#Also from all of the meats ever for some reason I miss the most plain hams.. especially pork and chicken ones. I love vegan hams but they

[borifem]

hi, does anyone have an idea how to help with salmon cravings? even since going vegan I didn't have that many issues regarding meat cravings, BUT for the past month or so I've been craving fish so, so badly. specifically salmon. I never were a huge fish eater before (tho I always liked it a lot, just didn't include it in my diet much + salmon is fucking expensive) so I'm not sure why NOW out of all times? Maybe I am deficient in something? Anyhow, I found a mock-fish fillet at the store recently which I'm super excited to try and see if it's any good and if it hits the spot. I also know about the tomato-tuna, using nori and other stuff to add that "fishy" flavor. But I just can't get enoigh of salmon, and truth be told, I've given in a few times at this point at since things have been getting thought for me, I've been really low and eating is a huge source of comfort for me. So now the question is, HOW do I substitute salmon to avoid this happening in the future 🤔 The two big things for me are TEXTURE of the salmon and the TASTE, with texture being slightly more important I'd say. The end product doesn't even need to resemble salmon as long as it just hits the spot lol. Tysm and good luck to anyone else on their vegan journey

[elias-code]

The Feeling’s Mutual - c!Techno x Reader

PT 1 because I‘m taking too long lmao

Characters: c!Technoblade x gn!Reader, Philza, Quackity, Charlie S

Summary: [from an ask] The reader is kicked out by Quackity from Las Nevadas and was forced to roam around to look for somewhere to live and they end up in Techno’s cabin after passing out in the tundra. At first, you have a shared hatred of each other, but you end up warming up when you figure out he’s been making you breakfast.

Warnings: Exile, mild malnutrition, corruption

————————— Enjoy :3 —————————

“Ooh! I get to go visit you now! Like a vacation!” Charlie cheered.

“No, Charlie,” You sighed, continuing to follow him out of the city, “I’m getting exiled. I don’t think Quackity will let you visit me,”

He frowned, confused. He wasn’t the best at understanding broad concepts like exile and all the drama that brought it about. He just thinks you’re one of his best friends, and that Quackity is also his best friend. Now, Quackity was in no way your friend as you once were. He banished you for the dumbest thing, just because you challenged his integrity. Unbeknownst to Charlie, Quackity was giving away trade secrets, rigging elections and his casinos. You didn’t join him to scam people, you just wanted a new start after L’Manburg.

You walked with him in silence past the bright neon lights and street lamps of Los Nevadas. You were never going to be allowed back here, even though you built half of the damn place.

“So if Quackity doesn’t let me visit, can you visit me?” Charlie asked solemnly.

“Again, probably not,” You stuffed your hands in your pockets and half-smiled at him, “I don’t think he wants to see me back here. Ever,”

Where were you even going to go? No one would take you. Quackity had made many enemies, who were, in turn, yours, and now no one you were allied with alongside Quackity will be friendly except for Charlie. But Charlie was his lapdog, nothing could touch him and you weren’t going to be allowed around him anymore.

Your enemies list was vast, all the way up at the top, finally overtaking Technoblade, was Quackity. Congrats, Big Q, you piece of shit.

Charlie stopped at the end of the road, finally realizing this might be the last time you see each other. He wanted to cry, but he held it back. There’d always be hope, he could sneak out, you could sneak in. But you’d have to do it all in secret, and it just didn’t feel right to him.

“I’m gonna miss you, Charlie,” You said.

He smiled weakly at you and pulled you in for a slimy hug.

“We’ll see each other again someday,” He stated.

You wanted to believe that, but the pit in your stomach just sank further as the embrace came to an end. You’d have to get going, this would be the last time you see him, or Los Nevadas for that matter, in a long time at least.

-

You spent days wandering. Just as you suspected, no one would take you in. Not even Niki because of your governmental associations. You found the occasional scrap of meat or stale bread in some chests along the prime path, but you felt so sick to your stomach that it became hard to eat anything you found.

From the desert to the ocean to the plains to the tundra you roamed. You hunted with what little supplies you had.

There had been no food for days now, the snow was the only source of water within sight. There were no signs of life, no people, no animals, only the occasional dying tree to sleep under in the blistering cold. As if things couldn’t get any worse, the blizzard came.

Blinding white all around. The only sound audible was the whistling of the wind in the frozen, rotting branches above you. At this point, you’d gone numb, the only thing you could feel was your heart beating heavily in your chest as you lost consciousness.

-

“We couldn’t just leave them out in the snow, Techno! That’s just cruel!”

“They’re with Quackity, Phil. Don’t make me explain this again,”

“I’m not going to let you throw them back out,” Phil explained, “No one would willingly come here, Technoblade. They have a reason, I know it,”

You opened your eyes cautiously. It was warm, you were covered in a thick red cape and a few blankets, the fire next to you was roaring. Whatever argument was taking place had moved further into the distance, out of earshot.

Everything ached, but at least you were warm. You let yourself come to your senses. Maybe the exile was all a nightmare. Maybe Quackity wasn’t a dumb bitch after all. But where were you? Whose bed was this? Whose-

It’s Technoblade’s cape.

Your eyes widened as you shot up out of bed. The pain in your legs was sickening, but so was being in this man’s house. You ran to the fireplace and grabbed some sharp steel tongs, meant for poking at the logs, for protection. His footsteps moved closer, the conversation was over.

You brandished your weapon and prayed for dear life.

The door creaked open and he stepped through, shutting it behind him. He stared at you, looking down at the weapon and then back at the tossed bed. He looked unfazed by your threatening pose. You were more scared than he was.

“I lend you my cape,” Technoblade points at the bed, “And you decide the best move for you is to stab me?”

Guilt crept into your throat.

“What am I doing here?” You hissed at him.

“Phil found you under a tree,” He chuckled, “And decided he wanted to adopt someone else,”

“Aren’t you supposed to kill me or something?”

“Why? Should I?” He threatened, taking a step towards you.

You stepped back, bumping into the table behind you, “That- That’s what you do,”

“If it were up to me, you’d probably be buried in the snow by now.”

You scowled at him, rediscovering past hatred towards him and using that to fuel your rage.

“I’d rather be left out there,” You spat, “Not stuck in here with you-“

“Again, I agree, but Phil is the one you should be angry with if you don’t want to be here,” He rolled his eyes and held his hand out.

“I’m not giving this back to you,” You growled.

He stepped forward and snatched the spear out of your hand, tossing it behind him, out of reach. He leaned forward and hissed in your face, “Don’t try anything, kid,”

You swallowed your pride, weak and unarmed. Whether you liked it or not, you’d have to stay with him for a while. No one would take you in, so it was either deal with Technoblade or die. You might as well use this to your advantage.

-

Days went by where you never even saw Techno. Phil took care of you most of the time, but he didn’t have any room in his house with Wilbur being there and all, so you were forced to sleep in Techno’s cabin. It became easier and more manageable as time went on. The only time you ever really saw him were the latest hours of the night when he’d come home and, if you were lucky, at dawn when he left.

Breakfast usually materialized at your doorstep every morning around the same time. Sometimes it was yoghurt, sometimes fresh fruit, sometimes cold meat and oatmeal, but it was always delicious. You suspected Phil was behind the mysterious meals, that was until you asked him about it.

“I don’t think I ever said, but thanks for breakfast,” You smiled at Phil as you helped him load firewood into the horse’s saddlebags.

He looked at you, perplexed, to say the least.

“What breakfast? Don’t you just eat whatever Techno has?” Phil replied.

Your stomach turned, letting the past couple of weeks turn over in your head. You shouldn’t have assumed Phil was the one making your food. You should’ve asked before you just started gorging yourself every morning.

Phil watched as you turned pale and hopped on the horse. He thought that you just ate whatever Techno had in his pantries, and never questioned it. Now, all was revealed. Techno had been making you breakfast.

For most people living as a guest in someone else's house, having breakfast brought to their door would just be seen as a sweet thing, but it was dangerously blown out of proportions when it was your ex greatest enemy doing it without you even knowing. You silently reasoned with yourself that if he was going to poison you, you’d be dead already. That comforting fact backfired as you realised he could have killed you so easily. Your emotions were on a rollercoaster, and your stomach sank deeper and deeper as the more intrusive thoughts crept in.

You needed to catch him in the act. Something about The Blood God making you breakfast created sentiments of self-worth out of thin air. Part of you wanted to prove it to yourself, and part of you wanted to embarrass him for it.

-

The familiar shine of daybreak made the room glow orange. The fire had gone out that night, as it usually did, but the cold felt like nothing now that you had a mission to accomplish.

You slipped out of bed, clad in leggings and a simple green shirt. The floor was icy on your bare feet but you trodded out the door and down the stairs, heading for the kitchen.

The dining room was salmon-pink, highlighted by the bright orange flickering coming from the fireplace. It was already warmer down here than it was upstairs, the fire must’ve already been on for a while by now. The kitchen was out of view, but you could already smell fish frying from the base of the stairs.

Making your way through the archway, you spotted Techno’s red cape on its hook by the door next to the thick winter coat you loaned from Phil. Below them, both were black boots, sprinkled with half-melted snow. The floorboard below you creaked when you stood in the doorway to the kitchen.

Techno spun around, startled by the noise. His face flushed with guilt temporarily but was quickly replaced by a furrowed brow and confused eyes.

“What are you doing awake? It’s five,” He implored.

“I could smell the salmon,” You shrugged and moved towards him innocently.

He turned back to the fish and turned the stove off, sliding it onto a plate.

“What’re we eating today?”

“You just said,”

You scoffed and conceded. It was a dumb thing to ask, but he wasn’t supposed to answer. It was only meant to highlight the reality that you knew what he’d been doing. Nothing in his expression, now unreadable, made you think he didn’t know that you knew he’d been making you breakfast.

He gently pushed by you, letting his arm brush against yours. It made your heart skip a beat, probably out of fear, you told yourself. Your skin went cold, but you followed him into the next room where he put the dish on the table and gestured for you to sit.

“You don’t seem to hate me anymore,” You mumbled.

“I never said I hated you, just that I don’t like you,”

“Well, you don’t seem to not like me either,”

He blinked at you and sat across the table from you.

“Where are you going today?” You said with a mouthful of food, “To do mysterious things, I imagine,”

“I was going to stay here today, actually.”

You stopped eating.

“I finished my mysterious duties,” He mocked.

Well, he wasn’t going to budge on where he’d been going the past few nights, but that wasn’t particularly important right now. What caught your attention was that he was staying here for the day. Again, meaningless to most people, but with him, it was surprising.

He began snickering, just at your face.

“I was never the one that hated you,” He laughed, “You were the one who brandished that poker at me,”

Your face flushed red with embarrassment, “I can be resourceful, at least,”

He continued to laugh at you, the absurdity of the situation hitting him with full force. Right now you wished you could hit him with full force.

“Alright, alright,” He took a deep breath, “I do have some questions for you,”

You looked up at him, annoyance plastered on your face.

“Shoot,”

“Why are you here instead of Las Nevadas?”

“Because Quackity kicked me out, and-“

“How did you know I made you breakfast?” He cut you off.

“I asked Phil, but-“

“Why did Quackity kick you out?”

“I asked him too many questions, just-“

“Do you still hold any loyalty to him?”

“No, but-“

“Questionnaire over, thank you for participating,” He stood up and excused himself from the table, heading back to the kitchen.

-

Techno never left again after that. He stuck around and made an effort to make you annoyed and uncomfortable every chance he could get. It was becoming a sort of game with him, and you were more than happy to play along. It made it easier to get along with him in general. There’d be no more dreading seeing him, no more awkwardness surrounding your avoidance.

Now, you had other things to be awkward about. If you passed each other a bit too close in a doorway, when you tripped over a rug in the living room, the fact that you were sleeping in his bed, the abrupt flirtatious nature of the man you were now sharing a room with.

You never really thought about it, but before he moved back into his room onto a makeshift bed, he’d been sleeping on the couch. He’d wake you early in the morning when he’d get up to make breakfast, and whenever he did leave to run errands, he’d wake you late at night when he came home.

One morning, around eight, he woke you purposefully.

“Get dressed, I want to show you something,” he whispered, gently shaking you.

You groggily complied and eventually found your way to the front door where he was waiting for you.

“No breakfast?” You asked.

“Breakfast after,” He said, opening the door.

He was dressed in his usual clothes, but he carried a large satchel with him. Inside were different scraps of leftover meat and some bones. He didn’t tell you what for, but you were too tired to ask anyway.

You followed him through the fresh snow, crunching under your feet. It was drowned out by mindless conversation that you both kept up to stay awake. He brought you to a distant hill in a clearing, where a cliffside was awaiting. The conversation stopped as he told you to wait, and he went over to the wall and pressed a rock into the stone.

You could faintly hear the sound of pistons firing before the rock slid down slotted into the floor.

The sound of dogs barking filled the forest as hundreds of dogs and puppies spilt out of the entrance. Most of them went running to Techno, who was now holding the bag aloft, out of reach from the dogs. Some of them ran to you, their tails wagging happily at their new potential playmate.

“Pretty cool, huh?” He shouted.

“Holy-“ You stopped and pet the large, black dog that jumped on you, “Where’d you get so many dogs?”

“Long story,” He began to throw chunks of meat into the writhing pile of hounds, who were now obsessively sniffing you.

“I do this three times a week,” he said as he made his way over to you, “It’d get done a lot faster if you could help now that you’re living here full-time,”

“Wait,” You looked at him blankly, “Full-time?”

“That’s the idea,”

You thought for a moment, “Where am I going to sleep?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” he said, handing you some chunks of meat to throw.

By the time Techno’s bag was empty, it was almost noon. He shephered them back into the cavern and shut the door behind them. They were very well trained, when he commanded them all to sit once they got inside, there was no hesitation. The puppies were confused at first, but they followed along with the pack flawlessly.

Leaving the clearing, you talked with him freely about your plans for the future at the cabin. It didn’t mean you’d live there forever, knowing Techno, he might end up being hunted out of the tundra eventually. But for now, you were sticking with him.

It was strsnge to think that you were once mortal enemies, staring each other down on the battlefield with nothing but rage coursing through your veins. Now, you were cheerily chatting about what it would be like to settle down together. Between the two of you, mutual feelings of respect and redemption. The distrust was long since buried.

[prongssprank]

Marauders Dietary/Food Headcanons:

CW/TW: food/relationships with food

(Because I had a random idea and now I’m running with it)

Lily Evans:

- Has been vegetarian basically her whole life

- She did go Vegan for a few years but didn’t keep it up (partially because she missed honey so much)

- Lily loves to cook and create her own recipes

Dorcas Meadowes:

- Suffers from Celiac so they eat gluten free

- They love to bake, they never buy bread from a store

- Dorcas also always brings a plate of food or a treat to share when they visit someone else’s home, always keeping people’s dietary requirements in mind

Sirius Black:

- Surprisingly to some, Sirius is actually not to shabby in the kitchen, he prefers to just help but can make a few dishes quite easily

- Prefers sweets to chocolate, and is a sweet tooth

- Loves seafood, particularly mussel (oysters)

Remus Lupin:

- He was anaemic when he was younger so now he eats red meat at least once a week

- Can follow a recipe… most of the time, but would much rather get takeout than cook for himself

- Remus is also a big comfort eater

Marlene McKinnon:

- Vegan and a big lover of oat milk

- Cannot cook for the life of her, except pancakes, they are her one specialty

- They’re allergic to nuts

Mary Macdonald:

- Is intolerant to a fair amount of foods as she suffers from IBS (irritable bowel syndrome)

- Gets moody when she’s hungry and even more moody when she gets bloated (as a result of IBS)

- Her random talent is making the best sandwiches, all of her friends often beg her to make them sandwiches

Peter Pettigrew:

- Is lactose intolerant (I know, ironic) not severely so he sometimes has dairy products anyways

- Has always hated vegetables, loves fruit but can barely stand most vegetables

- Has an amazing sense of smell when it comes to food and is a pretty good cook (totally not ratatouille vibes shh)

James Potter:

- Okay hear me out, he hates red meat. Cannot stand it but he does like chicken and other white meats

- Enjoys cooking and can make some pretty good stuff, every now and then he may go overboard with experimentations, especially different herbs and spices

- Has always wanted to try seafood like crab and shrimp but unfortunately he has a shellfish allergy

Alice Fortescue:

- Is obsessed with breakfast foods, it’s her favourite mealtime ever

- Is good at cake decorating, often teams up with Dorcas

- Alice is also one of those people who often fills their days so much that she forgets to eat sometimes which is part of the reason she never leaves without having had a good breakfast

Andromeda Black:

- AMAZING cook, can bake as well. Honestly just a wiz in the kitchen but never accepts help from anyone because she likes to be in control without distraction when she’s cooking

- She’s not a fan of pastries, she’ll have cake and brownies on occasion but she’s never loved pastries

- She definitely gave cooking lessons at one point in her life

Regulus Black:

- His secret food pleasure is olives, they don’t even need to be with anything he’ll eat them straight out of the jar sometimes

- Has a few different allergies including egg, soy and peanuts

- Never really tried cooking before until he turned 17

Frank Longbottom:

- Great at cooking and loves to do it, flipping pancakes and spinning pizza dough are his favourite thing to do

- His favourite food is Fish and Chips, it’s so plain but he adores it

- Frank loves diversity and when he and Alice would travel he would always explore new cuisines, he loves almost everything he tries

Ted Tonks:

- Always carries toffee with him, Andy always teases him that he’s like an old grandpa, he doesn’t mind

- Is probably one of the least picky eaters you’ll ever meet. Seriously he’ll eat anything

- His all time favourite food is Dino nuggets because it brings out his inner child, that and they’re easy enough for him to make when Andromeda is too tired to cook

Narcissa Black:

- Another vegetarian, stopped eating meat around the age of 9 by herself (meaning her family were not vegetarian)

- Had an unhealthy relationship with food for most of her teenage years but she slowly learned to love it and herself again

- She’s always had a soft spot for eclairs

Kingsley Shacklebolt:

- Very tolerant to spicy food, he would always have competitions with people, James was the only person who ever came close to beating him

- Not technically food but he was an avid tea drinker, he and Remus would always drink tea together

- Kingsley was also that person who would rarely have snacks or packaged food, he would always have proper meals that he cooked

Side note: these are just some of my personal opinions and headcanons! Everyone has their own, please be respectful <3

[sasa-gay-yo]

Just Us   (Chapter 1: His Eyes)

Sometime before The Fall of Wall Maria

The hum of customers seemed louder that day. Normally four or five regulars were sitting in the corner, drinking coffee and sharing baguettes, but today, it seemed most of the tables were filled. Newspapers were being passed back and forth between people and if I cared much about the news, I might have taken myself away from kneading bread to glance at the pages. Just by hearing the customers, I filled myself in on the town gossip without having to be confronted by the old ladies trying to make me marry their sons. 

“I can’t get married right now, Miss. Schmidt. There’s too much to do with the shop that I have no time to give my attention to anyone else.” Those excuses and a smile seemed to hold them off for a few days. 

“Eva! Can we get a refill of coffee here?” I looked up to the three Garrison soldiers who were hiding away from their morning watch duties. At least they weren’t drinking whiskey. Nodding, I put the dough in the oven to prove and wiped my hands. Now, I would have to talk to some people. If it made them want to come to the café more, I guess I would sacrifice a little of my sanity. 

“Here you go,” I held up my hand as they tried to slide a few more coins my way, “You already have had three, this one is on the house.” The Captain looked up and smiled at me before putting them back in his pocket. The, too, had a newspaper laid out in the center of the table. 

“Have you heard about the Survey Corps recently, Eva?” I shook my head and he held up the paper. 

“Apparently they’ve gained some recruits worth our tax dollars! They didn’t lose half of their people on the last expedition. It’s front-page news for some reason.” One of the subordinates pointed at the portrait on the front page of what I assumed to be the new commander of the Scouts. Last week's news was the retirement of Keith Shadis and the promotion of various Corps peoples. Perhaps with the promotion also came the recent success. 

“I think anyone who goes out to fight titans on our behalf is worth my tax dollars. If I recall, soldiers only pay a fraction of our taxes. In fact, I’m paying for you to sit here in my café and drink away my coffee supply. It’s hard on me to travel to the capital markets every month.” I raised an eyebrow at them and it seems the pleasant conversation they wanted to have had ended, especially with the other customers listening in. They made it a point to stand up, leave the coins on the table, and walk out of the café. 

“Finally doing their job.” I picked up the untouched pitcher of coffee and wiped down the table. They didn’t even have the decency to put their cups in the dish bin. I rolled my eyes and cleaned up after them, going back to kneading more bread dough and warming up their coffee for the next customer. 

Maybe the success of the Scouts will make the Garrison and MPs care about the people inside the walls. You can only be self-serving for a little bit before it comes to bite you in the ass.

“Delivery!” Again, I’m distracted from my bread making. This is why I should have prepped last night. I wiped off my hands, noticing how dry they’d become, and turned to get what I assumed to be my portion of flour. 

“Hi Jonas, just put it on the table here.” 

“Eva, did you hear the news?” I poured him a cup of juice and handed it to him, nodding. 

“The Survey Corps?” He nodded hard and drank it all in one big gulp. 

“You should’ve seen it when the scouts came through the city a few days ago. I don’t think I’ve ever seen people cheer for them, but this time they did. Did you watch them come by?” I took his cup and put it in the sink before turning back to him. 

“No, I was stuck in here. I did see the tops of some of their heads though, but the crowd around the window was pretty thick.” I decided to lean against the front counter and take a break from baking to talk to Jonas, one of the only people my age who seemed to come around here and stay. If you were young in Trost, you were always working. They would come in and right out of the café, never staying to talk or look out the windows. I only know a few of their names, but all of their drink orders by heart. The only ones who seemed to talk a bit when they came in were, in fact, Scouts who got a few days off. No conversation ever really amounted to anything and I didn’t take time to memorize their orders as they would always stop coming a few weeks after they first arrived. 

“How is Reeve’s doing on orders? I heard that there might be a shortage of meat soon.” He shrugged at me and I signed his papers. 

“I don’t have a clue about that. I just go where they tell me to. I mean, I haven’t been delivering a lot of meat lately. You don’t need it though, do you?” 

“No, I just need flour, coffee, and sometimes tea. I go to the capital for the last two. If anything, I’d just stop being a bakery.” Jonas pouted and pointed to the croissants in the glass case. 

“I’d fight to get those if there was a shortage. You have the best bread in Trost!” I smiled and waved my hand. 

“No, I don’t, Jonas. I kn-” 

“Tea, please.” Jonas jumped and turned around to see the man behind him. His grey eyes bore holes into Jonas who was in his way. I’d seen him before, but it was his first time into the café. 

“C-Captain Levi!” Jonas even bowed to him, slightly shaking. I tilted my head, looking at the man, no taller than me. Why was this shorty making Jonas shake in his shoes? And Captain? He didn’t seem like the type to be in the Garrison. 

When I was done looking at his form, I looked back up to his eyes which seemed annoyed that he was having to wait for his tea. They were a pretty grey but were almost overshadowed by the dark circles under his eyes. I’d seen those type of eyes...tired from death, not from lack of sleep. He was definitely a Scout.

I stood up and wiped my hands again, slightly wincing at their dryness. 

“What type of tea, Cap’n?” He didn’t seem to be amused at my abbreviation of his title and I lost my customer-friendly smile. Guess I didn’t have to play pretend around his negative attitude. 

“Black.” I raised an eyebrow and looked at his form again. Tired, strained, busted, sad even… He needed something less… anxiety-inducing than straight black tea. He needed something soothing. 

“May I make a suggestion?” He looked up again having already put the money for plain black tea on the counter. I didn’t fail to notice how when he looked up, so did everyone else in the café. Was he radiating some form of intimidating energy to everyone in this place? He didn’t look scary, just tired and stressed. I guess the darkness of his features didn’t help his cause. 

“What?” Every answer was short and low. He did have an impressive voice for being short, but it also sounded like he had a scratchy throat. A mental note to add honey. 

“Mint?” He looked at me for a few seconds, probably deciding whether or not I could ruin his tea routine, “No extra cost. You just seem like you don’t need any more caffeine at the moment. Perhaps a few more hours of sleep.” The last sentence was mumbled, but I’m sure he had to hear it. Hopefully, he heard it and took me up on it. 

“Sure.” He waved his hand and walked over to the corner table where the Garrison was sitting, staring out the window. It seemed that he was far away enough for everyone to start gossiping about him. I stared at him for a few more seconds before taking out one of the few teacups I owned. No one wants to drink tea anymore… such old taste. 

“E-Eva? How did you talk to him like that?!” I glanced over at Jonas who was crouched over the counter and whispering to me. 

“What do you mean? Why is everyone so afraid of him? He’s no taller than me, Jonas.” 

“He’s Captain Levi! Humanity’s strongest soldier. It’s said that he’s killed over 100 titans by himself! And, and, and he just joined the Corps this past year. He used to be a…” He leaned in even more and put a hand in front of his mouth like that was going to help block out this secret, “a famous gangster in the underground.” I looked back at him again and met his eyes. He quickly looked away, but I did notice he was still staring at me from his peripheral. It was the way he was sitting that made it possible to spy on me unsuspectingly. 

“He does look a bit mean, but I don’t see danger...I think he just intimidates you and you don’t like it because he’s shorter than you.” Jonas was exasperated at my comment and looked back and forth between the Captain and me. 

“But he’s from the underground! You know how dangerous those people are! Kenny the Ripper and The Sniper… he’s one of them!” I rolled my eyes again and watched the tea as it brewed. 

“You forget I was born in the underground too, Jonas.” It was a low whisper to keep gossip down to a minimum and he shook his head fast, tapping on the counter. 

“But you’re different, Eva. You didn’t live there for very long either and you were adopted by Mister Flynn. I know he’s murdered like so many people.” I held the honey jar up, debating how much I should put in. He didn’t seem like the type of person who would like something overly sweet, but his throat sounded like it needed a bit more honey. 

“So, if I wasn’t adopted and you met me on the streets, would you be treating me like you’re treating him?” He groaned again and tried to grab my hand to get me to understand his point better. I moved my arm so he fell a bit farther on the counter. 

“I’m happy that someone who knows how to kill is now killing titans. You read the newspapers. What if he’s the reason the Scouts are doing better now?” I put the teacup on the tray along with a small bowl of honey. I couldn’t decide. 

Everyone in the café watched as I walked over to his table and put the tea down. 

“Peppermint tea. I don’t know how you like your tea so there’s some honey. You should put it in.” I pointed to the tiny bowl and he looked down at it too, grunting. I guess that was his way of saying thank you. 

Something made it so I didn’t move from standing in front of him. Maybe I was just curious why everyone was afraid to meet his eye or why they thought he was so intimidating. I mean, Jonas was shitting his pants talking about him and here I stood, not feeling anything like that. I was grateful, if anything, for his service in the Corps and just how many titans he’s rumored to have killed.

“Do you have a question?” It was harsh and it woke me out of the trance while looking at him. I had to recover quickly, or it’d be a bit embarrassing to just admit I was staring at him. He really… wasn’t so bad looking either. Just short. 

“I’m waiting for you to put the honey in your tea.” A good recovery with a hard tone behind it. Hopefully, he didn’t see through it. He groaned again, taking one spoonful and making a grand gesture about putting it into the tea and stirring. I smiled when he followed my fake orders, but it was funny. The titan serial killing maniac gangster had done something that I told him. I nodded once before walking away from his table, noticing, again, everyone's eyes. It was easier to face his grey ones than it was to look at all of theirs. Annoying. 

“Jonas, get off my counter! You’re making it dirty!” 

Orders and people kept flowing in as the hour passed by, but as it reached lunchtime, everything slowed down. No one would want pastries until later in the day for an after-work snack and coffee and tea had lost their use as everyone was now knees deep in work. The only people left in my café were three older women gossiping, two men playing chess, and the Captain himself. 

He was still in the same position, staring out the window, and he slowly sipped his tea as if he was savoring it. I noted that as a victory for my tea-making skills and also noticed that he had used up all the honey I had given him. Interesting. He did like his tea sweet. Maybe he is scary and I’m just not good at judging someone’s character.  

All there was left to do was keep the bread and pastries rotating in and out of the oven and tend to the customers who came every fifteen minutes or so. When I was on downtime, I would debate on whether to go talk to him again or just let him be. Maybe me talking to him would make him more tired and a waste of the peppermint tea I gave him. Just a bag of that tea costs a fortune in the capital, but I was now glad for my decision to buy it. 

Maybe he's sitting there, try to get me to notice him and go talk to him. I can feel it when he looks at me while my back is turned. Is that a call to come over? Has my wit and good looks made him interested in me? Or, my last hypothesis, he can’t read me like I can’t read him. He is a Scout, so maybe he’s surveying me as they do. I was definitely trying to study him behind the pastry glass.

Around one, almost four hours after he stepped foot into my café, he stood up and walked the teacup and plate to the counter next to me. The dish tray wasn’t empty, so he either hadn’t seen it, or my second hypothesis was right and he had finally gotten annoyed that I didn’t approach him. 

“I don’t know where this goes.” His voice was still as stiff as ever, but perhaps it sounded a bit less scratchy. Up close again, I got to study his features. He was handsome, but not your average Trost brown-hair-brown-eyes boy. His eyes told stories the longer you looked at them. Stories of titans and death and the underground. I wish I could stare at them for longer, but he lowered his head again, pushing the cup forward. I got to see his side profile from the other side and it was the same. He was perfect and symmetrical. Sharp jaw and nose hide under strands of raven hair. Everything about him was so… not dark, but I guess the right word would be intimidating or... hard. He just seemed to be hard. Nothing would break his shell, not even small talk, but damn, did I want to try. 

“I can take that for you, Captain.” He nodded and stood there as I put the dish in the sink. He was studying me like I had when I delivered the tea. I decided to use this against him. 

“Did you have a question?” He opened his mouth to say something, probably a quick remark, but it didn’t come out. I turned, smiling, looking at his stance. He still had a blank expression, hiding any emotion, but I knew deep down that my question affected him. 

“How much is that?” He pointed to the baguette in the glass display which conveniently already had the price marked. Humanity’s strongest wasn’t very perceptive if he missed two things. First, the dish tray, now the price tag. Jonas couldn’t have been right about him… it was just a mirage for people inside the walls. For someone to kill that many titans, they had to be some sort of killing machine. They needed him to fit the narrative and his past and facial expression helped him to mold into it seamlessly. The narrative I broke out of as a child. 

“For Humanity’s Strongest? Free. Thank you for fighting the titans, Captain.” Without a word, I put the bread in a paper wrap and handed it to him. I had hoped he would say something back so I could talk to him more, but like every Scout, he just turned to walk out of the doors and probably back to the outside of Trost. 

“How long till you don’t come back, Captain?” 

                                                                                                      Chapter Two →

Chapter Masterlist

[everlarkbirthdaygifts]

Happy Birthday, booksandeverlark!

Our sincerest apologies for the delay on your gift, @booksandeverlark​! We hope your birthday back on October 22nd was a wonderful one, and that you got exactly the presents you were hoping for. To bring your party feels back around, the lovely @mega-aulover​ has written a monster of a fic just for you!

RATED E - For sexual situations and trigger warnings for manhandling and mild violence.  Some Hunger Characters are off Cannon for the purpose of the story. 

a/n Peeta Mellark is one of the worlds most recognizable stars, and he needs a break. He goes missing and is hiding in plain sight because he has fallen for Katniss Everdeen who is raising a tween Prim. Everything goes according to plan until one day Hollywood comes a’callin  

- special thanks to @norbertsmom who beta’d this monster of a story. 20K sorry to Booksandeverlark for the lateness of the story I hope you had a belated birthday.

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

Pete Holly Golightly 

-THE JUNKET 

“Where the hell is the kid?” Haymitch growled. 

“He’s in his bedroom,” his red-haired assistant said, popping her gum not even looking up from her phone.

Haymitch opened the door, and saw red.  He took his phone and called the kid, and the phone began ringing. There was a buzzing sound coming from behind the ensuite bathroom. The younger generation never went anywhere without their phones. The kid was no exception. 

“Kid,” Haymitch marched into the room and banged on the door. 

He had a bone to pick with the kid. The junket was a roller coaster. The kid was barely coherent during the second half of the interviews.  His co-stars did the heavy lifting.  Haymitch did everything in his power to get the kid in this movie, and he was brilliant, an Oscar worthy performance, but now the kid was burnt out.

The phone began buzzing again. 

“Come on Peeta. I know you’re in there I can hear the phone buzzing.” 

It was silent on the opposite side of the bathroom door. 

