#i was so so afraid when i started gales romance but i knew what i could be walking into and i still kept 🚶‍♂️

[pixelizedprince]

Listen tiktok is a godless land that treats Gale horribly but this came across my page and I was HOWLING

[partially-controlled-chaos]

My mother has absolutely fallen in love with Gale and it’s the single funniest thing I’ve seen in a while.

So for some context:

My mom is in her late 60’s and can’t live alone so she lives with me. She enjoys watching video games as an alternative to tv (this woman played the hell out of the PS1 so I’m not surprised). She always gives me her reviews on the games I play and loves some more than others. With that being said…

She hates Baldur’s Gate 3. Hates it. Despises it. “Worst game you’ve played by far.” She doesn’t like fantasy genres and doesn’t like a whole lot of combat. Now admittedly she didn’t start watching the game until Act 2 (health issues) so she missed the entire opening and Act 1 and had NO idea what was going on. I tried explaining as best I could but she didn’t fully understand.

Now she doesn’t like anything remotely spooky so the shadow lands was a nightmare for her to watch. Hated it. Hated the characters.

Astarion was too mean. Didn’t like Wyll’s horns and red eye. Karlach was too loud and didn’t like the horns. Shadowheart was too gloomy. Lae’zel was too creepy looking and mean (still haven’t won her over in Lae’zel). Halsin was “creepy looking” (I don’t get it either). Hadn’t met Jaheria or Minsc yet.

Now admittedly I hardly used Gale in my first play through so she never saw him or knew he existed until Act 3. But the second she saw him? Heart eyes. Put on her glasses to look at him better. Rizzard of Waterdeep got her GOOD.

Loved him to the point where she asked if I’d play it again JUST to romance Gale so I agreed because I was going to romance him at some point anyway. And when I tell you that woman is SMITTEN.

Every day I get home from work and it’s “when are you going to play your game? I want to see Gale.” “Kiss Gale. Do a kiss. There’s different kisses? Do them all I want to see the kisses.” “HE HAS A CAT??”

Very quick to tell me on what romance dialogue options to pick. I have no say in the matter they’re all her choices.

Oh and Mystra? Hates her. Can’t stand her. “Blast Mystra with your fireball thingy.” “Can you kill her? You should kill her.” “Gale better be praising you and not Mystra.”

I mean it’s a complete turn around and this is now her favorite game simply because of Gale Dekarios.

And if you’re curious, here’s her ranking of most to least favorite characters.

Gale (and Tara by extension)

Karlach

Astarion

Wyll (was very upset when I had to reject post dance kiss)

Halsin

Boo (not Minsc, just Boo)

Jaheria

Shadowheart

Lae’zel

Withers (genuinely afraid of him)

[tamiart]

I wrote a little romance scene between Halsin and Tav, mostly imagining Halsin’s POV.

Summary: Tav is breaking down under the pressure of the enormous task ahead of her, and Halsin happens upon her.

Since I don’t consider myself a writer, I have never tried to write anything like this before. But I love this game so much, and especially when it comes to these two characters, my imagination is continuously running away with me. I need more material with them, so I tried to create some of my own. I hope you like it.

Midnight Solace

Everyone was finishing up their duties in setting up camp. Halsin looked over to see Tav talking to Wyll and Gale, who were arguing about something as they tried to come up with a strategy for some fight or other, which was now an almost daily occurrence. Tav looked worn out, barely listening to the two of them bicker as she studied a map they had drawn in the dirt. The others were always going to her for help with their problems, and by Silvanus did everyone in this group have catastrophic problems. In all his many years, Halsin had never met such a varied, volatile bunch of individuals. They reminded him of his younger years when every mishap, every mistake, felt like the end of the world.

Tav was the most intriguing to him. She couldn’t be half his age, and yet this young, unassuming slip of a girl had gone out of her way, putting aside her own troubles and fears, which must be plentiful though she never voiced them, for weeks throughout their perilous journey to help many along the way, including himself. She was helping him find a way to lift the shadow curse, which had haunted him for a century as his greatest shame and failure. She had risked her life to infiltrate a horde of nasty, treacherous little goblins to free him - a huge, threatening wild bear that could have tried to kill her too for all she knew. But even in his most savage form, she wasn’t afraid of him. 

Halsin had never met anyone like her. He often found himself watching her from across camp as she went about the daily routine that everyone had settled into - helping to prepare their meals, eating, talking and laughing with everyone around the fire, getting ready to go to sleep, preparing to head out in the mornings. He wondered about her as he performed his own duties. He felt himself drawn to her, and realized he was reluctant to leave her side. He was sorely tempted to forsake his druidic duties and stay with her, to be there for her and protect her for as long as she would let him during her quest to save them all. She stirred long-dormant feelings in him. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt this way about anyone.

Later that night, after everyone had sought their bedrolls, rest seemed to elude Halsin, so he gave up and headed towards the woods to lose himself in a hunt. As he walked past Tav’s bedroll, he noticed she wasn’t there. He looked around briefly, but did not see her. Slightly alarmed, he enhanced his senses and picked up her scent trail heading into the forest. Wanting to make sure she was alright, he followed it.

As he approached the stream nearby, he heard the sound of someone crying. He stopped and peered through the trees in that direction and saw that it was Tav, sitting by the water, her head resting on her bent knees. He felt a sympathetic pang to see and hear her so distraught. Not wanting to frighten her, he made his footsteps audible as he rounded a bush and approached her, and she started up and noticed him, and immediately turned away to surreptitiously wipe away the traces of her misery. He felt his heart stir.

“Oh, Halsin,” she said, “what are you doing out here so late?”

“I could not sleep,” he responded, “so I was going for a walk. I could ask you the same thing. Are you alright, my friend?”

At that, she failed at reigning in her emotions and burst into sobs once more.

“I’m sorry,” she sputtered through her tears. “I don’t know what’s come over me tonight.”

He hurried over and sat beside her. “It’s alright,” he tried to reassure her. But she could not stop, and he hesitantly reached out to touch her shoulder.

His touch seemed to relax something in her and she leaned towards him. He put his arm around her and held her closer. The feel of her sobs shaking her slight frame melted away his final resistance, and he knew then that he would do anything to help this girl. He was lost to her. He held her until her sobs quieted into sniffles. 

“What is it, my friend? Can I do anything to help?” He asked her gently.

“No, I’ll be okay.” She sighed.”Ugh look at me, I’m such a mess.”

“You are still beautiful. But stay here, I’ll get something for you.” Halsin quietly returned to his tent and found a clean cloth, poured a cup of water and grabbed a blanket as well, then returned to Tav’s side. She had calmed down and sat quietly staring into the stream with a troubled expression on her face. He draped the blanket around her shoulders and handed her the water and cloth.

 “Thank you. I didn’t want anyone to see me like this,” said Tav, wiping her tear-stained face. “They’re all depending on me to be strong. I need to be strong for all of us if we’re going to get through this.” She took a sip of water and put the cup down on a rock.

He placed his arm around her again and pulled her close. “No one expects you to be invincible. You don’t need to carry all of it alone. We’re all here to help you. I’m here to help you.”

She looked up at him, tears glistening in her eyelashes. The distance between them was too close. The urge to kiss her was overpowering, and it took all of his will to resist. She needed him to be strong just now, and he would give her his support.

“Thanks, Halsin,” She closed her eyes and sighed, leaning her head on his shoulder. “That’s nice to hear. I just… I’m so afraid. I don’t know what I’m doing half of the time. Why does every decision have to fall to me? Every time one of us gets injured, I wonder if I should give it all up. Maybe I’m just leading us all to our deaths.” Her voice choked on those last words, and she covered her face with her hands and pulled away from him. “I can’t… that thought… it’s too much to bear.”

“Your fears are completely understandable under the circumstances. We have far too much leveled against us, with no end to our journey in sight. What an incredible amount of pressure to undertake. But Tav, you’ve been amazing thus far. Why do you think everyone trusts you so implicitly? No one else could have gotten this eccentric group of misfits this far, to survive as much as we have. Honestly, I don’t know how you’ve managed it. You don’t realize how extraordinary you truly are. My dear friend, we would all follow you anywhere. I would follow you anywhere. If anyone is going to get us all through this, it’s you.” 

Tav looked up at him again, a new light and curiosity in her glance. “You truly believe that?”

“With all my heart.”

Suddenly she threw her arms around him and buried her face in his chest. Oak father preserve him, Tav had him wrapped around her finger. “Thanks, Halsin,” she whispered into him. She looked up at him again, and her face finally softened into a smile. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Tav, I - “ he tried to find the right words. “Please know that I’m always here for you, if you ever need to talk about anything. I will do my best to help you, in any way that you need.”

She was still looking up at him, her gaze searching. She was so beautiful, he could hold back no longer. Cautiously, he lowered his face down towards her, watching her expression as he did so. She did not pull away, and her lips parted as her glance fell to his mouth. He closed the distance and pressed his lips to hers. He tasted the salt of her tears as he kissed her, and she kissed him back, tentatively at first, but quickly growing more eager. Her lips were full, soft and warm. Finally they both had to pull away, gasping for air. He had to stop now before he took things too far. He couldn’t ask that much of her just now in her current vulnerable state.

Tav stared at him, stunned. Then as if suddenly realizing where she was, she blushed and gave him a shy, tentative smile. “Wow,” She gasped as she found her voice. “What was that?”

“I’ve dreamed about kissing you for a long time,” he confessed to her.

“Really? But I didn’t… I thought… you’ve never…” Tav stammered.

“I know. I didn’t want to do anything to upset you or harm our friendship. And I didn’t want to distract you during such a crucial and difficult time. I’ve been trying to keep my distance, to let you focus.”

Tave let out a breathy laugh. “Well, it’s a very welcome distraction.” She hesitated, then looked up at him shyly once more. “I’ve been thinking about that as well, with you.”

He wrapped her in his arms once more and held her in silence. They sat together, listening to the night sounds of the forest and the babble of the nearby stream. Gradually, he felt her relax in his arms. Her head began to droop against his shoulder. He could have stayed this way all night. But reluctantly, he gently shook her awake.

“You should try to get some sleep,” he told her. “Tomorrow is going to be a long day.”

She sighed. “You’re right.” She stood up and handed the blanket back to him. She tried to return the cloth as well, but he told her to keep it. She seemed reluctant to go. “Thank you, Halsin. This was… it means a lot.” She smiled at him once more.

And she was gone before he could respond, leaving him alone once more in the woods, the blanket in his arms, all of his senses full of her, and his mind a whirl of thoughts, emotions and desires.

[adelarsims]

How is playing BG3 going?

amazing! the way you can achieve your goals in so many creative ways and the game will be okay with that just keep shocking me.

and i love most of my companions, omg i love them so much. you see, i played on early access (not till release, last time i played was in 2021) and i used to strongly dislike most of them. shadowheart was rude, dismissive and cold 24/7, wyll was a pretentious hypocrite full of heroic cliches but with a short fuse whenever he wasn't praised, gale never shut up about mystra for a second, even in his romance scene he kept mentioning her. so i started the game expecting to get back to the same people, but the improvement surprized me. they're now multifaceted, interesting to be around and overall more relatable and lovable (and wyll was fully remade from his story to his voice actor). i wanna hug them all.

i'm only a bit sad that they removed many small after-event conversations, like when you finish a quest or do something and there's an exclamation mark over character's head so you can discuss it with them. there used to be at least three astarion's dialogues that used to exist but didn't trigger for me on two playthroughs, so i'm afraid they were cut out.

one major thing in the plot was kinda spoiled for me by early access, because now it's completely reworked and subtle, and it used to be very obvious and on the nose, so now i already knew what it's all about. some other things were also reworked completely. but i love comparing what i saw on early access with what i see now because i really appreciate the improvement in writing.

[fuzzy-set]

Name: Thexikas

I wanted to make him look scary with half of his face ruined by Orin, but I couldn't replicate the look in bg3's character creator. So here is my little sketch instead.

Nickname: The Thrice-sworn/The Dark Urge

He swore his oath three times, each for a different purpose. (Details at the back)

Gender: Male

Star Sign: Aries

Height: 190cm(ish)

Orientation: Panromantic

Race: Tiefling

Romancing: Gale

Despite their rather rocky start (the distrust was mutual), Gale won him over with his cooking. After that, they were always there for each other, with Thexikas hunting any magical artefacts that Gale could consume and Gale watching over him when the tiefling was deep in the urge's throes.

Fave fruit: Anything sweet, such as bananas and dragon fruits. He may not show it, but Thexikas has a huge sweet tooth.

Fave season: Mid-summer

He is a tiefling, so he is accustomed to high temperature environment, and for some inexplicable reason he really likes those violent thunder storms with lightning flashes and heavy rain.

Fave flower: Thexikas knew little about flowers, but he did have a preference for roses, especially the red ones. The colour reminded him of blood.

After his memory returned, he was still drawn to roses, but he felt very guilty about it.

Fave scent: Roasted meat, because he liked good food. It was hard to come by during the days when he lived in Bhaal's temple.

After he moved to Waterdeep, the scent of old book/alchemical mixtures became his favourite- because it reminded him of home.

Coffee, tea or hot chocolate: Hot chocolate because it is sweet.

Average sleep hours: Eight, but when he was on the road he slept much less than that. Most of the time he would stand guard for his companions.

Dogs or cats: Both!

Thexikas is a bit afraid of Tara, because he knows her fireball is capable of penetrating all his fiendish resistance. (Besides, Tara gave him the shovel talk.)

Dream trip: While he was amnesiac, he wanted to visit Avernus- or any realms belonging to the infernal. He wished to see the source of his fiendish blood, for Thexikas mistakenly thought the urge to kill is due to some sort of a devil's curse. If he could unravel the mystery, perhaps he could either master it or be rid of it.

Amount of blankets: It is either none(summer) or 10(winter), there is no in between.

Random fact(s):

He had been an oath of conquest paladin during his Chosen days, spreading the cult of murder in his father's name. After losing his memory, Thexikas experienced vague flashes of him wielding immense power. Angered by the loss, he took up the oath of vengeance to kill whoever took that power. However, the taste of justice was bittersweet. It was after his sister's death that the tenets of vengeance lost their appeal.

He broke his oath by sparing Viconia Devir. Jaheira told him about the story of the last Bhaalspawn who spurned divinity to be with his lover- a former Sharran drow. Unfortunately, even with all his intellect and arcane might, the Bhaalspawn still lost his life to protect his beloved from assassins. Thexikas intuited that Viconia was the woman whom his predecessor fell for, although the drow seemed not to remember Gorion's Ward anymore. Moved by the tale, he decided to free her again in honour of his predecessor. (Yeah, I am unhappy about how bg3 handles Viconia's arc, so here's my little headcanon as a remedy)

Inspired by the life of the last Bhaalspawn, Thexikas broke his chains. He was no longer his father's pawn, nor was he a blood-crazed madman who killed for vengeance. Now he could truly live, with the one person he swore an oath of devotion for.

Alternative Ending: Fearful of his love life sharing the same trend as the last Bhaalspawn, he made Gale a god. In this way he would not die- at least not in a mortal sense. Then Thexikas went back to the root and became an oath of conquest paladin again, because it was what he good at. Many would know him as Ambition's hound, conquering new domains in his god's name.

tagged by @galedekarios!

[vole-mon-amour]

before i venture too deep into my second playthrough. spoilers for the entire game.

on my first playthrough played as:

OC, Natha (like Nathan but Natha), druid, wooden elf (was supposed to be a high elf but i missed the customization), trans/non binary. i headcanon her as nature intended? born this way? boobs and cock? her being a druid elf (being able to shapeshift and conjure Mycoids) + Halsin in my party was an amazing combo. added her a 'tough' feat and had more hit points than Karlach and Lae'zel lol. no more need for a different tank.

my established party was: Astarion, Shadowheart, Halsin. before establishing that I had to use Astarion, Shadowheart and either Gale or Karlach.

romanced: Astarion and Halsin. ended the game with Halsin inviting my character back to the grove (relationship was very good) and Astarion saying he wouldn't want to let me go (relationship was exceptional). the graveyard scene where he says "I love you. I feel safe with you." and holds my character's hands in stuck with me. what a precious boy he is. both boys are 10/10, would and WILL romance again. both deserve literally sheets of words of love for them. Halsin is absolutely extraordinary in his own way. Astarion I fell for immediately. his romance was not straightforward, but I'm glad I understood how it works.

regarding Astarion: wanted to maybe help him ascend, but Cazador kept killing and binding Astarion. one of the hardest boss fights for me, Cazador killed my entire party and only Shadowheart kept getting up because of a ring that resurrected her. was forced to kill one of the spawns to save Astarion (the "Astarion permanently left you party" message was traumatizing enough, thanks), so there was no choice for him. I'm glad he was glad that he got to keep his soul and himself, his own personality in the end. would LOVE to find the spawns in the underdark with him and help them manage the hunger.

killed Ketheric and Orin (killing her followers was harder than killing her. the area is ridiculous, Shadowheart and Halsin got killed simply by being pushed down from the arena, had to reload). Wanted to trick Gortash into working with me and dying by himself, but stumbled upon (literally, had no idea what I was doing until i was inside the prison) the underwater prison and saved the Duke (take that, Mizora, you piece of shit). since Gortash was already mad, had to destroy his Steelwatch factory. on the first try of his boss fight he easily started destroying my party. reloaded and easily killed him with a different tactic.

was ready to kill Raphael at the beginning of the game, didn't trust him. didn't believe him when Astarion made a deal with him. was very surprised Raphael delivered on his promise. by the time I met him in the city and he offered us the hammer to save Orpheus, was ready to romance him and felt quite confident about him. well, at least not as afraid cause he could've definitely destroyed us when we first met. better the devil that you know than the devil that you don't and all of that. House of Hope was an amazing location, no regrets about not taking the deal. obviously had to kill Raphael (shaaame), his 666 hit points and the soundtrack was something else. luckily, i knew how to fight by then. his fight was easier than Cazador's 💀

saved Karlach and Nightsong. saved Orpheus. saved Omeluum (let me romance him!! he's such an interesting character)

In the middle of the game changed my opinion about the Emperor and didn't bother anymore with him. took Karlach with me and let her become a mind-flayer. killed the Emperor before destroying the brain and saving the city. used only two allies—Nightsong and someone from the guards maybe, don't remember. go my understanding, I could've taken somebody else to fight and Halsin would still aid us, but he was a part of my crew anyway, so took him with me. had to keep Astarion at the camp because a) I was afraid he'd get killed b) had to take Karlach go let her become a mind-flayer. Shadowheart's abilities are always with me. killed her entire cult when they told me to give her up in order for me to walk away alive. nope, she's staying with me. Halsin was also VERY helpful. looove their abilities and spells and Halsin's shape shifting.

never met Tara and Minthara. Jaheira died during then battle in the Moonrise Towers, therefore I never visited her house. hoping to fix that during my second playthrough.

at some point stopped trying and started ignoring Lae'zel and her quests. visited the mountain passage after Halsin joined my party as a playable character, saw Vlaakith and decided that I don't want to deal with their artefact and that cult leader. told her to do her bidding ("you're a god, you can do that yourself") she wiped out my entire party and then I decided that i won't be doing anything in there. steal your egg yourself, deal with that unstable Karen, i don't care. on my third playthrough I am killing Lae'zel just so I don't have to deal with any of that nonsense. made Lae'zel reject Vlaakith but only bc that asshole showed up in my camp. i really rather not deal with that part of the game.

i quite liked Gale at first, but then the Mystra thing came up and I got tired. i still *kinda* helped him, but the religion thing is always too much for me. so him, Lae'zel, and Shadowheart were truly something else in that sense. though Shadowheart i understand in the end. her storyline was a bit tedious because of her blind fate in Shar, but I like where she ended up. helping the city and all of that. if only there was a say to save her parents AND free her fork the curse.

finished the game with pockets full of scrolls and unnecessary items. tooons of gear and weapons. oh well.

in total, first playthrough took me about 145-150 hours from start to the credits rolling. the game is big and has a lot to offer.

probably something else, but that's what I can remember rn. there was also a glitch with Scratch and the owlbear cub wasn't at the goblin's camp, but eventually I found a way to fix it and get them both and the achievement for petting both at the same time the game was full of irritating, sometimes straight up frustrating and very annoying bugs.

[lamburrito]

So one of my first characters in BG3 was Dandelion from the Witcher. Well, still is a character because I technically have yet to complete a run with him but I try to be patient and wait till the game is completely done (and I gave up on waiting and probably gonna play again soon with him)

But anyway in my "canon" run Dandelion romances Gale and I wrote this about their Act 2 romance scene some time ago. But I remembered it today and thought I share:

“Nothing is inevitable.” And Dandelion spoke from experience. Many people had thought the White Frost destroying their home was inevitable. But Ciri had stopped it, with the help of her family. So he added:”Not when we face it together. You don’t have to die.”

“One moment with you could sate me for a lifetime and prise the fear from my heart. I’m so very glad you came to share this with me.” Gale told him so genuinely, it made Dandelion’s heart skip a beat.

Looking at the sky once more Gale commented:” I know this is all unreal, but I created it for you. You must know that you’re…” Gale paused, closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then opened them again to look right at Dandelion. “That you’re very special to me.”

He shook his head slightly. “If things were different, if we were home, I’d have taken the time to do this properly. To say it all better. But time is short.”

Gale looked Dandelion in the eyes and the bard logically knew what was about to come, what all this was leading to, but somehow when Gale spoke the words so softly yet so sure, it took Dandelion’s breath away in a way he hadn’t experienced before.

“I’m in love with you.”

He wanted to say it back but his voice failed him. Yet his mind was loud, screaming:

I love you too but you deserve better than a cowardly bard like me

I love you too but I am afraid to break your heart when I will have to ultimately leave this world.

I love you too but you make me so afraid because you start to feel so much like home that I don’t want to go back to where I came from.

[diifacto]

Saw your post about the hunger games and i completly agree. Anyway you said there wasn't really a love triangle and now I'm curious what you mean with that? I mean like imma start following you anyway now so i won't miss it when you talk about this, but...

I’ve gotten a lot of questions/comments like this one on the statement I made in my last Hunger Games post about the series having no real love triangle, so here’s me (finally) explaining my reasoning.

It was really hard to organize my thoughts in a cohesive, complete way, as I’ve never actually organized my arguement on paper—just verbally, usually yelling (passionately) at my sister—so I’ve split them up into categories based on which aspects of the novels I’m discussing.

