most cats get over it just fine with only mild diarrhea.  In a small percentage of cats (we’re uncertain on the percentage, which I’ll get into later, but it’s theoretically somewhere between 5-10%), it goes fuckwhack apeshit and mutates into FIP.

We don’t know why it spontaneously mutates.  There seems to be a genetic component to it.  It’s believed to be more common in purebred cats, but we’re really not sure--- since FIP is a diagnosis by exclusion, there often is a hefty vet bill attached to the diagnosis and a person who can afford to buy a purebred cat from a cattery is more likely to be able to afford that bill.  It MAY be triggered by stress.  It’s much more common in younger cats, often appearing in kittens ranging from 4 months to 4 years.  This doesn’t mean older cats are safe; I know of at least one case in a 12 year old cat.

Sprinkles was diagnosed at 3 and a half months.  She didn’t have a particularly stressful event before developing symptoms.  She’s not a purebred.  I don’t know anything about her genetic history, so I can’t cross that off the list.

Mickey, my second FIP kitten, was diagnosed at 4 months.  I know slightly more about his health records but it’s still scant.  He arrived with an unusual skin ailment: sarcoptic mange.  Hypothetically, this could indicate an already delicate immune system that left him vulnerable to this sort of FCoV mutation.

FIP is deadly and remains, to this day, the most horrifying disease I’ve ever personally encountered.  Thankfully, FIP itself is NOT contagious.  FCoV is highly contagious but, as previously mentioned, it’s fairly common in the cat population.  There was a study done to see if separating kittens from their mother at 7 weeks (approximately the period when a mother’s antibodies begin to wear off and the kittens have to begin producing their own) would prevent cats from catching FCoV from her.  This was effective but the social drawbacks are too heavy a cost for it to be considered regularly.

There is a vaccine for FCoV but it’s largely ineffective and most vets don’t recommend it.

FIP comes in two primary forms: wet (effusive) and dry (non-effusive).  Usually, FCoV exists only in the gastrointestinal system.  It’s really the only place it can replicate itself with ease.  Once the virus mutates, it can’t replicate itself as well, but it CAN infect macrophages.  Macrophages are highly mobile white blood cells.  They go pretty much everywhere, and ones infected with FIPV (Feline Infectious Peritonitis Virus) will carry the virus along for the ride. 

The early symptoms are vague.  These cats are lethargic, listless, have low or no appetite, weight loss, and a fluctuating fever.  The first symptom I caught in Sprinkles was complete avoidance: she was actively avoiding other kittens and other kittens were avoiding her.   Mickey’s only symptoms were lethargy and diarrhea.  I only got suspicious about possible FIP because the other kittens in his playgroup didn’t have any diarrhea at all. 

And this is where we see a split in the forms of FIP.

Effusive FIP is characterized by the accumulation of fluid within the abdomen and is more common.  It happens very quickly.  Cats with effusive FIP develop breathing problems rapidly.  The fluid drawn from the abdomen is usually straw-yellow.  Effusive FIP is said to be more common, although only one of the 5 cases I’ve seen in the last few years was wet FIP. 

Thankfully, effusive FIP has a few distinct traits that makes it easier to diagnose.  It’s important to remember that FIP itself is generally a diagnosis by exclusion. 

Measuring the protein in the effusion is a good first step.  If it’s less than 35g/l, FIP is generally ruled out.

The albumin to globulin ratio is considered next, via a blood test. If it’s less than 0.4, FIP should be considered.

Finally, examining the cells in the effusion is valuable.  If they’re primarily lymphocytes, FIP is excluded.

Non-effusive FIP is more difficult to spot, because the symptoms are so varied.  Granulomas (inflammatory cells) form in various organs, which produces an extreme variety of symptoms.  The most commonly affected symptoms are the ocular and neurological symptoms.

