#she told me i need to be more assertive and stand up for myself as if every single time i tried standing up for myself

[mishkakagehishka]

And i know when i return i'll either be yelled at or laughed off like little girl throws tantrum or whatever. But i'm genuinely getting real sick of the way i'm treated vs the way my brother is treated. And they don't even notice that shit. I tell my mom "you never take my side and defend me, when i caved and let you take me to get my eyebrows threaded, you said nothing when my brother said i 'finally look like a human being'" and surprise surprise she "doesn't remember that", he "doesn't remember that", but it cut soooo deep into me, i'll never forget it. Whatever tho.

[catsteeth]

The Caged Bird and The Leased Dog

Sandor Clegane x reader

+:✿ Chapter - 3 ✿:+ Tear Drop

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Summary: You are the daughter of Jon Arryn, you and your father travel to King's Landing with the intention of arranging a marriage for you. You catch a glimpse of The Hound during your first night in Kings Landing and it creates a mutual fascination even if he won't admit it. 

CW: SMUT, MINORS DNI, fem reader, oral sex (fem rec), mutual masturbation, slow burn, angst, emotional unavailability, emotional vulnerability, The Hound being abrasive, alcohol consumption, mention of death, mention of arranged marriage.

Word Count: 4826

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The morning after your last encounter with the Hound in the stables you were woken up by two handmaidens. They dressed you in a gown Cersei had made for you, it was red and gold, embellished with intricate beaded flowers. No matter how many times you asked they wouldn’t tell you why you were being summoned by Cersei. 

Your paranoia grew as you walked down the halls. You were more paranoid than ever nowadays.

As you walked into Cersei's chambers, her handmaidens closed the doors behind you. 

“Hello, little dove.” She said standing on her balcony. You walked towards her, your hands fidgeting with the fabric of your dress. 

“Your grace, thank you for the gown, it is beautiful.” You tried your best to seem relaxed.

“Ah yes, red and gold. Those colors suit you well. That’s good, they will need to.” She said, stepping towards you, playing with a strand of your hair. 

“Your grace?” You asked, 

“Tell me, have you met my brother?” She asked softly and gently. 

“Which-” 

“Tyrion, Tyrion Lannister, have you met him?” She cut you off, dropping the piece of hair she played with and sounding suddenly sterner. 

“Only passing pleasantries and exchanges, your grace.” You felt your heart race, your palms sweat. 

“What do you think of him?” she narrowed her eyes “He has quite a reputation, and his physical appearance does not help it-”

“He’s been nothing but decent to my family and myself, your grace.” You interrupted hoping she would get to the point faster.

“Good, good. That’ll make things easier.” She forced a sympathetic smile. 

“Your grace,” Your eyes fluttered. your voice wavered, and your heart raced faster. 

“You have been matched. It is the King's will, and you two shall be wed.” She pet your hair softly. 

Your throat went dry and you could help but look taken aback. 

“I don’t understand,” Your voice cracked and you took a step back. 

“You’ll get used to it.” She nodded, “My brother and I don’t have the best relationship but he is gentle with women. He will serve as a good husband. He will give you a child, that’s the best thing a man can give you. Perhaps we can negotiate with Baelish to keep your titles now that he’s betrothed to your mother.” 

You didn’t care to correct her that she was your step mother. You stood there with your eyes wide, you didn’t know what to say. You’d found out two devastating truths in one moment. You’d possibly no longer inherit your fathers titles, and you’d be forced into the family that killed your own. 

“Don’t you think?” Cersei asserted trying to gain your attention again not so subtly. 

“Yes, yes Your Grace.” You faked a smile. 

These people killed your uncle no less than a week ago, you had no choice but to accept. It wasn’t even framed as an option. They only wanted to calm you and make you agreeable, so you gave it to them. You didn’t have options. 

You did what Sandor would have told you to do. You agreed, and smiled. You gave them what they wanted.

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Your chambers were small in comparison to Cersei’s. It was a constant reminder that you were not home. The sheets were red with golden lions and flowers embroidered into them. The walls are adorned with golden decorations. It was beautiful but nothing like your home, nothing like your room. You couldn’t imagine it, “(Y/N) Lannister '' it didn’t seem right. You are a girl of the vale in the lion's den. 

The prospect of marriage became very real, and very near. Tyrion was the best of them, there was no doubt in that fact. However you didn’t even accept Loras’s proposal so why would you accept Tyrion's. But it would seem, you'd have no choice now, neither did Tyrion. 

You thought of him every day, and every night. You would find yourself awake at such late hours they weren’t late anymore they were early. You’d dream of his hands, his broad shoulders, his sad eyes framed by a scowling face. You’d feel yourself pulse and you’d be forced to relieve yourself on your pillows or sometimes your hand to feel any kind of relief. You’d wonder if he had done the same,  never knowing but he had. As you found yourself beginning to feel that same pressure in between your legs there was a knock upon your door. 

“Who is it?” You beckoned, you were more paranoid than ever nowadays, Cersei’s speech just hours before your uncles execution didn't help.

“Your betrothed it would seem.” Tyrion beckoned back. You rolled your eyes and sighed, slightly hoping for Sandor, and not whatever awkward conversation was about to be held. 

As you opened the door you gave a half hearted smile, “My Lord.” You greeted me. 

He scrunched up his face and waved his hand in dismissal “No need for that, Tyrion is fine, my lady.” He smiled. 

“Then enough ‘my lady’, (Y/N) is fine.” You said smiling back, this time more genuine, “Is there something I can help you with, my-” You stopped yourself and corrected “Tyrion.” 

“I hoped we could discuss our arrangement.”  He said as if he felt guilty. His eyes were kind, soft and gentle. 

You nodded in agreement, however you didn’t know what much else was to be said. You began to step into the hall when he held his hand out to you. You were caught somewhat off guard by such a gentle act, you flinched, and it didn’t go unnoticed. You did however take his hand. 

He led you to a secluded chamber. There were books strone about, this is the same room where you had stolen the first book of his. As you sat as he poured himself a goblet of wine, he motioned if you’d want some and you shook your head. 

“This is awkward,” He said with a forced smile as he sat with his goblet. 

“For you, I’d imagine so.” You said with a huff as you crossed your legs and your arms, 

“It isn’t for you? Speaking to the man you are being forced to marry?” He said with a chuckle. 

“Awkward or not, given what I have endured here, speaking with you is the least painful thing that has afflicted me.” 

“I shall take that as a compliment.” He said with a furrowed brow. He made you crack a slight smile. 

“Is there something you wished to discuss?” You asked shifting in your seat uncomfortably waiting for him to get to the point. 

“Ah” He said as he placed his goblet down, his brain snapping back to the original intent of this meeting. “Well, my Lady-”

“(Y/N)” You corrected unapologetically, 

“(Y/N)” He smiled softly, “We are to be wed.” You nodded, in agreement, your face however was still stoic. “I want you to know, I did not want this.” “Well” You inhaled sharply “I did not either. Though I hope I did not disappoint you.” You said with that signature venom in your eyes. You knew in a way that he didn’t mean it in that way, but you never passed up an opportunity to show that you weren’t one to shy from confrontation. 

“I did not- You did not.” He stammered and stopped himself. He looked down collecting his thoughts, “I am not disappointed in you. But I believe someone you love should take your hand.” He said with a half hearted smile. 

“May I ask you something?” You asked shifting in your seat to lean closer to him. “My father, Lord Arryn. When he brought me here, he brought me here with the intention of marrying me off. My father was not one to go into anything blind. I know he had discussed it, I know he had certain men in mind. Tell me who those men were.” 

“You don’t believe he picked me?” He chuckled before seeing your still serious face and continuing, “Your father did consider Ser Loras Tyrell, Renly Baratheon, before his marriage of course. I am sure those would have good matches, though I do believe you might be missing some of those men's favorite parts.” You wanted to laugh but didn’t want to lighten the situation, so you settled for a smirk as you looked away hiding your amusement. “Your father did not want you to wed Joffrey.” His joking tone diminished “Baelish requested consideration, which was denied. Your father clearly cared for your honor.” Your eyes went back to him. You thought of it, Baelish requesting your hand? It seemed strange as you never met the man. “I am sure there were many others who requested your hand.”,  He smiled softly. 

“But not you?” You grinned

“I would not have embarrassed either of us like that,” He said, sipping from his goblet.

“Embarrassed?” “I would not embarrass you by being wed to a dwarf, and I’d not embarrass myself by being rejected by both you and your father.”

“Peytr Baelish didn’t seem to mind.” You jested, and he cracked a smile. “I don’t care about your height.” You scoffed, “You’ve been nothing but decent towards me and my family.” 

“But if I proposed you wouldn’t have accepted.” “No I wouldn’t have.” He nodded “But that’s not because of your height. Or even your reputation. It’s because I don’t know you. Other than the few books of yours I have stolen and the passing exchanges between you, my family, and myself I do not know you.”

“Well we’ve all the time we need to know each other now.” He smirked, “You’ve stolen my books?” 

“Four, maybe five.” You responded quickly “Things get awfully dull around here.” 

“I suppose they will be our books soon enough.” He tried to jest, “I think I know something about you now. You’re honest, opinionated-” You stopped him

“The king does not like those traits of mine, it would seem.” You said slightly smiling.

“No doubt why he created his engagement... What my nephew has done to your cousin,” He stopped himself and looked at your lip, still slightly bruised from Joffrey’s Name Day. “What he has done to you… it is-” He stammered, unable to find an appropriate word for it, “deplorable.” 

“I suppose he will be my nephew as well, soon enough.” You attempted to jest, 

“(Y/N),” he said leaning forward, grasping your hand lightly “I promise you- I swear to you, no harm shall come to you.” 

“You cannot promise that,”

“I suppose I can’t.” he said looking at your hand in his, rubbing your knuckles with his thumb, “I can promise that I will never harm you. I will do all I can to make you happy.” 

