#bears are absolutely the most frightening animal to me

[queen-vv]

Geeeeeeez, Golden Kamuy is brutal

[bvidzsoo]

Haunted me, haunting you

⁀➷ District 12 ⭒ District 12 was the smallest and poorest of the thirteen districts of Panem; their main industry is coal mining; victors: Lucy Gray Baird, Haymitch Abernathy, Katniss Everdeen, Peeta Mellark

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: victor!Song Mingi x female reader

⁀➷ Warning: cursing, ptsd, panic attacks, violence, blood, mentions of death, hunting, injuries ⁀➷ Word count: 19.7k ⁀➷ Rating: mature, nc-17 ⁀➷ Genre: Hunger Games!au; acquittances since childhood to lovers!au, set before Katniss and Peeta became victors ⁀➷ Summary: After the 73rd Hunger Games, Song Mingi wasn't the same. The spark in his eyes was gone, his once bright smile disappeared and his face became ashen, cheeks hollow, he was merely a shell of the man he once used to be. It hurt seeing him lose himself to the trauma he was forced to endure in the Arena, still haunted by memories...memories of killing someone you both cared about, someone who meant the world to you. Will you be able to help Mingi before it's too late? But most importantly, will Mingi be able to let you in when you bear the very same face he was forced to murder in the Arena in order to become a victor?

A/N: Y'all! My lovelies, it's here!! My thesis was about The Hunger Games and I actually came up with the plot back in like...May?? Uh, anyways, no more gatekeeping this story too lmao, let's all thank Choi San for his appearance this weekend at fashion week, because his outfits inspired me to finally write this oneshot and also come up with a story for him, so, stay tuned! ^^ This piece is actually so very dear to me, I absolutely loved writing it and I just really want to hug Mingi in this, so I really hope you'll love it and enjoy it as much as I did while writing. If I forgot to mention any warnings, let me know so that I can fix it, and sorry for any mistakes, they do slip through sometimes when I proofread. Let me know what you thought of this oneshot, your feedback is always greatly appreciated! Enjoy now! ^^ divider

            His hair was outgrown again, black strands fell into his small and sharp eyes, obscuring them from the world. He had a certain crazed haze in them, irises shaking as the warm brown was overtaken by darkness, a never-ending blackness. The meadow was silent apart from the breeze rustling the leaves, twigs snapping underneath the weight of our feet if we didn’t watch where we stepped. It was quiet apart from the surprised sound I had made and his pants, hurried and frantic as if he was still trying to catch his breath, as if he was frightened by my mere presence. And perhaps he was as our weapons pointed at each other. My hideout had been behind a large bush while his had been behind a tree, wide enough to hide his tall and lanky form. You wouldn’t be able to tell he had lost weight due to the excessive clothes he always wore, but if you knew where to look, you’d spot his sunken collarbones and sharp cheekbones, hands decorated with veins that popped out and a jawline that seemed unnaturally sharp.

My body finally relaxed as it registered no danger, my arm going lax as I lowered my bow and arrow. It took a few more seconds for the man standing in front of me to mirror my actions, eyebrows furrowed deeply with conflict on his face. I knew why he was looking at me like that, a striking reminder of the crimes he was forced to commit, but I didn’t let that deter me from the kindness I always showed to him.

“Hello,” I spoke up softly, mindful of the animals around us and the fact that he was here to hunt too, “I’m sorry for startling you.”

He didn’t speak up, he rarely did when he was in my vicinity—not that he spoke much around people ever since the Games—but that didn’t throw me off from continuously treating him like a human being, something he was, had always been, will continue being. I knew many didn’t treat him like that anymore, everyone threw him glares and spat harsh words at him, but the absent look in his eyes never changed. It was like he wasn’t really there.

“Are you just starting your hunt, by chance?” I questioned, placing my arrow in its holster as I continued holding onto my bow. Despite having lowered his weapon—a bow and arrow, as well—his fingers still curled tightly around the butt of the arrow, almost as if his body refused to relax in my presence. I understood why.

“No.” I tried not to show my surprise when he answered verbally, his voice a low rasp and a deep rumble in his chest. It hadn’t always been like that, when we were younger, his voice used to be squeaky almost like a mouse and oftentimes shrill when he giggled or laughed.

“I have just come out to hunt,” I continued, keeping the soft smile on my lips, but he wasn’t looking at me anymore as I watched him struggle to release his arrow, “Would you like to join me?”

He stiffened again, and I knew why, but his movements became frantic all of a sudden, the arrow slipped in its holster and the bow was back around his wide shoulders. He looked up, face almost pained as he stared at mine deeply, then he shook his head. I didn’t move nor say anything as he suddenly took off, feet tangling in weed and almost sending him flying onto the floor of the forest, but I didn’t help him. I knew he’d hate it, he didn’t let anyone touch him, so I just stayed put and willed myself to watch him as he just barely regained his balance. I wanted to help, but he didn’t allow me, he never has and never will. The meadow was wide, covered in lush green weeds, trees, bushes and colourful flowers, fallen twigs and leaves, logs and rocks, but he still came towards me, not avoiding my body. It was new, most of the time he’d walk around me and not even spare me another glance, but today his eyes were piercing and his stance held more confidence than I have seen in him ever since the Games. My smile didn’t slip off my lips, I was grateful that he wasn’t so keen on avoiding me anymore. But still, almost as if he realized what he was doing, his steps veered away and he went around me just last minute, the fabric of his forest green jacket brushing against my knuckles. I swallowed, nervous for no reason as I turned my head to look after him, “Goodbye, Mingi.”

He flinched when I said his name, he always did and perhaps always will, but instead of ignoring me he looked back too, jaw clenched, but he offered a silent greeting with a nod of his head. My smile widened and his eyes did too at the motion, then he paled, body visibly shaking as he suddenly took off in a sprint, leaving my heart aching and hands trembling as he disappeared from view, my legs giving out as I sat on the muddy floor of the forest. I couldn’t blame him, I never did and I never will, but he made it infinitely harder to cope with the pain of having lost my twin sister because of him.

            The hunt had been successful, I managed to catch four wild ducks, which meant plenty of good coins for a tasty dinner for three. I have started training to become a nurse around a year ago, right after losing my sister, and that meant we were tight on money. I couldn’t say my family struggled much despite being from District 12, but after my sister’s death, it felt like things had slowed down. Money started coming in rather scarcely and it made me realize that she had been an important contributor to our income. Unable to sit back and watch my parents struggle, I decided to follow her path. It had been her dream to become a nurse, to reach the Capitol and become a great doctor, but the Games took both her and her dream away from us. It was a hard blow, it was hard because Mingi could’ve sacrificed himself for a woman who had a whole future planned ahead of herself unlike him, who failed to finish school in his last year and was supposed to work in a mine for the rest of his life. He was selfish, scared, and desperate to remain alive, all reasonable emotions when you’re faced with the choice to kill someone or be killed.

I never blamed him for killing my twin sister, I never hated him for being selfish and shooting his arrow straight into her heart. At least she left this terrifying world quickly and painlessly. I never wished death upon Mingi when my mother wailed while my father held her in his arms and rocked her, sobbing just as loudly as her when the camera span on my sister’s lifeless eyes and face. I never blamed Mingi for her death because he sobbed just as hard as us after the kill, holding her frail frame in his arms as he screamed towards the sky, words unheard as the cameras didn’t record audio too. I didn’t blame him when I found refuge in the meadow my sister loved so much, curled up in a ball in the tall grass as I cried loudly, chest aching and ears ringing until nightfall, when I finally felt empty and numb. And I still didn’t blame him when he returned home, crowned as the winner of last year’s Hunger Games, rewarded with so much money it would last him generations and a house at the Victor’s Village so big three families could fit inside. And despite the pain I felt when the train came to a screeching halt and he got off with empty eyes and sunken cheeks, our eyes meeting for a brief moment, I couldn’t hate him or blame him because the Song Mingi once everyone had known was gone.

The sky had turned darker as the sun hid behind the trees, the moon taking its place in the sky as mist settled upon the forests that surrounded our district. And despite the nightfall, the Hob was alive and buzzing with people who were desperate to trade their goods in exchange for some coins in order to survive another day. The four wild ducks I had caught, I had cut up and taken their feathers off, were displayed on the small table I managed to fetch from behind the building that has seen better days, and I set it up next to an old lady who sold trinkets and jewellery that looked older than even her. I have promised to give her the smaller duck in trade for a silver bracelet that had one pearl. I had never seen a pearl up close, and despite knowing that I’d never wear it, I’d figure out eventually what I wanted to do with it. Perhaps I’ll give it as a gift to my father, since it looked way too big for a woman’s wrist, or perhaps I’ll bring it to my sister’s grave and leave it as a gift to her. I didn’t dwell on the thought much.

The Hob was well-lit despite the old lamps that hung above our heads, and the late summer chill had settled inside, prompting everyone to wear their warmer clothes. I had accepted the battered blanket the old lady handed me when she saw me shivering, and promised to return tomorrow with ointment for her cut-up hands. I couldn’t tell whether she had nobody to look out for her or if her family had simply abandoned her, but I have promised myself after my sister’s death that I would help those who needed help yet couldn’t pay with coins for my services. A flower, cheese and bread, or even a small trinket would be good enough for me, I’d make use of it if it meant I helped a soul that needed attention and care.

Three ducks still sat on the table in front of me and I smiled warmly at everyone who wandered towards me, hungry eyes fixating on the ducks. The man that stood in front of me was a mine worker, I knew him because he worked with my father numerous times before.

“Hello, sir.” I greeted him and his eyes briefly looked up at me.

“Your father must be proud of you for helping out,” He muttered under his breath as he scratched his already irritated neck, “he speaks of you a lot on our breaks. How much for one duck?”

“Five coins will do, sir,” I answered him politely, but as he looked inside his pouch his face had turned ashen, then furious.

“Five is too much, child, who do you think can pay so much?” His voice turned harsh, and the lady next to me cast a glance our way.

“I’m sorry, sir, but I risk my life stepping outside the boundaries of our district, five coins are cheap for my sacrifices and the duck.” I didn’t let him waver my resolve, I knew how people were here. They would try to trick their way out of paying the worth of the items, and I wouldn’t fall for his manipulations. But the man seemed displeased as his fist came down on the table, making me jump. I wasn’t a violent person, but I was glad for the knife that was hidden underneath my clothes, pressing against my hip as a reminder that it was there. The old lady now looked at us, eyebrows furrowing.

“Maybe you should return to your little nursing school and fuck off to the Capitol like your sister had—”

“If you cannot pay five coins, walk along!” The old lady snapped next to me, eyes hardened and voice raised as it turned heads, curious eyes watching the tense exchange. The man threw her a glance and scoffed before he reached inside his pouch and retrieved the coins I had asked for, throwing them on the table as he grabbed one duck and stalked off. I sighed but gave the old lady a thankful smile and collected the coins, crouching down to retrieve one as it had tumbled to the ground. The cacophony of the market seemed to quieten at once until it turned into just murmurs, and I stood back up with a confused look on my face. I was a bit far from the entrance of the Hob and couldn’t see far ahead due to the number of people inside, but when the crowd started parting for a certain person, I understood their reaction.

Despite the camouflage he tried wearing, his clean and thick clothes managed to make him stick out like a sore thumb, his small eyes sharper now that the lower half of his face was concealed by a black silk scarf. He still wore the same jacket as earlier today, a satchel bag sitting against his hip as he wandered further inside the market. People whispered behind his back and stepped aside when he came too close, and I watched as people glared at him behind his back, pointing fingers and no doubt throwing insults at him. I wondered if people from other districts treated their Victors the same way people here treated Mingi. Maybe it was because my sister was a beloved figure in our district, a professional healer and always kind to everyone, maybe it was because Mingi had lost himself halfway into the games and murdered those who crossed his path viciously. Behind all the stares, glares and whispers lay something deeper. It was fear because people were reminded of their animalistic side, of who they could turn into when faced with the question of whether they wanted to live or die. They were scared because everyone knew they would do the same Mingi had done, kill an innocent and kind person in order to survive.

It was almost as if the market had frozen over when Mingi finally reached my humble table, silence so loud it irked my ears as everyone watched on edge our exchange. His eyes didn’t settle on my face for long, reluctant to look at me when so many were watching us, but I just smiled and looked at him with kindness, “Good evening, Mingi.”

I could hear gasps even, mouths hanging open as the Victor halted in front of the ducks I managed to hunt, eyes sweeping over them as if he did a quick count in his head. Even if minuscule, his eyes conveyed surprise and somewhat admiration when we looked up at me again, but upon seeing my smile, his eyes steeled, becoming devoid of any emotion. He nodded his head once in acknowledgement, then swiftly walked off, eyes set on a table that was littered with old and new weapons alike. Mingi had the money to buy the best of the best, but he always came to the Hob, late at night, probably hoping fewer people would be here. He could afford luxuries, but he preferred helping out those in need. He never said anything when they demanded more of him, he just wordlessly handed them the coins and left with a quiet ‘Thank you’. People catalogued him as selfish and ruthless, but he was deeply caring and rather selfless. It all mattered on the perspective you had of him and whether you wanted to spot the good in him or not.

Once Mingi was on his way towards other stalls and tables, the market seemed to regain its liveliness while remaining aware and alert of his presence amongst the crowd. Nobody approached him and nobody spoke to him, the vendors gave him second glances and seemed reluctant to acknowledge him despite the money they knew he could offer them. My eyes remained on his tall form, his shoulders hunched forward, as people passed by my table, sometimes stopping to inquire about the price of the wild ducks. A girl, too young to be here, bounced towards my table as she held onto her mother’s hand, eyes stuck on the ducks. My heart ached at the sight of her frail frame and the ghastliness of her mother’s face, and when she tried to veer her daughter away because they barely had any money, I cleared my throat and stepped around the table.

“Hello,” I greeted them kindly, and smiled at the girl as her eyes shone with enthusiasm, “Would you like to buy some wild duck?”

“We don’t have enough money, sorry.” The mother muttered embarrassed and I quickly shook my head.

“Well, you’re in luck tonight then, because I’m not looking for money.” I have acquired ten coins as I have sold two ducks, and while I still needed at least ten more, everyone had to make sacrifices and I wasn’t about to let them walk away without the duck in a bag and in their hands.

“But—”

“Come.” I beckoned the little girl towards myself, disregarding the mother as her eyes widened, “Which one would you like?”

I crouched down to be at the same height as the girl and she smiled widely at me, eyes sweeping over the two ducks that have remained on the table. She stuck her tongue out as she seemed to analyse both, then pointed to the larger one and I grinned back at her.

“That’s a good one,” I said with a chuckle and the girl shyly ran back to her mom to hide behind her skirt. I grabbed a paper bag and carefully placed the duck inside of it as the mother’s eyes followed my every move.

“I cannot accept this.” She tried to refuse but I was having none of it as I handed the bag to the little girl instead.

“You can.” I said with a reassuring smile, “My mother is looking for a seamstress, perhaps you can help her out sometime?”

I knew the woman was a seamstress whose business wasn’t flourishing anymore, but she was still clinging on to it, trying to do her best as she raised her daughter. Nobody knew who her father was and they had been treated harshly ever since she was born. Tears sprung into the mother’s eyes and she bowed her head deeply, “Thank you, I’ll make sure to do a good job. Bring in your clothes too, if they need fixing.”

“I sure will, thank you.” I bowed back and looked at the little girl, “Do you like pies?”

“I do!” She exclaimed happily and I chuckled.

“Well, then, I’ll see you two sometime next week with a pie and three dresses.” The mother bowed her head again and thanked me as a tear fell down her cheek, then she veered her daughter towards the exit as she blabbered on about how she loved duck meat the most. With a content smile on my lips, I walked back behind my table as I felt eyes on me. The old lady had a thoughtful look on her face as I faced her, and then she looked towards the crowd and sighed loudly.

“Your parents have raised you well, both you and your sister.” The old lady said and I nodded, agreeing with her, “She was kind too, but you are kinder, my dear. You have never expected anything in exchange for your actions, ever since you were little.”

“If we don’t stick together, then who will help us out?” I asked, eyebrows furrowing and my mood souring, “Surely not President Snow and the people from the Capitol, right?”

The old lady gave me a long look as she hummed, eyes looking back onto the crowd as I heard someone yelp. Curious, I turned my head and tried to pinpoint whoever had called out in fright, but the crowd was big and I couldn’t see anyone.

“Be brave and honest, but careful, even the walls have ears, my dear.” The old lady advised as men started shouting, the crowd crying out in fright again as suddenly it started dispersing not far from us, the people hid behind tables and next to vendors as another man exclaimed in pain. My eyebrows furrowed as I perked up, walking around my table as the crowd was clearing and I could almost see what was happening up ahead.

“What is the matter—” My eyes widened when I realized someone had Mingi’s torso pressed against a table, face down, wrists held behind his back as he struggled to break free as he hissed and glared viciously. My eyes widened as suddenly he kicked his leg backwards, and the man holding him folded over in pain as he released the Victor, scrambling back as Mingi whirled around with a wild look in his eyes, hands held out protectively in front of himself. The crowd steeled for a second, my heartbeat quickening as I realized he had the same look in his eyes as earlier today. Then, almost at once, three men jumped forward and tried to restrain him as Mingi pulled a knife from his pocket, sneering at whoever jumped at him, his chest rising and falling rapidly. I didn’t know what led to this altercation, but something felt wrong. Mingi was inoffensive, he never attacked first and he wouldn’t even hurt a fly even if it bothered him. Someone must’ve done or said something that made him so defensive.

But the men didn’t care as more women screamed, and I gripped the edge of my table as they jumped towards him, trying to take him down. Mingi was alone and despite being strong, he couldn’t defend himself against three men who were stronger and really angry. The way he held his knife was obvious enough that he didn’t intend to harm anyone, it was obvious enough to me that he was scared. My heart leapt into my chest as a man jumped at him from behind, unseen by almost everyone, an arm going around Mingi’s neck as the one to his right slapped the knife out of his tight hold. Then, his knees were kicked out from underneath him and he fell with a terrified cry, trashing around as the men tried to restrain his frantic movements. I took off without realizing my legs were taking me in their direction, heart beating fast as my ears rang, head aching the more Mingi’s cries started sounding less aggressive and more scared, but nobody seemed to hear them or care about them.

I pushed people out of the way, unapologetic and frantic, running around tables and jumping over crates as they were in my way, the only goal in my mind to reach him. Held down like that, his eyes were wide and filled with helplessness, the same look had been reflected in my sister’s when she had been shot in the heart. Mingi was still trashing around but his body was trembling now and it was audible that he was struggling to breathe. My body was lit with deep anger as I realized everyone was feeding off of his fear instead of realizing he was having a panic attack. The last person I pushed aside gave me a look and went to grab at me, but I threw them a menacing glare before I broke free of the crowd finally, panting as the attention was on both Mingi and me now. The men who held him were smirking and mocking him, but a look of confusion crossed their faces when I stood in front of them, frantic and desperate to stop this.

“Stop it!” I snapped, voice a lot more high-pitched than I expected it to be, “Let go of him!”

“He’s like a rabid dog,” One man hissed, “Like hell, are we releasing him. He’ll hurt us—”

“I said,” My voice held danger as I itched to grab my knife and hold it threateningly towards the men, “let him fucking go!”

And if my scream didn’t chill the onlookers, then Mingi’s helpless whimper did as his eyes screwed shut tightly, even his head shaking as he struggled to breathe. I didn’t wait for the men to listen to me as I scrambled towards Mingi, falling to my knees with a loud thud as my knees shook from the impact, but I didn’t care as he was finally released. He flinched and tried to flee, but my cold fingertips traced his forehead as his eyes snapped open, wide and shaking as they bore into mine.

“It’s okay,” My voice was quiet and gentle, assuring, “I’m going to take this off.”

I gently grabbed the scarf that covered his nose and lips, and a strong hand suddenly grabbed at my bicep. The men tried to touch Mingi again, but I threw them a warning look.

“You’ll be able to breathe better, Mingi,” I said with the same softness as the grip on my arm continued to tighten, but Mingi didn’t object as I slowly pulled the scarf off his lower face. He gasped and clung onto me with both hands now, lips trembling as his body shook. He looked smaller than he was, he looked on the verge of passing out. With a shaky breath, I traced his thick eyebrows and brushed his long bangs out of his eyes as I offered him the smallest smile.

“Mingi, what we’ll do next is easy, alright?” He gasped as he was hyperventilating, but his eyes were stuck to my lips, “We’ll breathe together, alright? We inhale big and exhale long, good? You’re safe, Mingi.”

I didn’t know how much my words managed to reach his mind, but I started taking big inhales and long exhales, hoping that he’d soon follow my lead. People gawked at us and murmured, horrified that I was helping the man who mercilessly killed my twin sister. I didn’t care, Mingi was human too and he was suffering. It was right in front of their noses, the fact that he was still struggling and paying the consequences of his actions, but nobody seemed to actually care that he wasn’t just a rich and scary Victor now.

“In,” I inhaled, holding Mingi’s cold face in my hands as his fingers dug into my cardigan, “Out.”

And he was slowly catching on to how to breathe in and out, his chest expanding and then falling back as he emptied his lungs. His body was shaking and he would still whimper or become smaller when someone made a sound too loud, but I was here, and I was determined to help him regain his senses, regain himself. It took him a few good minutes, but his frantic breaths have found a new rhythm, much calmer and quieter than before, inhaling and exhaling at the same time with me. A small smile crossed my face when I realized he was slowly returning to himself, my thumbs gently rubbed the skin under his eyes, trying to bring the smallest form of comfort. His grip relaxed around my biceps and his body leaned towards mine as if it was trying to drink in my warmth, I let him nuzzle his face into my hands as his body finally stopped trembling. The people around us went quiet and I gulped, trying to keep my composure in front of everyone. I was mad, I was angry and I wanted to scream at them for treating him like an animal, for caging him in and making him feel like he was in danger, like he was back in the arena once again, triggering a panic attack and probably unwanted memories that he tried to bury deep down.

“You’re safe, Mingi.” His eyes snapped open and bore into mine, irises expanded and still alarmed as he took breaths through his mouth, hands slipping down from my biceps to my wrists. His grip was painful and I understood that he wanted my hands off his skin, so I pulled them back into my lap, but he didn’t let go of me just yet. His eyes were shaking again, tears sprung into them and he gulped, subtly shaking his head. He had become paler than he was before, and I knew the crowd was too much, the eyes and the whispers, the fingers that were pointed at us and the sneers, the judgemental stares. I gripped his wrists back and stood, looking down at Mingi as I silently asked him to stand as well.

His eyes continued boring into mine, face ashen, but at least he knew he was safe as long as he didn’t let go of me.

            The petals of the soft pink flower felt dainty underneath my fingertips as I gently traced them, a small smile on my lips as I inhaled their scent before rearranging the bouquet in the vase. I had brought them in from the meadow just yesterday, so they were still fresh and flourishing. The meadow was full of the pinkish coloured Musk Mallows which was my twin sister’s favourite flower. She’d always gush about their softness and beauty, collecting a small bouquet for herself to decorate her grim side of our shared room. I wasn’t fond of the flower at first, its smell irritating my nostrils, but with the passing of years and sneaking to the meadow before sunset, I started loving their familiarity. The meadow was peaceful, quiet, and far away from the Peacekeepers and the grey haze of District 12. It was a reminder of what our Earth must’ve looked like before the nuclear war destroyed it and forced it to become what Panem is today.

The pink flowers reminded me of freedom and of my sister, of a dream that was possible to achieve if you never gave up and fought for it. It reminded me of love and laughter and the look on my sister’s face whenever she cradled it to her chest, of the chastising of our parents for sneaking out once again, but the fondness on their faces when my sister and I would sprint to our rooms giggling and talking about going to the meadow again tomorrow to make flower crowns for our mother and father. It reminded me of tender touches and a quiet love that you didn’t have to talk about or scream it out into the world for everyone to see it or understand it, it reminded me of a toothy smile and small eyes that once used to laugh, of sneaked glances and shy looks passed between classes.

The deep voice of my father's and my mother’s gentler one carried outside of their room, all the way to the kitchen as I changed the flowers’ water, my parents’ murmur gentle and warm. The water was cold against my skin and it made me shiver despite the warm summer breeze that came inside through the open window, and I smiled when I heard footsteps coming into the kitchen. My father was dressed in his overalls, his tools in a handbag and a cap low over his eyes as my mother came following him outside, fussing about the hole in his jacket’s arm. Their love had always been quiet and subtle, it was always about noticing the small things, about doing something quietly for the other one.

