#this was my third time restarting your gift because the first two time was not working with me :') sorry for taking so long!

[taohs]

Okumura Rin ♡ for @alphonseelriic

[artyandink]

𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞.ᐟ

𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 #𝟏 - 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐋

Hey, @perseephoneee! Here’s my gift to you, my lovely. Thrown in a few songs that’d make Steve drink holy water ;)

I had two options to go for, but by the thumbnail, you can guess. I went with… 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐑𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬! Probably because you’re an old soul at heart, that was the major thing I went by. You’d make Steve feel really comfortable with how you’re calm, you like reading books, you wear grandma sweaters— it’s overall a thing which relaxes him and makes this world easier to adjust to.

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

ᥫ᭡ You most likely got set up by Nat. As friends at first, but it was all part of a devious plan. You realised you loved him when you tripped over air, or something invisible, and you rolled your ankle, so Steve decided that he wouldn’t laugh at you and instead bridal carried you all the way to your head and bandaged it up so it would remain steady.

ᥫ᭡ He probably realised he loved you during a classic— teaching him how to use a new-fangled appliance. It’s probably restarting his router, or a function on his computer, and more often than not you’d find yourself saying “Steve, no—” when he presses the wrong button. He saw the way you laughed, how your brow furrowed in concentration and your adorable thinking pout and just knew it.

ᥫ᭡ You’re practically everything he’s used to. You’re calm, chill at home, and he likes to take things slow, cause after Peggy, he just needs to see that you’re here to stay. He finds less certainty if you rush into things.

ᥫ᭡ He spends a lot of time with you, reading the books you like with you, with your back to his chest and occasionally kissing your temple and pointing out a phrase or idiom and asking what the fuck it means.

ᥫ᭡ His most used nickname is probably “doll”. Second comes “darlin’” and third “sweetheart”, all terms of endearment he’d learnt in the ‘40s and carried to the present. He thinks you’re as pretty as a doll— though also a strong, smart, independent woman.

ᥫ᭡ You sometimes have to keep him up to speed with the latest politics, or past history since he was frozen. He doesn’t know how to get to the news channels, so more often than not he’s coming up to you and asking who Margaret Thatcher is or what’s the deal with Martin Luther King. He knew Queen Lizzie cause she was crowned years after his birth.

ᥫ᭡ I’ve seen a lot of fics detailing that Steve’s a rough lover in bed, but I honestly say otherwise. Steve’s actually rather sweet with it unless you specifically had a bad day you needed to fuck out, or Steve was pumped with adrenaline after a mission. That’s when y’all get freaky, otherwise sex is rather easy going, with little quips and giggles.

ᥫ᭡ Since your love language is words of affirmation, I’m going to say that translates to a praise kink in the bedroom for you. Steve loves it too, cause while he tells you all the time that you’re “so gorgeous, doll,” or you look “like a pinup girl, darlin’,”, but in bed, that becomes something ELSE.

ᥫ᭡ He says things like “you’re doin’ so good for me, darlin’,” while his fingers are knuckle deep, kissing your cheek and temple, then your lips, watching the way you reacted when he curled his digits to find the spot that made your eyes roll. He whispers that “you’re takin’ me — takin’ my cock — so well, sweetheart,” when he’s pushing in and out of you, while his eyes are shut because he simply can’t focus on anything but the way you feel.

ᥫ᭡ Steve, as a super soldier, has particularly high libido, so you’ll find yourself in compromising situations quite a lot. In order to really get him going, replicate the outfit of a girl from the 40s and he’s instantly gone for you. That outfit’s getting ripped off, he has a ‘40s kink.

ᥫ᭡ Other than that, he’s extremely protective of you, whether you’re a superhero or not, he’s protecting his lady at all costs. Oh yeah, he calls you his lady, not his girl. A particular thing which got you hot for him, another including when he rolls up his sleeves.

ᥫ᭡ His favourite position is probably either missionary or having you ride him. He’s a simple man.

𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐬

ᥫ᭡ avengers to lovers (if you’re an Avenger, that is)

ᥫ᭡ neighbours to lovers

ᥫ᭡ strangers to friends to lovers

ᥫ᭡ golden retriever x golden retriever

ᥫ᭡ everyone sees it but you two

𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤

ᥫ᭡ I Like Me Better by Lauv

ᥫ᭡ Stargazing by Myles Smith

ᥫ᭡ I Wanna Be Yours by Arctic Monkeys

ᥫ᭡ that way by Tate McRae

ᥫ᭡ positions by Ariana Grande

ᥫ᭡ Loved by Taylor Swift

ᥫ᭡ Until I Found You by Stephen Sanchez

Ok, next up, we have our baby boy, our green eyed one and only 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫! He’s a guy who’s distant, so you’ve definitely broken down his guard already. You’re also the type of person who he can be around to calm him down, say read one of your books with you or just plonk his head in your lap while he’s reading so you can play with his hair.

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

ᥫ᭡ You probably realised you loved him when he couldn’t sleep, and he’d been laying there for hours with his eyes wide open, until he heard the familiar ambience of your boom turning, so he popped his little sleepy head up. “Can you read t’me, sweetheart?” He’d almost cringed saying it, but the way you’d beckoned him over, how he’d snuggled up to you, seeming vulnerable— you knew.

ᥫ᭡ He probably knew the whole time, if we’re being honest about Dean-isms. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that you were the most gorgeous thing he’d ever see. That he wanted to love you forever, even if he thought he was broken. That’s just a Dean complex.

ᥫ᭡ But when he does get you, he’s obsessed. He’s so into you, and that translates. He’s like a touch starved puppy, he’ll always his near you, or have a hand on you. Whether it’s running his fingers soothingly through your hair, on your waist, hip, small of your back or your ass if he’s feeling frisky.

ᥫ᭡ He loves teasing you. Loves it. He’ll be a little shit and put notes in your books detailing every dirty thing he wants to do to you between the pages, like little Easter eggs that you’ll read, get hot over and when you and Dean get alone it’s Freak McNasty.

ᥫ᭡ It’ll be fun for you too cause you get to turn the tables, and you’d be reading a book very innocently, with Dean across the map table and he’ll suddenly feel your foot on his ankle, moving up slowly. His hand would reach out to rub your ankle slowly, up and down, maybe as a warning, but he loves being at your mercy, so he’ll let you continue to your heart’s content.

ᥫ᭡ He at first teases you for your grandma sweaters — “guess I’m datin’ a sixty year old, at least that ain’t near Sammy’s record—” — but then he finds himself intrigued as to what they feel like, so don’t be surprised if you find him in bed one day in sweats, no shirt and a grandma sweater. After that, he does not complain one bit.

ᥫ᭡ He probably drops the bomb about wanting to marry you a lot. “Gonna put a ring on this pretty finger, baby,” or “gonna make you Mrs Winchester one day, mark my words,” but you both know that’ll only happen if you both make it out of the hunting life. Even so, you’d be happy to marry Dean at a moment’s notice.

ᥫ᭡ PROTECTIVE. You both are fiercely protective of each other, you’d sell your souls — don’t do that — to keep each other safe, if one’s in danger the other can’t function without being worried for your lives. It’s just the principle, right? You can’t ignore it, even if you tried.

ᥫ᭡ If you’re ever stressed or overwhelmed, Dean will take you out of the situation and sit you down, cuddle you while reading your book to you. His voice is the gravelly kind, and soothing, so it works like a charm.

𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐬

ᥫ᭡ friends to lovers

ᥫ᭡ defo one bed

ᥫ᭡ “I’m too good for you”

ᥫ᭡ grumpy x sunshine (sort of)

𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤

ᥫ᭡ Too Sweet by Hozier

ᥫ᭡ As The World Caves In by Sarah Cothran

ᥫ᭡ Say You Won’t Let Go by James Arthur

ᥫ᭡ Carried Away by Surf Mesa and Madison Beer

ᥫ᭡ Perfect by Ed Sheeran

ᥫ᭡ Golden Hour by JVKE

ᥫ᭡ I GUESS I’M IN LOVE by Clinton Kane

[aestheticanimosity]

Hamelin Act of Reality Chapter 2 translation by jyong. Please support him! Permission was given to share to my Hamelin archive.

"The favoritism towards that specific student is excessive." With complaints from the parents, the young man was summoned to a meeting. Favorites, preferential treatment, inequality…. Complaints kept pouring out, but the young man responded with a calm expression. "There is no equality in the face of beauty. Do you see a raw diamond and a stone on the roadside as the same? Or do you expect them to be polished equally, knowing the difference? That would be a futile and foolish act." The parents were outraged by the young man's confident and unapologetic stance. The higher-ups ordered the young man to take a temporary leave of abstence.

(Discordant Poem/Student PoV) It seems that the teacher has become a target of criticism among the parents. They say the teacher favors me too much. But isn't that only natural? I am a gift from God to fullfill the teacher's dream.

Hamelin: Very well. I will accept the leave of absence.

Hamelin: Teaching those who lack the qualifications to appreciate beauty…

Hamelin: I was getting tired of it anyway.

Verse 2 True beauty, after all, cannot be understood by mere mortals. And especially not by those who stand on the sidelines.

Verse 3 When faced with talent that creates true beauty, there are several ways in which people react.

Verse 4 The first is when talented individuals recognize and acknowledge each other's abilities. This mutual recognition and acceptance creates the most beautiful scenario.

Verse 5 The second is when talented individuals are overwhelmed by others with talent. Sometimes, this leads to jealousy and attempts to undermine one another. This is an ugly and unfortunate situation.

Verse 6 The third, and perhaps the most sinful, is when talentless individuals fail to recognize the talent in others.

Verse 7 They fail to understand the gift from God and foolishly consider talented individuals as equals, desiring to treat them the same. There is no uglier scenario than this.

Verse 8 Parents who are blinded by their own love for their children and overreact by comparing and ranking them. Educators who gauge their actions based on the approval of these parents, burying talent and suppressing those who stand out.

Verse 9 Ah, how ugly it is. Truly, humans are foolish and ugly creatures. That's why I cannot help but seek true beauty.

Verse 10 The young man distanced himself from teaching the student. However, in the late night classroom, the young man and the student were still present, as usual. "Pour your soul into each note. There must be no compromise, not a single one!" Interrupting repeatedly, the student, who restarted from the beginning each time, was expressing his limits. Nevertheless, the student obeyed the young man and approached the piano. "Read the composer's intentions from the sheet music. Why is there a screscendo here?! Why does it modulate at this point?!" Even with the piano in front of them, the two seemed as if they were on a battlefield.

(Discordant Poem/Student PoV) Lessons with the teacher are like a battlefield. There's no room for a moment of relaxation. My mind is worn out, and my fingers grow tired and dull. But in order to get closer to true beauty, I can't afford to complain.

Hamelin: Not yet. We are still far from attaining true beauty.

Hamelin: But please, don't give up.

Hamelin: You are the chosen one by God.

Hamelin: Because of who you are, or rather, because it is you-

Hamelin: Together with me, we will surely reach the pinnacle of beauty!

Suddenly, the young man stopped the performance. "You shouldn't play at that angle. You will hurt your wrists." The young man gently wrapped his own hand around the tired and sluggish hands of the student. In contrast to the cold impression that surrounds him, his hands feel remarkably warm. "Your hands are a gift from God. You must take care of them." He carrassed the student's hands, knowing that they would one day produce a perfect and beautiful melody. On the student's back, there were red marks left by the conductor's baton.

(Discordant Poem/Student PoV) Some people with sharp tongues say that the teacher is jealous of my talent. But that's not true. If it were jealousy, the teacher would use teaching as an excuse to crush my hands. But instead, the teacher always treats my hands with care. I am happiest in these moments.

[crystalk17]

This is my super late submission for the MCYT gt gift exchange. I am really sorry for it being so late. I hope it is up to your standards!!!

This gift is for @leetlezeetle

Their promt: Giant dragon hybrid kidnaps a tiny/human to watch its young while they hunt.

As soon as I read this I thought "OMG PHILZA!!!"

So here is a fatherly, Giant, halfbreed dragon named Philza. Who kidnaps a young knight in training named Tommy. Maybe he can handle the young ones? Or maybe he will become the next meal. Who knows?

Tommy remembers the first day he was brought here. The teen was working on his stances and swings. Not even hours ago his face was shoved into the dirt by Dream. "You will never be a true knight. You can't even strike down Niki and she's a woman!" Tommy felt a heavy boot across his back shoving his body and pride even further into the mud. "You will quit or be killed."

Picking his body up the young-looking blond whipped the mud all over his front and face. If he was rebellious he would flick it at the superior, but now was not the time. After cleaning the brown thickness from his eyes he saw Dream holding his silver sword out to him with one hand. Tommy didn't say another word, even though so many were boiling under the skin to be screamed out. With a swipe of his hand, he grabbed the sword storming off.

Now he was in the field making sure he was perfect. Every swing of the sword, every shift of his body, had to be just right or he would restart with a deep growl. He would not leave until he got this perfect.

At least that was the plan.

Instead, he swung the sword jutting it straight out. The invisible enemy crippled back from the fatal stab. He was holding the wound begging for mercy.

"No foul creature. This is your last day on earth." Sliding his foot back he prepared for the final blow. Ramming the sword forward with such speed he had to close his eyes. He knew this was not the correct way to stab someone, but he was just practicing and he would try again. He expected the sword to slide through air. He would open his eyes and he would be holding his sword with one hand straight out and a perfect stance with the ghost enemy on the ground. But...but...he struck something.

Opening his eyes just a peek, his blood ran cold. Standing inches away from him was a black dragon with dark green scales sprinkled in. He thrust his sword forward hitting only the beast's clawed hand. The beast was humongous. Tommy had to look straight up into the air to even see the Creature's surprisingly blue eyes. What startled him, even more, was the fact that if the dragon wasn't looking its head over Tommy then he wouldn't even be able to see his eyes very well.

He could feel his body freeze. It didn't want to move. He felt the sword drop from his hands when the creature got even closer sniffing at his head. His hair flew up a bit then landed on top of the sweat already traveling down his face. The ground seemed to be shaking...oh wait that was his feet shaking back and forth. His pupils went wide when the blackish dragon nudged him with its claws. Maybe to see if he was alive?

Faster than he thought the creature could move, its clawed hand struck out grasping the young knight. It easily encompasses the human hiding it from the world. Tommy's whole body was encased by leather and claws that were larger than his own body. Was he seriously getting kidnapped like a princess? For what seemed like five minutes, most likely longer, Tommy banged against his rock-hard prison. He looked down seeing the monster made the mistake of allowing him to keep his sword. As if it was an instinct he grasped it in two hands and shifted his body forward. One. Two. Three hits. Even a stab and nothing happened. He wouldn't be surprised if he looked at the to and it was bent. He was going to be here for a while. -------------------------------------------------------

That very day was three months ago. On this very day, Tommy was sitting on the dusty ground of a cave, light reflecting off the walls from the fire he built. There was always plenty of food and the cave even had a small stream running through it. He was always surprised no other creatures tried to claim this area as theirs, but at the same time, he understood why.

Behind him, the sound of running feet hitting rock made his head turn. At this point, he was used to this. Looking outside it seemed about that time when the young ones started to stir.

"You can't catch me!!" Running up behind Tommy a child with short brown hair and a rugged jacket came into view. The child decided to run right behind Tommy's back even though his body was way too big to be covered up by the teen. The child looked like he could be a very young adult in stature, but in fact, this was a young halfling.

Two other forms came running out, but instead of humans like this child one was an actual dragon the size of a horse and the other human-looking but with dragon features. These three were young dragon halflings. Tommy found out through experience and reading in books halfling children had no control over their body. The younger they were the more dangerous they were.

When halfling babies are born they are very small compared to their parents. They are the size of a human, some can even be the size of a human toddler. As they got older their bodies morphed into the proper size. This is the exact reason why most halflings do not survive. They have dangers around every corner because of their vulnerable size and accidents do happen between the older halflings and their young. Throughout the years, the children would get used to their shifting abilities, so it wasn't uncommon for siblings, like these three, to look completely different.

The human-looking child keep moving back and forth so he was covered up by his 'shield'. The human with dragon features was trying to get around the sitting human to get to his sibling. With every movement, Tommy flinched a bit because the dragon halfling had claws that were digging into him every time he touched Tommy's skin while trying to get around him. He knew it was an accident, probably didn't even think about it, but he had to learn.

"Michael" he winced once more as his claws touched his shoulder. "Michael." he raised his voice a bit more to get the child's attention. The volume seemed to get his attention cause he froze in his actions. "Michael. What did we talk about playing."

"To be careful." Tommy watched as the pink flaps he had for ears drooped down showing he was upset.

"Yes, kid. You unlike your brothers have claws, wings, and these cool horns." Tommy grabbed one horn and shook the child's whole head making him smile. "I can't have your dad coming back and I'm filled with holes from your claws. He would kill us both. Just make sure next time-"

As he was talking the third child jumped right on top of Tommy. The Third was a black dragon like his father but had specks of dirty yellow scales on him. Somehow the third child learned to turn into a full dragon, but couldn't control turning back very often. He was the size of a horse and as heavy as one. "Tubbo! Tubbo get off!" Tommy was using all his strength to push the little dragon off, but all it accomplished was a face full of dragon licks.

This was how it was every single day. Tommy was left in the cave with three halfling children named Wilbur, Michael, and Tubbo. Every day it was him watching as the three played tag or roughhoused with each other while their father was gone. Who was the father? That was the black dragon who kidnapped him three months ago. Every day the giant black dragon would go out hunting, leaning poor Tommy to watch and protect his young. At first, he hated it and wanted to escape himself, but after a few days of being stuck here, the seventeen-year-old fell in love with Phil's children. Anymore he couldn't picture it any differently.

"Tubbo this is the last time I'm asking. Get off." his face was drenched in dragon slobber. The most he could do was push against the black dragon's body but he wouldn't budge. All it accomplished was the young one started to nuzzle and push up against his face to show affection. Michael ran behind Tommy's head and put all his weight on the human's arms. He was pinned to the ground and he was not going anywhere. His legs would flail up and down, but that was about it. He couldn't even do this much in fear of kicking one of the halflings.

"Get off!" Through his shouting and torturous affection, Tommy heard wood breach at the opening of the cave. The three children must have heard it too, because all three of their heads whirled to the opening as well. Tubbo started to growl and Michael's eyes grew wide. Tommy could feel the young dragon slowly stepping off his body, but he had to be ready for action now. Gently pushing him all the way, Tommy grabbed his sword from the ground. This was why he was brought here. His job was to protect and help with the young ones when their father was gone. All this training had to come into play. His heart started to beat faster as he watched the three halflings hide behind his body as if they weren't bigger than him, as if he could protect them from whatever dared to come into a dragon's den. His grip tightened on the hilt as his eyes glared at the opening. Tommy put one hand out to assure the young ones behind him.

Tubbo started to sniff the air, then his tail wagged like a dog's. He was excited about something. He ran forward with a determined speed. Tommy tried to reach out and grab his neck, but he was just dragged forward when the pup ran at full speed. Tommy dug his feet into the ground, but it didn't seem to help.

Tubbo came to an abrupt stop, flipping Tommy's body onto the ground. He frowned in irritation. He couldn't even stop a running five-year-old, how was he supposed to protect these guys?

Walking into the entrance of their hidden cave was the same black dragon who grabbed him all those months ago. With the creatures massive body in full view Tubbo ran full speed towards his father wagging his tail. Tommy had to just release or be dragged with him. He watched as the dragon very carefully dropped a dead cow, probably stolen from the villagers. The sheer black beast very carefully nuzzled Tubbo with the end of his snout getting a small squick in response.

Michael and Wilbur ran over, but straight to their dinner. Tommy watched in disgust as the two would burn the carcass with their fire than eat the pieces they tore off like hamburgers.

"Not hungry?" a deep rumbling voice asked with a surprising gentleness to it.

Tommy's scrunched up in disgust. "I'll stick to my berries and properly hunted meat. He looked up to see where a black dragon was standing was now an adult half breed human. The half dragon was smaller then the dragon form, by 20 feet to be exact. He still had black dragon wings, his tail, razor teeth, even his claws on his hands, but everything else was the perfect imitation of a human.

Tommy grabbed his sword to head out and find his own food. He would allow the family their time and he could practice with his sword. He marched to the opening when the tail curled around him blocking his path. In irritation, he looked up at the smug blond-haired male who looked 30 with horns. He had his wings tucked away, but Tommy knew they were there. He attempted to climb over the tree truck-sized obstacle until it started to move dragging him closer to the half-breed.

"What! I'm just getting food unless you want your protector to starve." The tail didn't stop herding him until he was right back to the other three dragonlings. Tommy knew he didn't need his sword so he let it drop while he yelled up at the beast. "This isn't funny Phil."

"You know I appreciate you right?"

Since he was close enough now, Phil gently picked the young knight up with two fingers. He could feel Tommy squirming, but both knew nothing would happen.

"If I didn't think you could handle yourself, I wouldn't have chosen you to watch my young."

Tommy looked back in those deep blue eyes before he spoke. "Yeah well... I know."

Phil put the human back down beside the other three. He curled his tail closely around the four. His four kids.

[dodo-begone]

To celebrate your finals being done here's a little gift for you from the resident evil eggpire au you inspired me to do also because the world needs more yan bad.

Bad was glad he had finally found where Skeppy had fallen asleep, his own mutations from the mold had granted him strength and power beyond his wildest dreams but for his dear friend it had sapped him of his strength and left the man with mild narcolepsy. He had left his subordinates could decide the fates of the three intruders while he moved the sleeping Skeppy somewhere safer than just sleeping on the floor. That was the plan however his vines informing him that they had easily decided the fate of the first two with Ponk claiming the green haired man for his surgerys and Hannah claiming the white haired woman to feed her to his vines which would strengthen him arguments seemed to arise however when the third intruder was brought in. Letting out a sigh of frustration he placed his friend on a nearby chair not the best place but it was better than the floor.