You felt your eyes beginning to dissect his words as your brows furrowed in concern. You forced a smile to ease his mind. You placed your hand atop of his that was holding yours. You were genuinely appreciative of his gentleness and his kind words. You should be happy, he was handsome enough. But it was times like this, when another man's hand was on yours when you felt disappointment burrowing in your chest, how you wished it was another man, how you wished it was your man. 

“I can assign a handmaiden to be with you at all times when I cannot, they’ll make sure you and Joffrey are far apart-”

“I don’t need a shadow, I can take care of myself” You removed your hand sitting back in your chair.

“I say you can,” He smiled, “I do have something for you, I thought, it might soften the blow.” He said as he sat up and retrieved a silver necklace from his coat pocket. It was a dainty chain that held a silver falconed winged woman who held a large natural pearl. What made it stand out to you even more was a blue sapphire teardrop that came from her eye.

“Valyrian steel.” He said, your eyes went wide as you looked at him, how generous, too generous. “Falcon wings, and blue sapphire for your house.” 

“I cannot take that,” You said,

“Hm,” He looked at the necklace in his hand, “Well I cannot wear it.” He grinned holding it out to you again. 

You sighed and took it, you smiled at him, “I look forward to getting to know you, Tyrion.” 

You actually did.

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After such a long talk with your future husband and the idea of becoming a Lannister made your body run a cold sweat. You ran a bath with lavender to calm yourself but it hardly worked. 

As you stood in your chambers, in your white nightgown and soaking wet hair, you looked around at the red and golden interior. The room is adorned with lions and flower embellishments. It was as if they were intentionally rubbing the fact you were misplaced in your face. 

You looked for something to ground yourself, you grabbed the necklace that Tyrion gave to you.

You felt the Valyrian steel necklace in your palm. The cold of the metal reminded you of the cold breeze that would rush through the halls of the Eyrie. But then, it reminded you of something else. The metal of chainmail, the metal of armor.

You longed for so much nowadays. 

You longed for your mother, father, your brother whom you’d only spent an hour of life with, your room, your birds. All were gone, but you remained.

You did long for one other thing though, one thing that was in reach but still so far. That made it worse, that it was so close and yet you were unable to take it. Your longing for your mothers comfort was easier to accept because it was so unattainable but this, this was so close it made you sick. 

Then that sound that becoming too familiar, 

Knock, knock, knock, ‘Gods” you thought, wishing everyone would finally leave you alone. You were certain it was some handmaiden that Tyrion promised you. A doting husband he was shaping up to be, how awful. 

“Go away.” You beckoned, as you dropped the necklace onto your nightstand. 

BAM BAM BAM BAM, the knocks were now banging at your door. You jumped, clutching the thin fabric of your nightgown.

You approached the door slowly, “Who is it,” you asked much gentler this time. 

“I could bust this door down if I wanted.” He grumbled through the door. You knew that tone all too well, you dreamt of it enough times. 

You relaxed and unlocked the door, opening it just a crack, but he busted his way inside. 

“What're you doing-” You began but were cut off by him slamming the door and making his way to a golden pitcher on a small table on the other side of your room. 

“Don’t ever open your door for anyone who knocks like that.” He grumbled under his breath as he took a long deep swig and promptly spitting it out. “Fuck water.” He hissed “You got no fucking wine in here?”

“Sandor-” You started before he cut you off

“Don't call me that!” He barked at you,

“What should I call you then, Dog?” You snapped back at him.

“And what shall I call you? Lady fucking Lannister?” He said with a fake mocking grin.

“You ignore me for days, and now- now you come into my chambers to let out whatever irrational rage is consuming you on to me?”  You walked up to him, your eyes filled with hurt, “Why? Hm? Why are you in my room?” He didn’t respond and you stepped even closer, “Why Sandor-''

You were cut off by his large arm wrapping around your waist pulling you into his body, hoisting you up just enough you were on your tiptoes. As his other hand cupped your jaw as his scarred lips pressed against yours. 

You ran your hands up his thick arms covered in hard cold metal. 

That burning pressure between your legs began to rise once again once his large hand traveled down your jaw to your chest. You mewled into his lips as his hand traveled towards your clothed breasts. 

He growled into your lips as he said through his teeth “Tell me to go, tell me to get the fuck away from you.” He said in a primal growl as he began to remove his armor.

You shook your head “No,” you painted, your eyes fluttering from the tingling between your legs only grew as his armor fell to the ground. You took in all the scars you could see peeking through his loose tunic.

“Run away from me,” He said in a low rumble as his hands returned to your waist and breast.

“No” You almost moaned as your hands explored his broad shoulders to his thick neck. You pulled yourself up to his neck, peppering it with kisses.

“Stubborn fucking woman” He grumbled as he grabbed you by your thighs, wrapping you around his waist. His mouth traveled from your plush lips to your jaw, then to your neck, your collar bones, and to your chest. Your breathy moans rushed straight to his cock. 

“Put me on the bed.” You commanded softly, he obeys immediately, his lips and tongue not stopping until you were sat on the bed. He laid you there surprisingly gently. 

You sat up onto your knees on the bed. You faced him as he stood at the edge of the end of the bed. Your eyes stayed locked on his as you pulled your nightgown over your head, the soft silk melted off of you as you tossed it onto the floor. His eyes wandered over you, his hand cupped your jaw as he looked down into your eyes 

“You’re beautiful. I’ve waited a very long time to tell you that.” His words were sweet but his tone was dark and deep. Like a dog growling over a bone.

You never liked being called beautiful, but this felt different. You didn’t respond, you took his hand and kissed the palm before you reached your hands up to the ties of his tunic. He pulled it off of him before you could finish. 

Your fingers traced the scars that littered his chest and stomach. You stopped at one on his lower stomach, you licked and kissed it softly. His hand came and brushed the hair on your head, pulling it back forcing you to look at him.

“You don’t want this,” He said, his voice was deep but gentle. 

“This is all I want.” You said as your hand traced down to the ties of his breeches. He grabbed your hand. 

“Have you ever seen a man unclothed before?” He rasped. 

You shook your head, “No. Not like this.” The Eyrie was a cage with a cloak on top of it. You’d seen so little of the world so high up, and the men who worked there never dared defy Lysa. But you’d see paintings and sculptures. 

He began to untie his breeches for you, he practically tore the laces as he pulled himself out. He let out a groan as he was released from his breeches. His cock wasn’t even fully erect yet, still twitching at the sight of your body beneath him. Your lips parted and you tried desperately to conceal your surprise, it was bigger than what you’d seen on a canvas or carved in marble.  

You reached out to take him in your hand but he grabbed your wrist, again, stopping you.

“You’ve never done this before?” He rasped again, 

“Only to myself.” You said softly. 

A deep and dry chuckle left his lips as he stared down at you, “Dirty little bird.” He growled under his breath. “Lay back on the bed.” He rasped “Now.” He commanded in a low growl. As you did he pulled you close by your ankles. 

He leaned down and kissed your lips roughly, groaned at the sensation of his cock touching the soft skin of your thighs. 

Your hand began to trail down his chest to his stomach to his cock, before his hand could stop you once more. You whined into his lips as he pulled away “If you touch me, I won’t be able to stop, I’ll fuck you bloody.” He grumbled into your lips. It didn’t sound bad at all to you. 

“What if I want that?” 

“You don’t. Not really.” 

“Or maybe you don’t want that.”

“I want to mark you up. I want to leave bites and bruises all over you, want everyone to know I did it. I want to fuck you bloody, stretch you over my cock. I want to make you all fucking mine. But, then your lord wouldn’t care that much would he?” He growled.

“Then what do you want with me?” You asked with venom in your eyes. You were annoyed with him and his teasing. You knew he was angry with the situation but you knew the reason he didn’t do it was because it would mean others would know of your infidelity. It would risk your safety. He refused you, because he cared, even if he didn’t want to admit that. 

“I’ve been waiting to do this for too long.” He said as he dropped to his knees. You squirmed a bit, but his large arm wrapped over your thighs and pinned you down. 

His beard tickled you, as he began to lap up your wetness. His tongue circled and tapped against your clit.

You let out a sweet, breathy moan, as you tossed your head back onto the bed you laid on. You grabbed a handful of the hair at the back of his head, It was then when he began to fuck you with his tongue, letting his nose rub against your sensitive needy clit. Once you felt his tongue penetrate you. The loud noises filled the room, mixing with your moans of pleasure.

He lifted his head from between her legs, “Keep your mouth shut,” He was panting and tightening his grip on your thigh. You pushed his head back, “Keep yours open.” you painted,

He went back to ravaging you with his tongue. You covered your mouth to keep yourself from moaning any louder, an effort almost in vain once he sucked on your clit. “Gods- Sandor” You whispered in a moan. You saying his name made him moan into your cunt, the vibration of it made that pressure in you build, about to snap. 

“Sandor” You repeated wanting that same vibration, and you got it, it drove you past the edge and you felt the heat rush out of you. He drank your cum like it was wine. You mewled, as he stood up you saw his cock as hard as stone. 

Your eyes fluttering and weakly trying to sit up you asked him softly “Let me help you.” As you reached out to his cock, but for the third time he grabbed your wrist.

“Don’t” he urged, “I told you, if you touch me, I won’t be able to control myself.” 

You sighed, “But I want you to feel what I did.”

“Lay back” This time his voice softer “Show me how you fuck yourself.” He whispered,

You reached down and played with your clit, a groan left his lips as he took himself in his hand watching you. You watched as his huge thick hand gripped himself and pushed back and forth. He grunted and moaned behind gritted teeth. And you let out sweet mewls watching him, hardly focused on your own pleasure. Picking up his pace he almost collapsed on top of you, his one arm able to hold him up as he leaned over you. 

His grunts were angry and deep. 

You wrapped your legs around his waist as he fucked himself in his hand, locking eyes with you, no longer looking at you fucking yourself or his hand. It was as if he was pretending his hand was your cunt, pretending he was fucking you the way he wanted to for so long. You moaned his name sweetly which only helped push him further off that cliff. Your eyes fluttering, you held his jaw in your free hand, you pulled him in and kissed his lips gently despite the savage pace he was thrusting into his hand. 