“Don’t worry, a small hole won’t make me feel cold down in the mine.” My father’s voice held amusement as he grabbed the jacket out of my mother’s hands. I rearranged the flowers in the vase once I was satisfied with the amount of water inside the glass, and chanced a glance in my parents’ direction.

“But it will seem like your wife is unable to sew it for you,” My mother’s eyebrows were furrowed and I chuckled quietly, picking out seven pink flowers from the bouquet.

“And isn’t that true?” Teasing bordered my father’s tone as he gave my mother a cheeky smile, and she looked away with an embarrassed huff, “Don’t worry, nobody will notice it. It’s rather dark down there.”

“Do you remember the small pink and purple boutique at the square?” I perked up, gaining my parents’ attention as if they were oblivious to my presence.

“The lady who has a daughter now?” My mother asked as she fixed my father’s collar, remaining close by his side.

“Yes, hers.” I nodded, then crouched down to place the flowers I picked out of the vase inside my basket, “She owes me a small favour, we should bring our faulty clothes to her.”

“I heard she’s been struggling,” My father trailed off as he looked at me, but not for too long, then grabbed my mother’s hand, “well then, why not? Everyone needs some coins to make due.”

“Right.” My mother nodded with a smile as I grabbed my basket and mentally prepared myself for a good enough excuse, “We should visit her, then, sometime this week—Y/N, where are you going, honey?”

I froze in front of the front door and tried to look as innocent as possible, “I’ll stop by at a house before I head to the Nursery, one of my patients was sick lately.”

“In the middle of summer?” My father asked with confusion, eyes straying from my face when I looked at him sadly.

“Some old people are barely hanging on, dad.” I muttered but shook off the grim thought, “I’ll see you tonight, right?”

“Sure, take care of yourself.” He said gently and I nodded, eyeing my mother as her fingers curled around my father’s arm just a bit tighter. Working in a mine had always been dangerous, it had always taken away lives way too abruptly and painfully.

“See you, then.” I waved at my parents and they smiled, proud but with sadness bordering their eyes as they never looked at me for too long. I understood why. The face which was mine hadn’t always been just mine, it had once been my twin sister’s too, even if slightly different. I didn’t blame them like I didn’t blame Mingi, and I never got angry at them like I never got angry at Mingi. Everyone suffered and coped in their own way with loss, and when things got too difficult to bear anymore, I knew I would find solace in the meadow that reminded me so much of my sister.

The walk to the Victor’s Village wasn’t too long, but it was midday and the streets were littered with people going on about their day. I greeted those who offered me smiles and I stopped to talk with those who needed my advice as a nurse. Young children laughed and screamed in the courtyard as I passed by the school, pleasant memories flooding my mind as a young girl clung to the gates and waved at me with a giggle. It reminded me of when I tried to scale the gate in order to prove that I was strong, only to fall and twist my ankle as I tried not to wail, but instead swallow the pain and smile when my classmates started fussing over me. It had been—an already—tall and lanky figure that pushed everyone aside with worry on his face as he came to kneel next to me, thick eyebrows furrowed as he clumsily grabbed my leg, applying pressure where it hurt most. I cried out, scaring everyone, and they started shouting at the boy, trying to pull him away from me as they accused him of hurting me, but I didn’t want him to go. His touch was warm and gentle, scared but willing to help, and I only stopped throwing a fit when the other children left him alone and made him pick me up and carry me to the Nursery that was close by. His voice was still scratchy back then, but it was soft and friendly, “You’re safe, Y/N.”

Nervous for no reason, I readjusted the collar of my lavender-coloured dress and then knocked against the perfectly white door, the air a bit clearer over here. The Victor’s Village was just by the borders of District 12, meaning that it was closer to the forest and meadow I loved so much. It was always silent here, and it smelled of flowers and baked goods whenever the Song’s front door was open to let the fresh air in. Only two houses were inhibited inside the Village and at night it could seem eery, almost haunted by all the lives lost in the Hunger Games. But my irrational nervousness came to a stop when the front door opened and an elderly smiling face welcomed me on the other side.

“Oh, my dear,” The elder woman, Mrs. Song, had a surprised look on her face, “I didn’t expect to see you so soon!”

After everything that’s happened at the Hob last night, I wouldn’t have abandoned Mingi, leave him alone to deal with the aftereffects of his panic attack. I stuck to his side and walked him back to the Victor’s Village as no words were exchanged between us, but the fact that he didn’t shuffle too far from my body was the confirmation I needed that he appreciated my presence and persistence. I was a nurse in training, after all, and he was just a person fighting against the demons inside his mind.

“It was due time I brought you a new ointment, Mrs. Song.” I said with a smile as Mingi’s grandmother beckoned me inside, “And I picked fresh flowers yesterday, I figured they would look nice in your kitchen or living room.”

The old lady’s face lit up upon hearing about the flowers, and I had just barely stepped out of my sandals when her hand gripped my wrist and pulled me after herself. Despite the house being managed by an elderly couple and their grandchild, it was in perfect condition and always pristine clear. I have offered to help them out more often, but Mrs. Song had always said that they were doing fine and capable of handling the huge house on their own. I didn’t want to push them or make them feel incapable since they had Mingi back now, thankfully, and they wouldn’t need another pair of hands to help out. While my sister and Mingi were in the Games, I frequently stopped by the Song’s small house to help the elderly couple with anything I could. Sometimes I cooked for them, other times I helped scrub the house clean, and when their legs hurt too much, I would sell their baked goods at the market and bring back the coins for them.

“You’re so sweet,” Mrs. Song mused as she directed me towards the large table in the kitchen, “Take a seat, I made some apple pie just this morning, it’s my Mingi’s favourite. Would you like some too?”

“I wouldn’t want to take it away from him, then, since it’s his favourite—”

“Nonsense.” Mrs. Song waved her hand, hurrying to take a plate and fork, “That boy is so tall but so skinny. He barely eats anything lately, my dear, what should I do to bring back his appetite?”

It’s been almost a year since his Games, and sometimes I found myself throwing up after eating, my sister’s lifeless eyes flashing behind my eyes, a constant reminder that she wasn’t here anymore. That she wouldn’t go to the Capitol and that she wouldn’t become a nurse, never to hunt again or lay in the flower field at the meadow.

“Just be gentle and patient with him, Mrs. Song,” I placed the basket on the table and opened it, “I can’t guarantee he’ll ever be fine, but he’s doing better. I can see it in his eyes.”

“He’s still haunted by memories,” Mrs. Song whispered defeated as I grabbed the flowers and the tin can of ointment for her leg, “but he doesn’t wake up from nightmares so often anymore.”

“He’ll get better with time, he’ll eventually stop blaming himself.” I whispered as I headed towards Mrs. Song, who had paused and had her head lowered, “He’s lucky to have you and Mr. Song, and you’re doing everything you can for him. It’s good, I am glad he has people who love him and support him.”

Mrs. Song hummed and turned her head to look at me, taking the items from my hands. She smelled the flowers and grinned, placing the ointment by the sink as she went to fetch a vase for the pinkish flowers, “I had always been able to tell whether it was your sister or you, you know? Remember when you brought my Mingi candies when he helped you with your homework? Your sister never quite liked him, I once watched her kick him in the shin because he refused to carry her to school on his back.”

I blushed and looked away feeling embarrassed as Mrs. Song started laughing quietly, amused by the recall of a longtime memory, “You’ve always been soft-spoken and calm, you always looked at my Mingi with admiration and understanding in your eyes. I know he’s not—he appreciates everything you’ve done for him since—since that day, and he’s trying to mend your once bond.”

“It was her who volunteered to take my spot,” My throat felt a little tight, like something was bothering it from the inside, “she knew what she’d have to face, she chose her fate willingly. Mingi only did what everyone else did before him and will do after him, I just wish he was …more willing to receive kindness and love.”

Mrs. Song hummed and gave me a long look before she walked back to me, grabbing the curtain of the small window as she pulled it to the side. She had a big smile on her lips as she gazed outside, and I followed her line of sight, stunned by what I saw. Mingi was outside in the back garden with his grandfather, crouched down and digging up the soil as a half-empty sack lay next to him. His grandfather was fanning himself and holding a bottle of water as his mouth moved, telling Mingi something that made him smile. It was small at first, barely a twitch of the corner of his plump and red lips, but then it expanded slowly into something wider. Something which pulled at the corner of his sharp eyes and softened them up, the brown in them brighter and warmer as his smile only became bigger, crooked front teeth on display, boxy and warm. It lit up his sharp face and made him look kind and friendly, so easily lovable, so easily approachable. The smile made his eyes so small you almost couldn’t see them as they creased, long and tall nose scrunching up as his chest started shaking. It looked like when he was sobbing, but now he was laughing, loudly and joyously, and it made it harder to look at him than at the blazing sun.

My breath hitched and something dormant stirred in my chest, something that made my heart pump my blood faster and my palms ball up into fists as my eyes widened, lips parting in surprise the longer I watched the joy expand on his whole face, making him throw back his head, his black hair not obscuring his eyes for once. His skin was pale despite its tan complex, making it obvious that he didn’t spend much time outside anymore, but under the warm rays of the sun, it made him glow brightly and breathtakingly. He looked casual in his white shirt, which threatened to fall off his right shoulder, and his dark blue trousers were dirtied by the soil his knees dug into. He looked gorgeous, beautiful and mesmerizing, and I have just realized I never wanted to see him cry or frown or tremble in fear ever again. I wanted Mingi to be happy, to be joyous and grateful that he was still alive. I wanted him to smile and laugh every day, his warm eyes trained on me—on my face—without pain or hesitance lingering in them. I wanted Mingi to see me and not my dead twin sister in the reflection of my features.

I gulped, suddenly aware of the tears in my eyes when Mrs. Song placed her wrinkly hand on top of my fisted one, gently squeezing it. Her eyes bore into the side of my head and I sniffed once, trying to gather myself and blink the tears away. Mrs. Song remained silent, but she hummed and gently helped my hands relax as I uncurled them, pressing them into the cold countertop, “He smiles like that from time to time, when he’s able to let go of everything and just be in the moment. I know you miss my grandson, and I know you miss your sister even more.”

“I was never meant to lose both of them,” I whispered, voice strained as I forced my head to turn, Mingi’s laughter and happiness burned into the forefront of my mind, “The Games were never supposed to take away the sister I loved with my whole being, and they were never supposed to take away the innocence and light in Mingi.”

“Life isn’t always fair, my dear,” Mrs. Song said as she let the curtain fall back in place, “Sometimes unexplainable things happen and if we dwell on them trying to find an explanation, whether ordinary or divine, we threaten to lose ourselves in an impossible quest. You’re stronger than anyone has ever thought you’d be, don’t let the darkness get to you like it gets to most of us. You have no idea how much it means that there’s someone who views Mingi like a human being besides me and his grandfather, I was afraid he’d end up like Haymitch, but he’s still fighting and trying to do his best.”

“Mingi’s stronger than he gives credit to himself,” I said with conviction as I walked towards the sink to fetch the ointment I brought, “He’ll never end up like poor Haymitch. I’ll have to check on him soon.”

“He’s still breathing, if you’re worried about him.” Mrs. Song’s tone was sour as she knocked on the window, “I went over today, brought him some pie too. It was the first time since we moved here that he didn’t slam the door in my face, I suspect apple pie is also his favourite.”

Mrs. Song and I chuckled to ourselves as we heard the front door open and then close loudly, manly voices conversing about whether the new seeds they had planted would grow out fast or not. I opened the tin can and handed it to Mrs. Song so that she could smell it and realize I had infused some cinnamon into it since it’s her favourite scent. Her eyes lit up and she grinned just as the men appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, Mr. Song’s laughter gruff, followed by a scratchy cough. I let my eyes fall on the grandfather and grandson, their eyes and noses very similar, it seemed like the traits had carried over to Mingi too. His grandparents weren’t tall people, but judging by the small fragments of memories of Mingi’s parents, I could remember his father being an intimidatingly tall man. Unfortunately, he died in a mining accident when Mingi and I were barely five years old, and his mother unfortunately died not even two years later due to an incurable sickness.

“Oh, Miss Park, what brings you our way?” Mr. Song asked in surprise as he tried to stand up straighter, dusting off his pants and making soil fall onto the clean floors. Mrs. Song’s eyes narrowed but she didn’t say something as Mr. Song acted like he was innocent.

“I wanted to bring Mrs. Song a new ointment for her leg, hopefully, this will work better.” I tried to act like it didn’t hurt when Mingi’s expression fell once he realized it was me who stood in their kitchen, “Is your chest alright, Mr. Song? Do your lungs still hurt when you cough?”

“Ah, no, don’t worry about me!” He quickly brushed my concerns off, but my eyes were stuck on Mingi as he shuffled on his feet, shoulders hunching as if he was trying to look smaller. He didn’t look my way, sharp eyes pointed to the floor, but his face was void of any expression. I could still see his smile in front of my eyes, I could even imagine what his deep laughter sounded like—probably higher-pitched because it had always been breathy—but it remained as an unfulfilled desire because Mingi would never look at me like that, just with anguish and pain in his eyes, “And are you well? I hope our Mingi didn’t inconvenience you too much last night—”

“Helping him, or anyone for the matter, is never an inconvenience to me, Mr. Song.” I didn’t mean to cut the elder man off, nor to sound too snappy, but I couldn’t help myself. The anger and rage I felt last night for the treatment Mingi was forced to face at the Hob still simmered just underneath my skin, making me sensitive, “It wouldn’t have even happened if people stopped seeing him the way the Capitol has painted him, I—I can’t just stand and watch them torment him, I’m sorry. But I’m glad you’re feeling better today, Mingi.”

The Victor flinched when I said his name, gripping his left arm as he started scratching it through the fabric of the loose white shirt he wore, but he nodded his head and briefly looked up at me, a glimpse of gratitude visible on his face, “Thank you for stepping in.”

“Anytime,” I said, and then Mingi was looking anywhere but at me, my presence in his home clearly making him feel uncomfortable. Realizing that despite his grandparents always welcoming me eagerly with open arms, Mingi still didn’t feel comfortable nor keen on seeing me in the one place where he was supposed to be safe from everyone and everything. I understood why, so I didn’t let the thought sour my mood or bring my spirits down, instead, I went and gathered my basket with a smile on my face and glanced at Mrs. Song, “Thank you for the apple pie, but I’m needed at the Nursery, I’ll have it some other time perhaps. Mr. Song, don’t exert yourself too much and if you’re feeling unwell, let me know.”

The men stood aside so that I could leave the kitchen and despite making sure I didn’t walk too close to Mingi, my knuckles still brushed against the soft fabric of his shirt, just barely but it felt soft and warm. My body stiffened, but I didn’t stop despite Mingi’s head turning to look after me, eyebrows furrowed as he looked conflicted.

“Goodbye!” I called before I was out the door, forced to take deep breaths as my heart was hammering against my chest. I had thought I could do this. But the longer he looked at me with disdain, reluctance and pain in his eyes, the more my chest ached and my lungs constricted, trying to call out for the man I was missing, for the boy who always smiled when he saw me and averted his eyes shyly if he looked for too long. But I wasn’t giving up, I couldn’t, and I wouldn’t treat him like the monster the Capitol made him out to be.

            The Hob once was a place filled with laughter and good disposition, a place where people went to dance, listen to music and enjoy their evenings. Now, after the war that destroyed District 13, the Hob became a mere warehouse that was worn down by the passing of time, destroyed by harsh winters and scorching summers. With its missing windows and hollow insides, the people of District 12 made a place out of it that would host illegal night markets, a means of trying to earn more coins in plus despite it being illegal. The Peacemakers knew of it but they never interfered as long as those guarding it got something out of it too. But with the disappearance of what the Hob once used to be, it needed a replacement, a place that would bring people together still, bring some light into their dark every day. The Hut was that place, an old house of a family that have long died since, in a slightly better-off part of District 12. As expected, the Peacekeepers knew of this place too, but they rarely came to bother people as it was close to the mayor’s house, thus leading to fewer displays of aggressive behaviour. But there were exceptions, there always were exceptions.

The people of District 12 couldn’t be considered hostile or unfriendly, but they knew how to hold grudges, and they weren’t afraid to show their hatred toward one another. It’s this reason why they so blatantly mistreated Mingi, swearing and cursing at his face, brave to lay their hands on him without thinking that it could trigger memories from the Games, making him lash out. At the Hob, when he had a lapse of judgment, his panic attack was induced by something that triggered a terrible memory from the games, leading to the altercation. But people seemed to not understand this, ignorant and unwilling to hear me out and realize that they were hurting him more by their attitudes towards him, ostracizing him even more. My friends, who had always known how I felt about Mingi, were just as ignorant at first, blaming him and mocking him, but they’ve gotten better at accepting him and leaving him alone. They weren’t children anymore, I wouldn’t be held accountable for their actions and words, but I could at least try and open their eyes to reality.

The Hut was almost overflowing by the time me and my friends had arrived, rushing inside as the summer breeze bit at our exposed skin. The long-sleeved dress I wore was dark green, like the forest I’d go hunting at, and I had a dainty brown belt around my waist that my sister had gifted me a long time ago. It was made of leather and it must’ve cost a fortune to her, but she smiled widely and clapped her hands when I opened the small gift box, my eyes widening at the expensive clothing item. Now, knowing that she loved it when I wore it, I made sure to wear it as often as I could even if she wasn’t here to see me. It’s the thought that mattered, and I knew she’d be elated if she were here.

We managed to catch an empty table, just about fitting for seven people as we settled in our chairs, voices raised as the live band played their upbeat music, gathering dancing couples close by the scene and cheering everyone on to come and dance. My friends wanted to grab each a pint of beer before we’d mingle with others our age, so I volunteered to walk up to the bar and order us drinks as three Peacekeepers off duty had approached our table, obviously trying to charm the single ladies who sat there. I wasn’t keen on them, they were ruthless in their practices and unforgiving and fake even when they didn’t wear their uniforms. I had no interest in men like them, men who chose to serve the Capitol and earn a paycheck by asserting violence on others.

I pushed my way through the crowd and tried to dodge every drunk person that came my way, but someone had pushed me from behind just as I neared the bar, making me fall forward and crash into someone’s back. The person stiffened instantly and before I could panic, the familiar scent of the person reached my nose. The fabric of his sweater was soft underneath my fingertips, obviously being a gift from someone wealthy as nobody from District 12 could’ve afforded it. It was beige and had an intriguing black pattern knitted into it, making the sweater look even more cozy. I stepped back and up to the bar, cheeks flushed from the heat inside the place but also from stumbling so clumsily into Mingi.

“I’m sorry,” I spoke up as our eyes met, his widening as mine looked away, “someone pushed me and I lost my footing.”

Mingi didn’t answer, but his hand curled around his pint, knuckles turning white as he squeezed it. His eyes remained stuck on me, though, something unusual as I fumbled with my small purse to find enough coins for my order. I threw him a quick glance and he quickly averted his eyes, staring ahead as his eyebrows furrowed. His hair, surprisingly, was brushed out of his eyes and his cheeks were tinged pink, finally not so pale and sickly looking. His plump lips were chapped but Mingi didn’t seem to mind that as he took a small sip of his own beer. I leaned over the bar and motioned towards the one managing it that I needed seven pints. I wouldn’t be able to carry them to my table, but someone would help, I didn’t worry about that. Now that I had to wait, I turned my body to face Mingi’s, and watched as he stiffened when he realized I was looking at him.

“Are you here by yourself?” I asked with a small smile on my lips and he nodded, picking at a thread of his sleeve as they were longer than his hands and covered them. The sweater created the illusion that it swallowed Mingi’s broad and tall form, giving him a cosy look that oozed safety. I fought against the pull to step closer, to touch his sweater to feel its texture, to compliment him about the way he had styled his hair, finally not obscuring his beautiful eyes. Mingi remained silent, eyes pointed forward as the men standing by the bar gave him irritated looks, as if his mere existence was an inconvenience to them. I sighed and leaned back just a bit, throwing them a warning glare until they turned away, looking uncomfortable.

“Would you like to join me?” I tried with an innocent offer, my smile slightly widening, “I’m here with my—”

“No.” But Mingi’s answer was quick and almost frantic as his eyes widened a bit, his head turning just a little to look at me. He looked almost appalled by my offer and I felt bad for making him feel uncomfortable, but lately, I felt like I didn’t know what to say to him, what was appropriate and what was triggering.

“Right, sorry,” I muttered an apology as the host appeared with my pints of beer, a younger boy trudging after him with a grimace. He looked like he didn’t want to be here, and by the baby fat on his cheeks, he probably wasn’t even supposed to be here.

“Here, help the lady!” The host announced loudly and grabbed the coins I pushed towards him, pushing the younger boy around the bar. Mingi’s eyes fell on the boy, who seemed to pay Mingi no mind other than a quick glance, and I offered him a smile as I grabbed four pints.

“I’ll be here, Mingi.” I ignored it when he flinched, instead smiling wider, “In case you change your mind or need me.”

“Thanks.” I didn’t let my surprise show as he thanked me, quietly and almost hesitantly, but our eyes met and he nodded his head, eyes unsure as they remained stuck to my face. I lingered for a second, wishing to say more, to look at him more, but the young boy was already walking off with the other pints and I couldn’t stay by the bar forever. I nodded my head and swiftly walked off, not without looking back and realizing Mingi’s eyes were following me. It made my chest constrict, a lump in my throat rise as I forced a smile onto my face once I reached my friends’ table, which was filled with laughter and joy.

It felt nice breaking away from the monotonous days, from the grey mood everyone in District 12 seemed to have, it felt nice to spend an evening laughing and enjoying myself. Music seemed to always uplift my mood, and I loved watching people dance, eyes stuck to the way they twirled and moved, sometimes laughing, sometimes looking like they were concentrating too much. I loved to watch the gentleness they held each other with, the spark in their eyes and the ease with which they knew how to follow one's lead. The evening had turned into the late hours of the night, my stomach ached from laughing, but my feet still felt fine as I hadn’t danced just yet. Nobody had approached me and I didn’t want to dance with just anyone, so I also didn’t try to find a dance partner. Despite laughing and conversing with my friends, my eyes often strayed towards the bar, unable to focus on the conversation as I gazed at Mingi, wondering what was going through his mind. He didn’t move from the bar but he did find a seat on a stool, and he didn’t drink more than two pints of beer, but he did eat a pie that looked to be with apples. Nobody approached him and he didn’t approach anyone, he remained alone and stuck to himself as he often would look towards the dancing crowd, picking at the skin around his nails.

Mingi had once used to love to dance, whenever we came here, he wouldn’t sit down for even a second. We never came together, our friend groups were different, but we always somehow stumbled into each other. He had once tried to ask my sister to dance with him, but she gave him a disgusted look and stomped on his feet before storming off towards the boy she was head over heels. Taking pity on Mingi, whose lips were downturned and his head hung low, I told him I really wanted to dance but nobody wanted to dance with me. The joy was back on his face as he took my hand and led me towards the dancing people, blabbering on about his favourite songs and how he had tried playing the guitar before but failed. After that, Mingi always seemed to save me a dance before we’d head home. Perhaps there was one person, after all, that I expected to ask me to dance tonight, and it was Mingi.

I was sat at the table with just two of my friends as they drunkenly tried to ask about how my nursing school was working out, but I barely paid them any mind as I saw two men creeping towards Mingi. They seemed to be drunk too, but they had vicious smirks on their lips and narrowed eyes as they spoke between each other, pointing at Mingi’s back. My jaw clenched when one grabbed his shoulder and yanked him backwards, startling Mingi who almost managed to fall off the stool. The other leaned in uncomfortably close, spatting words in his face as Mingi’s eyebrows furrowed, face falling slowly as fear coated his eyes. Sitting up abruptly and alerting my two friends, I paid them no mind as my legs carried me over to the bar, storming up to Mingi and the two idiots without paying mind to anything else.

“Excuse me.” My voice was loud and harsh as I snapped, jaw clenching when only Mingi seemed to realize I was there too, “Get your hands off him, now.”

And then I grabbed the man’s wrist who still held onto Mingi tightly, making sure to dig my nails into his skin as he yelped, turning around with fury on his face. I didn’t release him, not yet, as his face got red and his chest puffed up, prompting Mingi to slide off his stool, standing tall as he watched the exchange.

“You failed to hear me the first time,” I said, then pushed the man back by his hand before I released it, “surely a woman’s grip didn’t hurt you?”

The man scoffed as his hands balled up into fists, and suddenly Mingi was moving, making me gasp when I felt my back pressing into the bar, body shielded by his much taller and bigger one as he stood in front of me, gripping the other man’s forearm with a sneer on his face, “Don’t touch her.”