“Kid,” Haymitch said once more. Peeta was one of the most responsible people. Today was so out of character for him. Yet again, the pressure by the press lately made the kid feel like a guppy in a bowl full of piranhas.

A few weeks ago, some not-so-distinguished members of the press broke into the kid’s home. Peeta’s privacy was smashed when he found out it was his own mother who gave the pap’s the key to his house for a cool $100K. Ever since then the kid changed.

Haymitch was worried. The pressure was getting to Peeta. He was no longer having fun. His smiles never reached his eyes anymore. Haymitch was just about the only one who could tell when Peeta became Peet-the-movie-star. No one could distinguish the polished, charming, and funny persona from the genuine affable, fiercely loyal, kind kid Peeta was at the core of his being. 

After the press junket was over the kid gave him the slip. Normally they talked about the next project or movie. Opening the door, Haymitch cursed when he saw the kids’ phone on the bathroom counter with a note next to it.

“Haymitch, I’m just exhausted. I need a break. I promise I’ll be at the world premiere of the movie - Holly Golightly.” 

Haymitch crushed the note in his hand. He laughed bitterly at the code name the kid gave himself whenever he checked into a hotel. The kid loved the movie Breakfast at Tiffany’s.

Thankfully, this was the last appearance Peeta had to make before the movie premier in less than a week. But a week later, when Peeta didn’t make it to his movie premiere, the entire industry went up in arms.

Peeta's disappearance was the talk of the town. Even three weeks later the fury hadn’t died down. Every paparazzi fueled by the promise of the mini fortune for the first picture of Peeta Mellark was now hunting down the kid. The good boy gone missing had every tabloid spinning articles and fake sightings. Peeta had gone into the Elvis Presley stratosphere of speculation. Everything from aliens, to he became a monk. One thing for certain, the pap’s were seeking Peeta like a struggling dieter seeking a rich German chocolate cake.

-THE SEARCH

“You got any proof you saw Peeta Mellark?” Claudius questioned Judy Morphling.

“You got the cash?” the thin girl with the dark circles under her eyes asked.

Claudius showed Judy the white envelope filled with a couple of hundred-dollar-bills. She was a junkie. And he took advantage of her broke status to make a quick buck to fix her addiction. Claudius slipped the envelope back into his pocket. He wasn't fooled by kids like these.

He’d spent the past four weeks hunting down dead ends. People willing to sell their left arm for money. True, there were other pursuits where he scored a couple of thousand. The hottest going ticket in tinsel town was finding the whereabouts of Hollywood's golden good boy Peeta Mellark. The movie he was in had gone to number one for the past four weeks. It was driven by the mystery of his disappearance, and the phenomenal acting performance in the movie about race. It was a true story, a love story about a man who moved heaven and earth for the love of his life, a freed slave. 

“Okay,” she said.

“Now the proof,” Caludius demanded. 

He was familiar with his informant's story, all too well. Judy won a popular game show when she was in college. She became an instant national sweetheart. During her 15 minute of fame, she was invited to every single hot Hollywood party. Subsequently, she got hooked on alcohol and drugs. One of the bellhops tipped him off that she was in the hotel where Peeta was having the junket and that she had seen him the day he disappeared.

She looked side to side nervously reaching into her pocket to whip out her phone. "Here."

With detached indifference he looked at the picture. It was hard to tell, the guy had on a baseball cap and sunglasses. Claudius swiped the screen and saw that trademark chiseled chin his ex fawned over. It was him. Still, knowing the kid had walked out of the junket didn’t help him. He wasn’t ready to part with his money for just any reason.  “This could be anyone,” he said.

Judy lifted an eyebrow. “A friend of mine that works at a gas station said he also saw him.”

Claudius took a step back. “Sorry Judy. I need real proof.”

“I just need something to tide me over...please...look I have a friend... my friend’s name is Morph.”

“Morph like in the TV show?”

“His mom was a big into 1970’s reruns.” She shrugged, though the light trembling in her lips let Caludius know she was desperate. 

“Okay look.” He took out a twenty and showed it to her. Her eyes went wide as she stared at the money. “Give me this guys information. If it proves to be fruitful, I’ll pay you what you asked for.”

“Okay,” she held out her hand. “I’ll text you his information.”

His phone buzzed. He looked down at the information. “That’s out of State?”

“Yeah.” Her eyes were on the money. 

“You say he works at a gas station?” Claudius enjoyed taunting his informants. He waved the cash, like a cat and mouse game. 

“Near the border.”  

Claudius withdrew the folded bill. He needed assurances that she wasn’t just talking to get the money and not coming through with information vital to him. The payout for finding Mellark was nearly 200K. Judy licked her lips as her eyes followed the money reaching out with her hand.

“I’ll text Morph to give you an exclusive.” 

“Text him now.”

“Okay, okay.” Judy’s fingers moved quickly over the screen of her phone. She even included him in the group chat. When the reply came back as “no problem”, Claudius was satisfied. 

“Here ya go,” Claudius said, giving her the twenty bucks. He walked away; he needed to make the trip to Peeta Mellark’s last known position. He hummed as he got into his car, thrilled for the chase. 

-LIVING WITH THE ENEMY

Gale Hawthorne glowered from underneath the tree in his backyard as District Twelve’s newest resident, that blond painter Pete Golightly, made a move on Katniss Everdeen. He was supposed to be taking out the trash when he saw them by the curbside.

They stood so close in the dark that she was swallowed up by the guy's physique. But they weren’t touching, and although that was a relief, he wasn’t going to leave anything to chance. 

He liked Katniss. No, that was an understatement. He more than liked her, he could see that there was a potential between them. She was smart, he wouldn’t call her pretty, hell she never smiled. But she made sense to him, she was practical, determined, efficient, loyal, punctual, and some much more. Katniss never looked at him like a piece of man meat. A lot of girls looked at him that way.

Frankly it was great, but sometimes, Gale sighed, sometimes he wanted to have an honest conversation with a girl. With Katniss he could, he’d talk, sure she didn’t say much, but she listened and that’s what he wanted. He held a candle for her so long that watching her with the new guy made him grow tense. He wanted to punch a wall.

The nerve in his temple drummed making his headache even worse. 

Rubbing his temple he wondered what the hell a guy like Golightly had that made Katniss, and for that matter, every single woman within a fifty mile radius act like a cat in heat.  Even his own mother talked about how handsome the painter was. And of all of the available girls, the douche chose Katniss to hang around. 

The peal of girlish laughter reached his ears. Gale walked closer, using the darkness to hide himself. He wanted to hear what they were saying. He crouched by her car. From this position he could see them. Pete dipped his head low near hers. Gale knew that hovering move, it was a move he used to get close enough to kiss a girl. 

Gale furled his fist. He watched Katniss reach up and smooth Pete’s golden locks away from his face. 

Katniss didn’t do that. She didn’t touch people, hell she didn’t like to be touched. He recalled how she recoiled when he tried to touch her. She did the same thing at Greasy Sea's whenever someone touched her by accident. Gale loved it when she scowled at them.   

Then she leaned up on tiptoe.

“No, no, no,” Gale ground out.  He then stood agog as Katniss lifted her head up to kiss Pete Golightly. 

It wasn’t a long kiss. It was really a peck, but Gale could see that both parties enjoyed the kiss. Her hand was perched on his chest and his hand covered it while the other one cupped her chin. This guy was a smooth operator.  Gale’s head pounded as he saw red. 

Pete separated from Katniss and gave her a soft kiss on the forehead before he walked away to his car. Once he pulled out, Gale stood to his full height. 

“I thought you didn’t have time for that.” The words slipped out of his mouth before he could stop them.  He stomped over to her, his fists curling and uncurling. He was trying to keep his calm. 

Katniss turned around and gasped her eyes wide and silvery in the moonlight. “What the hell are you doing, Gale?” 

She had the look of a girl who was properly kissed and that drove Gale insane. “You chose that pasty faced wimp?”

Her face transformed into that steely scowl of hers. She walked around him. 

Gale followed. “I’m talking to you.”

She ignored him as she moved forward. 

When she reached the front door of the garage apartment she rented from his mother, he turned her around, leaning down toward her. “What, you don’t have anything to say?”

Katniss looked up at him and narrowed her eyes. “It’s none of your damned business.” 

Gale was going to say something to her when she opened the door to the apartment and quicker than a fox stealing eggs from a henhouse she slipped inside and shut the door in his face. 

Gale pounded on the side of the door. This wasn’t over. 

-80’s QUEEN

“Prim,” Katniss hollered through the bathroom door of the small studio apartment.

The apartment was basically a portion of Hazel Hawthorn's garage. There was no privacy except for the small airplane sized bathroom. She jiggled the bathroom doorknob. Prim was going to be late for the bus.

“Katniss!” Prim screeched from the other side.

She rolled her eyes at her baby sister's dramatic response. “You’re going to be late for school.”

The door opened and Prim stood there pouting, her blond hair a riot. Katniss did not dare gasp. Prim was a tween and Katniss knew how vicious kids could be at school. Instead she sighed, “Okay, what can I do to help?” 

“It’s 80’s day at school today and I need to look like that,” Prim pointed to the picture on her phone of Christie Brinkley. 

“We’re going to need a lot of hairspray and a brush,” Katniss rolled up the sleeves of her shirt.

“But I’m going to be late to school!” Prim cried.

Prim was twelve and at this age everything was a crisis. Katniss wasn’t as dramatic as Prim at that age, though she was moody. “Hey, I’ll give you a ride into school. It will be alright,” Katniss smiled over Prim’s head, their reflected images showed a united front. They were as different as night and day, but both girls had their dad’s smile and their mom’s button nose. 

"Thanks Katniss," Prim said in a small voice. She was almost a teenager, but still very much a little girl.

"Okay, let's rock this." Hair and makeup wasn’t her strong suit but Katniss had a crash course having to take guardianship of her baby sister at the age of eighteen. When their parents died, Katniss fought tooth and nail for her sister. She didn’t want Prim to go into the foster care system. She elected not to go to college and found a job. She sold their parents’ house, paid off the debts and made a home for herself and her then 10-year-old sister. 

It was a rough learning curve, but somehow Katniss made it work. 

Taking a brush, she quickly brushed and smoothed her sister's hair. She took a portion of Prim's beautiful wavy blond hair and put it in a side ponytail. The rest of her hair Katniss curled and teased into perfect 80's puffiness. Combined with her ripped jeans and oversized sweatshirt she borrowed, Prim was perfect to go back in time. 

They were rushing out of the house. Katniss started her beat up Camry and began to make her way down the mountain. The mountains of Panem’s District Twelve were a beautiful blue grey. A lot of the residents lived in the high hills because they were cooler than the valley below. It was private and no one got a house in the hills unless it was passed down by family inheritance or in her case, a rental by a friend of the family. The school was a good half-hour away from the entrance of the steep hill, but as they drove, the car began to shake as they made their way down a steep incline. 

Her palms were sweaty as she frantically pressed on the brakes as they made their way down to a small plateau. She pulled the heaving, trembling Camry to the side of the road.

“No, no, no,” she uttered as it began to smoke. Katniss sighed and hoped that it wasn’t something costly. “I’m going to take a look.”  She popped the hood. Getting out, she went to the hood and released the latch. She jumped back as a waft of billowy hot plume of smoke wafted from the engine. 

“Dagnabit,” Katniss muttered.

“Is it fixable?” Prim asked out of the window.

She grimaced before she looked toward where her sister sat in the car, at this rate Prim was never getting to school. Her knowledge on cars was limited. She knew how to change the oil, change a tire, and do the necessary upkeep for a car. However, it was the more complicated stuff like identifying which of the hoses that broke causing her car to overheat, was out of her scope. That would mean she’d have to deal with Gale, a mechanic by trade.

Gale was obsessive about her, something that Katniss hated. They were once friends until Gale stopped looking at her as a friend, but something to be possessed. He didn’t acknowledge they were too alike, in temperament and personalities. To Katniss it didn’t matter Greasy Sae said Gale was sex on a stick, she just didn’t like him like that.

Her appetite for men ran in a different direction. Sighing, she gave the car a bewildered look. The odds were not on her side. 

“Katniss, I'm going to miss school,” Prim said desperately from the window of the passenger seat.

Katniss felt bad. These were the times she felt guilty for not being a better sister / guardian to her sister. Prim was a good kid and deserved better. Looking down at her watch, time was running out.  Squaring her shoulders Katniss vowed she was going to get her sister to school. “Come on,” Katniss said, reaching down and grabbing Prim’s knapsack. “We’ll be late, but we can walk to school.”

“We can call Pete,” Prim said quietly.

Katniss couldn’t help the flush that crept up to her cheeks at the mention of their new hunky neighbor. Those darned butterflies began whizzing around her stomach. Katniss wanted to hush them or at least put them on a leash whenever Pete was around. 

Pete lived on the mountain with them. He was quiet, and he and her sister got along like chicken wings and buffalo sauce. Pete was the different her appetite was hungry for. Her mind replayed the soul stirring kiss they shared. They said a kiss was a window into a person’s heart, and if that kiss was an indication of what was in Peeta’s heart it was a three alarm fire that burned for her.

However, the kiss was something she wasn’t going to share with her twelve-year-old sister. Hell, that wasn’t something she wanted to even think about. “Prim.”

“Katniss,” her sister’s eyes glittered with mischief. The little imp knew what she was doing.

“I don’t need a man to come rescue us. We can walk to the school.”

“I know we don’t need a man, but we’re not even halfway down the mountain and I’m more than half-an-hour away from school. Pete is about two minutes away.”

Her sister’s logic was infallible, and Katniss knew it, but loathed to admit. “Fine, call Pete.”

-INCOGNITO 

Peeta drove exactly three minutes from his home to see the old dark Camry with the hazard lights on. His gut clenched when he saw the petite fiery woman with the olive skin tone, eyes the color of a raging storm, and cute pert nose. They were seeing each other, not in an official I’m dating you way, but definitely in the, there was something going on between them.

Peeta was used to women fawning all over him. Not Katniss, and he’d fallen for her harder than a sledgehammer hitting concrete. They’d kissed last night. Not a gentle peck on the lips, but the type of kiss that proved the earth was round, because your world shifted on its access. One moment you were standing on the floor and the next you were standing on the ceiling.

He’d been a star since the age of six months. A casting agent walked into his parents’ failing bakery and spotted him sitting in a high chair. The agent convinced his father to put him up for one of those national baby advertisements. Yet none of the accolades he received compared to winning a small smile from the woman standing on the side of the road.

“Hi,” Katniss said pushing her long rope of braided raven hair over her shoulder.   

“Hi,” Peeta said, climbing out of his truck. 

“Hi Pete,” Prim greeted, her eyes alight with joy.

“Hey, little duck.” Katniss' sister Primrose was as infectious as sunshine after a rainy day. She was the one person Peeta was sure Katniss would put her life down for. He had never seen that type of devotion and love before. In the industry he was in there wasn’t much room for any sort of relationship. Everything was colored by money.

His own mother was the poster girl for how money corrupts absolutely. When that casting agent walked into the family’s failing bakery his mother doubted he would get casted; she often said he was an ugly baby. His mother was wrong. Peeta won the contest. His round little face with his priceless blue eyes was soon appearing on every jar, can, and package of that brand of baby product. His mother got bit by the show biz bug, or rather the money that he made from it. She became his manager, and without anyone’s knowledge, took money from Peeta. As he became older and less easy to control his mother became abusive.

Peeta longed for a normal semblance of life. Despite not having two pennies to rub together, Katniss was raising Prim on her own and she was doing it all right. Not once did he hear Katniss lose her temper with her baby sister.

“Hi,” Katniss waved back, her face a deep shade of purple. She slipped her hands into the pocket of her pink diner waitress uniform Greasy Sae made Katniss wear. Her white sneakers shuffled back and forth.

Peeta got out and slipped his sunglasses off. He opened the cab door and held it for Prim and Katniss.

Katniss rolled her eyes at him.

They had this discussion before, about how he didn’t have to hold the door open for her. Peeta knew Katniss was more than capable of opening her own doors, but he was a romantic. He believed in Arthur and the Round Table and a knight’s code. His friend Finnick often told him he was born in the wrong era. He stood up when a lady walked into a room, held doors open, and walked little old ladies across the street.

“Seat belt,” Katniss reminded Prim who already had her earbuds in.

“K,” Prim replied.

“Oh, your lunch,” Katniss said, taking out a brown paper bag littered with glittery stickers from her brown leather messenger bag.

“Katniss, pink panda bears?” Prim huffed.

“I thought you liked them?”

“I do, but these stickers scream six-year-old kid.”

“Okay next time I’ll do a plain brown bag.” Katniss put on her seat belt.

Peeta caught the way Prim’s fingers went over the stickers with awe and reverence. Once more he couldn’t help loving the way the sisters were a unit.

For the whole of his life Peeta longed to be accepted and loved by his family. His older brothers were self-involved and didn’t give a flying fig newton about him; he was just their meal ticket. His mother was abusive and money hungry. His father was a simple man who couldn’t stand up to his wife.

His dad failed to protect Peeta.  

The lesson he learned growing up was that no one needed him. They needed his bank. That last stunt was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Peeta needed a way out and he found a way. His friend, mega star, Finnick Odair helped him get it. Starting over was worth breaking a few rules. He made a few withdrawals, put it in a new bank account and when the time was right, he left.

The trek to the small country of Panem that sat between the Canadian border and the United States border took less than 19 hours including a 90-minute ferry. Panem was a small island, with little islands scattered around it. District twelve was the smallest of the islands and had the smallest community. He chose this small island because it was so far removed from everything that reminded him of Hollywood.

He could have continued travelling but stopped when he met Prim and subsequently her older sister, Katniss. Peeta stayed far longer than what he wanted to because he was fascinated by Katniss.

Once they were on the road, Katniss kept on sneaking looks at him. It was when he caught her gaze going down to his mouth that he knew he was in danger, by the way he stiffened in his jeans. He looked back at Primrose in the seat and the pressing problem in his jeans shriveled.

“You okay?” 

“Yeah,” Katniss said, clearing her throat. She picked up her phone and called the school and her husky voice on the phone made him uncomfortable once more.

Peeta told himself to keep himself in check. Peeta wasn’t a lady’s man, but that didn’t mean he was a saint. However, he was the type who liked to be in a relationship. In his opinion, the best sex was had when he was emotionally connected with someone. When it was used just to blow off steam or to scratch an itch, he found it empty and meaningless, so he stayed clear of women who only promised that sort interaction.  By Hollywood standards, he was a virgin. Compared to him, Katniss was a unicorn.

He respected her and if she knew his thoughts she’d no doubt shoot him through the eye with her bow. To be fair, he was terrified of Katniss, especially when she was in what he called the ‘Hunter Mode.’ Her scowl combined with her glittering silver eyes promised pain and certain death to whomever was in her crossfire.

There were two things he learned not to mess with, one her sister Primrose, and the other was her personal business. Katniss was an extremely private person. Peeta sighed as they sped toward Prim’s school.

“Prim,” Katniss said. “I let the school know we’re on our way.”

“What about Greasy Sae?” Peeta asked.

“Greasy was the first person I called while Prim called you.”

They approached the school and there were a few stragglers, parents rushing to get their kids into the school building. Katniss jumped out of the car.

“Katniss, I'm not a baby. I can make it into school by myself,” Prim whined.

“Prim I have to sign you in, and that will continue straight up through high school.” Katniss' matter of fact tone of voice let Prim know this wasn’t the time for a pre-teen hissy fit.

“Fine,” Prim said quietly.

Peeta grinned. “I’ll wait here while you get her sorted.” 

Katniss nodded, a look flitted through her eyes. She had been avoiding him, and in a way he had been avoiding her as well. He knew the kiss was a dangerous thing and with everyday he stayed put, there was a chance he could be discovered.

He pulled his hat lower and slipped on his sunglasses. Even though he’d let his natural blond hair grow out, there was a chance people would recognize him, his eyes were legendary. The only thing he was grateful for was that his mother despised his blond locks. 

To the public at large, he had brown hair. For the majority of his career Peeta dyed his hair and eyebrows. He purposefully didn’t take movies where he had to be a blond. After his parents’ stunt, he had begun to let it grow out. Cinna, his stylist, helped him wear a wig whenever he needed to make a public appearance. 

It was easy to slip on some glasses and walk out of the hotel. About halfway through the interviews Peeta had his double sneak in, so that he could escape. No one could make out the difference, well no one but Haymitch. 

Peeta felt guilty for duping his manager and mentor. The wrap on the window pulled him out of his thoughts. Katniss stood on the other side, her eyes were staring at his hands. He didn’t realize the white-knuckle grip he had on the steering wheel. He felt the blush creeping up the side of his neck. Leaning over he quickly jumped out and opened the truck door for her.

“Pete,” Katniss mumbled under her breath.

“You’ve got your quirks, and this is one of mine.” He could see the beginning of a small smile on Katniss face and that right there was the reason he kept on coming back to see her. When she smiled it was better than Christmas, better than fresh baked cookies, and better than a greasy bacon double cheeseburger after a night out knocking back beers with Finnick.

He got into the car and drove out of the school parking lot.

“Look,” Katniss grimaced.

Peeta sucked in a breath. Here it came, the excuses passed off as rationalizations. Peeta dreaded the speeches that ranged from it was a mistake, we should forget that it happened, and his least favorite, it’s not you it’s me, I’m sorry I’m just not that into you.

“I don’t do that,” Katniss said. Her eyes were focused on her hands. 

Peeta sat back waiting patiently for Katniss to continue.

Her cheeks were tinged with a warm red color.  She wrinkled her nose and bit her bottom lip, all signs of her nervousness. Peeta found it endearing. 

“I don’t go around.” Her leg began shaking now. “...kissing, I don’t go around kissing...”

“I know.” He put his hand next to hers, but didn’t touch her. Yet, the nearness of their hands caused butterflies to make an appearance in his stomach. The connection between the two of them was electric. He hoped she felt the same way.  He saw her look turn from trepidatious to one of suspicion. He cleared his throat. “What I mean is you take care of your sister. She’s your whole life. You don’t have time for romantic entanglements.” 

Her eyes opened.    

“You have to worry about putting food on the table, a roof over your heads, plus everything that comes with raising a tween.” They came to a stop at a stoplight.

She blinked.

Peeta opened his mouth and shut it. He sighed and nodded; her actions proved refutably, his words were wrong. He didn’t hear her moving  across the cabin, or the way her hands braced his face before she kissed him.

Peeta’s heart exploded like a redstone rocket leaving the mission pad into the atmosphere. Her lips were warm and supple, and they tasted of ginger and mint. His hands gently cupped hers. 

Katniss pulled away. Her lips plump, her eyes were a dark stormy gray, from their kiss. She smiled at him shyly. “Thank you.”

“I think I should be thanking you.” The light turned green and he began driving. He couldn't hide the ear to ear grin.

Katniss raised an eyebrow and gave him a chaste kiss. “I like you Pete Golightly.”

Hearing his fake name sat like sour milk in his stomach. Peeta wanted to come clean to Katniss but didn’t know how. Katniss wasn’t anyone who trusted people easily, and she let him get close. He felt guilty for not being honest with her. But he held onto the idea that he was going to be leaving soon. He also told himself that the less people knew about his secret the easier it was for him to be able stay incognito.  

He gently let go of her hands and he missed her touch when she pulled away.  “I like you too, Katniss Everdeen.” 

“You want to come overnight,” Katniss asked.

“As long as you let me make you and Prim dinner.” 

She looked indecisive.

“Look, you’re going to be late picking up Prim tonight, and when you get to the apartment you’re going to focus on Prim and her homework while making dinner. Since today is Wednesday you do the laundry.” 

Wednesday is the most dratted day...it runs a close second to Sunday night. Katniss hated laundry. She hated the separating, the folding, the waiting well just about everything except for the smell of the fabric softener. She said it reminded her of a spring meadow on a warm day.

“Okay,” she said. Laughter bubbling up from her lips. “How do you know me so well?” 

Peeta winked slowly. “I always take notice when you’re in the room Katniss.” He enjoyed the blush that blossomed on her cheeks.

-THE CHASE

Less than two days later Claudius unfolded himself from his car. He pulled into the gas station near the border of Canada and Panem to fill up his tank. 

A young family got out of the rest stop right next to him. The girls got out and  were talking about Peeta. There was a billboard of the movie hanging right in front of them. Claudius followed them inside, he went to join the line, he had cash to pay for the gasoline. The girls queued up behind him.

“He’s so cute,” the young girl said, pointing to the tabloid with the picture of Peeta Mellark. The headline read he was taken by aliens. 

Claudius glanced behind him, and estimated the girl must have been sixteen.

The other one who looked to be fourteen said, “He’s so yummy. Too bad mommy wont let us see his movie.”

“I know,” the sixteen year-old grumbled.

“Do you think his parents had something to do with his disappearance?”

“I don’t know,” the older sister said. 

Claudius reached the front of the line and paid forty for gas. He walked outside into the sunlight. It had been a long ride from the junket to this small town. He had to stop halfway there and rent a hotel room for the night. After a complimentary stale pastry and tepid tea for breakfast, he was back out on the road. He was finally just outside the small town.

He walked toward his car and began to pump gas.  The girls came out of the small convenience store and sat down in the small shaded picnic area next to the gas stop.

A young boy about their age walked by them and they were giggling and laughing. 

“Girls,” their mother called out. “We’re leaving.”

“Okay mom,” the girls yelled out in unison. As they stood up from the shaded area. They looked up at the billboard. And continued to speak about Peeta Mellrak. 

Claudius smirked at the girl's conversation. The actions of the young star were a mystery to Claudius and to the entire world. 

Why leave all of the money and power behind, Claudius wondered? That question is what drew him to the story, he’d discovered. The kid was clean, didn’t do drugs, didn’t drink, he wasn’t broke.  The kid had millions in the bank. 

In his last movie, Peeta, was involved in the producing, directing, and script writing. The success of the movie had everyone clamorning to work with him. The kid was on the cusp, he had the ability to make more money and have the kind of power to make his own movies. They billed him as the next Ron Howard. Why would the kid throw all of that way? No one was that crazy. Claudius knew of one person who left it all behind at the height of their career, Dolores Hart. Dolores starred opposite Elvis Presley, and some of Hollywood's top male actors of the time. She left Hollywood to become a nun.

Claudius wondered if Mrs. Mellark had anything to do with Peeta Mellark’s Agatha Christie stunt. The Mellarks were a mess. The kind that were a paparazzi present wrapped up tightly with bright ribbon under the Christmas tree. His older brothers were sleeze balls. His oldest brother was in hot water for making several statements that were deeply offensive to a number of people. The middle Mellark was a mainstay in Vegas. He was a gambler and rumored to have connections with the mafia. He was seen with the daughter of notorious mobster Seneca Crane. 

His mother, she was a joy, a really Betty Croker, complete with shark teeth. The woman sold her son’s privacy for 100 grand. The reporters entered his house and took detailed pictures of his home. The best was his color coordinated underwear draw. Everyone knew he was a boxer brief guy. His father was a patsy, with the personality of a limp wet towel. 

Claudius wondered if they were the reason he left Hollywood? But then again, Peeta had nothing to do with his family. They lived separate lives. Peeta didn’t even have pictures of his family in his house. Only gorgeous paintings that were discovered to have been painted by Peeta himself. If his family was the reason, it didn’t matter to Claudius. He wanted to be the first to find Peeta Mellark.

It’s why he was in the border town looking for Judy’s friend Morph.  

-NIGHT IN

Katniss watched Peeta with her sister. Her heart raced a thousand miles an hour, a common occurrence whenever he was around. He was washing the dishes with her sister as she folded laundry. 

Prim introduced them, and Katniss hadn’t wanted to be his friend. She didn’t want to be with anyone. She had to raise Prim. Her sister took the priority in her life and few people understood the pressure that came with being so young and raising a child. She was still only twenty, and they were visited by a fastidious case worker Effie Trinket whose sharp eyes never missed a thing. If there was speck of dust on a lampshade Miss Trinket would spot it.

It’s why she stayed away from men. They complicated her simple drive to protect and provide for her sister. Pete however never imposed his person on hers. He never demanded that she pay attention to him. Instead he slowly and politely became her friend. She hadn’t wanted to face him after the kiss, but after fate brought them together, and she spoke to him in the car she couldn’t help but kiss him again. 

That second kiss caused Katniss to realize maybe she was ready for more with Pete. He was kind, gentle, intelligent, witty, funny, and sexy. The last word caused her to blush, because she chose that moment to stare at him. As if sensing her stare, he looked up and his eyes darkened. His gaze dropped down to her lips before they moved up once again. 

He was thinking of their kiss and Katniss squirmed in her seat. 

Prim said something funny and he laughed. 

“That’s just as bad as Gale making a pass at my sister.” 

“No way?” Pete said gazing at Katniss.

He was curious about Gale. Katniss told him she didn’t have any romantic feelings about Gale. 

“Way,” Prim said. “Gale thinks Katniss should date him because he’s so,” she said holding up her fingers in the air to make quotations. “...great.”

Pete didn’t say anything. 

“They were friends and then my parents died. Gale expected my sister to fall at his feet. He kept on coming to the house to try to help, to make it known Katniss was his girl.” Prim’s face soured like that time she drank bad milk. 

They never spoke about that time after their parents died. Katniss preferred to move forward.

 “After the funeral he tried to make his move.”

“After the funeral, you mean the day you were…”

Katniss stopped folding the clothing. She had no idea Prim had overheard. She thought her sister was in their old home.

“Can you believe it!” Prim shook her head. “I was in the tree house hiding. I saw him grab my sister by the shoulder and try to kiss her, but Katniss pushed him away. She told him she wouldn’t have time for him, because she needed to petition the courts for me. Gale told her that raising me was a mistake. My sister kicked him in the nuts.”

“Did she?” Pete asked, his eyebrow quirked. Katniss could see his admiration, not for kicking Gale in the nuts as Prim said, but for sticking to her guns to take care of her sister.

Prim giggled, “He never saw it coming.” 

“So how did you guys end up living in their garage?”

“Katniss had to sell our house to pay for the bills and for the lawyers and court fees.”

Katniss stood up and sighed. “Gale’s mother is the real estate agent that helped me sell our house. She offered the garage as a way for her to make extra money after her divorce from Gale’s dad.” Katniss shrugged,  “She needed the extra income, and I needed a place to live. It was a mutual agreement.” 

"Katniss worked really hard to make the garage homey."

Katniss watched Pete look around the apartment as if he’d never really taken a good look. His focus was always on Prim or herself. To be fair he wasn’t someone who took notice of the disparity they lived in. Gale constantly offered to fix things for her, including her person. It was like that perfect backhanded compliment. You look nice in a dress, you should wear one more often, or the one that always made her see red. Your face is pretty when you smile and wear makeup. 

Katniss wanted to hurt Gale every single time he said something stupid and asinine. 

Gale’s harsh words didn’t extend only to her person, they also extended to the apartment. Gale made her feel insecure about her flea bargain finds, dollar store buys, and hand-me-down furniture. He thought the colors dull, and her paint job was poor, but never offered to help paint. 

Katniss could see all of the gaff’s she made painting. Katniss decorated their small home with calm earth tones, wanting it to convey peacefulness, warmth and be inviting. When they moved here Prim was ten and Katniss wanted to make sure her sister felt like everything was going to be alright. 

The studio was small with a loft. Katniss gave her sister the loft so that she could have privacy. Prim was growing up and Katniss understood the need for space. Katniss went through those awkward years with their parents, their door was always open. It’s why she made a bedroom for herself in the nook below the loft.  Katniss used shutters for a wall near the entrance and creatively used a tension rod between two bookshelves to make an entry to her makeshift bedroom.

Yet in Pete’s warm blue eyes she saw what could be considered admiration. 

“You are amazing,” Pete said simply.

Katniss could feel the onslaught of warmth that rushed from her heart to her cheeks, because unlike Gale’s thinly veiled insults which hailed from a vain superficial perspective. Gale could only see beyond his own needs whereas Pete's hailed from deep within. 

“Yes she is and she needs someone just as amazing,” Prim piped up, and Katniss was mortified. What came out of Prim’s mouth next however made Katniss want to bury her head in the sand. “Someone like you, Pete!”

Katniss thought she wanted to strangle her sister, but her feet were rooted to the floor. She glanced up and found herself staring at Pete’s lips. She wanted to be alone with him and kiss him once more but she couldn’t do anything in front of her sister. 

“Prim I think you sister is more than capable of making her own decisions about who she wants to date.” 

Pete’s words were commendable, and given the way his blue eyes looked darker and the fact that his eyes were gazing at her lip was a clear indication that Pete was thinking of the same thing, that kiss. 