Swiftly he strood towards his throne room, he could hear the argument before he even walked in it was so loud, Hannah was trying to claim this third one to feed his vines while Punz was arguing that he wanted to add them to his little defence force neither Ant or Ponk were doing anything to stop the argument either. Walking into the throne room (no longer needing to duck through the door since they had just finished renovating the castle to accommodate his new height) and reclined on his throne turning his gaze to his subordinates finally ending their little argument. He lower his gaze to where the last intruder was only for his heart to leap into his throat as his eyes roamed over their kneeling form, his subordinates took that as an invitation to restart their childish arguing, he had to get a better look at them was the only thought in his head as he stood and made his way over to them not realising that it was once more silent. Grasping their downturned head between his thumb and pointer finger forcing them to look at him as he stared into their eyes full of tears that he could see them holding back trying to put on a brave face. Oh they were adorable they truly were he could feel his heart race as he just lost himself in his little muffins eyes unfortunately he had to let go of them as he stood to his full height and declared to his subordinates that he would be claiming them, they turned to look at his little muffin red eyes full of reverence as the true meaning of his declaration sunk in as he left the throne room he left one last declaration that they were to prepare the celebrations, he had to go to his seamstress he had needed his wedding suit to be made he couldn't remember a time he had been so happy.

The happiness didn't last however once a cowering servant came to inform him that his future spouse had escaped, he couldn't blame you not truly after all his little muffin must be so stressed with the wedding so of course they got wedding jitters but he couldn't go after you himself even if his vines knew where you were it was bad luck for you two to meet before the wedding after all. Oh if you wanted to play a game then why not make it hide and seek, you would hide and his subordinates would find you and maybe he should give a boon to the winner of this little game hahaha oh his little muffin could run and hide all they wanted but before the end of the night they would be wed.

Ender-anon

Hope ya like your "little" gift that kinda ran way from me with its length.

Omg Ender thank you so much for blessing us with this- I am in LOVE!!!! I am,,, have been simping for Bad for AGES MAN- absolute perfection. And resident evil- GOD I’m being SPOILED!

Anyways did I mention how fucking absolutely PERFECT this is- like mmmmmmmm ahaha. My only experience with resident evil has been the most recent one but I’ve always been interested by it- so forgive me for being ignorant.

Bad to Alcina parallels- am I delusion or are y’all seeing this too? Some connections yea but not all... okay mostly because they’re both 9’6”, essentially got kids,,, wait is Bad more like Mother Miranda in this situation??? With the subordinates being the four lords? Minus Skeppy, of course. Haha Mother Miranda vibes go brrrrr- Big connection to that fungus, everyone argues and listens to Bad, he got his own mf THRONE- it all makes sense. Jk jk- unless imm right-

But seriously I am,, in McLove. And idk how to add on to this ngl- other than CHILD. Yes a CHILD. He gifts you a fucking kid as your wedding gift or some shit. Infected by the fungus, of course. He’ll try to get you infected as well. All is good when you’re infected, after all. And you’ll REALLY be bonded to him- maybe that’s a second layer to the marriage?? To make sure that you never leave him?

I’m sorry is it obvious that I’m writing the continuation of “Mistakes were Made”

[ohnobjyx]

I've seen so many sol0 fans or just people that have watched cql and cares for the cast, talking about how they feel that bjyx is something one sided and unrequited. some comments about how xz (in the later fan meetings) is kinda just patiently indulging yb but clearly was not v happy about it. Sometimes I do think xz is more reserved and seems to try to "tame" yb to be more discreet about their, whatever it is, thing but i don't particularly think he is cold? What do you think?

I know it may sound odd but is there some analysis about Xiao feelings towards Yibo? I mean this guy is head over heels for him, no doubt about that but I don’t really feel the same from Xiao? I mean I could be wrong since I’m new there and didn’t read a lot of analysis so if you have some can you link them please? Thank you! And I don’t ask this in a « wrong » way like I genuinely feel like there’s something but I don’t see the same feelings towards each other. Again, I could be wrong! 

Hi, anons. These asks has been sitting for the longest time in my inbox, so I decided to tackle them today (still writing two days later, I’ve desisted on creating a more organized post and I’m just dumping my thoughts here this time).

(It’s also that I’m frustrated about this, because these are two of the most polite ones, but I’ve also received others less well worded ones, that basically imply that there’s nothing from gg).

For the anon asking for some analysis, I’ll leave a link here to a post that basically sums up my own thoughts.

Disclaimer: as always, don’t take bjyx seriously. Pure speculation here.

Long post.

Before I start, I want to say that I shouldn’t be the one to convince you to anything. It’s never my intention to impart the “universal truth” or to be patronising. If any of you really feels that there’s nothing from gg, no matter what I say, you won’t be convinced by my post alone. And it’s alright to agree to disagree. Just keep it in mind.

I feel that what anons describe it’s something that often happens to new bxg. Dd’s so obvious, so painfully obvious that in comparison, gg is much more “discreet” (well, we had to learn to read Lan Wangji’s expressions, didn’t we? The same happens with gg’s gestures). I don’t agree with the idea of dismissing someone’s love just because they aren’t as obvious and as telling as their partner at first glance (gg’s songs and drawings aren’t as straightforward, but they are there for those who care to listen and see).

From my pov, I think it’s very very probable that they are together. So, that works both ways for me. I don’t think dd’s love unrequited. They take care of each other in ways that speak of a high level of trust, intimacy and chemistry (yes, I initially wrote that post for these asks). I’ve talked about subtle ways to display your love, because when you love someone it’s difficult to hide it, and gg has a hard time trying to hide for the cameras.

(I’m still thinking of Happy Camp, when dd hurt his neck with the necklace... gg’s reaction wasn’t controlled in the slightest, and the combination of worry and anger would be a interesting combo if gg indeed wasn’t anything to dd or if he hadn’t gifted him the necklace).

Gg often has a hard time controlling his reactions when dd is involved. He’s much more natural, a lot closer to how he really is instead of his very polite and soft public persona. He get a glimpse of him in the bts (I suppose they never expected CQL to be so popular, and didn’t thought that the bts would be so watched a year afterwards), and comparing how he is in the bts with dd to how he usually is in other interviews and events with other people is a very interesting exercise.

It’s true that gg in the interviews seemed to try to hold back dd, to the point that they both lied sometimes in the interviews... the effect they caused was contrary to what they wanted. Definitely. Because they tended to forget what they had lied about, and the “plot” had holes everywhere. Like gg reacting surprised to the possibility of dd starting a fashion brand. Twice. In the same day. Or the eggplant/carrots thing. Or the “I didn’t know you slept with the lights on, but I’m aware of your sleeping pattern” thing. Please note that these three plot holes were caused by gg (in the second case, I’m refering to carrots ofc).

About what the first anon says of “how xz (in the later fan meetings) is kinda just patiently indulging yb but clearly was not v happy about it”. It’s one thing that by then they’d have noticed that their cp had attracted a whole lot more attention that they had ever expected it to and a whole another thing to “indulge” someone (as if only dd wanted it and gg had nothing to say about it) and “not be very happy about it”. Gg might have tried, but even he couldn’t completely erase all of the little moments directed at dd (and you have to take into account that gg was actually sick in the last fan meeting in Nanjing, that’s bound to affect his mood too).

(There’s no one else when they look at each other. No wonder Wen Ning achieved such a third wheel look when they were filming the boat scene, I suppose it’s taken from real life).

How gg looks at dd and only smirks when dd looks up... well, gg still makes his best effort at being discreet...

And dd in this moment... well, what can one do when a man like gg looks at you like that? (dd.exe has stopped working. Please restart).

Source of the gifs: 仙娱

Last but not least, I’d like to talk a little about W/ibo Night, the main source of many people’s doubts. I’ve seen many analysis, from “poor puppy dd following gg around” (that’s... bs) to some better analysis that deserve to be taken into account.

W/ibo Night is an event organized by a state controlled social media platform. It’s one of the most observed events of the years, with potential future employers and coworkers, apart from the government, so it’s not just them, but everyone is very serious and controlled in their actions.

They obviously had agreed beforehand on how to behave in this one. While dd is very serious, he doesn’t seem angry or sad that gg isn’t looking his way. However, they both can’t help but look in each other’s direction (gg’s more discreet, but pay attention and you’ll see him side glancing at dd at least three times on stage) and the way dd turns just so he can have a look at gg is... 🤦

They tried so hard that it ended up getting the effect they wanted to avoid: when everybody else was greeting each other (friendly hadshakes, patting their backs, etc.) these two just stood there, a little awkwardly. It became obvious to most people that they were acting as if they were strangers.

I think (speculation here) that while they had agreed to act as if they didn’t know each other, gg was... off that night. His eyes were very bright (as if teary, so not in a good way) and his smiles were tense, so I’d say in a bad mood or maybe he was feeling under the weather. I think dd was worried, so that’s why he kept glancing at him (I’ve read about the rumours of why gg was like that, but I tend to dismiss them if there’s no proof).

For someone as polite as gg, to walk so obviously in front of dd when they were getting on stage (c-culture here: the one who walks in front has more seniority/authority, so gg always lets the other people walk in front of him as a sign of politeness and respect), speaks of a familiarity that exceeds that of coworkers. Dd’s actions need no more words: waiting for gg and letting him walk in front comes naturally to him.

Choosing fans (though at first, dd just looks at gg choose his). I don’t know if you remember, but gg chose “I can do it” and dd chose “I have it difficult” (as a way of saying “I can’t”). I think it was entirely a coincidence, because dd was looking at his gg choosing his fan, the one he had wanted at first was taken by another person, so he chose this one as “I couldn’t take the fan I wanted” and “it’s difficult for me to choose”.

However, look at the happy and surprised smile from gg when he notices that his fan and dd’s make a pair (similar to “yes” and “no”, gg had filmed an ad for the event in which he linked this two exact phrases as opposites). A sad spoiler: this is the only time he truly, spontaneously smiles at the event (and notice how dd’s face inmediately mirrors gg’s and how he tries to rein it in a second later). 

I couldn’t find a video, but just before leaving the stage, dd looks at gg again and shakes his fan. Without a single word, gg understands that dd is asking from where to leave the stage, and makes the slightest movement with his fan to point the way. I assure you, this level of 默契 (mo qi) is difficult to find even in established long time relationships.

Once they are seated, gg leaves for a second and tells dd “I’m leaving” and dd answers “okay”. There’d be no need for this interaction unless they’re still friends/couple.

This one broke my heart a little: dd had been sitting on a plastic bottle the whole time. Usually gg clears his seat when dd comes (Nanjing fan meeting, Tencent awards night), probably because he has noticed that dd doesn’t care that he’s sitting on things. Dd left earlier the event because of his schedule, and once gg came back from getting his w/ibo king award, he sits on dd’s seat. And notices the water bottle under him. Even his poker face can’t hide the sad fondness “aiyo this boy...”

Some say he sat in the seat next to dd’s, but there’s a video I can’t seem to find (the despair is real) of gg sitting on the water bottle, so it’s indeed dd’s seat.

Also, you may try to think this from your own perspective: when and why would you sit in another person’s seat in an event as important as this one? If I try to answer this from my pov, I’d say that first I’d need to know that that person wouldn’t mind me sitting there and/or knowing that this person isn’t going to come back to the event. In both cases, it requires communication and trust between these two people. Gg had to know that dd was leaving first (and why would dd tell gg if not because they chat about their work schedules?) and that dd wouldn’t mind once the fancams made it to social media. This is what I think, at least.

Okay, so here ends my post. I just exposed some of my thoughts on why I think yizhan is NOT one sided or unrequited. But of course, you’re allowed to disagree with me, anons, since we are all in the speculation ground here. Nonetheless, note that this is a yizhan/bjyx blog, which implies (at least for me) that there are feelings from both sides, so I may not interact further with one-sided yizhan/bjyx asks.

(BTW, I found a very complete post of moments where yizhan isn’t one sided here, so I decided not to elaborate on those moments in this post).

[hockeysweetheart]

 Okay So This will Be The kisses ( and Talking about it) With Peeta   iOkay I’ll add the Grand total of Kisses here.....  

17 Kisses Between Katniss and Peeta in the Hunger Games  

9 Kisses Between Katniss and Peeta in Catching Fire 

3 In Mockingjay  ( and Some)  

And I am gonna be super petty Here How many times Did she kiss Gale 5 ONLY 5 TIMES.  ( I had to give him credit with the Kissing her on the cheek) 

 Here is a sort form of the Kisses. 

The Hunger Games 

1. on the cheek when Katniss said two can play at this game 

( These next ones are in the Cave or the Games) 

2. The second Kiss was to shut him up from saying I’m gonna die ( Yes the famous one Haymitch is like come on give me something to work with here) 

3. The third one was in the cave waking Peeta up 

4. The fourth one Katniss said it took a lot Including Kissing to get Peeta to Finish the Broth  ( So guessing more then one Kiss in here but I’ll count only one) 

5.  Peeta Kissed Katniss’s hand. And Katniss is like No more kisses until you eat.

6. So Katniss just Drugged Peeta and Says I wonder how Gale is taking these kisses 2 Seconds later she Kisses Peeta goodbye . In case she doesn’t return. 

7.  Katniss just wants the Games to End and they  Share a kiss.

8 The Kiss  This is the first kiss that we’re both fully aware of. Neither of us hobbled by sickness or pain or simply unconscious. Our lips neither burning with fever or icy cold. This is the first kiss where I actually feel stirring inside my chest. Warm and curious. This is the first kiss that makes me want another.

9. This Kiss Happened After the one that made her wanting more. 

10. This Kiss counts because yes their lips did touch. But its right after Peeta tells the story of him being in love with her forever since Kindergarten then that Kiss is ruined by the food arriving.

11. Katniss is thinking about Gale and kinda moves around in the freaking Sleeping Bag and wakes up Peeta which resolves in a long kiss. 

12.  They Kiss again before leaving the cave to go hunt for Food. 

13. Katniss is kinda being mean to Peeta kinda throwing the Romance out the window but then Realizes this Kisses Peeta and is like okay we can do  what you want 

14.  So this one Katniss kisses Peeta on the forhead because she is happy that she doesn’t have to face Cato Alone 

15.  This one is when they Both said listen  if we both Can’t win we both will die so Peeta gave Katniss a slow kiss. 

16. This Kiss Happened After the games when they reunite again at the  rewatch of the games 

17. During the Final interveiw they share a kiss.

Catching Fire

1. Their First Kiss is for the Cameras.  and Peeta is like I almost thought that kiss was real 

2. They kiss again After Peeta says he will give half of his winnings to District 11 fallen tributes 

3. They kiss a lot on the victory tour.  

4. After Katniss comes Back to her House after being in the woods when they are really forbidden.  She comes back to peacekeepers in her house and with no proof she was in the woods shes safe but she is injured.  And they Share a kiss in front of Everyone when she is making up this lie. 

5.Before the Games Peeta gives Katniss a kiss  ( After they spent the night together and says see you soon)

6. After Peeta is rescued by Finnick He gives Katniss a kiss we got allies 

7.  The Beach scene kiss ( We all know that one) 

8. Peeta Kisses Katniss after he said your gonna be a great mother 

9. The I’ll see you at midnight kiss. The last sane kiss of Peeta before hes taken in by the freaking Capitol

Mockingjay ( Since Peeta And Katniss are A part for half the book and Peeta is trying to kill Katniss they don’t  have as many kisses). 

1. This one I had to add becuase well yeah, When shes rubbing her lips on the pearl it’s like a cool kiss from the giver himself 

2. This kiss was when Peeta was going mad and then Katniss just kissed him thinking that might work which it did because she didn’t want to loose him again 

3. The growing back together kiss ( and some)  

A Grand total of 29 Kisses in the books Series by these two 

Now Bonus ones 

1. Catching Fire  After Peeta’s heart was restarted Katniss Kissed him this was not in the books.   

so grand total is 30 kisses  on all platforms the books and the movies. 

  So since Below is so Long I was feeling real petty and Decited to add Gales Kisses in here too 

1. The surprise Kiss  From Gale That snow knew about 

2. The Kiss after Gale got whipped and hes Basically sleeping

3. They kiss  in Mockingjay when Gale is like you kissed me here I’d have to be dead to forget that 

4. This Kiss Peeta is saved yet Hijacked and Basically Katniss has written off  and They Kiss and then Gale Ruins it

5. After  Leaving the awkward dinner Gale Kisses  Katniss on the Cheek 

Bonus ones 

Catching Fire Movie when they Kiss goodbye when Katniss is going back into the arena, 

So their grand total is 6... 

In the Hunger Games  ( Book) 

Chapter 5   But because two can play at this game, I stand on tiptoe and kiss his cheek. Right on his bruise.

Chapter 19, 

"Yes. Look, if I don't make it back  - " he begins. "Don't talk like that. I didn't drain all that pus for nothing," I say. "I know. But just in case I don't  - " he tries to continue. "No, Peeta, I don't even want to discuss it," I say, placing my fingers on his lips to quiet him. "But I  - " he insists. Impulsively, I lean forward and kiss him, stopping his words. This is probably overdue anyway since he's right, we are supposed to be madly in love. It's the first time I've ever kissed a boy, which should make some sort of impression I guess, but all I can register is how unnaturally hot his lips are from the fever. I break away and pull the edge of the sleeping bag up around him. "You're not going to die. I forbid it. All right?" "All right," he whispers.

A little Later on Chapter 19 

Haymitch couldn't be sending me a clearer message. One kiss equals one pot of broth. I can almost hear his snarl. "You're supposed to be in love, sweetheart. The boy's dying. Give me something I can work with!" And he's right. If I want to keep Peeta alive, I've got to give the audience something more to care about. Star-crossed lovers desperate to get home together. Two hearts beating as one. Romance. Never having been in love, this is going to be a real trick. I think of my parents. The way my father never failed to bring her gifts from the woods. The way my mother's face would light up at the sound of his boots at the door. The way she almost stopped living when he died. "Peeta!" I say, trying for the special tone that my mother used only with my father. He's dozed off again, but I kiss him awake, which seems to startle him. Then he smiles as if he'd be happy to lie there gazing at me forever. He's great at this stuff.

Chapter 20. 

Getting the broth into Peeta takes an hour of coaxing, begging, threatening, and yes, kissing, but finally, sip by sip, he empties the pot. I let him drift off to sleep then and attend to my own needs, wolfing down a supper of groosling and roots while I watch the daily report in the sky. No new casualties. Still, Peeta and I have given the audience a fairly interesting day. Hopefully, the Gamemakers will allow us a peaceful night.

Oh, right, the whole romance thing. I reach out to touch his cheek and he catches my hand and presses it against his lips. I remember my father doing this very thing to my mother and I wonder where Peeta picked it up. Surely not from his father and the witch.  ( Okay) Just in case why This part is isn here He Kissed her hand,  “No more kisses for you until you’ve eaten,” I say.

Chapter 21 ( Because I am being petty I added an extra bit) 

And Gale. I know him. He won’t be shouting and cheering. But he’ll be watching, every moment, every twist and turn, and willing me to come home. I wonder if he’s hoping that Peeta makes it as well. Gale’s not my boyfriend, but would he be, if I opened that door? He talked about us running away together. Was that just a practical calculation of our chances of survival away from the district? Or something more? I wonder what he makes of all this kissing. Through a crack in the rocks, I watch the moon cross the sky. At what I judge to be about three hours before dawn, I begin final preparations. I’m careful to leave Peeta with water and the medical kit right beside him. Nothing else will be of much use if I don’t return, and even these would only prolong his life a short time. After some debate, I strip him of his jacket and zip it on over my own. He doesn’t need it. Not now in the sleeping bag with his fever, and during the day, if I’m not there to remove it, he’ll be roasting in it. My hands are already stiff from cold, so I take Rue’s spare pair of socks, cut holes for my fingers and thumbs, and pull them on. It helps anyway. I fill her small pack with some food, a water bottle, and bandages, tuck the knife in my belt, get my bow and arrows. I’m about to leave when I remember the importance of sustaining the star-crossed lover routine and I lean over and give Peeta a long, lingering kiss. I imagine the teary sighs emanating from the Capitol and pretend to brush away a tear of my own. Then I squeeze through the opening in the rocks out into the night.

Chapter 22

  I give him another answer, because it is equally true but can be taken as a brief moment of weakness instead of a terminal one. "I want to go home, Peeta," I say plaintively, like a small child. "You will. I promise," he says, and bends over to give me a kiss. 

Chapter 22 ( The Kiss) 

I fumble. I’m not as smooth with words as Peeta. And while I was talking, the idea of actually losing Peeta hit me again and I realized how much I don’t want him to die. And it’s not about the sponsors. And it’s not about what will happen back home. And it’s not just that I don’t want to be alone. It’s him. I do not want to lose the boy with the bread. “If what, Katniss?” he says softly. I wish I could pull the shutters closed, blocking out this moment from the prying eyes of Panem. Even if it means losing food. Whatever I’m feeling, it’s no one’s business but mine. “Then I’ll just have to fill in the blanks myself,” he says, and moves in to me. This is the first kiss that we’re both fully aware of. Neither of us hobbled by sickness or pain or simply unconscious. Our lips neither burning with fever or icy cold. This is the first kiss where I actually feel stirring inside my chest. Warm and curious. This is the first kiss that makes me want another. But I don’t get it. Well, I do get a second kiss, but it’s just a light one on the tip of my nose because Peeta’s been distracted. “I think your wound is bleeding again. Come on, lie down, it’s bedtime anyway,” he says.