Mingi’s voice was low and threatening and it only took seconds for the man to start trembling as he tried to yank his arm free, looking towards his companion with a helpless look. But the man didn’t seem like he wanted to help as he watched Mingi with an open mouth.

“Mingi.” I whispered, scared that this would turn into a really bad scene, something I couldn’t help him get out of like at the Hob, “Would you like to dance with me?”

Mingi froze, dropping the man’s forearm as he turned around, eyebrows furrowed and body too close to mine. I looked up at him, finding myself breathing harder when I felt faint fingertips brushing against my knuckles, making my heart somersault.

“Yes.” And before my mind could register that Mingi had accepted to dance with me, a large hand on my waist was gently veering me around the crowd, leading me towards the dancing one, where the band’s music was louder and everyone was smiling and enjoying themselves. My heart raced in my chest as Mingi led us into the middle of the crowd, coming around me as his eyebrows were furrowed, hands hesitant to touch me anywhere despite having led me here by a hand on my waist. I gulped and raised one hand, deciding to make the first step and offering him a gentle invitation.

I didn’t think he’d actually take me up for a dance, I only said that to de-escalate the situation and to have an excuse for us to walk away from it. But Mingi seemed to take it seriously, his warm and large hand hesitantly slipping into mine. His hand was calloused from wielding a bow and arrow and from working in the back garden too, but his touch remained gentle and mindful. He didn’t wait for me to hold onto his shoulder as he pressed his other hand flatly against my lower back, guiding my body closer to his, but leaving a small gap. I gulped as I looked up, eyebrows furrowed as I fought against the tears that wanted to fill my eyes.

It felt like the world had stopped moving around us, as if the Games never existed, as if the old Mingi was back and my sister was watching us from the sidelines with a displeased look on her face. The tension eased from Mingi’s body and he looked at me with less guilt in his eyes as we made eye contact, but he still swallowed hard, lips parting as his voice was gruff and raspy, “Why are you so kind to me?”

“Because you deserve kindness,” I answered without hesitance, gripping his shoulder and clinging onto him too tightly, having little care about the fact that perhaps this was too much for Mingi, that maybe he didn’t want us standing so close, touching each other in familiar ways. But he remained silent as his body further relaxed, shoulders lowering as I felt his fingers jab into my lower back, with a tug on my belt he closed the gap between our bodies.

I couldn’t breathe all of a sudden, what was supposed to be a dance position felt an awful lot like an attempt at a hug, and I couldn’t breathe as I drowned in Mingi’s closeness, warmth and safety, letting my forehead press against his collarbone as a tear rolled down my cheek.

I hadn’t cried since my sister’s death.

            The days went by quickly here, people were used to their routines and they followed them diligently. Nothing ever interesting or intriguing happened, life was mostly grim and grey. Our District wasn’t well off and there were days when even the wealthiest had to sit back and consider whether throwing out money for luxuries was truly necessary or not. The Hob was filled with more and more people trying to earn a little more in plus, desperate as hungry children hid behind their mothers and hollow-cheeked men tried to be louder so that they’d attract attention upon their stalls. It was a hard-to-swallow picture at times, but it was what I grew up seeing my whole life. I still took pity on everyone, never getting quite used to seeing all the suffering these people had to endure, frequently reminded that I was one of them too, struggling at times to get by. Training to become a nurse had made me realize that I felt fulfilled helping others and that it made me find a purpose other than trying to survive day by day. It gave me hope that if I was capable of helping and healing others, instead of harming them and taking their lives away, then others were capable of taking me as an example to become better and more helpful towards their peers. District 12 had always been forgotten and misjudged by the public—hence why it came as a shock to the Capitol that Mingi was strong and perfectly capable of handling a weapon and defending himself—if our people didn’t stick together, then who would vouch for us?

Helping others, even in the smallest ways like bringing them water or even a slice of bread shouldn’t have been considered something impossible, offering a helping hand to an elderly couple shouldn’t have surprised others when they found out about it. That is why helping the Song family had never seemed like a nuisance to me. Before the Games, it didn’t feel wrong to anyone, but after Mingi returned as a Victor it wasn’t just him who was shunned, his grandparents were too, treated poorly by those who once had happily visited their small patisserie, looking out for the elderly pair who have raised a small child into a fine young man. It was disheartening to watch how the people treated the family, only to realize my own family viewed them the same way. My parents stopped asking about their well-being, about whether Mingi would’ve liked having dinner with us, whether I would go hunt with Mingi and bring back flowers for my sister, they acted as if he never existed. I understood their reasoning, but I couldn’t accept it. They couldn’t blame him for something that was out of his control, for something he was forced to do. That is why I never cared what others thought of me, what they said about me behind my back, whether they judged me or not for keeping in touch with the Song family. Only I could change my mind about them, nothing anyone else said about them could influence me in any way.

That is why I continued to stick around, that is why I visited them weekly to make sure the elderly couple was healthy and Mingi wasn’t cooped up in his room all the time. Today, just shy of a week since Mingi and I had danced at The Hut, I stopped by to see whether Mrs. Song needed help with house maintenance. I memorised the days she liked to clean the house, opening all windows and dusting off all shelves, moping the floors clean and baking something delicious for her husband and grandchild. The blueberry muffins were in the oven, their aroma making my stomach churn as Mrs. Song was perched on a chair, rearranging a shelf of books as she carefully cradled their spines, smiling whenever she opened a book, flipping through pages that were yellow already. I was sat on the windowsill as I cleaned the hinges of the window with a green rag, humming to myself as the birds outside chirped loudly, making me smile. Mr. Song had ventured inside the District, looking for trinkets as he was building a small jewellery box and needed something to decorate it with. If Mingi wasn’t home during the day, he most certainly was out hunting, so I didn’t have to ask Mrs. Song about his whereabouts.

“The Capitol people are coming next week and they’ll be here for a few days,” Mrs. Song spoke up as I felt her eyes on me, “you shouldn’t come over, for your own safety. They are curious people and they always ask questions, they always pester Mingi whether he has someone or not. There’s—bad people in the Capitol who tried to buy him but Haymitch didn’t let them, it’s a dangerous world. Mingi wouldn’t want you involved either.”

I gulped, gut coiling upon hearing people tried to buy him as if he wasn’t a living person with a will and control over his own choices, it didn’t sit well with me, “Is something the matter?”

“No, the Reaping is getting closer and President Snow wants to showcase last year’s Victor.” Mrs. Song sighed and carefully got off the chair, sitting on it instead, “Update the public about what he’s been up to lately and how he’s doing, it’s all for show, really. But Mingi hates it, he’s been more—silent and avoidant, he doesn’t leave his room so often anymore. I know he’s scared, he’s dreading the Reaping. He will probably have to go as a Mentor this year and he doesn’t want to. The nightmares are back too, I don’t know how to be there for him anymore. I don’t know what to do to reassure him anymore.”

A feeling of sadness permeated my whole being as I closed the window, shiny and as good as new as I faced Mrs. Song, “He knows you’re trying your best, and he’s trying his best too. Just let him be and offer him a shoulder to lean on when he comes to you, I think he’s gotten better at coping. I can make a tea for him, to sleep better and have less nightmares, if you want me to.”

“I’ll ask him about it.” Mrs. Song smiled and stood, bringing the chair back to its spot in the kitchen. I drew the curtains together and grabbed the rag to bring it to the bathroom and wash it clean, but as I stepped into the hallway, the front door opened and Mingi stepped through the threshold. His black hair was dishevelled and his attire was completely green, his jacket undone and t-shirt underneath muddy as he kicked his dirty shoes off by the door. He hadn’t noticed me yet as he held a wild duck in his hand, an arrow still lodged in its heart.

“’Ma, I’m—” When he looked up his body tensed, eyes stopping on me. I stood up a bit straighter and offered him a small welcoming smile.

“Hello.” I greeted, holding the rag with both hands in front of me. It’s been a week since we danced together and he hadn’t been as tense around me as before, he spoke a bit more, but he still kept his distance. He didn’t look at me for too long, but his eyes looked less haunted whenever he did, “How was your hunt?”

Mingi swallowed then his eyes looked down at his hands, the dead duck wasn’t dripping blood on the clean floor at least, “Short, but I caught something at least.”

“That’s good,” I smiled a bit wider, “your grandma will make a delicious stew out of it, I’m sure.”

Mingi hummed as his eyes were stuck on the arrow that went through the duck’s heart as if he was unable to look away. His thick brows furrowed and his jaw clenched, but he abruptly raised his head, eyes hard and body alarmed as I tried to stand as unthreateningly as I could. I didn’t want to trigger any memory if able, so I looked to the side as Mingi’s eyes continued boring into the side of my face, “Would you—would you like to—if my grandma makes stew, would you—the duck I caught, I—I’m sorry.”

Silence stretched between us as I sighed, not annoyed and neither tired, just feeling defeated when I chanced a glance at Mingi. He looked disappointed as he chewed on his bottom lip, shoulders hunched forward again as his bangs fell into his eyes, “Would you like me to come over for lunch if your grandma makes stew, Mingi?”

He stiffened, flinching slightly, but he wordlessly nodded slowly, looking at me through his eyelashes. I chuckled and nodded, feeling like we had just taken an immense step towards finding common ground again, towards reestablishing what we once had, “Alright, I’ll come over if you still want me to.”

“I will.” Mingi said hurriedly, I had barely finished talking, “I won’t change my mind.”

I felt my chest slowly warm up as my smile slightly faltered, forcefully ignoring the need to walk over and hug him, inhale his earthy scent and thank him for trying to mend our lost relationship. I nodded, eyes boring into his as Mingi nodded back, shifting on his feet as if he didn’t know what to say more or what to do next. But to his luck, Mrs. Song had just walked out of the kitchen, eyes widening in delight when she noticed her grandson, “Mingi! You’re back! Go wash up, you can take care of the duck afterwards.”

Mingi nodded and walked further inside the house, making sure to avoid touching me when he passed by me as I pressed myself up against the wall. I watched him press a quick kiss against his grandmother’s cheek and then disappear inside the kitchen before he raced up the stairs without looking back. Mrs. Song chuckled before she looked at me with a knowing look in her eyes, then pointed towards the bathroom, “Were you headed in there?”

“Yes, do you need anything?” I asked as I approached her, trying to stop my eyes from gazing up at the stairs as Mingi’s loud footsteps thudded against the floorboards as he entered his room, closing the door loudly.

“I will hang up the laundry, can you bring Mingi’s clothes up to him after you’ve washed the rag?” Mrs. Song had a sweet smile on her lips as I nodded, setting into motion as I headed inside the bathroom, “My knees are old, my dear, they don’t function as well as yours or my grandson’s…”

I heard Mrs. Song mutter to herself as I chuckled quietly, nearing the sink as I looked up, met with my reflection in the mirror up on the wall. I turned on the faucet without looking down, my eyes a dark colour but under the sunlight a blazing amber—if I believed what everyone has always told me—and my short hair was braided behind my ears as that’s how far I could actually braid the strands. The two ponytails that sat at my nape were small and sometimes managed to tickle me, but I didn’t mind them, the hairstyle was practical and looked cute. I didn’t like my hair getting in my eyes when I was working with my patients, and today had been a rather packed day at the Nursery before I could leave to help Mrs. Song out.

The water was warm against my skin as I rinsed the rag out, carefully hanging it on the side of the bathtub, eyes looking around the bathroom in search of Mingi’s freshly folded clothes. They were placed on top of a low stool behind the door and I went and grabbed them, fingers curling into the soft fabric of the shirt that was at the bottom of the pile. They smelled fresh, devoid of the earthy scent Mingi usually carried with himself, a tinge of citrus could be smelt in the fabric as I brought it up to my nose, taking a deep inhale. Realizing that what I was doing was probably inappropriate, I stopped myself and rolled my shoulders back, trying to stop the blush from spreading widely onto my cheeks.

Mrs. Song was outside in the back garden as I headed for the stairs, the double doors opened and the curtains fluttered as the wind blew inside, Mrs. Song’s pleasant singing voice carried by the wind made me smile. I carefully walked up the stairs, which were made of marble like the rest of the ground floor’s flooring, and was met with pictures hung on the wall of the Song family. There were some older ones, black and white, and some newer ones where Mingi was small and smiling widely as his parents held his hands, his mother’s smile a perfect replica of Mingi’s. Mingi was the perfect mixture of his parents’ traits, but he seemed to take slightly more after his father, who had the same small and sharp eyes as his son, his nose long and tall. I was familiar with the pictures, I’ve seen them numerous times in the Song’s old house, but it brought comfort seeing them once again. The Victor houses were devoid of colours and any life, they exuberated coldness and stripped the home of any cosiness. It felt nice to see Mrs. Song trying to bring it more life with the pictures, her favourite paintings that were family heirlooms and carpets that she and Mr. Song had inherited over the years, with flowers littered around every part of the house.

I knocked on Mingi’s door, his bedroom was the last in the hallway and faced towards the forest, unsurprisingly, but there was no answer. Trying again, not intending to intrude on his privacy, I knocked some more but there was still no answer. I grabbed the doorknob and whispered his name as I poked my head inside just a little, only to realise he wasn’t in the room. Eyes widening, I pushed the door further open and froze, taken aback by what I was seeing. I had never stepped foot inside Mingi’s bedroom ever since he moved inside this house, but upon one glance, it was a replica of his old bedroom. Even the way his things were positioned was the same, his furniture the same, the only difference being the white walls while in his old bedroom, they were grey and the paint was chapped, falling off in some places. It smelled like musk and something citrusy inside, perhaps oranges, as I let the door close behind me, a single lamp lit on his desk despite it being daytime. His blackout curtains were drawn together, but based on the volume of the birds chirping, I could tell the windows were open. Walking further inside, I noticed a small notebook opened on top of his desk, a pencil on the floor and the beginning of a sketch that looked an awful lot like the meadow.

There was a thud behind me and as I turned around, I just realized there was a door inside the room, closed but light flooded out from underneath it. Deciding to place the clothes on Mingi’s bed, I took off towards it just as the door opened and warm steam wafted outside of it. Freezing, I opened my mouth to quickly explain myself but was caught off guard by what I saw. Mingi, still oblivious to my presence fumbled with the light switch as he stepped outside of the joint bathroom, hair dripping wet and torso bare as a black towel hung low on his hips. His cheeks were flushed and the water from his hair dropped to his wide shoulders, quickly trailing down his broad chest, between his pecks until they disappeared into the towel. The beginning of a happy trail started just where the towel concealed his lower body and I gasped, turning my head away when I felt my whole face on fire.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were showering!” My voice was high-pitched, flustered and sounded embarrassed too, “Your grandmother asked me to bring up your clothes and I—I knocked, I really did but you didn’t answer and I—I’m sorry. I really am, I’ll go, I just—”

My heart was beating so fast and loud, I was sure Mingi could hear it too in the silence that followed my frantic explanation, hands slightly shaking as I placed the pile of clothes on his bed, clumsily knocking some over. Letting out a frustrated huff, I fumbled around as I grabbed them, folding them again as I tried to ignore Mingi’s frozen form in the room, dark eyes trained on my body, watching me wordlessly.

“You can leave them, I have to put them away either way.” Mingi’s voice was deep, tone light despite our predicament. I gulped and stopped, closing my eyes as I took a deep breath, steeling my nerves before I stood up straight, letting go of the short-sleeved white shirt I was about to fold.

“I’m sorry.” I apologized again, keeping my eyes glued to the floorboards, “I didn’t mean to—”

“I know.” It was unlike Mingi to cut me off, especially with so much understanding in his voice. He hadn’t talked to me like that since the Games, he hadn’t kept his eyes so insistently on me ever since the Games. My cheeks were still burning, not because I caught Mingi half-naked, but instead because he wasn’t looking away, he was trying to catch my gaze as he lowered his eyes, “Thank you.”

My muscles became tense, eyebrows slightly furrowing as I licked my lips, not quite understanding what he was saying thank you for so earnestly. I hadn’t done anything of great importance, I just merely brought his clothes up for him because his grandmother was old and probably struggled scaling the stairs so many times a day. Willing myself to look up, to tell him that he didn’t have to thank me for something so simple, the words got stuck in my throat as we made eye contact. His face looked relaxed, wet strands falling onto his forehead in a way that didn’t obscure his vision and he wasn’t hyperventilating and neither looking uncomfortable. I gulped, opening my mouth to say something, but my eyes slipped and landed on his left arm where a big red gash stood out strikingly against his tan complex. My eyebrows furrowed as I continued looking at it, and when Mingi realized, he hid his arm behind his back.

“When did you get that?” I asked, concern lacing my voice.

“Yesterday.” Mingi’s answer was short, voice once again void of any emotion.

“Did you treat it?”

“Washed it with warm water.”

“That’s not good enough,” I muttered, eyebrows furrowing in worry as I looked back up at him, “you need to disinfect it and put ointment on it, you should also probably wrap it up with gauze too.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve survived worse.” I knew he didn’t mean to sound so aggressive as he said that because he flinched, his right hand balling up into a fist as he averted his eyes, turning his head to the side.

“I know,” I whispered, but I wasn’t about to let him walk around with a fresh cut, “but you need to treat that. I’ll be right back.”

“Y/N, you don’t have to—” But I was out the door before he could finish his sentence, hurrying down the long hallway and then skipping down the stairs as Mrs. Song remained outside, now sitting in a chair as she watched the bees that flew onto the flowers in her garden, a content smile on her lips. I rushed towards the downstairs bathroom and opened the cabinet above the bathtub, grabbing the distilled water, saline solution, a soothing ointment I learned how to make from my sister, and some gauze. As I left the bathroom and raced back up the stairs, I heard the front door opening, meaning that Mr. Song had also returned home. In my rush to get back to Mingi and treat his fresh wound, I forgot to knock to warn him that I was heading in, but thankfully he was fully dressed and sitting on his bed, left leg bent while the right one hung off the side of the bed. He looked up alarmed as I heaved a sigh, closing the door behind me and placing everything on the bed in front of Mingi as I neared him.

“May I wash my hands in your bathroom?” Mingi didn’t hesitate to nod and I quickly went inside and washed my hands thoroughly with soap, letting them dry on their own as I walked back inside his room, pulling the bathroom door closed with my foot. Mingi watched me, neck craned as I stopped next to him staring down at the bed as I debated whether I should ask him to turn around or sit opposite him. Deciding that he looked comfortable and I didn’t want to bother him, I got on the bed across from him, sitting on my knees as I lowered myself on my legs, looking down at the solutions I brought, “May I see the wound?”

Mingi froze for a second, but he didn’t stall for long as he extended his arm, shuffling closer when he realized we sat too far from each other. He gulped, loudly, but I ignored it as I grabbed his arm and pulled it towards my lap, eyebrows furrowing as I inspected it. The skin wasn’t red around it, thankfully, but the wound seemed rather irritated. I looked at him for a brief second, surprised to find Mingi looking at me intensely, “May I touch you?”

“Yes.” His voice was low and raspy as he answered, and he tensed when I hummed, looking back down at the wound. I sighed and gently traced the skin around the wound, making sure there were no bumps or smaller cuts before I grabbed some gauze and poured distilled water on it. Mingi helped me uncap the bottle and then held it for me as I placed his arm back in my lap, gently tapping the gauze on the wound, knowing that it probably wouldn’t hurt him. He remained silent and I didn’t speak up despite wanting to ask questions about how he got this wound, I just handed him back the lid and he lidded the bottle before putting it aside.

“This might sting a bit,” I warned him as I grabbed the saline solution and opened the bottle, pausing to look at him, “did the soap sting?”

“Yeah, yesterday,” Mingi mumbled and looked away, lowering his head as his shoulders were hunched forward. His hair was damp, but at least water wasn’t dripping everywhere from it anymore. He wore fluffy trousers and a white t-shirt which was a bit tight and clung to his body, enunciating his scrawny but broad form. I hummed and tapped his wrist to warn him that I would pour the saline solution on the open wound now, which thankfully didn’t need stitches as it wasn’t deep enough. The muscles of Mingi’s arm tensed when the solution reached his wound, but he made no sounds. I made sure to pour only as much as was needed to disinfect the wound and glanced up at him, finding his jaw clenched and nose scrunched up as he stared down at his lap. Closing the saline solution bottle, I grabbed a clean gauze and folded it so that I could tap it against his skin. We remained silent as I worked slowly and carefully, not wanting to cause more discomfort. I felt Mingi’s eyes on me when I placed the bottles aside and grabbed the small can, my hand falling next to his as I paused.

“This won’t sting, it’ll help ease any discomfort and soothe the burn.” I informed him and then opened the can, taking a copious amount of ointment on my fingers before I started rubbing it into the wound, not pressing it too much as I knew it would hurt, “You should use this three times a day until it fades into a scar, and if you go hunting, you should wrap it up with gauze for some extra protection. If anything gets into it, it might get infected. I should check up on it in two weeks, but if it starts bothering you in any way, let me know as fast as possible, okay?”

I looked at Mingi with raised eyebrows and he nodded wordlessly as I sighed, glad that I could help. I closed the small can and placed it next to his knee so that he’d put it away somewhere where it was close by, and prepared to grab the dirty gauze and bottles, when long and thick fingers curled around my right wrist, halting my movements. I froze, staring ahead at Mingi’s chest as it was rising and falling rhythmically. His head was still lowered, eyes obscured as his big hand felt cold against my skin, the hold gentle and not bruising.

“Thank you.” I smiled and nodded with a hum, letting my eyes rest on his face, which he was trying to hide.

“Of course, Mingi.” But maybe I said something wrong because his head snapped up, eyebrows furrowed as his eyes searched mine, lips pursed as he looked confused and even annoyed.

“Why are you so nice to me, Y/N?” He asked, voice shaking as his fingers uncurled from my wrist, dropping down between us, accidentally brushing against my knee.

“Because you deserve kindness,” I wanted Mingi to understand that he wasn’t different than anyone else, that he was a person who deserved to be treated well and with love and tenderness, “Because you’re a human being with feelings and thoughts and struggles just like everyone else. You don’t deserve to be treated badly for what you were forced to do, everyone would’ve done the same if they were in your place, Mingi. You’re gentle and compassionate, you’re easily spooked and you’re clumsy despite being tall and strong, you listen to others and you help them. You’re kind and you’re a good person despite what others might think and say now about you. You’ve always picked me up when I fell, you never laughed when I didn’t know something, you waited for me when nobody else did, and you never seemed to forget about me when everyone else did.”

My breath hitched in my throat when Mingi’s hand raised, warm and hesitant as it cupped my right cheek, his fingers burning my skin as I continued speaking, “I’m not scared of you Mingi, you’ll always be the shy little boy to me who carried me on his back when my feet started hurting and pulled on my hair when I threatened to fall asleep in classes. Nothing will change that, not even you pushing me away.”

I watched as Mingi’s eyes got teary, his bottom lip shaking as his hand fell from my cheek, making me miss his warmth as I almost grabbed onto his hand to press it back against my skin, yearning for his touch. But he only hunched more into himself, shoulders shaking, and I knew he wanted to be alone, with nobody to see him as he became vulnerable and emotional. Gathering the things I brought with myself beside the ointment, I left the room, leaving him alone to mule over the words I had said to me.

I could only hope he would start believing them

            And maybe my words did get through to him because the next time the two of us were out in the forest to hunt, we ran into each other and instead of him running away like always, he stopped walking and waited for me to reach him. He was just about to jump over the fence when he glanced over his shoulder and spotted my approaching form. I smiled widely at him and waved as I hurried my steps, holding onto the bow that was around my shoulders, ten arrows sitting in the holster by my hip. Mingi’s bow was around his shoulders too, but his holster was next to it instead of it being on his hip, and he wore his green jacket and black-coloured pants. It was a sunny day today, so I didn’t wear my usual hunting gear, just a light blouse that had to be laced up at the chest and trousers that once belonged to my sister.

“Hello, Y/N.” I froze when I heard him greet me, usually not being the first one to acknowledge my existence. My smile became wider as I had to look up at him, shielding my eyes with a hand as the sun shone down on us brightly.

“Mingi, hi!” My tone was laced with enthusiasm, and despite Mingi not smiling, I could tell by his expression that he wasn’t in a displeased mood, “Did you just arrive?”

“Yes, I planned to hunt for a few hours today, it’s too warm to sit by the house.” It was a long sentence, a longer answer, something that hadn’t happened in a long time. I tried to tell my racing heart to calm down, to savour the moment while it lasted. In his eyes, which were lighter under the bright sunlight, I recognized the spark which was always present in the Mingi before he left for the Games.