“You two are perfect for each other.” Prim’s gaze switched between Katniss and Peeta’s. “I am going up to my loft, put my noise cancelling headphones on and listen to my favorite K-Pop band really loudly in case you two want to kiss,” Prim wiggled her eyebrows with all of the mischievous and impish power she held. 

“PRIM!!” Katniss gasped.

Prim’s peal of laughter exploded in the apartment as she ran up her loft ladder. 

If Pete hadn’t been standing next to her she would have chased her sister.  She turned slightly to Pete who stood with his hands in his pockets. 

“I,” Katniss uttered, unsure what to say.  The mood was ruined by her impish sister.

“Katniss, we can just hang out,” Pete suggested. “Maybe watch a movie? Or even fold laundry.”

Katniss wanted  to roll her eyes at his suggestion to fold laundry.

“You doubt my folding abilities? I will have you know I know the secret of folding a fitted sheet, it’s a family secret but I may have to kill you unless you’re willing to die for it," Pete said wiggling his eyebrows.

"You know I am an excellent archer." Katniss narrowed her eyes in mock anger.

His instant grin and mischievous glint in his blue eyes caused a small fire to begin in the pit of her stomach. She couldn’t explain the butterflies that sprung in her stomach whenever she was near him. Or the way she couldn’t stop staring at his nearly translucent eyelashes. She swallowed thickly as she stared at his lips and recalled how sweet he tasted, and the insane need, no scratch that, desire to walk up to him and kiss him. 

“Oh hell,” Katniss breathed before she walked up to Pete and kissed him hard. Her hands reached up to cup his face while standing on tiptoe. She groaned the moment his arms wound around her, bringing her closer to him. Warmth spread from the deepest part of her chest and spread throughout her body. 

The kiss wasn’t forceful, but man did it do things to her insides. Katniss disengaged and took him by the hand, dragging him to her makeshift bedroom. 

“Katniss,” Pete raggedly uttered her name.

Katniss wasn’t even sure if what she was doing was correct. She didn’t have much, okay, in reality she knew zilch, zero, a big old donut hole about intimacy. The laws of attraction didn’t lend themselves to her until the day Pete Golightly came into her life.

She sat on the bed and scooted backward, trying to convey silently for Pete to come to her. Katniss wasn’t sure where this coquettish side to her came from. But Pete did things to her that made her want everything.

Her eyes scanned him as he stood by the foot of the bed, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. If this were Gale he would have been the aggressor and that would have been like being thrown into a frozen lake in the middle of winter.  It’s not that Pete couldn’t be aggressive, he was massive.  His hands were warm and large, he was broad shouldered, strong, and taller than she was. Pete could probably bench press her caveman style, but he was sweet and polite, and  that drove Katniss wild.

She sat up on the bed and crooked her finger at him. 

Swiftly Peeta moved, coming to lay on top of her. She felt the moment he melted into her and she reveled in the power. They both gasped and moaned at the sensation of their bodies being pressed into one another. 

Katniss tilted her head slightly to kiss him and little currents of pleasure flowed from her mouth to her belly and  further south. Her hands grasped his face so that she could do something she’d heard about, kissing with tongue. It should have felt weird to have her tongue in his mouth. She instinctively sought entrance to his mouth and Pete gasped then angled his head and slowly opened his mouth for her. Her toes curled the moment his tongue greeted hers. Kissing was phenomenal, her new found favorite sport. Yes, it trumped archery. 

Her hands released his face and began to roam as they kissed. Katniss had a sneaky suspicion that Pete was some sort of athlete because his chest was firm. Her hand snaked under his shirt and she felt the ridges of his abdomen. Pete moaned and pulled away, his blue eyes wide. He looked dazed, a flush spread up to his cheeks.

She wasn't the type of girl who noticed that a guy was hot. Not that she was blind. Even though she didn’t like Gale. Katniss could admit to herself Gale wasn't an ogre. He was actually good-looking in that tall, dark and too handsome for his own good sort of way. She was just not attracted to him. She was one hundred percent attracted to Pete. And at this moment, all the naughty things she never thought of, never thought she would ever want to do, and had no time for, were rushing through her mind like one of those poorly written super trashy novella's Delly was so fond of reading. 

Katniss wanted the shirt to come off, she wanted for it all to come off, she wanted him naked. The word naked should have terrorized her, but in actuality it didn’t. She sat up and tugged up on his shirt. Pete pushed her hands down.

“Katniss we can’t.” Pete sounded like he had run up the steep hill carrying one of those 100lb crates of potatoes Greasy Sae had delivered to the restaurant. He sat back on his haunches. His eyes traveled over her and he shook his head. Katniss sorley wished she knew how to seduce. 

"Katniss," he said before he grimaced.

She frowned. 

“Your sister,” Pete said pointing up at the loft above. 

She’d forgotten about her impressionable baby sister. “Dagnabit!”

Pete smiled gently.

“I hate adulting.” 

“We all have to be adults.” 

She fell backwards onto her pillow, frustrated. Selfishly she did not want to stop. Realistically Pete was correct. Prim was a scant few feet away. She couldn't act like a typical 20-year-old. She had to be smarter, which is why she tucked all of those awakened me-want-sexy-time thoughts into a corner of her brain. A place where boring things resided, like matching clean socks, cleaning the oven, or pumping gas.

"Talk to me." Pete laid down next to her, not touching her, but just looking at her. It was comfortable, it was nice and yet those butterflies were acting like they were banging spoons and pots in her stomach. 

Talking was not her thing. As her court appointed family psychologist said, she was introverted, thoughtful and not someone who could eloquently speak unless pressured. This was partly because talking could lead to trouble. Katniss always reminded herself that until her sister turned eighteen, she had to be careful.

“You’re right,” Katniss sighed. “I can’t get carried away.”

“Believe me, it’s not easy walking away, but I get that you’re not ready for some things.” 

“You do something to me,” Katniss blurted. “There are these butterflies I get in my stomach whenever you’re around.”  She then realized how childish that sounded, she was twenty and not a thirteen year old girl.

He laughed. 

Yep Katniss thought, Pete thought her crazy.

“I get butterflies in my stomach whenever I am around you too.” 

“You do?” she was surprised.

“I do. You’re the sweetest most beautiful, bravest woman I have ever met. You are amazing.”

“I don’t know how to take that?” She was awestruck. She didn’t consider herself any of those things. Especially beautiful. She was not beautiful.

“Slowly like breathing. Let the words penetrate your heart slowly.”

Katniss nodded. “I just, I’ve never been with anyone. I don’t have the least idea about what or how I am supposed to act.”

“To be honest there isn’t one way to act; you just be yourself. If you’re not comfortable with something you tell me no or stop. Just like I pulled away and you respected my decision to pull away. I know this sounds like a cheesy movie line, but I like you, Katniss, I like you a lot. You are, and I keep saying this word, amazing, because I’m in awe of you.”

Words shouldn’t be that powerful but the way Pete wielded them caused her to want to rip his shirt and pans off and do stuff. What stuff she wasn’t sure, but stuff that people did in bed. She closed her eyes briefly and wondered what happened to the girl who a few weeks ago was grossed out at seeing two people make out in public. 

 He smiled and his blue eyes glowed. “I think you did a great job decorating too.”

“Now I know you’re crazy.”

“Given what you had to work with, you did amazing. Besides I’ve seen Prim’s loft…” Peeta grinned, the loft was a riot of baby blue, pinks, and purples. “Believe me you did a great job, even with your sister's space. Just enough chaos but enough organization to help a budding genius.”

“Oh no, she’s got you watching Pinky and the Brain?”

“Zoik!”

“Ugh,” Katniss said.

“What? I’m not a Brain, I’m more of a Pinky. Prim is the Brain.”

“Sometimes I am afraid about how smart Prim really is.” Katniss sighed. “Do you know she knew her periodic table before she turned three? She can spout all of the weights of the elements and is in advanced calculus and physics in school. I’ve asked her if she wanted to move on, you know, to a higher grade, but she said no because she wanted to grow up normal.” Katniss sighed. “She’s had so much disruption in her life. I just want her to have as typical a childhood as possible.”

Pete leaned in and kissed her soundly. Katniss sighed. 

He leaned away. “I would like to take you out on a date.”

“When?” She scooted closer to him.

“What about Friday?” He scooted closer to her.

“S’okay.”  She moved closer, so close she could see the pale specks in his blue eyes.

“Cool.” He gently enfolded her in his arms. 

She’d never been held before, and it was better than ice cream on a warm July evening.

-THE SCENT

It took Claudius the entire day to track down Morph. Even with a stupid name, no one in this forsaken side of town knew the scrawny strung out kid. He went to every single gas station and no one could identify him. 

Claudius was frustrated. Viciously glad the only thing he wasted was chump change. He was going to pack it up when he came upon a run down gas station near the border. It was a sad place. The kind of place people were murdered or bodies appeared. With a broken lamp and one gasoline pump because the other one had a white paper taped to it with the words ‘out of service’ hastily scribbled on it.

Claudius went inside and was struck dumbfounded when there sitting behind a laminated counter sat Morph.

“Morph,” Claudius said.

“Yeah.”

“Judy sent me.”

“Oh, yeah,” Morph nodded. His eyes looked unfocused and even in the dim light of the interior his irises were fully dilated.

Crap, Claudius thought, the idiot is high.

“Judy,” Morph said grinning.

“Do you remember why Judy sent me here?” Claudius wondered if this was going to be another dead end.

“Yeah.”

“And.” 

“Oh.” Morph waited a moment. “Yeah.”

Claudius would rather get shot during a root canal.  “Look kid, have you seen him,” Claudius took the tabloid from off the wrack and pointed to Peeta.

Morph blinked. “He was here, he paid for gas, cash.”

“He did?” 

Morph held out his phone screen to Claudius. The thrill of the chase running through his veins. He showed him the picture of Peeta’s side profile. He was wearing the same baseball cap and sunglasses he wore in Judy’s picture. Morph then pulled his phone back and stared blankly.

“Can you tell me what direction he took?”

Morph turned his head. “Yeah.”

“Well.”

“He headed toward Panem.” 

“Panem?” Claudius was struck. “Are you sure he didn’t head toward Canada?”

Morph took out his phone and swiped. 

There on the screen was a picture of Peeta’s car with the license plate heading toward the Panem border. Claudius took the idiots phone and sent himself the pictures. He slapped a 20 on the laminate counter. 

Claudius pumped his gas but mentally he chanted, “Gotcha.”

 -CONSPIRATORS

“Good morning,” Prim said from over her bowl of cornflakes.

Pete grinned. The time on the microwave read 5AM. Rubbing the back of his head, he said, “Morning Prim.”  He and Katniss fell asleep in her room. He hadn’t woken up until this moment. Katniss was still sleeping. 

“So you and my sister,” Prim wiggled her eyebrows.

“Prim.” 

She grinned then made little kissy faces.  

“First, you are too young to think that way. Secondly, I respect your sister far too much…well, to push her into something she is not ready for.”  

“Please, there’s no need for an explanation. I know you guys didn’t do anything. I came downstairs around eleven and both of you were snoring. You, by the way, drooled on her pillow.”

Peeta rubbed his face. He had a sinking suspicion Prim was going to hold this over him. 

Prim smiled but as she continued slurping her milk.  

“Your sister,” Peeta said, sighing. “I really…I...like her alot, more than a lot actually.”

“Listen Peeta,” Prim said. “You make my sister happy and she makes you happy.”

“Prim,” Peeta hushed Prim. “You can’t use my real name.”

Prim rolled her eyes. 

She was the only one who had figured out who he was within seconds of meeting him. She waited until they were alone and then she began to grill him like a well done steak. He had been going to Sae’s diner for one of her infamous soups, but he also liked to watch Katniss. She was graceful. The way she walked around people without making sound or spilling drinks or bowls. He had been trying to gather the courage to speak to her. 

One day Prim showed up and his entire ruse was over. 

Katniss wasn’t the only Everdeen to be protective. Prim was like a mama bear around Katniss.  Her attitude toward her older caused Peeta to have a deep appreciation for Katniss. That she sacrificed so much for her sister was humbling. Peeta wished he could use all of his money and connections to help out the sisters. 

However as he got to know both of them, he knew neither sister would take money from him. These two were fighters, they were a team. When Prim figured out he wasn’t playing with her sister’s heart, she was a mini bulldozer pushing them together. Prim was, as Katniss stated, frighteningly intelligent.  

“You mean Peeta?” Prim said it louder.

“Prim, keep it down.” 

“My sister sleeps like the dead. And you owe me cheese buns.”

Peeta sighed. He’d forgotten the bet, which Prim won. Last night they did end up making out. He couldn’t help the buzzing in his body at the memory of the way Katniss silver eyes turned like liquid mercury when she was aroused. “Okay, we’ll have to go over to my place.”

“Why?” Katniss walked into the kitchen, her hair askew. Her sleepy face was adorable. 

Peeta walked to her and planted a sweet kiss on her lips. “Good morning. I’m making cheese buns.”

“Why?” Katniss yawned.

“Because, you should never make a bet against an Everdeen.” Prim winked. “I’m going to grab my clothing and stuff. I’ll pack something for Katniss too.”

Katniss frowned, watching her sister walk toward the loft. 

Peeta couldn’t help himself. He cupped her face and properly kissed Katniss. She hummed, groaned and moaned all at once. 

She gazed up at him with awe and with the embers of desire. “I lost a bet to Primrose, and now I owe her cheese bun.”

“She shouldn’t be doing that, but your buns are well worth it.”

“You like my buns?” Peeta hoped she meant something else entirely.

Katniss slipped her hand around to his butt and squeezed him briefly before sassily winking at him. “Yup I just love your buns.” 

Peeta laughed. And kissed her swiftly, feeling like he had come home.

-THE OUTRAGE

Gale wanted to rip the backyard tree from it’s trunk when he woke up to see Pete coming out of the apartment early this morning.  They were laughing and holding hands. 

Hi misery could only be accompanied by the rage he felt. 

Katniss was supposed to his girl. 

Gale closed his eyes momentarily as pain shot through him. He opened them to see the lovers wrapped up in each other. What hurt the most was that, this wasn’t sex, they weren’t fucking for fun. The way they held one another as they kissed, denoted tenderness, deep care, gentleness, and soft yielding toward the other. 

Gale tore his eyes away. He loathed Pete Golightly for taking the one girl he thought belonged to him. The one girl he wanted. 

Katniss might never be his, but he was never going to accept them as a couple. 

-THE HUNT

Peeta Mellark was smart, but Claudius was smarter. With the plates he was able to trace the car.  Peeta had turned his car into this obscure car rental in Panem’s Capitol. While he couldn’t confirm that Peeta rented a car, he showed the girl the picture from Morph’s phone. It was imperative he got that first picture of Peeta Mellark. It was now worth nearly 300 Grand. And Claudius wanted to sit on a throne made of money.

“Yeah, I’m trying to trace down my nephew. My brother had a heart attack and my nephew he’s on one of those retreats you go wireless.”

The perky blonde’s eyes widened. "Oh my goodness, are you alright?”

Bingo! Claudius said to himself. People were inherently good, well unless you were a bastard like him, but in reality they wanted to be helpful and that’s where he, the bastard, preyed upon them. “I am okay, my brother,” he added enough emphasis on the word brother to allude that he was mortally grave. “I just hope to find my nephew before…” He trailed off.

“Oh, I can’t give you information, because it’s private.”

Claudius grinned, “Yeah, of course,” he said pumping something close to sincerity in voice. “Could you tell me if someone has seen him if I describe my nephew to you?”

“Sure I can totally do that.” 

“Great, you have no idea how much this means to me.” 

-THE CONFRONTATION

Gale walked into Greasy Sae’s. He found Katniss briskly walking between tables, serving coffee.

He sat in her section, at the counter and waited patiently as the crowd thinned and she came behind the counter.

“Gale,” Katniss said, her lips were thinned into a tight smile. “What can I get for you today?”

“Coffee,” Gale’s eyes slid down her form. He recalled what she looked like in a pair of shorts and a tank top. She had a slight build, small breast and a small ass too. He thought before that outfit she had a boy's body, but he was wrong.  That was the summer before her parents died. “And you.”

Katniss plopped the coffee saucer on the table and then said, “I’m not on the menu.”

“Well you’re sure on Golightly’s menu.”

Her eyes widened before she narrowed them. “That’s none of your damned business.”

“What? That you’ve been whoring yourself to him?”  He reached out and snagged her wrist.

“Let go of me.” she tugged.

He tightened his grip, now that he had her, Gale couldn’t let go. He was fascinated by the silvery color of her eyes, the way her pert nose wrinkled. Once again, he thought she wasn’t beautiful, hell, she wasn’t even pretty, but there was this pull about her. One he could not let go, even though she was with that man.

“You’re hurting me,” Katniss whispered struggling.

“Gale Hawthorne,” Delly Cartwright said, slapping him upside the head.

Gale blinked and released his hold on Katniss. He frowned looking at the fat cow Cartwright.

“You let her go or I will call my cousin to arrest you for manhandling.” Delly’s voice was high and squeaky.

He realized everyone was looking at him. Embarrassed he pushed back his hat and said, “I don’t want anything from the likes of her.”

Katniss held her wrist protectively. Her eyes were a glittery silver. Her scowl was in place and he knew that if she had her bow she wouldn’t hesitate to use it.

“You okay?” Delly asked Katniss.

Gale scoffed looking at Katniss's wrist. “She’s not even bruised.”

“Get,” Delly said.

Gale saw that a few of the other residents stood up, their demeanor letting him know that they were backing the girls.

“I’ll be back.”

“No you won’t, I’m going to tell Greasy, and when she hears about this you’ll be banned,” Delly put her finger at the center of his chest.

Gale left, but he swore Katniss was going to pay for embarrassing him.

-THE DATE

Katniss was nervous. She looked at her wrist, glad she didn’t have a bruise after Gale manhandled her at work yesterday. She sighed and put the incident behind her. She wanted to focus on her date tonight with Peeta. Twirling to the side she fretted about the dress, was it too short, was it too revealing? She wasn’t sure about the color. 

“You’ve got to relax, Katniss.”

Katniss swung around to face her sister. “You’ve got everything?”

“Yeah,” Prim said, rolling her eyes.

“Prim,” Katniss forgot to worry about her date with the worry about her baby sister.

“Katniss,” Prim grabbed her cheeks between her hands. “I AM GOING TO BE FINE!”

Katniss frowned. It was a night of firsts. She was going on a date with Pete, and her sister was going to her first slumber party with her friend Ginnee at the new girl Coral’s house. Katniss had met Coral’s parents yesterday when Prim came home with the coveted birthday party invite. Coral’s parents were from District Four and they thought a slumber party would help Coral make new friends at her new school.

Katniss thought Coral was okay, it was Ginnee, she didn’t trust. Ginnee had older sisters and brothers. She was astute and as slippery as a snake. Katniss frankly did not trust the intrepid twelve year old girl who would soon turn thirteen. “If anything even remotely happens or you feel uncomfortable you will…” Prim gave her a look that caused Katniss to amend her choice of words. “…can call me.”

“I will.”

There was a horn outside.

“Stop grimacing. It’s just Ginnee.”

“Ginnee,” Katniss muttered under her breath. “Just be careful, and have a good time.”

Prim grinned before she slipped her backpack on her back and sprinted out toward the waiting car. 

Katniss stood outside looking like the proverbial mother hen with one arm wrapped around her middle the other lifted in a half-hearted wave. She couldn’t stop her sister from growing up.

As she stood there, Pete’s car pulled up. He came out wearing a nice dark blazer, white crisp shirt, and khakis. He clutched in his hands a bouquet of wildflowers. Where and when he got them she didn’t know. All she could think about was the shy yet sizzling smile Pete sent her way. And the breath she held when Prim left wooshed out of her.

“Hi,” she croaked.

“You look great,” he gushed.

Katniss looked down at the orange wrap dress Prim demanded Katniss splurge on and buy for tonight. “Thanks. You look nice.”

He grinned at her and that was how her control snapped. She stepped up to him and kissed him wildly. She moaned when his arms wrapped around her, pulling her close to him. She was correct; kissing Pete was better than the thirty-one ice cream flavors Baskin Robbins boasted. “Oh Pete…”

Pete pulled back and sighed. “If we don’t get out of here now, I am going to carry over my shoulder and bring you inside, Katniss.”

Katniss raised an eyebrow, feeling emboldened and brazenly she said, “That wouldn’t be a bad thing.”

Pete groaned.

“But,” Katniss said, liking how her words affected him. She wickedly said, “I suppose if you want to spoil me for a nice meal, before I plunder you later on…”

“Do you not understand I am trying to be a gentleman?” His eyes were wide and wild.

Katniss wanted to sound coquettish, but she ended up telling him the truth in a rushed tortured tone of voice. “You’re not the only one holding on to restraint.”

Katniss watched the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed. “I am trying to think of everything that is disgusting and unappealing to make me come down back to earth and continue with dinner.”

“You are?”

“Katniss my brain short circuits any time you’re near, and when you kiss me I can’t even function. I have to literally sing the twelve days of Christmas in my head to calm down.”

“The twelve days of Christmas?” She couldn’t help the way a smile formed on her face.

“I have to keep on telling myself that you’re not ready, that this is moving way to fast-“

She didn’t let him finish. “What if I am ready to be with you?” It was impulsive and she was not sorry she said the truth.

“Are you sure?” He looked scared, almost reverent.

“I am, but if you’re not ready, then I’ll wait,” she said into his lips because he kissed her fiercely and such intensity that she was left breathless.

“Food,” he muttered when he pulled away. “Need food to keep up.”

He took her hand and tugged her along. The dinner that followed was uncomfortable in that they both wanted to go home and tear each other’s clothing off. Katniss couldn’t recall what she chose or what he ordered. The only thing she wanted wasn’t on the menu. 

When they got to her apartment the thin wall of restraint broke and they were kissing wildly.

“Slow, must go slow,” Pete said as he struggled with pulling off his shirt without unbuttoning it.

Katniss chuckled at his eagerness. A smooth operator Pete was not, but she didn’t mind. She slowed him down by putting her hand on his chest and tugging his shirt down. Quietly she undid the buttons. His breath was labored while hers was calm. She was more than turned on, her underwear were ruined, to be fair, and her nipples stood at attention in her bra. She was the inexperienced one, but at that moment, Pete was the one with jumbled nerves and that made her feel excited, yet calm.

His eyes darkened when she removed his shirt and her hands slid up his chest. Her heart was a riot inside of her chest. Her blood pressure, no doubt, through the roof. Her mouth watered at the sight of his abs. She understood why when women said six-pack they went haywire. On impulse she kissed his chest and licked his pec and Pete roughly called her name.

“Off,” she said, tugging his pants.

Pete's hands flew to his pants and her eyes were riveted to his hands as the zipper came down. Katniss shivered now she began to pant. Her mouth opened and her eyes widened at the sight of him. “OH,” she said. Her hands reached out to touch him, but she glanced up to see if this was alright.

Pete tersely nodded.

Her hand wrapped around him and she sighed along with his groan. He was long and thick, and his tip wept with pre-cum.

“Katniss, I want to see you,” Pete’s voice sounded low and dangerous and she shivered.

Katniss leveled a look at him as she placed her hand on the ties of her wrap dress. He placed his hand on top of hers.

“May I?”

“Okay,” she gasped, dropping her hands. She was by this point unable to talk. The anticipation was getting to her.

Pete’s eyes were hooded and dark as his hands tugged on the knot at the front of her dress. “I’ve been thinking about this all evening.”

Her dress slid open and it slid off her skin smoothly like chocolate melting in one’s mouth.

Pete made a strangled cry at the sight of her. Emboldened by his reaction she reached behind her back and unclipped her bra, letting the straps fall slowly revealing her breasts to him. His hands trembled when he reached out to touch her, but he sought her permission. 

“May I,” his voice sounded hoarse.

She nodded, but he just stood there staring at her. Unwilling to wait anymore she took his hand and slid it to her waiting breast. His touch sent her over the edge and her head snapped back and she moaned his name.

His free hand brought her closer and the press of flesh to flesh was an explosion more powerful than any force of nature. Their mouths met greedily, wildly, taking, giving, needing, and raising the temperature between them. She was a blaze for him and he was ablaze for her. He picked her up and mouths still fused, her fingers in his soft wavy hair. She pulled and played with the strands as they somehow landed on her bed. His mouth disengaged from hers once they were laying on the bed him on top looking down at her wantonly.

His lips began a decent down, his tongue tasting, lapping, tracking a path downward leaving her to be a wriggling mess. She called his name fervently as a tight coil wound deep within her womb. He paused at the juncture of her thighs. She could feel his hot breath on her inner thigh. When his fingers brushed along her soaked panties, she jumped.

“I want to taste you,” he said. His eyes flickered from her face to the crotch of her panties.

Katniss fisted her hands into the sheets. She’d accidently read about this in one of Delly’s books. She’d picked it up one day curious as to why Delly found them so appealing. What she read shocked her men kissing a woman between their legs sounded unsanitary. But right now, in this moment, with the way Pete was looking at her as if she was the most delicious plate of food it was the one thing she wanted. “Please,” she gasped.

Pete inched her panties down as if he was unwrapping a present and Katniss was relieved when her underwear were off and lay bare with her legs spread before him. He looked predatorial and yet worshipful. His hands slid up her thighs and a thousand points of electric pleasure raced to her core. And when she kissed her there, and she felt his tongue taste her and she yelled and thrashed wildly, her body shaking as he tasted her.

“Perfect,” he muttered, “delicious,” were words he repeated when he gasped for air.

Katniss didn’t care as she felt herself burn brighter and brighter, the coiling sensation whirled within her until her skin burned and she combusted with a loud sound and moisture seeped out of her.

She was barely back to herself before Pete began his onslaught again. This time, adding a finger, then another and like a dam, she burst over and over until she was a raw nerve, quaking needing more, desiring him to fill her empty spaces. The ones in her heart, mind, soul and body.

She called out his name, pulling him up to her so she could kiss him. His hands touched her and explored her body as they rolled around in the bed. Her hands also drifted over him. Her short nails scraping over his body, soft but hard, brushing over the hair that traveled down his belly button, downward to his cock. She grasped him, but Pete pulled away.

“I want you,” she growled.

His grin was instant. Then he said, “condom…”

Katniss was frustrated when he pulled away to find the offensive item that took Pete away from her. She was bereft without his warmth, and his heavenly body.  

When he returned back to her his eyes focused on her body. With fire she opened her legs, an open invitation.

“Fuck,” Pete said. His hand ran through his hair, and once more his lips descended upon her center until she was screaming his name. And when he crawled up pinning her to the bed she was a disarray of sensations primed and ready. With gentleness he lined them up before his body dipped into hers. Tears slipped from her eyes as she felt cherished, wanted, and loved.

His eyes conveyed that and more as she was split open and her mind flashed to the first moment she saw him come into the diner. The way he looked lost and bewildered when he first set eyes on her. The way his hands shook after their first kiss.

“Katniss are you alright?”

Katniss was sure, “Yes.”

“I’m not hurting you?” he gasped as she flexed muscles she didn’t know she had.

She shook her head. And with that he began moving within her and stole her breath away. Being with Pete was more than a treat, it was life altering, soul shaking. He was trying to make her feel good and there were a few times she felt the stirring, but her body was too raw and frayed to really be engaged.

“Katniss,” he panted, “you’re not with me.”

“It’s okay, let go,” she urged.

“But..” he groaned.

She gripped his butt and scraped her nails and he shouted.

She loved to watch him. It didn’t matter that she didn’t come again. She was well satisfied when she saw him lose his mind when he came. That was her new favorite memory. A memory to remove all of the bad ones.

Nothing else mattered because she had fallen in love with Pete.

-LA LIVING

Haymitch ran his hands through his hair. Whoever said there was no such thing as bad publicity should have been stuffed with the food from the first episode of that food network show America's worst cooks.

A month and a half had passed and still Peeta’s name was on the lips of every single exec, studio chief, or big time producer. They wanted Peeta to be in their next production. The Oscar talk in tinsel town was at a fevered pitch and with only one person leading the pack, his client, the kid.

He sat back in his chair. He had other clients, but the kid, he was special. Because unlike the other butter nutters that he dealt with, Peeta was a good kid. He was wholesome. Too darned good for this business.

His secretary buzzed in, “Mr. Abernathy.”

“Yeah,” Haymitch bit out.

“They are calling,” his secretary said with resigned annoyance.

 Haymitch gritted his teeth. The studio was calling.

“Fudge,” Haymitch said. He’d given up his two favorite pastimes, drinking and swearing. The drinking because when he found himself lying on top of a train track in the middle of nowhere with a train horn blasting in the distance. It had been time to get help. Two the cursing, it reminded him of the bars. There was something about a good curse word that brought images of a smooth malt whisky. So as part of his sobriety, he gave up cursing.

“You want me to tell them you’re not here,” his secretary sounded giddy as if she wanted to tell them what bridge they can use to take a flying leap from.

“No. Put them through.” He could only imagine what they wanted.

“Abernathy!”

“Ravenstill,” Haymitch greeted.

“I just wanted to tell you that this Agatha Christine stunt is the best thing that has happened. We are two months away from the Oscar Nominations; his name is like gold. Not to mention the movie has been number one for six weeks and has done phenomenally well internationally.”

Haymitch could hear P. Ravenstille the Third calculating the money in his head. To men and women like Ravenstille it was all about the money, not about the kid who had had enough to leave. 

“I just want him found before the Oscar nomination,” Ravenstill said.

“Is that all?” 

“Yes, good job. I’m sending a few clients your way, Abernathy. See what you can do for their careers.” 

With that Ravenstill was gone. 

Sighing deeply, Haymitch thought to himself, it was time to begin some digging of his own. He needed to find the kid.

-THE BUBBLE

A few days later Pete made her scream so much that the tension rods gave way and fell. Maybe it was the force of the bed hitting the wall, but it didn’t matter because coming with him buried deep within her walls shook her world. She couldn’t form a simple sentence afterwards. She was glad that afternoon, Prim had been next door playing video games with Vick and Rory.

It all came about because of laundry. She was making plies gearing up for laundry day. By the time she mentioned dryer sheets her underwear was hanging from the corner of the refrigerator. Peeta had a serious kink about laundry.

When Prim came home, she stopped and looked at both of them, as they made dinner. Her eyes narrowed. She looked suspicious.

“Why is your hair wet, Pete?” Prim asked.

Pete looked so embarrassed that he couldn’t come up with a single word.

“Prim go wash up. Dinner will be done in a few minutes,” Katniss shooed her away needing to quickly redirect her sister.

“But his hair is all wet,” Prim said.

This was going to be harder than corralling baby chicks. “We were playing with water Prim,” Katniss said.

“Wait, you had a water fight and didn’t invite me!” Prim sounded outraged.

“I’m sorry, you were so busy playing victory of something or other with Vick,” Katniss teased. It wasn’t a lie; she and Pete did play with water. A steamy game of hide the soap.

Prim twisted her face, and sounded like Daffy Duck, “You’re despicable.”

“I know,” Katniss winked. “Now go wash your hands.”

Pete raised an eyebrow.

Katniss felt the way her cheeks stung as she blushed. “I didn’t lie, we were playing with water.”

Pete’s throaty laugh made her wish they were alone.

-TINSEL TOWN CALL

“Haymitch darling!” Caesar Flickerman's excited voice made Haymitch want to stand in the center of oncoming traffic. The man was so cheerful it gave him a toothache.

“Flick, I’ve got an exclusive.” Haymitch said, jumping in his car.

“Rrrreally,” Caesar rolled his r’s like a cat purring. Caesar's real name was Pertanio Rodriguez, he changed his name to sound more commercial. But he emulated Walter Mercado, a famous and beloved astrologer. Despite his Liberace-like appearance, Caesar was one of the smartest interviewers.  

“Let’s just say I’m cashing in that favor, you owe me.” Haymitch slipped his glasses on. The black and white grainy pictures of a blond Peeta Mellark and a dark haired beauty were on his passenger side.

“You mean you know where Peeta Mellark is?”

“Yeah, I want you to get ready to move, and I mean move fast.” Haymitch knew everything, thanks to Finnick. He followed Pete Golightly to District Twelve and that’s where he found him playing house with a girl. Haymitch needed to spin this fast, because he guessed if he found Peeta this fast there were others who were on his trail. “The kid’s in love, and it’s why he left. To help his lady love.”

“OHHHHH,” Caesar said.

“Yeah, star crossed, flipping flip flop, lovers.”

 -THE APPROACH

Claudius was tired, but he knew he was getting close. He could taste it as he drove off the ferry into District Twelve. The island was small, mostly filled with rocky hills. This was the type of place where cousins kissed and everyone was related.

