#i mean in terms of how youre treated for it

[dadrielle]

I think part of why I find all the posts talking about how Campaign 3 supposedly had no consequences deeply tedious is because 1) they don't engage with the way consequence was embedded into the character arcs and motivations, and 2) they often treat outcomes that were the result of the players working really hard to prevent a worst case scenario as evidence that everything was handed to them.

The reason most of the Hells survived the campaign is because their battle strategy prioritized protecting one another above everything else. Laudna died and they put everything they had into getting her back. They CHOSE to not accept it. It took them five episodes, a huge boss battle, and a roll-for-it res ritual to get her back, and each of those things barely worked. They were so traumatized by the experience that they were trying to give her just about every potion and protection item even til the end, when she hadn't even gone down for something like what, 60 episodes? Because they chose to save her, they lost their patron to Otohan, and they became less tied to one city. Because Otohan terrified them so much, they never faced them on their own terms, and only finally escaped her with FCG's sacrifice. It is not a removal of consequence that Laudna was able to come back; it is a consequence of how much they were willing to pursue it, and it had consequences that echoed forward and forward and forward. It impacted the way they moved throughout the story a great, great deal, and it is just one example.

We don't know all the consequences of the god situation because they are, quite frankly, too big for an end of campaign. But of course there are HUGE consequences—the order of the world and the cosmos has been changed! We saw some glimmers of what that means on a personal and political level, to be explored later.

"Consequence" unequivocally does NOT mean "punishment." You may be disappointed that a character/group of characters is not punished for what you perceive to be their crimes, but that does not mean that the narrative is without consequence. And if that is the specific kind of consequence you think is necessary for a good story, if you think that it is superior storytelling to punish characters, that is your prerogative, but I personally do not agree and think that viewing the story through that lens deeply misunderstands the ethos of Critical Role.

[suiana]

thinking of a guilt ridden reader and a silly manipulative yandere who looks exactly like someone from reader's past.

maybe you did something bad to a friend, perhaps ended a relationship on bad terms with someone who never deserved to be treated badly. whatever it is, just the mere thought of that person causes you to physically curl up and pray for forgiveness.

so you spend the rest of your days like a dead man walking, the guilt of your actions clawing at the depths of your heart. it makes it hard to do anything, let alone think. because when you are left alone with your thoughts, all you can imagine is their expression when everything went wrong. oh how you'd give up anything just to change the past and your actions.

as if your guilt wasn't enough, he just had to skip into your life looking exactly like that person. like them.

at first, you thought of this as a curse. this... this stupid guy? looking exactly like them? then as you sort of warmed up to him, you still think it's a curse. because what gave him the audacity to come into your life, looking like them, and telling you how much he wants you? especially claiming that it was love at first sight and that you two were fated to be?

"i love you."

"can i be yours?"

"we'd be so good together."

you keep pushing him away. you know how this will end up, with you messing up just like last time. wouldn't it be better to just keep him at a distance? unfortunately for you he doesn't seem to think so. and it's like a curse. a demon from your past coming back to haunt you in the form of your greatest mistake.

if anything, your costant rejections only seem to keep him wanting... more?

"please, just one chance. that is all I'm asking for."

"no? you don't want to entertain me even the slightest bit?"

"how cruel, i never realised you were this heartless."

you eventually end up giving in. he just has that sort of effect you suppose. or maybe it's the guilt that's constantly eating you alive that's causing you to make this decision. after all, he looks so much like them and... you don't know what you'd do if he looked at you like that. not ever, not again. maybe this would be your way of making up for your wrong doings.

he couldn't be happier obviously. finally! the person he's been pining over finally accepted his confession! even if it took a long time, it all worked out. you're happy, his happy, everyone's happy!

until he found out you're not actually happy and you're just doing this because you feel guilty.

"what do you mean? am i just a replacement to you? a way to correct your mistakes?"

"hah! you're so- ugh, I don't even want to think about you anymore."

"save it, those are just excuses."

he's always been a manipulative person. he knows. and he knows that you know it too. yet he continues to manipulate you through it all. i mean, it's your fault for even treating him like a second option in the first place! what? he's the one that's been pestering you? no no, you could've just rejected him. it's not his fault, it's yours. you're not stopping him anyway so like, you're basically admitting you're in the wrong.

"yeah you should be sorry. how mean do you have to be to think of me just as someone you've hurt? I'm my own person too."

he says that but continues to use the fact that his familiarity elicits something in you. and he'll continue abusing it, continue taking advantage of your weakened state. why? because he can and because he wants to.

plus, it's amusing in it's own right to see you bending head over heels just to appease him. huh, guess the guilt runs deep, doesn't it?

oh it's whatever. he'll slowly condition you to start showing him the affection he so desperately craves anyway. he just needs to hold on a little longer. break you down a tiny bit more and then you'll be all his. he can feel it.

you two will be truly happy together. no other people, no guilt in your heart. just you and him, alone and content with one another.

that would simply be salvation, wouldn't it?