First Impressions

Beginning, as all things do, with first impressions. The Hunger Games is, first and foremost, categorized as a YA novel. Now, I love YA. I’ve been reading YA all my life and will probably continue doing so for the rest of it. But there are a ton of tropes/patterns found consistently through just about every YA novel out there, just as in any other genre—sci-fi has spaceships, blasters, and aliens; fantasy has monarchies, dragons, and curses; and YA has love triangles, rebellions, “bad boy” boyfriends, etc. Obviously, this is a gross generalization, but you know what I mean—when Katniss introduces Gale as “the only person with whom I can be myself,” and he checks off the attractive and male boxes on top of it, anyone who’s ever read YA has alarm bells going off in their head: Love Interest Detected.

But, before anything can happen with Gale, we’re heading straight into the Games, where we are confronted with yet another possible love interest. Peeta, Katniss’s competitor—but fake, star-crossed lover? And they have history from back in District 12? We have ourselves a second Love Interest, and therefore we’ve got ourselves a Love Triangle!

(Ignore the Games, of course. The oppressed, impoverished, desperate state of the districts under the Capitol’s control. The children being sent to die for their amusement. The two sixteen-year-olds doing anything they can to stay alive one more day. No, we’ve got some romance on our hands!)

And isn’t that it? Readers go into The Hunger Games, are introduced to these two young, attractive men, who obviously have feelings for Katniss, and whom Katniss depends on (we’ll dig into the significance of that later) in return—and understandably assume this’ll blossom into a plot point. And it does, but not in the way readers are expecting. Suzanne Collins herself never portrays Gale and Peeta as opposing love interests; rather, she uses them to represent opposing worldviews, a huge choice Katniss has to make in Catching Fire. What readers are expecting to happen, though—Love Triangle, Katniss choosing one of the boys, Team Peeta or Team Gale, etc.—can get in the way of how they perceive what Suzanne Collins is really trying to say.

Katniss’s “Choice”

I’d like to present a word to you: juxtaposition. I learned it in English class, it’s fun to say, and it means, according to Google, “The fact of two things being seen or placed close together with contrasting effect.” I think it describes love triangles pretty well; after all, isn’t a love triangle just two, different people placed in the same situation, each with their respective pros and cons? I also think it describes Gale and Peeta’s characters pretty well; except instead of Suzanne Collins juxtaposing them based on their looks, general atheleticism, and by who remembers Katniss’s birthday, she aligns them with two possible futures for Katniss, and two different beliefs.

A life with Peeta means a lifetime of keeping her head down, following the path the Capitol has set for her, living in fear and suffocating oppression, hoping the spark will die out. A life with Gale means the opposite: taking it to the Capitol, rebelling against the Games, turning the spark into a flame and hoping everyone she loves survives the fire.

This is the choice Katniss makes in Catching Fire. When she kisses Gale after he’s been whipped, it’s not because she’s coming into any newfound feelings, it’s because she’s made her decision—to stay and rebel against the Capitol. And in this choice, a life with Peeta is of the Capitol’s invention, and a life with Gale is only another way to rebel.

That’s all there really is to Katniss’s “choice.”

Dependence

“But Margaret,” you say, “Katniss does have feelings for Gale and Peeta in return.” Oh, sure. I won’t argue there—there’s a reason, aside from them being superficially perfect Love Interest archetypes, that both these boys themselves do appeal to Katniss. But these “feelings,” this reason, aren’t/isn’t inherently romantic.

After Katniss’s father died, Collins depicts how Katniss’s mother fell into an incredibly lethargic state, sick with sadness, and effectively abandoned eleven-year-old Katniss to deal with her own grief and keep the family alive, all alone. Understandably, this experience has kept Katniss from trusting easily or becoming too dependent on people, lest they do the same and leave when she needs them. For the most part, Katniss lives independently, relying on no one for support, not accepting help. But why, when people argue that Katniss does have feelings for both Gale and Peeta, do I have to admit that while I disagree overall, there is something there Katniss doesn’t let herself feel for anyone else? What makes these two boys different from everyone else in The Hunger Games?

Simple: they’re the only two people Katniss (reluctantly) lets herself depend on.

When discussing Gale’s popularity among the girls at school, Katniss mentions that it makes her jealous, but not for the reason people think. “Good hunting partners are hard to find,” she says, 1. acknowledging Gale’s desirability, 2. making her lack of romantic interest clear, and 3. admitting she relies on him as a hunting partner, and feels threatened by the idea of losing him. And of course she does—especially since Collins shows us that it isn’t just Katniss herself depending on Gale; after the reaping it will be Prim, who Katniss describes as the only person in the world she’s certain she loves, and her mother. Without Gale, and with Katniss heading off to the Games, she has no way to ensure Prim’s safety. Thus, Katniss is incredibly dependent on Gale.

Peeta comes later, but equally as necessary; offering Katniss safety through their star-crossed lovers strategy, and, later, an understanding of the Games she can’t get from anyone else. Katniss, someone so scared of depending on people, has ended up depending on these two boys for different things. Gale, to protect her family, her home, to offer her freedom from the stifling nature of the Capitol and the Victor’s Village; and Peeta, to offer her understanding and freedom in a different way, from the dreams, from the arena, from the pressure of keeping everyone alive.

So when people counter my opinion that Katniss never had any romantic feelings for either Gale nor, initially, Peeta (we’ll break that “initially” down, don’t worry), I’ll give them that, yes, Gale and Peeta got something from Katniss no one else did: trust. And trust is, of course, a fantastic base for a healthy, romantic relationship. But it doesn’t become one in Hunger Games. Katniss loves Gale, and she loves Peeta, I can’t argue that. But that love isn’t romantic.

Debts Owed

This will be very brief—just something to think about, to go along with my analysis of Katniss’s dependence.

I need to acknowledge that, while my arguement is that Katniss never had any definitively romantic feelings for either Gale or Peeta, they definitely did for her. And she knew. So, just for a moment, I’d like us to consider the thought process of someone who has never, ever, let herself depend on anyone else—depending on someone who obviously wants something more from her?

Do you think she may feel like she owes something to this person, as thanks? Do you think she might be afraid, if they weren’t to get what they want, that they might leave? Do you think that, even if she didn’t have any romantic feelings for either of the two, she might kiss them, just in case?

I’m not saying this is the case in Hunger Games, but as I was writing up “Dependence,” it occurred to me: what would that really do to a person? And I just wanted to bring it up for discussion. When Katniss made her choice—rebellion—did she have to seal that choice with a kiss? Or was that her way of ensuring that yes, she was picking rebellion, and Gale was the rebellious choice, and yes, this kiss, this promise, will keep him by my side.

Was Gale Ever Really A “Contender”?

Let’s tie the frayed ends of “First Impressions”/“Katniss’s ‘Choice’”/“Dependence”/“Debts Owed” together. If you’ve made it this far, you’ve an inexhaustible well of patience, and I applaud you.

Remember when I added that “initially” when discussing Katniss’s lack of romantic feelings for Peeta? While I’m still firmly on the side of Katniss ending up single—at least for a few years, while the poor girl recovers and figures all the shit you’re supposed to understand in your teens, and when you’ve been through a war, out—of both “choices,” of course she ends up with Peeta. Why? Well.

Despite the “choice,” despite dependence, despite all the evidence laid here on the contrary, despite all that, if you still think there’s a love triangle in Hunger Games, explain to me this: you need two love interests to make a love triangle—and was Gale ever really a contender?

Let’s walk through it. Right from the beginning, immediately after Suzanne Collins introduces Gale, she has Katniss go through the steps discussed in “Dependence”; acknowledge desirability and attractiveness, state her disinterest romantically, and move on. Already, sweeping any suggestion that Katniss may have some unspoken, romantic love towards Gale. Not to say it couldn’t develop—but it doesn’t.

Catching Fire is where the boys are perhaps juxtaposed the most, with Katniss’s “choice” coming into play. Remember what I said about debts owed? Gale continues to push Katniss’s boundaries, confessing his love, pressuring her, even after she’s expressed her disinterest in love right now (amid all this death and rebellion, a perfectly fucking normal sentiment) and confusion around the subject. Not only that, but he insults Peeta, Haymitch, and those involved with the Games (ex. Cinna, Effie, Katniss’s prep team) by lumping them in with the Capitol, and while the latter is a fair judgement, he doesn’t listen to Katniss when she tries to defend them and explain they’re rebelling in their own way, same as him. Gale in Catching Fire begins his “downwards spiral,” as he turns everything black and white, shunning Katniss when she doesn’t agree 100% and accepting her back with open arms after she kisses him.

Peeta, on the other hand, understands the gray area. He listens to Katniss, and although he’s getting exactly what he wants—a relationship with Katniss, a life with Katniss—he takes no joy in it because he knows it isn’t what Katniss wants. Remember after their proposal, on the Victory Tour, when Katniss asks Haymitch why Peeta’s not happy, as this was what he wanted? Haymitch tells her it’s because he wanted it to be real. And that’s true for Peeta throughout the whole trilogy; he truly cares about Katniss’s wants, tries his hardest not to pressure her, and is genuinely a continuous source of support. He rebels, the entire time, in his own quiet, calculated way; with the money in District 11, with the “baby bomb” in the interviews.

Here’s a juxtaposition for you: Peeta’s love for Katniss isn’t conditional; Gale’s is.

For proof, just look at Mockingjay. Specifically, look at—spoilers—Prim’s death.

Everyone knows that girl is the most important thing in the world to Katniss. All of District 12 knows it, President Snow knows it, President Coin knows it—hell, regular, average citizens of the Capitol know it. Everyone knows there is nothing, nothing in the world that could make Katniss put Primrose in danger, even at her own expense. Katniss would rather die than have Prim get hurt, and anyone close to her, who loves her, knows damn well that’s what she’d want.

So when Gale’s bomb goes off, delivering the final blow to the Capitol, at the expense of so many innocent lives, at the expense of Katniss’s sister—there was no love for Katniss there. There was absolutely no consideration, no respect for Katniss. There was just violence, and the hungry, desperate need to win this war, to rebel.

I could never say that Katniss and Gale weren’t a great team. I could never say they weren’t good, lifelong friends—I mean, starting out. They were fantastic hunting partners, further shown in Mockingjay, when they started hunting people instead of deer or turkey or wild dogs. But they grew apart, after Katniss changed in the Games and Gale changed in the rebellion, and there was never, really, the chance of anything romantic between them. Katniss depended on Gale to, above all other things, protect her sister, and he didn’t, so she stopped depending on him. And there wasn’t anything left.

That’s what I mean when I say, even if you think Katniss had real feelings for Peeta—and they do end up together, so even if I don’t agree with it, okay, alright, maybe it was Suzanne Collins’ intention—there’s still no love triangle, because Katniss never had feelings for Gale. And even if, maybe, maybe some would’ve developed—we’re getting into pure hypotheticals here—his character never would’ve been a real option for Katniss. They changed too much, and grew too far apart, and there would have been absolutely no chance for him after Prim.

Conclusion

In conclusion, I’m sorry. I’m more cohesive and intelligent verbally. Most of the time. Promise.

In conclusion, there is no love triangle in Suzanne Collins’ Hunger Games. Rather, there are two boys who have feelings for the same girl, and this girl, who never depends on anyone, depends on these two boys for different things, and has to make a huge, horrible, irreversible choice, and somehow it ends up attaching itself to these two boys. And that’s really all there is to it.

[therealrosebuddies]

Facts of Nature

Warnings: not really, but some blood

Pairings: The Mandalorian x Reader

Other parts: 1, 2

Description: Another really short drabble of the story I may fully flesh out. If anyone really wants to know about what story is happening in between these more romance focused one shots, I may start releasing things with more plot- because I assure you I have plenty. Anyway, the reader and Mandalorian are still a little hesitant around each other, even after escaping multiple life or death situations. Emotions are messy.

When most saw The Mandalorian and his companion, they got the same feelings looking at them that one would when looking at the landscape. Landscapes had two parts to them- the earth: hard, steady and reliable; and the sky: free-flowing, reactive and changing. The relationship was balanced, an uneasy truce of personalities combining to make a team that created a successful environment. As long as both sides stayed steady, everything would be fine.

Unfortunately, the sky was threatening to break.

You sat on the edge of an isolated cliff, hands pressing into the red clay. Your face was hidden from the Mandalorian, turned toward the dark, torrential water far below. The wind swelled up and around the cliffs, filling the air with the ripping sounds of nature made screams. It was an eerie scene following the day’s events.

The bounty hunter approached you, careful and quiet as if he was trying to befriend another blurgg. Your head twitched as he sat down next to you, armor sliding over red earth. If this had been any other time, he knew you would have looked at him fully, a smirk playing across your face. Instead, you acted like you hadn’t noticed him, wind-whipped hair concealing your face.

“You want to talk about it?” The Mandalorian asked, voice low as if not to startle you.

You shifted beside him, movements rigid. You turned to look at him, eyes narrow and brows furrowed. There was a brief flicker of outrage in your gaze, one that the Mando had never seen directed at him. But the anger faded, your tongue pressing into the side of your cheek as you turned away.

“What?” He asked again, pressing the issue further.

You let out a strained bark of laughter, shaking your head as you dropped your gaze into your lap.

“Why is it now that you decide to be a conversationalist, huh?” You turned your wide, glassy eyes onto his helmet, “Just a spur of the moment decision?”

The Mandalorian dropped his gaze from your eyes, unable to face the raw emotion that he had inadvertently caused. Instead, he focused on the rest of your face, picking up the details that he had been too rushed to notice before.

Your cheeks were pallid, dark circles looking more like bruises in the overcast light. Your hair had come loose, sticking to the damp sides of your face and mingling with the blood. The blood. The Mandalorian zeroed in on the dark, still fresh blood spilling over your lip and across your chin. The skin around your lip was already starting to purple, mouth already starting to swell. When had that happened?

“Your…” The Mandalorian reached up without thinking, going to touch your face. “Your lip.”

Your fierce, almost annoyed gaze shifted to one of surprise, hand snapping up to gingerly poke your face.

You cursed, fingers wet with blood when you pulled away. Your gaze stayed fixated on the blood, expression glazing over. The bounty hunter could almost see the violence playing out across your (e/c) eyes, imagining the slaughter that you had been too late to stop.

Your hands were shaking.

The Mandalorian extended his arm all the way, glove brushing your lower cheek and turning you back toward him. Your let out a soft exhale of surprise, which would have gone unnoticed if not for the breath that ghosted across his bare wrist. The blood was swiped away, careful to avoid the swelling skin and open cut. The storm behind your eyes ebbed cautiously, the bounty hunter no longer avoiding the oppositional pull of your gaze. The hand lingered for a second longer than would have been normal, saying more than words could.

And then the contact was gone, his hand lowered and yourself cut off as your legs pulled away from the side of the cliff, pressed close to your torso. The two of you stayed for a moment longer, the sounds of the angry gale no longer as loud. Your silence was less mournful, something that had turned calculated at the touch of a hand.

Eyes flickering across the horizon, your hands pulled and twisted at the fabric of your sleeves. You inhaled deeply, head tipping toward the grey sky.

“Hey.”

The Mandalorian turned his head, giving you his full attention.

“Can you teach me?”

“Teach you… what?” He replied, though he already knew the answer.

You sighed, dropping your head back to look at your companion. The blood on your cheek was now more evident, highlighting the changed look in your expression.

“To be a bounty hunter.”

The Mandalorians heart dropped, afraid that you would say that. Someone like you- they weren’t meant for his line of work. It was dangerous, mean, dirty work. Most of all it required a certain sense of calm and detachment- one that you definitely didn’t have. That, and he was pretty sure you were making the decision rashly, spurred on by the day’s past revelations. You wanted revenge, but that was a dangerous thing- especially when Dathomir witches were involved. He didn’t want to be the one responsible for you turning into someone you didn’t recognize.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?” You asked, eyes narrowing.

“Well-” His voice caught, hands gesturing out in front of him as if he knew how to explain, “You just aren’t the kind of person who could do this type of thing-”

“What kind of person can?”

The Mandalorian stopped and curled his fingers for a moment, wishing that you would stop interrupting him. You waited expectantly, eyebrows raised slightly.

“The kind person who doesn’t let their emotions dictate their decisions. Someone who doesn’t let sympathy interfere with a bounty.”

“Oh… okay.” You nodded, grabbing your pack as you stood up from your spot.

The Mando stayed silent, guilt weighing in his stomach as he kept his gaze on the dirt, steady and grounding. He thought for sure you would be mad and ignore him for the rest of the time you were together. Or even worse, somehow race to the ship and leave him there. You had made rasher decisions, so he wasn’t going to put it past you.

Instead, you smiled down at him, shouldering your bag.

“So teach me whatever you’re doing. Because it isn’t being a bounty hunter.” You patted his shoulder plate, the Mandalorian looking up in surprise at your subtlely cheeky expression. “We’ll start tomorrow.”

He watched you walk towards the ship, dumbfounded.

Had you…

You really had the nerve…

The bounty hunter turned back to the horizon, gloves gripping the side of the cliff just as you had been doing a few moments before. The wind whistled, tugging at his cape and slapping it distractedly against his body. After withstanding a few moments of the whipping, Mando reacted in fast movements, grappling with his cape till it was tucked under his armor and unable to bother him.

So you wanted to be a bounty hunter.

Fine.

But that didn’t mean anything was changing. Your relationship would stay the same, even with your prolonged stay above the Razorcrest. Everything was going to stay as it was now, just like the ancient rock he was sitting atop.

Unbeknownst to the Mandalorian, keeping the earth and sky separate would be much harder than he thought.

[kumeko]

A/N: For Nameless, the loveless zine! I haven’t thought of this series for years and I feel very nostalgic just writing this.

…

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…

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i.

It was instinctive, the way Soubi’s hand reached into his pocket, his fingers curling over the cool plastic. Entirely habitual and he almost pulled it out before remembering that he was sitting on a bench in the middle of a children’s park. There was a time when that wouldn’t have been a problem, when he would have lit his cigarette and felt the bitter sting of nicotine. That time wasn’t now. Soubi wasn’t sure what had changed, just as it did, and he eyed the lone straggler on the swings balefully. In the late evening, most of the kids had left for dinner, leaving behind the odd loner, and destroying any chance of a smoke break.

 Oh well, Yuiko would be here any moment anyways. Pulling out his phone, Soubi checked the time. 7:20. She should be here in another five minutes. What for, he wasn’t sure. All of her texts asking him to meet her were surprisingly evasive, only confirming the time, the place, and that he couldn’t forget to come. Maybe that was why she hadn’t called him to arrange this; Yuiko was a terrible liar and the second she’d opened her mouth, he would have known what this was all about.

Still, for the life of him, Soubi couldn’t figure out what Yuiko wanted. Even more so than most children her age, she was extremely up front about her emotions. It was oddly refreshing, compared to the Zeros or even Ritsuka; Soubi couldn’t remember the last time he’d met someone so guileless. Her teacher, perhaps, but he made it a point to avoid her.

 “Soubi!” A breathless, high-pitched voice cut through his thoughts and Soubi looked up in time to catch Yuiko as she dashed through the park toward him. Her comfy t-shirt and cotton shorts were grass stained and small twigs and leaves tangled in her long hair. Even her backpack looked dirty and he wondered idly if she’d ran through a forest to get here. “I’m sorry, I’m late—”

 “You’re not,” he interrupted, motioning to her to take a breath before continuing. There were already tears in her eyes and he didn’t want to start the conversation with her bawling.

 “I’m not?” Surprised, Yuiko pulled out her phone and gasped. “I’m not!”

 Soubi resisted the urge to smile. Maybe it was the naivete. He wasn’t used to interacting with someone like her. Patiently, he waited for her to calm down before asking, “What do you need?”

 “Need?” Yuiko fidgeted in front of him, her fingers playing with the hem of her shirt. She scuffed a shoe along the ground. “It’s not…I don’t…um…”

 “You?” he prodded, watching as her ears flattened slightly as she grew more and more nervous. Ritsuka’s ears and tail were like that too, displaying his feelings clearly for all to see. It was cute. Had he ever been this cute as a child? He couldn’t remember, but he doubted it.

 “I…” Yuiko paused again, her tail twitching anxiously as her eyes flickered from the ground to him and the back again. Unslinging her backpack, she held it tightly before taking a deep breath. “You…” She breathed in once more, long and slow, before hurriedly shoving her backpack at him. “This is for you!”

 What was? Soubi wondered, his blank expression stiffening as he studied the offering. Was it the bag or something in the bag? Both questions lay heavy on his tongue, unable to decide which one to utter.

 Before he uttered a word, Yuiko realized what she was doing and blushed an even brighter shade of red. “O-one second!” She quickly unzipped the bag and rummaged inside. Finding her prize, she yanked it out and pressed it into his hands. “For you,” she mumbled, looking away, tears glistening once more in her eyes.

 Soubi looked down at the springing object in his hands. It was an oddly-small flower wreath, a clumsy looking thing with stems sticking out together here and there. Despite that, it still held together surprisingly well. It wasn’t something he needed, but he nodded his thanks all the same. “A wreath.”

 “A flower crown,” Yuiko corrected, rubbing her eyes and looking at him once more. She pointed to her head. “You put it on.”

 “I see.” Soubi rotated the wreath in his hands, feeling utterly bemused. He was getting used to the antics of children now, with days spent with the Zeros or Ritsuka teaching him more than he’d ever expected. Somehow, the utter randomness of children surprised him. “That makes more sense.”

 “Yeah.” Yuiko glanced around before clearing her throat. Before Soubi could react, she shouted, “Happy Birthday!”

 The one kid in the playground perked his ears, glancing curiously at them. Soubi was only half-conscious of that. Instead, he stared blankly at Yuiko. “Birthday,” he repeated softly, not sure which was more surprising—someone remembering it or him uttering the word.

 Yuiko nodded, pushing her two index fingers against one another as she looked away. “I know it’s not a good gift, but I only found out today and it was the best thing I could make.”

 Well, that explained the grass stains. Soubi glanced at her hands, at the dirt on her nails and the roughness of her palms. She must have started immediately after class to get it done on time. Plopping the crown on his head, he nodded approvingly. “A little small but it fits.”

 “You look pretty,” Yuiko gushed, immediately cheering up. “You like it?”

 This time, he couldn’t stop his smile. “Yeah.”

 -x-

 ii.

Love was hard. Yayoi had read every romance book in the library and then stolen one or two from his mother’s secret stash, and this was the one lesson he’d learned from them all. Love was hard. Usually, there was an evil sheriff or hitman or villainous ex that appeared, coming between two star-crossed lovers.

