#i had to talk about Cray being done SO DIRTY.

[bluepr1ntyy]

I never see anyone commenting on how Rouge made canonically disabled/neurodivergent shipkids be dislikable and how most of the fandom still has it internalized, I still see people making Palette annoying and making everyone around him hate him for being “the worst”(which is legit just him talking about stuff he likes) and people hating Cray for being “a bully” when he’s canonically a bully victim and a seven year old

[themaladaptivewriter12]

Title: Diamonds Are Forever

Part 8.1 of my “Cray-Cray for Cater” series! Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6 , and Part 7 can be found here!

Parings: Cater Diamond x Twisted Wonderland Male OC (Mirai Yuhara)

Summary:

With an extended break, Cater decides to take Mirai on a trip to remember. This trip should have strengthened their bonds, but somehow they break a little too.

a/n: This will have sub parts due to the nature of this part. It was too long for Tumblr and THERE WILL BE A SMUT SUB PART! DNI IF THIS MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE! Please and thank you. I want you all to be able to skip the part if you want without losing the flow of the work, or having to skip the work entirely.

cw: implied/referenced past abuse. Nothing graphic or detailed. death mentioned, again, nothing graphic.

a/n: It's funny how around this time last year, I wrote this, and now, it's finally being unearthed lolol. I love this work so much! I can't wait to see it all come together! The airline I referenced is Qatar Airways btw!

a/n: Mi-Mi's Birthday is coming next week! I'm excited for my little Mi-Mi-tot!

a/n: Soooooo…….I've never flown before, and it probably shows lolol, but I tried my best! ( 〃▽〃) Also, I'm pretty sure this isn't how mirror travel works either. I wrote this before I played book 4, where Ace and Deuce talk about all the hoops they had to jump through to get back to the Isle of Sages, without the mirror, and I didn't have the heart to change it, so yeah. My incorrect way of travel and how airlines work stays! ヽ(￣ω￣(。。 )ゝ

Reblogs are appreciated, just use my custom tag, #TheMaladaptiveWriter12, if you do!  (─‿‿─)♡

Cross posted from my Ao3: TheMaladaptiveWriter12

Things were getting busy with midterms coming up and everyone was on edge, tension seemed to seep from the school in waves. Professors were getting stricter, and students were burning out by the dozen. But there was a saving grace in all of this. Due to the multiple pleas from students and staff alike, Headmage Crowley granted everyone a four day weekend after midterms, using two of their unused snow days. Mirai was grateful for the break. They had Friday, Saturday, Sunday, and Monday off. It really was a much needed break. And if Mirai had to go over the magic of the Briar Valley one more time, he was gonna throw himself into one of Crewel's cauldrons. 

It was Friday, and Mirai and Grim had just got done eating lunch, and of course when he mentioned cleaning up their mess, Grim scampered off to somewhere in the dorm. Mirai was pretty sure Grim had a secret hideout in the walls or something. He always seemed to disappear at certain times of the day, or when he had responsibilities to fulfill, and no matter how hard he looked, Mirai could never find him. 

After he got done downstairs, Mirai went up to his room where he started cleaning there as well. He tended to have a messy room, dirty clothes strewn all over the floor, clean clothes on his bed, bottles and cans of soda cluttering his night stand, and empty chip and candy wrappers filling his garbage can. It was messy, but at least there was no dust, rot, and spider webs like when he first moved in. 

Mirai was sorting his clothes when he heard a clatter from outside his window, immediately knowing what the noise was. It could be several different people, but he had a strong feeling he knew who it was. 

“Sup, Boo,” Mirai called, stuffing a dirty shirt into his hamper.

“Howdya know it was me?” Cater asked, pulling himself through the window.

“You and one other are the only ones who’d come see me this early in the day, but then again, he’s louder than you are.”

“Who’s the other?”

“Leona.”

Cater laughed, “Figured.”

Mirai had an “open window policy” of sorts. Only those who knew, and it was only a few, were allowed to visit Mirai anytime as long as the window was open. Cater and Leona would visit during the day, the two of them using it to shirk on their duties, while Kalim visited when he needed a change of space, or when he needed someone other than Jamil to talk to, but normally it was Mirai hanging out at Kalim’s dorm. It was much more fun there. 

Then there were a few times where Jamil stopped by as well, as he needed someone to vent to about Kalim and his place in the boy’s life. Azul would stop by at times too, but normally he did when was in a funk and needed to vent to someone who wouldn’t hold it against him. Lilia and Malleus would visit at separate times, and Mirai found both their company to be enjoyable ones. Mirai stopped counting the rest of the Freshmen’s visits long ago with how much they spent the night at Ramshackle. 

“Whacha doing?” Cater asked, sitting in the arm chair.

“Sorting laundry. It’s not much, I just don’t put stuff away.”

“So what are your plans for the weekend?”

Mirai knew Cater was onto something. They normally didn’t plan when they hung out, they just kinda lived in the moment. Also, there was the fidgeting. Cater tended to have trouble hiding his excitement, and it often showed through his expression and or through inability to sit still. But Mirai was gonna play dumb and play along.

“No, not that I know of. I’m prolly not gonna do this laundry until next weekend. This isn’t enough for a full load. Why?”

“Okay, okay,” Cater all but squealed excitedly, sitting down in front of Mirai on the floor, taking the Ramshackle Prefect’s hands to hold into his own. “First of all, you can decline any or all of these suggestions. No one’s forcing you to say yes, no one’s gonna hold it against you. Two, one of these things, even if you agree to the rest, can be declined and no one’s gonna hold it against you.”

“U-Uh, o-okay,” Mirai said, nodding trying to decipher everything Cater just said.

“How would you like to go meet Daddy Diamond?” Cater asked excitedly.

Mirai was speechless. A million possibilities were going through his head, but none of them were this, none of them prepared him for this. “Y-You, you mean, a-as in your father?” Mirai asked, voice sounding small and distant.

“Mn,” Cater nodded excitedly. “As I said, you can say no. My other offer is just to take the trip to the Shaftlands without the meeting, and again, you can say no.”

“I-I, uh, this is really important. I-I don’t know what to say.”

Cater let go of Mirai’s hands in favor of holding his face instead, “I’m not pressuring you to do any of these things. They all are just merely suggestions. We don’t have to go.”

“B-But I don’t wanna keep you from seeing your father,” Mirai said hurriedly.

“Hon, I can see him anytime.”

“But-”

Cater pressed a chaste kiss to Mirai’s lips, successfully cutting him off. “He just happened to have time just when we were granted a four day weekend, and is staying in a hotel. I thought maybe we could make use of it. Again, if you’d like we could skip the meeting for now and wait another time where we would have more time to prepare and plan.”

“When would we leave?” Mirai asked softly.

“Unfortunately this afternoon. The flight leaves at five, so two hours from now. Short notice, I know. We should land by seven, and then move to a taxi for an hour drive to the city, getting us to the hotel for the night by eight. Nine at the latest.” 

“Okay.”

“Okay? O-Okay as in yes? Or okay as in okay?”

“Yes to all of it,” Mirai chuckled. “I’ll go with you to the Shaftlands to meet your father.”

“Okay, wow, okay, we're actually doing this,” Cater rambled excitedly. “OMG! Like we're about to go on our first trip together! I’m so excited! #Couplegoals!”

Mirai found Cater adorable. He looked so cute, all excited and happy, practically vibrating out of his skin. Mirai walked up to Cater and pulled him down for a kiss. “Calm down, Cutie,” Mirai laughed.

“But I’m so excited,” Cater gushed, kissing him back, “There’s so much we can do! So much I can show you! It’s your first time really off of campus.”

It was, wasn't it? Besides going to the dwarf mines and surprisingly, the Coral Sea. Mirai hadn’t ever left the campus. This made everything different. Now? Mirai had no reservations about going. He wanted to see this twisted wonderland he was sucked into against his will, well, not that he minded. 

“So Ima go pack real quick, then I’ll come back and get you, okay?” Cater asked.

“Oka-Wait! What about Grim? I can’t just leave him.” Mirai cried.

This put a damper on everything for Mirai. He hated leaving Grim out of things like he wasn’t important to him, and he definitely didn’t want the little monster to feel like a third wheel.

“I don’t see why he can’t go. Ask him.”

“No, no,” Mirai sighed, “I’ll have him stay. This time is more important. I’ll make it up to him when I get back.”

“You sure?” Cater asked.

“Yeah.”

“Okay. I’ll be back.”

Cater walked out the door before turning around and peeking his head in not even a second later. “You don’t have a suitcase, do you?”

“No,” Mirai laughed.

“Okay I’ll bring that too, just get your stuff ready,” Cater laughed. 

Mirai nodded. 

“Bye, Boo,” Cater winked, running off. 

Mirai shook his head and went to go find Grim.

Mirai called out for the call, looking all over for him, but he didn’t show. After about fifteen minutes, he was beginning to worry.

“Grim! Grimmy! Grim the Fire Breathing Monster,” Mirai called. “Grimmaroo! Grimilicious definition make them boys go-”

“What do you want, human?!” 

Mirai perked up at the pair of flaming ears at the end of the hall.

Grim huffed agitatedly, trotting over to the Prefect. “You just think you can call The Great Grim whenever you please? You work for me, not the other way around.”

Mirai ignored him and cut to the chase, “I’m leaving for the weekend and won’t be back until Monday. And before you ask, no, sadly you cannot go. I’m doing something that’s really important to Cater and I’m sure you don’t want to witness what you like to call “disgusting human mating rituals.” I’ll make it up to you when I get back, but right now, I’m short on time.”

Grim grumbled. “Buy me five hundred deluxe premium cans of tuna.”

“I’ll buy you three when I get back. And you don’t have to clean the house for a week.” 

“Make it two weeks and I get to eat in my room.”

“Fine. But if the rats come back, you're getting rid of them.”

Grim stuck out his tongue and before he could scurry off, Mirai snatched him up and placed a fat kiss to the top of his head.

“Fynya!”

“Stay out of trouble, yeah?” Mirai asked, hugging Grim tightly.

“Yeah, yeah,” Grim pouted, accepting the hug.

Mirai let Grim down, and Grim just stood there. Mirai thought he wanted to say something, but he guessed Grim decided against it, for he just scurried off down the hall. 

Mirai went back to his room and began packing. Mirai grabbed six shirts, four pairs of pants and a pair of pajamas. He also grabbed some underclothes, and some extras. In the bathroom, Mirai grabbed his toothbrush, some toothpaste, and his medication. Mirai didn’t know what else to bring, so he decided to finish cleaning his room.

It wasn’t long before Cater came back with two suitcases. “Cay-Cay’s back and ready to pack,” Cater cheered, plopping his extra suitcase onto the bed. 

Mirai laughed at Cater’s enthusiasm. The one Cater had given Mirai was a plain blue and his own was a bright orange covered in little charms, and iron-on patches. It was very cute and very Cater-esque.

“So like, unless you don’t like the idea of me helping you pack,” Cater said, opening the blue suitcase, “I’m the king of packing. I can get this stuff packed in a jiffy.”

“It’s all yours,” Mirai laughed. 

“Alright! Watch and learn.”

Mirai was seriously impressed. Just like he said, Cater was really good at packing and he was quick at it. He had everything tucked away comfortably and efficiently. Nothing looked out of place or squished, and in all honesty, Mirai thought it looked like something right out of a commercial travel blog. 

“And done! #PicturePerfect,” Cater said with a wink. 

“Thanks,” Mirai said with a smile.

Cater moved the suitcase and put it next to his own. “C’mere, Babydoll,” Cater cooed, sitting on the bed, reaching his arms out to Mirai.

Mirai happily climbed up onto Cater, straddling his lap. 

“You got everything? Wanna list everything just in case?” Cater asked, kissing Mirai’s chin.

Mirai giggled, “I think so. I got clothes, extra socks, extra shirts, and my toothbrush.”

“Deodorant?”

“You saying I could use some?”

“Wha-no, no,” Cater stammered, eyes wide.

Mirai laughed at Cater’s brief panic, “I’m joking. Yeah I got it, and my soap.”

“The one I like?” 

“Yeah.”

“Perfume? Cologne? Fragrance Spray?”

“Ima use yours.”

Cater laughed.

“What?” Mirai laughed, “I like the way it smells. It’s just so crisp, clean, and spicy, and the scent actually stays in your skin hours after.”

Cater chuckled. “Chargers? Phone? Laptop? Camera?”

“Packed away in my electronics bag, which you packed away.”

“Your medication?”

“Definitely. I also triple checked to make sure.”

“Um,” Cater said thoughtfully, “I think that’s it. Whatever we missed can probably be bought once we get there.”

Mirai nodded.

“Are you excited?” Cater asked, pressing kisses to Mirai’s neck.

“Yeah,” Mirai breathed, “I finally get to see this world. I finally get to leave campus.”

“And I can’t wait to show it to you.”

Mirai and Cater left the campus, and not after Mirai negotiated with Ace and Deuce to check in and maybe spend time with Grim for a small price. They made their way to the Mirror Chamber and Cater was happily waving to students in passing. Mirai could tell Cater was overjoyed, with the skip in his step and the big pearly smile on his face, he looked as if he would just float away.

Cater walked up the stairs to the Mirror and spoke, “Dark Mirror, take us to Shaft Airport.”

“Your wish is my command, Cater Diamond” the Dark Mirror bellowed back.

The Dark Mirror began to glow, the glass shimmering and sparkling. Suddenly the glass began to ripple, dark smoke billowing from the glass, spilling to the floor. 

“Ready?” Cater asked, sticking out his hand.

“Mn,” Mirai nodded, taking his hand. 

They stepped through the mirror and after a couple of seconds, sickening seconds to Mirai, they were standing outside an Airport. It was larger than what Mirai was used to.  

“This is enormous,” Mirai said in awe.

“It’s one of the biggest Airports in the Shaftlands,” Cater explained, “The biggest is basically a shopping mall. There’s even a hotel with a resort connected to it.”

“I don’t even think that counts as an Airport at that point.”

Cater laughed, “Yeah, probably not. Well, we got a bit of a walk, so let's get moving.”

Mirai nodded.

“After a quick photo op that is,” Cater winked. “Say cheese!”

Cater pulled Mirai in for a couple of selfies. They took one in front of the Airport sign, one inside, and of course, Cater couldn’t forget one including a kiss.

Cater held Mirai close as he led them to their gate. It was quite crowded and he really didn’t want to lose his lover in the rush. There were people bustling to and fro with suitcases and heavy bags, important looking people with briefcases, and busy parents with fussy babies and tired children. There were food stalls selling anything from cinnamon rolls to fast food, gift shops with tacky shirts with weird slogans to keychains with your name that you could never find on it. There were small shops that sold anything from toys to fixing smartphones, and restrooms on almost every corner. There was even a bookstore, a restaurant, and an indoor playground. Mirai couldn’t keep track of where they were going, so he just focused on keeping up with Cater’s long strides. 

“So, do you need anything?” Cater asked, as they made it to their gate. “We don’t board for another twenty minutes.”

“Uh, restroom,” Mirai said.

“Okay, I’ll watch our things and go check in our tickets. I’ll be over there at gate five, kay?”

Mirai nodded and headed off to the bathroom.

It wasn’t a long trip, and by the time Mirai was done, Cater was over in the seating area near the gate. Before making his way over, Mirai took a detour to one of the shops and bought a couple of bags of candy and some gum. As Mirai walked over, Cater perked up and smiled.

“Should’ve bought this at Sam’s. It would’ve been cheaper,” Mirai grumbled, shoving a handful of gummies in his mouth.

“Probably,” Cater laughed. 

“Oh, and I got you cinnamon flavored gum.”

“Thanks, Honey Bunny,” Cater sang, kissing Mirai on the head. 

“Pics first,” Cater sang.

Cater took a couple of selfies, then pocketed his phone. 

“For you,” Cater said, passing Mirai his ticket. 

“Thanks,” Mirai smiled.

Getting through security was an adventure all in itself. Mirai found it so much different than back at home. Instead of the metal detectors, x-rays and invasive pat downs, there were magic laser scanners of sorts, and all kinds of things he would only see in movies. Cater went first, and then asked some of the security and he was allowed to walk Mirai through it, since it was technically his first time traveling in this world. They allowed Cater to, and Mirai was so thankful for that. 

The two made some small talk, well, Cater did most of the talking as he shared some things about his childhood in the Shaftlands. Not long after, a chime sounded, signaling the pair it was almost time to board. Cater led the way until they got to a pair of open double doors that opened up to a super lavish waiting room. 

It took a second, but then it clicked. Mirai gasped,“Cater! You did not just buy us both first class tickets!”

“Uh,” Cater said, “#SorryNotSorry?”

“Cater! How, how, how much did all of it cost?!”

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it. I just want you to have fun.”

“But this has to be so expensive. I can’t just not worry about it. I have to pay you back somehow.”

“Are you, are you really upset about it?” Cater stammered

“I’m thankful really, but I feel horrible for making you spend so much on me,” Mirai sighed.

“You’re worth that much to me.” 

Mirai’s fight dissolved at those words. 

Mirai grumbled. “Why you gotta go and say all that cute stuff and expect me to stay mad?”

Cater laughed, “But I meant all of it.”

“You really are too good for me, ya know that?”

“I would say the same thing about you, Boo,” Cater smiled.

“Can I at least pay back half of the cost?”

“You can pay it back in kisses later, but now we gotta board,” Cater teased, taking Mirai's hands, and headed down to the jet bridge. 

Mirai had never ridden in First Class, and he thought he’d never get the chance to, but now? Mirai couldn’t believe it. It was so plush and lavish, and it all looked like it cost his life twelve times over. A flight attendant met them at the door and escorted them to their seats, seat 11E. It was right against the middle wall so they didn't have to worry about sharing with anyone else. 

Their seats were close to each other, divided by a small barrier, and both had doors that closed toward the aisle. There were two TVs against the wall, and two pull out trays along with a small built-in table. It was really nice, the burgundy accents the airline used really gave the whole thing a warm and cozy feel.

Another attendant came by to take their luggage and stored it above them as Mirai got in on one side and Cater the other. It was spacious. It had enough room for Mirai to stretch his legs out comfortably and to store his carry-on on the floor in front of him. 

“You like it?” Cater asked, leaning over the middle to kiss Mirai on the cheek.

“Yeah,” Mirai sighed dreamily, “It’s really nice.” 

“It totally is. I normally don’t fly often, and when I do, I deff don’t fly First Class.”

“You really didn’t have to do all this. We really could’ve just flown regularly.”

“But I wanted to make this special for you.”

“You spoil me too much,” Mirai pouted.

“Oh, Honey, if you think I’m spoiling you now? Just wait until we land,” Cater teased, kissing Mirai on the cheek once more.

“Cater,” Mirai whined, “If you keep this up, then I really won’t be able to pay you back.”

“And I don’t intend for you to.”

“Meanie.”

“Love you too,” Cater sang.

Mirai and Cater took multiple pictures before they took off. Mirai never liked the take off and landing, it always was the worst. It was bumpy and shaky, it made his ears pop, and it always caused some older woman to make a fuss, yelling and screaming that she was gonna die. But this time, it was much smoother. His ears still did pop, but that’s why he had bought some gum before they boarded, and this time, there was no screaming middle aged woman. 

Cater and Mirai choose something to watch while they pass the time, they ended up picking an old comedy about a maid that actually was a man in disguise. After some time, some flight attendants came by and poured them a complementary glass of sparking. Mirai panicked at that, but the flight attendant reassured him it was just grape juice. Following her was another flight attendant who came by with a snack tray and a menu. 

“Would you like to order now, or when it’s closer to meal time?” The flight attendant, Amy as her name tag read, asked in a soft voice.

Mirai realized Amy was the same woman who escorted them to their seats. Her uniform looked just like any other flight attendant’s uniform, except hers was in the Airline’s colors, burgundy and white. She was small and petite with red short hair styled in a bob cut that was curled toward her face at the bottom. She wore big pearl earrings and a pearl necklace, and on her small lips was a light shade of pink lipstick.

Mirai was flustered with it all, and he was pretty sure he looked like a fish out of water. He didn’t know planes even offered food besides stale crackers and water. But lucky for him, Cater had that covered as well. 

“We’ll order now and get it out of the way. Thanks,” Cater said with a smile.

“Great! I'll be back in a bit,” Amy said, passing over their menus and walking off. 

“Sorry,” Mirai muttered, taking a deep breath.

“Don’t sweat it, Buttercup,” Cater said dismissively. “You’re not used to this, it's okay.”

Mirai looked over the menu and there was so much he never knew could be served on a plane. Mushroom Risotto? Pan Seared Scallops in brown butter? Filet Mignon? Lobster Cakes? Clam Spaghetti with Braised greens? It was too much to even comprehend. 

“Did you choose anything yet?” Cater asked giddily, “Although I wanna try the Clams, I’m prolly gonna go with the Filet Mignon.”

