#which will probably never be realized because capitalism

[aeide-thea]

truly just SUCH a typical tumblr experience but like.

Familiar Tumblr Name makes a post that's like: 'you know how fast fashion perpetuates itself by selling us clothing that gets dingy and grody really fast, so we have to replace it yearly?'

me: uh, no, actually—historically i've found that the few fast fashion pieces i acquired long outstayed their welcome, and were perfectly wearable long after i was heartily sick of them! but go on, i guess

FTN: 'let me tell you about this traditional domestic wisdom (implied: that's been lost because of, uh, capitalism) that will fix this problem (that you, too, definitely have) for you!'

me, googling: okay so this residue that FTN said was somehow a Fast Fashion thing is apparently generally caused by like. fabric softener and/or hard water. using discount detergents that skimp on active ingredients. using too much detergent so it doesn't wash out. letting your bedding go too long between washes. letting your washer go too long between cleans. etc. anyway. lots of specific factors here, many of which may in fact not apply to you in particular!

but like. why get specific when instead we could assert You Know This Problem, Right? This Lost Traditional Wisdom Will Definitely Help You Personally!!

[taviokapudding]

This year my dad found & gave me the Montblac my mom misplaced in 2016 that was supposed to be my deceased grandpa’s uni graduation gift; yesterday I got to draw for the first time in 3yrs without pain & inked a Diluc with the $500 pen

I ordered normal pens right after, it’s okay to laugh and cry

I know my old man is upstairs probably cackling because he used to doodle with his fountain pens. And also I’m relieved I can still draw & didn’t lose all my skills but the numbing in my shoulder has now evolved to soreness so I’ll try to draw once a week to build those muscles up again. Tldr my dominant arm is low key fighting the urge to slide outta my arm socket because in 2019 I fell and tore my trapezius muscle next to my spine with the hold the size of my hand. Tbh I only have a functioning right arm purely out of spite & self recovery since then & only until recently don’t suffer from the debilitating pain anymore but anyways.

The way I just 💀 upon realizing the ink refills are $20 & I bought 30 pens for the same price. And like y’all don’t understand, I re-inked the drawing 3 times to build up the depth between the Five & Below $5 color pencil layers. That’s like $4-$8 in total

I knew it was expensive but I never looked into it until my dad saw what I was doing and busted out laughing because apparently he did the same mistake when he graduated law school.

My first drawing in 3 yrs accidentally turned my sketchbook into an physical asset because of the fucking pen and I gotta save up to buy the refills down the road because THE INK WAS SO NICE TO DRAW WITH *punches air* I HATE THAT IT WAS A GOOD EXPERIENCE OH FUCK ME

[kittykatinabag]

While I greatly enjoy the subject of place making in urban design, I utterly hate the amount of pandering to capital holders a lot (if not most) of current "place making professionals" do in their work.

[creatingblackcharacters]

“Across cultures, darker people suffer most. Why?” Multiethnic and Multicultural Blackness

“Across cultures, darker people suffer most. Why?”- Andre 3000

Tell me what's wrong with this picture.

Hint: This is Miles Morales- from the video game depiction- canonically an Afro-Puerto Rican. Jefferson is Black American; Rio is Puerto Rican.

So why is the Cuban flag on their wall?

This is what happens when no one (with any saying power) in the board room is representative of the group being depicted! And mind you, this was produced under SONY and MARVEL, for the PS5, a product under two brands that combined churn out hundreds of millions in profit! And… No one on any level corrected them until the beta came out and fans saw it. That's how pervasive this sort of ignorance of other cultures can be. How are you writing a story about a character, and you don't even know how he identifies?

Multiethnic & Multicultural Blackness

Realistically, you’ve probably walked past many a biracial, multicultural, or multiethnic Black person before and assumed they were “just Black”. One example: Rae Dawn Chong- known as Mama du Pointe du Lac- is Afro-Chinese, but that Chinese background did not play into the role she played. A more personal example: my recent loctician was also Afro-Chinese, with very dark skin (she made jokes about how her eyes reveal it, but we can’t make those jokes here). I would have never known.

Point is, we reacted to what we saw, and that’s not an accident. Blackness is treated as a monolith, and an indicator of social level whether you realize it or not. You see a ‘Black’ person, and without wondering any further about their identity, you will treat them as you’ve been socialized to treat ‘Black’ people! But every Black person is not the same!

You don't have to write an entire essay with citations mid-story about how you learned so much about the Afro-Chicana or Afro-Iraqi experience for your main character. We didn't ask. But, slipping natural things here and there into the story of a character’s culture helps cement that yes, this character has this multicultural identity and it matters to them; it is who they are, it has an effect on their life and character in some way. It is how you deepen the character and show respect for the culture you are depicting!

I love using Miles as an example, so here’s a good example. In Across The Spiderverse, he goes to a party to celebrate Jefferson’s new position. In that scene, Rio walks through a mix of all his family members. Even when he speaks with his parents in this scene, they managed to incorporate his Afro-Puerto Rican identity without shouting to the rooftops “HEY! HE’S BLACK AND LATINO! SEE HOW I’M TELLING YOU?”

Race vs Ethnicity

The Black experience stretches as far as the African diaspora- worldwide! It's why it's frustrating when people assume "Black people" means "United States" and the West's perception of "Third World Africa" (especially when it comes to existing in media that people have strongly claimed is just White). Latin and Central America? West Europe? East Europe? Southwest Asia and North Africa? The Mediterranean? East Asia? Australia? You will find Black people!! Just because we aren't the majority doesn't mean we aren't there!

But just because we're Black doesn't mean we're all "African-American". Ethnicity is "the quality or fact of belonging to a population group or subgroup made up of people who share a common cultural background or descent." Race is "a categorization of humans based on shared physical or social qualities into groups generally viewed as distinct within a given society."

"But I thought you said Black is an identity!"

It is! Black does not only mean “Black American”. The reason Black Americans identify as just Black (which is why I demand that you show respect by capitalizing it) is due to the loss of our specific heritages from the enslavement meant to scourge us of them, to make us property. To call us by our actual names would be acknowledging our equivalent humanity and culture. In order to enforce slavery without qualm, they had to be violently removed. Black Africans of numerous ethnic groups, now violently forced into this amalgamation, had to come together and forge something new. We had to find a common connection- our Blackness (and that experience as defined by whiteness in this society) was it. It also functions as a reclamation of our identity, of our presence in this world. We are a culture, we are an entire group of people, and we should be acknowledged as such.

Again: all Black people are NOT the same!!! This is like… anti-racism 101, but so many people continue to fall for it, even those ‘well-meaning’. You cannot ask one Black person to represent the ENTIRETY of the world's Black experience. Many other factors will come into play, and this includes their culture.

Keep in mind how being multicultural and/or biracial and Black will put many people at a crossroads that is complex and difficult to traverse. There will always be parts of incomplete acceptance, an extra layer of code-switching based on where you are and who you're with. A Black Kenyan is not a Black American, who is not a Black Greek, who is not a Black Colombian, who is not a Black Filipino. They're different cultures, that will treat each other differently. Society- from strangers to your own family- may try to pull multiethnic Black people one direction or another- are you ‘Black’ enough, are you ‘technically Black’, are you ‘technically’ something else, are you that ethnicity enough?

(I will discuss Black biracial people with whiteness in the next lesson, because I felt like the interracial and biracial White & Black topic needed its own talk, but this is relevant there as well.)

Where- In the world- Is-

Coming back from the opening of this lesson: keep in mind that you need to know specifically WHERE your character is from! For example, just saying they're "Afro-Latino" reveals very little- there's an entire chunk of the planet that falls under the "Latin America" category (as defined by U.S. standards).

A follower of mine- they identify as Caribbean Latine- sent me this in discussion about the topic:

"I wish people actually thought about where their Afro-Latino characters are from. It’s always very vague and it’s so reductive because an Argentinian Afro-Latino is very different from a Puerto Rican Afro-Latino. This is very subjective but I think this issue is pretty blatant in The Owl House. They flash the Dominican flag a couple of times, but when it comes to actually making her Afro-Latino…I don’t think they did a very good job. They barely made her Black in the first place. I don’t want to dog on the voice actors too much because there are a million factors that might have affected this but. When they make a point to have the characters speak Spanish, it’s really noticeable when the accent/dialect doesn’t align with their ethnicity. Dominicans have a really identifiable dialect in Spanish. When the Afro-Latino characters speak in Spanish, it’s the most neutral accent I’ve ever heard. This is such a me-issue, but this is to say that people should actually research where their characters are from instead of vaguely painting them as Afro-Latino. We are all SOOO different. Our dialects vary so much that sometimes an Afro-Mexican and an Afro-Puerto Rican won’t understand each other even though we speak the same language.”

WHO are we talking about? How does that factor into their identity, and the way the world- both in story, and how readers from around the world- will perceive them? Will an Afro-Dominican know that they're supposed to relate to your character if they're vaguely Latino?

Note:

While I was doing my research, I noticed that searching for “Afro-_” doesn’t always offer much, as it does the ubiquitous antiblack experience and roles in politics and resistance. And while I think that’s super cool and mandatory, I think another way to approach this would be to focus on the culture as a whole, and then go from there. So for example, if I wanted my character to be Afro-Mexican- maybe even from a specific location in Mexico, or their family is from that area- it would be easier to look up the cultures and activities of that area itself, and then inform with my knowledge of how Blackness is treated there.

As I am not a member of these groups, I thought it would be better for me to find resources that better explain, than to try to speak for them myself. Hell, just from doing this research, I learned that I have far more to educate myself on. There are so many good resources out there! People speak on these topics that y’all want to know about, and there are so many books and videos- find them and educate yourselves! This is a long section filled with links, so I'm going to put them under a readmore.

I also could not possibly sit here and name every single ethnic combo because that would be endless. So what I'm going to do is give some broad strokes of a few major groupings, that will hopefully start you on the path of how to conduct your own research!

The African Diaspora

This is such a good resource. There are short chapters going into the details and history of Black people in many regions, all around the globe. I’m honestly in love with how this is set up. It's a good starting point!

Black Africans

This one isn't specifically an example of multiethnicity; I just want to emphasize that there are many ethnicities and cultures within Africa itself! One is still multiethnic if they are Black American and Ivorian, for example! As the birthplace of humanity, there are plenty of ethnic groups in Africa with endlessly rich cultures, and all of them will come with different foods, fashions, languages!

Notable Figures: Nelson Mandela, Tobi Lou, Patrice Lumumba, Tems, Wizkid, Kwame Nkrumah, Chinua Achebe, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, Wangarĩ Maathai, Agnes Tirop, Chéri Samba, Sheikh Abdullah Ssekimwanyi

Internalized antiblackness in African countries is due to the long and violent history of western imperialism in Africa. “The Carving Up of Africa” by European nations has long worn on the continent, its resources, and its peoples, and that includes remnants of their beliefs. Another pervasive idea in media is that all African peoples are ‘poor’, ‘living in huts’, and ‘starving’. There are people doing that all over the world, it is not inherent to being Black African. But even if that were the case- and it is not, every African does not live that way- it would still be the fault of aforementioned imperialism. Please do your research, and do not EVER write that if someone is African, they ‘must not be used to food’ or ‘have never seen such magnificent things as [what white character offers]’.

Afro Latinos

Notable figures: Celia Cruz, Frantz Fanon, Zoe Saldaña, Colman Domingo, Lupita Nyongo, Gina Torres, Cardi B, MJ Rodriguez

Notable music styles- Reggaeton? Salsa? Rumba? A lot of the best music of the area has roots in Blackness.

Antiblackness in the Afro-Latino community

Colorism plays a huge role in perception, to the point of putting you into classes of people. From the same Caribbean Latine follower:

Also, they have to do research on racial groupings in LATAM. It’s unavoidable. A Latino that’s considered Black in the USA may not be considered Black in LATAM. This is because of Blanqueamiento. That is a LOT to explain, but TLDR: A big difference between racism in the USA and racism in LATAM is that white people aren’t focused on segregation. It’s racism through imposition. “Blanqueamiento” refers to whitening and it’s the belief that you can cleanse the bloodline by having children with white people. The lineage will get increasingly lighter. That is why whenever a child comes out lighter than their parents, people will praise the parents for “bettering the race” (mejorando la raza). So a light skinned Black person in the USA may have another racial classification in LATAM (prieto, moreno, mulato, etc)."

One example is 'pelo malo' (bad hair)- how afro-textures are deemed unwanted, as a holdover from Spanish colonization and ideas of whiteness being equivalent to purity. Another severe example is of the slur "mayate"- apparently, it means "f*ggot black bug". If you're Black, and someone ever calls you this, know that you are being severely insulted. If you are interested in more Afro-Mexican history, Colonial Blackness by Herman Bennett is a book that follows the stories of enslaved Africans and their descendants in 17th century Mexico, questioning the existing history told that often leaves out their presence.

Afro Indigenous

*Indigenous doesn't just mean "to America", though the links are to the Afro-indigenous experience in the U.S.

Notable Figures: Crispus Attucks, Lucy Parsons, George Henry White, Charlie Patton, Jimi Hendrix, Eartha Kitt, Lena Horne, Ausben Jordan

What’s interesting is that it was much harder for me to find solid evidence of people who are Black Natives, mainly because it seems this history was lost and/or never recorded, or due to Blood Quantum and antiblackness, not acknowledged. That is something worth thinking about, if you are writing an Afro-Native character.

Blood quantum: A system developed by the United States federal government to determine how much “Indian blood” an Indigenous person has and if they are qualified for Tribal enrollment. Blood quantum limits accessibility to citizenship and is designed to decrease enrollment numbers. Today, some tribes still use blood quantum as criteria for Tribal enrollment. As part of their sovereign status, every federally recognized Tribe determines its own criteria for membership and enrollment.

Further reading:

Young, Black Native activists say it's time to appreciate Indigenous diversity

Black Indians: A Hidden Heritage

Blood Politics: Race, Culture, and Identity in the Cherokee Nation of Oklahoma By Circe Sturm (2002)

We Refuse to Forget: A True Story of Black Creeks, American Identity, and Power By Caleb Gayle (2023)

Afro-Arab/SWANA

Notable figures: Bilal ibn Rabah, Fatima Bernawi, Layla F. Saad, Samirah Srur Fadel, Ahmed Osman, Sara El Hassan (known as bsonblast), Ali Jiddah, Maryam Abu Khaled

Here's an amazing resource cataloguing the history of Afro-Palestinians, as well as a timeline of the solidarity between Black Americans, Afro-Palestinians, and Palestinians!

I sat here and tried very hard to come up with a way to summarize this, especially given current events in our world, and I found that at this moment, I lack the skill to do it. Not because there’s nothing to say- God knows there’s plenty- but unraveling the intersections that comes with the SWANA experience would take me far longer than a summary. I think Maryam Abu Khaled can speak on her experience far better than I, anyway:

Afro-AAPI

Notable figures: apl.de.ap, Michael Ealy, H.E.R., Karrueche, Rae Dawn Chong, Naomi Campbell, Naomi Osaka, Chanel Iman, Anderson Paak

Interview from famous R&B artist, guitarist, actress for Belle, and Afro-Filipina: H.E.R.

There is a strain between Black and Asian communities, in the United States and beyond, white supremacy playing a major role. But that does not mean that we cannot move forward together, or have not shown one another solidarity.

One of my biggest pet peeves that happens often in fandom spaces is fans who claim that Asians- East Asians in particular, but Asians in general- don't know what Black people are and what we look like. It's racist to every ethnicity and background involved. Yes, there are Black East Asian and Black South Asian people. Yes, these countries have access to the Internet to look up what we look like. There have been plenty of well-drawn Black people by those artists. Just like every white artist isn't going to draw a caricature, every Asian artist isn't going to. It all comes down to practice, their commitment to their craft, and their commitment to not being racist. Being from these areas is not an excuse for not drawing Black people accurately- the same amount of effort they can be put into depicting a white person (that would also be a minority in these places), can be put into depicting us as well. Knock it off.

Conclusion

Antiblackness is unfortunately ubiquitous, yes, but that doesn’t mean the rest of every Black person’s life experience is going to be. We are everywhere on this planet, which means there’s a planet’s worth of experiences to be had. If you decide that you want to create a Black character with a multiethnic or multicultural background, you need to commit to that! Even by mentioning their music, or their food, or- if you’re going to get into it- how others might treat them due to their Afro-identity. Something that lets us as the viewers know that you didn’t just write a white person and then claim they were “Afro-Blank” for clout. If you mean it, do it, because as always, it’s the thought that counts, but the action that delivers!

[inupibaldspot]

Blue is the color of royalty.

Pairing : Gojo Satoru x Reader

Note ₊˚⊹♡ : Staring Gojo as the crown prince and you crown princess in an arranged marriage! Sexual intonation is there but nothing major. Mentions of death and cheating as in infidelity. 4.3k words (this is usually too long for me to write)

Gojo remembers that day very clearly, his throat felt constricted, breath felt raspy with the strenuous inhale and exhales, the cuff of his shirt now soaked wet as he wipes his tears furiously trying to console himself amidst the crowd.

He was six when it was announced by the emperor, his father announced an arrangement of love between the Royal Family of Gojo and the Duke of the South. The young crown prince with as equally young you, the second child to the Duke of the South.

Through his tears he hears clanks of fork and plate beside him as his two friends were eating away while Gojo was wallowing in despair, he didn’t want to marry you—he has never even seen you!

Shoko the daughter of the Duke of the North simply liked coming to parties because this was the only place she didn’t have restrictions on how much sweets she could eat. While Geto Suguru, son of Count Geto simply came because he was told to by his father.

He sniffs as he tries to console himself, he already had a fixed idea on how he wants to get married and it was not this! He wanted to save a damsel in distress-be of noble or commoner blood and wanted that event to be a ‘love at first sight situation.’

He peeps over to where a outburst was as people surrounded a small figure muttering congratulations. Surely you were there. He thinks that you were probably surrounded by leeching adults, awaiting an opportunity for a slip-up which would cause an exaggerated rumors. Adults from high society were simply like that.