“Sandor” You moaned once more before he finally came undone. ���Gods!” He gritted his teeth and groaned as he was harmed. You felt his heat pour onto your stomach.

The two of you planted together. Sandor cupped your face with his rough large hand, looking at you deeply before getting up and finding his tunic. He ripped the sleeve off of it and used it to clean you before he threw it into the fireplace in your chambers. 

You sat up and crawled over the edge of your bed, leaning over and grabbing your silk nightgown. You threw it on as you watched him dressing himself again. Once he finished he looked back to you, the two of you locked eyes for a moment, longer than either of you wanted. Neither of you knew what to say. You stood and approached him.

“I care for you.” You whispered, your eyes softened and you cupped his cheek with your hand. 

He took your hand by the wrist and kissed your palm, “You shouldn’t.” he rasped before leaving you. 

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After that night, you couldn’t get your mind off of it. It was nothing you’d ever experienced, it only made your emotions deeper for someone who couldn’t have. And now, you were engaged to someone else. You needed someone to talk to about it. Sansa wouldn’t understand, she was too young, and you clearly couldn’t talk to Tyrion. So against your better judgment you found yourself confiding in Loras.

“You're an imbecile.” He quipped as soon as you told him the event of the past two days. You could hardly blame him, you had wronged him. 

“I know you're upset with me, no doubt you don’t see things the way that I do.” You said stoically.

“No I don’t. No one does, (Y/N).” His voice raised slightly with annoyance. 

“I do, that seems to be what matters.” 

“You could be in High Garden right now, or you could be back in the Vale, in the Eyrie. I would have had men fight for your titles that Baelish stole from under you. I would have the finest things for you. Whatever you wished for I would have done it.” 

“I wished for my cousins to be safe.” You were annoyed by his lack of understanding, “Besides Tyrion seems content to do all those things you mentioned anyways.” That wasn’t the kindest thing for you to say, but you often lose your temper when pushed.

“Is he content to let you bed a king's guard?” Loras retorted quickly and at a higher volume than you’d prefer.

“Keep your voice down.” You commanded in a lower and stern tone.

“Will he be content to have a bastard? Content to raise it as his own? Content to defend you and that bastard, when people begin to notice how little they look alike?” He said with saddened eyes, “I would have been. You were my one friend, my one true friend.” His tone mellowed, defeatedly

“I still am, it needn’t be this way. I should have accepted your proposal, I know, but I-” 

“I know. Your cousin.” He cut you off. He picked a flower in the garden and handed it to you. “You are the most intelligent woman I know. But you are too stubborn and  selfless, if you weren’t you’d be the most powerful woman in the realm I’d wager.” He said with a hint of a grin

“I don’t need any of that. What good has it done anyone? You gain an ounce of power and you gain three enemies.” You said examining the flower he gave you.

“Just, just stay alive, look out for yourself.” He said, defeatedly. He placed a hand on your cheek and walked away.

You sighed, nothing comforting came from it. You didn’t know what to expect but you were disappointed nonetheless. 

You looked back at the flower in your hand, you huffed and tossed it back into the bushes and continued on.

You looked up and saw Joffrey with his guards walking past across the garden. You caught a glimpse of the Hound. His eyes caught yours. But soon you two were ripped from each other's gaze.

You didn’t know what to do now. All you did know is that you had three men who wanted you and three men who could despise you if you took the wrong step. And your mind lingered on one man in particular, one the other three weren’t even concerned with. 

Baelish, and what he wanted with the Vale. 

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Note: bark like you want it baby… I told y'all we’d be laying it down. And don’t worry we will be busting it down as well.  Also the actual jewler who created that gorgeous pendent in the banner is miya kumo

[4pfsukuna]

omfg bruhhhhh

yall want me to believe Choso “on sight before his feet even land on the floor” Kamo is some pathetic whiney crybaby? Like why is every fic so… ugh i want him to fight back. Somebody please tag me or drop a link for assertive/ aggresive/ dominant choso! (Prefferably black reader)

like do i gotta write it myself?

Choso who meets you when you both come in late at night its 2am and youre standing in the hall talking about whatever the hell a middle part buss down is. He doesnt care he just wish you werent so loud… in your shared hall.

you glare at him because who was he talking too! You pay the same amount of rent as him and to damn much at that they should be lucky you werent in the lounge making ramen watching their t.v right now.

It doesnt get better when you bang on his door asking him to turn his music down cause why was he playing last resort by papa roach at 3:30am on a wednesday. He opens the door in a hoodie and tight calvin klein boxers and your eyes drift for a second until the next rock song starts up this time in japanese and he has the audacity to have an annoyed expresion with you!

”did you want something or did you just want to stare” he glares annoyed with a steady voice though youre expecting him to snap.

“Who answers the door in their boxers have some decorum” you respond half embarassed that he caught you. “And your music is loud… some of us have jobs in the morning” and you storm off not leaving any room for backtalk.

the next time he sees you is a few days later when youre both rushing out and slam into another his shirt and leather jacket falling to the floor with your purse falling sending your wallet down the hall and lip gloss shattering that dior gloss was not cheap.

”are you fucking kidding me” he hisses and you notice hes shirtless silver bars through his nipples and a few tattoos littered across his chest.

”you got a real stairing problem there princess” which makes you smirk.

“you look like a 1st grade art project… line work isnt half bad its just the asshole its attatched to” you retort collecting your items not realizing a few slipped from your wallet.

it was maintenance day you didnt have time to worry about shit it was hair lashes nails toes and a fresh tattoo and belly piercing your friend finally found an artist that did both and had clean work.

youre all smiles and sunshine walking into C.K. Parlor even enjoying the convo with the pink haired male receptionist whos so sweet mentioning this was his brothers shop but something about this guy looks familiar.

“Hes so hot” your friend gushes making you turn around and groan at the sight of your annoying ass neighbor.

”couldnt get enough bothering me home so you come here” he teases but theres something so stoicly calm about his anger… its more so mild annoyance.

”i actually came to get a tattoo and piercing but i think ill pass” you speak not wanting to admit you actually loss your credit card but youre here for moral support for your friend who now that you look at her looks like she doesnt need it.

”youre already here dont tell me youre chicken… come on ill even do it for free”

”free?” Oh that had your attention.

“mhmmm lets call it a truce no more loud… anything just being good neighbors”

and its not long before youre on the table the design being shaded into your spine and he admires how you just take it… his mind does begin to drift to if you can take anything else when he notices how pretty you look today.

he actually loves white on your toes and the crisp french tip on your hands. Its when he notices the snake tattoo wrapped around your wrist that he realizes you might be interesting and not just some stuck up—

“you wanted your belly pierced too right?” He ask and if someone wouldve told you that youd be half dressed infront of your neighbor Today you wouldnt believe it. Hes professional and doesnt even glance at the double d’s you have in your lace bra… ok he did but you didnt notice at all.

you thought you seen his ears burn red but hes quick to turn away disposing of the needle and your completely suprised by how soft and careful his hands are… ahem he is.

”and maybe we can actually be nice to another” he says softly holding out your credit card that you dropped earlier.

your truce last all of 5 days. It wasnt your fault meg the stallion announced she was going on tour and you couldnt help the screams of joy and to blast her music.

you dont expect anyone to bang on your door or barge in when you open it.

”excuse the fuck out of me” you hiss slamming your door facing him when you notice hes looking past your face and down at your body.

you were wearing a dark purple lace bra and underwear the silver belly ring he initially put in switched out for a dangly silver one with a dragon that matched your tattoo and yes it was to early to change.

”my eyes are up here”

”please. Nothing i havent seen before princess actually it kind of looks like the black one” he smirks watching the fury in your eyes as you look for something to cover up.

”get the fuck out”

he saunters (the god damn audacity) out but not without pressing his whole body into you as if the walkway wasnt wide enough making sure to press himself into your ass leaning down to your ear.

”good night princess” and you dont have to look at him to know hes smirking but that raspy voice does something to you.

that night you go to bed with 3 orgasms… what dont make that face you had a voice kink and couldnt help it.

he smirks when he sees you the next day and you try to ignore him as he unlocks his car door.

”sleep well? You know the walls are thin and im sure our bedrooms share a wall”

you make a mental note to get on apartment finder tonight.

”im sure that was your first time ever hearing a womans moans outside of porn” you hiss back you werent no weak bitch.

and he wasnt a cliche man his taunts went further then just an insult back, hed give you more content for tonight. After all he was helping you help him.

”just be a good girl for me and let me hear everything tonight alright princess” he utters in a deep octave that makes your breathing stutter and you cant form a proper sentence and any insult is going to be childish.

you of course try to walk off but he grabs your arm pulling you closely his large hand spreading across your lower back.

”did i say i was done… look up at me” and you bite your lip to keep your jaw off the floor this man was wicked and you were not about to play with a devil.

”youre such a pretty mess” he adds in watching the gloss in your eyes before you come to your senses pushing him off heading fown the street.

”wrong direction princess” and you were headed the other way but you should probably just head back inside to change underwear.

and if he could hear you through the wall you were going to put on a show, you make sure even whine moan groan whimper and cry can be heard through these thin ass walls honestly you were so sensitive from overstimulating yourself… It was his fault.

You do everything in your power to avoid him the next few days that post nut clarity knocking some sense into you.

You actually have no idea how wrecked he’s been. How wrecked you had him! He needs to hear it again.

he might turn slightly yandere for you. its when you get a call at 1am and of course youre up you had actually just got out the shower.

”is this your payback” he hisses into the phone though you arent sure what hes talking about.

”how the fuck did you get my number? Doesnt matter bye”

“stop it just listen” he grunts catching your attention “i just need you to be a good girl for me just once i promise” he nearly begs and you have a wicked idea of what he’s doing on the other side of the phone.

you listen to every command, praise and groan his sultry voice lets out your fingers and sheets soaked

“you did such a good job baby, you deserve a reward how about you cum for me” he grunts sending both of you to your end him losing it to the sound of your orgasm.