“Why not? You afraid you might not like it?” Mirai asked.

“Worse.”

“Stomach ache? Food poisoning?”

“No silly. I won’t be able to kiss you.”

Mirai’s mouth fell open at his reasoning, and Cater laughed at his turmoil. Mirai flushed at that, pouting. 

“Well it’s true. What kind of lover would I be to eat some Clams if my positively adorable boyfriend is allergic to seafood?”

“Cater,” Mirai whined, now flushing at the compliment.

“And that’s true too.”

“Bastard.”

“Love you too, now what did you choose?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m just gonna have the chicken orzo soup and a salad. Don’t think I can stomach anything heavier.”

“Feeling sick, Baby?” Cater asked, concerned.

“Nah,” Mirai said, shaking his head, “It’s just in case I get sick later. That way I have nothing too heavy in my stomach.”

“Oh, okay, that’s good.”

Later, the flight attendant came back and took their orders and took their menus, and Cater grabbed a bag of chips as she walked by. Mirai wondered how Grim was doing, he hoped he wasn’t lonely or sad. He’d have to call him when they landed. He just hoped Ace and Deuce kept their end of the bargain and actually stayed with him.

“So what’s the Shaftlands like?” Mirai asked, shoving a couple of gummy worms in his mouth.

“I don’t know how to describe it. It’s so vast, like nowhere you go is the same,” Cater said thoughtfully.

“I think I get it,” Mirai said, “Back home, that’s what America is like. It’s one country with fifty different states in it, all of them are different, nothing is the same.”

“Sounds kinda confusing.”

“Not really. It’s like having fifty different houses with their own rules and families in one neighborhood.”

“I guess that’s easier when you look at it that way.”

“What’s it like where we’re going?” Mirai asked.

“I don’t wanna give too much away, but it’s a big city. Skyscrapers, busy streets, subways, and a lot to do,” Cater said excitedly.

“Cool. I grew up in a big city, so I think I can get the feel.” 

Cater’s phone chimed and he instantly perked up. “It’s my dad! He wants to know how things are going,” Cater laughed.

Cater eagerly messaged his father back and Mirai smiled at Cater’s reaction. Mirai knew of Cater’s rocky relationship with his mother, so he was glad his and his father’s were different, and far better. Mirai wondered what the man was like. Was he nice? Overly nice? Or was he really strict and reserved? He wondered what he looked like? Did he look like Cater or was it his mother that Cater looked like? And Mirai definitely hoped Cater’s father was nothing like his own father. 

But Mirai’s biggest question was, would he accept Mirai? Honestly, Mirai was kicking himself for not thinking of that before. What if Cater’s father didn’t like him? What if he didn’t like the fact that his son was dating a man. I mean, his father had to have known who he was since he was the one who suggested all of this, but what if Cater’s father just wanted to bring Mirai down in person? What if he just wanted to scorn their relationship face to face with the both of them there? It was still a little unnerving even after all of this, that there was the possibility that Cater’s father may just not like Mirai as a person. 

“What’s the matter, Babydoll?” Cater asked, reaching over to squish Mirai’s cheek into his own, “Sad I’m not paying attention to you?”

“No,” Mirai huffed, “just thinking.”

“Mark for your thoughts?”

“Nervous, I guess. Wh-What if he doesn’t like me?”

“Aw, Mi-Mi! I’m touched that you’re giving this so much thought,” Cater gushed.

“Cater, I’m serious. What if he just doesn’t like me?”

“So am I. But he will. Ever since I told him about you, he hasn’t shut about you. All he asks when he gets to meet my new boyfriend? And I may have talked you up last time we spoke.”

“But what if he likes me on paper, but when we finally meet, he finds that he just doesn’t like me? Like, what if he doesn't like my hair? Or my tattoos and piercings? What if he finds my voice or laugh annoying? What if he finds me creepy?” Mirai rambled.

“Then he just won’t,” Cater said as if this wasn’t currently eating away at Mirai.

“Cater?!” Mirai called, incredulously.

“What? If he doesn’t like you, which I doubt, then that’s his problem. But that doesn’t mean I won’t love you any less.”

“I-I-I just, I just,” Mirai stammered before sighing in defeat, “I just don’t want to mess up. I don’t wanna be the thing that tears apart your relationship with your family. Like my Mother’s.”

“Your Mother?” Cater asked, straightening up at the new tidbit of information. 

“My mother’s family didn’t like my father, saying my mother was blinded by love, and she was, it caused my family to distance themselves from me and my mother. My father showed his true colors after their marriage, and especially after my birth, the bastard,” Mirai bit out bitterly, “and when she turned to them for help, they left us. After her death, and his imprisonment, I was alone.” Mirai took a shaky breath, swallowing his nerves to continue. “I don’t want you to ruin your relationship with your father, so I’m afraid,” Mirai whispered. 

Cater pulled Mirai toward him, cupping his cheeks to kiss him, “I’m sorry. I was trying to calm you down a bit, I didn’t mean to belittle you. But it’s going to be okay, I promise. I wouldn’t have suggested this if I felt things would go horribly. He’ll love you, I promise.”

Mirai nodded.

“We’ll be fine,” Cater said, littering Mirai’s face and lips with kisses. 

Cater pulled Mirai closer to kiss him firmly on the lips, and Mirai sighed, relaxing into the kiss. Tilting his head to press harder into him, Mirai kissed Cater harder. Cater grunted softly, licking softly at the seam of Mirai’s lips, and just when Mirai went to let him in, there was a soft knocking sound, accompanied by a soft voice clearing their throat. The couple flew apart, both looking guilty and thoroughly embarrassed as they spotted Amy standing by Mirai’s door with a food cart.

“Dinner,” Amy said with a knowing smile.

Mirai didn’t know what to say or do, face burning with mortification. Mirai seriously hoped somehow he would be sucked out of the plane and never seen again. 

“I’m so sorry,” Cater apologized, face flushed a deep rosy red. 

“It’s okay,” Amy said with a smile. “Can’t tell you how many times I’ve been there with my partner, but then again, maybe we shouldn't have been playing kissy face on the job, even if we were on break.”

Cater made a strangled noise before falling into a fit of laughter. Mirai chuckled as well, but he was still feeling the burning shame. 

“Mind if I ask if they're here now?” Cater asked after his laughter subsided. 

“She’s the one next to the phone,” Amy said, pointing discreetly at the other end of the plan, as she placed Mirai food down on the table in front of him.

Mirai and Cater looked to where she was pointing. Over near the phone was a really tall woman with long black hair and ruby red lipstick. Her uniform was the same as Amy’s, but somehow she looked really mature in hers, while Amy looked cute.

“Aw, she’s pretty. You two make a great couple,” Cater gushed.

“T-Thanks,” Amy stuttered, flushing. “You two make a great couple as well.”

“TYSM,” Cater winked.

Amy made her way over to Cater and placed the tray on his table, removing the lid. 

“Careful, it’s really hot,” Amy said.

“Thank you,” Cater said.

“You're welcome and enjoy.”

The food was great, it was hot and flavorful, and Amy’s partner, Willow, came by and refilled their glasses with sparking. Mirai enjoyed his soup. It was light but still full of flavor and filling. Cater loved his Filet Mignon and tried to feed Mirai a piece, which he shook his head, vehemently declining. Now fully fed and comfortable, all they had to do was wait to land.

[scoonsalicious]

Mother pookie🩷🩷🩷 ur kitties has risen. My initial plan was to comment on chp 3.3 but I feel like it’s gonna be long😂

To start off, first, even if it’s only one part, it’s amazing! A lot of interesting point for future theories, interpretations and ofc we got to see more on Buckybaby and deLulu so called ‘friend’ship. I gotta say whatever it is that Lenovo did to befriend him is magic because he puts up with her shit 😂 because from the looks of it, Leah did it all the time (when she’s being rude). Just like Bucky said, ‘why do you gotta think everyone is flirting me?’

I actually didn’t get the flirting vibe there, Mya and Buckybaby were just being friendly but clearly deLulu as the name itself sees it differently because hey! Bucky you can’t be friendly with someone else, only me or i’ll throw a tantrum because you make me feel invincible while I was there for you all the time. Anyways poor Mya. Didn’t deserve that. Lenovo needs therapy

Going on next, surprisingly I’m not frustrated when Bucky didn’t tell her the ‘truth’ because first, I have ridonkulous faith on him and second, I think it’s normal bcs I would’ve done the same. It’s either bcs I’m lazy for confrontation, didn’t wanna talk about it or i just don’t know how to tell them properly without it making a scene or hurt their feelings so my best way is to just shut up and agree. Besides, Bucky still cares for deLulu as his ‘bestfriend’ AND also bcs deep down he knows how she will react. If it were me, I would be tongue tied too and just agree with whatever it is that would not spark a fire. Plus, Buckybaby and Major are not a thing yet, it will be a different story if they are.

Now, who the fuck Lenovo think she is calling Major bitch. You are the bitch. Too fucking delusional. TOUCH GRASS. Thank God Bucky called her out. But the ending to their talk? Oh boy, she’s going to change herself into a girly girly gurl. If Bucky told her that he loves worm, she would transform herself into one because and I quote ‘Whatever that makes you happy, Jamie’ — ugh. The things we do for love (in this case, obsession and delusion)

Man, I would love to know how deLulu befriended Bucky. Like for real. What and how?! She literally forced herself into his life but there’s gotta be something she did that made Bucky really really accept her as his ‘best’ friend. One thing for a fact, he had a soft spot for her because again and I cannot stress this enough, she’s his bestfriend, his best girl. In his POV, Lenovo is equivalent to Steve and Sam. That’s something we as readers don’t see eye to eye.

Okay, done with interpretation, going on to future theories. I see there. I see that little star in the masterlist. Major and Bucky are going down dirty lane again and Major, you better suck his soul until he realises how differently Lenovo looks at him. I’m curious though, it’s just that I don’t know how crazy deLulu would be😂 Can mother pookie rate? per 10, Cunthage broke the meter ofc but what about Lenovo?

I don’t think, Bucky would break his friendship with deLulu though, unless if she did do something like crazy crazy. However, Lenovo would, like ‘It’s me, your best-friend or that skank’ kinda thing. After that she’ll throw a tantrum and suddenly had an epiphany which is to make Bucky jealous that backfires because, Bucky is sooooo happy with Major and she starts getting even more cray-cray and plots for Major demise like burning her WarZone or framing that Bucky is cheating on her or the opposite. Since Lenovo is SHIELD, she must have access to the system and use it to gain info about Major. Maybe she’ll contact her ex-husband and shit. But, it will end with either deLulu getting fired from SHIELD, or y’know, somehow she did get therapy and become better?😂 Idk, we have to wait for Mother Pookie’s great mastermind.

Thinking makes me hungry and now I am hungry. So lastly as usual, I love you mother pookie🩷🩷🩷 Aggressive kitten smooches and some cutie Buckybaby gif to make your day!!!

Hi Pookie! <3

Lemme start out by saying that Mya was totally flirting with BuckyBaby, lol. I mean, who wouldn't? Have you seen him?

I mean... come on!

Granted, she wasn't being obvious, which is why BuckyBB had no clue, but deLulu could see it because she is SUPER tuned in to any attention he receives from the opposite sex. Bucky wasn't flirting with Mya, though-- just being a genuinely nice guy and possibly oblivious now that he met Major and can only think about her <3

And you're absolute right about why Bucky didn't tell Lenovo about dating Major. First off, he's nervous-- he literally just met her the night before, so it's brand-spanking new, and he is afraid to make a big thing of it in case it fails; he doesn't want to jinx it, because he really likes her. He knows he's probably moving fast, emotionally, like Steve said, so he's playing it close to the chest until he really has something to tell her. Second, from past experiences, he *knows* how Lenovo will react. They'll have a discussion about it in Chapter Six, but he basically doesn't want her to insert her opinion before he can fully form one of his own.

And yes, absolutely, if Bucky said "I would love you if you were a worm," Lenovo would become a worm. And gladly.

I do want to explore how she and Bucky became bestfriends. Truth of the matter is, I don't know yet! lol

And yes, please expect many chapters with (*) warnings, because these two (Bucky and Major) are rabid for one another, lol. A little spoiler: the next * scene involves one of Tony's sportscars ;) I have not yet written a scene where Major sucks Bucky's soul out through his dick, but I will!

Crazy-scale. Hmmm. It's hard to say, because I would rate Cunthage on as a 20 on a scale of 1-10, lol. Lily's not that bad, thank fuck. She's maybe starting at a 4 but will escalate to an 8 as she becomes more desperate? Like, Cunthage was Villain-Level Crazy; Lily's just like... Regular-Person-Level Crazy?

I can't speak yet to what she's going to do to manifest the crazy. I have many, many ideas and the basic plot outlined, but I haven't written her shenanigans yet! So, you'll have to wait and see!

As always, I love you, Pookie! I hope you're having a great day <3

[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.”

[maddiicake]

Ramblings of a Madwoman

Because I honestly have no other idea what to title this as. To put it simple, that's what this entire journal is going to be. From start to finish--no stopping to think about whatever f-ed up stuff will be put into written text and to be immortalized for eternity (deleted after or not) here on the World Wide Web--nothing but unedited, freewriting, off topic sidebar-ing throughout the entirety of this Journal. So, we'll see where and how it ends.

In about a month, I'll have been on DeviantART for an entire decade (and about 8 years since Tumblr). And, I just want to make it clear: I've done a shit tone of fucked up things in all the years that I've been here. Of course, this was things that I mainly did to people. (Yes, people, because, let's face it, whether or not we have the comfort of anonymity behind the keyboard in the middle of our "safe space" of the internet, we're still people on the other side of the screens). But, yes, I've done and said fucked up shit to people during me time here. I'm not ashamed to admit it. Nor will I deny any of the messed up stuff that I've done, especially to said people, in the past decade. I'll spare you all the wall of novel-length text that consists of my usual self-deprecating self-flagellation, since you all know the drill by now. Plus, I would hate putting you all to sleep just at the beginning of this Journal.

I'm messed up in the head. Plain and simple.

In my younger years (earlier in the decade, right about when I first appeared on dA), I had something wrong with me--not sure what, but it was definitely something that I, unfortunately, would never fully realize until recently this year. I grew up sheltered in an overly Conservative and Bible-Thumping household. The neighborhood I grew up in was what my parents lovingly called "God's Waiting Room", because of all the old-timers living in the homes. Any kids around were ones that I wasn't allowed to socialize with because my parents didn't want them "influencing" me. So, needless to say, I didn't have much of a social life growing up. I only went to a real school for two and a half years of my life, and, during that time, I stuck out more than a sore thumb (Hell, I didn't even know what a "Cafeteria" was, because the only "Cafeteria" I knew of was the dinner table. So, needless to say, my first time experiencing "lunch" was very awkward). All in all, being sheltered and not having much of a social life when you're still in your single-digits you grow up having this narcissistic know-it-all, controlling, 'I'm better than you', 'I'm the only person in this world and everyone else doesn't exist' personality and you think that you can control everyone else to your every whim. Being put into a real school with other real life people and kids my age was, obviously, a massive culture shock. When you suddenly realize that other people are their own individual person and have their own free will, you start to become aware that you were educated and raised in a world that could be similar to solitary confinement.

"Oh, hey, (Saki's real name). What're you doing?"

"Oh, nothing much. Just trying to think of how I can get all my classmates together for our superhero team so we can go off and fight bad guys in my head, all the while thinking I can bend them to my will as if they're not actually other human beings."

"...Didn't Chris-Chan already do that?"

"Pfft. This is 2005! Chris-Chan won't be a thing for another few years."

Now, my parents weren't perfect. I was their first child, and the first-borns are always the "guinea pigs"  for new parents.  Of course, I never understood that my parents were humans until my 20s. They made mistakes with me, like thinking that not giving their young impressionable daughter a social life through the first crucial years of her childhood was a good idea.

I know it sounds like I'm complaining--that's always the initial reaction people get whenever they read posts like this from me. "Oh, Saki's just starting drama", "Kura just wants attention", "She's cray-cray and needs help, like srsly...". Believe me, I get it, I completely understand why one would think that I sound like I'm complaining. Because you, the reader, are just reading these little pixelated words that look black on your computer monitor/mobile screen. But, in reality, when up close, those pixels are just a collection of RBGs. You interpret what you see through your reading and comprehension of the words before you. Because you're not the author. You merely interpret what you're writing and filling the blanks with guesswork of what the writer is trying to convey through these little pixels making up words.

It's weird, y'know... They say that "hearing voices" is the first step into insanity. But, are you insane if you're fully aware of it? They say that psychos and sociopaths don't admit nor are aware of their disorder because of the narcissism that accompanies it. So... would you still be a psychopath or sociopath if you admit it and/or are aware of it? These are just a handful of the kind of questions that fill he chaotic Hell in my mind when nothing else is going on.

Lately, though, that hasn't been very often. For those of you, who follow me on Tumblr (by the way, if you still follow me there, you must have a lot of tolerance for me), you may have noticed the rather alarming on-and-off episodes I've been having over the past few weeks. Trust me when I tell you that former friends will assure that "This is normal for Saki/Kura. Just stay away from her. She's just a lost cause. You'll only end up hurt associating with her, much less talking to her."

"Saki... the things you have been saying aren't really 'normal'--"

"Oh trust me... this is the Keemster-level of a 'cycle' that she goes through. Why do you think we made her theme song that Keemstar Parody of All Star? LMAO. This is 100% Normal for her."

But, what is normal? 'Normal' is nothing more than a perception of what we're used to: routines, topics, lifestyles--whatever we are used to. When something occurs that is out of our routine, we immediately perceive it as 'abnormal' (or just not normal). Much life me experience, albeit rather brief, time I spent in an actual school. You feel that unnerving unease as the stranger in a foreign land.

Now, what I do and say isn't Healthy, that would be the proper use of the phrase you're trying to portray. But, my diagnosis came far too late. There's no undoing what is done. There's no chance at saving loathsome sinners, the chance they had was the life they had before and the punishment is this. There's no rainbows inside of demons.

People, who view others outside of their little bubble, call those 'abnormal' people "toxic", simply because that person has disturbing psychological issues. It's like: "Ewww! A mud puddle! Gross I can't believe I stepped in that! Now my $200 shoes are ruined forever because of that damn puddle!" Those people are treated as lower than dirt just because their perceived in such a negative light. It's a label those high and mighty ones quickly slap onto those, who can't help the disorders they have. Sometimes those people aren't even aware they have a disorder, yet those prissy princesses still sit with upturned noses and chastise with their prim: "You need help, srsly." with their venomous undertone of "I'm better than you." Is it really fair to be some uppity hoity-toity sociality; sneering through your little rainbow-soap window down below at those loathsome dirty little plebian peasants? Perhaps that may be "normal" for you.

Sometimes--no, actually, often; very often--I just want to pop that bubble. Let that sprinkle of soap sting their eyes as it dribbles into their corneas. Their screams and cries in pain while they lean over the sink to wash them out would be such a delight.

I would go into more detail about other things regarding this, but I'm not dumb enough to freewrite my thoughts out to the point there's incriminating evidence against me.

"...Saki, this Journal is getting a little dark..."

"It's called 'Ramblings of a Madwoman' for a reason. Besides, the little 13-year-old edgelord wannabes on this website get away with far worse. Trust me, I've seen them. Some of them are in their 20s and haven't grown out of that phase. Them going on and getting away with using their boyfriends, who has ties to the dark Web, to get the personal information (mailing address and all) of the people they don't like just so that they can have them killed. You'd be surprised how thin-skinned these little lefties are. 'Someone Disagrees with me?? -cue Mission Impossible montage of tracking that person down and killing them-'."

"But you're talking about killing people!"

"I have said no such thing! At least not put it in writing. What part of 'I'm not dumb enough to post incriminating evidence of myself' did you not understand, my dear?"

Yes... it would be nice to have a peace of mind for once day. It would be amazing to not have to wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat from another night terror (had one just last night actually). When people want you dead--and have gone out of their way to find your address so that they can kill you--, all you want to do is keep you and your family safe. People can't kill you if they no longer exist, right? It would be just so nice to be able to go on for the rest of my life without having to worry about being sought after and killed just because I disagreed with someone and told them they were being stupid and immature. Or just randomly responding to condescending Twitter users, who think I'm talking about a certain someone when I'm not. But, just knowing that people still continue to go after me for no apparent reason just causes those night terrors to persist.

I just want to keep my family safe. Selfishly, I want to be able to sleep without having to worry about people in other States and Countries somehow knowing where I live and can come and kill me at any moment.

"Why didn't you call the cops--?"

"Because I didn't know it was them at the time it happened. Their former friend didn't tell me about all the plots and things they said in their Discord server until two years later. So, they were able to get away with this because of the Statute of Limitations."