Chapter 22   ( Okay I had too add in this whole freaking part in) 

"Peeta," I say lightly. "You said at the interview you'd had a crush on me forever. When did forever start?" "Oh, let's see. I guess the first day of school. We were five. You had on a red plaid dress and your hair. it was in two braids instead of one. My father pointed you out when we were waiting to line up," Peeta says. "Your father? Why?" I ask. "He said, 'See that little girl? I wanted to marry her mother, but she ran off with a coal miner,'" Peeta says. "What? You're making that up!" I exclaim. "No, true story," Peeta says. "And I said, 'A coal miner? Why did she want a coal miner if she could've had you?' And he said, 'Because when he sings. even the birds stop to listen.'" "That's true. They do. I mean, they did," I say. I'm stunned and surprisingly moved, thinking of the baker telling this to Peeta. It strikes me that my own reluctance to sing, my own dismissal of music might not really be that I think it's a waste of time. It might be because it reminds me too much of my father. "So that day, in music assembly, the teacher asked who knew the valley song. Your hand shot right up in the air. She stood you up on a stool and had you sing it for us. And I swear, every bird outside the windows fell silent," Peeta says. "Oh, please," I say, laughing. "No, it happened. And right when your song ended, I knew  -  just like your mother  -  I was a goner," Peeta says. "Then for the next eleven years, I tried to work up the nerve to talk to you." "Without success," I add. "Without success. So, in a way, my name being drawn in the reaping was a real piece of luck," says Peeta. For a moment, I'm almost foolishly happy and then confusion sweeps over me. Because we're supposed to be making up this stuff, playing at being in love not actually being in love. But Peeta's story has a ring of truth to it. That part about my father and the birds. And I did sing the first day of school, although I don't remember the song. And that red plaid dress. there was one, a hand-me-down to Prim that got washed to rags after my father's death. It would explain another thing, too. Why Peeta took a beating to give me the bread on that awful hollow day. So, if those details are true. could it all be true? "You have a. remarkable memory," I say haltingly. "I remember everything about you," says Peeta, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "You're the one who wasn't paying attention." "I am now," I say. "Well, I don't have much competition here," he says. I want to draw away, to close those shutters again, but I know I can't. It's as if I can hear Haymitch whispering in my ear, "Say it! Say it!" I swallow hard and get the words out. "You don't have much competition anywhere." And this time, it's me who leans in. Our lips have just barely touched when the clunk outside makes us jump. My bow comes up, the arrow ready to fly, but there's no other sound. Peeta peers through the rocks and then gives a whoop. Before I can stop him, lie's out in the rain, then handing something in to me. A silver parachute attached to a basket. I rip it open at once and inside there's a feast  -  fresh rolls, goat cheese, apples, and best of all, a tureen of that incredible lamb stew on wild rice. The very dish I told Caesar Flickerman was the most impressive thing the Capitol had to offer.  

Chapter 23 

The sun eventually rises, its light slipping through the cracks and illuminating Peeta’s face. Who will he transform into if we make it home? This perplexing, good-natured boy who can spin out lies so convincingly the whole of Panem believes him to be hopelessly in love with me, and I’ll admit it, there are moments when he makes me believe it myself? At least, we’ll be friends, I think. Nothing will change the fact that we’ve saved each other’s lives in here. And beyond that, he will always be the boy with the bread. Good friends. Anything beyond that though. and I feel Gale’s gray eyes watching me watching Peeta, all the way from District 12. Discomfort causes me to move. I scoot over and shake Peeta’s shoulder. His eyes open sleepily and when they focus on me, he pulls me down for a long kiss.

“We’re wasting hunting time,” I say when I finally break away. “I wouldn’t call it wasting,” he says giving a big stretch as he sits up. “So do we hunt on empty stomachs to give us an edge?”

He grabs my hand away. “What do I care? I’ve got you to protect me now,” says Peeta, pulling me to him. “Come on,” I say in exasperation, extricating myself from his grasp but not before he gets in another kiss

Chapter 24

“We’re wasting hunting time,” I say when I finally break away. “I wouldn’t call it wasting,” he says giving a big stretch as he sits up. “So do we hunt on empty stomachs to give us an edge?”

He grabs my hand away. “What do I care? I’ve got you to protect me now,” says Peeta, pulling me to him. “Come on,” I say in exasperation, extricating myself from his grasp but not before he gets in another kiss

By the time we reach our destination, our feet are dragging and the sun sits low on the horizon. We fill up our water bottles and climb the little slope to our den. It’s not much, but out here in the wilderness, it’s the closest thing we have to a home. It will be warmer than a tree, too, because it provides some shelter from the wind that has begun to blow steadily in from the west. I set a good dinner out, but halfway through Peeta begins to nod off. After days of inactivity, the hunt has taken its toll. I order him into the sleeping bag and set aside the rest of his food for when he wakes. He drops off immediately. I pull the sleeping bag up to his chin and kiss his forehead, not for the audience, but for me. Because I’m so grateful that he’s still here, not dead by the stream as I’d thought. So glad that I don’t have to face Cato alone.  

Chapter 26. 

My fingers fumble with the pouch on my belt, freeing it. Peeta sees it and his hand clamps on my wrist. "No, I won't let you." "Trust me," I whisper. He holds my gaze for a long moment then lets me go. I loosen the top of the pouch and pour a few spoonfuls of berries into his palm. Then I fill my own. "On the count of three?" Peeta leans down and kisses me once, very gently. "The count of three," he says.

Chapter 27

Blinding lights. The deafening roar rattles the metal under my feet. Then there’s Peeta just a few yards away. He looks so clean and healthy and beautiful, I can hardly recognize him. But his smile is the same whether in mud or in the Capitol and when I see it, I take about three steps and fling myself into his arms. He staggers back, almost losing his balance, and that’s when I realize the slim, metal contraption in his hand is some kind of cane. He rights himself and we just cling to each other while the audience goes insane. He’s kissing me and all the time I’m thinking, Do you know? Do you know how much danger we’re in? After about ten minutes of this, Caesar Flickerman taps on his shoulder to continue the show, and Peeta just pushes him aside without even glancing at him. The audience goes berserk. Whether he knows or not, Peeta is, as usual, playing the crowd exactly right

Finally, Haymitch interrupts us and gives us a good-natured shove toward the victor’s chair. Usually, this is a single, ornate chair from which the winning tribute watches a film of the highlights of the Games, but since there are two of us, the Gamemakers have provided a plush red velvet couch. A small one, my mother would call it a love seat, I think. I sit so close to Peeta that I’m practically on his lap, but one look from Haymitch tells me it isn’t enough. Kicking off my sandals, I tuck my feet to the side and lean my head against Peeta’s shoulder. His arm goes around me automatically, and I feel like I’m back in the cave, curled up against him, trying to keep warm. His shirt is made of the same yellow material as my dress, but Portia’s put him in long black pants. No sandals, either, but a pair of sturdy black boots he keeps solidly planted on the stage. I wish Cinna had given me a similar outfit, I feel so vulnerable in this flimsy dress. But I guess that was the point.

Chapter 27. 

Things pick up for me once they’ve announced two tributes from the same district can live and I shout out Peeta’s name and then clap my hands over my mouth. If I’ve seemed indifferent to him earlier, I make up for it now, by finding him, nursing him back to health, going to the feast for the medicine, and being very free with my kisses. Objectively, I can see the mutts and Cato’s death are as gruesome as ever, but again, I feel it happens to people I have never met. And then comes the moment with the berries. I can hear the audience hushing one another, not wanting to miss anything. A wave of gratitude to the filmmakers sweeps over me when they end not with the announcement of our victory, but with me pounding on the glass door of the hovercraft, screaming Peeta’s name as they try to revive him. In terms of survival, it’s my best moment all night.

Behind a cameraman, I see Haymitch give a sort of huff with relief and I know I’ve said the right thing. Caesar pulls out a handkerchief and has to take a moment because he’s so moved. I can feel Peeta press his forehead into my temple and he asks, “So now that you’ve got me, what are you going to do with me?”

I turn in to him. “Put you somewhere you can’t get hurt.” And when he kisses me, people in the room actually sigh.  

Chapter 27 ( Peeta finds out the truth) ( Okay No Kisses in this part but  This part honestly Just says so much)

When the train makes a brief stop for fuel, we’re allowed to go outside for some fresh air. There’s no longer any need to guard us. Peeta and I walk down along the track, hand in hand, and I can’t find anything to say now that we’re alone. He stops to gather a bunch of wildflowers for me. When he presents them, I work hard to look pleased. Because he can’t know that the pink-and-white flowers are the tops of wild onions and only remind me of the hours I’ve spent gathering them with Gale.

Haymitch startles me when he lays a hand on my back. Even now, in the middle of nowhere, he keeps his voice down. “Great job, you two. Just keep it up in the district until the cameras are gone. We should be okay.” I watch him head back to the train, avoiding Peeta’s eyes. “What’s he mean?” Peeta asks me. “It’s the Capitol. They didn’t like our stunt with the berries,” I blurt out. “What? What are you talking about?” he says. “It seemed too rebellious. So, Haymitch has been coaching me through the last few days. So I didn’t make it worse,” I say. “Coaching you? But not me,” says Peeta. “He knew you were smart enough to get it right,” I say. “I didn’t know there was anything to get right,” says Peeta. “So, what you’re saying is, these last few days and then I guess. back in the arena. that was just some strategy you two worked out.” “No. I mean, I couldn’t even talk to him in the arena, could I?” I stammer. “But you knew what he wanted you to do, didn’t you?” says Peeta. I bite my lip. “Katniss?” He drops my hand and I take a step, as if to catch my balance. “It was all for the Games,” Peeta says. “How you acted.” “Not all of it,” I say, tightly holding onto my flowers. “Then how much? No, forget that. I guess the real question is what’s going to be left when we get home?” he says. “I don’t know. The closer we get to District Twelve, the more confused I get,” I say. He waits, for further explanation, but none’s forthcoming. “Well, let me know when you work it out,” he says, and the pain in his voice is palpable.

I know my ears are healed because, even with the rumble of the engine, I can hear every step he takes back to the train. By the time I’ve climbed aboard, Peeta has disappiared into his room for the night. I don’t see him the next morning, either. In fact, the next time he turns up, we’re pulling into District 12. He gives me a nod, his face expressionless. I want to tell him that he’s not being fair. That we were strangers. That I did what it took to stay alive, to keep us both alive in the arena. That I can’t explain how things are with Gale because I don’t know myself. That it’s no good loving me because I’m never going to get married anyway and he’d just end up hating me later instead of sooner. That if I do have feelings for him, it doesn’t matter because I’ll never be able to afford the kind of love that leads to a family, to children. And how can he? How can he after what we’ve just been through? I also want to tell him how much I already miss him. But that wouldn’t be fair on my part. So we just stand there silently, watching our grimy little station rise up around us. Through the window, I can see the platform’s thick with cameras. Everyone will be eagerly watching our homecoming. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Peeta extend his hand. I look at him, unsure. “One more time? For the audience?” he says. His voice isn’t angry. It’s hollow, which is worse. Already the boy with the bread is slipping away from me. I take his hand, holding on tightly, preparing for the cameras, and dreading the moment when I will finally have to let go.

Catching fire 

Chapter 3

My face breaks into a huge smile and I start walking in Peeta’s direction. Then, as if I can’t stand it another second, I start running. He catches me and spins me around and then he slips - he still isn’t entirely in command of his artificial leg - and we fall into the snow, me on top of him, and that’s where we have our first kiss in months. It’s full of fur and snowflakes and lipstick, but underneath all that, I can feel the steadiness that Peeta brings to everything. And I know I’m not alone. As badly as I have hurt him, he won’t expose me in front of the cameras. Won’t condemn me with a halfhearted kiss. He’s still looking out for me. Just as he did in the arena. Somehow the thought makes me want to cry. Instead I pull him to his feet, tuck my glove through the crook of his arm, and merrily pull him on our way. 

Chapter 4

Favourite colour

After a while I hear footsteps behind me. It’ll be Haymitch, coming to chew me out. It’s not like I don’t deserve it, but I still don’t want to hear it. “I’m not in the mood for a lecture,” I warn the clump of weeds by my shoes. “I’ll try to keep it brief.” Peeta takes a seat beside me. “I thought you were Haymitch,” I say. “No, he’s still working on that muffin.” I watch as Peeta positions his artificial leg. “Bad day, huh?” “It’s nothing,” I say. He takes a deep breath. “Look, Katniss, I’ve been wanting to talk to you about the way I acted on the train. I mean, the last train. The one that brought us home. I knew you had something with Gale. I was jealous of him before I even officially met you. And it wasn’t fair to hold you to anything that happened in the Games. I’m sorry.” His apology takes me by surprise. It’s true that Peeta froze me out after I confessed that my love for him during the Games was something of an act. But I don’t hold that against him. In the arena, I’d played that romance angle for all it was worth. There had been times when I didn’t honestly know how I felt about him. I still don’t, really. “I’m sorry, too,” I say. I’m not sure for what exactly. Maybe because there’s a real chance I’m about to destroy him. “There’s nothing for you to be sorry about. You were just keeping us alive. But I don’t want us to go on like this, ignoring each other in real life and falling into the snow every time there’s a camera around. So I thought if I stopped being so, you know, wounded, we could take a shot at just being friends,” he says. All my friends are probably going to end up dead, but refusing Peeta wouldn’t keep him safe. “Okay,” I say. His offer does make me feel better. Less duplicitous somehow. It would be nice if he’d come to me with this earlier, before I knew that President Snow had other plans and just being friends was not an option for us anymore. But either way, I’m glad we’re speaking again. “So what’s wrong?” he asks. I can’t tell him. I pick at the clump of weeds. “Let’s start with something more basic. Isn’t it strange that I know you’d risk your life to save mine … but I don’t know what your favorite color is?” he says. A smile creeps onto my lips. “Green. What’s yours?” “Orange,” he says. “Orange? Like Effie’s hair?” I say. “A bit more muted,” he says. “More like … sunset.” Sunset. I can see it immediately, the rim of the descending sun, the sky streaked with soft shades of orange. Beautiful. I remember the tiger lily cookie and, now that Peeta is talking to me again, it’s all I can do not to recount the whole story about President Snow. But I know Haymitch wouldn’t want me to. I’d better stick to small talk. “You know, everyone’s always raving about your paintings. I feel bad I haven’t seen them,” I say. “Well, I’ve got a whole train car full.” He rises and offers me his hand. “Come on.” It’s good to feel his fingers entwined with mine again, not for show but in actual friendship. We walk back to the train hand in hand.

Chapter 4

I look at Peeta and he gives me a sad smile. I hear Haymitch’s voice. “You could do a lot worse.” At this moment, it’s impossible to imagine how I could do any better. The gift … it is perfect. So when I rise up on tiptoe to kiss him, it doesn’t seem forced at all.

Chapter 5

We descend the steps and are sucked into what becomes an indistinguishable round of dinners, ceremonies, and train rides. Each day it’s the same. Wake up. Get dressed. Ride through cheering crowds. Listen to a speech in our honor. Give a thank-you speech in return, but only the one the Capitol gave us, never any personal additions now. Sometimes a brief tour: a glimpse of the sea in one district, towering forests in another, ugly factories, fields of wheat, stinking refineries. Dress in evening clothes. Attend dinner. Train. During ceremonies, we are solemn and respectful but always linked together, by our hands, our arms. At dinners, we are borderline delirious in our love for each other. We kiss, we dance, we get caught trying to sneak away to be alone. On the train, we are quietly miserable as we try to assess what effect we might be having.

Cinna begins to take in my clothes around the waist. The prep team frets over the circles under my eyes. Effie starts giving me pills to sleep, but they don’t work. Not well enough. I drift off only to be roused by nightmares that have increased in number and intensity. Peeta, who spends much of the night roaming the train, hears me screaming as I struggle to break out of the haze of drugs that merely prolong the horrible dreams. He manages to wake me and calm me down. Then he climbs into bed to hold me until I fall back to sleep. After that, I refuse the pills. But every night I let him into my bed. We manage the darkness as we did in the arena, wrapped in each other’s arms, guarding against dangers that can descend at any moment. Nothing else happens, but our arrangement quickly becomes a subject of gossip on the train.

Chapter 6 On the way home

When I open my eyes, it’s early afternoon. My head rests on Peeta’s arm. I don’t remember him coming in last night. I turn, being careful not to disturb him, but he’s already awake. “No nightmares,” he says. “What?” I ask. “You didn’t have any nightmares last night,” he says. He’s right. For the first time in ages I’ve slept through the night. “I had a dream, though,” I say, thinking back. “I was following a mockingjay through the woods. For a long time. It was Rue, really. I mean, when it sang, it had her voice.” “Where did she take you?” he says, brushing my hair off my forehead. “I don’t know. We never arrived,” I say. “But I felt happy.” “Well, you slept like you were happy,” he says. “Peeta, how come I never know when you’re having a nightmare?” I say. “I don’t know. I don’t think I cry out or thrash around or anything. I just come to, paralyzed with terror,” he says. “You should wake me,” I say, thinking about how I can interrupt his sleep two or three times on a bad night. About how long it can take to calm me down. “It’s not necessary. My nightmares are usually about losing you,” he says. “I’m okay once I realize you’re here.”

Ugh. Peeta makes comments like this in such an offhand way, and it’s like being hit in the gut. He’s only answering my question honestly. He’s not pressing me to reply in kind, to make any declaration of love. But I still feel awful, as if I’ve been using him in some terrible way. Have I? I don’t know. I only know that for the first time, I feel immoral about him being here in my bed. Which is ironic since we’re officially engaged now. “Be worse when we’re home and I’m sleeping alone again,” he says. That’s right, we’re almost home. 

 Chapter 9     I am being petty yes for this Part...

“I’ve heard worse,” she says . “You’ve seen how people are, when someone they love is in pain.” Someone they love. The words numb my tongue as if it’s been packed in snow coat. Of course, I love Gale. But what kind of love does she mean? What do I mean when I say I love Gale? I don’t know. I did kiss him last night, in a moment when my emotions were running so high. But I’m sure he doesn’t remember it. Does he? I hope not. If he does, everything will just get more complicated and I really can’t think about kissing when I’ve got a rebellion to incite. I give my head a little shake to clear it. “Where’s Peeta?” I say. “He went home when we heard you stirring. Didn’t want to leave his house unattended during the storm,” says my mother. “Did he get back all right?” I ask. In a blizzard, you can get lost in a matter of yards and wander off course into oblivion. “Why don’t you give him a call and check?” she says. 

Chaper 11  Katniss comes home to a surprise I freaking love this part

By the time I reach my house, my left heel will bear no weight at all. I decide to tell my mother I was trying to mend a leak in the roof of our old house and slid off. As for the missing food, I’ll just be vague about who I handed it out to. I drag myself in the door, all ready to collapse in front of the fire. But instead I get another shock. Two Peacekeepers, a man and a woman, are standing in the doorway to our kitchen. The woman remains impassive, but I catch the flicker of surprise on the man’s face. I am unanticipated. They know I was in the woods and should be trapped there now. “Hello,” I say in a neutral voice. My mother appears behind them, but keeps her distance. “Here she is, just in time for dinner,” she says a little too brightly. I’m very late for dinner. I consider removing my boots as I normally would but doubt I can manage it without revealing my injuries. Instead I just pull off my wet hood and shake the snow from my hair. “Can I help you with something?” I ask the Peacekeepers. “Head Peacekeeper Thread sent us with a message for you,” says the woman. “They’ve been waiting for hours,” my mother adds. They’ve been waiting for me to fail to return. To confirm I got electrocuted by the fence or trapped in the woods so they could take my family in for questioning. “Must be an important message,” I say. “May we ask where you’ve been, Miss Everdeen?” the woman asks. “Easier to ask where I haven’t been,” I say with a sound of exasperation. I cross into the kitchen, forcing myself to use my foot normally even though every step is excruciating. I pass between the Peacekeepers and make it to the table all right. I fling my bag down and turn to Prim, who’s standing stiffly by the hearth. Haymitch and Peeta are there as well, sitting in a pair of matching rockers, playing a game of chess. Were they here by chance or “invited” by the Peacekeepers? Either way, I’m glad to see them. “So where haven’t you been?” says Haymitch in a bored voice. “Well, I haven’t been talking to the Goat Man about getting Prim’s goat pregnant, because someone gave me completely inaccurate information as to where he lives,” I say to Prim emphatically. “No, I didn’t,” says Prim. “I told you exactly.” “You said he lives beside the west entrance to the mine,” I say. “The east entrance,” Prim corrects me. “You distinctly said the west, because then I said, 'Next to the slag heap?’ and you said, 'Yeah,’” I say. “The slag heap next to the east entrance,” says Prim patiently. “No. When did you say that?” I demand. “Last night,” Haymitch chimes in. “It was definitely the east,” adds Peeta. He looks at Haymitch and they laugh. I glare at Peeta and he tries to look contrite. “I’m sorry, but it’s what I’ve been saying. You don’t listen when people talk to you.” “Bet people told you he didn’t live there today and you didn’t listen again,” says Haymitch. “Shut up, Haymitch,” I say, clearly indicating he’s right. Haymitch and Peeta crack up and Prim allows herself a smile. “Fine. Somebody else can arrange to get the stupid goat knocked up,” I say, which makes them laugh more. And I think, This is why they’ve made it this far, Haymitch and Peeta. Nothing throws them. I look at the Peacekeepers. The man’s smiling but the woman is unconvinced. “What’s in the bag?” she asks sharply.

I know she’s hoping for game or wild plants. Something that clearly condemns me. I dump the contents on the table. “See for yourself.”

“Oh, good,” says my mother, examining the cloth. “We’re running low on bandages.”

Peeta comes to the table and opens the candy bag. “Ooh, peppermints,” he says, popping one in his mouth.

“They’re mine.” I take a swipe for the bag. He tosses it to Haymitch, who stuffs a fistful of sweets in his mouth before passing the bag to a giggling Prim. “None of you deserves candy!” I say.

“What, because we’re right?” Peeta wraps his arms around me. I give a small yelp of pain as my tailbone objects. I try to turn it into a sound of indignation, but I can see in his eyes that he knows I’m hurt. “Okay, Prim said west. I distinctly heard west. And we’re all idiots. How’s that?”

“Better,” I say, and accept his kiss. Then I look at the Peacekeepers as if I’m suddenly remembering they’re there. “You have a message for me?”

“From Head Peacekeeper Thread,” says the woman. “He wanted you to know that the fence surrounding District Twelve will now have electricity twenty-four hours a day.”

“Didn’t it already?” I ask, a little too innocently.

