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on-my-vigilante-sht · 2 years ago

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Capitol Punishment XII

Haymitch x Reader

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

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

Warnings: Canon level violence, rape, alcohol, murder, systemic poverty, exploitation, rebellion (?), more reliance on movie than book, suicidal thoughts, swearing, illness, pregnancy, miscarriage, torture, sexual torture, medical stuff

Word Count: 3.4K

Part XI | Masterlist | Part XIII

It had been six weeks since they escaped the arena, five since Haymitch had seen that godforsaken video of you and that man. According to Beetee more have come in but he destroyed them immediately. Haymitch wasn’t sure how many had come in but he suspected Snow was making a lot of money from you.

But despite his constant worry for you he continued to do is duties in 13. Mostly because he didn’t want to be sent back to rehab. So he sat in on meetings to help with battle and propaganda plans. But when he was called into a secret meeting with only Coin, Plutarch, Boggs, Gale, and a few other special forces he was elated.

“We’re here to discuss the rescue of the victors,” Coin began. Haymitch was the most excited he had been since he arrived in this cultish hell hole. Not every soldier held the same feelings though.

“Why?” one asked, silencing the others. “Are you actually suggesting we put soldiers’ lives on the line so some people can get their girlfriend or boyfriend back?” he scoffed. As much as Haymitch wanted to punch the guy, he had a point.

“It’s more than that. The Mockingjay has demanded Peeta’s and the other victors’ rescue and the Mockingjay is necessary for this rebellion,” Coin explained. “However, this is a volunteer only mission. I won’t forcefully send any of you into the heart of the Capitol.”

“I’ll do it,” Gale immediately volunteered.

“So will I,” Haymitch spoke.

“That’s very generous, Haymitch,” Plutarch began, “but according to our medical files you’re not fit for combat.”

“And I won’t send civilians in on a special forces mission,” Coin added.

“But this is volunteer based,” Haymitch pressed, “and I don’t see any other volunteers.”

“I’ll go,” Boggs volunteered. Four more soldiers followed suit.

“Thank you for your sacrifice and bravery,” Coin said, not unlike a robot.

“We ship out first thing in the morning, the plan will be relayed to those going tonight. Not a word of this to anyone else, especially Katniss, got it?” Boggs ordered. Everyone in the room uttered agreements as they filed out.

As Haymitch began to shuffle out, Gale caught up with him. “Thanks for volunteering,” he said. “Katniss was telling me how you struggle being sober.” Haymitch took slight offense to that comment but didn’t let it show. Everyone treated him as some sickly old man, hell he was only 41. Granted he had drank most of his liver away and going cold turkey had been hard on his body at first but he was getting better.

Haymitch took a deep sigh. Being sober had somehow lowered his inhibitions and he found himself being more honest more often with people even if he didn’t really want to. Besides, Katniss hated him for letting Peeta be taken, Finnick was a mess, and he wasn’t remotely close with anyone else in 12, Gale was the closest thing he had to a friend aside from Effie who was stewing in her dorm, angry she couldn’t wear Capitol luxuries anymore. “I just— after seeing her in the interviews and what the Capitol’s doing to her— I just wanted to be the one to save her. I wasn’t able to save her from Snow for the past 8 years but I wanted to pull her from his clutches for the final time.”

Gale nodded, sighing deeply. “I’ll get her out. I’ll tell her you volunteered for the mission and that you’re waiting here for her, right at the hangar doors.”

“Thanks,” Haymitch smiled. “Can I ask, how come you’re going? Thought you were in love with Katniss and hated Peeta’s guts.”

Gale’s sigh turned exasperated. “She’s not happy. Not with Peeta in the Capitol. I just wanna make her happy.”

“Well good luck.”

Haymitch stood in the control room anxiously along with Katniss, Finnick, Beetee, and Plutarch. District 5 had just brought down the dam, cutting power in the Capitol, shutting down their defenses. Allowing Beetee to go in and wreak all kinds of havoc to keep them unaware of the airship about to enter the Capitol’s airspace. As they approached, Cressida entered the room. “Finnick? Haymitch? Can you come with me?”

“What for?” Haymitch immediately asked, not wanting to miss your rescue.

“I asked her to film some propo,” Beetee filled in, “keep their broadcasts clogged.”

Haymitch hesitated but Finnick seized the opportunity to help. “Okay,” he agreed, stepping out with Cressida. Wanting to not feel useless anymore, Haymitch followed the pair outside. Haymitch reveled in being above ground for the first time in six weeks. It was nice to breathe fresh air despite being surrounded by rubble and sinister white roses. Cressida directed them to the center of the rubble, lights pointed at them. “Okay, just take your time and don’t stop talking,” she instructed.

She held up her fingers, counting down from three before pointing one at the two victors, directing them to begin. Haymitch was admittedly not super comfortable in front of a camera so he let Finnick take the lead. “This is Finnick Odair, winner of the 65th Hunger Games.” He then paused.

“And I’m Haymitch Abernathy, winner of the 50th Hunger Games.”

“And we’re coming to you from District 13, alive and well. We’ve survived an assault from the Capitol but we’re not here to give you recent news. We’re here to tell the truth. Not the myths about winning the life of luxury or about gaining glory for your homeland.”

“The moment you leave that arena, you’re a slave,” Haymitch explained. “I won my games in a way I wasn’t supposed to and Snow slaughtered my family for it. But some punishments, whether earned or not, can last for years. It’s what happened to Finnick here, and my wife, Y/N L/N-Abernathy.”

“President Snow used to sell me and Y/N, or our bodies at least. We weren’t the only ones. If a Victor is considered desirable, the President gives them as a reward or allows people to buy them. If you refuse, he kills someone you love.”

“For seven years Y/N was ripped out of our bed in the middle of the night. Whether we were in the Capitol or in 12 they always came looking for her, never gave her a second to herself. And when she did return, I’d always find her battered and bruised. Usually in the same clothing she left in torn up into rags.”

“Now, to make themselves feel better, my patrons would make presents of money or jewelry. But I found a much more valuable form of payment. Secrets. See, I know all the depravity, the deceit and the cruelty of the Capitol's pampered elite. But the biggest secrets are about our good President, Coriolanus Snow. Such a young man when he rose to power. Such a clever one to keep it. How, you may ask, did he do it? One word. Poison. He stopped every mutiny before it even started. There are so many mysterious deaths to adversaries. Even to allies who were threats. Snow would drink from the same cup, to deflect suspicion. But antidotes don't always work, which is why he wears roses that reek of perfume. Help cover the scent of blood from sores in his mouth that will never heal. But he can't hide the scent of who he really is. He kills without mercy. He rules with deception and fear. His weapon of choice is the only thing suited to such a man. Poison. The perfect weapon for a snake.” Just as Finnick was about to continued Cressida stopped him.

“Wait,” she held a hand to her ear piece. “Beetee said they lost connection. The Capitol’s defenses are rebooting.”

Haymitch’s heart dropped. No, they had to get you out. They couldn’t be detected yet, he had to uphold his promise to protect you.

Probably thinking similar, if not the same, thing, he and Finnick both ran inside. They raced down into the control room just in time to hear Snow’s final words over the video. “Don’t you think I know your friends are in the Tributes Centre?” and with that all the screens in the room went dark.

There were various yells. Both from people trying to get in contact with the team and Katniss losing her mind. “We have to get them out, he knows,” she cried, turning to her mentor.

“There’s no signal, we can’t contact them,” Plutarch explained bluntly.

“No. Haymitch, he knew the whole time. He was taunting me.” Haymitch wrapped his arms around her in a fatherly embrace. “Did I lose them both tonight?” she cried into his chest, repeating the words over and over.

As much as Haymitch felt for the girl, he was grieving too. Grieving the loss of his wife as well as the broken promise he had made so long ago.

You had just been curled in a fetal position on your bed when Peeta’s broken voice called out. “Guys,” he caught everyone’s attention. You rolled over, spotting gas creeping along the floor. It was slowly crawling up the walls, climbing into the vents that led to each cell. You began to worry that it was a Capitol gas designed to torture you , similar to the fog Haymitch had talked about in the arena. But curiosity got the better of you as you pulled the thin blanket around your body tighter. Your hospital clothes had been destroyed so many times they had stopped bothering to give them to you. But you stepped off the bed, heading for the glass barrier where gas was just beginning to accumulate on your side. But just before you could reach it the chain around your ankle held, tripping you a little. Still defiant after weeks of torture you opted to get on your knees to stretch to try to reach the fog. But what you hadn’t noticed, as you carefully lowered yourself, was that the gas had really begun to fill the room. As you settled on the ground you caught a whiff of the gas, immediately making you lightheaded. Your limbs became heavy as it quickly lulled you to sleep, your last thoughts being of what the Capitol’s torture would be that required you to be asleep.

When you finally managed to pry your eyes open the first time you were blinded and hazy. You faintly heard someone yell, “Can we get her some clothes?”

You managed to turn your head to the side, realizing you were moving. Judging by the whiteness all around you, you were still in the hospital-torture place. But you soon lost consciousness again, not finding it until you were on the aircraft.

When you managed to open your eyes for good you were staring up at a black, dome like ceiling. Looking around just a little you could see the heads and shoulders of soldiers, judging by the all black gear. One face you spotted was Gale’s. His gaze, however, looked miles away as he stared at his feet.

You could hear the thrum of the aircraft, only ever hearing that when the Capitol transported you to the worst times of your life.

Adjusting yourself more you could now see your fellow prisoners also lying on the floor of the aircraft although you seemed to be the only conscious one. By now the soldier who’s feet you had been laying at noticed your movement. “Hey, my name is Commander Boggs, we rescued you from the Capitol. We’re taking you to District 13.”

District 13? The military man had told you that’s where the rebellion was operating out of. He said that’s where Haymitch was. You could cry you were so relieved. For the first time in your life you may know peace. Even if it’s just for a second before you have to finish this war.

Recognizing what you no doubt wanted to ask, the man spoke. “Yes, Haymitch is there. He’s waiting for you in 13.” Tears of joy slipped from your eyes for the first time in god knows how long. As you tried to sit up, Boggs gently pushed you back onto the collapsed gurney you were laying on again. “I need you to lie still. We suspect you have some internal injuries that need to be assessed before you really start moving.” You agreed, settling further on the hard cushion. You suspected that you had injuries that the Capitol wouldn’t bother to heal because they couldn’t see them. Largely from the harsh treatment of the men that had bought access to your body through Snow. Many of them had pulled out of you with blood coating them but it was always dismissed and you were left there, something clearly wrong but you were powerless to do anything.

“How long?” you managed to ask, your voice hoarse.

“About 15 minutes out. We’re gonna have to roll you in on the gurney though.” You didn’t really like the idea of being treated like you were mortally wounded but you nodded nonetheless.

Around you the others were starting to stir. The soldiers sitting above them murmuring comforts and explanations. No one really made a move until Johanna started screaming. She sat up, two soldiers immediately jumping on her to push her back to the ground. “Do you want us to sedate you again?!” One of the soldiers yelled. That finally got her to stop fighting. Once they released her she huffed, scooting over to another wall to lean against, sending everyone glares.

The next person to be fully conscious was Annie. You turned your head to find her already looking at you. “Annie,” you cried. You hadn’t caught more than a glimpse of her in weeks but you were all too familiar with her screams.

“Y/N!” she cried. She scrambled up from her spot on the floor, one of the soldiers moving to stop her but a signal from Boggs made them stop. She kneeled over you, pulling you into a hug. Despite the awkward positioning you began to cry at the first compassionate human contact you had had in weeks.

“You’re okay,” you said, observing her relatively untouched appearance. Her long red hair still flowed down her shoulders unlike Johanna’s shaved head. Her skin looked unmarred unlike you and the two other victors’ skin. The one thing that matched the three of you was how malnourished and tired she looked. You guessed that since she knew absolutely nothing about the rebellion and her fragile mental state protected her from Peeta and Johanna’s punishments.

“Annie,” Boggs caught her attention, “Finnick is waiting for you in 13.”

Tears filled her eyes. “He’s- he’s alive? Finnick’s alive?” she cried joyfully.

“Yes, he is,” Boggs smiled.

Your conversation was then interrupted by a man also dressed in all black gear walking into the cabin. “We’re landing pretty soon and are beginning to descend. Everyone should buckle in.”

With some gentle coaxing Annie went to sit on a proper seat beside the soldier whose feet she had been laid by previously. Johanna refused to move so they just let her hold onto something in her corner. Peeta was fine because he had stayed strapped to his gurney unlike Annie or Johanna because they didn’t require them. Meanwhile Boggs was reaching over you to strap you in. You gave him a startled, questioning look as he reached down. “It’s just to make sure you don’t slip out,” he explained. “Trust me you can get out of it anytime. See?” He unclipped the belt easily before fastening it again.

Relaxing a little you looked up at the ceiling, taking a deep breath as you felt the aircraft descend. When you felt the landing gear hit the ground you had a weird sense of feeling at home. You knew Haymitch was near.

Haymitch sat waiting with Katniss and Finnick for when you and the others would be back. The three victors sat in tense silence until the door slid open. Gale’s head peaked in. He didn’t need to speak, his presence said enough. The other victors were back.

Immediately he, Finnick, and Katniss were scrambling into the medical wing. There they found a scene of doctors and nurses running around trying to figure out how to help victims of torture. The first person Haymitch saw was Johanna. She looked so different, the only recognizable thing about her was her sneer as she fought the doctors.

“Finnick!” Annie’s desperate voice pierced the air.

The doctors then parted for a second, revealing you lying on a hospital bed, neck straining to find your husband. “Y/N,” Haymitch tried to call but it came out as more of a sob. The fact that you were confined to your bed wasn’t promising considering Annie had ripped an IV from her arm, leaping into Finnick’s.

As he got closer (he was in such a hypnotic-like state he was pretty sure he knocked a nurse over) he took in your appearance more. It actually broke him to see his wife look so frail, the Capitol clearly having starved you and men having abused you.

Once he reached your bedside he leaned over the rail, pulling you into a hug as best as he could. He could feel your nails dig into his back, trying to claw him closer as each of you began to cry into the crook of each others’ necks. “I love you,” he heard you whimper out.

“I love you too,” he cried. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I never should’ve left your side.”

“No no. It’s not your fault.” Before you could say anything else a doctor interrupted you.

“Mr. Abernathy? We need to take her into surgery.” At the mention of surgery Haymitch reluctantly pulled away. He turned, finding a few medical staff standing behind the doctor ready to take you.

“Wh- why?” he stuttered out as the staff were already beginning to roll you away.

“No,” you cried, “don’t take me from him!” He faintly heard one of them trying to calm you down.

“We’re sorry but testing done in the field shows she has severe injuries to her reproductive organs. Most likely due to…” he hesitated with the next words, “repetitive rape. We’re going in to stop internal bleeding but we’re unsure of other things we’ll find. We’ll update you as soon as we can.” And with that the doctor rushed off.

Haymitch stood there helpless, unsure of what to do. He knew that you were safe and under the care of actual doctors who wanted to heal you but people died in surgery all the time, especially outside of the Capitol. He felt like you had been ripped from him all over again.

He looked around again, realizing he had yet to see one person. Peeta. He got his answer as to where the boy was when he heard a loud crash in another room. Rushing over he found Peeta with his hands wrapped around Katniss’ throat. Without thinking he ran at the boy, trying to pry him off the girl who he had once been madly in love with.

“Peeta let go!” Haymitch heard himself yell. He managed to get him off Katniss for a second before the boy managed to knock his former mentor off. Haymitch went stumbling backwards into some shelves as Peeta brought Katniss to the ground again. By now Gale and Boggs had entered the room, finding the same scene Haymitch had.

Gale immediately began trying to pry Peeta off of Katniss but even he was no match for the very determined Peeta despite his malnourishment. It took Boggs knocking Peeta in the head with an iron tray to get the boy off of Katniss.

Everyone took a second to breathe a breath of relief before they started aiding the two unconscious victors from 12.

Part XI | Masterlist | Part XIII

#haymitch #haymitch x reader #haymitch abernathy #haymitch abernathy x reader #thg #the hunger games #the hunger games x reader

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shardminds · 7 months ago

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@cauldronblssd gave me a prompt of ‘human feyre and lucien bonding back in spring’ so i took it and i ran. thank you cb 💓

before i feel safe / feyre & lucien (tamlin mention!!) / 332w (again, i wrote this on my phone so sorry for the lapslock!)

“you’re thinking too hard.” lucien reached his hand to bat at where she was tearing at blades of soft grass, deceptively comfortable without even a blanket to cushion them from the ground. she should have packed one anyway, instead of storming from the house with just her riding boots and a defiant streak a mile wide.

it was a surprise to see lucien saddling both their horses. it was less of a surprise when, half an hour later, she considered those knife tipped ears probably heard her grumble out of bed that morning, cursing the sun’s aggressive rays, and the decorative but useless gossamer curtains.

there was no doubt he’d heard their disagreement. gods, the crash of the crystal decanter still rang through her ears.

“feyre, i can hear you moping from here.”

she sighed, keeping her eyes to the clouds. lucien did the same. “is he always this—“

“stubborn? hot headed? blind?”

feyre didn’t want to pick one. and it felt cruel to suggest all three. but tamlin was. all three and more. it hurt to look at him and see the monster when all she wanted was to know the male beneath. in her time at the spring court, some things had shifted between them, boundaries irrevocably crossed.

“he’s got a lot on his mind. believe it or not, protecting you is unsurprisingly high on that list. you are our guest, after all.” lucien curled his little finger around hers, a childlike reassurance. despite his snark and sly charm, his displays of affection were much more subtle. a new route for their rides, quiet contemplation on sun dappled hillsides, space.

she paused, and then quietly “do i have to let him?”

i can take care of myself.

he didn’t mention the naga, or the bogge, or the suriel. or how close she’d come to being another dead girl across the wall.

he kept his eyes to the sky still, glinting gold illuminated by sun.

“that depends on you.”

#feyre archeron #lucien vanserra #tamlin #cauldronblssd #ficminds #i think about them all the time

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districtfourmermaid · 1 month ago

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It's the Nut!

I understand Gale's rage. I know it. I know that when Gale says they could block even the train tunnel, he's getting carried away, thinking only of what the Capitol did to District 12. What these people working in the Nut facilitated. Katniss knows it, too.