Regardless, that still won't put my mind at ease knowing that they're still out there and can pull the same thing or worse once again. I wasn't the only one they they did this too, either. Of course, that the YouTube Drama Channels for you. They do fucked up shit behind the scenes while putting on some "I'm a good person" face.

You can't trust people, who act nice publicly. They aren't the innocent souls they want everyone to believe that they are. They want something. They want something from you. And when they've squeezed everything out of you that they want... they'll toss you away with no hesitation because they're done using you. Using you to feed their little lambs, whose fleece are white as snow, while they sleep their way to the top.

They want me dead. They've always wanted me dead. They know where I live, and they'll take me out along with the rest of my family. They'll rejoice and be glad of course~ ^u^ "Ding Dong the witch is dead~!" They will sing as they dance together happily in the streets. "Huzzah! Hooray! The monster has been slain. No longer shall she continue to torment us because we have FINALLY killed her~!" They said so themselves: "I'm happy that people told you these things." That was back in 2015 (and I still have the screenshot and the link to the original post)... half a decade ago. Even back then, they wanted me dead. Their party planning for that day is still in preparation. But, they'll immediately set up once that time come when I no longer exist. "...Saki, you're not okay."

This is what happens to people when they've finally Snapped.

But, I want to get better. Don't get me wrong. I don't like that I've become this person. No, I don't believe in change--I don't believe people can change whatsoever. I just want to feel better and not have to worry about these things anymore. But, I know well that things will never be the same. All I can do is continue moving forward and hope and pray that I don't mess up once again and start the cycle all over.

[uas-fics]

Title: Sleeping Like Adults

Rating: T

Summary: For the first time in four years, Craig and Tweek get to sleep in the same room!

Ships: Creek with a few other minor ships

Other: For @thefabutrash​ for the @creekcrew​‘s Secreek Santa event. I hope you like it! Happy Holidays! =D

Check the first reblog for the AO3 link

~~~~~~

Craig Tucker had never fancied himself a genius before, but as he plopped down in the back of the bus, he couldn't imagine himself anything less.

He pulled his bag into his lap, just to make sure he brought everything with him: toothbrush, pajamas, cell phone charger, a change of clothes, and most importantly, a new pack of correction tape and an ink pen.

Clyde slid into the seat next to him. He waited until the chaperone finished roll call and sat down before elbowing Clyde in the ribs.

"Did you get it?" Craig asked as the bus started forward.

Of course, Clyde got it. Why was Craig even asking? Clyde was his bro, helping bros share rooms with their boyfriends is part of the Bro Code, and Clyde swore by the Bro Code. There was no way Clyde didn’t get it!

Since Clyde's dad was the chaperone of their club trip, it would be super easy for him to get the rooming list. All Craig had to do was white out his roommate’s name and change their name to Tweek's! Once all was said an done, Clyde could just say he accidentally grabbed the sheet when they got to the hotel.

It was perfect!

Clyde laughed nervously, scratching his neck. "Ok, so, about that. I don't have it."

"What? Clyde, dude, that was your one job!" Craig cried. He looked around, hoping no one heard his outburst. If anyone did, they didn’t seem to care.

"I know, I know, but Dad didn't have the class list printed out." Clyde shook his head. "He has it on his phone -- Google Docs, I think."

Craig groaned, slumping back in the faux leather bus seat. "That was my only chance, Clyde!"

"I don't get why this is such a big deal, dude. You and Tweek have sleepovers all the time." Clyde took his phone from his pocket. "How's a hotel any different than the ones at your house?"

"It's different because our parents aren't there." Craig leaned his shoulder into the window. "Whenever we have a sleepover, our parents go out of their way to make sure we don't actually sleep in the same room anymore."

"Wow, really?"

"Yeah, I have to sleep in Tweek's guest room and Tweek has to sleep on the couch." Craig shut his eyes as his goal fell out of reach.

He and his boyfriend hadn't been allowed to sleep in the same room overnight since they were eleven, nearly four years ago. It didn't help the matter that both their parents were strict on them keeping the door open when they were together, either.

Clyde set a hand on his friend's shoulder. "I'm really sorry, dude. Unless we can get my dad's phone, there is no way to change it."

Craig's eyes snapped open. He bolted up as Clyde continued, "Maybe next time we have a group sleepover at my house, you and Tweek can bum it in the guest room and--"

Craig slapped a hand over Clyde's mouth.

"Clyde, that's it." A sly grin spread across his face. "That's it! Help me get your dad's phone. If the document is on Google Docs, maybe I can edit it!"

The color drained from Clyde's face.

"What?!" He choked out. "Dude, I can't do that. It's not a piece of paper. It's my dad's phone! If I take it and mess with it, he'd kill me!"

Craig took hold of Clyde's arm in an iron grip. He fixed his unwavering gaze with Clyde's uneasy one.

"If you help me do this, I'll take the fall if we get caught," He promised. With a squeeze, Craig added, "And I'll let you have my dessert at lunch for the rest of the year."

Clyde squirmed in his seat and bit his lip. He looked away then groaned.

"Fine!" Clyde relented. "Fine, fine, fine! How do you plan on doing it?"

The moment Craig dropped his hand, Clyde started to rub his arm. It probably wasn't going to bruise, and even if it did, Clyde was still getting the better end of this deal. Everyone loved the brownies they got on Thursdays with their corn dogs.

"It's simple. The ride to the hotel is four hours, right? Go up to your dad at the first rest stop and ask if you can play on his phone. Just make something up, like yours ran out of battery,” Craig explained.

"How do you know he'll give me his phone?" Clyde asked, looking down at his smartphone.

"No offense, Clyde, but your dad is kind of a pushover." Craig resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "If you pout like you always do, he'll let you borrow it. I'm sure."

"I don't pout," Clyde snapped. "I'm way too manly to pout."

Craig didn't try to correct any of the lies in that statement. Instead, he leaned back into the seat with a smirk.

Yes, for sure, Craig Tucker was a genius.

~~~~~

"Now, kids, settle down!" Mr. Donovan called over the shouting and yelling of the robotics club. He had to yell a few more times before everyone quieted enough that he could be heard.

Mr. Donovan pushed his glasses up. "Alright, kids, as you know the gardening club is also going to the museum this weekend, and since Kevin got on the wrong bus, we're going to wait at the rest stop for a few minutes so the garden club's bus can swing by and drop him off."

A few of the students groaned. Craig couldn't entirely blame them. The trip was already long and boring, waiting at a rest stop only prolonged the suffering.

The teacher sponsor of the robotics club pushed himself from his seat and sent a glare over the student, silencing any protests.

Mr. Donovan nodded approvingly. "Alright, now, everyone file out to use the restroom and stretch your legs."

Moments later, the robotics club had shuffled off the bus. Craig lifted himself up on his toes as he stretched.

"Ok, you ready?" Craig asked.

Clyde rolled his eyes. "Can a guy pee first?"

"No," Craig deadpanned. He reached into Clyde's jacket pocket and took his phone.

Ignoring Clyde's protests of "Hey! What the fuck?", Craig took the phone out of its case then turned it over to pull the back off. He pried out the battery before pocketing it.

As he reassembled the phone, he explained, "If your dad needs proof, you can press and hold the power button without it turning back on."

Clyde scrunched up his face as he took his phone back. "Fiiiiine." Spinning on his heels, he headed towards his dad.

Craig took a few steps towards a bench to casually sit and watch as his amazing plan came to fruition.

Mr. Donovan's head went up when Clyde called his name. He gave his full attention to his son while Clyde held up his phone and pointed.

Craig's heart skipped a beat when Mr. Donovan reached for the phone. If Mr. Donovan held Clyde's phone, he would feel the weight difference. Luckily, by some miracle, he stopped before he could touch it.

They talked for another few minutes before Clyde returned with a solemn look on his face.

"He says I'm just out of luck, and he'll look at it at the hotel." Clyde shook his head.

"Fuck!" Craig clenched his fists. "We have to get that phone, Clyde! Just let me think a minute..."

"Dude, maybe you should just give it up." Clyde shrugged. "Like I told you, next sleepover at my house, you can--"

Craig jumped to his feet, eyes sparkling. Plan A never works. That's just facts. Plan B, though, Plan B would be perfect!

He dug around in his pockets then held the contents in his palm. Craig flicked the pocket lint out of the pile then shoved the ink pen behind his ear.

He turned over the pack of Fruit Stripe gum he stole from his sister. With his braces, he technically wasn't supposed to chew this type of gum, but what his orthodontist didn't know wouldn't hurt her.

Shoving the gum and the phone battery into Clyde's hands, Craig began to count his change out.

Disregarding the pennies, he had a grand total of fifty-five cents.

"Clyde, give me a dollar." Craig made a gimme motion with his hand.

"What? No! You have a wallet on the bus," Clyde said but took out his wallet anyway. He fished out a one dollar bill, which Craig snatched.

Without a word to Clyde, he dashed towards the vending machines. Of course, there was a line.

Craig tapped his foot impatiently as some sophomores he didn't know jabbered on about something he didn't care about.

What was taking them so long to buy a soda? Every second they wasted talking, was a second less Craig had for his plan! Didn't they know that the gardening club bus would be here soon?

A bottle made a thunking sound when it fell. Craig took a step forward, only for one of them to feed another dollar into the machine.

Craig and Tweek weren't in any of the same clubs this year. The pure coincidence that the science museum would hold both an exhibition on space age robotics and sustainable farming was a blessing from God that Craig didn't want to waste!

When he was only ten seconds away from pushing the sophomores out of the way, they finished. Still animatedly talking, they walked away with an arm full of soda each.

Craig rolled his eyes. "Finally." He muttered, just loud enough for the sophomore he was passing to hear. She shot him a dirty look, and Craig flipped her off. The sophomore scoffed but didn't try to pick a fight.

After smoothing out the dollar on the side of the machine a few times, Craig fed Washington’s visage into the dollar slot and pressed the Coke option.

Sold out.

Any of the drinks would work, so long as they were sticky and sugary, so he pressed the Diet Coke.

Sold Out.

Pepsi.

Sold out.

Diet Pepsi. Sprite. Double Dew.

Sold out. Sold out. Sold out.

The only option he had left was Gatorade and water.

Cursing those sophomores with every fiber of his being, Craig pressed the Gatorade option. This was the last drink that had sugar in it.

He braced himself, waiting.

Th-thunk!

A sigh of relief escaped his lips as he knelt down to retrieve the cherry sports drink.

When he returned to Clyde, Craig had already cracked open the drink and chugged some of it.

Clyde frowned. "Not to poke holes in whatever your plan is, but I doubt electrolytes are going to help."

"It's not the electrolytes I need," Craig smirked. "I'm going to walk over and then 'accidentally' trip and spill this all over your dad's pants."

"You're going to what?" Clyde cried, only for Craig to elbow him in the stomach. He doubled over, clenching his middle.

"Quiet! Look, all you need to do is steal your dad's pants when he's changing them. It'll be easy."

Clyde looked up from his bent over position. "This is not a good plan, Craig!"

"Are you my bro or aren't you?" Craig narrowed his eyes.

After a heartbeat, Clyde muttered, "I'm your bro..."

"Good, now get ready."  Craig nodded sharply. Clyde flashed a thumbs up before hobbling over to sit on the bench.

With a breath, Craig started towards Mr. Donovan. Luckily for him, Mr. Donovan was distracted, chatting with the teacher.

Honestly, this should have been Plan A. What was he even thinking with the original Plan A? Of course, Mr. Donovan wasn't going to give up his phone because Clyde's ‘broke’! Even if he did, he would have probably logged off all his apps.

Someone hip checked Craig, sending him stumbling to the side. The bottle fell from his hands. The rest of the liquid spilled over the concrete.

Craig stared, flabbergasted, as his Plan B flowed down a crack in the sidewalk towards the grass.

Someone snickered. Craig spun around, ready to fight. The sophomore he'd flipped off smirked at him before heading towards the rest of her friends.

Shaking, Craig took a step towards her. He was not above starting a fight in the middle of the public rest area.

Clyde came up then and caught his arm.

"Not worth it, dude," He said with a shake of the head.

"Fuck me!" Craig groaned. "Clyde, another dollar. Let me try again--"

The gardening club's bus pulled up before Clyde could pull out his wallet.

Clyde patted his back reassuringly.

"Sorry, man," He offered softly.

"Yeah," Craig heaved a sigh then straighten up. He shoved his disappointment down as he began to scan the crowd of garden club kids for his favorite shock of blond hair.

He spotted him hanging around Token. Before his club was called to their bus, he and Clyde hurried over.

"You can explain it all you want, I still don't get it." Token was saying.

"No, like, dude, agroforestry isn't hard; it's--Craig!" Tweek cut himself off, smiling.

"Hey, honey," Craig greeted, pulling Tweek into a half-hug. Tweek snaked his arm around Craig's waist and leaned against him as Craig held his fist out for Token, who bumped it.

"Hey, dudes," Token nodded to him and Clyde.

"Having fun learning about dirt?" Clyde teased. "This is what you get for being so whipped by your girlfriend."

Token rolled his eyes, but he didn't have a counter to that. The only reason he joined Garden Club was because Nichole asked him to.

From what Tweek had said, Token's thumb was 'averagely green'. Though he could tend to plants, he didn't care about doing it and spent most of his time sitting around or organizing the supplies.

"Clyde, how many times have you been on Bebe's beck and call during volleyball practice?" Craig snorted. He pitched up his voice to mock, "'Bring me my water, Clyde. Can you get my towel for me, sweetie? Go grab the ball, baby!'"

Token laughed into his hand while Clyde's face went red. Craig felt Tweek's shoulder shake in laughter just a little under his arm.

"Oh, screw you," Clyde snapped. "I'm going to find Kevin." With that, Clyde spun around to search the rest of the crowd.

"How's your ride going?" Tweek asked when Clyde disappeared.

"Boring," Craig admitted.

"We had a kid throw up," Token commented. "That's why we're late. We had to turn around, take him home, and get a new bus."

Craig cringed. "That's really gross."

"It kind of worked out, since we were able to pick up Kevin." Tweek pointed out.

The trio chatted for a few more minutes before Mr. Donovan called Craig’s name. "Craig, come get back on the bus. I need to do a headcount." He shouted.

 Tweek pulled himself from Craig's side. "See you at the hotel, Craig." Tweek pressed a kiss to Craig's cheek.

Reminded of the hotel and their separate rooming, Craig fought to keep himself from deflating.

"Yeah, see you there." He waved before heading back towards his bus. As he crawled on and made his way towards the back seat, he noticed that sophomore girl sitting near the front. Her bag was half in the aisle.

With a smirk, Craig purposely stepped down hard on it. He heard a pencil snap but kept walking anyway. As tempting as it was to see if she noticed, he couldn't risk it looking like he did it intentionally.

He sat back down, leaning to look sullenly out the window until the rest of the bus hustled on, except for Clyde. Craig eyed the empty seat next to him with a frown. He hadn't hurt Clyde's ego that much, had he?

"Ok, roll call!" Mr. Donovan said, clearly not noticing his son wasn't on board. He patted his pockets. "Oh, uh, where is it?" Turning out his pockets, he furrowed his brow.

"Hey, kids," Mr. Donovan raised his voice. "Has anyone seen my phone? I swear I had--"

"Here it is, Dad!" Clyde held up Mr. Donovan's phone as he and Kevin climbed up the steps. "You left it on the bench outside."

"Oh, thank you, Clyde." His dad nodded, taking the phone.

Craig stared at Clyde with wide eyes as he came down the aisle to sit.

Clyde smiled proudly, reminding Craig of a puppy wishing to be praised.

"Who's your bro?"

"You are. You’re the best fucking bro ever!" Craig put his hand on Clyde's shoulder and shook him.

So what if Plan A failed, and Plan B was doomed before it could start?

Craig could always count on Plan Clyde to make it through to the end!

~~~~

Of the brilliant ideas Tweek had ever had, drinking an entire gallon of Arizona sweet tea on the two hour ride was not one of them.

Honestly, the whole idea of bringing the jug of tea instead of his thermos of coffee had been on his dad’s prompting that Tweek should ‘slow down’ on the coffee drinking. His parents claimed it was ‘for his health,’ but Tweek knew that was a lie.

They still hadn’t gotten over Tweek using some of their special roast last week. He didn’t even get to drink any before they saw him making it and got mad!

That was how Tweek ended up with a gallon of tea instead — a gallon he’d absentmindedly down not even halfway to the rest stop.

He had been sitting on a bladder that was about to burst for the last hour. Then when they did finally stop, Craig tracked him down before he could make it to the restroom.

The whole time they were talking with Token and Clyde, Tweek felt his eyes floating a little higher. He nearly shouted out in relief when Mr. Donovan called Craig back to his bus.

Tweek washed his hands in the rest stop sink. The whole place smelled a little too strongly of cheap soap and lemon cleaner. Something that strong smelling could only be covering up something that smelled even worse.

Tweek had little desire to find out what that smell was, so he forwent drying his hands to instead hurry out the door.

He nearly barreled into Kevin.

"Oh, sorry, Tweek!" Kevin said as he bobbed around him into the restroom.

Standing just outside the door, Clyde leaned against the wall, playing on a phone, but not his own. Clyde's phone case had glittery football and baseball stickers Bebe put on it. The one he had was just plain silver.

"Clyde?" Tweek turned his head a bit to the side.

Clyde jumped. "Ah, Tweek, hey, man, what's up?"

"Shouldn't you be heading towards your bus?" Tweek asked.

"Yeah, just waiting for Kevin." Clyde shoved the phone into his pocket. "He didn't have fifteen minutes to dick around like we had."

It had been a stroke of luck that right as they returned to the bus barn at the high school, Kevin's mom pulled up. Apparently, he overslept.

"Oh, right, I guess that's true." Tweek nodded.

Clyde twiddled with his thumbs a moment, humming to himself. He held back a smile, and that made Tweek uneasy.

"What?" Tweek wrung his hands in his shirt.

Clyde was about to burst when he finally blurted out, "You and Craig share a room at the hotel!"

"W-what?!" Tweek choked on the word.

"Yeah, dude. I guess the teachers didn't know you were boyfriends or something." He cheekily elbowed him in the ribs. "Lucky duck, aren't you?"

Before Tweek could reply, Kevin exited the restroom.

"Come on, Clyde, we have to hurry back to the bus." Kevin grabbed Clyde's arm.

"Right." Clyde nodded. To Tweek, he teased, "Don't have too much fun later tonight." He punctuated his tease with a wink before letting Kevin drag him towards the bus.

Tweek watched, suddenly frozen to the ground, as Kevin and Clyde made their way to their bus.

The bus rumbled to life, the door shut, and pulled out of the parking lot before Tweek melted. The moment he could move his feet again, he dashed across the grass to the playground.

Nichole sat at the top of a jungle gym that was much too small for a high school student while Token leaned against it.

Tweek wasted no time darting up to Token, grabbing his shoulders, and screaming into his chest.

"Holy shit, Token! Shit, shit, shit, shitshitshitshit!" Tweek panted. His eyes darted around in panic.

"W-Wow, Tweek, dude," Token furrowed his brows, "calm down."

Tweek turned a quick glare towards him. Token knew fully well that telling him to 'calm down' didn't help! It just made Tweek realize how much he was panicking more than before!

Nichole slid off the jungle gym. She set a hand on Tweek's shoulders.

"Hey, what's wrong?" She asked.

"Clyde, He--!! The teachers fucked up, and, and, and!" Tweek grabbed his hair. "The teachers assigned Craig and me to the same room!"

Token's eyebrows shot up. "Really? Lucky." He turned a flirty smile to Nichole. "Think they messed up with us, too?"

Nichole rolled her eyes, clearly unamused, and turned her attention back to Tweek.

"If that makes you uncomfortable, you can ask a teacher to change it, Tweek," She offered. "Or why not tell Craig you're not ok with it?"

"That's the thing!" Tweek squeezed his voice out through his clenched throat. "I'm not uncomfortable with it. I'm totally fine with sleeping in the same room as him."

Token crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. "Then why are you freaking out? It's not excitement. I know that much."

Tweek began to fiddle with his buttons. This was embarrassing! Why did the teachers have to do this to him? Did the robotic club teacher hate him that much? Or was it his teacher sponsor?

He swallowed the lump in his throat before looking around. There was no one in earshot, but he gestured everyone to move closer anyway.

"You can't tell anyone. Promise, on your l-lives," Tweek held out both his pinkies as added insurance. Token and Nichole each wrapped a pinkie around his and shook on it.

"We won't tell. What is it?" Nichole prompted.

"It's just, well, Craig and I, we haven't slept in the same room since we were little kids!" Tweek almost smiled at the memories of late night fart sounds and bad jokes. "That's the thing though: we were little kids. Craig's getting his full driver's license next year and my parents have hired me for real at the shop. We're adults."

Tweek chewed his lip a moment. "It's different now, and, uh, I-I want it to be different, you know? It's not just another kiddie, platonic sleep over anymore."

Nichole clasped her hands over her heart. "Oh, Tweek, that's so sweet and romantic!"

Token snorted a chuckle. "Wait, so you want to sleep sleep with Craig? Like sex? On a school trip? Tweek, you wild animal."

Red painted Tweek's face. He sputtered before finding his words. "No! No! No! No! I don't mean it like that! I mean--"

Nichole gently shoved Token's shoulder. He took a step to the side, more to humor her than succumbing to her strength.

"No, he means he wants to sleep in the same bed as Craig like adults do, like our parents do." She smiled at Tweek. "Right?"

"Y-yes! That's what I mean," He nodded, then pointed to Token. "I'm worried that Craig will take it like Token did if I ask though. I don't want him to think I'm a pervert or a creep."

"He's not going to think that, Tweek." Token shook his head. "If he does, just explain it to him."

"Then he'll think I changed my story when I made him uncomfortable, which will make it even more uncomfortable."

Tweek winced at the thought. He couldn't have 'sex-crazed' add to the list of adjectives he knew Craig thought of him as.

It took him months to remove 'musophobe' from that list when Tweek shrieked after a mouse ran across his toes in Craig's basement. It wasn't even fair to claim he's afraid of mice. It was a big mouse and ran across his bare feet! Anyone would scream.

Nichole screwed her face up in thought. "Then why don't you make it where he asks you?" Her eyes sparkled. "Yeah, do that!"

"How?" Both Tweek and Token asked. The former in a tone of interest and the latter in a tone of dubiousness.

She shrugged. "I don't know, um...drop the temperature? If it's cold in your room, he might ask to snuggle in bed, and if you two just so happen to fall asleep, well, that's just how it goes, right?"

Token shook his head. "Nichole, you have to know how silly--"

"That's perfect!" Tweek grabbed her shoulders before pulling her into a hug. "Nichole, you're so smart!"

She patted his back and nodded contently. "Thank you."

Token opened his mouth, then shut it, shaking his head without a word.