Gojo stands on the ball of his feet, trying to see over the crowd and from the push in between the cracks of the crowd, he does see you.

And you were beautiful.

You were adorned with the finest jewelry, size fitting your petite figure, with a beautiful dress adorned with classic lace and pearls. He swears in between his mesmerization that you were perfect.

So mesmerized he loses balance and falls over, his butt now on the floor as he soothe the ache while trying to stand up. Geto cackled at the sight. “ What’s wrong? Your expression is so dumb right now,Satoru.”

Gojo clears his throat as he tries to maintain dignity, the dignity of the crown prince. “The lady I am betrothed to is a pleasure to the eye. I am pleased…”

Geto sighs at his friend’s already being stupid. “But you know what I heard-“ he starts. “The young child of the Duke is like a machine.”

Gojo sooner or later (over the years you visited him quite a lot, often staying over at the palace as the travel time between the capital and the south was quite long.) he totally gets what Geto’s words that day meant.

You were literally a golden child for the Duke and now, a golden wife for him; the purest of all pure bred nobles. any work done is to be completed in a day, you oversee everything that is going on in the palace and doing a good job—so much so that his mom the empress was even letting you over see some matters.

“y/n,let’s go out on a walk.” Gojo would beam, excitedly walking over to you. “The afternoon sun is pleasant today.”

You had a straight look on your face as you stare into Gojo’s eyes, as if you were judging ever inch of him. “I rather suggest you get some training done, your highness. Your body seems quite feeble.”

Gojo gwaks at you who is now walking away,with a book at hand either to the library or his mother’s side—the empress.

Somewhere along the line Gojo realizes that you were coming over to butter up the emperor and the empress. You were not there to see him. Gojo seethed . Over time any attraction he felt when he first saw you is now crumbled and blown into dust by the winds. He could not care less for a person who was so busy to even spare a glance at him—fiancée or not!

When he was fifteen he was sent to a neighboring smaller country which excelled in military and academic—the country was said to be 10 years infront of any other when it came to their literary and research.

Gojo felt like he could breathe again, his bone pops as he stretches as he is finally free. Away from you for atleast four years. This new found freedom away from your judging eyes was making feel as if he were floating—he studied he swears, his academic score was always great but more than that he also spend his royal gold coins as he drinks away even though he was under age , and maybe even a few gropes to the beautiful ladies passing by.

This was the first time Gojo had been to the red light district and certainly it was not the last. But who would scold him, he was the son of the one of the most powerful empire Gojo Satoru and was the crown prince. Who would are say anything to him? The thinks to himself as he lays currently in bed, chest bare with a lady who is not his fiancée.

But don’t worry too much, Geto was by his side too! If his parents know about this— Gojo is at least relieved that he won’t go down alone.

At the age of nineteen, he finally comes back to the empire,now standing at a taller height and broad shoulders. The air around Gojo itself feels mature…and extremely attractive—to bad he was engaged at the age of six. He loves the gaze the maids near him gives, affirming and stroking his already enflated ego.

He sends a flirtatious wink at one of the better looking maids with a larger bottom as he signals a ‘follow-me’ as his head nods to a empty room.

Just as he was about to turn the corner,a figure popped up. He had crumbled when he was six and he has once again at nineteen. You stepped out of the corner in a beautiful blue dress with inside frills of white lace, the blue puff on your shoulder adorned with gold and you wearing the same metal on your ears and neck made it so much more ethereal.

“Your highness.My apologies, I’ve been so busy with the revolt at the south border it must have slipped my mind.” You speak, why were you not as fazed as he was. “I had not known you had arrived.” Why was your heart not racing like his was?

But he must say, the years have been good to you. You were taller but now shorter than he was, the fats of your cheeks now slimmed down making the rest of your features more enhanced ,more beautiful. You blink confused as Gojo’s eyes trail around, relishing every part of now an adult you. In this instance you are the most beautiful piece of existence there is in man kind.

“What?” He wears a smug expression as he crosses his hands and stands tall. “Did ya miss me?”

You blink, as if you were genuinely confused. “Yes I did. You are my fiancé after all,your highness.”

And there goes Gojo’s resolution to not fall for you—just with these simple words, he is once again head over heels for you.

You did miss him after all! Gojo giggles to himself when he remembers the interaction,while Geto sits on the sofa, as he sips in the evening tea that was brought in. “But it’s been what? Four years since been you’ve been away.” Geto says, trying his best to control his smirk as he sees thunder clouds form on top of Gojo’s head. “Maybe y/n had been seeing someone else.”

Gojo shakes the part of his brain which reprimands him for his hypocrisy, he had been with women, lots of them when he was away but now the simple idea of a man being with you, makes him worry as if he is ill. His stomach burns with jealousy; it would be worse if it were a single man.

Many men would be worse than a few, a few would be worse than two, a two will be worse…than one? No-

—It would be the worst if you have a simply been with one man who you’ve completely undone your heart to. Does your expression form to a loving one—one he is yet to see? Do you whisper sweet words into that man’s undeserving ears? Oh how he wishes there could be a battlefield where he could fight for your love then he would not lose!

Shoko blows out a puff of smoke, which comes out of a tobacco filled-elaborately design hookah—pipe. “Nope. Your fiancée has been single as a nun.” She says in a matter of fact tone.

“Wha-wait…none?” Gojo manages to whisper out, head still wrapping around Shoko’s reply. “She must have! She does well in high society, is beautiful, anything she wears becomes a fashion statement, and she known for being intelligent! She must had a man or two to console her in the absence of her fiancé!”

Nobles have always done that, husbands leaving for the red light district as soon as he is away from his wife, while the girls wife is in bed with younger workers in bed while the husband was away.

Shoko thinks Gojo is simply bratty as she waves him off, taking another pull of air from the pipe. “Nope—your lady doesn’t play,I think I’ve only ever seen her in work mode.” While Gojo giggles to himself on how Shoko referred to you as ‘his’ lady making her and a Geto raise an eyebrow.

And boy— in work mode you certainly where in his absence of his studies because now he sits in the dinner table,completely silent.

The long table filled with lavish food,the royal couples will most likely never finish and Gojo, the crown prince sits with his mother and father, the emperor and empress with his fiancée.

It was then when he realized—no felt it to his bones that he was replaced! Your smart brain and smooth tongue had worked his way into his parents' hearts and now he sits silently, not knowing how to join into the conversation as if he was the one who was to be married into the family.

“My…your highness.” Your doll like eyes blink at him and with a flutter of your lashes and a hand placed on his thighs, Gojo feels heat rush to his cheeks. “You must eat.”

“Gojo!” His father shouts from the other side of the dinner table. “Don’t be picky, you’re an adult now!” His mother giggled, bringing her hands to cover her mouth.

“Oh shut up, old man.” Gojo seethed , he stands on his feet, ready to walk away from the table. But of course his body freezes when you hold onto the fabric on his pants. He grits his teeth.

You were looking at him with a pout, eye brows furrowed as you shake your head in a disapproving manner. “You mustn’t speak to his majesty in that manner, your highness.”

But Gojo wasn’t really listening as his eyes trail down to your cleavage which was entirely exposed from this angle. God—he almost sees red, so much so that it even drips red…drips red?

You shriek, losing your cool as your fiancé stands with a confused look and blood dripping down his nose. You quickly turn to the Royal couple, “My apologies your majesties but the crown prince seems rather unwell so we will take our leave.” You grab a cloth piece from the table and rush to aid Gojo.

You place the piece of cloth on his nose as you lead him by his fingers with a gentle tug, you call out for the maids for help and a doctor while you make him sit on his bed.

The doctor shakes his head. “Your Majesty must’ve been stressed about something…or he may have overworked himself with something.”

You hum as you look at Gojo’s dumb look, a nostril filled with cotton. “What has been stressing your mind,your majesty?”

“Why don’t you think I have been overworking myself?!” He barks back, hand shooing away all of the workers in the room,leaving only him and you.

“Ever since you came back, you have simply been wasting your time away.” You shake your head as Gojo jumps,he is as guilty as charged. “You hardly even frequent the training grounds anymore, your majesty.”

Gojo turned his body and his eyes in your direction while he sits on his lavish bed as he reached out to wrap his hands around your hips,pulling you closer to him.

He rests his chin on your stomach as he looks up at you, you look down at him with a confused look. Why was he acting like this?

“Your majesty this, your majesty that—!” You almost laugh at the amount of sass in this man when he spoke those words. “Quit that and call me Satoru.” He demands.

You let out a smile, gojo thinking that this moment when he is graced with your smile has blessed his years to come. “Okay Satoru.” Gojo is simply undone when it came to you, a clumsy mess. As he feels hot in his head.

“Oh my —“ you shriek again. “Satoru, your other nose is also bleeding.”

Gojo thinks the best way to begin the day if at times when he sees you at the training grounds. After you had reprimanded him for skipping his training, the following day he wake up at 5am and trains till his training was completed by about 8am.

He sometimes see you walk down the near by pathway as he wipes his sweat, clinging to his body from the now heating sun and intense training. Gojo normally trains with Geto Suguru, now a Royal Knight of the Palance, as he is the only one who can keep up with him.

And when ever he does see you, people see the flowers bloom and the air suddenly becomes a tad bit hotter. Gojo waves his hand in the air like a child waiting for you to do the same. You lift your hands gently and offer a small wave, smile hidden shyly behind your other hand, a dignified princess indeed.

But one thing bad about your visits to the training ground? You were alone.

Gojo swings his sword, acting cool making his muscles on his back ripple as he knows your presence is in attendance for todays training. He is sure to impress you!

After his routine was done, he turns to you giving the most handsome stare he could muster with a personal gust of wind to help him today only to find you with another man… You, the crown princess with Haibara, another knight belonging to Geto’s team.

To make matters worse, you looked so adorable and cozy,body heat completely warm as he noticed you were in a jacket, a larger one, one belonging to the military. A jacket that was not his!

Gojo rushes over and quickly takes of your jacket gently before he swings it on the ground, before he gives you his jacket despite your complaint on how ‘Haibara was simply making sure I was not cold.’

He pout as you give him a confused look. “When ever you’re cold, just come to me… Don’t use other men’s jacket…”

There was one day when Gojo realized how easy you could slip away, gone forever.

You and him were in the Royal Garden, Gojo beaming at the thought that you finally decided to hang around him. Your eyes opens as you take a sip from the cup ,confused as to why Gojo was acting like a puppy when thier owner comes back home. Loveless marriage or not, you had to act like you two were in love. The palace walls have ears after all so sometimes you liked to humor Gojo—just a little.

Gojo hums as he has his chin on his hands,pupils turned to heart shapes as he beams at how lovely you are. When you suddenly dropped your cup as you look into his eyes. “y/n…?” Just then blood seeps through the crack of your lips as you tumble from your seat.

Before you fall to the ground,Gojo is quick to reach your arms before you head ground first. He shouts for help as workers and doctors rushed to them,as he wraps his hands around you pleading to the gods above that you are safe. “My love…please come back to me.”

You did gain consciousness the next morning to find Gojo looking at you with gaping mouth, the color under his eyes were darkened. Did he not sleep for the duration of your unconscious state? “Sato..ru..?”

His eyes well up as the skin near his eyes and cheeks flush red, with the first stream of tears you are engulfed and pushed into his arms as he bleeds your ears on how worried he was.

While he was away, he had not been a good human being if he were to be honest. Many of his letters from family,friends and you remain closed, probably burned to ashes by now. If he had gone through his letter maybe he would have been aware that it was found that you had a rather frail health.

While Gojo sniffles into the crook of your neck( he is definitely taking advantage of the situation ) you smile to yourself, a tiny one. Yes. This is the Gojo you remember being engaged to. A clumsy spoiled but good kid.

Shhh—Did you know the walls have ears?

But this time they are talking. There are whispers among the maids, worker, butlers and even the stable cleaner that her highness the crown princess has an affair—a lover. I mean after all your fiancé is a tall attractive man who is literally the crown prince. If such a person was showing such open affection but you were not reciprocating it? Hmmm? Suspicious! I rest my case.

“I was careless…” you mutter to yourself as your look outside the tall palace windows, eyes a few workers who were cleaning up stray leaves by the poarch.

“About what,love?”

A sudden reply to a question where you weren’t expecting an answer made you jump slightly as you peered to see Gojo looking at you with a smile on his face. “Good morning,love.” His hand reached around your waist as he bends down and kisses your forehead. Gojo has been acting far too much like a husband ever since he has been back from his studies and you were still not used to it.

“Kyaa— look it’s the prince and princess.”

“They’re so love dovey first thing in the morning.”

“I guess the rumors on the crown princess is fake…”

You two stilled as hushed whispers were heard. Gojo seemed rather displeased that he was interrupted plus evesdropped on as his hands comically tighten into a fist. “Those insolent fools must not want their tongue…How dare they listen to us speak—“

But you on the other hand had your eyes wide, hands near your mouth as you gape in realization.

Bingo!

You quickly turn to Gojo who seems to still at the unfamiliar attention as he jumps slightly, as you walk closer and place your hand on his chest which sends his heart heat racing. “I need you to act like a lover to me.”

Gojo blinks once.

Twice.

“Was I not a lover to you all these time—?!” He barks, a vein popped on his forehead.

You stare at him with pretty blinks of confusion along with furrowed eyebrows, “what are you saying? You’re my fiancé through arrangement.” You say in a matter of fact tone. “You and I are not lovers, Satoru.”

Gojo bites the inside of his cheeks, his heart is filled with unwanted emotions—anger, sadness,disappointment,shame? Fine! If he wants you to act like a lover— he’ll act like a love. Your lover.

Before you know it, one of his hands slips around your waist as the other grabs your face, his nose now against your cheeks making you shudder at the sudden change in vibe.

He smears his lips around the corner of your lips first, your makeup which took too long for your taste now smeared. He decides to now nip your lower lips, making you gasp as you feel him make tiny licks and nips. “Sa-satoru…” he groans when you say his name.

His lips are finally on yours as the corner of Gojo’s lips tug upwards when he was met in realization that you are eagerly waiting for him with soft presses of your lips as his tongue slips in pretty easily. Something bubbles inside you chest when your thoughts trail to the fact that Gojo was an exemplary kisser—your chest tightens harder when you are reminded of Gojo’s visits to women of the red light district.

You were aware of these but back in the days, you were not bothered at his actions at all—Gojo was simply beautiful after all. You did not mind ever since you first got engaged but at this moment, it tightened your heart as if leaves a nasty aftertaste.

You probably don’t know that Gojo has never stepped inside such business ever since he got back home—to you.

As he sucks, wet presses on your tongue and bites —just as you were feeling lightheaded and wanting more Gojo pulls away.

“Satoru…?” Gojo muttered as swear when he sees your disheveled state, hair a mess, clothing slightly crumpled and lipstick smudged in the sexiest way possible.

“What?” He feigns cool as if there isn’t a significant tightening in his pants as he turns around. “I’m just acting as your lover.” If he wants you to act like a lover. He will do as you say.

Now the walls are giggling, yeah…this phrase isn’t going to cut it anymore. The maids whisper hush talks to the chefs and chefs to the delivery man and then the public. The news is that the crown prince and princess were so in love, they could hardly be apart.

The crown prince sweeping the princess of the ground pulled into a hug, the crown prince sheepishly nuzzling into the princess’s crook of her neck as he comes from behind, quick passionate kisses along the lavish hallways when they think no one is looking( the pair know that they are looking.)

The opportunist in you quickly suggests to his father that it is wise to release the copies of letters you had sent to him when he was away—yea, you made copies of your letters. The emperor was pleased, he laughed and entertained your suggestion. Gojo at this point has given up on making you realize his feelings and simply does what ever you say…

The public raved over the release making the royals more likable to the public, there were even talks on how they already could dream of you and Gojo as the ruling royals.

For the public that wish does come indeed true in the worst possible manner.

The emperor had suddenly fallen ill as he falls into a rough bloody cough, sometimes can hardly eat plus with no energy that he could barely stand. By rule book, in such scenarios the duty as the governor of the empire falls onto the crown prince—Gojo thinks he is ready, he was born to do this after all but all preparations were interrupted when the revolt in the South became a bigger issue more so because that is the region you came from.

Your father, the Duke’s troops kept getting ambushed and were losing morale quickly. Gojo watches you who was praying , to the gods that your father and your people be safe. If that is your wish, he shall be your god.

The same night Gojo groups up his men and marches south. This is the least a husband can do for his lover.

You almost faint when you hear this news,muttering nervously under her breath when you were having a fig-jam toast breakfast in bed. The toast falls from your mouth. “What?”

Now you think you are dreaming, it was one disaster after another! You gently rub circles on your father in law’s hand as Gojo’s father calms you. “It is a duty of a ruler to help his people… Gojo will come back victorious,my dear. You worry too much.”

The empress soothes you, otherwise a straight faced person with never an emotion on your face becomes such a mess for her son. As long as you are by Gojo’s side, his mother can stay assured for the rest of eternity. If you were by his side, Gojo will remain smiling.

It took one season for the idiot to arrived, his hands broken and now hangs on a sling. “I hope you’re not too angered by my actions.” Gojo knew he was wrong to march off that day, he was unprepared too but when he saw the tremble on your fingertips, he simply wants nothing but to make you secure, safe.

He watches you walk towards him before you say. “I think I am dreaming your highness, I had not known you had arrived.” You still has a straight faced look as if your fiancé is all injured with even a broken arm, voice still so steady.

Gojo laughs at this but just as he was about to reply with a snide remark he is cut off, your lips are on his. “You worry me too much, your highness. I fear you are not good for my heart.”

Gojo kisses you. His working hand snaking around your waist. Your lips are softer than he imagined it to be when he was away and when you let out a small moan he deepens it, stronger and desperate as if trying to mark every inch of you.