“I agree, it’s even worse further into the District,” I nodded and grabbed the fence, “Would you…like to hunt with me?”

It was a bold offer, I knew it could sour Mingi’s mood rather quickly, but I could only hope he wouldn’t turn me down. I missed hunting with someone, I missed the dynamic that came when you had someone next to you, how much more silent you needed to be, more careful and more vigilant. I used to hunt with my sister almost daily, we’d sneak out when our parents were busy and would only return by nightfall. Once, we ventured further into the forest, far from the meadow, and discovered that there was a small but beautiful lake an hour away. We rarely went out there, out of fear of the Capitol watching over it, but I cherished the memories we shared there with my sister.

“Yes, we could hunt together.” Mingi’s answer was unexpected, and my eyes widened as I looked up at him, trying to read his expression but it didn’t say much. He nodded more to himself before he gripped the fence and pulled himself up halfway, jumping over it and landing with precision, it certainly wasn’t the first time he’d done it. Knowing that I’d never be able to jump over it, I crouched and pulled on the fence just underneath the sign that warned us of high voltage, creating a gap where I could go through. Mingi watched with surprise as I came up next to him, pushing the fence back so that it wouldn’t be visible that there was a passageway.

“Was that always there?” Mingi asked amazed, still looking at the fence as I readjusted my blouse.

“Yes,” I said with a chuckle, taking off towards the trees, “I’m too short to jump over the fence, did you think I did the same as you to get out?”

“Yes?” Mingi asked as he averted his eyes, cheeks dusted pink as he made me chuckle. I bumped my shoulder into his as we walked further inside the forest, covered by the shade of trees which brought me instant relief as sweat had broken out on my forehead and temples. I patted them off with the sleeve of my blouse and grabbed onto my belt as we walked around bushes and stepped over fallen logs, hiding behind a boulder as we spotted a deer. Our breaths were synchronised as Mingi and I peeked out above the boulder, watching the pretty deer as it remained oblivious to our presence. Mingi’s fingers tightened around his bow as he exhaled, and I turned my head to watch him curiously. We had to remain silent in order not to alert our prey, but I couldn't help myself.

“Will you claim it?” I whispered, the sound quiet as Mingi took his bottom lip between his teeth, his head turning. Our faces were close as he exhaled, the warm air brushing against my cheeks, but he shook his head.

“I don’t hunt deer anymore, they are too beautiful,” Mingi answered, voice less cautious as the deer’s head snapped up and looked around, aware that it wasn’t alone anymore. I didn’t say anything for a second, just savoured our closeness and Mingi’s musky scent combined with the earth around us, as our eyes bore into each other. I hummed and faced the deer at last, watching as it continued eating once it decided that it wasn’t in danger.

“Should we head further in, then?” I raised an eyebrow, a friendly smile settling on my lips, “Find the wild ducks?”

Mingi and I made brief eye contact as he nodded, and then we both straightened up and stepped around the boulder, alerting the deer and making it run off in fright. My eyes followed it, remembering the one time my sister ruthlessly hunted down one of them, telling me that an animal was a source of food no matter how pretty as I started crying while I watched it die. I didn’t join my sister for a week after that incident, and I felt warmness spread through my chest that now I knew Mingi didn’t like hunting them either. Wild ducks were a little bit easier to hunt, at the beginning I wasn’t keen on capturing them, but famish was horrible and it made us do things we didn’t want to.

I followed after Mingi in silence as he jumped over rocks and logs, navigating his way around the forest as if it was his second home—which it might’ve been at this point—watching closely the way he moved, the way he carried himself. His shoulders were pulled back and his back was straight, he moved with elegance and confidence as he pushed the branches of a tree to the side, waiting for me and holding it for me as well. His muscles weren’t too tense and he seemed to be at ease as a small smile played at his lips, probably subconsciously, as his sharp eyes surveyed the place every other minute, looking for the wild ducks but also to spot any other possible prey. A red fox jumped in front of us and made me gasp as I didn’t expect it, and once Mingi’s initial shock was gone and he lowered the protective arm he’d put in front of me, he grinned at the fox and stomped his foot once, making it run off. I curled my palms into fists when our knuckles brushed together as we walked side by side, trying to fight the urge to hold onto his hand and intertwine our fingers. I missed holding his big hands, feeling their callousness and the few silver rings he wore dig into my skin.

Mingi slowed his steps when he spotted the wild ducks and I made sure to remain quiet as I watched mine too. He motioned behind a tree and we lowered ourselves behind it, peeking out at the ducks from both sides of the trunk. Mingi faced me with a questioning expression and I nodded once as I moved slowly and silently, taking my bow and an arrow as I hooked it, getting in a better position to pull it back. Mingi watched me closely as my muscles tensed and my arm pulled even further back, lips brushing against the arrow as Mingi hummed once, throwing a pebble to make the ducks fly off. I sprung up and locked onto my prey, letting go of the arrow at once as we watched it shoot straight at a wild duck, hitting it and making it fall onto the forest ground. My heart was beating fast, making my body warm as my blood flowed faster, cheeks tinged red as I smiled widely, pulling another arrow to shoot another duck that wasn’t spooked and remained behind. I hit that one too, and wondered when Mingi would shoot his own shot, but when my head turned to look at him, he was frozen and his eyes were wide. His knuckles were white as he had grabbed onto the tree tightly, breathing faster than before.

Realizing that something wasn’t right, I lowered my bow and scootched closer to him, “Mingi?”

My voice was quiet and cautious as Mingi mumbled to himself, seemingly stuck somewhere inside his mind as his body shivered, “No.”

I realized he was having a flashback when he gasped loudly and stood up straight abruptly, shaking his head more feverishly, “No! Stop, no!”

I let my bow fall to the ground as I stepped closer, trying to stabilize my breaths, “Mingi, focus on me. Listen to my voice—”

“No, she’s dead!” He screamed, voice raw and raspy as he faced me frantically, his body shaking, “I—the arrow—I killed her, she’s—she’s bleeding, I—”

“Mingi!” My tone was higher as I grabbed his wrist tightly and stared up into his eyes, “Snap out of it, it’s not real. We’re in the forest—”

“No, I killed her. She’s dead, you—you are dead, I—” Mingi gasped loudly and tried to yank his wrist free, but I grabbed onto his arms and yanked him closer to myself, forcing him to remain by my side.

“I’m not her.” My voice was harsh, eyebrows furrowed, “It’s me, Y/N, we’re back in District 12, in the forest, hunting. It was a wild duck, Mingi.”

It took him a few seconds to realize I was saying the truth, that the face which was talking to him wasn’t that of my dead twin sister’s, but of the girl he left behind when he left for the Games, the girl who he abandoned when he returned, “Mingi.”

“Why?” His voice was shaky and he suddenly stepped closer, all up in my personal space. I had to crane my neck back to look up at him, “Why are you doing this? Why are you still here? Why do you talk to me? Why don’t you hate me? Why don’t you—just kill me?!”

His tone rose with each desperate question, his bottom lip shaking as his eyes filled with tears, his chest rising and falling rapidly, “What do you want from me? Just let me—hate me, Y/N, shun me away, scream at me and slap me, I—I don’t deserve any kindness. I don’t deserve you anymore, I’m a monster. I’m a criminal, I murdered her, I shot the arrow straight through her heart. I have no future, I’m a nobody, I don’t deserve to be alive, why are you still with me?!”

“Mingi!” I screamed, making him flinch as I shook his hands off my arms and cupped his cheeks instead, pulling his head down to be eye level with me, “Look me in the eyes, Mingi.”

But he didn’t, he looked at the ground and shook his head, sniffing loudly as my jaw clenched, “Look me in the eyes, I said, Song Mingi.”

I had never spoken to him harshly, I had never demanded anything of him before, and upon hearing my tone and words, his eyes snapped up, wide and shaking, “Look at me. My eyes are dark, just like yours, hers were light like the sky during the day. My hair is short and wavy, hers was long and straight, always in a perfect bun while mine is almost impossible to tame. I’m tall, she was shorter and always complained about it. My voice is higher-pitched and warmer, more comforting, hers was raspy and always demanding, always ordering something. We smell different, she loved flowers and smelled like them, and I hate flowers and would rather cover myself in mud than smell like it. My body is covered in moles and hers barely had three, all on her face meanwhile mine has none. I like to read about nature and birdwatch as well as stargaze and braid hair, she hated reading and she only watched the night sky because she knew I loved it, she never braided her hair because the strands were too thin and would constantly fall out. I want to heal and help people because I love our humanity and I’m conscious that we are here one day and the next maybe not, she wanted to heal people because it made her feel like she had control over life, because she never got to control her own life, Mingi.

“She was mean to you and she didn’t like you, she pushed you around and made fun of you whenever she could. I never did, I always wanted to be by your side, I wanted to talk to you and listen to your stories, I wanted to shield you from her harsh words. You wanted to dance with her, but she always refused, so I took her place hoping it’d make you happy since I looked like her, I hoped you’d be able to imagine it was her and not me. I help your grandparents because I want to and because I care about them, not because our parents sent us over to your house to help you out, I didn’t do it because I knew our mother would buy us new dresses. I don’t want to see you in pain and agony over having killed my twin sister, Mingi, I have never hated you for it, and I have never resented you for what you had done, so please, stop seeing her in me and look at me. See me, Mingi, please.”

Mingi was crying by the time I was done talking, his body shaking as he forced his eyes shut, his tears wetting my hands as I rubbed the skin under his eyes as his arms no longer lay limply by his side but circled my waist and pulled me into him, embracing me in a tight hug as I let him burry his head in my neck, heart-wrenching sobs leaving his mouth as I ran my fingers through his smooth hair, allowing him to let out all the grief and pain he’s felt and tried to push down.

“I forgive you, Mingi,” I said it because I knew it was what he needed to hear and not because he had anything to be forgiven for, “for everything.”

He nodded his head frantically as he continued crying, fingers digging into my blouse desperately as his loud sobs echoed around us, a few Mockingjays picking up on it and carrying it further inside the forest. I hugged him closer to my body when his muscles started easing up and I massaged his scalp when his sobs started vanning, hiccups and sniffing following it, tight embrace turning into comfortable body warmth that screamed out for companionship.

And I knew he’d get better, he was strong, and he was no pawn of the Capitol.

2 months later

            The sun had lost some of its warmth now that autumn was approaching and I didn’t feel ready to let go of the lush green scenery, of the forest that brought such huge refuge and safety. The meadow was full of blooming colours, of flowers that made me sneeze, of bees that were loud and made Mingi jump every time they flew past him. I had my eyes closed as I played with the petal of a Musk Mallow, the person lying next to me fidgeting every few seconds as he was afraid of bugs. I had a smile on my face as he finally sighed and gave up, sitting up as he pulled his knees into his chest. The Reaping was tomorrow, the Peacekeepers were getting the square ready, and the train bringing the Capitol people would arrive tomorrow. Effie Trinket would act like picking a boy and girl for the Games was normal and Haymitch would be probably black-out drunk while Mingi would stand on the podium shaking and looking sickly pale.

“I’m scared.” As if hearing my thoughts, he whispered, “I’m not ready to return, I don’t want to go back, Y/N.”

“They will never make you go back into the Games.” I tried to remind him.

“I know, I just can’t watch a child I know attempt to train for something that will lead to their dismay.” Mingi’s voice was defeated as I blinked my eyes open, raising my hand to shield them from the sun.

“Perhaps District 12 will have another Victor, Mingi, have more faith in them.” I tried to sound encouraging, but I knew it was of no use. Mingi and my sister got reaped when they were eighteen, what was supposed to be their last year participating in the Reaping. The odds were rarely in our favour.

“I can’t be a mentor, it’s too soon.” Mingi pressed his forehead against his knees, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. I sighed and followed him, sitting up as I pulled something out of my pocket.

“You’ll be fine, you won’t be alone and you’ll be a good mentor, Mingi.” I said with an encouraging smile as he turned his head to look at me, “They won’t hurt you at the Capitol, they can’t. Remember, you are your own master and you can’t let President Snow get inside your head. You did well when they came to take the interview all those months ago, you’ll be able to ace this too. I believe in you, Mingi.”

He bit his bottom lip, eyes searching my face before they settled on my own, our gazes boring together as I looked down at my hands, playing with the single pearl on the bracelet. Taking a deep breath, I looked back up at Mingi and smiled at him softly, extending my hand with the bracelet towards him, “For you, as a token of good luck and trust, because I trust you and I—I’ll be here, home, waiting for you to return to me, Mingi.”

Gaze softening as he straightened up, he took the bracelet from me, his warm fingers grazing my palm as they curled around the bracelet, a small happy smile spreading onto his lips. He looked at it for another long moment, inspecting the pearl just like I had done after I brought it home, and then he looked up again, turning his head to face me. His voice was barely a whisper, “I’ll miss you, Y/N, so much.”

I smiled and released a quiet breath as Mingi leaned closer, supporting himself with a hand as my eyes fluttered closed, his plump lips hovering just for a second before they pressed against mine firmly. They were warm and not as chapped as they usually were since I had made him an ointment to use, and they were soft and tasted of the chamomile tea his grandmother made us drink before we headed for the meadow. I kissed back with passion, hoping it would convey all the unspoken things, all the words I wasn’t able to say yet, but would say when the timing was right. His kisses were always careful and gentle, like him, hesitant until his brain registered that I wanted him just as much as he wanted me, only becoming firm and demanding when he couldn’t withhold himself anymore. I smiled as we pulled back, our lips making a funny sound when Mingi chased after mine and pressed a loud quick kiss against them again, making himself blush and giggle as he turned his head, gazing out towards the trees and shade.

“I’ll take care of your grandparents in your absence,” I promised as I offered him my hand, heart leaping in my chest when his longer and thicker fingers slipped between mine, intertwining with confidence and conviction.

“Thank you, they’ll probably ask you to sleep over sometimes.” Mingi said, his thumb rubbing my knuckle as I squeezed his hand, “They don’t like the quiet when it’s just the two of them.”

“I’ll make sure to spend the night from time to time,” I promised again with a smile on my lips as Mingi and I glanced at each other, settling into a comfortable silence as I helped him wear the bracelet before we scooted closer to each other, hands still intertwined and gazing forward at the serene nature, the deer that played around oblivious to our presence, the leaves that were moved by the wind.

There were days when things were harder to cope with, when Mingi couldn’t get out of bed and when he didn’t want to see anyone, but there were days when Mingi couldn’t stop laughing, when he cradled me against his chest and told me he loved me, when he promised to marry me if our world miraculously changed for the better. I knew it wouldn’t be easy to remain by his side, that we’d both be faced with challenges and hardships, judged by our people and by the Capitol, but we didn’t care. Something that we both loved and cherished had been ripped from us by tyrants, my sister and his innocence, we’d stop bowing down to the pressure to live a life that we didn’t want.

And, sometime in the near future, we both knew that dire days were coming before a bright and free future,

“And the Tributes from District 12 of the 74th Hunger Games are…Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark!” ~ Suzanne Collins

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[dmitriene]

THOUGHTS ABOUT CAVEMAN SIMON AND VILLAGER READER.

synopsis: spring has come, and with it the time for sacrifices to someone, who lives far from people and scares everyone who pokes their noses into the forest, and what could be better than bribing the one you fear, so you were chosen as the one who will bear all the gifts deep into the forest.

cw: fluff, comfort, smut, possible dubcon, story set not in modern time and might be unrealistic, not based on real knowledge about cave people, possible ooc simon since he's a caveman, virgin reader, mentions of cannibalism (not in action), biting, licking, groping, simon is rough around the edges, pet names, cunnilingus with dubious consent, simon is inexperienced, male and female intimacy, many mentions of bare flesh, overstimulation, crying, aftercare, kinda kidnapping. pairing: caveman simon ghost riley x villager fem reader

author's note: this idea was born from an absolutely spontaneous conversation with @suimon, and i'm grateful to her, because without her encouragement i wouldn't decide to write such an interesting story, which is kind of new for me, but i still hope those who will read it enjoy, it's my first attempt on writing this kind of plot, that ended up being 4.5k words.

✎ 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵. 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴. 𝘢𝘰3. ˑ༄

long melted snow, allowing fresh green grass to break through the once dissipated white fluff of snow, bright flowers decorating endless meadows and forests surrounding the village exactly along the perimeter — all this brings with it spring, warm weather, fresh juicy fruits and vegetables, and after them the time for a sacrifices.

behind the forest clearing, where the trees become thicker and seem to be getting darker, lives one whose cave, the exact location of which not many people know, are afraid to approach, and you never heard the exact answer, the exact reason, but everyone was afraid of this place more than fire, but were justified by a man who was frightening to the point of trembling, as if they had seen a living ghost.

naturally, you had never seen him, and you treated his stories as if they were fairy tales — an attempt to intimidate the kids from going too far during walks, nothing more, or so it seemed to you, until you were chosen as the one who would go to him with the onset of spring with fertile gifts, an attempt to appease the so-called monster, which terrifies the entire village with its very existence, and you couldn’t understand why you should go to the one you’re afraid of, and also with gifts?

but one way or another, it was not in your authority to refuse the election of the head of the village and the people, so you were dressed up in the best dress from your meager wardrobe, the white fabric flowing to your feet seemed as soft as silk, an absolutely light linen, diluted a wreath woven from fresh, sickly sweet flowers, and in your hands a basket of the freshest fruits and vegetables, with a rope on your wrist, a thick plexus leading to the neck of a good, well-fed cow, the devil knows what he will do with the poor, as you would think, animal, but one way or another — your task is to give, even if you looked the most appetizing here.

walking through the forest is difficult, especially when, of all the attempts to navigate, you only have — “go straight ahead and stop when you see the cave„ and the only thing left to do is to listen, periodically stop when the cow bends down to nibble fresh grass, and then walk again until feeling of dull pain in the legs, due to the fact that making your way through trees and large branches with almost bare feet is uncomfortable, a little painful, and you have to pick up the white dress in your hands so as not to get it dirty, trying to maintain a festive look as possible, not drop the basket, and still get to this damned place.

more and more doubts creep into your head, maybe no one lives there at all, or does, but it’s just a wild animal, and villagers just couldn’t see it in the dark clearlier?

but it’s hard to believe that in the thicket, which every time becomes darker and denser, in which there are more and more bushes and broken branches, and somewhere where there are even tree trunks lying — someone really lives, and while thoughts are wandering around your head like a prodigal wind, and the path completely disappears under your feet, you finally reach the right place, meeting your eyes with a stone cave, assembled from stones in a stable structure, sprinkled with greenery, moss and tree trunks.

really someone’s abode, albeit open, and looking as if it could become your undoing.

even the poor animal seems to be enveloped in fear, the cow bursts into a loud moo, resting her hooves on the ground, and with all due respect, you cannot push such a weight behind you, but you will not let her escape, tying the poor thing by a rope and to a tree trunk nearby, allowing her to calm down a little, to be distracted by tufts of grass, while your gaze rushes forward into the darkness of the cave, and your legs tremble slightly.

— “well.. here i come, cave man, huh..„ slips from your lips encouragingly to your own self, although your voice trembles, but you cannot return to the village with the same full hands, and in any case, you will most likely be sent again after this, damn old people, so the only way is forward.

the branches crunch under your feet, it seems to you, until you notice glimpses of animal bones, and it’s as if you are tugging from the inside, your step immediately quickens, and you practically stumble, clutching the basket to your chest and swallowing nervously, saying in your mind over and over — “it doesn't belonged to someone, it doesn't belonged to someone„ but it didn’t get any easier, as if the deeper you went, the more terrible it became, there was only pitch darkness ahead, not planning to make way for you even for a second, so you walk, almost blindly, closing one eye and making your way with the other.

— “is.. is someone there? hello??„

your voice echoes against the stone walls, but it becomes clearer under your feet, and a little brighter ahead, so you continue to walk even despite the dead silence, step by meek step, getting out to the center of the cave, where the walls become wider, and your eyes get used to darkness, letting small details immediately scatter before your eyes — some kind of wooden cabinet, a small rectangular table with a single chair, and above it a shelf with plates, everything is just like in your own house in the village, however, the bed is not very similar to the usual one, full of skins, located quite low, and you hesitantly step deeper, saying

— “hey?.. i'm, uhm.. i mean no harm, hello? someone?„

your voice sounds a little quieter, patient, as you walk to the table and allow yourself to place that same basket on it, carefully adjusting it along with the vegetables and fruits mixed in it, before moving away, smiling at the more welcoming composition, besides, it decorated a small surrounding emptiness, you even forgot for a while that you were in a cave, you felt comfortable, until the moment you turned around, noticing a dark figure in the corner that turned around sharply, and you screamed uncontrollably.

a large, massive figure in the very corner of the cave turns to face you, demonstrating its immensity and body, hidden under only one piece of fabric, vaguely reminiscent of pants, but what catches you, or rather scares you, is the skull attached to his face, and the skull would be less frightening if it belonged to an animal, but the shape was human like, separated from the back and leaving only the front, somehow attached to a dark piece of fabric stretched over the man’s face, showing the world only his sunken, dark eyes.

simon overreacts to the sound, furrowing his brows and clenching his hands into fists that hang on either side of his wide hips, not liking it when someone barges in uninvited, especially like this, but watching you shake like a cornered rabbit , he softens, and at the same time resolutely begins to walk in your direction, without warning, which makes your heart jump right up to your throat and back into your chest when you calm a bit inside, but still take a couple of steps back from approaching figure.

— “uh, h-hi? i'm sorry, i must scared you.. i-i screamed pretty loud, yeah?„

you babble, the words fly out of your soft lips hastily and with an attempt to justify yourself, and he freezes, breathing somehow displeasedly through his nose and causing his bare chest to heave, but still, he grumbles somehow approvingly, tilting his head to the side, as if having mercy on you and giving the opportunity to justify yourself, and you don’t dare to miss it.

— “uh, i was sent from village, you know, not far from here! i brought you some fresh vegetables and fruits, and cow.. you know, that does moo„ the words come out in one breath, while you spin around, pointing first at the basket that suddenly appeared on his table, then towards the exit, talking about the cow, telling him about it as if you were talking to a child, as if mistaking him for a completely savage, and simon squeezes out a rough, dry laugh, crossing his burly arms over his wide, scarred chest, cutting off your explanations

— “i know what a cow is„

his voice is hoarse, tart like coffee beans on the tongue, and you stop, taking a deep breath.

simon has already realized that you are from that stupid village full of fools who take him for some terrible animal, but instead of the usual fear like in other people’s eyes, in yours he sees some doubt and sincere guilt, like in a child’s who was scolded by his parents, and this causes amusement in his gaze, a flutter in his light eyelashes

— “i'm, sorry.. it's just, the villagers acted like you are some kind of wild animal, and i.. i thought..„

the words get confused in your head and on your tongue, one way or another, you, even if not for long, believed to the words of the people living in the village, believed that he was less human than many, now trying to justify his honor and your words, standing under his gaze and trembling as if leaf in the wind, your legs shook as you squeezed them together, feeling his strange, ardent gaze where your plush thighs began behind the thin fabric, and goosebumps ran down your skin as his lips stretched into a wide, wild grin.

you stand before his eyes like a prettiest gift, a prey — you are shaking like a little rabbit, or a newborn doe, as if your legs are about to lose control of your weight and collapse on the stone floor, even though a carpet of someone’s skin lies under your feet, he wouldn’t want you to return back to the village in a deplorable state, or maybe you yourself were sent as a sacrifice?

he doesn't know, because you look incredibly attractive and alluring in that light outfit with just panties underneath, the silhouette of the fabric of which he can see on your hips before his gaze goes up to where your round, soft breasts are hiding under the finest cloth, and up to the strands of your hair, decorated with a wreath of fresh flowers, he knows it by the sweet smell and by the fact that he has already seen such in the forest, and simon has never tasted people, has not eaten human flesh — but looking at you, at the softness, at the sweetness, maybe he should give it a try?