 Yayoi would argue that sitting on a bench with his rival while waiting for his crush to arrive was equally as hard. He glanced to his right. As usual, Ritsuka looked entirely unperturbed, as though they weren’t sitting on a bench on opposite sides, the space between them too big for Yuiko to fit entirely. When she came back from the cafeteria, several bags of bread in hand, and sat down, she would force them to come closer. And they would, but not until she came back.

 It was a dance they went through every lunch. While Yayoi could say that Ritsuka wasn’t only a rival, they weren’t exactly friends either. He was Yuiko’s friend more than he was Yayoi’s, and that was something he was entirely fine with. There wasn’t a single romance story for the rival and the hero became friends. Still. Yayoi glanced again at Ritsuka. Would it kill the other boy to look at least uncomfortable? Then again, he couldn’t recall the last time he’d seen Ritsuka as anything other than collected. The boy had swept in like a fierce gale, throwing Yayoi’s life into disarray, and never looked the worse for wear for it.

 “Are you fine with this?” Yayoi asked, unable to stop the words spilling out of his mouth.

 Surprised, Ritsuka turned to him. “Fine with what?”

 Yayoi tensed, his neck warm as he realized he didn’t know where he planned to take this conversation. Hell, he didn’t even know what he meant by the question. Fine with the triangle, fine with the strange number of transfer students, fine with his mother—there were so many ways to take a single question. His ears flattened as he thought about it before finally gesturing at the space between them. “With all of this?”

 “You don’t like me, right?” Ritsuka shrugged, leaning back into the bench and staring at the sky. “It’s cool.”

 “That’s not true,” Yayoi blurted, his mouth moving before his mind could catch up. His hands itched to cover his mouth, to stop these treacherous words from escaping his throat. In romance, the hero defeated the rivals, winning the heroine’s hand. They didn’t start to like their rivals, didn’t start to think of them as friends.

 Yayoi wondered, not for the first time, if he wasn’t the hero and was just another doomed suitor.

 “It’s not?” Ritsuka looked at him, really looked at him, his eyes wide and mouth agape. “Really?”

 It was too late to shove the words back now and whether he liked it or not, Yayoi had meant them. Begrudgingly as it was, he did consider Ritsuka to be his friend. “Yeah.” He paused, steeling himself before pulling out a slightly crumpled envelope from his pocket. “Here.”

 Ritsuka glanced at the envelope before gingerly picking it up. “What’s it for?”

 “My birthday party.” Yayoi coughed, looking away. “You can come if you want.”

 If he had turned around, he would have seen a pleased smile and red cheeks, a boy beside himself with joy. But he didn’t, so Yayoi could only hope that Ritsuka’s ‘Yes’ was an honest one.

 -x-

 iii.

Kio was drunk. He knew that, from the way his fingertips buzzed to the tingle up his spine. His mouth was dry, his head pounded, and tomorrow morning he would be a mess of regrets. He was so drunk, he had gone from knowing he was drunk to denying it to knowing it once more.

 Needless to say, climbing the last set of stairs to his apartment was perhaps the hardest thing he’d ever had to do in his life. And that included getting kidnapped and beaten by a strange pair of Soubi’s ex-classmates. At least, he thought they were—Soubi had refused to explain the matter further and Kio was too afraid to ask. Their friendship had always felt delicate and while Soubi was opening up more now, he wasn’t sure what boundaries were still standing and which he could dance right past.

 That was perhaps the only reason he had accepted Soubi’s utter rejection of joining in for some birthday drinks. Well, that and the fact that Kio had asked at least ten times to no avail. If Soubi didn’t want to celebrate Kio getting one year closer to death, well, that was on him. It wasn’t like he had good taste in the first place, as evidenced by Seimei’s entire existence.

 “Woah!” Kio mumbled as he almost tripped over a step. Clutching the guard rail, he panted heavily and tried to regain his bearings. Were stairs supposed to be this hard? Was he out of shape? Next time, he was getting a ground-floor apartment. There would be none of this exercise nonsense.

 Glancing behind him, he realized he was halfway there. Just a little more, and he could dive into his futon and pass out. Future him would probably wish he’d changed first, but that was future, sober him’s problem. Drunk Kio only had one mission, and that was to get to bed. Finally reaching his door, he leaned against it and sighed. Almost there.

 His keys jangled as he tried to find the right one. As usual, it was the last one he tried. While the door swung open silently, Kio heard a thud. Looking down, he stared at a square package at his feet. Had that always been there? God, he was so drunk. He hadn’t even noticed that there had been something at his door. Crouching, he stared at it. It looked like a canvas. His fingers brushed against the slim sides. No, it had to be a canvas; he worked with them day in and day out and his body had memorized the weight and shape of the various sizes they came in.

 Mystified, he clumsily picked it up and stumbled into his apartment. Was it a delayed assignment? No, it was wrapped in the plainest wrapping paper that existed. A gift then, but there was no note, no card, no nothing. It could be for his neighbour, for all he knew. Eagerly, he tore through the flimsy wrapping. Black paint slowly appeared, followed by splashes of blue and yellow, before he finally revealed a butterfly painting.

 No, not just any butterfly painting—it was a remake of the one Soubi had made when they’d first met. Kio covered his mouth, giddy. The bastard cared. He had always known that, but it was one thing to believe it, another to find proof. Soubi cared.

 Suddenly, sleep was the last thing on his mind. Pulling out his phone, he drunk-dialed his friend. Future him would probably regret this too, but that was for future him to care about.

 Current him had to make sure Soubi knew exactly how happy he was.

 -x-

iv.

“Here.”

 Surprised by the unexpected hand thrust in her face, Yuiko looked down from Youji’s smug expression, following his arm until she was staring cross-eyed at the small, rectangular paper in his hand. Scrawled messily on the white page was Badminton tournament. She squinted, not sure if she was reading it right, before looking back at him. “Thanks?’

 Next to Youji, Natuso sighed, looking utterly unimpressed. There was no one else in the classroom, but she knew that even if there were, his next words would have remained the same. The twins never changed what they said no matter who was around, and Yuiko envied that. “I know, I know, this is a five-year-old’s idea of a gift.”

 “Hey!” Ears flattened, brow furrowed, Youji glared at his twin and growled, “This is a good gift.”

 “Is it?” Natsuo snorted in disbelief. He ran a hand through his hair and scornfully added, “You just want to beat her at badminton. That has nothing to do with her at all. You’re supposed to think of the other person, stupid.”

 “Gift?” Yuiko interrupted, cutting through the brewing argument. She gently pried the voucher from Youji’s hand, staring at it curiously. It was ridiculously plain, without even an attempt at a border or sparkles or any decoration of any sort. He must have spent five minutes on it, max, before giving it to her.

 “For your birthday, duh,” Youji grumbled, but despite his tone, he was looking away. His ears twitched slightly, an embarrassed expression on his face. “You’re not getting anything better, no matter how you cry.”

 Yuiko didn’t listen, instead looking at the paper once more. A birthday gift. Certainly not one she wanted—she liked playing badminton, sure, but gifts were supposed to be special things. Things you can’t get otherwise, and they would always be able to play badminton.

 Yet it was a gift from Youji. She hadn’t expected this, not in the least. If anything, she’d thought the twins hadn’t liked her that much.

 A gift. For her.

 Smiling broadly, she hugged Youji tightly. “Thanks!”

 Natsuo’s jaw dropped. “Seriously?”

-x-

v.

“Let’s hang out at my house,” Yuiko demanded, standing in front of Ritsuka’s desk. Well, it was as close to a demand as she could get, her cheeks dusted red and her voice rising an octave with each word. “Please?”

 Ritsuka was used to the beeline she made as soon as the bell rang to his desk, as though if she didn’t catch him immediately he’d slip away with the breeze. To be honest, with all that was happening around him, sometimes that was the case—between Soubi, the fights, and hunting for clues, it was sometimes hard for him to find time for his friends.

 Still, this was more direct than Yuiko usually was. He stared at her for a moment, watching as her face turned redder and redder as he kept silent. Well, it wasn’t a bad thing if she was getting more confident. Maybe one day she’d be able to fight those bullies away herself.

 Flustered, Yuiko pressed, “I really want—”

 “Sure,” he agreed, getting up.

 “—you to come…” Yuiko trailed off, a blank expression on her face before she realized what was happening. Surprised, she watched as he headed to the door. “Really?”

 “Yeah, let’s go.” Ritsuka grinned as she scrambled to grab her bag and coat. “What, you weren’t ready?”

 “Don’t tease me!” she wailed, almost tripping over a chair in her haste to get out. Stray hairs escaped her usually neat pigtails and she looked like she’d run a marathon and not just left a classroom.

 “Don’t make it so easy,” he countered, laughing as they slipped into an easy banter on their way home. It was strange. Truly strange. A year ago, even a few months ago, he could never have imagined this. Friends? Laughing? Smiling? A place that he could call his? All of them had been so far beyond his imagination that he couldn’t even picture it.

 Yet, here he was, walking home with someone as thought it was the norm. His mother and brother were the furthest thoughts from his mind, his focus instead entirely on the all-too red girl next to him. His best friend, possibly, but Ritsuka hadn’t yet mustered the courage to ask. Yuiko’s ears twitched nervously, her fingers pressing against one another, and her words ran into one another as though she was desperately trying to say something, anything. Clearly, she was up to something.

 “What’re you hiding?” he asked and that too was new. Knowing someone well enough to tell when they were lying. It was a permanence he hadn’t expected.

 “Whaat?” Yuiko yelped, her complexion turning even redder, if possible. Ritsuka imagined he could find every shade of red if he hung around her long enough. It was a pleasing thought. Shaking her head rapidly, she stuttered, “N-nothing, I’m just…Why do you think that?”

 “Hmmm?” It was tempting to push her even further. Yuiko was a terrible liar, which was a relief when compared to the Soubi’s and Seimei’s in his life. Everyone else was too good at hiding and he liked this feeling of having an upper hand for once. Still, whatever she was planning couldn’t be terrible, and it wouldn’t be bad to have a nice surprise for once. “Fine, keep your secrets.”

 “There aren’t any!” she shouted, her voice giving her away yet again.

 Ritsuka laughed. His tail swayed lazily as he wondered just what he should expect. Knowing Yuiko, it had to be something simple. Maybe a movie or a game. They could get Soubi to come over after and cook something too. Or invite Yayoi to play with them, or the Zero’s—and Ritsuka had a lot of people in his life these days. A lot of friends.

 “OK! WE’RE HOME!” Yuiko announced loudly as she stood in front of her door, shaking her keys slightly before slipping them in.

 Perplexed, Ritsuka followed her in through the door. Were her parents home? Was that why she was talking like—

 “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”

 The loud shout jolted him out of his thoughts and Ritsuka’s jaw dropped as confetti rained through the hair. Standing in Yuiko’s living room were all of the people he’d been thinking of, and then some—Osamu and his teacher stood amongst the crowd.

 “Happy birthday!” Yuiko chimed in, looking at him eagerly.

 A surprise party. He would never have imagined that either, not even a few hours ago, but Ritsuka was finding that wasn’t a bad thing.

  The future, oddly enough, was something to look forward to.

[kriscme]

One Life To Live

Thanks as always to Ronja for allowing me to write fanfic of her Hunger Games fanfic “The Chance You Didn’t Take”.  You can find it on AO3 and Fanfiction.

Chapter 30 Haymitch alternates swigs of white liquor with large bites of pizza out of a takeaway box.  I’ve mistimed my visit again, catching the last five minutes of “One Life to Live.”   “What’s Celia doing in a therapy support group?” I ask as the credits roll. Haymitch clicks the off button on the remote and the screen goes black.  “Sex addiction,” he tells me, taking another gulp from his bottle.  “She can’t keep her knickers on after what Lance did to her.” “What did Lance do?” The last time I watched this silly show, she and Lance were having a threesome with the gardener. “Made her like sex too much.  And then Anton.  And Cecil.  And 11’s wrestling team.  They’re blaming psychological issues or some such rubbish.  Fear of emotional intimacy is one theory.   Or could be she’s just a slut.” “And what about Blake?  Is he married to Ginger yet?” “He would’ve been but the baby came a few weeks early and now he wants nothing to do with her.”  I wait for more but Haymitch just helps himself to another slice of pizza. “Why?”

He quirks an eyebrow at me.   “Two people with fair skin usually have a fair skinned baby.” “Oh.”  The guy from the punk band, and the real father of Ginger’s baby, is very dark. I rather wish I had seen that episode when Ginger’s baby popped out.  The look on Blake’s face must have been priceless.  “Well, anyway, I didn’t come here to talk about “One Life to Live.”  I wanted to ask you about Cressida.” “What about her?” “Do you think she can be trusted?” Haymitch shoots me an incredulous look and laughs.  “What do you think?  She works for Plutarch, doesn’t she?” I was afraid he’d say that.   My worry must show in my face.  “Why do you ask?  You haven’t done something stupid, have you?”  When I don’t answer, he snorts and takes another drink. “That’s why no one let you make the plans.” This gets my back up.  “Like you did such a good job of it.  If you’d involved Peeta and me in your so-called plans, we’d have known not to let ourselves be separated from each other in the first place. And then he wouldn’t have been captured, and he wouldn’t now – “ “Yeah, yeah, alright,” he says, raising a hand. “We’ve been over this before and I’m not in the mood to have my face gouged again. It’s bad enough that I had to go through it again with Peeta.” Johanna told me that Peeta got mad at Haymitch when those memories came back.  Preoccupied as I often am with my own guilt over Peeta, I sometimes forget that Haymitch is carrying his share of it too and my anger subsides.  Besides, my bitten down fingernails could barely impact a mosquito bite.  I should make time to visit the salon to have those fake things put on again.   “How is Peeta?” I ask.  “Have you talked to him?”  A week has passed since Peeta and I last spoke.  I’d called around the following day to thank him for the cake but he wasn’t home so I made do with a note under his door.   I haven’t seen him leave or return home from the bakery although I know from Johanna that he’s working regular hours. The only visible evidence I have that he’s still in the Village is that the primrose bushes have been pruned recently. Not through all our ups and downs has Peeta neglected the bushes.  Obviously, he did it when I wasn’t around to see it.   He seems to be avoiding me and I don’t know why.  I can’t think of anything I’ve done to upset him.   Before he answers, Haymitch takes a moment to toss the empty pizza box in the general vicinity of a pile of discarded food containers by the window.  Even from this distance, I can see a trail of ants making their way down the wall possibly in anticipation of yet another feast.  In less than an hour they’ll be swarming over the box, picking over the remnants and transporting them back to their nest.   Perhaps this is Haymitch’s idea of cleaning.  Have the ants do it.   “Saw him the day before yesterday.  Had dinner after watching the tape.  Johanna cooked.  I wish she’d let Peeta do it.   He’s a much better cook, but she insisted.  She fusses over him like a mother hen and I think it’s starting to get on his nerves.    But he’s fine, all things considered.  Just very down.  Stares into space when he thinks no one’s looking. But no flashbacks or signs of serious depression.  Keeping busy and sticking to a routine has helped.” I let this sink in.  My initial reaction is to feel hurt that I wasn’t invited to have dinner with them.  It’s irrational,of course.   I’m the one who distanced myself.  And I was busy this weekend anyway.  But I do miss it.  All of us together.   “He’s keeping up with the tapes, then?” “Yeah, although it’s going over old territory if you ask me.  Mostly it’s promotional footage, Capitol parties, various interviews.”  That could explain why I haven’t seen him.  Maybe it’s Cressida and media attention he wants to avoid.  The camera crew are everywhere.  I even saw one of them filming the Village, for no particular reason that I could make out, and paying extra attention to Peeta’s house and mine.   Haymitch drains the last of his bottle and reaches for another beside his chair and gives the top a twist.  “He showed interest in one of them.  The start of the Victory Tour – when you came running out of your house to push him into the snow.” “Ha ha.” I say caustically, giving Haymitch’s joke the response it deserves.   I think back to that day.  Making the most of my remaining hours of freedom: in the woods checking the snare lines; a change of clothes at my old house in the Seam; a visit to Hazelle; and lastly, calling in on Haymitch.    I’d promised to wake him an hour before the cameras came.  It seemed that he’d also asked Peeta, because he showed up at the same time.  To say it was chilly between us is putting it mildly.  Peeta barely looked at me.  When I got home President Snow was waiting for me with his threats.  Convince the districts, convince me that Peeta and I were madly in love, or Gale was dead, with others to follow.  There was no way to warn Peeta, but I was sure he’d perform well anyway.  And he did. Our first kiss in months and no one could have guessed that he was acting – not even me if I hadn’t known better. I ask “Did he remember it?” “Parts of it.  The cameras, falling in the snow, some of what we discussed before Effie and the prep teams arrived.” “You and Peeta?”  I feel a flash of resentment that they had had this discussion without me, but then remember that I walked out soon after Peeta got there. Haymitch probably wanted to talk to us both.  “What about?” “That he needed to change his attitude. Reminded him that the romance was his idea.  That you kept him alive and would’ve died with him, rather than take the victory for yourself.  How imperative it was to keep up the act or people would die.”

It fits.  On the train journey to 11, Peeta apologised to me, acknowledged my actions had kept us alive, and that we should try being friends.   