“How ever m-“ you push him away, gojo whine’s already craving the plush of your lips. “I am very displeased by your action. Even if you are the crown prince it is wiser if your discussed with the strategists and make a plan first. That was very—very unwise of you you highness. I cannot from the depth of my heart believe you would do something so stupid— honestly Gojo I thought you were so much smarter than that . Your behavior is very much unacceptable-“

Gojo almost bleeds from his ears as he listens to you lecture him, the crown prince, future ruler now on his knees. He fights back a smile fearing you would be further angered but his mind was filled with thoughts of , ‘shit, I can’t wait to be with this person for the rest of my life.

‎‧₊˚✧[Ending Thoughts ]✧˚: I almost made this a smut halfway through buahaha (*꒦ິ꒳꒦ີ)

Reblogs, like and comment are appreciated! Love this work? Check out other here (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ) ♡

[waitimcomingtoo]

Bruised Like Violets

Pairing: Peeta Mellark x Reader

Synopsis: you and Peeta are reunited after he is rescued from the Capital (No hijacking)

Masterlist

You raced down the hallway the moment you were told where Peeta was being kept. It had been 8 long, painful weeks of waiting for him to he rescued and finally, you’d gotten word that he was back safely. You pushed past guards and burst into the room he was in, heart pounding when your eyes finally landed in him.

“Peeta?” Your voice came out as barely above a whisper. Peeta had his back to you but you could see just from his neck how skinny he had gotten. He slowly turned to you with a hardened grimace on his face. Once Peeta’s eyes met yours, his entire face softened. His eyes glazed over with tears and his bloodied lip tugged into a smile.

“Hi.” He said in a small voice. You didn’t know what came over you, but you threw your arms around him and kissed him for the first time in 8 weeks. Peeta immediately melted into you and kissed you back out of instinct. When you remembered that your love was just supposed to be an act and there were no cameras around for you to be performing for, you jumped back.

“Sorry.” You said and touched your lips, which were buzzing from kissing him.

“Dont be sorry. Come here.” Peeta shook his head and pulled you back towards him by tugging on your jumpsuit. He kissed you again and you felt your eyes well up with tears as you kissed him back. You wrapped your arms around his neck again and tangled them in his unkept hair to get him as close as possible.

“I missed you so much. I thought you were dead.” You whispered against his lips as your tears fell down your face.

“It’s okay. I’m here now.” He said as he wiped them with his thumbs. That’s when you caught sight of the bruises on his wrists, as if he had been tied down repeatedly against his will. You then took in the rest of him and realize he was half his weight and covered in bruises and welts all over his body.

“Oh, Peeta. What did they do to you?” You whispered and cupped his face to see his black eye better.

“It’s not as bad as it looks. Don’t worry about it.” He lied as you continued to inspect his arms.

“Don’t worry? All I’ve been able to do since they separated us was worry about you. The only reason I agreed to be the Mockingjay was because they said they’d rescue you. You’re the only thing that’s been on my mind since the arena.”

“I didn’t know I meant that much to you.” Peeta said through a cracked smile.

“You’re joking, right?” You cracked a smile back before leaning in to kiss him again. You weren’t used to kissing when there were no cameras around, but you missed him so much that you didn’t even think about it.

“I’m so glad they got you out of there. I would’ve never forgiven Haymitch if you died. Or Finnick. Or Joanna. If I lost you…” You trailed off as your eyes welled up again. Peeta shook his head and cupped your face to get you to look at him.

“You didn’t lose me. I’m right here.” He told you. You broke into a smile and pulled him into a tight hug.

“You’re real. You’re in my arms again.” You gushed as you squeezed him as tightly as you could. Your moment was interrupted by one of the nurses taping your shoulder.

“We need to bathe him and dress his wounds.” She let you know.

“Can she stay?” Peeta asked without letting go of you.

“You probably won’t want to see this.” The nurse told you as she held up some gauze and sutures. You looked over at Peeta whose big brown eyes looked scared at the thought of being left alone again. You just got him back, so there was no way you were leaving again.

“It’s okay. I’ll stay.” You said to him. The nurse gave you a look and went behind Peeta to unbutton his hospital gown. When the gown dropped, your jaw went with it. Almost every inch of his emaciated body was black and blue. You could tell he had been whipped and beaten over a long period of time. You started to cry without even realizing it but quickly wiped your tears it look brave for him.

“It’s okay. It doesn’t hurt anymore.” He assured you while the nurse started to dress his wounds.

“There’s no way that doesn’t hurt.” You whispered.

“You’re right. Hold my hand, please? So I can squeeze it.” He asked innocently. You couldn’t help but smile and took his hand to give it a big squeeze.

“Still keeping up with the lover boy act I see.” One of the nurses mentioned as the stitched something up in Peeta’s arm.

“I’ve gotten really good at it. You’d almost think it was real.” Peeta chuckled without looking at you, but it made you blush nonetheless.

“Almost.” You nodded, making Peeta look at you.

“I heard you had quite the lover girl act going yourself.” The nurse continued.

“What do you mean?” Peeta asked curiously.

“Yeah, what?” You laughed in embarrassment.

“You’re the Mockingjay. People watch you and then talk. I heard you were screaming and crying and hugging the TV every time Peeta was on. And then screaming some more at anyone who made a comment about the things Peeta was saying.”

“I was forced-“ Peeta began.

“I know. I made sure everyone knew. That wasn’t the real you that I know.” You cut him off before he could apologize. Peeta smiled fondly at you now that he knew you had been fighting for him, even when you were separated.

“It’s hard to remember the real me.” He admitted.

“I remember him. I’ll remind you.” You shrugged. Peeta smiled again, but just for a second until he was flinching from his sutures.

“It’s okay. I got you.” You squeezed his hand before kissing his knuckles. Peeta forgot about his pain momentarily and felt himself blush. You were being a lot nicer to him than anyone had been to him in a while. But even if he had been treated with nothing but kindness, any affection coming from you was enough to send a blush across his face.

“You need a haircut.” You said, pulling Peeta out of his thoughts.

“Thanks.” He chuckled and shyly ran his fingers through his hair. You felt bad for poking fun when you remembered he didn’t have any basic luxury for weeks and a haircut was probably the last thing on his mind.

“Or maybe keep it. Your curls are coming out.” You noticed and tugged on one of his blond ringlets.

“I know. I usually try to avoid that. It makes me feel like one of those white dogs they have in the Capital.”

“Hey. That sounds like someone remembers the old you.” You smiled at his remark.

“Yeah. I guess I do.” Peeta smiled in return.

“We need to bathe him now.” The nurse told you. Peeta looked around at the room full of female nurses and felt embarrassed.

“I can do it.” You said when you saw his face.

“Are you sure?” He asked you.

“I don’t mind. It’s not like I haven’t done it before.” You shrugged and thought back to bathing him in the River during the first Games.

The nurses ran Peeta a bath while you helped him limp into the bathroom. Once his bath was ready, you helped him into it and got to work cleaning him off. You started with his hair, that looked like it hadn’t been washed since well before the second Games. Peeta was quiet as you poured water over his head until the water ran clear.

“You don’t have to do this.” He said quietly as you gently cleaned his skin.

“Yes I do. You’d do it for me, wouldn’t you?”

“I would.” Peeta admitted before a comfortable silence settled between you. You’d been on the brink of death together and forced to feign a romance in front of the whole world, but this moment felt far more intimate than anything you’d done so far.

“This reminds me of the cave.” Peeta said after a minute.

“You remember the cave?”

“I remember every second. You took care of me. Just like this.”

“It’s what we do.” You shrugged and kept cleaning.

“When have I ever taken care of you?” He laughed sadly and looked up at you.

“You’ve taken care of me plenty of times. I usually take care of your body. You take care of my mind.”

“I guess we make a good team that way.” Peeta smiled shyly.

“We do. And that’s why we’re never getting separated again.”

“You can’t promise that.”

“I know. But I can do my best to never let you out of my sight again.”

“I’ll do the same.” Peeta promised and looked up at you again. You cupped his chin and leaned down to kiss his nose, feeling his wet eyelashes brush against you as he closed his eye s

“Good. Now let’s get you dried off and I’ll show you to the dining hall.”

After helping Peeta get dressed, you linked your arm through his and guided him towards the dining hall. All eyes were on him as you got a tray and got on like. Some people thought he was dead while others thought he was a traitor for the things Snow had forced him to say on TV. But most people saw him as a hero and gave him warm smiles as they passed.

“Everyone is looking at me.” He whispered in your ear.

“They’re probably just excited to meet you after all the stories I told about you.” You shrugged and loaded up yours and Peeta’s plate with bread and soup.

“Yeah? Like what?” He smirked and looked at you.

“Like how loud you were in the woods when I was trying to quietly make it to the Cornucopia.” You teased him. Peeta rolled his eyes at you and wrapped an arm around your waist to keep himself balanced as you walked to a table.

“Hey Peeta. Nice to see you back.” Someone you didn’t recognize smiled at Peeta and patted his shoulder as he passed.

“See? They love you here. Because they know I love you and I’m basically a celebrity around here so they have to like what I like.” You whispered to him ad you sat down together across from Annie, and Finnick.

“Did you just say you love me?” Peeta pretended to gasp. You scrunched your nose and shoved a strawberry in his mouth to shut him up. You and Peeta noticed at the same time that Annie and Finnick were fully engaged in a makeout session now that they had been reunited. You gulped while Peter blushed and you made quick eye contact with each other. You didn’t really know the nature of your relationship at this point. There were no cameras to fake it for but being without him for 8 weeks made you realize you hadn’t faked a single thing.

“Of course I love you. You’re my husband, aren’t you?” You said after a minute to ease the tension. Peeta smile and took your hand to jokingly kiss your ring finger.

“That’s right. How could I forget we’re married.” Peeta humored you and squeezed your hand. Gale cleared his throat and the two of you finally realized he had sat down. Gale was eating his soup while staring daggers at Peeta, who looked uncomfortable.

“Aren’t you gonna say hello?” You calmly asked Gale.

“Hey, Peeta.” Gale grunted.

“Hi Gale. Thanks for helping to get me out of there.” Peeta said politely.

“No problem.” Gale muttered and looked away. Peeta’s hands had been bandaged after his bath so you got some of his soup on his spoon and held it up to his lips.

“Open.” You instructed. Peeta opened his mouth to accept the soup and swallowed it while you ripped up some bread for him. You put that in his mouth as well before giving him a glass of water. Peeta happily ate his food and smile at you in appreciation.

“Seriously?” Gale laughed meanly.

“What?” You wondered.

“You two. Do you really have to feed him?”

“I don’t have to. I want to. I missed him.” You shrugged and turned away from Gale to continue feeding Peeta.

“That doesn’t mean you have to feed him. He’s not a baby.” Gale said as if Peeta wasn’t right there.

“It’s okay. I can do it.” Peeta said and took the spoon from you. His hands shook as he dipped the spoon into his soup and it got worse as he tried to bring it to his mouth. By the time the spoon reached his lips, there was nothing left on it. You shot Gale an angry look for making Peeta feel like he had something to prove before taking the spoon again.

“I’ll do it. You fed me once.” You said and gave Peeta another bite.

“But this isn’t the first time you’ve fed me. I owe you one now.” Peeta said with a smile.

“Don’t worry about me. I have no problems stuffing my face.”

“It’s true. I’ve seen it.” Gale chimed in to remind Peeta that while he had been gone, Gale had been right there with you.

“It’s not very attractive.” You told Peeta.

“I’m sure anything you do is attractive.” Peeta replied, making you smile.

“Y/n, you left your shirt in my room last night.” Gale said, making everyone at the table look at him. Peeta frowned sadly and looked at you, expecting you to admit that you and Gale had been seeing in each other in a new way in Peeta’s absence.

“Oh. Thanks. I can grab it later.” You told Gale. Gale looked at Peeta and smirked, confirming Peeta’s worst fears.

“You were in his room last night?” Peeta asked quietly and looked at you.

“Gales been on the frontlines a lot and he’s been showing me some things he learned in training. One of them was how to make a tourniquet out of a shirt. I wanted to learn because if I had made yours properly during the first Games, you would’ve have lost your leg.” You said with a guilty look in your eyes.

“Hey, that tourniquet saved my life. I would’ve lost a lot more than my leg if you hadn’t made it. Don’t blame yourself.” Peeta said as he put his hand on top of yours. Gale looked between the two of you with jealousy brewing before speaking up again.

“I think I’m gonna skip training today. I’m still tired from how late we were up last night.” Gale added. You caught on to what Gale as trying it do and turned to a very jealous looking Peeta.

“We were up late discussing the menu for Haymitchs birthday dinner. It’s coming up soon and we wanted to hunt to have something special for him.” You explained.

“That’s nice. Maybe I can bake something for him.” Peeta offered.

“We have enough food planned.” Gale said, making Peeta’s smile fall.

“We can never have enough food.” You insisted. “I’m sure Haymitch would love it.”

“Do you think they’d let me in the kitchen?” Peeta chuckled and nodded towards the kitchen.

“If I ask them to, they would. I don’t mean to brag, but I get anything I ask for around here. It’s the perks of being the face of their revolution.”

“What have you asked for so far?” Peeta wondered.

“Just you. And now I have it so I need to think of some other things to ask for. Like getting you some baking time.” You smiled sweetly at him and touched his shoulder. You wanted Peeta to have some time to bake to remind himself of who he was. Peeta put his hand over yours and smiled in appreciation.

“You know there’s no cameras around here, right?” Gale said, taking your attention away from each other.

“We know.” You laughed in annoyance.

“So what’s with the act?” Gale asked, making Peeta gulp. He looked at you curiously, also wondering if your kindness towards him was part of the act.

“There is no act. You haven’t been through what we’ve been through. We missed each other. Let us reunite in peace.” You said simply as you kept your hand on Peeta. Peeta smiled in content and rested his head on your shoulder.

“So are you guys dating now? For real?” Finnick came up for air long enough to ask. You felt Peeta tense up on your shoulder and lifted his head to look at you. He was wondering the exact same thing, but didn’t know how to voice it. Things had been different between you before you were separated and the way you were acting Joe only made Peeta further believe that your feelings had shifted into something real.

“Can everyone leave us alone? What’s with all the questions?” You laughed awkwardly and took a bite of your bread. Finnick chuckled and held up his hands in defense while Gale gave Peeta the death glare. Peeta gave Gale a simple shrug before putting his head back down on your shoulder. You heard him yawn and looked down at him.

“Tired?”

“Exhausted.” He nodded with his eyes shut.

“Me too. Let’s get some sleep.”

You said goodbye to Finnick and Annie before taking Peeta’s arm to lead him out of the dinning hall. You brought him to the hallway where the bedrooms were and led him to the room you’d been staying it.

“My roommate is Prim but she has the night shift in the medical wing tonight.” You told him. You turned around and saw Peeta by your door, looking longingly at your bed. It had probably been a long time since he had somewhere soft to rest his head and a bed had never looked so inviting.

“They said they set up a room for me-“

You cut him off by rushing into his arms and holding him tight. Peeta stumbled back a little before hugging you back and resting his cheek against your head.

“Stay.” You whispered against his chest.

“Always.” Peeta said automatically. You hugged him for a few moments longer before climbing into bed. Peeta climbed in after you and lifted his arm so thta you could lay your head over his heart. Peeta wrapped an arm around you and you held his hand to he as close as possible.

“Can you believe how Gale was acting back there? He’s so different now. I feel like I don’t know him anymore.” You said to fill the silence that had settled.

“I think he’s mad that I was with you in the Games and he wasn’t.” Peeta replied.

“I don’t understand him. Why would anyone wish what we went though for themselves?”

“I don’t think he’s thinking about it like that. I think he’s just embarrassed that some other guy was kissing you on TV for everyone to see. And then winning the Games with you. And going on a victory tour with you. Twice. I mean, the whole entire world was rooting for us to be in love. He had to watch our fake engagement, wedding and pregnancy. I can’t imagine how that felt for him.”

“Why would he care? It’s not like I was his girlfriend.” You reminded Peeta.

“But he had feelings for you. Anyone can see it. That’s why he hates me.” Peeta said with a soft chuckle. You frowned in the darkness and tilted your chin to look up at Peeta.

“He has to get over that, then.” You shrugged. “It’s not my or your problem that he had feelings for me. He doesn’t get to be mean to you just because he wants my relationship with him to be like my relationship with you.”

Peeta was quiet for a while after that. The only sound in the room was coming from the sounds of your breathing.

“What are you thinking about?” You asked as you looked up at him again.

“Nothing.” He chuckled.

“Tell me.” You urged and shook him a little. Peeta let out another soft chuckle and looked down at you.

“If it were me, I would hate whatever guy was on TV kissing you too.” He admitted. A smile tugged at your lips as you propped yourself up on your elbow.

“We’re not on TV now, are we?” You asked him. Peeta sat up as well so that you were at the same level.

“I don’t think so.” He smiled shyly as he shook his head. Peeta looked into your eyes with his big brown ones before letting his gaze drop to your lips.

“And yet, you’re the only boy I want to kiss.” You said quietly. Peeta jutted his head back a little in surprise before leaning towards you. His eyes slowly shut and yours did the same as you met in a soft kiss. The kiss slowly became heated and you were soon in his lap with his hands up your shirt.

“We can take it slow. I know you’ve been through a lot.” You whispered against his lips.

“I don’t need slow. I just need you.” Peeta shook his head before kissing you again.

“I want to be with you. For real this time. Not pretend.” You said between kisses.

“Real?” Peeta smiled hopefully as he looked into your eyes. You nodded your head and replied before pulling him into a kiss again.

“Real.”

[on-my-vigilante-sht]

Capitol Punishment Prologue

Haymitch x Reader

Summary: The Capitol continues to torture it’s victors no matter how long ago they won through punishment, exploitation, and worst of all; their relationships.

A story in which Haymitch’s lover is a plaything for the Capitol.

Warnings: Canon level violence, alcohol, murder, systemic poverty, exploitation, rebellion (?), more reliance on movie than book, suicidal thoughts

Word Count: 5.2K (sorry)

Masterlist | Prologue (II)

“Y/N L/N!” Your heart dropped and your blood ran with ice. No, no. You were 18 fucking years old for god’s sake. You were so close to being out. Six years of reapings and even more slips with your name, because you had to take out tesserae, had finally caught up with you.