— “i never tasted human flesh before„ words roll off his tongue in advance of rational thoughts, a rich baritone from the thin line of pale lips behind the fabric of the mask and the shape of the skull where he licks them like a predator.

and you are theprey, the one which trembles and whose eyes widen when you hear his unexpected speech, wild, causing the blood in your veins to freeze and your legs to obey the instinct of escape, and you take off from your place, turn around on the thin sole of your sandals and move your body towards the exit and impenetrable the darkness from which you came, which previously let you in — and will no longer let you go without the permission of its owner.

you can’t even hear simon’s steps behind you, because of how adrenaline is pumping in your ears and blood echoes like white noise in the background, as his figure wraps around yours like a shadow and pulls you, he clings to the light fabric with dirty fingers and squeezes with a heavy weight around your waist, first with his fingers, then with his hand, heavy bonds that drag you into the air and there’s no point in even twitching your legs, he immediately turns you around in his arms, places your soft flesh in his palms, relishing in the softness, warmth, fingers greedily kneading the soft, supple skin between his fingers on top of the now slightly stained fabric, pressing you into a cold stone wall as you close your eyes tightly.

your body is trembling, you’re waiting for the touch of someone else’s teeth on your body, a sharp flash of pain, surrendering to the clutches of creeping death in the guise of a person without resistance, having resigned yourself in advance, even on the threshold of this cave, even when the dark, densely trees swallowed you in the depths of the forest, but no pain comes, no sensation of rough, sharp teeth in the skin, just his hands that slide from your butt, where he shamelessly touched you, to your hips and thighs, tracing the skin and bones over your dress, forcing you to twitch, squeezing your legs together.

something inside you is twisting shamefully hotly, curling into a coil in your lower abdomen and setting all your nerve endings on fire, you still don’t look, your eyelashes and eyelids are trembling, and simon takes pleasure in your instinctive fear, akin to the animals he mercilessly catches in the depths of the forest, kneeling in front of you just as he once knelt in front of them, but you were distinguished from a dead animal by your vitality, sweet aroma, soft warm body which he wanted to taste until greedily accumulating saliva in his mouth.

— “pretty„

he growls low from his throat, causing you to flush with a flash of blush, your fingertips prickling nervously, it seems that he’s saying this from a sadistic point of view, not really to you, rather than to your body, to what he will eat, and you refuse to look at the eyes of your fear, even when rough, calloused hands run along your legs until he lays them on his broad shoulders, lifts up the dress that gets in the way, exposes the skin to your thighs and carelessly leaves them rumpled to dangle there, when his bare mouth pierces your skin and licks.

your eyes immediately widen following the hitching breath that flies through your parted lips, and you look at him, this beast, this man, standing in front of you on both knees, and even between your legs he seems immense, but strangely tender, when he licks and gently bites a path to your thighs along the soft flesh, pressing his nose into it, you see it’s slightly crooked form briefly, the black fabric falls to cover everything except his mouth, which greedily tastes you like no one has ever tasted.

his dark eyes meet yours fleetingly, yours are frightened, his are peaceful and satisfied, the corners of his lips rise forward and spread on his face, and you feel every movement of his lips on you in dangerous proximity as he crawls higher and higher, settling between supple thighs with his head, sticking his nose and mouth into a place that attracts him with sweetness and wetness, a small sticky spot on the thin fabric, into which he buries himself greedily, opening his mouth wide and licking the fat stripe along your panty clad pussy, burying his nose in your twitching clit and grinning at the reaction of your body, as well as at the quiet, ringing moan that arose from the depths of your throat.

the light, thin fabric gets wet from the amount of saliva in his mouth, mixing with the moisture that is released from your hot, bothered pussy, causing the gusset of your panties become almost transparent, as simon buries himself deeper, without asking, he just takes it, squeezing your thighs until there is a slight, uncomfortable pain burning on your skin, as your legs kick forward and attempt to squeeze together because of the new sensations that you don’t understand, didn’t experienced before, but he’s not going to let you escape just yet, but you squeak, a shushed, soft sound, which makes him soften nonetheless.

simon's gaze studies you through his light eyelashes, he sees the conflicting emotions on your face, how your chest is heaving, how moisture collects on your lash line, threatening to release and turn into tears, so his arms wrap around and squeeze your legs a little more carefully, stroking the soft skin with awkward, uncertain circular movements of his fingers, he hasn’t interacted with people for a long time, especially in the moments like these, when his face is buried between your thighs while he laps lightly against your panties.

fear slowly leaves your body along with rational thoughts, you lose your vigilance in the hands of a stranger, a person who shamelessly touches your private parts, but touches you so well, so carefully, igniting that warmth in the bottom of your belly more and more each time and allowing you to twitch, squirm as much as it possible while being held half in the air, thus only pushing your hips forward, towards his wet mouth, and shuddering with pleasure and new flashes when his nose nuzzles harder into your little clit, making your toes curl, and he growls.

— “so sweet„

comes out as a muffled growl, and you don’t know if he’s talking about you or your pussy, but he licks you more actively, making your folds stick to the absolutely wet fabric of your panties, while he slurps and sucks your folds and clit, his movements are messy, uncertain, he's been isolated from people and any contact with them with his own hands, but that doesn't stop him from having a taste, as his tongue runs between your folds and he continues to tease you with slow, exploring movements.

you make more and more unusual to yourself sounds, quiet moans, breathy mewls, wet squelches that he swallows whole as your hands find support on his head and you dig your fingers into his mask, as you grow more and more impatient in your movements, just in time when simon gets tired of this unnecessary, wet piece of fabric, a barrier to the sweetest fruit and nectar in his life, so he bares his teeth and clings to the waistband of your underwear, helping himself with his fingertips and tearing them away down your legs, exposing your fluttering, wet hole to his hungry eyes and mouth.

the mere sight leaves him swelling with hardness in his pants, and your gaze catches on the silhouette of his cock, leaning heavily against his meaty thigh and bulging against the thin fabric, one little sight had you swallowwing nervously before your eyes roll back from the sharp contact of his bare lips with your bare cunt, he swipes his thick tongue once, twice, licking your wet folds and slurping your juices as an endless source of quenching his thirst, he licks and licks until you begin to lose yourself in how long you've been in this position, where your folds and clit swell, and simon just presses himself unexpectedly deeper before suddenly diving in further.

a loud sigh and a whiny moan spread through the cave, his tongue curls at the tip, when he accidentally, but with pressure, pushes your folds apart and into your fluttering hole, his tongue flattens against your entrance, before licking and thrusting inside, into the warmth of your velvety walls that tighten around his muscle right there, and he growls with satisfaction, akin to a muffled purr, moving his head up and down, smearing his entire jaw and lips in your slick, surrendering fully to your softness and warmth.

every movement of his tongue inside leaves you trembling, your legs intuitively spread apart further along his broad shoulders, your hips find a natural rhythm and constantly buck forward with every lick of his fat tongue against your walls and his sucking on your clit, noticing what reaction it causes in you and trying to hear more of your absolutely innocent, wanton squeaks and moans, enjoying the knowledge that you act and feel this way because of his actions, so he presses his knees into the stone floor harder and leans forward further.

your stomach twists more and more, and you push his face away from you with sharp, broken whimpers, when his tongue touches your spongy spot again and again, your body seems to be engulfed in flames, your spine arches away from the wall, resting your entire weight on his face and curling over him, breathing loudly and shakily when the tip of his tongue thrust rapidly, abusing your sweet, spongy spot with his hungry, drooling mouth.

he only grunts as you lean your full weight on him, continuing his assault on your throbbing and clenching hole, alternating between grazing his tongue against your folds and clit, or thrusting his muscle deep inside your core in fast, albeit languid movements, just until your loud whimpers and hoarse mewls echo against his stone walls, and your stomach twists and turns as your body convulses in an unexpected feeling of sudden orgasm, cunt clenches and pulsates around his tongue, letting go of your sweet slick and milky cum for him to have, covering his chin and mouth in the huge amount of liquid that he actively drink and lap up, opening his mouth wide and licking you clean, drinking till the last drop.

simon doesn’t stop, as if not knowing the line, which he doesn’t really know, continuing to run his tongue against your slit and cling to your hole, as he sukles on your clit, your whole body is buzzing strangely, your head begins to ache from the endless pleasure and overstimulation that his actions and touches bring, making everything between your legs swell and tingle, you desperately claw his bare back with your hands, adding to the scarred canvas of his flesh, trying to push, resist, but he doesn’t care, right until a loud sob escapes your lips.

he reacts instantly, making something close to a questioning grumble before retreating slightly between your legs, licking his thin lips around the edges and all your fluids on your thighs, you hang on him like a sack of potatoes, trying to grab his back with your hands and at the same time not allowing him to move away from you normally, quietly, pitifully sobbing, which cause him to growl, and with a rough grip of his wide hands on your hips, unhook you from him.

simon holds you more carefully, more gently, his hands are still shamelessly squeezing and pawing your hips, going down to the swell of your plush ass, touching the skin and also pulling down your dress to cover you and provide you with the minimum comfort possible in your position, where your panties lie torn on the floor, and endless salty tears flow down your raw, cowered in slight blush cheeks, and he feels even more sympathy for you than all the times before, frowning his light eyebrows and pursing his lips.

— “don't cry..„

he mutters in frustration, carefully releasing one hand from under your butt to carefully wipe the wetness of tears from your cheeks, while you sniff your reddened nose, your head and body pulsating with a strange surge of fatigue, there's still an uncontrollable throb between your legs, and the very thought of this feeling makes you sad, as your eyelids gradually get heavier with a dissatisfied whine escaping from the depths of your throat.

— “shh„

simon whispers quietly, shamelessly moving his face closer to yours to lick your wet cheeks, making you frown and grimace, resting your hands weakly on his shoulders before he gently begins to rock you in his bulky arms and press you against his chest, changing your position so that he supports you under your knees and your back rests comfortably on his thick bicep, curling up, and you no longer care about everything that happens.

you were in a comfortable, floating state between sleep and consciousness, not struggling or scratching like most of the little preys he meet, allowing him to carry you carefully away from the far wall and to a place that vaguely resembled a human bed, full of soft animal skins and located closer to the floor, on which he lays you down and immediately wraps you in the warmth of various furs, fleetingly touching the top of your head while carefully stroking your hair, reaching to the already slightly tattered wreath with flowers and throwing it away somewhere, to which you don’t even react, on the contrary, you cuddle in response to his touch with your head and face.

this makes him chuckle hoarsely, a sound that makes your skin crawl, but he carefully lays you down more comfortably and strokes your warm cheek, going down to your shoulder and drawing the same awkward circles here with the tip of his finger until you are taken into deep sleep, first with your mind, then with your body, allowing your eyes to close and plunge into darkness in a place unfamiliar to you, going limp and burying your nose in fur that smells sharply of musk, something tartly foresty and reminiscent of him, plunging you even deeper and further in viscious sleep, following the rough whisper, that is contrasting with his careful, soft touches.

— “sleep well, my pretty sacrifice„

simon mumbles practically under his breath, his dark eyes following every flutter of your eyelashes and the sigh that slips from your parted lips, before making sure that you are in a deep sleep and getting himself up from his haunches, the movement is accompanied by a slight crunch of bones and a grumble from his lips, he looks around his own cave, a torn, damp cloth lying on the floor, a wreath with scattered petals and a basket with some sort of offerings on the table, which he will use later.

for now he rests his hands on his hips, licking his slightly dry lips and looking at the prominent weight between his legs, resting against the fabric of his pants and responding with warm, tingling arousal and slight drippling moisture, but he will take care of this later, for now, simon will collect all the unnecessary garbage from the floor and get it as far away as possible, and then take care of the cow you brought with you from the village, even if he doesn't prefer to use meat from someone else's hands, he can definitely let it pass now, because he will need to persuade you to stay with him, as soon as you wake up.

simon will not allow something like you to escape, he has denied himself contact and warmth for too long, and now, having touched the forbidden fruit, he knows one thing for sure — he will never let it go again and will not refuse it, so you are in his abode for a long time.

[beelanddiavolosimp-blog]

My first ever post and idk how this app works so bear with me.😭

Context/Rambling: This is more of a ramble about piercings because I haven't seen much of the demon brothers or the side characters react to these things yet in other posts. I know Mammon has his ears pierced and all but like...have they seen other demons or others with more extreme piercings? Idk as someone with lots of them I want to write about their reactions. (Sorry if I ramble too much)

Lucifer

I feel he is that stuck up older relative that doesn't find a purpose for putting holes in your face. He would most likely seem to not care for your looks and more for his brothers safety and how they will react to you more than anything. His honest first impression would be you are reckless and don't think your decisions through. But after time he slowly starts to accept them and actually buys you jewelry for it with little insignia of parts of him (his demon wings, horns, eye color, favorite color, etc).

Initial opinion disliked but adjusted

Mammon

I feel like at first he would wonder if you're mean with the stereotype stuff of being aggressive with piercings. After a bit of getting used to your presence he would love them. He would constantly poke at them and ask for you to mess with them to see how 'cool' they are when in reality he's just greedy that his human has such unique things on them. He will gloat about how his own ears didn't hurt much but once you tell him about your /other/ piercings he will then back down in fear of how much pain tolerance you have.

Initial opinion curiosity and admiration

Levi

Oh he is both amazed and scared shit less. He really REALLY wants to ask you about them at first. Did they hurt? Why those specifically? What types are they? After his comfort zone is sort of decent with you he will slowly suggest certain anime characters with the same piercings as you to ask more questions. He definitely puts your piercings on certain love interest in his lovey dovey games to think of you.

Initial opinion curious and frightened to attracted and admired

Satan

He at first could not care less for your looks or those things coming out from your face. Sooner that most which is due to his influence of reading books about piercings he started to speak to you more and showed genuine interest in them. He admitted certain piercings he found quite attractive and it was his attempt at flirting because they were the piercings you had.

Initial reaction did not care to interested(factually & romantically)

Asmos

Oh boy get ready for lots of flirting with those included in stupid pick up lines. He absolutely adores them he finds them adorable and buys you so much random jewelry for you to put in. He constantly gloats about you to other demons and such showing off pictures and saying how uniquely beautiful you are and that you aren't scary at all just hot.

Initial reaction absolutely adores them

Beel

He was a little confused at first. What are those things? Why do they look biteable? ...are they edible? He doesn't hesitate to ask you about them. He is fascinated by how they work and praise you for having that many needles go through your body. He was very worried for you once you told him certain mouth piercings affected your eating habits.

Initial reaction worry and confused to admiration

Belphie

He obviously at first was only worried about you saving him from the attic and never really took in your form. Once he finally did he was much more attracted to you. He found your pain tolerance sexy and wondered if you'd be fine with certain kinky things.(Horny bastard) He does keep some thoughts to himself for your sake. He really just admires you and says your piercings make it easy for him to spot you out of everyone. He doesn't care much for spiky piercings saying they affect his cuddly nature against your face if he wanted to kiss you or nuzzle you.

Initial reaction distracted to heavily attracted

[blakeswritingimagines]

Sweet nothings

Batman: "You are a beautiful and caring person. You have a smile that can melt even the hardest of hearts and a wonderful personality. Your laugh is contagious, and your hugs feel like heaven on earth. You have the ability to make anyone feel special and loved. You are loyal, dedicated, and have a deep sense of kindness and compassion. You are the kind of person that makes this world a better place. You make everyone around you feel loved and happy. You have a special gift of brightening up everyone's day. You're amazing."

Superman: "You are a kind and compassionate person, always willing to help those in need. You are also incredibly intelligent and have a great sense of humor. You are a person who is always evolving and growing and always up for an adventure. You have a strong sense of justice and are always standing up for what you believe in. You are a person who can always find the good in the world around them and always try to bring out the best in others. You are a person of great value, and the world is lucky to have you."

Aquaman: "You're like a big teddy bear. You're caring but very firm. You always have a plan, and you're very organized. You're a perfectionist, and you like being in control of everything. You are very patient and generous. You're a hard worker, and you always give your all in everything you do. You're very intelligent and you always think outside the box. You are a natural leader, and you are always there to help and support those around you. You are a very caring and kind person with a ton of love to give."

Wonder Woman: "The most charming, charismatic and wonderful person of the universe. You’re funny, kind, smart, and extremely cute. Every single thing you do is interesting and beautiful. Your presence always brings happiness and light to this world, and you’re an absolute delight to be around. You’re the best person ever, and i love you so much."

Shazam: "You’re one the most unique people I know. You don’t care what people think of you, and you aren’t afraid to be yourself. You’re smart, you’re compassionate, and have the ability to see things from different perspectives. You make an effort to always see other people’s side of things, even if it’s not easy to do so. And you stand up for what you believe in, even in the face of adversity. You’re an amazing person who brings a lot to the table, and I’m glad to know you."

Flash: "You are a unique and interesting person. You have a passion for life and can always find something positive and exciting to do. You are a true optimist and can see the best in any situation. You are also a compassionate and kind individual who finds a way to help those who need it the most. You are someone who is well respected and admired by those around you. You're also someone who is confident in who you are and what you want to accomplish. You're a true joy to be around, and it's no wonder people are drawn to you."

Nightwing: "You are a lovely, sweet-hearted and caring person who is very friendly and generous. You are always there to lend a helping hand to those in need and are always considerate towards the feelings of others. You are a person who likes to listen, and you always have the right words of encouragement and reassurance when someone is feeling down or needs a little pick-me-up. You are also a person who likes to have fun and always has a good sense of humor and a cheerful disposition. You are also a very confident and self-assured person who knows your own worth and values."

Red Hood: "I love the way you look when you’re scared, like a little scared animal. The way you look at me with that frightened look in your eyes makes me want to hold you in my arms and never let you go. You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and you make the stars look dim. You’re the most perfect thing to ever exist, and I’ll never let anything happen to you again."

Red Robin: "You’re funny, kind, beautiful, brave, and caring. You’re honest and true. And you have an incredible smile. You make me feel so safe. You’re the whole package and can care for yourself better than most. You don’t need anyone’s approval, which is impressive. You’re one special person."

Robin: "There are many things to say about you. You have a large and beautiful mind with a deep imagination. You are intelligent, and you are driven to learn more and more about everything. You are very kind and thoughtful towards others, and you are always trying to make this world a better place. You have an enormous heart, and you have a strong vision for your future. You are a special and unique person with so much to offer the world. I am certain you will be a source of inspiration for many people, and your life will be one of purpose and meaning. I am so proud of you and your journey."

Batgirl: "You’re funny, kind, beautiful, brave and caring. You’re honest and true. And you have an incredible smile. You make me feel so safe. You’re the whole package."

Superboy: "You are my moon and stars. Your smile is as bright as the sun. You're as beautiful as a rainbow. You are everything in my life. You are my universe, and I would do anything for you. You make my heart so happy, and I'm so grateful to have you. You are a treasure, and I'm the luckiest person in the world to have you. You've shown me the meaning of true love, and I'll never stop loving you. You're the one for me, and no one can ever compare. I'm so proud of what we have."

[aladaylessecondblog]

You Stole My Sun (Halsin x Tav x Astarion)

Basically the aftermath of that idea I wrote about post-Astarion's "I should have made you a spawn" line.

big sad, spiraling frightened/uber depressed Tav. Halsin is the best ever etc

This is my Tav, AFAB druid drow with same pronouns, but feel free to imagine your own Tav if you want.

Halsin didn't know what had happened, because Tav wouldn't say. He only knew it had involved Astarion, who had been gone for almost a week now.

The only clear thing he could get out of her was that Astarion hadn't hurt her, and one sad little sentence that made no sense: 'None of it was real.'

But that left quite a range that had him racking his mind, considering...

Considering that she had clammed up, that the near-endless line of jokes and smiles and little laughs had stopped cold. That every time he touched her when her back was turned, she stiffened and whipped around like she was afraid someone meant to attack her. That she spent more time with the animals in camp and out past the treeline than before.

(Considering when he had tried to come to her as 'her bear' she had blanched as if afraid he really would devour her)

The rest of the camp had noticed, too, and dealt with it in different ways.

Lae'zel had offered herself as a sparring partner, saying Tav needed more practice with a longsword anyway. Will had done something along the same lines.

Gale had tried to lift her spirits in his usual way, and Karlach had, now she was fixed, gone for hugs which Tav returned--in silence.

None of them seemed entirely sure of what to do to fix this, though. Whenever anyone had been in such a mood, it was always Tav who brought back the better mood, who lifted their spirits, got them smiling.

What did you do, Astarion? Halsin found himself thinking as he watched Tav. She wildshaped into a cat, came to sit in his lap, and curled up as if trying to hide. You stole my sun, that's what you did.

Tav was like a light to the camp, brightening and warming everyone whose lives she touched.

And her light had gone out.

His heart's heart was broken.

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

Astarion returned late, when some of the camp were still up but several had already gone to bed. He HAD hoped to do it quietly, simply to slip in, but he was spotted almost immediately

Lae'zel (who was on watch) was the first to see him, and had moved off--to warn Halsin, he assumed, since the man returned with her a few moments later.

She then moved off to complete a patrol around the campsite.

"Come to warn me off?" he attempted a quip, but it fell flat.

"Come for answers," Halsin replied. "I've been confused, you see. It's not in your nature to run like this. Hide, certainly, sneak, absolutely. But to run?"

"I thought Tav had sent you to--"

"She didn't send me to do anything. What happened, exactly?"

"Didn't she say?" Astarion looked up, and then swiftly back down. "Usually she's eager to--talk."

"Not a word, my star. All she would say was that you had not hurt her. And to quote directly, 'None of it was real,' in the most desolate tone I have ever heard from one in love. What did you do?"

"I...made a mistake," he said, letting out a needlessly long breath. "She didn't care for the idea of my...ascension, you see."

"Of course not. She feared...that you might become the thing that once frightened YOU."

"And I thought that was a lot of nonsense. I mean, really...I would be safer than ever. I didn't see the problem that she did...she wouldn't touch the extra little tadpoles, she wouldn't hear of taking control of the--well, that's all been gone over. What you want to hear about is..."

Halsin waited.

"She didn't understand, and I wanted to make her understand. I practically snarled at her, said I should have--made her a spawn..."

Seeing Halsin's eyes narrow was a bit like having Scratch growl at you. It let you know you'd fucked up and fucked up bad.

He went on explaining, and finished with, "I've never seen her afraid of anything before that moment. I didn't think--she ran. She ran from me. That--that was the last thing I wanted! That's not what I meant to do!"

"But it's what happened."

"...what am I supposed to do now?" Astarion's voice, far more miserable than he'd ever let Halsin hear before, burst out.

"Apologize," Halsin said, "As a start. And understand that if she DOES forgive you, it will take time."

[beaft]

I’ve lived in a semi-rural/actually rural place with both black and grizzly bears as a constant my entire life, and everyone here picks bear.

Some of your answers tell me you’re pretty unfamiliar with bears, so I’d like to illustrate how most bear encounters go: 1.) You see a bear 2.) You go, “Oh my gosh, a bear! 3.) You move cautiously away from the bear. 99% of the time nothing else happens.

I can think of only one time a truly scary bear encounter happened near me that wasn’t due entirely to human stupidity, and that was a food-habituated bear that didn’t find enough food in the trash it was digging through, so it chose to break down someone’s door and enter their home - and even then it was only interested in the food it smelled, everyone got out safely. Animal Control dealt with it from there.

In the woods, the mountain lions are much scarier to me, mainly because if you even see one it’s probably getting ready to do something to you. Bears are generally kind of benignly frightening, they already know you’re there and so long as you don’t come at them they just sort of wait for you to go away.

I’ll agree with the person who said that people who choose bear come from the country and people who choose the man come from the city. I absolutely don’t know how to deal with city crowds - strange men are less predictable than a bear, to me.

Anyway, thought I’d offer a seasoned bear-encounter perspective!

.

[super-ion]

Such Lovely Fur

[Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3]

Chapter 4

I go on alone.

The passage through the mountain winds and branches, confirming my suspicions of a labyrinth. The light from the entrance persists for a time, longer than it would before my eyes were changed, but soon I am enveloped in pitch darkness. I am guided only by the faint sounds of the space, the subtle smells and whispers of breeze.

I make my way ever forward and ever higher until I discover the faintest light once more. The walls become carved in sharper lines and I begin to pass sconces bearing torches with a strange blue fire that gives off no heat. Eventually the stone walls give way to ice. As I proceed, the temperature drops. The chill of this place penetrates even my thick fur coat and my breath comes out in great clouds.

The further I go, the smoother and more ornate the walls become until I find myself wandering a grand palatial space. It is unnervingly empty, the study paws of my feet barely make a sound, but my footsteps still echo ominously.

That is until I hear the music. The music is somehow worse. It means someone is here. This horrible frozen palace is someone's home.

It is true that I have spent the past few days cavorting with a demon, but Rook was a physical presence, something I could relate to. This place is saturated in some primal elemental power that I cannot fathom.

The music grows ever louder as I make my way higher, drawing me ever closer to my goal. I know that when I find the source of the music, I will find my betrothed.

I finally reach a grand hall, grander than any I have passed yet. Every surface of the ice is carved in exquisitely fine details. The music emanates from a pair of mighty doors at the end of the hall.

As I walk, I suddenly spy a figure out of the corner of my eye. I am so on edge that I leap back in animal fright, laying my ears back and fluffing the fur on my tail. My reflection responded in kind.