"'We watched children burn to death, and there was nothing we could do!' I have to close my eyes a minute, as the image rips through me. It has the desired effect. I want everyone in that mountain dead."

Katniss pulls back for a moment, because she's also from 12, and she likens the Nut to a coal mine. But who knows better than Gale what that would feel like? His dad died in the mines just like hers. She could barely stomach the annual field trip down there and hates the thought of him working there. But he worked there. He knows exactly what the avalanche would inflict on the people. He knows very well how it will feel. And he says that if he were a spy in the Nut, he'd say "bring on the avalanches," because he's committed to the cause and knows the rebels will never win without taking the Nut and District 2. Katniss would do it, too, be willing to die for the rebels if she were in the Nut. There are only a "handful" of spies, after all.

Boggs, of course, is steadier and suggests leaving the train tunnel open for surrenders. Gale is usually very reasonable, so this moment is odd for him. Who doesn't say things worse than they mean in fits of rage? After what he saw in 12, saving all those people and it still not being nearly enough, he's not out of line. But he may be slightly blinded by that rage. Once he calms down somewhat, even he sees that leaving the tunnel is right. He's just cautious, saying they should be armed, because those "surrendering" surely will be. And he's right about that, too (Katniss's spleen might want to weigh in).

At the end of the day, though, the Nut is a military base. It's the key to 2, which is the last stop before the Capitol. People are dying across Panem every day. The Capitol wants a ceasefire? No! The fire will cease when the people are free!And for that to happen, the Nut must be cracked. I do not have sympathy for the workers in the Nut who are not rebel spies. Those from either 2 or the Capitol who are genuinely fighting to keep the Capitol in power. They chose their side.

When talking with Beetee, Gale said they're using the same rulebook Snow used when hijacking Peeta. That would be the same one used when 12 or the hospital in 8 were bombed. But then, he's not. This is no where near as bad as what the Capitol has done. District 12 hadn't even officially rebelled yet. They never got the chance. The Capitol bombed a whole District of poor, malnourished, overworked, heavily policed regular people and followed up their bombing of 8 with hitting their hospital. I will never understand why people look down on Gale for suggesting violence may be required against a military base that launches hovercraft to go bomb more Districts.

After the bombing of the hospital on District 8: "I remember all those years in the woods, listening to Gale rant against the Capitol. Me, not paying close attention. Wondering why he even bothered to dissect its motives. Why thinking like our enemy would ever matter. Clearly, it would have mattered today. When Gale questioned the existence of the hospital, he was not thinking of disease, but this. Because he never underestimates the cruelty of those we face."

Katniss and everyone else needs to remember this. The Capitol's cruelty and the lengths to which Snow is willing to go to retain power know no bounds. There can be no progress without taking action, and holding back because you don't want to be too mean to an enemy who thinks of you as lower than dirt does not work.

#hunger games #mockingjay #hg reread #page 284 #gale hawthorne #Katniss Everdeen #Boggs #the but #district 2 #district 8 #Capitol #page 98

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glapplebloom · 11 days ago

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Exactly how I picture Trixie

After introducing us to Phyllis, Starlight is now officially in line to become the Head Mare of the School of Friendship after Twilight moves to Canterlot. Sometime later, Trixie is with Starlight hanging out at the school instead of getting lunch. Trixie is worried this would cut into friendship time while Starlight is worried about running the school alone. But a comment on Trixie gave Starlight an idea: get a Vice Head Mare. Twilight agrees it is a good idea.

After she leaves, Trixie thinks this was done so Trixie and Starlight can continue to hang out. Starlight tries to let her know that this is a legit position, but Trixie is not really getting it. Still, she participates the best she can and is up against Big Mac, Octavia, Time Turner... And Spoiled Rich is there for some reason. Starlight has three stages to test those auditioning to be Vice Head Mare. Stage 1: Substitute Teacher.

Big Mac, Octavia and Time Turner do a great job. Spoiled Rich fails miserably. As for Trixie, she does try to teach... For a minute. But when she noticed Gallus sleeping, she decided that taking a nap was a better idea. Now while this seems lazy, napping actually has some benefits even for adults as seen here. Starlight doesn’t think the same way, but she still likes the idea of a Vice Head Mare being a friend. And Trixie comes in to unintentionally convince Starlight to let her advance.

Next challenge: Parent/Teacher Conference. Octavia and Time Turner do well. Big Mac’s limited vocabulary gets him to step down from the competition. But when it comes to Trixie and Grandpa Gruff, they get into an argument about Gallus. Gruff is a grump while Trixie is arguing that Gallus deserves a better guardian. Honestly, good for Trixie to stand up for a student. I can see her roughing up a parent who would take things too far. But Starlight doesn’t see the positives in this either.

Starlight tries to make it VERY CLEAR that if Trixie does not step it up next round she’s most likely not going to get picked, but she GRAVELY UNDERESTIMATED THE EGO OF THE GREAT AND POWERFUL TRIXIE! It’s a Field Trip for the Final Round and Octavia takes them to a concert. While Gallus isn’t looking forward to it, Octavia’s friend DJ P0N-3 aka Vinyl Scratch being there really gets her points up.

Time Turner’s Field Trip is towards his lab. It's about time traveling, and his realization that we’re all time traveling to the future as we speak. Worst Field Trip of the two, but how about Trixie? Her idea is that to impress Starlight, instead of taking them to the location, she’ll bring the location to them. Trixie successfully teleports part of Froggy Bottom Bogg to them. Problem is she also brought a bunch of bees with her. That she accidentally knocked over and broke their hive.

And these ain’t your ordinary bees, they’re Flash Bees: electrical bees so their sting is a lot more painful. After Starlight took care of them, Starlight’s anger finally got through Trixie. And man, it is really harsh. Granted, after fighting off Electrical bees it's understandable and if this was pre-Starlight Trixie I would be for it. But Trixie has grown on me and even Starlight feels bad after she leaves.

Luckily Twilight shows up to give advice which leads to Starlight going to apologize to Trixie. She even compliments Trixie on the stuff she has done. Like Gallus saying nobody stood up to Grandpa Gruff like Trixie had. Trixie accepts the apology. We then find out nobody who signed up got the position. Time Turner decided to go back to his experiments while Octavia worried that being Vice Head Mare would take too much time from her music. Then why did you apply in the first place?!?

Trixie reconfirms that getting a Vice Head Mare is a good idea and even suggests the perfect person: Someone who is responsible like Starlight, detail-oriented like Twilight, smart in general and a friend. You know who this is, right? And luckily for Starlight, Sunburst got free time since Flurry Heart is older now and he always wanted to work in a school. And all this let Starlight give Trixie a job at the school: as Student Counselor.

It ends with Trixie killing Phyllis. Overall, a fun episode. This really shows Trixie at her best and her humorously worst. And honestly the best sendoff for the Starlight/Trixie episodes. Shame it ended so soon. Click here to see the original review and how it fits in GLAB Canon.

#green lantern apple bloom #mlp review #mlp revisit #season 9

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kylesvariouslistsandstuff · 7 months ago

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Caught up on MONSTERS AT WORK...

*spoilers ahead*

This is an interesting show in that it's a Disney TV Animation production, and Pixar had a *lot* of involvement in it. Rumor had it, years ago, that Pixar halted the show for a brief bit and took a look at it... Hence it missing its projected 2020 release date and ending up debuting a year later, in July 2021. Other Pixar shows made for Disney+ were in-house Pixar productions, like CARS ON THE ROAD and DUG DAYS. MONSTERS AT WORK is the unique exception, much like BUZZ LIGHTYEAR OF STAR COMMAND.

With Pixar seemingly drifting from Disney+, now that streaming isn't this be-all end-all thing that the movie giants aggressively bet on, I wonder if future shows based on their beloved movies will be made still... And by whom? They themselves? Or Disney TV Animation? It was already something of a surprise when MONSTERS AT WORK was announced in late 2017 as a DTVA production, considering how much John Lasseter supposedly despised BLoSC and how in-house Pixar tends to keep things. Also curiously, this show's second season aired on the Disney Channel first and then dropped on Disney+. Once again showing where the tides are going...

(Also, Disney... Pixar... Where the heck is WIN OR LOSE?)

Season one of MONSTERS AT WORK is this sort-of in-between-quel thing, in that it takes place between Waternoose's arrest and the epilogue of everyone on the Laugh Floor in the original MONSTERS, INC. And ends there, with at least one scene recreated verbatim. I must say, that ICON studio really did a fantastic job making a show that looks like the original movie and doesn't look noticeable cheaper. Amazing to think that the original movie released in 2001 cost $115m and was *top of the line* in technical terms, and today this Disney+ show looks almost as movie quality...

This new season follows up directly on MONSTERS, INC.'s ending.

And because we're past the first movie now - which is going to be 23 this year, it was pretty cool to see the sort-of mundane stuff going on in the company and around Monstropolis. Softball games and old abandoned hallways and fun stuff like that, I also like how it integrated all the stuff established in MONSTERS UNIVERSITY. Worthington returning alongside Chet, Claire and a few others, plus Fear Co. finally being shown. Good stuff!

Season two kinda does this thing where it's still trying to be the OFFICE-style workplace comedy that the first season was, but also functioning as a big sequel to MONSTERS, INC. Pixar bypassed doing a sequel to MONSTERS, INC. by giving us a prequel instead, so it was definitely kinda weird seeing this show function - in its second season - as a sequel of sorts. A big conspiracy with Fear Co., Randall Boggs returning, some pretty high stakes too. A near-finale fallout for the two main characters as well. It feels like it's trying to aim for those great beats in both movies, reprising them in that Pixar sequel style, a trick that's quite noticeable from a mile away. Right down to Tylor scaring a kid in the same way Sulley accidentally did to Boo. Still, it was cool to see some worldbuilding there, and the characters just simply existing. Day by day in Monstropolis. I'd love to see more shows like that w/ big animated movie characters, honestly. Even if I wasn't entirely onboard some aspects of this show, it was still cool to spend time in that world again without it having to be a big sequel.

As a kid, watching MONSTERS, INC. on DVD multiple times and burying myself in the second disc's special features, I always wanted to see more of the Monster World. Outside of Monstropolis, outside of MU, etc. What other cities and towns are out there? Or other kinds of monsters for that matter? What's the wilderness like?

I feel like that's a world you can really, really explore. A lot of the early concept art for that movie suggested something even weirder and gnarlier. Like, where are all the monsters like these?

You kinda get that with "The Shrieker", the legendary monster that roams the archaic underbellies of the factory. I'd like to see more of that kinda stuff, Monster World history and lore, ya know? It's literally a goldmine of stuff to dig into.

But I suppose you can weave a ton of things out of unmade versions of Pixar movies, for sure.

I was always very curious about that one treatment done up in the late '90s where Boo - called by her real name, Mary - was a little bit older and Sulley was still named Johnson, where the premise is him hiding this kid for the whole runtime and then her getting lost in the city at one point. That had a somewhat eerie, more ominous mood, almost a completely different movie from the workplace comedy we ended up getting.

But it was the stuff like that on the DVD bonus features that stoked my imagination circa late 2002, and... Well... Nothing Monsters came about - in terms of screen media, not theme park stuff - until MONSTERS UNIVERSITY, 11 years and one cancelled Disney Circle 7 sequel later. The Circle 7 sequel that was being developed around 2004-05 had some potential, I think, but I don't know ideas from it can legally be integrated into a future Monster World project. You can kinda sense - as others have pointed out - that young Mike and Sulley getting lost in the human world in MONSTERS UNIVERSITY's 3rd act seems to echo the plot of Circle 7 MONSTERS, INC. 2.

I still wonder if Pixar will greenlight an actual sequel (which would easily make a massive billion, probably completely blow MU's great $730m+ take out of the water), and if it'll treat MONSTERS AT WORK as canon or not. But this second season certainly went big, bringing back characters from both movies and attempting all these big payoffs. I found it to be amusing at best, sometimes good even. I felt the first season locked together better, but this one - despite how I felt about some of the character dynamics - tried all the stuff, so that's cool. And it got me thinking of the Pixar monster movies again, so that's also neat.

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randomfoggytiger · 2 years ago

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The Scully Family In-Depth: (Part V): Miracles, Lyle Parker, and Psychic Charlie?

We reach the end of Season 1 with the Scully Family-- but there's still a sizeable amount of information to breakdown before we bid adieu~.

The Legacy of Her Father’s Passing

Scully’s grief is no longer the focus of the series;

but it crops up here and there in the aftermath, as well as other small mentions of her growing up years or scattered family.

In Miracle Man, Scully reveals that she grew up Catholic; this familiarity allows her to see through the twisted religious doctrine that is being used to cloud the case of miracles and false positives.

But more than that, she compassionately understands that Mulder “sees” Samantha everywhere-- an echo of her experience with Boggs in Beyond the Sea-- though she believes his visions are born from reactivated trauma and not from miraculous suggestion. Scully highlights this echo of her own experience when she says: "Mulder, don't discount the power of suggestion.... Imagine a miracle and you're halfway there."

In Shapes, Scully relives the unanchored loss and engulfing pain of her father's passing when she witnesses Lyle Parker grapple with his father's homicide.

When she first enters the hospital room, Scully settles into a chair, letting Lyle talk out his nerves and embarrassment a bit while she steels her face to deliver the bad news (her convulsive swallowing being the only giveaway.)

Finally, she quietly tells him about the tragedy: "Your father's dead." Her expression remains plastered, exuding the same strength and detachment she had shown Maggie during Ahab's funeral;

but it starts to crumble when Lyle reacts exactly like she had-- open-mouthed shock and grief, turning silently inward immediately. Flailing for words herself, she licks her dry lips

and tries to recapture his attention by establishing a connection over mutual understanding: "Lyle, I lost my father recently; and I know how overwhelming--."

Lyle cuts her off before she can finish: "Was it my fault?"

His question strikes right at the heart of Scully's recently resolved wounds regarding her relationship with the late Captain Scully, a question that both can only answer for themselves.

But underneath this surprising amount of pain, Scully still harbors suspicion: Lyle is a suspect... is this his confession? Lyle's follow up, however, lays suspicion far from his feet; and Scully's eyes drift downward, unreasonably ashamed of herself for her suspicions.

Scully's response to his question is in the same style that Maggie gave her at the funeral: "I don't know."

Lyle continues to mirror her soul, bringing to light what she had struggled with silently: "I can deal with death, y'know, living on the ranch, being close to Nature and all... you see how it all works-- things are born, things dies, everything else falls in-between. ...But if I caused it? If I brought it on... I couldn't, uh... I can't..."

He can't speak past the accumulating tears; and Scully looks down, away, back while nervously swallowing and rubbing aggressively at her left knee under her coat. She's trying to keep her own emotions in check and maintain her professionalism; but Lyle's words are reaching her, creating a war between comforting his loss and fleeing from this painful interaction.

Her sense of duty and deep empathy wins-- she might not be effusive, but Scully reaches out to clutch Lyle's arm in compassion.

And, though her first smile is forced and brief, she regroups and gives a more genuine second tug-of-the-lips to show the other man she understands and cares.

Brief Mentions of Scully's Family

In this script (thank you, @x-files-scripts!), Beyond the Sea establishes that Bill Scully (aged 32) and Charlie Scully (aged 25) are both at Captain Scully's funeral. Ages aside (since Charlie wouldn't have been old enough to have two children as old as they were at the funeral... unless there was an unsavory teen pregnancy backstory); but he also gets another mention before S1 closes.

In Roland, Scully mentions him, though not by name, when Mulder asks her if she has brothers: "Yeah, I've got an older one and a younger one."

Mulder then states: "...I believe in psychic connections; and evidence suggests it's stronger between family members..."

While Scully isn't sold on his theory (though she gives it a fair hearing and is willing to play ball enough to joke about needing to "call my brother"), it's worth reflecting on.

In future analyses, the Scully family often have uncanny senses, dreams, and visitations from beyond the grave. Scully saw her father's ghost in Beyond the Sea and One Breath, as well as the apparitions of the murdered women and Harold in Elegy and Mulder's later in This Is Not Happening, and received long-distance phone calls from her dead sister regarding Emily; Maggie had dreams about her daughter's abduction; and Melissa could communicate with her comatic sister in Beyond the Sea and, in The Blessing Way's deleted scene (which still counts, see here), could sense that Mulder and Scully's connection hadn't been severed which meant he wasn't dead like Scully believed ("You've lost touch with your intuition.")

Apparently, the Scully women weren't the only psychically-attuned Scullys: Charlie Scully, according to a cut script, was supposed to have escaped a plane crash by "being told not to board." Mulder and Scully were supposed to investigate his innocence, with Mulder's theory bent towards proving he had psychically saved himself. (I could be wrong; correct me if I am.)

But, for now, these remain unexplored; and will-- in Charlie Scully's case, anyway-- likely never have concrete answers.

And that concludes season 1-- stay tuned for season 2 and onward~.

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

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lythea-creation · 6 months ago

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Broken Toys - Johanna Mason x fem reader (Chapter 22)

Chapter 1

Previous Chapter

word count: 2.449

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

None of us was able to sleep properly tonight. At least I was not freezing thanks to Finnick.

I was drifting in and out of sleep when I heard Peeta's voice: “The issue is that I don't know what is real anymore.”

“Then, you should ask, Peeta. That's what Annie does”, Finnick suggested.

Right. Due to Annie's mental state Finnick was great at dealing with broken people. Maybe that was why I was feeling so comfortable around him and somehow safe. I knew that I could trust him to support me when I needed him.

“Who should I ask? Who can I trust?”, Peeta questioned.

“Well, us for example”, Jackson assumed. “We're your unit.”

“You're my guards”, Peeta shot back.

“That too. But you saved many lives in 13. We don't forget such things”, she proclaimed.

Silence erupted until Peeta addressed Katniss again: “Your favorite color … is it green?”

“Yeah.” She nodded. “And yours is orange.”

“Orange?”, he wondered.

“Not a bright orange. A muted orange. Like the sunset. At least that's what you told me”, Katniss recalled.

When Katniss, Gale, Finnick and I returned from our propo the next day, Jackson had invented a game for Peeta: 'true or not true?'. He told us about a memory and we agreed or corrected him.

We were divided into different groups for guarding him.