His proof? As he drove into town all he could see was tan and olive-skinned people, with slick black hair and light eyes. Yep, he was in an inbred clusterfuck. It was evening, and the sun was dipping low, closing on another day. It was starting to get cold.

The rented car needed gas; he drove it through the Capitol and eleven of the thirteen districts. He wanted nothing more than to find a hotel, get a hot meal, and a shower.

Pulling into the gas station a taller version of the inbred came out.

“Forty dollars regular.” Claudius offered the kid the two bills. He was looking at his emails. There was still no sight of Peeta Mellark.

He scowled. “You’re tearing the engine with regular.”

The growl snapped Claudius from perusing his phone. The kid looked like he could bench press him. “Fine.”

 “Ass,” the hot-tempered giant said.

“Look, I'm looking for someone. He’s medium height, blue eyes, broad shoulders…a chin that makes women swoon.”

The kid raised an eyebrow.

“Look, he kinda looks like Peeta Mellark the movie star,” Claudius doubted the giant had two brain cells that held a note of intelligence. “Do you know anyone who looks like that?”

The giant’s eyes widened and he growled, “I do.”

“You do, great!”

“Who the hell are you?”

Suddenly Claudius saw the kids eyes turn cold and calculating, and Claudius thought huh, he was wrong, the giant was smart.

“I’m a reporter, my name is Claudius.” Claudius took out his card and gave it to the giant. “I’m looking for him, you know where he is?”

“How much is it worth to you?”

“Sure, 50K,” Claudius said.

“100 Grand,” the giant countered.

“60..” the kids hand curled into a fist, and Claudius raised his price, his voice going up an octave. “70…5…75 Grand.”

“Good, name’s Gale.”

“Gale,” Claudius said, not sure if this kid was going to lead him to Peeta Mellark or  into the mountains and skin him alive.

“Meet me tomorrow,” Gale said scribbling the address on the back of his receipt.

“If this is…”

“You want Mellark, right?” Gale asked.

“Yeah, well meet me there tomorrow morning. Early, or you won’t catch him.”

Claudius knew there was a story here, “Why?”

“Look, this district is so small about half a dozen people already know that you’re here. The news will get to him quickly and he’ll leave. Do you want that?”

“No.” Claudius felt like he was back in third grade being chastised by his thick legged hairy teacher Mrs. Gaul.

“Good, then drive four miles, make a left on Chicory lane and stop at number 451, and tell the goat man I sent you. He’ll take care of you tonight. Meet me tomorrow before five at this address.

-THE CALM

Katniss awoke slowly, she was surrounded, cocooned in a delicious warmth and manly scent. Their first date led to her sleeping with him. Heat spread throughout her body as she recalled the way it felt to have him deep inside her, the way her body split and widened to accommodate him. His look was a blend of worry and bliss. Seeing him come undone was one of her new favorite things to do.

Of course Pete confessed his favorite thing to do was making her orgasm over and over.

“How is it you’re not sleeping?”

His sleep roughened voice caused gooosebumps to appear up and down her body.

“Well, I have to go get Prim, she’s at Coral’s house.”

“Right,” Pete rubbed his eyes.

“Pete, you don’t have to go.”

Pete looked at his phone, “Katniss it’s not even five in the morning.”

“It isn’t?” Katniss looked at his phone. “I forgot the whole time-change thing.”

Pete laughed, “Well that gives us time...”

Katniss turned and saw him leering at her and she gasped and laughed as Pete attacked her lips.

-THE SNARE

Gale couldn’t believe his nemesis was none other than the ‘goody-toO-shoes’ Hollywood star; Peeta Mellark was Pete Golightly. It was the same blue eyes, chin, build, height, even his smile was the same. Only his hair was different. Peeta’s blond hair didn’t look like a bottle dye job though. He looked like a natural blond. Either way, Gale wanted to smack himself on the back of his head. His anger had blinded him and he hadn’t made the connection; the missing Hollywood star was hiding here in District Twelve, and now that Hollywood star had seduced the one clueless girl on the entire island that he, Gale, desired.

Gale looked at his phone. Claudius, the reporter was late. Gale had googled the guy last night. Claudius was legit. He worked as an independent photographer for Snow Incorporated; Coriolanus Snow owned several tabloid magazines, and a few reputable newspapers. 

For once Gale was glad Katniss' sister wasn’t at home. He knew Prim wasn’t in the apartment. Vick, his little brother said she was having a slumber party this weekend. Prim shouldn’t have to pay for her sister's indiscretion. 

A cold breeze slipped by. It was cold outside, and it looked like snow was on the way.

Pete or rather Peeta, was inside with Katniss.   

Gale wondered if Katniss knew who Pete really was and if that was why she’d let him into her inner circle. Maybe she was attracted to his fame and fortune. If that was the case, and Katniss turned out to be one of those girls, then what chance did he, a mechanic, have. She would never go for him. And that is why he was waiting for the reporter.

He wanted her to hurt the way he hurt.

He wanted her to be embarrassed the way he was embarrassed at her denial of what he wanted.

He wasn't an idiot. He was smart.

And with the money he was about to make he certainly didn’t want a cheap hussy like Katniss by his side. He was going to get himself a good girl, a girl who wanted him for more than just his looks and money. 

Gale spotted the reporter’s car as it pulled up silently.

“What kind of Blair Witch Project kind of road is this? I swear I was afraid I was going to fall into a ditch and die a few times.” 

“You made it, didn’t you?”

Claudius sighed, “Yeah.”

“You got the money?”

“I need the goods,” Clausidius said.

“Look, I know you think I’m some backward hick living in a hole in the wall, but I know that if you don’t pay me, the best picture you’ll get of Mellark is a picture of him from behind, leaving this house. What I got planned is going to make you notorious.” Gale held up the extra set of keys to the rental. 

The reporter grimaced, but looked at the keys. “Fine,” Claudius said. He got out of his car and pulled out a messenger bag full of  money and handed it to Gale. 

“That's half, that's all I have with me,” Claudius said. 

“Once I get the picture, I’ll get you the other half.”

“Then let's go,” Gale said, striding forward.

-THE STORM

Peeta lazily let his hands drift over Katniss’ arm. They were cuddling, spooning. Her delicious backside was pressed up against his front. She was half-asleep, lulled by their last round of love making. 

Prim told him last night that he needed to tell Katniss the truth.  He was scared. But as Prim said, Katniss knew him. She knew the real him and not the poster board flashy grinning guy he had to portray in the media. Everything was pretend in Hollywood and over the top. He wanted something real and he found it in her. 

His heart melted for her. He was in love for the first time in his life. He loved and was in love with Katniss and this morning he was going to tell Katniss the truth about who he was.

“Katniss,” he whispered into her cheek. 

“Mmmm,” she moans sleepily.  

“Come on, Everdeen,” he nipped at her neck, chin, and earlobe. 

“Go away,” she snuggles into the bed. 

“Katniss,” he tried again. “I’m going to make you cheese buns.”

“Mmmm, cheese buns.”

“And my real name is Peeta Mellark,” he said quietly. 

Her eyes opened, just as the curtains to her room opened and the flash of a camera went off. 

“PEETA MELLARK,” Cluadius shouts as he takes pictures. “Is she what made you leave Hollywood!”

Peeta took his shirt and covered Katniss before he leapt from the bed and pushed Caludius out of the bedroom and out of the apartment.

“Gale?” Katniss asked behind him. 

Peeta saw the tall lanky neighbor with a pleased grin in the shadows as Claudius took pictures. His first instinct was to punch the idiot, because he knew it was Gale that sold them out. His second instinct was to call in the calvary, Haymitch.  

-THE FRENZY

"My sister. They're going to take my sister away," Katniss whispered, pacing back and forth.

“Katniss, I am sorry about this,” Pete says, running his hand through his blond hair. 

She can’t stop the worrying. Then she paused and stared at the man she’d fallen in love, the man who lied to her. “You were trying to tell me...before that...that.”

“I wanted to be honest with you.” He stood and came to stand near her. 

Suddenly she was filled with questions, all of them starting with the word, why. "How did you come up with your name Pete Golightly?”

“Breakfast at Tiffany’s, Audrey Hepbrun’s name is Holly Golightly. It’s the name I use whenever I check into hotels. I changed my name slightly and used Golightly. Only one person knows my alias, a fail safe in case someone needs to reach me in an emergency.” 

“Huh,” Katniss cocked her head. She didn’t like old movies and frankly had never seen it. But she was familiar with the posters of Audry Hepurn standing in front of the jewelry store.  “Breakfast at Tiffany’s, the girl with the black dress.”

“That’s the one.”

“Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"Because." He waits a beat before he says, "I was in hiding. I didn’t want to burden you with  knowing. Besides, no one needs me."

Katniss couldn’t help the gasp that escaped her lips. How could anyone not want him, need him.

“But you’re a movie star?” Katniss whispered, wondering how she missed out on the reality that he was Peeta Mellark, the movie star. She had a poster of him when she was younger. But she blinked to focus. Pete was really Peeta. She furrowed her eyebrows as she thought about what she knew about him. She'd seen him during these last few weeks, tested his metal. Carefully she made a list of the things she knew about Peeta, the man. He was smart, strong, generous, kind, sweet, good. At the last word she stopped. Peeta was beyond, just, plain ol' good. He had an inherent goodness that was at the center of his being, and people didn’t see it because they were taken in by the fame.

“Exactly.” He gave her a pointed look. “They need my money, notoriety, fame...but no one needs me. My family,” his voice sounds bitter laced with disappointment. "They only need me and use me for the money in my bank account. My mother sold the spare key to my house for a fee to the tabloids. They went through my home and splayed it in Snow’s publications for the world to see.  When I asked why, my mother said it was because I was a selfish, weak chinned, dumbass who she was going to sue for lost wages. As we speak her lawyers are filing paperwork.” 

He sighed and his eyes saddened. Katniss could see how broken and lost he was, and Katniss reached out to touch his hand. She wonders what kind of woman would do that to her own child.  Katniss had no idea. she didn't read the tabloids or watched shows about movie stars and their sordid lives. She was too busy trying to put food on the table and keep a roof over her and her sister’s heads. 

Sad blue eyes met her fiery silver ones. Katniss wanted to tuck him away and keep him safe.

“I left Hollywood because I was burnt out. I thought no one cared for me. I do not need attention, as Haymitch will attest to, I hate the attention, but I love the work. However, people want the movie star.  They don’t want me Peeta, the guy who would rather hang out, paint or experiment with food. I only have two friends Haymitch, which you’re about to meet and I am apologizing for what Haymitch is, and Finnick Odair.  Yes, that Finnick Odair who runs around in his movies, half naked, half the time."

Kathiss wrinkled her nose at the image of the guy with the Jason Mamoa body, and the devil may care grin. He was, in Delly's words, melt your panties hot. But Katniss didn't find him interesting. "I've been forced to watch a few of his movies."

His eyes lighted and his lips formed a smile at the word forced. 

"Delly." Katniss shrugged. "She thinks he is sultry, but he's not my type." She watched his eyes process the information. "So if you don't have that many friends..." her voice drifted. Gleaning his information about his family, she formulated the question. Katniss didn't have a lot of friends. There was only Delly and Madge. But she also had Prim, her only family,  and even her pacifist her sister would punch bees for her. "What do you do?"

"I sit home most of the time doing laundry. Perfecting my fitted sheet fold."

"You have a thing about laundry."

"Just yours," his heated look caused her pulse racing.

"Peeta," she chastised. He smiled mischievously and picked up the bra that she'd been looking for.

Intense heat flooded her cheeks. She imagined she had to be redder than the child of a tomato and a cherry. She snatched it from his hands. "You need to get back to Hollywood...and why you left."

Peeta cleared his throat. "I really don't do the whole Hollywood thing. I don't party. I don't drink and I don't do drugs. Most of my nights I hang out with Finn and his wife Annie. I do a lot of laundry for Annie. They have an adorable lil boy, a toddler, named Finian. Fin for short, who loves mud. I do their laundry for fun. But outside of them, like I said,  I have no one and I know that no one wants me, so I walked away. I didn’t think anyone would hunt me down. I am sorry.”

Katniss didn’t have a voice momentarily, so she continued to listen.

“I came here, intending to hide out for a few days and then head to District Thirteen. Then I walked into Greasy Sae’s and I couldn’t breath when I saw you and weirdly parallel stalked you…and then I met Prim.”

“What about Prim?” Katniss needed to know everything. It would serve her right that, her super intelligence off the charts, baby sister would figure who Pete really was.

“Prim knows, she figured me out. Within seconds...she knew all of my media history. She's tough, made me sweat.”  

Katniss chuckled. Her baby sister could be exasperating and could be terrifying when she turned on, what Katniss called her smart factor. Prim was a computer able to make calculations about all sorts of things. Katniss was the only one who could match her sister when engaged. But it also reminds Katniss of the pictures of her naked with Peeta.  "Oh the pictures. This isn't good Pete...Peeta."

"Katniss trust me, we'll figure a way out. I swear. My manager Haymitch will know what to do.” Peeta's voice was reassuring.

“No, you don’t understand the state; they will see this as me being irresponsible. They will take my sister away and put her in foster care.” Katniss couldn’t help the way her voice rose. Everything was spinning out of control.  She couldn’t help the tears that fell from her face.

“Listen to me. Haymitch is almost here. He said he has a plan.” He gathered her in his arms and she sighed and trembled. 

All she ever wanted was to make her sister feel safe. She wanted to make her sister feel as if nothing else could go wrong. She closed her eyes. Now she couldn’t do that because a paparazzi had taken naked pictures of her and Pete...Peeta. Naked pictures that would be splashed and splayed all over tabloids and news media outlets.  

Pictures that weren’t Peeta’s fault, but Gale’s. 

Gale sold Peeta out.

“Pete, I mean Peeta,” Katniss couldn’t hide her misery. “Those pictures, they’re going to use them against me. They are going to use them against you too.”

His eyes warmed. 

His cell phone beeped.  He looks at his phone. “Delly’s here.”  Delly was bringing Prim home. There was another ping. He frowned looking at the phone then said, “...and so is Haymitch.”

He gave her a look, as if pleading with her to trust him. He looked so vulnerable. Katniss expelled a breath. She’d question if she should trust him. A single word enters her mind. Together.

Taking his hand in hers. "There isn’t anyone I would rather do this with."

He chuckled. "You’re so fierce, like an Amazon."

Katniss grinned. "You haven't seen me with my bow."

"You’re so amazing."

Their hands threaded together. She was going to protect Peeta because the whirlwind of pain stopped here.

Let the storm commence.

"Together," Peeta said with hope.

 "Together."

-THE BUCK STOPS AT LA

Peeta opened his mouth to speak as Haymitch entered the garage. The kid’s text message that Claudius broke into the girl's apartment and took pictures of them in-flagrante had him calling in the troops. He had less than an hour to spin and control the narrative. Naked pictures of the kid wouldn’t have meant anything to Haymitch if it were another client, but the kid had a stellar track record. It meant the world. He sent a text to his contact, another favor. The kid was going to owe him big.

"Save it, kid," he said gruffly. He needed a drink, hell, he needed an entire bottle of whisky.  "Flipping burnt flapjacks, kid, if you needed a break." His eyes scanned the small interior. His car was bigger on the inside than this place. "I could have helped you."

"Haymitch," Peeta looked behind him at the girl and her sister.

"I'm sorry," Prim said quietly. "I wanted to tell you. But Peeta needed to feel safe."

"I know." Katniss nodded curtly. 

Peeta's love interest had the personality of a dead slug. His phone pinged. Haymitch hid his eavesdropping. His eyes focused on Peeta. The kid was more than just a client; he was like family. 

Haymitch lowered his voice. "I know this had to do with your family. So I let you go, my mistake. And I'm not letting anyone ruin you for a paycheck. Now introduce me."

"Haymitch, this is Katniss Everdeen and her sister Primrose.

It only took Haymitch seconds for him to assess the situation.

The little sister Primrose was sugary sweet, adorable. Her wide baby blue eyes held intelligence and goodness. The world was going to love her. 

His grey eyes met the girl. "Listen Sweetheart, if you’re going to survive this, you've got to listen to me."

His grey eyes watched the kid with the girl. He hid his grin when she scowled at his nickname for her.  He could see her bristle, before her eyes shuttered closed, almost like a camera lense quickly shifting to block out light. "Okay, lovebirds, Cinna is here. And Caesar is waiting outside to interview you both." 

"Haymitch," Peeta said, taking a step forward to protect both of the women in his arms. This behavior he expected from the kid.

Sweetheart’s behavior though surprised him. When Katniss glanced at Peeta, she transformed into a fiery creature that is so pure and majestic. Haymitch realized Sweetheart was a lot like him. Tender hearted, fiercely loyal, with a tough exterior. Haymitch knew the girl was smitten with Peeta himself, and not the Hollywood facade. This he could work with. 

"Haymitch, Katniss is Primrose's guardian. The pictures Claudius took are salacious and damning." Peeta glanced back at Katniss before moving forward. “She can't afford to have them come out. We need to make sure they are protected."

"Look, I can sell this star-crossed lover." As expected Sweetheart scowled. Good, Haymitch thought; he wanted her to go into combat mode. "You guys will tell Caesar the truth." As Haymitch spoke he was furiously typing on the keypad of his phone. "He's broadcasting it onto a live audience. People love a good love story. Any pictures Claudius has will be seen as intrusive."

Haymitch opened the door to Cinna who arrived with the prep team. 

"How long do we have?"

"15 minutes tops," Haymitch said.

Cinna nodded. The team hauled in dresses, makeup, lights, and things Haymitch was sure the Everdeen women had never seen. 

"What the hell is going on here?"

Haymitch turned to meet a woman who looked to be six feet tall. Her sharp eyes glance at Sweetheart. Haymitch guessed this was landlady by her agitated face. 

"Hazelle," Sweetheart said, and he could see that she wanted to cry, but she built up a wall. This wasn't a friend, but the woman was an authority figure. Someone Sweetheart looked up to. 

“Katniss what is going on? Why are all these people trespassing? Gale called me and said that you had all of these people here.”

Sweetheart was easy to read.  She was pissed at the name Gale. He quietly glanced at the kid who’s eyes ticked also at the sound of Gale’s name. 

“Who is Gale?” Haymitch abruptly asked, not caring about the woman before him. He knew Gale was related to Hazelle but he wanted to know what part this idiot had in this fiasco.

“Gale is my son, and this is my property.”

Sweetheart looked agitated, and he wondered if this Gale was the reason he was here. The reason the kid and sweetheart were in this mess.  Peeta mouthed Claudius to him and confirmed his suspicions. “You rent to her?” Haymitch narrowed his eyes. 

“Yes.” Hazelle bit back. “I want…” 

Haymitch got in her way, stopping her torrent of words. His phone pinged, and he got what he was waiting for, the pictures, from an insider at the tabloid Claudius sold the pictures to.  As he's suspected, the money shot wasn't of Peeta, it was of Peeta with Sweetheart. Haymitch then saw why Peeta was upset. Because the pictures showed how vulnerable the kid's other half was. It was Sweetheart’s whose life would be ruined. Her name raked through hot coals and muck. This was the intention of Hazelle’s son, and Haymitch scratched the words 'Hazelles son' and for the first time in years he cursed, that rat bastard. “Then you know your son allowed a paparazzi into your renter’s apartment and let him take pictures of my client and his girlfriend while they were asleep?”

Her eyes widened with shock. “My son would never…”

“Really,” Haymitch held his phone up and. “I believe that is your son in the background with a smug grin on his face. He violated the renter’s agreement to be notified before entering the residence. He also is a slimy, no good worm for doing that to her.” Haymitch said, “Hope you’re proud of your son.” 

Hazelle’s eyes lost her indignation. "I..."  

"I suggest you lawyer up. I've just sent the information to my client’s lawyer, Johanna Mason. I suggest you call your son and tell him he can kiss the money he made goodbye." 

"Johanna?" Peeta questioned.

Haymitch grinned wickedly. Peeta hadn't wanted to do anything about his mother, but Haymitch went behind his back to procure Hollywood's number one ball busting lawyer Johanna Mason. She gleefully was preparing the paperwork against Snow; the woman loathed the man. She already had an injunction against the images. "Don't worry Kid, she's doing this pro-bono. Now go get pretty. You go live with Caesar in less than ten."

-THE INTERVIEW

Caesar Flickerman was like a circus ringleader. Literally dressed like a ringleader with a red jacket, black lapels, and gold trimming. His hair was jet black and his smile was a little too crazed for Katniss' liking. She squared her shoulders, looking at Haymitch who raised an eyebrow and his eyes slid to the camera letting her know she was not acting like the doting girlfriend. It caused her to gaze at Peeta who took her hand and squeezed it. The butterflies that were eerily silent until this very moment were having a championship hockey match inside of her stomach.

She was so uncomfortable. In ten minutes she’d been waxed, pealed, and poured into clothing with price tags that made her head spin. The jean’s she wore cost more than her rent. She and her sister were sitting on either side of Peeta. Primrose looked beautiful, her blonde hair combed and styled to perfection. Cinna and his assistants dressed her in a graphic t-shirt dress and distressed jacket. She wore lace up black ankle boots. Prim was excited for the fashion and Katniss' heart twisted because she could never afford to give her sister any of this. 

Looking down at her hands, she thought this was all surreal. 

There were cameras, glaring lights, this fuzzy long thing that hung right above her head. It was hot and uncomfortable. It was also live.

Caesar was speaking to the camera about them. 

It was too much. Those butterflies that were playing hockey now drove dune buggies. Her eyes looked for an exit. She didn’t know how Peeta did it, being on center stage. 

Sensing her discomfort, Peeta put his arm around her shoulders, bringing her closer. Katniss sighed, looking up at him. The sooty lashes that Peeta's prep team glued to her lids stuck together and she blinked to  separate them; this is why she didn't wear makeup.

Peeta might have read the wrong signal because he leaned in and brushed a kiss on her lips. Then his lips trailed from the cleft of her lips to her cheeks to her ear. "You okay?" he whispered.

Katniss could feel heat flush her face as she realized Peeta had found a way to communicate without breaking the charade. Katniss whispered, "My fake lashes keep on sticking together. And I loathe make up!"

The low rumble in his chest meant he was caught off guard.

She wanted to hide her grin, and he wiggled his eyebrows. There was the loveable goofball who had an unnatural love of all things laundry. Say the words fabric softener and he became a puppy with a favorite toy.

He roughly whispered, "You're amazing!"

He gently brushed her lashes and adjusted the troublesome lash before moving away.

"Look at you two, what a beautiful couple!" Caesar gushed.

For those few seconds Katniss was grateful for the man's exuberance; it's as if he was on their side.  

“So what happened Peeta?” Caesar said with notes of sincerity. “Why did you walk away?”

Peeta leaned forward and Katniss slipped her hand in his. 

“It was the whole thing with my parents.” Peeta’s voice hid nothing of the pain; he shared it with the world. “My mother sold me to the highest bidder, and,” Katniss squeezed his hand. ��They went through my home. I felt violated, and unable to feel safe.”

Caesar said, “I recall that wasn’t that long ago.”

“The pressure, sadness, and betrayal were eating me up and I needed to step away.  I am not a drinker or a guy who enjoys partying.” Peeta shrugged. “I’m a homebody. I’m more domestic.” 

Katniss thought of his love of laundry and the butterflies in her stomach settled.   

Caesar laughed. “Domestic.”

“He makes great pastries,” Prim said. Her eyes were wide and lovely. 

“Pastries?” Caesar asked. 

“Here you want some?” Prim held up a bag of cookies. “They are heavenly.”

“PRIM,” Katniss huffed. “I’m so sorry.”

Peeta grinned.  “You see Caesar, this is what I needed.”

Caesar laughed. “Tell me who are these lovely ladies…”

“This is Primrose Everdeen,” Peeta introduced. 

“Hi Caesar,” Prim said. “Seriously though you need to try these cookies.” Prim opened the brown bag and handed one to Caesar.

“Well, alright,” Caesar looked at the cookie as if tasting it was going to make him gain three hundred pounds. 

“It’s gluten free, dairy free, and nut free,” Prim smiled. 

The camera zoomed into Caesar’s face and Katniss witnesses the power of Peeta’s bakery take down another person. The celebrity interviewers face turners into one of pure rapture. “Peeta, you must give me the recipe.”

“Sorry his baked goods are all mine,” Prim said. 

Caesar laughed. “Oh she is precious. But tell me who is this sitting next to you?”

“Caesar this is Katniss Everdeen.”

The butterflies were back and they had jackhammers. 

“She’s the reason I stayed actually. They aren’t the reason I walked away, but they are the reason I didn’t go back” Peeta confessed. His voice softened, his eyes held notes of tenderness as he spoke, “These two women mean the world to me.”

Even the hardened Hollywood crew sighed at Peeta’s words. 

“I met him first,” Prim said. “But I needed to make sure he had good intentions toward my sister.” 

“Katniss,” Caesar asked, “You’ve been so quiet.”

Katniss glanced at her sister and then at Peeta, unaware of the way her face transformed and caused the world to fall in love with her. She transcended into something fierce and wildly beautiful. 

The camera scanned down to the way her hands were intertwined with Peeta’s. 

“When did you fall for him? Did you know who Peeta was?”

Katniss couldn’t stop staring into Peeta’s blue eyes. “I didn’t know who he was; I was clueless.” Her voice trembled, “All I know is that he was so kind and generous.” She stared, not at the camera but at Caesar. “And when I found out who he was and what happened I just couldn’t understand why any mother would want to hurt their child like that.”   

Peeta smiled softly then he looked at Caesar, “Now you know why I stayed.” Peeta then placed a kiss on her lips and then said, “What I didn’t expect was another invasion of privacy.” 

 -AMERICAN SWEETHEARTS

“You alright?” Peeta tucked a strand of her hair behind Katniss' ear. She looked gorgeous. Cinna had outdone himself. She wore a red dress that looked like poured molten fire on her skin. Peeta couldn’t wait to get back home and strip her out of it. 

“I am.” 

He watched her hands shake. The Oscars was the superbowl of the movie industry. Peeta held her hand. Outside the limo, there were about a thousand reporters and wall to wall fans.  This was overwhelming for her and he was the professional. He could just imagine what it was like for a girl who would rather sit in the chair of a sadistic dentist sans novacaine than to be thrust into the controlled mêle that existed outside the limo’s door.

“You don’t have to go in with me; you can stay in the car. You can go back to the hotel, rent a movie, jump on the bed, steal all of the toiletries in the room, and if you are feeling dangerous," Peeta lowered his voice an octave, "rip the tags off the mattress.”

Katniss narrowed her eyes at him. He watched her struggle to keep the laughter she wanted to expel over his ridiculous suggestion. He, of course, made reference to the small argument they were having over her purity. 

It started with Finnick doing his whole Daniel Craig, James Bond thing where he came out of the water. Finnick was messing with her and Katniss disliked him. She proceeded to give Finnick, ‘if he were in her woods he'd be in big trouble’ looks throughout the barbeque. 

Peeta told her, Finnick was only messing with her because she was pure.  And Katniss bristled, and fought that she wasn't pure. But Peeta didn't mean it in a sexual way. He meant it in the way that she was pure of heart. Katniss had a pure heart. Like the hero's of old, she was valiant and although tough as nails, she was forgiving. Gale betrayed her and she was mulling over forgiving him.

After Caesar's interview, Peeta and Katniss’ relationship was cemented in the public eye. Haymitch was able to control the narrative since Katniss led a normal life and wasn't like Finnick, who had so many hidden skeletons in his closet. Haymitch was taking care of the Everdeen women, mentoring them. He had an affinity for Prim and Katniss. They understood one another because Haymitch had lost his family as well, and he had tried to raise his brother, but they were separated and sent into foster homes. 

Haymitch hired Johanna to help Katniss retain her custody of Prim. They were seeking visas for all three of them. Peeta to travel in and out of Panem, and For Katniss and Prim. 

Johanna, spurred by the public outcry over the second violation of his privacy, wanted Snow and his tabloids prosecuted for invasion of privacy of someone who wasn't in the limelight. Gale and Claudius were arrested for, breaking and entering and some other misdemeanor charges. Claudius was facing a harder climb because he was an outsider. Because of Katniss, there was clemency for Gale. And that brought him back to why Katniss was pure. She didn't even know the effect she had on people or how she inspired others.  

Peeta reached out and put his hand on top of hers. “No, I can do this,” she said.

He knew this was not easy, but as she sat perched at the edge of her seat, he thought about how Katniss became his family. How she encouraged him to take on meaningful roles, and to pursue directing and production. They were both still young, but he knew from the moment his eyes met hers in Greasy Sae's diner he was a goner. His feelings for Katniss multiplied as time passed and they worked through each hurdle together. 

Looking at her, Peeta knew without a doubt Katniss had strong feelings for him as well. She wasn't someone who used words; she spoke with her actions. Katniss fought by his side. Simple things she did. Like making his tea the way he liked it without sugar and milk. Opening the window before they went to sleep because she knew he liked to sleep with a window open. Googling how to make natural paints, then going out into nature and gathering supplies to make the paint for him. It spoke volumes.

"I love you," the words slipped out of his lips. 

Her eyes widened.

"You don't have to say it back to me, because I know that you care about me. You do a hundred little things in the day to show me the depths of your emotions toward me." 

He watched as a smile curved her lips. Her silvery eyes sparkled, greater than sunlight glittering on the surface of water. She stole his breath away. All he ever wanted was to be needed, loved, and here was the personification of that need.

"I need you Peeta," she rasped. He could hear and see the depth of emotion in her eyes. "I love you." 

He leaned in and with shaking hands cupped her face. Suddenly he didn’t want to be at the Oscars. Peeta wanted to be in a private room to show her with his words, his mouths, his hands, and his body just how much he loved this woman. “Screw the Oscars, let's get out of here.” 

Her eyes turned mischievous, “Oh hell no. I wasn’t plucked, creamed and stuffed into this dress like a holiday turkey by Cinna and his prep team just to turn around and leave. We’re going to walk that carpet, we’re gonna sit in our seats, and do this shindig, because as much as I like pissing off Haymitch, I don’t think we should give him a heart attack by not showing up.”

Peeta laughed. There she was pushing her own discomfort for him. “And afterwards?”

“Win or lose, Pete Golightly, you’re taking this dress off with your teeth.” She threw him a mischievous look, “And then we’re going to grab some fabric sheets and sniff them.”

The door opened and Peeta was stunned by her description. Heat and desire poured through his veins. He now had a boner. Then a slow smile spread on his face he was going to go home a winner no matter what.  Laughter erupted from his lips, though from the fabric sheets comment and the sheer joy on his face was the picture that was captured by the press.

Peeta did win the Oscar, and he did go home, and he did tear off her dress with his teeth. And afterwards they did laundry all night long. He was after all, a man of his word. 

[loudestcloud]

Time for Luffy's fashion exam! Now, I'll be honest, I did skip an outfit because I decided I will be ending this whole thing with the Strawhat fashion show in Episode of Luffy. Also, sorry for the posting gap, I remembered I have other unfinished post sets. That being said, this is a very long one so let's do this!

Kid Luffy, Post-Enies Lobby & Fish-Man Island: I think it's super cute when Luffy has white t shirts with red based logos because it reminds me of the first picture. Makes him look baby plus, they can always be found in cute domestic EPs or fun, cute flashbacks. The shorts change over time and that's also kinda cute, a range of cuffs is a nice change up. It's nice to see the red contrast the blue shorts and the white is a nice color on him cos it contrast his hair!

Romance Dawn, Enies Lobby, Thriller Bark, Sabaody Archipelago, Amazon Lily, Marineford & last Dressrosa outfit: This look is the pre Luffy look. It's the pre Timeskip look everyone thinks of is cuffed shorts, Kimono sandels and sleeveless vest (and Strawhat, obviously) but have you ever seen them all in a line? It's mad. Each outfit is the same basic look bit more are more spicy each time! I like the Thriller Bark and Sabaody Archipelago looks a little bit more cos it's nice to see that jacket open and it feels like he was trying something new. I also feel that the buttons on the jacket look like the ones on Shanks' pegged ankle sailor pants when we first see him so that's cool. (it took me hours to find the name for his trousers, oh my fucking god) The last Dressrosa outfit feels like a nice callback to the rest of the line up here without being too much cos it's just a red vest top instead and I do find it funny it's like the Enies Lobby and it's used in Dressrosa because of the jokes people make about Robin and Law being so similar.