~~~~~

Tweek was excited now that he had a plan of attack. When they got back on the bus, he and Nichole brained stormed more ideas to freeze Craig into Tweek's arms.

First, he would see how low he could get the thermostat to go. Since the plan for dinner was to walk across the street from the hotel to the buffet, the room would have plenty of time to get nice and chilly. If Tweek made sure to get back to the room first, he could turn it back up to normal temperature. He'd shut the vents after that, so no warm air could get in.

Then it would be romantic snuggling the rest of the night!

If all else failed, he still had that gallon bottle from his tea. All he needed to do was refill it when they got there. If it 'accidentally' spilled on one of their beds later that night, the other would undoubtedly be a gentleman and offer to share the remaining bed.

It was a foolproof plan!

A half hour to the hotel, Tweek's phone buzzed.

"We're in the same room at the hotel," Craig wrote. "If the teacher asks, we had a fight and broke up. act bitter about it, otherwise, they might separate us."

Tweek frowned. Clyde told him the teachers forgot they were dating. Why would they remember now? Unless one of the other students ratted them out. He could see that.

Some of the girls in the robotics club gave the kind of vibe like they would throw anyone to the lions at the first chance.

"What did we fight about this time?" Tweek texted back. "Was it 'Michael' again?" He smiled to himself, ending the text with a wink emote.

A moment later, Craig replied, "If you don't let that die, then we really will have a fight." His text ended with three fist emoji. Before Tweek could even open his keyboard, another message came.

This one said, "jk jk. idk. something that doesn't make me look like a dick this time. why don't we fight over stripe? you're being a bad dad and overfeeding him or something."

Tweek didn't like the idea of this fake fight painting him as a bad pet parent, but considering Craig still got flack over their fight in fourth grade, maybe it was only fair.

"ok. I'm letting Token and Nichole know though. Love you!" Tweek tried to look annoyed as he sent a string of kiss faces and hearts. If there was one thing Tweek had become really good at since he and Craig started dating, it was acting.

He huffed, throwing his hand up in the air.

"That bastard!" Tweek cried out just loud enough the other club members around him would hear, but not the teacher.

"How dare he!" Tweek continued, leaning across the aisle to Token. "Look at what Craig said! Me? A bad pet parent! I'm the fucking best parent Stripe has!"

Token raised an eyebrow but took the phone. He rolled his eyes, turning the screen enough for Nichole to read. Nichole chuckled but sent Tweek a small nod. She would play along with this.

"Fuck him! We're through!" Tweek took his phone back. "How do you change your relationship status on Facebook? Under ‘about’ right? I'm not letting him say those things about me."

The other students turned in their seat or scooted closer to the aisle. Gossip hounds, most of them. Usually, Tweek couldn't stand his personal info getting around like this, but the grapevine of whispers would reach up to the teacher and chaperone faster this way.

Craig had already started vague posting about him.

Along with a picture of a fat, plushy guinea pig, Craig posted, "This is what SOME PEOPLE think a guinea pig should look like! Rolly polly and one treat from a heart attack! #badpetparent"

It took all of Tweek's composure not to laugh. Between the two of them, Craig was the one who usually gave Stripe one too many treats.

For the rest of the bus ride, Craig and Tweek made snide comments and jabs about the other on social media. Honestly, he was having fun with it. None of what they said to each other was particularly true, or really that bad, but the rumor mill had already worked its magic.

According to posts shown to him by Nichole and Token, Tweek had broken Craig's heart and curb stomped it by attempting to take full custody of Stripe from him. At least one tweet said they were going to court about it.

When they pulled into the parking lot of the hotel, the robotics bus was already parked. Even in the dim evening light, the antics and excitement of the other club shown through the windows. A paper airplane launched out one of the rear windows and crashed against Tweek's window.

Tweek squinted to try and make out anyone he knew, but the closest he came was thinking he saw the top of Craig's hat.

"Alright, students," the teacher clapped her hands, stealing his attention "We're all going to head to the lobby. Take your bags. I'm not walking everyone back and forth to the bus."

Tweek shouldered his backpack on and stood. When he passed the teacher on his way off the bus, she put a hand on his shoulder.

"Tweek, I want you to know if you ever need to talk, I'm here." She smiled softly. "I know how hard it is to lose a pet to careless actions."

Tweek stared at her a moment before her words clicked. "Oh! Um, thank you, ma'am." He tried to sound downtrodden.

So their 'break up' had already turned to manslaughter. Great. Crowd control was going to be a pain in the ass after all this was said and done.

The robotics club fell silent when Tweek came into the lobby. Some eyed him with distrust, and others with pity. Clyde avoided looking at him, and Craig fixed him with a faux dirty look before flipping him the bird.

Anyone who didn't know Craig well could tell there was no malice in this gesture, but Tweek pretended he was offended and threw him a middle finger right back.

Craig shoved his hands in his pocket and scowled to the side, all the while holding back a smile. Tweek thought it was simply adorable. He made a note to tell him that and watch Craig get flustered about it later.

"Alright, is everyone off the bus?" One of the teachers shouted, and the crowd of students quieted. "Alright, so, when I call your name, come up and get your room key."

She reached held her tablet to her face as she read. One by one the students walked up. There were a few groans and whines, a couple of cheers, but no one seemed too opposed to their rooming assignments.

Then the teacher called out Craig's name.

"Craig Tucker, Room 203." She held up his key. "You're rooming with...oh, um, T-Tweek Tweak."

A group gasp nearly sucked all the air from the lobby. Tweek squared his shoulders and marched up along with Craig.

Mr. Donovan and the garden club teacher exchanged looks, while the robotics teacher couldn't care less.

She started, "I don't know how they got...um--maybe we should switch them with--"

"I'm fine with it." Craig snapped, snatching a key card off the table. "Unlike some people, I am a responsible adult who is in complete control of his emotions."

"Bullshi--I mean, I am too!" Tweek grabbed the other card from the teacher. "You just stay on your side of the room, you gay jerk."

"Don't call names, Tweek. It's immature," Craig scoffed.

"It's not immature if it's all true," Tweek grumbled. Before the teacher or Mr. Donovan could reply, they both stormed off back into the crowd.

~~~~~

Tweek wasn't sure how they pulled that off, exactly, but none of the adults tried to take their keys away from them or make them switch rooms.

At this point, Tweek narrowed it down to either the adults didn't know how to deal with this situation between two men or didn't want to get dragged into their drama. Either way, Tweek wasn't going to complain.

Still scowling, Tweek unlocked their door. With a sneer in his voice, he held the door and said, "After you, Mr. Mature."

"Thank you," Craig spat back, all fake venom.

Mr. Donovan grabbed the door handle, standing between the two. He forced a nervous smile. "Um, if you boys need anything," Mr. Donovan said. "I'm in the room right next door."

"Don't worry, sir." Craig frowned. "We can handle ourselves. Or, I can anyway."

"Yeah," Tweek took a breath, "don't worry at all."

Mr. Donovan didn't look any more relaxed but nodded anyway.

The moment after Tweek shut the door then threw his bag on the bed, Craig grabbed his arm and pulled him into a hug.

"Everyone hates you now," Craig stated matter-of-factly, "for being a guinea pig murderer." He kissed his forehead.

"We'll have to post a picture together with Stripe when we get home." Tweek chuckled. "Proof of my innocence."

Craig squeezed him once, then took a step back. "I need to brush my teeth. Clyde dared me to eat a Jolly Rancher we found on the floor of the bus."

Tweek winced. "Was it completely worth it?"

Craig shrugged. "I got fifteen dollars and ten minutes picking candy out of my braces since I accidentally crunch down, so half-and-half."

"You're disgusting, Craig Tucker," Tweek teased.

Craig took his hat off and chucked it at his face. "If it hadn't been grape - flavored, you would have done it, too."

Tweek gave Craig that as truth with a slight nod before shoving his hat over his head.

When Craig left for the bathroom, Tweek dove into action. He spun around and darted towards the thermal unit under the window.

Stooping down, he fiddled with the controls. The unit wasn't complicated, so it only took a minute or two to lower the temperature setting from a cozy seventy-five to a chilly fifty.

He bounced to his feet and spun around. Twisting the tassels of Craig's hat, he wandered to the bathroom. Craig leaned over the counter to the mirror, picking at his braces. He ran his tongue over his front teeth before sticking his mouth under the faucet to take a drink.

"Get it all?" Tweek asked.

Craig held up a finger as he swished the water around in his mouth then spit.

"Probably not, but at least my mouth doesn't taste like bus floor anymore." He held out his hand. "Gimme back my hat."

Tweek reached up to pull the hat from his head. A smirk played on his lips, and he strode forward and threw it on Craig's head. With a tug, he pulled him down to press a kiss to his lips.

Craig chuckled. "Damn, hope we get over this fight soon."

~~~~~

The buffet was nothing special, just an average all you can eat joint. On their second trip up, Clyde loaded up on more enchiladas than could possibly be healthy, while Craig had taken a more Italian root with a plateful of pasta and pizza.

They sat together in at a table in the back with Token. From their vantage point, they could people watch and mock almost all of the other restaurant goers and had quick access to the dessert bar.

Token took one look at Clyde’s plate and rolled his eyes.

"Didn't your dad tell you to eat something healthy?" Token made a point to stab up some zucchini.

"This is plenty healthy," Clyde replied. "The sauce has tomatoes. Cheese is a dairy product. Grain in the tortilla, and chicken is protein. All the food groups are there."

Without fighting Clyde’s logic, he turned towards Craig. "Ok, so how are you and," he jerked his head towards Tweek, “doing?”

A gaggle of girls surrounded Tweek, cooing over him and comforting him, including the ones who took all the sodas earlier that day. Somehow half the girls on the trip got it in their heads the whole 'fight' was Craig's fault and Tweek was an innocent victim in it all.

Tweek himself looked incredibly uncomfortable, picking at his chicken breast. One of the girls reached out to mess with his hair and Craig tensed. Tweek didn't like people touching him for no reason, much less stroking his hair like that.

Luckily, Nichole reached up and grabbed the girl's hand with a frown. Craig made a note to thank her for that later.

He poked at his pasta without spinning the fork. "We're fine," Craig answered.

Token hummed. "Ok. Actually, can I ask you a question since you and Tweek are sharing a room?"

"Shoot." Craig took a drink of his cola.

"If Tweek offered, would you spend the night with him, like, in the same bed?" Token asked, a little too bluntly.

Craig choked on his drink. He beat his chest, panting. Clyde burst into laughter, bits of enchilada flying across the table. In response, Token crouched over his food, protecting his plate with his arms.

"Token, what the fuck, man?" Craig gasped. "Shit, dude, fuck! You can't ask stuff like that in public!"

Token shrugged, straightening back up.

Clyde wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "So is that a no? You'd just leave Tweek by himself? Guess it's a good thing you two broke up."

Craig took his fork, stabbed one of Token's zucchini slices, and dropped it on top of Clyde's enchiladas. Clyde hurried to remove the offending squash before it contaminated his meal.

Craig pointed his fork at Token. "Ok, why did you ask that?" He lowered his fork and leaned closer. "Did...Did Tweek say he wanted to do that?"

Token chuckled. "What? No. I was just wondering. You two are sharing a room, after all."

Craig reached up and tugged at his hat. He was glad it covered his ears. They were burning with embarrassment. This was not public restaurant talk. This was beanbag chair, playing video games in someone's room talk.

At least if they were in someone's room, Craig could chuck a pillow at Token and loudly tell him to fuck off.

"It's none of your business what Tweek and I do--if we were still together." Craig spun his fork in his pasta. "Which we're not because he's a huge dick and a bad parent to Stripe."

Token opened his mouth, only to have Clyde interrupt him before he started.

"Ok, ok, ok, screw Craig for a minute here. We both know the answer is 'yes', no matter what he says." Clyde reached across to grab Token's hand. "The real question is if you would say yes if I asked you." He wiggled his eyebrows.

Token snorted a laugh. "Of course, Clyde. What are best bros for?"

Clyde raised his fist up to pump it down, only to slam his elbow down on the rim of his plate. The enchiladas flew off the plate.

Red sauce, tortilla, and ground beef splattered against Craig's shirt. Out of instinct, Craig moved back, only to knock his drink forward so it splashed down onto his pants.

"Clyde!" Craig roared, holding his shirt from his body.

"Sorry!" Clyde grabbed a napkin and moved forward to wipe some of the beef off, but Craig slapped his hand down.

Without a word, Craig sulked over to the table with the teachers and chaperones. As he did, he passed the table with Tweek and all the girls. Some of the girls glared at him and some snickered. Tweek, on the other hand, looked shocked and worried.

"Hey, can I head back?" Craig interrupted whatever the teachers were saying. The adults looked up.

"What happened?" The robotics teacher asked.

"Dropped a plate," Craig muttered.

Even though it was all Clyde's fault, he didn't want to get him in trouble for screwing around. Craig would find some other way to have his revenge. For now, he'd let Clyde sweat about when his retribution would come.

Mr. Donovan scooted his chair back. "Of course, Craig. I'll walk you back over and--"

"Mr. Donovan?"

Craig looked over his shoulder to see Tweek walking up.

"Are you heading back? Can I come?" Tweek tugged at his sleeves, looking to the side. "I, uh, I forgot to take my medication this morning, and my anxiety finally caught up with me in such a crowded place."

As added emphasis, he wrapped his arms around himself and twitched.

Craig nearly reached out but stopped himself. For one, they were still 'fighting' and for two, He was pretty sure that was all a lie.

Tweek never forgot to take his medication. He had no less than three alarms to remind himself. It would not surprise Craig at all if Tweek was just using this as an excuse to get away from all the people fawning over him.

Craig caught Tweek's eye for just a second, then muttered, loud enough to be heard by the teachers, "He probably doesn't trust me not to mess with his stuff."

Tweek pretended to grit his teeth. "Please. I'm finished eating."

The adults talked for a moment before Mr. Donovan nodded. After getting a to-go box for Craig and Mr. Donovan's food, the three made their way back to the hotel.

~~~~~~

Craig tossed his shirt into the sink and turned on the hot water. He could try to scrub the sauce off with the complimentary soap but doubted it would do much. Though he liked the shirt well enough, it wasn't a favorite. So if he failed, there wouldn't be that big of a loss.

"Here."

Craig turned to see Tweek in the doorway, holding something out.

"What is it?" Craig stepped over and took it from his hand. He turned the pen-shaped object over in his palm. It was one of those Tide To-Go Pens.

A snorted laugh escaped him. He wasn't surprised at all. Tweek was the only boy Craig knew who would bring something like this with him on a school trip.

He wondered if Tweek brought a sweater with him, too. The hotel room was polar cold. Craig could probably suffer with it, but he didn’t like the idea of Tweek freezing overnight.

Hopefully he could just crank up the thermostat to remendy the situation.

"Thanks, dude," Craig said as he turned to work on the shirt. Tweek leaned against the door frame, watching with interest as Craig worked.

After a while, Craig removed as much of the stain as he could. Luckily, it wasn't too noticeable. As long as his mother never saw it, it was all good. No harm, no foul.

Holding the shirt triumphantly up, he spun around.

"Ta-da!"

Tweek snickered but indulged him with a small round of applause. Craig bobbed his head proudly in a faux bow before tossing the shirt over the towel rack to dry.

"I think I'll take a quick shower. I can still feel the soda sticking to me through my PJs," Craig announced. With a smirk, he added coyly, "Don't go messing with my stuff, got it, Mr. Tweak?"

Tweek's shoulders shook. "I'm way too mature to be that petty, Mr. Tucker."

The two burst into giggles. Tweek started to leave, but Craig followed behind him. He walked past their beds towards the window unit. When he got out of the shower, he’d rather not have all the water freeze to his body.

"Thought so," Craig muttered after crouching down. "Whoever had our room before us left this on fifty." He readjusted the temperature back up to a cozy seventy-five.  

“Oh, that’s why it’s so cold?” Tweek rubbed his arm. “I hadn’t even thought to check it.”

“Yeah, well, at least we won’t turn into popsicles overnight.”  

Tweek grinned at him. There was something a little off about it, but Craig didn’t comment. With how his luck was going this evening, Tweek probably figured Craig thought he was stupid for not noticing.

Craig put his hand on Tweek’s arm, over his knuckles. He explained, “It must have been programmed to kick on while we were out. I didn’t notice until we got back how cold it was.”

Tweek looked down at Craig’s hand, then up at him. He nodded then smiled. The off feeling about this smile dissolved instantly.

With a squeeze of his hand, Craig then left Tweek to take his shower.

Craig’s chest well with pride at the accomplishment as he shut the door. How many people could pacify Tweek’s worries with a few correctly-chosen and reassuring words?

Dang, did Craig like Tweek’s smile. Really, he just liked Tweek over all. Their relationship might have started on less than stellar terms, but by now, Craig had a hard time imagining his life without Tweek in it. It was asilly thought, Craig knew, but maybe they'd get married one day.

Craig stiffened as Token's question rang in his head again.

"If Tweek offered, would you spend the night with him, like, in the same bed?"

He tried to force the idea out of his thoughts but failed miserably. That was a topic he hadn't sunk too much thought into. Sex seemed like a distant concept, more of a late-night thought experiment than a something that would actually happen.

After all, it took them nearly a year and a half of dating to share the most chaste kiss ever, and Tweek still puked from nerves on Craig's shoes a second later. Sex was way too big of a leap! Even if Tweek could get over his nerves this time, Craig knew he couldn't do it.

When they were older, maybe, but...

Craig groaned, burying his face in his hands. Why did Token even ask that? Tweek had to have made him do it, right? A question like that was way too out of the blue for Token to ask it any other time!

He ran his hands through his hair before slapping them down on the sink.

If Tweek wanted to know if Craig was interested in sleeping with him, it would be best to come out in the open and say he wasn't! His boyfriend might be disappointed, but Tweek would have to just respect his decision.

Spinning on his heels, Craig marched out the door. He needed to do this before his confidence wore off.

"Tweek, we need--the fuck?"

Tweek stared at him, eyes like a deer in the headlights. In his hand, he had his jug of water held over Craig's bed. A thin trickle poured onto the covers.

"Don't be mad!" Tweek cried, pulling the jug to his chest. "I can explain, I promise!"

"Then explain. We're not really fighting! You're taking your acting too far!" Craig rushed over to tear the jug from his hands. His bed didn't look too wet. He could probably just pull the sheets off or sleep in the recliner in the corner.

"No, that's not--uh, shit, Craig--!" Tweek wrung his hands together. "Don't be mad! Don't be mad! I, I just..." His shoulders shook and his head dropped.

Craig adjusted the jug to one hand, reaching out with the other, when Tweek's head shot up and he bursted out, "Do you want to sleep with me tonight!?"

So Tweek did get Token to ask Craig! He knew it!

Craig stumbled back. His face was already feeling hot. All of the confidence Craig had seconds ago vanished into thin air when faced with the actual question.

"Tweek, we c-ca-can't!" Craig sputtered. "For one, you, we, uh, need things for that and for two I’m not comfortable with it right now! I don’t want to sleep--"

"Not like that!" Tweek's face was just as red as Craig's, if not more so. He grabbed his shoulders, shaking his head so fast that Craig worried he might break his neck.

"I don't mean it like se—urk—like making l-love," Tweek forced out. "I mean like married people. Normal sleeping, but in the same bed. Same way parents do."

Craig looked down at the jug. Tweek followed his eyes. He snatched it back, his face somehow burning even more.

"I...I wanted to force you to ask to share a bed with me," Tweek admitted. "I was going to chill you into it, but you turned the heat back up."

Craig tried to keep a straight face as Tweek explain but failed almost instantly. His shoulders scrunched and his chin fell to his chest. His cheeks puffed out as he tried to hold back his laughter.

He peeked up at Tweek. Tweek clenched his hand around the jug handle, eyes wide and confused.

"Dude, no offense, did you get this idea from a bad fanfiction?" He snorted into his hand. "Freezing me into your bed? Really? That was the best idea you could come up with before jumping straight to dumping water on my mattress?"

Tweek looked down at the jug, then back up at Craig, before a smile spread across his face. He chuckled, taking a step back to set the jug on the bedside table.

"Shit, now that you say it like that, it's a horrible idea, isn't it?" He shook his head. "At least Nichole's heart was in the right place."

"It was her idea? That explains...never mind." Craig plopped back onto the bed. He patted the seat next to him. Tweek slipped down beside him. Craig eyed the space between them then scooted closer until their sides touch.

"Sooooo, Tweek," Craig slipped his hand around behind Tweek and lean against him, "Do you wanna sleep together? Tonight? Like adults?" He got face to face with Tweek and winked.

Tweek stiffened up a heartbeat, then relaxed. Before Craig could comprehend what Tweek was doing, Tweek pressed a kiss to his lips.

"Yeah, I'd really like that."

A fond, soft feeling welled up in Craig's chest. The feeling spread through his body. He clung to it as Tweek wrapped him in a warm hug. They wouldn't even need blankets if he kept this feeling around.

“Craig, wanna look at the fallout of our ‘break up’ on Twitter?” Tweek offered after a moment. “Some of the girls at the table with me were saying some pretty out there things. Apparently, someone wants to call the FBI out on you.”

Craig glanced over his shoulder towards the bathroom door. He really should get back and take his shower, but this would only take a few minutes. They’d be done before too long.

Of course, ‘before too long’ stretched from a couple minutes to an hour of scrolling through their friends and followers’ feeds on Twitter and Facebook. Nothing could hold back their snickers and snorts as they each took turns reading the more and more outrageous ideas the rumor mill churned out.

As Craig sat in the recliner chair and Tweek laid on his bed, a knocking came from the door.

"Boys? Boys?" Mr. Donovan called through the door.

Craig scrambled out of the recliner, nearly tripping over his legs. He darted over and pushed Tweek down against the bed.

Craig hissed, "Pretend to be asleep, ok? I have a plan."

"Um, why--I mean ok?" Tweek clambered to pull the covers over his body as Craig hurried towards the door. As he passed the bathroom door, a wall of steam hit his face.

Swearing to himself, Craig darted inside and twisted the shower off. Taking a breath and smoothing out his hair, Craig unlocked the door and peeked out.

"Yes?"

"It'll be time to turn off the lights in about fifteen minutes. I'm going around giving everyone their warning." Mr. Donovan told him. He furrowed his brow, looking over Craig into the room. "Where is Tweek? Are you two alright?"

Craig's face fell into a cringe.

"Ugh, yeah, I guess. He went to sleep, like, right, when we got back. I'm going to bed after I take a shower."

"'After'? I heard the shower start a while ago." Mr. Donovan frowned.

"Oh, uh, yeah, I..." Craig wracked his brain a moment then quickly said, "I went in to wash my shirt, and when I left to go get my other shirt, Tweek slipped in and took a shower himself."

"You said he went to bed right after you two got back," Mr. Donovan pointed out.

Shit! Craig felt a sweat start across his skin.

From inside the room came the sound of a bed creaking. Tweek came up from behind Craig, a blanket covering his clothes.

"What's going on? Are we in trouble?" Tweek asked around a yawn. He sent a glare to Craig. "Was he tattling on me for taking a five minutes shower while he was trying to wash his stupid shirt? I thought he was done. I just woke back up, and showers help calm me down! He was the one who chased me out before I could turn the water off. The wasted water bill is all on him!"

Craig rolled his eyes, about to snap something back at Tweek, when Mr. Donovan interrupted.

"No, Tweek, no one is in trouble. You both have fifteen minutes before lights out, alright?"

Craig sighed internally. Thank God, Mr. Donovan seemed to have bought Tweek's lie.

"Yessir," Craig bobbed his head.

"I already was out before someone went to complain," Tweek muttered, turning on his heels and marching back towards his bed.

Mr. Donovan shook his head. "Fifteen minutes, boys." And with that, he left.

Craig shut and locked the door before slumping down, letting out his internal sigh. That was close, too close. Tweek's acting and quick thinking saved them once again.

