#Do they really think that pathetic sad little apathetic excuse for a person they see whenever he’s here is me?

[sgcairo]

The part where dottore was thinking “what did he do right that I did wrong” you just wrote in your answer.. I like how directly came after it an example of babyttore sympathy. And I like how u still hold into dottore’s apathy along with his humanity, you are very good at characterization YOU ARE A BLESS. I like to think of signora being dottore closet friend bcz both of them lost their sympathy due past events. So I think she’ll be like “just accept that you two are no longer the same person, he used to be you but not anymore” yk what I mean? Yes exactly

I have written too many literary analyses to not be able to characterize my favorite evil buns! I'm glad that my analysis of Dottore actually makes sense because he does not make sense.

I'm going to be honest, I didn't actually consider Dottore and La Signora's friendship, mostly because I originally thought it wouldn't exist. Signora might be unsympathetic in her own right, but I don't think she's downright apathetic. I just think that she lacks sympathy for those who defy her, especially relating to Archons that let her dear Rostam die.

But also I'm so mad that they killed her character off. I have been fuming ever since they literally pulverized her- THE LORE! They can't just build up her lore and never expose it by killing her! That's a foul play there, and I'm going to call Hoyoverse on that bullshit because it makes me SAD. All the juicy lore, just gone.

Now, I did place Babytorre in the pre-canon timeline, just because I'm ✨extra✨ and wanted more La Signora characterization. I feel like her character could've gone so many ways, but by throwing a child into her complicated relationship with Pantalone, let alone the other Harbingers... There's just so much room to really explore her own thoughts, especially after the tragedy that was losing her lover and being consumed by her own flames.

I've always seen her as more of an aunt type, or even something of a motherly figure. In some of my earlier writings (specifically with Scapino, one of my other Genshin OCs), she may seem as if she doesn't care, but has a weak spot for children. Perhaps because they seem so helpless, and she knows how that feels. Maybe not as a child, but she knows how it feels to be lost, to not have a direction and only be guided by that little string of hope that's left, or only to continue because you haven't died yet.

Babytorre definitely doesn't seem lost, but she sees the way Dottore looks at him. Regret. Maybe even a desire to go back and change how things happened, jealousy, but also a hesitant touch to meet the kindness that the child has given him. Dottore may be heartless, he may be without empathy for even the most pathetic of creatures, but he's also at heart an ambitious dreamer, perhaps one that never learned any better. He's cruel. He's horrible in every way. Signora knows this well, as she recognizes her own terrible actions in the same way.

But he is still something of a human, whether it be the broken shadow of one, or misled soul that was never allowed to grow roots in the correct places.

That does not excuse his actions. That does not mean that his desire for that closeness to a frustrating degree is productive or on the right path. In fact, it could be considered obsessive, how far he's willing to go just for that touch, that recognition that he's still there, under all the masks that he uses to block out the words he does not wish to hear. And Signora will not refuse to tell him how it is, which leads to that very statement.

It's not that they're close, but Signora can see Dottore unintentionally harming the child with his own passion. And this is a kid, who isn't aware of how horrible the Harbingers really are. So she tells him how it is, with no remorse. She's always been painfully honest, especially with the brutal truths that the Harbingers aren't ready to hear.

"He isn't you. Stop trying to find the flaws in the past, you were never him in the first place. He was saved. You were not. The longer you obsess over it, the worse it will be. You can't go back. The only way is forward, Doctor. Choose wisely with your next move, it will make or break what you seek."

Dottore can't see past his own ego at times, and it takes that disillusioned truth to really break him down.

He takes those words heavily, but his future has no direction.

#babytorre #il dottore #il dottore's clones #pantalone #la signora #the brutal truth is out there now #babytorre headcanons #fatui harbingers #fatui headcanons #genshin impact #genshin impact headcanons #character study #dottore is obsessed with the past #he's only ever known ambition so #boom

[murphyslawyer]

Every damn time I talk to my f*ther I get less and less confident that I'll ever fully be free.

#Johanna speaks #vent in tags #Is it normal that sometimes I just wish he'd beat the shit out of me so that other family members would ACTUALLY want to be on my side? #bc they KNOW I’m right and that he’s a shitty father/person but then they’re just like #'yea but you can't cause conflict bc he's your father and you need him' (by 'you need him' they 100% mean 'you need his money' btw) #Just admit that you don't want to deal with conflict within our family and that you're willing to sacrifice my wellbeing for that #bc he’s not harming you just me. To you he’s just mildly annoying. #And still it would be way easier for them to exclude him than it is for me. Why don’t they just. Do that? #Sure they don’t know about every single thing he’s done but still. #Can't they see that I can never be my true self and speak up when I'm around him?? #Do they really think that pathetic sad little apathetic excuse for a person they see whenever he’s here is me? #I just feel so lonely in all of this. I’m starting to think that I’m crazy bc I’m the only one who sees anything wrong in this #Any time I have to spend a little time with him feels like an act of violence. Even if he’s just there and doesn’t talk to me. #There’s no undoing to years and years of manipulation and emotional abuse. Any time he’s here I can’t help but feel like shit. #I must either be crazy or acting like a teenage brat bc if I say I don’t want to be with him #people are just like ‘oh but is he hurting/annoying you so much now?’ #like I need new excuses to feel uncomfortable around him #Fuck him. I hope he fucking chokes. #But apparently I’m the one who needs to be gone bc no one gives a shit #edit: that’s not a s*icide threat just let me be #I’m so angry I just want to break stuff

[youryanderedaddy]

Caged bird

Summary: When your prince finally catches you, you are forced to see things his way.

Tw: female reader, kidnapping, abuse of power, slight violence, slight non-con, obsessive behavior, possessive behavior

Locked in (pt. 1)

You, the little concubine, who had managed to so quickly and mercilessly steal his heart, were standing in the corridor – delicate wrists in heavy silver handcuffs, face dirty and dusty, clothes all messy. Your eyes were shining brightly despite the heavy air and your lips were softly mumbling, whispering silent pleads and prayers. Your whole body was shaking with fear, shock and misery. The prince slowly walked towards you, only stopping when the distance between you was nonexistent. You could feel his minty breath tickling the hairs on your exposed neck and it made you shiver like a million of ice-cold arrows trough your heart.

‘’My love, I can finally see your beautiful face again.’’ The man spoke quietly, bordering on a whisper. His fingers were stroking your hair gently, yet still pulling at the ends every time he got to them. “I showed you nothing, but pure kindness and adoration, and what did you do in return?” Suddenly William tugged at your silky locks and dragged you to the wall, finally slamming your frail, tired body roughly against it. He captured your wrists with his own and suppressed the need to devour you right then and there.

“You ran away, my love.” The prince purred in your ear and it made your blood run cold. “You toyed with my endless trust, you broke my heart and left me to suffer all on my own.” He clenched his teeth in an angry fashion. ‘’Damn traitor.’’ Will cursed under his breath, but that did little to stop the tears of raw emotion streaming down his cheeks. He felt so hurt and betrayed by you it was hard to even think about it. “Why? Why did you do it? ” The rage – filled man pushed you further into the stone-cold wall. You looked up at him, almost apathetic towards the fucked up situation. You couldn’t find enough strength in your heart to fill sorry for the pitiful ruler.