Ocular FIP happens when the virus crosses the blood-ocular barrier and is characterized by slightly opaque white films on one or both eyes; these don’t cover the entire eye.  They’re often just a small section.  This was the first distinct symptom I saw in Sprinkles. It’s considered a distinct enough sign that her ophthalmologist was able to tell me that she was 99% certain it was FIP.

Neurological FIP is my own personal hell.  The virus crossed the blood-brain barrier and infects the brain.  The first symptom is usually a limp or a slight tremble in the head.  The paralysis often begins in the hind limbs and it travels upwards.  The cat eventually loses all mobility.  If the cat is lucky, they’ll begin to have seizures instead and die soon afterwards.  Like I said, it remains the single-most awful thing I’ve ever seen. 

Non-effusive FIP is harder to diagnose than effusive FIP, especially if the cat fails to develop ocular or neurological symptoms.  In these cases, the only symptoms the cat has are fevers, diarrhea, and other non-specific issues.

Once again, the best bet is to consider the albumin to globulin ratio.  The same rule of ‘if it’s under 0.4, FIP should be considered’ holds true.

Unfortunately, checking for antibodies is fairly useless.  A positive FCoV test just means the cat has been exposed to FCoV.

FIP is deadly.  While there are some isolated cases of cats seemingly recovering from it, I think it’s more likely that those were simply misdiagnosed cases.  As I’ve said before, FIP is a diagnosis by exclusion, so a misdiagnosis can happen fairly easily.  A cat with wet FIP is gone in days.  A cat who’s unlucky enough to develop neurological FIP may linger for weeks until they die of starvation, oxygen deprivation as the lungs themselves are paralyzed, or dehydration.  Ocular FIP generally spreads into the brain, causing seizures. 

Sprinkles is very, VERY lucky.  I had been following the study very closely and I had an acquaintance who recently started treating her foster cat for FIP.  I was able to get into contact with some folks and obtain experimental treatment for my kittens.

GS-441525

In February 2019, there was a very promising study on a specific drug called GS-441524.  Most of the cats involved with the study made a full recovery.  The company (Gilead-Sciences) behind the drug wasn’t interested in getting it FDA approved for cats out of concern that it would affect its approval for human use.  See, if it’s used officially for cats, Gilead-Sciences would be obligated to report any negative side-effects and that could impact getting it approved for human use down the line.  “One of the rules in drug development is ‘never perform a test you don’t have to, if the results could be problematic,” isn’t an uncommon saying.  It’s one of the reasons why I fell out of research and development myself.

I had some pull and was able to get experimental access to this drug for Sprinkles and, later, Mickey. 

Both kittens went through three months of daily injections and a further 3 months of observations before they were deemed FIP-free.  After seeing 3 other cats die from it, it’s been a blessing to see them recover.  They’re both especially lucky that they finished their treatment cycle JUST before COVID-19 hit American shores since I couldn’t, in good conscience, continue using a very promising antiviral in cats when it would likely be needed by humans.

It’s definitely not a perfect system.  Three months of daily injections (or pills) is not ideal for the average owner for several reasons.  In addition to the difficulty of injecting a cat with an EXTREMELY painful drug daily, it also requires a lot of math; the dosage has to be adjusted daily to take weight gain into consideration.  Even the concentration has to be adjusted at times.   I haven’t used the pills at all, but I know a lot of people have had problems with cats biting through the pills.  In addition, the pills seem less effective against neurological or ocular FIP.

Gilead-Sciences has refined GS-441524 into GS-5734 (named Remdesivir), which is supposed to be more efficient.  Hypothetically, the addition of the phosphate groups should make it easier for it to get across barriers and be absorbed more easily.  Hopefully this will result in a shorter treatment time, although I suspect it will be more expensive than GS-441524.  This is already a substantial cost attached to GS-441524, with the treatment of a single cat or kitten over 1,000 USD.

As of writing (April 20, 2020), neither Remdesivir nor GS-441524 are available to the average public legally.  Remdesivir has been approved for use in humans with COVID-19 in emergency cases.