[twilight0wanderer]

Special Interest Detected, Prepare for Incoming Infodump ;D (for context, I'm an aerospace engineer with one of my primary foci being orbital mechanics).

To start: all orbits are elliptical (circular orbits can sufficiently approximate some real orbits, but no truly circular orbit is known to exist). The center of mass of the two objects occupies one focus of the ellipse and the other is empty. Since most commonly discussed orbits involve a significant difference of mass between the two objects, we normally treat the larger object as being centered on the occupied focus, because it's close enough. (sidenote: we've known about elliptical orbits longer than we've understood gravity, thanks to Kepler)

@starburstdragon If I understand correctly, you're asking if the empty node of an orbital ellipse exhibits rotation about the occupied node, leading to the whole ellipse rotating. If that's what you're asking, then yes, that can and does occur, and it's called Apsidal Precession.

Sidenote on Precession: at least in orbital mechanics, the terms refers to the shifting of an ostensibly fixed reference axis, usually at a much slower rate than the rate of motion relative to the axis. As such, while Earth (and pretty much everything else) does experience axial precession, that's a wobble in the axis itself, while it's the axial tilt that creates seasons.

On to the question of seasons itself, and note here that I'm not a climatologist, so this is based on what I have studied of atmospheric science within the context of aerospace, what I've picked up on my own, and inferences based on those sources. Anyone with more expertise, please jump in. That said, I'm fairly certain that much of the cause of seasonality comes from the gradient in atmospheric temperatures over an extended period of time caused by axial tilt. A planet with little to no axial tilt, regardless of its eccentricity (basically how elliptical is its ellipse), isn't going to get much of a gradient between polar temperatures.

Another way to look at it is in terms of how much energy is the atmosphere absorbing. The Sun (and stars like it) release energy pretty much evenly, and that energy disperses quite evenly, to you can go to any point at a given distance from the Sun and get basically the same amount of energy as you would at any other point of equal distance from the Sun, as long as nothing is between you and the Sun. Also, the amount of energy the Sun emits means that the drop-off with distance even on the scale of the Earth isn't that significant. Satellites that orbit three times the Earth's diameter above its surface don't see much difference in the power generated by their solar panels, unless they pass through Earth's shadow. All of that to say, distance isn't the real driver of seasonality, it's the fact that the hemisphere facing the sun is absorbing more of the energy and blocking the hemisphere facing away from the Sun from getting as much energy.

Anyway, I now return you to your regularly scheduled Avatar discussion.

lowkey driving myself insane thinking too much about the lack of hemispheres in the original show and how the entire world is on the northern hemisphere season cycle except sometimes characters refer to the correct season of the southern hemisphere but then its not visually I just need to stop caring and CHANGE THE SEASON IN KYOSHI WARRIOR EPISODE

[brights-place]

Ace and his U.M (Unique Magic)

Ace and his unique magic I think was actually not suprising to me because I was guessing and rambling to friends about the signs created about Ace and his future unique magic. One where he could be so OP and copy someone elses unique magic... WHICH WAS RIGHT ALONG WITH THAT PERSON WHO ALSO THOUGHT ACE IS U.M WAS COPYING BRO WAS ALSO A PROPHET LMAO!! anyways

It took 4 years to see his U.M so YAYY we finally got everybody's U.M so here am I to ramble about how Ace just whipped out a huge uno reverse card to whoever he's going to verse

So heres a ramble from me!! someone who rarely analyzes things but wanted to ramble anyways! Also this might not make sense because Im not good at explaining stuff that well I MAY WRITE BUT ANALYZING STUFF IS TOTALLY OUT OF MY LEAGUE UNLESS ITS SOMTH I CAN GRIND FOR HOURS ON I mean it goes for TWST but I can't word it right at all smh...

Ace is U.M was offically shown in Book 7-290 where he instantly went to help his friends in the fight with riddle.

In battle Ace himself admits his fear of failure by sharing the fact that he's afraid of failing everyone while the MC is there to reassure him along with the fact Grim encourages him by telling him that Ace can do it because we believe he can. Their support, their encouragement and reassurance is what brings Ace the strength to continue on thats what helped build up to his unique magic

“I’m going to take your special treat! Joker Snatch (Or translated to Give me your trump card) After ace has casted his U.M onto Riddle whats even funnier is he used RIDDLES own magic against him collaring his housewarden.

Ace and his unique magic is known as ‘Joker Snatch’ which gives the magic user the power to steal or copy their opponent's unique magic. Same abilities as Azul and Trey with the two’s U.M which is “Its a deal” and “Doodle Suite”

I wanted to explain about how we not only got hints of it but right on conversations from Ace about it even before he got it.