“My lord, please excuse my stupid, impulsive behavior. I was unhappy at your palace. The golden walls and honey – colored collars feel like a cage when you are miserable. ” You admitted after a while, staring deep into the prince’s cold eyes. Some pathetic, forgotten part of you still believed that he would realize his faults and the pain he had caused you. “I wish for nothing more than freedom - to be able to travel around the world and explore its secrets, it’s my only desire.” You continued carefully. Every word felt as if you were dancing on thin ice, applying more pressure could result in a big crash of suffocation, drowning and agony. “I also wish to see my family at least once. I beg you, Sir, let me go.” You knew your cheeks were rosy now due to the humiliating nature of your dolorous pleading but you had no other choice. Will looked at you for a second before smashing his cold blue lips into your soft warm ones, in a mockery of the sweet gesture, shared between lovers. His kiss was harsh and desperate, violent, without a trace of passion or consideration. It conveyed all his scattered emotions – sadness, hurt, anger, all mixed together in a sloppy wet mess of tongue and salty tears. By now the prince wasn’t sure who they belonged to.

‘’Dearest, you haven’t seen anything yet.” Will muttered darkly, while holding you close. “But you will. I will make sure of it.”

Three hours later you were still crying on the floor. Your wrists were covered in bruises from the handcuffs and your weak bare feet felt numb to the heavy metal around your ankles. Your pearly white tears were falling to the ground. You were inside a small pitch black room all alone again. Sickening, terrifying and empty, this was your punishment. No amount of tears could change your fate – owned by a cruel master and away from everyone you truly loved.

You were nothing but a beautiful caged bird singing a sad, lonely song.

Caged bird (pt. 2)

The prince sat down right next to you and ran his hand gently across your face. He started humming a sappy song about the kingdom you two had grown up in, about the good old days when everything felt way sweeter and warmer like an endless summer.

“How are feeling today, my love?” Will asked, suddenly concerned about your well – being. But you learned the hard way to never trust a word coming out of his lips. You decided to be honest anyways.

“Sad and perhaps even a bit lost. In fact I think I lose a part of myself every day that I wake up locked in here. ” You answered in a broken voice. All of it was true, you weren't yourself anymore – you refused to eat, sleep or even talk to anyone besides your master and you were getting weaker by the day.

“And why is that, dearest?” The prince replied quickly, his tone on the line between calm and threatening. He tried to control his nerves only this time, since you already looked low in spirits.

“I miss my parents and my friends. But most of all I miss my older sibling, Your Majesty. I really want to see them.” You took a deep breath as you realized how daring and rash your words were. “Sir, excuse my boldness.”

“You are not excused, dearest.” William snapped bitterly and grabbed your wrist in a tight, punishing grip. “Do you know what happened to the person you hold oh-so-dear?” The prince whispered into your ear, enjoying the way it made your whole body still. You shook your head and the man had to fight off the urge to give you a sly laugh as a hint of what you were to hear next. He pulled your beautiful hair up in order for your eyes to be on the same level. “I killed them. I tortured them for hours until they lost all of their energy, body and soul.” The prince pronounced every word slowly and sharply, using it as a poisonous weapon against you. “That stupid punk.” He continued, pleased as he watched you struggle to get out of his grasp, but to no avail. He had you trapped in place and you weren’t going away until you have heard each and every painful bit of truth. “I hated him with a burning passion, you know? He was constantly trying to take you away from me and I just couldn’t stand it anymore.” William smirked viciously. He had officially won. “But don’t worry, my love. He can’t get in the way of our love ever again. No one can, not even you. Even If you try to run away again, I will simply drag you back and chain you up down here until you finally realize there is no way out. Loving me is your best chance and you better use it.”

You couldn’t hear the madman’s ramblings anymore. The big salty tears were suffocating you, you were drowning in them, swimming around helplessly, only to be met with an even bigger wave. All you could do was suffer silently and pray that one day you would learn to love him.

#yandere #male yandere #male yandere x reader #yandere male x reader #yandere oneshot #yancore #yandere prince #yandere prince x reader

[blindedbythedarkness]

Dear Julia,

I am so fucking angry with you. I don’t think anyone else has evoked such hatred and equal confusion from me, ever. I could happily fill this page by hurling unprintable insults at you, but I know for certain none would be sufficient to convey my disgust at your very person. Ultimately, what you’ve done to me is minuscule compared what you did to your own son. Yet, I’m seething for both of us.

I mean, how fucking dare you? You should never have been allowed to become a mother. You aren’t just incompetent, you’re totally apathetic. The only time you ever seem to care is when the things others do contradict what your godlike ego has you believing. Here’s some fucking news for you: you aren’t amazing. You aren’t funny or edgy or cool or original or special. You aren’t even average, you’re sub par. A self-centered narcissist who seems to think that because you’ve published a few painfully heterosexual romance novels, you’re some sort of B list celebrity. You’re nothing close to that and frankly your son has achieved more in his life in his first 20 years than you ever will.

I just don’t fucking understand you, Julia. As far as I’m aware, you got pregnant completely on purpose and decided to bring a life into the world. And then? Somewhere along the line you decided that life wouldn’t even be allowed the same standard of living as yourself? How??? Even I, without any major maternal instincts, know that just isn’t what you do!! If you make the decision to force life upon someone, you try your fucking best for that person. You put them first. That’s your son, for fucks sake! That’s your own flesh and blood!! What is wrong with you?? Did you want a girl so badly that you just couldn’t even love a boy??

I mean, you’re not even bonded with him. He grew up in your damn house and I bet you couldn’t name a single one of his interests. You never ask how he is. You just talk about you, you, you. It’s unbearable. You never prioritized him; put his feelings before your own. You never changed your shifts at work to spend more time with him after his died from cancer. You were never around to cook him dinner. He had to fend for himself from a ridiculously young age. You’ve never stood up for him. You’ve never fought his corner. You’ve never once made him feel loved and comforted. You have never once been a mother to him. You are a failure. Bet that hurts your ego doesn’t it? But not the mother in you, because there’s a void where she’s meant to be.

I mean, a fucking shed, Julia?? A damp, moldy, fire hazard of a shed with no bed, no insulation and no source of light. How the fuck can you live with yourself knowing you made your own son live in that squalor for four fucking years?? You closed the curtains in your bedroom every night and looked out on the shed your son was sleeping in and then you slept soundly. You fucking psychopath! And don’t you fucking dare play dumb. You knew there was no insulation. You fucking knew it was a fire hazard; you admitted it in a text. I swear to fucking God if I hear you say that your son “should have told you how bad it was” one more time I will fucking lose it! He was a minor. He was 14 fucking years old. You were responsible for his care and if you have two brain cells to rub together could probably have figured out that a badly build, un-insulated shed with a bowing roof probably wasn’t water tight. Not to mention the fact he told you time after time when he couldn’t feel his hands and feet. No, no excuses, Julia. You are the guilty party. This is your wreckage. You are the reason he will never be the same again. And don’t even think about blaming your bipolar, that’s just an insulting.