“That’s what he remembered,” continues Haymitch.  “What he forgot was what I said about you being in a different place than him.  That he had this crush long before the Games even started, whereas for you the romance was a strategy that the two of us cooked up.  And from where I was sitting, I saw a boy who was head-over-heels and a girl who was getting there.  That all she needed was time and patience but if he continued to sulk – “ A conversation between Haymitch and me just before Peeta and I reunited on stage after winning the Games.  About convincing everyone that the trick with the berries was motivated by love.   “Did you tell Peeta this?” “Don’t have to. He’s already there.”  “But you think I’m not?” So that’s what Haymitch meant.   He knew before I did.  Finnick too.   I interrupt. “What did he say?” “That he wished he had known.  That’s all.”  Haymitch gazes thoughtfully down at his bottle.  “It occurred to me that maybe, if this memory was distorted or erased – “ “He’d believe I hadn’t loved him but it was important for us to be friends,” I say, finishing the thought for him.  There’s some logic to it.  I can imagine the half-memory sticking up like a tree root waiting to trip Peeta up.  And then skewing every memory, and every thought he’s had about me since. “It’s a wild guess, but not impossible.  And it’s not like there’s any other ideas.  I should run it past Aurelius.  See what he thinks.” “Do it,” I say.  “At the very least, it can’t hurt.”   The more information Dr Aurelius has the better he can help Peeta. It won’t help me though.  Peeta wouldn’t be mourning the loss of Lace if he didn’t love her.  Or make him love me. Haymitch nods, takes a drink from his bottle, and then goes back to contemplating its depths as if somehow the answers can be found there.  I take this as a signal that the conversation is over and start to rise from the couch when his voice freezes me in place. “So, what’s the stupid thing you’ve done that’s made you worry about Cressida?” I hoped he’d forgotten about that.  Because the “stupid thing” is something I definitely can’t confide in Haymitch about.   “I haven’t done anything,” I say, scowling at him.  “It’s just that I wanted your advice on whether I should be on my guard.  She tried to involve me in the interviews with Marcus. Like I’d be standing well to the side and then she’d ask me a question, and then the cameras would swing over to me. She says she won’t use it but after what happened to Johanna . . .” “If that’s all there is, you’ll be OK.   Even if they do use it and the public wants more, there’s nothing either Cressida or Plutarch can do about it.  No one could say you deliberately set out to draw attention to yourself.  You were just doing a job.   That’s where Johanna went wrong.  She was trying to attract publicity.  And there’s no scandal attached to you and Marcus either – that’s another way they can get around it.  They’ll say they’re reporting on him and you’re merely collateral damage.  So, unless you get caught with your pants down, you haven’t a thing to worry about.”  Haymitch regards me with amusement.  “Or have you? Been caught with your pants down, that is?” “Of course not!” I splutter indignantly. My face burns and it must surely be a bright shade of red.  “I’d never – “ “Calm down, sweetheart.  It was only a joke,” he says, shaking his head.  And then to show how funny he thinks he is; he breaks out laughing.  I judge it to be a good time to leave.   I wander around the Village for a little while.  I want to talk to Johanna.  She’d understand.  But Peeta might come to the door and then how to get Johanna alone without being rude. At home, Marcus has his own worry and I don’t want to add to it by talking about it.   Eventually, I take refuge in my favourite thinking spot; my front porch. And I then I try as hard as I can to reassure myself that I’m worrying over nothing but without much success.   How could we have been so careless? I hadn’t seen much of Cressida during the week.  She’d been busy working on a separate feature on 12’s recovery from the war. She even visited the school.  Mr Matson obligingly gave her a tour and allowed the cameras into the classrooms.  Max made sure to get his face on camera, of course.  When I saw them heading in the direction of my classroom, I locked the door and pulled down the blind.  “Shh,” I said to the kids, “let’s pretend we’re not here.” They thought it was a great game. For the new national park, she wanted to interview Marcus in a series of locations similar to what she did of Gale and me when we returned to bombed-out 12 for some unscripted interviews.   In this case, we’d be following the new trails Marcus had surveyed ending with the lake.  But, because it was unlikely that we would get back before nightfall, it was decided to camp at the lake overnight and return to town the next day.   I was hesitant to go.  I knew it was in my best interests to stay as far from the cameras as possible.  But Marcus said it didn’t feel right for me not to be there since I had played such a large part in it.  And because Marcus and I don’t have much time left together and Cressida had assured me that the attention would be on Marcus anyway, I allowed myself to be persuaded.    Marcus led the way.  Our first stop was at the top of a ridge which Marcus has designated for a lookout. It was a welcome relief to drop my heavy pack to the ground after the long climb and have a long cool drink while Cressida conducted the interview.  The blackberry bushes were heavy with fruit and I positioned myself in front of them.  From there I was away from the cameras but could still watch and gorge myself on berries at the same time.   “Katniss, close by is the very spot where I interviewed you and your hunting partner, Gale Hawthorne, as part of a feature we did on District 12 not long after it was destroyed by enemy bombs.  I got the impression that these woods are very special to you.   What are your feelings about it becoming a national park?” Suddenly all eyes and two camera lenses were on me.  I tried to hide by retreating backwards but was met by a wall of prickles from the blackberry bushes.  Cressida waited expectantly. “Ah, well, you know, times change. I guess from a personal standpoint it’s a big adjustment, but if it ensures that the woods will be protected it’s all worthwhile.” Cressida nodded and turned back to Marcus to continue her questions.  Messalina, her assistant, scribbled something in her notebook.   From there it was easy walking along the ridge and my mind wandered to other times I’d come this way - with my father, by myself, with Gale, and most recently with Marcus.  Before long many feet will trace these same steps and I was overcome by sadness that my beloved woods would no longer be mine.  Even with just these five people, it feels like a violation.   The woods have been my sanctuary.  Would I ever find another? “A coin for your thoughts.”  Startled, my head jerked towards the sound.  Cressida was beside me.  Last time I looked; she had been walking up front with Marcus.  She must have hung back and waited for me.   I didn’t really know what to make of Cressida.   In 13, I had admired her calmness under pressure and the pride she took in her work. It reminded me of Cinna and I thought that if she and I were in the arena together, I would pick her as an ally. But that was before Prim was killed. I can’t be sure, but I suspect she informed Plutarch of our whereabouts that day.  If Snow was telling the truth that Plutarch was behind the bombing that killed Prim, then that makes her complicit in some way.  Maybe not intentionally, but she played a part in much the same way as Gale did.   At the very least it proved to me that Cressida’s loyalty isn’t to me, but to Plutarch and the story she’s chasing.  And then there’s Johanna.  Was it really an accident that Plutarch got hold of that interview? “I was just thinking of how things have changed,” I answered.  There, honest but not too revealing.   Nothing that Cressida could take much from.  I was wrong. “Since we last came this way?” she asked, looking down at the ground. “This must be very difficult for you, more or less following the same route we did for the interviews that day – dredging up memories of times and people lost.” She hesitated for a moment, as if pondering the wisdom of her next words.   “I’m sorry if my relationship with Gale has added to that in any way.  I – “ “It doesn’t,” I interjected before she could say more.  “Gale and I weren’t meant to be together.  I’m happy for you both.  Truly.” Her face cleared.  “That’s what Gale said.  But I wondered . . .” I said nothing because there was nothing to say.   I was a little miffed that Gale had dismissed me so easily.  I thought he should at least have some regret for what could have been.  I was glad that I hadn’t wasted my time fretting over him. “Peeta, then?” “Huh?” The question took me by surprise. “I wasn’t actually thinking about him.” “It would be understandable if you were.  I know I can’t help thinking of that time and of our purpose here.  Do you remember the appeal you made to him from where his parents’ bakery once stood?  If I were asked to choose one propo above the rest, that would be it.   The carnage, the desolation, the utterly incomprehensible loss of life was encapsulated in that short piece.” “Yeah, I guess.”  Personally, I thought they were all awful but perhaps Cressida takes a film maker’s view of things and she judges the artistic merit.   “They still speak of you in the Districts, you know.  You and Peeta.  You haven’t been forgotten.” I shrugged in response.  How could we be forgotten when some of our fellow victors have pursued a life in the public gaze? Our very absence would give rise to speculation – rather like those shows you sometimes see on TV “where are they now?”  At least we’re spared media attention.  That’s something to be grateful for. Cressida went on.  “Your love story struck a chord with the public consciousness that shows no sign of abating.  It represents so many things to people.  How love and hope endure.  Rebirth instead of destruction.  The promise that life can go on, no matter how bad our losses.  That it can be good again.  It – “ “Does it?” I asked, cutting her off. “Well, if they want to keep on believing in that nonsense, I can’t stop them.  I need to take a toilet break.  Excuse me.” Ignoring Cressida’s shocked expression I left her to go in search of a tree.  Why did she have to tell me that?  It’s everything that Peeta’s love would have meant to me too.   And I’m so tired of people and their expectations.  Peeta and I represent nothing.  Nothing! Except maybe that nothing lasts and hope is a stupid illusion for stupid people.   I went through the motions of relieving myself although I didn’t really need to, but it gave me time to calm myself before I rejoined the others.   When we stopped for lunch, I made sure to sit next to Pollux.  We exchanged smiles but that was the end of any kind of conversation.  An avox, Pollux can’t talk and that suited me just fine.  Marcus sent a smile my way and then went back to talking to Cressida.   Messalina was occupied with her notebook.  The remaining member of our party, Remus, was making adjustments to his insect shell – the name I gave the camera equipment that wraps around the bodies of the camera crew.  I disliked Remus on sight with his small shifting eyes that seem to take in everything.   He was the one I saw filming the Village. It was late afternoon when we arrived at the lake but there was still sufficient light for Cressida to do her interview.  I overheard her tell Pollux and Remus she’d like some additional film of the lake the following morning but otherwise we were done.  I would’ve liked to have taken a walk with Marcus around the lake but we were supposed to appear as if our relationship was strictly a working one. He didn’t want the same thing that happened with Johanna to happen to us.  So, when we gathered around the campfire that night for supper, we sat opposite each other.  And when we retired for the night in the concrete house our sleeping mats were as far apart as we could make them.  Not that there was any chance of us getting close – not with Cressida and Messalina there too. Pollux and Remus shared a tent just outside the house.  One of them snored like a chainsaw which Messalina complained about incessantly.   I don’t know who kept me awake the longest – Messalina or the snorer. When the first thin rays of sunlight fell across the concrete house, Cressida and Messalina were dead to the world.  Marcus was already up, dressed and putting on his boots.  He put his finger to his lips and pointed to the door.   I nodded and wiggled out of my sleeping bag.  It took only a minute to find my trousers, shirt and boots and join him outside.  It was my favorite time of the day: the sun just peeking over the horizon; birds caroling the new day; the air so fresh and clean.   The tent was zipped shut; loud snores rumbled from within.  Carefully, we walked past until we were out of earshot.  “Why don’t I search for firewood while you fetch water from the spring?” said Marcus.   “Ok,” I replied, intrigued.  There were logs stacked behind the house and we had brought water in with us.  Nevertheless, I took a couple of empty water bottles and started out for the spring.  It was familiar to us both as Marcus had noted it as a feature on one of the walking tracks and I had long used it as a water source.   It was only about six minutes’ walk away; five, if you don’t count the short stop behind a rhododendron bush to attend to nature.  The spring gushes from the side of a foothill into a brook that feeds into the lake. It’s the sweetest water imaginable and I helped myself to a long cool draught.   And then I waited . . . and waited.  I was about to give up when I caught a glimpse of his khaki shirt through the underbrush.

“What’s this about?  Aren’t we supposed – “ I began.   His answer was to pull me hard against him and capture my lips in a kiss.  It took me by surprise after everything he had said about the importance of maintaining appearances.    But after that first shock, I took fire and answered him in kind, wrapping my arms around his neck and pressing into him, straining to get closer. His belt buckle dug painfully into my ribs.  It had to go.  While I struggled with it, he reached beneath my shirt with one hand to fondle my breast.  My feet started to lose traction and I realized he was pushing me backwards and upwards until I was elevated slightly, my back against a large oak, my feet resting precariously on a root flare.   The belt taken care of, I started on the button and zipper on his trousers.  He did the same with mine, pulling down trousers and underwear in one swift motion.  And then we were both free, his hardness nudging between my legs. “I’m sorry, I can’t – “I panted.  My feet were shackled by my clothes and I was unable to spread my legs wide enough to allow him entry.   Frantically, a boot was unlaced, tossed aside and a trouser leg pulled down over my foot.   Unhampered now, I hooked a leg around his waist and with one smooth powerful thrust he was all the way inside, one hand on my breast, the other braced against the tree, his mouth covering mine.   It felt so, so good.  I could have stayed impaled against that tree forever.  That is, until he started pounding his hips into me.  The rough bark of the oak stabbed into my lower back with each thrust.  It was lucky my shirt tail covered my naked behind or splinters might have been a problem too.  Marcus enjoyed himself though.  I could tell from his breathing that he was close.  But then it happened.   A loud snap.  It was unmistakable.  We both heard it.  Even Marcus, occupied as he was.  Our heads spun trying to locate the source of the sound.  But there was nothing to see; only trees and low bushes. “It was probably just a falling branch,” said Marcus.  He didn’t sound confident. “Yeah, probably,” I agreed, even though a falling branch would also have made a crashing sound as it hit the ground.       Neither of us were at ease and the moment was lost.  Marcus slipped out of me and we put our clothes back in order.  I retrieved the full water bottles and headed back to camp. Marcus returned separately with the bundle of firewood he’d collected before he joined me at the spring. Our fellow campers were as we had left them. Cressida, laid out like a starfish on her back.  Messalina, huddled under her sleeping bag.   The tent still zippered up, the snorer still snoring.  But by the lake, in full insect shell, was Remus with his camera trained on an ibis feeding in the shallows in the early light.  On my approach, he gave a small wave before he returned to his work.  But on his face, was a small, but undeniable smirk.  

[phoutube]

while the rhythm of the rain keeps time

ao3 link (kudos appreciated!)

Rating: General Audiences (subject to change) 

Pairing: Dan Howell/Phil Lester

Words: 3,906

Summary: Dan loved the rain. He loved how it made the world just a little bit duller, but not in a bad way. Never in a bad way. When the world seemed to get a bit too intense, too noisy and crowded and chaotic, Dan could always count on the rain to melt the colors together, blending them and morphing the scenery around him into something dull and comforting. It would only make sense that - on a day that was wet and cold and drizzly and perfect--Dan would meet someone who would change his life in so many amazing ways.

a/n: a special thanks to my beta readers, @freckliedan, @shrugs-are-kinky, and @edgylester for making this fic possible! Go show them some love!

likes and reblogs appreciated!!

Chapter One: Water Washes It Away

Dan loved the rain.

He loved how it made the world just a little bit duller, but not in a bad way. Never in a bad way. When the world seemed to get a bit too intense, too noisy and crowded and chaotic, Dan could always count on the rain to melt the colors together, blending them and morphing the scenery around him into something dull and comforting.

He loved how it made the world smell, how the rain made all the scents spring from the earth and dance in the air, bringing forth a vivid fragrance that lingered in the air and reminded him of woods and rivers and freshness.

He loved how it sounded, the steady metronome of rain drumming on the roof of his house, the sporadic but peaceful rhythm caused by drops cascading through the trees, and even the occasional rolling of thunder in the distance.

Dan even loved it when the rain would come all at once, in fierce gales and howling winds and big cracks of thunder and flashes of lightning that lit the entire sky. He loved how it made the world look afterwards, when the rain had stopped but drops hadn’t quite ceased dripping from the trees, when the sky was grey and beginning to clear and the world had a distinct waterlogged look about it.

Most of all, though, was how it gave him every excuse to stay at home, warm and cozy and wrapped in his favorite blanket. He’d sit, sipping a cup of coffee or hot chocolate, content with the world outside. Maybe he’d read a book or sit on Tumblr or watch a show on Netflix, but sometimes Dan would just sit outside under the balcony, headphones in his ears and at utter peace with the downpour around him.

Dan wasn’t the most superstitious, but whenever it started to rain, he knew instantly that his day would be a good one.

It would only make sense that - on a day that was wet and cold and drizzly and perfect--Dan would meet someone who would change his life in so many amazing ways.

--

It began sometime in early June. Dan could never remember the date (he’d always joked about how warped his sense of time seemed to be), and he’d harboured the vague idea that his birthday was nearing as the days dragged by.

Dan had woken up in a despondent state of mind, a unique sort of exhaustion weighing in his gut and a fuzzy feeling that started in his brain and wormed its way through each of his limbs.

Days like this were ones he immediately chalked up to be useless and hollow, days that were empty and futile and meant that there was no point in getting out of bed because he knew he’d only be an echo of himself.

The rain drizzling outside was calming in a way that nothing else was--a steady downpour that matched his melancholy state of mind.

Depression. That was the word for it. Disgusting.

Glancing out the window once more, Dan debated calling in sick to work or just not bothering at all. Would he get in trouble again if he ditched? It was hard to remember what the policy was for that. Also, Dan was finding it hard to care.

Should he get out of bed and try to fill this gaping void with a hot cup of steaming caffeine? He could even scrawl down some bullshit in his journal (the one his therapist insisted he keep) about the steam tendrils curling through the air like a hot breath on a winter’s day, injecting the warm scent of coffee into the air around him. He probably wouldn’t. Just drinking it was enough for now.

Coffee, Dan thought, was probably the only thing that was worth making on one of these days. He had never been a breakfast person (eating so soon after he’d woken up always made him nauseous), and besides, clutching something warm gave his hands something to do. Occasionally the caffeine was even enough to jerk him out of this stupor so he could do something productive, like the dishes. Or maybe the laundry.

Ugh. Even thinking about laundry was almost enough for him to burrow his head under the covers and never emerge again. Almost.

He sat up in bed and swung his legs over the side. His head pounded with the beginnings of a migraine, and his hair was greasy--probably due to the fact that he hadn’t showered in… shit, what day was it? What day had it been when he last showered?

Sometimes the days got like this. They seemed to drag on forever on their own, but if Dan wasn’t paying enough attention it seemed months could go by without his noticing.

He threw on a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie that didn’t exactly smell clean. It wasn’t like he cared.

He padded out of his room, tucking his hands into his pockets and muttering to himself as he went. The hallway was sparse, devoid of any decoration (save for the plastic potted plant sitting in the corner--Dan couldn’t trust himself to take care of a real one), and the tile was cold beneath his toes.

Rounding the corner into the kitchen, Dan went through the motions of making coffee--pouring water into the machine, getting a coffee filter out of the cabinet above his head, drifting away while his hands were busy. In a few minutes, he had a warm cup sitting in front of him and only the vaguest memory of actually making it.

He did that sometimes--floating away, phasing through the day like some sort of lanky ghost. Some days were better than others. Most were the same, though.

He hummed along absently to a song he hadn’t bothered to listen to in months, his scratchy vocals accompanied by the drip, drip of the tap and the slight creaking of his chair as he shifted around. The rain outside drummed a sparse beat onto the window pane, the clouds above not quite enough to hold back the weak sunlight now streaming through his curtainless windows.

His brain felt fuzzy, and Dan lifted the cup up to his mouth for the first time. It had gone cold. When had that happened? How long had he been sitting here, while echoes of Reinventing The Wheel To Run Myself Over bounced around in his head? Was that even the name, or had he gotten it confused with another, equally angsty title? Dan had to admit it was off a pretty decent record, but it reminded him too much of his awkward teenage years and hating himself and everyone else.

God, being a teenager was such shit. He didn’t even remember much of it, his brain clouded in a haze of My Chemical Romance and hoping that he would ever mean something to anybody and the first bitter realization that he wouldn’t. He could practically taste the first sip of lukewarm beer he’d had (he’d nearly spit it out), his first kiss with a girl (which, ironically, was exactly the moment he decided he didn’t like girls very much--at least, not in that way), and especially the day he realized that his friends seemed to have grown up without him--feeling separated from his peers and wanting desperately to figure himself out, et cetera. Fuck, was he spiraling? He was spiraling. Damnit.

Dan was suddenly jolted away from wherever he was by the buzzing of his phone on the table beside him. He didn’t remember bringing it out to the kitchen with him, but he supposed he did, at some point or another. He reckoned that was his boss calling, wondering where he was and why he hadn’t bothered to call in sick and why the hell he thought it was acceptable to miss another day of work and still expect to keep his job.

Dan answered it, not bothering to mask the apathy in his voice.

“Hello?”

“Dan. Where are you? Your shift started ten minutes ago, and I can’t ask Leslie to cover it again, she did that last week and she’s out of town today. You know this. Why aren’t you here?”

Dan sighed, quickly realizing that he had been breathing directly into the speaker. He cringed. “I’m sorry, Matt. I- I guess… Well, I don’t know what I guess but-”

Matt’s voice was tinny through the phone speakers, but the exasperation in it was clear. “This behavior isn’t acceptable, Dan. You know it isn’t, and I don’t want to have to let you go, but you realize that I don’t have much of a choice, you know that, right?”

“Sorry?”

“I’m going to give you one more chance to get yourself together, and then I’m afraid you’re going to lose your job, and you know more than anyone else I’d hate to do that.”

Dan’s boss assumed that Dan knew a lot of things, when really, he didn’t. He’d always got the impression that Matt had only put up with him because he did his job half-decently. When he showed up.

“You know I like you, Dan, but letting you go is really my only option, and if you can’t get your act together by the end of the week… Well, let’s just say you won’t be working at Asda any more, you understand what I’m saying, right?

“You’re lucky you don’t have to come to work today, because Tom just got here--but please, Dan, you know you have to come to work sooner or later.”

Matt hung up before Dan could say anything else.

Dan frowned, staring contemplatively at the wall opposite him. He was going to get fired, and Matt was probably going to do it both by finding ways to say the phrase “you know” a million times and also without saying the word “fired” at any point in the conversation. How would he pay the bills? He was already relying on pity checks from his parents to help with the monthly expenses that came from renting a tiny flat in the middle of London.

He sighed dejectedly and stood up, draining the cold dregs of coffee in his cup and placing it in the sink. He wasn’t sure whether the dishwasher was clean or dirty, and if he didn’t check now then he wouldn’t have to be angry at himself later for not unloading it if it did happen to be clean.

Dan made his way over to the couch, fighting back a shiver as he sat down. It was plenty warm in the flat--in fact, he could feel a sheen of sweat beginning on his forehead, but it still felt like his very core was freezing. He supposed there wasn’t really anything else he could do except get a blanket from his room and be content with lying somewhere other than his bed for once.

He suddenly resented himself for making coffee, knowing that the caffeine now in his system resulted in his body being physically tired enough to lounge around like a sack of lanky potatoes on the couch, but not enough to warrant actually going back to sleep. He wasn’t even sure whether he would be able to sleep, anyway--he’d gotten about five hours the night before, which Dan considered a luxury he was rarely able to indulge in. He didn’t even have dreams anymore, which he was okay with. Dreams were overrated, most of the time.

His laptop was on the coffee table in front of him. Reaching out and pulling it closer to him, Dan opened it with vague intentions of watching something interesting on Netflix. It was dead. He didn’t know where the charger was. It didn’t matter.

Closing the computer, he set it back down and sat back against the sofa, the sorry-looking couch cushions molding around his body almost perfectly. He could turn on the television, Dan supposed, but the commercials gave him headaches and he was at least 70% sure the only thing currently on were talk shows and football matches he didn’t care about.

Maybe he’d just rest here until his miserable excuse for a body needed food. It’s not like he had to go to work, or anything. He closed his eyes and tipped his head back, knowing full well that he wouldn’t be able to sleep and that the position he was currently in would make his neck ache for hours afterwards. He couldn’t find it in himself to care.

--

Dan stood in front of the fridge, dumbfounded. The milk had expired six days ago? When the hell had that happened? For God’s sake, he couldn’t even have a bowl of cereal without something getting in his way.

He’d finally gotten his arse off the couch once his stomach started growling--and now, with a refrigerator that was as empty as his stomach, he supposed that the time had finally come for him to leave the house for the first time in what felt like forever but was probably a bit closer to four days.

He was due to go grocery shopping anyway--he hadn’t been in almost two weeks and at this point the only edible things in the flat were (dry) cereal and a half-empty jar of peanut butter that he supposed he could eat with a spoon if he were particularly desperate. The corner store down the street was much too expensive, although nobody looked twice if you wandered in wearing pajama bottoms and looking like you hadn’t showered in a week.

Speaking of showers.

Dan supposed he had to take one at some point, and hadn’t his therapist (who he had sporadic appointments with) said that maintaining his physical health was just as important as maintaining his mental health? Some bullshit like that. He walked back through the kitchen, shucking his shirt off and tossing it somewhere towards the corner of the room. Maybe he’d go to the Tesco that was a bit further away, the one with much cheaper prices and better products. Maybe he’d even stop at the Starbucks across the street and indulge in coffee that didn’t taste like shit.

He padded into the bathroom, humming the harmony of All The Small Things and stepping out of his boxers. Good moods were rare, and came on as suddenly as they went away, and Dan knew he’d have to make the best of it.

Turning the shower on, Dan looked, really looked, at himself in the mirror while he waited for the water to warm. Sometimes he didn’t recognize himself in the mirror. Sometimes it felt like the person he was inside didn’t look like the person staring back in the mirror--which he always had a hard time explaining to other people, ones who didn’t understand the jerk in your stomach and the pounding in your skull when you looked in the mirror and a stranger was looking back.

Today, however, he thought he could see a sliver of himself in the dark eyes of his reflection, in the curly strands of his hair, in the way he held himself. Maybe something would actually happen today. Sticking his tongue out at his reflection and stepping under the hot stream of water, Dan suddenly remembered why normal people showered regularly. It felt fucking great.

He would stay in here forever, if he could.

--

Stepping out of the shower, Dan toweled himself off as he walked out of the bathroom, picking up the clothes on the floor that he’d worn earlier that day. He’d forgotten how nice it felt stepping out of the shower and wrapping yourself in a fluffy towel--and, knowing himself, he’d likely forget it again when it was time to bathe himself again in a few days. At least it was nice to rediscover the feeling.

His room was a mess. Dan really didn’t feel like cleaning it today, and besides--he already had a very important Adult Thing to do that involved leaving the house and spending money responsibly. Picking up a shirt off the floor, Dan surveyed it--there weren’t any questionable stains, and it wasn’t incredibly wrinkly, so that would have to do.

He picked up the first pair of jeans he found (because nobody even looked at trousers anyway) and stepped into them, hopping around about as gracefully as a sack of geese trying to escape from said sack. Dan crash-landed on the bed, muttered a quick, “Jesus Christ,” and stood up once more, attempting to get the trousers up his thigh. At least he was getting some exercise.

When all his clothes were properly on and he deemed his appearance acceptable enough to leave the flat, Dan stepped back into the hallway and immediately tripped over the towel he’d thrown on the floor prior to getting dressed. Cursing loudly and colorfully, Dan slung the towel over the open bathroom door (musty-smelling towels were the worst) and wandered around the flat in search of socks he could wear. He’d already checked his room, and the absence of clean socks only meant that a load of laundry was long overdue--so, naturally, Dan was looking for any excuse to delay that.

Finally locating a mismatched pair behind the couch and putting on his shoes, Dan grabbed a jacket from the coat rack (“A coat rack? Why in the bloody hell do I have to buy one of these when I could be getting, I don’t know, things I actually need?” Dan had asked after his mother insisted he get one--turns out they were actually pretty useful) and stepped outside, keys in hand.