Gale and Katniss were each put together with one of the other soldiers while Finnick and me were assigned together to one. Of course that had a reason.

Gale was an expert when it came to Peeta's questions about district 12.

Finnick and I could tell him about both his games as we had been mentors during Peeta's first games and his allies during his second. Though Finnick was a greater help than me because I had mostly concentrated on Rue during the 74th Hunger Games. And Finnick had been together with Peeta almost the whole time during the Quarter Quell.

The rest of the questions was up to Katniss, which was not an easy task for her. I could only imagine how Katniss was feeling by imagining Johanna in that state. I was extremely grateful that at least Johanna's memories were alright.

On the next day we were sent to a blocked off street district for more spectacular video clips. We were all wearing special protective clothing just in case.

Gale was the chosen one to hit the actual pod while the rest of us was shooting around aimlessly once again.

Pretty frustrating being a great sniper and never hitting a target at the same time.

The explosion led us to throw ourselves onto the ground.

Afterwards Cressida made us replay the situation over and over again to get a better shoot. Though it was difficult to stay serious as Mitchell was an even worse actor than Katniss.

“4-5-1, get a hold of yourselves!”, Boggs scolded us, although he was barely hiding his grin.

He was still looking at us when he stepped onto an orange brick and triggered a mine.

Once again an illusion turned into reality. Our laughter turned into screams as Boggs' blood tainted the ground and the fake smoke was replaced by real.

Another explosion erupted leaving me completely disoriented.

I took a deep breath and carefully made my way through the smoke. I could not rely on my ears as the loud noise of the explosion had influenced my hearing.

Finnick came into my sight first. He was desperately trying to revive Messalla, who had been flung against a wall by the explosion.

I nearly slipped when I approached Katniss, Homes and Boggs. The ground was covered in blood and parts of Boggs' legs.

Nausea overcame me, but that was not new to me.

Boggs had lost both legs and literally clung onto the holo. He had to be in a lot of pain. Considering the blood loss he would not survive.

“Incapable of command. Submit the top security check to unit 4-5-1, soldier Katniss Everdeen. … Say your name”, I heard Boggs' weak voice through the ringing in my ears.

“Katniss Everdeen. What did you do?”, Katniss wondered.

“Get ready to retreat!”, Jackson yelled.

Finnick shouted something back and pointed to the sector we had come from.

A black, oily substance streamed out of the street and the gaps of the buildings were creating a black wall. Knowing Snow it was definitely deadly.

I watched Homes and Katniss pulling Boggs with them. The substance was approaching us quickly.

“It's fruitless! We have to leave him behind. He's going to die in a few minutes anyway. That'll just spare him more suffering!”, I realized and made Katniss and Homes let go.

“I'm sorry, commander”, I whispered.

He simply smiled at me, showing me that I had evaluated the situation correctly.

Suddenly I heard a lout sound. Peeta had tried to hit Katniss with his gun, but had hit the ground instead.

Mitchell managed to hold Peeta to the ground, but the latter was stronger and kicked Mitchell a few steps back, making him stumble into a trap.

Mitchell was lifted into the air trapped between barbed wire. The blood was streaming out of his body.

“Don't move”, Katniss yelled at him, although we both knew that he would not survive.

In the background I heard explosions.

Gale and Leeg one had been shooting at the ground the whole time to create us a safe way to the next building.

Peeta moved to attack Katniss again, but I pushed her out of the way, dodged Peeta's punch and kneed him in the groin.

Castor and Pollux dragged him away while I pushed Katniss toward the building.

Gale and I were entering the building last and now I was feeling seriously sick.

A few seconds later Gale and I were throwing up, because of the fumes we had inhaled.

In the background I heard Peeta resisting and kicking against something. Later I noticed that they had trapped him inside a wardrobe.

Leeg two, Mitchell, Boggs. We had lost so many already and the real games had just started a few minutes ago.

The surveillance cameras had definitely filmed us after all the pods we had activated and we could not contact our allies.

Jackson was the new commander now and of course wanted Katniss to hand over the holo, which the latter refused to do. Katniss lied that Boggs had given her the holo because she had gotten the special order of Coin to assassinate Snow.

Now the unit split up as we pointed our guns at each other.

It seemed like either Jackson or Katniss was about to die, when Cressida interjected. The one who was not on anyone's side: “It's true. That's why we're here. Plutarch wants us to film everything because he believes that the war will be over when everyone sees how the mockingjay kills Snow.”

Jackson hesitated. Then she pointed at the wardrobe Peeta was in. “Why is he here then?”

“Both interviews with Caesar Flickerman have been filmed inside Snow's private quarters. Plutarch thinks that Peeta could lead us there because he's the only one familiar with the area”, Cressida resonated.

Impressive. She was lying convincingly without a second of hesitation.

That settled it. Although Jackson was still suspicious and grumpy, she helped Katniss handling the holo.

We decided to get out the same way we had entered the building as the substance had probably activated the other pods and made the cameras useless.

So we put on our gas masks and followed Katniss.

The substance had turned more or less hard. We did not sink into it and did not leave any footprints. At least one positive thing on such a terrible day.

Homes was carrying the unconscious Peeta while Cressida and Leeg one supported the light-headed Messalla.

On the way further into the city I realized that Katniss had been right about the activated pods. I spotted dead tracker jackers and destroyed buildings.

The further we got away from the source of the substance the thinner it covered the ground.

We hid inside one of the Capitol's buildings to reorganize and evaluate the situation.

More explosions erupted from where we had come followed by the TV turning on startling us.

“Don't panic! It's just a special broadcast. All TV's in the Capitol turn on automatically”, Cressida soothed us.

The screen showed the video of us since the mine Boggs had accidentally activated.

But the cameras had not seen us escaping out of the building again, that was now nothing more but a burning ruin. They happily declared our death.

“Finally we have some luck”, Homes stated.

True. Though something else was bothering me.

I imagined this broadcast being shown in district 13 where our families and friends were waiting for us to return.

I thought about Johanna who had probably just gotten over her relapse and had to deal with the fact that she was in 13 instead of the battle field, far away from me.

I thought about the pregnant Annie, who had seemingly lost her husband and father of her unborn child.

I thought about Prim, Katniss' mom and my family who had after two Hunger Games finally lost their children.

But that was another difference to the previous Hunger Games. No trackers.

“And what are we planning to do next, now that we're dead”, Gale cut through the silence.

“That's obvious, isn't it?”

I had not even noticed that Peeta was conscious again. “Next … we are killing me.”

“Don't be silly”, Jackson shot back.

“But I just killed one of us!”

“You pushed him away. You couldn't know that he would stumble into a trap”, Finnick tried to soothe him.

“So what? He's dead, isn't he? I didn't expect that. I've never felt like that before. Katniss is right. I'm the monster. I'm the mutt. Snow turned me into a weapon”, Peeta cried.

“It's not your fault, Peeta”, Finnick reminded him.

“You can't take me with you. It's only a matter of time until I kill the next. Maybe you think it'd be more human to leave me behind, but then you could just hand me over to the Capitol right away. Do you think you'd do me a favor by sending me back to Snow?”

Gale promised to kill Peeta before that could happen, but Peeta wanted a nightlock pill. A poisonous pill everyone of us had gotten for the case that one of us got captured. Coin did not want more Peeta's and Johanna's. Honestly I did not want to share their experiences either.

In the end Katniss somehow persuaded Peeta to trust us and we started looking out for food.

Luckily Messalla knew where the citizens of the Capitol were hiding their food. They even had cookies! Each of us got one of the thirty food cans.

When we had switched to dessert and were handing around some cookies, the TV turned on again and our portraits were shown on the screens, like the pictures of the fallen tributes in the arena.

Then President Snow himself appeared on the screen and talked about the victory over the mockingjay. He presented her as one girl out of many, randomly chosen and made to the face of the rebellion.

But Snow's speech did not last too long as district 13 still had Beetee. Mixed feelings spread inside of me when I saw Coin. “Dead or alive, Katniss Everdeen will remain the face of the rebellion. If you should ever waver in your resolve, think back to the mockingjay because there you'll find the strength you need to free Panem from the oppression.”

“Didn't know that I mean so much to her”, Katniss joked earning laughter from Gale and me and confused stares from the others.

Were they not aware that Katniss' death was actually her wish?

A picture of Katniss in front of sparkling flames was shown before Beetee let Snow take over again.

“Tomorrow morning, when we will gather Katniss Everdeen's dead body from the ruins, you'll see who she is. A dead girl who could not save anyone, not even herself.”

Coat of arm. Hymn. TV off.

“Though they won't find her”, Finnick said what we were probably all thinking.

Katniss turned on the holo and I watched all the blinking lights.

“How are we supposed to get through that labyrinth of pods? They're growing in numbers and the pods earlier haven't even been detected by the holo”, I pointed out.

“Let's exclude anything that won't work first”, Finnick suggested. “The streets aren't an option.”

“Neither are the roofs”, Leeg one assumed.

“Maybe we can retreat by using the way we came from. But then our special order would have failed”, Homes noted.

Katniss confessed the truth. That there had never been a special order from Coin.

“That doesn't matter now”, Jackson stated.

Most likely she had not believed Katniss anyway.

“We can't stay here. We can neither go above nor to any side. So there's only one option left.”

“Underground”, Gale concluded.

After a huge discussion Peeta 'agreed' to accompany us because we refused to kill him.

When we arrived underground we were welcomed by the suffocating smell of chemicals, moldiness and sewage. Pollux was completely pale and shaking.

“My brother worked here for five years before we've been able to buy him out. He hasn't seen the sun once”, Castor explained.

Out of all people Peeta was the one who found the right words: “Then you've just turned into our most important ally.”

Both brothers smiled.

There he was, the old Peeta. The kind, gentle boy, who always found the right thing to say. The selfless boy who tried to help wherever he could.

His words turned out to be correct as we were moving fast.

After six hours the exhaustion overpowered us. It was three am. And therefore it would take the Capitol some more time to figure out that we were still alive.

I took the first watch because I was not exhausted enough to have a chance against the nightmares. Sometimes I was lucky enough that the exhaustion shut them down.

Indeed I managed to sleep several hours in a row later on, only to be woken up by Finnick.

I was busy waking up when Katniss told us to stay silent.

Actually I thought that everyone obeyed, but there was still a sound moving through the tunnels. A whisper calling out Katniss' name.

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Next Chapter

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ibringyouasong89 · 1 year ago

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@medicaldoctordana

So I went and wiki'd this question...because, ya know, you can TRUST *wink, wink* the internet, but pretty much this popped up in the paragraph concerning Mulder's time at Oxford. "After the disappearance of his sister and the divorce of his parents, Mulder attended Oxford University — (PILOT). His tenure there was from 1983 until 1986. — (UNUSUAL SUSPECTS). The ten years between his sister's abduction and his enrollment at Oxford University are largely unaccounted for. Mulder's credentials are also unspecific about precisely which program he participated in while at Oxford.

During his time at Oxford University, Mulder watched a documentary about an insane asylum. In one section of the program, a patient named Creighton Jones claimed to have been abducted by "fire demons." The documentary gave Mulder nightmares. — (OUR TOWN). Mulder was probably affected by the "fire demon" documentary due to his fear of fire and because he imagined what might have happened to Samantha if she had been abducted the same way as Creighton Jones claimed to have been.

On August 10, 1985, Mulder submitted a criminal profile of killer Luther Lee Boggs to the FBI. Later, the document helped send Boggs to the North Carolina gas chamber but he received an executive stay. — (BEYOND THE SEA). The script of "Beyond the Sea" characterizes Mulder's profile on Boggs as having been written for the Violent Crimes Bureau. In "Pilot", Mulder is described as having written a monograph on serial killers and the occult that helped catch a murderer in 1988. Although there is insufficient evidence to establish exactly when Mulder wrote this monograph (prior to 1988), it is likely he wrote it while studying at Oxford, as there is no evidence to suggest he participated in such an intense academic period before the murderer's capture and, in the episode, Mulder's time at Oxford is mentioned directly before and in the same sentence as the description of him having written the monograph. Similarly, Mulder mentions, in "Little Green Men", that he took music appreciation with Professor Ganz, where he learned that the famous composer Johann Sebastian Bach had a genius for polyphony. Like the writing of his monograph, there is not adequate evidence to determine whether Mulder studied music appreciation at college.

Despite his negative reaction to the fire demons video, Mulder graduated from Oxford University with a Bachelor of Arts degree in Psychology. — (DREAMLAND II) *degree here* Kinda blurry but this was the best they had to go with the info.

It then goes on to state that he graduated with "honors" from Quantico in 1986...so it's possible that he might've done more research-based training on psychology, but as you suggested, did not do anything clinical...or if it was clinical based, it was purely for observation (most likely of criminals for the profiling part of BSU that he was being ushered into). As to whether or not he had a PhD from Oxford is no longer in dispute...I know a lot of people like to canonize that he obtained his PhD from Oxford, but people also have to understand that when it comes to education in America, it was VASTLY different, in terms of career criteria, than what was described to us "peasants" who were forced to either go on to get a Masters, PhD, in order to get a well-paying career...and that's just to get a guarantee for an interview to get your foot in the door! Back in the 70's, for example, a person could graduate with a bachelor's degree in finance, business, photography, art history, theology, or whichever they chose to pursue...and if in need of a job, they could go and teach for two years. There was a thing known as "TPD - or, Teachers Per Diem," that basically allowed these people to become teachers, for two years, without any educational credits pertaining to their degree - no educational pedagogical knowledge to fall back on, no training to deal with children of varying ages, no prior experience in handling classroom management; they had to self-teach themselves on how to do lesson-planning and curriculum-building - and after the two years, if they wanted to, they could go get certified or move on to a job within the field they had earned their bachelor's for...especially if they were white, heteronormative men. Fox William Mulder, for all intents and purposes (and I'm sure people will debate this as regarding his sexuality, but bear with me here), was a white, heteronormative man whose family members guaranteed him social capital (with his father's connections due to his work at the State Department for the government) and also socio-economic standing (since they were inherently wealthy enough to live on Martha's Vineyard and also have a summer home in Rhode Island...which are all basically very..."waspish" areas in New England). Fox Mulder himself may have never fit the mold, per say, of being a typical "rich boy," given his attitudes towards such things as an adult, but it was also part of his background and childhood experiences and environment. He grew up...very comfortably. Much more so than Scully, who was a child of four, living off her father's navy salary with her three siblings and mother, and basically moving from place to place, and living in the family barracks stationed at the naval bases. Idk if CSM and the Syndicate had any say in what kind of education Scully was able to obtain by the time she was ready to go to college (whether they *nudge, nudge* someone in admissions to guarantee her a place due to her high-test scores), but more or less, she got into college and medical school due to her own merit. Anyway, just my $0.02 this morning to add to this discussion, which has been fascinating to witness as it unfurled.

Re Fox “not a psychologist” Mulder

He has a very valid point when he says this.

While in the pilot he is described as “an Oxford educated psychologist” and utilizes his knowledge of psychology for profiles in the violent crimes unit and on the x-files, he is very much not a psychologist.

At least here in the US, you earn the title of “psychologist” after you have obtained a masters degree or higher (such as a PhD or PsyD) and/or accreditation from a society/state/etc. (PsyD is a doctor of psychology which is different from an MD who practices psychiatry- psychology and psychiatry have differences as well) This is very nuanced and in laymen terms is questionably acceptable to use the term psychologist in reference to Fox Mulder, however, technically he is correct— he is not a psychologist.

The reason is due to credentialism and ethics, anyone can get an associates or bachelors in psychology but “higher education” is a way to gatekeep the profession and to protect the utilization of the knowledge you learn as a psychology student due to the nature of the study. There is higher moral and ethical stakes the more educated you are so only the highest educated may claim the title of psychologist. This concept falls into “scope of practice” and is most applicable in medical and related fields.

(Disregarding moral and societal implication of this act- it’s a complicated issue)

For example, You shouldn’t try hypnosis on someone until you’ve been adequately trained on the technique and consequences (neutral term). These standards are often set by entities such as the American psychological association and is often why you cannot practice psychology without a license- a degree alone is not enough to prove capability and responsibility.

In Dreamland 2 we see his diploma from Oxford University and he has a bachelor’s of science in psychology. He is not trained in clinical psychology, educational psychology, industrial psychology, school psychology, etc. His degree in psychology is one of science so it’s very likely his education had a focus on research and statistics more so than broad theory and principles. (Difference between a Bachelors of Science and a Bachelors of Arts in psychology).

All in all, yes he has a degree in psychology but he is not a psychologist. It’s very likely he would have had the time to get at least a masters before recruitment to the FBI but it is never established he has more than a bachelors from Oxford. I am also not well versed on psychology degrees in the UK and how the education and credits transfer to the US.

#fox mulder #dana scully #xfiles #xf #x-files #mulder is not a psychologist meta post #interesting

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swinging-stars-from-satellites · 3 years ago

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how to bend, not how to break

(shoutout to @alittlemorelight for suggesting Jon Foreman's "Learning How To Die" as a cancer arc song!!)

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1. Her best friend kisses her under glaring flourescent lights in a hospital hallway, or maybe she kisses him, or maybe it's both of them at once that does it; her seeking refuge in him, feeling safer in his arms than she has since her diagnosis, him needing to convey and confess something he can't put into words. They don't talk about it, but she doesn't push him away, even when she sees how hard it is for him to watch her slip away. Her nose bleeds and she lets him hand her tissues he keeps in his pockets nowadays. They don't talk about that, either, but she doesn't push him away.

2. She doesn't kiss him when he sees her slight shudder, the shiver she can't quite hide after the cryobiology case in Massachusetts, and puts his coat around her shoulders. She has a hard time staying warm these days, even under her usual layers; even at home, curled under extra blankets with her knees pulled up to her chest. Turning up the thermostat in her apartment would be like admiting defeat, and she is not ready to concede that yet. Mulder sees her shiver, standing beside the car as they finish giving their statements, and silently slips out of his coat and tucks it around her. She tries to protest, tells him like always that she's fine, the memory of Dr. Yonechi bursting into flames just bothers her, but he offers a tiny smile, his head leaned close to her, and just says "it's alright." He means her weakness, but he won't say it, and that is enough to make her stop talking and slide her arms into the too-long sleeves. Mulder's hands rest on her shoulders for a little too long to be normal, and she does not push him away. She doesn't kiss him again, like she suddenly wants to, but she doesn't push him away, either.