I wish like hell social services had found out about you. It breaks my heart to think that maybe then your son could have had a better chance at life. One where his main concern for four years wasn’t trying to avoid hypothermia. I mean, he knows that now he could still press charges but just the thought of you provokes such severe anxiety he can’t bring himself to face it. You’re fucking lucky, Julia. If you were my mother I’d be in that court before you could say “neglect” and begging the judge for the longest sentence possible. You could rot in there for all I care. It’s what you deserve.

It’s so tough, Julia, to see you on Twitter with this fake, friendly persona you put on. I realized not long ago that I was almost obsessively checking your account because I was looking for some semblance of regret on your part, or even a little vague sadness that your son has now cut you off. But I know now that there is none. You simply feel nothing towards him and the “I love you’s” you half halfheartedly send on occasion are pathetic and laughable. You’re just mad because someone turning their back on you doesn’t fit in with your god-like view of yourself. I see you instead on there, chatting to fellow authors and fans. Cracking what I can only presume you think are witty jokes. And I tell you it takes every fiber of my being to not expose to them all who you really are. The disgusting, despicable woman who never deserved to be a mother. The joy it would bring me to ruin your whole reputation. It would be orgasmic. 

I won’t though. For now. Because I know you’re dangerous and I admit I would fear for my life if I tried. But God, I wish you knew the hatred I feel for you. I wish you fucking understood what a pitiful excuse for a human you are. 

Please, go fuck a cactus. Hard.

C

#angry #anger #seething #fuming #mad #bad parenting #bad parent #bad parents #bad mother #bad mum #parental abuse #physical abuse #psychological abuse #abuse #neglect #child abuse #child neglect #pain #trauma #ptsd #anxiety #author #twitter #career #reputation #two faced #evil #depressed #depression #mental illness

[f-i-n-d-4]

First Encounter

//Hi! Hello, long time no see, still on hiatus because what is motivation ahaHAHAH--

//Anyway, under the cut is a drabble I wrote for one of my most dearest and best friends for her birthday! She’s helped me through so much and I’m so thankful for her <3

//I teased about her character a LONG time ago and I finally wrote about their first meeting! Here it is~

“Hey, did you hear? There’s a new kid in town, apparently.” Gelasius blinked and looked up from the bandages he had been idly picking at. They were recent, just placed this morning to hide the scratches he had mysteriously accumulated on his hand.

“Huh?” A smile instinctively curled onto his lips, despite the brunet having no real desire or reason to do so. His friends had just been chatting around him during lunch, so he hadn’t really been paying attention; that is, until one of them turned his head towards him and started directed the conversation to him. Gelasius had a lot of “friends” around him, surprisingly, but he felt no real..connection between them, if he was honest. Right now, he was looking up at the guy and couldn’t, for the life of him, remember his name. Was it Daniel? Connor? Simon? He had no clue, but he kept his cool expression and smile anyway. That seemed to do it for Daniel/Connor/Simon as he didn’t seem to notice that he had no idea what to call him.

“What, you spacing out again?” he gave a light jab to him, but Gelasius was absolutely unfazed.

“It was clear that God didn't need to pay attention to whatever you were saying,” he hummed, tilting his head up to emphasize his claim. He may not be an actual god--no actually, who was he kidding, of course he was; he was a god, a god named after a pope. A god whose name one doesn't know how to pronounce correctly, as it should be. Is the ‘G’ soft, or hard? Is it like “j-el-ay-see-us,” or “ghel-ay-see-us”? The world may never know. “But I will humble you for today; what were you saying?” Daniel-Connor-Simon rolled his eyes.

“The new kid,” he repeated, like that gave Gelasius new information, “like, the one with messy black hair and scary red eyes? The one that’s really intimidating.”

“Oh yeah! I know who you’re talking about,” another one of his friends perked up. Uhhh, Mike, he thinks his name was. “I think he’s like German or something, but then I think I also heard him speaking Japanese or something on the phone?”

“I feel like it was Chinese,” another one of his “friends” argued. Gelasius didn't even bother to recall his name.

“Chinese isn’t a real language,” he pointed out almost immediately as he continued to pick at his bandages. “It’s multiple different languages grossly categorized as ‘Chinese’.” The irritated look he got from them was nothing short of common to him. After all, he was known as, quote, “an asshole.” His “friends” were the only ones who put up with his bluntness and his almost apathetic nature, but he could tell that they would all leave him eventually. They always did; it wasn't anything new to him.

“Well, have you seen him or not?” Mike asked, and Gelasius actually thought about it for a moment. A German guy with black hair and red eyes and is apparently intimidating.

“Nope,” he popped the ‘p’, just for shits and giggles, and to see his friends look at him with that irritated gaze again, “Can't say I have, but maybe you guys are just really shitty at descriptions.” That last addition gave him another round of glares and even some eye-rolling, but Gelasius just smiled and drank it in just as the lunch bell rang. Connor-Simon-whatever and what’s-his-face were eager to leave, picking up their lunch trays and bags. They chatted amongst themselves as they basically ditched him, but Mike stayed behind just a few moments longer.

“Well, if you do see him, you should probably stay away from him,” he warned as he slipped on his backpack. Despite himself, Gelasius couldn't help the small spark of intrigue that lit up within him at his words.

“What do you mean?” he asked as he tried to flatten the bandage that had now begun to peel off.

“I mean, like, there's something off about him, I don't know,” he shrugged as he picked up his food tray. “It's hard to explain, but I'd just stay away from him if I were you.” He started to leave before stopping soon after. Gelasius saw the way he hesitated before turning behind him. “You coming with?”

He shrugged and offered him that polite grin again. “Nah, you can go off without me.” Mike frowned a little, and perhaps if he was detective-level observant, he could make the assumption that the show of discontent was out of guilt more than sadness, but who could say? Either way, he watched him leave for a few moments before getting up to go as well. He picked up his roughed-up backpack and dumped his trash away, lowkey wishing he could throw himself into it too, but he needed to head to his next class.

~~~

It doesn't take long for him to enter, what, his pre-calculus class? Ah, they all blend in after a while, every class the same 90-minute piece of hell where a teacher blabs on about things that won't help him at all in his future and career. What would derivatives have to do with solving homicides, after all? He did pretty well in the class without paying attention anyway, so he didn't find it necessary to listen to the teacher drone on about how to find the slope of the tangent line.

He sat at his usual seat in the very back, leaning his back against the cool metal chair and preparing himself for another binge of YouTube skate tricks he wanted to try out, but he was caught off guard by the new person that came in just as the late bell rang.

“Ah, there you are,” the teacher perked up as the black-haired boy came in. “I was thinking maybe you got lost. Would you like to introduce yourself?” For some reason, Gelasius found himself actually paying attention to this exchange instead of letting t fade into background noise when he usually puts in his one ear bud.

“I mean, not really,” he shrugged. His voice was low, yet not too low, and with an edge of what one could only describe as “asshole-like.” It was the tone that people usually labeled his voice as. And German, a very slight hint of a German accent.

Suffice it to say, Gelasius already liked the new kid.

The teacher was quite taken aback by the response, clearly unsure on how to move forward from there. “Uh, okay, well, class, this is Dra--”

“Drake. I go by Drake,” he nonchalantly cut the teacher off. Gelasius felt both confusion and curiosity at that. Why didn't he want people to know his real name?

Again, the teacher was momentarily at a loss as she wasn't used to such students acting like this. “Um, okay, Drake, you can sit next to...the brunet in the back.” Gelasius perked up at that. He glanced to his side, realizing that there indeed was an empty desk beside him. When he looked back to the front of the class, he made eye contact with Drake’s eyes. Their vivid red color drew him in immediately, and he felt as if he was entranced by it for a brief moment before he realized that he was staring. Embarrassed but unwilling to show it, he looked off to the side and tried to appear as uninterested as he could. He forced himself not to look back at him as he started making his way towards his newly-appointed seat.

Gelasius felt like his hearing was suddenly turned up all the way as he could literally hear every sound the new kid made, his footsteps seemingly echoing and the scraping of his chair feeling like it was right against his ear rather than beside him. Gelasius was able to cast off his gaze for a few seconds after he acutely heard him drop his bag and settle into his seat, and it was only then did he break and sneak a glance towards him. Drake was looking to the front of the class now with a bored expression and a half-lidded gaze. Not even a single minute passed and he honestly blended in with the rest of the students in Gelasius’s eyes.

He didn't know how much time had passed until Drake’s red eyes were suddenly glancing towards him, his eyebrows arched in amusement. Gelasius felt heat burn in his cheeks and he immediately darted his gaze away. He felt regret and embarrassment twist in his stomach, keeping him from even daring to glance at him another time. What he been thinking, just staring at him like that? Of course he would notice! God, he was so stupid.