“i wanna take you out on a date” and thats when you hang up not in the mood for his antics.

hes serious though, he takes you to the finest seafood restaurant with expensive alcohol you cant pronounce he even gets you a dress to wear, suprising you with a new dior lip gloss…3 actually.

”thats how many times you orgasmed through the wall the first night…” you thank God for your brown skin and him not being able to see you blush. He genuinely takes the time for you to get to know another subtly throwing in praises.

by the time you get back to the car your a wreck hair frizzing from your body overheating already.

your legs are rubbingg together and he spreads them guiding your hand down.

“Be a good girl for me and show me how pretty you look when you cum”

You happily comply watching as his hands fidget while driving

When he gets you back to his place your clothes are off and your back is against his fluffy comforter, not that you had time to notice but his whole room is black.

Hes a certified munch and will eat you until youre lightheaded. He eats you out on your back, makes you ride his face, eats you from the back he has you in 7 different positions from head alone.

He gives the deepest stroke while telling you how pretty you are for him the most filthies things he can mutter in your ear giving you back shots the pillow under your stomach propping you up as he plays with your clit begging for you to cum.

you black out and hes not far behind but makes sure to clean you with a warm rag and throws a tshirt on you.

He loves waking up to you and will actually barge in your home or bring you over to his.

He has his own stubborn ways which you will sometimes talk your best shit which he loves, he needs his woman to be on go not some docile lil weakling.

and sometimes he fights back!

[blackjackkent]

Entertained myself a little, thinking about what Lae'zel's reaction would be to Minthara arriving and immediately seeming to bond with Rakha right out of the gate. (Because Lae'zel is wonderful but very young and does not, thus far, have a history of handling her relationship with Rakha very smoothly.)

-----

“Welcome, istik,” Lae'zel says warily. She stops in front of Minthara's tent and squints at the drow as if she were an interesting zoo animal. 

“Ah. Yes. The gith,” Minthara says. She was in the process of examining her boots curiously to determine how they've fared in the months since Rakha stole them off her unconscious body. Now she looks up, eyes narrowed, and then stands, lurching with military sharpness into an attentive, waiting posture. “We have not been properly introduced.”

“Lae'zel of Crèche Kliir,” Lae'zel answers, a little too quickly. “I already know your name, Minthara Baenre, for I heard you whimpering it in the prison of the Absolute.”

Minthara stiffens. “You mock me. By what cause?” she asks coldly.

“Is it mocking to recite a fact?” Lae'zel asks. She shrugs. “You are one of us now, and you will find that we all carry scars of torment. You are not special, in this regard.”

A flash of mental connection. Images whirl between them of the alien zaith'isk construct, of Lae'zel's vision whiting out with a wave of agony. Minthara's head snaps back and she blinks rapidly. “I see,” she says.

Her eyes narrow as if reappraising the younger woman. “We have shared suffering, and I sense we share ferocity as well. Yet you come here with a blade in your tone. Do you fear my betrayal? Your leader and I have sworn a bond of allyship.”

“Rakha has given you her welcome, yes.” Lae'zel smiles, an expression that shows her pointed teeth. “But you are not her ras'til, her ally, not yet. Nor mine. That is a position those at her side have earned. It is not bought with words.”

Minthara raises one eyebrow slowly, analyzing the young gith's words and the weight behind them. Then she smiles faintly. “You speak possessively. Does Rakha know of your feelings for her?” 

Lae'zel flinches. “My feelings do not concern you.”

“Then you might do well to make something subtler of them.”

Lae'zel hisses softly. “I will not be told my business by one who has not traveled with us twelve hours.”

“You spoke to me first, Lae'zel of Crèche Kliir.” Minthara squints thoughtfully. “You need not fear my competition for her affection, child. The bond we share is one of broken minds and vengeance. Why do you not turn your ire towards the boy with whom she locked lips before retiring?” She jerks her head to indicate Wyll's tent. 

Lae'zel's skin flushes a deep olive. “There is no ire,” she mutters. “Rakha made her choice and I abide by it.”

Minthara's lips twitch. “I see. In Menzoberranzan, we would rarely see a woman capable of wielding word and blade, surrendering to a male with no fight.”

“You think me a weakling?” Lae'zel growls.

Minthara laughs. “I think you a young pup who has come to show her claws and assert her place in the pecking order. I am not without admiration for you, little one, based even on the little I have seen, but I care nothing for the schoolyard quarrel you wish to pick. It is based in fear and jealousy and it fits you ill. If you wish to hate me, hate me for cause or do not waste my time.”

Lae'zel studies her for a long moment in silence. When she speaks again, her tone is more subdued - but also resonates with deeper conviction. “Break the pact you have sworn to Rakha and I will break your neck.”

Minthara smiles. “Much better said, child. And I take you at your word.”

[welldonebeca]

the devil in the marble (8)

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masterlist

Chapter 7

Cato set the table with you and your siblings, and your mother was very giggly and surprised, but your father wasn't too impressed.

"Hadley, you said," dad spoke as you all sat down around the dining room table. "Is your father a Peacekeeper?"

Juno and Jupiter entered the room, carrying their food from serving themselves from the kitchen and setting their plates down, prompting your mother to stand from her seat.

"I'll get our food, dear," she touched dad's shoulder, a short affection.

They were very sweet to another, always.

Cato watched it for a moment, and you could see a glimpse of surprise on his face before he covered it up.

"Yes, sir," he confirmed, looking back at him. "Assistant Officer Hadley."

Your father nodded along, looking very impressed.

"What district does he work at? Two?"

"No," your boyfriend corrected him. "He used to be at Two, but he got offered a promotion if he moved out when I was sixteen. Since I could already take care of myself alone, he accepted the move, though I don't know where he is."

Your mother stopped midway into the room, surprised by the information. You had told her Cato had lost his mother years ago, but hadn't told her of his father's absence from his life. Mr Hadley only saw Cato in sporadic visits.

"He left you all alone?" she asked, sounding both heartbroken and shocked.

Cato turned his head to look at her, caught off guard, and she quickly put her plate and dad's down.

"He was home yesterday," he told her. "He spent a couple of days at home and left last night. He wants to be here for my reaping, so he wasn't able to make it for Solstice."

She softened, looking very sad.

"Oh, that's terrible," she looked at your boyfriend. "I didn't know you lived alone."

"His father comes around from time to time, dear," your father corrected her.

"Practically alone, then," mum corrected herself, still looking concerned. "It's the same thing."

Cato looked at you, uncertain and confused.

Your siblings, for their merit, ate their food while feigning obliviousness to the talk among you four - or three. You weren't saying much, either.

"Well, now it's official," she asserted, straightening her posture, determined. "From now on, you'll be joining us for dinner. It's not good for a young boy like you to be all alone."

Your boyfriend's gaze shifted between her and you, still stunned, and you took his hand, squeezing it.

You knew Cato was used to being on his own, but some affection wouldn't kill him.

"Thank you, Mrs Elletra," he spoke, at last. "I'll... I'm... hm... thank you."

You smile, though a bit surprised at seeing him speechless, and squeezed his hand.

"We should go get our food," you told him. "Or they'll eat without us."

Just as you stood, your father did the same.

"I'll help you, little star," he offered.

Your mother grabbed his hand swiftly.

"Sit down, Julius," she commanded, "She can serve herself."

Their gazes locked in a stare fight.

Your father was... a little too overprotective of you. While your mother always pushed you to do things, to learn to be independent, he either thought you needed more time or had given up on you entirely, which was upsetting.

Just because you were slow to learn, it didn't mean you were completely incompetent.

Resigned and defeated, he slowly sank back down to his seat, and you made your way to the kitchen with Cato.

You were alone when you stole a glance at your boyfriend, and he seemed very confused.

"What was that?" he asked, sounding confused.

You took the last two fancy plates from the pile, scoffing, too self-conscious to meet his eyes.

"I have balance issues," you mumbled, putting one of them in his hands.

You placed your plate on the nearest counter - which your mother had gotten against the oven especially for you, so you would have a place where to put your plate and keep them safe.

"I drop things sometimes,"  you served pasta onto your plate, extra careful. "Plates, cups, objects, food... I drop them."

The weight of embarrassment settled in your belly. Why did your father have to do that?

And right in front of him?!

You pressed your lips together. Did dad mean to embarrass you? Wasn't it enough that their whole damn town knew you were more of a danger to yourself than to any enemy with a weapon, did he have to make such a display in front of your boyfriend?!

You put the chicken cutlets wrapped in prosciutto down, organising your plate angrily, and Cato took your hand gently before you could move to the spinach.

"Okay, baby, the food is dead," he pulled your hand away, and gently pried your fingers from the tongs as you stared at him, unable to soften your face. "No need to attack it again."

Still, you crossed your arms, frustrated and too vulnerable, and he caressed your hand over one of them.

"I know you can be clumsy," Cato told you, sounding very soothing though amused. "I posed for your statue, and I remember the times you dropped things. And you dropped them a lot."

You groaned, stepping away from him. Oh, great!

And now your boyfriend was going to make that into a thing again, as if-

"Y/N," he grabbed you, pulling you back. "Will you hear me out?"

His sweet tone softened you, and you faced him again, finding him smiling softly.

"I've known you were clumsy since before we dated, and it never made me think less of you!" Cato affirmed. "It's kinda cute. I just need to keep you away from knives."

You softened slowly.

"Promise?" you mumbled, uncrossing your arms.

Cato's smile widened, almost proud, and he pulled you closer, embracing you whole.

"Promise," he gave your lips a gentle peck.

At last, Cato let you go, and he took charge of serving the spinach for you.

"Can't touch the other food," he recited playfully, carefully placing it on your plate.

You smiled a little, looking down. Yeah, you might have recited that once when you were serving yourself the first time he came over for dinner. You just didn't know he remembered.