To start off first is Ace is name. Ace Trappola

Trappola is the name of an old Italian card game that stands out as the first one in which the ace is considered the highest-value card, and ranks above the king.

The change for this was because of changed following the French Revolution in the 1500 after which the Ace was promoted to the highest card in the deck-11- a symbolic nod to the overthrow of France's nobility and rise of the commoner a single number that outeanks it all.

Because ace was traditionally the lowest card in the deck until angry French proletariats overthrew their monarchy.

In games based on the superiority of one rank over another, such as most trick-taking games, the ace counts highest, outranking even the king. Which makes me focus on the Red Tyrant arc when Ace attacked Riddle not only once but TWICE for the males seat as housewarden and when Riddle overblotted. Correction Three times as we add Riddles Dream where they have to fight Riddle. Ace standing up to people in positions of authority who are objectively stronger than himself shows how an ACE is higher then any other rank no matter what because Ace is himself someone who may be in a group yet by itself/himself is strong on its own/

With the hints laid between chapters and vignettes the whole Unique magic was dangling right infront of our eyes ALSO SHOUT OUT TO THAT PERSON ON TIKTOK WHO GOT IT RIGHT BECAUSE I KNEW IT TOO I WAS SCREECHING!! Ahem

A conversation in Ace is dorm vignette shows with him talking with cater how he was able to 'steal' skills from others paying attention, along with the fact he’s good at mimicking people’s voices and it was repeatedly said that he’s good at copying stuff / is a fast learner. He is able to bend these things to his own will at the same time. In the same vignette we also see that Ace is impressive short-term memory is confirmed he is adept at mimicking those around him, or both. In his dorm vignette, Ace learns multiple things from Rook in order to get the missing hedgehogs back into heartslabyul along with the fact he was able to easily copy Vil is strutting in the Fairy Gala event after heckling and mocking jack. Another example is Ace able to copy his brother & fathers magic tricks. His older brother is his only sibling, seven years older, a former Heartslabyul student and NRC graduate.

With the fact Ace likes to do tricks infront of people like Deuce to scare them entertained by their shock of him doing things that they wouldn’t expect.

Ace explains that it was his brother who taught him how to lie convincingly and that he learned slight-of-hand by memorizing his brother’s motions since his brother refused to teach him directly, and Cater compliments him on being able to pick things up on his own and think so quickly on his feet.

Ace explains himself that “Most things, you can imitate if you see ‘em enough and pay enough attention.” another example and hint for his U.M Riddle also takes Ace is memorization telling him that he should do the same to memorize the Queen of Hearts’ Code which Ace denies quickly stating his way of memorization is different to memorizing the ones for the queen of hearts. These examples show how Ace is able to adapt to situations copy others in situations rembering the slightest bit of details even witnessing their unique magics only once but is able to get the hand of them easily yet his U.M could mean he has a higher chance of gaining blot.

Ace is such a good character I can't write anything that explains much well but I do wanna improve on that but Ace is a character was the first one we met who was able to stand up to people in higher positions with help of the [MC] pushing him even without a U.M dealing with overblots and now somebody who was helped by [MC] again who cheered him on to BEAT Riddle in a fight again but this time with a U.M The start and THE END was Ace being beside [MC] who pushed him forward in these situations and Ace being able to be vulnerable hits hard along with Deuce WHO HITS HARDER WITH HIS U.M WHEN THEY TOOK DOWN RIDDLE YEAHHHH. Anyways thanks for coming to my yap session It probs wasn't explained well but to wrap it up. Ace is unique magic was right there infront of us building up. How he's a quick thinker, a fast learner able to understand something, pick up a trait from someone else easily since he was younger that he was able to do it himself without being guided to do so and facing both times against riddle with the help of [MC] to push himself harder even when he thought he was going to fail the time when Riddle Overblotted, and when Riddle fought them using riddles own skill against him. Though we don't know the drawbacks caused by Ace is U.M like I said he could have higher chances of overblotting do certain Unique magic he uses from someone else cause his body harm and changes? like with Leona would he have cracks in his hands if he ever used it because of the sand? with cater if he duplicates himself would he get light headed because his body isn't used to it like cater's is? does he have scars from trying to use someone else is unique magic knowing the drawbacks but harm will still happen? will his body ache if he used fae of maleficence ? we don't know what could happen to ace with his unique magic and the drawbacks so for now its unkown. Ace is such a good character and I'm glad we got his Unquiet magic finally and I'm so happy to finally see it now that we got it all <33 ── .✦ Back to where I was tweakin

[hxrsheykisses]

Hi again Hershey!!! I absolutely LOVED how you wrote my last request abt the hopeless romantic! reader!!! Sorry if this is abrupt, but I wanted to know if you could write about the ETC boys accidentally coming across a love letter addressed to them from the reader?