~~~

The rest of the class continued uneventfully, or maybe something did happen and Gelasius was too busy mentally cursing himself out to notice. He at least prayed (haha ironic yes) that he didn't show any visible weakness to Drake. It was only his first day and the thought that he might see him as weak and pathetic stirred up not-so-nice feelings in his stomach.

Since it was the last period, people immediately rushed to the door the very second the school rang. He hadn't even dared to try and turn his head anywhere near to the right since the last time they made eye contact, so he didn't know if Drake had been part of the crowd, but by the time Gelasius finished packing his stuff up, he wasn't in the classroom anymore. He didn't know if he felt relief or disappointment.

It didn't matter now since he was gone, he decided. He slung his backpack over his left shoulder and headed out of the classroom. He idly wondered if he was going to have any other classes with him tomorrow as he spaced out in the halls, staying close to the walls in order to avoid the majority of the crowd.

He made it about halfway to the main door before he suddenly froze up and smacked his forehead. “Shit!” he hissed under his breath, immediately pivoting on his heels to turn around. He had totally forgotten that he had left his precious skateboard in the PE locker room. God, now he was going to have to go against the flow of the already-jam-packed traffic.

He grumbled ‘excuse me’s and ‘sorry���s as he fumbled his way through the teenager-filled halls, only finding relief from it once he turned into the PE hallway. He heaved a small sigh and reached out for the doorknob to the boy’s locker room.

However, his hand immediately froze up when he heard a bunch of voices inside that didn't sound so friendly.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” Gelasius didn’t recognize the voice, but it was definitely someone not-so-friendly, and probably a senior from the low, gruff pitch. “You trespassing on our territory here, kid.”

Maybe...maybe he should go get his skateboard from the back door… Gelasius didn’t really want to deal with a fight right now. He was sure whatever poor soul was in there would be smart about it and would just excuse himself and head out. He decided just to listen a bit longer, just to make sure that he didn’t have to go get a teacher or something.

“Ah, am I? I don’t see your name on it.” Gelasius, however, froze as he could recognize this voice. It was Drake’s. What was he doing in the boy’s locker room??

“Oh yeah?” Oh, that maybe-senior did not sound pleased. “Then would this be enough evidence for you?” Gelasius’s eyes grew wide as he heard a choked sound followed by the sound of scuffling shoes, a sign of struggle.

“Hey--!” Drake’s voice now sounded much more strained through the door. Gelasius felt his hands ball into fists. Was that senior choking him??

“Oh, struggle all you want,” the senior laughed, and it drudged up something odd in Gelasius. “You’re a new kid, aren’t you? This’ll teach you to mess with us. And besides, who’s gonna save you now?” For some reason, Gelasius felt anger, raw and hot, build up within him. WIthout even thinking about it, he immediately slammed the door open.

“And what if I will?!” he yelled, his light brown eyes burning with fury...before it suddenly withered as he saw the scene laid out before him. It wasn’t one senior like he thought it was, but rather, three. Two of them, lackeys, Gelasius thought in the back of his head, were holding Drake’s arms behind his back, and the last one, the leader, had his one large hand around his neck. They were all staring at his dramatic entrance with wide eyes, caught off guard by his sudden appearance.

“...Ah.” Welp, boy did he suddenly regret what he just did. What the hell had he been thinking? “Uhh...hi, hello, umm…” Gelasius felt sweat roll down the side of his head as his mind raced for any ideas on what the fuck he was supposed to do now. He glanced towards Drake, whose red eyes were now wide and staring right at him. For some reason, he could tell that there was an emotion other than surprise filled in his eyes...though Gelasius couldn’t distinguish what it was. Either way, he felt his resolve again and looked towards the three dudes, who were most definitely seniors as they towered over him, despite him being an average 5’11.

“Could ‘ya let him go? He’s new and all, so might as well cut him some slack.” He gained some confidence back after seeing Drake, but...he had no idea how he was gonna fend for the both of them. All he had were words and some decent skateboard tricks, but his trusty weapon was nowhere to be found in his direct grasp at the moment.

Unfortunately, the seniors recovered from their initial shock and boy howdy were their glares signifying that things weren’t going to be fun. “You’ve got some nerve coming in here all riled up, bastard,” that low gruff voice was indeed the leader’s, and Gelasius could only slowly back away as he started to stomp towards him. Shit, shit, uh, well, this was one pathetic rescue mission, if he could even call it that. He felt his back press against the wall, and there wasn’t any other place he could go with the benches blocking off his path.

God, he felt so embarrassed, he didn’t even want to look at Drake and how pathetic he must definitely think he was now. With no place else to go, the leader’s hand found its way to Gelasius’s throat now, the sudden lack of air making him let out a choked noise. His hands immediately claw over his to try and get him to remove it, but the attempt only made him snicker.

“You care so much about the new kid already, huh? Well, I don’t got any beef with you, so how ‘bout this? I’ll let ‘ya go, but only if you don’t bother the little..show I’m going to have in here. How ‘bout that?” Almost immediately, Gelasius’s expression soured and he immediately felt that flicker of anger spark up within him once more.

“Hell no,” he spat. He meant what he said, fuck them for even suggesting that he’d stoop that low. New kid or not, he wasn’t going to just let them beat the shit out of someone period.

The senior’s face darkened, but he shrugged. “Ah, well, your funeral, then.” Gelasius gasped and let out a strangled cry as he tightened his grip around his neck. His vision was starting to blur now.

All he could think about was how pathetic he must look to Drake, stomping in to try and save him only for him to be taken down as well. How weak was he? He was no fucking god.