“Thank you,” you spoke softly.

He just smiled back at you.

Cato served himself, and you moved back to the dining table, earning a look from your parents but no questions, and they started eating once you two did - although Jupiter and Juno were already half-finished,

"Good food," your father remarked carefully, cutting a piece of the chicken. "You're always good, Loba."

You frowned, trying to be discreet in your movements as you watched them.

Oh, they'd definitely talked when you were in the kitchen. You knew that tone and face, he was trying to butter her up.

"Thank you, dear," she looked at him with the corner of her eyes, sceptic.

Yeah, you were going to sleep with your trusty earplugs and sound machine on.

Chapter 9 on Patreon (3rd of March 2024 on Tumblr/Ao3)

. . .

"the devil in the marble" was posted on my Patreon in June 2023! To read the available chapters and read the last arc of the story as it gets published, subscribe to my page! It's just $2 a month and I promise you won't regret it.

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[lucysweatslove]

The gist of what happened after i posted last night.

Me: I’ve tried being kind because based on what you’ve told me recently you seem to be in a difficult and stressful time and I don’t want to add to that. But if you continue to belittle me and my experiences, I will no longer give you opportunities to do that to me directly.

Sister: Thinking I’m in a stressful time right now is belittling me and my experience. I’m not belittling you. Give me concrete examples of when I’ve belittled your experiences except for a weeks ago when I was just concerned what you claim to need didn’t match with being a doctor (side note, I ranted about that experience too on here, but how she brought it up in this message stream very much showed she doesn’t think she did anything wrong there either)

Me: okay let me run through the argument one more time in neutral language so you can see how you were the aggressor here. I don’t keep screenshots or records of all the shit you say because I try to think hey maybe you’re just having a bad day, breathe, and move past it, but look at all the times you’ve belittled even how I want to be a doctor! And how you blamed me for shit I experienced that wasn’t my fault in adolescence! And how you continue to ignore my eating disorder experience in these ways! But instead of taking responsibility for any of your parts, you are putting it on me. I hope you figure this shit out and work through whatever has you so volatile.

I block my sister at this point because she had, once again, refused responsibility.

My sister to the chat (which my husband is still in and sees, even if I don’t): I’m sorry you’re so insecure.

Husband leaves the chat. Sister leaves the chat. I remove myself from my family chat, too, on another messaging all + let my parents know it’s not about them/the family as a whole, just a boundary I need to assert with my sister.

Asserting a boundary is not a sign of insecurity. It not insecure to to assert a boundary you communicated when the other person is standing, crossed over the boundary, telling you they aren’t crossing it.

Imagine being so unaware of yourself that you are standing in another person’s house, and the person says hey I don’t like that you’re in my house so please get out or I will remove you, and you say nope I’m not in your house.

Anyway I hate everything about this.

[sparrowandbee]

Chapter 12 | Chapter 14

The Sparrow: Chapter 13: The Pomp

Synopsis: Despite just being out of the arena for a few hours, Marian is back in the dressing room being pampered and prodded by Vanilla's team. She must confront the paradoxes of Victorhood.

Warnings: Swearing.

Word Count: 1778

I was well enough to be faced with Vanilla again, the white-coated doctors decided. After a few physical examinations, I was given a robe and escorted back to the dressing rooms. 

They weren’t wrong, I was fully physically capable, with only a little soreness from the climbing climbing and the faint warmth of the sunburns, but my whole chest still felt so raw. That vile, poisoned part of my humanity lingered, along with the exhaustion and the unbearable grief and guilt… but I looked fine, and to them, that was fine enough. 

We walked for what felt like miles of bare, dim hallways, Haymitch keeping an iron grip on my hand. The dressing room was familiar, I recognized the small space. It was the same room where I got dressed for the interviews, only this time the silence was uncanny. Just weeks ago, the tributes buzzed around, dressed and pampered to the highest Capitol standards, caught in an electrifying daze- an electrifying hope. Now they’re dead. Every last one of them, just bodies.

We sat in silence. The bright white lights of the vanity still hurt my eyes.

This was what we both wished for in that moment. Sitting here, feeling unrepairable, has always been the best-case scenario.

“My victor!” Vanilla said in a sing-songy tone, throwing the door open. Her sinister smile framed her blinding teeth as her eyes scanned me up and down, the rhinestones on her eyelids flashing against the whiteness of the room.

“Everyone told me not to design Victor gowns for you but when I saw how well you were doing, we got to work immediately!” She took me by the arm and practically yanked me away for Haymitch. I kept my eyes planted on him, taking deep breaths.

“Look at you! The tan did wonders for your complexion!” She gestured towards some of the stylists who had followed her inside. “Alrighty, let’s get to work!” She planted her hands on the tie of the robe, “You, out!” She exclaimed, turning towards Haymitch.

“No.” I asserted, my voice strong in a way it had never been before. “He stays.” 

She gave a disdainful look, but continued anyway, just barely acknowledging my autonomy in the matter. My legs had already been waxed, maybe in the hovercraft, though it was scary to think of people touching me while I was sedated.

Still standing but now naked, they oiled and polished every inch, while someone tugged and ironed my hair. 

Vanilla stood beside Haymitch, barking orders. He flinched a few times at her boisterous tone but kept his eyes firmly planted on mine. He had seen me peeling and bloody and vomit-stained. The shame I had once felt about my exposed body was no longer there, I knew the last thing on his mind right now was exploitation or sex.

“So, we're doing the victory poster pictures in 30. Cheann, that’s the white silk tulle and red one-shoulder. At 6:00 we have the recap, we’re going with the silver gown. We’re changing her into the navy one-shoulder for the banquet. Pebble, did you hear that? I’m going to need that to be a quick change. We’re scrapping the blue dress and going with the beaded high-low for tomorrow’s interview! Did everyone get that?”

Silent nods all around me. My head was spinning with everything she’d just said. More smiling and nodding and playing coquette, just like they wanted. Like they paid for.

All I wanted was a proper shower, lukewarm running water to take away the invisible grime I felt populating my skin. Haymitch sensed my anxiety (or maybe I was not very good at masking it) and gestured his hand up and down, mimicking deep breaths as he held my gaze. I followed, breathing in and out, in and out until I found myself in a white, airy gown. 

Out of all of Vanilla’s outfits, I unfortunately had to give her credit for it. Nothing about the pleated, airy tulle matched the Capitol’s gruff and manky picture of District 12.

It was quite the opposite of the parade and interview outfits I remember, with two long bows acting as off-the-shoulder sleeves and a simple matching tulle belt around my waist to define the elegantly draped fabric. The makeup was kept fairly natural though my skin looked unfamiliarly smooth. They curled my hair in a way which resembled my own curls and left it long and loose.

On my ears hung two huge pearls, dangling from an ornate silver hook and the outfit was completed by a a sapphire ring surrounded by silver diamonds.

I heard that sometimes the doctors modify a Victor’s appearance but I looked the same as I did before- each line and dot remained untouched. I recognized my curves and folds as wholly my own. But still, I think this was the first time I saw myself as beautiful; not an object of desire or sex but truly, admirably beautiful. I smiled at the girl in the mirror and she smiled back. 

I felt like a Victor. Though I didn’t know what that truly meant, I could recognize that this was what it looked like.

“Excuse me,” I turned to the makeup artist, the same pale, black-haired woman from earlier, she looked up with an unphased expression, “Could you do some gold on my eyelids?”

She looked to Vanilla, who gave a shrug and a nod. “Do the same shade as the interview, Xenia.”

I remembered that he liked that eyeshadow. It was my small way of nodding towards the only reason for my victory.

I caught Haymitch’s reflection from the vanity mirror. He kept a soft smile on his lips, though he still looked a bit teary. His expression remained steady as we were taken into the studio-turned-photography space. There was a machine that produced a slight breeze which gracefully tugged my hair, the hanging strips of bow and the volume of the skirt. 

“Oh! Ah!” Vanilla whimpered with every flash of the camera. “There’s District 12’s Diamond in the Rough. Ugh, I could not come up with a better tagline for you if I tried! Our diamond from the coal ashes!”

My smile dropped a bit. Her presence and her strange words shattered the illusion of a pretty dress and brought me back down to earth. The camera kept flashing. I was no diamond. I was no more special than anyone, just lucky that somehow I was in the right place and given the right resources through no real effort of mine. 

No, if anyone was a diamond it was Haymitch. Rare and beautiful but still covered in dust, not quite brilliant but still precious. I turned to face him and couldn’t help the smile that formed on my plump, rosy lips. That man had gone through hell and put himself through all of it again, just for me. That was love, right? 

It was.

“We got the shot!” The photographer exclaimed and soon the pack of production and styling people descended onto the set, ready to do it all again.

-

The photoshoots took longer than I expected, or maybe my energy was minimal. Probably both. 

My eyes felt dry and I couldn’t stop yawning. We were supposed to go to the penthouse but Haymitch told me the sponsors would probably still be there, and that was the last thing I wanted. Instead, we ate on the 11th floor with Chaff, the towering one-armed victor who seemed pretty close to Haymitch. No one said anything, there was nothing to say, I suppose. The clatter of silverware, along with Chaff’s frequent swigs of a crystal bottle echoed throughout the expansive space. I couldn’t eat much, and for whatever reason, my brain returned to the pre-games anxiety, as if sensing imminent danger.

I took an orange and Lilly-scented shower and cried until Vanilla called me again. It wasn’t as nice as I had hoped. Back down I went with Haymitch by my side. I counted each second, passively waiting to be rid of all Capital ridicule and luxury. I was over all of it. All I wanted was to be home and safe, just us. But soon enough, we were back in the changing room. 

Xenia applied burgundy lipstick and heavy-handed dark eyeliner, the complete opposite of the photoshoot. Still, I wanted to maintain my ounce of trust in Vanilla and her vision for my image as a Victor.