Timeskip: This is it lads, it's the one true icon itself, the post look! ☺️ When I sit back and look at it I see all the people this look is influenced by and want to cry at how masterful it really is. (Now, I do wanna say that I didn't come up with this nor am I the first to say it and I am definitely probably looking too much into this but) The yellow belt is taken from Shanks' red belt the first time we see him and the Shanks look Luffy is more familiar with. Now onto the jacket. I know it won't stand out as to why for most but it's Ace inspired! When Ace leave to become a pirate, the start of his adventure, he has his jacket open and Luffy having his jacket open also shows his scar from the ending of Ace's adventure. I also really appreciate how no one hides scars in this anime. Also, someone said that the style of the jacket and it's fancy frills could be in reference to Sabo's little jabot collar and honestly I do see it. it's quite subtle unlike Shanks' but not as hard to catch as Ace's so I enjoy thinking that it's there too. Lastly, he still has his cuffed shorts and kimono sandels because it's still Luffy's outfit at the end of the day and he is still who is is, just with a stronger appreciation of what people have done for him now. It's also his colour pallette for the pure fact he is the main character n needs his pallet. also sometimes he just has normal wooden sandels but the same outfit sometimes, it's a small detil a lot of people overlook but I prefer the sound of his Kimono sandels 😊

Dressrosa: I love this outfit cos it's stilly but also has very nice vibes. Looks ready for the beach but is really throwing hands and that's the best kind of outfit, it's a nice expectation subversion tbh. I also like how he tried to hide the Straw hat but not... All of it? And I love how the crew didn't actually question it either. It would have been super easy for one of them to just tell him to leave it behind or something but I do really love how respectful they always are of the hat. I myself have a hat that's super important to me and when I loose it I go mad.

Whole Cake Island: I love this arc for outfits! I swear if the actual content of it doesn't kill me, the act looks will 😭 it's all so magical and it knows it is! Like I said before, white is a good color on him as he has black hair but for the same reason, so is black! In this arcs outfit range, the Staw hat seems almost invisible and his outfit gets less and less 'Luffy' as the arc gose on showing this is not about him. He's not the focus of this arc and you can see that in a lot of the outfits thb. I also like the lack of blue and yellow, 2/3 of his colors as Sanji is often associated with those too as we've talked about before. Also, I like the little red strips on the white jacket with the gold buttons, idk why and I think it's nice that the last 2 outfits are so simple in general, it's a nice look for him. oh, what's that? A Pink jabot? Your killing me Lu, straight up killing me here lil' bro! Side note, is this the first time in canon Luffy has worn a suit jacket or is it the only time I've noticed? Cos DAMM!! Shits sick as fuck and I actually love that when wearing a suit jacket as such he always keep short on 😆

Spa Island, Z's Ambition & Strong World: WHOS READY FOR A RELAXING SUNNY DAAAYY!? (pun not intended but very much enjoyed) I actually adore the fact Luffy still tries to go swimming cos it was his favourite thing to do as a kid so like fuck Luffy is gonna give up on that. He's got his safety measures ready, what more do you want from him? I mean I personally want him not to swim with his hat on cos it's litrally Staw and that's not good for water but anyway Z's Ambition, am I right!? The top is so fucking cute and I just noticed those shorts are also ✨designer✨ fancy man!! Now, the pic of Zoro is the one I missed out before and it's also from Z's Ambition. I love that Luffy has the shark top but Zoro has the ocean shorts. I really love Zoro in this purple cos and thick white stripes really work with the ocean waves. It's really well put together and hes got dark brown sandels on to off set all the white but keep the purple from being a stand out color, it's cool! Than the last Luffy looks like he's at a fashion show. It looks like the shorts come from a kids set the shark top belongs to. Imagine those together, it'd be so cute. However, it isn't an ocean patten, those are clouds cos Nami has a bikini top with the same pattern in Skypiea and it's actually one of my favourites for her.

Boss Luffy Historical Special! This filler AU is so much fun, I think any it a lot. He has his hair up in that super cute and useless way that doesn't actually do much but I do have my hair like that a lot n it's just... nice? Idk, it's strange buy I like he did that. I really enjoy his Kimono more that the actual Wano one cos it's a lot more simple look. The Sai being tucked in in that way is also cool but kinda makes it look like it's stabbing him a bit 👁️👄👁️. I like the pin strips being like a faded purpleish cos if you just glance at it, it makes it look it fuzzy. The belt also looks very nice with the middle ligter bit. It really feels like the Wano one was inspired by this is a way cos of the color matches. Like, it's probably not but still.

3D2Y, Adventure of Nebulandia 😍 & Heart of Gold: Hat-less Luffy is both a sin and a blessing. Regardless, I LOVE OP BOYS IN HOODIES!! I had to show you this specific the 3D2Y because we don't see the hood and it's soooo cute cos it a paw 😍 but also 😬 cos it's like... Kuma's paw the thing that cause 3D2Y in the first place. But that's also why it's so cool at the same time and AHHHHHH 😄 Now! On to Nebulandia! I really like this movie but also in canon, how does he have that jumper? Who made it for him and can I have one? It's Usopp flag design so I guess it could be him but he doesn't seem the type. Point is I want one. Last of this set is some really cosy outfits!! "How much fur?" "Yes" am I right? Like the first one is sooooo cosy with all the fur! Plus, a funky new bamboo hat, always a good thing to have a new hat. I appreciate that you can see the zips on these too. Then the orange turtle neck one with little fluffy bits is just here cos it's so out of his usual looks, I had to at least mention it.

Strong world & Film Z: The shorts on the first one are really cute cos it's a light rosey pink with red fur and just a plain solid dark blue colour jacket works really well. Not to mention the fact he has a super cute orange and yellow flight helmet hat with goggles on under the Staw hat. The 2 bag straps also make an X which is a nice detail. The 2nd outfits in this movie are super fuckin cool ngl. It's so strange to see them all dress in black and have guns but I like the red shirt for him with the yellow highlighted parts. Makes the Straw hat actually work with the outfit instead of ignoring it. Film Z brings us the same flight helmet hat just brighter and without the goggles but also opens with this T-Shirt and Luffy being silly with it. I think that's the only reason to mention it, it's funny. Then the obligation pirate outfit, always stunning plus the meat belt.

Film: Gold & Stampede (also used in Cidre Guild): these are my top 3 Luffy outfits no matter what else I see. I love the straw cowboy hat sooooo much cos it's very Luffy. I like the balls they has as a team to choose white for all of them, considering they are all quite messy people, living for that dad shirt and I like the Golden chain around his neck but am always confused as to why it was never used against him. Like dude could and should have tried to choke him at least once, right? Anyway, the dress! Now, the dress isn't actually that good but it's my favourite because it shows how Luffy has no fucks about gendered things. On to of that, a big pink flower is wonderful and look at his confidences in it, he's so proud of it the boom, Nami told him he can't wear it! Lastly, the Stampede outfit!!! Just like the Nebulandia jumper, I have no idea who made it but it's irrelevant cos it's beautiful and I want it so badly. I like that it's white and red stripes, gives thenprefect vibes for Stampedes opening. The shirt is actually too big for him, you can see on his arms but it's actually super cute. I love the simple look of these shorts then the fact his yellow belt is replaced with white bandages and the black on the kimono sandels are now red? It's such a simple pallet and it's truly the best!

I also just wanna add, I think it's really cute when Luffy has the Straw hat on his back just cos his hair is really cute. Idk why, it's looks kinda cursed but cute at the same time

This post took 2 weeks or so to make and we made listening to the complete BNHA soundtrack, film gold OST and Sonic generations vol.1

Sanji

Zoro

Nami

[littlefreya]

Lines in the Sand

Summary: She is one of the best snipers serving in Iraq, but she is also suffering from an attitude problem and ironically has a hard time following orders. After an incident in her former base, she is sent to join the Special Forces unit led by Captain Syverson, who requires a talented sniper. 

Unlucky for her, Captain Syverson is a hard man who likes things by the book and according to order. He ain't got the patience for troublemakers.  

Pairing: Captain Syverson x OFC (Jessica Gallagher)

Word count: 1,784

Warnings: Smut in future parts, some foul language and sexual content.

A/N: Please enjoy, reblog, like. The world needs more Syverson, and I think he is one of Henry's finest roles.

Tagging: @writingaftermidnight​ @centaine​ @sciapod​ (who encourage me to write)  Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 |Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Epilogue Chapter 1: Iron Maiden

Bad girl. 

That’s what they say she is; trouble, attitude problems. 

She heard all of it at psych evaluation. 

'Prodigy' is another word they use for her. 

And sometimes even 'asset'.

She likes this one the most. It strips her of all human notions. 

That’s the only reason to keep her around, and it’s not like she has any desire to go home anyway. Home is tough. Here in the desert, surrounded by death and horny virgins - that’s the easy part. 

“Killing is easy,” she said to the military psychologist who had her profiled from head to toe before being transferred to camp Warhorse.

“Gallagher?” a young soldier calls toward her, huffing and covered with a sheen layer of sweat as he runs toward her. She glares at him bemused, holding the fresh new uniforms which she just collected from the storage unit. 

“Yeah?" 

The boy's face is lightly freckled, his big doe eyes seem untouched by war and his freshly shaven buzzcut shows he only just arrived. 'More meat for the grinder'  she muses, just another kid who doesn't belong here, like the most of them. She knows the type well enough to write a thesis about it by now. If she thought she had any brain to do that sort of stuff. 

"Captain Syverson wants to talk to you.”

The kid looks her up, probably wondering why she even here. She got used to that type of stare a while ago.

“I just arrived here from another division” she explains, “didn’t even get into my uniform, what’s the fucking rush?”

The kid shrugs, looking slightly terrified as if she is supposed to be scared of Captain Syverson and shouldn’t be talking that way.

“Fine…” she sighs heavily, lowering the tip of her army hat and rolling her eyes.

As a soldier serving at the professional US army, Gallagher knows she has a shit-ton of issues with authority, yet she wouldn’t be in any other place.  

The Captain sits at his office, wearing his favourite red t-shirt and army shorts that cut at his knees. A small portable fan is perched on his desk, pinning from side to side and blowing tiny droplet of sweat from his ridged forehead.  

During that time of the year, the temperatures reach a level that won’t shame the fiery pits of hell. Even a southern-born man like him an effort dealing with the heat, but Sy suffers quietly, not even mentioning a word of the weather. Small-talk is a waste of time, and ain't nothing but the pretence that people care when they don't.

“Captain, Sir,” the kid walks into his room, saluting the Captain. “I have private Gallagher with me.”

The young woman follows, a blank stare on her face. She salutes toward the Captain, looking robotic and so indifferent he can tell already she had a great potential of pulling some stunt and getting detained. 

“Thanks, Private Holt, you may leave now," he answers in a heavy southern accent,  and voice low and rich like smoked Whiskey.

Holt leaves the room in a hurry, leaving Gallagher to stand quietly in front of the Captain. She has dressed in a plain white t-shirt and khaki field trousers while her eyes remain hidden beneath the tip of her hat. 

“Sit down, soldier." 

He commands, taking her file in his large dirt-stained hands.

She sits down quietly. Scanning the room with silence. It is yet another captain’s office, maps on the wall, guns and ammo. A "Slayer” labelled mug rests on in his desk with freshly brewed coffee, next to it is a deck of cards. No pinup girls posters apparent anywhere, not a perv unlike her former Captain, or at least he is hiding it in his bedroom.

He finally turns to look at her, manspreading on his chair with zero elegance or concern toward her. Why should she be treated any differently?

Captain Syverson is surprisingly a very attractive man. A big guy with broad shoulders and massive muscles. His cropped short hair does well to bring out his excellent bone structure while a few scars decorate his forehead and his upper left cheek. His strained face is covered with a thick, untamed beard which he strokes at his chin while thinking to himself. 

He takes one glance at her with his fierce blue glare, and then gives her his next command “Hat off, private.”

“Sir”. She replies with compliance, taking off her hat and placing it atop her folded uniform.   

One glance at her now exposed face, and he is forced to fight back a snort of laughter. He learned how to keep his emotions hooded in this job. She is petite, her arms may look strong yet quite skinny. And it’s quite a wonder that her skin is pale while serving in the middle of the fucking Iraqi desert. 

If this was anywhere else right now, he’d offer her a burger. This is the elite they’ve been speaking of? For fuck sake. Better be worth it. 

He is aware, of course, that she is pretty, they usually are. Chase and Annica for example. Sometimes he wonders if they send all the cheerleaders squad to his unit to fuck with him, since he can’t actually, fuck them.  

“That’s better”. He gives her a small smirk which quickly fades back into what seems like his usual grumpy face. 

“We’ll keep it short and honest, private,” he says, opening her file “You’ve been transferred here from your unit, they say you are a prodigy…”

“Take me out there, and I’ll shoot a rabbit between the eyes from 20 miles away.” she interrupts him, speaking coldly. 

“Did I give you permission to speak?” he asks her with slight anger. Never in his life, he had a young recruit dare to do so, especially not a woman.

She remains silent, knowing that’s actually the required response. For change, 

“Good. Your file shows amazing achievements” He throws her file in front of her with what seemed like an utter lack of actual interest “it also shows you have attitude problems.” His eyes meet hers as he says these words, his lips clasped to show some sort of severity. “Do you know what I want to know?”

Her blue eyes stare back into his with a dead gaze. 

He sighs, rolling his eyes “Permission to speak granted.”

“You want to ask if I’m going to cause any trouble.”

He nods, folding his arms together, his eyes travelling up and down her features for a mere second. 

“No, Captain.” She can’t promise him that even if a gun was pointed at her head, but she plays along. Everything in life is like her stupid video games anyway. Oh, she does miss those. 

“Good.” He gives her another hasty smile, the kind that doesn’t show any genuine care or affection and is just meant to move the conversation forward. “So you know why you’re here?”

“I’m very good with my sniper rifle, Captain." 

"It says you’re a fucking wonder”. He answers, not ashamed to curse in front of her, which she finds slightly refreshing. All the other men constantly apologize as if she doesn’t shoot people’s head-off for a living. As if women don’t see brutality as much as men do. Perhaps even more.

“Listen, I care about my men. Just live up to your name, be a good girl and you might just make daddy proud ”. He explains to her, not even regretting saying the finale part. It’s just how he talks and if she has a problem with that she might as well not be here. 

But she doesn’t even flinch. Instead, she replies with a small, nearly invisible smirk and nods. 

“Yes, Captain." 

The Captain’s eyes lit up with the charm of a child as he smiles widely for surviving yet another conversation with a new recruit and even though he has scruff all over his face she detects two large apparent dimples in his cheek.

Finally, he stretches from his chair and stands. She follows, noticing he is menacingly tall and seems to carry himself with sheer confidence and intimidation. 

"Come, I’ll show you your room." 

She follows him silently down the hall. He doesn’t bother with making any boring small talk which she is actually quite thankful for. It’s easier to not try to connect with people. The base is quite loud at the moment anyway, and she’d be unable to hear half of it.

"Men go here.” He points to one room by the end of the hall and then continues walking until they pause next to a closed room, “Ladies go here, you met the other girls?” he asks to which she shakes her head “Well you will. Girls get their own private shower in the room, in under no circumstances you are to use the collective shower room”

He pauses and turns to look down at her. Eyes growing sofer all of a sudden. “Anyone ever bothers you, says anything even slightly inappropriate, you come straight to me, you get it?” he asks her, managing to sound both severe yet still soft at the same time. 

“I’m just over there, by the end of the hall.” he looks to the other side, touching her shoulder without thinking, so she’ll face where he is pointing. His hand leaves her shoulder without any of them, giving it any attention. 

The Captain has his own little private kingdom at the end of the very house they turned into an army base, so it seems. She wonders if that’s where all the pinup posters are hidden at.

“Enjoy your stay, Gallagher”. He speaks, looking down at her face, wondering how long will it be before he has her in his office for some sketchy behaviour. 

“Thank you, Captain, I will.” she gives him another one of her forced smirks and turns away, walking into her new quarter. 

He takes one look at her as she turns from him, unable to resist his natural temptation to look at her ass. 

It’s small, tight, the way he likes it.

'Yes, she’s gonna be trouble.'

There are two girls in the room, sitting on their beds. A beautiful redhead with rather wide shoulders and strong arms. The other woman is somewhat petite as herself with tanned skin and beautiful dark eyes. They’re both looking quite curious to know her.

“The fuck is with your captain, walking around with severe big dick energy?!” she speaks out with sheer confidence.

The other girls look at her for a long moment, complete shock on their face by the content that came out of her mouth but then burst into laughter that can be heard all over the base. 

Clearly, she isn’t the only one who noticed.

[baepsaesbae]

Before (Heal Me, Kill Me Prequel)

Pairing— Kim Taehyung x OC named Maggie (thanks @kimtaehyunq)

Genre— SMUT, Angst, Vampire!Tae au, Victorian era au

Warnings— Explicit unprotected sex (but like pretty vanilla and loving), some violence and death

Word Count— 4.8k

Summary— Taehyung was a vampire with nothing but time and boredom on his hands. He’s going on his monthly feeding adventures when he comes across a rather peculiar prey. 

A/N— This was supposed to be a drabble but I got carried away and made a full prequel oops. The Heal Me, Kill Me series will be posting starting in October! The pairing will be Kim Taehyung x reader so it’ll be the usual y/n stuff. Thanks for reading, feedback is always welcome~

It was a dark and stormy night. Ok, well it wasn’t stormy, but at least it was nighttime. The year was 1863. Taehyung made his way down to the sketchy part of town, eager for a meal. Opium was all the rage nowadays, but Taehyung despised it. It tainted people, making them even more unbearable than he thought was possible. He drew the line past alcoholics, though he still wasn’t fond of them. However, people were even easier to persuade with absinthe coursing through their veins. 

“Hey handsome, looking for some fun?” a woman approached him from the shadows, her knockers practically spilling out of her corset. She reeked of all sorts of carcinogenic substances. 

“Away with ye, painted Jezebel,” Taehyung shooed her away, and she instantly stood up straight and walked in the opposite direction with a clouded look in her eyes. 

It was hard to come by a decent meal these days. Unfortunately, sticking to the slums was his best option. No one cared if a poor commoner went missing. At least he only had to partake in such grizzly actions about once a month. Any longer than that and he’d be in big trouble (or more accurately, random people who were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time would be in big trouble).

Something caught Taehyung’s attention. He lifted his chin and took a deep inhale of a sweet aroma that wafted through the air. It was the scent of something he’d never dream of finding in the slums; an untainted individual. Untainted in the sense of a perfectly pure body, not once given into sinful indulgences. 

Taehyung quickly followed the smell, growing more excited with each step. Through the narrowly winding alleyways and past some rather alarming scenes, Taehyung did not stop. He could barely keep himself from salivating once he arrived at the source. 

There she was. A beacon of light in the dreary depths of a neglected corner of the world. Taehyung curiously observed her as she fluttered from body to body, carefully checking pulses and offering aid. He couldn’t help but scoff at her earnesty. There was no use in saving these people. They were beyond salvation. Yet, he silently watched her work as she hauled around her makeshift med kit. That was a mistake. The more he watched her, the more personal interest he took. 

After devising a plan, Taehyung was ready to make his move. He started at the opposite end of the street, intending to meet up with her somewhere in the middle. He crouched beside each body with an extended hand; random passerbys would see a well dressed man committing charity work out of the goodness of his heart. That was his intention, though he was merely hypnotizing each person into a deep slumber if they weren’t already passed out. 

“Are you looking for someone, sir?” the young woman piped up behind him.

“Not in particular,” Taehyung coolly answered as he stood up to face her.

“I don’t mean to be rude, but may I ask what someone like you is doing in a place like this if you’re not looking for someone in particular?” she crossed her arms with distrust.

“Is it a crime to want to help out the less fortunate? What we’re doing doesn’t seem to be much different. May I ask what a young girl like you is doing out here all alone in the middle of the night? It can be very dangerous,” his deep voice resonated in the air. 

“Oh. You’re helping them too? I’m sorry sir, I didn’t mean any harm. People like you just don’t really come down here unless it’s for certain unspeakable acts,” she bowed her head apologetically. 

“Unspeakable? You help the people who partake in such acts,” Taehyung observed keenly, “Why bring them aid?”

“If I don’t, no one else will,” the girl answered solemnly. 

“That simple hm? You seek nothing in return? Or is your vice that of self appointed importance?” Taehyung slowly approached the girl. 

“I help them because they need it. Because they’d die without someone like me,” the girl held her ground.

“How admirable. I’m impressed, young miss. Please don’t think I was insulting you, I’m genuinely fascinated by you. Would you care to accompany me for dinner?” he extended his arm to her ever so slightly. 

“It’s a bit late for dinner isn’t it?” she responded timidly. 

“I suppose calling it a midnight snack would be more fitting. Your answer?” Taehyung asked calmly, concealing his impatience. 

“Forgive my apprehension. I’m sure you’re a fine gentleman, it’s just that this isn’t a place one would normally find fine gentlemen. I’ll gladly join you for breakfast in the morning,” she countered.

Taehyung’s eye twitched with frustration, but luckily it was too dark for the girl to see it. He needed to feed. That night. 

“I’m not keen on breakfast meals. How about tomorrow evening, during normal dinner time hours? Unless you can’t skip a day of helping the helpless,” he suggested. 

“That would be fine,” the girl finally agreed, “Oh, and I never caught your name, sir.”

“Taehyung. Pleasure to meet you,” he bowed elegantly.

“I’m Maggie, the pleasure is all mine,” she curtsied awkwardly.

After hashing out the details. Taehyung reluctantly left her alone. He wanted nothing more than to sink his fangs into her jugular, but something held him back. His curiosity got the better of him, but after living for all these years it was hard for him to find something interesting. He figured it couldn’t hurt. 

Taehyung cursed himself as he tore into an unsuspecting victim who had passed out drunk on the street. He retched at the foul taste, but this is what he has had to resort to. He couldn’t afford to be run out of another country yet again. His more refined taste would have to be put on hold for the time being (oh how he missed the good old days when people feared him enough to bring pristine victims monthly).

Rain lightly tapped against the window that Taehyung gazed out of as he scanned the crowd for Maggie. There were so many things he wanted to ask her, though a single drop of her blood would tell him everything he needed to know. Of course, that wasn’t as entertaining as an old fashioned conversation.  

Maggie finally arrived, and the restaurant host escorted her to the table. Taehyung could tell that she made an effort to look presentable. He reasoned that she was wearing her finest dress, though it had a plain and rather boring look to it. Plus, she wasn’t even wearing a fancy hat, much less a bonnet. 

“Good evening, Mr. Taehyung,” she curtsied before she sat down.

“Good evening, Miss Maggie. Have you been well?” Taehyung asked politely. 

“As well as I can be, I suppose. Yourself?” Maggie extended the same courtesy. 

“I’m splendid, now that you’re here. Tell me about yourself,” he dove right in. 

“I’m just an average girl. Nothing really special about me,” she shrugged while tugging at a strand of hair, “I never thought I’d be able to eat in a place like this in a million years. You must be embarrassed to be seen with me.”

“I disagree. I think you’re the most interesting thing here, apart from me of course,” Taehyung let out a low chuckle, “I gather you come from a poor family? What do they think about your late night escapades?” 

“They’re...gone. Sickness took them. Cholera,” Maggie shifted uncomfortably in her seat, “I don’t wanna see anyone else die so I…”

“Ah. That’s your noble cause huh? Admirable,” Taehyung took a long sip from his wine glass.

“And what of you, Mr. Taehyung? You seem rather peculiar yourself. What’s your reason for visiting that ward so late at night?” Maggie deflected the subject away from her.

“You could say I’m a humanitarian of sorts. I visit at least once a month, it’s a necessity for me,” he smiled slyly, “What else do you want to know? I haven’t had a decent conversation in ages.”

“You struck me as rather peculiar. A handsome gentleman like yourself lurking around giving aid to the weak. And then you only gave me one name when we introduced ourselves. I assumed it was your first name, so I gave you my first name in return. Forgive me if I was mistaken,” Maggie took a sip of water. 

“One name is all you need to know, dear. I’m happy we’re on a first name basis. However, I can address you otherwise if you deem it improper,” Taehyung offered.

The rest of the evening went on pleasantly. The meal was delicious, probably the best meal Maggie had ever had. She noticed that Taehyung’s meat was barely cooked, it was practically still raw. She decided not to mention it when she saw him happily gobble it down. Maggie also noticed that his red wine was thicker than what she was accustomed to seeing, but she figured it was a fancy alcohol that rich people drank. She didn’t want to embarrass herself by asking. 

Taehyung’s leg bounced quickly under the table. Maggie’s aroma grew more intense the longer he was with her. Her scent was intoxicating, and it took everything in his power not to take her then and there. He was in a conundrum. He took a liking to this spunky girl. He was torn. He didn’t know when to devour her, if to devour her at all. 

By the end of the night, he had decided. He’d keep her around for as long as he wanted, it wouldn’t be a big deal. He could easily end her life whenever he pleased anyway. The only thing he’d have to worry about was his self control. 

Taehyung and Maggie began to meet regularly. Taehyung would share the finer things in life with her. He’d take her to botanical gardens and fancy museums. In return, Maggie taught him everything she knew about medicine. She detested the use of cocaine as a common remedy, and preferred to make her own medicine. Taehyung accompanied her on her nightly rounds, he enjoyed every second he spent with her. 

It took about a year for Taehyung to officially court Maggie. She accepted, of course, and was now visiting Taehyung’s home for the first time. Home was an understatement. His mansion resided on a massive estate. 

A grand feast awaited Maggie. Her favorite dishes and desserts lined the dinner table, with Taehyung sitting at the opposite end. As Maggie dug into the food, she struggled to hold her tongue. A question had been lingering on her mind for quite some time now.

“Is everything alright, Miss Maggie? Is the food inadequate?” Taehyung asked from across the room. 

“The food is delicious, probably the best I’ve ever had. Your kitchen staff must be very talented,” Maggie shook her head. 

“Ah, I have no staff here. I’m glad you enjoy the food, it was all made by me,” Taehyung said proudly. 

“You take care of this entire property by yourself?” Maggie’s jaw dropped in shock.

“It’s tough sometimes, and lonely. I suppose I could hire one person to help out,” Taehyung lifted his eyebrows at Maggie. 

“M-me? I’m not really a good cook but--”

“You don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to. As you can see, I have more rooms than I know what to do with. You’re welcome to stay here with me for as long as you like,” Taehyung offered.

“Can you answer one question for me first, Mr. Taehyung?” Maggie asked tentatively. 

“Ask me anything,” Taehyung smiled.

“Are...are you ill?” Maggie looked at him with concern, “Please don’t take any offense. I noticed that we only meet in the evenings or when it’s a cloudy day. And I know that you have a predilection for barely cooked meats, and I’m sure eating raw things isn’t good for you. Also when we first met I thought rich people just had fancy alcohol but I can never see anyone drinking the same concoction as you whenever we eat at restaurants,” she rambled. 

“My my, aren’t you observant,” Taehyung’s lips twisted into an amused smile, “Are you afraid of monsters?”

“Monsters aren’t real,” Maggied quickly answered, annoyed that he deflected her questions. 

“Are you sure about that? Think carefully. I only go out at night or under cloud cover. I prefer my meat raw. I drink a rather strange red liquid that you should be very familiar with since you tend to the drunkards who are bound to get into fights down in the slums,” Taehyung toyed with her. 

“What? Do you expect me to believe that you’re some sort of vile creature that drinks blood?” Maggie laughed nervously.

In an instant, Taehyung’s chair was vacant as he menacingly stood over Maggie, “That is precisely the truth. Have you heard of vampyres?” he licked his lips.

Maggie was too frightened to move. Surely her eyes were playing tricks on her? Her eyes narrowed in on the fangs Taehyung bared as he smiled eerily down at her. 

 “I’ve heard of them. The people in the slums are terrified of being sucked dry, claiming that people wandering alone at night have a death wish. I thought they were just delusional,” panic gripped Maggie, “Were you going to eat me the first night we met?” 

“I desperately wanted to. You know the irresistible and mouth watering smell of a bakery in the morning? That’s what you smell like to me, only ten times more alluring and potent,” Taehyung nodded.

“Then why haven’t you yet?” Maggie questioned. 

“Because, my dear Miss Maggie, I am a fool. I have taken a liking to you. As you can imagine, being an immortal being gets lonely. You’ve provided me with more joy and entertainment than I’ve had in a while. At this point, I’d rather have you stay alive,” he sighed. 

“So if I stayed here with you, you’d promise you’d never harm me?” Maggie attempted to calm her breathing.

“Of course, I would not touch a hair on your head. Unless you want me to,” he winked.

“You would make me into a vampyre?” Maggie’s eyes widened.

“I was hinting at a more carnal interaction, but I could do that as well. Do you want an immortal life?” Taehyung’s eyes wandered to her exposed neck. 

“No. Not if it costs others their lives. I must be crazy Mr. Taehyung. You’ve admitted that you’re a monster and yet I still feel safe with you. I would love to move in and keep you company, if you’ll have me,” Maggie smiled fondly. 

“You’re very strange, Miss Maggie. That’s not at all the reaction I thought you’d have, but I’m happy for it. Very well, you may stay here. I can help you bring your belongings tomorrow night,” Taehyung grinned. 

“I’m curious; were you born a vampyre?” Maggie piped up. Taehyung let out a hearty laugh. 

“No, I was a human once like you. I got into a scuffle with a nasty bloke in the 16th century. Rather than killing me, he gave me a far worse end. He turned me. I haven’t seen him to this day, but I’m sure the slimy bastard is still undead somewhere in the world,” Taehyung’s cheery face fell into a scowl. 

“16th century? You’re an old man!” Maggie exclaimed teasingly.

“But I have the physical body of a young man, that must count for something, Taehyung chuckled, “Come, I can escort you to your room.”

“Am I staying the night?” Maggie tilted her head.

“That was my assumption. You’re free to leave at any time,” Taehyung shrugged. 

“It’s just that...I’ve never left my family home. I’ve been pretty lonely since everyone died. I can’t imagine how you must feel…” she trailed off.

“You’ve helped me with that tremendously. I guess we’ve cured each other’s loneliness, yes?” Taehyung cupped his hands over Maggie’s.

It was the first time he had ever touched her. His fingers were ice cold, resembling the kind of cold only a corpse could possess. Instinctively, she took his hands in hers and attempted to blow warm air onto them. Taehyung knew it would never work, but he appreciated the gesture. He pulled her into a warm embrace. 

“Forgive me if this is inappropriate. You make me feel at ease,” Taehyung whispered. To his surprise, Maggie hugged him back tightly. She didn’t say anything, but her actions were clear enough. 

Taehyung sat in an armchair in his room reading a novel a couple hours after he bid Maggie goodnight. He was pleased with the outcome of the night’s events. He was honestly dreading the thought of having to kill Maggie if she were to run away screaming. He was glad things didn’t come to that. 

There was a knock on the door. With a wave of his hand the door swung open, revealing a sleepy Maggie on the other side. 

“I heard a strange noise and couldn’t fall back to sleep,” Maggie yawned. 

“Don’t lie,” Taehyung chided without looking up from his book. 

“I’ve never slept away from home before and being alone in that big room scares me,” Maggie admitted, her eyes cast down to the floor. 

“That’s what I thought. You’re welcome to use my bed. I’ll stay here while you sleep,” Taehyung finally looked up and kindly gestured to the large bed.

“Where’s your coffin?” Maggie asked as she wiggled into the sheets. 

“That’s a stereotype. Do I look like the type of guy who sleeps in a stuffy wooden coffin? Nonsense. However, there is soil from my hometown beneath the bed,” Taehyung tsked.

“Really?” Maggie’s eyes grew wide. 

“Nope. Go to bed, Miss Maggie,” Taehyung chuckled. 

“Care to join me?” Maggie asked as she stretched. 

“I’m not going to sleep--”

“Then neither am I! I’m practically wide awake now,” Maggie interrupted him. 

Taehyung put his book down and walked to the bed, opting to sit on the end, a respectable distance away from Maggie. They talked the night away. Now that Maggie had some time to process everything, she had a plethora of questions ranging from vampyres to fashion throughout the years. 

“So have you ever been married? Or in love?” Maggie probed. 

“Never been married. Have been in love a few times. As you can imagine they all ended in heartache. Truthfully, I’ve been questioning why I let myself get so attached to you,” Taehyung confessed. 

“I’m glad you did. Because I love you, Mr. Taehyung. I fell in love with your grace and intellect, and of course you’re extremely handsome. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way about me, I just wanted to be candid with you before living together,” Maggie tugged at her hair. 

“Miss Maggie, I foolishly fell in love with you. You’d be one with the dirt by now if I hadn’t been so enthralled by you. Hm, that didn’t come out very romantic,” Taehyung shook his head before continuing, “The feeling is mutual. I know I can’t give you a normal marriage, but I promise to love you until the end.” 