“He thought you might be interested in passing this information on to your cousin,” says the woman.

“Thank you. I’ll tell him. I’m sure we’ll all sleep a little more soundly now that security has addressed that lapse.” I’m pushing things, I know it, but the comment gives me a sense of satisfaction.

The woman’s jaw tightens. None of this has gone as planned, but she has no further orders. She gives me a curt nod and leaves, the man trailing in her wake. When my mother has locked the door behind them, I slump against the table.

Chapter 11  They all know Katniss is hurt and Peeta is literally the sweetest human out there

“What is it?” says Peeta, holding me steadily. “Oh, I banged up my left foot. The heel. And my tail-bone’s had a bad day, too.” He helps me over to one of the rockers and I lower myself onto the padded cushion. My mother eases off my boots. “What happened?” “I slipped and fell,” I say. Four pairs of eyes look at me with disbelief. “On some ice.” But we all know the house must be bugged and it’s not safe to talk openly. Not here, not now. Having stripped off my sock, my mother’s fingers probe the bones in my left heel and I wince. “There might be a break,” she says. She checks the other foot. “This one seems all right.” She judges my tailbone to be badly bruised. My mother gives me a cup of chamomile tea with a dose of sleep syrup, and my eyelids begin to droop immediately. She wraps my bad foot, and Peeta volunteers to get me to bed. I start out by leaning on his shoulder, but I’m so wobbly he just scoops me up and carries me upstairs. He tucks me in and says good night but I catch his hand and hold him there. A side effect of the sleep syrup is that it makes people less inhibited, like white liquor, and I know I have to control my tongue. But I don’t want him to go. In fact, I want him to climb in with me, to be there when the nightmares hit tonight. For some reason that I can’t quite form, I know I’m not allowed to ask that. “Don’t go yet. Not until I fall asleep,” I say. Peeta sits on the side of the bed, warming my hand in both of his. “Almost thought you’d changed your mind today. When you were late for dinner.” I’m foggy but I can guess what he means. With the fence going on and me showing up late and the Peacekeepers waiting, he thought I’d made a run for it, maybe with Gale. “No, I’d have told you,” I say. I pull his hand up and lean my cheek against the back of it, taking in the faint scent of cinnamon and dill from the breads he must have baked today. I want to tell him about Twill and Bonnie and the uprising and the fantasy of District 13, but it’s not safe to and I can feel myself slipping away, so I just get out one more sentence. “Stay with me.” As the tendrils of sleep syrup pull me down, I hear him whisper a word back, but I don’t quite catch it.

I’m further reassured when Peeta casually tells me the power is off in sections of the fence because crews are out securing the base of the chain link to the ground. Thread must believe I somehow got under the thing, even with that deadly current running through it. It’s a break for the district, having the Peacekeepers busy doing something besides abusing people. Peeta comes by every day to bring me cheese buns and begins to help me work on the family book. It’s an old thing, made of parchment and leather. Some herbalist on my mother’s side of the family started it ages ago. The book’s composed of page after page of ink drawings of plants with descriptions of their medical uses. My father added a section on edible plants that was my guidebook to keeping us alive after his death. For a long time, I’ve wanted to record my own knowledge in it. Things I learned from experience or from Gale, and then the information I picked up when I was training for the Games. I didn’t because I’m no artist and it’s so crucial that the pictures are drawn in exact detail. That’s where Peeta comes in. Some of the plants he knows already, others we have dried samples of, and others I have to describe. He makes sketches on scrap paper until I’m satisfied they’re right, then I let him draw them in the book. After that, I carefully print all I know about the plant. It’s quiet, absorbing work that helps take my mind off my troubles. I like to watch his hands as he works, making a blank page bloom with strokes of ink, adding touches of color to our previously black and yellowish book. His face takes on a special look when he concentrates. His usual easy expression is replaced by something more intense and removed that suggests an entire world locked away inside him. I’ve seen flashes of this before: in the arena, or when he speaks to a crowd, or that time he shoved the Peacekeepers’ guns away from me in District 11. I don’t know quite what to make of it. I also become a little fixated on his eyelashes, which ordinarily you don’t notice much because they’re so blond. But up close, in the sunlight slanting in from the window, they’re a light golden color and so long I don’t see how they keep from getting all tangled up when he blinks. One afternoon Peeta stops shading a blossom and looks up so suddenly that I start, as though I were caught spying on him, which in a strange way maybe I was. But he only says, “You know, I think this is the first time we’ve ever done anything normal together.” “Yeah,” I agree. Our whole relationship has been tainted by the Games. Normal was never a part of it. “Nice for a change.” Each afternoon he carries me downstairs for a change of scenery and I unnerve everyone by turning on the television. Usually we only watch when it’s mandatory, because the mixture of propaganda and displays of the Capitol’s power - including clips from seventy-four years of Hunger Games - is so odious. But now I’m looking for something special. The mockingjay that Bonnie and Twill are basing all their hopes on. I know it’s probably foolishness, but if it is, I want to rule it out. And erase the idea of a thriving District 13 from my mind for good.

Chapter 12

Staying quietly in bed is harder after that. I want to be doing something, finding out more about District 13 or helping in the cause to bring down the Capitol. Instead I sit around stuffing myself with cheese buns and watching Peeta sketch. Haymitch stops by occasionally to bring me news from town, which is always bad. More people being punished or dropping from starvation.

Chapter 13

“Thanks,” I say. I should go see Peeta now, but I don’t want to. My head’s spinning from the drink, and I’m so wiped out, who knows what he could get me to agree to? No, now I have to go home to face my mother and Prim. As I stagger up the steps to my house, the front door opens and Gale pulls me into his arms. “I was wrong. We should have gone when you said,” he whispers. “No,” I say. I’m having trouble focusing, and liquor keeps sloshing out of my bottle and down the back of Gale’s jacket, but he doesn’t seem to care. “It’s not too late,” he says. Over his shoulder, I see my mother and Prim clutching each other in the doorway. We run. They die. And now I’ve got Peeta to protect. End of discussion. “Yeah, it is.” My knees give way and he’s holding me up. As the alcohol overcomes my mind, I hear the glass bottle shatter on the floor. This seems appropriate since I have obviously lost my grip on everything.

Chapter 14 ( Okay this hug tho)

So I go to bed and, sure enough, within a few hours I awake from a nightmare where that old woman from District 4 transforms into a large rodent and gnaws on my face. I know I was screaming, but no one comes. Not Peeta, not even one of the Capitol attendants. I pull on a robe to try to calm the gooseflesh crawling over my body. Staying in my compartment is impossible, so I decide to go find someone to make me tea or hot chocolate or anything. Maybe Haymitch is still up. Surely he isn’t asleep. I order warm milk, the most calming thing I can think of, from an attendant. Hearing voices from the television room, I go in and find Peeta. Beside him on the couch is the box Effie sent of tapes of the old Hunger Games. I recognize the episode in which Brutus became victor. Peeta rises and flips off the tape when he sees me. “Couldn’t sleep?” “Not for long,” I say. I pull the robe more securely around me as I remember the old woman transforming into the rodent. “Want to talk about it?” he asks. Sometimes that can help, but I just shake my head, feeling weak that people I haven’t even fought yet already haunt me. When Peeta holds out his arms, I walk straight into them. It’s the first time since they announced the Quarter Quell that he’s offered me any sort of affection. He’s been more like a very demanding trainer, always pushing, always insisting Haymitch and I run faster, eat more, know our enemy better. Lover? Forget about that. He abandoned any pretense of even being my friend. I wrap my arms tightly around his neck before he can order me to do push-ups or something. Instead he pulls me in close and buries his face in my hair. Warmth radiates from the spot where his lips just touch my neck, slowly spreading through the rest of me. It feels so good, so impossibly good, that I know I will not be the first to let go. And why should I? I have said good-bye to Gale. I’ll never see him again, that’s for certain. Nothing I do now can hurt him. He won’t see it or he’ll think I am acting for the cameras. That, at least, is one weight off my shoulders. The arrival of the Capitol attendant with the warm milk is what breaks us apart. He sets a tray with a steaming ceramic jug and two mugs on a table. “I brought an extra cup,” he says. “Thanks,” I say. “And I added a touch of honey to the milk. For sweetness. And just a pinch of spice,” he adds. He looks at us like he wants to say more, then gives his head a slight shake and backs out of the room. “What’s with him?” I say. “I think he feels bad for us,” says Peeta. “Right,” I say, pouring the milk. “I mean it. I don’t think the people in the Capitol are going to be all that happy about our going back in,” says Peeta. “Or the other victors. They get attached to their champions.” “I’m guessing they’ll get over it once the blood starts flowing,” I say flatly. Really, if there’s one thing I don’t have time for, it’s worrying about how the Quarter Quell will affect the mood in the Capitol. “So, you’re watching all the tapes again?”

“Okay,” Peeta agrees. He puts in the tape and I curl up next to him on the couch with my milk, which is really delicious with the honey and spices, and lose myself in the Fiftieth Hunger Games. After the anthem, they show President Snow drawing the envelope for the second Quarter Quell. He looks younger but just as repellent. He reads from the square of paper in the same onerous voice he used for ours, informing Panem that in honor of the Quarter Quell, there will be twice the number of tributes. The editors smash cut right into the reapings, where name after name after name is called.  

Peeta clicks off the tape and we sit there in silence for a while.

Chapter 17

Peeta walks me down to my room in silence, but before he can say good night, I wrap my arms around him and rest my head against his chest. His hands slide up my back and his cheek leans against my hair. “I’m sorry if I made things worse,” I say. “No worse than I did. Why did you do it, anyway?” he says. “I don’t know. To show them that I’m more than just a piece in their Games?” I say. He laughs a little, no doubt remembering the night before the Games last year. We were on the roof, neither of us able to sleep. Peeta had said something of the sort then, but I hadn’t understood what he meant. Now I do. “Me, too,” he tells me. “And I’m not saying I’m not going to try. To get you home, I mean. But if I’m perfectly honest about it …” “If you’re perfectly honest about it, you think President Snow has probably given them direct orders to make sure we die in the arena anyway,” I say. “It’s crossed my mind,” says Peeta. It’s crossed my mind, too. Repeatedly. But while I know I’ll never leave that arena alive, I’m still holding on to the hope that Peeta will. After all, he didn’t pull out those berries, I did. No one has ever doubted that Peeta’s defiance was motivated by love. So maybe President Snow will prefer keeping him alive, crushed and heartbroken, as a living warning to others. “But even if that happens, everyone will know we’ve gone out fighting, right?” Peeta asks. “Everyone will,” I reply. And for the first time, I distance myself from the personal tragedy that has consumed me since they announced the Quell. I remember the old man they shot in District 11, and Bonnie and Twill, and the rumored uprisings. Yes, everyone in the districts will be watching me to see how I handle this death sentence, this final act of President Snow’s dominance. They will be looking for some sign that their battles have not been in vain. If I can make it clear that I’m still defying the Capitol right up to the end, the Capitol will have killed me … but not my spirit. What better way to give hope to the rebels? The beauty of this idea is that my decision to keep Peeta alive at the expense of my own life is itself an act of defiance. A refusal to play the Hunger Games by the Capitol’s rules. My private agenda dovetails completely with my public one. And if I really could save Peeta … in terms of a revolution, this would be ideal. Because I will be more valuable dead. They can turn me into some kind of martyr for the cause and paint my face on banners, and it will do more to rally people than anything I could do if I was living. But Peeta would be more valuable alive, and tragic, because he will be able to turn his pain into words that will transform people. Peeta would lose it if he knew I was thinking any of this, so I only say, “So what should we do with our last few days?”

“I just want to spend every possible minute of the rest of my life with you,” Peeta replies.

“Come on, then,” I say, pulling him into my room.

It feels like such a luxury, sleeping with Peeta again. I didn’t realize until now how starved I’ve been for human closeness. For the feel of him beside me in the darkness. I wish I hadn’t wasted the last couple of nights shutting him out. I sink down into sleep, enveloped in his warmth, and when I open my eyes again, daylight’s streaming through the windows.

“No nightmares,” he says.

“No nightmares,” I confirm. “You?”

“None. I’d forgotten what a real night’s sleep feels like,” he says.

We lie there for a while, in no rush to begin the day. Tomorrow night will be the televised interview, so today Effie and Haymitch should be coaching us. More high heels and sarcastic comments, I think. But then the redheaded Avox girl comes in with a note from Effie saying that, given our recent tour, both she and Haymitch have agreed we can handle ourselves adequately in public. The coaching sessions have been canceled.

“Really?” says Peeta, taking the note from my hand and examining it. “Do you know what this means? We’ll have the whole day to ourselves.”

“It’s too bad we can’t go somewhere,” I say wistfully.

“Who says we can’t?” he asks.

The roof. We order a bunch of food, grab some blankets, and head up to the roof for a picnic. A daylong picnic in the flower garden that tinkles with wind chimes. We eat. We lie in the sun. I snap off hanging vines and use my newfound knowledge from training to practice knots and weave nets. Peeta sketches me. We make up a game with the force field that surrounds the roof - one of us throws an apple into it and the other person has to catch it.

No one bothers us. By late afternoon, I lie with my head on Peeta’s lap, making a crown of flowers while he fiddles with my hair, claiming he’s practicing his knots. After a while, his hands go still. “What?” I ask.

“I wish I could freeze this moment, right here, right now, and live in it forever,” he says.

Usually this sort of comment, the kind that hints of his undying love for me, makes me feel guilty and awful. But I feel so warm and relaxed and beyond worrying about a future I’ll never have, I just let the word slip out. “Okay.”

I can hear the smile in his voice. “Then you’ll allow it?”

“I’ll allow it,” I say.

His fingers go back to my hair and I doze off, but he rouses me to see the sunset. It’s a spectacular yellow and orange blaze behind the skyline of the Capitol. “I didn’t think you’d want to miss it,” he says.

“Thanks,” I say. Because I can count on my fingers the number of sunsets I have left, and I don’t want to miss any of them.

We don’t go and join the others for dinner, and no one summons us.

“I’m glad. I’m tired of making everyone around me so miserable,” says Peeta. “Everybody crying. Or Haymitch …” He doesn’t need to go on.

We stay on the roof until bedtime and then quietly slip down to my room without encountering anyone.

The next morning, we’re roused by my prep team. The sight of Peeta and me sleeping together is too much for Octavia, because she bursts into tears right away. “You remember what Cinna told us,” Venia says fiercely. Octavia nods and goes out sobbing.

Chapter 18 Peeta’s interview

As I pass Peeta, who’s headed for his interview, he doesn’t meet my eyes. I take my seat carefully, but aside from the puffs of smoke here and there, I seem unharmed, so I turn my attention to him. Caesar and Peeta have been a natural team since they first appeared together a year ago. Their easy give-and-take, comic timing, and ability to segue into heart-wrenching moments, like Peeta’s confession of love for me, have made them a huge success with the audience. They effortlessly open with a few jokes about fires and feathers and overcooking poultry. But anyone can see that Peeta is preoccupied, so Caesar directs the conversation right into the subject that’s on everyone’s minds. “So, Peeta, what was it like when, after all you’ve been through, you found out about the Quell?” asks Caesar. “I was in shock. I mean, one minute I’m seeing Katniss looking so beautiful in all these wedding gowns, and the next …” Peeta trails off. “You realized there was never going to be a wedding?” asks Caesar gently. Peeta pauses for a long moment, as if deciding something. He looks out at the spellbound audience, then at tin floor, then finally up at Caesar. “Caesar, do you think all our friends here can keep a secret?” An uncomfortable laugh emanates from the audience. What can he mean? Keep a secret from who? Our whole world is watching. “I feel quite certain of it,” says Caesar. “We’re already married,” says Peeta quietly. The crowd reacts in astonishment, and I have to bury my face in the folds of my skirt so they can’t see my confusion. Where on earth is he going with this? “But … how can that be?” asks Caesar. “Oh, it’s not an official marriage. We didn’t go to the Justice Building or anything. But we have this marriage ritual in District Twelve. I don’t know what it’s like in the other districts. But there’s this thing we do,” says Peeta, and he briefly describes the toasting. “Were your families there?” asks Caesar. “No, we didn’t tell anyone. Not even Haymitch. And Katniss’s mother would never have approved. But you see, we knew if we were married in the Capitol, there wouldn’t be a toasting. And neither of us really wanted to wait any longer. So one day, we just did it,” Peeta says. “And to us, we’re more married than any piece of paper or big party could make us.” “So this was before the Quell?” says Caesar. “Of course before the Quell. I’m sure we’d never have done it after we knew,” says Peeta, starting to get upset. “But who could’ve seen it coming? No one. We went through the Games, we were victors, everyone seemed so thrilled to see us together, and then out of nowhere - I mean, how could we anticipate a thing like that?” “You couldn’t, Peeta.” Caesar puts an arm around his shoulders. “As you say, no one could’ve. But I have to confess, I’m glad you two had at least a few months of happiness together.” Enormous applause. As if encouraged, I look up from my feathers and let the audience see my tragic smile of thanks. The residual smoke from the feathers has made my eyes teary, which adds a very nice touch. “I’m not glad,” says Peeta. “I wish we had waited until the whole thing was done officially.” This takes even Caesar aback. “Surely even a brief time is better than no time?” “Maybe I’d think that, too, Caesar,” says Peeta bitterly, “if it weren’t for the baby.” There. He’s done it again. Dropped a bomb that wipes out the efforts of every tribute who came before him. Well, maybe not. Maybe this year he has only lit the fuse on a bomb that the victors themselves have been building. Hoping someone would be able to detonate it. Perhaps thinking it would be me in my bridal gown. Not knowing how much I rely on Cinna’s talents, whereas Peeta needs nothing more than his wits. As the bomb explodes, it sends accusations of injustice and barbarism and cruelty flying out in every direction. Even the most Capitol-loving, Games-hungry, bloodthirsty person out there can’t ignore, at least for a moment, how horrific the whole thing is. I am pregnant. The audience can’t absorb the news right away. It has to strike them and sink in and be confirmed by other voices before they begin to sound like a herd of wounded animals, moaning, shrieking, calling for help. And me? I know my face is projected in a tight close-up on the screen, but I don’t make any effort to hide it. Because for a moment, even I am working through what Peeta has said. Isn’t it the thing I dreaded most about the wedding, about the future - the loss of my children to the Games? And it could be true now, couldn’t it? If I hadn’t spent my life building up layers of defenses until I recoil at even the suggestion of marriage or a family? Caesar can’t rein in the crowd again, not even when the buzzer sounds. Peeta nods his good-bye and comes back to his seat without any more conversation. I can see Caesar’s lips moving, but the place is in total chaos and I can’t hear a word. Only the blast of the anthem, cranked up so loud I can feel it vibrating through my bones, lets us know where we stand in the program. I automatically rise and, as I do, I sense Peeta reaching out for me. Tears run down his face as I take his hand. How real are the tears? Is this an acknowledgment that he has been stalked by the same fears that I have? That every victor has? Every parent in every district in Panem?

The moment we step off the elevator, Peeta grips my shoulders. “There isn’t much time, so tell me. Is there anything I have to apologize for?”

“Nothing,” I say. It was a big leap to take without my okay, but I’m just as glad I didn’t know, didn’t have time to second-guess him, to let any guilt over Gale detract from how I really feel about what Peeta did. Which is empowered.

We walk down the hallway. Peeta wants to stop by his room to shower off the makeup and meet me in a few minutes, but I won’t let him. I’m certain that if a door shuts between us, it will lock and I’ll have to spend the night without him. Besides, I have a shower in my room. I refuse to let go of his hand. Do we sleep? I don’t know. We spend the night holding each other, in some halfway land between dreams and waking. Not talking. Both afraid to disturb the other in the hope that we’ll be able to store up a few precious minutes of rest. Cinna and Portia arrive with the dawn, and I know Peeta will have to go. Tributes enter the arena alone. He gives me a light kiss. “See you soon,” he says.

See you soon 

Chapter  19

Finnick has reached Peeta now and is towing him back, one arm across his chest while the other propels them through the water with easy strokes. Peeta rides along without resisting. I don’t know what Finnick said or did that convinced him to put his life in his hands - showed him the bangle, maybe. Or just the sight of me waiting might have been enough. When they reach the sand, I help haul Peeta up onto dry land.

“Hello, again,” he says, and gives me a kiss. “We’ve got allies.”

“Yes. Just as Haymitch intended,” I answer. “Remind me, did we make deals with anyone else?” Peeta asks.

“Only Mags, I think,” I say. I nod toward the old woman doggedly making her way toward us.

“Well, I can’t leave Mags behind,” says Finnick. “She’s one of the few people who actually likes me.”

Chapter 19/20  Cpr is a kind of kissing 

I rush over to where he lies, motionless in a web of vines. “Peeta?” There’s a faint smell of singed hair. I call his name again, giving him a little shake, but he’s unresponsive. My fingers fumble across his lips, where there’s no warm breath although moments ago he was panting. I press my ear against his chest, to the spot where I always rest my head, where I know I will hear the strong and steady beat of his heart. Instead, I find silence.

