#i heard someone say 'ive never seen one of those queers. they know better than to come around here'

[ponderosapineneedles]

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[whilomm]

sometimes i wish people were better about remembering Your Experiences Are Not Universal wrt like, IRL queer spaces.

like an issue i see sometimes wrt discussions around IRL trans spaces is just like, people dismissing the idea that other peoples spaces could be exclusionary in a different way than what theyve experienced. like, someone talks about how whenever they try to go to local trans stuff IRL they either face passive exclusion or outright aggression as a nonbinary person, because everything around them is extremely binary focused. Maybe just every single space they find is either primarily binary trans men or binary trans women and its hard to feel included as the only nonbinary person, maybe conversations in these spaces are unconciously just extremely binary focused with little acknowledgement of nb experiences, maybe spaces say theyre nb friendly but by that they mean "women-lite nonthreatening usually afab", maybe theyre actively pushed out by enbyphonic trans people and actually told that these spaces arent meant for them, lotsa options youve probs heard before

then other trans people reading this experience are confused because, well, theres the exact OPPOSITE experience! every single trans group theyve tried to go to IRL is mostly filled with nonbinary people, they have trouble findig other binary people to connect to, maybe they encounter those same annoying ass "women-lite" nb spaces and have completely different problems with em, maybe they find spaces that either are actively hostile to them as a trans woman or as a trans man...

and the conclusion they come to is "okay, so that nonbinary person is crazy/whiney/lying because thats not how IRL trans spaces work" rather than "huh, seems like the local scene in their area is WAY different than my area, we kinda have the same issues in the opposite direction huh?"

and the same sorta thing happens when people talk about how their local scene is extremely transfem focused and they feel left out as a transmasc, or how their local scene is extremely transmasc focused and they feel left out as a transfem. "god it sucks how IRL trans spaces can be so fucking hostile to trans men" "what? no! every single space ive ever been to was mostly trans men, ive never found a space where I found other trans women to connect to!" and no one seems to realize/acknowledge that oh. these are Different Spaces we are talking about, their unique makeups and issues. people see something that contradicts their own experiences and they just dont know how to deal with it i guess.

bc idk it just seems like sometimes people are way too quick to assume "the way the local queer community works in MY TOWN is the way it works EVERYWHERE" because. Well, I understand! your world is dictated by your experiences, and if youve been hurt by the people who SHOULD make up your local community, i get extrapolating that this is how the whole world is! but when it leads to people just dismissing other peoples experiences because "well, thats not what IVE seen when i go to support groups..." its. frustrating.

[vampireqrow-moved]

um its my birthday so wait until 12:01am pst to block me if u hate this post 🥰🥰

long story short the pansexual label is redudant and actively harmful (its far from the worst problem bisexuals face but it is one issue) and i dont hate anyone who identifies as pan because A) those ppl are bi like me and B) i used to identify as pan myself.

if thats enough for you to block me and make a callout post for me then i cant stop you but pretty please either read this whole thing or just wait a few minutes for my bday to end 🥰🥰

anyways im kicking off this point with some personal experiences bc i love to talk to myself. i got introduced to the pan label at maybe 10ish years old, and started identifying with it pretty much right away. i heard about it before bisexual and it was pitched as attraction to all genders and of course trans people. i was of course a trans ally! i had trans friends! i was trans also but hadnt figured it out yet! the way i had heard of it, there was no bisexual, there was no need for bisexual, and identifying differently was excluding trans people, which I was certainly against. being bisexual was trans exclusionary and why would i exclude trans people? the 'hearts not parts' slogan was thriving around this time and i genuinely said it and meant it.