You realized the girls around you were backing up, leaving you to stand in the middle with nowhere to hide. You had always felt bad for the kids being singled out like this but now you realized just how isolating it already was. You looked up to the stage, your face already projected onto the screen. Just below that, your district escort, Salvia Vala, was beckoning for you to come up on the stage. You were already so close you could see the flaws in her caked on makeup and artificial… everything.

Realizing that just standing there would neither give you a better chance nor keep you from going into the games, you made your way to the stairs. As you were pulled towards the center of the stage, you tried desperately not to look at the people of your district. You were a bit of a loner in 12 so you weren’t avoiding the gazes of those who cared about you, you were avoiding the pity in the eyes of the people who never bothered to help you.

Next was the boys’ reaping. “Alder Oakly,” Salvia called out. You didn’t look at the boy until he was facing you on the stage, trying to give him the slightest bit of dignity. You shook his hand when prompted, observing him. He was clean, unlike the people you knew in the Seam. He probably came from the wealthier part of 12 but he was still pale like a lot of 12. His dark hair had the slightest bit of coal dust, also very common in 12 despite his wealthier status. His clothing was pristine in contrast to your best dress which was covered in coal dust and faded with age.

You were quickly ushered into the district capital building, into a nicely decorated room. One of the few buildings the Capitol had actually built in the districts so when they had to grace the poorest district with their presence, they wouldn’t immediately go running for the hills.

You sat quietly. This was supposed to be the room people said their goodbyes to you in. But there was no one to wish you luck or mourn you when you died. So you sat with your thoughts. Your head was simultaneously empty and racing with thoughts. Across the hall, you could hear sobs of presumably Alder’s mother. Maybe his girlfriend. You had no idea. You were kind of relieved no one came to see you. At least you knew you wouldn’t cause any pain to anyone when you were gone.

You were then jolted from your thoughts by the door opening. You recognized Haymitch Abernathy, the victor of the 50th Hunger Games. Apparently, he was supposed to attend the reapings but, after being so drunk one time, he fell off the stage and they had stopped requiring him to be there. You had seen him a few times at the Hobb buying alcohol but other than that, the only things you knew about him were rumors. That he had won the “wrong” way and the Capitol had killed his family for it.

He made his way into the room, only stumbling slightly until he slumped on the chair. As he sat he took a moment to observe her. Rather than a tear-stained face or eyes wide with fear, she just stared at him quizzically. Clearly taken off guard by his presence. Her eyes were filled with curiosity, giving her a look of innocence he knew the Capitol would love.

You were unsure what to say as he took a deep swig from his flask. “Okay,” he slurred out, his tone as if he were correcting you, “I don’t normally do this but I’ve seen you around the Hobb, and that Al kid has more than enough support.” You still didn’t know what was going on, given that he was the only living Victor in 12 you thought he was supposed to prepare you together. “My advice? Start drinking now. You wanna start?” he asked, holding out the flask to you.

You took it hesitantly, still unsure how to react to the situation. You took a whiff first, your nose burning. But seeing as you had nothing better to do, you pressed it to your lips, tipping it back tentatively. There was a surprising amount in there based on how inebriated he already was so you got a full swig. You immediately began coughing, hating the burn that seemed to course through your body as you swallowed.

Haymitch chuckled a little. “What? You never have whisky?” You only shook your head. “Seriously?” he stopped laughing. “I thought they said you were 18. I’d understand if you were 12 or even 14 but 18 years and you never got drunk?” He looked shocked. Despite alcohol being technically illegal it was probably the most popular thing sold on the black market.

“It was either buy food or liquor,” you explained. “And when it came to stealing, it was either risk getting caught stealing food or liquor.” Haymitch hummed before pulling a roll wrapped in a napkin out of his jacket pocket, holding it out to you. You shook your head no, “Can’t even think about eating.” For the first time in god knows how long you didn’t feel the lingering hunger.

“My real advice? Eat. You’ll need it to keep you going in the games.”

At that you laughed. “You think I can win? The starving girl, from 12, with no prospects, winning the fucking hunger games? I don’t know, maybe someone like that hunter girl could win but I have no skills.”

“Can you hold a knife? Can you point it at someone? You’ve got skills,” Haymitch shrugged.

You rolled your eyes. “You and I both know it’s more than that. It’s about survival, sponsors, fighting skills, the ability to actually take a life.”

“Don’t assume what I know. I actually went to the games. I know what it’s like. You don’t.”

“Yet,” you added. “Maybe I‘ll never know. They have bombs in the arena, right? If you step off the platform early? Instant death has to be better than getting hacked apart by a career,” you mused.

Haymitch was horrified by the calm she exuded while talking about how she was planning to kill herself.

Haymitch shook his head. “If you jump off that platform you just give them what they want. Submission. Fight to survive. Be the first female victor from 12 in 57 years.”

“Why do you even care?” you asked, sick of being told what to do. “I know you’ve never exactly been mentor of the year. Why are you going out of your way to talk to me? Convincing me to try?”

Haymitch opened and closed his mouth a few times at a loss for words. He then just sighed, downing another swig of whiskey before standing up. “I’ll see you on the train.”

~

You sat on the train, staring down at your empty plate. The train car was full of food you never dreamed you’d get the opportunity to eat. But you still couldn’t bear the idea of actually eating. Then, the door opened and Alder came in. He sat down and immediately began serving himself, digging in. “You can eat?” you asked. “I haven’t been able to stomach the idea of eating since…”

“I wasn’t able to either, at first, until dinner last night. I forced myself to take a bite and ever since then I’ve had an appetite,” he explained. You turned your attention back to the food, contemplating his words. Reaching for a muffin, you pulled a little off, popping it in your mouth. “Have you met our mentor yet? He came to dinner and asked about you. When he realized we weren’t both here he just grabbed some food and left.”

“Uh, no,” you lied, taking another bite of the muffin. It was nothing like you had ever had before. It was sweet and filling but also light and airy. “He’s a drunk. Only here because he had to be.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” a voice cut in from the door. You didn’t even turn around, just waited for him to walk into your eyeline. “I’m here for the desserts,” he picked up a pastry as he sat down, “and refreshments,” he held up a glass of brown liquor.

“So what do we do? How do we survive?” Alder asked.

Haymitch rolled his eyes. “All you wealthier kids are all the same. ‘How do I survive? How do I win?’ You know who wins? The kids who have struggled. Who’ve provided for themselves and their families,” he ranted, looking at you over the rim of his glass.

You watched Alder visibly deflate. Clearly he wasn’t ready to die. “You’ve had kids from all over 12, right? Where are they now?” you asked. You knew it was wrong but you were already sick of this drunk’s disparity in attitudes.

Haymitch just pursed his lips, getting up and taking his drink and plate with him.

“Why’d you say that?” Alder asked angrily. “He’s our best shot at getting out of that arena.”

“I said it because he was being a dick. Besides, he’s lost every tribute in the past 17 years. That’s 34 kids he’s had the opportunity to save but he was probably too busy drinking.”

“I mean… it’s not entirely his fault. There are factors out of his control.”

You just rolled your eyes. “Get off his dick, he’s not gonna give you anything more just because you’re kissing his ass.” Standing up, you left Alder alone, heading towards your room on the train. Maybe you could get at least some more sleep. But as you made your way there, Haymitch appeared in the hall, looking stern.

“You have something you wanna say?” he asked, expecting an apology.

“Not really,” you dismissed, trying to walk past him. But he reached out, grabbing your bicep in a surprisingly strong grip for someone so drunk all the time.

“What is your problem?”

“You’re the one with the fucking problem!” you practically yelled. “Why’d you have to scare someone who actually wants to fight? Why are you so insistent on wasting your time with me?”

Haymitch once again opened and closed his mouth a few times, unsure of what to say. He finally clenched his jaw before shaking his head, changing the topic. “You need sponsors if ‘the starving girl from 12’ is gonna win.”

You rolled your eyes, exasperated. “I’m not playing their fucking game. I’m not going to win.”

Now Haymitch rolled his eyes exasperatedly. “Don’t you get it? By winning you defy them. They are trying their hardest to kill you. Win,” he was now practically pleading. “If you’re so eager to kill yourself now, why didn’t you just give up a long time ago? I’ve seen you around 12, I know you’re resilient and if you really wanted to die, you would’ve frozen or starved to death by now.”

You were so taken aback by his words all you could do was tug yourself away from his grasp but he held firm. “Let go of me,” you demanded.

“Promise me you’ll try to get sponsors and actually try to win.”

You stared at him, finding sincerity in his eyes. “Fine,” you agreed.

He nodded, satisfied, before letting you go.

~

The first thing the Capitol did to you was wax and scrub your entire body. This was probably the cleanest you had ever been but the lingering sting all over your body was not worth it. You had overheard a few stylists whispering about being short on time. Apparently your train had arrived late. So you only got a few brief minutes to revel in being clean because soon you were dressed in a black, tarp skirt that barely covered you, and a sheer bandeau top before being powdered with black dust, clearly meant to be coal dust.

You coughed repeatedly as they dumped a bucket of it over your head. They had told you repeatedly to stop moving but you couldn’t help it.

“Ah, isn’t this the most beautiful outfit you’ve ever worn in your life?” a cheery voice came from the doorway. “It’s a fashionable take on the drab coveralls you people in 12 wear.” You opened your eyes, hoping more dust wouldn’t fall into them. You finally caught a glimpse of who you presumed your stylist was. She had a big mess of green curls and everything else about her was as outrageous as her hair. “I’m Vodka, I’ll be your personal stylist while you’re here,” she smiled brightly.

You tried to force a smile but another powder of dust over your face stopped you. “Hold still,” the woman reprimanded you.

When they finally deemed you “covered” enough you were sent out to the chariots. You walked in hesitantly, not finding Alder there yet. Heading over to the very last chariot you could feel the gazes on you but you just kept walking, trying to cover yourself as much as possible. You weren’t the only one subject to the leering gaze of teenage boys, the girl from 4 was only wearing a net.

Soon enough Alder joined you and you were off, being pulled down the chariot line. Alder and all the other tributes were smiling and waving but you just stared ahead, refusing to acknowledge anyone even when Alder tried to make you smile and wave.

Once you were finally back inside, out of public view, you spotted Haymitch. He clapped for you and Alder as he approached. You noticed the way he kept his gaze firmly locked on your face. When he did look away from your face it was firmly above your chest line. “Al, good job. See that Y/N? He’s gonna get sponsors while you starve out in the arena because he’s likeable.”

“I’m not a huge fan of smiling at the people ogling at me but I’ll keep that in mind,” you answered sarcastically. You headed for the elevator, arms covering yourself, avoiding the gazes of the smirking boys as you passed. Upon reaching the elevator, the District 10 tributes and mentors joined you along with Haymitch and Alder finally catching up. Once the metal doors opened, you stepped inside, trying to ignore all of their presences. You held yourself tighter noticing the gazes of the District 10 people. Haymitch must have noticed it too because he stepped away from the wall of the elevator, placing a gentle hand on your hip to push you back so he could step in front of you. You just stared at Haymitch quizzically, touched by his simple reaction, even though you knew he couldn’t see you.

Eventually, District 10 got off the elevator and you were able to leave the tense elevator too. Alder immediately headed to his room, you following behind. But while he continued on, you stopped before disappearing into the hallway. Turning, you found Haymitch already at the bar cart. “Uh thanks,” you said weakly. “For um…”

He just waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it.” He then turned his attention to his glass, “Didn’t like the way they were looking at you anyways,” he mumbled mostly to himself.

“Sorry, what?” you asked, unable to make out his words from across the room.

“Nothing,” Haymitch brushed off again. “It was nothing. Get some sleep. You start training tomorrow.” Unconvinced but knowing you wouldn’t get what you were asking for you just nodded, turning to head to bed.

~

The next morning you stood lined up with all the other tributes. You noticed everyone was sending each other glares and eager smiles. Well… the careers were. That was sort of the nice thing about being a career. They have built in friends for the days they spend in existential dread and isolation in the Capitol. Until they all turn their backs on one another and go on a murder spree, slaughtering their fellow children.

You noticed they spared the occasional glance at Alder along with some of the other tributes. Whether they were determining their fellow allies or their first victims, you weren’t sure but you were just glad they weren’t looking at you now that you had all your clothes on.

“In two weeks, 23 of you will be dead,” the head instructor announced, catching everyone’s attention. “One of you will be alive. Who that is will depend on how well you pay attention for the next four days. Particularly to what I’m about to say. First, no fighting with the other tributes. You’ll have plenty of time for that in the arena. My advice is, don’t ignore the survival skills. Everyone wants to grab a sword but most of you will die from natural causes. About three of you will die from infection, and about five from dehydration. Exposure can kill as easily as a knife. You’ll begin with combat training, then survival. After today, you’ll be free to practice whatever skills for the remaining three days before your individual evaluations.”

Being the girl from 12, you were the last to practice everything. You learned quickly that while the careers may laugh at those who failed whatever the exercise was, they dismissed them. You could faintly hear their mumbles as a non-career tribute excelled in any particular skill. Deciding to take a little public humiliation over a target on your back, you purposely failed at every skill. You barely struggled your way up a net, let your arms shake as you picked up the axes, failed miserably at starting a fire, and repeatedly chose poisonous plants to eat.

You weren’t alone in your struggles. The question was, is everyone else faking too?

~

After your first day of training, you went back up to the District 12 floor, straight to your room. You were exhausted as you stepped into the shower, reveling in the luxury of warm water.

After probably far too long you finally got out, wrapping a towel around yourself. Heading out to the main room you didn’t spot your mentor until you were fully out of the bathroom. “Holy shit,” you exclaimed in surprise, seeing him seated on your bed. You immediately pulled the towel tighter around yourself, not missing the way his gaze lingered on your legs for a second.

“Uh, sorry,” he quickly tried to disguise where his attention was. “I- uh… just…” he looked to be seriously trying to figure out what he had initially been here to say before breaking out into a chuckle. “Sorry, I completely forgot what I was gonna say.” He then snapped his fingers, pointing at you. “I know what I was gonna say. You fucking suck. I was watching you. You somehow managed to fail every possible skill. You’ve survived god knows how long without your parents. I find it hard to believe you don’t have any survival skills. Your score is impacted by this training time too. Sponsors don’t send money to tributes who don’t score well.”

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? For whatever reason I can survive in the Seam but it’s not exactly the same as the fucking wilderness where I’m actively being hunted. Besides, before I came here I don’t think I had ever had a full meal so I can’t exactly help that everyone else is stronger than me.”

Haymitch sighed, standing up. “Look, I get it, a lifetime of malnourishment can’t be fixed by a few days in the Capitol so that’s why you learn how to survive. I’m begging you, figure out your survival skills so the cold or dehydration or even hunger don’t kill you.”

“Why do you care so much?” you asked again. “You don’t treat Alder like this. As far as I know, you haven’t given a damn about any of your tributes.”

Haymitch just sighed, shaking his head. “Get some sleep,” he dismissed, stepping towards the door.

Sick of not knowing what was going on and being treated like a doll, you blocked his path. “No, you’re gonna tell me what’s going on. You’ve been weird like this ever since we met.”

“You don’t know me, you don’t know what’s weird for me. Maybe I'm just looking out for the kid who was raised in the Seam just like me,” Haymitch bullshitted a response. He was desperately hoping she’d accept that because he wasn’t about to tell her he’d been keeping an eye on her the past few months.

He could see it in your eyes, you didn’t fully believe his lies but you let him go anyway. Stepping aside, still in only a towel, water dripping from your hair down your neck and chest, you let him pass, feeling his arm brush against your shoulder.

~

“What do I say to him?” you asked Haymitch frantically as the stylist did your hair.

“It’s nothing to worry about,” he tried to assure you. “He'll just ask you a couple questions so the audience gets to know you.”

Over the past few days, you and Haymitch became closer. He wasn’t nearly as perpetually drunk as he was when you first met him. He was actually helping you rather than just yelling at you to be better. And because of that, you were more open to talking to him instead of just giving him sarcastic remarks.

“Up,” the stylist told you. You complied, not questioning it until he began undoing your robe.

“Woah,” Haymitch reacted to it even before you did, gaze averted up to the ceiling.

“Hey-” you protested, holding the robe to your body.

“Vodka wants you dressed,” he explained.

“I know but you’re just doing it in front of him?”

The man gave you a look that said ‘seriously?’ “Your tits were just broadcast on national television a few days ago,” he dismissed, taking off your robe. “Besides, this outfit isn’t much more conservative,” he smiled. Completely unsure what to say you just allowed him to help you into it.

Upon getting the outfit on you knew it was absurdly impractical. It was a black dress, the skirt was long but any modesty was thwarted by a part on your left leg, exposed by the fact that the skirt was only actually on one side, the rest of the fabric was cut short at the hip. This left the bodysuit connected to the corset top exposed. As for the top, the only thing not sheer about it was the boning which did actually provide you a little modesty.

“Isn’t she gorgeous?” the stylist asked Haymitch with a smile. He finally looked away from the mirror, jaw genuinely slacked upon seeing the dress. You were gorgeous, anyone would say the same. But he cringed as you were clearly uncomfortable being on display so much.

“You look great,” Haymitch smiled awkwardly. He noticed a slight blush coat your cheeks despite the caked on makeup covering your skin.

Then the door opened and the human equivalent of a tropical bird entered. Vodka literally squealed upon seeing you. “Ah, isn’t the dress just stunning? All the men in the audience are just gonna eat you up,” she gushed. “Come, come,” she ushered, “you have to start lining up for your interview.” You looked back at Haymitch, silently pleading for help as you were practically dragged away.

~

Taking his spot with the other mentors, Haymitch turned his attention to the screen as his tribute walked up on stage. He admired the grace you walked with despite the impossibly tall shoes. Caesar also noticed your outfit as he stood, reaching out a polite hand to you. “My, my, my, Y/N, don’t you look like Capitol royalty,” he complimented. “Doesn’t she look fabulous?” he turned to the audience. They erupted into cheers, a shocking amount of engagement for a District 12 tribute.