Like—they would see a letter on the reader’s desk at school, get curious and open it, only to discover that it’s the reader confessing their feelings!!!

It sounded cute in my head ^///^

Anyways!! Take your time writing this and I hope you’re having a good day!!! ^3^

I’m so glad you liked it!! That request was honestly really fun to do and I enjoyed it’ It was honestly so sweet♥️♥️♥️ Rhank you again for requesting!!

It’s been a good couple of weeks after the boys countless attempts at wooing you over and trying to get you to realize what you’re needing is RIGHT here in front of you. But they were losing so much hope because their efforts arent working! It wasn’t you be ungrateful, they know that (hopefully). It’s just that it’s such a shame that you struggle to see it.

One day, at school, the boys always had a routine of walking you to class together. You shared some classes with them and others not so that was the routine. They also waited outside of your class after dismissal.

However, your class was already empty and you weren’t in there—just your stuff at your desk. They were confused as to why you weren’t there anymore since you never leave your class without them. They gave each other some confused looks before making their way to your seat where all of your stuff was laid out. But their eyes caught on a discarded letter and a pencil beside it—which sparked them to be snoopy…

As they took the note from the envelope, they felt their world come to a COMPLETE stop.

BILL’S ROUTE

Bill never felt so high off of cloud 9 before when he snatched the note, reading every word that was neatly written on the piece of paper, his heart skipping with each word.

He would lowkey brag on his friends about it, saying how you are so into him. He claimed proudly that his efforts made through while there’s didn’t. He had finally got you where he wanted you and that’s all that truly matters right now.

He would tease you as well, waving your love letter in the air—saying how he humbly accepts your confession before dragging you away and leaving his friends behind in their sorrows.

JERRY’S ROUTE

Jerry was in utter shock, staring with his jaw dropped as he got finished reading the letter. He ignored his friends groans and complaints as he reread the note over and over and over again. Oh, he just couldn’t believe that you had chosen him.

He would tried to comfort his friends, saying how it wasn’t serious and how it’ll be okay. But they weren’t exactly having it, leaving Jerry feeling a little bit guilty but he still was happy that you had chosen him. Deep down, he believed that his friends wouldn’t treat you like how he would.

Jerry would force his friends to keep the fact that they snooped through your belongings a secret, begging them. He didn’t want you to change your mind about him so he told you the truth on his own terms, he was really anxious about the confession and he apologized. But he’s happy that he won you over!

PETE’s ROUTE

As soon as he saw that the letter was directed towards him, he just went all the way to 100 REAL quick. This boy was literally doing cartwheels around the classroom because he knew that he had won your heart. He is also very braggy to his friends, shoving the middle finger in their face, and other crap. Like he’s so freaking stupid at that moment.

Pete wouldn’t hide the fact that they did in fact were nosy with your items, that wasn’t on his mind when he saw you walking into the classroom. He was just so enthusiastic about being your beloved boyfriend because who wouldn’t? He’ll be a pretty decent boyfriend to you anyway—I mean he proved it to you while he was trying to win you over!

A day never goes by without Pete telling his friends ALLLL about you. He knows that they are pissed and jealous and shit but he doesn’t care. All he knows is that he has fine shyt by his side so nothing else matters💔

JOSH’S ROUTE

Josh shoving EVERYONE out of the way once he saw his name written. He would wave the letter in the air while loudly announcing how his friends are pathetic ass losers who can’t pull any girls and how he basically won the lottery. He’s laughing in their faces while Bill lowkey starts cussing him out (which he pays no mind too)

I swear bro Bill will try to fuck Josh over by loudly shouting at you about how Josh was snooping through your shit to somehow make you reconsider. You don’t. You scolded Josh for a bit, and the others before letting Josh give you a giant bear hug! After, he walked you home—leaving the boys in the dust.

He loves poking a shit ton of fun at Bill because he’s last resort was so desperate that it’s laughable. He made a fool out of himself! This will most likely have Josh kicked out of the club for a day but during that “off” day, he just spent his day with you because who cares about what that dipshit thinks or does?

[official-megumin]

alright

So I have seen a few people talking about uterus transplants on this site and other places.

And other than the obvious(transphobes) not fully understanding how it works, it seems to be treated as almost some magical miracle treatment we'll get one day, which almost certainly boils down to how taboo the topic is.

I have personally read up on it as much as I can(specifically to shut up transphobes spreading misinformation)

So I felt like I had to set some reasonable expectations so we don't all set ourselves up for disaster once the technology fully arrives(which it will soon)

So first off, yes. Trans women and other AMAB people will be able to get uterus transplants. There isn't some mystical "maleness" that prevents trans women from being able to have a uterus transplanted into them or from being able to get pregnant. But it does have its limits.