as i started to become more online, mostly through roleplaying websites and tumblr here, i started hearing of bisexuality. it was supposedly an older term, so older people still used it, but it was common knowledge that pansexual was the better, inclusive label and younger people should adopt the new inclusive language instead of the old and transphobic words like bisexual. /s

and then bi and pan solidarity was all the rage! pansexual wasnt erasing bisexuality, why did anyone ever think that? bi and pan were two separate and complete identities that were valid and had to be respected or youre a mean exclusionist. and an asexual person, hearing people labelled exclusionist always meant they were excluding people from the lgbta community who rightfully belonged, denying peoples lived experiences, and generally telling people theyre wrong about their sexuality because theyre too young. and all of those things were bad and had hurt me, so it would be ridiculous to change labels and support "pan exclusionists" because they were just as bad as ace and aro exclusionists, and they were all the same people. or so it seemed to me at that time.

then, 'hearts not parts' began getting called out for blatant transphobic by insinuating that pansexual was the only identity that loved people for their "hearts" and personalities instead of those gross gays, lesbians, bisexuals, and even straights who only saw people for their "parts". (STRAIGHT PEOPLE ARE NOT OPPRESSED. I AM MERELY POINTING OUT THAT PANSEXUALITY WAS SHOWN AS ABOVE ALL OTHERS.) many pan people, including myself, began to denounce the slogan and insist pansexuality wasnt transphobic, there had just been a coincidence that a transphobic slogan was everywhere and a huge part of people's explantions of and associations with pansexuality. hint: it wasnt a coincidence.

from my perspective, this is when i began to see people discussing dropping the word pansexual. that seemed to be a huge step from getting rid off a transphobic slogan, and these people were just meanies who hated microlabels. and i like microlabels! as a genderfluid person, and someone who has friends who use specific aro and acespec labels, ive seen how people can use them to name specific experiences while still acknowleging their presence underneath umbrella terms like aromantic, asexual, nonbinary, lgbta, and for some people, queer.

pansexuals dont do that. they dont label pansexuality as a specific set of experiences under the bisexual umbrella, they see themselves as a separate identity, and even if they started to, the history of biphobia and transphobic undeniably linked to the existence of pansexuality in enough to stop being worth using. but i digress. pansexualitys shiny new definition that many people cling to is that pansexual is attraction to all genders. bisexual is two or more genders.

which. frankly? doesnt make any sense. my guess is that its supposed to be inclusive of nonbinary genders and those a part of cultures who historically have not had a binary gender system in the first place. i cannot speak for the latter group, but as a nonbinary person, its not inclusive. anyone can be attracted to nonbinary people. literally anyone. theres no way to know if everyone you meet is nonbinary or not. whether or not a nonbinary person reciprocates those feelings and is interested in pursuing a relationship is completely up to the individual, regardless of the sexualities of the people involved.

bottom line is that you cant number the amounts of genders someone can be attracted to, thus rendering those definitions pointless. people can be attracted to all kinds of people regardless of gender, even if they are gay, a lesbian, or straight. all people can date thousands of nonbinary genders if all people involved are interested and comfortable with it. numbering the genders you can be attracted to diminishes the post of nonbinary, as it is not a third gender, it simply any experience not fitting within the western concept of the gender binary (if the person so chooses to identify as such. if you cant tell already, the nonbinary experience is varied between every single nonbinary person.) important to note also that no widely accepted bisexual text defines bisexual as attracted to exclusively two genders or even the "two or more genders". i know this is used a lot but please read the bisexual manifesto. its free online i promise.

some people also claim pansexuals experience "genderblind" attraction while bisexuals feel differently attracted to different genders. this is very nitpicky for whats supposed to be two unconnected idenities, but thats only part of the problem. this definition is also not in any widely accepted bisexual texts, and bisexuality has never excluded those who experience genderblind attraction. i am in fact a bi person who experiences genderblind attraction. this does not mean i am not bisexual. it simply means i experience bisexuality differently than other bisexuals, and thats wonderful! no broad communities like bisexuality are expected to all share the same experience. we are all so different and its amazing were able to come together under the bisexual flag.