“Peeta!” I scream. I shake him harder, even resort to slapping his face, but it’s no use. His heart has failed. I am slapping emptiness. “Peeta!” Finnick props Mags against a tree and pushes me out of the way. “Let me.” His fingers touch points at Peeta’s neck, run over the bones in his ribs and spine. Then he pinches Peeta’s nostrils shut. “No!” I yell, hurling myself at Finnick, for surely he intends to make certain that Peeta’s dead, to keep any hope of life from returning to him. Finnick’s hand comes up and hits me so hard, so squarely in the chest that I go flying back into a nearby tree trunk. I’m stunned for a moment, by the pain, by trying to regain my wind, as I see Finnick close off Peeta’s nose again. From where I sit, I pull an arrow, whip the notch into place, and am about to let it fly when I’m stopped by the sight of Finnick kissing Peeta. And it’s so bizarre, even for Finnick, that I stay my hand. No, he’s not kissing him. He’s got Peeta’s nose blocked off but his mouth tilted open, and he’s blowing air into his lungs. I can see this, I can actually see Peeta’s chest rising and falling. Then Finnick unzips the top of Peeta’s jumpsuit and begins to pump the spot over his heart with the heels of his hands. Now that I’ve gotten through my shock, I understand what he’s trying to do. Once in a blue moon, I’ve seen my mother try something similar, but not often. If your heart fails in District 12, it’s unlikely your family could get you to my mother in time, anyway. So her usual patients are burned or wounded or ill. Or starving, of course. But Finnick’s world is different. Whatever he’s doing, he’s done it before. There’s a very set rhythm and method. And I find the arrow tip sinking to the ground as I lean in to watch, desperately, for some sign of success. Agonizing minutes drag past as my hopes diminish. Around the time that I’m deciding it’s too late, that Peeta’s dead, moved on, unreachable forever, he gives a small cough and Finnick sits back. I leave my weapons in the dirt as I fling myself at him. “Peeta?” I say softly. I brush the damp blond strands of hair back from his forehead, find the pulse drumming against my fingers at his neck. His lashes flutter open and his eyes meet mine. “Careful,” he says weakly. “There’s a force field up ahead.” I laugh, but there are tears running down my cheeks. “Must be a lot stronger than the one on the Training Center roof,” he says. “I’m all right, though. Just a little shaken.” “You were dead! Your heart stopped!” I burst out, before really considering if this is a good idea. I clap my hand over my mouth because I’m starting to make those awful choking sounds that happen when I sob. “Well, it seems to be working now,” he says. “It’s all right, Katniss.” I nod my head but the sounds aren’t stopping. “Katniss?” Now Peeta’s worried about me, which adds to the insanity of it all. “It’s okay. It’s just her hormones,” says Finnick. “From the baby.” I look up and see him, sitting back on his knees but still panting a bit from the climb and the heat and the effort of bringing Peeta back from the dead. “No. It’s not - ” I get out, but I’m cut off by an even more hysterical round of sobbing that seems only to confirm what Finnick said about the baby. He meets my eyes and I glare at him through my tears. It’s stupid, I know, that his efforts make me so vexed. All I wanted was to keep Peeta alive, and I couldn’t and Finnick could, and I should be nothing but grateful. And I am. But I am also furious because it means that I will never stop owing Finnick Odair. Ever. So how can I kill him in his sleep? I expect to see a smug or sarcastic expression on his face, but his look is strangely quizzical. He glances between Peeta and me, as if trying to figure something out, then gives his head a slight shake as if to clear it. “How are you?” he asks Peeta. “Do you think you can move on?” I notice a gleam of gold on Peeta’s chest. I reach out and retrieve the disk that hangs from a chain around his neck. My mockingjay has been engraved on it. “Is this your token?” I ask. “Yes. Do you mind that I used your mockingjay? I wanted us to match,” he says. “No, of course I don’t mind.” I force a smile. Peeta showing up in the arena wearing a mockingjay is both a blessing and a curse. On the one hand, it should give a boost to the rebels in the district. On the other, it’s hard to imagine President Snow will overlook it, and that makes the job of keeping Peeta alive harder.

Chapter 24

know it’s stopped when I feel Peeta’s hands on me, feel myself lifted from the ground and out of the jungle. But I stay eyes squeezed shut, hands over my ears, muscles too rigid to release. Peeta holds me on his lap, speaking soothing words, rocking me gently. It takes a long time before I begin to relax the iron grip on my body. And when I do, the trembling begins. "It’s all right, Katniss,” he whispers. “You didn’t hear them,” I answer. “I heard Prim. Right in the beginning. But it wasn’t her,” he says. “It was a jabberjay.” “It was her. Somewhere. The jabberjay just recorded it,” I say. “No, that’s what they want you to think. The same way I wondered if Glimmer’s eyes were in that mutt last year. But those weren’t Glimmer’s eyes. And that wasn’t Prim’s voice. Or if it was, they took it from an interview or something and distorted the sound. Made it say whatever she was saying,” he says. “No, they were torturing her,” I answer. “She’s probably dead.” “Katniss, Prim isn’t dead. How could they kill Prim? We’re almost down to the final eight of us. And what happens then?” Peeta says. “Seven more of us die,” I say hopelessly. “No, back home. What happens when they reach the final eight tributes in the Games?” He lifts my chin so I have to look at him. Forces me to make eye contact. “What happens? At the final eight?” I know he’s trying to help me, so I make myself think. “At the final eight?” I repeat. “They interview your family and friends back home.” “That’s right,” says Peeta. “They interview your family and friends. And can they do that if they’ve killed them all?” “No?” I ask, still unsure. “No. That’s how we know Prim’s alive. She’ll be the first one they interview, won’t she?” he asks. I want to believe him. Badly. It’s just … those voices … “First Prim. Then your mother. Your cousin, Gale. Madge,” he continues. “It was a trick, Katniss. A horrible one. But we’re the only ones who can be hurt by it. We’re the ones in the Games. Not them.” “You really believe that?” I say. “I really do,” says Peeta. I waver, thinking of how Peeta can make anyone believe anything. I look over at Finnick for confirmation, see he’s fixated on Peeta, his words. “Do you believe it, Finnick?” I ask. “It could be true. I don’t know,” he says. “Could they do that, Beetee? Take someone’s regular voice and make it …” “Oh, yes. It’s not even that difficult, Finnick. Our children learn a similar technique in school,” says Beetee. “Of course Peeta’s right. The whole country adores Katniss’s little sister. If they really killed her like this, they’d probably have an uprising on their hands,” says Johanna flatly. “Don’t want that, do they?” She throws back her head and shouts, “Whole country in rebellion? Wouldn’t want anything like that!”

THE BEACH SCENE  Chapter 24 if your wondering

Peeta and I sit on the damp sand, facing away from each other, my right shoulder and hip pressed against his. I watch the water as he watches the jungle, which is better for me. I’m still haunted by the voices of the jabberjays, which unfortunately the insects can’t drown out. After a while I rest my head against his shoulder. Feel his hand caress my hair. “Katniss,” he says softly, “it’s no use pretending we don’t know what the other one is trying to do.” No, I guess there isn’t, but it’s no fun discussing it, either. Well, not for us, anyway. The Capitol viewers will be glued to their sets so they don’t miss one wretched word. “I don’t know what kind of deal you think you’ve made with Haymitch, but you should know he made me promises as well.” Of course, I know this, too. He told Peeta they could keep me alive so that he wouldn’t be suspicious. “So I think we can assume he was lying to one of us.” This gets my attention. A double deal. A double promise. With only Haymitch knowing which one is real. I raise my head, meet Peeta’s eyes. “Why are you saying this now?” “Because I don’t want you forgetting how different our circumstances are. If you die, and I live, there’s no life for me at all back in District Twelve. You’re my whole life,” he says. “I would never be happy again.” I start to object but he puts a finger to my lips. “It’s different for you. I’m not saying it wouldn’t be hard. But there are other people who’d make your life worth living.” Peeta pulls the chain with the gold disk from around his neck. He holds it in the moonlight so I can clearly see the mockingjay. Then his thumb slides along a catch I didn’t notice before and the disk pops open. It’s not solid, as I had thought, but a locket. And within the locket are photos. On the right side, my mother and Prim, laughing. And on the left, Gale. Actually smiling. There is nothing in the world that could break me faster at this moment than these three faces. After what I heard this afternoon … it is the perfect weapon. “Your family needs you, Katniss,” Peeta says. My family. My mother. My sister. And my pretend cousin Gale. But Peeta’s intention is clear. That Gale really is my family, or will be one day, if I live. That I’ll marry him. So Peeta’s giving me his life and Gale at the same time. To let me know I shouldn’t ever have doubts about it. Everything. That’s what Peeta wants me to take from him. I wait for him to mention the baby, to play to the cameras, but he doesn’t. And that’s how I know that none of this is part of the Games. That he is telling me the truth about what he feels. “No one really needs me,” he says, and there’s no self-pity in his voice. It’s true his family doesn’t need him. They will mourn him, as will a handful of friends. But they will get on. Even Haymitch, with the help of a lot of white liquor, will get on. I realize only one person will be damaged beyond repair if Peeta dies. Me. “I do,” I say. “I need you.” He looks upset, takes a deep breath as if to begin a long argument, and that’s no good, no good at all, because he’ll start going on about Prim and my mother and everything and I’ll just get confused. So before he can talk, I stop his lips with a kiss. I feel that thing again. The thing I only felt once before. In the cave last year, when I was trying to get Haymitch to send us food. I kissed Peeta about a thousand times during those Games and after. But there was only one kiss that made me feel something stir deep inside. Only one that made me want more. But my head wound started bleeding and he made me lie down. This time, there is nothing but us to interrupt us. And after a few attempts, Peeta gives up on talking. The sensation inside me grows warmer and spreads out from my chest, down through my body, out along my arms and legs, to the tips of my being. Instead of satisfying me, the kisses have the opposite effect, of making my need greater. I thought I was something of an expert on hunger, but this is an entirely new kind. “I can’t sleep anymore,” he says. “One of you should rest.” Only then does he seem to notice our expressions, the way we’re wrapped around each other. “Or both of you. I can watch alone.” Peeta won’t let him, though. “It’s too dangerous,” he says. “I’m not tired. You lie down, Katniss.” I don’t object because I do need to sleep if I’m to be of any use keeping him alive. I let him lead me over to where the others are. He puts the chain with the locket around my neck, then rests his hand over the spot where our baby would be. “You’re going to make a great mother, you know,” he says. He kisses me one last time and goes back to Finnick. His reference to the baby signals that our time-out from the Games is over. That he knows the audience will be wondering why he hasn’t used the most persuasive argument in his arsenal. That sponsors must be manipulated. But as I stretch out on the sand I wonder, could it be more? Like a reminder to me that I could still one day have kids with Gale? Well, if that was it, it was a mistake. Because for one thing, that’s never been part of my plan. And for another, if only one of us can be a parent, anyone can see it should be Peeta. As I drift off, I try to imagine that world, somewhere in the future, with no Games, no Capitol. A place like the meadow in the song I sang to Rue as she died. Where Peeta’s child could be safe

Chapter 25

Peeta rinses the pearl off in the water and hands it to me. “For you.” I hold it out on my palm and examine its iridescent surface in the sunlight. Yes, I will keep it. For the few remaining hours of my life I will keep it close. This last gift from Peeta. The only one I can really accept. Perhaps it will give me strength in the final moments. “Thanks,” I say, closing my fist around it. I look coolly into the blue eyes of the person who is now my greatest opponent, the person who would keep me alive at his own expense. And I promise myself I will defeat his plan. The laughter drains from those eyes, and they are staring so intensely into mine, it’s like they can read my thoughts. “The locket didn’t work, did it?” Peeta says, even though Finnick is right there. Even though everyone can hear him. “Katniss?” “It worked,” I say. “But not the way I wanted it to,” he says, averting his glance. After that he will look at nothing but oysters.

I have the pearl, though, secured in a parachute with the spile and the medicine at my waist. I hope it makes it back to District 12. Surely my mother and Prim will know to return it to Peeta before they bury my body.

Chapter 26  

I don’t like the plan any more than Peeta does. How can I protect him at a distance? But Beetee’s right. With his leg, Peeta is too slow to make it down the slope in time. Johanna and I are the fastest and most sure-footed on the jungle floor. I can’t think of any alternative. And if I trust anyone here besides Peeta, it’s Beetee. “It’s okay,” I tell Peeta. “We’ll just drop the coil and come straight back up.” “Not into the lightning zone,” Beetee reminds me. “Head for the tree in the one-to-two-o'clock sector. If you find you’re running out of time, move over one more. Don’t even think about going back on the beach, though, until I can assess the damage.” I take Peeta’s face in my hands. “Don’t worry. I’ll see you at midnight.” I give him a kiss and, before he can object any further, I let go and turn to Johanna. “Ready?”

Mockingjay .

Chapter 3

I feel around for the parachute and slide my fingers inside until they close around the pearl. I sit back on my bed cross-legged and find myself rubbing the smooth iridescent surface of the pearl back and forth against my lips. For some reason, it’s soothing. A cool kiss from the giver himself.

skim my list. “Gale. I’ll need him with me to do this.” “With you how? Off camera? By your side at all times? Do you want him presented as your new lover?” Coin asks. She hasn’t said this with any particular malice - quite the contrary, her words are very matter-of-fact. But my mouth still drops open in shock. “What?” “I think we should continue the current romance. A quick defection from Peeta could cause the audience to lose sympathy for her,” says Plutarch. “Especially since they think she’s pregnant with his child.” “Agreed. So, on-screen, Gale can simply be portrayed as a fellow rebel. Is that all right?” says Coin. I just stare at her. She repeats herself impatiently. “For Gale. Will that be sufficient?” “We can always work him in as your cousin,” says Fulvia.

“We’re not cousins,” Gale and I say together.

“Right, but we should probably keep that up for appearances’ sake on camera,” says Plutarch. “Off camera, he’s all yours. Anything else?”

I’m rattled by the turn in the conversation. The implications that I could so readily dispose of Peeta, that I’m in love with Gale, that the whole thing has been an act. My cheeks begin to burn. The very notion that I’m devoting any thought to who I want presented as my lover, given our current circumstances, is demeaning. I let my anger propel me into my greatest demand. “When the war is over, if we’ve won, Peeta will be pardoned.”

Dead silence. I feel Gale’s body tense. I guess I should have told him before, but I wasn’t sure how he’d respond. Not when it involved Peeta.

“No form of punishment will be inflicted,” I continue. A new thought occurs to me. “The same goes for the other captured tributes, Johanna and Enobaria.” Frankly, I don’t care about Enobaria, the vicious District 2 tribute. In fact, I dislike her, but it seems wrong to leave her out.

“No,” says Coin flatly.

“Yes,” I shoot back. “It’s not their fault you abandoned them in the arena. Who knows what the Capitol’s doing to them?”

“They’ll be tried with other war criminals and treated as the tribunal sees fit,” she says.

“They’ll be granted immunity!” I feel myself rising from my chair, my voice full and resonant. “You will personally pledge this in front of the entire population of District Thirteen and the remainder of Twelve. Soon. Today. It will be recorded for future generations. You will hold yourself and your government responsible for their safety, or you’ll find yourself another Mockingjay!”

My words hang in the air for a long moment.

Chapter 16

“Always.” In the twilight of morphling, Peeta whispers the word and I go searching for him. It’s a gauzy, violet-tinted world, with no hard edges, and many places to hide. I push through cloud banks, follow faint tracks, catch the scent of cinnamon, of dill. Once I feel his hand on my cheek and try to trap it, but it dissolves like mist through my fingers.

I wish I could meet with Peeta privately. But the audience of doctors has assembled behind the one-way glass, clipboards ready, pens poised. When Haymitch gives me the okay in my earpiece, I slowly open the door. Those blue eyes lock on me instantly. He’s got three restraints on each arm, and a tube that can dispense a knockout drug just in case he loses control. He doesn’t fight to free himself, though, only observes me with the wary look of someone who still hasn’t ruled out that he’s in the presence of a mutt. I walk over until I’m standing about a yard from the bed. There’s nothing to do with my hands, so I cross my arms protectively over my ribs before I speak. “Hey.” “Hey,” he responds. It’s like his voice, almost his voice, except there’s something new in it. An edge of suspicion and reproach. “Haymitch said you wanted to talk to me,” I say. “Look at you, for starters.” It’s like he’s waiting for me to transform into a hybrid drooling wolf right before his eyes. He stares so long I find myself casting furtive glances at the one-way glass, hoping for some direction from Haymitch, but my earpiece stays silent. “You’re not very big, are you? Or particularly pretty?” I know he’s been through hell and back, and yet somehow the observation rubs me the wrong way. “Well, you’ve looked better.” Haymitch’s advice to back off gets muffled by Peeta’s laughter. “And not even remotely nice. To say that to me after all I’ve been through.” “Yeah. We’ve all been through a lot. And you’re the one who was known for being nice. Not me.” I’m doing everything wrong. I don’t know why I feel so defensive. He’s been tortured! He’s been hijacked! What’s wrong with me? Suddenly, I think I might start screaming at him - I’m not even sure about what - so I decide to get out of there. “Look, I don’t feel so well. Maybe I’ll drop by tomorrow.” I’ve just reached the door when his voice stops me. “Katniss. I remember about the bread.” The bread. Our one moment of real connection before the Hunger Games. “They showed you the tape of me talking about it,” I say. “No. Is there a tape of you talking about it? Why didn’t the Capitol use it against me?” he asks. “I made it the day you were rescued,” I answer. The pain in my chest wraps around my ribs like a vise. The dancing was a mistake. “So what do you remember?” “You. In the rain,” he says softly. “Digging in our trash bins. Burning the bread. My mother hitting me. Taking the bread out for the pig but then giving it to you instead.” “That’s it. That’s what happened,” I say. “The next day, after school, I wanted to thank you. But I didn’t know how.” “We were outside at the end of the day. I tried to catch your eye. You looked away. And then…for some reason, I think you picked a dandelion.” I nod. He does remember. I have never spoken about that moment aloud. “I must have loved you a lot.” “You did.” My voice catches and I pretend to cough. “And did you love me?” he asks. I keep my eyes on the tiled floor. “Everyone says I did. Everyone says that’s why Snow had you tortured. To break me.” “That’s not an answer,” he tells me. “I don’t know what to think when they show me some of the tapes. In that first arena, it looked like you tried to kill me with those tracker jackers.” “I was trying to kill all of you,” I say. “You had me treed.” “Later, there’s a lot of kissing. Didn’t seem very genuine on your part. Did you like kissing me?” he asks. “Sometimes,” I admit. “You know people are watching us now?” “I know. What about Gale?” he continues. My anger’s returning. I don’t care about his recovery - this isn’t the business of the people behind the glass. “He’s not a bad kisser either,” I say shortly. “And it was okay with both of us? You kissing the other?” he asks. “No. It wasn’t okay with either of you. But I wasn’t asking your permission,” I tell him. Peeta laughs again, coldly, dismissively. “Well, you’re a piece of work, aren’t you?” Haymitch doesn’t protest when I walk out. Down the hall. Through the beehive of compartments. Find a warm pipe to hide behind in a laundry room. It takes a long time before I get to the bottom of why I’m so upset. When I do, it’s almost too mortifying to admit. All those months of taking it for granted that Peeta thought I was wonderful are over. Finally, he can see me for who I really am. Violent. Distrustful. Manipulative. Deadly. And I hate him for it.

Chapter 18 

I consider saying a final good-bye to Peeta, decide it would only be bad for both of us. But I do slip the pearl into the pocket of my uniform. A token of the boy with the bread.

Chapter 19 

After about an hour, Peeta speaks up. “These last couple of years must have been exhausting for you. Trying to decide whether to kill me or not. Back and forth. Back and forth.” That seems grossly unfair, and my first impulse is to say something cutting. But I revisit my conversation with Haymitch and try to take the first tentative step in Peeta’s direction. “I never wanted to kill you. Except when I thought you were helping the Careers kill me. After that, I always thought of you as…an ally.” That’s a good safe word. Empty of any emotional obligation, but nonthreatening. “Ally.” Peeta says the word slowly, tasting it. “Friend. Lover. Victor. Enemy. Fiancee. Target. Mutt. Neighbor. Hunter. Tribute. Ally. I’ll add it to the list of words I use to try to figure you out.” He weaves the rope in and out of his fingers. “The problem is, I can’t tell what’s real anymore, and what’s made up.” The cessation of rhythmic breathing suggests that either people have woken or have never really been asleep at all. I suspect the latter.

At a few minutes before four, Peeta turns to me again. “Your favorite color…it’s green?” “That’s right.” Then I think of something to add. “And yours is orange.” “Orange?” He seems unconvinced. “Not bright orange. But soft. Like the sunset,” I say. “At least, that’s what you told me once.” “Oh.” He closes his eyes briefly, maybe trying to conjure up that sunset, then nods his head. “Thank you.” But more words tumble out. “You’re a painter. You’re a baker. You like to sleep with the windows open. You never take sugar in your tea. And you always double-knot your shoelaces.” Then I dive into my tent before I do something stupid like cry.

Chapter 21

 Peeta buries his face in his hands for a few moments, then rises to join us. “Should we free his hands?” asks Leeg 1. “No!” Peeta growls at her, drawing his cuffs in close to his body. “No,” I echo. “But I want the key.” Jackson passes it over without a word. I slip it into my pants pocket, where it clicks against the pearl.

In the fluorescent light, the circles under his eyes look like bruises. “There’s still time. You should sleep.” Unresisting, he lies back down, but just stares at the needle on one of the dials as it twitches from side to side. Slowly, as I would with a wounded animal, my hand stretches out and brushes a wave of hair from his forehead. He freezes at my touch, but doesn’t recoil. So I continue to gently smooth back his hair. It’s the first time I have voluntarily touched him since the last arena. “You’re still trying to protect me. Real or not real,” he whispers. “Real,” I answer. It seems to require more explanation. “Because that’s what you and I do. Protect each other.” After a minute or so, he drifts off to sleep.

Chapter 22

“Leave me,” he whispers. “I can’t hang on.” “Yes. You can!” I tell him. Peeta shakes his head. “I’m losing it. I’ll go mad. Like them.” Like the mutts. Like a rabid beast bent on ripping my throat out. And here, finally here in this place, in these circumstances, I will really have to kill him. And Snow will win. Hot, bitter hatred courses through me. Snow has won too much already today. It’s a long shot, it’s suicide maybe, but I do the only thing I can think of. I lean in and kiss Peeta full on the mouth. His whole body starts shuddering, but I keep my lips pressed to his until I have to come up for air. My hands slide up his wrists to clasp his. “Don’t let him take you from me.” Peeta’s panting hard as he fights the nightmares raging in his head. “No. I don’t want to…” I clench his hands to the point of pain. “Stay with me.” His pupils contract to pinpoints, dilate again rapidly, and then return to something resembling normalcy. “Always,” he murmurs

Chapter 23

I think it’s time I give myself up. When everyone finally awakens, I confess. How I lied about the mission, how I jeopardized everyone in pursuit of revenge. There’s a long silence after I finish. Then Gale says, “Katniss, we all knew you were lying about Coin sending you to assassinate Snow.” “You knew, maybe. The soldiers from Thirteen didn’t,” I reply.