This technology has already been successfully performed on cis women(note plural), and there is no reason to believe it won't be able to be done on a trans woman sooner rather than later(I am no expert, but I would still hazard to guess that the biggest hurdle for that right now is public perception and bigotry)

This means that we also more or less know what it will be able to accomplish.

There has been at least one successful pregnancy borne to term with a transplanted uterus, so yes. Trans women will be able to bear children sometime in the near future.

But, there is a big caveat. You won't be able to keep the transplanted uterus post pregnancy. This has nothing to do with AGAB or anything like that, it is the exact same thing for cis women.

Unfortunately organ transplants are very complex, and even in other less particular organs, you still need to be on immunosuppressants for the rest of your life to prevent your body from attacking the new organ.

The same sadly also goes for a uterus. You will essentially only be able to have a uterus transplanted into you, go through your pregnancy whilst immunosuppressants, and then get a hysterectomy when you've given birth.

Again, this complications arrise with any organ transplant, so it has NOTHING to do with trans women not being "real women" and anyone trying to tell you that a uterus would "wither away in a male body" is lying to you.

A womb doesn't need two x chromosomes to form to begin with. There are plenty of intersex AMAB people born with uteri(myself most likely included).

I don't mean to crush any dreams or bring down the mood, I just don't want anyone to stay waiting for some ideal future that likely never will arrive.

I can't predict the future, I am not a doctor or biologist. I can't say for sure that we will never develop a technology that removes all the risk of organ transplants. It is also very possible that we develop a way to make you grow a uterus or other organs in your body after being born, or even just lab grown organs using your own DNA.

All I know is how organ transplants work currently and for the forseeable future.

[ghostsandfools]

Okay I’m about to write a LOT of tags-

Also sorry if it sounds like I’m arguing, I don’t wanna argue with you cause you’re my friend- we are having a ✨civil debate✨

That laes episode… WOWZA

It’s becoming increasingly clear how much of an effect the astrals’ indoctrination has had on Lunar. He can’t think of any good reason to get his powers back, but he wants to do it anyways. He hates having powers, he hates how stressful it is, he hates the idea of leaving his family behind, but he wants to do it anyways. He feels like he has to, like it’s his purpose. Even if he isn’t happy, he doesn’t ‘deserve’ happiness.

Why does he have to leave his family behind? Genuinely, why? Because he’ll be too ‘busy’ to see them? Because they could ‘interfere’ with his work? No!

The reason why Lunar can’t see his family if he gets his powers back is because he will be fully indoctrinated into the astral cult. People who join cults often cut their families off or rarely interact with them. Cult leaders don’t want their disciples getting too friendly with outsiders, because they may realize that they’re being manipulated. The astrals don’t want Lunar interacting with his family because they’re worried he’ll get too distracted from their main goal.

The astrals aren’t evil. They may not even be purposefully indoctrinating people. I don’t think Gemini’s goal is to manipulate Lunar or isolate him from his family. Their goal is to protect the universe from dark star power. But that doesn’t change the fact that they have had an extreme negative effect not just on Lunar, but his family as well.

They’ve made him fear for his life, his livelihood. It feels like everything he has could be lost in an instant.

Without his powers, he feels useless. He dedicated himself to the astrals, training himself every day just to become one of them. The idea of losing his powers is so stressful to him that he’d consider leaving his family behind just to pursue becoming an astral.

He asks “Why do I have to make this choice?” And it’s a good question!

Why was he EVER put into this position? The astrals could’ve taken his powers from him at any time. Why didn’t they? Why did Gemini say he was at risk of DEATH after he killed Eclipse? Why didn’t they put him through this torment, why did they threaten him like that? Because they want him to stay loyal to their cause.

[punkeropercyjackson]

The way online punk culture has been taken over by white tboys and turned into a black-hating and self-glazing cryptoterf fostering ground really does show white men are white men no matter agab.You completely ignore the afrocentrism of punk history to call white men our 'founding fathers'(what an interesting choice of phrasing you use to joke about that)and you treat black men as tokens and kinks and black women as these terrifying harpies who deserve to be talked down to so they can be put in their place,how society sees them,at below bottom of the barrel in terms of what kind of people you can be and you throw poser accusations at afropunks for talking of influential black punks and wearing different punk fashions than you and you mock solarpunk as a utopia fantasy and not literally eco-activism under a different name acompanied by african influences for it and the rest of it's subculture aspects

You use terf rethoric to gaslight trans women into thinking they're the radfems in denial for aknowledging they experience misogyny as women even if they're closeted and not shrinking themselves for 'special' men aka you and your nonthreating internalized transphobia ass who believes being afab means you're the same as a woman and believes trans women are 'biologically male' even with all the fake ass affirmations you give you see them as women to look good and get away with your silly little guy routine,all the more proof trans men ABSOLUTELY have male privilege seeing when a tfem has as much of a sex drive she posts about through properly tagged nsft posts and horny fanart of media she loves you bully her over exactly like a high school incel,she gets turned into a social media pariah and even doxxed if she's too strong against her harrassment campaign to be 'a real girl' since girls are supposed to very demure,very mindful or else they're 'males' all along underneath it all but the coiner of transandrohobia had a corrective rape kink and you fight with your whole life to defend the movement as you call tme and tma bioessentialist terms as if they're about gentials and not gender