last definition, or justification i should say, is that yes these definitions are redundant and theyre the same sexuality, but people prefer different labels and thats okay. i agree in principle. people can define themselves as many things like homosexuals or gays or lesbians or queers or even other reclaimed slurs, while still not labelling themselves under the most "common" or "accurate" labels.

but pansexuality isnt the same as bisexuality, which may sound silly but hear me out. it has been continually used as a way to further divide bisexuals, who are already subject to large amounts of lgbta discrimination. "pansexuality was started by trans people who were upset with transphobia within the bisexual community! it cant be transphobic OR biphobic!" except of course that it can and it is. to say that trans people cant be transphobic is absurd. transmedicalism is right there, but thats not what im getting at. all minorities can have internal and sometimes external biases against people who are the same minority as them.

pansexuality was started as a way to be trans inclusive at the expense of labelling bisexuality as transphobic when its not. transphobia is everywhere, and bisexuals are not exempt. instead of working on the transphobia within the community, the creators of pansexuality decided to remove themselves from it to create a better and less tainted word and community, and the fact that pansexuality is intended to replace bisexuality or leave it for the transphobes goes to show a few things. pansexuality and bisexuality are inherently linked because the pan label is in response to the bi label. due to its origins, it is inherently competing with bisexuality and it cant be "reclaimed" from its biphobic roots. pansexuality is not a whole, separate, and valid label. its a biphobic response to issues within the bisexual community.

to top off this post, heres something a full grown adult once said to me. in person. she was my roommate. "i feel like im pan because im attracted to trans people. trans women, trans men, i could definitely date them. but not nonbinary people because thats gross and weird." she saw pan as trans inclusive and defined herself that way as opposed to bi which is shitty!

also a little extra tidbit about my experiences identifying as pan. i saw myself as better than every bi person. all of them. even my trans and bi friends. whenever they brought up being bisexual i would think to myself "why dont you identify as pansexual? its better and shows people you support trans people." because i was made to believe bisexuality didnt and was therefore inferior. thats the mindset that emerged from my time in the pansexual community. i am so sorry to all of my bisexual friends even if they never noticed. i love you all and hope you have a great day. this also goes to any bisexuals or people who identify as bi in anyway, such as biromantic or simply bi. love you all.

ummm yeah heres some extra reading i found helpful and relevant. here and here. also noooo dont disagree with me and unfollow me im so sexy 🥴🥴🥴

[jflashandclash]

Traitors of Olympus IV: Fall of the Sun

Thirty-Five: Maari

Stairs: The Real Villain in This Series

 Warning: Exposure to twelve-year-old psychopath and his antic imminent. Some mature themes.

           Merry learned a useful tip when hunting down wary Pax boys: follow the candy wrappers.

           She wondered if all Pax boys were as tidy as little Hurricane Katrinas. From what little she remembered of their house, she guessed each Pax room had its own private cleaning crew, and that certainly wasn’t to the benefit of the boys.

           Merry didn’t find the candy wrappers immediately. There was too much foot traffic around St. Patrick’s Cathedral.

           The white, gothic structure seemed designed to make Merry, who already felt pretty small, feel microscopic. With the sharpness of the cathedral’s many pinnacles, jutting to the sky like a knife rack, and the ominous, narrow windows, like those in a jail cell, Merry understood why cathedrals were often used in horror movies. If this thing were put on its side, it could be an intimidating battering ram.

           When Merry walked in, she was dizzied by the number of tourists, the brilliant lighting, and the gold and marble walls. One woman—a tour guide or an usher, Merry didn’t know—gave Merry a violently reproachful look, pointing to Merry’s jacket then making a cutting motion.

           Merry wasn’t sure what she meant, until she registered the lyrics,

           “And if you want a doctor,

           I’ll examine every inch of you.

           If you want a driver,

           Climb inside.