Dan hadn’t taken more than a few steps before he had to turn back into the flat, silently scolding himself for forgetting his phone and leaving it who knows where because now he has to go look for it and- oh, it was just on the table. After a moment of hesitation, Dan grabbed his earbuds and shoved them in his pocket.

Leaving the flat (again) and locking the door, Dan felt a swell of pride in his chest. He was going outside, and he was going to do mature, adult things maturely. It wasn’t like he had a history of going out with the intention of spending his money wisely and coming back home with £50 worth of Maltesers, or anything.

Dan put his arms through the sleeves of his jacket while walking down the stairs (he was great at multitasking) and nodded at the security guard standing by the door once he reached the ground floor.

Striding outside, Dan inhaled, taking in the scent of the rain. The world was beautiful today.

The rain cascaded from the dark grey sky like a waterfall, splattering onto the sidewalk and dripping from trees. Dan was glad he’d abandoned straightening his hair years ago as the occasional drop smacked the top of his head and rolled down his scalp, managing to soak his hair and send shivers down his spine every time it happened.

Dan hailed a cab and spent a few minutes sitting in silence before putting in earbuds. After a few taps of his finger, Spotify was rolling and Dan stared out the window, lost in thought. The rain tapped against the window, and the grey world around him seemed to put his mind at ease.

Dan had created a playlist for days like this, with songs he loved but were mellow enough to create that rare feeling of peace that Dan was so quick to associate with the downpour around him. Using his hands to drum the beat of the music on his thighs, Dan gazed through the window contentedly until it was suddenly time to get out.

Stepping through the doors of the Tesco, Dan was immediately overwhelmed by the superficial glare of the lights on the shiny floors and the fact that there were people everywhere.

Dan wandered through the aisles, picking up packages of food that would last a long time, like instant noodles and frozen dinners. He also made sure he spent his money responsibly on essentials such as chocolate and… chocolate. And more coffee. He was pretty sure he’d used the last of it this morning.

When he’d managed to gather all the groceries he thought he’d need and avoid making eye contact with anyone who passed him in the aisles, Dan got in line behind some bloke in the SelfServ.

The man had an interesting tattoo on his shoulder, and Dan took the opportunity to study it closely as he waited in line. It was very intricate, with swirls of color that starkly contrasted his dark skin. What looked like gears for a machine of some sort were inked onto the man’s skin, and-

“What the hell do you think you’re looking at, mate?”

Dan was jerked back into reality by the stranger, who was now uncomfortably close to his face and glaring menacingly. “Nothing- I-I’m sorry, it’s just, I mean, you have a really, uh, cool tattoo, and I-”

The man, whose cash register had begun to beep, only stared at him for a second longer and returned to his purchases. As soon as he was done, Dan quickly scanned his items and left the store as soon as possible. Heart thundering, Dan rushed into the Starbucks next to the Tesco and collapsed into a booth in the corner of the coffee shop. That had been absolutely mortifying, this is why he didn’t go outside, that poor man had been just trying to shop and Dan had been ogling him like he was a display in a shop window, what had he been thinking?

Dan forced himself to take deep, calming breaths as he surveyed his surroundings. The few customers who had turned to stare at the lanky bloke bursting haphazardly into the coffee shop had returned to their drinks. In fact, it was fairly quiet in the shop, with nothing but the soft murmurs of people not wanting to disturb the peace and the quiet hum of coffee makers putting out the scent of freshly ground coffee beans.

Stomach growling, Dan remembered that after he’d realized that there hadn’t been any food in the fridge, he hadn’t actually taken the time to eat something amongst all his impulsive decisions (such as taking a shower and leaving the house with no prior plans to do so. Who did that?).

In the midst of all this thinking, Dan suddenly realized that he was in a coffee shop and could literally buy something to eat right at this very second. Standing up and walking over to the line, Dan contemplated what he should get. A muffin? He was going to get coffee, obviously, but as his tired idiot brain didn’t realize this morning, caffeine on an empty stomach made Dan want to vomit. Which was a lovely prospect, in all consideration, but Dan still decided to get some food as well.

He’d just stepped up to the counter and turned to look up at the menu when his eyesight was suddenly bombarded with pale skin and black hair and eyes that were blue-green-yellow and a shy smile that made his stomach do backflips.

“Er, hello,” the barista said, completely unaware of the apparent effect he was having on Dan, “I’m Phil. What can I get for you today?”

[thetravelerwrites]

The Bargain: Viribus

Rating: Teen Relationships: Female Human x Male Demon/Elf Additional Tags: Arranged Marriage, Marriage, Demons, Elves, Princes, Princesses, Monster Boyfriend, Monster Husband, Teratophilia Words: 7297

After Tyria kisses Pallidus, Fawn suddenly appears before them. It's time for her to meet her betrothed, the massive but gentle Viribus. Based on "The Princes" series of shorts written by tumblr user @your-monster-romance, with her permission.

Read the Original Shorts Here: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4 The Previous Chapters: Prologue, Pallidus The Following Chapter: Genus, Gale (NSFW), Fawn (NSFW), Tyria (NSFW), Epilogue

Twenty-year-old Fawn sat with her father, mother, and younger sister at the garden table, sulking. How could her father have not told her there were men asking for her hand in marriage? She had read so many stories about great romances and royal weddings and was rather annoyed that she could be missing out on her own. But after her father’s explosive display, she kept her thoughts to herself.

“To be honest, I’m glad you’re rejecting letters,” Gale said haughtily, pulling a book from the pocket of her apron and opening it. “I don’t want to get married. If I did, I’d have to go live with my husband. I much rather stay here.”

Fawn thought that would make her parents happy, but if anything, they looked even more dismayed.

Fawn could feel things getting tense again, even if Gale was oblivious. She stood up, draining her teacup and putting a roll in her pocket.

“I’m going to the menagerie,” She said, taking a few biscuits and a apple tart, too. “I want to take a look at Daisy’s leg. She was favoring it yesterday.” She kissed her mother’s cheek and patted her father’s shoulder as she passed them.

Daisy was a goat she had rescued after she had gotten mauled by a wolf and then was left for dead when hunters chased the wolf off. Fawn had found her a few weeks ago limping on the edge of the castle grounds, eating flowers from their field. Fawn had been nursing her back to health over the past several weeks and Daisy had been getting better, but yesterday she began limping on her bad leg again and Fawn wondered if the leg hadn’t healed right.

The menagerie was located just on the other side of the garden, situated between it and the greenhouse, where they grew most of their own herbs and spices. The menagerie was built in much the same way as the greenhouse, except it had mesh wire instead of glass encasing it.

Inside, the smell of animals was strong, but it wasn’t one she minded. She rolled up her sleeves and put on her leather work apron and got started mucking out the bird cages. Her parents insisted she let the staff do these sorts of unpleasant chores, but Fawn had never been afraid of getting dirty. Once the cages were clean, she refilled their water and seed bowls, moving on to the squirrels and chipmunks, breaking the roll into little pieces for them.

Most of the animals in the menagerie were rescues, and it always made Fawn sad to let them go, but she knew they belonged back out in the forest. There were only a few animals who would be permanent residents, like the blinded owl and the stoat that was missing it’s front paw.

Once the feeding and watering and mucking out was done, she finally turned her attention to Daisy. Removing her apron and washing her hands, she opened the stall to the makeshift infirmary and checked Daisy’s leg.

“Seems like it’s better today,” Fawn said, pleased. Daisy was sniffing Fawn’s pockets, looking for treats, walking perfectly well on her injured leg. “That’s good. Soon you’ll be able to go back home. Although, if you’d like to stay here with me, I wouldn’t mind that either.” She took a biscuit from her pocket and fed it to Daisy, who happily munched away.

She took Daisy out of the menagerie so that she could graze in the field beyond, taking the opportunity to change the straw bedding of her stall. Taking a pitchfork, Fawn shifted the straw and moved it into the center of the stall, so it would be easier to haul, and as she did so, something buried in the middle of it caught her eye. It was large and black.

Thinking maybe a skunk had had her kits in here, Fawn set the pitchfork aside and she sifted through the straw until she could see the object clearly. It was a rose, a solid black rose, from the petals to the stem. Fawn couldn’t remember if this variety had ever grown in Tyria’s rose garden. Did roses even come in black? Pondering, she reached down and picked it up, accidentally pricking her finger on a thorn she couldn’t see because it blended in so well.

There was a snap and a bright flash of light, which Fawn shielded her eyes against. She felt as though she were whirling through the air, and clutched herself until the spinning stopped.

“Fawn!”

Fawn opened her eyes to find herself in a dark place, lit from above by glowing chandeliers. In front of her was her sister, Tyria, running toward her with her arms outstretched. Behind her was… a man? If it was, it was the strangest man she’d ever seen. As Tyria ran toward her, the stranger abruptly dashed away.

“Oh, gods, Fawn, it’s so good to see you!” Tyria said as she flung herself onto her little sister and held her tight. “I’ve missed you so much!”

“Wait, what? Missed me?” Fawn said, pulling Tyria off of her and holding her at arms length. “What are you talking about? I just saw you ten minutes ago. You went to get a rose for your corsage.”

Tyria’s brows knitted together in disbelief. “Fawn, I’ve been here for months.”

“What?” Fawn stared at her sister, dumbstruck, looking around her at the weird, color-washed copy of the rose garden back home. “Where is here?”

“Cavernae.”

“The demon kingdom?” Fawn laughed at her sister skeptically. “Tyria, I’m the one who’s supposed to believe in tall tales, not you.”

“Does this look like a fairy story to you?” Tyria replied, gesturing around at the dark walls and pale blue lights that flickered and danced on the stone of the ceiling.

“All right, you have a point,” Fawn said reluctantly. “So what are we doing here?”

“Oh, Fawn,” Tyria said in a distressed tone. “There’s something I need to tell you. And you may not like it very much. Here, sit down here with me.”

“All right,” Fawn replied slowly, sitting on a bench nearby.

Tyria took a very large breath, sat down beside her, and said, “Do you remember how Father was receiving letters of intent for you and I, but was rejecting them all?”

“Yes?”

“There’s a reason for that.”

“Which is?”

“We’re already betrothed. All of us. Even Gale.”

Fawn’s mouth dropped in horror. “What?”

“Father promised us to the Demon King’s sons during the Great War in an effort to save Coll and his kingdom. We were engaged to be wed before our parents even met each other.”

“But, how could the Demon King have known we’d even exist?”

“I don’t know,” Tyria said. “The Demon King has amazing foresight, I guess.”

“So, the… man I saw you with, he’s your…?”

“His name is Pallidus. He’s the eldest of Zinzo’s sons. And yes, he’s my intended.”

“Do you… like him?” She seemed pretty cozy with him when Fawn arrived.

“Yes, I do. I’m not sure I like him enough to marry him yet, though, but he is wonderful company. Trust me, I had just as many misgivings as you when I first got here. It took a long time for me to warm up to him. I wouldn’t even speak to him for weeks.”

“So,” Fawn said slowly. “Who am I…”

“Viribus.” Tyria rested a hand on Fawn’s shoulder and regarded her in that annoying older sister I-know-what’s-best kind of way. “You mustn’t judge him too harshly when you see him. He may look rather intimidating, but I promise you he’s a very sweet man, if a little insecure. Try not to say anything rude; he’s sensitive.”

“Viribus,” Fawn repeated. “When will I meet him?”

Tyria looked past her, and jerked her chin up to indicate that Fawn should turn around.

“Don’t be afraid,” Tyria whispered in her ear.

Fawn rose from the bench and turned. She saw the tall, slender man she’d seen before, Pallidus, the one who had been sitting with Tyria when she opened her eyes for the first time in this realm. Next to him was a man even stranger than the first.

He was just as tall as his brother, but where Pallidus was thin in an eldritch sort of way, this other man was nothing short of massive. He had muscle on muscle, barely contained in the fabric of his tunic, and it looked as substantial as a boulder. Fawn had always been short, but compared to this man, she was nothing more than a china doll, tiny and breakable, the top of her head not even reaching the middle of his chest.

His hair was black, like his brother, but rather than long and straight, it was cut short and curled slightly. His big horns twisted around his head, like a ram, and his short, pointed ears stuck out of the space between. His eyes were solid black, and his skin was the color of slate, grey with a tinge of dark blue. His clothes were far plainer than Pallidus’s, but no less rich or well made, and he held a bouquet of the same black roses like the one Fawn still had clutched in her hand. If he could feel the thorns, he gave no sign.

“For you,” He said, his voice as deep as a chasm in the earth. “I’m so pleased to finally meet you, Fawn.”

All at once, Fawn’s head began to spin again. She swayed, putting a hand to her forehead.

“Forgive me,” She said vaguely. “I think I need to…”

Before she could finish her sentence, she fell forward. Viribus dropped the roses and rushed to catch her before she hit the ground. His face was panicked.

“I didn’t mean to scare her,” He said, visibly upset.

“It’s all right, Viri,” Tyria said, patting his back. “She’s just overwhelmed. Trust me, I know exactly how she feels. Let’s just get her to her chambers for now, all right?”

“They’re ready for her,” Pallidus said. “Do you need me to come?”

Tyria turned to kiss Pallidus’s cheek. “No, I think it would be better if we gave her some room to breathe. I’ll come by the library later, all right? Wait for me.”

Pallidus nodded, and Tyria followed Viribus to the apartments that had been set up for Fawn, which were right next to her own.

Opening the door, she instructed Viribus to lay her on the bed and help her pull Fawn’s shoes off. Once done, Viribus began to back out of the room.

“I should go,” He said nervously. “She won’t want to see me when she wakes.”

“No, Viri, stay. I’ll stay with you. She should wake up soon, and I’ll help you talk to her. She just arrived; don’t give up just yet.”

Viribus frowned with worry, looking down at Fawn’s sleeping form. “I knew she was a slight little thing, but I didn’t realize how tiny she actually was. I can’t be the one intended for her, I’ll break her.”

“No, you won’t,” Tyria said comfortingly. “You would never hurt her, I know you wouldn’t. You’re a gentle soul, Viri.”

Viribus continued to frown, but he opened the drawer of Fawn’s bedside table and pulled out two books. One was a copy of Beauty and the Beast, one of Fawn’s favorite stories, and the second was a blank book for her to write in.

“When did you put those in here?” Tyria asked.

“The day you came,” Viribus replied. “I had hoped she would join you soon, so I put some things in her room I thought she’d like.”

“That was sweet of you,” Tyria said, patting his arm.

“I just hope she thinks so, too.” He set the books down on the bed next to her hand, and only then did he notice the drop of blood on the bedclothes.

“She pricked her finger,” He said, very, very carefully lifting her hand to examine it, as though she were made of porcelain. “It must have been from the rose. I didn’t even do that right.”

Tyria smacked him lightly on the arm with the back of her hand. It was like hitting solid stone.

“Stop beating yourself up. There’s nothing wrong with you or the way you do things. You’re too hard on yourself.”

Fawn began to stir, and Viribus backed away again.

“Stop right there,” Tyria said, pointing at his feet commandingly. He froze. She went to fetch a chair from Fawn’s new vanity for him to sit on. “Sit.”

He did so, but seemed to be doing his best to make himself appear smaller. It didn’t work. She handed him the books he had laid on the bed.

“It would be better if she got them from you,” Tyria said. Viribus’s face was doubtful, but he took them anyway.

Fawn sat up slowly in the bed, looking around her new quarters, which had been painted sky blue, Fawn’s favorite color. The ceiling had been decorated with paintings of clouds, corpuscular rays, and tiny flocks of birds. Tyria had situated herself on the edge of the bed.

“Ty,” Fawn said weakly. “Is this…?”

“Still Cavernae, yes,” Tyria replied.

“Where are we now?”

“Your quarters. They’re right next to mine. There’s a door over there,” She pointed. “That leads into my rooms, should you need me.”

Viribus cleared his throat cautiously, and Fawn’s head snapped around to look at him.

“I’m sorry I frightened you,” He said in quiet voice. “I didn’t mean to. I’m just that way, I guess.”

Fawn looked at him, his eyes downcast, his posture hunched. He reminded her of a beaten dog and she couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for him, as alarming as he was.

“It… it’s all right,” She said shakily. “I was just a little surprised, that’s all.”

He nodded. He held out the books for her to take, but refused to stand up or move any closer, lest she become frightened again.

“What are those?” She asked, putting her bare feet on the floor and standing.

“Gifts,” He replied. “I know you like to write your thoughts down in a journal, and while I couldn’t retrieve the one from your home, I thought you might still like to do so. This blue one is blank. The other is a story I know you enjoy.”

She took the books from his hands. His movements were slow and deliberate, as though she was the creature for which she was named and might scurry off if he moved too fast.

“Beauty and the Beast?” She said, surprised.

“Yes,” He replied, still looking down at his feet, his hands fidgeting in his lap. “A story about a beautiful woman who falls in love with a hideous creature. The beast is then transformed back into a handsome prince through the power of her love.” He shrugged one of his shoulders and grimaced. “I’m sorry I can’t do that. I’ll be like this forever, regardless of who does or doesn’t love me.”

She felt a peculiar aching in her heart that compelled her to extend a shaky hand, taking his chin and lifting his face so she could see his eyes. She was startled in a completely different way when he looked at her full on; he gazed at her as though she were sunlight, or starlight, or some equally radiant thing. Like he was looking at the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. It was rather intense. Her heart skipped a beat.

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” She said softly, pulling her hand away. “There’s nothing wrong with being a little different. People can’t help how they’re born.” She managed a tremulous smile. “I’m sorry if I was rude. I didn’t mean to cause such a fuss.”

“No, it’s my fault,” He said. “I shouldn’t have just sprung myself on you like that. I should have been more careful. I’m just glad I was able to catch you before you hit your head on the bench.”

“You caught me?” Fawn said, a genuine smile on her face. “Thank you.”

Viribus seemed transfixed by her smile and didn’t appear to be capable of answering. Tyria hid her own smile behind her hand. She couldn’t help but be amused by this mountain of a man rendered speechless by her wild, flighty little sister.

“How did you know this story was my favorite?” Fawn asked.

“I’ve seen you read it hundred of times,” Viribus said.

“Seen me?”

“Yes,” He replied, pulling a mirror identical to Pallidus’s out of his trouser pocket. “Mother enchanted these and gave them to my brothers and I. It has helped me learn about you.”

“Oh, like in Cinderella.”

“Yes. I’ve watched you cycle through hundreds of books, but you always return to this one sooner or later. I can’t read it myself, but I’ve heard you read it out loud enough times that I know it by heart.”

Her smiled faded and she looked at him in concern. “You can’t read?”

“No,” Viribus said sadly. “And the tragedy of it is that I love stories very much. But when I try to read, the letters jump and dance on the page and I can’t concentrate on it. Father is the same, though not as bad as me. I used to beg Mother to read to me constantly, but I stopped when I became grown.” He saw the sympathetic look on her face and added: “I’m not stupid. I understand a great many things, I just can’t read about them.”

“I could read to you, if you like,” Fawn said brightly. “I read for my animals all the time. I like having an audience.”

“You would do that?” Viribus asked.

“Of course,” Fawn said. “I couldn’t imagine not being able to read. That would be my worst nightmare.”

“If that’s the case,” Tyria said, standing. “You should see the library. It’s amazing. You could pick out a few books while your there and get started.”

“Oh, yes, let’s do that,” Viribus said enthusiastically, standing to his full, impressive height.

Fawn took a step back without thinking.

“Oh,” Viribus backed up as well, ducking his head. “I’m sorry.”

Fawn glanced at Tyria, who gave her a pointed look. Taking a deep breath, Fawn resolutely stepped forward and took Viribus’s hand.

“Will you show me the library?” She asked him.

“Yes,” He replied, smiling hesitantly. “Yes, I would love to.”

Pallidus was there, leaning against a desk with a small book in his hand, waiting for Tyria like she requested. He closed the book and set it on the desk, standing up straight as they entered, smiling widely at the sight of Fawn and Viribus together. Pallidus extended his elbow for Tyria, which she took.

“I really didn’t get the chance to introduce you two properly earlier,” Tyria said. “Fawn, this is Prince Pallidus, Heir of Cavernae. Pallidus, this is Princess Fawn of Suida, my middle sister.”

Pallidus bowed low, the delicate chains around his horns making a pleasant ringing sound as he moved. “It is an honor to finally meet you, my Lady,” He said.

Fawn curtsied. “A pleasure, my Lord.”

“She hasn’t met Genus yet. Is he here?” Tyria asked.

“Oh, I’m sure he’s in one of these rooms, he always is. I could find him, if you wish.”

“No, no, she’ll likely meet him soon enough, anyhow. Dinner will be in a little while.”

“Speaking of which,” Pallidus said. “Why don’t we go speak to Mother about the menu? Fawn is vegetarian, didn’t you say?”

“Yes, she is,” Tyria said, winking at him cheekily. “We’ll see you at dinner, all right?”

Fawn nodded, a little apprehensive. “All right.”

Pallidus and Tyria excused themselves and left, still arm in arm.

Viribus gulped nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “So… would you like a tour of the library?”

Fawn swallowed her terror at being left alone with this grey giant and said, “Yes, please.”

He took her through each of the many rooms that made up the library, smiling a little at her excitement as she forgot her nervousness and looked over each title, every tiny leaflet, every oversize tome. He walked with her, but was always mindful to leave several paces between them, so she didn’t feel like he was looming over her.

She’d spend a lot of time examining each row for books she recognized, and even pulled a few off the shelf that she had never heard of before, asking him about them. He only knew the story of one, so she put that one back and kept the two he didn’t know to be read later.

In the very center of the seventeenth room, she found a huge model castle, carefully hand painted and glittering, sitting on a pedestal.

“Oh!” She breathed, rushing over to it as soon as she saw it. “Look at this! This is an exact replica of the castle in my Cinderella storybook. Where did you get this?”

“That?” He said. “I made that.”

She turned to look at him, her mouth hanging open in shock. “You made this?”

“Yes,” He came to stand on the other side, so that the table was between them, and pressed a tiny button on the side. There was a minuscule chiming sound.

She laughed with delight. “The little bell tower even works! Oh, Viribus, this is lovely.”

“You like it?” He asked, pleased.

“Yes, very much,” Fawn said.

“Then it’s yours,” He replied.

“What, no! It belongs in the library. It’s perfect here. It makes the room so lively.”

“Hmm,” He mused. “Then I’ll make you another one for your room. What would you like? The one from Snow White? Or I could make the dragon’s hoard from that really long story about a ring.”