3. She does not kiss her best friend when she is wine drunk on her own couch and feeling warmer than she has in weeks; she doesn't, because it's not her partner. The real Mulder wears a vaguely stricken look for the rest of the evening and won't move from his place at her shoulder as she speaks with the police officers who come to take Eddie van Blundht away. She doesn't give him a disapproving look or sigh that she's alright, he doesn't need to hover like this, like she's something fragile (she is). She doesn't push him away. Maybe it's the lingering effects of the wine, in vino veritas and such, but the truth is, she wants him close.

4. She does not kiss him in the back stairwell of a mental hospital after she has seen a ghost. This time, she does push him away. She cannot believe, refuses to. It's the same as the Boggs case, back in the first year of their partnership: she is afraid to believe. She confesses, tells him what she's seen so that it is not kept to her, and she sees the desperation light in his eyes when he snaps at her; he only does that when he's afraid. She wants him to kiss her when he says that he is, that he's scared of the same thing she is, but she is frightened and frustrated, and she pushes him away. They still haven't talked about Philadelphia or why it happened.

5. She finally kisses her partner again, this time in a hospital in Rhode Island because he can't stop apologizing; she is not angry with him, just frustrated and afraid, because if he'll go to such lengths with her arguing against it every step of the way, put himself in that danger with her fighting to keep him safe, she doesn't want to think about what he'll do once she's gone. He can't stop apologizing, avoids touching her even though she can see how deeply he craves comfort; she can't stop remembering how small and broken he looked on the floor of that house. She kisses him while they wait for the doctors to discharge him, and she can taste his tears.

"Scully," he whispers unsteadily, after, "I'm so-"

She kisses him again so that he knows she will not push him away. They cannot lose each other any earlier than they must. He doesn't push her away, either.

6. They still don't talk about it, but he kisses her at her dining room table with her for once taller than him. She leans down, kisses him back. It happens just before another nosebleed starts, and then she is standing, shaky, in front of the sink, and Mulder looks like he wants to hold her tight enough that even cancer can't take her. She wishes he could; she asks him to turn up the thermostat and does not kiss him again before he leaves. He is faking his own death, and she is approaching hers. She doesn't push him away, in fact she'd give nearly anything to hold him close, not let him walk out her apartment door and leave her alone, but she doesn't kiss him.

7. She does not kiss her best friend and partner when she is lying on what will be her deathbed. He comes to her, aggravates the nurses and her brother, and kisses just about every part of her but her lips. There is a boundary, just now, and the boundary is death. He stares into her eyes when he presses his lips to her knuckles, then whispers her name, barely audible because her mother and brother are standing in the doorway.

"Scully," he breathes, "I-"

She shakes her head. "Don't," she pleads. She cannot let him say it and then lose her.

She doesn't let him tell her what she already knows; she doesn't tell him her part either. But she doesn't push him away, instead clings to him when he leaves. She does not have a thermostat to turn up, here, and she doesn't know if she will ever be warm again. She wants him close.

8. She does not kiss him when she tells him the cancer is in remission and he falls to his knees in shock and ecstasy, but she does let him tell her he loves her. He says it again and again into her hair and the crook of her neck, until she takes his face in her hands and he goes still, reverent. She smiles a watery smile, and then she does kiss him, soft and slow and salty with tears, even though her mother is about to walk into the room and see.

"I love you too," she says, and now they are both crying. This is the first time they've talked about it.

#like. memento mori deleted kiss my beloved.#it hecking changes EVERYTHING #so much push and pull in this zhsjzbzjzsmsnsk #Lu writes #txf #the x files #txf4 #txf s4 #dana scully #fox mulder #msr #mulder and scully #mulder x scully #msr fanfic #cancer arc #admittedly there are certain wordings that are semi inspired by other fics I've read #not totally sure who but i do know it's the case #anyway if u read all my tags ily <3

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babygirldennis · 3 years ago

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This shit is fake bby!!!

Here she is.. My masterpost of all the dumb, illogical bits of info contained within these s15 “leaks” that make me fairly confident they are complete bullshit. It also includes my little tinhat theories that have absolutely no evidence.

I will be putting it all under a Readmore in case you don't want to risk it or if you simply Do Not Care

First up, I'd like to point out that these call sheets repeatedly give very detailed backstories to characters that have few lines which conveniently paints a picture of each episode's plot. And I'm not an expert so correct me if I'm wrong, but after looking at other similar casting calls, they only ever include the demographic and necessary skills.

Basically who in their right mind would write up casting calls that give away so many spoilers? Seems like that could cause and issue if they were leaked lol. But anyway that's my 1st point. But onto the actual content

So the conceit of this episode as a whole is that during the pandemic, the gang "gamed the system" and received three (3!) Loans to start businesses that went bankrupt. One of these businesses is implied to be the one started by dee and charlie who end up selling to Qanon shaman. Already this is so impossible baby.

1. We've already seen the gang try to get a loan and it didn't work. They don't have good ideas. Ur telling me, they managed to finagle 3 separate loans for 3 separate business ideas from an actual bank?

2. Maybe I just have bad reading comprehension but how does one have a business that is both fictitious and bankrupt?

3. If the customer is supposed to be Qanon shaman, an actual real life guy, why are the only descriptors white and male? They say he's shirtless so are they going to paint on all of the tattoos he has? And if so, doesn't that kind of ruin the dramatic reveal when charlie "throws in" the viking helmet? Why would he do that anyways? Sus.

Moving on

Alright this episode would fucking blow for obvious reasons but im going to refrain from looking at this through my gay dennis thruther lens because im biased.

Purely from a narrative standpoint, a woman hasn't been shown to be interested in dennis in nearly 5 years during the wade boggs episode. Ever since, every single woman he approaches has been actively creeped out by him. And now I'm supposed to believe that 3 "smart, passionate woman" (In Their Twenties!!!!!!) agreed to go on a date with him? And Anna even slept with him! Just because he what? Agreed with her? I'm not buyin it.

Plus the concept of this scenario lacks any potential for comedy. When iasip gets political, they always discuss a very specific topic using hyperbolic situations and flawed metaphors. If this is supposed to be a political episode, what ultimately lukewarm point would rob be trying to make here? So far we know they're ranting about

The patriarchy

Privilege

Socialism

No more personal responsibility(?)

The... nature of power in society(??)

How on earth would an episode like get approved? This shit sounds like a Ted talk. It sounds like it was written specifically to sound like a political episode so boring and pointless it would generate outrage and mile long essay posts from Tumblr users and reddit users alike. Almost like this one lol.

On a completely unrelated note, do not try and convince me that Frank "casual cock ring wearer" Reynolds is unable to perform.

Jeez this is getting out of hand fast. Let's move on

Ok now we're starting to getting into the Ireland of it all. Let me go on a bit of a tangent here about all this.. Now I thinq there are just 3 possibilities. Either this is all a publicity stunt and there is some truth to the Ireland rumors, the entire thing could be bogus from some weirdo fan (ps, if a fan did write this I want you to know I fucking hate you. You did this to me), or it is a publicity stunt but Ireland is just more bullshit.

I am going to assume it was a publicity stunt, otherwise I just wasted my entire evening and I can't have that kind of mentality rn. Additionally, I'm Going to tinhat here for a second and say that the Ireland rumors are true, but the details are different.

I say this because if they were going to do filming in Ireland, they probably figured that that information would be impossible to hide. In essence, my completely unfounded hypothesis is that this leak was their fucked up little way of controlling the situation while simultaneously messing with us.

Ok tangent is over, returning to the casting calls. From the looks of it, dee starts a "scam" acting class and has some very devoted students (Note that Tony was also the name of the porn shop owner. Seems weird!) Presumably after the gang replaces her with a monkey as the title suggests.

Honestly, there isn't too much here that's a red flag to me... seems like a nice little dee-centric episode that is the link to the Dublin angle. Assuming I am At All right, this could be a genuine plotline for Dee. However, the monkey could be a red herring and there could be a whole different side plot with the guys. who's to say. Next one!

Ah yes this is the dennis we all know and despise.. no red flags for me here really, I'm also running out of steam because idk if it shows, but I am majorly sleep deprived atm. Anyway I'm going to the next one

Okay this is where things start getting weird again ough a migraine just hit, anyway back to my earlier point about how casting calls would never contains major spoilers bc the people who see these wont be under any kind of NDA..

These ones reveal that bonnie dies. Again, that info wouldn't be in a casting call.

But also they suggest charlie has a irish penpal named Shelley who is his biological father. First off charlie is illiterate, although as pointed out by @undeadbreeze shelley could also be communicating in symbols. However, this scenario is still unbelievable to me for a couple reasons:

1. Bonnie's last name is Kelly obviously, and we know it's her maiden name because Jack's last name is also Kelly. But Shelley's last name is... also Kelly? In the context of this big ol hoax, it feels like it was written to show that look! his last name is the same as charlie's! That's how you know that's his dad! But It would be way too big of a coincidence if charlie's dad happened to have the same last name bonnie.

And 2. There's the whole mystery of charlie's long-lost sister from 'charlie got molested' but never any mention of a brother which according to this, shelley has been pretending to be his brother for years. And we all know how much rcg loves their continuity, it seems uncharacteristically lazy to just tack this on without any prior buildup.

And finally let me talk about mac for a second and specifically the line in gus's summary "both are gay men who are attracted to the priesthood for all the wrong reasons"

Iasip has commented on pedophilia in the priesthood many times in the past which leads me to believe that they are implying that mac is a pedophile? Please let me know if I completely misread the implications of that statement, but if not, then that is completely insane and one of the biggest indictators that this is fake. Mac is awful, just like everyone in the gang but he is definitely not a pedophile.

However even if i did completely misread that, it's still proof this is fake.. For all his faults, Rob put a surprising amount of care and effort into mac's coming-out. It hasn't been perfect, but Mfhp in particular firmly established that mac's faith is integral to his identity so Its unlikely that rob would throw all of that away for a cheap shot at priests.

Ok my brain is irradiated sludge at this point, but in conclusion. I hope that 1. I'm right, at least about it being fake (Otherwise damb that'll be so humiliating for me) And 2. This eases ur fears a bit. I don't want to lose all faith in future seasons bc I love iasip and miss the gang. If you read this far youre insane but I literally love you so goddamn much because I spent so so long tapping this out on my silly little phone

Please feel free to add on or message me your thoughts and opinions I need to know I'm not the only one who uhhh went a bit insane. And finally: whoever made these is a cunt. Mwah.

#iasip #s15 spoilers #oy vey.....#they could also be written by a reddit fan who is too much of a pussy to just write fanfic but that seems kinda unlikely?#cause 1. itll be disproven so everyone will know u just... wrote weird fanfic #and 2. there are a lot of little details that are so random that even if this is a fan just messing with people.... why put in so much effo #wahtever im pressing post #actually tho what gge fuck is that priest line supposed to imply #i guess for mac it could be talking about his view that god smites enemies and u must fear him blah blah #i jus don't know what it was supposed to imply about gus!!!#bc they describe gus like he is fat mac with healthy views on the bible which :]#then that last line just gives me whiplash what does that mean!!

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lily-orchard-gossip-blog · 3 years ago

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I mean, I can personally empathize with KP on one front; minor or no, Boggs went out of his way to slander KP over what amounted to a misunderstanding. That slander hit hard and is something many people believe about KP to this day. His mother never did anything about her son's actions and Boggs himself offered a half-assed apology at best. He may have been a kid but his actions did - and continue to do - obvious damage to KP's career and mental health. I'm not saying Boggs should be burnt at the steak for screwing up as a minor, but that really shouldn't excuse his actions either.

That said, latching onto Lily because she defended KP is incredibly unwise. Anthony C already did a fine job going up to bat for her and explaining why Boggs and company's behavior was shit, why exactly does she NEED Lily? Not to mention KP herself has shown behavior which really makes me question her empathy, like laughing at inappropriate moments when Mikaila was sharing her abuse story on stream (alongside Lily, oddly enough).

I'm positive the only reason Lily defended KP in the first place was because she wanted the clout that comes with associating with a big name fan. That, and romantic/sexual gratification. It could even be possible she's being groomed similarly to how Patch was (because despite what Lily suggests, adults can absolutely be groomed under the right circumstances). Sooner or later KP is going to have to deal with that revelation Lily doesn't actually care, and it's not going to be fun.

From what I've gathered, KP's youtube career has been stagnating/going down hill for a while now (though that seems to be the case for a lot of the old Brony analysis community), and Anthony C doesn't really seem all that active on youtube as a whole.

That, combined with the fact that the other ex Brony youtubers that she could have tried to befriend, don't seem to like her all that much. (Plus, Lily did organize a commenting harassments campaign on Silver Quill for KP, which would not have done her reputation any favors.)

In a weird way, getting Lily's fanbase to come watch her video's and give her support probably seemed like a good idea to her. Plus, as a bonus, Lily is willing to hate the same people as her, and encourages her to go on vengeance quests against those who wronged her, and who doesn't want to give into bitter feelings of anger?

I can't say I know what's good for KP's career or not, but I can say that I don't really view KP positively, knowing that she would have heard all of these things Lily has done, and still does, and chose to become part of the group and help boost Lily's reach.

It just doesn't sit right with me.

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moviediary · 4 years ago

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She’s All That (1999)

Rich and popular makes a bet with his “friend”, whose personality is pretty much summed up by the fact that he has frosted tips, that he can turn any girl into the prom queen after getting dumped by his longtime girlfriend.

Now don’t get me wrong, I love this movie, but every time I watch it I can’t help but be amazed at how absurd it is. I mean, cliché plot aside, every individual piece that makes up this 1 hour and 30 minute ode to the individual is completely insane. What universe does this take place in? What high school do they go to?

That being said, I really like the opening shots to this movie, it definitely gives you a good introduction to the main character. Laney Boggs. She’s political and messy and 100% down to her bones an art student. She isn’t afraid to be dark.

In contrast I feel like the first meeting of the main love interest really doesn’t set him up to be who the writers want you to think he is. I mean he rolls up to school in a bright yellow Jeep with a Mr. Prez vanity plate. Then you see his shoes when he gets out of the car, fuckin’ ugly ass leather loafers. I’m sorry I know this means nothing I just have a hard time believing this jock wears these fucking shoes they’re so god damn ugly.

Every moment that introduces him makes it seem like he should be the villain, he has pretty much no redeeming qualities that we can see besides his wit (barely) and good looks. I just don’t understand why we’re supposed to like him, this is Sixteen Candles all over again. Hot rich guy, is an asshole, for some reason I still root for and love him. How does that work? What makes these characters so grossly likable? I mean, his name is Zack. That alone raises a red flag for me. That’s a frat boy asshole name. Zacks are friends of Kyle that’s all I’m saying.

Once we get through his painfully douchey introduction we get introduced to Zack’s equally douchey friends frosted tips and Gus from psych. (don’t ask me what their actual names are it’s not important anyway, that is essentially their personalities) The first thing we hear is them talking about summer break and their vacations, further driving home how rich they are and how weird it is that adults write movies about teenagers having gratuitous amounts of sex with adults. Then Zach tries unsuccessfully to say something philosophical about them graduating soon (I have to keep reminding myself that he’s supposed to have like the 4th highest GPA in their class) They then meet the most 90s girls I have ever seen. Who I guess are supposed to be popular? One thing I do like is how diverse all the characters are, they don’t all look exactly the same which I feel tends to be a problem with high school movies.

So we finally meet the “popular girl” Taylor Vaughn, Zack’s girlfriend and she immediately breaks up with him (which honestly is probably a good idea anyway) and his “friends” fucking laugh at him which he really had coming. I mean. Look at his hair.

This launches what is probably one of my favorite narrated flashback scenes of all time, not because the topic is particularly interesting but because I love the way they have Zach interrupt her inside of the flashback. It’s a very small addition that really gives the scene style. Also we see this hot girl start dating Shaggy??? Also one of the villains from the original Scream???( he only really plays one character.) Makes me laugh every time. Also makes me a little uncomfortable every time since she’s in high school and he’s who knows how old but whatever not important. This also leads to one of my favorite exchanges in the whole movie.

youtube

Taylor wraps up her spring break story time with one of the rawest lines I've ever seen in a 90s movie (she really did that to him) and the director throws in a classic high school movie trope, everyone actually caring enough to stop and watch this exchange. And while I usually hate this kind of character worship, since this movie is already so bizarre and unrealistic it actually kinda fits

We then cut to Laney’s art class which includes her teacher that for some reason thinks her art isn’t personal enough and two clown obsessed Lydia Deetz knock offs. I have to say I do love this part where the art students literally suggest that she kill herself in order to have her art recognized. Very realistic conversation between art students.

That whole scene is really funny though because it doesn’t feel like it belongs in this movie. Even the music doesn't fit which is only emphasized by the sudden bell ringing transition back into a stereotypical high school movie. It reminds me of movies like the craft, the way it’s cut together, the way the characters talk, how Laney just stares straight ahead after not saying anything. It seems like she could have chosen a completely different movie to be in. Like if the movie was a chose your own adventure, she could have been in a different genre entirely and the movie would have been about her and those girls faking her death to get recognition and make money from her paintings. which would have been sick. but that isn't the movie I’m watching. Which I’m reminded of when fucking Zack comes back on screen.

Also right before the scene where the actual bet is introduced we meet the school’s resident DJ??? which isn’t important at all but is so strange that I feel the need to point it out. Like they don’t just have a guy who does the announcements they have like a disc jockey who is just there all the time??? There are just so many little things in this movie that make it so weird.

So fucking Brock pukashells pulls up and Zach just flips. Which is understandable it is a very gross moment but he just fucking goes off about Taylor and how she’s not that great and he could get with any girl in the school. His friends point out that bitch boy forgot that Taylor Vaughn is “an institution” and basically Zach with tits. She’s very important. This is something I never get about movies like this, has anyone actually been to a high school where someone was that well known. But also not liked? Like sure she’s hot, but she’s also a grade A bitch to everyone. and according to Zach nothing more than a C minus GPA in a Wonderbra.