           Or, if you want to take me for a ride—“

           Merry sheepishly turned off her jacket’s music, guessing the Cathedral didn’t like to party Michael Buble style. She gave the woman a careless grin. 

          The times she’d spent the night at Kally’s house, Kally always offered to take Merry to service—or was it called Mass? The Kassands’ church met up in a local middle school’s cafeteria. Merry wondered how those humble parishioners would feel about this church’s hubris.

That was back when Merry was sad she could never tell Kally that Merry’s father was actually Dionysus. Merry frowned. Now, Kally was attending a party that someone else was throwing at Dionysus’ house, one Merry really hoped Kally would survive with little more than a sober hangover.

           My Teddy Bear and Kallybae will take care of each other, Merry assured herself. Kallybae can keep the Paxbaby in-line, and Calex can shoot Alabaster if anything bad happens.[1]

           Organ music replaced Merry’s jazz. People were filing into the massive doors and, she realized for a surreal moment that it was the weekend.

           Merry did everything she could to dodge around the uncomfortable holiness of the place, excusing herself and improvising several stories to dodge around Mass…. staff? Is that what they were called?

           One man, someone who crossed himself as he came into the Cathedral, gave her a compassionate smile and Merry realized that she probably looked like a homeless person with how dirty she was.

           Some confused wanderings, lots of blatant lies, and many Jesuses later, Merry found some back stairs that seemed off limits from the everyday chap.

           The real demigod killer: stairs.

           With a groan, Merry started up. No elevators in the house of God.[2]

           For the first half of the climb, Merry twitched to reactivate her jacket. Children of Dionysus: not designed for stealth missions. The glory of the church disappeared to dark walls. All she had for sound was the hallow echo of Mass happening a few floors below, and the reverberation of her footsteps.

           The second half started fun, (as much as climbing stairs could start fun) but made her choke up. There was graffiti all over the stairwells. Some of it was carved into the walls, some of it was painted. Much of it was dated to the 1920’s, with people claiming fame to graffiting a famous cathedral. One depicted two towers in white, one on fire, with the words, “2001” Bad Year. Never forget.

           Merry frowned and took a break at the next window. Below, she could see Atlas, holding the world up, at least a hundred or two hundred feet below.  He looked small.

           If viewed from the right angle, Merry theorized Atlas might look like he was challenging God with a capital G, saying he’d been here first, and no matter what the big man did, he’d preserver after. He might even heft his world at the Cathedral, just to see if he could topple it.

           Bells chimed, making the whole tower shudder.

           Merry covered her mouth so she wouldn’t scream. She knew the Cathedral’s bells went off at noon. She’d heard them in town before, but she’d never been so close.

           While the bells sang, someone seemed to pull a curtain over the window.

           At first, Merry thought there was a massive cloud, or maybe an airplane off course. But the darkness didn’t go away. Atlas had disappeared with the lack of street lamps on. Windows glowed ominously on the streets of New York. Some street lamps began to flicker.

           Merry’s stomach twisted.

           From what Percy said, Eris would come back “when the sun comes down.” Merry’s mind blazed through all the elements—of Hemera’s kidnapping, the reports of Nyx being upset, Eris wanting the Golden Net to capture a goddess.

           The attack must have started.

           As fast as she could, Merry ran up the stairs.

           By the time Merry found the trail of candy wrappers, dodged around some bell ringers, and made it to the landing where the candy wrappers lead (more stairs continued upward), she didn’t hop onto the landing with her shoulders confidently back, her hands on her hips, and a smile on her lips, like the Indian Wonder Woman she wanted to be.

           She almost collapsed on it.

           No amount of training could have prepared her for those stairs. She wished Dionysus had a bikini setting on her parka. Her sweat made her clothing cold and wet, and she knew—though on fire now—once her body temperature regulated, the world would be freezing.

           A child’s giggle made Merry choke back her gasps.

           She stumbled forward, unprepared to immediately confront Hiro and Percy’s little sister.