“Do you really think Jackson believed you had orders from Coin?” Cressida asks. “Of course she didn’t. But she trusted Boggs, and he’d clearly wanted you to go on.”

“I never even told Boggs what I planned to do,” I say.

“You told everyone in Command!” Gale says. “It was one of your conditions for being the Mockingjay. 'I kill Snow.’”

Those seem like two disconnected things. Negotiating with Coin for the privilege of executing Snow after the war and this unauthorized flight through the Capitol. “But not like this,” I say. “It’s been a complete disaster.”

“I think it would be considered a highly successful mission,” says Gale. “We’ve infiltrated the enemy camp, showing that the Capitol’s defenses can be breached. We’ve managed to get footage of ourselves all over the Capitol’s news. We’ve thrown the whole city into chaos trying to find us.”

“Trust me, Plutarch’s thrilled,” Cressida adds.

“That’s because Plutarch doesn’t care who dies,” I say. “Not as long as his Games are a success.”

Cressida and Gale go round and round trying to convince me. Pollux nods at their words to back them up. Only Peeta doesn’t offer an opinion.

“What do you think, Peeta?” I finally ask him.

“I think…you still have no idea. The effect you can have.” He slides his cuffs up the support and pushes himself to a sitting position. “None of the people we lost were idiots. They knew what they were doing. They followed you because they believed you really could kill Snow.”

I don’t know why his voice reaches me when no one else’s can. But if he’s right, and I think he is, I owe the others a debt that can only be repaid in one way. I pull my paper map from a pocket in my uniform and spread it out on the floor with new resolve. “Where are we, Cressida?”

Chapter 27

I wake with a start. Pale morning light comes around the edges of the shutters. The scraping of the shovel continues. Still half in the nightmare, I run down the hall, out the front door, and around the side of the house, because now I’m pretty sure I can scream at the dead. When I see him, I pull up short. His face is flushed from digging up the ground under the windows. In a wheelbarrow are five scraggly bushes. “You’re back,” I say. “Dr. Aurelius wouldn’t let me leave the Capitol until yesterday,” Peeta says. “By the way, he said to tell you he can’t keep pretending he’s treating you forever. You have to pick up the phone.” He looks well. Thin and covered with burn scars like me, but his eyes have lost that clouded, tortured look. He’s frowning slightly, though, as he takes me in. I make a halfhearted effort to push my hair out of my eyes and realize it’s matted into clumps. I feel defensive. “What are you doing?” “I went to the woods this morning and dug these up. For her,” he says. “I thought we could plant them along the side of the house.” I look at the bushes, the clods of dirt hanging from their roots, and catch my breath as the wordrose registers. I’m about to yell vicious things at Peeta when the full name comes to me. Not plain rose but evening primrose. The flower my sister was named for. I give Peeta a nod of assent and hurry back into the house, locking the door behind me. But the evil thing is inside, not out. Trembling with weakness and anxiety, I run up the stairs. My foot catches on the last step and I crash onto the floor. I force myself to rise and enter my room. The smell’s very faint but still laces the air. It’s there. The white rose among the dried flowers in the vase. Shriveled and fragile, but holding on to that unnatural perfection cultivated in Snow’s greenhouse. I grab the vase, stumble down to the kitchen, and throw its contents into the embers. As the flowers flare up, a burst of blue flame envelops the rose and devours it. Fire beats roses again. I smash the vase on the floor for good measure.

Slowly, with many lost days, I come back to life. I try to follow Dr. Aurelius’s advice, just going through the motions, amazed when one finally has meaning again. I tell him my idea about the book, and a large box of parchment sheets arrives on the next train from the Capitol. I got the idea from our family’s plant book. The place where we recorded those things you cannot trust to memory. The page begins with the person’s picture. A photo if we can find it. If not, a sketch or painting by Peeta. Then, in my most careful handwriting, come all the details it would be a crime to forget. Lady licking Prim’s cheek. My father’s laugh. Peeta’s father with the cookies. The color of Finnick’s eyes. What Cinna could do with a length of silk. Boggs reprogramming the Holo. Rue poised on her toes, arms slightly extended, like a bird about to take flight. On and on. We seal the pages with salt water and promises to live well to make their deaths count. Haymitch finally joins us, contributing twenty-three years of tributes he was forced to mentor. Additions become smaller. An old memory that surfaces. A late primrose preserved between the pages. Strange bits of happiness, like the photo of Finnick and Annie’s newborn son. We learn to keep busy again. Peeta bakes. I hunt. Haymitch drinks until the liquor runs out, and then raises geese until the next train arrives. Fortunately, the geese can take pretty good care of themselves. We’re not alone. A few hundred others return because, whatever has happened, this is our home. With the mines closed, they plow the ashes into the earth and plant food. Machines from the Capitol break ground for a new factory where we will make medicines. Although no one seeds it, the Meadow turns green again. Peeta and I grow back together. There are still moments when he clutches the back of a chair and hangs on until the flashbacks are over. I wake screaming from nightmares of mutts and lost children. But his arms are there to comfort me. And eventually his lips. On the night I feel that thing again, the hunger that overtook me on the beach, I know this would have happened anyway. That what I need to survive is not Gale’s fire, kindled with rage and hatred. I have plenty of fire myself. What I need is the dandelion in the spring. The bright yellow that means rebirth instead of destruction. The promise that life can go on, no matter how bad our losses. That it can be good again. And only Peeta can give me that. So after, when he whispers, “You love me. Real or not real?” I tell him, “Real.”

epilogue

They play in the Meadow. The dancing girl with the dark hair and blue eyes. The boy with blond curls and gray eyes, struggling to keep up with her on his chubby toddler legs. It took five, ten, fifteen years for me to agree. But Peeta wanted them so badly. When I first felt her stirring inside of me, I was consumed with a terror that felt as old as life itself. Only the joy of holding her in my arms could tame it. Carrying him was a little easier, but not much. The questions are just beginning. The arenas have been completely destroyed, the memorials built, there are no more Hunger Games. But they teach about them at school, and the girl knows we played a role in them. The boy will know in a few years. How can I tell them about that world without frightening them to death? My children, who take the words of the song for granted:

Deep in the meadow, under the willow A bed of grass, a soft green pillow Lay down your head, and close your sleepy eyes And when again they open, the sun will rise. Here it’s safe, here it’s warm

Here the daisies guard you from every harm

Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true

Here is the place where I love you.

My children, who don’t know they play on a graveyard.

Peeta says it will be okay. We have each other. And the book. We can make them understand in a way that will make them braver. But one day I’ll have to explain about my nightmares. Why they came. Why they won’t ever really go away.

I’ll tell them how I survive it. I’ll tell them that on bad mornings, it feels impossible to take pleasure in anything because I’m afraid it could be taken away. That’s when I make a list in my head of every act of goodness I’ve seen someone do. It’s like a game. Repetitive. Even a little tedious after more than twenty years.

But there are much worse games to play.

And Because I am a super Petty Person Gales   Kisses will be added below 

"If only it were that simple." He picks up one of the flowered cookies and examines it. "Lovely. Your mother made these?" "Peeta." And for the first time, I find I can't hold his gaze. I reach for my tea but set it back down when I hear the cup rattling against the saucer. To cover I quickly take a cookie. "Peeta. How is the love of your life?" he asks. "Good," I say. "At what point did he realize the exact degree of your indifference?" he asks, dipping his cookie in his tea. "I'm not indifferent," I say. "But perhaps not as taken with the young man as you would have the country believe," he says. "Who says I'm not?" I say. "I do," says the president. "And I wouldn't be here if I were the only person who had doubts. How's the handsome cousin?" "I don't know ... I don't ..." My revulsion at this conversation, at discussing my feelings for two of the people I care most about with President Snow, chokes me off. "Speak, Miss Everdeen. Him I can easily kill off if we don't come to a happy resolution," he says. "You aren't doing him a favor by disappearing into the woods with him each Sunday." If he knows this, what else does he know? And how does he know it? Many people could tell him that Gale and I spend our Sundays hunting. Don't we show up at the end of each one loaded down with game? Haven't we for years? The real question is what he thinks goes on in the woods beyond District 12. Surely they haven't been tracking us in there. Or have they? Could we have been followed? That seems impossible. At least by a person. Cameras? That never crossed my mind until this moment. The woods have always been our place of safety, our place beyond the reach of the Capitol, where we're free to say what we feel, be who we are. At least before the Games. If we've been watched since, what have they seen? Two people hunting, saying treasonous things against the Capitol, yes. But not two people in love, which seems to be President Snow's implication. We are safe on that charge. Unless ... unless ... It only happened once. It was fast and unexpected, but it did happen. After Peeta and I got home from the Games, it was several weeks before I saw Gale alone. First there were the obligatory celebrations. A banquet for the victors that only the most high-ranking people were invited to. A holiday for the whole district with free food and entertainers brought in from the Capitol. Parcel Day, the first of twelve, in which food packages were delivered to every person in the district. That was my favorite. To see all those hungry kids in the Seam running around, waving cans of applesauce, tins of meat, even candy. Back home, too big to carry, would be bags of grain, cans of oil. To know that once a month for a year they would all receive another parcel. That was one of the few times I actually felt good about winning the Games. So between the ceremonies and events and the reporters documenting my every move as I presided and thanked and kissed Peeta for the audience, I had no privacy at all. After a few weeks, things finally died down. The camera crews and reporters packed up and went home. Peeta and I assumed the cool relationship we've had ever since. My family settled into our house in the Victor's Village. The everyday life of District 12 - workers to the mines, kids to school - resumed its usual pace. I waited until I thought the coast was really clear, and then one Sunday, without telling anyone, I got up hours before dawn and took off for the woods. The weather was still warm enough that I didn't need a jacket. I packed along a bag filled with special foods, cold chicken and cheese and bakery bread and oranges. Down at my old house, I put on my hunting boots. As usual, the fence was not charged and it was simple to slip into the woods and retrieve my bow and arrows. I went to our place, Gale's and mine, where we had shared breakfast the morning of the reaping that sent me into the Games. I waited at least two hours. I'd begun to think that he'd given up on me in the weeks that had passed. Or that he no longer cared about me. Hated me even. And the idea of losing him forever, my best friend, the only person I'd ever trusted with my secrets, was so painful I couldn't stand it. Not on top of everything else that had happened. I could feel my eyes tearing up and my throat starting to close the way it does when I get upset. Then I looked up and there he was, ten feet away, just watching me. Without even thinking, I jumped up and threw my arms around him, making some weird sound that combined laughing, choking, and crying. He was holding me so tightly that I couldn't see his face, but it was a really long time before he let me go and then he didn't have much choice, because I'd gotten this unbelievably loud case of the hiccups and had to get a drink. We did what we always did that day. Ate breakfast. Hunted and fished and gathered. Talked about people in town. But not about us, his new life in the mines, my time in the arena. Just about other things. By the time we were at the hole in the fence that's nearest the Hob, I think I really believed that things could be the same. That we could go on as we always had. I'd given all the game to Gale to trade since we had so much food now. I told him I'd skip the Hob, even though I was looking forward to going there, because my mother and sister didn't even know I'd gone hunting and they'd be wondering where I was. Then suddenly, as I was suggesting I take over the daily snare run, he took my face in his hands and kissed me. I was completely unprepared. You would think that after all the hours I'd spent with Gale - watching him talk and laugh and frown - that I would know all there was to know about his lips. But I hadn't imagined how warm they would feel pressed against my own. Or how those hands, which could set the most intricate of snares, could as easily entrap me. I think I made some sort of noise in the back of my throat, and I vaguely remember my fingers, curled tightly closed, resting on his chest. Then he let go and said, "I had to do that. At least once." And he was gone. Despite the fact that the sun was setting and my family would be worried, I sat by a tree next to the fence. I tried to decide how I felt about the kiss, if I had liked it or resented it, but all I really remembered was the pressure of Gale's lips and the scent of the oranges that still lingered on his skin. It was pointless comparing it with the many kisses I'd exchanged with Peeta. I still hadn't figured out if any of those counted. Finally I went home. That week I managed the snares and dropped off the meat with Hazelle. But I didn't see Gale until Sunday. I had this whole speech worked out, about how I didn't want a boyfriend and never planned on marrying, but I didn't end up using it. Gale acted as if the kiss had never happened. Maybe he was waiting for me to say something. Or kiss him back. Instead I just pretended it had never happened, either. But it had. Gale had shattered some invisible barrier between us and, with it, any hope I had of resuming our old, uncomplicated friendship. Whatever I pretended, I could never look at his lips in quite the same way. This all flashes through my head in an instant as President Snow's eyes bore into me on the heels of his threat to kill Gale. How stupid I've been to think the Capitol would just ignore me once I'd returned home! Maybe I didn't know about the potential uprisings. But I knew they were angry with me. Instead of acting with the extreme caution the situation called for, what have I done? From the president's point of view, I've ignored Peeta and flaunted my preference for Gale's company before the whole district. And by doing so made it clear I was, in fact, mocking the Capitol. Now I've endangered Gale and his family and my family and Peeta, too, by my carelessness. "Please don't hurt Gale," I whisper. "He's just my friend. He's been my friend for years. That's all that's between us. Besides, everyone thinks we're cousins now." "I'm only interested in how it affects your dynamic with Peeta, thereby affecting the mood in the districts," he says. "It will be the same on the tour. I'll be in love with him just as I was," I say. "Just as you are," corrects President Snow. "Just as I am," I confirm.

For the first time, I reverse our positions in my head. I imagine watching Gale volunteering to save Rory in the reaping, having him torn from my life, becoming some strange girl's lover to stay alive, and then coming home with her. Living next to her. Promising to marry her. The hatred I feel for him, for the phantom girl, for everything, is so real and immediate that it chokes me. Gale is mine. I am his. Anything else is unthinkable. Why did it take him being whipped within an inch of his life to see it? Because I'm selfish. I'm a coward. I'm the kind of girl who, when she might actually be of use, would run to stay alive and leave those who couldn't follow to suffer and die. This is the girl Gale met in the woods today. No wonder I won the Games. No decent person ever does. You saved Peeta, I think weakly. But now I question even that. I knew good and well that my life back in District 12 would be unlivable if I let that boy die. I rest my head forward on the edge of the table, overcome with loathing for myself. Wishing I had died in the arena. Wishing Seneca Crane had blown me to bits the way President Snow said he should have when I held out the berries. The berries. I realize the answer to who I am lies in that handful of poisonous fruit. If I held them out to save Peeta because I knew I would be shunned if I came back without him, then I am despicable. If I held them out because I loved him, I am still self-centered, although forgivable. But if I held them out to defy the Capitol, I am someone of worth. The trouble is, I don't know exactly what was going on inside me at that moment. Could it be the people in the districts are right? That it was an act of rebellion, even if it was an unconscious one? Because, deep down, I must know it isn't enough to keep myself, or my family, or my friends alive by running away. Even if I could. It wouldn't fix anything. It wouldn't stop people from being hurt the way Gale was today. Life in District 12 isn't really so different from life in the arena. At some point, you have to stop running and turn around and face whoever wants you dead. The hard thing is finding the courage to do it. Well, it's not hard for Gale. He was born a rebel. I'm the one making an escape plan. "I'm so sorry," I whisper. I lean forward and kiss him. His eyelashes flutter and he looks at me through a haze of opiates. "Hey, Catnip." "Hey, Gale," I say. "Thought you'd be gone by now," he says. My choices are simple. I can die like quarry in the woods or I can die here beside Gale. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm going to stay right here and cause all kinds of trouble." "Me, too," Gale says. He just manages a smile before the drugs pull him back under.

By the time we reach the town square, afternoon's sinking into evening. I take Cressida to the rubble of the bakery and ask her to film something. The only emotion I can muster is exhaustion. "Peeta, this is your home. None of your family has been heard of since the bombing. Twelve is gone. And you're calling for a cease-fire?" I look across the emptiness. "There's no one left to hear you." As we stand before the lump of metal that was the gallows, Cressida asks if either of us has ever been tortured. In answer, Gale pulls off his shirt and turns his back to the camera. I stare at the lash marks, and again hear the whistling of the whip, see his bloody figure hanging unconscious by his wrists. "I'm done," I announce. "I'll meet you at the Victor's Village. Something for...my mother." I guess I walked here, but the next thing I'm conscious of is sitting on the floor in front of the kitchen cabinets of our house in the Victor's Village. Meticulously lining ceramic jars and glass bottles into a box. Placing clean cotton bandages between them to prevent breaking. Wrapping bunches of dried flowers. Suddenly, I remember the rose on my dresser. Was it real? If so, is it still up there? I have to resist the temptation to check. If it's there, it will only frighten me all over again. I hurry with my packing. When the cabinets are empty, I rise to find that Gale has materialized in my kitchen. It's disturbing how soundlessly he can appear. He's leaning on the table, his fingers spread wide against the wood grain. I set the box between us. "Remember?" he asks. "This is where you kissed me." So the heavy dose of morphling administered after the whipping wasn't enough to erase that from his consciousness. "I didn't think you'd remember that," I say. "Have to be dead to forget. Maybe even not then," he tells me. "Maybe I'll be like that man in 'The Hanging Tree.' Still waiting for an answer." Gale, who I have never seen cry, has tears in his eyes. To keep them from spilling over, I reach forward and press my lips against his. We taste of heat, ashes, and misery. It's a surprising flavor for such a gentle kiss. He pulls away first and gives me a wry smile. "I knew you'd kiss me." "How?" I say. Because I didn't know myself. "Because I'm in pain," he says. "That's the only way I get your attention." He picks up the box. "Don't worry, Katniss. It'll pass." He leaves before I can answer. I'm too weary to work through his latest charge. I spend the short ride back to 13 curled up in a seat, trying to ignore Plutarch going on about one of his favorite subjects - weapons mankind no longer has at its disposal. High-flying planes, military satellites, cell disintegrators, drones, biological weapons with expiration dates. Brought down by the destruction of the atmosphere or lack of resources or moral squeamishness. You can hear the regret of a Head Gamemaker who can only dream of such toys, who must make do with hovercraft and land-to-land missiles and plain old guns.

Gale finds me when they arrive late one afternoon. I'm sitting on a log at the edge of my current village, plucking a goose. A dozen or so of the birds are piled at my feet. Great flocks of them have been migrating through here since I've arrived, and the pickings are easy. Without a word, Gale settles beside me and begins to relieve a bird of its feathers. We're through about half when he says, "Any chance we'll get to eat these?" "Yeah. Most go to the camp kitchen, but they expect me to give a couple to whoever I'm staying with tonight," I say. "For keeping me." "Isn't the honor of the thing enough?" he says. "You'd think," I reply. "But word's gotten out that mockingjays are hazardous to your health." We pluck in silence for a while longer. Then he says, "I saw Peeta yesterday. Through the glass." "What'd you think?" I ask. "Something selfish," says Gale. "That you don't have to be jealous of him anymore?" My fingers give a yank, and a cloud of feathers floats down around us. "No. Just the opposite." Gale pulls a feather out of my hair. "I thought...I'll never compete with that. No matter how much pain I'm in." He spins the feather between his thumb and forefinger. "I don't stand a chance if he doesn't get better. You'll never be able to let him go. You'll always feel wrong about being with me." "The way I always felt wrong kissing him because of you," I say. Gale holds my gaze. "If I thought that was true, I could almost live with the rest of it." "It is true," I admit. "But so is what you said about Peeta."

Gale makes a sound of exasperation. Nonetheless, after we've dropped off the birds and volunteered to go back to the woods to gather kindling for the evening fire, I find myself wrapped in his arms. His lips brushing the faded bruises on my neck, working their way to my mouth. Despite what I feel for Peeta, this is when I accept deep down that he'll never come back to me. Or I'll never go back to him. I'll stay in 2 until it falls, go to the Capitol and kill Snow, and then die for my trouble. And he'll die insane and hating me. So in the fading light I shut my eyes and kiss Gale to make up for all the kisses I've withheld, and because it doesn't matter anymore, and because I'm so desperately lonely I can't stand it. Gale's touch and taste and heat remind me that at least my body's still alive, and for the moment it's a welcome feeling. I empty my mind and let the sensations run through my flesh, happy to lose myself. When Gale pulls away slightly, I move forward to close the gap, but I feel his hand under my chin. "Katniss," he says. The instant I open my eyes, the world seems disjointed. This is not our woods or our mountains or our way. My hand automatically goes to the scar on my left temple, which I associate with confusion. "Now kiss me." Bewildered, unblinking, I stand there while he leans in and presses his lips to mine briefly. He examines my face closely. "What's going on in your head?"

"I don't know," I whisper back.

"Then it's like kissing someone who's drunk. It doesn't count," he says with a weak attempt at a laugh. He scoops up a pile of kindling and drops it in my empty arms, returning me to myself.

"How do you know?" I say, mostly to cover my embarrassment. "Have you kissed someone who's drunk?" I guess Gale could've been kissing girls right and left back in 12. He certainly had enough takers. I never thought about it much before.

He just shakes his head. "No. But it's not hard to imagine."

"So, you never kissed any other girls?" I ask.

"I didn't say that. You know, you were only twelve when we met. And a real pain besides. I did have a life outside of hunting with you," he says, loading up with firewood.

Suddenly, I'm genuinely curious. "Who did you kiss? And where?"

"Too many to remember. Behind the school, on the slag heap, you name it," he says.

I roll my eyes. "So when did I become so special? When they carted me off to the Capitol?"

"No. About six months before that. Right after New Year's. We were in the Hob, eating some slop of Greasy Sae's. And Darius was teasing you about trading a rabbit for one of his kisses. And I realized...I minded," he tells me.