“AUGH!” His train of self-deprecating thought was cut short from a loud cry of pain. His eyes snapped open in surprise, and the leader must have been surprised too because he loosened his grip, allowing Gelasius to breathe a lot easier. The senior had his head turned around towards where he had last seen Drake, so the brunet tried to do the same and tilted his head to get a better view.

“What the fuck?!” the leader spluttered out just as Gelasius’s jaw dropped. Right in front of him, the scene had dramatically changed from the two lackeys holding back a struggling Drake to both lackeys writhing on the floor, holding their arms in pain. He would also like to add, now that he had several seconds to make sure what he was actually looking at was real and not the momentary lack of air getting to him, that Drake was now shirtless, with smoke coming off of him?

So many things could not be happening that he was witnessing right then and there, and that did not only include Drake being shirtless. Drake’s pupils had become slits, his ruby red eyes now similar to that of a snake’s now. A pair of black horns that slowly faded into a fiery red color now rested on either side of his head, and Gelasius swore he saw what he thought were wings on his back over his shoulderblades.

Despite the fact that he was supposed to be shocked and absolutely flabbergasted over the scene, maybe even faint, he couldn’t help but gaze at those wings with utter awe. He got a much better view of them when Drake turned around to kick one of the lackey that had been trying to get up right in the face. They were smaller than what one would expect (he guessed??) but they looked so cool. That was when he realized that they were possibly most likely actually real. It was hard to deny that when there was literal smoke escaping Drake’s mouth.

“I am the new kid, ‘yea.”

Gelasius could do nothing but stare and maybe admire Drake as he beat the seniors up like an utter badass, his glowing red eyes soon making its way towards the leader, who had just been staring at him with wide eyes. He somewhat regained his composure and stood up, leaving Gelasius on the ground still in utter awe.

Without his shirt on, Gelasius now saw just how lean Drake was. Now that was a man. His brain betrayed him with the immediate thought, and he couldn’t argue with it. There was no doubt now that Gelasius was definitely gay for him (well, he was bi in general, but in this instance, he was absolutely and utterly gay).

It only took a few hits for the leader to be down for the count, and Gelasius rather admired the knee uppercut to the groin that Drake ended with, the leader doubling over before passing out soon after. He let out a little huff of a sigh, a puff of dark gray smoke escaping his lips from it. Gelasius blinked, and then realized that he hadn’t blinked since Drake had...transformed, he guessed?? The situation really sounded that much more mindblowing when he thought about it like that, honestly. Drake had actually shapeshifted, wait, turned into? God, he didn’t even know what to call his transformation. His mind was just having a hard time believing what he just saw was real life.

He was so caught up in his thoughts and how unbelievable everything that just happened was that he flinched when an outstretched hand was right in front of him. “I remember you from math class, but I never actually got your name.” Gelasius blinked. That was...actually true. They had just gone through all this shit, and he never once got a chance to introduce himself. “Who might my mighty savior be~?” Drake purred, his tone teasing as he continued to offer his hand for him to take.

Gelasius blinked and his brain blanked for a good moment. “I’m a god,” he stated without even realizing words came out of his mouth, his brain deciding that ‘mighty savior’ was an absolute great time for him to show off his broken sense of vanity. It definitely was even worse when he took into account just how pathetic he had been mere minutes ago. Yet, for some odd reason, he didn’t want to be anything but a god to this...was he even human? Well, definitely not, obviously, stupid. He was more like...a dragon. A really cool and kickass and lean and handsome dragon.

God, the Gay™ thoughts were back now. He probably just fucked up any chances he could have with this hot guy. Well, if he didn’t already fuck it up with all the staring he did in their class together. And the really pathetic I-came-to-save-you-but-in-the-end-you-saved-me spiel, that too.

However, much to his surprise, a snicker bubbled from Drake’s lips. It sounded low, gravely, and fuck it really made his heart do a thing he never thought it could do.  

“Wow, I get to meet a god in the flesh,” he responded, and Gelasius knew he was teasing, but fuck his chest felt all fluttery being referred to as a god by him. Was there something wrong with him?? Probably, but also did he mention he was feeling really unexpectedly gay right now? “And what might this all-mighty god go by?” the boy asked, cutting him from his thoughts.

“G-Gelasius,” he stammered, using a soft J-like G. “Or, uh, Gelasius, works too,” he added, this time using a hard G pronunciation.

“Oh, and which one does this god prefer?” Gelasius felt a smile twitch onto his lips as he saw the opportunity so open for him, perhaps purposely made so.

“A god goes by many names, it simply depends on his subject,” he answered swiftly, feeling oddly proud when the dragon-like boy snirked.

“A good answer,” he complimented, making that smile on his lips unconsciously grow wider. He felt his cheeks suddenly start to burn, however, when he leaned forward and pressed his lips right up to his ear.

“I hope you know I noticed you staring at me while we were in class, thoughtful oh mighty god~” he practically purred into his ear, and it took all of his energy for Gelasius not to shiver. “I have to say, though, you're quite a sight to see, especially for a god...I wonder if you're as pure as one~?” Well, if he wasn't before, Gelasius’s face was definitely burning with a blush now, truly left speechless and unable to respond. Was that, was that a flirt just now? Was the hot dragon guy flirting with him??

That gravely chuckle escaped said guy again as he pulled away, leaving the brunet blinking at him flustered and in confusion. “Red definitely suits you,” he smirked before he finally pulled away. “I’m sure you know by now, but ‘ya can call me Drake, oh mighty god~” He extended his hand out for him to take once more, his smirk dissolving into something more softer, sincere. “Thanks for saving my ass though, I owe ‘ya one.”

“Ah...no problem,” Gelasius offered a sincere grin back, hoping to take this time to cool down his burning face. Why was he the one thanking him?? “If anything, I should thank you for saving my ass.” Drake waved his hand.

“Nah, I liked your dramatic entrance, was really bold.” Gelasius cocked his eyebrows.

“Um, excuse me, do you not see yourself right now?” His hands gestured to his wings and horns. “I think you’re the definition of bold right now, dude.”

“Oh, yeah,” Drake turned his head towards his wings, which fluttered in response. He then looked back at Gelasius with a confused expression. “Are you not, like, freaked out or something?”

He blinked. “Ah, well, not...really? I mean, I don’t know about you, but uh, I’ve never seen a...dragon-like, person before.” Yeah nice way to name that Gelasius. “B-but I think it’s...cool, really cool, I like your wings a lot.” Drake blinked, seemingly surprised by his compliments, and Gelasius suddenly felt anxious at the short pause that developed, but he was relieved when Drake’s lips broke into a smirk.

“Oh really? Well, that makes things a lot easier on my end.” Gelasius was confused by what he meant by that, but any words he wanted to say quickly died in his throat as Drake started to physically shift back into his “normal” form, his horns and wings seemingly retracting and his pupils returning to a regular shape. He didn’t realize it before, but his teeth had actually gotten sharper when he was in..”dragon” mode, he decided to dub it, but now it was becoming more dull just as it had been before.

“Cool,” he breathed out, blinking when he realized he just uttered that out loud. He decided not to take it back, though. He meant it, that was really freaking cool, and it was nice to hear Drake chuckle again.