           The room was smaller and far more intimate than she’d been ready for. The jury-rigged baby roller coaster—a mash up of ropes strung across a buttress in the ceiling—dangled an empty crib out a shattered window.

           Merry frowned at the colorful glass still littering the floor. She wondered if Hiro had made one of his little talisman bubbles to contain the sound and if he was as skilled as his siblings with the Mist to conceal his hideout.

           There was a giant mirror against one wall. Well, Merry knew it wasn’t a mirror. It reflected an image of Camp Half-Blood, of Percy sitting on a throne with a light-up, neon sign above his head, grinding his nails into the chair’s armrests, moving his mouth in a noiseless scream at something happening beyond the mirror’s edge. His features looked ghastly in the queer mix of lighting.

           Merry forgot that they’d soundproofed Hiro’s mirror, so Hiro and Lapis couldn’t eavesdrop on their meeting. She almost wished they hadn’t, so she knew what was going on.

           Overall, she was happier they had.

           She needed to keep her mind on the task at hand.

           There was the twelve-year-old boy with Asiatic features, darted suspenders, a burgundy button down, long, flowing black hair, and a revolver wedged in either shoulder holster. He held both of the baby’s hands, keeping her upright as though the baby walked on her own. Hiro was slightly hunched as he inched their way across the room. The baby giggled with delight at the game.

           When he noticed Merry walk in, Hiro moved the baby’s hands in a wave. His smile twisted from one of wonder to one of devilish delight.    

           “You know, you don’t need to live this life of crime and kidnapping,” Merry reminded him between gasps. “You drop the threats, and you could make a great Hiro the Babysitting Hero, LLC.”

           She wanted to have more time to plan and collect herself. This would have been better if she seemed calm.

           Between the darkness outside, the camp’s timer being cut in a quarter, and the likelihood of peril for her friends there, she felt a tiny bit stressed.

           When Merry managed to stand up taller, putting her hands on her hips, she towered over Hiro. He would have looked like a cute Pax baby if she didn’t know that he was a tiny, evil thing.

           Hiro whisked the baby up. He danced her over to the crib, gently set her down, and rolled the crib a foot inside the window.

           The movement caught Percy’s attention. His mouth moved. Merry tried not to notice how the son of Poseidon was begging her to act. To remotely focus on the problem at hand, she’d have to convince herself Mr. Water Muffin wasn’t able to see them.

           When Merry tried to take another slow step forward, Hiro withdrew one pistol, aimed it at the baby, and held up a hand in a “stop” motion.

           Merry froze. “Sorry there, honey buns. I didn’t mean to give you the heebie jeebies. See? I’m little ol’ me. I’m not a rough and tough meanie. I’m a pacifist that doesn’t even kill mosquitoes. I bear no weapons.”

           Hiro’s eyes seemed to flash. His grin turned crooked and—for an instant—he looked like a younger version of Pax. Well, maybe the anime version.

           Hiro holstered his gun again. He pointed to her, then shook his vest with the other hand. He mimed removing his vest.

           “Oh, my parka?” Merry asked, innocently. Her ragged breath almost clogged in her throat. Her jacket was her one defense. She’d never looked at it as a weapon, but—if Hiro had and Lapis had been watching their movements, or seen the video of how she’d made the Heroic Handsomes of Olympus dance—he knew better.

           Merry gingerly took off her jacket, hoping he couldn’t see how much she was trembling. She had to look calm. Remembering all the times her adoptive father had lost it, she had to keep him calm until she was ready. She wasn’t ready yet.

           Merry tossed her parka into the hallway. She still wore an inverted SPQR shirt and a pair of jeans.

           When she tried to take another step forward, Hiro held his hand up again.

           Merry paused. She forced another careless smile. “What now, sugar plum?”

           Hiro reached up with one hand to pick up the corner of his button down shirt and shake it.