Maggie crawled towards Taehyung and planted a soft kiss on his lips. Taehyung deepened the kiss as he pushed her flat onto the bed. Hands wandered. Giggles filled the air. Clothing fell to the ground. Soon, both beings were stark naked as they gazed into each other’s eyes. 

“Are you sure you want to go any further?” Taehyung asked.

“I want all of you inside me,” Maggie replied as she brought him in for another kiss.

Taehyung guided his dick to her entrance, patiently teasing it as he coated himself in her juices. Once he was drenched, he slowly slid into her, giving her time to adjust to his size. She let out soft moans as he went deeper. 

They laced their fingers together once he began to thrust. He started slowly, making sure she was enjoying herself. He wanted to enjoy all of her delicately, taking careful care not to break her. His prior flings with the whores in the brothels was different. He didn’t care about them, he used them solely for his own pleasure. But this time, he wanted to please Maggie. He was happy to see her eyes shut with pleasure as he picked up the pace. 

Taehyung placed his thumb on a certain little sensitive nub, making Maggie jump. Her eyes were blown out with lust as she arched her back. Taehyung worked her body perfectly, timing his thrusts with the clitoral stimulation. It didn’t take long for Maggie’s entire body to shake. 

“Tae-Taehyung I--”

“Go ahead. Just let it all out, Maggie,” Taehyung demanded. He accidentally let his power of persuasion slip into that statement. Maggie came on the spot, cumming all over his cock as she moaned. It wasn’t long after until Taehyung released his seed inside of her. 

Maggie’s chest heaved as she lay motionless on the bed. That was the most intense orgasm she’d ever had. Taehyung cleaned her up before tucking her back into the bed. Once he cleaned himself up, he joined her side. 

“Don’t worry about getting pregnant. I’m technically dead anyway,” he kissed her forehead before they both dozed off. 

Taehyung woke up the following evening to an empty bed. He searched the house, unable to find Maggie. He began to worry. Did she leave him to get help? Did she abandon him?

“Good morning! Sleep well?” Maggie called out to him as she walked through the front doors.

“Why were you outside?” Taehyung questioned quickly.

“Lemme show you,” Maggie took Taehyung’s hand and led him outside. She proudly showed off a patch of crudely repotted plants. She explained to him that she went into town to get a few. Since she’d save a couple lives here and there, some people felt indebted to her. She called on her favors and managed to wrangle up a couple flowers and herbs.

“I love the botanical garden you always take me to. I figured we can try and make our own here since you have so much space,” Maggie smiled.

“Do you garden often?” Taehyung asked while looking at the half wilted plants.

“Never have, but it can’t be that hard right? Just give them water and love. Just watch, this place will rival that fancy botanical garden,” a flicker of determination lit up in her eyes. 

Several happy years later, Maggie had kept her word. It had been ten wonderful years filled with merriment. Taehyung was not the man he was before. Maggie had softened his heart, and he was thankful for it. He accompanied her when she tended to the people in the slums, learning the art of medicine by her side. She even helped curb his bloodlust. Taehyung only fed on the people who were beyond help, or those who actively sought death. Maggie still didn’t like it, but of course that was out of her control. 

Taehyung’s arms were wrapped around Maggie as they admired their personal garden. It was a struggle at first, but they discovered that Taehyung had a godlike green thumb, and basically resurrected the plants back from the dead. With his guidance, Maggie was able to see her vision come true. 

One night, Taehyung had to leave the mansion for a few hours to meet with his business colleagues (he was a rather savvy businessman, being around for a couple hundred years does that to a person). Taehyung itched to return to Maggie’s side and barely paid attention to the meeting. She always claimed that she would be fine, it was only a couple hours after all. Even so, Taehyung worried about her. 

Finally the meeting was adjourned, and he was free to rush home. He found the front door unlocked upon his arrival. He gave the handle a quizzical look, he was sure that he had locked it. 

“Maggie? Where are you?” he called out. 

“Taehyung! Run away--” Maggie’s muffled scream came from the dining room. 

Two big men stood at either side of a tied up Maggie, who now had a black eye. One of the men held a knife to her throat, close enough to draw out an inkling of blood. 

“‘ello, Mr. Taehyung. Pleasure to make your acquaintance,” a third stout man with a thick cockney accent emerged from a corner of the room, “I’ll cut to the chase. You let us kill you, and the little missy gets to live. If you resist, she dies. Simple as that.”

“Who are you people? You’re making a huge mistake. I have connections all over the country that--”

“Spare us the horseshit. We know what you are, filthy vampyre,” the word rolled off the stout man’s tongue like a slur, “The VEC sent us. You know ‘em? Stands for ‘Vampyre Extermination Company’ it does. We’re the best they ‘av, so you might as well surrender now.”

“Oh you already know? Lovely, that saves me time,” Taehyung growled as he seemingly phased from where he stood over to Maggie (but vampyres can’t teleport, they just have super speed and can fly sometimes).

In the blink of an eye, he broke the neck of the man who held the knife and threw the other guy across the room. He quickly released Maggie, and hugged her tightly before returning to attack the intruders. He lifted the stout man by his neck and held him against the wall.

“You sure you’re the best? The VEC must be a pretty unsuccessful organization,” Taehyung taunted. 

“I told yous we should’ve just killed her in the first place and then ambushed him!” the stout man yelled to no one in particular. 

Taehyung sank his fangs into the man’s neck, before ripping out a piece. He was going to enjoy torturing him. It was what he deserved for harming his beloved Maggie. A gunshot went off, stopping Taehyung in the middle of his raging frenzy. 

Taehyung looked back in horror. Maggie held her bleeding stomach, sinking to the floor. The man he had thrown at the wall earlier was wielding a gun with a smirk on his face. Taehyung lost it. He ripped the assailant’s beating heart out from his chest.

He scrambled over to Maggie, cradling her in his arms. 

“That hurt,” she joked weakly.

“Shh, don’t speak. I have to get you to a doctor. I can carry you--”

“It’s too late. This wound is worse than most of what we’ve seen in the slums. I’m just sorry I have to leave you so soon,” a tear rolled down her cheek. 

“No! No please don’t leave me. There’s still time! I can turn you and we can be together forever,” Taehyung wept.

“You know I never wanted that. I’m sorry I’m being so selfish,” Maggie coughed  up blood, “I love you, Mr. Taehyung. Don’t ever forget that,” she said with her final breath. 

Taehyung held her until he saw the light leave her eyes. Anguish and sorrow filled his soul. He held her close and sobbed over her lifeless body. 

“You tricked her into lovin’ ya, eh? There’s no end to the wickedness of you bastards,” the stout man struggled to say as he drowned in his own blood.

Taehyung gently laid Maggie’s body on the floor and walked over to the stout man. He stepped on the man’s throat, crushing his windpipe and adding pressure to his gaping wound. The man’s eyes screamed in pain as Taehyung looked down at him blankly. 

“The VEC huh? I’ll remember that. I’ll see you in hell someday,” Taehyung spat as he trampled the man beneath him.  

Taehyung didn’t leave Maggie’s side for a week straight. He couldn’t bear to do anything; he didn’t want to admit that she was gone. His heart broke every time he saw her, but he couldn’t bring himself to move her. It wasn’t until her corpse was a bloated smelly mess that finally motivated Taehyung to move.

“I’m sorry I let you become this way, Miss Maggie,” Taehyung whispered as he carried the body out to the botanical garden. He buried her there, among her cherished plants. 

Taehyung fled his estate. The crime scene wasn’t discovered until a year later when his business associates came to check on him after he missed several meetings. 

Taehyung swore that he would never love again. Never open up again. And never ever, under any circumstances, interact with the VEC. As much as he wanted to tear the establishment apart, he knew Maggie would be against it. He couldn’t bear disappointing her, even in death.  

He settled down in a small unsuspecting town in a different country. He bought an abandoned property where he swore he’d live out the rest of his days quietly and peacefully. 

Published August 21st, 2020. No editing, copying, translating, or reposting allowed. All Rights Reserved © 2019 Baepsaesbae.

[lilydalexf]

Old School X is a project interviewing X-Files fanfic authors who were posting fic during the original run of the show. New interviews are posted every Tuesday.

Interview with MaybeAmanda

MaybeAmanda has been a longtime participant in X-files fandom. She has 29 stories at Gossamer, the earliest being archived there in 1998 and the latest in 2012. I've recced some of my favorites of her stories here before, including "Malus Genus" and "Snow in Alabama." Big thanks to MaybeAmanda for doing this interview.

Does it surprise you that people are still interested in reading your X-Files fanfics and others that were posted during the original run of the show (1993-2002)?

It does, in a way.  The feedback I get nowadays is either of the "I read this like 20 years ago and I just read it again" variety or the "I was too young back in the day but I have been watching the show in reruns/on XYZ streaming service/on the full-series of DVDs I got for $3 from the thrift store and I was THRILLED to discover fanfiction was being written even in the Dark Ages!" So it's a bit of a surprise, but it's a pleasant one. I answer every mail/comment because my mama raised me right!

What do you think of when you think about your X-Files fandom experience? What did you take away from it?

It was great. It was fun. It was educational. It was a godsend. Even with the occasional bouts of back-stabbing and flame-throwing, it was mainly a welcoming, inclusive place to be. I made so many online friends who have turned into meat-friends (do they still call them that? Probably not).  During the first run of the show I had small children and we had relocated for my husband's job.  I had very little social life, but the fandom gave me a chance to meet and connect with people who liked what I liked. Then I discovered online fanfic, and it was even better!

Social media didn't really exist during the show's original run. How were you most involved with the X-Files online (atxc, message board, email mailing list, etc.)?

ATXC I think.  A lot of email lists - 5 or 6 or 7 or so over the years. Gossamer, of course, Ephemeral when that came into being.  Haven discussion boards. My own websites.

What did you take away from your experience with X-Files fic or with the fandom in general?

More than anything?  I am a fangirl.

What was it that got you hooked on the X-Files as a show?

I have always been partial to sci-fi and speculative fiction, but it rarely makes it to the screen - large or small - without being trite, clichéd, or just plain bad. It's easy to forget that The X-Files was groundbreaking - smart, scary, funny, insightful, intriguing, complex plots, on-going mythology. It looked great. It sounded great. David Duchovny was pleasant to look at, too, and damn! Gillian Anderson is/was one hell of an actress.

What got you involved with X-Files fanfic?

I found XF fanfic - somehow - probably by accident, or by way of a recommendation - and it blew my mind.  I had written fanfic (of a sort) with my friends in highschool, so I was familiar with the beast, but to find what amounted to excellent story after excellent story for free within (relatively) easy reach (because dial-up, right?) written by people who, for the most part, were thrilled you read their story and were happy to talk to you about it, about writing in general, about your shared obsession - that was amazing. As I am sitting here typing this I am feeling that thrill again - discovering Karen Rasch, Madeliene Partous, Paula Graves [Lilydale note: AKA Anne Haynes], Sheryl Martin and all the other early BNFs was, well, the only word is exciting. I felt like I was a member of a secret society and that I was sitting at the popular kids lunch table, all at once. (Don't forget, in the early days, shippers were considered delusional outliers - seriously!)

What is your relationship like now to X-Files fandom?

Good?   It's not as lively a place as it once was, but I haven't renounced my citizenship or anything. If I get a rec, I check it out. I know there are those who like to pretend they never had anything to do with the fandom, but why? I am still a proud XPhile.

Were you involved with any fandoms after the X-Files? If so, what was it like compared to X-Files?

Angel (a teeny tiny bit) while XF was still running, but those fans were - I don't know the word.  Hardcore does not begin to do it justice. I wrote two short pieces at a friend's request then backed away slowly. Sherlock (a bit) - it is/was very LJ centred and that made it hard to find things. A lot of it moved to tumblr which made it harder, then to twitter, which - no.  I was involved in one of the less fashionable facets of the Sherlock fandom, so I was really a fringe-dweller there, too. It seemed clique-ier than XF, and they all seemed so young, and they all knew EVERYTHING about everything, and every damned thing was political, and, and, and... GET OFF MY LAWN!

But maybe I am remembering the XF fandom wrong. ;)

Who are some of your favorite fictional characters? Why?

Like, all fiction? Mulder and Scully for sure. Arthur Dent. Sherlock Holmes in most of his incarnations. Spock. Winnie the Pooh. Why do I like them?  They speak to me, I guess.

Do you ever still watch The X-Files or think about Mulder and Scully?

I haven't watched an episode in probably two years (back when it was on regular tv).  Yeah, I think about them surprisingly often.  Story ideas, weirdly.

Do you ever still read X-Files fic?

I finished re-reading The Iolokus Series a couple of weeks back, so yes.  It's excellent comfort reading.

Do you have any favorite X-Files fanfic stories or authors?

Lots! But as far as authors go, I hate playing favourites. I will miss someone I shouldn't and feel like crap.  The Iolokus Series by MustangSally and Rivka T. is probably my all-time favourite fic because it's so very well-written, and so very fucked-up. Kipler's Strangers and the Strange Dead is also terrifically well-written and clever. For complex, interesting case files, you can’t beat syntax6 - pick any of them.

What is your favorite of your own fics, X-Files and/or otherwise?

Oh geez. Seriously? I wrote a lot of collaborations and I love them - and my co-authors - all!  Stuff I wrote on my own: Anniversary Waltz (first XF fic I wrote so it's sentimental.) Or Blue Patches. Or Epiphany. Or The Gifts of the Magi (On a Kaiser Roll). Or 221XF.  Gonna stop now.

Do you think you'll ever write another X-Files story?

Every time I thought I wouldn't, I did. I would never say never.

Or dust off and post an oldie that for whatever reason never made it online?

Nothing finished ever went un-posted. All the unfinished stuff remains unfinished.

Do you still write fic now?

Haven't for a while, but it's not as if I have said "I SHALL NEVER WRITE FANFIC AGAIN!" I just have nothing in the works at this moment.

Where do you get ideas for stories?

With fic, it's usually from canon - some question unanswered, some road unexplored, some "what if?" that needs iffing.  With "original" fiction, damned if I know.  A snippet of overheard conversation, an interesting photo, something a random story generator spit out at me.  Sometimes things just click.

What's the story behind your pen name?

Okay so...many years ago I was on a (smallish) fic list with a friend.  There was a challenge posted - a bad fic challenge. We knew we could write some truly bad fic if we really tried.  One of the rules of the challenge was to post under an assumed name so no one would know who they were voting for. Well, my friend and I wrote something truly, painfully horrid and we were very proud of its ghastliness, so were brainstorming possible pseudonyms. She hated everything but had no real suggestions of her own.  I knew that she was a bit of a Trekkie (like me) and I said - What about Amanda Greyson and Joanna McCoy?  And she said  - What?? Huh?? Why?? And I said - Spock's mother and McCoy's daughter and she replied, "Maybe Amanda is Spock's mother but on Star Trek there is not a Joanna." By this point, I was SO DONE, and I became MaybeAmanda and she became NotJoanna. Really.

Do your friends and family know about your fic and, if so, what have been their reactions?

It took years for me to admit it, but yeah, they know.  They didn't entirely get it.  The reactions I most often got were:

"Ew! You write stuff without being forced?? Ew!!"

or:

"Is it smut? I bet it's just smut. You write smut, don't you? Pure filth, right? I can't believe you are wasting your time writing pornography! That's disgusting! You sicken me! Um, can I read some of it?"

And of course:

"If you are going to write anyway, why don't you get published and become fabulously wealthy?"

which is really two questions, neither of which is easily answerable.

Anyone who tracked my work down (because I told them I wrote, but not my pseudonym) usually said something like, "Hey! You're an okay/passable/decent writer! Why don't you get published and become fabulously wealthy?"

Yeah.

Is there a place online (tumblr, twitter, AO3, etc.) where people can find you and/or your stories now?

Same old email (maybe_a@rocketmail_dot_com). Gossamer, my site, my LJ and probably some other places.  I can't lie - it's a bit scattered.

(Posted by Lilydale on August 4, 2020)

[melodious-madrigals]

“who puts pineapple on pizza and who looks on in disgust?” 

- wondertrev edition

***

“I’m sorry, we’re eating what?” asks Steve. He’s been in the twenty-first century for five whole days when one of Diana’s friends from the Justice League—Barry, who he incidentally met five days ago—stops by because he misses her, crashing in with a whirl of limbs, a lot of enthusiasm, and a hankering for ‘pizza’.

“Pizza,” repeats Barry emphatically, buzzing with even more than his normal amounts of energy. (He really likes pizza.)

“Gesundheit,” says Steve.

“Wait, you really don’t know what pizza is?” asks Barry, eyes wide.

Steve shrugs, and points to himself. “Transplant from 1918, remember?”

“Right, yeah. I’m just. Trying to comprehend a world. In which pizza doesn’t exist? And I’m not gonna lie, I’m having some trouble.”

“Okay, but what is it?”

“The most delicious thing in the world,” says Barry dreamily, as if it's been a year since he's had it and not eight days. Unfortunately, it provides Steve with no further clues.

“It is like a flatbread,” says Diana, looking up from her computer where, theoretically, she’s accessing a menu and a phone number. (The things technology can do now are astonishing.) “With herbed tomato sauce and cheese and assorted toppings. Then it is baked in an oven.”

“I’m sorry, I think I misheard,” says Steve. “You put tomato sauce and cheese on bread and then melt it?” He looks vaguely grossed out, and Barry squawks.

“No, man, it’s the best thing ever. It works, I promise!”

Steve looks entirely unconvinced. “I mean, fresh sliced tomatoes on a sandwich, sure,” he says, as Diana dials the number. “But sauce?”

“Just try it, and hold your judgement until after,” Barry encourages. Steve trusts Diana, and that’s not the only reason he’s willing to try it, but it’s the most important thing on his list.

“Hi, yes, I’d like to place an order for pick-up,” says Diana across from them. “One plain cheese pizza, one veggie supreme, one meat lover’s”—Barry makes a waving motion with his arms and when she looks over, he holds up two fingers—“sorry, two meat lover’s, and one specialty cheese pizza with pineapple.”

Steve’s head snaps up, and he glances at Barry. “Tell me she didn’t just say pineapple.”

Barry looks pained. “She definitely did. That’s how Diana orders her pizza.”

“Tomato and pineapple,” Steve says slowly, like he can’t comprehend it, mostly because he can't.  

“That’s not a combination I endorse,” Barry says, holding his hands up in deference. “Pineapple on pizza is a hot-button issue in the culinary world, and your girlfriend is on the wrong side of history.”

“I most certainly am not,” says Diana indignantly, as she hangs up the phone. (Pineapple or not, Steve finds himself strangely warm at the casual way Barry linked them as a couple, without a second thought.) “The pizza will be ready in twenty-five minutes,” she adds.

“Copy that.” Barry stretches a little. “We have enough time for an episode of The Good Place before I have to run in to get it.”

Diana already has something called Netflix pulled up, which leads Steve to believe this is an established ritual. “You’ll like this,” she says to Steve. “It’s a comedy about ethics.”

“No war, though,” Barry assures him seriously, and hits play on episode one, even though they’re meant to be in season three. Twenty-two minutes later as the credits play, Barry zips out of the apartment; he’s back within four minutes carrying five flat, stacked boxes.

Whatever Steve was imagining, a circle cut into triangles was not it. He stares at it a beat too long, and Barry sidles up to him.

“Whatever anyone else tells you, pizza is something you eat with your hands, not utensils.”

“Sure,” Steve says gamely, and watches as Barry picks up a piece, folding it mostly in half into an even thinner triangle, before shoving it into his mouth.

Steve follows suit, and takes a bite. There’s an explosion of flavor in his mouth: it’s strange, at first, but he does understand what Barry means about it working. The fatty saltiness of the cheese and the acidity of the tomato sauce complement each other.

It’s not destined to be his most favorite food, he thinks, but it’s a satisfying meal for sure.

He also tries the pizza with vegetables (it’s good; he loves onions, olives, and peppers, so he considers it an improvement even over the cheese pizza), and declines a slice of Barry’s pepperoni and sausage pizza. That’s when Diana also offers him a slice of hers.

He looks at the cooked pineapple, nestled in the melted cheese. It doesn’t look particularly appealing, but if Diana likes it, how bad can it be? After all, the other pizzas were good.

He takes a tentative bite.

It’s a mistake.

He’s only ever had pineapple fresh and cold, and he hates the texture of it cooked. The taste isn’t nearly as bad as he’d thought—the sweet tang pairs pretty well with the specialty goat cheese dollops—but it’s an experience he has no desire to repeat.

He manages to swallow, but puts the slice back on his plate and pushes it towards Diana. Next to him, Barry bursts out laughing. “Welcome to the correct side of pizzadom,” says Barry.

Diana shoots him a dirty look. “Pineapple is a perfectly acceptable topping.”

“Yeah, if you don’t have taste buds,” Barry jokes.

“It was more the texture,” Steve admits.

Diana gives him a soft look that makes Barry pretend to gag, and says, “It can be a little strange at first.”

“No way,” says Steve. “No at first. No more pineapple on pizza for me.” 

Diana studies him for a moment. “Very well. I think I can live without it, if it means getting to share a pizza with you.”

Steve can’t help but smile while Barry just blinks and then: “Goddamn it,” mutters Barry, who’s been trying to get her to admit pineapple on pizza is stupid for two years, now. “I can’t even tease her about the fact that she’s admitted there are, indeed, other ways to eat pizza, because that was adorable.”

Diana laughs; Barry sulks; and Steve thinks, privately, that he could get used to evenings like this one, pineapple pizza and all. 

***

[purplesurveys]

1269

Last thing you bought online? Did you like it? OMG OMG so I got Angela an Army Bomb!!!!!! for her birthday!!!! It was HELLLL looking for sealed ones that were already onhand, but fortunately I was able to find one from this really nice seller a few days ago and the shipping was quick as well. I’m just a little worried because the outbox has a little dent on it :( but it was the best onhand offer I could find so I got it before anybody could call dibs. I still hope she likes it! I got her batteries too so that she can try lighting it up as soon as she has it. :D

Could you date someone who didn’t drive (and didn’t show an interest in ever getting their license, either)?  I feel like this is such a petty thing to make a big deal about...if they knew how to commute or any other way to get to their destination, I don’t think this should be a problem. It would only be an issue to me if they refused to get a license in a very I-generally-lack-ambition kind of way.

How would you react if your artwork became famous?  I don’t have any to show off to begin with. I love appreciating art, but creating it was never a forte of mine.

Would you get your nipples pierced?  No, I don’t plan on getting any piercings. How many people know your birthday?  Outside of my family, my best friends. I think everyone else relies on Facebook to be reminded, which is fine with me.

Has anyone ever tried to ruin a relationship you were in?  No. Quite the contrary, really...I was sometimes informed about red flags taking place, which of course my stubborn ass ignored.

Have you ever watched a whole hour long infomercial?  Probably, as a kid. The channel from which I used to watch WWE aired these really long infomercials so I would watch those while waiting for like Raw or whatever show was going on after.

What is your current MySpace song?  I never hung out on Myspace. I had an account, but I was too young for it so it wasn’t long before I got bored.

What is your favorite kind of meat to put on your sandwich?  Pulled pork or fried chicken.

Which one of your exes do you feel like you have the most chemistry with?  I only have one ex.

How do you feel about people who make Facebook profiles for their pets? I find it really cute. But I personally wouldn’t put in as much effort lol.

Have you ever personally known a pair of conjoined twins?  Hmmmmmmmm I don’t think so.

What was the most disturbing thing you have ever heard your mother say? She threatened suicide in front of me and my dad in a very calm way when I was around 11, I think? Maybe 12, idk. I haven’t actually thought about that moment in an extremely long time until this question. I’ll move on now and shove the memory at the very very back of my head before I get sad.

Is there something in particular you like to look at photos of? What is it?  Aside from members of BTS (lol), interior design inspirations.

Chewy chocolate-chip cookies: like or dislike?  Ooh, love. When I bite into a cookie it hassssss to ooze chocolate, otherwise I would be underwhelmed.

If your boyfriend/girlfriend wanted to dress only in the opposite sex’s clothing, would you support that? If not, would you leave them?  Support.

Do you think your grandmother is/was beautiful?  They both are.

Which of your fields of interest are you a total expert on?  Anything that has to do with writing (except poems), I guess? I like being able to give people advice and tips when it comes to that.

When was the last time you got all dolled up?  Last July when we had a big PR media launch thingy and I couldn’t afford to look like shit on Zoom.

Do you ever name objects? (i.e. mp3 players, guitars, cars, etc.)  Never.

Do you have a criminal record?  Not criminal but it’s possibleeeee that I have some kind of record on my license from the time I got stopped by an officer in Alabang, lmao. It was a minor offense from a tiny part of the town so I don’t actually know if they filed it, but it’s possible.

Last person you took a nap with?  I don’t really nap with other people. I hate falling asleep in front of others to begin with.

Does seeing your mother cry automatically make you feel sad as well?  No.

Do you think someone likes the same person you like?  I don’t like anybody.

Do you want your life to stay the way it is right now forever?  No, I do not want to stay in a pandemic and not get to maximize my life the way it’s supposed to be enjoyed forever.

Have you ever been to craigslist.com?  I’ve never checked it out; idk if we have that here?

What about eBay?  I also dunno if they operate here so no, I’ve never bothered.

Have you ever used Nair?  Not Nair, but I’ve used Veet before.

Are you medicated?  Nope.

Do you shape/fill in your eyebrows?  I never do stuff to my eyebrows except shave them.

Have you ever stolen/borrowed clothes from an ex?  Several articles of clothing were left behind here, yeah. I never had the chance to give them back because I stupidly thought we were going to get back together eventually. By the time I moved on the timing was already off, so the clothes stayed with me untillll...just a few days ago, actually – when I finally cleaned up my room and got rid of a bunch of knickknacks that accumulated here over the years, including all her shirts and sweaters and stuff.

Could you make a statement about anything political?  The 2022 presidential election landscape looks like complete shit and I’m nearly at that point where I want to stop giving a fuck about this country’s future.

Do you think you’ve already met your soulmate?  No.

Do you get the feeling something good will happen in your life soon?  I think I’m already living in it, haha.

Do you enjoy romantic movies, even when they’re cliche?  Sure, but cliché is also hit and miss for me. I love Titanic and Love Actually, but I cannot stand movies like Me Before You and The Notebook. I guess it depends on certain executions, like the acting, screenplay, casting, etc.

Have you been to McDonald’s in the past month?  No, not inside. We did drive-thru within the last month, though.

Have you ever slept over at your best friend’s house?  Not at Andi’s, but I have at Angela’s.

How often do you go bowling?  Extremely rarely. I can’t tell you the last time I went bowling.

Last time you were in an apartment?  Like 2007 when I visited my aunt back when she still lived in one. None of my friends have their own apartments.

Have you ever seen a live seahorse?  I don’t think so.

Would you like to have your own yacht? I mean I wouldn't say no if you offered it to me for free, but I'm not exactly interested in one. < Same.

Winnie the Pooh or Tigger?  Tigger always made me laugh as a kid.

What’s the unhealthiest thing you’ve eaten today?  Luncheon meat, I think? I didn’t go overboard with the junk food today.

Has a stranger ever offered to buy you a drink?  Hm, not that I can recall.

What is something you’d be happy to receive as a gift, that doesn’t cost a lot?  A bag of the salted egg chips that I really like costs like 30 bucks, or roughly 60 US cents.

What kind of music does your significant other/crush like to listen to?  I don’t have any irl crushes, can I use a celebrity crush instead? HAHA he’s heavily into jazz and whenever he gets asked for music recos he always gives jazz artists from like the 50s and 60s.

Who did you have your first kiss with? Do you remember what colour his/her eyes were?  Gab. Dark brown.

Are there any themes from TV shows that you like to sing along to? The Big Bang Theory and Friends; and then I also liked humming to the themes of Breaking Bad, The Walking Dead, and BoJack Horseman. The Phineas & Ferb theme was also a lot of fun to sing along to.

Do you eat dessert after dinner? No, I never do that. I’m usually already full after dinner, and we don’t always have sweets at home anyway.

Have you ever had too much to drink and felt embarrassed about your behavior the next day?  Sure.

When you go out drinking, what do you prefer to drink?  Cocktails. I very rarely go for hard drinks/shots, especially if I brought my own car.

What was the last animal that you saw?  Dog.

What was the last thing that you said to one of your siblings?  I just told my sister I was done using her laptop so she can have it back. My Memories of 2020 DVD turned out to be region-locked so I have to use her laptop every time I want to watch it :(

What is the most expensive thing that you’ve purchased that you paid for:  My Map of the Soul photobook cost me around 5k in total.

What is your favorite messaging program?  Messenger.

Do you eat fast food more than 5 times a week?  Wow no. Aside from being extremely unhealthy, that’s also a LOT of spending??

Have you ever almost drowned?  Yes.

Have you ever learned something shocking about someone through Facebook?  I mean I’ve had to learn about more than one family death through my Facebook feed, which sucks but is nothing I have control over. Otherwise the most shocking thing I’ve seen is probably classmates from high school having their own kids, but at this point I’m used to it already.

What’s the scariest living animal that you’ve petted?  I’m not really afraid of carrying/petting animals especially if there’s a guide or expert nearby, but the most daring one was probably the crocodile I volunteered to hold in Palawan.

Do you remember the first conversation you ever had with the person you currently have feelings for?  Not at all.

Do you dread certain days of the week? If yes, what day/s and why?  I hate Mondays for obvious reasons lol. I don’t know anyone who is actively cheery about reporting back to work.

If you eat oatmeal, do you have it plain or do you have certain toppings that you like to add to it?  I never eat oatmeal. I had that every single day for breakfast from like kindergarten to 4th grade and I vowed never to take a spoonful of it again.

What is the funniest or strangest thing you’ve ever heard somebody say in their sleep?  I dunno. I used to keep a log of the things my ex used to say in her sleep and a great deal of them were hilarious, but obviously I deleted that note a long time ago.

Choose one - Butterfinger, Milky Way, Snickers:  Butterfinger.

Do you use Mozilla Firefox? Nopes.

Who is your favorite person to hug? Angela and Laurice.

Have you ever had to have a mug shot?  Nope.

What was the last thing you carried to your room?  Kimi.

When was the last time you had a late night phone call?  WELL over a year ago.

[navigatrixnarrations]

Sometimes Always Part 3: Thieves Like Us

Part 1

Part 2

The third chapter of a canon divergent kind-of fix-it set after Season 3. In which the past does not stay silent. You may recognize part of it from a Six-Sentence Sunday.

Warnings: brawling, mentions of hanging and gunshots

Word Count: 2231

The two fighters circle each other in their makeshift ring on the docks, stripped to the waist despite the chill night air. In the smoky torchlight, the scene could almost be a pirate camp. Margaret has woven her way to the front of the gathered crowd of bettors. She’s put coin on Vane, partly out of loyalty, partly because she remembers what a magnificent brawler he was. The other fighter is the clear local favorite; unlike Vane, he’s well-known in the area. He’s half a head taller than Vane and outweighs him as well, and he’s fast and strong, but Vane fights with a savage intensity, feral glee in his eyes at the challenge and the rush of it. And his technique and tactics are far better. Vane dodges the lighting-fast combination of punches thrown at him, getting in close to land blows of his own. It isn’t long before Vane’s ferocious onslaught has the other fighter down for the count. Yes, Vane is still magnificent, standing victorious in the center of the ring, sweat gleaming on his broad chest, long hair barely mussed, breath steaming in the cold. His piercing blue stare meets hers, and Margaret feels her pulse quicken. How does the bloody man manage to swagger while standing still?

Beside her, the merchant who’d been trying to chat her up during the fight notices the heavy look she and Vane are exchanging. He mumbles an excuse about how he “didn’t realize you were here to watch your man”, and hurries away as Vane approaches.

My man, Margaret thinks sourly. No, her man had brown eyes and a broad, easy grin. Her man never let anyone or anything come between them. Her man is at the bottom of the sea.

After Sully died, would-be suitors circled her like sharks. Most simply wanted an in with her father. Some were other pirates. Some were so-called respectable men, with their soft hands and their willingness to let others do their dirty work. She chased them all off with sharp words, and on at least one occasion, at the point of a pistol.

“Your friend didn’t want to meet me?” Vane’s raspy growl brings her back to the present.

“Alas, he wasn’t the sociable type.”

“Pity.” Vane’s right arm tremors ever so slightly as he puts on his shirt, and Margaret finds herself grateful that he’s left-handed. She assists him into his coat, briskly, before he can object. Back in Nassau, it took her too long to get a clear shot as Vane’s face turned purple and his body convulsed at the end of the rope. She prays to a god she is not entirely sure she believes in, for reasons she is entirely unwilling to name, that the delay didn’t cause him permanent injury.