You CANNOT be punk if you're not pro-black and pro-transfem.And i mean ACTUALLY,not using us as props or 'settling us down' from our anger at the system,of which you are actively working to be a part of.Telling black people and transfem people to not stand up for themselves and to not participate in their own cultures for your own comfort over wanting your experiences to be universal and that you're more woke than them isn't very punk

[farfromhome87]

Message Received- Part 4/5

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

***Peeta***

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

The phone pings and Peeta rushes to unlock it.

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

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

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

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

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

Peeta snorts, his fingers flying across the screen.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

___ ___ ___

***Katniss***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

“Maybe this is a bad idea–”

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

— — —

***Peeta***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Katniss Everdeen,” they say together.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yep!” he confirms.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Katniss blinks at him. “Huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s on me,” he says softly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[yuurivoice]

Question time again!!

1.When you first started making your own characters content did you ever expect it to gain a fandom?

2. If budget was never a problem what would you see yourself making?(a game or publishing a book etc.)

3.What are looking forward to this year?

4.If you had a conversation with younger you what advice would you give yourself?

BONUS QUESTION!!

Something that makes you feel proud of yourself?

Ooooh, thank you for the questions!

I probably wouldn't have done it if I didn't at least have a hunch, but that's why Alphonse was very Guzma adjacent in terms of the voice and the bad boy vibes. It was a safe way to try it out and find an audience I knew would at least test the waters out with him. What I didn't expect was for it to lead to whole narratives being woven between multiple characters. I used to actively argue that no one (aside from Seth/Alphonse) were in the same "universe". Funny how that worked out.

I would make Love and Deepspace. I mean, it is essentially the end game for the whole audio/visual otome self insert etc etc genre, right? It has cracked the code. I would basically create that. I know there are a dozen other cool things I could do, but I know for a fact that it's a working business model in a space I am in, in a space I have successfully written for and achieved plenty in. I would like a slice of that pie. The rest is stuff I could do on my own time and dime. Anyway, any game devs looking to get to work, let's go. lol

I don't have a ton of big This Year plans, but I think I am most looking forward to operating with my new outlook regarding my projects. For years I had told myself everything needed to be done prior to release, and put all this pressure on myself to make these BIG things in one go......then didn't even start on them. It clearly wasn't working. Now that I've shifted my plans to just doing things as they come, stuff is happening again. Wish I would have realized that sooner.

I would tell myself that I have ADHD and need to go get treated ASAP by any means necessary. If I could have taken the training weights off a decade ago, I think I would have avoided a lot of grief, and really kickstarted my life. Other than that I don't think I would offer much else, I like how I got here. Or maybe invest in Bitcoin, but that's too easy. lmfao

As for being proud of myself, that's hard to say today. I've fallen off the wagon with my schedule, diet, gym, etc through the holidays and til now. I self imposed a "everything stops until BSDC is done" which is an actual insane thing to do, but I think it's more of an excuse to have remained static than an actual block. It has been built up to this whole big ass thing that I did not really intend for it to be at first, but then it just kept going and going. So I've kinda fucked up all the shit I was proud about through 2024.

Uh. So. I guess I'm proud of...self awareness? lol

I am proud of some of my recent work. That's something I'm proud of, but it doesn't quite compare to how proud I was about the other shit. At this point I know I can cook, the content is good, the performance is good. I'm used to being decent at that now, which is cool because growth is watching the new, shiny things you accomplish become the norm. So I've just gotta get back on track with all the rest of my shit and balance things out in my life.

[crooked-wasteland]

Oh dear. My brain gets easily overwhelmed by compound questions and I compensate by reponding in broad ways to cover as much ground as possible, but I think you had expected me to go deeper. My apologies. Let me see if I understand what you are asking precisely.

The explanation you are looking for is in how the Goetia function like celebrities, you meant that as a physical behavior? Because I admit there isn't a single one action that is a direct comparison to celebrities. In relation to Stolas' position, all we have is the Harvest Moon celebration where all Stolas appears to do is make a speech, open his portal, and then just hang out. It's a purely ceremonial and performative spectacle.

So going back to the original post where I deconstructed power, the question is what purpose does the spectacle serve? If the power was centralized in Stolas and his position in the aristocracy, then it should have been more focused on deifying Stolas for his magic and affirming the social dynamics of their society.