Once you get through the misogyny plus ultra scene and they finally make the bet, frosted tips has picked the girl Zach has to turn into the prom queen. Scary inaccessible Laney Boggs. He’s got 6 weeks to make her popular. He starts off his first exchange with her in the best way possible. By calling her brother Spaz (as his name). Again, we’re supposed to like this guy I think. I don’t know when he’s supposed to become a likable character but I can’t imagine it’s during all these scenes where he just legit insults people.

I also love all of the clips we get to see from Brock’s time on The Real World Which make me really question why all the girls fan girl over him given that he’s actually the worst, even on the show. We also get introduced to Zack’s sister who probably should have been a lesbian given how queer coded her character is besides the fact that she desperately wants a boyfriend. She even goes to an all girls school it would have been perfect. But alas, this movie is gay-less.

We are then introduced to another b-plot in this movie, Zack’s indecision about college. This was I guess to make him more human? or something? To sort of flesh him out and give him problems but honestly he doesn't have any problems. Later in the movie Laney points this out to him, he can do whatever he wants. This whole college thing is resolved fairly quickly later in the film too, it’s not very important it’s just the only thing we see about Zack besides being a perfect high schooler throughout the whole movie. Well that and his terrible performance art and being an asshole.

After we see that Zack has been accepted by every Ivy League school and their mother (I’m not jealous I swear) we take a brief Taylor being a bitch detour before getting back to Zack making an ass of himself. This time he’s bothering Laney at her job which is awesome we love that. Again I don’t know why we like this guy he does like 3 nice things the whole movie. Anyway she gets defensive like she always does and he fumbles around trying to talk like he’s a normal person and not a walking cliché and then there’s this really strange exchange where he tries to asked her for help in art classes and she says “you don’t take art” and he’s like “how do you know?” and she’s like “Why haven't I seen you in any of my classes?” and like, I get what they were going for but what kind of high school is this? how does she have time to take more than one art class? How is she already an art major before she’s in college that’s not how high school works. I only ever had one school where I could take more than two extra curriculars and that was in middle school and it was only because they fucked up and put me in four hours of study hall and so I just went to all of the art classes that were offered. But that’s different. And am I way over analyzing this movie? yes. Does anyone but me care about this shit? probably not, but I’m gonna talk about it anyway.

I also really like Laney’s best friend who’s kind of just there, all the time, he’s such a good wing man. He also made the best excuse to get out of seeing that weird ass art show she’s in. He’s like, oh good I don’t have to see another Mitch show. He’s probably in his underwear in all of them, I wouldn’t want to go either. I think it really says something about the performance art world though, because this is probably the most believable part of the whole movie. If someone told me that his is just an actual performance art piece that they used in this movie I would absolutely believe them. Also one of the weird gremlins in this piece says what is probably my favorite quote ever which is “my soul is an island, my car is a Ford” like what the fuck is that I love that so much.

I really want to know how they came up with this shit, it’s so perfect. It also is another one of these parts in the movie that doesn’t really add anything. A lot of the movie is like this, I feel like 90% of this movie is weird filler scenes and the rest in plot. Like it’s so obvious how it’s going to end that you barely even need to watch most of the movie, and even when you do watch most of the movie it always kind of feels like it only half has something to do with the plot. I’m not even going to talk about the weird hacky Sack scene, I can’t handle how embarrassing and cringey it is I pretty much always skip through it. What a dick move of Laney’s to even put him in that situation. The whole “your eyes are really beautiful” scene is also really strange, both his lines and her reaction don’t really make sense. Through most of this movie when they actually talk to each other I feel like they don’t have any chemistry. It’s the same when he subtly blackmails her into going to the beach with him. He’s awkward and barely says anything that prompts a response and then she just goes full WOKE EMO on him and like, they really do have nothing in common I do not understand their relationship. And then his friends show up and he’s like, “If we’re gonna be friends we’ll have to deal with them eventually” which like, 1: wow get some friends you actually like maybe? And 2: how are you guys friends, you’ve barely ever managed to exchange civil words on screen. Actually maybe that makes sense, this is why he thinks this is okay (besides the whole bet thing) maybe he doesn’t realize he’s supposed to actually like his friends and girlfriend. Because it really seems like he doesn’t like any of them, which I get. Except for Gus (not his name but whatever) because that guy’s actually pretty funny and spends the whole movie calling frosted tips out whenever he sounds too much like Kenny from Can’t Hardly Wait.

The whole beach scene is kinda take it or leave it too, there are a lot of moments where we see Laney hang out with Zack and other people but honestly through the whole movie there really isn’t a whole lot of growth. We don’t actually really see them bond or talk, we’re supposed to believe their relationship is growing but I guess that must be happening off screen because I don’t see it.

One of my favorite parts is when Zack forces the JV soccer team to clean Laney’s house, the kid answering the jeopardy question and her dad just realizing they were there. Oh man, gets me every time. The makeover scene is also pretty cute, I always love those. Also the whole “new, not improved, but different Laney Boggs” thing is adorable and I appreciate it.

The evolving of the characters and their relationships don’t happen gradually, what little is actually shown is pretty much in like 3 parts, the opening, the party scene, and the end. The characters are very flat for most of the movie and they have very little personality, but the party scene is very fun to watch. From “Gracias, papi!” to Laney turning Misty into a clown, and then the Give it to Me dance sequence. And even though the characters haven’t really given me a good reason to care about them my heart still hurts a little for Laney when Taylor ruins her dress. That’s the thing about this movie, I shouldn’t care, I shouldn’t like these characters, but I still do, and I have no idea why.

The Brock dumping Taylor thing was great, the parallel was expected but I actually think it added to the story. In fact most of the things after the party actually feel necessary to the movie which is nice. Even the soccer practice actually leads to something. I don’t know what it is about the 2nd quarter of this movie that feels so empty but whatever it is it’s enough that I saw a noticeable difference when I got to the third act of this movie.

It’s a small part but I also really love the alternative clubs that make signs in favor of Laney for prom queen. They’re just so fucking funny to me. I mean, Hygiene club? Prisoners club??? What?

Then they pull another fast feelings thing on me again. They throw the mom painting scene at me and like, wow that’s sad. Then Zack tries to garner sympathy for the problems that he makes for himself. Then boom they flip on me again they’re cute and I like them. Then she says that weird thing about prom and he just dips man. And like, Why do they gotta do me like that? I cannot seem to decide if I like these characters or not it’s so weird how this dialogue is written.

And then the dream happens? Definitely one of the best scenes in the whole movie. So fucking perfect. It really just adds to the weird slight surrealness of this whole movie.

Then we go back to the school and suddenly everyone is dressing like Laney? In support I guess? Again can I just ask what fucking school they go to? And then there’s the beat boxing scene? Where they rap about who’s gonna be prom queen? I’ve never even met anybody that invested in the outcome of who’s gonna be prom queen except for those running. I don’t even think I know anybody who voted. Even so, I do love the beat box scene, they really spit some bars.

Also I just noticed that in that super fucked cafeteria scene, you can see Buffy make a cameo? Just a fun little trivia fact. But seriously that cafeteria scene is fucked. Like, the pubes on the pizza? I wish no one had thought of that ever. Also can I just say I would undoubtedly rather get my ass kicked than be forced to eat pubes. I don’t know what they were thinking that isn’t even a question.

It’s also really uncomfortable how good frosted tips is at acting like he’s not a douchebag. What a creep. If that were a real guy I’d be tempted to call him a sociopath. So gross. But I suppose it’s good for the story line.

The end of the movie wraps up pretty fast honestly. Zack’s dad and him finally communicate which fixes Zack’s only problem immediately because that’s just how easy it is. He was just projecting the whole time, his dad had literally no problems other than being a typical rich dad. Then of course we get another moment with the school DJ who I guess just gets to play and say what ever he wants whenever he wants. Am I the only one who thinks it’s really inappropriate how sexual that guy’s announcements about prom are? Maybe it’s just me and I had a really different high school experience but I feel like people are way too focused on sex when they make movies about high school. Other shit was going on you know? It’s just odd for me to think about grown adults writing and pitching this movie.

Zack really is such a bitch boy though, he doesn’t even try to explain anything to her, just lets her get hurt and lets Taylor be a bitch to her without saying anything. He doesn’t even try to tell her that frosted tips was just as much a part of it as he was. Honestly I kind of wish that frosted tips wasn’t such an asshole his whole heart to heart with her at the door before prom could have been really cute if I didn’t already know he was a lying scumbag. But I guess Laney just gets the lesser of the douchebags.

We finally get to the prom, inarguably the best part of the whole movie, all the little bits and pieces. The sex doll guy is always funny as hell. The DJ being the school DJ works really well brings a lot of closure to that whole weirdness. Also that dance scene is fucking great, has absolutely nothing to do with the plot, which actually works since about 40% of the things in this movie have nothing to do with the plot of this movie. I absolutely unironically tried to learn this dance, man I fucking wish prom was actually like this. I don’t know about you guys but for me, both of my proms were not nearly this theatrical. I spent my first one playing black jack the whole time and my senior prom was full of people that were way too white to dance. Anyway, Laney doesn’t win and she leaves early. Zack gives a pretty boring speech. Taylor goes off on everyone. Frosted tips tries to get Laney in bed and everyone gets upset.

The whole thing ends with Laney coming home to find Zach waiting for her to make sure she’s okay, which is sweet and all but like I can’t help wondering how long he had just been standing there waiting. Especially since it seemed like her dad was just ignoring him. That’s just a funny image to me. Anyway, they dance in the backyard. They kiss. It’s cute. Zack loses the bet so he accepts his diploma naked which I’m pretty sure is indecent public exposure but sure.

Overall it’s a very cute movie. The clichés are sort of made up for by all the weird 90s movie things. Plus it has a pretty great soundtrack. I know I sort of really went in on this movie but to be honest I really enjoy watching it. I’m not sure why. It’s pretty bad when you think about it any deeper than surface level. But it’s also just really fun and the characters are weird and there’s too many duffel bags to be normal and it’s just funny. It’s really weirdly funny. And it has that same non-conclusion that a lot of teen rom-coms have where they just can’t really give you all that much and just make sure they’re happy even if you know there is no way they can continue a relationship outside of high school. It may sound like it, but I’m not mad at it. If you haven’t already I’d say watch it. Watch it as a relaxing mindless good time activity. At the very least you won’t be bored, but if you get sympathy embarrassment like I do then maybe skip a few parts.

As of right now this movie is not available for free on any streaming sites (yes I own it on DVD don’t @ me)

Final Verdict:

Actual movie review: 6/10

How fun is it to watch?: 8/10

#she's all that #90s movies #movie review

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hutchhitched · 5 years ago

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Three Months (an Everlark story benefitting Fandom Trumps Hate)

Early in 2019, @fandomtrumpshate encouraged creators to offer works in exchange for donations to organizations that support anti-hate and anti-discrimination actions. I offered two auctions for Everlark stories. This is the first, a 10,000+ word story for @iwishicouldread247 (She’s relatively new to tumblr, so please welcome her on board.). Thank you for bidding on my auction and providing the following prompt. You are awesome.

Prompt: Peeta has been home for a year. His time in the service left him with nightmares and a prosthetic leg. The only thing he's got going for him is the beautiful, grey eyed physical therapist that won't stop pushing until he's back on his feet. Katniss feels drawn to the sometimes surly vet and before long she finds herself head over heels not knowing if he could ever feel the same.

Rating: E

Trigger warnings: violence, language, PTSD, amputation

Length: 13,080 words

________________________

“Mellark! Cover me!”

Peeta glances to his left and ducks as bullets whizz over his head. Crack, crack, crack! As soon as they hit, he braces his saw against his shoulder and squeezes off a round at the cleft in the mountainside where enemy combatants are raining down hellfire on his unit. The gun recoils and slams into his shoulder repeatedly, but he keeps shooting.

It’s loud—so loud that he almost misses the chop of helicopter blades in the distance. The exfil is only a few seconds away, and he can’t wait to get the hell out of harm’s way and back in the barracks on base. He’s been in Afghanistan for far too long, and the only thing he wants is to make it home safely as soon as his enlistment ends in three months.

Three months. That’s all he has to survive before he can ship back home and use the GI Bill to go to college, something he’d never be able to do without the financial help of the government that didn’t mind exchanging his body and life for an education. Three months for a four-year degree and a lifetime without student loans. Three months, three months, three months.

The chopper lands behind him, and his squad leader’s voice crackles in his ear. “Move out!” Boggs yells. “Exfil now!”

Peeta secures his weapon and runs. The chopper’s only a few hundred yards away, but it seems to take forever to cover the space.

“Faster,” he mutters as he sprints across the rocky sand.

He’s so close, almost there when his left leg crumples under him. He yells and clutches his thigh as he rolls. Something’s wrong. Something is terribly, terribly wrong, he realizes when his hand comes away covered in blood and his shredded fatigues flap over his torn boot.

He doesn’t have time to process. The team members behind him grab him as they run past and pull him, screaming in agony, to the helicopter. As soon as they’re secured, they’re in the air, leaving the dogfight behind.

“Stay with me, Mellark,” Boggs barks, but he’s already sinking under. “Mellark! Mellark!”

_________________

Mellark, Mellark, Mellark, Mellark, Mellark…

“Shut up,” he grumbles and slaps a swipe to his right. The noise continues, and it takes several more seconds before he can shake off the haze enough to recognize the blare of his alarm. Cursing, he smacks his phone and knocks it off the coffee table. He’s fallen asleep on the couch again, too exhausted and pissed off to drag himself to the bedroom where his mattress is too soft and it feels wrong to wake up alone instead of surrounded by his unit.

“Fucking hell,” he grumbles and drags his hand down his face. He hasn’t shaved for a few days, and his stubble scratches his palm as he wipes drool from his chin and groans. It’s been three months since he got this apartment. Three months since he’s been deemed healthy enough to get the fuck out and live on his own.

His whole life seems to be lived in three month increments now. Three months after he lost his leg, his enlistment should have officially ended, but he was still in rehab then. Still laid up in bed, recovering from his wounds, and cursing the world for his shitty luck, Peeta celebrated three months fighting phantom pain from the knee down and wondering if he’d ever walk again. Another three months passed, and he was half a year past the attack and back in the States. His body was just starting to heal enough to think about the next steps. Three months later, it had been three-quarters of a year with half a leg, and he was fighting depression, PTSD, anxiety, panic attacks, and an uphill physical battle. He was fitted for a prosthetic, and he accepted he’d need persistent therapy to adjust to his new life.

Three months later. That comes up over and over. A year now—four times three months—and he can’t believe he’s no closer to a better life than he’d been when he lost his leg. No happy homecoming, no college, no future, and no fucking leg. The army was supposed to give him more, not leave him with less.

“Fuck this shit,” he growls and rolls onto his side away from the light slanting through the blinds. If he can just fall back asleep, maybe the throbbing headache from his hangover will go away. Maybe if he slept for three months.

He’s just slipped back into a blissfully dreamless slumber when the world explodes around him. Peeta releases a string of expletives when he hits the floor, barely avoiding the sharp corners of the coffee table as he hurled himself off the couch. He covers his head with his arms and waits for the shooting to stop. It takes longer than it should for him to realize no bullets are flying. It’s just loud knocking on the door.

“Open up, Mellark! You’ve got PT today.”

Peeta shakes his head and blinks his eyes open, squinting against the light. “Fuck off, Odair,” he yells. “I’m not going.”

“The hell you aren’t,” Finnick barks. “I’m giving you 20 seconds, and then I’m coming in.”

“Leave me the hell alone, you jackass,” Peeta roars and scratches his crotch. Briefly, he curses his lack of morning wood. His ego rapidly deflates as reality invades his half-awake state. He hasn’t been horny in weeks. Not even copious amounts of hard-core porn have helped. He’s been so desperate, he even tried gay porn—girls, of course—and still nothing.

“Three…two…one…” A key rattles in the lock, and Finnick, his best friend and fellow veteran, swings the door open and shakes his head. “Well, at least you have pants on this time.”

“Kiss my ass.”

“Tempting, but no,” Finnick quips with a grin. “I know I’m sinfully pretty, but you’re going to have to work a little harder if you want to get me into the sack.”

“Not even if you grew tits overnight.”

“I’m talented, but I can’t grow body parts.”

“Neither can I,” Peeta grumbles and waves at his lower half. “If I could, I’d have already done it.”

Finnick shoots him a sympathetic look, but Peeta doesn’t want anything of it. He raises both middle fingers and holds them up, so his friend won’t miss the gesture.

“The bus leaves in twenty minutes. I’d suggest a shower. You smell like a distillery.”

“Whiskey doesn’t mind a missing leg.”

Finnick glares at him, and Peeta flips him off some more before clamoring onto the couch and flopping against the cushions.

“You know, if you’d quit with the world’s biggest pity party, you might realize the nobody else really minds a missing leg either. Whiskey isn’t your only friend, dickhead.”

Peeta laughs wryly. “I couldn’t give a fuck less if I have any friends.”

“Keep it up, and you won’t,” Finnick snarls. “Get your ass off the couch and get in the shower. If you don’t, I’m going to throw you in there. You’ve got PT today, and I’m done listening to you whine and bitch.”

“Yeah, whining and bitching. It’s nothing. No excuse to be pissed off if you lose half a leg. Still got from the knee up. What do I have to complain about?”

Finnick takes a deep breath and closes his eyes before he speaks softly and slowly. “Peet, you had a shitty thing happen to you, and it’s not fair. None of this is fair. None of what you’re going through is fair. None of it, but you’re not dead.”

“No, just a cripple.”

“That’s what you call yourself. That’s not what you are, and that’s not what I call you.”

“Yeah, you call me asshole.”

“I call you my best friend, and I’m not going to sit back and watch you sink further into this…whatever funk this is.”

“Finn—”

“No,” he snaps. “Get off your ass and get in the shower. I’m taking you to PT.”

“My therapist is a dick.”

“So are you. Perfect match.”

“I hate you.”

“The feeling’s mutual.”

Peeta flips his friend the bird and wishes he had something more extreme. Three times in two minutes seems to lessen the power of what should have been a way to chasten his friend, but Finnick doesn’t even bother to look irritated about it. Furious, Peeta and grabs his crutches from the side of the couch. “Don’t follow me.”

“You know I can’t stay away from your sweet ass, Mellark. Hell, even Annie wants some of that booty.”