They collect their respective winnings and make their way to a nearby tavern, less rowdy than some and known for its food and its anonymity. Margaret forces herself not to react when her leg brushes against his under the table.

“Do you think it’s wise, drawing attention to yourself like you did prize-fighting?”

“Hiding in plain sight.” The corner of Vane’s mouth quirks upward. “And you wagered on me.”

Margaret gives him an extravagant shrug. “Of course I did. I’m a chancer.”

“Ever the proper pirate.” There is nothing mocking in his tone or his face.

“These past couple of years, smuggling is where most of the work has been.”

“You mean after Sully…”

She cuts him off. “Yes.” She wants to snarl at him to keep Sully’s name out of his mouth, but there was a time when Vane and Sully called each other brother and meant it. She can’t begrudge him any grief he might be feeling, nor curiosity.

He raises his mug of ale to hers. “To Sully. And to thieves like us.” They both drink deep.

Their food arrives. Vane examines the bread that came with their oyster stew. “They’ve picked off all the weevils.”

Margaret smiles slightly, in spite of herself. “I’ll fetch you some, if you like.” An old joke. It’s all too easy to fall into old jokes. Margaret had extra duty once again for mouthing off at her father, and she was missing her meal because of it. She sat on the fighting top watching for sails, too proud to admit hunger or apologize, and Charles climbed up to bring her water ration, some dried meat, and some hard tack, though he’d have gotten in trouble himself if the captain caught him. She picked up a piece of the hard tack and examined it. “You picked off all the weevils.”

He gave her a cheeky grin. “I’ll fetch you some, if you like.” She started to laugh, but forced herself to be silent lest the sound draw attention to them, to the fact that he’d bent the rules for her. That bastard of a quartermaster, Israel Hands, already had it out for the both of them. She wasn’t going to make it easy for him to have another go at Charles.

She tells herself there’s no harm in reminiscing about the boy he was, with his rough voice and his rough demeanor and his tender heart that he tried so hard to hide.

That rough voice is quiet, even confessional. “All my life, there were consequences for wanting things. The taskmasters would take anything they thought we wanted, just to show us that they could. The bigger slaves would take from the smaller, and I was the youngest and smallest of all. So I learned it was safer not to tell, not to show, if I was to have any chance of keeping anything I wanted.” Vane almost sounds as though he’s thinking aloud, but he’s watching her face intently as though willing her to understand something he can’t quite bring himself to say. “Then she did more of the same, taking away anything she even thought I might want, just to prove she could.” There is no doubt as to who she is. Is Vane expressing regret? Trying to explain?

“There are also consequences for not asking for what you want.” She meant to sound arch, but it comes out harsh.

He looks down for a moment then fixes Margaret with a grave stare from beneath his brow. “So I’ve learned.”

The silence hangs thick as a fog bank. Margaret focuses on finishing her meal; it’s easier than focusing on the man across from her.

“I’m sailing for Nassau. Come with me.”

Margaret looked askance at her father. “Why would you ever want to return to that shithole? It’s nothing but backstabbers and cowards.”

“To get Charles out of there. They put a price on his head” he replied.

“He made his choices. He can live with them. Or die with them.” Margaret wanted to sound cold, wanted to be cold, but the ice in her voice sounded unconvincing, even to her ears. Why should the very thought of Charles still have the power to wound her like this, a decade later? What had ever been between them other than a few kisses, some confidences shared?

“I could use your skills, Margaret.”

“Yes, you could. But you’ll have to do without.”

He looks up from the brace of pistols he’s loading. “You think admitting you still care for him would be disloyal to Sully.” When she didn’t answer he continued. “Margaret, when your mother died I was ill-equipped to raise a daughter. You were so young and so angry, and her loss annihilated us both. All those wives, I was trying to replace what couldn’t be replaced. What I had with her.”

“All those wives were because you wanted a son.” This time he didn’t respond. “I’m glad you don’t further insult me by denying it,” she said grimly.

His nostrils flared but his voice stayed calm. Overly calm. “I loved your mother. I still love your mother. I’ve loved some of my other wives, each in different ways.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because it’s possible for you to still love Sully and for that to be irreplaceable, and for you to love Charles as well.” He paused. “I must say I was surprised you didn’t choose him back then.”

“It wasn’t up to me,” she snapped. Damnation, he got her to admit it. If Charles had asked her to be with him, she would have said yes, without hesitation and without regret. But he didn’t, and Sully did. It was a good marriage, a happy one, right until the moment his brain ran out on the deck beside her.

“Will you be here when I return?”

“I’ll be here. But I don’t want to see him.” She turned to leave.

From behind her, her father's voice is uncharacteristically soft. “I wish you’d reconsider, for your own sake.” She left. The notorious Blackbeard, suddenly worried about her loneliness? This must be what going mad feels like.

“And people say I’m terse.” Vane’s teasing purr interrupts her thoughts. He’s trying to lift the pall that’s fallen between them.

Margaret risks a glance at his face. “I’ve been alone for a few years now. I’ve grown accustomed to it.” She drains the rest of her ale and slaps the mug down on the table.

“Surely you’ve no shortage of contenders.” His voice is still as light as the gravel in it allows, but his eyes remain serious.

“Perhaps.” A few days ago, she’d have said not a chance. Damn him. She sees him grit his teeth, the muscle flexing in his jaw. She stands. “There’s something I want to show you.”

He puts coins on the table and follows her. Outside, the clouds hang low and there is a sharp bite in the air. Snow is on the way.

She leads him to the back of the town, where the docks are even rougher and the respectable trades do well to avoid. To call the place a shipyard would be to flatter it, but it’s a yard and series of wharves where vessels of various types and in various states of repair are moored. She takes him to a sleek eight-gun sloop, built for speed and maneuverability, sitting in what might generously be termed dry dock. Recognition dawns on his face. “I haven’t seen a sloop like her since the last time I was on Ocracoke. Is that --”

Margaret completes his sentence. “The Adventure, yes. The old girl took a beating, but she’ll be seaworthy again soon enough.” At his look of consternation, she adds “Yes, I was on Ocracoke.”

He furrows his brows. “I didn’t know you were there.”

“I didn’t want you to know.”

“Take him, and get the fuck off my beach,” her father snarled. Turning to Margaret, who had witnessed the entire duel while hidden in the crowd, had started pushing her way to the front and was readying herself to throw her body between them before Charles threw down his sword, “Go after him, girl. Keep him alive.” At her dubious expression, he leaned in to add “Promise me you’ll try!” She nodded. By day’s end, she was sailing for Nassau. The Adventure was fast, but she arrived too late to prevent Charles’s capture…

“When she’s repaired,” he starts, then stops, his face a question.

“When she’s repaired, I intend to leave on her. No idea where the fuck I’ll go.” She looks away from him, studying the currents, weighing something in her mind, then turns to face him head-on. “Come with me?”

Vane’s thin lips part in surprise, and Margaret braces for the impact of his answer. He regains a grip on his composure, and smirks. “How am I expected to deny such a request.”

Margaret cocks one hip out, puts a hand on it, raises an eyebrow. “You’re not.”

They grin at each other as the first flakes begin to fall. Side by side, they make their way back to the garret.

Vane stands with one arm braced against the window frame, still in his coat, watching the snow dance and swirl beyond the panes. Maragaret finds herself touched by his expression of wonder. He’s always been gruff, his default expression becoming even stonier in the years since she’d last seen him. Seeing him wide-eyed and earnest soothes something in her. He’s still there, the Charles she was once so close with.

He stretches out an arm to enfold her in the coat as well, pulling her close. She leans into him, if only to savor his warmth. She still fits as though she belongs there, tucked beneath his arm.

“I’ve never seen snow before,” he admits. So many firsts with her. First taste of freedom. First time over the side. First kiss, clumsy and nervous and sweet as could be. And now, snow.

His hand comes to rest at the spot where the musket ball ripped through her side all those years ago. “Margaret, I…” he breaks off.

Her voice is soft. Matter-of fact, but soft. “I’d do it again if I had to. Even now, after everything, I’d do it again.” She extricates herself from under his arm, then pauses to press her lips to his temple. “Good night, Charles.”

Her door shuts. He takes a deep, unsteady breath and wills his heart to slow its breakneck pace. On the other side of the door, she does the same.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #439

“all the other kids with the pumped up kicks, you better run, better run, outrun my gun”

Have you written a letter to a soldier? No. Ever been in a perfect relationship? I thought so. But no, those don't exist. The last song you listened to? "Broadcasting From Beyond" by Motionless In White. Have you ever wished you could hurt somebody as much as they hurt you? I... have, but I don't wish that at all anymore. Has a dentist ever screwed up on anything when working on you? No. Would you rather be a successful writer or artist? Artist. Who are you in love with? Nobody. Does someone’s view on homosexuality affect how you feel about them in any way? It sure as fuck does. How about someone’s view on religion? Nah. Well, usually. It depends on the beliefs themselves and to what extremity. What is something you wear that others might consider unfashionable? Flipflops, like... year-round, lmao. What kind of pill did you last take? It's called Lamictal, the catalyst for my primary mood stabilizer. Do you like wearing glasses? No. I'd wear contacts if I had the patience and non-shaky hands. What first comes to mind when thinking of 10th grade? Jason. -_- That's the year we started dating. What’s the scariest thing that’s happened to you? A traumatic breakup. Has an ambulance ever came to your house? Yes, for my mother. The person you’re thinking about - what are you thinking about them? Well, because you mentioned him, I'm thinking about Jason and just how I fucked shit up 'n stuff. How many different cars have you driven? Uhhhh I want to say two? But maybe just one? Was the last person you hung out with single? I guess that would be my mom, in which case yes. Have you ever attended a private school? My last college was a private school, yes. Have you ever been in an abusive relationship? No, and for that I am incredibly grateful. Have you ever cooked for anyone other than yourself? Yeah. I've made scrambled eggs for my family before as breakfast, and I did the same for Sara, too. Would you rather live in the city, the suburbs, or the rural area? Ugh, take me back to the middle of nowhere, please. :/ Do you know someone who is really ambidextrous? Sara! Are you adopted? No. Who was the last person that cried in your presence? Probably one of my nieces or nephew. Can you write your name in a foreign language? Uh, I think? In the German alphabet, "y" isn't actually a letter, and my name is Brittany, so I'm not entirely sure if it would be spelled that same way or not, but I think so. Who is the person you often go to for venting? My mom. Was the last person you kissed male or female? Female. Do you say “I love you” even when you don’t mean it? No. That shit can scar people (aka me) so goddamn deep when they don't mean it anymore. What’s the one thing you regret more than anything? Things I wrote to Jason in letters after the breakup. I would literally give a limb (no, I'm not exaggerating) to take it back. There are times I actually do wonder if we would've gotten back together if I wasn't just... a bitter and ridiculously hurt fuck that took it all out on him. Do you like vanilla? Yes. Do you own a bean bag chair? No. I actually do want one for my extra room/"office," though, to read on. Have you kissed any friends on your Facebook? Yeah. Do you get snow where you live? Occasionally, but it's very rarely a lot. What’s your favorite flavor of Doritos? Cool Ranch. Do you ever worry about what the world will be like when you have kids? Good thing I ain't havin' 'em. Have you ever seen a hippo in person? Yes. Do you like the band A Skylit Drive? I've actually only heard their "Love The Way You Lie" cover, which I do like. Have you ever been to any professional sports games? Yeah, with my dad. What’s the most boring sport to watch? Golf. But I don't particularly enjoy any. Do you like lip rings on the opposite sex? MHMMMMMMMMMMMMM. If you suddenly went deaf, what would be your most missed sound? Music. Would you rather have a poodle or a Rottweiler? If I actually wanted a dog, a Rottweiler. Which hurts the most, physical or emotional pain? Emotional, for sure. Would you rather visit a zoo or an art museum? Zoo. Would you ever consider getting back together with any of your exes? I know damn well I'd say yes to Jason in a heartbeat. Literally before even getting to know the current him. That's how emotionally attached I am to him, even with the trauma. I'd get back together with Sara if/when we both are more stable emotionally and with clear direction, which is mostly on my end now. I also don't think I'd be ready until one of us is able to move for the other. Is there a certain quote you live by? No. Do you have any tattoos? I have some, but not nearly enough. :( Are you friends with the last person you kissed? She's my bestie! :') Green or purple grapes? I don't really have much of a preference, so long as they're crisp. What is your ringtone? Just something that came with the phone. If someone gave you $1,000 to burn a butterfly over a candle, would you? Fuck no. What is something you wish you had more of? Adventure, for one. Have you ever trusted someone too much? JASON. HOLY FUCK. It was FACT to me that we would, could, never break up. It just... wasn't possible in my head. It was like breaking the laws of the world. When he told me he loved me and would never leave, I believed that shit as if it was God himself promising that. I've never and will never trust someone like that ever again, because it wasn't healthy in the slightest. Do you sleep with your window open? Noooo, that would freak me out. Have you ever kissed anyone with a lip ring? Yeah; Tyler had snakebites. Did you go to high school with your current best friend? No; we live in different states. Whose was the last funeral you attended? Ummm I'm actually not sure. Do you avoid using public restrooms? Yes. Do you like eggnog? Nooooo. Who is the person you dislike the most? It's so fucking stupid... I know it is STILL the girl Jason dated after me. I don't even think they're together anymore, so why the fuck does it matter? I know NOTHING about this poor girl that just found someone she really liked and got dumped FOR THE SAME REASON AS ME. It shouldn't fucking matter, at all, but it still does in my head. Do you take part in paying the bills for your household? No, because I don't have an income. What is your favourite way to eat rice? As pork fried rice. What is the longest relationship you’ve ever been in? Over 3 1/2 years with Jason. Do you currently have any alarms set? No. How many cars can fit in your driveway? Barely even two. What was the first television show you were obsessed with? Pokemon. Do you eat chili when you get a hotdog, or do you like it plain? I don't like chili. Would you ever tell your mom about the things you’ve done sexually? Not EVERYTHING, no. I wouldn't tell her anything at all unless she asked. I don't like talking about that stuff. Have you ever been in a car wreck? Yes. Has anyone ever told you that they think you have ADHD? Yes, which was absolutely, utterly ridiculous. Has anyone ever called you a sociopath before? No. Has anyone ever taken your own clothes off you before? Yes. Is there someone you want to kiss right now? Probably always will. -_- Have you ever had a real tea party? Or been to one? Ha ha no, but my little sister used to love to have little ones with her Disney princesses plastic tea set. She would always ask Mom or me to have one with her. Have you been called a tease? Only playfully. Did you kiss the last person you really wanted to kiss? Yes. Would you ever go to a protest or be involved in a protest? So long as it was peaceful, yes. When playing rock, paper, scissors, which do you usually pick? Scissors. Have you ever tried to write a book? Yes, when I was younger. Have you ever been hit by a chunk of hail? No. Is it true that if you don’t love yourself, you can’t love another? Absofuckinglutely not. I'm proof of that. That idea is such bullshit. Do you share a bed with anyone? Just my cat. Who is one very unique celebrity/musician/whatever that you love? MARKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK. Could you handle babysitting two small children at once, such as two children under three years old? OH FUCK NO. Would you say that people consider you a major flirt? Definitely not. Do any of your friends have children? Yes. Would you rather cry in public or make someone else cry in public? I would FAR rather cry myself. I would feel so, so bad for making someone else cry, not even just in public. Would you rather re-live today forever or not live? Not live. Would you rather be just rich or rich and famous? Just rich. Who was the last person of the opposite sex to be in your bedroom? My nephew, I believe. He and Aubree wanted to see the snake. What’s your favourite kind of Cap’N Crunch? The "All Berries" one. What is your favourite Pepsi product? Mountain Dew. Is the computer you’re using yours? Yes. Do you get upset when a dog jumps on you? Not at all. I got used to that, and besides, it's cute to see them so excited. Is there a video or computer game that you can get lost in for hours? World of Warcraft, sometimes. I usually play it daily, but there are some days where I just am not interested in it. What do you like on your pizza? Meats and/or jalapenos. Do you get breadsticks with your pizza? Mom usually gets 'em, yeah. Did you ever have a waterbed? Yeah. Not one anyone slept on regularly, but just like, a plastic one or whatever the material was to sleep in if someone was staying over. What toy from your childhood do you miss? I wish I didn't get rid of my big crocodile toy that I was obsessed with. :'( He was like the main character in the world I made up for him and his family. Have you ever been to a rock concert? Yeah. \m/ What is your religion? None. Do you like listening to love songs? Meh, I have to be in the mood, plus it depends on the song. A lot of them trigger me. What is one meal that you like to eat while sick? I'm nervous to eat when I'm sick, so I mostly just have saltine crackers and ginger ale. Have you ever fed bread to ducks or geese? Yeah, when I was a kid and didn't know it was bad for them and the water. I never would now. The name of the last board game that you played? I think it was "Sorry!" with the kids. Has anyone ever commented on your weight? I mean, doctors, but not in a judgmental, belittling way. Just in a way that expressed concern for my health. Have you ever thought about joining the military? NOOOOOOOOOO. Have you ever felt like you were going out of your mind? Yes. And I don't mean that as an exaggeration; I believe I've literally qualified as insane at a point after the breakup. I was so fucking delusional and desperate and just going in circles. Are you ever jealous of happy couples? Meh, sometimes. Lately, who has spent the most time on your mind? Take a guess. .-. It's been pretty bad lately. Do you ever feel like someone would be disappointed to see your body or are you comfortable with your body enough where you don’t think that? I have a HORRIBLE body image. My body fucking disgusts me. I don't even like my mother seeing me get changed or anything like that. I don't want ANYBODY seeing me naked. What is your favorite flavor of Monster? I don't like any that I've ever had a sip of. Have you ever ran from the police? No. That never goes well. Do you have any trophies? Yeah. Do you like screamo music? No. What does your wallet look like? It's a checkered Harley Quinn one. Is there something nobody knows about you (and what)? Yes. Why would I share that if I don't want anyone to know? Does your family have a secret? No. Do you do anything to help the environment? We recycle. Mom also cuts up those plastic things that come with soda bottles packed together, as well as some other plastic wrappings. We are both disgusted by people who litter, so we avoid that. I also try to conserve water where I can, like by turning the sink off when I brush my teeth. There are other little things, but I wish I did even more. Do you like to take pictures of yourself? FUCK NO. It is so rare I do that nowadays. When/where are you most likely to sing? The car. Would you ever wish to explore a cave? OH MY GOD, PLEEEEEAAAAASE <3 What is the most illegal thing you’ve done? Pirated an expensive editing software, oops. :x Have you ever seen somebody get shot? LKJ;ALSDJFA;JWELKRJLW;Q NOOOOOOOOO.

[dahniwitchoflight]

Homesquared Chapter 4

I cheated and some of my chapter 4 thoughts leaked into the chapter 3 post lol

Mostly about the pretty obvious Garden of Eden metaphor Dirk is for some reason setting up for himself and Rose as Adam and Eve

and I was about to say which begs the question of what the heck role Terezi is supposed to play as but then it’s very obviously as the Snake in the Garden

Terezi is very much just barely holding back some irritation towards how Dirk is treating Rose, but she’s also very intelligent and is aware of How much Dirk sees/knows and controls about their situation, so she’s probably leveraging her powers over Mind as much as possible in order to stay hidden in plain sight from Dirk’s narrative

and she does so in a way that is one of Dirk’s only blindspots - How Mind and other people have an effect in the determination of the Soul/Heart

By acting in a manner and doing things in a way that aligns with his expectations of her, he assumes and pigeonholes her into a type of character and bases his predictions of her behaviors off of that archtype, never expecting her to act outside it, and when he sees her actions and thoughts and desires all align within it, never questions that it might one day change or was different all along. Dirk’s never really been good at reading other people, can’t see without the lens of “how would I do it” blinding him to things he would never think to do, a trap that he keeps falling into with his friends and one he’s probably trying to overcome by becoming Ultimate God Person/combining all perspectives into his own and uncovering blindspots like that

But right now Mind is the darkest thing in is corner still and I think he sort of knows that as well

Terezi walks the crazy wiggled line boundary between their two Souls that defines who each of them is, as expertly as a person on a tightrope, never wavering until she reaches her destination, at which point she’ll leap off of that line and leave Dirk scrambling to try and calculate her next move/who exactly is she/what her goals are, since’s it won’t be following the clearly defined Heart boundary he’s used to drawing his plans by, so she’ll have to choose the perfect moment in order to entice Eve of the Apple of Revelation once more, heck, she might even do that so sneakily that she gets Adam to take a bite as well, since as soon as Rose bites it she’ll have an ally with her against Dirk.

For God created the Serpent originally as well, so thus why did he not imagine it’s betrayal and prevent it before it could have happened? Or else why did he create something he knew was going to betray? Eden was a paradise, so why intentionally create Evil in that paradise?

If Eve corrupted Adam and the Snake corrupted Eve, Who exactly corrupted the first Serpent? That’s something that the bible never goes into really, at least in Genesis, except to say that the Snake was punished for it’s action to forever crawl the earth eating the dust of man’s heel, punishing all snakes, as Adam and Eve’s punishment punished all humans

(Later I think the bible would try to say that the Snake was the Devil all along, but then why punish the Snake and all it’s progeny for it? If it was the Devil’s doing that undid Adam and Eve then why punish them for the Devil’s actions they would have no way of guarding against or now way of knowing it was a lie? Was it not God’s failure? The Walls of the Garden of Eden were supposed to protect his perfect creation afterall)

Gotta say though I really Rose’s design

I would call her Evil Rose, but she things she does she does in ignorance, not really out of evil, it would be like calling Eve evil for listening to the Snake when she was purposefully blinded to it’s intentions by her creation by God.

Once again we get this idea of Knowledge and Choice affecting eachother, Well I say again but really I’ve been watching RWBY a lot lately and the idea that you can’t make a real choice without real knowledge comes up a lot in it’s mythos and it is really applicable here

Terezi’s design as well is incorporating a lot more Red, she really dug those red shoes aesthetic but gave it her own twist, she’s got a red tie, her ever present red cane and glasses and even in that shot of her her horns look more red and solid as well, even though i know it’s just the lighting

So really digging the whole Terezi is the Apple/Snake in the Garden metaphor, she has also been having that tendency to just snack on random plants, intentionally for her own or Dirk’s unaware benefit or not, it’ll make it that much easier to her actions of later betrayal to be seen as “in character and therefore expected and not dangerous” instead of pre-meditated and actually dangerous, to him

And then they start waxing about their various philosophical babble, Dirk seems really determined to also use this to try and figure out that whole problem of how other’s affect the self, he’s trying at least, I think, in his own way. But not for a good reason, not so that he can have a real understanding of that, but because he wants to use it to guard his own self even further

He’s maybe not using Rose here as an equal player, but more like a wall to bounce his own ideas off of and test them, like using a neural learning AI to test ideas or an actual literal wall in a game of table tennis.

Heh, I got a chuckle out of the fact that Dirk’s answer to the Ship of Theseus problem is “why does we even have to remove and replace parts of it, why not keep the original pristine and eternal?”

because it’s funny how avoidant of the problem that answer is, man he really really is uncomfortable with the idea of changing the self in any way

“He's avoiding the question again. It's amazing how one can technically have the maximum amount of metaphysical personal awareness possible, and still not notice these sorts of things. “

SAYS LITERALLY YOU but honestly this is just more fuel to the idea that maybe he can make a genuine connection and understanding with a person if he can recognize how he and her are the same

“It's stuff like this that makes me wonder sometimes whether there's anything about myself that I'm missing. Then I throw that wonder in the garbage can and turn the incinerate setting on.”

but nah he’s still firmly denying that possibility, he’s almost actually equating his trauma of self erosion with the idea that making friends and understanding others changes the self in subtle ways as well

He can’t even stand the thought of his own close friends influencing him to be different in small subtle ways or adjusting his behavior for others because that STILL counts as a change of self that he didn’t authorize or choose. 

Also can’t help but by be reminded of my wacky little fan made Gamma session I made forever ago by them using the name Delta-Detritus and basically be like alright, what if we do SBURB again but BETTER/worse this time?? Which is essentially the thread that most Homestuck fix it fanfiction tends to go towards

Though I am curious now

We got A/Alpha for Alternia which is based of off “Alternate” introducing the trolls as an alternate race to Human Earth

B/Beta for Beforus which is based of off “Before” introducing the planet of trolls that came before the first group

And then Earth C, now, there isn’t a letter C, the third in the greek alphabet is actually Γγ Gamma, (and the fourth is  ΔδDelta)

So I wonder what “name” Earth C really has?

It feels like it should either start with C OR with GA, as Alternia starts with the AL of Alpha, Beforus starts with the BE of Beta and same with Deltritus and Delta

As as “Another for Earth” Gaia isn’t a terrible option all things considered, now you just have to make it sound like a word which describes it’s use to the narrative

It’s is a very split place, having the two timelimes Meat and Candy associated with it, as well it does feel extremely mercurial in nature, being a sort of crosswords between Homestuck and Homesquared proper, and really exists in a place between stories, an ephemeral epilogue of sorts

really a merger of Gaia and Gemini feels the most appropriate here, like Gamini, also the word mini stands out in there as well, knowing that this Planet is sort of on a lesser status compared to the other three since it’s not going to be the birthplace of a session, also has the word Game in it

But then people will wonder why it doesn’t begin with a C since it still is called Earth C so *shrug*  

Honestly C K and G sounds are all very similar in the tongue, so maybe it’s both Camini and Gamini at the same time OH FUCK CA AND GA, ONE HAS CALLIOPE ONE HAS GAMZEE? SHIT IM ONTO SOMETHING (no im not)

I like Camini now better, it comes from a place of Gamma/Gamzee/Game/Gemini but ends up being more about the twinned Ca’s that were used to, Caliborn and Calliope and fits with the establish Earth C theme

So there you go, Earth C’s actual planet name should be Camini 

which also works because: 

Camini

home stove/furnace

smelting/foundry furnace, forge

vent (underground fires)

according to the latin language this word also has multiple meanings and many Irons in the Fire, I think the fandom will appreciate the name haha

Yeah both races are definitely going to both be playing one game of SBURB, despite what Dirk is intending, the pic does make it really clear

There’s something to say how Dirk seems to be represented by Purple and Rose by Orange in this here and then how all of the cave is a backdrop of that same purple.

Look at even the controllers on the machine having purple and orange knobs, even being solely on Dirk’s side of the image

I guess Dirk intends himself to be the force behind Derse, since that’s the force that always “wins” and Rose fitting in her place as the ultimate loser (since of course Dirk will want to win his own game) but also to be like Skaia the force of Prospit

So Dirk intends to be a whisperer like a horrorterror, choosing to manifest his influence that way, while Rose will give visions to her race like Skaia?

makes sense honestly

but again even with the themes of duality, the theme of the trio is bright and center in that piece of ultimately technology, the third influence hidden unseen in the furthest corner behind the curtain of snakelike tubes and wires that Dirk will not expect to interfere, or even have the capability to interfere, Terezi

heck it’s even in the buttons next to the controls being colored red blue and green

there’s so much duality in homestick with destructive red and creative green but then there’s also always been that mercurial breathy blue as the third

God, tell me that doesn’t look like a baby proto horrorterror

I can hear it raging it’s revenge against it’s cruel human creators even as I type

No wonder they become associated with destruction, they know theyre the pawns of two heartless cruel god children playing at life like it was a game

Rose you MUST KNOW how bad this is, it’s not a theoretical discussion anymore, that things exists and is alive and has feelings and you did it to that

and that thing is technically a Dirk too

Is this how Dirk get’s his revelation? Or downfall? As his Heart is unwittingly invaded by the horrified cacophanous screams of his grotesque tortured progeny crying out for his blood?

His end unintentionally ending up as the thing he feared most? Inner self destruction caused by his own sharp and bloody splinters turned and pointed inward, tearing himself apart with the pieces of his own Soul? Caused by his own Hubris?

I will say typing that all out is pretty good

I’m just sad the same will probably happen to Rose too though ): Maybe she’ll make careful more humane species? Something that has the potential to exist and be happy as it’s own creature while Dirk just creates monstrosities forever in conflict with Rose’s race?

They’ll each be the master of their own eventually destinies I suppose but Homestuck seems to have a good track record so far of the Ultimate Female Creator being out to protect the happiness of the children that exist in her creation while the Ultimate Male God just ends up destroying everything in his

[puffwriter1998]

The Things We Let Go CH. 2

Summary: Addison goes to stay with her friends, The Abbotts, and they make their way to the world cup to meet the Weasley gang.

Character Pairings: Fred Weasley X New Character

Word Count: 5.7K

A/N: I've been having so much fun writing this. Some dialog is borrowed from the original story.

Godric’s Hollow was a lovely little village that was made up of a humble square containing just a post office, a pub, and a church. A few muggle and magical dwellings alike surrounded the square, but there couldn’t have been too many people living there. As the Abbotts led me towards their house, we passed what appeared to be a war memorial in the center of the square. As we drew closer, it began to transform into statue of three people. A man with unkempt hair and eyeglasses, a woman with kind eyes and flowing hair, and an infant boy, perched atop the woman’s lap.

I paused to look at it, and the Abbott’s continued walking ahead. I knew this must be Harry Potter and his parents. James and Lilly potter had been killed here the night that He Who Must Not Be Named tried to kill little Harry. I’d heard the story many times before, but standing here so close to where it happened, broke my heart for the boy, who I now knew looked so much like his father, even more. 

“C’mon Addie!” Charlie called over her shoulder from a little ways ahead. I tore my gaze from the family, frozen in one last eternal moment together, and hurried to catch up; pulling my trunk behind me.

We strolled a little ways more until we reached the Abbott’s house. It wasn’t small, but it wasn’t exactly grand either. It sat beside a wide garden, and had an even bigger yard surrounded by tall hedges. A few chickens pecked at the ground beside the front walk. As we approached, the front door swung open and Hannah, Charlie’s younger sister, bounded out to meet us. 

“Mum! Dad! I’d begun to worry you’d miss supper,” she called as she came. 

Hannah was about to enter her fourth year at Hogwarts, just one year younger than Charlie and I. The three of us were sorted into Hufflepuff when we first began Hogwarts, which is how I met Charlie. There are only a handful of girls in each year per house. It was inevitable that you would become close with those in which you lived and shared your classes with. I had also found that in general, the Hufflepuffs and the Gryffindors got on pretty well. Unless we were playing each other in quidditch, we usually cheered each other on. Most of the people I considered my friends were in these two houses. The Ravenclaws and the Slytherins tended to be more of our within school rivals. This was just the way things were. 

Hannah and I exchanged hugs and words of welcome in front of the house before Mr. and Mrs. Abbott ushered us inside for dinner. I had never been in a home that operated primarily off the use of magic, and it was mystical.

As we entered I saw what looked like an entire staff of invisible people preparing our dinner. Knives lifted themselves off counters and were chopping vegetables on cutting boards. A large pot on the stove was stirring itself as various spices rose from their wooden cupboards and shook themselves into it. The dishes in the sink were washing themselves, a soapy sponge circling around a plate as if a hand that we couldn’t see was holding it there. Other dishes flew from cupboards and took their place on a long dining table in a room off of the kitchen. I ducked as a pile of napkins arose from a drawer and flew past my head.

 I grinned to myself at the wonder of it all. Imagine being able to wave your wand and all your housework would be done. One day I would be able to prepare a meal with the flick of my wrist, or clean up a mess more quickly than it was made. Until I was seventeen however, it was strictly forbidden for me to use magic outside of school. They didn’t want untrained wizards running around drawing attention to the fact that an entire magical community existed and operated alongside the non-magical one. 

“This all must be so new for you,” said Mrs. Abbott as we sat around the table. “I remember when I visited a magical family for the first time.” 

“I guess I just never thought about using magic for all of these things,” I replied. “You were able to cook an entire meal without even being home.” 

“It all does seem a bit strange doesn’t it? It’s been a long time, but this was all very strange to me once too. And it will only ever get more impressive.” She chuckled. “Watch this.” 

She raised her wand and waved it a sweeping motion. Suddenly out of the kitchen floated several large platters with the most decadent array of food I had ever seen laid out for a family meal. There was a plate stacked full of porch chops, and a basin of soup containing an assortment of vegetables and what appeared to be lamb meat. Mounds of mashed potatoes were on another dish that was now settling on the table next to a heaping pile of sprouts. A spoon dove into a bowl of peas that bumped into a plate full of treacle tarts on its way down to the flat surface. 

My mouth hung slightly open as everything in front of us became still, “Wow.”

 Mr. Abbott chuckled lightly and began scooping servings of everything onto his plate. 

“This all looks amazing Mrs. Abbott, thank you,” I said as I began to do the same. 

“You’re very welcome my dear, but please, call me Susan,” she patted my arm. 