But it is precisely the fact this is so underdeveloped that we can't actually attribute any weight to it. So when you take away the power in a scene like that, it becomes entertainment.

And that's why I think the larger conversation with Elcee is relevant as the central focus of my position revolved around world-building and how the lack of it stripped these characters of the necessary context to elevate their positions to one of actual power.

Your next two paragraphs are a bit more closely related so I will treat those as a separate conversation, because what you are talking about here are the different types of power: Hard Power and Soft Power.

This is the archetypal duel between intellect and brute strength. The terms Hard and Soft power are coined in regards to international relations.

Hard power to a nation is their military. In an example, say America wants Canada's oil fields. Anything in relation to the use of one's military, even simply as a threat, is an expression of Hard Power. Trump lining up troops along the border would be a display of Hard Power.

Soft power is the socio-political side. It is NATO, the Red Cross, USAID. Soft power is charity in exchange for political influence. Financial and material support to another country that is experiencing unrest, famine, disease, and war. These business-style agreements and friendly negotiations are how power is maintained.

So in regards to Stella and Stolas, Stolas has all the hard power. The person in any true danger when the two of them are together is Stella. The only things that can kill Stolas are angelic weapons of a very high caliber. But Stolas could just turn Stella into stone. She isn't killed, but physically rendered completely incapable of causing him harm.

Or more in line with his show characterization, he could just leave. The leniency provided towards victims of abuse is the understanding that the abusers and victims are equals outside of the abusive dynamic. The tendency of abuse to psychologically disempower the victim is real, and why many victims stay in these dynamics. Let alone the ways the victims are physically isolated.

There is no "belief" in powerlessness with Stolas. This character reached across dimensions to reanimate corpses in order to summon himself the good old fashion way. That is cosmic levels of power. There is nothing stopping Stolas from just scooping up his daughter and hopping through a portal, save for his own arbitrary choice to stay and blaming that choice on his child.

If we switch to Stella's side, it's important to note what is and is not canon. What Andrealphus tells Stella is that she will lose everything to Octavia if Stolas dies. So that means Octavia, being heir, is entitled to everything that her father inherited from his father. So the title, Manor, money, and other assets Stolas inherited and accrued. Meanwhile Stella is only entitled to what she brought into the relationship. Because the noble lineage of higher rank has a winner-takes-all method of inheritance. It's why being acknowledged by one's parents' families was such a big deal.

And it is necessary to remember Andrealphus is a Marquis, meaning that is also Stella's rank of birth. The European aristocracy ranks from the top down:

As seen here, Stella was brought up the ranks to Princess. In a divorce, she would be entitled to some reparations in the form of monetary compensation, but would lose her title.

But if the title was so important to Stella, she should be wanting to protect it at all costs. The thing that contradicts that is how she embarrasses her husband. Because her title is one she acquired from him, devaluing her husband is directly going to devalue herself among the other Goetia. So we can't even get to the conversation of Soft Power because her canon behavior would have ruined her reputation alongside her husband's.

What would have been in line with this behavior would have been Stella seeking a divorce from the beginning. Making Stolas look bad would have only assisted in her being awarded more reparations for how terribly he treated her. It would be how Paimon would "clean up" Stolas' image in the courts.

And please note that I am focusing solely on titles, not sex. I am functioning on the assumption that if Stella was a princess who married beneath her, Stolas would be in the same position as she is in the canon.

On a completely unrelated aside, I am approaching the conversation of Stolas and his abuse from the duel viewpoint in how the show wants me to see him and what his abilities contextualize his actions. The only way to justify Stolas' cheating the way the show wants me to requires Stolas being trapped in the relationship due to forces outside of himself, or have him just admit that he cheated on Stella to hurt her. Which the show explicitly denies.

The show is too scared to just let Stolas be cruel in retaliation to her cruelty, and I think most Stolas Critics would be less hostile to the character if the show would just allow him to do terrible things for the sake of them being terrible. The aspect that endears an audience to problematic characters is the catharsis we feel through them. Him lashing out against Stella being acknowledged for what it was would have entirely changed my whole position on the show.

But because Stolas is magically and socially superior to Stella, you cannot argue that his cheating is also innocent. It's not removing the significance of his abuse. But his cheating is not excused by it due to the context. It isn't elevating cheating over abuse, merely saying they are unrelated and mutually exclusive. Those are two separate conversations in their entirety that cannot be used to justify each other.

But I think that covers all of it? I do hope I was able to give you a better response this time. My apologies again. Please let me know if I got anything wrong.

I've seen your tweet which criticizes the worldbuilding in Helluva Boss and how the Goetias feel like "Hollywood with royal titles" rather than true aristocracy, and I would like you to elaborate on that, if that's OK.

Thank you so much for this ask as I never got to expand on this point at the time. For those not in the know, the user is referencing this exchange on Twitter.