What I mistook for another parallel hallway is actually a mirror… or at least a sheet of ice polished mirror smooth.

I am somewhat embarrassed to admit that I have been frightened by my own reflection, but in my defense, I have not seen myself since my transformation.

I stare at the thing that I have become.

I had at least some idea of the fur and the paws and the tail, but Rook's final gift comes as a shock. My face is still generally my own, but the leopard features are unmistakable. My eyes are the color of polished gold, with the irises covering most of the visible surface. My nose has flattened and the tip has darkened. Feline ears poke out from snarled hair that has become the same silver grey color as the rest of my. I bare my teeth and find that my canines are larger than I initially thought.

I have become a beast, more animal than human.

Resolute, I walk to the doors and through the translucent ice, I can make out dim figures moving in time with it.

I take a breath and push them open to reveal a grand ballroom. The space is impossibly cavernous, larger and more extravagant than any room in the manors of any of the merchant princes in my home country. The space is filled with hundreds of dancers garbed in finery from every conceivable culture, from far distant lands and ages long forgotten. Each one of them is more beautiful than the last. The court of the Lady of Winter. Her collection.

All of them have a strange bluish cast to their skin and frost rims the edges of their clothes. Upon my entrance, the nearest dancers fall impossibly still to stare unblinking at me with impassive expressions. The stillness spreads out from me like a ripple in water and the music fades away.

The room is absolutely silent, I am distressed to discover that the only sound is my own heartbeat. Terror siezes me as some mysterious animal instinct tells me that these people do not smell alive. Nor do they smell quite dead. They are frozen, kept animated and eternally beautiful by the everpresent unfathomable power of this place.

I hear another sound, a slow heartbeat at the far end of the chamber.

I take a step forward and the crowd parts. They all stare at me. They stare at my torn and filthy clothes. They stare at my fur and my tail and my ears and my eyes.

I want to run. I want to flee this horrible place.

I take another step forward and another and another until I finally reach a raised dais.

A woman sits on a grand throne of ice that gleams iridescently behind her. Her skin is impossibly pale and perfectly smooth as if she were carved of ice herself. Her hair is white as snow and her eyes are the color of the pale blue ice around us. A crown sits atop her head, gleaming silver and studded with diamonds. Her dress is some sort of silvery silk, shining impossibly like a mirror made into fabric.

I have heard tales of her. All children have. Be good or the Lady of Winter will come for you in the night. In some versions of the tales she is a witch who gained the secret of immorality. In others she is a spirit made flesh, a physical manifestation of winter itself. She is a collector of souls, stealing people away from their homes and bringing them here.

I am so terrified by her presence that I only belatedly notice the figure seated at her side.

My betrothed is clothed in the very same regalia he wore on the celebration on the eve of what was meant to be our wedding. His heart beats so slowly in his chest and his eyes are glazed over, surely in the process of being frozen like the rest of the people here.

He blinks and some of the fog lifts from his eyes. He stares at me for a long while before recognition finally sets in.

“Astra?” he gasps. “What happened to you?”

I should be relieved that he recognizes me, but terror and doubt and uncertainty eat away at me.

“I came to rescue you,” I confess. “Along the way I met a demon. In exchange for her freedom she granted me gifts to not only help me survive but to reach you.”

His eyes widen in horror.

“You did this to yourself?” he asks. “You made yourself into a monster?”

A monster?

My doubts and fears crystalize in my belly. A wave of despair floods through me, but to my surprise it is followed by a wave of hot anger. Rook has given me incredible gifts, they are unorthodox certainly, but they are beautiful.

“Is that how you see me?” I snarl. “A monster? I did this to save you!”

He recoils at the heat in my voice. He opens his mouth, but the Lady of Winter silences him with a raised finger.

“It seems you have a choice, my pet,” she says, her voice resonating unnaturally from the very walls. “Remain here, unchanged and beautiful for eternity, or return home with your fiancee and the knowledge of what she has done to herself.”

He casts her a wild desperate look.

“You would simply let me go?” he asks.

“There are powers in this world great enough to challenge mine,” she replies. “This one has shown great devotion in making the treacherous journey here. If it is indeed true love that drives her, I dare not go against it.”

He looks back to me.

“Astra,” he pleads. “Tell me there is a way to break your curse. We can return home, we can have the life we were meant to have.”

A curse?

“This… this is not a curse,” I gasp. “It is a gift.”

“Astra,” he pleads. “A demon has addled your mind. You have dabbled in magic. If we return and you stay as you are, there will be no place for you in civilized society.”

His words hit me like a hammer

He truly cannot see the gift that has been given to me, can he?

He asks me to change for him?

What is it that your heart desires?

Rook's gifts, the changes I have wrought upon myself, they were not for him. They were never for him.

They were for me. Rook has granted me freedom. She saw through to the heart of me. She saw the truth in me that I could never acknowledge.

I have been a fool.

“No,” I say.

“No?” he replies, aghast.

“No,” I repeat. “I will not change myself for you. Not any more. I do not care if you leave this place or not, but I will not marry you. I have seen too much, experienced too much. I will not go back. I cannot go back.”

I turn to the Lady of Winter and bob a quick curtsey. I do not know how far her hospitality and tolerance for my presence in her court will last. I turn and walk away from them. It takes all my willpower to not break into a run until I am well and truly away from the ballroom.

But once I do start running, I cannot stop. I run and I sprint and I fall to all fours and lope easily down the twisting paths. I need to be out of here. I need to be away. I need… I need…

I retrace my steps through the maze of frozen stone until finally I step into the sunlight and breathe in the cold mountain air.

The world is alive. I am alive.

I survey the landscape beyond the cliff. Somewhere out in that rough craggy terrain is Rook. I need to find her. I cannot rest until-

“Forget something?”

The voice behind me makes me jump, which in turn produces a familiar snicker. There, lounging on an outcropping above the passage is Rook.

“I can't help but notice that you're alone, little cat,” she says.

“He didn't want me, not like this.”

“His loss,” she scoffs.

I do not fully know why, but the words make my heart flutter.

“It is probably for the best,” I admit. “I cannot go back to my old life… and there is something else.”

She sits upright and cocks her head at me curiously.

“A demon stole my heart,” I confess.

She stiffens and very real jealousy plays across her face. Her reaction is enough to summon forth a mirthful giggle from within me. She hisses and hurls a clod of snow at me before hopping off her perch and standing before me.

“It's me, right?” she demands. “Because if I need to go murder somebody-”

“It is you,” I laugh.

Before she can respond, I grab her shoulders and pull her to my level. The kiss is wild and frantic and not at all proper for a lady of my station.

But I am no longer a lady, am I? I have become something else entirely. I do not know what I am yet, but I intend to find out.

She makes a soft self satisfied moan against my lips and her sharp teeth nip at me. She pulls me close and spins us around, pressing my back into the stone of the cliff. I gasp in surprise, which only goads her more. I melt into her attentions and forget myself

I only pull away reluctantly. Her eyes open and she gazes hungrily at my lips. She wants more. She wants so much more.

I want so much more.

“Please,” I gasp. “I want this… just not… here.”

She glances upwards towards the peak of the mountain.

“That's fair,” she admits. “Where would you like to go, little cat?”

“Anywhere,” I respond. “Everywhere.”

[unpunishablelamb]

Animal Impulses (Kai Anderson x Reader)

First Kai fanfic i guess?! I really tried my best to keep him as canon-accurate as possible plus i’ve noticed there’s an alarming lack of fanfics for him?! +my requests are open

NONE OF THIS REPRESENTS MY POLITICAL OPINION!! This is his character and i think erasing the most problematic aspect of his character would be wrong.

TW: manipulation, referenced physical abuse, drug abuse, animal abuse, misogyny, redpilling uhhhh lmk if i missed any

“Assume the position, pinky up”

The words seem all too familiar coming out of his mouth now.

She has heard them often and yet she was sure she would never get tired of them.

They caused some kind of muscle-memory trigger in her and she was sure that even if she would have wanted to, she couldn’t have denied him.

Almost like a Pavlov dog she thinks while chewing on the inside of her cheek until it bleeds, to hide the grin that threatens to give away her amusement.

Without hesitation she interlocks their pinkies, smiling softly at him.

She knows he likes this kind of smile, not aggressive, not too open, no teeth, just pretty.

Animals would bear their teeth when they felt frightened, Kai had reminded her.

And fear was weakness.

“You’re smart enough to know that you were born to serve” he speaks, his voice almost irritatingly loud in the absolute quiet of the basement.

His brown eyes seem black.

They didn’t allow an escape, they would see right through her if she would try to lie or back out.

She had learned that lesson the hard way.

“You know i’m loyal to you” her smile unwavering, and she truly meant every word.

She would have said the same without being under Kai’s pinky oath, without him being in the same room.

She meant what she said and she hope that he knew.

“Good girl” he praises and his black-hole-like eyes seem to drown out the dim light of the room.

She had always had an ambivalent relationship with the dark.

Whether it was her hiding under her blankets in the pitch black as a little girl when she was scared of the monsters the night had created, or getting lost in Kai’s eyes to a point where she struggled remembering her own name.

He picks up his glass of leftover, non-poisoned coolaid and takes a sip from it, watching her closely with his unblinking eyes.

They always seemed empty no matter what he did, whether he was praising her for her good behaviour, disciplining her, killing someone, fucking her.

(rest is on ao3 cause i don’t like posting actual fics to tumblr cause i’m scared america is gonna deny me my visa or whatever)

[a-big-apple]

A selection of readings for this Easter season

💀

And going a little further, he fell upon his face, praying, and saying: My Father, if it be possible, let this chalice pass from me. Nevertheless not as I will, but as thou wilt. And he cometh to his disciples, and findeth them asleep, and he saith to Peter: What? Could you not watch one hour with me?

Watch ye, and pray that ye enter not into temptation. The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh weak. (Matthew 26:39-41)

She peeled her gloves off her wet red palms and rolled up her sleeves for no reason, except that it gave her something to do with her shaking hands. She made her voice as calm as possible: in a way, she was calm. She was the calmest she had ever been in her entire life. It was just her body that was frightened. "Okay," she said. "I understand now. I really, truly, absolutely understand." Harrowhark leant back on her elbows and was watching her, black eyes lightless and soft. "Nav," she said, the gentlest she had ever heard Harrow manage. "I can't hold this for—much longer." WHAM—WHAM—WHAM! "I don't know how you're holding it now," said Gideon and she backed up, looked at what she was backing toward, looked back at her necromancer. (GtN 431)

💀

And behold one of them that were with Jesus, stretching forth his hand, drew out his sword: and striking the servant of the high priest, cut off his ear. Then Jesus saith to him: Put up again thy sword into its place: for all that take the sword shall perish with the sword. (Matthew 26:51-52)

“Lady," ventured Ortus, voice deepening with timidity, "I would not venture it—but if a cavalier’s duty is to hold the sword—if a cavalier’s duty is to protect with the sword—if a cavalier’s duty is to die by the sword—have you never considered ORTUS NIGENAD?” (HtN 21)

💀

Then did they spit in his face, and buffeted him: and others struck his face with the palms of their hands, Saying: Prophesy unto us, O Christ, who is he that struck thee? But Peter sat without in the court: and there came to him a servant maid, saying: Thou also wast with Jesus the Galilean. But he denied before them all, saying: I know not what thou sayest. (Matthew 26:67-70)

Crux spat on her. That was disgusting, but whatever. ... When Aiglamene slapped her, it had none of the trembling affrontedness Crux might have slapped her with. She simply backhanded Gideon the way you might hit a barking animal. ... There was a pause. "Oh, Griddle!" said Harrow pityingly, in the silence. "But I don't even remember about you most of the time." (GtN 19, 21, 27)

💀

And immediately the cock crew again. And Peter remembered the word that Jesus had said unto him: Before the cock crow twice, thou shalt thrice deny me. And he began to weep. (Mark 14:72)

When the world finally landed its long wound-up sucker punch, a tangled howl came out of her throat, and she was shocked that she was able to make such a noise. Memory hit Harrowhark Nonagesimus with the inexorable gravity of a satellite sucked from orbit, flinging itself to die on the surface of its bounden planet; the world hit her like a fall. ... "If I forget you, let my right hand be forgotten," her mouth was saying. "Add more also, if aught but death part me and thee." And, unsteadily: "Griddle." The hands must have withdrawn; she found herself facedown on the mattress, sobbing as she had not sobbed since she was a child. (HtN 380)

💀

And the soldiers platting a crown of thorns, put it upon his head; and they put on him a purple garment.

Then therefore he delivered him to them to be crucified. And they took Jesus, and led him forth. And bearing his own cross, he went forth to that place which is called Calvary, but in Hebrew Golgotha. (John 19:2, 16-17)

You were afraid someone might take your sword away from you if you left it; rather than lifting it, you lay down next to where it glowered at you blackly from the bed. You rolled over onto its flat steel breadth and bound crisscross straps of dense bone across your back, around the blade, around the hilt. Straining beneath its weight, with nothing but a ripped-up sheet to mask you, pathetic in your turquoise nudity, you found yourself accompanying the Emperor down long black corridors, trying to fix yourself in time and space. You were basically naked. The sword weighed you down so much that you were affecting a hump. Your Inglorious Mask was a patchwork of flaking osteology. You looked like an imbecile. (HtN 33-34)

💀

And Joseph taking the body, wrapped it up in a clean linen cloth. And laid it in his own new monument, which he had hewed out in a rock. And he rolled a great stone to the door of the monument, and went his way. (Matthew 27:59-60)

The breeze blew Harrow's hair into her mouth as she ran back and strained at the arms of her cavalier, pulled and pulled, so that she could take her off the spike and lay her on her back. Then she sat there for a long time. Beside her, Gideon lay smiling a small, tight, ready smile, stretched out beneath a blue and foreign sky. (GtN 439) You set me up. You set all of it up. I gave you one damn job. And instead you rolled a rock over me and turned your back. (HtN 434)

💀

For as Jonas was in the whale's belly three days and three nights: so shall the Son of man be in the heart of the earth three days and three nights. (Matthew 12:40) (Harrowing of Hell)

Before her, the waters parted, speared-through and mute, for an enormous lance of a tower—a tower that had never been there before; a tower that soared, impossible and deadly grey, out of the waters—a tower of grey bricks, lurching out of the River as though gasping for air. An impossible, cone-capped tower—a belled tower; she could see the steeple, but the bell cot was too far from shore to see the bell. "I'll start there," she said. And she stepped into the River. She took another step, and she walked, and she walked. (NtN 436)

💀

And he said to them: Thus it is written, and thus it behoved Christ to suffer, and to rise again from the dead, the third day... (Luke 24:46)

So many months had passed, and yet, at the same time, she had only lost Gideon Nav three days ago. It was the morning of the third day in a universe without her cavalier: it was the morning of the third day—and all the back of her brain could say, in exquisite agonies of amazement, was: She is dead. I will never see her again. (HtN 399)

💀

And behold there was a great earthquake. For an angel of the Lord descended from heaven, and coming, rolled back the stone, and sat upon it. (Matthew 28:2)

There was a wet, meaty sound. The old man exhaled. It was dark. Then there was light, bright, cold, electrifying, like death; and the noise of another rock—slowly—agonizingly—grinding away. (NtN 473)

💀

But Mary stood at the sepulchre without, weeping. Now as she was weeping, she stooped down, and looked into the sepulchre, and she saw two angels in white, sitting, one at the head, and one at the feet, where the body of Jesus had been laid. They say to her: Woman, why weepest thou? She saith to them: Because they have taken away my Lord; and I know not where they have laid him. (John 20:11-13)

You looked up into her face. Camilla Hect was a closed object, with locks and snaps; she had an expression like the rock before the Tomb, inexorable, giving nothing away. But her eyes—her eyes were dark as the grit mixed with the soil, neither grey nor brown but both. They were they eyes of a winter season without any promise of spring. In comparing the eyes to the face, you saw into a zipped-up agony. And she said, with that same dull, blank, diamond-hard pain: "The Cohort took the rest of him away. And I don’t know where they have put him.” (HtN 306)

💀

Jesus saith to her: Woman, why weepest thou? whom seekest thou? She, thinking it was the gardener, saith to him: Sir, if thou hast taken him hence, tell me where thou hast laid him, and I will take him away. Jesus saith to her: Mary. She turning, saith to him: Rabboni (which is to say, Master). (John 20:15-16)

“Will you not look at me now, Cam, and know me?" Camilla raised her chin. She looked at the dead face. She said quietly— "Yes, Warden, I will always know you.” (NtN 351-352)

💀

The other disciples therefore said to him: We have seen the Lord. But he said to them: Except I shall see in his hands the print of the nails, and put my finger into the place of the nails, and put my hand into his side, I will not believe. And after eight days again his disciples were within, and Thomas with them. Jesus cometh, the doors being shut, and stood in the midst, and said: Peace be to you. Then he saith to Thomas: Put in thy finger hither, and see my hands; and bring hither thy hand, and put it into my side; and be not faithless, but believing. Thomas answered, and said to him: My Lord, and my God. (John 20: 25-28)

“Right, Gideon. Let’s have a look at you." He undid her scarf, and Nona looked away. Beneath the scarf a huge wound in the throat made the neck yawn wide open. When she peeked back, wishing she had her braids to screen everything, she saw that Palamedes had unbuttoned the shirt partway and there was another big wound in the chest—a big purple bloodless puncture wound, with white teeth peeking out coyly from within. "Damage is consistent with reported injuries. There’s another wound lower down." "If it’s John’s copy, that doesn’t prove anything. It’s going to be exact," said Pyrrha. "I know. But I do have a personal advantage here—I’ve touched her when she was alive." ... Palamedes had placed Ianthe Naberius’s hand over the wound. He closed his eyes—really his eyes, his nice dark grey ones, not the strange blue ones with flecks—but almost immediately after closing them, he turned his head and sneezed violently; shuddered with the same violence; pulled his hand away, and said— "What? What is that?" "You just met God," said Pyrrha. ... Camilla passed him a little pair of scissors, and he cut a short slit in the thigh of the corpse's soft leather trousers. Then Palamedes prodded around withhis fingers—he placed the needle to the dead skin—and the corpse's hand shot out and ringed around his wrist before anyone could stop it. ... "One, that's not going to work. Two, I fucking hate needles," said the corpse. "Three—Sex Pal, if that's how you get a lady's pants off, holy shit, no wonder I stole your girl." Palamedes rocked back on his heels. "Not my girl. Unlike some of us, I've never much seen the allure of an evil cougar," he said crisply. "Good morning, Gideon." (NtN 365-366, 368)

💀

Let it be so.

[merakiui]

I’m not too familiar w kakegurui unfortunately, but I believe it’s about gambling…? And ooh that would be so cool to see especially from smart and cunning characters like Leona and Azul

YES YES omg!!!

It's basically an anime about this girl (Yumeko Jabami) who enrolls in a private academy where the amount of winnings you receive from gambling determines your social status. The more you gamble and win, the wealthier and influential you are. If you lose a gamble and are thrown into debt, you move down in the ranks until you're deemed the lowest of the low (a house pet), where you must serve those above you and your rights are essentially stripped from you. There's also a student council that's composed of really rich and powerful students and Yumeko makes it her mission to gamble against each of them.

Anyways!!! Please don't mind me as I use your ask as an excuse to ramble about this idea. >_< 

(cw: subtle yandere themes, gambling)

Night Raven College remains an esteemed magical academy that trains promising young mages and that’s how it seems to the public’s eye. Once you’re actually inside the walls of this prestigious school, you’ll find that there are things far dangerous than spells gone wrong and berserk monsters. The students like to gamble, some more than others. Some of them offer their magic up, some of them offer money, and others find whatever it is that’s worth offering up in order to win everything and more. The seven dorm leaders are among some of the most intelligent gamblers. They all beat the previous dorm heads in order to attain the position they have now.

And you just transferred there…by complete surprise, of course. When you awoke at the entrance ceremony and a certain furball caused a fiery commotion, you managed to get a quick glimpse of the student body. It was a little intimidating and confusing to suddenly wake in a place you’d never been to before, and it was even more frightening to learn shortly after that fiasco that there’s currently no suitable means to send you back to your home. In other words, you’re stuck in the magic, gambling academy with students who can wield powerful magic, who hardly use much brain power to gamble and win because they’re all very smart.

And you can’t really do those things. You can’t use magic. You’ve never gambled before—not seriously, at least—and you have no idea how to beat any of them. The furball, whose name is Grim, soon becomes your closest companion and ally and the two of you are joined by two first years, Ace and Deuce. The four of you stick together as you navigate each dorm and its very unique members.

You can count on Heartslabyul for honest and fair gambles that adhere to a strict set of rules. The dorm head, Riddle Rosehearts, is very particular about the rules of the Queen of Hearts and he makes sure everyone follows all of them no matter what. So when it comes to gambling, there are also plenty of regulations that must be followed. Riddle himself doesn’t gamble often. He sees no reason to challenge students on the childish whim of wanting to win. He must set an example for those around him, which is exactly why he only ever gambles if he absolutely must or if it’s a simple card game for fun.

If anyone breaks any rule when gambling, no matter how insignificant or small, they will find themselves collared at once, unable to use magic and unable to proceed with the game until further notice. Riddle usually oversees major gambles and if he can’t be there for whatever reason then two diligent upperclassmen, Trey and Cater, will take up the proceedings and ensure all goes according to the rules. He’s insanely strict. You’d feel bad for Ace if he wasn’t constantly poking the bear and earning more of Riddle’s ire because he can’t seem to keep his mouth shut. You aren’t surprised when Ace challenges a very irritated Riddle to a gamble in order to avenge himself and everyone else who has suffered under Riddle’s tyranny. Things don’t go as planned, unfortunately.

Maybe you can find some form of middle ground. If Ace offers you up as remuneration after losing against Riddle, perhaps it will lessen the punishment. You want to smack him for turning on you so fast. Even Deuce is shaking his head in disappointment. But the idea seems to please Riddle. Perhaps he’ll mull it over, if he hasn’t already made his decision.

- - -

Leona's too lazy to gamble, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t good. He’s great at it, highly intelligent, actually, but he doesn’t see any need to gamble since he’s already wealthy enough and his status as a royal should tell others not to mess with him unless they want to lose everything over a silly game. Instead, Ruggie gambles in his place. He’s very sly, so it’s best to exercise caution if you ever find yourself gambling with him.

Unlike Heartslabyul, Savanaclaw doesn’t have any need for rules other than survival of the fittest. They play dirty and cheating comes naturally, especially when Ruggie has a very useful unique magic. It’s how he wins lots of things (food, money, you name it). It’s very easy to fall into the house pet status if you aren’t careful around him. And when you’re a house pet, you’ll see lots of Leona because you’ll be stuck serving him while Ruggie basks in the luxury of a break.

Jack, another first year student, doesn’t like the way his seniors run things. He believes that you should fight fair and square, even if the odds are stacked against you. He chooses his battles wisely and tries to attain the things he wants with a sincere, honest work ethic. He’s less likely to gamble for foolish reasons and more likely to provide you with support when you gamble against Leona and Ruggie. Because you’ll definitely need the support and a level head if you intend to win and avoid becoming their house pet. You’d better be prepared because Leona won’t allow himself to be second place to you and he certainly won’t gamble a fearful herbivore who can’t grow a spine.

Jack’s the nicest of the three if you do lose and become a house pet. He’ll try to be there for you and provide some form of loyal company, but other than that there really isn’t much he can do. But at least he gets to spend lots of time with you, right? That’s always a silver lining.

- - -

By now, if you haven’t already, you’ve definitely caught the eyes of Octavinelle. Azul wants a chance to gamble with you—craves it, in fact. He heard how you and some of your newfound friends beat Riddle and Leona, both of whom are challenges themselves, and you’re still in the clear. No house pet status, no crushing debt, no humiliation or fear. So you seem to have a winning streak going. :) Azul will be the one to break it, and then you’ll become a new staff member for the Mostro Lounge, where Jade and Floyd will train you more than thoroughly. Riddle and Leona might be smart enough not to engage in childish gambles and Azul can share that sentiment, but he finds that the thrill of winning is far too enjoyable to pass up, especially when it’s with someone as intriguing as you. He might just be able to profit from this once he wins and claims you and your labor as his prize.

What’s great about Octavinelle is that it has the perfect atmosphere for gambling, or so you’ve been told. There’s always something going on behind the scenes, though. Too many unfortunate souls flock to Octavinelle’s dorm leader for help out of debt, the house pet situation, exams, and more. And he’ll aid them all with a benevolent smile—right after they’ve signed on the dotted line of a contract. It’s an elaborate trap shrouded in false hope: gamble with someone—perhaps the Leech twins if you’re feeling especially daring—lose your status, rights, and whatever else it is you gambled away, and throw yourself on Azul’s doorstep in hopes that something can be done to remedy your errors.