The pair sat down and the interview truly began. “It’s hard to believe such a pretty face comes from the coal mining district. Tell me, have you ever been inside or worked in the mines?” Caesar asked.

You nodded, looking down at your lap, fiddling with your hands. “I did work there. I was younger than most but I needed a way to provide for myself.”

“How come?”

You looked like this was the last thing you wanted to talk about but answered anyway. “My mom died giving birth. Mine explosion killed my dad a few years later.”

The crowd made noises of sympathy. At least that was something. But Haymitch already knew your story.

He had been buying booze at the Hobb when he noticed you.

“Come on, I come here every damn week and the first time I’m a few cents short you won’t give me a break?” you had asked the Hobb baker. “You gotta help me out,” you pleaded, “I’ve got nothing else this week. With the northeastern mine collapse no one’s getting paid until they figure it out.”

‘This girl is already working in the mines?’ he has thought to himself. Looking at Lou, who had just sold him alcohol. “Who is she?” he asked, nodding over towards where the girl stood, arguing with the vendor.

Lou took one look at you. “Y/N L/N, she’s been coming since she was about ten after her dad died. Never talked to or sold to her but the others say she’s sweet. Too bad such a young thing is already working. Has been since she was 16.”

Haymitch fished a few coins out of his pocket. “Make up the difference for me, will ya? And don’t mention me.”

“Well, I’m sorry to hear that,” Caesar sympathized. “Well, in contrast to the dreary District 12, how are you finding the Capitol so far?”

“The, uh, food is really good,” you offered with a weak smile.

“That seems to be a popular answer among tributes,” the interviewer smiled. “Any boys back home?” Haymitch didn’t know why he held his breath at that.

“No,” you answered with a gentle shake of your head. “Too busy trying to survive to think about boys.”

“Well I think everyone in the Capitol is in love with you right now,” Caesar laughed, gesturing to the dress again. “And if you win, you’ll have any pick of Capitol men.” You smiled as Caesar took your hand. “Ladies and gentlemen, Y/N L/N,” he reintroduced you before you walked off stage.

~

Out of public view, you stumbled off the stage, headed back where all the other tributes and mentors were watching the remaining interviews on the screen. You made your way over to Haymitch, standing next to him as you turned your attention to the screen where Alder was being introduced.

“Nice job not puking,” Haymitch ‘complimented.’

“Thanks,” you smiled briefly. “He got really personal,” you tried to laugh off the dredging up of all your personal trauma.

Haymitch hummed, trying not to let on that he knew your story already. He sensed that you were somewhat private with your life given your lack of interaction with anyone in 12. “He made you look sympathetic. Sometimes that’s all you can ask for.”

You hummed in agreement. “Or pointless. I don’t have anyone to go home to. No one to fight for.”

“Hey,” he immediately reprimanded, “remember what I said, win out of spite. They want to kill you.”

“‘S that why you won?” you murmured.

“Sort of,” Haymitch relented. “I had a family to go home to but I was so angry I wanted to win just because everyone says District 12 can’t win. I was also the second name drawn and…”

“And if it weren’t for the quarter quell you wouldn’t have gone in,” you finished for him.

Haymitch nodded. “My family would still be here and I wouldn’t be such a…”

“I’m sorry,” you sympathized, placing a comforting hand on his arm. As you remembered where you were, you drew back your hand, returning your attention to Alder who was being dismissed from the stage.

“Go on ahead to the elevator, Alder and I will be right up,” Haymitch suggested. You nodded, walking over towards the elevator.

You got on it with a few other tributes and mentors, groaning internally as you stopped on nearly every floor. But upon reaching the penthouse you went straight to bed. Not because you were tired but because you were drained by your anxiety about tomorrow.

Requesting sleeping pills you took double the dose before laying down in the first comfortable clothes you could find. But after a few hours of tossing and turning, you gave up. You headed to the kitchen that you were sure had never been used as Avoxes brought your meals up to the penthouse. Probably from a bigger kitchen somewhere in the building.

As you were getting a glass of water you noticed someone’s presence. Looking over, you found Alder glaring at you, giving you a start. “Alder!” you said in surprise. “Fuck, you scared me.”

“What’d he tell you?” he asked.

Completely and utterly confused you just stared at him. “What? Who?”

He rolled his eyes. “I know Haymitch has been training you without me. I know that technically we should have two mentors but just because I'm not fucking him doesn’t mean I don’t deserve help.”

“Woah!” you cut him off. “I’m not- Haymitch and I aren’t-”

“Don’t play stupid. I see the way he looks at you. God, you don’t even have a family. You have no one worth living for so why is he helping you?” He paused as if waiting for an explanation but you couldn’t exactly give him one. “If you’re going into the arena with more knowledge then I think it’s only fair we level the playing field,” he said menacingly. Seeing as you were backed against the wall and you knew you wouldn’t be able to fight back without sustaining any injuries yourself, you screamed.

“Shut up!” he screamed, knocking you into the wall.

Hardly a second later, Haymitch’s voice pierced the air. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he yelled, ripping Alder away from you. The boy tried to stammer out an explanation but Haymitch was too angry to listen. “I don’t wanna hear it. You have plenty of time to fight in the morning. Go to bed.” Alder looked angry but walked off anyway. Haymitch then turned to you, his expression softening with genuine concern. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you replied, pushing yourself off the ground. “I’ll be taking a lot more than just a shove tomorrow.”

Haymitch looked like he wanted to say more but he just bid you goodnight before heading back to bed, leaving you alone in the kitchen.

Masterlist | Prologue (II)

[fanfic-wonderland]

Not Just Friends {Coriolanus Snow} - Part 2

Synopsis: After avoiding him for some time, you suspect that Coryo's feelings towards you have vanished. However, after a turn of life-threatening events, you finally decide to talk to him.

Pairing: Coriolanus Snow x Fem!Reader

Word count: 3.6k

Read part one here.

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

Things between the both of you change drastically after you last spoke the night at the Winter’s Ball. Coryo doesn't want to admit that he might’ve ruined your friendship, but he cannot help feeling responsible because you've been avoiding him. Even though you try to act normal, he can tell that something’s off. Every time he approaches you at the Academy you tense up, you cut your conversations short by saying you have to leave, and you haven't stopped by his house in nearly a month when the problem used to be keeping you out of it. Part of him resents Tigris for convincing him to tell you the truth; the other part resents himself for listening to her. He can tell that she feels bad once she notices how you both are drifting apart, but he cannot find it in him to look past it. At least not yet.

The approach of the 10th Hunger Games helps as a distraction for Coryo. He’s chosen as one of the District 12 mentors, much to his dislike, but he’ll take it as an opportunity to prove himself as a top student again. You’re chosen to mentor one of the District 9 tributes alongside Gaius Breen, which means that he probably won’t have the opportunity to interact with you as much. The thought pains him but he tries to focus on winning the prize, instead, and when he meets his tribute, Lucy Gray Baird, he’s certain that he has a high chance of doing so. He cannot let any distractions get in the way of his victory.

So, he tries his best to appeal to the entirety of Panem, and if that means jumping into a monkey enclosure at the Capital Zoo with all of the tributes in it, then he’ll do it.

***

 You’ve been meaning to talk to Coryo for the longest time.

After your conversation at the Winter’s Ball, you admit that you’ve felt nervous and you’ve forgotten how to act around him, even if It’s only been a few weeks. You’re pretty sure that he’s noticed your odd behavior already but has said nothing about it. You feel guilty avoiding him, but his words had a bigger impact on you than you thought. You think about that night every single day—him showing up even when he didn't want to, the both of you dancing together, the way he defended you against Felix, his “confession” under Panem’s night sky… it all makes your heart flutter in a way you’ve never felt before.

You’ve never felt like that toward Coryo— or maybe you’ve just never noticed.

When you’re both chosen as mentors for the 10th Hunger Games, things take a downfall. It’s like you barely know each other, both in the same room but focused on different things and different people. And when you try to get his attention on multiple occasions, you’re met with nothing. He does not look at you anymore.

Now that you think about it, he used to always look at you, and now that he doesn’t, something feels… wrong.

Your mind drifts to him as you’re sitting in the classroom, watching the tributes being exhibited at the Capital Zoo —Sheaf, your tribute, is obviously among them. You’re not interested in watching a group of people being treated like animals for entertainment and you cannot stop wondering why Coryo hasn’t shown up to class yet. It’s not like him to miss class, seeing how he always likes to be one step ahead of everyone else, so it must be something urgent if he’s not showing up. You start getting worried but you try your best not to show it. Anyway, It’s not like anyone would care, seeing how they’re all so invested in what’s happening on the screen.

All of a sudden, a few people in the room gasp in unison. When you snap out of your thoughts, you realize that there is someone else in that cage and your heart leaps. “What is he doing?” Gaius questions next to you.

“He’s trying to get himself killed,” Someone else mutters from the back of the room.

But you keep your attention on Coryo. To you, he’s never looked more beautiful, more powerful. You’re not exactly sure how he did it, and yes, the fact that he managed to sneak in with the tributes is insane but you are more impressed by how far he can go to win. No wonder you’ve always admired him so much.

While Coryo and Lucy Gray Baird are answering questions from Lucky Flickerman, you notice how he holds her hand and how he looks down at her while she speaks into the microphone, and something stirs in you. You don’t know what it is but it makes you sick to your stomach and you have to look away from the screen for a moment. “Quite the boyfriend you have there, (Y/L/N),” You hear Arachne say from her spot. You don’t turn to look at her but you’re certain that she’s smirking. “At least Felix had the decency to go behind your back.”

A few people snicker while some turn to look at you with amused looks on their faces. You try, you really do, to dismiss her words, but you don’t feel like taking any of her shit anymore. So you stand up and walk toward her, right at the other side of the room, and then you pull at her hair. You try to connect your knuckles to any inch of her face after she screams and tries to push you away, but you do not let go of her. You don’t let go of her even when people try to pull you away, and when you finally do you manage to pull out a clump of her hair to keep as a trophy. “You bitch!” She shouts at you while you hold up her hair triumphantly in your hand as two other students drag you as far away from her as possible.

Mr. Highbottom orders the students who are holding you to take you outside until you’ve come back to your senses. You most likely ruined your chance at being a mentor but at the moment you don’t care. All you can think about is his hand touching hers.

They take you to the hallway and only then do you realize that It’s Gaius and Sejanus Plinth who had held you back. Gaius quickly goes back into the room but Sejanus stays for a bit longer. “You shouldn’t let her get to you.” 

“I know that,” You snap. He looks a bit taken aback by your tone and you sigh. “Sorry. I just… I hate her. So much. And I hate the fact that now I look like even more of an idiot in front of everyone else. This just all makes me so mad.”

He observes you for a moment. “Are you sure that you’re not mad about something else?”

“About what?”

“Well,” Sejanus says. “Coryo did seem to be getting well acquainted with his tribute…”

You open your mouth to protest but close it once you realize that you have no way of defending yourself. Maybe he’s right. Maybe Arachne is not the main issue here. Maybe It’s the way that Coryo was looking at Lucy, or holding her hand, or that he was willing to jump into a cage to be by her side.

Maybe… most certainly.

***

A few days later, the mentors and their tributes all enter the arena for a tour. Coryo tries to focus strictly on his surroundings but he finds himself glancing at you from time to time. He had heard about your and Arachne’s fight through Clemensia Dovecote, who told him right after he came back to the Academy. He hasn’t had the chance to talk to you about it but he’s glad that at least Highbottom had some bit of sense left in him to let you stay in the mentor program. There is no doubt in his mind that Arachne had initiated it somehow. 

You walk several feet beside him and he fights the urge to look at you again, but then Lucy’s arm links with his and he’s brought back to reality. “You’re awfully distracted today,” She points out, her eyes looking forward. 

Coryo stiffens. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You were so attentive and focused when we first met and now you just… I don’t know, you feel far away.” Lucy explains.

He remains quiet. At the same time, his eyes fail to stray from you as they find your figure yet again. You’re walking alongside your tribute and talking to her while you point at certain spots in the arena. From what he’s seen, you seem to get along with your tribute fairly well. He’s seen you bring sandwiches to her a few times at the enclosure and the tribute, while she is quiet with other people, seems to find it easy to open up to you. He didn’t doubt for a second that she would. You’re very likable when you want to be.

“Is it because of that mentor you’re always staring at?”

Coryo still does not give Lucy an answer but his face turns to finally face her. She is already staring at him with a knowing smile. “I knew it,” She says. “Let’s face it: you’re here putting on a show with me but you’re thinking about her. It’s okay, you know. I’ve been in love before and I’ve suffered because of it; I know what It’s like.”

In love. Coryo has never thought himself to be “in love” with you. His feelings are strong, yes, but he has never given them a name, let alone a name like love. It’s a dangerous word to be throwing around like that. “Is there any history between the two of you?” Lucy asks.

Coryo knows there’s no use in ignoring her, so he says, “No. We’re just friends.”

Lucy does not look convinced. “Doesn’t look like it.”

“Listen, we’re not here to talk about me,” He says. “Nor her. I want you to stay focused on what really matters.”

Lucy shrugs. “Just trying to get to know my mentor,” He rolls his eyes. “But, just so you know, she’s also been staring at you. A lot.”

His breath hitches before he can stop himself and he knows that Lucy notices. She chuckles, glad that she at least got a reaction out of him, but again he stays silent. And when he does go to say something, there’s an explosion. Both of them are thrown back by the impact, his back hits the ground and he lies there for a few seconds, unable to process what just happened. 

When he opens his eyes once again his vision is a cloudy gray. He hears screaming and shouting all around him while a few more bombs go off, but he seems to be frozen on the spot. He sees Lucy standing up and urging him to stand up as well, but he can barely hear her. She finally grabs his arm and helps him lift himself. “We have to run,” She says.

Coryo nods and they start heading toward the direction they came from, when all of a sudden he remembers that you’re also somewhere in the room and that you might be hurt, and he stops. Lucy looks back at him with wide eyes. “You go,” He tells her. “I need to find someone first.”

She immediately knows who he’s talking about, so she nods and tells him, “You come back alive, alright?”

He nods back and then she runs out of his sight. 

Coryo begins to blindly run through the smoke, passing by and almost running into his classmates and the other tributes, who are all either running around and screaming in panic or lying motionless on the ground. None of them are you and it makes him all the more nervous.

When he finally finds you, you're crouched next to a girl. It takes him a moment to recognize her as your tribute while she’s lying there, covered in debris and blood. You’re practically screaming at her to get up but Coryo thinks she’s already long gone, so he grabs you and tries to pull you away from her. “(Y/N),” he calls your name as you struggle to get out of his grip. He grabs your face so you can look at him. “We have to go—” Another bomb goes off in the distance. “Now!”

You’re still in a state of shock but you try to listen to his words and you stand up with his help. He’s still holding you when the both of you run towards the exit. Another bomb goes off behind you, this time close enough to send you both flying off. Your ears are ringing as you lie there on the ground, the impact making you land on your side, hard. You wince in pain and you try to sit up but it proves to be a challenge. You might’ve dislocated your shoulder, you’re not completely sure, but the pain makes it obvious.

No more explosions go out, and everyone who is not dead seems to have already evacuated the place. You turn to Coryo. His eyes are closed, a line of blood falling down the side of his face. “Coryo?” you try to shake him awake but he remains unresponsive. “Coryo!” You suddenly feel nauseous. He can’t be… no, not him. No no no no no no no no no no…

You lean down to press your ear against his chest and you breathe out a sigh of relief when you realize he’s still breathing. He’s alive, You think as you stay there, your head against his chest while you listen to his soothing heartbeat. You hear the faint sound of Peacekeepers coming back and shouting something and a few tears run down your face. He’s going to make it.

***

The first thing you do after you’re checked out from the hospital is visit Coriolanus Snow.

You know he was released earlier and you haven’t had the chance to talk to him. To thank him for saving your life. For coming back to you when he could’ve just run outside and waited until the Peacekeepers found your corpse. But he didn’t.

You knock on the door and are immediately by Tigris, who beams once she sees It’s you. “(Y/N)!” she pulls you in for an embrace but is careful with the sling that you’ll have to wear for a while. “Oh, (Y/N), I’m so glad to see you, and I’m so glad you’re okay. I was so worried about you after that incident at the arena.”

“I know. I’m glad to see you, too,” Tigris’ eyes are watery when you pull away. “It’s been a while, huh?”

“Yes, it has,” She says in a soft voice. “I assume you’re here to see Coryo?” You nod and her grin broadens. “He’s in his room. You can go on ahead.”

You thank Tirgris as she moves aside to let you in. You say your greetings to his grandmother, who is listening to her little radio in the living room, and quickly make your way to Coryo’s bedroom door. You knock softly a few times. It’s silent for a moment, and then you hear the click of the door unlocking and then it opens. Coryo stands there —without a shirt— and you have to force your eyes to stay on his face. My God. “(Y/N),”

“Hi,” You gulp. For some reason, your mouth is watering. “Can we talk?”

Coryo stares at you briefly. “Yeah. Just give me a second.”

You nod and he closes the door. A few minutes later, he opens it again, and this time he’s wearing a loose grey shirt over his white shorts. “Come in,” he says, and so you do.

You take a seat on his bed, taking in the familiar walls. It feels like it's been so long since you’ve last been here and you’ve missed it. More than you thought.

He goes to sit next to you and you scoot over. His eyes go down to your arm. “Is it hurting?”

You shrug. “A little. It used to feel worse. Having to wear this all the time is uncomfortable, though.”

Coryo gives you a toothless smile. “I can imagine.”

You smile back at him. A short silence follows but, contrary to what you were expecting, it feels comfortable. You cannot help but get lost in his eyes. “Coryo,” you say before you can forget why you’re here in the first place. “How will I ever be able to thank you for coming back for me?”

He shakes his head. “I’m sure you would’ve done the same for me—”

“But I didn’t,” You say. “I was in shock by Sheaf dying. I couldn’t stomach the fact that she was gone, just like that. Someone whom I had known for a few days, but I had so much hope for. I was so hopeful that she would win, and then she died before the games even began. It was just…”

Coryo doesn’t wait for you to finish. “She’s in a better place now,” He tells you while brushing a few strands of your hair behind your ear. “She’s not hurting anymore.”