As much as the elites of our world would like to disperse the truth, the reality is that all societies are constructed around power. Who has power, how and why. That is the fundamental basis of every social dynamic from children on a playground to the politicians in our governments. So the very first thing we should even approach in regards to the narrative is how does power work in this universe?

So when I responded to Elcee in the tweet being referenced, I am evaluating power and power structures. Mainly there are two wholly different constructs of power between something like the aristocracy and celebrities.

The closest thing to an aristocracy we have in our modern day are the financial oligarchs of Capitalism. Elon Musk, Jeff Bezos, Bill Gates, etc. They have control everything from how our political parties engage with us to how we think based on the wealth they were born into. They curate our lives behind the scenes in ways that sound worthy of a tinfoil hat, but isn't a conspiracy. The wealthy were threatened in the 1970s by an educated proletariate. In response to our questioning the Vietnam war, the higher education that was once free or at least extremely affordable suddenly became prohibitively expensive.

So much so that only the financial aristocracy could access it. Whereas working class individuals are forced to jump through hoops and prove themselves suitably subservient to the existing power of the oligarchy in the form of scholarship applications, teacher recommendations and application letters before being granted access. This is not a mistake or how it's always been, this is by design.

Meanwhile, Celebrities are not elites. While we think of celebrities as being overpaid and living in luxury, it only takes a glance over at Chappell Roan to see the difference. When Jeff Bezos or Elon Musk or any large corporate CEO walks the red carpet, they are treated as royalty. When celebrities walk the red carpet, they are commodities.

Celebrity is the modern day face of the American Dream. Gone are the days of a single family home and a white picket fence. The boom of content over art, luxury over practicality, and excess over comfort is directly the result of selling to the world the idea of capitalistic success, which just amounts to perpetuating the system of turning humans into money. And for as much money as these celebrities make, it has been proven over and over again that they are just as susceptible to poverty as any other working class individual.

Celebrities are products we buy, and when we stop buying them, they vanish.

Meanwhile the aristocracy, the financial oligarchy, thrives in obscurity.

The difference in power is about who still has it when we no longer see them. And the more invisible and pervasive it is, the more real it is. However one as an individual thinks about the celebrity class, they are simple a different type of specialized tool to the true power behind the scenes.

With that differential in mind, the Goetia function more like celebrities rather than CEOs, and while Elcee fails to see the bigger picture, that subliminally tells the audience that someone with the title of prince, with armies sworn to his allegiance and infinite cosmic power, is no different than a working class joe.

This isn't intentional propaganda, however. It's not her trying to further the agendas of Jeff Bezos intentionally. Just like my other post covering how Medrano tries to excuse cheating, not realizing the only time one can argue such a blanket concept of forgiveness for such a betrayal can only happen when the option of choice is non-existent (ie Divorce is not on the table for reasons outside of the characters’ choices), this is the danger of not engaging with media with your mind turned on. You will innately, no matter how careful someone tries to be, engage with the material through the eyes of the creator.

Celebrities and average people are the same: commodities in the face of real power. But Medrano cannot tell the difference between someone like Elon Musk and his employees. She sees the aristocracy, the ones who were born into a legacy of wealth, as “hardworking average folks”. And if you aren't thinking, you might find yourself implicitly believing that too. Deeper entrenching the power they have over you as an individual and society as a whole.

How we got to where we are in our real lives is mirrored in the media we consume. And that isn't an accident.

[devotedlystrangewizard]

the difference between being a caster in bg3 and being a caster in da (and especially da2) is so jarring if im honest

[dynamitekansai]

THE USOS REUNITE WWE SMACKDOWN (OCTOBER 25, 2024)

[deus-ex-mona]

when freedom is in sight!!!!!!!!

[unproduciblesmackdown]

what if we held on to whatever we get the idea of as Normal as unquestionable & think all you can do to this normal is apply some veneers overtop it to be more polite & also resent that. maybe we could project that everyone who seems to be Annoyingly Disruptively doing more than this must be putting on a performance to look good &/or humor others b/c that's all we ever believe we're doing, & again, we resent even that much....maybe we could use our show of More Polite language to make the same points blaming everyone who our Normal mistreats for their own mistreatment

[oneroomjestershow]

What exactly is Eli? :o

Eli is like air… but with flesh… and the cells can change to any body cell they have registered on their code… they were born appearing human but lost their identity and sense of humanity in mind and form… 

I haven’t given a name to what exactly Eli is. Since they aren’t the only one, it could be considered a species at this point? but they can’t reproduce (sterile) so that’s a problem for using that term… they have siblings all over the world, they aren't aware of each other since they are in specific areas and far away from each other because of their father. Maybe something like a human replica inside the game universe? Outside of that I have no idea. They are just a human hybrid between their human mother and whatever species their father is.

Have a spaguetti sketch for the troubles...