The short redhead with the pixie cut, who I’d come to identify as Pebble,  brought around the dreaded dress bag and unzipped it to reveal more scraps. This time, a shiny, liquid-esque fabric with tiny embroidered diamonds along the seams. There was maybe one yard of fabric in the entire dress. It was just as (if not more) vulgar than the earlier dresses.

I had seen Victor’s outfits before and they were nothing like the risqué tribute ensembles. They were always respectful, textile tributes to the Victor’s survival, not an extension of the exploitation of their status.

Pebble undid my robe and draped the fabric around my chest and hips, leaving the extra length draped down on one side, reaching my knee. 

Vanilla started sewing the dress as it sat on my body, quickly stitching me in before I got a chance to react.

“Vanilla, I-” I turned around in protest, but Haymitch was already up and defensive.

“Whoa! This is not a Victor’s outfit, I mean, it’s barely an outfit at all! You’re putting her in something else.” 

She didn’t stop the movement of her needle.

“Sorry, Mr. Abernathy. This was a special request by President Snow himself.”

“Oh, that is absolutely rid-” He stepped closer as his tone got more stern. He could hurt her, I thought.

Vanilla looked up, unphased by Haymitch’s reactionary stance. “The sponsors that you secured want to see her. And see her they shall!”

He became still. The fist on his side opened. 

“What does this have to do with sponsors?” I asked.

The room was quiet. Vanilla finished her stitch with a snip of her sharp blades. 

“H, what’s she talking about? What does she mean?”

He tried to disguise it but he was immobilized. 

“Haymitch,” I hardened my voice and stood to meet him. I had heard stories of what happened to the more attractive tributes, everything from forced advertisement appearances to freak cloning. I needed the truth- I would not be belittled or played with, not now, not by my only ally. “What are they going to do to me?”

-

Next Chapter

Masterlist

[himboskywalker]

hey Tag, you seem like a very assertive, confident, non-shy person. I'm someone who has always struggled with standing up for herself. People tell me I should stand up for myself, be assertive, etc. when I feel like I'm not being treated nicely, but whenever I do actually try to stand up for myself I always get put down hard. Like, I'm not exaggerating. Last time I pointed out to my driving instructor to not talk to me like I was a 10 year old she started yelling at me. When I told the 1/2

Hello dear, I’m so sorry you’ve been going through this. I used to be a lot more meek and afraid of confrontation than I am now,so I understand the anxiety of having to stand up for yourself. And while I’m anything but now, I’m still a physically small person,and often fem presenting,so I’ll always have people who try and get pushy with me because they think they can get away with it.

A couple things I’ve learned is that one,to be properly assertive when pushing back against that kind of thing is to imagine how you would feel if the antagonist present was talking to the person you love most in the world that way. It’s often hard to find a voice for yourself,but much easier to feel that blistering indignity for a best friend or a relative or a partner. If that instructor or guard had talked that way to someone you deeply love,would you have reacted or backed down the same way? Because you’re a person of worth who is worthy of love and respect and to be treated with kindness too. And sometimes we have to be our own supporters and the one in the corner standing up for ourselves when no one else is there. You are owed the same level of human decency and respect that you feel your loved ones should be treated with. And when someone is yelling at you or being a jerk,reach for that anger you would feel on behalf of someone beside you. How dare this stranger talk to you this way,it’s not right,who do you think you are, you can’t talk to me that way.

And a lot of the time you do get pushback,people will fight you and be meaner the second round. Pushy people are used to people backing down against that kind of behavior,they think yelling at someone is the correct course of action to get what they want because that kind of behavior is rewarded by people giving in so they don’t have to deal with it. I’ve found from personal experience,that talking to someone like a child when they act like this is the absolute best way to get them to stop. And I mean be demeaning,draw on the inner scolding schoolteacher within you. “I’m not going to talk to you until you calm down and stop yelling.” “Are you not embarrassed to be acting like this in public?” “You can’t talk to me that way—“ more yelling “You need to stop yelling at me,you’re acting like a child and I’m not going to respond to you behaving like one.”

I work customer service,I’ve been cussed out,demeaned to,grabbed even. And what I’ve had to learn over time is that I am a human being deserving of common fucking decency and if someone wants to treat me with less than that then I’ll talk to them like a child throwing a temper tantrum. It doesn’t always work,sometimes people don’t care,sometimes they’ll railroad over you no matter how you try to stand up for yourself. Sometimes people are just assholes and their behavior is nothing you can control or do anything about and no amount of assertiveness matters. I imagine someone like a security guard doesn’t give a rats ass how you push back against them,sometimes you cut your losses and move on.

You can’t make everyone respect you and treat you with decency,but remember that no matter what you are deserving of it. Let yourself be angry and indignant the same way you’d be on behalf of someone else. Shaming people for their behavior works a lot of wonders where talking out of reactionary anger does not. Turning the situation back to them and calling out their actions like a child brings a lot of people up short,because that’s not the consequences they usually face for acting that way. People give in to someone yelling and pitching a fit or being rude,because it’s easier and less exhausting. I once had an old lady absolutely bitching me out because I’d made a mistake ringing her up. I was trying to fix the problem but she was absolutely reaming into me while I’m at the register. After a minute or so of this I looked up at her and said “do you talk to your family like this when they make an innocent mistake?” Lady went purple and didn’t say another word. Stuff like that.

You’re not going to always be successful. People are cunts and learning to stand up for yourself isn’t linear and foolproof. I don’t always do it,sometimes people hit a nerve and it hurts. But remember that sometimes you’re the only one there for yourself,and you need to treat yourself with the same love and indignity you would for everyone else being talked to that way.

[rize-is-writing]

greetings and salutations, hope I don’t bother you too much by sending in such a random ask. may I please have a romantic matchup for bsd?

I’m 19, I use they/them pronouns and I’m pansexual. my myers briggs type is INFJ and my star sign is taurus.

Im about 4’11..not to happy about it. I’m kind of introverted, and can be considered not a people person. I find life a little nihilistic. I’m into dressing in all black and taking a liking to gruesome and morbid things like slashers, analog horror, death games, true crime, necromancy and anatomy. I typically consider myself a "gorehound". I also like to visit abandoned places just for fun, along with playing quite a few escape rooms. I just have a genuine comfort in the uncomfortable.

I’ve come to the conclusion I just scare people off. In reality, I’m intimidated by everyone around me and find it hard to start taking, which may or may not come off as rude to people.

when I become comfortable with someone I start to become really sarcastic and joke around with them with witty banter. most of my humor comes off really insulting, but I’ll apologize and say it’s a joke if it becomes a problem. even though I do have a hard time understanding physical social cues.

lots of people don’t like me or stay away from me because of my rude behavior. I’m not good with overly sensitive or overly annoying people at all because of that, and I can’t stand kids. Idiocy can get on my nerves too sometimes. I’m a huge animal person though. I have my moments where I can get really feisty, or very quiet and closed off. I’ve been told I’m also a laidback person. I’ve also been told I never know when to quit, and I find I hold grudges for certain things.

I’m the type of person that has lots of opinions on things but I keep them to myself and bottle them up. If pushed far enough I’ll become unforgiving, and aggressive. especially with the types mentioned above.

I find the most comfort in just being in my room drawing, listening to music ( pierce the veil, deftones, system of a down, slipknot, rob zombie,,, sometimes the radiohead, insane clown posse, jazmin bean or mother mother, etc. ), or even occasionally playing video games, reading, writing, or talking about a random conspiracy theory I have. I do acting in my spare time as a small hobby too, and I’m learning how to play electric guitar.

I’m a plushie maniac and when I fall asleep you can always see me cuddled up to one of them. I find it because I’m really touch starved. Im also a caffeine addict, and I’m guilty of being very submissive- and a bit of a pyromaniac. Someone more dominant would be ideal. I dissociate or daydream a lot, so you can often catch me starring.

I suffer from a handful off mental and physical syndromes like adhd, insomnia, asthma, depression and anxiety. These have all been diagnosed professionally, and I’m definitely not trying to make myself "quirky". unfortunately health problems run in my family.

I’m very fidgety, and often bite the inside of my cheek or bounce my leg rapidly. you don’t need to rocmantasize this stuff ofc, but I think it’s good to know so the person can tolerate me.

you do get to this, thanks for your time. <3

I found your match! Come to meet them, c'mon c'mon!

You hit the the jackpot.

Yosano as we all know has a love for the gruesome and gore, I'd totally agree that she would be enthusiastic about it with you, if her enthusiastic way is something you like of course. But I'm afraid she knows too well how it is the insides of human body, and is too happy to be able to...

As you want, she is a more "dominant" partner. I would say more assertive, the first to worry about your health in any situation and probably when out with you has already everything ready. As a doctor herself she understands the importance of health as foremost, and your care is important and not something to be "tolerated" as if it was a bother, simply to be supported and cared for in more critical moments.

(hope I am not romanticing ir though, the least I want to do is to make my readers uncomfortable. If I did, do not hesitate to call me out on it, and I willing edit this immediately!)

Definitely a bit fussy around your pyromaniac tendencies and your caffeine addiction, not really supportive on them- even though that might be hypocritical given how easy bottle is for her, and her little questionable hobbies to dissect her friends... I just hope bad arguments don't raise-

Anyway, Yosano as we know is quite the fashionable person so I think she would definitely make the most of your style for you, buying clothes and such (and have an excuse for you two to go out). Would find your love for plushes adorable so expect maybe some extra ones for your collection.

As for your general behavior around people, I don't think Yosano would be much of bothered by it, knowing her maybe sometimes will even back you up or laugh at some jokes (especially if about gruesome stuff) but if it goes too far will be the first to step in and talk to you. She is mature, and would be aware that you don't mean any harm in what you say, so in this case comunication is simply the key, as always.