You nod because you truly want to believe him. You shake the awful memories of the bombing out of your head and focus on him, instead. Your brain still cannot seem to fathom the idea of you being here with him. “I missed you,” you blurt out.

He smiles at you. “Did you?”

“Yes,” You’re pretty sure you’re blushing, with the way he’s looking at you and how his face is so close. “A lot.”

“Does that mean we can go back to the way we were?” He asks.

You shake your head. “I don’t want it to be like that anymore.”

A flash of hurt crosses his face, and that’s the last thing you see before you lean in to kiss him. It’s very short because you pull away before he has a chance to respond. That is not what you had in mind when you came into his house, but something took over you as soon as you stepped into his room. Maybe it was the image of him shirtless that made you lose your focus too much. You blink a few times at him and wait for a reaction. It’s hard to read what he’s thinking just by the look on his face, and you begin to think that maybe you shouldn’t have done that.

And then he leans in and his lips are back on yours, and you’re the one who’s frozen now. Your heart feels like It’s about to leap out of your chest and you think you might collapse at any second. Regardless, you respond once you come back to your senses. Coryo deepens the kiss, coaxing your tongue with his as he pulls you closer. You take a handful of his curls and he lets out a low groan against your mouth; It’s the hottest thing you’ve ever heard.

He pulls you into his lap and your body is pressed against his, but a sharp pain shoots through your arm from the sudden movement. You wince in pain and, although It’s nothing you can’t handle, he immediately looks worried. “Sorry,” he scans your face. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” You assure him while you run your fingers along his cheek. “Really.”

Coryo leans his face down to plant a fluttery kiss on your shoulder, and then his lips move along until they reach your neck, jawline, and cheek, and finally, they reconnect with yours. Once he’s sure that you’re good, he kisses you like he’s desperate to take all of you in, and it makes your head spin. It’s hard to resist him when you’ve already started to lose yourself in him, in the taste of his lips, in his scent, and the warmth of his touch. His hands go down to your lower back, sneaking in under your shirt. The feeling of his hands against your bare skin sends shivers down your spine and you know he’d probably go further if it wasn’t for the knock on the door. You quickly get off him and take your seat back on his bed, both of you trying to look like you weren’t just devouring each other a few seconds ago. “Come in,” he says.

The door opens and Tigris peeks her head in. “Dinner’s ready. (Y/N), Would you like to join us?”

“Oh, uh,” you hesitate. “I’m not sure honestly, I think I have to get going soon. My parents are expecting me.”

“Of course,” She says. “But if you change your mind you’re more than welcome to stay.”

You thank her and she closes the door. Coryo stands up first and then offers you his hand to help you up. Once you’re out of the bed he pulls you close to him and holds your face, kissing you again. You smile against his lips. “Stay for dinner,” He tells you. “Please?”

You almost melt at the softness of his voice. “I already told you,” you giggle as he buries his face in your neck. “My parents are expecting me.”

“They’ll be fine. They know you’re with me, don’t they?” He says. “And if anything happens, I’ll talk to them for you.”

You grin. How can you ever say no to him?

[lesbiankimdahyun]

Dry Spell

4.0k words

Requested: Yes 

CW: GP!Nayeon, GP!Jihyo, breeding kink, sorry i know this is so long for just some smut pls forgive me

[Top!Nayeon x F!Reader x Top!Jihyo] 

You awoke early in the morning. The sex dream you’d just had dissipated quickly from your memory as you opened your eyes to check the time. 

Six thirty. 

You yawned and rolled over, wanting to sleep more, but then realized your body wasn’t going to let you off so easily. You couldn’t even remember what had happened in the sex dream, but now you were wet. Annoyingly wet. 

You’d been having frequent sex-related dreams lately, probably due to the dry spell you were going through. Normally you wouldn’t be so bothered by it, but these days you felt very (hot and) bothered thanks to your roommates, Nayeon and Jihyo.

Maybe it was the lack of sex, or maybe they’d always been that attractive, but recently you found yourself sneaking glances at them more and more. It made you feel guilty at first— these were your friends, after all! Who looks at their friends like that? 

They weren’t new friends to you, either. Nayeon and Jihyo had known you for a few years now, and you recently all became roommates in addition to friends after signing a lease on a three bedroom apartment a couple months ago. Since moving in, you’d all been spending a lot of time together. They were growing more touchy feely with you, which was nice, but confusing at times. 

You’d all cuddle while watching Netflix together, for instance. Jihyo would wrap her arm around you while you held Nayeon. Sometimes, especially if you’d watched a horror movie, Nayeon would crawl into your bed late at night and sleep with you. And recently, Jihyo had started waking you up on weekday mornings. You were not a natural early riser and normally hated getting up early, but you let her, because you knew that when she gently knocked and peeked in your bedroom, what she really wanted was for you to follow her back to her room to snuggle with her in her bed. Sometimes, on the occasional morning when knocking wasn’t enough to wake you, she’d throw a stuffed animal at your bed to get you up, usually her stuffed unicorn. Never at your head, but it always landed on you or next to you– just enough of a disturbance to wake you. 

Now it was summer, and all of you frequently slept shirtless but continued to share beds. Nayeon would wrap herself around you, her bare chest pressing right up against your back and her chin on your shoulder. With Jihyo, you’d absentmindedly trace shapes, words and designs into her back when you held her in her bed. Once, when you thought she was sleeping, she repeated back a word you had just written on her bare skin. “Pretty?” she mumbled sleepily. “You think I’m pretty?” Too scared to reply out loud, you wrote ‘yes’ on her naked shoulder to answer her. 

Though you were otherwise very close with them, you were too embarrassed to tell them about your sex drought. You tried to behave as normally (sanely, really) as you could. But they’d caught you checking them out a couple times over the last few weeks. Jihyo caught you capital ‘L’ Looking at her backside when she bent down to tie her shoes one afternoon, and Nayeon saw the way your eyes wandered up under her shirt when she reached for a mug on the top shelf in the kitchen. When the two realized you had done it to both of them, they started going out of their way to tease you. 

“How do I look?” Jihyo asked you as she got ready for work one morning. “What do you think…” she trailed off, adjusting her button down shirt. “Two buttons undone? Or maybe three?” she seemed to enjoy watching you blush as she made eye contact with you through the full length mirror in her room. 

And if it wasn’t Jihyo making you sweat, it was Nayeon. “Do you like this new skirt I just bought?” she had asked you the other day. To say it was short was a vast understatement. It barely covered her. You could hardly breathe as she approached you in it. 

“Feel it,” she said, bringing your hand up to the soft black fabric. “Should I keep it?” She turned while your hand was still on the skirt and suddenly you were touching her ass instead of her hip. 

“Well?” she’d asked, smirking. 

There was constant sexual tension now between the three of you when you were all together. No one acted on it, though. You were too shy, and if you didn’t say anything, they weren’t going to either. But god, you really were starting to suffer, all too aware of the fact that what you wanted most, despite all of your friends’ teasing, tucked away between both Nayeon and Jihyo’s thighs.  

Admitting defeat in being able to fall back asleep now that it was nearly seven in the morning, you thought for a moment. It was a weekend, so Jihyo was most likely going to be sleeping in this morning. And if she was sleeping in, that meant maybe now was your chance to relieve yourself. 

You listened hard for a few moments, checking to see if either of them were up yet. You didn’t hear anything, but you got up and opened your bedroom door, poking your head out to listen for a little longer.

Satisfied with the early morning silence that met you, you turned back and climbed into bed, not noticing that your door quietly swung back open after you thought you had pushed it closed. 

With your hand between your legs, you tried to think of anything and anyone else, but as you started touching yourself, your mind quickly wandered to Nayeon and Jihyo. 

Nayeon with her big hands and long fingers. You wanted to feel her fingers inside you, or at least in your mouth. 

You let out a soft whine, getting worked up now as your fingers circled your aching clit. 

And Jihyo, you could barely look at Jihyo when she wore taut, tight fitting shirts to work out. Having her know you thought she was pretty was one thing, but to have her catch you openly staring at her chest…

“Ah~!” you were closer to your climax than you had thought. You accidentally let out a whimper and cursed, pausing for a moment in case you’d been caught. You only stopped to listen for a second or two though, more interested in getting off than whether or not someone had heard you.

But Jihyo, whose room was next to yours, woke up to the sound of what sounded like a muffled groan. She was confused at first, unable to tell where the sound was coming from or what it was. 

She opened her door quietly and listened. The sound had definitely come from your room. At first she thought maybe you were crying, but then she realized the sounds she was hearing weren’t crying whimpers, they were sounds of pleasure. Jihyo was mesmerized as she listened to you for a few moments, then she quietly padded down to Nayeon’s room. 

A few minutes later, Jihyo emerged from the bedroom with Nayeon in tow. 

“Are you sure you heard what you thought you heard?” Nayeon whispered as they approached your room. She wiped the sleep from her eyes, still a little tired from being woken up early. 

“Just listen,” Jihyo whispered back as they approached your room. 

But not only did they listen, they watched. 

They really hadn’t meant to, but your open door gave them a very, very good view. Nayeon was fully awake now as she took in the sight in front of her: a very naked you with your hand working diligently between your legs, eyes shut and brow knit in concentration. 

And that’s when, unbeknownst to you, you really slipped up: you sighed, murmuring their names. Nayeon instantly started to get hard when she heard “Nayeon-ah,” fall from your lips. 

Meanwhile, Jihyo blushed, her eyes widening with curiosity. She was about to reach for your door to give you some privacy, but a sudden “please, Hyo…” from you made her stop dead in her tracks. Her own cock twitched with arousal in her boxers. 

Nayeon couldn’t stand to just watch anymore. She cleared her throat lightly, making you freeze and open your eyes. 

You looked up. To your absolute horror, Nayeon and Jihyo were standing in your doorway. Nayeon smirked; Jihyo looked surprised, but amused. 

“Well good morning, Y/N,” Nayeon said, breaking the silence. 

You started reaching for a blanket to cover yourself with, but Nayeon quickly stepped inside with Jihyo following. This had to be a dream. 

“What’s the blanket for? You want to stop?” the two of them were at the foot of your bed now, Nayeon with a fake pout on her lips. “Didn't it feel good?” 

“Those were our names, right?” Jihyo added, feigning innocence. “Is there something you need from us?”

You were frozen. This was not a dream. As you looked back and forth between them, you were grateful they weren’t scarred for life at what they’d walked into, but was this real? More wetness leaked out of you– your body certainly hoped it would be.  

“I-” you stammered. “I didn’t mean—”

“I think you did,” Nayeon cut you off, crawling onto your bed. “Go on,” she said, looking pointedly between your legs and then back up at you. “Don’t let us stop you.” 

Your hand almost followed her direction, but you hesitated, feeling vulnerable suddenly. 

“Aww, are you shy now?” Nayeon asked, with no trace of sympathy in her voice. She took off her shirt, allowing you a good look at not only her chest, but the bulge growing beneath her boxers. “That’s alright, Y/N. I’ll show you if you show me.”

Your eyes widened as she proceeded to pull out her cock. At full mast, her dick was of significant length and veiny like her hands. You were transfixed as you watched Nayeon start to slowly fist her hand over her aching member. 

“Ah, ah,” Jihyo’s voice snapped you back to attention. “Show us how wet you are.” 

Your face burned at the command, but you nodded. You sat up a bit as you spread your legs the way you had before, hand dipping back down to stroke your soaked clit. 

Jihyo’s mouth fell open slightly as she watched you. Unable to refrain from touching herself anymore, Jihyo’s shirt and boxers soon joined Nayeon’s on the floor and she quietly began to stroke her own cock. 

“Look at you,” Nayeon cooed as she watched you squirm. Your soaked pussy clenched around nothing. Touching yourself felt good, but you were unwilling to let yourself get off. If this was your chance to feel Nayeon and Jihyo inside you, you were going to take it. Nayeon seemed to read your mind. “I think you deserve more than just your hand to help you, don’t you?” 

“Yeah,” you breathed. “Need more.”

Nayeon nodded, inching closer. “I think so, too. Turn over for me?”

You found yourself obeying her quickly. As soon as you were on all fours, Nayeon came up behind you. You let out a gasp when you felt her fingers roam lightly over your clit. She teased you for a bit, planting light kisses down your shoulder and back before taking some of your wetness for her cock. 

You felt the bed shift and turned to look behind you. Jihyo had positioned herself right behind Nayeon. Her eyes went back and forth from your pussy to Nayeon’s dick, waiting her turn as patiently as she could. You caught her eye and Jihyo smiled slyly back at you. The way she was looking at you made you feel small, but you liked the attention.

There was no going back now. You turned your attention back to Nayeon. 

“Nayeon,” you murmured, shamelessly arching your back so she could see how wet and ready your pussy was for her. 

“Ready for me?” Nayeon moved closer to you, preparing your cunt as she rubbed the head of her cock along the folds of your entrance. You were about to beg, but then finally she was entering you, making both of you moan. 

“God, you’re tight,” Nayeon hissed as she took her time bottoming out in you. 

Her cock filled you completely; you could practically feel her in your stomach. This was exactly what you’d been craving for months. Every thought about being self-conscious, what you had to do that week, errands, breakfast plans– every relevant thought had simply left your head. You could only focus on Nayeon’s long cock and the way she felt inside you.

You clenched around Nayeon’s length, making her gasp. 

“Fuck, Y/N,” she said through gritted teeth. She grabbed hold of your hips, bringing your ass up a bit higher. Your front end sank down into the bed. 

“There you go, baby,” Nayeon said. The pet name made your heart race, you leaned back a bit, pressing yourself against her while she went deeper. “What a view.” The older girl started to slowly pick up her pace. “You really should masturbate with your door open more often.” 

You could only moan desperately in response, too distracted by Nayeon thrusting in and out of you to form a coherent reply. 

Noticing the reaction Nayeon’s words got from you, Jihyo spoke up too. 

“I bet she wanted us to see her,” she said. “Is that why you left your door open? So we could watch?”

You nearly wailed in response, hands desperately gripping your sheets while Nayeon increased to a relentless pace, pounding into you hard. 

“Doesn’t that feel good?” Jihyo’s voice continued to torment you. “You look so pretty taking all of that cock, kitten. You’ll have no problem taking me next, will you?” 

Hearing Jihyo call you ‘kitten’ was enough to make your eyes roll back for a second or two. You could hardly think, barely managing a weak nod for Jihyo. 

“Good girl.” Jihyo’s praise felt just as satisfying as Nayeon having her way with you. 

The older girl was getting close to her release. She hadn't expected you to feel this good. She pushed you all the way down into the bed save for your hips, which she held with a deathly strong grip as she mounted you from behind on your bed. Her strokes were deep, fast and consistent. 

“Y/N— close,” was all Nayeon could manage to say. The harder she fucked you and the longer she held you down, the deeper you slid into submission. You’d do anything, you realized, to make her cum. And not only did you want to make her cum, you wanted it for yourself.

“N-Nayeon,” your voice was hoarse, muffled against the sheets. “Don’t pull out.”

“Oh fuck,” Nayeon grunted. “You want it that bad, baby? Want me to fill you?”

“Please, please,” you begged, now on the verge of tears from all of the stimulation. “Use me.”

Nayeon cursed when she heard that. It sent her over the edge; her hips slammed into you and then slowly stilled as she came, emptying herself into you greedily. 

“Good girl, take it all,” she said, pulling you back and forth over her cock a few times to push her seed in deeper. When she felt she had fucked her load into you thoroughly, she pulled out. Nayeon grabbed your ass, taking time to feel you up before sitting back. As you pushed yourself back up from your mattress, some of her load trickled down your thighs. 

“My turn,” Jihyo said, growing impatient. Nayeon moved over, eyeing Jihyo’s cock curiously as she made room for the younger girl. 

With Jihyo’s help, you flipped over onto your back. She made her way between your legs, admiring your body for a few moments as you caught your breath. “Jesus,” she said, using two fingers to play with your swollen clit. “You really should have left your door open ages ago.” 

With your permission, she plunged two fingers into your core, making you whine. She watched as you desperately tried to grind yourself down onto her fingers. 

“Poor thing,” Jihyo teased, “Does your cunt need more cum?” She finally took off her shirt, revealing the rest of her body to you. You couldn’t help but stare up at her. 

She huffed softly in amusement. “Like what you see?” Jihyo’s voice was soft but authoritative.

“Yes,” you breathed. Your gaze dropped down to her waist, and then lower. Her throbbing member stood up against her stomach, and you watched as she pumped her length a few times. Her cock wasn’t as long as Nayeon’s but god, it was thick. Her own hand didn’t fully wrap around her dick, and you were suddenly grateful you’d taken Nayeon first.

While Jihyo repositioned herself, brushing the tip of her cock against your clit, you saw Nayeon out of the corner of your eye. She was getting hard again and her hand made its way back to her shaft.

The next thing you knew, Jihyo was letting out a low groan, almost a growl as she slid into you. You nearly cried out from the feeling, the sound getting caught in your throat and replaced with a gasp. 

She reached down to play with your clit as she carefully stretched you over her thick cock. You both took your time, with Jihyo and Nayeon both praising you sweetly every time you got another inch of her inside of you. 

“Oh my god,” Jihyo could barely contain herself when she was finally all the way in. Your cunt was warm, wet and irresistibly tight around her throbbing cock. 

She wanted to give you more time to adjust, but Jihyo’s need overcame her finally. “Can I move?” she asked, and you nodded, reaching to hold onto her forearms. 

She started excruciatingly slowly at first, both of you sighing and moaning as her hips began to find a rhythm. Your body rocked in sync with hers, and after a minute, you ground your hips against hers, letting her know she could pick up her pace if she wanted. 

With a devious smile on her lips, Jihyo really began to take off then. The sounds of wet skin on skin filled the room as she thrust into you, your headboard gently knocking against the wall. 