She thought about it, examining the intricate detail on the towers and the parapets and the apiary. It reminded her of her own castle.

“Could you make my home castle? The one I live in?” Her face fell a little. “Well, lived in,” she clarified.

He watched her face sadly. “Yes, I can. I’ve seen it from many angles, so I’m certain I can replicate it. Although, there may be one or two things on which I could use your input.”

“I’d love to help,” She said.

“Well,” He said a little uncertainly. “Follow me, then. I’ll show you my workroom.”

“Should I bring the books?” She asked, holding them up.

“Oh, yes,” He said. “Would you mind reading to me while I work? It’s awfully quiet in that end of the palace.”

“Sure,” She said, following him back out into the hallway, but just as they stared down the long corridor, a bell tolled somewhere.

“Looks like it’ll have to wait,” Viribus said, a little disappointed. “It’s time for dinner.”

The next day, he led her to a secluded corner of the hallway at the very back, away from most of the rooms. She was a little nervous, being this far out with him alone, but she was determined to make the best of the situation. She didn’t want to insult him more than she already had.

“I’m sorry it’s such a long walk,” He said, holding the books from the library under his arm. “I can make quite the ruckus sometimes when I’m building things. Father had my workroom put out here so that I wouldn’t disturb anyone.”

“Do you spend much time here?”

“Almost everyday,” He said. “Pallidus and Genus are usually in the library, when they aren’t entertaining your sister, that is, which is another reason it’s so far away. It’s hard for them to read over my banging and sawing.”

“Don’t you spend any time in the library?”

“Not really. There’s no point since I can’t read. The only time I’m in there is when I’m placing a new model or they need help moving shelves. Otherwise, I’m in here.”

“By yourself?”

“Mostly.”

“That sounds… lonely,” Fawn said.

He merely shrugged, and opened the door. As she entered, she let out a wondering gasp.

In the middle of the room, surrounded by walls of tools, equipment, materials, and paint, was a huge table that contained a display of a tiny but vast forest. There were hills and trees and minuscule woodland creatures. In the very center was a clearing by a lake, where stood a single fawn the size of her thumbnail. It almost looked as if this tiny creature was the centerpiece and everything else had been built around it. The way it was all painted and placed made it look real, as if at any second, the breeze would shift the branches and make the leaves dance. She almost expected the fawn’s ear to twitch.

“Viribus,” She breathed. “This… this is incredible. Did you really make all of this?”

“Yes,” He said, watching her face. He did that a lot. “This one has taken me months. It’s not quite finished yet, but it’s getting there.”

“You’re amazing!” She said, giving him the biggest smile he had seen yet. “You’re a real artist.”

He scratched the back of his head. “I wouldn’t say that.”

“I would, and I just did,” She said emphatically. “I couldn’t do this. And it’s such delicate work. Look how tiny these are!” She reached out to pick up the little deer, but stopped herself. “Oh, I’m sorry. May I?”

“Yes, of course, please,” He said, sitting on a stool near the table. He watched her pick up the small deer and examine it carefully, a soft smile lighting up her features. She walked up to him with it, stopping in front of him so that they were very close, and held it up to him.

“How did you paint something this small?”

He gulped at the proximity, but managed to say, “Uh… I can show you, if you’d like.”

She nodded vigorously, and he stood up, walking to the far end of the room, where there was another table covered in little carved figures, ready to be painted. He picked out another animal; from the shape, she guessed it was a mountain cat of some kind. He opened a tray that had many small reservoirs, all filled with paint. Using a spare section of the table, he used a paint trowel and mixed an orange and a gold paint together to make the perfect color for a cougar’s fur. He took up a small, finely bristled paintbrush, dipped it in the mixture, and drew short, deliberate strokes along the cat’s side, his hands completely steady.

Watching him work was mesmerizing, and Fawn couldn’t help but move closer and closer, until he could feel her breath on his neck. It made the short hairs on his body stand on end, but he forced his hands to remain stable and continued on.

It wasn’t until she knitted her hands together, placing them on his shoulder and rested her chin on top of them that he stopped altogether, turning to look at her with wide, almost terrified eyes.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” She said as she pulled away, although she didn’t remove her hands from his shoulder. “Was I throwing you off? I can back up, if I’m bothering you.”

“No!” He said quickly. “No, you’re… you’re not bothering me at all.”

She smiled, resting her head back on her hands, waiting for him to continue. This close, he could smell the perfume of her hair, like clover and wildflowers. He took a deep breath and turned back to his work, but now his hands were shaking and he couldn’t get them to stop.

Before it could get awkward, though, a yipping sound caught her attention.

“What’s that?” She asked, following the sound.

“Oh, I…” He began, but stopped when she gasped.

She bent down under one of the tables, and when she stood up, she was holding a small brown dog, likely a forest mutt.

“Where did he come from?” She cooed, cuddling him to her cheek.

“The outside,” Viribus said. “I’m the only one that Father allows outside, so I can collect materials for my work. He doesn’t like me doing it, but it’s the only way I can get the things I need. I can only go out twice a month, at night, for thirty minutes. No more than that.” He reached to touch the dog’s ears. “I found him a few months ago, and I think another animal attacked him.”

The small dog became frantic to get to Viribus, so Fawn handed him over. Viribus cradled him like an infant.

“I named him Peach. Father doesn’t want us to bring live things from the outside down here, but I couldn’t leave him out there like that. He’d have died.” Viribus looked up anxiously. “You won’t tell Father about him, will you?”

“Of course not,” Fawn said consolingly, scratching the dog’s ears. It happily licked at her hands. “Oh, Peach. Viri’s just a big, soft teddy bear, isn’t he? Yes, he is.” Fawn giggled and looked up at Viribus with a wide grin, laying her free hand on his arm.

The contact made his spine shiver. Again, he seemed at a loss for words. He often felt that way around her.

“Why doesn’t your Father want you or your brother’s to go outside?” Fawn asked curiously.

“It’s not safe,” Viribus said, going to sit back at the table.

“Why not?”

“Well, several reasons. There are more humans now than there have ever been, and they are multiplying rapidly, encroaching on the old territories. There are far fewer of us than them, and since the old treaties between our kinds died out, many humans have forgotten the old codes and regard us with fear or hatred. Demons have often been attacked when they try mingle with humans. Elves have retreated far into their homes and have stopped venturing out for fear of the same.” Peach had one of Viribus’s large fingers in his mouth, snarling playfully, and Viribus smiled down at him. “Not to mention the sun.”

“What about the sun?”

“For a lot of demons, sunlight is harmful,” He replied.

“Will it kill you, like vampires?” She asked.

“No, not unless we spent hours and hours in the sun, but that’s bad even for humans. No, it’s more like an allergy. It makes out skin burn and welt. It’s not lethal, but it’s not pleasant, either.”

“Are elves the same way?”

“No. Actually, most elves enjoy the sunlight.”

“Well, you’re half elf, aren’t you? You might be immune to sunlight.”

He tilted her head at her, considering. “Now, there’s an idea.”

“Have you ever tried going out during the day?”

“Oh, no, never,” He replied, shaking his head. “Father would be most displeased. He worries for our safety, above all things.”

Fawn was reminded of her own father, and she sighed unhappily. She turned her attention back to Peach to distract herself.

“Well, now,” She said, pulling the dog from his grasp and setting him on her shoulder. “Why don’t we read for a bit while you’re papa does his work, hmm?” She smiled up at Viribus. “Would you like that?”

“Yes,” he said quietly. “I would like that very much.”

She took a stool from a different work station and sat it next to him at table, laying on of the books in front of her and opening the cover. Viribus had laid the cougar aside and picked up a flat, thin length of wood and a small carving knife, meticulously cutting out the shape of what would be the Suida capitol’s great castle, Fawn’s home.

“’Many years ago, so long that time itself has forgotten the name of the country, there lived a great king with no heirs…’”

When Fawn was with Viribus, days passed like seconds. She loved to watch him work in his workshop, and he adored the sound of her voice when she read. He was happiest when she shared her own stories with him, ones she had written herself. It was like a little piece of her only he was allowed to see. The first time she sat in his lap to read, he very nearly cried.

It took some convincing, but she finally got him to join her in the library for a reading. She invited Tyria and Viribus’s brothers, too, and though Viribus thought his brothers would laugh at such a thing, they always turned up and listened to her readings. Once or twice, his mother and father came to listen, as well. It became a weekly thing, and it made Viribus very, very happy.

As if to repay her, he went out of his way to accommodate her. Anything she wanted, he would get her, no questions asked. He would do almost anything to please her; if she were to request that he burn down his entire workshop, he would do it with a smile on his face as long as it made her happy. Not that she ever would. It was her favorite place to read.

Most of the time, she read out loud to him, but there were times when he needed to concentrate hard on his work, so she would stay and read in silence. He just really enjoyed having her nearby, even if they weren’t interacting.

She’d often throw on an apron and help him keep the place tidy, even though he told her each time that she didn’t have to do it. All it took was a kiss on the cheek and a smile, and he let her do whatever she wanted.

When he went out on his bi-monthly hikes to the outside, she waited at the portal, anxious for him to come back. Once, he’d come home with an arrow in his shoulder, and she was beside herself with worry. He said there had been hunters near the portal when he came out, and he had tried to lead them away, but was shot in the process. He made her swear never to tell his Father, lest he revoke his ability to go out. She promised, helping him remove the arrow and dress the wound, burning the bloody tunic afterward.

Seeing him with his shirt off did strange things to her body. She always knew he was muscular, but feeling the solid muscle shift under his skin with her own hands was something new entirely. It made the blood rush to her cheeks and pooled warmth at her midsection. There was a powerful ache rising up in her that made her heart beat hard in her chest and her thighs clamp shut. It made her imagine things she had never thought of before, like what his hands, or his lips, would feel like on her bare skin. It took a strong force of will to stop her fingers from lingering on the flesh of his back, tracing his spine downward, and seeing where it led.

She was quite old enough to understand what these feelings were, even if she had never felt them before. It was still a startling revelation. She desired Viribus. She wanted him in a painful, aching, physical way.

But desire and love were two different things entirely. Did she love him? She certainly knew she cared about him a great deal, but was that love? How would she know? How did he feel about her?

She wouldn’t have to wait long for the answer to that last question. A few days after the arrow incident, she went to his workroom to meet him, carrying bandages concealed in a bag so that she could change the dressings on the wound, when she heard his deep, bass voice through the door.

He appeared to be playing with Peach, wrestling and roughhousing. As much as Viribus thought of himself as a clumsy, hulking monster, he had never once hurt Peach, even accidentally. Or her, for that matter.

She suddenly heard a scratching at the door. Peach must be able to smell her. Just as she put her hand on the knob to open the door, she heard Viribus say: “Waiting for Fawn, eh? She’s coming soon, buddy, don’t you worry. You love her, don’t you, boy? Do you love Fawn, Peach? Huh? Do you love her?”

He must have picked the dog up, because the scratching stopped. She heard Viribus sigh softly on the other side.

“Yeah. Me too.”

For a moment, the only thing she could hear was Peach’s excited panting and yips. Then she heard Viribus say, in a more cheerful voice, “Let’s get this place cleaned up, eh, Peach? Make sure she doesn’t work her pretty little hands to the bone this time.”

Fawn laid a hand on the smooth wood of the door, listening to him knock around inside the work room, putting things away and talking to Peach animatedly.

Something had taken hold of her heart, something as strong as iron and as soft as rose petals. She had never felt it before, but knew what it was in an instant.

Of course. Of course she loved him. He was her Beast, how could she not? She pressed her forehead against the cool door, bathing in the new emotion, letting it swallow her up. Knowing that he loved her made the desire for him stronger and more urgent, like a fire fueled with spirits. Her breathing was a little uneven and her body tensed in ways it never had. It took several minutes before she was able to settle herself down and enter the room.

As she came in, he smiled at her affectionately, and the fire was kindled anew. Watching him strip off his shirt and submit to her ministrations with trust in his eyes did absolutely nothing to quench it.

She had been in the underground kingdom for three months, and in all that time, he had never once brought up the engagement. He gave her as much space as she needed and didn’t press her or ask her about the betrothal, perhaps afraid of what her answer might be.

One afternoon, while taking tea with her on the balcony of her apartments, she surprised him.

“I wrote a new story. Would you like to hear it?”

“Always,” He said with a wide smile, sitting down on the balcony bench with her.

“I haven’t figured out a name for it yet,” She said, opening her journal. “It just sort of spilled out of me yesterday evening, so forgive it if it’s a little rough.”

“I’m sure it’s wonderful, just like all your tales.”

She smiled up at him. “Very well then,” She replied, clearing her throat.

“’Once upon a time, there was a young woman who lived with her family in the sunlight. She was of royal birth, but she was a wild thing, hard to dislike but even harder to tame.”

“Reminds me of someone, but I can’t think of who,” Viribus said playfully, and Fawn shushed him in a good natured sort of way.

“'One day, while playing with her animal friends, she stepped through a hole and fell into a dark, impossible place far underground. There, she met a strange man, who insisted they were to be wed. Shocked, the poor girl collapsed.'”

Viribus’s smile faded. He knew this story.

“'When she awoke, she saw him waiting there. He was huge and monstrous and hulking. But when she reached out to him, he shrunk from her, as though afraid. He was timid and unsure of himself, a stark contrast to his fearsome exterior.’”

Viribus shifted in his seat anxiously. She seemed to notice, but continued.

“’It took time, but the two tried to understand one another. They found they shared the same love: a love of tales. This is just like Beauty and the Beast, she thought. So she made him a deal. She would read him a story each night, and he would put off the wedding for another day. He agreed. So, as time passed, the wedding was suspended and many stories were told.’

“’One evening, he came to her chamber and sat down to receive his story, when she realized that his eyes, which she once found terrifying, looked at her with splendor, as if she were the only thing in the world worthy of being looked upon. The next night, she realized that the body she once believed to be huge and intimidating, was in fact strong and protective, and would gladly take sword and arrow if it meant keeping her from harm. The next night, she looked at his hands, and instead of the violent bludgeons she had suspected they could be, she saw them for the careful, creative things they were, able to calm wounded creatures and make beautiful, delicate things to be marveled at and wondered over.’

’And she realized then, he was beautiful. Beauty and the Beast was indeed a fairy tale, because in this young maiden’s story, her beastly prince was beautiful just as he was, and she would never want him to change. All at once, she knew then that she loved him.” Her voice softened to a near whisper. “She loved every strange, wondrous thing about him.’”

Viribus’s heart stopped, and then beat way too fast. She couldn’t mean…

“’How would she tell him, then? How could she put it into words and make him understand that what she said was the truth? He doubted himself and saw himself as a monster, so how to make him see, that to her, he was a good man, the only man worthy of her love? In what way could she tell him that being held by him was like being wrapped in her favorite blanket, safe from any danger? How could she show him that the sight of him filled her with desire, a thirst for him she couldn’t slake. How could she say and make him believe that he was the only man she would ever want? How?’

“’And then she knew. It was simple. The answer had been there all along,’” Fawn said, looking up at Viribus and slowly closing the book in her lap. “’She would just tell him a story.’”

He reached out with his hand and touched her cheek. She closed her eyes and leaned into his touch, putting her own hand over his sighing in contentment. He bent to rest his forehead on hers.

“That was beautiful,” He said quietly.

“It’s a true story, you know,” She whispered. “And it’s not over yet.”

“No?” He said, looking into her eyes. “Then how does it end?”

She tilted her chin up and gently pressed her lips to his. “She keeps telling him stories, not to hold off his advances, but merely to make him happy. In fact, there’s only one night when no story is told.” Her cheeks flush. “Their wedding night.”

His heart danced in his chest and his eyes widen in shock. “You’ll marry me?”

She nodded, her sweet smile full of affection. “Yes, I will.”

He breathed a sigh of relief and shut his eyes, tears falling freely down his cheeks. He rested his head on her shoulder, weeping unashamed, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, humming a soft lullaby into his ear.

“The story is only going to get better,” She said as she pulled him back a little, wiping his tears away with her fingers. “I promise.”

“I believe you,” He said gently, and he bent to kiss her again.

A kiss that was interrupted by a familiar voice screaming obscenities from the hallway outside of Fawn’s balcony.

“Oh,” Fawn said pleasantly. “Looks like Gale has made it at last.”

Since my work is no longer searchable, please do me a favor and reblog this story if you enjoyed it. Help me reach a wider audience! To help me continue creating, please consider buying me a Kofi, becoming a Patron, or donating directly to my PayPal!

Thanks for reading!

My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

[everlarkficexchange]

Springtime Edition 2018.

These are the prompts we’ve received so far.

Crossed out prompts have already been selected and are being turned into fics!

I’d like to thank everyone who’s taken the time to come up with an idea and send it our way. Your prompts are the heart of the Exchange. Without them our lovely authors wouldn’t get to write all those beautiful fics. So, please, keep them coming!

You haven’t sent anything yet? Don’t worry, there’s still time. We’ll be receiving prompts until Mar 11.  Don’t be afraid to inspire us!

We have more than 100 prompts now! So make sure to  keep reading to see them all. Enjoy!

Prompts:

Prompt 1: “I wish that ball had hit you in the face!” [submitted by @peetaspikelets]

Prompt 2: Awkward or embarrassing job interview. [submitted by @peetaspikelets​]

Prompt 3: Personal trainer from hell! [submitted by @peetaspikelets​]

Prompt 4: Modern AU where katniss is a wedding planner and peeta is the caterer and her ex. [submitted by @sunflowerslyf​]

Prompt 5: Katniss + Peeta + Krazy Glue = ? (Seal wound? Office prank? How they meet? How they’re forced to speak?) [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 6: Desperate petite Katniss takes a job jumping out of a cake. [submitted by @567inpanem​]

Prompt 7: Young Peeta has an imaginary friend, Katniss, with superpower to help him when he’s alone or afraid, but something happens (good? bad?) and she becomes real. [submitted by @567inpanem​]

Prompt 8: Start your story at the end (like the backwards Seinfeld episode “The Betrayal” about a wedding in India) and reveal how it began at the end. [submitted by @567inpanem​]

Prompt 9: "Was she ever real?“ (SciFi Katniss is a cyborg or hologram.) [submitted by @567inpanem​]

Prompt 10: No games, but 16-year-old Seam girl Katniss is sent away to serve time for the killing of her sister’s murderer. She’s just returned to D12. How will she adjust? Who is still there? (mom, Gale, Madge, Sae, Darius, Peeta??) [submitted by @567inpanem​]

Prompt 11: Mom makes a new life for herself in D4. How would Katniss receive the news of her mother’s death at different times of her life (at 20-something while adjusting to life in post-war D12; after becoming a mother herself in her late 30s/early 40s; after becoming a grandmother in her 60s/70s). [submitted by Anonymous]

Prompt 12: Wait, what?! What do you mean, “We’re not exclusively dating”?! [submitted by @567inpanem​]

Prompt 13: Private eye Peeta and the dame who hires him, Katniss, in an old fashioned mystery turned romance. Bonus points for using 1920/30s turns of phrase. [submitted by @noneyabidnes]

Prompt 14: Planning and executing a first birthday party for oldest toastbaby. [submitted by @booksrockmyface]

Prompt 15: Pirate Katniss and wealthy nobalmen Peeta’s worlds collide. [submitted by @7-ah]

Prompt 16: Soulmate AU: Katniss has 2 soulmates/marks/indication of some sort, after the loss of her first, she’s terrified to have loved and lost again. Until Peeta. [submitted by @7-ah]

Prompt 17: Saying “I love you” for the first time at the worst possible moment. [submitted by @xerxia31]

Prompt 18: Canon/Canon Compliant: How about Katniss wanting to have the little youngest toastbaby, and being nervous to ask Peeta(and of course, excited when he says yes!)? [submitted by Anonymous]

Prompt 19: Awkward first date in high school, could involve a bet or a dare. [submitted by @savedbyyeezus]

Prompt 20: A fix about Katniss and Peeta having an arranged or forced marriage, but Katniss wanting her wedding night. [submitted by @ealaatnara]

Prompt 21: Visual prompt. Day 1 of Peeta as a Daddy [submitted by Anonymous]

Prompt 22: Peeta is a peacekeeper in Twelve, maybe a rebel undercover? And he and Katniss love story. Thanks [submitted by @marizpe17]

Prompt 23: A fic based on the song “Saturday Sun” by Vance Joy! [submitted by Anonymous]

Prompt 24: Ex with benefits [submitted by @sunflowerslyf]

Prompt 25: Katniss Everdeen is a 17-year-old Olympic gold-medalist who seemingly has reached the absolute pinnacle… except her country’s main nemesis happens to have a golden champion of their own, and he happens to have stolen her heart. [submitted by @thelettersfromnoone]

Prompt 26: Peeta buys and wears Deadpool riding on a rearing unicorn while holding a sword in the air, boxer briefs as a surprise for Katniss. Where you want to take it from there is left up to the writer. [submitted by @amazinglovers747]

Prompt 27: An older Peeta mets a young Katniss and it’s love at first sight on them. The trials and tribulations they have to endure to prove their love to everyone and the law. [submitted by @animekpopxx]

Prompt 28:  In Panem AU (no games) majority of the district are werewolves but it’s forbidden to speak out loud about it. Peeta and Katniss are mates. (Follow real wolves traits; packs, behaviors, mates, knotting, in heat) [submitted by @animekpopxx]

Prompt 29: Polygamy. Katniss becomes Peeta’s second wife. She’s not happy about it because she had feelings for the another mellark brother and thought she was destined to be his wife instead of Peeta’s but Peeta starts warming her heart to him.  [submitted by @animekpopxx​]

Prompt 30: Everlark is a young couple who get married when Peeta gets stationed to Fort Panem. Have to deal with deployment, new weird friends, pregnancy, and staying a couple. [submitted by @animekpopxx​]

Prompt 31: My favorite THG Character besides Katniss and Peeta is Wiress. Maybe Everlark from Wiress’s POV? Or perhaps an AU where she lives and her and Beetee help Katniss when Peeta returns hjacked? Anything with Everlark with Wiress :). [submitted by Anonymous]

Prompt 32: Prompt Based on the Alicia Keys lyric - we’ve got way too much In common, if I’m being honest with you. If you could love someone like me you must be messed up too. [submitted by Anonymous]

Prompt 33: April fools prank or practical joke ends in disaster. Maybe a trip to the emergency room. [submitted by @peetaspikelets]