I remember that day. Bitter cold and dark by four in the afternoon. We'd been hunting, but a heavy snow had driven us back into town. The Hob was crowded with people looking for refuge from the weather. Greasy Sae's soup, made with stock from the bones of a wild dog we'd shot a week earlier, was below her usual standards. Still, it was hot, and I was starving as I scooped it up, sitting cross-legged on her counter. Darius was leaning on the post of the stall, tickling my cheek with the end of my braid, while I smacked his hand away. He was explaining why one of his kisses merited a rabbit, or possibly two, since everyone knows redheaded men are the most virile. And Greasy Sae and I were laughing because he was so ridiculous and persistent and kept pointing out women around the Hob who he said had paid far more than a rabbit to enjoy his lips. "See? The one in the green muffler? Go ahead and ask her.If you need a reference."

A million miles from here, a billion days ago, this happened. "Darius was just joking around," I say.

"Probably. Although you'd be the last to figure out if he wasn't," Gale tells me. "Take Peeta. Take me. Or even Finnick. I was starting to worry he had his eye on you, but he seems back on track now."

"You don't know Finnick if you think he'd love me," I say.

Gale shrugs. "I know he was desperate. That makes people do all kinds of crazy things."

I can't help thinking that's directed at me.

Gale catches my arm before I can disappear. "So that's what you're thinking now?" I shrug. "Katniss, as your oldest friend, believe me when I say he's not seeing you as you really are." He kisses my cheek and goes.

[janicho88]

In This Together Part 3

 Pairing- Dean x Wife!Reader

Word count- 5821

Summary-Find out what these two have been up to for the last year. What obstacles are thrown at these two now?  

Warnings- Possible sick reader, hospital/doctors, little language, little angst, fluff, implied smut, talk of possible infertility, pregnancy.

A/N-This is the third part of my first fic.  It started as a oneshot but turned into more.  The first part of this story was written, because I needed someone like Dean at the time. This miniseries I guess you can call it, is very personal to me.  I’ve lived a majority of the first two parts. If you’ve read it you can see why I wanted someone like Dean to lean on.  In this part I wanted to give the reader something I don’t know if I’ll ever have. Thank you for reading! Pictures found on google.

Part 1     Part 2

 11 months later August 2021

Slowly opening your eyes back up, you were staring out the window of your fourth-floor hospital room. This time your window looked over the street below, every time you were on this floor you had a different view. Dean was still sitting in the bed next to you, you leaned your head on his shoulder as you thought back on the last year and everything that had happened.    

October 2020 came around and your doctor let you go off your birth control.  He knew you and Dean were trying, or more not trying to stop anything from happening.  You knew nothing would happen right away and didn’t want to get your hopes up, you were also trying to stay positive that nothing was going to go wrong with you again. You were due a win.  

You had been back to work for about four months now, there were still some things you were trying to get used to at the new store.  Because of the two surgeries you could wear down easily and were mostly five days a week trying to get up to six. You had already rearranged the office and some of the shelves in the kitchen area to make it more efficient, but some of your employees kept moving things on you so you had to redo them. It would take a good year for your foot to be back to normal which was February, but it would never be pain free. As long as it was better than before you were happy.

Halloween was coming close and Sam and Jess invited you over to their house again.  Since you and Dean didn’t have any other plans you decided to join them along with Dean’s parents.  Jake’s costume this year was an adorably fierce lion.

 With things still crazy in the world and covid still around there weren’t many trick or treaters. Unfortunately, this meant more candy for Dean.  Being a Saturday night Dean didn’t have to work the next morning. and you went in later on Sundays, so you stayed for a while.  After Jake went to bed the guys turned on the, All Saint’s Day, movies Dean loves.  They weren’t exactly your favorite so at least he could try and drag Sam into his madness this way.  Dean was enjoying his brother being a bit more into Halloween now that he had Jake around.   You bid them goodnight just before midnight and took your sugar high husband home, he wouldn’t be sleeping for a while.  

Thanksgiving was late again this year, so your parents had decided like last year to do their Christmas party the week before Thanksgiving again. Even though you were working less this year you somehow got distracted and got to planning late.  This meant the first two and half weeks of the month would be filled with baking.  The nice thing about the store you took over was the regular oven it had so you could do some of it there.  Although first things first, you had to assemble your as baking list.  The night after Halloween you were sitting on the couch with the Hallmark Channel playing its Countdown to Christmas. Computer in front of you with Pinterest pulled up.  Dean walked in from the kitchen during a commercial.

“Hey Sweetheart, what are you up to?  Anything good on?”

“Nine Lives of Christmas, is on. I’m looking..”

“No, Seriously Y/N? It’s the day after Halloween, and you’re watching Christmas movies?”

You turned and glared at him. “One, I have been watching Christmas movies whenever you weren’t around for the last week.  Two, you like this one so hush.  The guy is a fireman, your missed profession. Three, I’m trying to get into the Christmas mindset to put together my baking list.”

“Oh great, it’s that time of the year again. What crazy ideas are you going to come up with this year, actually wait, let me grab a beer first.”

You laughed as he walked back to the kitchen.  Dean might give you a hard time with the Christmas crazy baking list you come up with, but you also know he very much enjoys the sweets you bake.  You two had been dating since your freshman year of college and he was always your official taste tester.  Although anything pie related was his favorite.

“I think I’m going to just do round sugar cookies again, while I was off after surgery, I watched a cookie decorating class that showed how to paint the frosting with food coloring and alcohol.”

“That sounds like a mess,” you threw a pillow at him. “I mean great Sweetheart, I’m sure they will be amazing.”

“Keep talking Winchester, see how big a hole you can dig.  Here’s a recipe for mini pie like cookies, I co”

“Yes!”

“..uld try. Okay, adding to the list      https://www.pinterest.com/pin/518406607102183606/

You were bound and determined one year you would get these cupcakes done; just not sure this year would be it. https://www.pinterest.com/pin/174584923040748115/

“How about Christmas Cheesecake Cookies?”  You showed Dean the picture and this time he glared you.   https://www.pinterest.com/pin/174584923040791076/

“Do you remember the red and green Krinkle Cookies you did last year?  Your hands were dyed red and green and so was everything you touched while rolling them.  I’m voting no more dyed cookie dough.”

“Fine spoilsport.”

“How about you put the computer away and come to bed with me.”

“You’re heading to bed already it’s only, oh.  Be right there Babe,” quickly shutting everything off you chased after your husband to the bedroom.

The party was a little smaller this year, some people still weren’t all for getting together with people yet.  It was mostly family and some close friends.  Honestly, you preferred it that way, less entertaining you and your mom had to do, and the more you could relax and enjoy the night.   The best part about having this early, was your baking was now done, you had even gotten Dean to get the decorations out and most of the house was done.  You enjoyed cuddling on the couch with the Christmas lights glowing around you.  

Thanksgiving was once again split between both of your families.  You went to your dad’s mom for a late lunch and spent time with your family. Then headed over to John and Mary’s for well, for Dean dinner, you were still full, so you just picked at a few things.  After cleaning you ladies joined the guys in the living room where they were watching the game and supposed to be keeping an eye on Jake.  You and Jess talked sales you saw in the ads and tried to get gifts ideas out of Mary for her and John.  Like your mom, she wasn’t very helpful and just said you guys didn’t have to get them anything.  Usually you and your mom would hit a few stores tonight, but nothing was really open with everything going on.  The two of you had planned for the next day to get a few things before you both headed for work. It was nice to spend time with just your mom anyways.

Every year December seems to fly by, it was the second week now and you had been feeling a bit off, and more tired than usual.  According to Dean you had become a bit moody too. Which of course you snapped at him when he mentioned that. He’d been watching his step after that. One morning you were taking care of the dogs when you felt sick and had to run to the restroom.  You didn’t go into work that day, since you didn’t want to get anyone else sick, but felt fine as the day went on.  The next day at work you walked into the cooler and for some reason the dough smelled strong to you and you had to walk back out and get some fresh air.  You attributed it to yesterday’s stomachache.  Then the burping started again. Donna heard you at work and came over.

“What’s going on lady?”

“Something’s off, I haven’t been feeling well, I started throwing up and the burping restarted.”

“You know what you need to do right?”

“I know, but really Donna, can’t I catch a break.  I don’t know how Dean is going to take it if the doctor tells me there is another problem, I don’t know how I’m going to take it.”

“Okay, well before we send you into the operating room again, maybe you should see what the doctor has to say first.”

“That would be the logical thing to do, I prefer worst case scenario.”

That night when you got home from work you told Dean what was going on and when you called your doctor’s office, they actually had an opening on Friday and could get you in then. Dean was unable to go since Benny would be leaving that morning for a weeklong trip to see his wife’s family for an early Christmas.

The day of your appointment arrived, the nurse, Julie that took you back was your cousin’s friend who first introduced you to this doctor.  You two chatted on your way back to the room.  When you got to the room, she asked what was going on and when your last period was.  You explained your symptoms and how you were worried about another mass or fibroid. It had been over a month since your last, but you hadn’t been regular since your surgery and going off birth control. They took a blood and urine sample to send for tests before you saw the doctor.  The doctor pushed near your uterus to see if he could feel any bumps around there. He wanted you to get an ultrasound, so that was scheduled for Monday, your labs would be done then also.

It was a quiet weekend for you and Dean.  Monday rolled around and your appointment was that afternoon.  Dean was supposed to meet you at the hospital, where the doctor’s office was located, but was stuck in a meeting with a new supplier.  Since you were there for an ultrasound you were just supposed to see the tech who would do the test, but Julie was the one who came and got you.  She took you back to the ultrasound room.  When you were back, she told you the test results came back.  You left the doctor’s office in a bit of shock after scheduling your next appointment.  As you passed the mall on the way home you decided to make a quick stop.

That night during dinner Dean asked you what the doctor had to say.  When he called you after your appointment you said you were fine and would talk to him at home you didn’t want to discuss it over the phone.

“I’m going to need follow up appointments for the next few months, but everything is good.”

“If it’s good why do you need follow ups, what aren’t you telling me?”

You got up and went to get the package you picked up from the mall, handing it to Dean you sat back down.  He looked at you and back to the wrapped box.

“Open it.”

Ripping open the paper he looked at the open back and back to you.  “Wait, what?  Really?”

“Yes!”

You told Dean what happened at your appointment.  The results came back, and you were pregnant. Because of your history though, the doctor still wanted an ultrasound just to make sure there wasn’t a fibroid or a mass there.  They didn’t find any problems; the tech could just make out the embryonic sac the baby would be growing in.  They figured you were around 5 weeks, and due around August 14th.  Dean jumped up and grabbed you in his arms, tears were gathering in his eyes, he was so happy.

Later that night you were laying with Dean on the couch and he was going through his phone.

“Hey, the baby is about the size of an apple seed right now.  An apple seed, that’s smaller than my fingernail!”

You looked over at his phone and saw he was going through baby sites.  “Yes, that is tiny.”

“I can’t wait to see them in the activity walker car, they are going to love it like Jake does.”

“Dean, honey, you know we still have like 8 months till the baby is here, and then they aren’t going to be able to use that right away, right?”

“Yeah, well they still will one day.” He learned closer to your stomach, “right little on, can’t wait to play in the car walker daddy got you.”  You had tears in your eyes watching Dean talk to your baby, you had been so afraid this day would never come.

Wiping your eyes, “I thought you said you bought that for Jake?”  Knowing that was his excuse at the time, hoping one day it would by your child playing in it.

“Well, I, um,”

“It’s okay Dean, I get it.”

Sitting in the hospital bed you looked down at the little one in your arms, and still couldn’t believe how lucky you and Dean were to be here. Your mind went back to last year’s Holidays, and what happened after you found out you were pregnant.

The two of you debated on telling anyone about the baby yet, since it was early.  As excited as Dean was you didn’t know how long he could keep the secret.  You would only be seven weeks along at Christmas but decided to tell everyone Christmas Eve at your parents.  You were going to tell them like you told Dean.  You found some grandparent gifts for them to open. Since Sam had Jake it would be John and Mary’s second grandchild, but your parents first.

While playing games after dinner on Christmas Eve, you and Dean rigged a team game that had your parents all winning.  Handing each of them the gifts you picked up Dean grabbed the camera to record their reactions. It took a minute before it sank in, but everyone was so excited for you.  Mary and your mom rushed over to hug you while John and your dad congratulated Dean. The rest of the family joined in after the grandparents.

“The baby is the size of a blueberry now.” Dean proudly told everyone.

The two of you decided to have a quiet New Year’s Eve in.  Your parents, Dean’s along with Sam, Jess, and Jake came over for dinner, and games. The guys ended up in the basement watching some competition, while you ladies were watching the New Year’s countdown and talking babies.  On a trip upstairs Dean heard the conversation and informed everyone that the baby was now raspberry sized.

You had your 11-week ultrasound the Friday before Dean’s birthday.  You scheduled it then because you thought it would be an early birthday treat for him getting to see the baby.  They were going to confirm your due date, and there was a chance you would be able to hear the baby’s heartbeat.  Dean looked over at you with a smile when you were walking up and threw his arm around your waist.

“What?”

“You’re starting to show, I can’t wait till I can feel him kick.”

“Remind me when this kid is playing soccer in me, how happy you are about it then.”

He put his arm around your waist as you walked. “Yeah, yeah, come on I can’t wait to see our little prune.”

“I can’t wait till next week, and we’re on a different food.”

Dean was so excited he could barely sit still in the office.  They called you back and got you settled in the room before the tech came back to start.  She started and was running the wand over your stomach when she found the baby and pointed him out to you.  Dean grabbed your hand.

“Wow, Sweetheart, that’s our little one.”

“Yeah.”  You both had tears in your eyes.  

The tech turned on the volume so you could hear the heartbeat.  “There it is, wait a minute.” She was moving the wand again.

“What’s going on?” You worriedly asked.

“There’s another heartbeat.  Here, we have a shy one.”

Looking at the screen you saw another tiny dot.

“Wait, are you saying?”  You looked over at Dean and he was looking at the screen it hadn’t hit him yet.

“Congrats, you’re having twins!”

“Wwwhat?” Dean finally tuned into the conversation.

“Happy Birthday weekend dad, you’re getting two babies!” Dean’s look of shock wasn’t one you would be forgetting anytime soon.

Leaving the doctor’s office, you both were a mix of shock, nerves and excitement.  It was hard to tell which one was winning out right now.  You had the family over to the house for Dean’s birthday on Sunday and you let him share the news with everyone.  You also decided it was time to tell the rest of your friends.

You moved your gaze from the tiny bundle in your arms to Dean staring down at the tiny swaddled baby in his.  Someone had Daddy completely wrapped around his finger.  Sensing you watching him he looked up with a smile on his face. “Sweetheart, I can’t believe our babies are finally here, I can actually hold them and see them when I talk.  You did so good,” he told you leaning over to kiss you.  Dean had been constantly talking to the babies and trying to feel them kick before they were born.  Ever since you got back to your room and the twins were brought in, he had one in his arms at all times, relishing in the fact he now could.  

Dean wanted to go all out for Valentine’s Day this year.  He said it was the last one with just the two of you, and last year it had been a week after your first surgery, so you just stayed home.  Thankfully, you had a dress that had been fairly lose on you before, so you didn’t have to go find something new.  Dean had reservations at a nice restaurant in town, where you enjoyed each other’s company and the food.  You were beat by the end of dinner and headed home to cuddle on the couch.  Dean was rubbing your stomach and talking to the babies while you watched a movie, you were running your hand through his hair.  

“How are my babies doing tonight? Did you enjoy the nice dinner I took your mommy to?  I can’t wait till I can meet you guys. A few more months, you have some growing to do.  You guys are 14 weeks, that means you’re as big as lemons now.  You would fit in the palm of my hand.”

The next month went by fairly quickly, both you and Dean busy with work.  There were things around the house that would need to be done to get ready for the birth of the twins.  It seemed like Dean was quickly lessoning what we would let you do without help so you wanted to get started soon before he had you completely sidelined. You had decided to turn your guest room into the nursery and move the spare bed into the office neither of you really used.  You cleaned out some of the lighter things because you knew Dean would freak out on you if you moved anything heavy.  One night you went through Pinterest looking for different ideas for the nursery before you rushed ahead with anything.

March 16th was your 6th wedding anniversary; you suggested a quiet night at home. Dean vetoed that since you stayed home last year, again because of you.  He booked you a weekend stay at a bed and breakfast a little over an hour away near the beach.  Being March, it was too cold to get in the water, but you spent time exploring the quaint little town and its cute shops. While you were walking the beach at sunset your first night you stopped to admire the view and Dean stood behind you wrapping his arms around your stomach.

“I love you so much, Sweetheart.”

“I love you too, Babe. Thank you for doing this.”

“You know I would do anything for you.”

“I know, you have always been so good to me, and you’re going to be such an amazing dad.  These babies are lucky to have you.”

“I love spending time just the two of us, but I can’t wait to meet these sweet potatoes.”

“Really Dean?”

“What that’s what the website says for 18 weeks.”

The rest of the weekend went very well, the highlight would have to be the last walk on the beach you and Dean took before you headed home. When you had stopped and were looking out over the water you felt a flutter in your stomach, and a few minutes later another faint one.  That’s when you realized it was the babies moving.  You told Dean and he kept moving his hand around to try and feel it too but was unable.  He was still excited because it meant he would be able to soon.

Easter was the first weekend in April, you split your time between your two families.  Sam and Jess hosted this year. While you and Mary kept Jake busy the guys hid Easter eggs around the yard for him to try and find. There were only about ten, but it still took him a little while. He was more interested in playing with the colorful plastic egg then finding the next one.  Dean stood beside you while Jess was helping Jake. His hand was on your stomach when he suddenly pulled it back.

“What was, wait was that?”

“Yeah, that was one of the babies kicking.”

“So awesome! I can’t wait till we are out there helping ours find eggs, take their first steps, holding them.”

“I think your order was a little backwards, but I know how you feel, Dean.”

You had a surprise to share with both of your families. A few days earlier you had gone for you third ultrasound. Since you already had the surprise of twins you decided to find out the genders.  While you were sitting around talking after dinner you let Dean tell his family, you had told your earlier in the day.  Jake was sitting in his lap when he started talking.

“Hey buddy, do you know how big your cousins are now?”  Jake didn’t understand and just looked at his uncle.  “They are the size of pomegranates.”

“Dean, Babe, he’s not even two yet, he doesn’t know what that is.”

“He’s Sam’s kid. Sam eats all kids of healthy shi.. stuff. I’m sure he has those around the house.”  Sam just shook his head and glared at his brother.

“Do you think you want a girl or boy cousin to play with?”

Mary was looking between the two of wondering if this conversation was going where she thought. Jake never answered Dean no matter what he did to try and pull something out of him.

“How about one of each, what do you think about that?”

“Is that one you’re having?”  Mary asked not being able to wait for any more of Dean’s game.

“Yep, we are having a boy and a girl.” Dean grinned proudly.

“Oh man,” Sam started, “a little girl is going to have you so wrapped around her finger.”  They all congratulated you and Dean once more.

It was the second weekend in May and you really needed to get going on finishing the nursery or starting it.  Who would have thought the hardest part was going to be picking a theme you and Dean could both agree on.

“Come on Y/N, what’s wrong with that idea?”

“Dean, I’m not letting your obsession with scaring your brother using clowns scar our children with a clown themed nursery. Not going to happen Winchester.”  The mobile and matching blanket he found even creeped you out a little. 

“How about race cars? No, I got it!  Let’s paint Baby on a wall!”

“Um, nice thought. We were trying to keep it neutral remember?  How about when they get older, and this little guy can appreciate cars almost as much as his daddy, you can do a car theme.  Who exactly is going to paint Baby, or did you suddenly become Picasso?”

“I didn’t get to who was going to paint it yet in my planning. Fine we can do cars down the road.  Where are your ideas?”  

“You have already shot them down, you didn’t want to paint the chevron lines, the silver and blue was to girly.” You just shook your head and went back to looking.  This was going just as well as picking out names.

Dean looked over at what you had pulled up. “I like that color.”

“Seriously?”

“What, I can’t like that?”

“No, I was asking do you seriously like it, because I do too?”  

“Well we like it, but how about my little rutabagas?”

“Really Dean?  Do you even know what that is?”  mumbling something he turned back to his phone; you wouldn’t be surprised if he was looking up rutabagas. On the plus side you finally had the nursery plans worked out.

Jess, Mary and your mom threw you a baby shower the first weekend in June you were about 30 weeks now.  They had the party at your parent’s house, this worked out nice for you since you lived closest to them and it would be easy to take things home.  Dean and the guys could hang out at your house since they didn’t want to attend the party the whole time.  Jake was almost 2 and very interested in the presents on the table. You all had to keep him from trying to climb up there.  It was a great couple hours playing games and spending time with family and friends. Babies Winchester were spoiled greatly!

Dean did come down toward the end, you’re pretty sure though he just wanted food.  You excitedly showed him the wonderful gifts people gave the babies and you.  He eagerly described the nursery, told people how fast the baby was growing, and how they were now as big as cucumbers.    

Your birthday was a few weeks later, and at 32 weeks you weren’t up to doing much for it. Your families came over to the house for dinner.  Your parents and Mary had been around and helped with different projects in the nursery. John, Sam, Jess and your brother on the other hand hadn’t been over in a while, so they had not seen the nursey.  Dean was eager to show them all

“This is where my little squashes will sleep.”

Jess looked at Dean and laughed, “It’s cute that you think they are going to sleep Dean.”

The majority of the nursery was done now.  You had gone with the soft aqua color you both liked, along with white furniture and trim.  You had gone with light grey and white chevron curtains and pillows to accent it, along with soft grey carpet.

The Winchester’s always did a big 4th of July BBQ, this year was no exception.  Ever since Sam and Jess got married you rotated hosting it between the three of you.  This year should have been yours and Deans’ but since you were 34 weeks along Mary graciously told you they would have it.  The doctor had told you to really start taking things easier, so you were trying not to overdo it.  Mary didn’t let you help much in getting ready for the party, but you did busy yourself in the kitchen at home making a few desserts and Dean’s favorite pasta salad. You were thankful for them taking over you hadn’t been getting much sleep and wouldn’t have had the energy to get everything done you would have wanted.