~~~~

In the fifteen minutes before lights out, Tweek changed out of his clothes into his PJs and Craig took a quick shower to remove as much of the remaining red sauce and soda as he could. They hit the lights moments before one of the teachers made his rounds to tell everyone to go to bed.

Tweek pulled the covers up to his chin. His eyes flicked towards the digital clock on the bed stand. The plan was simple. After another fifteen minutes, he would sneak over to Craig's bed.

His stomach twisted. They were really going to do this, weren't they? Sleep in the same bed, not as platonic friends or as children, but as romantic adults.

What if he messed up? What if he rolled over and accidentally pushed Craig off the bed? What if Craig couldn't get comfortable with Tweek next to him and wasn't able to sleep?

This was just like their first kiss all over again!

No, he needed to calm down. Go to his calm mind space and breathe. It was just sleeping. It's not possible to mess up sleeping. This wasn't like the kiss where a thousand things could go wrong. He and Craig were going to snuggle up and sleep — and Tweek was not going to puke.

This was all just nervous excitement. He wanted this. He'd wanted this for a while now since he came to the conclusion that they weren't kids anymore.

This was the most adult part of a relationship they could do. This was what married people did. He and Craig skipped sex and went straight to something more deeply romantic!

As Tweek wondered how Craig thought about marriage, the fifteenth minute ticked by. The moment the digit on the clock changed, Craig shuffled around in his bed.

"Tweek, it's time," Craig whispered.

Tweek nodded, though he knew Craig couldn't see it, and began to crawl out from the covers. He padded the two steps between their beds before leaning down to grope the covers.

When he finally found the end of the blanket, he lifted it and slid under.

"Comfy?" Craig asked.

"Um, y-yeah!" Tweek rested his head against the pillow. "So, this is it, huh? Sleeping in the same bed, like adults."

"Not really," Craig replied.

"Huh? What are we doing wrong? We really like each other, and we're sleeping, together, in the same bed. That's exactly like adults do." Tweek chewed his lip. What was he forgetting?

Craig scooted closer to Tweek then rolled around so his back was towards him. Finally, he pressed his back against Tweek's front.

"Now, put your arms around me. This is how adults sleep." Craig muttered.

Tweek did as he was told and put an arm over Craig's side.

"What do I do with my other arm?" Tweek asked. "Sleep on it, or do I put it around your shoulders, or, um..." He tried to move his arm up to maneuver it under the pillow, only to clunk Craig in the head with his elbow.

As Tweek stammered apologies, Craig grunted in pain.  Craig shifted away to the other side of the bed.

Tweek's heart pounded in his chest. Great! They weren't even asleep yet and he'd messed it up!

The bed groaned as Craig reached off the side for his phone. He clicked it on, nearly blinding them both, before setting it between them.

"Maybe that's a little too advanced for the first time," Craig stated flatly. "You want to just, like, sleep face-to-face?"

Tweek wished Craig's phone would turn off so his boyfriend couldn't see the embarrassment on his face as he nodded. Craig didn't look annoyed about taking a hit to the head. If anything, he looked just as apprehensive as Tweek felt. That settled some of Tweek’s nerves, at least.

Tweek smiled at him, then pressed a kiss to his forehead.

"Night, Craig." Tweek murmured against his skin.

"Um, yeah, night." Craig smiled but refused to meet Tweek's eyes as he clicked off the phone. With how brightly both their cheeks were burning, it was a wonder that the room went back to being just as dark as before.

They lapsed into silence. Nothing but the humming of the thermal unit and their breathing filled the room.

So, this was it. This was what sleeping with his boyfriend was like. He'd laid down next to Craig before, but this was different. They weren't just watching a movie or trying to finish homework. This was deep and romantic and very mature!

Tweek focused on Craig's breathing as it began to slow. No doubt Craig would be asleep soon. Would it be alright if Tweek reached out and pulled Craig to his chest while he slept? Was that allowed, or would it be weird? Maybe he could just set his hand over Craig's side again or maybe--

A pair of cold feet pressed against his ankles, and Tweek bit back a yelp. Craig's toes pinched Tweek's legs, tugging unpleasantly at his leg hair, until his feet moved until they were under Tweek.

Craig muttered contently, "Warm..."