Dinner passed quickly and fairly quietly as we all stuffed ourselves with all of the wonderful things Mrs. Abbott had prepared for us by magic. We did learn, through a rather clumsy owl that crashed through the window in the middle of supper, that Hannah’s friend Hermione Granger, was staying with the Weasley family and would be attending the World Cup with them. This left Mr. Abbott with an extra ticket to the world cup, that he tried adamantly to get Mrs. Abbott to accept, to no avail. 

“No, no,” she insisted at the end of the meal, “I think I will be much more comfortable here. I’ll be waiting for you when you get back.” 

“But Sus-“ Mr. Abbott interjected. 

“Ted,” she said softly, “please don’t insist that I go camping for however long this match might go on. Even if it is with magic. Really, I’ll have a much better time hearing about it from all of you when you get back.” 

Mr. Abbott conceded. They sent the three of us immediately up to bed, saying that we’d need to be up well before dawn tomorrow to be on our way. Charlie, Hannah, and I climbed the stairs with full stomachs and heavy eyelids. It couldn’t have been more than a few hours since I’d cried with my mother at home in the parlor, but it felt like a lifetime. That’s usually what happened when I made my way back into the magical world at the end of each summer. However, for a reason I couldn’t put my finger on, it made my heart a little bit heavier this time.

~

The next day, we had been roused from our beds in the early morning, and followed Mr. Abbott sleepily into the front yard. I had dressed in a plain muggle clothes at his instructions, and I chuckled to see him in nurses scrubs when he led us out the door. I wondered if Mrs. Abbott had tried to inform him that these were definitely not everyday muggle clothes, or if she had simply laughed to herself as I had when he’d dressed that morning. 

We loaded two small tents and a few days’ worth of clothes into backpacks that now hung off of our shoulders as we took ahold of Mr. Abbott’s arms. He warned the three of us to close our eyes again, and Apparated us to the site of the cup. The second time Apparating was not much more pleasant than the first, and I wondered how this could become someone’s preferred method of transportation, especially when flying on a broom was so exhilarating. 

We appeared on the edge of what seemed to be a deserted misty field in the middle of absolutely nowhere, with two sleepy-eyed wizards standing in front of us. “Good morning!” Mr. Abbott chimed to the pair. They had both, like Mr. Abbott, tried poorly to dress like muggles. One wore a tweed suit with rubber boots that came up over his thighs. The other wore a traditional Scottish kilt and a poncho. 

“Oh hello Ted,” yawned the one in the kilt, “Well rested are you?” 

“Went to bed nice and early last night,” replied Mr. Abbott, “Wanted the girls to be wide awake for the excitement today.” 

“We’ve been here all night, about time we got some sleep, I reckon. Here, let me find your campsite,” He unrolled a long piece of parchment and consulted it. “Ah, Abbott, here we are. Just a quarter mile’s walk in that direction, it’ll be the first field you’ll see. The site manager is a muggle called Mr. Roberts.” 

“Thanks, Basil,” said Mr. Abbott and he ushered us in the direction Basil had indicated before. 

As we walked through the tall, dew filled grass, Mr. Abbott explained that the Ministry of Magic had arranged for people to arrive at staggering times throughout the week leading up to the cup so as to not draw too much attention. This was a muggle campground that would be housing the thousands of world cup attendees. 

I clutched Charlie’s arm as we made our way blindly through the mist. I was starting to wonder if we had even been going in the right direction when a quaint stone cottage beside an iron gate began to appear out of the haze. Beyond the gate, I could just begin to make out what looked like hundreds of tents going up the hillside towards the dark wood of the trees on the other side. 

Mr. Abbott led us up the path to the small cottage and waved at a man standing in the doorway. 

“Hello!” He called happily. “We’re looking for er- Mr. Roberts?” 

“That’d be me. S’pose you’ve got tents booked too?” 

“Yes sir, it should be two. Under the name Abbott, we booked them a few days ago.”

“Aye,” said the man called Mr. Roberts, consulting his own list, “Your space is going to be up by the wood there. Next to an odd looking bunch called Weasley. D’you know them? Seems like everyone here this weekend knows each other. Odd. Never had more than a handful of pre-bookings at once, now we’ve got hundreds. All dressed strangely and acting funny. Just odd,” he seemed to have remembered we were obviously a part of whatever gathering was happening here. “You’ll be here just the one night?” 

“That’s right just one,” said Mr. Abbott uneasily. 

“So you’ll be paying now, then?” asked Mr. Roberts. 

“Oh er- yes- certainly,” stuttered Mr. Abbott. 

“Oh Mr. Abbott won’t you let me?” I interjected, knowing it would seem odd to this muggle when Mr. Abbott was unfamiliar with money that is clearly from his own country. “My father gave me mug- er- money before I left home.” 

Mr. Abbott started to protest, but clearly thought better of it because he sighed and nodded. I counted out the correct bills from the envelope that I’d had in the pocket of my jeans, and handed them to Mr. Roberts. 

He then handed us a map of the campsite and watched us suspiciously as we left the cottage and made our way through the gate. Littered throughout the field were tents that for the most part gave the impression of muggles camping there. Some however were obviously magical; huge grandiose tents, some with multiple stories, and even one with live peacocks strutting about the entrance. No wonder Mr. Robert’s thought we were a strange bunch. 

As we neared the edge of the woods at the top of the hill, Mr. Abbott caught sight of Mr. Weasley and called out to him. “Arthur! Hello there mate!” 

“Ted!” laughed Arthur, “So good to see you! Are you our neighbors for the night?” 

“It seems that way! Glad it worked out too, Hannah was hoping to see Hermione and Ginny.” 

“Right! Yes, Molly had told me our girls were friends at school. The kids are all off getting firewood and water to start on breakfast.” Mr. Weasley’s eyes finally settled on me, “Forgive me, Ted, this isn’t one of yours is it?” 

“Oh no, she isn’t mine. This is Addison Morris; she’s in Charlotte’s year at Hogwarts,” said Mr. Abbott. 

“Pleased to meet you Mr. Weasley,” I said politely and reached out to shake his hand. 

“Same to you my dear! Who are your parents? Anyone I would know?” He asked. 

“Oh, no sir. My parents are muggles,” I normally wouldn’t have been so confident in telling a stranger my lineage. There are some people in the wizarding community who view blood status as the most important identifier of a person. He Who Must Not Be Named operated under a philosophy that magical blood should be left pure. Muggle-borns like me were, in his eyes, an abomination. I had spent enough time around Ginny Weasley however, to know that Mr. Weasley did not think this way. He found muggles absolutely fascinating. 

“Oh!” cried Mr. Weasley in excitement, “How lovely! I work in the misuse of muggle artifacts department at the ministry, you know. The muggle way of life is just so interesting to me. Please tell me, Addison, what exactly is the function of-“ 

“Forgive me Arthur,” Mr. Abbott interrupted, “but maybe the girls and I should work on getting settled just a bit before you jump into that.” 

“Ah. Right, yes. My apologies. I do get a bit carried away,” he turned to Hannah and Charlie, “It’s lovely to see you girls as well.” 

They both echoed “You too Mr. Weasley,” as we began to unpack our backpacks. After Mr. Abbott looked around and saw no sign of the muggle Mr. Roberts, he waved his wand over the two piles of poles and canvas and transformed them into two modest tents; earning himself a sharp look from Mr. Weasley. However, neither of them really looked big enough to comfortably hold two people, so I wondered how we would all be able to sleep. 

My worries were quickly soothed though, for as soon as I stuck my head in the flap, I knew one of these tents could have easily slept all of us and then some. The inside looked a bit like a large one room cabin. Several oversized bunk beds lined the walls, while a table and a small kitchen sat off to one side. Across the room on the other side was a doorway to what appeared to be a washroom complete with a toilet and sink. The whole place was decorated like a cozy cottage that my grandmother could have lived in. I shouldn’t have been in awe, with how much wonder the wizarding world threw at me on a regular basis, but I was. 

“We haven’t used these in ages,” said Mr. Abbott as he entered the tent behind the girls, “It’s a little dusty and dated but I suppose it’ll do.” 

“It’s wonderful,” I said in amazement. 

We unpacked our few belongings and settled in our bunks to wait on breakfast. Mr. Abbott had said he’d try to go move Mr. Weasley along a bit. I couldn’t help but wonder if Mr. Weasley had hoped to have a regular muggle camping trip, and Mr. Abbott kept cheating by using magic.

After as few minutes we were beginning to drift back to sleep on top of the covers of our temporary beds, when new voices and footsteps approached outside. 

“We’ve gotten the wood, Dad,” It was Ginny Weasley, “As long as I haven’t got any fake wands in here it should make a good fire.” 

“Dear sister,” said another voice that I knew to belong to one of the Weasley Twins, Fred or George, “why would we ever do something like that?” 

There was a chorus of laughter outside the tent, and I sat up on my bunk. Ginny was two years younger than me, only about to enter her third year at Hogwarts, but she was one of my closest friends. We’d met shortly after she began school, when a couple of older Slytherin boys had cornered me in an upstairs corridor, calling me Mudblood; a horrible word for muggle born people like me. A sentiment that echoed that of the terrible war that had ended barely 11 years prior. Ginny had been coming around the corner just as the word left the taller boy’s mouth. She’d shouted at them, and a rage, the likes of which I couldn’t imagine from an eleven year old girl, had emerged from her. After she was through giving them a piece of her mind, she’d taken me in her tiny little arms and let me cry. Then she had led me from the castle, down a narrow winding path, to the Hogwarts Game Keeper called Hagrid. Hagrid had sat and talked with us for hours and by the time we’d left, you’d have thought Ginny and I had been friends for years. 

I half-ran out of the tent and to the small circle where Mr. Abbott, Fred, George, and Ginny were sitting watching Mr. Weasley arrange the wood they’d brought into a pile to start a fire. 

“Addie!” Ginny jumped up off the large log she was sitting on and threw her arms around me.

“I’ve missed you,” I said, squeezing her hard, “How has your holiday been?” 

“Oh, you know, Mum and I stuck in a house full of men for weeks on end. Was yours alright?” said Ginny. 

“Just trapped in a house full of Muggles all summer. I’m sure you can imagine,” I said as I released her. 

“Actually, I can’t,” she laughed. “Were Charlie and Hannah in there with you? Why don’t you go get them. As soon as Ron, Harry and Hermione get back, Dad’s going to try to cook us breakfast. Not sure how that’ll go over though.” 

I stuck my head back in the tent and told the girls that Ginny was outside and Hermione would be returning soon. The two of them leapt out of bed as well and came outside to join everyone. Ginny had returned to her seat, but left space on her right for me to sit. The twins were sitting cross legged on the ground to the right of the log, and Mr. Abbott had made room for his daughters on an ornate wooden bench across from them. I suspected that he had used magic to erect this place to sit, and maybe even again to make it wide enough for three of them, something Mr. Weasley was obviously not willing to do. 

I settled in next to Ginny and watched Mr. Weasley open a book of matches that he must have acquired with a scenario like this in mind. On his first few attempts, he simply let the match fall out of his excited hands rather than strike hard enough to light them. Eventually he was able to get the match to light, but as soon as it was ablaze, Mr. Weasley would squeal with delight and proceed to drop it on the ground. 

“He’ll be at this for ages,” the twin closest to me, I wasn’t sure which it was, leaned in and whispered. 

“I could help…” I offered. 

“No, this’ll be a laugh I guarantee,” whispered the other twin, leaning around his brother. “I’m George by the way, I think I’ve seen you around Hogwarts.” 

“Don’t listen to him, I’m George,” interjected the first twin. My face burned red as I realized I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to tell them apart. I’d have to be sure I was careful not to use their names and look silly. They were both tall, with the burning red hair that was the trademark of a Weasley, and large curious brown eyes. Light freckles dotted their faces. In unbuttoned, long sleeve flannel shirts with white cotton t-shirts underneath, they were sort of handsome. I wasn’t sure how I hadn’t noticed it before. I’d seen them plenty around school, they were the two trouble makers in the year above me. Argus Filch, the school caretaker, all but had their pictures up in prison style wanted posters outside his office. 

“Knock it off you two,” said Ginny. “Don’t mind them Addie, that one’s Fred,” she indicated the one sitting closest to me, “and that one’s George,” shifting her arm to point at the one who’d said he was George the first time. 

“Well I’m Addison Morris, you can just call me Addie though,” I said to them. 

“Very pleased to make your acquaintance,” said Fred, who I’d noted was in a deep green colored flannel while George’s was blue. “D’you want a sweet?” He reached in his pocket and pulled out a fist full of brightly colored candies. 

“Fred!” Ginny reached across me and batted his hand away. “I thought Mum had you empty your pockets before we left The Burrow.” 

“That woman,” Fred grinned. 

“Yeah, she ought to know well enough by now that we’ve always got a trick or two up our sleeves,” said George with a wink. 

“Go on Morris,” Fred challenged, “try one.” 

“Take my advice,” Ginny said rolling her eyes, “Don’t eat anything if these two are offering it to you.” 

The twins laughed and Fred stowed the sweets back in his pocket. Mr. Weasley continued to try to get a fire lit for ages as we all sat and watched in amusement. Every few minutes I could feel Fred’s eyes on me but I refused to turn and meet them. I was a bit uncomfortable with male attention, after my first attempt at a dating had gone so poorly. In my third year, I’d developed a crush on Cedric Diggory. He was a handsome Hufflepuff who was now about to enter his sixth at Hogwarts. He was a very sweet boy, but quickly let me know that he thought I was a bit too young for him. At the time, I was mortified. My face turned a deep shade of scarlet every time I was in the same room a Cedric, my crush long gone by this point, but the embarrassment of the public rejection was something I couldn’t shake. 

Right before I got to the point where I was going to have to get up and find something to do to avoid his gaze, Harry, Ron and Hermione walked up carrying a kettle and a couple of saucepans full of water. 

“You’ve been ages,” called George as they approached the circle. 

“Met a few people,” said Ron, shaking out his own mop of red hair and setting the water down. “You not got that fire started yet?” 

“Dad’s having fun with the matches,” chuckled Fred, and all of our heads turned back to Mr. Weasley just in time to see him light yet another match and say “Oops!” as he dropped it in surprise. 

“Come here, Mr. Weasley,” Hermione rushed forward and began helping him properly construct and light the fire. 

Harry had finally gotten a chance to look around the small circle and noticed there were more people than when he left. He gave me a small smile and wave before turning to sit on the ground next to Hannah and Charlie. He knows Hannah a little bit better than he knows me, but I also wondered if Ginny sometimes made him a bit uncomfortable. It was no secret that Ginny had been immediately taken with Harry the first time she’d seen him, before she even attended Hogwarts. So far, it didn’t appear that Harry shared the same feelings.

Mr. Weasley and Hermione were finally able to get the fire lit, and all the proper greetings and introductions were exchanged. In the hour or so that it took the fire to get hot enough to cook over, Mr. Weasley gave all of us a rundown on the ministry officials that we saw passing through the area. I was brilliantly absorbed, having never heard so much about the workings of the magical government, so much so that I stopped noticing the glances at me that Fred stole. 

Just when Mr. Weasley and Mr. Abbott began cooking eggs and sausages over the blaze, three more people, who I assumed must be Weasleys as well, strolled out of the trees towards us. I recognized the youngest of the three, Percy, who had been Head Boy the previous year at Hogwarts. Ginny had told me in a letter over the Holidays that he’d began working at the ministry and was making everyone else miserable with his endless talk about cauldron bottom thickness or importation of faulty quills. 

The other two were older. One exceptionally tall, with his red hair swept back into a ponytail and an earring dangling from his ear. The other was shorter and stockier, much like Mr. Weasley, but his freckles covered so much of his face that he almost looked like he had a tan. I assumed this must be Bill and Charlie, Ginny’s eldest brothers who’d already left home. Seeing them all here in one place did make me feel bad for her, having six older brothers was sure to be a bit much under one roof. 

“Just Apparated, Dad,” called Percy as they grew closer. “Ah, excellent, lunch!” 

We tore into the food that Mr. Weasley had cooked surprisingly well considering he didn’t use any magic. I was scraping the last bit of egg off my plate, when Mr. Weasley stood suddenly and waved at a man walking towards us. “Aha! The man of the moment! Ludo!” 

The man called Ludo was dressed in full quidditch robes with a picture of a wasp plastered across his chest. I could imagine that once upon a time these robes had fit him well, but now they were stretched across a belly that surely hadn’t been there in his Quidditch playing days. 

“Ahoy there!” yelled Ludo excitedly. “Arthur, old man, what a day, eh? Could we have asked for more perfect weather? A cloudless night coming… and hardly a hiccough in the arrangements…. Not much for me to do!” 

Percy lunged forward with his arm outstretched, obviously hoping to shake this man’s hand. He must’ve held an important position within the ministry. Mr. Weasley went around and introduced everyone in the circle to Ludo, ending with Mr. Abbott and me. However, I could tell Ludo had stopped listening as he did a slight double take when Mr. Weasley had rattled off Harry’s full name.

“Everyone,” Mr. Weasley ignored Ludo’s amazement at being face to face with The Boy Who Lived, “this is Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports. It’s thanks to him that we’ve got such good tickets kids-“

Mr. Bagman grinned and made a waving motion at the Weasley kids and Harry as if to say it had been no big deal. 

“Fancy a flutter on the match, Arthur? Ted?” he asked, raising an eyebrow and looking between the two men. He shook the pockets of his robes and I could hear the jingling of wizard money. “I’ve already got Roddy Pontner betting me Bulgaria will score first – I offered him nice odds, considering Ireland’s front three are the strongest I’ve seen in years – and little Agatha Timms has put up half shares in her eel farm on a week-long match.” 

“Oh.. go on then,” conceded Mr. Weasley, I wondered if only to shut him up. “Let’s see… a Galleon on Ireland to win?” 

“Just a Galleon?” Mr. Bagman looked slightly disappointed but recovered quickly, “Ted, d’you want to go in with him? Make it a bit more interesting?” 

Mr. Abbott looked a bit flustered but managed to say, “No, no, I’d better not. My wife would have my neck if she knew.” 

“Very well, very well.. any other takers?” Mr. Bagman looked around to the rest of us. 

“They’re a bit young to be gambling-“ stammered Mr. Weasley. 

“We’ll bet thirty-seven Galleons, fifteen Sickles, three Knuts,” blurted Fred from the ground beside me as he and George quickly counted out their money, “that Ireland wins – but Viktor Krum gets the Snitch.” 

I was shocked that the Weasley boys even had that kind of money, it wasn’t a secret that raising seven children had left the family without a lot of extra money. Ginny rolled her eyes but didn’t seem surprised. 

“Boys,” Mr. Weasley cautioned, “that’s all your savings… If your mother knew-“ 

But Mr. Bagman would hear nothing of it. The boys finished their transaction with the man and George tucked the slip of parchment he was given carefully into his pocket. For the sake of their poor Mum I hoped that Fred and George would win their bet. I didn’t want to see my team lose, but I didn’t want the boys to lose their life savings either. 

Turning back to Mr. Weasley, Mr. Bagman said cheerfully, “Couldn’t do me a brew, I suppose? I’m keeping an eye out for Barty Crouch. My Bulgarian opposite number’s making difficulties, and I can’t understand a word he’s saying. Barty’ll be able to sort it out. He speaks about a hundred and fifty languages.” 

“Mr. Crouch?” said Percy, whose ears had perked up at this new name. “He speaks over two hundred! Mermish and Gobbledegook and Troll…” 

“Anyone can speak Troll,” Fred scoffed from beside me. “All you have to do is point and grunt.” 

Before I could help myself, a loud giggle escaped my lips. I quickly clamped my hands over my mouth and felt blood rushing to my face. Percy threw a nasty look to Fred and me, but turned to stoke the fire angrily to bring the kettle to a boil. Fred grinned at me and I could have sworn I saw him wink before I turned away in embarrassment. 

A few moments later, as if he’d heard us talking about him, the man called Barty Crouch, whom Ginny had told me was Percy’s boss at the Ministry, had Apparated between the Weasley’s tents. He was an older man, who was tidy from head to toe. From the part of his hair, to his crisp suit and tie, all the way down to his polished black dress shoes. He could have passed for a muggle working at my father’s firm. Quite the opposite of Mr. Bagman. 

He began trying to gather Mr. Bagman for an urgent ministry matter, but was unable to complete his request before Percy had finished handing out cups of tea and turned to offer one to him. 

“Mr. Crouch!” squeaked Percy, bending into an awkward bow. “Would you like a cup of tea?” 

“Oh,” replied Mr. Crouch, looking slightly surprised to see him here. “Yes – thank you, Weatherby.” 

Fred and George choked on their own tea, Ginny nearly fell off her log, I spit my tea back into my cup, and Ron and Harry didn’t even attempt to hide their snickers. Percy sent another nasty glance, but this time extending it around the entire circle. A little pink in the ears, he turned and busied himself with the tea kettle. 

“I expect you’ll both be glad when this is all over?” Mr. Abbott asked, gesturing to the chaos that surrounded our small circle. Most of the wizards in attendance clearly were not as serious about blending in as Mr. Weasley and Mr. Crouch. Many of the surrounding families were struggling to keep their children in line, if not blatantly using magic themselves. 

Mr. Bagman however looked surprised. “Glad?! Don’t know when I’ve had more fun… Still, it’s not as though we haven’t got anything to look forward to, eh, Barty? Eh? Plenty left to organize, eh?” 

Mr. Crouch cocked an eyebrow, “We agreed not to make the announcement until all the details—” 

“Oh details!” cried Mr. Bagman, waving Mr. Crouch away. “They’ve signed haven’t they? They’ve agreed, haven’t they? I bet you anything these kids’ll know soon enough anyway. I mean, it’s happening at Hogwarts—” 

I had only been half paying attention to what I assumed to be small talk about the ministry until Mr. Bagman said Hogwarts. What was happening at school? 

Mr. Crouch cut Mr. Bagman off and insisted that they must go and attend to the business that had brought the both of them to our campsite. They excused themselves, but not before Barty had the chance to call Percy “Weatherby” once more while thanking him for the tea. 

“What’s happening at Hogwarts, Mr. Weasley? Dad?” asked Hannah, as soon as the pair had left. 

“Yeah, what were they going on about?” called Ron from the ground near her. 

“You’ll find out soon enough,” smiled Mr. Weasley. 

“It’s classified information, until such time as the Ministry decides to release it,” interjected Percy smugly. “Mr. Crouch was quite right not to disclose it.” 

“Oh shut up, Weatherby,” I muttered. Fred laughed from beside me and poked me in the ribs. “Good one, Morris,” he said softly enough that only I could hear. 

My stomach twisted into knots. Not the unpleasant kind that come the morning of a big exam or before your parents lecture you about the marks on your report card, but the kind you get before a big quidditch match or before the trip you’ve been looking forward to for half a year. The hopeless romantics of the world might have even called them butterflies. 

I tried to shake the feeling off, I was there to watch my favorite team play my favorite sport. I wasn’t here to develop another silly crush on someone older than me, something that was sure to end in my heartache. But sitting there, stealing glances at Fred from the corner of my eye and feeling him do the same, I feared it was already too late.

[jackalopingintothevoid]

Observing Holidays Part 4

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 TBA

John felt odd.

Not bad. He didn’t think it was a serious medical issue. Just odd. Or, well, not just odd but... primarily odd.

There was... pressure, inside his chest. But it wasn’t... it wasn’t an inward tightening, like a knot. It was an outward pressure, like something was inside his chest that was too big for it. Not too too big, it didn’t hurt, it was just enough that it was noticeable. In fact, the pressure didn’t feel uncomfortable at all.

He just felt... full.

Not so full that he struggled with lunch, of course. It was one thing to come to terms with the fact that genuine meat was readily available so soon after the war (it had been years, why couldn’t he remember it had been years?) but the spread before him now? That was a whole cooked turkey, juicy and bursting with flavour from the stuffing mix it was cooked with and strips of bacon wrapped around it. Roast potatoes, crispy coatings from his oil distribution, fluffy innards and so satisfying; roast parsnips, equally crispy outside but soft and sweet in the middle; steamed carrots cut into discs, with optional melting butter, that he could scoop a dozen of into his mouth at once; steamed sprouts, which regrettably had a very strong flavour but went down quickly; bread sauce, a thick, creamy, mild dollop that he’d happily eat a bowlful of; cranberry sauce, sweet and sharp, complimenting the salty bacon-infused turkey; two different types of gravy, one thicker and richer than the other; and something called pigs in blankets.

John didn’t think he’d ever felt such delight as when he found out that, many centuries ago, some genius decided that sausages could be improved with a bacon wrapping.

He had to admit, he probably ate more than his fair share. But he also had to admit that no one minded-- in fact, Mochou, Changming and Davis gave in and passed over food they didn’t have room for.

And it was strange, to sit in a group, listening to a conversation he wasn’t part of, and not feel like he was an intruder. Even if he wasn’t directly involved, they accommodated for him; things John wouldn’t be expected to know, they explained. He learned about local shops and services, amusing anecdotes from people’s pasts or about their relatives, plans for the new year and even talk of the political climate, but he was very focused on his little bacon-wrapped sausages for that discussion and took none of it in.

And then... dessert.

All of that food, and then dessert.

Two desserts.

One was a plate of pinwheel-shaped pastries filled with prune jam, and the other was a Bûche de Noël which looked like an awful lot of chocolate. While Riley had figuratively written the menu for the main meal this year, Alouette had been on the desserts with old family favourites, and she was eager to get John’s approval. And she most certainly did.

By the time the lunch was concluded, John felt bloated again and he kept smiling for no reason he could pin down.

They’d just settled in the living room, debating whether they wanted to play something or watch something, when Davis suddenly leapt up.

“Almost forgot a classic!” He declared, heading back into the kitchen even as others protested. John was curious despite the response-- what classic? 

Davis returned with a tray full of drinking glasses, each full of what looked like milk, and a small plastic dispenser.

“Alright,” Davis started, setting the tray on the coffee table despite the lethargic moaning of the group. “I got eggnog, I got cinnamon, who wants some?”

John sat up a little, but before he could move or speak Davis was laughing. “Yeah I know you want some big guy, don’t worry! I got you.”

There was one more glass than needed, John realised, and with that in mind he shouldn’t have been surprised when Davis offered him one with cinnamon and one without.

“There you go,” Davis said, seeming pleased with himself, “see how you like that.”

John remained silent, and Davis started to frown. John firmly reminded himself of the kitchen incident, and focused on the worry in the smaller man’s eyes.

“You okay, John?”

Say something, he thought, take the glasses.

He didn’t.

“John? Ça va?” Alouette had propped herself up from her dozing slump, and everyone else was looking at him with concern again.

He nodded and forced himself to reach out and take them, if only to stop everyone staring, and fought to find his voice. “Thanks.”

They were still staring.

“John...” Mochou murmured beside him. “You can tell us.”

She intended to say more, but Davis cut her off. “Alright, anybody else? C’mon I know you guys’ll love it once you have it, you’re all getting one, just say ‘yes’ or ‘no’ to cinnamon.”

Riley immediately started waving a hand clumsily as if to fend Davis off. “Noooooo I’m stuffed stop trying to make us faaaaaaaat.”

All eyes turned to them instead as they lazily kicked up a fuss, and John felt the tension in his shoulders ease. He looked down at the ‘eggnog’ in his hands and decided to push aside the unsettled feeling he couldn’t place and focus on the objective; he’d try the undoctored eggnog first to get the base flavour, then see how the cinnamon interacted with it.

“Ó.” The soft sound from Mochou distracted him, and a quick assessment made his innards squirm. She had that look on her face, when he said or did something that upset her-- she’d insisted repeatedly that it wasn’t his fault, but the correlation was consistent enough despite changing variables to reflect cause and effect. Unfortunately he was struggling to ascertain the pattern, so he didn’t yet have any action to take, and it was frustrating.

John tilted his head in question, but Mochou brightened suddenly, smiling and patting him on the leg before turning to Davis and calling, “Cinnamon, please!”

And now John was the one left perplexed. Had he misread her expression? Had it not been aimed at him but rather at something unrelated within her mind? Was she pleased that he was no longer agitated, or perhaps realised what the problem had been and deemed it resolved? The urge to ask for clarification came and went, and he sipped the plain glass of eggnog.

He liked it. ______________________________

It was, as the Crew dubbed it, Present Time.

John had tried to excuse himself, offering to wash up after the meal, but he’d been veritably shouted down. So now he was sat here as the Crew passed gifts to each other, feeling truly awkward for the first time in days.

He was admittedly curious, itching to know what they’d given each other, but he felt uncomfortably conspicuous spectating a tradition he wasn’t (couldn’t be) involved in. Simply the fact that he had nothing himself to give caused an uncomfortable almost-burning sensation in his stomach, and he wanted nothing more than to walk out when Changming pulled out the cards John had written.

The effusive thanks he was met with were almost too much for him to take. (He’d clumsily handwritten the same hollow festive greeting over and over and they were praising him like they hadn’t saved his life; he swallowed back bile and dug his fingers into the couch cushions.)

He almost missed Riley’s voice calling his name.

Looking up, John froze. Riley was holding out a wrapped gift-- a Christmas present. The gift tag had his name on it.

Swallowing thickly, John said, “No.”

Riley startled, jerking back as their face fell, and guilt added to the sour churning in his guts.

All eyes on him.

(It wasn’t-- he couldn’t-- )

“I can’t,” he blurted, “I’m sorry.” ______________________________

He didn’t come back to himself until he felt the blast of cold air as he opened the door to step outside the apartment block.

Regretting his lack of clothing warmer than his hooded jacket, he pushed forward regardless. He wouldn’t be out long, he told himself. He just needed a moment. He just needed to breathe.

The crisp chill helped to clear his head, and he relished the deep breaths of fresh, unrecycled air. He found the cold weather much more pleasant with the knowledge that there was warmth to return to.

A sharp cry of alarm from nearby snapped his head around, and he caught sight of an elderly civilian fallen back against their car. Their arms were heavily laden with bags, overbalancing them, and with potential ice underfoot they might well do themself harm.

He crossed the distance and reached out, “It’s alright,” he reassured, “I’ve got you.”

“Oh! Oh, I--”

John gently took one load of bags, then carefully but firmly gripped their arm. His other hand steadily scooped the civilian off the surface of the car door, moving around to support their back as they got their feet under them.

“Are you alright?”

“Oh-- Oh my, you’re a strapping lad aren’t you? Thank you so much, I- I’m alright, didn’t quite do any damage!” They were startled but smiling gratefully.

John frowned. “Where do you need to go?”

“Oh, dear-- oh, just on the ground floor there.” They glanced up at him hopefully. “I don’t suppose you’d mind... ?”

“Not at all.” Said John, taking the other bags.

“Oh thank you dear, you are a treasure.”

They seemed surprised when John slipped all six bags onto one forearm, and beamed when he offered the other in support, making another comment about his being ‘impressive’. It seemed in good cheer, so he didn’t dwell on it.

On the short but slow walk back to the apartments, John learned that Makani had just come back from a lovely Christmas lunch with many of their friends, whereupon they’d received far heavier gifts they had expected. They hadn’t wanted anyone to fret, so they’d insisted they could get it all home safely, but clearly they’d only been partly right.

They seemed to be taking the near miss cheerfully, and had no qualms allowing John to support them with his “astonishing arms”, to the point that they made no attempt to let go of him after they were safely inside the building. He shivered at the difference in temperature, and Makani’s smile finally dropped.

They clucked their tongue. “Oh dear, you must be freezing young man! Come in, come in and have a hot drink.”

John hesitated. He knew the Crew were probably upset and worried about his absence, and he should really go back before they felt the need to look for him, but... he almost couldn’t stand the thought of facing them right now.

“And maybe,” Makani continued gently, a shrewd look in their gaze, “you can tell me all about whatever trouble’s got that look on your face.”

John immediately schooled his features, and Makani’s face scrunched in irritation.

“Oh, don’t do that. That’s unnerving, that.” At his lack of response, they sighed. “I only mean that it might help to put a voice to it, rather than running around in the freezing cold until you make yourself sick.”

Their eyebrow arched, and John felt his head dip in sheepish embarrassment. He didn’t particularly want another round of hypothermia.

“Either way, come in and warm up. A drink is the least I can do for lugging my sorry baggage to the door.”

They smiled and patted his arm, and John felt something inside of him pang with a strange longing. Something about Makani’s worn and wrinkled face made the acrid knots loosen in his belly, their dark eyes warm and welcoming. Despite himself, he nodded.

“I just...” For a moment John wrestled with himself, then huffed in frustration as he lost the words again.

But Makani seemed to understand. They nodded, like some unspoken question had been answered, and didn’t press. “Come in.” They urged again, and John gave in.