Underhanded methods are also used here, but you won’t know until it’s too late. The twins are dangerously sly, as is their dorm leader, and they function as a trio that’s hellbent on stirring up trouble. Of course they’d want to see what you’re capable of when you’ve caused such a commotion as of late. So be good and come visit them, okay? Otherwise they might have to find less-than-pure ways to lure you in…

- - -

It’s so fun and lighthearted in Scarabia that it’s hard to think anyone here could be suffering with debt or a house pet status. And some of them are, but Kalim is surprisingly gentle about the entire thing. He treats them with the same amount of respect and a genuine smile as he does everyone. He continues to extend invitations to them for the events that are happening within his dorm. It’s almost as if they aren’t house pets at all—as if they haven’t lost all of their rights due to a gamble gone wrong. But this is Kalim and he’s far too sweet for his own good. He couldn’t possibly take anything from anyone, especially if it’ll hurt that person in the process! So he’ll only gamble for fun when nothing’s on the table and no strings are attached. Just innocent games with innocent terms. Of course that’s not nearly as exciting as it is with high, terrifying stakes and the students who crave that sort of tension will have to find it elsewhere.

Jamil entertains them. Not because he wants to but because he must. If Kalim’s too busy or isn’t up for it or is trying to rope you into yet another feast—which Jamil will have to cook because it’s another duty that falls on his shoulders—he usually gambles with some of the students. Not always, as he doesn’t really prefer doing anything that’ll make him stand out. He’s meant to be average, after all, even if his competitive nature tells him to gamble and win, win, win. He definitely has a cruel sense of satisfaction whenever a student loses to him. They never stood a chance to begin with; it’s cute they thought they might win. Jamil is so very cunning, so it’s important to stay vigilant when you play against him—otherwise you might just find yourself with a new status and a job to serve Kalim, no less.

Gambling should be fun—that’s what Kalim firmly believes, so he’s always ready to comfort those who have lost against Jamil or anyone else for that matter. You’re a special case, so he’s very curious to see how things will turn out if you ever decide to raise the stakes against him or Jamil. And if you do happen to lose, Kalim will happily welcome his new house pet with open arms and a cheerful grin.

- - -

Stress does terrible things to the body and Vil cannot afford to be stressed. Not that something as trivial as gambling would ever stress him out. You’ll never see him in a less-than-perfect state, which is why he’s very picky with who he gambles with. It’s not often Vil indulges in any games. After all, he has other, more important things to tend to. But when he does find himself gambling, it will be a swift game. Nothing too flashy. Nothing too boring. Even when it seems like he’s been backed into a corner, he never breaks a sweat and always manages to win. Vil can’t help but feel accomplished. He practices and improves upon parts of him that aren’t up to his high standards, so of course he’s trained himself in the art of gambling. He’s well aware of the tricks and tips that lead to winning, which he uses to the best of his ability. His determination is admirable. Good luck if you ever find yourself as Vil’s new house pet, though.

Rook gambles whenever he has the chance. He’s not addicted to the game itself. He’s addicted to the rush of emotions that come from playing it. He absolutely adores watching expressions morph and twist, seeing the various stages of grief flash across the face. It’s simply magnifique. He can’t get enough of it. And it’s even more fun when the person is you. Something about the way you hold yourself is just so fascinating to him. When he isn’t observing you from afar or showering you in praise for beating the other dorm leaders in tough gambles, he’s constantly challenging you so that he might get an idea of your skills, if you have any. He’s a hunter by nature, so of course he’ll enjoy cornering you in the game. Rook will recognize your valiant effort when you lose to him. It was an enjoyable game, but now you must hand over his winnings. Although he could possibly be swayed if something else was to be offered instead.

Epel doesn’t bother with gambling. He’ll do it with his fellow first-years just for the heck of it—maybe to feel a little manly if he’s really going to give it his all. It’s like arm-wrestling in a way; you do it for fun—perhaps to prove your strength or win an argument—and then you’re done with it. He doesn’t see the appeal in it and doesn’t have any interest in losing the things that most people put on the table when they gamble. For the most part he’s indifferent to it and doesn’t pay much attention to it if it doesn’t concern him. But if he notices you and if you’re sporting the classic house pet label he can’t help but feel bad. Having to serve Vil while he nitpicks your appearance… That sounds terrible. You’ll end up seeing a lot of Epel once he realizes he likes you, and if you hang out with the other first years often then you’ll definitely see him. He’s always there.

- - -

It’s really no surprise that gambling is child’s play for Idia. He’s great at all sorts of games, so you won’t stand much of a fighting chance if you gamble against him. The same goes for Ortho as well, who commits all of your tricks to his memory and plans countermeasures as he goes. He learns a lot in such short time and every game he plays is more practice and experience he files away for later use. In other words, Idia and Ortho are basically a Dark Souls boss. You really can’t win, and Idia is very happy to claim his win time and time again. He’ll often play for fun with Azul when the two of them meet for board game club. It’s good practice and good fun—killing two birds with one stone, right? Plus, it’s something Idia enjoys!

He’s actually a little surprised when you willingly come to him with a gambling proposal. Do you know what you’re getting yourself into? You know he’s,,, op when it comes to games, right? This is literally his forte. So are you absolutely positive you want to gamble with him? Unless you and Idia have gotten close, he won’t seem all that confident and will probably resort to communicating with you via his trusty tablet. But if you’re close enough, then prepare to be squashed like a bug!! He’s very energized whenever he plays with you. It’ll be for fun if you’re friends and if you’re not… Well, you can pay him with whatever it is he wants. Not that there’s much he could want from you…unless.

And if you’ve made yourself part of the board game club, good luck gambling with him and Azul. Two final bosses vs. you. :) Maybe luck won’t be there to help.

Idia will boast a little when he wins, which isn’t a surprise at all, but it’s still exciting to feel proud of the achievement. The two of you have a lot of fun when you’re not gambling with money but with sweets instead. Of course if you happened to become his house pet, things are a little different.

And Ortho is there for emotional support! Go, (Name)! You can do it! He’s cheering for you and then promptly downloading various methods of consolation when you lose.

- - -

The members of Diasomnia are well-versed in gambling, a human pastime that has brought ruin to some and fortune to others. It’s amusing and curious. How can humans find fascination in something so addictively ruinous? Lilia is thoroughly amused whenever he pops in to witness a crazy gamble. Is this truly how the humans of this era wish to spend their time? He’s delighted to give it a try for himself and when he does he proceeds to absolutely demolish the student he’s gambling against. Lilia is too good at this and that’s exactly why people avoid him whenever the subject of gambling is brought up.

No one ever challenges Malleus, even though he would welcome any challengers bold enough to face him. And it’s due to the fact that he’s never challenged that no one truly knows whether or not he’s any good. Most students assume he’s highly skilled based on his reputation alone, so they tread with caution whenever the words Malleus and gambling are used in the same sentence. You’re probably the first human he ever gambles with and it’s more of a practice round than anything. He has no reason to take from you; that’s what he claims. He even let you choose a cute nickname for him. He’s a friend…you think. It’s hard to tell sometimes, but the more time you spend with him the deeper your bond will become.

Sebek will not let anyone challenge his master! How dare they even have such a thought! He makes it crystal clear that no one should ever think they’re worthy of challenging the Malleus Draconia, and his hotheaded behaviors tend to get him wrapped up in emotional gambles. He always wins for Malleus’s sake. If he wasn’t skilled at gambling, how could he possibly be worthy to stand near Malleus? Therefore he will accept any challenge that comes his way because it will help him improve! He won’t gamble with you at first because he firmly believes it would be a waste of time and energy. Why should he exert himself if you’re just a human who couldn’t possibly hope to beat someone like him? You’ll just make yourself look foolish.

But if you rile Sebek up enough, he might just agree to settle things with a gamble. And when he wins, you’ll be put in your place.

Silver doesn’t gamble. It’s too tiring and most of his energy is reserved for academics and training. But he might stop to look for a few moments, somewhat curious as he stares, before continuing on his way. Maybe he meets you when you’re ushered in as Diasomnia’s new house pet or maybe he happens upon you while you’re gambling with Sebek. His interest isn’t piqued right away; rather, it’s a gradual process. He’ll have to notice you more than once before he actually feels some sort of interest in you. And once he does he starts to take note of various things, even more so if you’re a house pet. He wonders if that title means anything to you, seeing as you’ve come from another world.

Maybe he’ll find that answer if he gets to know you better. Either way, Silver might not even bother with it. But when you approached him in the hall that one time… It’s troublesome, but his feelings really are skewed. Just what sort of mystifying effect do you have on him?

[tinyyoungblood]

hi!! adore your work love. could you maybe do smth where stark!reader has to get her wisdom teeth out but HATES the dentist so she brings her boyf peter and her dad w her?? and then when they get home the avengers are all waiting with like comical amounts of flowers and stuffed animals and then reader says some funny shiii and thor thinks she’s like dying lol. idk if that made sense but i’m getting my wisdom teeth out soon and i’m scared😭 thank u so so much love u babe

pairing: peter parker x stark!reader

a/n: tysm lovely :,) i rushed through this like my life depended on it, but i hope i’m not too late. either way, i hope you’re okay! it’s frightening but those bad boys gotta go because we don’t need that kind of energy in our lives. enjoy x

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

wisdom teeth? more like wisdoom

y/n has to get her wisdom teeth removed and it’s the singular most dreadful thing she’s ever had to do, which says a lot because her dad is tony richling stark

doing dreadful things she doesn’t want to do but still somehow end up doing just because she can is a personality trait at this point

no one really makes a big deal out of it since ~death~ is part of their job description, but y/n is terrified

and when a stark is terrified the only thing that will keep them one step from insanity is researching the hell out of it

that information will be info dumped into every conversation for the next few weeks leading up to the appointment

“y/n you need anything from the store?” "no thanks, did you know the side effects of getting your wisdom teeth out include ✨sudden death or blood clots✨ tho” “……..i have a coupon?”

the day of the appointment, peter comes along and literally doesn’t let go of y/n’s hand. he keeps touching her to let her know that he’s there and it’s so. adorable

he would rest his hand on her knee, gently stroke her back while holding her, or just play with her hair

happy drops them off and he’s too Cool™ for emotions but he knows y/n’s a wreck, so he just fist bumps her with a single nod and she almost breaks down bc it’s really affectionate

y/n is sitting in the dentist chair and genuinely nothing is happening yet, but she’s squeezing peter’s hand like it’s a sponge

peter might have a high pain tolerance but he’s in pain pain and he prays that his hand won’t just explode on him

the dentist notices how peter tries to keep it together and chuckles

“you okay there, son?” “yea it’s fine, had a better time when a building fell on me tho haha” “pardon?” “oh i mean i didn’t have a good time, i just had a better time”

because y/n is running Anxious Town™, the dentist gives her a sedative to help her relax 

plus, an injection of local anaesthetic to numb the tooth and surrounding area

she doesn’t feel anything and it’s GREAT

the procedure is quicker than expected and now the real fun begins

she tries to walk but she falls down so peter scoops her up bridal style and happy stays glued at her side

y/n doesn’t mind although she literally doesn’t recognise them and they’re practically strangers to her

but girly sees an opportunity and tries to flirt with peter bc why wouldn’t she

“you’re pretty” *blushes* “why thanks” “you should let your girlfriend know” “i should let her know i’m pretty?” “so you do have a gf? :(” “yea it’s you” “:)”

they stop for gas and peter goes in to get some water for y/n, and in her infinite wisdom, she decides it’s burger time

her mouth is completely numb and she’s practically leaving a trail of drool behind her, but she’d kill for a burger right now

so she wobbles around aimlessly for an hour on some random parking lot as if the ground might just magically open up like a rabbit hole and lead her to five guys

she’s going places. not back to the car. definitely not five guys. they’re closed. but places

peter finally finds her and he’s drenched from head to toe in sweat. he doEsn’T wAnt tO tALk abOut iT tho so she lets him take her to subway instead

normally, she would know that peter’s usual subway order is bread-lettuce-jalapeño

but in her drugged-up state, it had simply slipped her mind so now she’s staring at him like he’d just murdered someone right in front of her

“that- that’s your order?? no meat or anything just bread, lettuce, and a little spice?”

meanwhile at the compound, sam and steve are ordering everyone around bc they want to decorate this place before y/n gets home to surprise her

they take it very seriously too. they’ve watched like one HGTV show and said it’s our time

they finally get home and tony gives y/n a big hug, asking her what took so long

happy tells him that she was keen on getting burgers bc apparently someone has taught her that stressful times call for ~cheeseburgers~

he proceeds to look at tony with a pointed look

tony just shrugs and goes “she was a problem child. we don’t mention her dark past”

she’s swaying on the spot and keeps grinning like a fool and thor just stares at her weirdly before elbowing bruce and whispering loudly,

“what’s wrong with her? is she dying? should i start collecting leaves, i know this remedy—"

no one can tell if y/n is just happy to see the newly decorated home or if she’s just delighted to see everyone but then she goes around hugging the entire team

she doesn’t even acknowledge the sky-high pile of teddy bears and flowers everywhere bc she’s just squeezing everybody

y/n is so high, she just starts to spill all of her feelings about everyone and they’re already so overwhelmed by the hug chain they can’t take this too

“wanda i just want you to know that you’re like my big sister and you’re always taking care of me and i know you and vision are just going to make such good parents one day”

“bucky you absolute PRICK, you FIEND, you’re the best chess player ever and that’ll never change and i wouldn’t be good without you, i hate to say it but you deserve happiness even after you made me lose five times in a row yesterday”

“dad, you’re so strong and smart, even though we’re like never on the same page, you’re always along for the ride, i want to be like you when i grow up, i swear i’m gonna try to be as good to the avengers as you were to us” “aww- wait makes you think i'll be the first to die“

“nat you’re such a bitch about your protein shakes but you’re my best friend and i wouldn’t have it any other way, you can try out as many make up looks on me as you want”

“bruce, brucey, i would live with you in your lab for the rest of my days if i had to, whenever you ask me to hand you stuff i feel useful and important”

“laura’s way out of your league clint i have no idea how the fuck you got her but don’t lose her and i want to be your next child’s godmother”

“steve…we’re your family now. we’re always gonna be your family now. okay?”

“loki you’re not fooling anyone with your attitude, we all know you’re part of the family, you were just misunderstood and messed up bc of your dad–FUCK him by the way–but i realised everyone deserves as many chances as they need because of you”

“sam i would genuinely kill anyone who wronged you, even if they cut you in line at the grocery store, i would knife them no hesitation”

“thor, you poor golden retriever have been through so much, on my way here i made a wish on an eyelash for you bc you deserve better, your postcards always make my day, love you”

she mumbles something to peter that no one else can hear but he blushes and chokes back a sob

y/n orders hot soup and bucky brings it to her but before he even has time to react peter drops everything and ZOOMS across the room in .3 seconds

he barrels into bucky so hard they both go flying, but peter just smoothly rolls out of it and onto his feet like some kind of super ninja

“DUDE WHAT THE HELL” “😠 y/n is not supposed to drink hot liquids 😠”

all of this happens in mere seconds but sam has filmed it all and now slow mo clips go viral online of some mysterious kid knocking over the winter soldier

y/n’s a little in and out after that, but when she fully regains consciousness, she’s on a pile of blankets, surrounded by the team on the floor <3

* * *

let me know if this is actually comforting lmao stay hydrated pals

hc masterlist

[writingwithcolor]

I'm writing an AU of a movie that takes place in the 1880s USA, where a travelling white character and a Jewish character are waylaid by Native Americans, who they befriend. Probably because it was written by and about PoC (Jews) the scene actually avoids the stuff on your Native American Masterpost, but I'd still like to do better than a movie made in the 1980's, and I feel weird cutting them from the plot entirely. I have a Jewish woman reading it for that, but are there any things you (1/1)

2/2 1880s western movie ask--are there things you'd LIKE to see in a movie where a white man and a Jewish man run into Native Americans in the 1880s? I do plan to base them on a real tribe (Ute, probably) and have proper housing/clothes and so forth, but right now I'm just trying to avoid or subvert awful cowboy movie tropes. Any ideas?

White and Jewish Men, Native American interactions in 1880s

I am vaguely concerned with how you only cite one of our posts about Native Americans, that was not written by a Native person, and do not cite any of the posts relating to this time period, or any posts relating to representation in media. 

Sidenote: if you want us to give accurate reflections of the media you’re discussing, please tell us the NAME. I cannot go look up this movie based off this description to give you an idea of what my issues are with this scene, and must instead trust that the representation is good based off your judgement. I cannot make my own judgement. This is a problem. Especially since your whole question boils down to “this scene is good but not great and I want it to be great. How can I do that?”

Your baseline for “good” could very well be my baseline for “terrible hack job”. I can’t give you the proper education required for you to be able to accurately evaluate the media you’re watching for racist stereotypes if you don’t tell me what you’re even working with.

When you’re writing fanfic where the media is directly relevant to the question, please tell us the name of the media. We will not judge your tastes. We need this information in order to properly help you.

Moving on.

I bring up my concern for you citing that one—exceptionally old—post because it is lacking in many of the tropes that don’t exist in the media critique field but exist in the real world. This is an issue I have run into countless times on WWC (hence further concern you did not cite any other posts) and have spoken about at length. 

People look at the media critique world exclusively, assume it is a complete evaluation of how Native Americans are seen in society, and as a result end up ignoring some really toxic stereotypes and then come to the inbox with “these characters aren’t abc trope, so they’re fine, but I want to rubber stamp them anyway. Anything wrong here?”. The answer is pretty much always yes. 

Issue one: “Waylaid” by Native Americans

This wording is extremely loaded for one reason: Native American people are seen as tricksters, liars, and predators. This is the #1 trope that shows up in the real world that does not show up in media critique. It’s also the trope I have talked about the most when it comes to media representation, so you not knowing the trope is a sign you haven’t read the entirety of the Native tag—which is in the FAQ as something we would really prefer you did before coming at us to answer questions. It avoids us having to re-explain ourselves.

Now, hostility is honestly to be expected for the time period the movie is set in. This is in the beginnings (or ramping up) of residential schools in America* and Canada, we have generations upon generations of stolen or killed children, reserves being allocated perhaps hundreds of miles from sacred sites, and various wars with Plains and Southwest peoples are in full force (Wounded Knee would have happened in 1890, in December, and the Dakoa’s mass execution would have been in 1862. Those are just the big-name wars. There absolutely were others). 

*America covers up its residential schools abuse extremely thoroughly, so if you try to research them in the American context you will come up empty. Please research Canada’s schools and apply the same abuse to America, as Canada has had a Truth and Reconciliation Commission about residential schools and therefore is more (but not completely) transparent about the abuse that happened. Please note that America’s history with residential schools is longer than Canada’s history. There is an extremely large trigger warning for mass child death when you do this research.

But just because the hostility is expected does not mean that this hostility would be treated well in the movie. Especially when you consider the sheer amount of tension between any Native actors and white actors, for how Sacheen Littlefeather had just been nearly beaten up by white actors at the 1973 Academy Awards for mentioning Wounded Knee, and the American Indian Religious Freedom Act had only been passed two years prior in 1978. 

These Native actors would not have had the ability to truly consent to how they were shown, and this power dynamic has to be in your mind when you watch this scene over. I don’t care that the writers were from a discriminated-against background. This does not always result in being respectful, and I’ve also spoken about this power imbalance at length (primarily in the cowboy tag).

Documentaries and history specials made in the 2010s (with some degree of academic muster) will still fall into wording that harkens Indigenous people to wolves and settlers as frightened prey animals getting picked off by the mean animalistic Natives. This is not neutral, or good. This is perpetuating the myth that the settlers were helpless, just doing their own thing completely unobtrusively, and then the evil territorial Native Americans didn’t want to share.

To paraphrase Batman: if I had a week I couldn’t explain all the reasons that’s wrong.

How were these characters waylaid by the Native population? Because that answer—which I cannot get because you did not name the media—will determine how good the framing is. But based on the time period this movie was made alone, I do not trust it was done respectfully.

Issue 2: “Befriending”

I mentioned this was in an intense period of residential schools and land wars all in that area. The Ute themselves had just been massacred by Mormons in the Grass Valley Massacre in 1865, with ten men and an unknown number of women and children killed thanks to a case of assumed association with a war chief (Antonga Black Hawk) currently at war with Utah. The Paiute had been massacred in 1866. Over 100 Timpanogo men had been killed, with an unknown number of women and children enslaved by Brigham Young in Salt Lake City in 1850, with many of the enslaved people dying in captivity (those numbers were not tracked, but I would assume at least two hundred were enslaved— that’s simply assuming one woman/wife and one child for every man, and the numbers could have very well been higher if any war-widows and their children were in the group, not to mention families with multiple children). This is after an unknown group of Indigenous people had been killed by Governor Brigham Young the year prior, to “permanently stop cattle theft” from settlers. 

The number of Native Americans killed in Utah in the 1800s—just the number of dead counted (since women and children weren’t counted)—in massacres not tied to war (because there was at least one war) is over 130. The actual number of random murders is much higher; between the uncounted deaths and how the Governor had issued orders to “deal with” the problem of cattle theft permanently. I doubt you would have been tried or convicted if you murdered Indigenous peoples on “your” land. This is why it’s called state sanctioned genocide.

This is not counting the Black Hawk War in Utah (1865-1872), which the Ute were absolutely a part of (the wiki articles I read were contradictory if Antonga Black Hawk was Ute or Timpanogo, but the Ute were part of it). The first official massacre tied to the war—the Bear River Massacre, ordered by the US Military—places the death count of just that singular massacre at over five hundred Shoshone, including elders, women, and children. It would not be unreasonable to assume that the number of Indigenous people killed in Utah from 1850, onward, is over a thousand, perhaps two or three.

Pardon me for not reading beyond that point to list more massacres and simply ballparking a number; the source will be linked for you to get an accurate number of dead.

So how did they befriend the Native population? Let alone see them as fully human considering the racism of the time period? Natives were absolutely not seen as fully human so long as they were tied to their culture, and assimilation equalling some sliver of respect was already a stick being waved around as a threat. This lack of humanity continues to the present day.

I’m not saying friendship is impossible. I am saying the sheer levels of mistrust that would exist between random wandering groups of white/pale men and Indigenous communities wouldn’t exactly make that friendship easy. Having the scene end be a genuine friendship feels ignorant and hollow and flattening of ongoing genocide, because settlers lied about their intentions and then lined you up for slauther (that’s how the Timpanogo were killed and enslaved).

Utah had already done most of its mass killing by this point. The era of trusting them was over. There was an active open hunting season, and the acceptable targets were the Indigenous populations of Utah.

(sources for the numbers: 

List of Indian Massacres in North America Black Hawk War (1865-1872))

Issue 3: “Proper housing/clothes and so forth”

Do you mean Western style settlements and jeans? If yes, congratulations you have written a reservation which means the land-ripped-away wounds are going to be fresh, painful, and sore.

You do not codify what you mean by “proper”, and proper is another one of those deeply loaded colonial words that can mean “like a white man” or “appropriate for their tribe.” For the time period, it would be the former. Without specifying which direction you’re going for, I have no idea what you’re imagining. And without the name of the media, I don’t know what the basis of this is.

The reservation history of this time period seems to maybe have some wiggle room; there were two reservations allocated for the Ute at this time, one made in 1861 and another made in 1882 (they were combined into the Uintah and Ouray Indian Reservation in 1886). This is all at the surface level of a google and wikipedia search, so I have no idea how many lived in the bush and how many lived on the reserve. 

There were certainly land defenders trying to tell Utah the land did not belong to them, so holdouts that avoided getting rounded up were certainly possible. But these holdouts would be far, far more hostile to anyone non-Native.

The Ute seemed to be some degree of lucky in that the reserve is on some of their ancestral territory, but any loss of land that large is going to leave huge scars. 

It should be noted that reserves would mean the traditional clothing and housing would likely be forbidden, because assimilation logic was in full force and absolutely vicious at this time. 

It’s a large reserve, so the possibility exists they could have accidentally ended up within the borders of it. I’m not sure how hostile the state government was for rounding up all the Ute, so I don’t know if there would have been pockets of them hiding out. In present day, half of the Ute tribe lives on the reserve, but this wasn’t necessarily true historically—it could have been a much higher percentage in either direction.