“Annie can have everything I’ve got every day,” he offers, only half-joking. “Redheads are animals in bed.”

“Keep your paws off my woman, you ass.”

“Just let her know I’m willing to show her what a real man can do when she gets tired of hanging out with you.”

“This is why you don’t have more friends!”

Despite himself, Peeta’s grinning by the time he gets to the bathroom, but that lasts as long as it takes for him to struggle into the shower and flop onto the plastic chair he has to use now to complete his hygiene routine. No more standing in the shower. He’d tried it once and fell so hard, he thought he’d broken his tailbone. It was just one more thing in a long list he’d never do again. It was also humiliating. Humiliating to crawl on his hands and knees, dripping wet, and call his best friend who found him sobbing and broken on the floor.

Sighing, he adjusts the water temperature and grabs the shampoo. Even taking a shower is a chore now, but the warm water eases the tension in his shoulders and the pain in his head. Water drips from the stump at his knee, and he grimaces at the rawness of his wound. Even a year later the scar tissue is a red, mottled mess that makes him gag. He’ll never get used to it, he knows, but he longs for a day when he doesn’t feel like his insides are being ripped apart when he’s faced with his broken body.

It seems like a year should be enough to adjust to his new normal, but then again, three months was too long to stay safe in a war zone.

He soaps up and rinses. The last thing he needs is Finnick barging in on him when he’s naked. If he isn’t out in two minutes, that’s the next step. He hisses as phantom pain sweeps over him. Breathing deeply, he wills it to pass before he turns off the shower and towels dry.

“Seven minutes!” Finnick calls from the living room. “Don’t make me come in there.”

“You know, I can send you a nude if you want. Might be easier than coming over here all the time and pretending to harass me just so you can see my junk.”

“I already have a spank bank of you, Mellark. I use it to get it up for my girl.”

“Okay, that’s just gross,” Peeta yells. “At least let her see them too. Let her know what she’s missing when she hangs out with you.”

“Wouldn’t want to scare her.”

Peeta grimaces and shakes his head. If he didn’t know how deeply his friend loved his wife, he’d wonder about some of the things he says, but the Odairs had one of the best military marriages he’s ever witnessed, and he’s seen a lot. They’re totally devoted to each other through deployments and everyday life. If it wasn’t so fucking irritating, it’d be inspirational. Not like what his girl— Cutting his thoughts off before they can spiral, he grabs his crutches and heads to the bedroom to dress. There’s no way he’s getting out of PT today, so he might as well wear his favorite sweats.

“Fucking shit day,” he grumbles and pulls a threadbare t-shirt over his head. Six and half minutes later, he’s in the living room glaring at his best friend but ready to go.

They’re at the clinic in twenty minutes, but it takes longer than Peeta wants it to before he gains his footing and swings into the building on his crutches. He hates how everything is an ordeal in a way it never used to be unless he was being unnecessarily overdramatic. He’d been plenty lazy when he was whole, often deciding to forgo seconds or another beer if it meant he had to get up from the couch and get it himself. Now, though, everything took effort. Necessary actions like taking a piss were problematic. He’d almost fallen the first time he tried to balance on one leg and direct the stream at the toilet. He’d been so angry, so furious, that he’d sprayed half the bathroom with urine and slammed his fist into the mirror and cracked the glass.

“Mr. Mellark?”

Peeta whips his head sideways at the voice. He slips and stumbles slightly, and a gentle, warm, undeniably feminine hand steadies him. He stares at her fingers on his forearm and licks his lips as heat radiates from her touch. Feeling unsteady in more than one way, he raises his eyes to hers and feels a jolt as he falls into platinum pools.

“I— I’m— Um, Mell— Peeta. Yes.”

She, whoever she is, tilts her head and confusion laces her graceful features. He wants to kiss her. He wants to wrap her braid around his palm and tug her to him and nudge her mouth open with his tongue and taste her and make her whimper with want and then fall into bed with her and fuck her six ways before the sun rises. He wants. So, so much.

“I’m sorry?”

Peeta swallows hard and shifts to tuck his hips backward in an attempt to stay soft—because his dick hasn’t been interested in a month but now it decides to wake up and say hello. It’s trying to salute this woman, because apparently his cock has no idea you don’t ever salute civilians.

He gesticulates with one hand, careful to keep the crutch under his armpit, but he can’t say a word. He’s never had that problem before, but coherent sounds won’t come out of his mouth no matter how many times he flaps his lips and gasps like a fish on dry land.

“Finnick Odair, ma’am.” Finnick has followed him in and extends his hand to the woman who’s driven every articulate thought from Peeta’s mind. “This sputtering human is my best friend and all-around grouch, Peeta Mellark. We’re here to see Haymitch Abernathy. Peet’s been working with him since he got back from Afghanistan.”

The woman’s face moves from flustered to breathtakingly gorgeous in a series of looks that make Peeta want to drop to her feet and worship her like the goddess she is. His heart swells as she flashes them both a shy, apologetic smile. He wants to see it every day for the rest of his life. He wants to put it there and murder everyone who ever makes it fade.

“It’s nice to meet you, Finnick. Peeta,” she nods to him before introducing herself. “I’m Katniss Everdeen.”

Peeta tries to say something. He really does, but his words are gone. Even the sarcastic, irritable, petulant words he’d leveled at Finnick earlier. He wants to talk to the vision in front of him, but he can’t get out a single word.

“Peeta thinks it’s nice to meet you,” Finnick teases and jostles his friend by bumping his shoulder. “And it is nice to meet you, Katniss. But—and I’m just grasping at straws here, but where’s Abernathy? This grump needs PT more than you and I need air.”

Katniss laughs, and Peeta swears he hears harp music played by angels. It’s melodic, and he longs to do everything he can think of just to hear it one more time.

“Mr. Abernathy’s out of town this week. Family emergency. I’m covering his appointments in the time being. It’s only temporary, but I promise you’re in good hands with me.”

Peeta gulps as her silver eyes shine at him. He nods, still mute like a lovestruck idiot, and Finnick pinches his arm.

“Ow!” he yelps. “What the fuck was that for?” Peeta glares at his best friend and then flushes when he realizes he’s just used profanity in front of the most perfect human he’d ever seen. “Sorry, ma’am.”

She laughs again, and he wants to melt into the floor. “You can call me Katniss, and it’s absolutely fine. I’ve been known to cuss a little. Only at appropriate times, though.”

She winks, and Finnick chuckles behind him. “Well, this is going to be a hell of a lot of fun. I was planning to run errands while you’re here, but maybe I’ll stick around for this one.”

“If you don’t leave, I’ll kill you,” Peeta mutters, and Finnick laughs again. The two men glare at each other for a few moments, but then Finnick shakes his head, smiles, and walks to the door.

“See you in a bit, Mellark. Try to keep it in your pants.”

Peeta flushes bright red and stammers an apology that probably sounds like he’s having a stroke. Something about the military and Irish assholes and no excuse because it’s too early to be drunk and say terrible things to beautiful women. Whatever it is, he’s sure he’s made absolutely no sense at all and only proved how inept he is at making conversation with anyone, let alone a deity who graces humanity with her very presence. To her credit, Katniss doesn’t flinch or do anything other than nod.

“You can apologize by working hard for me today,” she insists and motions for him to head to the folding parallel bars.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Katniss.”

“Ma’am?”

“My name is Katniss.”

“Yes, ma’am. Sorry, ma’am. Katniss, ma’am.”

He’s a complete moron. He wants to curl into a ball and die, completely mortified that his normally charming self can’t seem to do anything but stammer like an idiot. He vows to make up for it by working his ass off for her, to prove himself worthy, to feel like himself again instead of someone who’s as broken as anyone’s ever been.

An hour later, Peeta’s sure he’s going to die. Correction, Peeta’s going to die because Katniss is killing him. His shirt is soaked with sweat, and every inch of him aches. His arm muscles tremble, and he curses his legs—both of them—for working like spaghetti and threatening to fold under him at any second.

He knows he’s been slacking, that he hasn’t taken care of himself the way he should be, that most of this is his fault, but he didn’t realize how terribly he’d screwed up his own recovery because Haymitch (who Peeta’s now convinced is the nicest human being alive after undergoing Katniss Everdeen’s grueling session) hasn’t pushed him nearly as hard at the gray-eyed beauty who’s strong as steel and doesn’t give an inch. Peeta simultaneously wants to bed her and beg her for mercy. Maybe at the same time.

“Good work today,” Katniss praises as she hands him a towel and scribbles some notes on her clipboard. “See you on Wednesday.”

“Thank you, ma’am—Katniss!” he corrects before she can do it herself. He’s terrified she’ll force him to do more exercises if he crosses her again, and that might be the end of him if she does. He wipes his face and slumps into the nearest chair. Finnick finds him there a few minutes later, too dazed and exhausted to move.

“Ready to go?”

Peeta lifts wide blue eyes to Finnick’s green ones and nods stupidly. Finnick just laughs and helps him to his feet.

“She work you over hard?” Finnick teases after getting no response from Peeta for half the drive home.

“So hard,” Peeta breathes.

Finnick can’t help laughing at the bewildered expression on his friend’s face but doesn’t push. There’s a new spark in Peeta’s eyes that hadn’t been there since before they were shipped out a few years prior. Back when Peeta wasn’t so jaded and cynical.

Peeta refuses Finnick’s offer to stay and cook him lunch. He needs some time alone to ground himself, and he huffs his relief when Finnick just shrugs and waves goodbye. Peeta stumbles into the house and flops onto the couch, groaning at his sore muscles and surprised at the throb of desire between his legs. It’s been so long since he’s been horny, and he’s been half-hard since he got to PT. He used to masturbate constantly, his libido somewhat legendary and his ability to seduce women just as strong. That was all before.

But now.

Dark hair and gray eyes and smooth skin, and Peeta drops his head back against the couch and wills his dick to relax.

It doesn’t.

Astonished but thrilled to feel that heavy pull in his balls again, Peeta spits in his palm and slips his hand into the elastic waistband of his sweats. He’s clammy and disgusting from the session, but that doesn’t matter as his fingers brush against his erection.

“Fuck,” he groans, and his eyes flutter closed.

He doesn’t bother to free himself. There’s plenty of room in his pants to pump vigorously. His hand’s wet and warm, and his cock’s thickened and throbbing with need. He’s ridiculously out of practice and scared shitless about what it means that his sex drive’s suddenly reappeared, but it felt so good to jack off, to feel desire pooling low in his gut and his muscles tensing and his balls grow heavier and his thighs quivering and—

“Oh, shit,” he pants. “Fucking dammit to hell.”

White heat shoots through him, and he comes so hard he swears he loses consciousness for a few seconds. It takes forever, his load thick and hot and sticky on his hand and in his pants and all over his crotch, the first time he’s come in god knows how long. His gray sweats have dark spots as they cling to his skin in wet patches, and he heaves a sigh of relief so deep, he feels hollowed out.

“Katniss,” he whimpers and closes his eyes. He doesn’t move, doesn’t clean up the mess. Somehow, it’s comforting to have evidence that he’s still alive, still interested, still capable. He should get up and shower. He should dispose of the evidence, but he doesn’t do anything other than slip into darkness, a lazy grin on his face, spunk on his hand, and her name on his lips.

_________________

His leg’s on fire. He’s on fire. He’s screaming. The world around him is screaming.

“Stay with me, Mellark. Stay with me.”

His throat’s raw. Everything’s raw. His leg hurts so much, and he wants to scream so it’ll stop, but it doesn’t work, and he’s burning up, and he hurts, and it was only supposed to be three more months. Only three more months.

“Stop the bleeding. We have to stop the bleeding.”

Thwack, thwack, thwack, thwack.

Blood and fire and screams and thwack, thwack, thwack, thwack.

Make it stop! Make it stop, please!

“We’ve got to take the leg.”

Please don’t. Please don’t. Please don’t.

He screams, but no one hears him.

_________________

Peeta jerks awake, the scream still on his lips. The afternoon sun dapples the living room floor, and he groans as he registers how disgusting he feels. Dried sweat and cum cover him, and he stinks. God, he’s disgusting. His apartment is disgusting. His life is disgusting.

He’s got to get himself together.

Pissed off that he has to, he texts Finnick and asks him to come over and to bring Annie with him. Without waiting for an answer, he heads to the shower and repeats the process he underwent that morning. He tosses his stained sweats and the worst of his laundry into the machine and grabs a garbage bag to into which he gathers empty liquor bottles, grease stained pizza boxes, and crumpled hamburger wrappers. It’s not a lot, but it’s something. Everybody’s got to start somewhere.

He’s slumped onto the couch, frustrated that he gets tired faster than he should, when his friends arrive. Finnick’s there with Annie, Johanna Mason raps on the door a few minutes later, and his best friends from high school, Darius and Beetee follow shortly after. He tries not to think about his missing family, how he’s been estranged from one brother since he told them he was enlisting and the other since soon after he got back. He tries not to think of the friends who didn’t come home from the war. He tries not to think about a lot of things. Instead, he focuses on what’s in front of him, who came on short notice and wants to help, and what might be the next steps to finding his way back to who he wants to be.

Clearing his throat, he faces the room and says, “I don’t like a lot of fanfare, so I’m not going to make a big speech.”

“Thank fuck for that,” Johanna shouts, and he glares at her fondly.

“Y’all have been really great the past year. Before that. Just really great.” He pauses for a beat, unable to speak around the lump in his throat. “I know I’m messed up. Since…the leg and, and, uh, you know, my family…and…”

“You don’t have to say her name, Peeta,” Annie coaxes gently. “We know.”

“I just want you to know, I’m trying.”

Everyone in the room gazes at him with compassion, and it jars him to realize Finnick’s been right the whole time. They don’t see him as anything other than their friend who’s gone through more than anyone should have to handle.

“Consider this me asking for help.”

Finnick claps him on the back, and Annie tugs him into a tender hug. Johanna, never one for displays of affection, swipes a palm over her right eye. The others just offer him nods of encouragement.

“So, how about we drink some beer and watch some football? It’s Monday night. I could use some normalcy.”

The evening with his friends helps, and Peeta’s feeling almost like his old self when Johanna joins him on the couch.

“Good to see you working through some things,” she says in her smoky voice that’s always reminded him on honey, liquor, and cigarettes.

“Thanks, Jo.”

“I know I was hard on you. I could have been more supportive of your choices. And then after, too.”

“After I fell apart because my fiancée fucked someone else because she couldn’t handle being with half a man?”

“No! Well, yeah. I mean, not the half a man part. The rest of it,” she said with a sad smile. “She didn’t deserve you, you know.”

Peeta shrugs and peels the label off the empty beer bottle he holds. “She was my fiancée, Jo, and she cheated on me while I was sitting at home on the couch thinking she was at the grocery store. I couldn’t walk, and she was having an orgasm. She’s a fucking bitch.”

“Still… I should have supported you better.”

“And I should have realized you were trying to help.”

Peeta glances sideways at his friend and eyes her as she runs her hand through her spiky black hair. It had been several years since he and Jo had gone through basic training together, and she’s always been completely honest with him. It had hurt when she tried to tell Peeta that the woman he thought he loved wouldn’t stay faithful when he shipped out, but Jo had always had the guts to go through the shit with him. He could have listened instead of defending Clove—who clearly didn’t deserve any of the misplaced loyalty he’d had for her. And the rift with his brother would never be resolved. Peeta didn’t have enough kindness in him to overcome that.

“Truce?” Peeta asks, and he clinks his beer against hers.

“I’ve heard your screams, Mellark. Very familiar with them. I feel like we can get past anything together.”

_________________

“Mellark.”

The voice is gentle but insistent.

“Sergeant Mellark, can you hear me?”

He tries to answer, but his entire body’s on fire. It hurts to breathe. The thought of opening his eyes is more than he can handle.

“Sir, we need you to open your eyes.”

With great effort, he blinks them open, although they remain unfocused.

“Welcome back, sir. We’re glad to see you.”

“Where am I?” he croaks, his voice disused and rusty.

“You’re at LRMC.”

He’s in Germany in the hospital. He’s not in Afghanistan. His leg…

“My leg?”

The orderly looks at him with compassion. “We’ll call the doctor to come talk to you.”

Peeta struggles to sit up as his stomach lurches. Someone calls for a tranquilizer, but he rears up and screams when he sees his lower half. His left leg is gone. A needle jams into his neck, and he slips back into a blissful black hole where nothing hurts and nothing matters.

_________________

Peeta’s ready and waiting on Wednesday morning when Finnick arrives at his house. Instead of his friend having to meet him at the door, Peeta meets the pickup at the curb and hops in.

“Up early today?”

“Can we get some coffee on the way? I can’t make it for shit.”

Finnick nods and points the vehicle toward the nearest coffee shop without saying anything. He sits with Peeta in companionable silence until they’ve gone through the drive-thru and are on the way to the clinic for the appointment. Then he listens as Peeta rambles about little things that would have made him furious a few days ago.

“Really proud of you, man,” Finnick says as Peeta slides from the truck.

“I’m not doing anything special.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Finnick responds. “But you’re doing what needs to be done, and sometimes that’s the bravest thing a person can tackle.”

Katniss waits for him inside, and Peeta almost freezes at the sight of her. He wants to ask her out immediately, but he fights the urge. She’s his therapist, and that’s strictly off-limits. His regular PT will be back next week, and then Peeta can work on figuring out how to get to know the beauty who plans to make his life a living hell for the next hour.

“Is there a reason you’re slacking this morning?” she asks, and he has to bite his tongue not to curse at her. “I mean, you’re a Marine. I thought they were the best of the best. This lackadaisical attitude isn’t showing me much of that.”

He wants to quit, to yell at her and blame his leg for giving up, but all the anger in his soul burns into a fathomless pool of lust. If he walks away from her now, he’ll be leaving part of himself. He has to prove to her he can do this. Then, maybe he’ll start to believe he can.

“Come on, soldier,” she barks. “Fifty more feet. Get a move on.”

“I’m moving,” he spits and glares at her.

“That’s it,” she encourages. “Show me your fire. You’ll be rewarded really well if you keep it up.”

Desire shoots straight to his groin, and his hands slide on the bar as his mind goes to a dark, lewd place. He takes a few more steps, cursing his prosthetic while his shoulders and biceps strain to keep balance. Panting and exhausted, he stumbles at the end, and she catches him. She pushes her left shoulder into his chest and steadies him.