           Merry stared at him. There was a major flaw in her plan: the whole not speaking ASL. Maybe Hiro wouldn’t mind if they paused to phone a friend for translation.

           When Hiro made the same motion again, his expression impatient, Merry felt her mouth move to form the “oh” shape.

           Although she towered over Hiro by at least a foot, Merry felt as small as when she’d entered the church.

           He made another motion, putting one hand flat in front of him, and miming grabbing from it and throwing it away. He grabbed the collar of his shirt again, shaking it.

           Merry swallowed. “Well, don’t you demand a lot?” she asked, hoping her voice didn’t shake and hoping she wasn’t about to look like a total moron due to misunderstanding him.          

           Slowly, Merry pulled her SPQR shirt up. She paused to make sure she understood Hiro’s command.

           His lips twitched. He redid the “toss away” motion.

           Merry took her shirt off the rest of the way and tossed it into the hall beside her parka. She forced herself not to cross her hands in front of herself or to cover her Lane Bryant bra. She immediately regretted wishing for a bikini version of her parka. Drafty bell towers in New York winter: not a warm place for an un-dress rehearsal.

           Hiro burst into giggles. He covered his mouth with one hand and slapped his knee with the other. His dark hair spilled forward. The locks covered the darts lining his suspenders and the guns, so Merry could pretend this was a horrible prank from one of Nikhil’s friends, not demands from a budding psychopath. She’d caught Nikhil’s friends watching her change once and then assured some nasty rumor warfare the next day to teach basic human decency. Merry assumed Nikhil found out as well, since those friends had some busted lips and black eyes.

           She felt nauseous to remember Hiro was even younger than Nikhil’s friends.

           “See? No place to hide weapons, sugar plum,” she hummed, trying to keep her smile.

           Hiro wiped tears from his eyes. When he looked up at her, those dark spheres glistened with playful glee. He put his hand flat against his legs, then moved them up to grip his belt. Then he made the same “toss away” motion.  

           Merry felt her chin jut to one side. This one was a little demon. “Alright. Full dis-clothes-sure. That’s it, though,” Merry said, her voice cracking against her will. “I’m not so clever as to hide weapons anywhere else.”

           She just hoped, in all the time that Hiro and Lapis had spent spying on their group, they never noticed she did, in fact, use her chest as a cell phone pocket, though it was currently in her back pocket.

           Merry tried to look calm as she unlaced her boots, set them to the side. Even the smiling Hello Kitties on her socks looked worried. She undid her jeans, shimmied out of them, and then tossed them with her parka and shirt.

           Her trembles became uncontrollable. From fear, humiliation, or the icy draft coming in the window, she wasn’t sure, but some nice internal heating or—again—a Leo Valdez or Calex to keep her warm—that’s what she would ask her Christian friends for Christmas this year. That and the whole world peace thing to actually happen.

           Yesterday, when they had to flip their SPQR shirts inside out to hide the logo from the monsters inhabiting club HMM, she was pleased to have on one of her flashy, jazzy bras. Calex had been carrying her and she knew it drove the poor Brit bonkers. Merry knew that she had made a son of Eros blush. That was one way she hoped she could convey the, I may not be ready for kissies and cuddles, but I do trust you more than the average homo sapien.

           Now, she wished she were wearing the set of underwear that she kept at her dad’s house, simple and conservative. Not that it ever made a difference, she thought. Her step father was never rainbows and kittens for Merry no matter what she wore.

           Hiro had burst into giggles again. He motioned her inside before skipping over to the mirror.

           Merry forgot Percy could see them.

           The son of Poseidon looked furious. His mouth moved to shout at Hiro. His eyes darted from them back to the camp.

           Hiro tapped the top of the mirror twice and the screen turned into a reflection, showing the twinkling eyes of a demented twelve-year-old and a sixteen-year-old Indian girl, mostly naked, shivering, whose smile was so stiff, it could have belonged to a Bharatanatyam doll.