Tweek swallowed down a sharp, "No, cold actually!" and instead just let it slide. Part of being in a mature, adult relationship was making compromises, after all.

~~~~~~

Craig's cheerful alarm woke them early the next morning. Sometime during the night, they had become a tangled mess of teenage limbs, so it took Craig a bit to snake his arm out from around Tweek.

He turned off the alarm as Tweek yawned. Before he could stop him, Tweek snuggled closer, burying his nose against Craig's chest.

"We need to get up," Craig told him.

"Nooooo," Tweek whined back. "I just got comfortable."

"You weren't comfortable the rest of the night?" Craig teased. Tweek wouldn't have fallen asleep if he didn't feel safe and comfortable. That's just how Tweek was. They both knew it.

Though, Craig was inclined to agree. Last night was one of the better nights of sleep he's had in a while. Tweek was practically a human furnace, not to mention softer than the pillows themselves. When Craig had to pee halfway through the night, he'd ran to the bathroom and back so he wouldn't miss a second of Tweek's deep, comforting breathing.

Tweek turned his head up to fix Craig with a mildly annoyed expression. "Only when you weren't trying to freeze me with your feet. I'm getting you fuzzy socks for next time, man."

Craig raised an eyebrow, smirking. "There's going to be a 'next time'?"

Tweek nodded. "Well, yeah. If you want there to be."

With a laugh, Craig wrapped his arms around Tweek, pulling him close. Of course, there would have to be a next time, and a time after that, and a time after that...

[leonvld]

it’s sof back again with my angel bb son ryu jiwon aka léon ( he’s my second muse !! i also play gyumin over @gyuminvld​​ ) !! please dm me ( here or on discord ), or give this a fat ♡ if you’d like to plot.

atlas records company newsletter — we are pleased to announce that we have just welcomed ryu jiwon to our family. you may also hear them simply referred to as léon. they’re a ‘93 liner and main rapper, lead vocalist, and bassist of 4am. many have already commented on how much they look like lee seunghyub.

inspirations — skz’s bang chan ( this video lowkey started it all ), twice’s jihyo, exo’s d.o., bts’s rm & j-hope, bigbang’s g-dragon, 2ne1′s cl, will every1 n any1 who’s been done dirty by their entertainment company pls stand up

bio in a nutshell ---

jiwon’s parents fought a lot when he was growing up, so his lil child brain used to always think that they didn't love each other, and that he had to always be on his best behavior or else they'd leave each other. truth be told,, they were just a really broken family going through hard times ?? but jiwon was too young to understand and his family,,, didn't really talk about stuff like that with him.

but because of this constant fear of his parents separating because of him, he was always best boy --- he did all his chores, did all his hw, did everything right. it’s also how he started to write music ( it was the perfect mix between his father the literature professor and his mother the classical instrumentalist ) so when it realized that it made them both super happy, he kept it up.

long story short, he ended up auditioning to become a trainee because he thought that it was what his parents wanted. he flunked almost all his auditions ( they could sense that he himself didn’t really want it + at 12, he was pretty young ), except for one super new, super small company. it was rough, but this is also where his songwriting really became something he was passionate about. after 5 years, at the age of 17, he actually made his debut as part of the company’s first boy group as leader + main rapper, but it was really poorly promoted / managed --- and they disbanded after two years.

but !! instead of giving up, jiwon auditions for entertainment companies Again, and this time he ends up getting signed to atlas records ??? which is cray z !! he also somehow catches the eye of the ceo and becomes part of the sparkly trainee group --- 4am. the songwriting he was ridiculed for before is now being taken seriously, and even praised.

so he's Cautiously optimistic.

he has a younger sister, who probably thinks he hates her , which couldn't be farther from the truth ?? he's just rlly distant from his family ( also,, b/c no one in his family is the one to share their feelings ) even though everything he's done is because he loves them sm !!

headcanons ---

has been a trainee,,, for 10+ years ( on and off ). doesn’t know the exact date b/c he doesn’t like to think abt it. and also because i’m bad at math.

definitely an idol rapper. he also doesn’t pretend like he’s a legitimate rapper, and will be first to admit that his rapping background isn’t “authentic.” but,, to give credit where it’s due, he’s a really good idol rapper.

songwriting is where he really shines. boy rarely talks about his feelings --- all of his feelings are written down on the page. if he ever shares his self-written music with you,, it means you mean a lot to him and he trusts you because,, that shit’s like his heart, u know ? if he trusts you enough to ask u for critique,,, u might as well just get married.

rlly smart. his iq’s probably up there. taught himself english, and knows some japanese.

fake leader + dad friend energy. since he was actually leader of a group for a short amount of time, it’s led him to adopt,, the “quiet leader” role in variety which he still hasn’t really shaken off ? lowkey becomes a robot in interviews. help him. ( but also, ig he has time to work on it since he’s still a trainee RIP )

used to be better at dance, and worse at singing, but in the last four years at atlas, those two skillsets have flipped. especially since being added to 4am’s lineup.

has a really good reputation among longtime trainees + many debuted idols. he’s,, heartachingly selfless. even from his nugu company days, he’s always freely given advice to struggling trainees without expecting anything in return, bought people meals, listened to their struggles, and was just,, really kind and genuine ?? there are probably countless interviews where idols talk about a time where he helped them out ( without mentioning him by name ). literally let 4am debut already, choi kiwoong. it’s what they deserve !!

but,, for the first time ever, he’s starting to be seen as a threat from newer trainees because of how favored 4am is --- which he’s still getting used to. he’s not used to attitude from youngins. but,, also isn’t the type to get mad. just,, dad sighs, u feel.

gives off rlly strong straight energy, but love ppl of all genders. but also,, super reluctant to have flings or relationships unless he really cares about the other person. he doesn’t want to risk anything, not when he’s so close to achieving his dreams, you feel ?

he’s,, so fucking strong i’m so proud of him ;u;

if u read until here. ily. u have my entire heart. i’ll have connections up soon !!

[vanimy]

What a clusterfuck

Coming out of my self imposed exile because I had to get this off my chest. Beware. Rant ahead. Spoilers abound. You’ve been warned. 

Forget how I met your mother. Game of thrones takes the cake for Worst. Ending. Ever. 

I’m cackling at how everything was basically spoiled for weeks. I was hoping against hope the spoilers were deceiving, that maybe they shot several endings or there would be a last minute twist in the finale. At this point I would’ve rejoiced at Jon and Dany becoming Night King and Queen. 

But nope... the leaks were all true.

And I can’t even. 

I’m not even going to talk about the previous episode which was full of stupid clichés and featured a complete 180 for Daenerys, or the gigantic plot holes (like Drogon not even attacking anyone after his mother got killed) or the fact that Bran of all people is on the throne at the end. 

I’m going to focus on Jon and Dany because THIS is the hardest pill to swallow and one of the worst pieces of writing I’ve ever seen. 

I’ll start by saying that unlike other people I wasn’t opposed to angsty endings or tragic endings per se. I mean, Hamlet is my favorite Shakespeare play, I love Greek tragedies and I could go on and on. 

Heck, my OTP is Anakin Skywalker/Darth Vader and Padmé Amidala and the guy choked his wife in their last scene together so... 

I’ll also mention I’m not opposed to powerful women being corrupted by power either. Heck I wrote an entire AU Star Wars fic with the woman in my OTP becoming a dark Empress. 

But you know what’s the difference here? 

Everything I just wrote about before, yep even my stupid little AU fic made for free in one corner of the Internet, MADE FUCKING SENSE. 

Everything was written to get to those points. Darth Vader’s downfall had been a long time coming, it was the whole damn point of the prequels in the first place and the older trilogy was about to give him a redemption arc. So when Anakin snapped and harmed the love of his life, the woman he had been doing everything for in the first place, it didn’t feel wrong. It hurt but it was logical, it MADE SENSE. Watching the guy I was rooting for become evil felt horrible but I actually empathized with both sides, the good guy who wanted to bring him down because he’d gone off the rails and the good guy turned bad guy.

And you know why I still empathized with the good guy turned bad guy? Because he still felt REAL. He cried after killing people, he showed remorse, he screamed in agony when he’d thought he’d killed his wife. He had a redemption arc later on. 

Here, NOTHING made sense. Daenerys’ fall wasn’t a long time coming contrary to what the writers want us to believe retroactively, especially in a world where EVERYONE has killed and executed left and right. There was NO sign of madness before the last two episodes. NONE.

Am I suddenly supposed to believe that Daenerys, who lived through tons of horrible things, who remained compassionate, who sacrificed her dragons and her people for a cause she believed in, who cried when Jon Snow deemed her his Queen, hoping she deserved it, whose good heart was what made Jon Snow fall for her, who was praised by Davos just in the premiere of this very season was a villain all along?? 

There was no reason for her to burn King’s Landing. No inner conflict was shown. Nothing. By then you could see Dany had ceased to be a full fledged character, she was written entirely from an outsider’s POV. She becomes mad because Jon rejects her (why BTW, we never get inside his head but that’s for later). And then after she snaps, there’s absolutely no remorse from Dany. We never get to witness remorse or sadness or conflict. Which goes to show how much this is badly written. Because you could get the exact same result but it would’ve been slightly better if only they showed Dany as a regular human being instead of an EVIL!QUEEN. 

And how about Jon? Am I supposed to believe that Jon Snow, HONORABLE Jon Snow, who never could harm the chick he barely knew when he was with the Wildlings, could suddenly kill the woman he loved all in the space of literally two minutes ? His family? While she’s open to him and trusts him? While he kisses her? 

KILLING HER THE EXACT SAME WAY HE WAS KILLED HIMSELF? BETRAYING HER IN THE EXACT SAME WAY HE WAS BETRAYED? 

Again, they could’ve written a scene with Jon killing her after IDK, telling her he couldn’t stay with her after what she’d done, Dany going crazy, him defending himself or having to kill her because she was literally killing Arya or Bran or whomever? It could’ve been written in a way that stayed true to the characters. Not that I would’ve loved it but it would’ve made a little more sense. 

See where I’m getting at? 

Shit writing. 

This show is so full of misogyny I can’t even. My sister is all like “but see Sansa’s Queen in the North so they can’t be misogynistic” and I want to rip my hair out. I’m so MAD. This show has been called out on its misogyny countless times from the  very beginning (one of the reasons I wasn’t watching in the first place) for glorifying rape. Here we have two main female characters being BOTH mad queens. The end features a male king and a council full of white men. Dany becomes EVIL with no self awareness, no redemption, nothing. Because her character doesn’t matter in the end. When I wrote my AU fic with my female character going dark, it wasn’t just about the man (it triggered in part his own redemption but that wasn’t the whole point), my character didn’t stop being a character because she was going dark, she had feelings still, agency, self awareness and then a redemption arc. Where is it for Dany? Heck, I disliked the way the X men movies depicted Jean Grey and Wolverine’s relationship and how they destroyed Jean in the X3 movie but AT LEAST she had a little agency when she died, she was given 2 seconds to beg for her death, 2 seconds for us to know she knew how far she’d fallen. Dany didn’t get to have that. She got nothing. After 8 fucking seasons. She got nothing. Only Jon and Tyrion are considered tragic heroes who had to do what needed to be done. She ceased to be a human being. She died in the first 30 minutes of the finale and didn’t even get a funeral. How can you not see this as misogynistic? How?

I’m going to talk about Jon Snow now. Because sure Dany got dirty but Jon sure did too despite what some fans might think. He was given literally NOTHING to do all season long, the whole twist of the whole saga with him being a secret Targaryen didn’t amount to anything, he wasn’t even given ONE scene to reflect on what it meant to him to be a Targaryen or the fact Ned wasn’t his father, HIS story conclusion, the Night King saga, was given to Arya, he came off as weak all season with two recycled lines of dialogue, he had no moment of bad assery in battle, he was made a fool  in the end since everyone and their dog were telling him Dany was eviiil and he didn’t believe them and he was wrong. He killed Dany in a cowardly way, betraying her and his oath, doing a 180 in the space of two minutes. He ends up being exiled going back to where he started. He was done dirty too. They betrayed everything about Jon. His loyalty, his need to do the right thing, the love he supposedly had for Dany. Everything. 

What I thought was constructed writing wasn’t there either. And that’s also a bitter pill to swallow. What was the point of foreshadowing a wedding between Jon and Dany the whole of season 7 and the premiere of this season? What was the point of foreshadowing a child? What was the point of bringing fire and ice together? Of the prince who was promised prophecy? What was the point of Jon (Jon who used to be the moral compass the same way Ned was) defending Dany constantly throughout the season? 

WHAT WAS THE POINT OF NED STARK DOING LITERALLY EVERYTHING HE DID? Like hiding Jon and defending Dany against Robert Baratheon ?

Was the moral of the story “Robert Baratheon was fucking right all along”? 

WHAT WAS THE POINT OF JON BEING A TARGARYEN? 

Remove that and you could’ve basically had the same fucking story. Jon could’ve rejected Dany because she was becoming cray-cray or because he couldn’t marry her or whatever. If he’d stayed a Snow it wouldn’t have changed anything. 

The only good thing I can see after this shitfest is how much I don’t regret never bothering watching the earlier seasons and removing myself a little from GOT before season 8 came out. Oh and the enraged reactions all over the world. That too. 

I’m still mad though. I can’t even picture what some of you might be going through after 8 seasons.  I’m sorry for you guys who spent years watching this shitshow. *hugs* 

[heatherinthesunshine]

The Party of the Poe

Shipwrecked Comedy is having a fan-creation contest to celebrate 5 years so here is my contribution: a fanfic/script/thing imagining what would happen if Poe Party was actually the Fellowship of the Ring instead of a Murder Mystery Dinner Party/Gala for Friends Potluck. Watch Poe Party first because my thing has spoilers and also because it won't make sense unless you watch Shipwrecked Comedy’s brilliant webseries: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLs2T_dNZ-XW6UjWC-qUbZSWJyCLFmsdPP.

The Party of the Poe

By Heather

A fan work, based on Edgar Allan Poe’s Murder Mystery Dinner Party by Shipwrecked Comedy and The Lord of the Rings by JRR Tolkien.

Chapter 1 – A Shadow of a Past

It was many and many a year ago…

[Edgar Allan Poe is sitting at his desk, writing furiously. He mutters to himself and crosses out a line. After a few moments there is an urgent a knocking at the door.]

POE: What is that rapping at my chamber door?

[He goes to the door and opens it. Annabel Lee is at the door, visibly shaken.]

POE: Ah the beautiful Annabel Lee! Hello! You are looking very beautiful today!

[Lenore has come to the door as well.]

LENORE: What’s wrong Anna-banana?

ANNABEL LEE: I was cleaning my mantelpiece while waiting for Eddie to pick me up after his volunteer shift sewing teddy-bears for the children’s hospital, and I found an envelope. I opened it and this ring fell out and it landed in the fire and strange writing appeared on it and Oh Edgar I’m frightened!

[Lenore snatches the ring and looks closely at the writing.]

LENORE: Hey, this is the One Ring!

[Poe and Annabel stare at her.]

LENORE: What? I saw it in one of those dusty old books in the library. Not like there’s anything ELSE to do around here!

ANNABEL: What is the One Ring?

LENORE: It basically lets you manipulate everybody. Like, one ring to rule them all. Sounds pretty great t.b.h.

POE: [Quickly takes the ring] NOT something to be left lying around. [He gives the ring back to Annabel.]

ANNABEL: What should we do about it?

LENORE: I know! You can go talk to JRR Tolkien! He’ll know what to do. He’s having a panel and book signing in DC today!

POE: That’s awfully convenient.

ANNABEL: Oh but what about Eddie? We were going to go dancing! And he’s so smart, I’m sure he’ll have some ideas!

[Poe scowls deeply.]

LENORE: [Glances at Poe] Well the panel starts in an hour, so you two should leave right now. I’ll tell Eddie, and he can meet you there!

[Annabel and Poe set off for DC. Lenore heads next door to Annabel’s house.]

[Enter Eddie]

EDDIE: Lenore, what are you doing here? Where is Annabel?

LENORE: Today has been so cray. Annabel found the One Ring.

EDDIE: The One Ring! So it IS in this house! I suspected as much when I began courting her. Where is it? Give it to me!

LENORE: Umm… It’s not here anymore. Annabel took it with her.

EDDIE: Annabel! That naïve girl! Annabel has insufficient wit to handle a treasure such as that. And you were a fool to let her walk off with it. But no matter. Tell me where she has gone.

If you join with me we can share the Ring.

LENORE: Ok ONE everyone knows that only one person can wield the Ring at a time and TWO I would never wrong my girl Annabel like that! My lips are sealed.

EDDIE: Then I will find her myself, and you will remain here until I do. [He locks her in Annabel’s study and leaves.]

LENORE: I am LITERALLY a ghost. [She escapes though a wall.]

Chapter 2 – Nine is a Party

[Meanwhile, Poe and Annabel have arrived at a cozy bookshop in DC, as have many other authors. The Panel of Tolkien begins…]

TOLKIEN: You have been called here, authors from various time periods and literary traditions. Called, I say, though I have not called you to me. For the One Ring has departed Middle Earth and been found here, in Baltimore, and it is we who sit here who must determine the fate of both worlds.

TOLKIEN: But first, I will explain the history of the Ring. This is the tale, as I know it…

[Eleven hours later…]

TOLKIEN: … and Frodo of the Nine Fingers and Samwise the Brave were at last successful in casting the Ring into the fire of Mount Doom and destroying Sauron once and for all, or so it was thought. But now here is the Ring. What shall we do with it?

WILDE: [Aside] Next time I’m insisting on the theatrical cut.

DOSTOEVSKY: Surely we must destroy it, but how? We do not have the means to destroy it here, and we do not know how to get to Mordor from America.

LENORE: [Materializes] Hey guys! Spoiler alert, Eddie is actually a bad guy. He wants the Ring for himself, and he’s on his way here to take it.

POE: Lenore, how did you even get here?

LENORE: Oh, apparently teleportation is one of my ghost powers! Cool, huh?

WELLS: If I can just have a few moments to measure Lenore’s teleportative ability, I may be able to calibrate my prototype time machine to create a portal to Middle Earth! Lenore, will you help me?

[They exit]

TOLKIEN: If we can get to Middle Earth, we must send the Ring into the Fire. Who will take it?

POE: Ok, hear me out. What if we give the ring to one of my ravens, and have the raven fly to Mordor and drop it into Mount Doom? Quick, low-budget, and no one needs to leave home.

BRONTE: I think if a bird would work, they would have done that the first time, don’t you?

[General sounds of agreement]

TOLKIEN: Yes, a party on foot does seem to be traditional.

HEMINGWAY: Besides, your ravens just fly around aimlessly as if they have never been trained. You’re a terrible owner.

POE: Hey! I pride myself on being a very good raven owner. Alright, fine. How about we do it once with all of the walking, and then try again with a raven and then we’ll see what is what.

WILDE: Yes, but we only have the one ring. [Smirks] Get it?

POE: Ok well if we’re not using ravens, who is going to take the Ring?

EMERSON:  I suppose I could take it. I’m accustomed to spending lots of time outdoors wandering through the Massachusetts woods, the leaves fluttering softly like…

POE: [Interrupting] I will die before I see the Ring in the hands of a Transcendentalist!

[The argument grows louder and louder. Annabel looks around concerned. Suddenly she speaks…]

ANNABEL: I will take it. [Everyone goes quiet.] I will take the Ring… though I do not know the way.

TOLKIEN: Thank you Annabel. I would not wish to force this burden on you, but I believe it is right for you to take it, if you take it willingly.

POE: But surely you won’t send her off alone!

TOLKIEN: Certainly not! You at least shall go.

DOSTOEVSKY: I will also help you bear this burden. Mordor cannot be worse than Siberian prison.

ELIOT: I have brought along the Duke of Coventry and Humphrey Cadwallader for your protection. You have my sword.

HEMINGWAY: And my guns [winks].

BRONTE: And my axe! [Pause] What? I like sharp objects!

ALCOTT: Yes, we women need to stick together.

SHELLEY: Besides, you’ll need someone of intelligence on this quest. Count me in.

DICKINSON: And I’ll come too!

TOLKIEN: Alright [counting] that makes eight people in the party…

DICKINSON: Nine. It’s nine people.

TOLKIEN: I was really hoping for nine. We need one more volunteer.

DICKINSON: I said I was going. I make nine.

WILDE: Oh what the heck, I’ll go. Could be fun?

TOLKIEN: Excellent. Nine it is.

DICKINSON: I’m right… oh forget you guys, I’ll just stay home.

WELLS: [Returning] If you’ll all come this way, Lenore and I are ready to send you to Middle Earth…

Chapter 3 – An Abridged Journey

NARRATOR: This is where I must jump in to speed up the tale, for it grows in the telling. Wells had transported the company to a beautiful mountain village, and it was from there that our heroes began their journey south. The first obstacle in their path was a range of misty mountains. They decided to take a pass over the mountains but were soon caught in a terrible blizzard, and forced to retreat. Dostoevsky, who was most suitably dressed for this type of weather, was able to get everyone off the mountain, but was killed in an avalanche. There was much grieving. The party then went under the mountains, through some dim and foreboding mines. Here they lost Mary Shelley, who sacrificed herself against a terrible monster (which they were pretty sure was not named Karen). There was more grieving. Next, the party came to a beautiful forest…

ALCOTT: I could stay in this forest forever!

NARRATOR: She did.

NARRATOR: And at last it was time to make a choice…

HEMINGWAY: We should head west, to Minas Tirith, and aid in the war effort. This Ring would be a mighty gift to turn the tide in their favor.

POE: No, we should head east, to the Mountain of Shadow, as was agreed at the council.

HEMINGWAY: I trust the strength of men in combat over this subterfuge.

POE: That’s because you lack all subtlety.

HEMINGWAY: Well why don’t we let the lady decide?

POE: Yes, the lady.

NARRATOR: The lady was, at this moment, in the process of being carried off by a group of rather large orcs. The party sprang to action. At last Annabel was rescued, but Hemingway lay dead, shot by one too many orc arrows. There was yet more grieving to be done.

POE: You valued brevity, so I will simply say farewell, my dear, uh…

WILDE: Friend?

POE: Mmmm… acquaintance.

ELIOT: What should we do now? Hemingway wasn’t wrong. Gondor does need help in its fight.

ANNABEL: I could not ask any more of you to die for me. I will go to Mordor alone.

POE: Great idea Annabel. George – you, Oscar, and Charlotte should go to Minas Tirith. Annabel and I will go to Mordor.

ANNABEL: I said “alone”.

POE: Right. Yes. Alone. With me.

Chapter 4 – Of Battles, Briefly

NARRATOR: George Eliot, Oscar Wilde, and Charlotte Bronte continued on to Minas Tirith. They arrived to find it under siege.

BRONTE: Well I suppose it’s time to get our hands dirty. [She strides into battle, swinging her axe] One… Two… Three…

WILDE: Oh I don’t know about all of this…

[The Witch King of Angmar, leader of the Nazgul, lands before Wilde and Eliot. He dismounts and hits Wilde with his giant mace. Wilde falls.]

ELIOT: NO! Oscar! [She kneels by him] Like a brother you were to me, for a little while. [Standing and turning to face the Witch King] Ringwraith! Darken this world no more!

WITCH KING: You fool! No man can kill me!

ELIOT: I [removes hat] George Eliot [removes moustache] am a woman. [She runs him through].

WITCH KING: [Dying] Argh no dammit. This is the SECOND time this has happened to me. Oh it’s so embarrassing.

Chapter 5 – A Song of Fire and Also More Fire

NARRATOR: I could tell you all about the trials faced by Annabel and Poe on their journey to The Land of Shadow. How Eddie the Banker found them in the wilderness and became their guide, causing no little strife between our two heroes. How Eddie tried to betray them but was eaten by a giant spider. I could tell you of the long trek through the desert with little water, and less food. How at the end, Annabel became so weak that Poe had to carry her. But it is a long and depressing tale and I do not wish to dwell on it. Suffice it to say that at last our heroes made it to their destination, a chamber carved into the side of Mount Doom.

POE: Well, here we are. Cast the Ring into the fire, Annabel, and let us be done with this ridiculous quest.

ANNABEL: Now that it comes to it, it is difficult to part with. It whispers in my mind. I could claim it as my own, and become a queen, great and terrible. All would love me and despair.

POE: We already do. Just get rid of it and I’ll get you a nicer ring.

ANNABEL: Wait, was that a proposal?

POE: No. Uh yes. Uh maybe?

[Annabel casts the Ring into the fires of Mount Doom. She sighs with relief.]

ANNABEL: It’s over. It’s done.

[Annabel and Poe slowly head out of the chamber and make their way down the mountain. Suddenly, with a great roar, the mountain erupts. Annabel and Poe cling together on an outcrop as rivers of lava flow all around them.]

ANNABEL: I am glad that you are with me, Edgar, here at the end of all things.

[She looks up at the sky. A flock of birds is flying towards them.]

ANNABEL: Oh Edgar! The ravens! The ravens are coming!

[The ravens pass overhead and continue on. Poe coughs uncomfortably. Just as all seems to be lost, Annabel and Poe dematerialize, then rematerialize.]

Chapter 6 – Party’s End:

[Poe and Annabel look around. They are back in the bookshop in Washington D.C. All of the other members of the Party are there as well, and they are applauding.]

POE: What happened? Are we dead?

WELLS: No! It is a convenient side effect of this form of travel! When you died in Middle Earth you awoke back here!

POE: [Frowns] Does this mean Eddie is also back?

LENORE: No, he must have traveled to Middle Earth using a different method. He was definitely really eaten by a giant spider. Too bad, so sad!

[Tolkien coughs to get everyone’s attention.]

TOLKIEN: The Ringbearer has fulfilled her quest! Praise her with great praise! Thanks to you and to all of the Party, a terrible threat has been vanquished.

ANNABEL: Is the darkness gone forever?

TOLKIEN: No my dear. The darkness is never gone forever. That is why each of us must return to our own places and times, and fight the darkness however it may come to us there.

NARRATOR: There were many tearful goodbyes. Dostoevsky insisted that the entire group take a shot, in celebration of the love than had grown amongst them. Hemingway took a few friendly jabs at Poe. Eventually, the group dispersed, and Poe, Annabel, and Lenore made their way home.