“Looks like somebody wants that reward,” she teases and helps him stand on his own.

“You have no idea,” he grunts. “No idea.”

She flushes a beautiful shade that makes her eyes sparkle and slaps him on the shoulder. “Good work today. I’ll see you on Friday. One more session, and then you’ll have your normal guy again.”

“Nothing about Abernathy’s normal,” he calls to her retreating back, and she waves over her shoulder without looking at him. “What about my reward?”

“Friday!” she answers as she leaves the room. “If you behave.”

_________________

Peeta tries to stay under, but he can’t. Too soon, he’s flying to the surface and his eyes open of their own accord.

A fresh hell starts every day as the doctors talk to him, explaining the procedures and what he can expect now that it’s done.

“You’re very lucky, Sergeant Mellark. We only had to take the leg below the knee.”

“You’ll be shipped home, and then three months recovery before a prosthetic fitting.”

“The shell hit your artery. You almost bled out on the helicopter. You’re lucky to be alive.”

“The last guy I treated wasn’t so lucky.”

“You’re lucky, sir.”

“So lucky you were in exfil when you were shot.”

Lucky, lucky, lucky.

The word echoes through his mind, but it won’t register. Not this way. Losing a limb isn’t lucky, no matter what anyone tells him. He’ll never be convinced.

It’s all too much, so he closes his eyes and wills the tears to stay hidden. He just wants to be alone.

_________________

“Hold it!” Katniss barks. “Don’t you dare drop. Come on. Ten more seconds. You can do this.”

Peeta grunts, and his low growl turns into a howl as the seconds creep along—one, two, three, four. He’s going to do die. His arms are going to fall off, and he’s going to collapse in a pile of boneless goo. His upper body is shaking as he holds on to the pullup bar. His deltoids tremble, and his biceps strain, and his triceps are on fire, and he wants to kill everyone. He also feels unmistakably, gloriously, amazingly alive.

“That’s it! Yes!” she shrieks. “Drop!”

He yells loudly as he lets go, releasing the pain and stress, but her arms are there to steady him. He wobbles on his right leg, protecting his left. He’s still not used to the prosthetic. Still tends to wear it only when he’s at PT instead of integrating it into his everyday life. He’s not sure why. It probably has something to do with accepting his fate, which says a lot about how stubborn and mule-headed he is, even when the loss is already permanent. He’s never going to be flesh and blood below his left knee again.

“You’re amazing,” Katniss says and heaps praise on him. “You’ve worked your ass off for me this week. You deserve that reward now.”

Peeta leans into her touch. His eyes drop to her mouth, and he imagines for a second the way it would feel under his, her tongue tracing his lips and the wet heat between them. She shakes her head and steps away from him completely.

“Hot tub. Go! No more working out. You deserve to soak those sore muscles.”

“You’re the devil,” he pants. Everything hurts, and his shirt clings to him in sweaty patches.

“I’ll make sure to tell Abernathy that Satan took care of his clients.”

Peeta stares at her for a few seconds before turning to walk away, unsteady, limping, but on his own two feet—well, one of his feet and a prosthetic one. He’d forgotten about his regular therapist during the session. The thought of getting back to normal appeals to him, but he’ll miss her urgings, both gentle and authoritative, in his sessions. But now maybe…

Well, he might be able to work up enough nerve to ask her out.

He ponders the option in the whirlpool, the hot water easing and soothing his muscles. He thinks about it on the way home and considers asking Finnick before slinking into the house and spending the weekend rolling the option around in his mind.

Is it okay to even ask? She’s not his regular therapist, so he can’t imagine a reason it would be a problem ethically. He doesn’t want to get her in trouble at her job, but he really likes this girl. Woman. Female. Whatever.

How would he ask her? It’s not like he can just waltz up to her and blurt it out in the gym. He doesn’t know her outside of the clinic, and he has no desire to stalk her. He’s going to have to work on finding a way to talk to her that isn’t creepy or voyeuristic. That might take some creativity, and he’s not sure how much of that he has left anymore.

Would she agree to go out with him? This is the sticking point for him, because he hasn’t dated anyone since he got home. Not since it all happened. Not since his fiancée found out he’d lost a leg and then fucked his brother instead of staying faithful.

“She’s not gonna want you, Mellark. She won’t.”

He works himself into a mess of despair over the weekend and seriously considers skipping his appointment on Monday morning. The only reason he gets it together is because he really wants to see if maybe he’s got a shot with her. If he can just get an inkling today, he’ll know whether or not it’s worth it to kill himself to impress her.

_________________

He’s been in the hospital for two weeks before he can stand to think about calling his fiancée. He doesn’t want to break her heart, and he’s worried about how she’ll react to the news. He also doesn’t want to face the nagging little worry in the back of his brain that she hasn’t tried to call him once she was informed he’d been injured. An email telling him she’s happy he’s all right isn’t exactly enough to convince him she’s particularly concerned.

He’s cried more than he wants to admit over the past several days. After the initial shock of losing his limb and a few panic attacks caused by phantom pain during which he feels like his brain’s been hijacked, his mental state is one of anguish, despondency, and hopelessness. He has no idea how he’s going to rebuild his life. None of this was in his plans.

The military grants him telephone privileges, and Clove’s aware of the time the conversation’s supposed to happen. With a heavy heart and desperate desire to talk to the woman he loves, he waits with bated breath for her to answer the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hi, sweetheart,” he breathes into the phone, and his voice catches on a sob. “It’s so good to hear your voice.”

“Peeta,” she says, her manner stronger than his. “How are you?”

Her reception isn’t as warm as he’d like, but he shoves the twinge of unease aside. They’ve been separated so long, it’s normal for things to be a little awkward, right?

“Are you sitting down?” When she doesn’t answer for a few seconds, he says as gently as possible, “You better sit down, sweetie. I’ve got some news.”

“What’s wrong?”

He swallows hard, and tears stream down his face. He’s about to break his fiancée’s heart, and he has no idea how to be the bearer of bad news. He’s supposed to make her life better, easier, sweeter. He’s not supposed to destroy it and saddle her with half a man.

“There was a dogfight,” he begins cautiously. “You know about that. I was injured.”

“Yeah. You’re in Germany. They told me you were… They told me you’re going to be okay.”

“I am, babe. I promise. But—”

“But what?” she demands, anger tinging her words.

“Baby, the injury’s pretty bad.”

“How bad?” she asks sharply. It almost sounds like she’s spitting at him.

“My left leg. Uh, it’s, I mean— Clove, they had to amputate below the knee. I’m an amputee.”

It’s the first time he’s said it out loud, and somehow that makes it terribly, hideously real. He’s weeping openly now, broken-hearted for his loss and for the burden he’s putting on the woman he loves. He expects comfort. He waits for her acknowledgement, for her reassurance that it’s going to be okay, that she’s grateful to have him back alive, no matter what’s missing now.

He waits for her to say something, but all he hears is silence.

“Clove?” he asks after a few minutes pass. He’s tentative, but he’s starting to panic.

“I’m here,” she whispers after a delay so long he wonders if they’ve been disconnected.

“I’m sorry,” he sniffs, even though he has no reason to apologize. It isn’t like he had a choice.

“How long until you’re back in the States?”

Confused, he furrows his brow and stammers out a non-committal length that’s loosely based on the information his doctors have provided. Her detached tone spurs icy claws to wrap around his heart and crawl into his stomach.

“Soon.”

“Let me know when you have more specific information. I’ll make sure to be there when you get off the plane.”

“Clo—”

“I’m so sorry. I have to go,” she blurts. “I have an appointment.”

“I—”

“Take care of yourself. See you soon.”

The line goes dead, and Peeta sits in shock, the phone held to his ear and an ache in his gut so sharp it causes physical pain. He blinks, and his eyes barely reopen. Too devastated to process the conversation they just had and what his mutilated lower half means for him in the months to come, he allows his eyelids to flutter shut and drops into subconsciousness. It feels like a pile of pillows.

_________________

“If it isn’t my favorite patient, Sergeant Mellark.”

“Abernathy,” Peeta says with a curt nod.

“You’re on time,” Haymitch observes under a furrowed brow. “And you don’t stink like booze.”

“I had an epiphany.”

“You had an epiphany. That’s…unique.”

“Yeah, well, you should leave town more often, I guess. Give me some space to think without you yapping at me.”

Haymitch raises his eyebrows and surveys Peeta. His eyes twinkle, and a lewd grin spreads across his face. “Ah…I see.”

“What?”

“Nothing, Mellark. Absolutely nothing.”

Peeta snaps his mouth shut and ignores his PT. He has no intention of giving the man any ammunition—even if it was any of his business. Instead, he shrugs off his hoodie and tightens his shoelaces. He’s ready to work, and he doesn’t have time for someone poking into his personal business.

They’re halfway through the session when he sees Katniss across the gym, and he loses his grip on the pullup bar. He falls without warning and releases a frustrated growl at the pain in his left leg. She glances his way and gives him a gentle smile under a concerned look, but Haymitch barks at him to get off the floor. Peeta turns away and gets back to work. He hasn’t figured out how to approach asking Katniss on a date, so he focuses instead on getting his body back in shape. The last thing he wants is for her to see him as unworthy of her.

The hour ticks by without further incident and Haymitch grumbles his approval as Peeta wipes his brow and heads to the parking lot. He goes home and downs a protein shake, makes lunch, and dusts off the free weights that have lived in the back of the closet since he’d been on his own. Music blares through the headphones, and he shuts out the world as he pumps iron.

Peeta develops a routine over the next few weeks. On the days he has physical therapy, he spends the day working on his recovery. He lifts weights and cooks healthier meals than he’s bothered to eat in a very long time. The muscles that atrophied during his convalescence heal and bunch under his skin, and he feels better than he can ever remember when he wasn’t on deployment.

On Tuesdays and Thursdays, he paints and sketches and writes. He rediscovers his love of beauty and language. He develops his craft and feeds his talent. It feels like psychoanalysis and works better than any session he’s had sitting on a couch and chatting with a trained professional. He knows head shrinking works, but he finds being alone with a paintbrush or pen or charcoal in his hand is better for him.

The weekends are spent rediscovering his love of life. He spends time with Finnick and Annie and the rest of his friends doing a myriad of activities ranging from karaoke to hiking to attending local high school football games and indulging in one too many hot dogs. It’s his guilty pleasure since he’s so disciplined during the week.

The PT sessions get easier, Haymitch lavishes him with praise, and Peeta’s heart catches in his chest every time he sees Katniss from far away. She always nods at him, but he hasn’t spoken to her since she told him to head to the hot tub after their last session together. He contemplates tracking down her phone number, but he’s not ready yet. He needs more time to be good enough for her.

Three months pass before he knows it, and Haymitch stops their session a few minutes early and tosses Peeta a towel.

“You know, you can stop being a martyr any time now,” the PT says gruffly.

Irritated, Peeta asks, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ve been working your ass off for the past three months. It’s not for no reason.”

“I want to get better.”

“You want absolution.”

Peeta laughs wryly. “Who doesn’t?”

“Mellark, you could live a hundred lifetimes and never feel like you’re good enough. Maybe it’s time to take it easy on yourself.”

Peeta purses his lips and doesn’t answer.

“Actually, it may just be time to ask her out.”

He freezes and stares at his therapist. “What did you just say?”

Haymitch rolls his eyes and strolls toward his office. “I said ask her out. She’s been watching you, probably more than she even realizes. Ask her out.”

“I don’t— She— Who are you even talking about, old man?”

“Hey, Everdeen!” Haymitch bellows, and Katniss pokes her head out the women’s locker room.

“What do you want, Abernathy? The next town over heard you yell,” she says with a smirk.

“My charge here—Sarge, that is—has some questions about some exercises you did with him when I was gone. Says he wants to adapt them for his workouts. Help him out?”

“Sure,” she chirps and jogs across the room to stand before Peeta. “Hey. You’ve been working hard the past few months.”

Peeta flushes and stubs his toe against the ground. “Thanks. I appreciate the kick in the ass you gave me when we worked together. It…it, uh, helped.”

“I’m so glad,” she says, clearly pleased and a tiny bit embarrassed. “It seemed like you needed someone to remind you that you’re worth it. You made a huge sacrifice for your country, and empty words and a million thank-you-for-your-services don’t really help when your life spirals out of control.”

He studies her carefully for a few minutes. Trim body, thick braid of dark hair over one shoulder, and those gorgeous pools of silver that shine from her face. She’s just as beautiful as she was the first time he saw her, and he hasn’t stopped wanting to be with her since she’d said his name three months prior.

She ducks her head and bites her bottom lip. “Sorry. I don’t mean to discount people’s attempts to say thanks to our veterans,” she blurts. “That’s not what I meant at all. I just mean… I mean… Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For your service?”

He barks with laughter and a grin tugs up the corners of her mouth. They smile at each other companionably for several long, charged seconds. His hands itch to reach out and brush run his thumb over her bottom lip. “For my service, huh?”

“Yeah, for lack of anything else coherent.” She toys with the end of her braid and then asks, “What were the exercises you want to adapt? I can help with that.”

Right. What Haymitch said. His thoughts race, and he racks his brain to figure out what to say without sounding like a total idiot. He has no idea what to ask that won’t be blatantly obvious he’s just trying to get close to her.

“Well,” he drawls, dragging out the word, “I’ve been working on balance and core strength, but I’ve got a twinge in both my shoulders. Every time I lift, I strain my delts, and that means I’m struggling with planking and sit-ups and push-ups and some other things. Any suggestions for how to relieve pressure on my shoulders?”

“Deep tissue massages. Work the muscle really hard, and it’ll…uh… I mean, pressure and heat—if you like things heated, that is. Warming oils can help, too. I can give you some…” She stumbles to a stop, clearly aware that she’s rambling, and her face flushes a spectacular shade of fire engine red. Every word out of her mouth was a double entendre, and she’s obviously mortified by what she’s said.

“Know anybody who gives good ones?” he asks innocently and watches her reaction. She squirms under his gaze, electricity crackling between them.

“I can give you a reference,” she mumbles miserably and looks like she wants to melt into the floor.

“You can get me a number, huh?”

She nods and shifts from foot to foot. “Yeah, I’ve got a list in my office.”

“Well, if you don’t mind, I’d love to get that from you. The number, that is.”

“Okay,” she responds quietly.

“Your number.”

“My—? What?”

“Katniss, I’d really like to have your number, if that’d be okay,” he explains carefully. When her eyes shine at him hopefully, he swallows hard and takes a chance. “Would you, maybe, want to have dinner sometime? Go out with me? On a date?”

Her expression shifts from shock to pleased to eager in nanoseconds. She squares her shoulders and smiles widely at him.

“I’d love to.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Giddy, he pulls his phone out of his gym bag and hands it to her. “Can I get your number?”

She types in her contact information, and Peeta grins and waves instead of saying anything more and ruining the moment. It’s been three months since he met her, but it only takes three seconds for him to text her when he leaves the gym. By the time he’s out of the parking lot, they have a date for Friday night.

_________________

Peeta’s been home for three months when his phone rings with a call from Clove. She’s an hour later than she said she’d be coming today. She promised to bring him some things from the store, and he wonders what’s stumped her.

He answers with an approximation of a smile. He doesn’t have many of those these days, but talking to his fiancée is one way to lift his spirits, which are admittedly in the dumps. “You don’t understand the list, silly woman?”

She doesn’t answer. There’s a muffled scuffle in the background, and he listens carefully, trying to figure out exactly where she is. Still at the grocery store? Driving home? Did she have other errands she decided to run while she was out anyway? It takes thirty seconds, at least, for his ears to adjust and recognize the sounds. His brain blacks out, and he shakes his head, unable to process what he’s hearing.

It’s Clove’s voice. He knows it like he knows his own, but it can’t possibly be real. Someone’s hacked her phone and is mimicking her. That’s the only logical explanation. Panic clogs his throat, and his lips move soundlessly. He’s too stunned to speak.

She’s moaning. Broken grunts in a frantic rhythm that’s accompanied by rustling noises and a steady thump. He listens, horrified, unable to disconnect and stop the hell he’s hearing. He knows what those sounds mean. He’s heard them from her every time they make love, every time he’s inside her, every time she’s close to climax and wails his name as she tips over the edge.

“Graham!”

Peeta’s world shrinks to that word. His brother’s name. Noises that are definitely male. Sounds that make his stomach lurch, and he gags. He can’t reach his crutches fast enough, and he definitely doesn’t make it to the bathroom in time. He has the presence of mind to drop the phone and grab a trashcan. He empties his stomach, retching and choking on humiliation and sorrow and pain that burns worse than this scar.

When he’s done, he picks up his phone and sees the connection’s still open. There’s no way she meant to call. It has to be the worst-timed and horrific butt dial of all time. He ends the call and leans back on the couch, too heartsick to do anything other than turn off his thoughts and sink into the cushions.

Clove returns a half hour later, eyes bright and cheeks rosy. She stops when she sees him. He feels like death, so her shocked face doesn’t surprise him. He must look even worse.

“What happened? You look terrible.”

He glares at her, holding her gaze and piercing her with accusation that cuts into his soul.

“You fucked my brother. Get out.”

Her face drains, and he sees panic flicker in her eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“Check your call log. I think you misdialed. Unless you wanted me to hear.”

Her hands tremble as she swipes up on the screen. Her shoulders slump, and she curses under her breath. It’s clear she’s just now realized what he heard.

“Peeta, I—”

“Get out.”

“Peeta—”

“Get out!” he screams. “Get out, you bitch! GET OUT!”

Stricken, she stumbles backward and through the door. He picks the whiskey bottle off the coffee table and takes a swig. He drinks. Somewhere between half and all the way through the bottle he deletes her number. Then he deletes his brother’s. Then he throws his phone across the room so hard, the screen shatters. Just like his heart.

_________________

Peeta wipes his palms on his jeans and huffs in a deep breath. He mutters to himself words of encouragement and finally lifts his hand and knocks on her door. His heart clogs his throat as he waits for her, and his vision goes fuzzy when she finally opens the door.

“You look…I mean…wow,” he stammers, and Katniss smiles shyly at him. He can’t really speak as they walk to his car. The drive to the pub is uneventful, although quiet, and Peeta sighs in relief when they’re ushered quickly to a semi-private booth near the back of the restaurant that’s both far enough away from the kitchen and isn’t too close to the bathrooms.