“Thanks, but ah, let’s keep it a secret between us, alright? Don’t want other people going around knowing I’m a dragon and all,” Drake put a finger on his lips and winked, and Gelasius nodded. He could see the repercussions of people finding out, but…

“But what about them?” He gestured towards the still-knocked-out people around them. Drake waved it off.

“Ah, no one’ll believe them. I didn’t burn ‘em or anything, just threw around some punches, so no one should be able to believe ‘em.” Gelasius nodded. Made sense.

“What were you doing in the locker room anyways?” he asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

“Ah, I actually saw this skateboard when I was in PE and was gonna take it,” Drake shrugged. Gelasius’s eyes widened as he pointed towards a rather familiar skateboard.

“My precious skateboard!!” He rushed over to it and grabbed it, hugging it tightly to his chest. Oh, he was never taking the shortcut through the backdoor of the locker room ever again if it meant risking his trusty weapon.

Drake smirked. “Man, you really like that skateboard, huh?” Gelasius nodded, having absolutely no shame for it.

“Were you...actually going to take it if I hadn’t come?��

“Yeah.” Gelasius’s face paled with horror. There had been a chance his baby would have been taken from him. Yeah, he really wasn’t going anywhere without it ever again.

Drake laughed. “Gotcha good. Nah, I did come in here for the skateboard, but I was just gonna give it to the front office or whatever to put in lost and found, and then if no one claimed it for a week, then I’d take it.” Gelasius flinched when he suddenly flicked his nose. “I’m not that cruel, ‘ya know.”

“Hey, I wouldn’t know,” he huffed, hugging his skateboard closer to him as if to say ‘my precious.’ “I’ll have you know I’d protect this skateboard with my life, even if you are a dragon.”

That statement had Drake’s eyes glinting with amusement. “Oh? But you haven’t seen all I can do, ‘ya know.” Gelasius blinked, suddenly seeing an opportunity opening for him.

“Why don't you show this god what you can do, then? Maybe I'll accept you as worthy enough to be my personal bodyguard dragon.” He was joking, obviously, kinda, the idea of him being “his dragon” made his heart do the weird thing again. For once he actually gave a shit about how Drake was going to react to his words and he just hoped he didn't weird him out or make him take back his words.

Much to his delight, Drake barked out a laugh instead of looking at him with disgust. Gelasius felt relief but also that odd sense of pride again. “You know what? Sure, why not? I'm not opposed to that, actually; here.” He pulled out a random crumpled piece of paper and unfolded it. He took out a pencil from his back pocket (did he just have that lying in there? So prepared) and scribbled onto it before folding it and giving it to him.

Gelasius was tempted to open it immediately, but he knew that would make him look desperate, so he only hummed and stuffed it carefully into his pocket. “Thanks, I’ll be sure to open it if I have the spare time; a god’s schedule is quite busy, you know.” It hadn’t even been 10 minutes and he was already loving this banter they had going on with each other.

“I’d be honored if you did, then~” Drake laughed. “I haveta head out now, though, so if you do have the time, you’ll know what to do.” Gelasius was confused by his last few words, but before he could say anything, Drake waved goodbye and dashed off, leaving him without a chance to even utter a goodbye.

He wondered what he was in a hurry for, but he decided that was a question for another time. Unable to help his curiosity now, Gelasius opened the folded piece of paper. In it, there was a message scratched in handwriting that was both messy and neat and really endearing to him oh dear lord.

“I don’t have a phone lolol but ya can always hit me up in class whenever. Not like either of us is paying attention lmao”

A smile found its way onto Gelasius’s lips. It wasn’t like his instinctual one, where it was forced and only came out of muscle memory. No, he actually had a reason to smile this time.

He couldn’t wait to see where he and his this dragon will go. He felt like perhaps...perhaps he could actually make a real connection with him.

#{the crystal writes [mun writes]} #{in this world we live in [ic]} #{the uproarious dragon [drake]} #{The Aloof God [Gelasius]} #{A God and His Dragon [Gelasius x Drake]} #Shapeshifter!AU

[skywailer]

How Stars Are Born

Peeta and Katniss soulmate ficlet + angst to the max, requested by anon

They used to say the stars were sweet and giving.  That the stars loved watching humanity’s happiness so much that they kissed every soul before birth, marking their skin with the exact count of Earth days it’d take to meet their soulmate; a kind promise for a blissful future.  They even used to say, if you smiled at the stars, you might just flatter one into telling you a secret.  That a smile could win you the greatest prize of all: the whispered name of your soulmate.

Katniss isn’t one for smiling, no one cares about soulmates, and the stars don’t whisper anymore.  They scream.

They scream and they claw revenge on human souls for what they’ve done to the universe; for killing their brothers and sisters - their lovers in pursuit of greed.  For over a hundred years, Earth’s population has clambered to the top of the ladder, hands reaching for the stars and choking them- converting their wild, bright spirits into the broken, dull shape of weapons and power plants.  And for that, Earth has paid in ways it couldn’t fathom.  

For every star burned, its age is taken from the lives of humans; billions of years in debt etched into the wrists of every life.  A blissful future torn asunder.  A universal trade agreement no one signed off on, but must follow all the same.

Today, Katniss is twelve years old.  She sits in class, pencil limp on her desk as the cosmos uses its own imaginary quill on her wrist.  She watches the numbers scratch themselves onto her skin: 4381.

4381 Earth rotations.  4381 beautiful sunsets.  4381 hunts with Gale.  4381 goodnights to Prim.  4381 days until she must pay her debt to the stars.

Katniss has always excelled in mathematics, even if she isn’t paying attention to her teacher at the moment.  She knows she’ll be dead one day after her twenty-fourth birthday.

It’s shorter than some, longer than most of her class.  Long enough, she tries to tell herself.

Only one person in the room notices Katniss’s shaking fingers when she raises her hand to be excused.  Only he notices the numbers red and cruel on her pulse.

Peeta Mellark watches Katniss leave the classroom, back rigid, proper, and braids perfectly in place.  From the clenched knuckles, he knows her grasp on control will hold long enough to get her to the bathroom.

He raises his hand to be excused, too.

They say the stars are still kind and forgiving, just grieving over broken hearts.  They say if you hold someone’s hand, and wish it so, you can trade the days of your life for someone else’s.  That this is the stars’ lingering love for humanity.  Their final, bittersweet kiss.

It’s a cruel, cosmic joke.

Katniss gives her days to Prim.

She does it while Prim sleeps; her sister’s eyes flaring red and puffy, cheeks smudged and marked from crying into her pillow.  

She does it because she’s fucking angry, that’s why.  She’s quiet and seething, a churning lightening storm on the horizon, wanting to strike down on Earth even if her rage is made manifest in the heavens.  

What did she ever do to those stars anyway?  Her and Prim’s room is dark and dusty, small and poor, insignificant -like their family in the grand scheme of this nasty world.  Like her father was the day his numbers faded in a mine avalanche, a failed attempt to dig -not reach- for energy.  Everyone knew coal had long been pillaged and gone from Earth’s womb, long before suits and countries decided to look to space, not ground, for the answers.  Yet her father had tried, every day until only 1 day was left scratched on his wrist.  Yet the world’s debt was still asked from him.  And now they were asking it of Prim.

Today, Prim is twelve years old.  