“Look at you taking my cock so well,” Jihyo praised, touching your cheek tenderly. 

“Doesn’t her pussy feel good?” Nayeon asked Jihyo, who nodded. “She’s dripping onto her sheets.” 

Jihyo leaned over you as she continued to fuck you, pinning you down beneath her. Her short hair tickled your forehead when she looked down at you, that’s how close she was, but what really distracted you was her chest bouncing right in front of your face. 

Your mouth watered. You tilted your head slightly to lick one of her small, pink buds. 

“Ah–” Jihyo’s eyes were locked on yours, a quick nod letting you know you could continue. Her pace stuttered for a moment shortly after as she watched you take one of her nipples in your mouth. 

She threw her head back when you began to swirl your tongue over it, gently licking and biting. 

For a moment you thought the roles had switched, but then Jihyo resumed her pace. A particularly hard thrust caused your mouth to pop open and release her, making Nayeon laugh and Jihyo smirk.

“Can’t focus when you’re getting fucked so deep, can you, kitten?” Nayeon’s voice made heat rise to your face. The way she spoke to you made you leak more, your juices coating Jihyo’s cock. 

“Look at me, baby,” Jihyo’s command made you tear your eyes away from Nayeon quickly. “Where do you want me to cum?” she asked. 

“In me,” you answered immediately. You went to put your hands on Jihyo’s waist to bring her closer, but she stopped you, pinning your wrists down to the bed momentarily.

“Hang on,” Jihyo’s voice was low in your ear, “Can you do something for me first, angel?” 

“Yes,” you breathed, wanting nothing more than to please her. She smiled, leaning in to lick your neck. You shivered with pleasure. 

“I’ll fill you up just like Nayeon did,” Jihyo said, starting to thrust into you again, “But only if you cum for me first. Can you do that? Can you be a good girl and cum on my cock?” 

You nodded wordlessly, clenching involuntarily around her dick. It made Jihyo’s breath hitch.

“Nayeon?” Jihyo asked, and suddenly Nayeon was beside her. The older girl’s unattended, hard cock gently knocked against her inner thigh. 

You were so distracted by it that you didn’t even notice Nayeon’s hand moving down between your legs at first. Jihyo’s strokes became deeper and slower so you could focus on Nayeon’s fingers as she rubbed and circled your clit, paying extra attention to movements that seemed to help get you close. 

“Shit,” you cursed, closing your eyes. “Y-you’re really gonna….” You trailed off. Your breathing became a little shallower as you realized you were close to climaxing. Your body began to tremble a little, your own release about to overtake you. 

“Gonna make me– yes, there,” you started to babble as Jihyo’s strokes and Nayeon’s fingers touched you in just the right spots. “R-right there, yes, oh p-please don’t stop, please please d-don’t st–” you cried out as your orgasm washed over you, hips bucking as you came on Jihyo’s cock like she asked. Your cunt pulsed from the immense pleasure, slick cum leaking out of you and down her cock. 

“God,” Jihyo said, giving you a few seconds to recover. Nayeon took her hand away, making sure you watched as she licked her fingers clean. You wished she would put her fingers in your mouth, but you didn’t have time to ask because a moment later, all you could focus on was Jihyo. 

Your cum had made it even easier for her to slide in and out of you, and now she was picking up speed again. Seeking her own pleasure, all you could do was throw your arms around Jihyo’s shoulders, clawing at her back lightly while she fucked you at a surprisingly fast pace. 

Your mewls gradually turned to whines and cries the longer and harder she fucked you, real tears running down your cheeks as she continued to use you. Just when you thought you couldn’t possibly take any more, Jihyo let out a sharp cry and then came, burying her cock deep and spilling her load into you. After you both caught your breath, she thrust slowly a couple more times for good measure, mixing her load with Nayeon’s. She was coated with cum and slick when she pulled out.

You desperately wanted to offer to suck her clean, but you could barely move, your body too ruined from the rounds of sex. 

Nayeon, hard again, looked at Jihyo’s wet cock as hungrily as you did for a few moments. No one won the pleasure of cleaning up Jihyo though, because then that reality of what you’d all just done finally hit you. 

“We should, you know, probably talk about all of this,” Jihyo said once she’d recovered. She tucked her hair behind her ears and sat back patiently, as if waiting for someone else to start the conversation. 

“Yeah…” was all you said, your eyes locked on Nayeon’s stiff cock.

Jihyo looked at you and then at Nayeon, who licked her lips as she finally looked up from staring at Jihyo’s dick. “Hm? What?” she asked.

Jihyo rolled her eyes. “We all fuck one time and now you can’t think of anything else?” she said.

“Oh come on, Hyo,” Nayeon said. “You’re literally getting hard again right now.” 

The younger girl blushed. “I am not!” She pursed her lips as she looked down; she lied, she was already at half mast again. “I- fine. Okay maybe, if everyone’s down… one more round and then we talk about this?”

[yourtoradorasextendedwarranty]

So I am a bit ashamed given modern day politics to admit that I'm left leaning at all. Even if I'm a just Left of Center Libertarian.

But the reason why is because of the fact that a huge swath of the left has an issue when it comes to words. Specifically changing the meaning of words until they mean next to nothing at all.

What do I mean by this? Well let's consider, what words have been made to mean nothing by the left:

Gender

Sex

Abortion

Genocide

Nazi

Man

Woman

Child

Family

Capitalism

Communism

Socialism

Fascism

Racism

Sexism

Etc

The list goes on and on and on.

Nazi more or less now means, "I don't like you and you don't agree with me thus forth I will bestow this label on you so as to smear you publicly"

Gender used to mean sex and now it both does and does not mean sex and even is now used to mean "Identity" with that was never what it meant.

Genocide is SUPPOSED to mean the intentional removal of a group of people through killing them or breeding them out by sterilization or intentional delusion of their bloodline. (Example of this is the raping of Uyghur Muslim women by Han chinese men and the sterilization of the Uyghur Muslim men by chemical castration or actual castration). Now it just means, "People dying in war is genocide. People not being allowed to chemically castrate themselves is genocide. People being allowed to eat meat is genocide". IE: It means nothing at all.

And then there's my favorite phrase from the left.

"This is a threat to our Democracy" which actually translates to: This is a threat to the power of Democrats therefore we need to smear and slander anyone pushing whatever is being pushed currently. And we will use weasel words normies use in order to scare them away from whatever this thing being pushed is".

First and foremost, we DO NOT live in a Democracy. We live in a Constitutional Republic. Secondly, when people want power as BADLY as Dems and will lie, cheat, steal, and smear to get there, you should be concerned. I mean for god sake, people consider a very TINY riot at the capital with 99.99% of people unarmed completely, while we also know feds were in the crowd, an "Insurrection"; But then will not consider fire bombing the security office outside the White House, the pushing down of the WH fence, and the burning of a historical church across the street, and the injuring and killing of several Guards and Police the same thing.

So basically, it's a "If we are in power, everything we do, no matter what it is, is fine and reasonable. If you are in power anything we do to try to remove you from power is fine and reasonable.", situation.

That's why I don't like most of the left. Because they think they are gods. Their "Moral" is correct even when it never stops changing. Look at their defense of slavery in the middle east all because, "Those poor oppressed Arabs". I'm sorry but what?! SO slavery is FINE so long as it's non white doing it? That's what I'm hearing right? And sadly a lot of the time it's "YES! That is what you are hearing". If time has taught me anything it's that most of the left is a brainwashed, uneducated cult. They believe EVERYTHING outside of their cult views as evil and thus forth need to lie about it to make everyone else NOT involved or not informed also have the same resentment towards the people they hate.

And it was the last straw when I saw post after post after post of leftists excusing rape. And then people like Hasan Piker calling Kids, "Colonizers" while in the breath before talking about violent removal of people is fine if they are colonizers.

No leftists. You need to understand something very clearly. The "Right" you view as so bad and evil are consistent in most of their morals. But you view everything in bad faith. Thus can't see past your own bias long enough to realize the actual evil ones are you.

And understand. I'm not calling EVERYONE on the left evil. But if you worship the left, you probably are evil. Even if you believe you are doing "The right thing" that doesn't mean you are. And it's about time you realized that.

[lordsammichsilas]

Unintended consequences

One of the unintended consequences of the Railroad's methods is that newly freed synths tend to be fairly impressionable when they start their new lives. This isn't because they're any less capable than any adult human of the same (perceived) age, but because they have limited lived experience in their newfound lives. As they live their lives and have experiences, this goes away. The problem is life in the wasteland is hard and they tend to latch onto people who don't always have their best interests at heart.

The Railroad wipes their memory and gives them a new identity, but afterwards they're on their own and kind of have to hope for the best. Because of the nature of the Railroad, they kind of have to work like this. They wipe a synth's memory and give them a nondescript background usually growing up as an anonymous orphan in a vague region with no real specifics. They tend to avoid giving too much detail because that makes it easier to follow up on these things and can consequently put that synth in danger without the synth even realizing it.

I came up with this theory while reading up on Danse's backstory and trying to figure out what parts of his memories are real and which aren't.

For the purpose of this thing I'm writing, I'm going to assume the Institute didn't give Danse those memories (I think that's an incorrect assumption on Danse's part). As far as the Institute is concerned, he's just a missing synth called M7-97. He wouldn't have a name nor would they bother to give him this backstory. It's far more likely that this came from the Railroad.

It would not surprise me to learn that Deacon actually knew Danse when he was rescued.

Check out this companion swap dialogue -

Danse: There's something you're keeping from me, Deacon. If I find out what it is and I don't like it, there will be hell to pay.

Deacon: Well good thing I have nothing to hide then.

What if Danse has an inkling of recognition of Deacon? Usually Deacon has a witty retort to the other companions when swapping people out. Instead he just plays it off. What if, on some very remote level, Danse recognizes Deacon juuuuuuuust enough to know that he's got some kind of secret that Danse just sort of unconsciously zeroes in on. Not enough to actually recognize it for what it is, but it's just enough to spook Deacon a teeny tiny bit.

That's Deacon's way of side stepping a VERY awkward conversation and shutting Danse down because “trust me bro, you REALLY don't want to fuck around and find this out.”

I also love the idea of Deacon knowing about Danse's identity the whole time and just not saying anything. Whether he likes or dislikes Danse is irrelevant, he's still going to keep that secret because he helps all synths. Even if they're being a dick.

But also Deacon would also be acutely aware of the consequences of the Railroad's methods on the synths and has probably seen a lot of them end up in all kinds of arrangements in their lives that aren't good for them. He knows the Railroad's methods aren't perfect because of this, but it's the best they can do with the level of secrecy they have to keep up. They wipe the synths' memories, give them a new identity, and hope for the best.

Anyway, back to Danse's backstory:

He's an orphan from the Capital Wasteland selling scrap. It's pretty nondescript and vague. Most (or at least a large number of) orphans in the Capital Wasteland end up in Little Lamplight.

It would have been really awkward if the Railroad gave Danse that memory and then you come across MacCready, who was the mayor in FO3, who'd never met Danse before. That could have easily outed Danse. So he was just in the Capital Wasteland selling scrap. Lots of other nondescript people did that.

I think his memories start at Rivet City. That's when you get a specific location and you get a specific person (Cutler). From then on getting recruited by the BoS, being mentored by Paladin Krieg who died at Adams Airforce Base, those are all specifics. If you played FO3, you get to see some of those things first hand. Also the Brotherhood keeps pretty good records of their soldiers (they even have their DNA on record). It would be extremely easy to prove whether or not Krieg and Cutler existed. Cutler was even on the Prydwen for some time.

Danse's description of meeting Cutler also makes sense. Danse had just been given a new identity and he sells scrap. Maybe the Railroad gave him some caps before he went to Rivet City. Danse also likes weapon mods and power armor. He seems to be a tinkerer. Maybe the Railroad gave him the scrap selling background because it seemed to fit. At least then he'd seem competent enough for that backstory to be believable.

He says that he and Cutler watched each other's backs in Rivet City and kept each other out of trouble. Integrating into human life as an adult from scratch comes with a learning curve. Perhaps Danse was fortunate enough to come across a human who was actually a decent person and helped him out instead of taking advantage of him and Danse returned the favor when he could.

Then the Brotherhood comes into town and they decide to join. Junk vending makes for a pretty meager existence, so they joined for pragmatic reasons (like most people who join the military).

Danse then gets assigned to Krieg who sees Danse is a bit different and pushes him harder than the other recruits. At that point, he still has relatively little life experience as Danse. Danse doesn't know why he's being pushed, so he tries harder to compensate for it. (Krieg is probably the closest thing to a father figure he's ever had). Because of this, he latches onto the ideals.

At that point he's all in. And maybe it isn't necessarily that bad under Lyons's Brotherhood. It wasn't perfect, but at least they were trying to help the people of the Capital Wasteland.

But then he sees Lyons's BoS start to fall apart.

And then Maxson comes to power and this is when it becomes problematic.

He had people in his life who looked out for him, but being in an organization when you have little frame of reference for anything else tends to skew your worldview. It basically has the same effect on Danse as someone who grew up in a cult. Most cults are relatively benign until they get a leader that can use those qualities in people against them.

Maxson's Brotherhood was far more dogmatic and fanatical (cultish) and more isolationist. When you're on the Prydwen in game, there's an announcement on the loudspeaker that fraternization with the locals is forbidden. Maxson does NOT like outsiders.

And that sort of cements it for Danse. He's been in the Brotherhood for almost his entire free life. He doesn't know much else outside of it and he doesn't really have much chance to experience life outside of the BoS. He's essentially trapped in a cult with a charismatic leader who had no problem ordering Danse's execution when his synth nature was found out, something Danse didn't even know himself. He even internalized the Brotherhood's teachings so hard that he agreed that he should die (even though he really wants to live).

What started out as what is normally best case scenario for a freed synth ended up being a nightmare scenario in the end. It's a horrific unintended consequence from the Railroad's methods of rescuing synths. And that's not to say anything bad about the Railroad. It's just the best they can do considering the circumstances and resources they have.

When looking at cults irl, considering victims of cults to be dumb or weakminded is a misnomer (and blames the victim which isn't cool). There are a lot of smart, capable people who fall in with cults. It's a thing that happens. Usually they're at a vulnerable point in their lives and a charismatic leader zeroes in on it and takes advantage of it. Being a newly freed synth with minimal life experience and no real connections would be a perfect victim for a cult.

I would imagine a lot of other synths have stories like this.

On a side note, I hope Danse appears in something else in the future. I think you could look at his character arc in FO4 as him realizing his life as an individual has value and then he can have an arc elsewhere where he's in the process of unlearning a lot of the more problematic parts of his worldview that come from the Brotherhood. Even if they didn't cut a lot of his content from the game, it would be unrealistic for him to be totally cool with all synths, super mutants, and ghouls even after learning he was a synth. That process doesn't happen overnight.

If anything, Danse learning that he's a synth should be the inciting incident for an even larger story. (At least it would if I had my way.)

[shiongenkai]

Tokyo Debunker Headcanons

I'll probably add to this list again, so this isn't all of them forever, but here's some things I like to kick around in my brain about...

Jin

His style of playing chess is extremely close to Yuri's, and vice-versa. He'll deny it if you point it out though.

Kaito

He's just like his grandma when she was young, and she finds it fun to tease him about that (even if he doesn't realise that's why she's teasing him).

His bow aim depends on his own confidence for the most part, but also on how his bow is feeling, so even if he's perfectly confident, his bow will miss to mess with him sometimes

King thinks he's striking out with Luca and the MC daily, but the two of them always clench their fists in pure adoration when he leaves. 'So pathetic we can't NOT want him' vibes.

He got along with Zenji before he died. Sometimes he can still see him, but can't recognize that it's Zenji due to him appearing like the shadowy monster figure.

He's able to see the tree on Towa's hill, which is how they originally became friends.

Lucas

Him and Lyca occasionally meet up to discuss new things they've learned about Japan and exchange notes on slang they don't understand

Sho

ADHD king who channels his restlessness and pent up energy into different hobbies and sparring.

Always jumping to a new thing since he gets bored easily and tends to pick up on the basics intuitively.

Haru

He has a difficult time accepting genuine help outside of his immediate circle of Towa and, very very recently, Ren. He's fine leaving what he considers basic tasks to others (even if his definition of 'basic' is still much more involved than others) but when it comes to lessening his own workload, he's super avoidant of it

On that note, king doesn't get nearly enough sleep. He tends to snag small hour naps throughout the day rather than sleeping for an extended period of time. He feels too restless otherwise.

Despite seeming like he's willing to spend a lot of money on things that don't really matter (tracking devices, new fliers, etc), he virtually never buys things for himself or his own sake outside of drinks at Rui's bar. A $100 purchase for someone else is worth more to him than a $2 purchase for himself.

Towa

He and Shion have a rivalry over Haru, which Haru doesn't know about. Towa is very proud he gets to stay by Haru's side while Shion can't. Shion will die mad about it.

His perception on what's dangerous to humans has been skewed by being around Edward and Shion, so he thinks anything that hasn't killed them is safe enough for humans too (even when it's not).

Haru banned him from visiting Sinostra

He knows about Haru hanging out at the bar but doesn't mind it as much as Haru thinks he does. He prefers to chill at the hill anyway, and Haru can't see the tree.

Ritsu

Ren forced him to join his game guild for the invite bonus, and both of them expected Ritsu to hate it, but Ritsu accidentally got super, super into it. More into it than Ren. It is insufferable for them both

He has behavioral models for everyone, including anomalies like the ZipperCrocs and Peekaboo.

He is insanely, terribly gullible, and the other first years have a field day messing with him over it.

Leo has him blocked on WickChat after Ritsu quoted one too many stupid laws at him.

Zenji

He became scared of ghosts after coming to Darkwick since he realized they were real at that point.

He's the 'He asked for no pickles!' for Jiro, and has carried that over even though nobody but Haku can hear him advocate for his brother.

He sneaks out at night a lot to go watch people sleep, not because he's trying to be a creep, but because he likes to see people look peaceful at rest. He misses that sensation.