Prompt 34: Panem distracts and divides its people. Celebrity School is the training ground where they cultivate the most promising beautiful young blonde hopefuls. (drama, talents, sex, excess, cat fights) For the first time, each district is forced to send one non-blonde among their tributes. Minority trib Katniss gets fed up with the nasty treatment and takes action. [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 35: Fact: A 2017 Reuters article says free land still available! Fiction: Write a story of Peeta and Katniss (together? meeting after?) joining those leaving D12 for a better life beyond its boundaries when government writes a homestead act. Requirements? Struggles? Obstacles? Conflicts? [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 36: Katniss and Peeta are friends on the verge of more. Katniss or Peeta is hesitant to take the next step until something tragic happens to the other (just not death) that pushes them to realize their feelings and commit. [submitted by @ra3lynn3]

Prompt 37: Her family murdered, so mail-order-bride Katniss marries Peeta who seems sweet at first; the location is remote; something unnerves her. Could Peeta have an evil twin? Or an alter ego? Is Dr. Aurelius really helping or is he not what he seems? Can she trust anyone? Even herself??? [submitted by Anonymous]

Prompt 38: Katniss and Peeta are destined for each other. But when destiny is tired of the countess fail attempts, she makes one last attempt for them to get their happily ever after. Does it work this time? [submitted by @animekpopxx]

Prompt 39: Katniss falls for charming Peeta. Things are going well until she starts noticing a few odd things. What katniss never knew was that Peeta became a mafioso in la cosa nostra. [submitted by @animekpopxx]

Prompt 40: Katniss, a priestess of Diana, goddess of the hunt, is asked to sacrifice a man that has angered the goddess by looking too long at her favorite priestess: The baker’s youngest son. Katniss and Peeta have history together prior to her appointment as priestess, so she struggles to obey and comply. [submitted by @alliswell21]

Prompt 41: A story from Peeta’s POV about the things he loves about Katniss. Maybe watching her as she wears an old T-shirt of his. What’s the story behind the shirt and why she likes to wear it. [submitted by @ra3lynn3]

Prompt 42: For her 17th birthday, Capitolite!Katniss, gets a night with her celebrity crush, Victor!Peeta, as her surprise birthday present. Peeta (may or may not be older in this fic) is desensitized about taking Capitol girls virginities, ‘cause that’s the norm in high society, and he’s considered the gentlest lover in the catalogue, but she’s so shy, pure and starstruck, he can’t help being endeared by her. Make it as sweet and angsty as you wish :) [submitted by @alliswell21]

Prompt 43: Prompt - a story based on the song “Say Something”, by Great Big World and Christine Aguilera… [submitted @xerxia31]

Prompt 44: Katniss is hired as a writer for Hallmark cards ….. [submitted by @thegirlfromoverthepond]

Prompt 45: I answered your oddly specific craigslist roommate ad as a joke and now we’re living together… [submitted by Anonymous]

Prompt 46: Broken-hearted Katniss goes to see a psychic, hoping to get one last message to her departed loved one (Goodbye? I’m sorry? Where’s the key to the safety deposit box?). Peeta is earning his college tuition using his charm and empathy to tell fortunes. What happens when they encounter each other? [submitted by Anonymous]

Prompt 47: Katniss and Peeta accidentally switch phones and she’s getting really tired of fielding questions from wrestling team members and some weirdo who sends pics of modern art asking for opinions. Did K&P already know each other? How do they switch their phones back? What sort of hilarity ensues in the meantime? [submitted by @katnissdoesnotfollowback]

Prompt 48: You’re an Art student and I’m an English major and you keep stealing the papers for my assignment to doodle and I would kill you but you’re really cute and hey that’s actually a really nice sketch. [submitted by @katnissdoesnotfollowback]

Prompt 49: Injured in a mosh pit at a concert because Johanna. Peeta can ask her for her phone number as part of exchanging insurance information and she can think he hit his head harder than she originally thought but he’s just trying to flirt. [submitted by @katnissdoesnotfollowback]

Prompt 50: The fire alarm went off at 3 am and now the cute guy from the apartment next door is standing next to me in his underwear… [submitted by Anonymous]

Prompt 51: Modern Day: “Totally worth it - you always are…” [submitted by @winegirl65]

Prompt 52: "I know what you want. You have money, but what I have are a very particular set of skills. Skills I have acquired over a very long career. Skills that make me a dream come true for people like you.“ Sexually frustrated trophy wife Katniss commissions artist Peeta who immortalizes naked women after giving them the greatest O of their lives. [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 53: The Mellarks take in HS exchange student Katniss for one year for the $. Popular Peeta objects to getting saddled with her at home, at school, socially, in the bakery. "She’s not very big or particularly pretty.” But when Katniss (?) Peeta reacts (?) [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 54: “Your bakery gave me food poisoning!” [submitted by @peetaspikelets]

Prompt 55: Katniss was turn into an Avox and the Mellark family (a wealthy family from the Capitol) buys her. Her love story with Peeta. And maybe after the war, Peeta takes her to a Dr that is performing tongue surgeries (I read about that an it is possible) Thanks. [submitted by @marizpe17]

Prompt 56: Katniss turns to sperm bank to conceive. Despite option of anonymity, records opened. Peeta learns he has fathered child(ren). Now what? (What motivated them to use service? What are their ages now (same or wildly different?) Child(ren)’s age? Relationship status (Peeta involved? Katniss single or married?) Strangers or not? Interest in co-parenting? [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 57: Peeta’s Plan: private jet to meet his fiancé’ parents; get tour of future father-in-law’s offices, meet the Board, meet with attorneys; take formal portrait; attend rehearsal and dinner; the wedding; brunch; private jet to Maldives for honeymoon. His mother is finally pleased with him. But the groom is having doubts, and that’s before he hears the voice of the wedding singer at the dress rehearsal! [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 58: Sacrificing a worthless sickly goat at the altar, Peeta’s frugal mother prays for a daughter and a long life together. The gods, seeing no love in her heart, are displeased with her offering and give her a son. She curses him and them. In punishment, they grant him a very long life: 1,000 years and 1,000 tears. Over the centuries he resists falling in love only to lose a wife over and over. But then he meets Katniss… [submitted by @567inpanem​]

Prompt 59: Peeta and Finnick are a bi couple, who’s relationship is crumbling. They bring Katniss in to add some sizzle in the bedroom… will she help save the relationship or complete kill it off??? [submitted by Anonymous]

Prompt 60: Post Mockingjay AU Katniss and Peeta finds themselves having twins unexpectedly and Katniss struggles with the idea of becoming a mother to not one child but two. [submitted by @que-sera-sera88]

Prompt 61: Katniss is a Midwife in the late 50s and meets Peeta (somehow) and flirts with him. When she’s goes to a delivering mother Peeta is there and she gets mad at him because she think he is her husband/father but he isn’t. [submitted by @que-sera-sera88]

Prompt 62: Katniss (a gifted culinary graduate) is recently widowed (her Ranger husband killed on a mission) - no family - she needs to make a life for herself. She takes her little belongings and his motorcycle and rides to find her future. She stops in a small town to rest for the night, with a failing restaurant/bakery owned by Peeta. He needs her help and she needs his. Maybe they help each other and fall in love in the process. [submitted by @winegirl65]

Prompt 63: Katniss and Peeta are teachers. Their classrooms are across from each other so they eat lunch together everyday which leads to some of their students shipping them. Whether they actually get together or not is up to you. [submitted by @ra3lynn3]

Prompt 64: A fic based on the song Austin by Blake Shelton [submitted by Anonymous]

Prompt 65: Years ago, you promised your firstborn to a witch. Since then, despite your best efforts, you can’t seem to get laid. The witch is starting to get pretty pissed.Y’all get together to discuss your options and she starts coaching you on how to get dates because she doesn’t want to waste more magic on you without promise of payment. The more time you guys spend together the more you realize you have a bit of a crush on her. Soon you’re sabotaging your dates on purpose to see her again. Long story short, you fall in love and get married AND YOUR FIRSTBORN IS HERS BY DEFAULT. [submitted by Anonymous]

Prompt 66: What she said while standing beside Gale: “I never go anywhere without my bow.” What Peeta hears: “I never go anywhere without my beau.” Peeta won’t pursue another guy’s girlfriend, no matter how much he wants her. Will he try moving on? How long before that misunderstanding gets cleared up and Peeta asks out Katniss? [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 67: Peeta can’t help but be a bit of a player when it comes to girls and struggles hanging onto a girlfriend. He goes to his best friend Katniss for advice. Not knowing she’s harboured a crush on him for years. Can be written in either POV. [submitted by @peetaspikelets]

Prompt 68: Katniss gets locked out of her apartment wearing only a towel and the only person she can turn to is her neighbor peeta. [submitted by @sunflowerslyf]

Prompt 69: Katniss and peeta are both doctors and everytime they attend to a patient together they always get mistaken for being a couple or married but really they’re just best friends [submitted by @sunflowerslyf]

Prompt 70: Based off the movie Ms. Congeniality. [submitted by @tal-han13]

Prompt 71. Katniss and Prim (and possibly the Hawthorne’s and Undersees) are in a cult and are just rescued out of there by an underground organization that de-indoctrinates cult members. Peeta and Haymitch are part of the underground de-indoctrination team. Angst at trying to pull away from the old way of life. [submitted by Anonymous]

Prompt 72: Everlark fic based on the song “You Shouldn’t Kiss Me Like This” by Toby Keith. [submitted by Anonymous]

Prompt 73: A story based off either Nancy Mulligan or Castle on a Hill by Ed Sheehan. [submitted by @historywriter2007]

Prompt 74: horoscopes - Peeta and Katniss have poorly matched signs, or one believes in it and the other does not, or Peeta is a horoscope writer who Katniss mocks/is skeptical of, etc. and then their daily horoscopes narrate their burgeoning relationship super accurately (bonus points if you write the horoscopes!) [submitted by @savedbyyeezus]

Prompt 75: Katniss and Peeta looking for they first apartment/house. [submitted by Anonymous]

Prompt 76: “Peeta as a women to woo katniss” [submitted by @joshifer4everyone]

Prompt 77: I'd like to read a story with Everlark ... and a unicorn. Or unicorns. :) We need more unicorns in the fandom !!! [submitted by @thegirlfromoverthepond]

Prompt 78: an everlark fic based on the song Who's that girl by Guy Sebastian. [submitted by @uniquepizzacollectionblog]

Prompt 79: Everlark roomates when Peeta brings back a puppy home. Of course Katniss hates it... so she says... [submitted by Anonymous]

Prompt 80: AU where Katniss is interviewing for a job as a leg model. Until the photographer asks for more. [submitted by Anonymous]

Prompt 81: I work at a movie theatre and I’m trying to clean up but you’re still here ugly crying... [submitted by Anonymous]

Prompt 82: Katniss is a barrel racer and trying to become a successful videographer and her loving husband, Peeta, is there supporting her and being there for her through it all. This is near and dear to my heart so I really hope someone chooses this prompt to write. [submitted by @amazinglovers747]

Prompt 83: Professional cuddler! (It's a thing.) Is Peeta or Katniss the client, the therapist, the trainee, the job applicant, the business owner, the journalist trying to write about the experience, the instructor, co-workers? With Finnick, Johanna, Delly or anyone else? [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 84: it's wedding day (may be everlark wedding, but not necessarily) and the major scenario is the groomsmen dance. [submitted by Anonymous]

Prompt 85: Canon-divergent. Everyone is born with a clock embedded within the inside of their left wrist that ticks down to the very moment you realize your love for your soulmate. [submitted by Anonymous]

Prompt 86: Where Peeta is an Avox, involved with the Rebels, who works for Seneca Crane and his wife, Katniss. He seduces Katniss for informations but then falls for her. Rebellion still happens (the most angsty the better) [submitted by Anonymous]

Prompt 87: Peeta's great idea to meet single girls: teach a one-night "Romantic Baking" cooking class and impress them! Oops, course description says "couples." Katniss agrees to a date with a guy who thinks this is a great idea for their first date. (Do Peeta and Katniss know each other or are they strangers? Are they exes? Does he get her number? Does he ruin their date? Is the date handsy? Got any recipes to share?) [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 88: I love soulmates fics ! Anything with Everlark being soulmates and finding each other -finally :) thank you ! [submitted by Anonymous]

Prompt 89: prompt - a very adult version of truth or dare after work in a bar. [submitted by @uniquepizzacollectionblog!

Prompt 90: katniss and peeta are both heartbreakers and after both breaking someone's heart again, they're finally both single. They go after each other and make the other fall for the other (someone is already in love from the beginning but doesn't want it to be known because of their reputation) [submitted by @sunflowerslyf]

Prompt 91: Peeta as the tatted, ex-rocker owner of bakery chain (like in in DC-Balto area called dangerously delicious pies). Katniss is an attached (engaged or otherwise unavailable) food critic or reporter doing a piece on him but she and P can’t deny the attraction. Angst and such ensue. [submitted by Anonymous] 

Prompt 92: When Peeta's brothers pass on getting the bakery, Mrs. Mellark decides to find Peeta a wife she approves of AND to get in some immediate free help by posting unpaid summer internships at the bakery. Lots of girls hoping to land a husband with a business show up, none really interested in working or learning. One by one they dramatically quit or get fired until only Katniss who's only in it for the free day-old bread survives. Will Mrs M honor the bargain? Possible fairytale ending? [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 93: Peeta and Katniss having never spoken graduate at 18 without getting reaped and must find work or a spouse to support them or else report to the mines. This drives one to devise a way of working as partners to start a business drawing on each other's strengths to become a team. They pretend to marry to get Peeta housing and to keep men away from Katniss. Will they work as business partners? Or screw it up? Or work through their problems and feelings to become more? [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 94: Hate group vows to drive all olive skinned people over the fence and keep them out of D12. Katniss prepares for the worst. Does she ask Peeta, the kindest man she knows, to marry Prim? Does she fight back with her voice, the law, her bow? [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 95: A fairytale: "Dear God, make me a bird. So I can fly far. Far, far away from here.” If Katniss turns into a bird, what breaks the spell? Does she speak besides sing? [submitted by @567inpanem​]

Prompt 96: What if Katniss uses Peeta to get even with Gale? (Gale and Katniss are supposed to be betrothed, but Katniss finds out about Gale's trips to the slag heap. She befriends Peeta when trading-maybe) Peeta of course refuses at first, but then can't resist, but it gets super complicated because Katniss realizes she actually loves Peeta... Canon/Divergent please! [submitted by Anonymous]

Prompt 97: Peeta is promised to marry Delly, or another merchant girl, but she ends up getting pregnant by Gale. Peeta must marry to keep the bakery in the family, but there is no one available but Seam girls. His mother tries to convince Mrs. Everdeen to let him marry Prim, but she is too young and of course he really wants to marry Katniss. Secretly she wants him too. They marry and admit/show each other their feelings! [submitted by Anonymous]

Prompt 98: Peeta is pining for Katniss, but is about to give up because he can't figure out a way to get her to notice him and he is being pestered to marry a merchant. He also thinks Katniss is already with Gale. Somehow, he ends up following her or he is already in the woods when Katniss shows up. Katniss, believing she is alone, pleasures herself. When she is finished, she says Peeta's name. Of course he realizes that he needs to pursue her. [submitted by Anonymous]

Prompt 99: Canon-divergent. Katniss develops a habit of sleepwalking which she only realizes when she discovers love bites appearing on various areas of her skin from seemingly no where. Embarrassed by the stares she receives around the District, she grows confused by Peeta Mellark's increasingly strange behavior towards her. [submitted by Anonymous]

Prompt 100: "See, this is why no one lets you make the plans." Pregnant,unwed, underage Prim will be punished unless Katniss hides the pregnancy, pretends baby is hers. Caught and tangling others into deception, Katniss agrees to another plan: marry Peeta, pretend it's his so Prim can move on with her life. But then Rye forfeits bakery, claims child, wants to marry Prim. Only way to keep up lies and to let Prim have her own baby now is for Katniss to get pregnant, too, because of strict antiabortion laws. [submitted by Anonymous]

Prompt 101: Last minute addition. Peeta is a police officer and is responding to a big event where Katniss is somehow involved. If they knew each other before or meet that day is up to you. [submitted by @historywriter2007]

Prompt 102: I've had this one in my head for a while but know I could never do it justice. Edward Sheeran's Perfect everlarked. 'When you said you looked a mess/I whispered underneath my breath/you heard it/darling you look perfect tonight...' The duet version with Beyonce chokes me up, but Ed's solo version speaks about a Strong Woman. Totally bonus points. [submitted by @noneyabidnes]

Prompt 103: Everlark in the Red Rising universe following Morning Star where Peeta (as Virginia/Mustang) is the politician and Katniss (as Darrow/Reaper) is the warrior. Bonus for toastbaby! [submitted by Anonymous]

Prompt 104: Both of them are rescued and make it to 13 after the Quell... They can stop pretending now. [submitted by @thestuckinbed]

Prompt 105: I'd like to read a really quirky, awkward teens-falling-in-love everlark story (can be set in high school /summer camp /in-panem au...). Casual, shy, no ‘love at first sight, insta-love. [submitted by Anonymous]

Prompt 106: Katniss is Rye’s girlfriend when he dies. Katniss and Peeta (Rye’s father) start to hang out to go through their grief together. [submitted by Anonymous]

Prompt 107: Everlark fic based off of the song "Thinking Out Loud" by Ed Sheeran. [submitted by Anonymous]

Prompt 108: Modern AU/ katniss is desperate for a job to support prim and her mother and ends up getting a job for care and companionship for a disabled man, the Ex playboy Peeta Mellark Based on Me Before You (preferably with a happy ending) Check out this beautiful banner by the amazing @akai-echo for more inspiration. [submitted by @redhoodhungergames]

Prompt 109: Peeta is a womanizer and big flirt. (Imagine like finnick!) Katniss has aversion to love life, since she saw her mother's suffering. Many guys try katniss, but she scowls and scares them away. A strange situation happens, where peeta and katniss need to act like dating each other for some time. How katniss changes her opinion on love and how peeta realized katniss is his true love! [submitted by @joshifer4everyone]

Prompt 110: I know it's too late but it's worth a shot. This prompt popped in my head and I had to try. Everlark are at the beach and Peeta gets attacked by a shark and loses his leg. Peeta is rushed to the hospital where Katniss stays by his side and the story goes into Peeta facing the reality of not having a leg. How does it affect his work life? Sex life? And Katniss being there for him through thick and thin. [submitted by Anonymous]

Prompt 111: So I was driving earlier and Mary’s Song by Taylor swift came on and it made me really want to see this everlarked!! [submitted by Anonymous]

Feeling inspired?

Choose a prompt from the list and tell us about it. (Chosen prompts will be removed from the list so that there will only be one fic/artwork per prompt.)

Write a fic or create some artwork. Fics can be as short as 500 words or as long as you like. They can be one-shots, new chapters from your current WIPs, or out takes from any one of your fics. As long as your work covers the details provided in the prompt, you can create whatever moves you.

Submit your finished fic or artwork. We’ll be posting finished works from April 2 to April 15.

Got questions, comments or suggestions? Click here. We’d love to hear from you!

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[bravonovel]

The Protector: https://www.bravonovel.com/the-protector-7939

The Protector novel is an urban romance story about Levi Garrison. The novel "The Protector" tells the legendary story of Levi Garrison.

You can read The Protector novel full story on Bravonovel.

The Protector novel Trial Reading

In Erudia, a private jet landed at North Hampton Airport, where all international flights experienced an eight-hour delay because of it.

At the private passageway were five men in suits and leather shoes, standing as straight as a javelin.

Every now and then, they would raise their wrist to look at the time, for a big shot was coming to town.

The upper-class society of North Hampton had learned about his arrival, but no one had the capability to get an inch closer to the private passageway.

Even the richest man in North Hampton who came to pay homage was chased away.

Finally, there were movements coming from the passageway.

"God of War!!!" the mass cried out, their eyes filled with awe and veneration at the sight of the undefeatable legend of Erudia.

He, who was dubbed the God of War, was the one and only five-star war God in the history of Erudia.

Once, he'd inflicted a crushing defeat on the strongest battalions in eighteen countries. He was an overbearing and formidable man.

He who overwhelmed the world with his unparalleled power had even created the Five Great Wars Regiment, Cavalry Regiment, and many more.

...

Setting foot on his homeland, Levi Garrison was overcome with emotions.

Once upon a time, he used to be an orphan who was abandoned on the streets of North Hampton and then adopted by the Garrison family.

However, the Garrison family had never been fond of him.

His adoptive parents, who had a tendency to beat and scold him, treated him like an outsider.

As for the outsiders, they treated him as a nobody.

But he didn't care a stiver. He had always been proud of his surname since he was a child, and he strived to bring glory to this family when he grew older.

At last, Levi had established Levi Group, the largest dark horse in North Hampton's business community.

With billions of assets, it ranked among the forefront of North Hampton, pushing the declining Garrison family to the top.

However, not only did the Garrison family showed no signs of appreciation, they even harbored dissatisfaction towards him. Jealous of his success, they regarded him as a thorn in their flesh and coveted Levi Group.

No matter his wealth and power, unless they were in control, he was just an outsider in the Garrison family's eyes.

Eventually, on Levi's wedding night, the Garrison family plotted a frame-up against him by getting him drunk before tossing him onto his sister-in-law's bed. They wanted to create the illusion that he was doing something untoward to her and was caught in bed by his brother and adoptive parents.

That night, the Garrison family had brutally broken his limbs and left him on the road like a wild dog.

Not only was he handicapped, but he also had to take the flak for something he didn't commit.

From an upstart in the business world, he had become the target of disdain overnight.

And the next day, he had been punished for several crimes and sentenced to six years in prison.

He could never forget the ruthless and sinister faces of everyone in the Garrison family and the ridicule of his friends, classmates, and business partners.

More so, he could never forget the disappointment on his newly wedded wife, Zoey's face.

He had regarded the Garrison family as his home and devoted himself to the family.

Yet, they treated him like trash.

It felt as if a knife was being twisted in his heart every time he thought about this.

How he hated the Garrison family!

But who would have thought that Levi had been secretly transferred away from prison to join the military?

In a few years, he dominated the military world and became the one and only five-star God of War.

Now that he came back, the Garrison family ought to stay on their toes.

"How's it going, Azure Dragon?" Levi asked.

Azure Dragon, the commander of the Five Great Wars Regiment, took a step forward and said respectfully, "Sir, I'm afraid your wife, Ms. Zoey Lopez will remarry at ten o'clock tonight!"