Katniss holds her hand as she sleeps, finally, after wasting her birthday in absolute fear of certainty.  The certainty of that number on her dainty, pale wrist- the small, childish wrist Katniss steered through crowded streets as they walked home every day- the soft, agile wrist made for moving needles like their nurse mother- the wrist that was sprained only a month prior when Prim had gone running after her stupid, belligerent cat-

21.

21 sunrises.  21 “good morning” smiles.  21 braids, and bringing broken flowers home to frame, and falling asleep on the sofa while Katniss read to her, and soft hugs and sweet laughs and happiness and-

Katniss’s clasp on Prim tightens, her fingers nearly digging in between those little, light knuckles.  She demands the stars give her this one thing.  This one, damn thing.

2917 days is what Katniss has left.  It’ll have to do, even if it would never be long enough for her sister.  It would never be long enough for this soul.  Primrose’s soul is kind, where Katniss’s is apathetic.  Her sister is sweet and helpful to strangers, she mistrusting and cold.  Soft to hard.  Giving to taking.  Worthy to worthless.  Selfless savior to selfish survivor.  The world is filled with people like Katniss, and not enough wonders like Prim.  She thinks, maybe, the stars still love and long for people like Prim.  Maybe, with more like her, they would have never burned so hot with hatred and cruelty.  Maybe, they would see she was worth more days.  Worth all the days.  

Maybe they knew this, and were just as selfish as she, and wanted to have Prim as their own.

Katniss tells the stars to fuck off, and gives her days to Prim.

When she steps outside to breathe in the first of her last 21 nights, there is a boy.  She spots the back of him slumped on the foot of their doorstep, his blonde hair somehow softer than Prim’s in the moonlight, but his hands much rougher- wrists wider and able to bear more weight.  He’s wringing them.  He’s nervous.

He’s familiar.

Usually, Katniss keeps to herself.  She barely talks to anyone outside of her sister and Gale, hardly grunts at her own mother- though her mind is always, aggressively blaring with thoughts.  With worry.

Usually, Katniss keeps to herself, but that was before she only had 21 days left to think, to talk.

When she sits down beside him, and spots the flutter of a smile on his face, she suddenly remembers his name.  Peeta Mellark, the boy with the longest life.  At least, in her town.  Though, surely, living until the ripe age of sixty was far longer than anyone could dream to hope for.

For a long time, she despised this boy without even knowing him.  But today she realizes what a curse a long life can be.

His eyes are sad when they turn to meet hers.

“Your sister, Primrose, she comes to the bakery every Saturday.  She mentioned today was her birthday, and didn’t come in, so I was worried-”

“She’s fine,” Katniss says rather curtly, defensively.  She loathes the sound of pity, but she likes the sound of his voice.  

“She’ll be fine,” Katniss adjusts and tries to be gentle, realizes with unnecessary dread that she’s just not good at it.

Peeta’s face is kind, like Prim’s, but hardened at the cheekbones.  They seem to turn to mush with her reassurance, crude as it was.  “Good,” is all he says, relief melting his broad shoulders from mountains to hills.  And Katniss is suddenly, strangely greedy to know why he cares so much, what he’s really thinking about, why he’s here.

Then there is a pastel orange box between them, firm hands placing it down with a gentleness that doesn’t compute with Katniss’s sharp senses.  The box is missing the stamp of his family’s bakery.  A birthday cake; half dark chocolate with blueberries, half butter-cake with strawberries, Katniss knows without needing to open.  It’s the same cake she’s found on her doorstep twice every year for the last four years.  She knew it was him, but never said anything.  

She’s not good with words.

But tonight she says “thank you,” though the words come out strangled and awkward.  Because it’s the last year she’ll get to taste her side of the cake.

When she reaches for the box, he doesn’t mention the sudden change on her wrist or the nail marks around that damn, miniscule number.  

Peeta says “you’re welcome” as she stands up and walks away, and Katniss watches him from behind stifling curtains.  He lingers on that lonely doorstep- as though he has so much more he wants to tell her.  When Peeta stands up, Katniss takes a pathetic step back into the shadows, ridiculously afraid and eager for him to knock on the door.  Instead, his footsteps recede into the night.  

He’s good with words.  Just not tonight.

They say stars are always born in pairs, when soulmates meet in the sky.  

A star hasn’t been born in over a century.  They just keep dying.

Prim is upset, and won’t talk to her.  Neither will Gale.  On the other hand, her mom seems to have regained some color to her cheeks, and Peeta Mellark finds excuses to be near.

Day 20 is spent in the forest, where Katniss just fits in better.  Animals don’t speak much, which makes them perfect companions.  Gale brought food over, so she finds no need to hunt, and a squirrel is more than ready to rub in her face how little it cares that she’s there.  It scurries under the bridge of her knees and makes off with a blueberry- right off the top of her cake slice.

“I thought you didn’t like to share,” a sweet breeze brushes against her right cheek and she looks up to see Peeta standing a short distance away.  He looks hesitant to approach, even though, somehow, he fits right in- more than she ever did.  She is a hunter, and her place amongst the trees is as a predator; necessary, but perhaps not always welcomed.  He, on the other hand, appears rooted to the ground like a flower; not exactly necessary, but beloved.  The soil hugs his feet, and the leaves caress him wherever they touch.

It’s obvious why the universe wants him around a little longer.

“I don’t,” she says, but it’s not as monotonous or hostile as usual; it’s nearly playful.  Peeta gets a glimpse of the girl he’d first seen when their wrists were bare and their tongues unknowing of the world’s bitterness.   He takes it as a small sliver of encouragement and sits down beside her.

She lets him take a few bites of the cake.  It is, technically, his anyway.

Day 19 starts rough, because Katniss wakes up to Prim gripping her arm.  Trying to give back what she doesn’t want, not if it means she can’t have her sister.

But Katniss is much more selfish and apparently the world is with her on this one, because the numbers remain the same on both their wrists.  Prim lives, Katniss won’t for long.

She ends up wandering aimlessly through town, and somehow ends up at the bakery.  Craving sweets.

Day 18, the bakery comes to her during lunch, that soft orange box presented with a less nervous smile than before.  He’s still a little jittery and knocks his knee before he sits across from her, but girls are staring- envious, and Katniss has never really paid much attention to Peeta Mellark’s charming and pretty school persona.  She didn’t really care to, but now her days are ticking down fast and she’s developed a curious interest.  Enough so that she talks to him more than she eats.

By the end of school, Katniss decides Peeta is sweeter than sugar and, even though she’s never had a sweet tooth before, she enjoys his company.  More than she should.

When he walks her home, Katniss realizes he enjoys her company a little too much, too.  His hand brushes against hers.  Instinct drives her to hide in the pockets of her jacket.  But it’s also instinct that makes her say “yes” when he asks:

“Can I walk with you to school tomorrow?”

He keeps asking every afternoon, and she keeps saying yes, even though they don’t converse much and even though both their days are numbered- hers drastically more so than his.  But Peeta is comfortable with her silence, seems to know where it comes from, and she enjoys listening to him tell her stories about the bakery, about classmates she doesn’t really know the names of, about himself- those stories she likes the most.  

By the end of the week, Katniss decides Peeta is a complete stranger, yet scarily familiar- damn near making her nostalgic for a home she’s pretty sure she’s never had.  