[luciusspriggss]

fucking a

they came to me again with frustrations

saying they are making the decision to have kelsey over because it isnt fair i set the boundary that i did

and i, as calmly as i could, asked them why they felt the need to come to me about their frustrations.

asked them why they didnt understand why i was setting the boundaries i did in the first place

we went over what has happened the past couple months and they gave a very simple explanation, that left out very important details

so i filled in those details

and yeah

eventually i told them the person i loved wouldnt treat me the way they have. and i have no idea why they have been treating me the way they have for the past couple months. why they havent been thinking objectively about how their decisions affect me

pointed out it wasnt really fair to expect me to stay up until 2am to see if they were coming home or not. that it was unreasonable for me to ask they figure it out sooner.

pointed out how freaked out they were when kelsey was on a work trip and hadnt responded in 30-45 minutes. but they told me it was unreasonable for me to be worried about them not texting me until 2am. unreasonable for me to be worried they may have gotten into accident or something, because they used to text me AT MOST within 20 minutes. not 3-4 hours later like they were doing. i was in the wrong for being worried, that after they AGREED to text me back with their decisions and respond if i start sending "is everything okay" "are you alive" texts in addition with one phone call to see if their phone is dead or not, they still chose to ignore everything and keep partying

FUCK

i'm so fucking tired

they did their usual shit of trying to twist the narrative. but i see things for how they are now, and wont let them tell me something happened when it didnt.

it's true our individual therapists are telling us conflicting ideas

but seeing as i'm the sort to retell events as objectively as possible, including trying to understand all sides and where they are coming from, and not even mentioning how i feel about it, just a play by play of the events as they happened...and they are the sort to talk about only their side and how they felt (and they ADMIT they dont actually remember how events transpired, just how they think they felt)...i think it is perfectly reasonable at this point to admit that maybe i'm being assertive for once and sticking up for myself and am NOT some unreasonable ex.

i'm not letting them tell me some narrative that i know isnt true. that maybe i'm right in that it feels like they have had 0 respect for me the past two months and it has been making me feel like shit constantly

i'm so irritated. i know they are frustrated. i know they are sad. i even mentioned to them that i understand how alcohol affects their thinking. that it is a pattern. when they drink less they are far more respectful to me.

i fucking get it. how frustrating it is to not be able to bring your new partner home. but it isn't just that! there are complexities they are ignoring. ughghsjakakahshshk

i feel like total garbage because they apologized and cried a lot and left to go who knows where. but they have been doing this for the past couple weeks!. they cry, they apologize, leave, and then come back a day or two later telling me whatever i said isnt fair

the only thing that sets apart these issues from previous ones, is i am actually going to outside support. i know here on tumblr it is pretty one-sided. but it isnt like that with my therapist or my former roommate. even trying to talk about it as objectively as possible with my step-mom, she acknowledged that i have been making the right choices and doing what is best for me for the first time ever. no people pleasing.

i get they must be confused because i am actually standing my ground, and sticking to it for once.

gah i'm so frustrated.

quite frankly i know they are capable of being a good person and a good friend. they just arent right now and it isn't good for EITHER of us. both of us need space. both of us need time apart from one another. ._.

[kaijuconfessions]

When I was working on my undergrad thesis, I was working with a Chinese grad student on another project using similar modeling techniques. He was a fun guy to talk to and I was friends with him for a short while, but he turned out to be a massive racist.

When we were at the airport going for a workshop in Indianapolis, he was stopped and asked by a black agent to check in his luggage because it was too heavy. He started cursing at her, using the n-word wildly, and saying really terrible stuff (calling her a welfare queen, saying she’d be less grumpy if she didn’t have children from 6 different men, and this is just sugarcoating the language he said)

More agents came, all black, and I could see them getting livid. I knew the right thing to do then an there would be to tell him he was being an asshole and terrible racist, but I was too cowardly to stand up

It still haunts me to this day. Up to that day, I always thought of myself as a brave person who’d stand up to others being injust. It was a kind of a wake up call for me that I need to be more brave in standing up for others. Since then I have been more assertive to people who demean others irl, like last year when I told a really tall white dude who was easily a foot taller than me an looked way stronger to stop being openly racist to an indian family sitting at the table next to him, I stood my ground until he left the restaurant

It’s definitely increasingly important to stand up to bigotry of all forms with the global resurgence of bigoted movements, but I can also appreciate standing up for people is really hard and scary since the people who usually throw these insults are violent, or at least give the impression that they are

[shedefblogs]

The JROTC experience kinda… part 1

In high school I don’t do much I rather not take any extra classes like theater or band. I felt like it was a waste of time. Honestly, I still kind of do but it looks glamorous and fun. Sometimes  but none of those things look like something I would be actually interested in or look further into for a career ya know ?  especially when I was in 11th grade I didn’t really care about anything the depression was real !! 

While in 11th grade, a new teacher emerged (hint- it’s the JROTC instructor) I saw him in uniform every Wednesday, and was wondering why he wore that like I wasn’t sure if he was cosplaying or dead serious but I mean from the look on his face all the time, I kind of went with the dead serious. I also saw cadets roaming the halls with khaki and black on “WOW they look super sharp” my mindset at the time, because I never seen a student in uniform before I didn’t even know what JROTC was so I thought that uniform was so cool and so VIP well, I mean I still feel cool and VIP in my uniform to so VALID !!

One day I saw them carrying rifles. Oh wow, now I wanted to join even more  I told everyone I wanted to join BUT the JROTC instructor himself in my defense He looked so scary, and one day I saw him assertively telling a student to call him his rank instead of sir, I kind of freaked and said HELL NO. But instead of staying away from him, I saw him and his class as a challenge.  I was kind of interviewing everybody in JROTC and stalking him and the class like I was on a nature channel or some thing. IT HAD TO BE DONE!!

I had a close friend that was in JROTC so while my 11th grade year was coming to an end. I was asking her about the program but she was no help. She didn’t tell me a lot of information sadly but I told her I wanted to join and talk to the instructor about joining she was ecstatic, but she was leaving.. I was confused, but whatever.  like I said it was the end of the year, so he was looking for more cadets to pull into the program, so they would make an announcement at the end of each day for people that are interested to go see him andddd I still couldn’t do it well maybe next time right I would pass right by him during dismissal time and not say a single word straight face, no emotion, no eye contact god definitely no eye contact I just didn’t want to bring attention to myself ya know that’s the worst !

At the end of one day, I just said, screw it the worst thing he could say, is no or scream in my face like come onnnn my friend, was hyping me up to go talk to him so after my third period I decided to try and stop by his classroom because I know he stands outside his classroom every day between classes me and my best friend walk together, taking slow steps finally we get to his door and I literally can’t speak. I’m just standing there, but my friend speaks up for me and says “hey, she needs to talk to you.” And obviously I tell him I want to join. He asked me why I tell him for leadership skills but in reality, I have no idea why I wanted to join. Maybe it’s because of the uniforms or the rifles or him Hell if I know but I’m in now …

Part two is on its wayyy…

Love ya 😍💖

Listen to this banger while you wait

[witchygaymer]

Online grimoire entry for some tarot reading I did, if anyone finds it useful:

So last night was pretty rough for me, but not significantly worse than the rest of this year. But I was feeling this horrible negative energy in my room and I could have sworn an entity was standing in the corner where my phone was charging, as the cable had come unplugged multiple times and the negative aura was stronger there.

At first I put a paper towel down and sprinkled some cayenne pepper, as well as a broken safety pin, as those were what I had on me, and then very firmly told whatever the thing was to fuck off. It felt cathartic for a bit… but I could tell the thing was still in my room.

And it was Samhain, meaning it was a good time to practice my craft. So… I decided to light some candles and consult my tarot cards.

“What is in my room?” 5 of Pentacles. Well… that made sense. I’ve been financially struggling and I lost my job recently. So… I guess it was telling me I’m the problem?

“Is the negative energy coming from me?” King of Wands reversed. That’s a yes… but reversed it means I need to proceed with caution. It indicates that I have been working too hard and possibly hurting others. In my case, I feel like I might be hurting myself instead. Because I have been disregarding everything my body and soul have been telling me. I am disabled and I DO need more help than others. At my last job, I overworked myself so much that I got burnt out and couldn’t get out of bed, which resulted in me getting fired. I hated the job, and was only doing it because there were no qualifications and it paid decent money. TL;DR: I am indeed causing the negative energy because of my unhealthy relationship with finances.

“Will things get better?” The Devil reversed. No. And even worse… when it shows up in a reading with 5 of Pentacles it means I have been spending recklessly. Which is true. With my last paycheck from my last job, I’ve been buying DoorDash every few days in hopes of making myself feel less shitty. I enjoy the food, but it doesn’t snap me out of my depression. It just gives me the tiny boost of energy to be able to take a shower, or make my bed… maybe do a load of laundry if I’m feeling ambitious. I need to get better coping mechanisms. My reckless spending is a band-aid for the depression coma I’m stuck in.

“What do I need to do to change the way my life is going?” King of Chalices reversed. Common theme here: I have only been working for money and it has not been fulfilling. At this point, I had a major epiphany and finally got the motivation to finish writing my resume for a doggy daycare place. There were closer, possibly more convenient jobs… but this place is only a 12 minute drive. And I didn’t see myself being happy and fulfilled at the other jobs. I’m a huge animal person so this seemed like following my calling. I then completed the online application and attached my resume, and went to sleep with a plan to call the doggy daycare to follow up in the morning, when they would be open.

Flash forward to this morning: I consulted my cards for advice about the follow up call. I got The Emperor, upright. So I decided to be assertive, strategic, and confident in my abilities. I wrote down a script of everything that could possibly go wrong, and how to make myself sound reliable and trustworthy. I am autistic, and I definitely feel better when I plan ahead for things.