ANNABEL: Isn’t it strange to think that we went on that great adventure to save the world, and no one in Baltimore knows anything about it?

POE: Oh, I don’t like attention anyway.

Epilogue

NARRATOR: As you know, the time comes when a Ringbearer must make one final journey. And it is said when Annabel sailed over the sea that Edgar Allan Poe went with her.  And perhaps it was due to Poe’s great love for Annabel that the Lords of the West permitted it.

They took the last ship to the West, Poe and his Annabel Lee

There they loved with a love that was more than love, in a kingdom by the sea.

The End

[pandplit]

Chapter 7

💉💊Metro Bennet’s own stacks consisted almost entirely of an estate of two thousand bones a year which unfortunately for his daughters was going to go straight to a male heir, a distant relation, and their mother’s stacks, though ample for her situation in life, couldn’t really make up the difference. Her father had been an attorney in Meryton and had left her four thousand bones. She had a sister married to a Mr Phillips who had been a clerk to their father and succeeded him in the business and a brother settled in London in a respectable line of trade.

The village of Longbourn was crazy close to Meryton which made it easy for the young ladies to go HAM on visits, sometimes three or four days a week, to their aunt and to the Milliner’s shop just over the way. The two youngest of the family, Catherine and Lydia, were there particularly often. Their minds were more vacant than their sisters and when they weren’t busy face-jerking, a walk to Meryton was a good way to waste some time and gather some goss for the evening. However tacked the country in general might be, they always managed to get something out of their aunt. At present indeed, they were well supplied both with news and good vibes by the recent arrival of a militia regiment in the neighbourhood. It was to remain the whole winter and Meryton was the headquarters. Their visits to Mrs Phillips now became sexy little spy visits. Everyday added something to their intelligence on the officer’s names and connections. Where they were staying was not long a secret and at length they began to know the officers themselves. Mr Phillips visited them all, which opened up for his nieces an ark of the covenant amount of joy that almost melted their faces off. They could talk of nothing but officers and Mr Bingley’s large fortune, the mention of which made their mother a bit hot under the collar, was worthless in their eyes when opposed to the regimentals of an ensign.

After listening one morning to them yapp on and on about the subject, Metro cooly observed, “Its my cool observation, girls, that you are probably the most clueless ladies in the country.”

Catherine was disconcerted and made no answer but Lydia, with perfect indifference, continued to express her admiration of Captain Carter and her hope of seeing him in the course of the day as he was going the next morning to London.

“I am astonished, my dear,” said Mrs Bennet, “that you would so easily dropkick your daughters like that. If I wanted to insult anyone’s children it wouldn’t be my own!”

“If my children are boneheads, dear, I would rather be aware that they’re boneheads.”

“Yeah but as it happens they’re actually rather smart.”

“Babe, we connect on a lotta levels but this is not one of them, I dissagree, I think theyre dimmer than average”

“My dear Metro, you must not expect such girls to have sense of their father and mother, when they get to our age I dare say won’t be spending all their time getting horny over officers.”

“I remember a time when I liked those camo slacks a whole lot and indeed maybe I do still, y’know, just a little bit, yeah, and if a smart young colonel with five or six thousand bones a year should want one of our girls then I’m not gonna say no, and I thought Colonel Forster looked very, um- platonically very good, the other night, at Sir Williams’

“Umh, I needa lie down”

“Mama,” cried Lydia, “my aunt says that Colonel Forster and Captain Carter don’t go so often to Miss Watson’s as they did when they first came, she sees them now very often standing in Clark’s library.”

Mrs Bennet was stopped from replying by the ding of an email notification for Miss Bennet. It came from Netherfield and it had the little red flag symbol meaning that it was important. Mrs Bennet’s eyes lit up, they exploded, they sparkled with joy as she started screeching. She was making the most ridiculous noise while her daughter read.

“Well Jane who’s it from and whats it about? What does he say? Come on, I’m busting out of my skin here, Jane tell us!”

“It is from Miss Bingley.” said Jane and then read it aloud.

“Sup fam,

“If you don’t dine today with Louisa and me we may legit fall out for the rest of our lives, cause you know two ladies together that’s gonna end in a fight, beam your ass over here as soon as you see this email, my bro and his hans are dining with the officers

“xoxo Caroline Bingley.”

“With the officers,” cried Lydia, “why didn’t our aunt tell us about that!”

“Dining out though,” said mrs bennet, “that’s unlucky.”

“Can I take the beamer?” said Jane.

“No my dear, you better go on the Vespa, because it seems likely to rain, and then you’d have to stay all night.”

“That would be a good scheme,” said Elizabeth, “except you don’t know whether they’d other her an uber.”

“Okay but the gentlemen are already out on the town, right, so they’ll be using theirs and the hearse don’t have a nice car.”

“I’d much rather take the family ride.”

“But my dear. your father can’t spare it he needs it for work, you need it for work, right, Metro?”

“I need it for all kinds of things way more often than I can get it.”

“But if you need it today specifically,” said Elizabeth, “mum will be very happy.”

She did finally squeeze out of her father that indeed the car was needed. Jane was therefore obliged to vesp it up and her mother danced behind her all the way to the door checking her weather app and smiling.

Her hopes were answered, Jane had not been gone for more than a few minutes when it started raining real hard. Her sisters were worried about her, but her mother was delighted. The rain continued all evening, there was no way Jane was coming home.

“This was a very lucky idea of mine.” said Mrs Bennet more than once as if she’d started the rain.

Till the next morning, however, she wasn’t fully aware of what she’d done. Breakfast was scarsley over when a message arrived in the family whatsapp group from Jane.

“hey team- super sick this morning 🤢 which is probably because i got all wet yesterday 🌧 🌧 the guys here really dont want me travelling until I’m feeling better they also insist on me seeing doc jones 💉 💊 so don’t freak out if you hear about him seeing me its really not a big deal, just a sore throat and a headache catch ya later -J x”

“Well, my dear,” said Metro, when everyone had finished reading the message, “if your daughter should have a dangerous fit of illness and fall over dead at least it’s nice to know that it happened chasing boys.”

“Oh I’m not afraid of her dying, people dont die from that shit, she’ll be taken care of and the longer she stays there the better I’d go see her if i could have the car.”

Elizabeth, feeling really anxious was determined to go to her but since the car wasn’t available, and she didn’t have a scooter license, walking was her only alternative. She declared her resolution.

“How can you be so crazy in the coconut,” Cried her mother, “as to think of such a thing, in all this dirt, you’ll get fucked up like a football bat and you won’t be fit for a good snorgle by the time you get there!”

“I’ll be fly enough to see Jane which is all I want.”

“Is this a hint to me, Lizzy,” said her father, “to bring the car around?”

“No, I don’t want to drive, I want the walk. distance is nothing when one has a motive, it’s only three miles, I’ll be back by dinner.”

“I’m feeling your kind spirit,” observed Mary, “but every impulse should be guided by reason and, in my opinion, effort should always be in proportion to what is required.”

“We will go as far as Meryton with you.” said Catherine and Lydia

Elizabeth accepted their company and the three young ladies set off together.

“If we make haste,” said Lydia as they walked along, “perhaps we may see something of Captain Carter before he goes.”

In Meryton they parted. The two youngest slumped off to the lodgings of one of the officer’s wives and Elizabeth continued her walk alone crossing field after field at a quick pace, jumping over stiles, springing over puddles with impatient activity and finding herself at last within view of the house.

With weary ankles, janky dirty stockings, and a face glowing with the warmth of exercise she was shown into the breakfast parlour, where all but Jane were chilling and where her appearance created a great deal of surprise. That she should’ve walked three miles earlier in the day in such horrible weather and by herself seemed turbo cray to Mrs Hurst and Miss Bingley and Elizabeth would swear down that they were judging her for it.

She was welcomed though, very politely, and in their brothers manners something slightly beyond politeness. There was good humour and kindness. Mr Darcy said very little and Mr Hurst nothing at all. The former was kinda torn, the glow that all that exercise had given her was definitely tickling his fancy, but he also thought that it was kinda melodramatic and unnecessary for her to come this far alone. The other one was just making love to his breakfast.

Her inquiries after her sister didn’t get the best results. Miss Bennet had slept ill and although she was up, was still feverish and not well enough to leave her room. Elizabeth was glad to be taken to her immediately and Jane was super psyched to see her. She didn’t want to spook anyone but she had longed for such a visit. She was not up to much conversation however, and when Miss Bingley left them together all she could really do was mumble about her gratitude for the extraordinary kindness she was being treated with. Elizabeth silently attended to her.

When breakfast was over, they were joined by the sisters, and Elizabeth began to take a shine to them herself when she saw how legit nice they were being to Jane. The doc showed up and having examined his patient said, surprising no one, she had caught a violent cold and they should try and get the better of it. He told her to get back in bed, and wrote up a script for some flu meds and soup. They followed his advice for the feverish symptoms increased and her head ached a lot. Elizabeth never hit the slide nor would the other ladies often absent. With the boys being out, in fact, they had nothing to do elsewhere. When the clock struck three, Elizabeth thought it was time to go even though she didn’t want to. Miss Bingley offered her a ride but Jane made a commotion about not wanting her to go so eventually the offer of a ride was converted to an invitation to remain at Netherfield. Lizzy thankfully accepted and added to the whatsapp group.

“Staying the night, can somebody prime now me so PJs?”

This chapter was lovingly transcribed by Zuz.

[djrelentless]

“The New Hitler, Uncle Tom and The Racist Reich”

As the reports keep coming in every day of the continued violence and hateful rhetoric at Trump rallies dominate the news, I have started this blog several times but continue to be distracted at how unbelievable the presidential election is this year. Never would I have believed that we would be talking dick size and Hitler style speeches to get to the Oval Office. This is probably the all time low in U.S. politics.

It seems unfathomable that in 2016 there would be people making pledges to a business con-artist and legions chanting and cheering for violence against people of color. But that's exactly where we are. All because the belief that white supremacy was still alive and well in 2008. Unfortunately for them, Barrack Obama proved that the United States was ready to elect its first African-American President. The good ol' boys in Washington did not even bat an eye of concern when he announced his candidacy. Instead…they were really worried about Hillary Clinton (or more likely the concept of Bill Clinton being anywhere near the White House again).

And although this would open the door to the many possibilities of what the next President of the United States could look like, it also opened a pandora's box of hate. The resentment and anger of white privilege would fester into the Tea Party and now the new racist reich that rally around Donald Trump. But Trump supporters are not the only scary people out there. The other racists who are following Ted Cruz are pretty damn unsettling too. Cruz is a complete throwback to Jim Crow as a candidate can be.

http://www.cnn.com/2016/03/01/polit...

I'm watching one of Trump's mouth pieces, Jeffrey Lord defending him on CNN and distorting U.S. history to justify why there is violence at Trump's rallies. His claims that because originally the Ku Klux Klan started in the Democrat Party is that these protesters are to blame because it is in their nature to be violent. Meanwhile there are tons of footage of Trump telling crowds to "Punch 'em in the head", "Take me out on a stretcher" and "I'll pay your legal fees". Sounds like inciting a riot to me. So, when I saw the footage of what happened in Chicago and heard that they had to cancel Trump's rally I wasn't surprised. And I imagine there's going to be a lot more of those incidents to come.

http://www.rollingstone.com/politic...

But the one thing that I just can't figure out is why no one has figured out that Trump has no idea what he's talking about when it comes to the issues in the campaign. The reason he has resorted to all these theatrics has been to stir clear of having to actually say anything of substance. And when he does speak on an issue he sticks his foot in his mouth. He likes to tote that he is so smart, but his vocabulary does not go any further than words like "huge", "best" and "win". It's like he read an affirmation book and has literally stood in front of a mirror (basically the hateful racists who are angry about Obama) and practiced affirming what he would like to happen. I always say that we must change our vocabulary in order to tell the universe what we want. Say what you want….not what you don't want. And Trump has taken that to the tenth degree. He stands on those stages and says what he wants to happen and people follow and believe him. He has no idea how to run a country. Hell…he has shown over and over again that he does not know how to be a good business man.

http://www.msnbc.com/rachel-maddow/...

For the protesters….don't go into a Trump rally with attire that says you are not a Trump supporter. Go in looking exactly like what they are expecting. Don't disrupt what is being said or done. Take your phone out and record it! Then start posting it. Get it to your local news stations. Let America see the ugly truth of what this man is doing and saying (as well as his followers). Yes…there are news organizations at most of his rallies, but for some reason they all stop short of showing the horror of what he stands for. CNN has showed brief seconds of protesters of color being pushed and shoved by not only by the local police and secret service but also people in the crowd. And most of those being thrown out were not resisting or fighting back. But if we could catch the rhetoric and hate speech that Trump is saying and compile it I think we can drive the message home of what Middle America thinks of the rest of the country.

The only thing that has worked in his favor has been that there has never been a political animal like him before. He is not a politician so he had no rules of engagement when it comes to campaigning. And quite frankly….everyone thought that he would just burn himself out early on the trail and the Republicans could continue on business as usual. And by the time they had figured out that he wasn't going anywhere it was too late. He had bullied his way to the front of the pack and was dominating the other candidates because they were all trying to be gentlemen. And poor Marco Rubio fell right into Trump's trap. Reality TV tactics brought Rubio right down to Trump's level and Ted Cruz profited by Rubio's mistake. Cruz instigated Rubio to go fight the big bully while knowing all along that it would open the door for him. I applaud John Kasich for staying out of the mud slinging, but do not discount his ugly agenda behind the kind, soft spoken Republican. If you dig into his dirty deeds he is the candidate who really has delivered the conservative goods when it comes to abortion and other hot topics. So you see….anyone from the Republican side would be toxic to the progress that the United States has made in acceptance and equal rights. They all want to turn back time to when they had more control over the country.

Besides all the candidates I think another thing that is bothering me during this Republican primary is the blatant propaganda machine that keeps trying to play Jedi mind tricks when defending the wrong side of history. Folks like Jeffrey Lord and Katrina Pierson make me cringe every time I see them on television. They know that what they are saying is a script and complete lies, but they sit on air and spew these twisted accounts of the daily events without a conscience.

But even worst are the new Uncle Toms that betray their race for a paycheck or some false sense of security that Trump is going to reward them when he gets what he wants. I'm talking about folks like Omarosa and Stacey Dash (I don't know Raven-Symone's political affiliation but she's a little cray-cray as well). And don't get me started on celebrities like Mike Tyson and Dennis Rodman. But I guess the all time ridiculous endorsement has to be Dr. Ben Carson. What on earth could have made you get behind the man who compared you to a child molester? What do all of these people have in common? Money! Money has blinded all of these people into forgetting who they really are and where they came from. But the truth of the matter is that if any of them got into any kind of legal trouble, they would find out how O.J. Simpson feels right about now. You're fabulous and great for ratings and photo opts but in the end you are still black in America. And most of their comments are such a slap in the face of civil rights that it makes you wonder how they sleep at night. When Omarosa said that the protesters at Trump rallies get what they deserve for showing up, I wanted to jump through the television and drag her into the average African-American neighborhood so she could see how real black people live and what they face on a daily basis. No one on the Republican side has spoken a word about the Black Lives Matters Movement. The amnesia that these folks get when they get a little paper is astounding! And Carson should take a good look at the coverage of his speech at his Trump endorsement….Trump wouldn't even stand on the stage with him at the same time (unlike when Chris Christie and Sarah Palin endorsed him).

http://theslot.jezebel.com/all-the-...

But I guess another delusional public figure is the big bag of con-fuse-ment is Caitlyn Jenner. I think she is about to find out what the Uncle Toms are going to find out as well. She actually believes that by throwing her support behind Ted Cruz that she will not only be helping the Trans Movement but she is going to be welcomed in the Republican fold by such a strict conservative. What an idiot! I actually defended Caitlyn when she came out and started her reality TV show. But like anything that is associated with the Kardashians, the longer is goes on the more you realize that it is just another media whore stunt…..rich people trying to make money off poor people watching them on TV. And I guess the sisterhood has ended between Cait & Candys Cane since she recently endorsed Hillary Clinton. And reports say that Cait's reality TV show is endangered of being cancelled because of poor ratings. As if she thought that her success was going to happen even though she insulted the LGBT community when she sat on Ellen and said she didn't really believe in gay marriage equality. I'm sure many will be upset with me for saying so, but Caitlyn's downfall is going to be Bruce's mentality.

http://www.theblaze.com/stories/201...

News pundits are looking around like they are so surprised that Trump has garnered so much support of the past year. But I'm not. After Obama interrupted Trump's season finale to announce Bin Laden's Death, I'm sure that was a declaration of war to Mr. Drumpf (his real last name). Thus came Trump's lead in the "Birther" charge. And I'm sure all of Obama's jokes during that Correspondents Dinner also was the final slap in the face as well.

This is the scariest time in U.S. politics. The new Racist Reich believes that they are really taking their country. Like White America is losing control and needs to take a stand. The brown people are getting a little too up-iddy since one of them made it into the White House. Republicans have yelled over and over again that Obama has ruined the office. He's weak on defense (instead of being strong on offense). He went on an "Apology Tour". When in my opinion, he fixed the U.S.'s image. Many world leaders breathed a sigh of relief when Obama became president. After dealing with Bush & Cheney and their foolishness it must have been a welcomed change to deal with someone who was articulate and willing to talk civilized. image what will happen if Trump or Cruz get into office. There is already talk of banning both from some countries.

I have been watching the facebook feeds and it is interesting to see everyone fighting for their candidates. I have not said publicly who I am voting for. Mainly because I don't want the campaigning to come to my page. I have a few friends who are very vocal about their beliefs and can't remember that they are not on their page. There's nothing like having a post being high-jacked for someone else's agenda. All I will say is that I am definitely a registered Democrat and I will definitely fight to see that Trump does not make it into the White House.

[atamascolily]

A Natural History of Tatooine, part 18/?

Back to the past. Cray and Nichos's memorial service is emotional for everyone.

(Previous installments)

The ritual began at sunset, after the day's work and lessons were over and the guests had finished their dinner. Kyp summoned the students to the Great Temple when he slammed a wooden mallet against the <i>han</i>--a board suspended in the air by two thick durasteel chains outside the entrance-- in a series in a complex pattern. Dressed in formal robes, they trickled in pairs and trios past him into the meditation hall. Mara had arranged cushions in a circle on the dark cold stone at the center of the room, and directed everyone to their seats as they filed into the doorway.

Seating was roughly by seniority. Luke sat in his usual seat in front of the altar, Mara on his right and Callista at his left. Aerial and the four other new students were on Callista's left all the way to Kam, Tionne and Corran on Mara's right. Callista's position, like her presence at the Academy, occupied an odd grey area: neither full apprentice nor guest, a part of the community and yet separate from it. It was an improvisation, and Luke hoped, a temporary one.

This was only the second memorial service they'd ever done-- the first was after Gantoris's death at Exar Kun's hand a year earlier. They were still working on the ritual, but he hoped it wasn't a rite they'd have to perform often. Yet with three deaths in two years, it felt necessary in order to stabilize the fledgling and fragile community in their grief and provide an outlet for emotions that could fester if kept hidden.

When everyone had arrived and it was time for the ceremony to begin, Kyp finished his hammering and came into the hall to join them. The only sound was the loud grating of stone on stone as he closed the door behind him, and the soft padding of his bare feet against the floor. He settled himself gracefully onto his cushion next to Cilghal with a practiced flare, releasing the ties that kept the long curves of his sleeves out of his way.

They sat together in the circle facing each other for a long time to let their minds settle and steady. Luke felt Callista, still unused to physical embodiment, shift slightly, though her mind was calm; Mara was still and silent on his right, her expression unreadable.

Luke wished he'd had time for a soak in the hot springs before the ceremony, but there hadn't been time. He let go of his responsibilities and concerns, and let himself fall clear and open in the silence, surrounded by the familiar presences around him. He was tired and sore and aching, and he was--awake and present and clear as he grounded himself in the present moment and his stories dropped away.  

He opened his eyes, gazed for a moment at the people in the circle. They were all family, of sorts, though a very differt family than that of blood and birth, or the tighter, deeper bonds he shared with Han and Leia. Even though they dressed more or less alike, their individual personalities shone through in their posture and the way they carried themselves. There was Kirana Ti, fierce and proud, her back straight and her head high; there was Streen, who slumped when his concentration slipped; there was Cilghal, calm and placid; there was Kyp, his bright adamantine energy channeled and tempered with newfound maturity under Mara's tutelage. Dorsk 81, Kam, Tionne, Corran, Mara, Callista--each one of them a shining star in the expanding and shifting constellation of the New Jedi Order.

Even the new students radiated very different energies from each other: Aerial the Rodian, timid and shy, crouching down next to Wedan, the Chadra-Fan, confused and concerned; G'ata the Bith, who blinked her large eyes as if she wasn't sure what would happen next. None of them had known Cray and Nichos for very long, and Luke feared it was not an auspicious beginning to their time at the Jedi Temple, yet it couldn't be helped. To be a Jedi required an acceptance of death, both of oneself and of others, rather than turning away in avoidance.  

As with Gantoris, Luke spoke first. He told them of Cray and Nichos's arrival at the Academy, of the pride in Nichos's face when he spoke of his lover--<i>The most brilliant AI programmer at the Magrody Institute—and strong in the Force as well</i>, he'd claimed, and he had not exaggerated. The two of them had breezed through the preliminary exercises with ease, damp with sweat and laughing in the Yavin heat as they trained side-by-side, and Luke's joy at their joy, his delight in their stability and even temper and good sense, and their ability to balance each other's weak points.

He spoke of their love for each other, of Cray's determination to save Nichos when he was diagnosed with fatal Quannot’s Syndrome, how she wedded her skills with cybernetics and the Force to create a new body for him; of Nichos's incredible courage to detach from his failing body and his skill to inhabit his new home, though he lost his own Force skills in the process.

Luke saw Callista frown at this, but it was too late to take the words back. Hurriedly, he changed the subject to safer ground: his decision to accompany Cray and Nichos on their first errantry to Ithor, the mysterious signal they had detected in the Moonflower Nebula, his decision to investigate.

"It was my decision, and they agreed to come with me," he said, meeting the eyes of every being around the circle in turn. "I take full responsibility for what happened next."

He told them of their ship being shot out of the sky by a hidden foe; their crash-landing on a nearby planet, and their conscription into the <i>Eye of Palpatine</i>, with its automated, insane computer guidance system bent on carrying out a pre-programmed mission of destruction as a result of Irek Ismaren's summons. He told them of Cray's capture at the hands of indoctrinated Gamorreans; of Nichos's helplessness in his new droid body; of meeting Callista's spirit in the ship's core.

He glossed over Cray's torture, and her outrage at Nichos's inability to help her when she cried to him for help. Nor did he discuss his own private conversations with Callista, the dreams that were more than dreams, and his own fantasies of preserving the ship in some fashion to save her life. Instead, he spoke of Nichos's decision to sacrifice himself to destroy the <i>Eye of Palpatine</i> and prevent a holocaust--and Cray's decision to surrender her body to Callista's spirit so she could follow her lover into death.

"They tricked me," he admitted sheepishly to his students, to his colleagues, to his friends. "I would never have agreed to it otherwise. They ambushed me and dumped me in an escape pod and I woke up too far away and too late to stop them.

"It was their choice and I honor it--and yet a part of me wishes that I had died in their place. I would not be here before you without their sacrifice, their bravery, their courage, their dedication, and their love. And neither would Callista."