He’s a mix of shy and social butterfly; has a way with words that puts icing over Katniss’s blunt, and sometimes jagged speech; always knows what she means, even when she doesn’t say a thing.  She realizes with a little too much shock that he’s funny, and likes her own laughter when she’s around him; the blush on his cheeks shows he likes it, too.  And just as shockingly, Katniss forgets about the slimming number on her wrist when he’s around; she forgets they exist on his, too- on everyone.  They never bring it up but, even when it isn’t brought up, those numbers tend to dangle over everyone’s head like an ax- but never with him.

He is peace to her turmoil, and Katniss decides that’s what she needs most in her last days.

The last two weeks are split between Prim, Gale and Peeta.  The first two finally stop giving her the cold shoulder, realizing it’s a waste of time, and start hogging all her personal space; a part of her thinks they’re compensating for the absence of her mother- who shuts herself into her room, staring at the clock.  

The last, Peeta, doesn’t start off so clingy.  He noted how Katniss hid her hands, and takes his time to approach her.  They walk feet apart, then inches, then barely any space between them at all.  She talks more, though still not much, and only when a thought gets so bothersome she throws it out into the open.  Peeta is always there to catch it, and works with what she gives him.  She wants to give him more, and the thoughts are piling up in there with nowhere to go and so little time to ponder, but she’s afraid of overwhelming him- overwhelming herself, and then having to go before the feeling can settle.

They work with what little they have, and Peeta finds excuses to stay close by: coming over to drop off bread and dessert -Prim hastily inviting him in for dinner, joining her in the woods -even though he turns pale when she hunts, sitting by her at school and bringing her lunch, walking her to and from home, and on one occasion stumbling upon her in the dark.

It happens on Day 5, and Katniss’s heart is pounding; what the hell is bravery but a stupid tale in a dusty book?  She isn’t brave, like her sister keeps saying every night they go to bed.  She isn’t brave, and that’s why - when she woke from a nightmare of overwhelming nothing - she bolted and hid away amongst the trees.  She should’ve known this is where Peeta Mellark slept, amongst the dandelions and mother nature’s other beloveds.  

Quietly, he sits beside her, knows better than to touch her.  He waits as Katniss tries to breathe in more regularly, to still the panic into something more manageable.  He takes deep breaths himself, modeling calm for her, and she uses his pulse to steady her own.

“I’m scared,” she admits when her chest doesn’t feel like it’s tearing open, when her lungs aren’t being scorched by hellfire.  Katniss knows she didn’t have to say anything, that Peeta can feel everything she thinks- but she says it anyway, because there’s five days left and her brain is screaming.

“It doesn’t mean you aren’t brave.”

And at that moment, she laughs because there he goes- knowing.  And how is it that when he says it, she believes him?  She always believes what he says, takes comfort in his words and even the absence of them, and she’s suddenly so damn afraid of never hearing him again.  And she’s laughing so rambunctiously, her smile unhinged and wild, that she almost doesn’t hear the desperate whisper of a heartbroken star.

But she does, and it makes her smile even wider, and the tears finally break through.

Katniss lets Peeta hold her, neither making to move when a night mist comes- as though the stars were crying, too.  

Day 1 eases onto the horizon in hushed tones of pink and purple, with her mother and Prim at her bedside when she wakes.  It eases just as softly out, the sky the same color as those bakery boxes, with Peeta at her side.  They sit in those same rooted spots in the forest, watching the night sky between the veins of the tree canopy.

Even though its the stars doing this to her, punishing her for the crimes of others, Katniss can’t seem to muster any anger anymore.  She’s calm, the feeling of loss coming and going in slow waves.  She’s able to remain steady when they hit because of the boy sitting next to her.  The boy she wants very much to hold onto.

Katniss thinks back to the brush of his hand on hers, and curses herself for ever hiding away.

Abruptly, she seizes his hand, and instead of jumping away from her brashness, Peeta smiles and Katniss’s chest feels like it’s tearing open again.  Her lungs are on fire, but it’s nothing compared to where her skin touches his.

In the twilight of her days, she’s never felt quite so alive.  And so very afraid.  Of losing him.  Of dying.  Of whatever comes after.  Because they say there’s an after.

“Stay with me?”  She rushes it out, before time slips completely away from her.  She can feel that stupid number fading from her wrist even at that moment, when her blood is rushing louder than rapids in her ears, her heart pounding as if just after a chase- even when she feels most here, she can feel herself slipping over there.  And she knows he can’t stay with her over there, so as long as she’s here-

His fingers hook around hers, and the crushing strength of his hold makes her wonder if maybe she will see him over there.  If maybe-

“Always.”

Peeta’s eyes are dangerously shimmering, and flaring a sun’s goodbye.  

Katniss falls asleep listening to his heartbeat, pleasantly distracted from her own.

But when she wakes, it’s her heartbeat she hears.  

But why is she waking at all?

She can feel the grass prickling at the exposed skin of her hip, at her ankles.  There’s morning dew, and it’s light out with just a few stars peering down- almost guilty, the edges of her vision hazy, green with life, real.  Her hand is still holding someone’s-

“Peeta?”  

The desperate sound of it mimicks that whisper she’d heard five days ago.  For a second, she wonders if maybe he didn’t hear her- as she nearly hadn’t heard them five days ago.

Katniss sits up on her elbow and peers down at him, the most welcomed and beautiful sight; his eyes closed and smiling like his lips, the most miniscule glisten of something wet down the sides of his cheeks- morning dew; just morning dew.  He’s sleeping, so calm and perfectly fit snug in the folds of grass that his chest doesn’t even rise- so as not to bother the peace.  Just sleeping.

“Peeta?”

Just as desperate as-

Peeta Mellark.

She shakes him then, rough- knowing he won’t mind.  Of course he won’t.  But his eyes remain closed and smiling.  So peaceful, even as tears are burning down her cheeks, fear ripping at her throat.

There’s something off about her wrist, something dark and long drawn over her pulse.

And Katniss realizes why, deep down, she always tried to keep him from holding her hand.  Why he was always there, with her.  Why she can’t bear to let him go now.

16057.

16057 sunsets to remind her of him.  16057 walks home alone.  16057 pastel orange boxes she’d never receive.  16057 chances to hold his hand she’d never get.

Peeta Mellark, the boy with the longest life - the boy whose name a star whispered into her ear - is gone.  Even when he said he’d stay, always.  So she stays with him, instead.  Until Gale comes, and even then, she doesn’t really leave.

They say stars are always born in pairs, when soulmates meet in the sky.

Today, Prim is 20 years old.  She and Katniss sit in a field of dandelions, where nearly eight years before Katniss had slept beside a boy.  The few stars that are still around are out on a clear and kind night, and they look so much gentler than they did years ago.  They are much more giving to children now, but it doesn’t stop the tears from coming as two sisters say goodbye.

Katniss gives Peeta’s days to Prim.

Prim doesn’t see her sister go, not in the way she’d thought she would.  

Her eyes are to the sky, waiting as she holds her sister close even as Katniss’s strong embrace drifts and falls limp, and swears she sees two flickering lights where once there was only darkness.

Maybe what they say is true.

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