Ever since Zoey's husband was sent to prison on their wedding night, she had been living like a widow.

Only God knew how much pressure she was put under.

And right now, the person Levi couldn't wait to see the most was Zoey.

After a moment of hesitation, Azure Dragon continued, "To add on, Sir, the Garrison family is holding a successful listing celebration banquet at the Crystal Palace Hotel tonight! Many people had invited the God of War just now, including the Garrison family, but I didn't accept nor refuse directly."

"What time?" Levi asked tersely.

"Eight o'clock, Sir."

"Okay. Tell the Garrison family I will attend the banquet!"

Since the time for the two events didn't clash, Levi gladly accepted the invitation.

The celebration banquet for the public listing of Garrison Group was held at North Hampton's Crystal Palace Hotel.

With the help of Levi Group, they had become a rich and powerful family in one fell swoop.

The hall was bustling with noise and excitement, and sounds of glasses clinking could be heard ringing in the air every now and then.

"God bless the Garrison family," said Joseph, the head of the Garrison family. "The younger generations are the stars among men. Garrison Group is now listed and has become an upstart in North Hampton!"

Joseph's three sons and daughter welcomed their guests with bright smiles on their faces.

The younger generation of the Garrison family was all the smugger and prouder because, after today, the Garrison family would become a powerful family, and they would become one of the top rich kids.

Most of the guests who attended today's banquet were from the top circle in North Hampton.

"Garrison, do you know what happened today?! Your celebration party is nothing compared to that." They were gossiping about the major event that had happened today.

"Yeah! I heard that a big shot has arrived in North Hampton!"

"The richest man in North Hampton wanted to meet him but was shooed away. Apparently, he's not qualified enough!"

"So? Jesse Nielsen had been waiting for five hours in advance at the airport!"

Joseph nodded. "Yes, I know about that too. I even sent someone to invite this big shot to the celebration party!"

"No way! Why would this big shot attend such a party?"

No one believed it.

In fact, as an upstart, Joseph was just trying his luck.

"Dad!" shouted Jaycob, the second eldest son of the Garrison family could be seen running over. "The big shot has accepted our invitation to attend our celebration banquet! He's on the way!"

"Jesus! God has indeed blessed the Garrison family!"

Everyone in the Garrison family could barely conceal their delight as this was their chance to reach the sky in a single bound.

The grandchildren of the Garrison family gathered together, sunshine flooding their souls.

Levi's brother, Bryan, and sister-in-law, Victoria, smiled. "Well, it all starts with Levi's imprisonment that the Garrison family is at where we are today..."

"Right, speaking about Levi, do you guys know today's the day that kid gets out of prison?!" somebody asked abruptly.

"Really? Isn't that bad luck? Why did he have to be released on such a big day?!"

"Please, please, please don't come back! He's the Garrison family's biggest disgrace!"

Victoria's lips tugged into a sneer. "Speaking of which, Levi is the crowning glory of the Garrison family's status today."

"That's what he's supposed to do!" Bryan said. "He should contribute to the Garrison family for raising him, an orphan! His multi-billion Levi Group means nothing. To put it bluntly, he's just a dog raised by the Garrison family!"

Someone gave a chortle. "As a matter of fact, I've been interested in Levi's wife for a long time now. She's still widowed, and I'm so going to marry her!"

The man's remark caused gales of laughter.

......

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20 Getting the broth into Peeta takes an hour of coaxing, begging, threatening, and yes, kissing, but finally, sip by sip, he empties the pot. I let him drift off to sleep then and attend to my own needs, wolfing down a supper of groosling and roots while I watch the daily report in the sky. No new casualties. Still, Peeta and I have given the audience a fairly interesting day. Hopefully, the Gamemakers will allow us a peaceful night. I automatically look around for a good tree to nest in before I realize that's over. At least for a while. I can't very well leave Peeta unguarded on the ground. I left the scene of his last hiding place on the bank of the stream untouched  -  how could I conceal it?  -  and we're a scant fifty yards downstream. I put on my glasses, place my weapons in readiness, and settle down to keep watch. The temperature drops rapidly and soon I'm chilled to the bone. Eventually, I give in and slide into the sleeping bag with Peeta. It's toasty warm and I snuggle down gratefully until I realize it's more than warm, it's overly hot because the bag is reflecting back his fever. I check his forehead and find it burning and dry. I don't know what to do. Leave him in the bag and hope the excessive heat breaks the fever? Take him out and hope the night air cools him off? I end up just dampening a strip of bandage and placing it on his forehead. It seems weak, but I'm afraid to do anything too drastic. I spend the night half-sitting, half-lying next to Peeta, refreshing the bandage, and trying not to dwell on the fact that by teaming up with him, I've made myself far more vulnerable than when I was alone. Tethered to the ground, on guard, with a very sick person to take care of. But I knew he was injured. And still I came after him. I'm just going to have to trust that whatever instinct sent me to find him was a good one. When the sky turns rosy, I notice the sheen of sweat on Peeta's lip and discover the fever has broken. He's not back to normal, but it's come down a few degrees. Last night, when I was gathering vines, I came upon a bush of Rue's berries. I strip off the fruit and mash it up in the broth pot with cold water. Peeta's struggling to get up when I reach the cave. "I woke up and you were gone," he says. "I was worried about you." I have to laugh as I ease him back down. "You were worried about me? Have you taken a look at yourself lately?" "I thought Cato and Clove might have found you. They like to hunt at night," he says, still serious. "Clove? Which one is that?" I ask. "The girl from District Two. She's still alive, right?" he says. "Yes, there's just them and us and Thresh and Foxface," I say. "That's what I nicknamed the girl from Five. How do you feel?" "Better than yesterday. This is an enormous improvement over the mud," he says. "Clean clothes and medicine and a sleeping bag. and you." Oh, right, the whole romance thing. I reach out to touch his cheek and he catches my hand and presses it against his lips. I remember my father doing this very thing to my mother and I wonder where Peeta picked it up. Surely not from his father and the witch. "No more kisses for you until you've eaten," I say. We get him propped up against the wall and he obediently swallows the spoonfuls of the berry mush I feed him. He refuses the groosling again, though. "You didn't sleep," Peeta says. "I'm all right," I say. But the truth is, I'm exhausted. "Sleep now. I'll keep watch. I'll wake you if anything happens," he says. I hesitate. "Katniss, you can't stay up forever." He's got a point there. I'll have to sleep eventually. And probably better to do it now when he seems relatively alert and we have daylight on our side. "All right," I say. "But just for a few hours. Then you wake me." It's too warm for the sleeping bag now. I smooth it out on the cave floor and lie down, one hand on my loaded bow in case I have to shoot at a moment's notice. Peeta sits beside me, leaning against the wall, his bad leg stretched out before him, his eyes trained on the world outside. "Go to sleep," he says softly. His hand brushes the loose strands of my hair off my forehead. Unlike the staged kisses and caresses so far, this gesture seems natural and comforting. I don't want him to stop and he doesn't. He's still stroking my hair when I fall asleep. Too long. I sleep too long. I know from the moment I open my eyes that we're into the afternoon. Peeta's right beside me, his position unchanged. I sit up, feeling somehow defensive but better rested than I've been in days. "Peeta, you were supposed to wake me after a couple of hours," I say. "For what? Nothing's going on here," he says. "Besides I like watching you sleep. You don't scowl. Improves your looks a lot." This, of course, brings on a scowl that makes him grin. That's when I notice how dry his lips are. I test his cheek. Hot as a coal stove. He claims he's been drinking, but the containers still feel full to me. I give him more fever pills and stand over him while he drinks first one, then a second quart of water. Then I tend to his minor wounds, the burns, the stings, which are showing improvement. I steel myself and unwrap the leg. My heart drops into my stomach. It's worse, much worse. There's no more pus in evidence, but the swelling has increased and the tight shiny skin is inflamed. Then I see the red streaks starting to crawl up his leg. Blood poisoning. Unchecked, it will kill him for sure. My chewed-up leaves and ointment won't make a dent in it. We'll need strong anti-infection drugs from the Capitol. I can't imagine the cost of such potent medicine. If Haymitch pooled every donation from every sponsor, would he have enough? I doubt it. Gifts go up in price the longer the Games continue. What buys a full meal on day one buys a cracker on day twelve. And the kind of medicine Peeta needs would have been at a premium from the beginning. "Well, there's more swelling, but the pus is gone," I say in an unsteady voice. "I know what blood poisoning is, Katniss," says Peeta. "Even if my mother isn't a healer." "You're just going to have to outlast the others, Peeta. They'll cure it back at the Capitol when we win," I say. "Yes, that's a good plan," he says. But I feel this is mostly for my benefit. "You have to eat. Keep your strength up. I'm going to make you soup," I say. "Don't light a fire," he says. "It's not worth it." "We'll see," I say. As I take the pot down to the stream, I'm struck by how brutally hot it is. I swear the Gamemakers are progressively ratcheting up the temperature in the daytime and sending it plummeting at night. The heat of the sun-baked stones by the stream gives me an idea though. Maybe I won't need to light a fire. I settle down on a big flat rock halfway between the stream and the cave. After purifying half a pot of water, I place it in direct sunlight and add several egg-size hot stones to the water. I'm the first to admit I'm not much of a cook. But since soup mainly involves tossing everything in a pot and waiting, it's one of my better dishes. I mince groosling until it's practically mush and mash some of Rue's roots. Fortunately, they've both been roasted already so they mostly need to be heated up. Already, between the sunlight and the rocks, the water's warm. I put in the meat and roots, swap in fresh rocks, and go find something green to spice it up a little. Before long, I discover a tuft of chives growing at the base of some rocks. Perfect. I chop them very fine and add them to the pot, switch out the rocks again, put on the lid, and let the whole thing stew. I've seen very few signs of game around, but I don't feel comfortable leaving Peeta alone while I hunt, so I rig half a dozen snares and hope I get lucky. I wonder about the other tributes, how they're managing now that their main source of food has been blown up. At least three of them, Cato, Clove, and Foxface, had been relying on it. Probably not Thresh though. I've got a feeling he must share some of Rue's knowledge on how to feed yourself from the earth. Are they fighting each other? Looking for us? Maybe one of them has located us and is just waiting for the right moment to attack. The idea sends me back to the cave. Peeta's stretched out on top of the sleeping bag in the shade of the rocks. Although he brightens a bit when I come in, it's clear he feels miserable. I put cool cloths on his head, but they warm up almost as soon as they touch his skin. "Do you want anything?" I ask. "No," he says. "Thank you. Wait, yes. Tell me a story." "A story? What about?" I say. I'm not much for storytelling. It's kind of like singing. But once in a while, Prim wheedles one out of me. "Something happy. Tell me about the happiest day you can remember," says Peeta. Something between a sigh and a huff of exasperation leaves my mouth. A happy story? This will require a lot more effort than the soup. I rack my brains for good memories. Most of them involve Gale and me out hunting and somehow I don't think these will play well with either Peeta or the audience. That leaves Prim. "Did I ever tell you about how I got Prim's goat?" I ask. Peeta shakes his head, and looks at me expectantly. So I begin. But carefully. Because my words are going out all over Panem. And while people have no doubt put two and two together that I hunt illegally, I don't want to hurt Gale or Greasy Sae or the butcher or even the Peacekeepers back home who are my customers by publicly announcing they'd breaking the law, too. Here's the real story of how I got the money for Prim's goat, Lady. It was a Friday evening, the day before Prim's tenth birthday in late May. As soon as school ended, Gale and I hit the woods, because I wanted to get enough to trade for a present for Prim. Maybe some new cloth for a dress or a hairbrush. Our snares had done well enough and the woods were flush with greens, but this was really no more than our average Friday-night haul. I was disappointed as we headed back, even though Gale said we'd be sure to do better tomorrow. We were resting a moment by a stream when we saw him. A young buck, probably a yearling by his size. His antlers were just growing in, still small and coated in velvet. Poised to run but unsure of us, unfamiliar with humans. Beautiful. Less beautiful perhaps when the two arrows caught him, one in the neck, the other in the chest. Gale and I had shot at the same time. The buck tried to run but stumbled, and Gale's knife slit his throat before he knew what had happened. Momentarily, I'd felt a pang at killing something so fresh and innocent. And then my stomach rumbled at the thought of all that fresh and innocent meat. A deer! Gale and I have only brought down three in all. The first one, a doe that had injured her leg somehow, almost didn't count. But we knew from that experience not to go dragging the carcass into the Hob. It had caused chaos with people bidding on parts and actually trying to hack off pieces themselves. Greasy Sae had intervened and sent us with our deer to the butcher, but not before it'd been badly damaged, hunks of meat taken, the hide riddled with holes. Although everybody paid up fairly, it had lowered the value of the kill. This time, we waited until dark fell and slipped under a hole in the fence close to the butcher. Even though we were known hunters, it wouldn't have been good to go carrying a 150-pound deer through the streets of District 12 in daylight like we were rubbing it in the officials' faces. The butcher, a short, chunky woman named Rooba, came to the back door when we knocked. You don't haggle with Rooba. She gives you one price, which you can take or leave, but it's a fair price. We took her offer on the deer and she threw in a couple of venison steaks we could pick up after the butchering. Even with the money divided in two, neither Gale nor I had held so much at one time in our lives. We decided to keep it a secret and surprise our families with the meat and money at the end of the next day. This is where I really got the money for the goat, but I tell Peeta I sold an old silver locket of my mother's. That can't hurt anyone. Then I pick up the story in the late afternoon of Prim's birthday. Gale and I went to the market on the square so that I could buy dress materials. As I was running my fingers over a length of thick blue cotton cloth, something caught my eye. There's an old man who keeps a small herd of goats on the other side of the Seam. I don't know his real name, everyone just calls him the Goat Man. His joints are swollen and twisted in painful angles, and he's got a hacking cough that proves he spent years in the mines. But he's lucky. Somewhere along the way he saved up enough for these goats and now has something to do in his old age besides slowly starve to death. He's filthy and impatient, but the goats are clean and their milk is rich if you can afford it. One of the goats, a white one with black patches, was lying down in a cart. It was easy to see why. Something, probably a dog, had mauled her shoulder and infection had set in. It was bad, the Goat Man had to hold her up to milk her. But I thought I knew someone who could fix it. "Gale," I whispered. "I want that goat for Prim." Owning a nanny goat can change your life in District 12. The animals can live off almost anything, the Meadow's a perfect feeding place, and they can give four quarts of milk a day. To drink, to make into cheese, to sell. It's not even against the law. "She's hurt pretty bad," said Gale. "We better take a closer look." We went over and bought a cup of milk to share, then stood over the goat as if idly curious. "Let her be," said the man. "Just looking," said Gale. "Well, look fast. She goes to the butcher soon. Hardly anyone will buy her milk, and then they only pay half price," said the man. "What's the butcher giving for her?" I asked. The man shrugged. "Hang around and see." I turned and saw Rooba coming across the square toward us. "Lucky thing you showed up," said the Goat Man when she arrived. "Girl's got her eye on your goat." "Not if she's spoken for," I said carelessly. Rooba looked me up and down then frowned at the goat. "She's not. Look at that shoulder. Bet you half the carcass will be too rotten for even sausage." "What?" said the Goat Man. "We had a deal." "We had a deal on an animal with a few teeth marks. Not that thing. Sell her to the girl if she's stupid enough to take her," said Rooba. As she marched off, I caught her wink. The Goat Man was mad, but he still wanted that goal off his hands. It took us half an hour to agree on the price. Quite a crowd had gathered by then to hand out opinions. It was an excellent deal if the goat lived; I'd been robbed if she died. People took sides in the argument, but I took the goat. Gale offered to carry her. I think he wanted to see the look on Prim's face as much as I did. In a moment of complete giddiness, I bought a pink ribbon and tied it around her neck. Then we hurried back to my house. You should have seen Prim's reaction when we walked in with that goat. Remember this is a girl who wept to save that awful old cat, Buttercup. She was so excited she started crying and laughing all at once. My mother was less sure, seeing the injury, but the pair of them went to work on it, grinding up herbs and coaxing brews down the animal's throat. "They sound like you," says Peeta. I had almost forgotten he was there. "Oh, no, Peeta. They work magic. That thing couldn't have died if it tried," I say. But then I bite my tongue, realizing what that must sound like to Peeta, who is dying, in my incompetent hands. "Don't worry. I'm not trying," he jokes. "Finish the story." "Well, that's it. Only I remember that night, Prim insisted on sleeping with Lady on a blanket next to the fire. And just before they drifted off, the goat licked her cheek, like it was giving her a good night kiss or something," I say. "It was already mad about her." "Was it still wearing the pink ribbon?" he asks. "I think so," I say. "Why?" "I'm just trying to get a picture," he says thoughtfully. "I can see why that day made you happy." "Well, I knew that goat would be a little gold mine," 1 say. "Yes, of course I was referring to that, not the lasting joy you gave the sister you love so much you took her place in the reaping," says Peeta drily. "The goat has paid for itself. Several times over," I say in a superior tone. "Well, it wouldn't dare do anything else after you saved its life," says Peeta. "I intend to do the same thing." "Really? What did you cost me again?" I ask. "A lot of trouble. Don't worry. You'll get it all back," he says. "You're not making sense," I say. I test his forehead. The lever's going nowhere but up. "You're a little cooler though." The sound of the trumpets startles me. I'm on my feet and at the mouth of the cave in a flash, not wanting to miss a syllable. It's my new best friend, Claudius Templesmith, and as I expected, he's inviting us to a feast. Well, we're not that hungry and I actually wave his offer away in indifference when he says, "Now hold on. Some of you may already be declining my invitation. But this is no ordinary feast. Each of you needs something desperately." I do need something desperately. Something to heal Peeta's leg. "Each of you will find that something in a backpack, marked with your district number, at the Cornucopia at dawn. Think hard about refusing to show up. For some of you, this will be your last chance," says Claudius. There's nothing else, just his words hanging in the air. I jump as Peeta grips my shoulder from behind. "No," he says. "You're not risking your life for me." "Who said I was?" I say. "So, you're not going?" he asks. "Of course, I'm not going. Give me some credit. Do you think I'm running straight into some free-for-all against Cato and Clove and Thresh? Don't be stupid," I say, helping him back to bed. "I'll let them fight it out, we'll see who's in the sky tomorrow night and work out a plan from there." "You're such a bad liar, Katniss. I don't know how you've survived this long." He begins to mimic me. "I knew that goat would be a little gold mine. You're a little cooler though. Of course, I'm not going. He shakes his head. "Never gamble at cards. You'll lose your last coin," he says. Anger flushes my face. "All right, I am going, and you can't stop me!" "I can follow you. At least partway. I may not make it to the Cornucopia, but if I'm yelling your name, I bet someone can find me. And then I'll be dead for sure," he says. "You won't get a hundred yards from here on that leg," I say. "Then I'll drag myself," says Peeta. "You go and I'm going, too." He's just stubborn enough and maybe just strong enough to do it. Come howling after me in the woods. Even if a tribute doesn't find him, something else might. He can't defend himself. I'd probably have to wall him up in the cave just to go myself. And who knows what the exertion will do to him? "What am I supposed to do? Sit here and watch you die?" I say. He must know that's not an option. That the audience would hate me. And frankly, I would hate myself, too, if I didn't even try. "I won't die. I promise. If you promise not to go," he says. We're at something of a stalemate. I know I can't argue him out of this one, so I don't try. I pretend, reluctantly, to go along. "Then you have to do what I say. Drink your water, wake me when I tell you, and eat every bite of the soup no matter how disgusting it is!" I snap at him. "Agreed. Is it ready?" he asks. "Wait here," I say. The air's gone cold even though the sun's still up. I'm right about the Gamemakers messing with the temperature. I wonder if the thing someone needs desperately is a good blanket. The soup is still nice and warm in its iron pot. And actually doesn't taste too bad. Peeta eats without complaint, even scraping out the pot to show his enthusiasm. He rambles on about how delicious it is, which should be encouraging if you don't know what fever does to people. He's like listening to Haymitch before the alcohol has soaked him into incoherence. I give him another dose of fever medicine before he goes off his head completely. As I go down to the stream to wash up, all I can think is that he's going to die if I don't get to that feast. I'll keep him going for a day or two, and then the infection will reach his heart or his brain or his lungs and he'll be gone. And I'll be here all alone. Again. Waiting for the others. I'm so lost in thought that I almost miss the parachute, even though it floats right by me. Then I spring after it, yanking it from the water, tearing off the silver fabric to retrieve the vial. Haymitch has done it! He's gotten the medicine  -  I don't know how, persuaded some gaggle of romantic fools to sell their jewels  -  and I can save Peeta! It's such a tiny vial though. It must be very strong to cure someone as ill as Peeta. A ripple of doubt runs through me. I uncork the vial and take a deep sniff. My spirits fall at the sickly sweet scent. Just to be sure, I place a drop on the tip of my tongue. There's no question, it's sleep syrup. It's a common medicine in District 12. Cheap, as medicine goes, but very addictive. Almost everyone's had a dose at one time or another. We have some in a bottle at home. My mother gives it to hysterical patients to knock them out to stitch up a bad wound or quiet their minds or just to help someone in pain get through the night. It only takes a little. A vial this size could knock Peeta out for a full day, but what good is that? I'm so furious I'm about to throw Haymitch's last offering into the stream when it hits me. A full day? That's more than I need. I mash up a handful of berries so the taste won't be as noticeable and add some mint leaves for good measure. Then I head back up to the cave. "I've brought you a treat. I found a new patch of berries a little farther downstream." Peeta opens his mouth for the first bite without hesitation. He swallows then frowns slightly. "They're very sweet." "Yes, they're sugar berries. My mother makes jam from them. Haven't you ever had them before?" I say, poking the next spoonful in his mouth. "No," he says, almost puzzled. "But they taste familiar. Sugar berries?" "Well, you can't get them in the market much, they only grow wild," I say. Another mouthful goes down. Just one more to go. "They're sweet as syrup," he says, taking the last spoonful. "Syrup." His eyes widen as he realizes the truth. I clamp my hand over his mouth and nose hard, forcing him to swallow instead of spit. He tries to make himself vomit the stuff up, but it's too late, he's already losing consciousness. Even as he fades away, I can see in his eyes what I've done is unforgivable. I sit back on my heels and look at him with a mixture of sadness and satisfaction. A stray berry stains his chin and I wipe it away. "Who can't lie, Peeta?" I say, even though he can't hear me. It doesn't matter. The rest of Panem can.