It’s up to you if you want to make them be reservation-bound or not. Regardless, the above mentioned genocide would have been pretty fresh, the land theft in negotiations or already having happened, and generally, the Ute would be well on their way to every assimilation attempt made from either residential schools, missionaries, and/or the forced settlement and pre-fab homes.

To Answer Your Question

I don’t want another flattened, sanitized portrayal of genocide.

Look at the number of dead above, the amount of land lost above, the amount of executive orders above. And try to tell me that these people would be anything less than completely and totally devastated. Beyond traumatized. Beyond broken hearted. Absolutely grief stricken with almost no soul left.

Their religion would have been illegal. Their children would have been stolen. Their land was taken away. A saying about post-apocalyptic fiction is how settler-based it is, because Indigenous people have already lived through their own apocalypse.

It would have all just happened at the time period this story is set in. All of the grief you feel now at the environment changing so drastically that you aren’t sure how you’ll survive? Take that, magnify it by an exponential amount because it happened, and you have the mindset of these Native characters.

This is not a topic to tread lightly. This is not a topic to read one masterpost and treat it as a golden rule when there is too much history buried in unmarked, overfull graves of school grounds and cities and battlefields. I doubt the movie you’re using is good representation if it doesn’t even hint at the amount of trauma these Native characters would have been through in thirty years.

A single generation, and the life that they had spent millennia living was gone. Despite massive losses of life trying to fight to preserve their culture and land.

Learn some history. That’s all I can tell you. Learn it, process it, and look outside of checklists. Look outside of media. 

And let us have our grief.

~ Mod Lesya

On Question Framing

Please allow me the opportunity to comment on “are there things you'd LIKE to see in a movie where a white man and a Jewish man run into Native Americans in the 1880s?” That strikes me as the same type of question as asking what color food I’d like for lunch. I don’t see how the cultural backgrounds of characters I have literally no other information about is supposed to make me want anything in particular about them. I don’t know anything about their personalities or if they have anything in common.

Compare the following questions:

“Are there things you’d like to see in a movie where two American women, one from a Nordic background and one Jewish, are interacting?” I struggle to see how our backgrounds are going to yield any further inspiration. It certainly doesn’t tell you that we’re both queer and cling to each other’s support in a scary world; it doesn’t tell you that we uplift each other through mental illness; it doesn’t go into our 30 years of endless bizarre inside jokes related to everything from mustelids to bad subtitles.

Because: “white”, “Jewish”, and “Native American” aren’t personality words. You can ask me what kind of interaction I’d like to see from a high-strung overachieving woman and a happy-go-lucky Manic Pixie Dream Girl, and I’ll tell you I’d want fluffy f/f romance. Someone else might want conflict ultimately resolving in friendship. A third person might want them slowly getting on each other’s nerves more and more until one becomes a supervillain and the other must thwart her. But the same question about a cultural demographic? That told me nothing about the people involved.

Also, the first time I meet a new person from a very different culture, it might take weeks before discussion of our specific cultural differences comes up. As a consequence, my first deep conversations with a Costa Rican American gentile friend were not about Costa Rica or my Jewishness but about things we had in common: classical music and coping with breakups--which are obviously conversations I could have had if we were both Jewish, both Costa Rican gentiles, or both something else. So in other words, I’m having trouble seeing how knowing so little about these characters is supposed to give me something to want to see on the page.

Thank you for understanding.

(And yes, I agree with Lesya, what’s with this trend of people trying to explain their fandom in a roundabout way instead of mentioning it by name? It makes it harder to give meaningful help….)

--Shira

[red-doll-face]

Here is a request for slashers if they're open. My brain does a thing where I am affectionate w a person but if I get nudged away (even if it's just to readjust the position), it goes "oh no. They don't want u to touch them. Do not touch ever again or they will get mad at u. U disgust them." Even tho touch is my love language & it hurts, I just won't touch. If confronted, I will get confused & panicky cuz "u didn't want me to touch? Im respecting ur wishes? Did I miss something?" Its a mess.

Requests are indeed open, I’m sorry I take foreverrr to do these but i hope u enjoy! I don’t know what to call this tho. For simplicity’s sake I’m calling this nervous reader lmao, idk what else to call these.

Slashers x gn nervous Reader

Jason Voorhees:

Jason can very much relate to the feeling. When he first meets you, he’s sure that you’re frightened. He restrains from being too close to avoid coming off as overbearing, doesn't want to touch you because if you flinch he’ll be so hurt. He just assumes he disgusts you. Based on the reaction all of his other victims have when they see him, he’s sure you’ll probably be the same.

Once Jason is sure that you don't feel that way, he’s a cuddle monster. He wants to be close all of the time, holding hands, letting you sit in his lap, you name it. He’s so starved and quickly decides that touch is his love language too. He’s not even sure how he’s lived this long without it.

The only time I can see Jason maybe gently sort of setting you down elsewhere and walking off is when he senses strangers on the property of what once was Crystal Lake. He’s out the door before he can even see your hurt expression, Which is worse because this might lead you to jump to conclusions.

If you distance yourself from Jason, he immediately is thrown off. He can’t directly ask you if he’s done something wrong and when he tries to initiate affection with you and you don’t reciprocate whole heartedly, he’s at a loss.

He’ll get on one knee while you sulk on the couch and give you a silent plea to tell him what's wrong. You can panic and try and avoid it but he is certain there's something going on and he wants so badly to know what he’s done to put you off. You tell him and he immediately is shaking his head no, he could never be mad at you, never be disgusted with you. You’re the most breathtaking person he’s ever had the pleasure of holding, the first, most likely.

Jason nods because he understands how you feel. In the future, he’s persistent about how you feel when he untangles himself from you, making sure you’re ok.

Michael Myers:

In the later stages of your relationship, Michael is insatiable when it comes to being in contact with you. For a long time, towards the start of your relationship, he didn’t like it. It felt weird. All of the touch he's experienced prior was so clinical and sterile that he doesn’t quite know how good touch is supposed to feel. He’s so touch starved that he’s almost positive he doesn't even need it.

Slowly, he builds a tolerance for it, much like one does with alcohol, constantly checking his boundaries and letting him control the situation and he’s all for movie night, huddled up on the couch, or waking up with his head on your chest. His own personal pillow.

There are, however, moments when his need to make someone tremble with fear and then blodgeon them to death with a can opener from their own kitchen becomes too strong, so he tries to keep away from you. In the past, he might have used you to satisfy similar desires of a sexual nature and may have really hurt you but he knows that it’s not always enjoyable to you.

Then, you stop touching him. Much like Jason, he starts to think you’ve become sick of him. Sick of his coldness, his muteness, his withdrawn demeanor. Maybe you’ve moved on and he tries to tell himself he doesn’t care but he doesn't think he can see himself touching anyone but you now.

It gets to the point where he comes home one day and you look heavily troubled, expressions he’s seen on your face before, only in the event that something terrible has happened. You ask to speak to him and he obliges.

You explain that you don’t think this relationship is working, that you’re pretty sure he’s disgusted with you and how difficult this event is because you didn't even want to talk about it but it's been hurting you for too long.

His response is to stand up very slowly, pick you up and lay down with you over him, simply laying there. Hopefully, knowing you’re the one person he would ever allow to participate in this intimacy is enough to show you that you mean more than you think you do to him.

RZ Michael Myers:

This Michael is more perceptive to your touch than his counterpart, your touch sends little shivers down his spine and as soon as he gets pretty used to it, he’s eager for more. This also takes some time but significantly less. He’s enamored with the idea of returning to a somewhat normal life. Your affection grounds him in that fantasy as much as being a murderer might take him out of it.

As he establishes a relationship with you, he may even be the one to start touching you instead of the other way around. He’s read books and always wondered what it might feel like to have someone genuinely touch him without fear in their eyes. Without malice.

An unsuccessful ‘day at work’ might have Michael feeling a little het up though. He can be moody and more rageful. Neither you nor his hobbies can calm him. He seems colder than usual in these states and can come off as very standoffish.

So when you try and touch him and he shrugs your hand off his shoulder, he can’t or isn't in the state of mind to address your frown and worried look. Michael, instead stomps off somewhere to be alone for a while; maybe take his anger out on something else. Some unsuspecting soul or maybe even a poor animal in the wrong place at the wrong time.

After he’s calmed down some, he returns and almost forgot about that sad little gleam in your eye before he left. Michael remembers when he sees you blankly staring at the TV, pointedly avoiding his gaze even as you utter a weak welcome home. It’s not very welcoming. He sits stiffly beside you, watching you from the corner of his eye. You’re closed off from him and he doesn't like it at all.

Migrating towards you slowly, he eases you into a familiar hug, his big bear hugs that are a little tight but inviting all the same. His huge torso and long arms seem to swallow you in his warmth. You hardly reciprocate. You look a little surprised. Though he never addresses it verbally, (which is probably better for you) Michael offers a single glance that communicates everything he needs to say. Don't ever think that again.

Thomas B. Hewitt:

Thomas’ self esteem issues and self image are not good. He honestly doesn’t like to imagine what he looks like to other people unless it can be as a threatening man you don’t fuck with. Meeting you, he realizes that it’s good to protect his family but he’d rather you not see him as someone only capable of harm. Tries his best to get the point across that while Hoyt may be adamant that horrible things happen to you, he’s not going to let them.

Thomas has received affection but always a familial affection. A pat on the back from Monty, proud claps to his shoulders from uncle Charlie, and hugs and kisses from his dear Mother. Nothing so foreign as a strangers touch over his arm or a soft embrace.

Unfortunately, Thomas can get reactive when you attempt to touch him without his mask on. He’s absolutely settled on the false reality that you’ll see his face and immediately decide that you never want to touch him again. Interacting with you with his bare face? That's a no for Thomas.

He puts on his mask that covers the scarred skin over his face and you look dejected. He was preparing for you to pressure him but instead finds himself trying to find out why you won’t touch him now. It’s not his face, is it? You respond with your reasoning. Thomas is so confused. How could you think that you disgust him? That he doesn’t want you to touch him?

He’s quicker than the others and immediately sweeps you up into his arms and holds you as close as humanly possible. Feeling disgusting and like some sort of burden is a feeling he’s so familiar with and if he can take it away from you, he will.

Will aggressively initiate touch with you for the next week or so just to solidify the fact that he cares about you and won't reject you just as you didn’t reject him.

Bubba Sawyer:

Bubba is a great cuddle buddy and partner. Hugs are his favorite and he hugs his brother all the time, lifting both Nubbins and Chop Top into the air for some brotherly love. If you’re smaller than them he’s all about picking you up and perhaps a little rough housing with you. He’s careful though or at least there are attempts made to be careful

Bubba, though he could easily spend the whole day doing nothing and everything with you, has work. Chores, butchering. Cooking, and tending livestock. Plenty to do at the sawyer house and he does most of it. Suffice to say there are times when you want to lather attention all over him yet he has to go back to work.

So caught up in work that he doesn't get what's going on til way later, when you’ve had time to stew in your emotions, firmly telling yourself that Bubba is annoyed by you probably. He’s baffled and confused at your silence, your crossed arms. The little furrow in your brow. He can already tell there’s something upsetting you.

Honestly, Bubba is so affectionate I can’t see him being the kind of person even capable of alluding to the fact he might be disgusted by you. How, if all he wants to do is love you? You may bring it up as a joke that you thought he didn’t like you and he almost seems offended. Not like you?

Bubba can squash any feelings you may have about that and then some. He will not let you drown in insecurities, not on his watch. This man will do everything in his power to make you feel beautiful because you really are.

I’m sorry these are super long but thanks for requesting!

[autisticgoodman]

horrors and nightmares

"it's okay, birdie, i knew you'd protect me."

in which chrissy has a nightmare and robin comforts her. click here for ao3 link.

you can also read below cut.

chrissy hid her face in robin’s shoulder, holding her eyes tight shut as robin tried to frantically tried to turn off the movie before chrissy became more frightened. 

“i’m so sorry, chris!” click! the tv finally turned off and robin sighed but chrissy was whimpering and holding back tears. robin had forgotten that not everyone, especially chrissy, enjoyed such horrific movies. 

“it’s okay,” chrissy mumbled into robin’s shoulder, sniffling. “it’s okay.”

“do you wanna go to bed? we can cuddle and watch some silly romcom.” robin was desperate to make it better. she and chrissy had only been together for a few months, so the topic of horror movies never came up. and when robin brought up this movie, she never said anything. 

chrissy just nodded, wiping her eyes. “yes please.” she was so quiet that robin’s heart practically broke. 

robin kissed her girlfriend’s forehead and helped her stand up, walking her to the bedroom. 

chrissy immediately laid down, grabbing the stuffed animal robin had won for her at their first date at the carnival. it was a floppy bear, and honestly pretty ugly. but chrissy loved it and it comforted her, which was all that matters. robin made sure to pop in chrissy’s favorite movie and turn on the electric blanket to a warm setting. 

“i’m so sorry, babylove,” robin said to chrissy, snuggling into her. 

“it’s okay,” chrissy replied, holding onto her bear and her girlfriend as she watched the movie intently. she had calmed down for the most part and was close to falling asleep. 

a few hours after robin had fallen asleep, chrissy began to have a nightmare. of both vecna and the movie. she was tossing and turning, causing robin to wake up.

“chrissy?” robin yawned, rubbing her eyes. “oh, shit. chris!” she shook chrissy, trying to wake her up. robin was panicking, she didn’t know what to do. 

chrissy yelled out robin’s name, sobbing as she woke up. she clung to her girlfriend, repeating “don’t let him get me, please! please!” 

“i promise,” robin promised, and she whole-heartedly meant it, whether it be the clown from the movie or vecna she’d be protecting her girlfriend from. 

“no more horror movies, please,” chrissy whispered after her sobs had calmed down. 

“oh, honey, absolutely not. i’m so sorry, chris, i didn’t know you were so scared of them.” robin shook her head, kissing chrissy’s forehead.

chrissy shook her head in return. “it’s okay, birdie, i knew you’d protect me.”

[amethystpath-writes]

A Cage of Moonlight and Magic:

You guys asked for a collab so here’s collab number one, with the one and only @nightfrostshadow ! We had a blast writing this and bouncing ideas off one another, so sit back and enjoy :)

******

“Listen to me carefully,” Supervillain held Villain’s chin, slid his hand so casually near his circus pet’s neck- his throat. “Those water and ice crystals are not yours at all. They are mine, you hear me? They are the audience’s. You exist only to provide entertainment, to provide glory. But you are neither of these things without your powers.” He stepped back, peering at his subject with a glimmer in his eyes.

“I’ll kill you,” Villain promised. “Someday when you least expect it, I will do it.” He’d said this before, many times- with many bouts of frustration, confidence, and determination.

Supervillain laughed. “With water?”

“Haven’t you ever heard of being swept away by a current?” For once, Villain allowed a smile to curve upon his lips.  Something wicked enraptured his thoughts- more than just murder; it was torture. “When the water is so fast, so strong, that your head never breaks surface ever again. You drown.”

The hand near Villain’s throat faltered, but ultimately tightened. “Don’t forget who you are speaking to.” And that was the end of that.

***

“I think it’s fun,” Hero said, “when the little kids’ faces curve into shining smiles. And the adults, too. I wonder how many grandparents have made our show their last one. What an honour, isn’t it, Villain? That we may be the last magic someone sees?”

Villain who had been gloomily forming a little water tornado in his palm looked up at Hero. “Absolutely not,” he scoffed, and the swirling water fell to the ground.

“Does it not bother you that we are nothing but tools to Supervillain?” Villain asked. “Meant to forever use our powers in such a pathetic way, to entertain people? Would you not rather be the one in power of your own life? To live free…free to do whatever we want with our powers instead of what Supervillain wants!” What a magnificent fantasy Villain let reel in his mind.

He shifted his body, knees dragging in the dirt- in his bed. “I’m reduced to having to put up waterwork shows. Waterworks can you believe it? Out of all the things I can do?”

A spritz of water in Hero’s direction. “And you.” He waited for Hero to meet his eyes. “With your stars and fireworks…you could do so much more. We could do so much more, Hero. Yet here we are, the famous opening act for Supervillain.”

Hero pondered over this as she thoughtfully looked down at her own hands, making little stars and sparkles erupt from her fingers, thus illuminating the surroundings. Such a great contrast to the darkening sky, she thought before answering Villain. “We bring light to the people watching, you know?” Literally, in Hero’s case.

“You could bring heat to them as well.” Villain was watching the little sparks in his co-worker’s hands as she’d spoken. Darkly, he thought, She could set the world ablaze if she wished. “Don’t you understand that we are animals to them? They think we are tamed.” He expected a response- anything besides Hero’s plain face. “That fact doesn’t bother you at all?” Villain’s voice pitched, incredulous.

Hero smiled slightly as she sent out a shower of sparkles raining down on them with a flick of her fingers and met Villain’s eyes as she spoke “I try not to think about it, you know? I just think of the good in every situation. It helps me be happy and peaceful. Besides, we’ve been here long enough; it’s not like we can leave so I just find the wonder in everything we do…it warms my heart to see the joy in people’s eyes as they watch us perform. You should try it, too, Villain.” She looked at him earnestly.

Villain stared at her in disbelief as he smiled bitterly,” There is nothing that can warm my heart here. Looking at the joy in peoples’ eyes as they don’t even care about us? Looking at them angers me even more. All they care about is watching the magic show in front of them. What has there been for us to celebrate in these past years?” Villain took a deep breath. “Nothing. I haven’t felt happiness in ages, Hero…and my heart?” He formed ice at the tips of his fingers as if to demonstrate- “It’s frozen.”

He sighed as he laid down on his bed- if you could even call it that. Once again he longed for the blanket he desperately needed, yet was never given on the cold winter nights.

***

“Up and at them, monsters.” Supervillain casted his light throughout the tent room, illuminating every square inch, every shadow hiding in every nook and cranny. He seemed to ignore his own monstrous ability.

Perhaps moonlight wasn’t such a devious subject to some, but to the magis, it was the cruellest of all magics- a searing light close to a large pane of lasers. The light hurt. And Supervillain was fond of using it every day, using it to wake his subjects up, to force them into the confines of a life hardly worth living. A circus like what they performed was better than the pain, but the pain was inescapable.

“We have a big show tonight. Some very esteemed guests will be making an appearance. You will all be expected to put on your best performance.”

As eyes creeped open, and quiet gasps and shouts of pain sounded around the dirt room, Supervillain’s lips curved into a bow. He did love the sounds and movements they made under his power- something incapable of being shown to an audience, per say, but something most definitely to be used behind closed curtains. He was thankful there was no expected sizzle to come from the burning skin of his subjects. The audience might hear that, and then what would his show be?

Villain rolled over onto his stomach, pushing himself up onto his knees and collapsing in on himself to form a ball. The moonlight burned, as usual, but it was worse on this late night. He felt the light in all places, even those not accessible- hence the tight position he held himself in, a form of self-defence. Moonlight poured between his lips, filling his mouth in a pain that could only be expressed through blood-curdling screams.

Knowing Supervillain and his antics, Villain had the sense to guard the sounds he made in a self-made bubble. Should anyone outside this room hear his screams, they would become concerned; they might try to break into the performers’ room. Supervillain would do worse than let the moonlight flow inside Villain’s body, then.

“It feels like drowning, doesn’t it?” Supervillain asked, so suddenly knelt on the ground beside Villain’s bubble of muteness. “Do you regret your words from yesterday yet? Will you behave today?”

As experimental as Villain was with his powers, he never once tried to purposefully experience the feeling of drowning. Right now, though, he could imagine this burning inside his body must be what it felt like to breathe in water. He didn’t have gills despite many people’s beliefs. He knew the feeling of water shooting up one’s nose, of coughing and gagging on it with the ever-present idea of never breathing again. Water was scary, even he would admit.

It was in this moment that his bubble fell. Villain swallowed his screams, clenching every muscle in his body to prevent the sounds of continued pain. “I’m sorry,” he managed to say, if only to stop Supervillain’s act of revenge. “Won’t- won’t threaten you again.” But, of course, he would. The fight, the defiance, was in his blood.

Esteemed guests, he said? Villain focused on his thoughts as the moonlight slowly escaped his body. I’ll be sure to give them a show, then.

***

It hadn’t taken long for Hero’s eyes to widen with surprise as she’d watched Supervillain slowly stride on over to Villain with a look of admiration in his eyes. Meanwhile, Villain had been writhing in what was undoubtedly pain. She could just barely hear his agonized screams through the water he trapped himself in. It was as if she had been listening to him beneath the water surface of a pool- goodness she missed those. Her jaw, which had apparently been opened, snapped shut in a desperate moment to withhold an empathetic cry.

Hero thought back on the conversation she shared with Villain earlier that morning- about how horrible this life was.

Yes. Yes, she could agree that certain aspects of it weren’t preferable, but…well, Villain did this to himself, didn’t he? He pushed and prodded- he poked the bear if you would. Albeit horrible, Villain’s treatment was somewhat deserved.

This didn’t mean that Hero didn’t find the treatment absolutely gut-wrenching. Sometimes she had nightmares about the same pain coursing throughout her own body. Fortunately, they were dreams and she only knew the pain existed within them because of her unconscious hollers.

Either way, Hero knew she could never exist in that amount of pain. She might very well pass out, and then what use would she be to the show? What use would she be to herself? Those bright, smiling faces in the audiences warmed her in a way her powers never could. They kept her going. They kept her alive.

So, she would withstand those slight waves of pain every day. She would endure because any alternative was too frightening, too dooming.

“Five minutes!” Supervillain announced, and with that, he stepped out, flaps of the tent room snapping shut behind him.

Not wasting a moment, Hero crawled over to Villain, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “You’re okay?”

His response was a glare. He shrugged her off. “Get ready,” he said simply. “We have a great show tonight and little time to prepare.”

What Hero didn’t see was the vengeance pooling in Villain’s stomach, much like the moonlight Supervillain had placed there just a minute ago.

***

Villain smirked as he stood in position with Hero, ready to open the show, waiting for the curtains to rise. In three, two…

The curtain rose and as the audience stared, no doubt waiting, excited to see what the show had in store for them, the cue was given and Hero prepared to do her part, hands twirling with both anticipation and preparation.

Watching Villain, she faltered, one hand clumsily colliding with the other…all because she noticed something unordinary. Villain was not performing with her, and he had a look in his eyes, a- a gleam which Hero had never seen before. This can’t be good. Not only did Villain have such a mischievous glimmer, but he had not moved from his initial position.

With eyes now closed, Villain summoned all the water he could. Opening them once again, he sent his arms forward- a fast motion which released wave upon wave, crashing into the audience.

He laughed darkly as he sprinkled a whirlpool here, a current there, and a water tornado- which served as an escape, a path of destruction that cleared the way of all the chairs, as well as the audience members themselves.

Just as Hero had faltered before, Villain did in that very moment- a familiar pain blossoming in his body. He gritted his teeth.

Supervillain had begun fighting him more quickly than expected. Clearly, the waves that had engulfed him, therefore knocking him over, and the shards of ice Villain had aimed towards his chest, hadn’t been enough.

But he couldn’t stop clearing the path- the only path that could ensure him life- ensure him freedom. His motivation to succeed tonight enraptured his every move…because if he failed…well…he didn’t want to think of the consequences.

The adrenaline which Villain possessed now helped him more easily bear the once excruciating pain. Now, it was only a dull throb, a throb that allowed Villain to continue concentrating on clearing the path of obstacles, for anyone in his way would regret it.

Villain’s body ached, having never spent so much energy on his powers. Especially not at the same time as Supervillain using his own powers so strongly against him.

Struggling to hold on as he started to feel the pain sharper than ever, Villain focused on the path- his salvation- ahead. Supervillain was no match for the determination manifesting in Villain’s veins.

***

Hero was lost in the literal sea of madness. A part of her was grateful to only feel the sprinkle of swirling water around her, yet another quaked at the sight before her- of the people she so graciously served being tossed like ragdolls.

What was worse: the sight of Villain captured in his cage of moonlight, or seeing the audience so helplessly being…being drowned? For once, she decided on the latter. Hero never imagined a day would pass that Supervillain’s power wasn’t the most terrifying thing in existence. Seeing what Villain did now, though? It was horrible- excruciating.

On another hand…Hero understood. Villain endured so much pain, so often, who else wouldn’t lose their mind- wouldn’t wreak havoc if it meant being free of the torture? Clearly, this life wasn’t meant for him. And he was stubborn enough that fighting for such freedom was all he’d ever know.

Seeing as Supervillain was just as strong-willed, he’d never stop torturing- never stop trying to break Villain. Making an escape was Villain’s greatest hope.

Who was Hero to try and stop him?

******

*insert cliffhanger* Mwahaha 😈

Part two here