He nodded in her direction, saw her biting her lip to keep herself from sobbing as he spoke, put his hand on hers, knowing that everyone saw him do it.

"We owe them both our lives, and I honor them for it. Though they were on their first errantry, I considered them to be Jedi Knights in all but name even before we set out for Ithor, and their actions on the <i>Eye of Palpatine</i> proved it. I don't have to wish for the Force to be with them, because I know that it is, and they are now a part of it forever and always."

He took a deep breath. "A Jedi's life isn't easy. Any of you may be called upon one day to make the same choice they did, and that isn't easy knowledge for me to bear. Yet Cray and Nichos died as they lived--and they lived fully. That, at least, I can take comfort it.

"But I miss them," he whispered. "I miss them so much."

Silence in the hall as all eyes were on him. There was one thing left to say, the one phrase to end his part in this.

"Cray Mingla and Nichos Marr--may the Force be with you. Always."

Callista, sitting on Luke's left, ought to have spoken next, but he sidestepped her and gestured to Aerial to speak. Stuttering and stammering at the attention, Aerial did her best to comply.  

As he'd expected, the new students had barely known Cray or Nichos, but their stories, though brief, were moving. They spoke of their awe at Cray's skill with the Force, their envy at her ease, their gratitude at small kindnesses--directions to the meditation hall, a suggestion to shift posture at just the right moment, a helping hand in moments of frustration and need. Luke learned that even after his droid-conversion, Nichos had been a steadying presence in the meditation hall, and that Cray had helped G'ata build some eye protection to help her handle the Yavin sun. Small things, yes, and yet so meaningful to those who received them.

Then he moved to the older students, who had known Cray and Nichos longer. Patterns began to emerge, as threads connected. Nichos: young, handsome, kind, inspiring, clever, even-tempered, passionately in love with Cray. Cray: persistent, armed with a determination that bordered on stubborness at the wrong moments, devoted, dedicated, fantastically brilliant in her chosen field; beautiful, but unaware of it, and unafraid to get her hands dirty. Each story ended with the same wish: "May the Force be with you, always."

By the time they got to Tionne, everyone was weeping more or less openly. Even Mara looked teary, though Luke suspected she'd deny it if he asked her about it later.

"Cray was a dear friend," Tionne began. "So kind. So beautiful. So talented. I was--so jealous of her at first, but she never looked down on me, never treated me as less worthy because she was stronger than I was in the Force. We stayed up together and talked and talked--and I will never forget those long nights during Nichos's illness, where I begged her to rest and take care of herself and she refused, so desperate was she to find a cure. I thought of her as a sister, and I--refused to believe she was gone when I first heard the news. It didn't occur to me that she could just be--gone."

Tionne straightened her slumping shoulders as she rallied herself. "I promise you all, I will not let Cray and Nichos be forgotten. Generations from now, the Jedi will sing of their victory against the <i>Eye of Palpatine</i> and mourn their loss along with us. They will be remembered. This I vow, for I will write their story myself.

"Cray Mingla and Nichos Marr," she said, clasping her hands in front of her heart. "May the Force be with you both--always."

Corran, who had been personally instructing Nichos before his illness, offered a different take. "I never knew Cray well, but it wasn't surprising to me that Nichos was unafraid to die. He'd already died once, in his own way, and I think that was far scarier to him than any blaster bolt could be. He--struggled with his identity after his transfer, unclear if he was still himself, still human, or only a simulacra. I couldn't help him with his dilemma, but I think he found his answer on the <i>Eye of Palpatine</i>--and with it, a kind of peace that had eluded him. Life dealt him a nasty hand, and he played it well. I hope I would have done as well in his shoes. May the Force be with him--with both of them. I'll miss him very much."  

Then it was Mara's turn.

"Cray and Nichos were not my students, but I honor their actions and their sacrifices as if they were my own," she said. "Like Corran, I hope I would have done as well in their place had our situations been reversed. As a former agent of the Empire, I feel so much rage and grief for their deaths, so much unnecessary suffering and so much pain as a result of the schemes of a man long dead. But I take comfort in the fact that I was able to do what I could to help--and that I was able to bring Roganda Ismaren and her son to justice at last. Their deaths will not be in vain. There will be no more suffering as a result of that dreadnought or its masterminds. And I take what comfort I can in that."

Knowing Mara's distate for the expression, Luke was surprised when she added, after a long pause, "May the Force be with them."

The last person to speak was Callista. She had been weeping silently ever since Luke's speech, and he wasn't sure if she would be able to handle the pressure. But she gathered herself visibly when she saw him looking at her, and faced the circle of grieving Jedi bravely.

"I only knew Cray for a few hours, and yet in some ways, I know her better than any of you here," she began. "What we shared in that short time on the <i>Eye of Palpatine</i> together brought me closer to her than any human being I've ever known. She knew me, all of me, trapped in the computer core, and even in the midst of her pain and grief and her determination to destroy the dreadnought, she had enough compassion to ensure that I would not go down with it. She offered me her body, she stood aside and walked into the dark after Nichos, down a road I couldn't follow.

"She didn't have to do that. She could have gotten into the escape pod and ran. She chose to save me instead. It was her idea, not mine; we had no idea whether or not it would even work. Every second of my existence, every breath I take, I owe to her. I owe her a debt I can never repay, and never will be able to repay because she's gone. But I can do what I can to help others. I can fulfill the vows I took as a Jedi to save all beings. I can <i>live</i>. I can honor her life by living mine to the fullest."

"In some ways, this ceremony has been like watching my own funeral," Callista admitted with a laugh. "I know Cray so well, and yet in some ways, she's a stranger to me; I never saw her the way you did, never got to know her as a fellow student and friend. I wear her body, and yet I'm not her, and I can never be her. For better or worse, I can only be me. And I'm still struggling to find out what that is.

She took a deep, struggling breath. "Thirty years ago, I was a Jedi Knight, a student of Master Djinn Altis, of the old Order. Since then, everyone I knew is dead, slaughtered by the Empire, and the Republic I served is gone. Like Nichos, I lost my ability to use the Force when I came to this new body. I am a stranger in a strange place, and everything I know is gone, even the Force. I--I hope--I can be a Jedi again. But Luke said--Luke said--there would be a place for me here as I am if I wanted it, no matter what happens.

"I hope--you'll accept me. I hope--you'll understand that although I look like her, I'm not Cray and never will be." She swallowed. "But I do want to honor her sacrifice--by taking on a part of her name as well as my own.

"Thirty years ago, I was Callista Masana. Now I am Callista Ming." A slight smile, as flicker of her old humor emerged. "Pleased to meet all of you. I hope you can catch me up on everything I've missed.

"Cray Mingla and Nichos Marr--may the Force be with you always. And thank you. For everything."

[brittanyyoungblog]

Songs About Jealousy: 60 Jealous Love Songs

Fear. Anger. Mistrust. Envy. Apprehension. It’s not one of the nicer sides of love, but jealousy is a part of it. When you’re with someone you care deeply about it can drive you a little crazy, have you doubting yourself and your relationship, and make you wonder What does this person even see in me? Is it any wonder there are so many songs about jealousy?

Whether you’re watching the one you love with someone else across a room full of faces, lusting after your best friend’s girl, or just wondering what you’d do if you were her man, there’s a jealous song that might not make you feel any better but maybe a little less alone. Check out the list below or listen to it on Spotify.

1. Jealous Bone, Patty Loveless And I know I’m gonna run you off, if I don’t learn to let you go. But ooh oh you make me lose control.

2. Jealousy, Natalie Merchant Is she the sort you’ve always thought, could make you what you’re not?

3. My Best Friend’s Girl, The Cars You’re always dancing down the street with your suede blue eye-eyes. And every new boy that you meet doesn’t know the real surprise.

4. Lounge Act, Nirvana I’ll arrest myself and wear a shield. I’ll go out of my way to prove I still smell her on you.

5. Hey Jealousy, Gin Blossoms The past is gone but something might be found to take its place… Hey jealousy.

6. Mr. Brightside, The Killers Jealousy, turning saints into the sea, swimming through sick lullabies, choking on your alibis.

7. No One Else, Weezer I want a girl who will laugh for no one else. When I’m away she puts her makeup on the shelf.

8. When It Was Me, Paula Oh, oh, and I’m not jealous, no, I’m not. Oh, oh, I just want everything she’s got.

9. Revenge, P!nk Featuring Eminem I’m daydreamin’, let me count the ways how I’ll get you or how I’ll make you pay.

10. You Can’t Do That, The Beatles I got something to say that might cause you pain. If I catch you talking to that boy again, I’m gonna let you down and leave you flat. Because I told you before, oh you can’t do that.

11. Every Breath You Take, The Police Oh can’t you see, you belong to me. How my poor heart breaks, with every breath you take.

12. When I Was Your Man, Bruno Mars Should have gave you all my hours when I had the chance. Take you to every party ’cause all you wanted to do was dance. Now my baby’s dancing but she’s dancing with another man.

13. You Belong with Me, Taylor Swift If you can see I’m the one who understands you. Been here all along so why can’t you see, you belong with me.

14. That’s Him Over There, Nina Simone I guess that you know what extremes I have gone to, to prove that I didn’t care. You were so anxious to meet the dream that I’ve hung onto. Well, that’s him, that’s my Jim, over there.

15. She’s Got You, Patsy Cline I’ve got your class ring that proved you cared. And it still looks the same as when you gave it, dear. The only thing different, the only thing new, I’ve got these little things, she’s got you.

16. Gallery, Mario Vazquez And girl you’re just way too fine. Gotta be treated as one of a kind. Girl use your mind. Don’t be just another dime.

17. Girl Crush, Little Big Town I want to taste her lips. Yeah, ’cause they taste like you.

18. Green is the Colour, Pink Floyd Envy is the bond between the hopeful and the damned.

19. Jealous Guy, John Lennon I’m sorry that I made you cry. Oh my I didn’t want to hurt you. I’m just a jealous guy.

20. Jessie’s Girl, Rick Springfield I feel so dirty when they start talking cute. I wanna tell her that I love her but the point is probably moot.

21. Satellite of Love, Lou Reed I’ve been told that you’ve been bold with Harry, Mark, and John. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday to Thursday. With Harry, Mark, and John.

22. Who Is He (And What Is He to You?), Bill Withers Now when I add the sum of you and me, I get confused when I keep coming up with three. You’re too much for one man, but not enough for two.

23. If I Lost You, Garbage There are times when I see you talking to other girls, I feel insecure. And every time I see you walking out, I wonder if you’re coming back to me.

24. Jealous (I Ain’t With It) So is it really my fault, I get a shiver when I see you with those other guys.

25. Jealous Again, The Black Crows Stop, understand me. I ain’t afraid of losing face. Stop, understand me. I ain’t afraid of ever losing faith in you.

26. Tell Her No, The Zombies And if she should tell you come closer, and if she tempts you with her charms, tell her no no no no no-no-no-no.

27. Ring the Alarm, Beyoncé Ring the alarm, I been through this too long, but I’ll be damned if I see another chick on your arm.

28. I (Who Have Nothing), Ben E. King I, I who have no one, must watch you go dancing by, wrapped in the arms of somebody else when, darling, it’s I who loves you.

29. Jealous Hearted Blues, Ma Rainey Going to buy me a bulldog, to watch him while I sleep. Just to keep my man from making his midnight creep. Yes I’m jealous, jealous. Jealous hearted me.

30. Jealousy, Queen Oh jealousy you tripped me up. Jealousy you brought me down. You bring me sorrow you cause me pain. Jealousy when will you let go?

31. Treat You Better, Shawn Mendes I won’t lie to you, I know he’s just not right for you.

32. The Jealous Kind, Joe Cocker It’s just that I’m so afraid someone might steal you away, I’d lose my mind. So please forgive me for the way I act sometimes. I’m the jealous kind.

33. I Want Your Girlfriend to Be My Girlfriend Too, Reel Big Fish There’s a little girl I know, you might know her too. She looks so good, she looks so cute, standin’ next to you. And I don’t know what to do.

34. Silver Springs, Fleetwood Mac Don’t say that she’s pretty, and did you say that she loved you. Baby I don’t want to know.

35. Jealous, Nick Jonas It’s not your fault that they hover, I mean no disrespect. It’s my right to be hellish. I still get jealous.

36. Before He Cheats, Carrie Underwood Right now, she’s probably up singing some white-trash version of Shania karaoke. Right now, she’s probably saying “I’m drunk” and he’s a-thinking that he’s gonna get lucky.

37. Jealous Lover, Rainbow Shades of red, eyes of green, sees black and white, and there’s no in between.

38. Forgive My Jealousy, Chuck Jackson Forgive this foolish fear that rages inside of me. Oh, I love you so much love has blinded me.

39. Beautiful Liar, Shakira and Beyoncé I walked in on your love scene, slow dancing. You stole everything, how can you say I did you wrong.

40. Pickup Truck, Kings of Leon And in the moonlight I throwed him down, a kicking, screaming, a rolling around. A little piece of a bloody tooth. Just so you know I was thinking of you.

41. Want U Back, Cher Lloyd Remember all the things that you and I did first? And now you’re doing them with her. Remember all the things that you and I did first? You got me, got me like this.

42. Bust Your Windows, Jazmine Sullivan I bust the windows out ya car and no it didn’t mend my broken heart.

43. You Oughta Know, Alanis Morissette Is she perverted like me? Would she go down on you in a theater? Does she speak eloquently? And would she have your baby? I’m sure she’d make a really excellent mother.

44. Girlfriend, Avril Lavigne She’s like so whatever. You could do so much better. I think we should get together now.

45. Dysentery Gary, Blink 182 Life just sucks, I lost the one. I’m giving up. She found someone. There’s plenty more. Girls are such a drag.

46. Jealousy, Spoon Jealousy, you have never done a thing for me.

47. Endlessly Jealous, Lou Reed Endlessly jealous of you, being endlessly jealous of me. The man that you thought I could be turning red with jealousy.

48. Jealousy, Iggy Pop I feel it comin’ it’s flushin’ my face. I feel it comin’ jealousy baby. I feel it comin’ boilin my blood . I feel it comin’ jealousy baby.

49. Jealousy, Billy Fury I loved you too well. For I doubted you in my heart. My life was hell every moment we were apart. Why did I make that big mistake? I wronged you right from the start.

50. False Accusations, Robert Cray I was so wrong. She’s gone tonight. I was so wrong. I can see her now. And jealousy had twisted me somehow.

51. Suspicious Minds, Elvis Presley We’re caught in a trap. I can’t walk out, because I love you too much, baby.

52. Dark Lady, Cher So I sneaked back and caught her with my man, laughing and kissing till they saw the gun in my hand. The next thing I knew they were dead on the floor. Dark lady would never turn a card up anymore.

53. I Wonder What She’s Doing Tonight, Tommy Boyce and Bobby Hart We were so close but we should’ve been closer and it’s making me feel so sad. But I tell myself I didn’t lose her ’cause you can’t lose a friend you never had.

54. Run for Your Life, The Beatles Well I’d rather see you dead, little girl, than to be with another man.

55. My Girl Bill, Jim Stafford Bill, you know we just left her place, and we both know what she said. She doesn’t want to see your face, and she wishes you were dead!

56. He Don’t Love You (Like I Love You), Tony Orlando and Dawn The handsome guy that you’ve been dating, whoa, I got a feelin’ he’s gonna put you down.

57. The Girl is Mine, Michael Jackson and Paul McCartney I don’t understand the way you think, saying that she’s yours not mine. Sending roses and your silly dreams, really just a waste of time.

58. No Reply, The Beatles I nearly died, I nearly died. ‘Cause you walked hand in hand with another man in my place.

59. Him or Me – What’s It Gonna Be, Paul Revere & The Raiders I can still recall when you told me I was all everything you looked for in a man. But I know that it’s not true, I’ve seen the way he looks at you, and I think you’re gonna hang me up again.

60. Jealous, Robert Palmer When I see you with that guy and he catches your pretty eye, yYou know it makes we want to die.

The post Songs About Jealousy: 60 Jealous Love Songs appeared first on The Date Mix.

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[djrelentless]

The New Hitler, Uncle Tom and The Racist Reich”

As the reports keep coming in every day of the continued violence and hateful rhetoric at Trump rallies dominate the news, I have started this blog several times but continue to be distracted at how unbelievable the presidential election is this year. Never would I have believed that we would be talking dick size and Hitler style speeches to get to the Oval Office. This is probably the all time low in U.S. politics.

It seems unfathomable that in 2016 there would be people making pledges to a business con-artist and legions chanting and cheering for violence against people of color. But that's exactly where we are. All because the belief that white supremacy was still alive and well in 2008. Unfortunately for them, Barrack Obama proved that the United States was ready to elect its first African-American President. The good ol' boys in Washington did not even bat an eye of concern when he announced his candidacy. Instead…they were really worried about Hillary Clinton (or more likely the concept of Bill Clinton being anywhere near the White House again).

And although this would open the door to the many possibilities of what the next President of the United States could look like, it also opened a pandora's box of hate. The resentment and anger of white privilege would fester into the Tea Party and now the new racist reich that rally around Donald Trump. But Trump supporters are not the only scary people out there. The other racists who are following Ted Cruz are pretty damn unsettling too. Cruz is a complete throwback to Jim Crow as a candidate can be.

http://www.cnn.com/2016/03/01/polit...

I'm watching one of Trump's mouth pieces, Jeffrey Lord defending him on CNN and distorting U.S. history to justify why there is violence at Trump's rallies. His claims that because originally the Ku Klux Klan started in the Democrat Party is that these protesters are to blame because it is in their nature to be violent. Meanwhile there are tons of footage of Trump telling crowds to "Punch 'em in the head", "Take me out on a stretcher" and "I'll pay your legal fees". Sounds like inciting a riot to me. So, when I saw the footage of what happened in Chicago and heard that they had to cancel Trump's rally I wasn't surprised. And I imagine there's going to be a lot more of those incidents to come.

http://www.rollingstone.com/politic...

But the one thing that I just can't figure out is why no one has figured out that Trump has no idea what he's talking about when it comes to the issues in the campaign. The reason he has resorted to all these theatrics has been to stir clear of having to actually say anything of substance. And when he does speak on an issue he sticks his foot in his mouth. He likes to tote that he is so smart, but his vocabulary does not go any further than words like "huge", "best" and "win". It's like he read an affirmation book and has literally stood in front of a mirror (basically the hateful racists who are angry about Obama) and practiced affirming what he would like to happen. I always say that we must change our vocabulary in order to tell the universe what we want. Say what you want….not what you don't want. And Trump has taken that to the tenth degree. He stands on those stages and says what he wants to happen and people follow and believe him. He has no idea how to run a country. Hell…he has shown over and over again that he does not know how to be a good business man.

http://www.msnbc.com/rachel-maddow/...

For the protesters….don't go into a Trump rally with attire that says you are not a Trump supporter. Go in looking exactly like what they are expecting. Don't disrupt what is being said or done. Take your phone out and record it! Then start posting it. Get it to your local news stations. Let America see the ugly truth of what this man is doing and saying (as well as his followers). Yes…there are news organizations at most of his rallies, but for some reason they all stop short of showing the horror of what he stands for. CNN has showed brief seconds of protesters of color being pushed and shoved by not only by the local police and secret service but also people in the crowd. And most of those being thrown out were not resisting or fighting back. But if we could catch the rhetoric and hate speech that Trump is saying and compile it I think we can drive the message home of what Middle America thinks of the rest of the country.

The only thing that has worked in his favor has been that there has never been a political animal like him before. He is not a politician so he had no rules of engagement when it comes to campaigning. And quite frankly….everyone thought that he would just burn himself out early on the trail and the Republicans could continue on business as usual. And by the time they had figured out that he wasn't going anywhere it was too late. He had bullied his way to the front of the pack and was dominating the other candidates because they were all trying to be gentlemen. And poor Marco Rubio fell right into Trump's trap. Reality TV tactics brought Rubio right down to Trump's level and Ted Cruz profited by Rubio's mistake. Cruz instigated Rubio to go fight the big bully while knowing all along that it would open the door for him. I applaud John Kasich for staying out of the mud slinging, but do not discount his ugly agenda behind the kind, soft spoken Republican. If you dig into his dirty deeds he is the candidate who really has delivered the conservative goods when it comes to abortion and other hot topics. So you see….anyone from the Republican side would be toxic to the progress that the United States has made in acceptance and equal rights. They all want to turn back time to when they had more control over the country.

Besides all the candidates I think another thing that is bothering me during this Republican primary is the blatant propaganda machine that keeps trying to play Jedi mind tricks when defending the wrong side of history. Folks like Jeffrey Lord and Katrina Pierson make me cringe every time I see them on television. They know that what they are saying is a script and complete lies, but they sit on air and spew these twisted accounts of the daily events without a conscience.

But even worst are the new Uncle Toms that betray their race for a paycheck or some false sense of security that Trump is going to reward them when he gets what he wants. I'm talking about folks like Omarosa and Stacey Dash (I don't know Raven-Symone's political affiliation but she's a little cray-cray as well). And don't get me started on celebrities like Mike Tyson and Dennis Rodman. But I guess the all time ridiculous endorsement has to be Dr. Ben Carson. What on earth could have made you get behind the man who compared you to a child molester? What do all of these people have in common? Money! Money has blinded all of these people into forgetting who they really are and where they came from. But the truth of the matter is that if any of them got into any kind of legal trouble, they would find out how O.J. Simpson feels right about now. You're fabulous and great for ratings and photo opts but in the end you are still black in America. And most of their comments are such a slap in the face of civil rights that it makes you wonder how they sleep at night. When Omarosa said that the protesters at Trump rallies get what they deserve for showing up, I wanted to jump through the television and drag her into the average African-American neighborhood so she could see how real black people live and what they face on a daily basis. No one on the Republican side has spoken a word about the Black Lives Matters Movement. The amnesia that these folks get when they get a little paper is astounding! And Carson should take a good look at the coverage of his speech at his Trump endorsement….Trump wouldn't even stand on the stage with him at the same time (unlike when Chris Christie and Sarah Palin endorsed him).

http://theslot.jezebel.com/all-the-...

But I guess another delusional public figure is the big bag of con-fuse-ment is Caitlyn Jenner. I think she is about to find out what the Uncle Toms are going to find out as well. She actually believes that by throwing her support behind Ted Cruz that she will not only be helping the Trans Movement but she is going to be welcomed in the Republican fold by such a strict conservative. What an idiot! I actually defended Caitlyn when she came out and started her reality TV show. But like anything that is associated with the Kardashians, the longer is goes on the more you realize that it is just another media whore stunt…..rich people trying to make money off poor people watching them on TV. And I guess the sisterhood has ended between Cait & Candys Cane since she recently endorsed Hillary Clinton. And reports say that Cait's reality TV show is endangered of being cancelled because of poor ratings. As if she thought that her success was going to happen even though she insulted the LGBT community when she sat on Ellen and said she didn't really believe in gay marriage equality. I'm sure many will be upset with me for saying so, but Caitlyn's downfall is going to be Bruce's mentality.

http://www.theblaze.com/stories/201...

News pundits are looking around like they are so surprised that Trump has garnered so much support of the past year. But I'm not. After Obama interrupted Trump's season finale to announce Bin Laden's Death, I'm sure that was a declaration of war to Mr. Drumpf (his real last name). Thus came Trump's lead in the "Birther" charge. And I'm sure all of Obama's jokes during that Correspondents Dinner also was the final slap in the face as well.

This is the scariest time in U.S. politics. The new Racist Reich believes that they are really taking their country. Like White America is losing control and needs to take a stand. The brown people are getting a little too up-iddy since one of them made it into the White House. Republicans have yelled over and over again that Obama has ruined the office. He's weak on defense (instead of being strong on offense). He went on an "Apology Tour". When in my opinion, he fixed the U.S.'s image. Many world leaders breathed a sigh of relief when Obama became president. After dealing with Bush & Cheney and their foolishness it must have been a welcomed change to deal with someone who was articulate and willing to talk civilized. image what will happen if Trump or Cruz get into office. There is already talk of banning both from some countries.

I have been watching the facebook feeds and it is interesting to see everyone fighting for their candidates. I have not said publicly who I am voting for. Mainly because I don't want the campaigning to come to my page. I have a few friends who are very vocal about their beliefs and can't remember that they are not on their page. There's nothing like having a post being high-jacked for someone else's agenda. All I will say is that I am definitely a registered Democrat and I will definitely fight to see that Trump does not make it into the White House.