           Judging by Hiro’s reactions, that’s what the child thought of her: he was allowed to play with the world for the first time without familial or adult intervention and wanted a new toy.

           To swallow her panic, Merry reviewed her plan. Step one: get the baby to the most remote, safest part of the room. Keep Hiro calm.

           “Hiro, can we keep the baby in the room while Auntie Merry is here? Wouldn’t want her catching a cold while we’re having all our fun, now would we?” she asked, trying to sound lackadaisical. She didn’t want Hiro to think she cared too much about Percy’s little sister. If Hiro was developing the acute narcissism that she suspected, then that would make him jealous. “And, so she doesn’t get in the way of any of our games? I want all my focus to be on you.”

           Hiro thought about this for a minute, then nodded his head vigorously. He wheeled the crib further into the room, to the end of its pulley, closer to the exit.

           Then, the younger boy skipped over to Merry’s side, grabbed her arm, and tugged her closer to the window, where he had a pizza box, baby food, puzzle, and some other games set on a spare altar.

           Good to be away from the baby. Bad to be closer to the window. Merry’s shivers became uncontrollable. Step two: try this the easy-peasy way.

           “Alrighty, tiny, fierce one,” she said. “I like your puzzle. You like, jaguars, eh?”

           The puzzle had a black jaguar depicted with its cub.

           Hiro nodded his head, putting another piece into the corner.

           Merry bobbed her head approvingly. Her mind filtered through jazz songs to keep calm. She ached for her parka or a boom[3] box. She’d even settle for elevator Muzak. Augh. “You know, it looks like you’ve made quite a pickle. You got the tiny Jackson all bundled up. It seems like you like her though, right? Or, at least playing with her?”

           Hiro nodded his head again. He fished inside the pizza box, revealing some pepperoni slices.

           “You wouldn’t want to hurt her though, would you?” she asked.

           Hiro shrugged, withdrawing two slices. Merry wished she knew ASL. Or telepathy. Though, really, telepathy might just disturb her right now.

           “What makes you want to do this then?” she asked gently. She struggled to remember what Lapis had called Pax and Axel. “Is it because of Ajaxapax and Tufted Ears? I heard you were pretty mad at your big brothers. They were meanies to leave you with your father, weren’t they?”

           Hiro slowed in his movements. His cheerful expression soured. He frowned up at her. In an uncertain motion, he nodded his head.

           Hiro offered her a slice of pepperoni pizza.

           “Thank you, sugar plum, but I only eat veggies. No meat for me. Though, that was considerate and lovely of you,” she said, trying to make her smile sweet.

           Hiro shrugged, putting one piece down. He munched the other, eyeing her suspiciously.

           “No one trusts a vegetarian,” she remembered her little brother teasing.

           Merry shook the memory off. This little one was nothing like her brother. “There are other ways to get their attention, you know. Lots of other alternatives and some fun ones—”

           There were lots of alternatives she’d brainstormed on the way over. She wanted to suggest some pranks—Paxes seemed to love pranks. Lots of ways to end this peacefully, so Hiro could skip out of here with her, she could convince Percy not to murder the twelve-year-old, they could send Hiro home to Grandma Chiich for some solid, Mayan scolding, and they could set Hiro up for some major rehabilitative therapy. They could piece the broken Pax family together into a ball of furry mischief.

           Merry never got to say any of her suggestions.

           Hiro withdrew his handgun and pistol-whipped her across the face.

 Thanks for reading!!! We have one more encounter with this psychotic little shit. Tune in next week for Merry’s chapter: Things are NOT Fun and Fancy Free.

[1] Yea, I super forgot that Merry doesn’t know that Calex isn’t with Kally anymore. She’ll definitely destroy him psychologically for that later.

[2] False. Lots of Cathedrals have elevators nowadays.

[3] First accidentally wrote, “Bomb box,” then “boob box,” and finally caught it correctly the third time. -.-