Finally called the place. Got an automated message saying to press 2 and they would call me back. Waited about an hour, then got the call. Very kind lady talked to me, answered all my questions and provided even more information about the job. Several green flags: high staff retention rate. Many people had happily worked there for 10+ years. All new employees receive in-depth training. And she told me not to worry about “preparing a laundry list of experience,” and that she had been there for 3 years and there was nothing to be nervous about. She asked for my email, and saved my phone number so she could contact the branch I applied for. When we hung up, it was 11:11 AND TODAY IS NOVEMBER 1. I AM FUCKING MANIFESTING SO HARD. IF YOU ACTUALLY GOT THIS FAR IN READING THIS I’D LOVE IF YOU LEFT SOME KIND ENCOURAGING WORDS IN THE NOTES AS WELL 🙏🙏🙏

I feel fucking amazing. I enjoyed working as a pet sitter before my last job, but I was literally being paid slave wages… less than $1 per hour :/ and government support was barely enough to get me through day to day life. I can’t wait to actually be making money at a job I actually enjoy. Also looking forward to a sense of community at doggy daycare. Good vibes today folks. Blessed be

[gon-and-killuas-mother]

my therapist, Priscilla, and i talked about the Incident that happened on Wednesday, when my mom called my doctor's office to ask about my situation (despite the fact that i have already told her everything i wanted her to know)

Priscilla told me about the DBT strategy called DEARMAN. it's an acronym made to be a worksheet to help you write out something you want to say for a difficult conversation. it stands for Describe, Express, Assert, Reward, Mindfulness, Act confident, and Negotiate

so basically i wrote a letter to my mom that i'm having trouble even putting in my mailbox bc that's how terrified i am of her. this letter is so important for me to establish a boundary, but it's becoming clearer just how much of a hold she still has over me

she has a habit of throwing the phrase "grown up" at me. "You need to be a grownup and call so-and-so" "Have you done the grownup thing and renewed your car tags?"

most recently, a few weeks ago, she texted me about my financial situation and offered "We can sit down and have a grownup discussion about budgeting"

you know what? GROWNUPS don't need their mothers calling their doctors for them!

why does she keep insisting that i need to act like an adult in the same breath that she implies i'm not doing it correctly and she needs to somehow help me? what does this do for her except add more stress to her already full plate of Things to Worry About?

the little kid in me is fighting to keep me from sending the letter. they're afraid of the conversation that it will inevitably bring forth. and i'm afraid that whatever mom says will trigger the "you're right and i'm wrong" instinct i have.

it seems like just about every conversation i have with her eventually leads to me trying to prove to her that i'm acting like an adult and that she doesn't need to worry.

but seriously? i don't need to. i AM an adult. i don't need to ACT like something that i already am and have been for eight years.

yes, i'm poor. yes, i'm struggling to make ends meet. and yes, these past few months have been some of the hardest i have ever faced.

but i am a goddamn adult and i am learning! i am doing everything i can to figure out what my next step is. i am doing it for ME, not to prove myself to HER

i don't hate her and i'm not even as angry as i thought i would be. it used to be that if i got angry at her, i would feel like a pouting teenager. but now i feel like an exasperated adult that's tired of their overbearing parent.

i think that's progress.

[lostinthewoods1991]

Blurred Lines?

As a teacher, I've always found myself battling insecurities, conflicts and questions about my identity/authority/authenticity. I always find myself gravitating towards being more of a friend to my students than a "teacher", for the simple reason that I'm inherently uncomfortable with anything hierarchical. I don't like being above or below anybody, I don't even want to be part of any hierarchy. But, that's wishing for the impossible, I guess? Anyhow, since I've chosen this profession for now, there are things I must make peace with, even if they aren't within my comfort zone. I do try my best to be responsible. In fact, I overwork because I function in extremes. Either I don't work at all or I work to the point of squeezing even the last ounce of energy out of me. There's no in between. I am acutely aware of my strengths and weaknesses as a teacher. Sometimes, what's my strength in one context probably becomes a weakness in another. However, there are days when I question if I am cut out for it at all. The week before last, I was showing my students a documentary prescribed in the syllabus. We were in the lab and each of them sat comfortably in a revolving chair while I sat at the back, watching over them. One of them leaned in more comfortably in his chair and put his feet up on another chair, an ordinary plastic chair. He looked back at me and I smiled. If that was how he wanted to sit, why not? We were outside our usual classroom setting anyway. All I wanted was for them and myself to feel free. After a while, our co-ordinator, also their teacher, walked in to say something about admissions. While I watched her interactions with students, I was struck by the stark difference in her tone and mine. She wasn't particularly imposing but her presence alone asserted the fact that she would take no nonsense from any of them. While I was thinking to myself I must take lessons from her, she noticed the one who had put his feet up. She looked at him in disbelief. "Is this how you sit in a class? Is this a cinema theatre? Where are your basic manners? How did the handle of your chair break? If you break any of these chairs, you aren't getting new ones. So, better use everything responsibly." He immediately sat straight while I instantly felt the need to disappear. Why did something that I had perceived as completely harmless evoke such a strong response from another person and a fellow teacher? It was a rude awakening. A part of me found her reaction unnecessary, another part of me called me an idiot. Soon, it was lunch break. The video was paused and I told them it would be good if they could have their lunch a bit faster than usual so we could finish the documentary. On my way out, the student, who was scolded earlier, came up to me and said, "Miss, do you think I am the one who broke that chair? It was already broken. It sounded like she was accusing me of breaking it." I found this situation tricky, given I could see how insulted he felt, I mentally agreed with him, but I couldn't take a stand against my colleague either. So, I smiled and told him she wasn't saying he was the one who broke it, she was only telling him that he must use things responsibly. He insisted that it wasn't how it had come across to him. As much as I empathised with him and I almost wanted to give him a gentle hug, I felt helpless. "Potte saaramilla. Ithonnum valya kaaryam aakkanda. Poyi food kazhich vaa." I managed to say that much. The rest of the day went by normally. There was nothing particularly big about this incident. But, it had a profound effect on me nevertheless. It was probably something even he wouldn't have bothered thinking about, for more than a day. But I did. It made me look back at my entire journey as a teacher. Every day, I realise there are parts of me that need to change and parts of me that I should not let go of. But, guess what the catch is? Sometimes, they both happen to be the same parts.

[libraryofcirclaria]

17 September 1253

Library of Circlaria

Third Level Society: First Version

Story Four: Meon Bell

Over the summer, I noticed that more and more of my supporters had been leaving to join Fenton's campaign. Traya Meris, neutral on the matter, speculated that Sari was going to win the Dungeonmaster election because of how the opposition was divided between myself and Fenton. Furthermore, Dungeonmaster Breen had endorsed Frame.

I took to the Public Section of the Ticketer, stating that I did not support either Fenton or Frame, because of how they were dividing the Caucus evermore between the Traditionalist camp and the Progressivist camp. I admitted that I had initially sided with the Traditionalist camp because of how much I had hated Sari's stance. However, I had recently distanced myself from the Traditionalists because of Fenton, who was too radical yet had been accusing me of spewing rumors of conspiracy. I explained all of this in the Public Section as well, and used that as a case for the majority of the Caucus to consider voting for me, in order for the Society to continue functioning in unity.

Alex Cromme of all people responded to that by accusing me of being the one to sow division in the Caucus. He then sent me a private message over the Ticketer, where, in his own words, he stated: "If you want Frame to lose, either support Fenton so that we may unite against her, or feign support for Sari, herself, yet continue your disruptive strife-making behavior among her supporters so that they, divided, may be defeated by Fenton."

I could not fathom the amount of manipulation by Cromme on this matter, though I know Fenton is the one behind Cromme on this. I raised this concern to Cromme as a response through that private message. And I told Cromme that he was helping Fenton's divisive tactics by serving as an enabler.

At this point, I realized that the point of my own campaign was to educate the Caucus to marginalize the ideals of Fenton and Frame, both equally skewed, though each in their own way. Of course, Cromme had been my public announcer for my Dungeonmaster campaign in the past. However, he had fallen silent on me in the last two weeks; and this had been the moment I learned that he was now on the side of Fenton. So I had to reach out to find a replacement. Up to this point, Traya Meris had been neutral. But with some negotiation, I felt that perhaps I could leverage some form of much needed support from her. So I reached out to her.

Like Cromme, Meris responded with silence.

I thought that perhaps she was busy. This all occurred two weeks before school, so I figured that I would reach out to her again after our second attempt at the quest we tried earlier in June. Yet when I had my avatar fly out to Antemaersa to met with her avatar, I discovered that Carneman had pulled the support of the army of the undead. That evening, I reached out to her again via private Ticketer message.

She responded that she would not help me on the quest until I publicly announced that I would end my Dungeonmaster campaign. Outraged, I refused.

And then, on Wednesday, September 13, I received a message co-signed by Fenton, Cromme, and Meris. The message read: "Stand down your Dungeonmaster campaign. If you refuse this counsel, and Sari Frame wins, we will join with her in an investigation which will charge you with the Policy violation of Disruptive Conduct, risking your expulsion from the Society."

I was truly baffled. I realized at this point, that Fenton had worked his diplomacy to consolidate support from the opposition from the numerous subdivisions by asserting his banter, inflamed and divisive in nature. I tried to save rationality within the opposition camp against Sari Frame, yet it failed.

I should have known better, though. In the course of human nature, in the ultimate conflict of the two, it is always emotion that triumphs over logic.

And now, Fenton had maneuvered himself into a position where he successfully convinced the opposition to Frame that I was the radical figure and not himself. In no uncertain terms, I firmly believe that the lengths Fenton went to do this were morally wrong in every aspect. Yet I had no choice. My only chance of survival as a Member of the Third Level Society, be it wrong as it is, was for me to stand down my own Dungeonmaster campaign and declare my support for Fenton.

So I did just that.

I made my statement last night. I bit my tongue as I wrote my post for the Public Stand, announcing the end of my run as a Dungeonmaster candidate, feigning apology for my past actions, and announcing my support for Cray Fenton to be the next Dungeonmaster.

The first response was actually from Sari Frame, congratulating me and commending me for "conforming to the conventions of the Caucus and finally respecting the universally expected norms of the Society."

And though the chief opponent to Sari Frame in this year's Dungeonmaster race, Cray Fenton responded to Sari with: "Well said."

I anticipate that it will not be long before my permanent departure from the Third Level Society.

<- 16 June 1253 <- || -> 16 October 1253 ->