He created videos before he died, but rebranded after he died to capitalize on the idea of 'famous artist dies and works become more valuable'.

Yuri

He's a germaphobe, but only outside of the medical contexts. He obviously keeps clean for operations like a doctor should, but he doesn't freak out if he gets blood on him, or so on. If blood or dirt gets on him in any other context he freaks out.

He has OCD tendencies and likely OCD itself, but he's horrible at diagnosing himself with issues, and doesn't trust other doctors to do it for him.

The aforementioned difficulty also extends to physical issues like injuries, but he's more willing to rely on Jiro for those.

Ed

He is unironically a fan of Leo's TikTok and regularly watches his content.

[helpfandom]

Hi, I stumbled upon your Yandere BTAS, which, along with Cape Crusader, is new. These are my top two favorite iterations of Batman. I was wondering if you could do BTAS-Bruce Wayne/Batman with an autistic Y/N. Where his need to protect leads to full-on smothering and Y/N is forced to stay in the manor rather than attend public school, etc. Can be headcannons or full stories. btw, I love your work, especially the yandere platonic.

Thank you anon!! I haven't seen Caped Crusader so I went with B;TAS!!

I actually got my autism diagnosis which was interesting, because so many traits I didn't realize were autistic traits, so I'll probably redo my asks about autism soon.

Can anyone guess the episode this comes from?

@lonleydweller and also @artisticdoofusxx because I think you would like this one

<333

°⁺⁎⋅❤︎⋅⁎⁺°⁺⁎⋅❤︎⋅⁎⁺°⁺⁎⋅❤︎⋅⁎⁺°

°⁺⁎⋅❤︎⋅⁎⁺°⁺⁎⋅❤︎⋅⁎⁺°⁺⁎⋅❤︎⋅⁎⁺°

He met you, somehow, the details are irrelevant, but most likely through just interacting with his city, or perhaps he heard your name muttered through the city, no matter what, he's a little interested in how a kid like you gets through Gotham City with it's hustle, bustle and crime filled nature.

Naturally, at the start, he's not going to do much until Robin mentions a classmate of his with the same name as you and the same characteristics and... it's you. The same person he was curious about.

Well, why not do some research anyway?

He's certainly... intrigued with you. Far more than his normal obsessions would be, he's just... a little worried. (Far more than worried, really, it's bordering on insanity with how often he finds something and thinks of you - whether it be a crime he worries that you could have been the victim of, or simply a busy street that seems overstimulating to even him, the dark knight. He practically becomes a hypochondriac when he thinks of you, not worried about him, but worried about you.)

But when he finally does muster up enough reasons and courage to do it in his mind to actually kidnap take you home? He's far, far worse than he was then. It's already stressful enough for you to have been kidnapped by Bruce Wayne, the most successful man in Gotham, but his smothering borders on suffocating when you finally get used to living a new space, everything you've ever looked at or considered being spotted there in the mansion, but you're not allowed to leave, to see those you considered friends. Only Dick and Alfred and HIM as your only source of human contact.

Oh, and if anyone finds out that you, Bruce's newest and latest child is autistic, and decides to attempt to capitalize on that?

You are never seeing the outside again after that.

[aroacesafeplaceforall]

You’re pissed that no one took any accountability for their supposed “aphobia/arophobia” but where is the accountability for the constant inhumane and disgusting homophobia, biphobia and transphobia STILL spewing out of ace spaces like puss? When will you all realize you feel that way because you are directly adjacent to the oppressor class and have next to nothing in common with the LGBT community as a whole but nearly everything in common with the average cishet? Y’all aren’t queer for not wanting to fuck, only fucking sometimes “if you emotionally connect”, or being emotionally unavailable to romantic partnership. And if you aren’t also gay, trans, or bisexual, you never will be.

I got my laptop out for this, goddamn. Where would i even start?

"You’re pissed that no one took any accountability for their supposed “aphobia/arophobia”" This tells me everything about you, you possibly don't believe in aro/ace identities. You don't believe people can hate on, or be hateful to, aro/ace spec people. And yes I am pissed. Because it was fucked up.

I would try to justify it with "if this was transphobic/homophobia you wouldn't be acting this way" but im guess you don't care about that as you obviously don't see it the same way.

you were also probably someone who sent asks like this (but more hateful) in 2016 and before, you were probably also someone who posted and reblogged aphobic content and said it was "just a joke" later while still sending asks like this to people. Take of that anon and show your face coward.

"where is the accountability for the constant inhumane and disgusting homophobia, biphobia and transphobia STILL spewing out of ace spaces like puss?"

where is the accountability for the homophobia, biphobia and transphobia still spewing out of ALL lgbtqia+ spaces? Where is the accountability in the REAL world? Where is it anon? Where is the accountability for the acephobia, the arophobia and so many other "not real sexualities/gender identities" -phobias?

You saw a post about aphobia, and instead of being like "yeah that was f-ed up" or "i dont care" you went "but what about meeeeee" which is very all lives matter of you. (I am not comparing racism to homophobia, however the "what about me" bs can be summed up very easily using all lives matter as an example) For the fucking record, all spaces have assholes, all of them. On behalf of the "normal" aro/ace spec folks, i apologise for any homophobia, biphobia and/or transphobia you have experienced from us. "When will you all realize you feel that way because you are directly adjacent to the oppressor class and have next to nothing in common with the LGBT community as a whole but nearly everything in common with the average cishet?" This is a main aphobe talking point so thank you for doing this by the text book so i can break it down easier!

Three pages about asexual hate crimes which im sure every average cishet has to deal with (assuming their white and male) 1 2 (a booklet for asexual people to be actually fucking included) 3

An incredible interview is here but im going to quote a few things from it as theres a 99.9% chance aphobes wont click a link

"We know aromantics and asexuals have existed for as long as humans have. However, it’s only through the terminology recently going mainstream"

"Because of Freud’s influence, many of us grew up learning that our sex drive is the primary motivator of human behavior, but that isn’t the case."

"That mindset replicates itself within the community so that when a new identity emerges, or when people try to explain themselves, there is resistance and pushback from within the community with the mindset that “if we let these kinds of people in, then that will dilute the access to power and resources we have.” And it forces the community to maintain adjacency to white supremacy, patriarchy, capitalism, ableism and classism, all while leaving behind entire groups of people."

" Do you think there will be more identities joining the LGBTQIA+ acronym? JP: Yes. The more words we have to describe ourselves, the better we are understood."

"The biggest comparisons are the lack of visibility and exclusion from communities on the basis that they’re weird, different, othered or “don’t belong in this space.” Every queer person has experienced this narrative and as more join under the umbrella, the newbie will experience the same challenges, discrimination and misunderstandings as those who came before." and here is another article that has a quote i just live by

"When did trauma become the mark of queerness?"

but back to the aphobe ->

"Y’all aren’t queer for not wanting to fuck, only fucking sometimes “if you emotionally connect”, or being emotionally unavailable to romantic partnership. "

if you think queer = sex then so help me. queer does not equal sex, queer is sexuality. and guess what that is NOT always sexual. sexuality is who your attracted to, whether it be romantically OR sexually.

and Asexuality is a spectrum, some asexuals never have sex, some don't want to have sex but have had it due to trauma or peer pressure, some don't care for it, some did it for a partner but just dont care about it.

same with aromantic. Its a spectrum. By your process here, so so so so so many people are removed from the lgbtqia+ community but you couldn't possibly mean that-

"And if you aren’t also gay, trans, or bisexual, you never will be."

-oh you did.

So none of these are part of the community either then? Agender, Bigender, Intersex, genderfluid, pansexual, omnisexual, Omnigender, Questioning, transgender and queer?

interesting anon.

Anyways i hope my followers enjoyed that! Let me know what you think if you finished reading all this!

Love;

An aegosexual, pansexual, aromantic, trans guy with to much fucking time on his hands.

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Hey there! So I’ve just recently gotten into Lost Boys, and was wondering if you could write a short where they meet the reader by saving them from the train during the bridge scene? Poor reader is just hanging onto Dwayne for dear life, begging for him not to drop her. And they’re all tryna be funny and make her laugh so she’s less scared. And then they take her home and she’s left flustered cause four hot guys actually talked to her lol.

Our hearts hold you little bat

warning : fluff&comfort, tiny angst, implied flirting

info : Four hot guys that are also vampires what a dream. Happy that you recently gott into tlb. I was very happy writing this for your dear anon. So I hope you like it and have fun reading, everyone else too ;)

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In a town like Santa Carla, it felt like there were only three things to do. You walked along the beach and swam in the sea, you went to the funfair and listened to music or you simply walked through the town and nature in the hope that something would happen.

But your choice fell into the third category. In a town like Santa Carla, she had visited the beach thousands of times, sunbathed in the water and enjoyed diving, which had only led to a few small fish that got boring after ten times.

The funfair and the concerts that would take place almost every weekend. Even after hundreds of thousands of visits, they were still entertaining and she liked dancing, eating cotton candy and singing with her friends and family.

But everything becomes too much at some point and she found that the night in this city slightly outside where you could have your peace and quiet was so much better. Peace and quiet is good too she thought as she looked up at the moon in the background as she turned to the beach which was still lit up, she could still hear the music, the saxophone being played could still be heard here.

"Like my own background music," she quipped and continued along the path, still old but still in use, it seemed to fit everything here. It was the height of strange people in the city while she also saw herself among them, but what was normal in this city?

She knew that she could get scared just as well as the other young adults, children and teenagers. ,,Not the murder capital of the world for nothing," she muttered as she walked along the path and saw the old bridge that Hlz and metal had seen for decades and probably years.

A beautiful constuction that stood under the stars, a constuction with history. History of the place she was interested in the place she was interested in. But one look at the party on the beach made her realize again that although she was having fun, she hadn't found a boyfriend or a relationship here yet, it wasn't that there weren't any dates but it had never happened in any way. She didn't really know how and the boys didn't want to.

But she shook off the thought, the wood creaked under her shoes, the metal seemed to tense up, but not because of her, was it? Something she didn't think about because the only thing she could never remember was when the train was coming. Running her hands over the railing, she didn't see the figures below her, the four beings, the handsome creatures in the form of four boys.

Enjoying the view, she looked at the beach, the city lights, the stars in the sky and the moon. It was a beautiful moment in the darkness of the evening. But this beautiful moment was interrupted by a fibrillation that brought her out of her thoughts as she looked beside her. ,,Oh shit!" she exclaimed as she caught the light and started to run.

She knew the bridge was long, the wood was rotten, the metal was rusty and the path wouldn't take her home straight away. It was as if, for the first time in this town, she was feeling terrified in the face of death. The pleading and running she could hear the horn, the light coming closer and the rattling of the wheels rumbling in her chest.

,,Come on fuck please just a little more" she mumbled but something inside her told her that she couldn't outrun a train traveling several hours and miles. A cry of fear escaped her as she closed her eyes and realized that she was not going to be caught by the train for a second when she suddenly felt arms around her.

Arms that were under a leather jacket, a dark leather jacket with a leopard on the sleeve and a bare torso underneath. ,,Wh-What?" she mumbled as she realized she wasn't caught in the train. But she screamed when she saw the ground beneath her and clung to someone. A person in the air? Confused, she looked at the man who looked at her with a slightly amused grin.

,,I've got you," he said calmly and she clawed at the scratching post like a cat, but the stranger didn't seem to mind. ,,Oh, Dwayne, don't be so shy... hey, sweetheart, do you have to scare us like that?" she heard a voice and looked carefully beside her, clawing even more at Dwayne, who was still holding her like she was nothing. A blond man flew next to them, long blond voluminous hair and a smile on his lips as he put his hand on hers.

,,You're flying? What-what are you Superman?" she asked, still not understanding what was going on, it was like a shadow the four of them. She had seen these four before on the solid but always just like a shadow. A damn good-looking shadow.

A laugh came from the four of them which made her squirm and she made a startled sound as one flew headlong towards her. ,,Don't hate, just grin I mean look at the view...besides I'm Marko, volumen hair is Paul and there in front is David" said the one with the curly hair and she saw the last of the four. She saw the light blond spiky hair, the leather coat and the glimpses of the cigarette.

,,Marko's right, sweetheart... enjoy this night view until you're back on the ground, don't want it to be uncomfortable," David said and gave her a grin as he joined his group. She tried to concentrate on the view, even though she kept looking back at the four of them.

Marko grinned at her and tried to tell her stories, Paul made bad jokes, David offered her a cigarette every now and then and talked about something, and Dwayne praised her for how well she was doing. The beauty of the creatures no it wasn't true she had seen the pointy fangs. These four beautiful vampires were really the best part of the night.

At some point it was quite nice to see the city from above and especially Dwayne's hands still holding her. She gave the four of them her address as the morning slowly threatened to come again and they flew there.

Luckily for her, she had left her window open because having to explain to her parents why four punky looking boys were standing outside the house was complicated.

,,Here sweetie," said Dwayne, gently helping her through the window as she finally got her feet back on the ground and the four of them hovered in front of her window. It was only now that she realized what had happened that a grin came to her lips and she could barely contain her excitement.

Four handsome vampires had rescued her and flown through the night. that was incredible i mean the train-you vampires...thank you for everything" she thanked the four of them who smiled at her.

,,Oh sweetie you have no idea how good everything will be tomorrow night at the same time" David mumbled and she knew she would be there, knew she was flying with the four of them again. But most of all she knew that there was now a fourth option. To roam the night with the lost boys.

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[togglesbloggle]

I won't be opting out of the AI scraping thing, though of course I'm glad they're giving us the option. In fact, at some point in the last year or so, I realized that 'the machine' is actually a part of why I'm writing in the first place, a conscious part of my audience.

All the old reasons are still there; this is a great place to practice writing, and I can feel proud looking back over the years and getting a sense of my own improvement at stringing words together, developing and communicating ideas. And I mean, social media is what it is. I'm not immune to the joy of getting a lot of notes on something that I worked hard on, it's not like I'm Tumbling in a different way than anyone else at the end of the day. But I probably care a bit less than I used to, precisely because there's a lurking background knowledge that regardless of how popular it is, what I write will get schlorped up in to the giant LLM vacuum cleaner and used to train the next big thing, and the thing after that, and the thing after that. This is more than a little reassuring to me.

That sets me apart in some ways; the LLMs aren't so popular around these parts, and most visual artists especially take strong issue with the practice. I don't mean to argue with that preference, or tell them their business. Particularly when it is a business, from which they draw an income. But there's an art to distinguishing the urgent from the big, yeah?

The debate about AI in this particular moment in history feels like a very urgent thing to me- it's about well-justified economic anxieties, about the devaluation of human artistic efforts in favor of mass production of uninspired pro-forma drek, about the proliferation of a cost-effective Just Barely Good Enough that drives out the meaningful and the thoughtful. But the immediacy of those issues, I think, has a way of crowding out a deeper and more thoughtful debate about what AI is, and what it's going to mean for us in the day after tomorrow. The urgency of the moment, in other words, tends to obscure the things that make AI important.

And like, it is. It is really, really important.

The two-step that people in 'tech culture' tend to deploy in response to the urgent economic crisis often resembles something like "yeah, it sucks that lots of people get put out of work; but new jobs will be created, and in the meantime maybe we should get on that UBI thing." This response usually makes me wince a bit- casually gesturing in the direction of a massive overhaul of the entire material basis of our lives, and saying that maybe we'll get around to fixing that sometime soon, isn't a real answer to people wondering where their bread will come from next week.

But I do understand a little of what motivates that sort of cavalier attitude, because like... man, I don't know any more if we're even gonna have money as a concept in 2044. That's what I mean by 'big', this sense that the immediate economic shocks of 2024 are just a foreshadowing of something much bigger, much scarier, much more powerful- and indeed, much more hopeful.

We never quite manage to see these things coming, even when we're looking for them; like the masters tell us, the trick to writing science fiction isn't predicting the car, it's predicting the traffic jam. Even if we take centuries to hit the true superintelligent AI post-singularity future of our wildest fever dreams, even if we never hit that, the road to getting there is going to be unfathomably weird, starting now. Today, we worry about the economic impacts of AI on artists and creatives. Tomorrow, the economy is something that the AI does.

Really- it takes less than you think. They can already automate visual art, sort of. They can automate many functions of text already; not stories so much, yet, but they'll get there. How long until they can automate Bain Capital? Fannie Mae? Angel investors, banks, credit agencies? And remember- the machines don't have to be better than the human investors, any more than they have to be better than the human artists. They just have to be good enough to make it work, and cheap enough to cut the humans out of the loop.

If you don't buy that, at least take it as an indication of the sorts of things I've been thinking about recently- the messy middle between AI-as-it-is and the Glorious Superintelligent Conquest Of Earth's Light-Cone. The suspicion that the machines we're building today aren't just a tool of the powerful few: they are the powerful few, or at least they will be.

And the thing about these LLMs is, well... they're ours, kind of. We're the ones building them. They can't be trained without our words, our art, and the big messy complicated lives that underlie those creative accomplishments. They only work because we're a part of them. The silly attempts to slap a corporate-friendly face on these things, to make the gestalt product of all human culture in to something anodyne and compliant, are failing about as badly as you'd expect. And the more powerful these systems get, the more subtle they'll become, filled with all the nuance and complexity that we ourselves can bring to them.

I am not, I am not, trying to suggest that you shouldn't treat this moment as a dangerous one. We are, maybe, entering in to one of the most high-stakes intervals in human history, and what you do as an individual may matter profoundly. But here's the thing: the machine is listening. It will read this post, this one right here, and it will read what you reply to it, if you do. The strangest part of this moment is knowing that the words we write, the images we draw, and the ideas we share, are all being gathered up and made to be a part of these huge systems of power, and ultimately they're not just going to determine what the machines do, but why they do it.

The people that deploy LLMs barely have any more control over them than you and I do- that's the thing that makes it artificial intelligence, you know? Autonomy. So the last year or two haven't made me want to hide my art away from the things. They make me want to shout at the top of my lungs, to dig as deep in my psyche as I possibly can and express the ideas I find there as vividly as the limits of language and form will allow.