“You ever been here before?” he asks and hands her a beer list.

“No,” she answers. “It’s nice.”

“I thought about taking you to Chez Panem, but that seemed…I don’t know, not your style. Like you’d be uncomfortable there because everything’s pretentious,” he explains, his voice threatening to crack on every syllable. He’s so beyond nervous he doesn’t know the word for it. “I hope that’s okay.”

Katniss reaches over and squeezes his hand before dropping hers back in her lap. “This is perfect Peeta. You read that situation exactly right.”

He flushes, pleased at her words, and ducks his head to look at the menu. It shouldn’t be this hard, but somehow, he feels like he’s fourteen again and has a crush on the girl in his class who barely gives him the time of day. Never mind that he’s a military vet, has been engaged, and has bedded his fair share of women. He’s as nervous as he was on the night he lost his virginity. He’s scared of what that means.

“Thanks for going out with me tonight,” Peeta offers after the waitress takes their orders. “I know I’ve been on your radar you for a while. I just wasn’t sure how to go about it.”

Katniss’ eyes sparkle, and she laughs lightly before answering. “You don’t seem to give up on much. I doubt you would have taken too much longer to figure it out. Besides, it’s been three months. I figured you’d been trying to impress me for long enough.”

Three months. It hits him that another three-month increment has passed without him even realizing it. Maybe this is the one that will break the cycle of terrible things. Maybe this three-month period will turn out all right for him in the long run.

Maybe it’ll even be amazing.

“Well, I appreciate it,” he answers and fumbles for another conversation topic.

“How are you adjusting to civilian life?” Katniss asks, and Peeta drops his eyes to study his hands. This is one of those questions that makes him wonder how to answer. Should he say he’s fine and he’s doing fine, or should he be honest and turn the conversation much more serious? Does she really want to know how he’s feeling, or is she just being kind?

“Uh…” he mumbles and shoots the waitress a grateful grin when she sets beer glasses in front of them both.

“That well, huh?”

Peeta shrugs and takes a long sip of the lager. Flavor bursts over his tongue, and he relaxes his shoulders slightly before answering. “It’s difficult,” he admits. “I joined the military so I could afford college. And then…” He motions to his leg before continuing. “I know I can still go. Later. I know life isn’t over, but this is a big blow. Losing my leg, things with my family aren’t great, some, uh, other personal stuff… It’s been tough. And nightmares and loud noises. There’s been a lot of trauma, and it’s hard to deal with that when I’m trying to relearn how to walk and shower and…pardon the crassness, but how to take a piss without falling over.”

Katniss studies him for a few minutes, quietly and with an empathic look. If there’d been a hint of pity, he isn’t sure what he would have done, but there isn’t. She looks like she might actually understand what he’s trying to say. That he’s acknowledging the loss and mourning his old life without succumbing to despair.

“You’re a pretty remarkable person, Peeta Mellark.”

He blushes and looks everywhere but directly at her. “Nah,” he protests, but she isn’t having any of it.

“You really are. You’re one of the hardest-working patients I’ve ever met. You can hold your own with Abernathy, and that’s not easy. You know when to shut up and listen, and you challenge when you feel like you’re being pushed too far. That’s admirable. You respect authority but don’t follow blindly. That’s important in both military and civilian life, and it makes for a good man.”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” he says, his face beet red. “I mean, you’re tough as nails, worked my ass into the ground, but you knew when to back off and lavish praise and offer rewards. That seems to translate into confidence and competence and care and compassion.”

“The four Cs of PT.”

“Is it really?” he asks, his eyes wide.

“No,” she answers, her eyes sparkling as a chuckle escapes her. “But it sounded good.”

He rolls his eyes and adds, “And you’ve got a wicked sense of humor, and you’re really beautiful.”

Katniss blushes then, and he decides it’s the most adorable thing he’s ever seen.

“What else should I know about you? Because I’d really like to know everything.”

They talk for hours, both of them flustered and blushing and giddy and intrigued by the other. She regales him with stories about her family, in particular, her sister who it’s obvious Katniss adores. He tells stories about Finnick and the rest of his unit, his time as a high school wrestler, his obsession with painting and drawing when he was young and how he’d given it up because his mother had convinced him it wouldn’t get him anywhere in life. How his fingers had itched to grip a paintbrush again, and he’s got a wish list for paints and canvases he wants to buy. How he thinks it might be good therapy to lose himself in swirls and shades and tints and perspective.

They talk so long that Peeta loses track of time. All he knows is that he feels alive with her, finally feels like a whole person instead of someone with only half of himself to offer. It’s amazing what being treated as a human instead of a statistic will do for his attitude.

Finally, he sighs, “I guess we should get going.” He doesn’t want the night to end, but the pub is nearing closing time. He takes slight comfort in Katniss’ disappointed frown and offers her his hand as she rises from the booth. She grasps it and surprises him by winding her fingers through his. She doesn’t let go until they reach the car. Once settled in the front seat, he starts the car and backs out of the parking spot. When he shifts it into drive, he keeps his hand on the gear shaft and waits. A few seconds later, he moves it to her thigh.

“You’re a smooth one, aren’t you, Mellark?” she says with a grin.

He chuckles and squeezes her knee before putting his hand back on the wheel. “Maybe not if you just called me out on it.

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it,” she admits. “Just admiring your game.”

“I used to be quite a lady’s man. Until—”

“Tell me what happened.”

Her voice is quiet but strong. It sounds like it belongs to someone who can handle anything and come out better on the other side.

“I was engaged,” he confesses. “Her name was Clove, and I thought I loved her. I did love her, but I didn’t really know who she actually was. She had trouble with my deployments, but she didn’t act on anything until the last one. I was three months from getting out when my unit was pinned down in a firefight. We were almost out when I got hit. Almost died. Lost my leg. When I finally got to talk to Clove, she didn’t take it well. I came home, and she… She decided she didn’t want our life anymore. She fucked my brother. Butt dialed me during it. I kicked her out. They’re still together. Getting married next year.”

Katniss looks absolutely stricken. Her hands tremble as she reaches for his leg. Her fingers grip his thigh as she breathes, “I’m so sorry.”

He shrugs and gives a wry smile. “She would have made a terrible military wife. She’s better as a trophy for Graham to show off at his business dinners. They’re a matched set—beautiful, selfish people who like small talk and lack substance. I’m better off without her.”

“Regardless, it’s still a lot to deal with when you’re suffering the kind of loss you did.”

“It’s been a rough year.”

“You’ve done really well the past few months from what I’ve seen.” He preens a little at her compliment and smiles when she touches his shoulder.

“Sometimes, there’s a reason for getting better.”

He pulls to a stop in front of her house and stops the car. Following her to the door, he runs through a million scenarios about how to end their evening and isn’t at all prepared for what actually happens.

“I had a really good time tonight.”

Her eyes are soft and liquid as they gaze at him, and he can’t do anything but nod. He’s tongue-tied around her again the same way he was three months ago when he first met her. He’s still trying to form words, when she wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him down into a gentle, lip brushing kiss.

His heart bursts at the feel of her mouth on his, and the sparks flashing between them combust into an all-encompassing flame. He slants his head to gain better access, and her tongue sweeps into his mouth and knocks all coherent thought from his brain. She tangles her fingers in the hair at his nape and presses her body against him as breathy whimpers catch in the back of her throat.

“Holy shit,” he pants when they break the kiss for air. Two seconds later, she tugs him back into another searing kiss that makes his toes curls. His hands settle on her hips and then curve around to her ass. When he lifts her onto her tiptoes and nudges his hips against hers, they both release simultaneous groans that echo in the cool night air.

He tries to get himself under control. He steps back to gain some distance and breathes raggedly with his eyes pressed closed for half a minute. He’s feeling okay until he looks and sees her face, aroused and blissful with her eyes half closed.

“Peeta,” Katniss breathes. “I don’t…”

“I know. I don’t either.”

She looks at him, and he wants to run away at the same time he wants to pull her into his arms and stay with her forever. It’s too soon to have these kind of feelings, but they’re real, nonetheless. His heart clutches at her vulnerability, and he feels a rush of protectiveness.

Her eyes drift closed as he leans in this time and brushes his lips over hers. There’s no urgency now; just a deep connection that begs for slow, languid caresses. She tastes like hops and the brownie they shared, and she sighs in the back of her throat at the touch. He releases a strangled groan and tilts his head as their lips part. His eyes blink open to see her face frozen in what he can only describe as awe. Shadows of her eyelashes fall over her cheeks, and he pauses to study her before leaning down and nudging her nose with his and tracing her lips with the tip of his tongue. She opens under him, and she tastes like springtime and icicles and hope.

“Come inside,” she whispers and tugs him into her apartment by his shirt. He’s slightly unsteady, but she holds him up, bracing his body against hers, and then his back is against the door as she kisses him so completely he feels it in his toes. Again.

Her hands are under his shirt, and his fingers are twisted in her hair. She’s glued to him, and he can’t remember the last time he’s wanted something as much as he wants her. She shifts and her hip grazes his groin. He grunts, and she presses into him harder.

“Katniss.”

“I hate your clothes.”

“I hate yours.”

“Take them off.”

“Mine or yours?”

She laughs into his mouth, and he feels like he’s a helium balloon. He’s never felt quite so free or desired or…happy, he realizes with a jolt. He’s happy. She makes him happy.

“Both,” she answers, and he obliges as he pulls her sweater over her head and shrugs his shirt from his shoulders.

Her skin against his burns, but it’s the good kind, the kind that reminds him of sticking his finger in hot wax and waiting for it to cool. It’s magical and skirts the border of pain and pleasure. It’s everything he’s feeling as his arms wrap around her back and her breasts press against his chest. He unsnaps her bra and drops his mouth to her neck. When she arches backward, he ducks to capture a nipple in his mouth and tugs the peak with his teeth. She produces a noise that makes his knees weak, and she pulls him to the couch.

“Bed’s too far,” she gasps as she shoves him down and straddles his waist.

He lies there, flat on his back, cock rigid and throbbing under her, and his mouth drops open at the sight of her over him.

“Your tits are… fuck…”

“Touch them,” she tells him, her tone almost an order, and his hands shake as he trails up her sides until he can cup them in his palms, his thumbs grazing her nipples. Her mouth falls open, and her eyes flutter halfway closed.

He wants to tell her how beautiful she is. He wants to tell her how inadequate he feels because she’s everything he’s ever wanted. He wants to stay like this with her forever. He wants everything. He didn’t know he could want anything as much as he wants to be worthy of her.

Her fingers fumble with his zipper, and he makes a noise that would be embarrassing if she wasn’t looking at him like he was the best thing she’d ever seen. She wriggles his pants over his hips and drops between his legs until her mouth—

“Oh my fuck,” he hisses as her lips closes over him. “Katniss. Shit.”

His hips arch under her, desperate to get closer. She sucks and licks him as he writhes, and he’s so close already. Closer than he should be for only a few minutes of her mouth on him. He needs to last. He has to wait for something. He doesn’t know what it is, but he can’t come yet. He can’t. He has to take her with him.

“You’ve got to stop,” he begs, but she doesn’t. “Katniss, please. I can’t— Slow down. Please.”

She shakes her head and releases him long enough to say, “We have all night.”

He swears and bites his lip. He’s trying to hold off. He tries so hard, but her hands cup his balls and her tongue licks the tip and he’s gone. He tries to warn her, but it happens too quickly. He’s filling her mouth before she can pull back, and he groans when she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she milks him with hollowed cheeks and an eager tongue until he’s quivering and boneless. He’s sweaty and fighting for breath when he’s finally able to form a sentence. He doesn’t mean for it to come out as sarcasm, but he’s a dick, and he knows it.

“You didn’t even take my pants off first. I feel so used.”

She snorts and clambers off him to shed her leggings and divest him of his wrinkled khakis that had been bunched around his knees while she gave him head. His breath catches as she climbs up and straddles him again. She’s naked, dark hair curled in a carefully trimmed triangle between her legs, and it’s glistening already.

She stretches over him, her skin fused to his. She ruts against his left thigh, careful to stay above the knee and not touch the sensitive skin of his amputation. She’s wet against him, eager to reach her climax, and he wants to give it to her, even if he’s not ready to go again.

Their mouths knock together in desperate, hot, lustful kisses. His hands caress every part of her he can find until he cups her ass and helps her grind down against him. She whimpers and keens at the increased friction, and his brain threatens to short circuit.

Peeta tries to slow things down. He cups her chin and calms the kisses until their mouths move languidly together and her hips undulate slowly and she’s dragging her pussy from mid-thigh to his hip. Over and over. Repeatedly until he feels like he’s never known anything but her marking him with her arousal, sticky and wet and hot on his shattered leg. Her breath hitches each time her clit rubs against the protruded hip bone, and his cock twitches.

“Yeah, keep doing that,” he pleads. She’s the sexiest thing he’s ever seen, and he’s almost out of his head to be inside her. He needs a little more time, a little bit more recovery, before he can sink into her or her drop onto him or however this is going to work. He didn’t used to lay on his back for sex, but she seems to know what she wants, and he’s not about to argue with her. Not when they’re this close to something both of them want so much.

“Condom?” she asks as her teeth nip at his jaw.

“Wallet. Back pocket,” he answers, his voice broken and ragged. She fishes for his pants and finds what she needs. Then she raises onto her knees, still rocking against his thigh, and wraps her hand around his dick. He hisses at the contact, and blood rushes from his head to thicken and harden, making him ready again. She rips the foil and sheathes him quickly, and then she raises over him.

“Peeta,” she whispers and waits for him to look her in the eyes before she lowers herself onto him.

He enters another plane, one on which he’s never known pain or sadness or brokenness or anything other than the feel of her around him, the noises he’s making, the look of her riding him, the way she pants his name and leans backward so that her back is arched and her pussy slides over him at just the right angle and—

He’s already close again. There’s no way it’s possible, but he is. He needs to last. For her. He wants to give her everything, and he’s too far gone already.

Peeta shakes his head, desperately trying to gain some clarity. She’s making high-pitched mewling noises that seem to catch in the back of her throat every time she glides down his cock. Her eyes are glazed and hazy, and her lips are parted in a blissful half-smile.

Awed and reverent, he moves his hand from her hip and grazes his thumb over the trail of hair between her legs. It’s slick with lube from the condom and her own arousal. Her breath hitches, and he presses into her, seeking her clit, and cursing when she groans his name.

“Feel so good,” she babbles. “So good. God, Peeta. Yeah. Oh fuck, yeah.”

He presses harder, wiggling his thumb back and forth, faster and faster until she’s bucking atop him, frantic and unbidden. She’s bowed so far back, he can hardly see her face, but the rest of her is exquisite. Her skin shines with a sheen of moisture, and her lean stomach tenses and contracts with every thrust. Her thighs hug his torso, and her perfect tits make him want to spend hours laving them with his tongue.

“I’m gonna come,” he breathes, shocked that he’s telling the truth. “Fuck, Katniss. I can’t wait. I can’t. I’m so sorry.”

His words turn to incoherent moans as his eyes droop closed and his back bends off the couch and he pours into the condom with enthusiastic spurts of climax. He loses rhythm as he tries to stroke her to her own orgasm, but he can’t. He’s beyond spent, and he just cannot fathom that there’s any more energy.

Her hand joins his, and he forces his eyes open to watch her rubbing herself furiously. Her face is a mask of pained desperation, and he watches in complete astonishment as she starts to convulse. The sounds she makes. The way her legs and hips and—fuck, everything bounces up and down on him until she’s screaming and coming and pulsing around him, hot and sloppy wet and so fucking tight.

Eventually, she collapses against him, but it takes a while. It’s more than once and more than twice, and he can’t tell what’s real and not real, but it all seems a little hazy and shiny to him. He’s drifting, his hands trailing up and down her back, whispering soothing words into her ear when she finally lifts her head to kiss him.

“Shiiiiiiiiiit,” she hisses as she flexes around him involuntarily.

“I might have stopped living a little while ago,” he huffs, and she chuckles.

He’s lying. He’s more alive than he’s been in over a year. Since the day he thought everything had changed, but he was stupid. He knows that now. Meeting Katniss may be the thing that defines everything from now until the day he leaves the earth. And it’s only been three months.

Three months. How can it only be three months? How can that same time frame be the best thing that’s happened to him when once it meant the biggest tragedy?

She nuzzles his neck, and he kisses the top of her head and tightens his arms around her. He doesn’t want to let her go. Not ever.

“You don’t have to leave, right? Stay with me?” she asks.

He answers with a kiss.

_________________

“Hey, Mellark.”

“Sir?” Peeta asks as he waits in the wheelchair for his transport. He’s flying home today, and he doesn’t want anything other than peace and quiet.

“Just wanted to introduce you to the flight nurse,” the orderly says as he pulls a small woman along behind him. She’s petite and kind-looking, blonde with huge blue eyes that shine with compassion and gentleness.

“Hi,” he nods.

“It’s nice to meet you, sir. I’m Prim.”

He doesn’t say anything else, just turns and stares down the hallway, ignoring the awkward silence as he and the nurse are left alone together.

“Are you ready to go home, sir?” the nurse asks, and he bites the inside of his cheek. “Have a lot of people waiting for you back there?”

“No,” he barks the monosyllable.

“Well, I’m so excited to see my sister. She’s a physical therapist, works with vets like yourself, and she’s the best person I’ve ever known. You’d like her.”

He ignores her and tunes out her chatter. He doesn’t want to hope for anything, and this girl’s incessant babbling feels like sunshine and optimism.

“I don’t like anybody.”

She gives him a gentle smile that makes him want to smack her. “You will, sir. Someday you will.”

“Not likely.”

“I give it three months,” she says and then surveys him sharply. “You know what, maybe a year. Maybe just a little more.”

“Until what?”

“Until you like yourself again, and then, by extension, others around you. You might take a while.”

“Three months, huh?”

“Three months once or twice or a few times, but yeah. Just wait.”

And because Peeta has nothing better to do, he glances sideways at his nurse and decides he’s too tired to fight anymore. Instead, he chooses to believe her. Three months. A few times. He’s counting on it.

#three months #fandomtrumpshate #everlark #everlark fanfiction #iwishicoulldread247

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