Dean was manning the grill talking with Sam, Cass, and Benny when you walked over to join him.  You could hear him talking as you got closer.

“Right now they are about the size of butternut squash, although they could be slightly smaller cause it’s twins.”

“I could have sworn you called them squash a few weeks ago, or was that a nickname for them?” Sam asked his brother.

“A few weeks ago, they were squash, now they are butternut squash.”

“I wasn’t aware there were different squashes,” Benny added.

“You know Dean for someone with an aversion to vegetables I’m surprised by the number of them you have called your kids.” Sam teased his brother with a laugh.

“What will they be when they are born,” Cas asked.

“Babies, Cas, they will be babies.” Dean shook his head at his brother and friends catching sight of you waddling over.  “And there is my beautiful wife, and mom to be.”  Dean leaned down and gave you a kiss while his hand went to your stomach.

Night came and you were heading back to you seat next to Dean to watch the fireworks.  When the first ones lit up the sky you could feel both babies start to kick, apparently, they were as big of fans as their dad. Dean moved you around on the bench so he was sitting behind you and could have his arms around you. When he felt the babies kick, he moved his hands around and started talking to them calming them right down.  The last few weeks whenever they were really active at night Dean’s touch and voice were the only thing that would get them to settle down so you could get a little sleep.

They figured your due date was around August 14th, but since you were having twins, they would most likely be early. Because of your previous surgeries the doctor wanted you to have a C-section to avoid any issues.  It wasn’t what you really wanted, but it was what was best.  They scheduled that tentatively for Friday August 7th unless the babies had other plans.   Which they did.  You were laying on the couch Monday morning with some heat on your back to help with the pain you were having while Dean was getting ready for work. Just before Dean walked out you started to feel some cramping. You were fairly certain you were in labor now.  Dean actually took it much calmer than you thought he would. He called the doctor’s office while you went to shower and change.  When you came back, he had both you bag and the babies in the car, and called Benny to tell him he would need to handle the shop today.

Once you go to the hospital things were a bit of a blur. They checked you in, took you to a room to exam you and prep for surgery.  Dean disappeared at one point and came back dressed in scrubs.  Before you knew it, they were taking you back to the operating room Dean right beside you the whole time.  

“It’s time to meet our pumpkins Sweetheart.”

You just looked over to him and laughed.

“It’s the last time I can say that.”

“I know Dean let’s go meet our pumpkins.”  Dean smiled widely at you as you headed down the hall.

Dean was holding your hand and trying to keep you calm when the doctor asked if he wanted to cut the umbilical cord.  He did and came back to standing next to you with tears in his eyes as he watched a nurse take your screaming son.  The doctor went back to work to get your little girl and Dean once again cut the cord. He was pushed out of the way quickly because she wasn’t breathing.  The nurse who brought your son over said that could happen with C-sections and she should be fine.  It seemed longer than the few minutes it really was before you and Dean heard her little cries fill up the room, both of you letting out a sigh of relief.

After recovering you were finally in your room with Dean and both of your babies.  Your families were here and waiting for your okay to come meet the newest members.  Dean proudly introducing the babies to the rest of the family.

“I would like you all to meet Patrick John and Sophia Allison.  You spent a few days in the hospital Dean right beside you the entire time.

After everyone left your little family alone Dean sat down next to you on the bed holding Sophia, while you held Patrick.  The two of you both lost in your own thoughts and the babies in your arms before you looked over to him drawing his attention to you.

Once you arrived home your mom and Mary took turns coming over to see if they could help you or just let you get some sleep.  Dean had to go back to the shop but tried to be home as much as possible.

The twins were two months old and not sleeping well through the night which was leaving you and Dean exhausted.  You were both working during the day, and the twins were waking each other up at night which had the two of you getting up each taking one of the babies.  You told Dean that you would get up and he could sleep, but he just kissed you as he walked by saying you were in this together no matter what.  One night you had finally got them calmed down early and both of you sank down on the couch.  Dean asked if you wanted to watch anything on TV.  

“Honestly, I don’t think I could follow along on anything right now, but the back of my eye lids. How about we head to bed before the little monsters wake us up?”

“Knew I married a smart woman.”

Just as you settled into bed you heard Patrick start crying, and then Sophia joined in.

“Seriously.” Dean grumbled.

As you were trying to calm both babies down Dean was playing on his phone.  All of a sudden you head Samuel L Jackson voice reading Go the Fuck to Sleep. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cb0t9TUNLpg

“Seriously Dean?”

“What?  They can’t understand and I completely agree with it.”

Much to your surprise the twins were starting to doze back off.  If this actually worked, you weren’t sure if Dean would let you hear the end of it.  This was the quickest they calmed down for you, and also the start of hearing this every night for the next four months.  

Things weren’t always perfect, but they were perfect for you.  You had an incredible husband who always supported you and two wonderful kids who would keep you both on your toes.  No matter what happened good or bad you and Dean were in this together.

  Thank you for reading!  For now this store is complete. 

 Tag list @talesmaniac89  @deanwanddamons @flamencodiva @whatareyousearchingfordean @winchest09 @waywardbeanie @emoryhemsworth @katehuntington @malfoysqueen14 @anathewierdo @superfanficnatural   @akshi8278  @sandlee44    

[itsybitsyspiderling]

the last living part of you

Summary: A few years after Tony's death, Peter realizes that no one is ever truly gone. And Tony personally made sure of that himself.

Word Count: 4.8k

also on ao3! 

On the eve of Peter’s eighteenth birthday, he wandered up to a roof and sat there for hours. He counted every plane, every car, and every dog that passed by. A cool breeze carried wisps of hair away from his forehead while he rubbed his eyes dry. He didn’t want tomorrow to come. He didn’t want to blink his childhood away, not when he had already spent the past four years of his life wishing to be someone else. Peter wanted to feel like a kid for one more day.

He tugged on his mask and sighed into the material. Hot breath brushed his cheeks as his heads-up display came to life around him.

“Good evening, Peter,” Karen spoke sweetly. “What’s on the agenda for tonight?”

“Nothing,” he said. His tone fell low, almost atmospheric while the city lights stole his attention. “No danger for tonight. I don’t really wanna die right before my birthday. That’d suck.”

“Of course,” she replied. “We wouldn’t want that. Happy early birthday, Peter. Would you like me to sing you a song?”

Peter let out a breathy laugh. “No, please, no. Just––thank you, Karen. I appreciate it. Thank you for always being here for me.” He kept his hands clasped together in his lap. They were comfortable that way, and he was afraid that if he let go, he would want to climb up walls and swing down empty avenues. He wanted to sit as still as possible. And for as long as possible.

“I will always be here for you, Peter,” Karen said. “Is everything all right? Your heart rate is low.”

He took a breath. He could talk to her; he knew that he could, but there was something holding him back. Once he said his thoughts aloud, then that meant they were true. “I’m not ready for tomorrow,” he answered. “It’s––it’s not like any other birthday, you know? I’ll be eighteen. It’s just––” Peter shut his eyes. “I don’t wanna move on yet. I don’t wanna start another life. I-I just wish he was here.”

When Peter opened his eyes again, his vision had glazed over. He couldn’t wipe his tears, so tilted his chin toward the sky.

“Two years,” he whispered, inhaling sharply until his lungs ached. Exhale slowly. Count to ten. And again. “It’s been two years. And it still doesn’t feel real. I really thought I’d get to this point with him, you know? I think that’s why I’m not ready for tomorrow. We kept talkin’ about where I’d go to school. We talked about things like that. He joked about me never being allowed to drink on his watch, even when I turn twenty-one. But then he’d talk about being there with me to celebrate it. He acted like he had our entire life planned out as if––as if we were father and son. I’m just not ready to face tomorrow, Karen. I don’t know what to do.”

“Tomorrow is a big day.”

Peter looked down at his hands. “Yeah,” he said. “It is.”

“Your friends and family are excited to spend it with you,” Karen continued. “Pepper Potts has asked me to extend an invitation to you and your aunt for lunch tomorrow. She says she figured you might have dinner plans but that she’d love to see you.”

“Really?” Peter sat up a little straighter. “She did?”

“She also wanted me to tell you that Morgan misses you.”

He smiled to himself. “I miss her, too. Could you tell Miss Potts that I’ll be there?”

“Of course, Peter.”

He slid the mask off after that. The sounds of the city seemed to grow louder at night, but he enjoyed the ambiance. He didn’t want to go off to school, not yet. Through the years, Peter had lost sight of home. He struggled to understand what it meant, whether it was concrete or abstract, especially when it came to his life. And he was afraid to leave the one place––the one piece of home––he had left.

He didn’t have much family beyond May. But he had Tony’s family. Peter still had tomorrow.

And when tomorrow rolled around, Peter had forgotten about his night spent on the rooftop. He was engrossed in the deep green foliage on the drive upstate. He was captivated by May’s off-key singing and the comfort of the new sweater she bought for him. Lastly, he felt loved. He felt like he belonged somewhere. It was natural.

Pepper prepared a lemongrass chicken for lunch, and Morgan gifted him one of the finest bracelets out of her handmade collection. He swore he was never going to lose it or take it off. After that, they played with superhero action figures until Pepper called them for lunch––Peter got to be Iron Man because Morgan insisted on being Spider-Man, and he would never say no to her. He was going to spoil her at any moment he could.

He still couldn’t believe he had his own action figure. It was too good to be true.

Everything felt good too—he had forgotten it was even his birthday. Everything was perfect and peaceful, and then Pepper suggested that Peter spend some time in Tony’s old workshop.

Peter had only been there twice before, but never for long. He found it too difficult to use the same tools his old mentor once had—instruments were left untouched as they collected dust, only for Peter to disrupt them with his sticky fingers.

So, when he stepped into the workshop for a third time, he promised himself that he wouldn’t leave. He breathed in the stale air, watched the lights flicker over every shiny object that screamed Tony’s name, and strolled around slowly. Life had once been in that room. A life that lived for five years after Peter was believed to be gone. It was a man who carried on, who, for once, set his suffering aside to abide by his own terms. Tony restarted his life in this room.

Peter felt wrong there. Like every step he took was trespassing on sacred territory. Tony’s workshop was a sanctuary. And Peter didn’t belong there, not anymore.

He memorized every inch of the place. He imagined Tony leaned over a workbench, soldering iron in hand while his wrists cramped from constant use. He imagined the stack of empty coffee cups by the sink and the unread emails piling up while he promised himself that he would read them (he never would). Peter imagined the two of them together, silent communication with spared glances as they worked on their suits for hours on end. It was sad to imagine that it would never happen again.

Finally, Peter allowed himself to find a sense of comfort. He spent an hour or two repairing old armor that had been left in rags, and he even considered trying it on for a change. But he couldn’t bring himself to get that far.

When his hands grew tired, Peter sat at Tony’s desk. Once again, it was a place he didn’t belong, but Peter didn’t want to move. Tony always knew how to pick out the best––and the comfiest—chairs.

“FRIDAY,” Peter spoke suddenly. “You there?”

“Hello, Mister Parker,” she greeted. “It’s been quite a long time. What can I do for you?”

Peter huffed. “Man, that’s a loaded question.” He thought for a moment and tapped his fingers along the desk. The glass monitors in front of him had collected a thick coat of dust, so he wiped them off with his sleeve. “Is there––ew gross––is there any way I’m able to get into these babies?”

“You have access to everything in Tony Stark’s public and private databases.”

Peter’s jaw went slack. “You’re serious?”

“Very serious.”

“Holy shit,” he muttered, watching the screens light up in a familiar blue glow. It really did feel like his birthday after all. “I don’t even know where to begin. Could I see all of the Iron Man files?”

“Would you like me to open all 3,406 Iron Man files?”

“Oh, crap, no,” said Peter. He hardly knew where to keep his eyes; the utter awe and excitement he felt had grown more than he wanted to admit. “That’s a lot of files. Just show me my options and then we’ll go from there.”

“Sure thing.”

As it turned out, three thousand files hardly compared to the extensive list of unfinished projects Tony kept stored. Peter had stumbled upon at least a hundred prototype designs of his first Spider-Man suit––along with a hefty load of new additions he’d never see with his own eyes. Among Tony’s files were outdated weapons tech that had never met the light of day once Iron Man was born. Peter felt undeserving of all of this information.

The folders with funky titles caught his eye the most. They always ended up being something with little substance, like an embedded link or a two-second video of a gauntlet combusting. Both folders were titled “Fuck this shit”.

And then Peter came across a folder called “My brain (Literally). Do not open”. So, obviously, he opened it.

FRIDAY's voice spoke loud and clear: “Now transferring file #616-3 to Peter Parker.”

Peter raised an eyebrow. None of the other files had done that. “What’s that mean, FRIDAY?”

But she didn’t answer. Instead, the only sound echoing through the room was a tiny beep coming from a distant workbench. He followed the sound, eventually finding that the source was some new design for a web-shooter. Peter held it close, examined the blinking red dot underneath, and pressed it.

A low buzzing filled the room as a holographic stream fluttered in front of him. Slowly, the lasers began to define the shape of a figure, and Peter assumed that he had blacked out after that.

He blinked once, then twice, and many more times after. He simply couldn’t believe his eyes. Staring right back at him was Tony Stark––but he was a goddamn force ghost.

“Whoa, whoa, okay––” Peter set the web-shooter onto the workbench behind him, yet the hologram didn’t budge. “FRIDAY, what is this?”

“The file says ‘do not open’, kid,” spoke the holographic Tony, and Peter thought he was about to throw up. It even sounded like Tony. It moved like him, too.

And then the realization hit. This was an AI.

Tony shrugged. “But, I guess, what did I expect?” he continued. His voice sounded metallic, almost static-like, but it was still him. “Maybe I wanted you to open it. Well, I guess I should explain. Once upon a time, I was bored and found a way to reconstruct my entire physical form as a holographic entity. Like a piece of cake. And not only that, I was able to transcribe every little darn thing about me into computer code to preserve my memories, knowledge, and, dare I say it, my boisterous personality which everyone loves so dearly. So, all-in-all, hi, I’m Tony Stark. Well, his essence.”

“I’m gonna shit my pants,” Peter whispered.

“Please don’t do that. That’s disgusting.”

He wanted to fall to his knees. It wasn’t real, it wasn’t real––but it was. It wasn’t a person, it wasn’t alive. It was a bright blue hologram that spoke and behaved exactly like Tony Stark, and Peter felt sick to his stomach.

The panic began in his jaw. Trembling and aching while his eyes refused to believe what they saw. His throat tightened after that, and once the pressure crawled down into his lungs, Peter couldn’t hold back the threatening sobs. He did end up falling to his knees, but only because he couldn’t breathe.

He pressed his shaking hands down onto the cold floor while his vision darkened. Everything had become numb, and he wasn’t sure he could hear his own wheezing anymore.

“S-shit, I-I can’t––” Peter tried to sit himself up, knees pulled to his chest while he struggled to even his breathing. A snake had wrapped itself around his lungs. “I can’t breathe––I can’t breathe.”

The blueish glow of the AI reflected off of the floor tiles as it neared Peter. When he looked back up, Tony had knelt down in front of him. Even his suit seemed to wrinkle. But it wasn’t real.

“Whoa, there, Pete,” Tony said, “it’s okay.”

Peter could hear his heartbeat thudding in his ears. He glanced down at his lap.

“Hey, look at me.”

Peter looked back up at the AI.

Tony smiled. “You’re okay. Deep breaths now. Ready?”

Peter nodded, swallowing thickly.

“Inhale.”

As best as he could, he took a long, deep, shaking breath in.

“Exhale slowly. Count to ten.”

He let out the breath. One… two… three…

“And again.”

They sat there for a few minutes while Peter calmed down. The numbness faded, and while his lungs ached, they no longer felt restricted. He could feel his muscles slowly begin to relax. And he soon realized that Tony had placed a hand on Peter’s shoulder.

But he still couldn’t feel a thing. The touch wasn’t there.

Peter stretched his legs out in front of him as Tony finally sat down. “He––he––Tony made you for me?”

“Yeah, well.” The AI shrugged. “I wasn’t really made for intended use. Technically, you’re supposed to be dead.”

Peter sighed and dug his fingernails into the denim of his jeans. “I was,” he said. “But that was years ago.” Further thoughts nagged at his brain, but he couldn’t find the right words. He let them sit at the tip of his tongue.

But, despite not being a physical existence, Tony seemed to know exactly what Peter wanted to say.

“Kid,” Tony said softly, eyes sad and warm.

“You’re dead, Mister Stark,” Peter stated abruptly. “You’re––you’re the one who’s dead.”

“I know.”

“You know?” Peter asked. He didn’t like that he could see right through Tony.

Tony nodded. “That’s what I’m here for,” he said. “I was made for this. I wouldn’t be here if I was alive.”

Peter didn’t like the sound of that. He had accepted Tony’s death long ago; he hadn’t expected to see him, let alone talk to him again. Peter was sad, but he was angry. Angry that Tony had decided that his presence was too precious to let die. Angry that he couldn’t let Peter move on.

He swallowed down the rising anger and asked, “when did he make you?”

“Uh, 2018,” Tony answered. “Oh, hey, it’s your birthday, innit? Happy birthday, kid. Consider me a birthday gift from me.”

Peter rolled his eyes and cracked a smile. He didn’t have the energy to be mad. Tony wasn’t alive anymore; he didn’t deserve it.

“Whatever you need, Pete,” the AI spoke, “you always got me. I was made for you.”

Peter’s smile grew a little bigger. “Thank you, Mister Stark.”

The sounds of shoes coming down the stairs stole their focus away from the moment. Peter glanced over at Tony with wide eyes.

“Peter?” It was May.

Peter scrambled to his feet and ran toward the workbench behind him. His fingers shook as he searched for the button to turn off Tony's ghostcomp. Just as the hologram flickered away, May entered the workshop.

“Are you okay if we––whoa, this place is––” May gazed around at the handsome technology surrounding her. “––intense. Like Disneyland for you. Is that one of your web-shooters?”

Peter set the device back onto the table and nodded. “Y-yeah. It’s not finished, though. Prototype.”

“Well, take it with you, and then you can work on it at home,” said May.

But, Peter shook his head. “No,” he said, walking towards her. He looked back over at the spot where Tony once stood. “I think I’m gonna leave it here.”

___

“Finally. It’s about time. Ten thousand years can give you such a crick in the neck.”

“You know Aladdin?”

“Do you know exactly how many movie premieres I’ve been to, Pete?”

Peter chuckled. He had come home from college for winter break. What had been Tony’s old home sat like a relic, one Peter could hardly stand to touch, yet it was well-lived and full of his life, his legacy. Pepper and Morgan treated him as though he had always been a part of their family. It was time for him to make use of the family he had.

And, he couldn’t deny that all he wanted to do was lock himself away in Tony’s workshop and just talk.

To a being that didn’t even exist.

“I don’t mean to be rude, Mister Stark,” Peter began that afternoon, “but you should have made yourself into another Vision. And then you could at least help me out.”

“Yeah, but I really like doing nothing and just watching you,” said the AI, hands stuffing deep into his hypothetical pockets. “You’re doing that wrong.”

Peter looked down at the Spider-Man suit that he’d peeled open to access the inner subsystems. Truth be told, he had no idea what he was doing. Ever. He spent the past two years in constant trial and error over his suits, all because Tony wasn't there to help him. And now Tony was there, and he wasn’t helping him.

“You’re a terrible AI,” Peter mumbled.

“Now that just hurts my feelings.”

“You could at least tell me what to do.”

“I could.”

Peter rolled his eyes, but he kept it as hidden as possible. “Why am I not shocked that Tony created you just to be as much of an asshole as he was?”

The Tony AI pretended to gasp. “Cuts deep. But don’t forget the Class-A narcissism.”

“How could I ever forget that?”

“You’re surely on a sarcasm frenzy today,” he said. “Anything on your mind?” Tony folded his arms and leaned against a table. It looked almost realistic–– minus the blue, ghostly tint.

Peter shook his head. It was still odd to see Tony that way, and it was also comforting all the while. It was like he had him back but not quite. While it was Tony, it also wasn’t. He didn’t exist anymore.

“I’m not convinced,” the AI muttered. He had every vocal inflection and physical mannerism that Tony did, which bothered Peter the most.

“No, nothing’s wrong.”

“I didn’t ask if anything was wrong,” said Tony. “I asked if anything was on your mind.”

Peter shrugged. He didn’t look up as he carried on maneuvering the wires in his suit. “Nothing is on my mind. And nothing is wrong. I’m fine. Maybe I just wanna be sarcastic today.” He glanced back over at the AI and sighed. “Could you just help me. Please?”

A disheartened expression washed over Tony, one Peter hadn’t seen before. He nodded. “Yeah, sorry. Sure thing, kiddo.”

“And, I’m not a kid anymore,” Peter mumbled. “I’m an adult.”

“Nope, sorry,” Tony said, “you’ll always be my kid.” He cracked a grin and reached out his hand. Peter believed it was to ruffle his hair like his mentor used to do, but the realization quickly hit, and Tony pulled away. And he looked sad about it.

While the afternoon dragged on like normal, there was an unspoken feeling hanging in the air. Tony knew that Peter wished he was real, and Tony wished he was real, too.

___

Peter had planned on stopping by the workshop on his nineteenth birthday, but he never got the chance. The night before, he spent eleven hours stuck in his suit because he didn’t want to go home––the summer dragged, and not even Spider-Man could save it. On his birthday, he let May take him into the city for a peaceful day out, but his senses never allowed him to relax. Peter didn’t think about the AI he kept hidden away upstate.

He never took Tony with him, but he’d thought about it over a dozen times. Somehow, it felt wrong. It felt wrong to remove him from a place that Tony belonged. Even though he had been created for Peter––even though the system had been crafted into his own web-shooter––it still didn’t feel like it. Maybe it never would.

“Believe it or not,” said Tony, “I do miss you when you’re not around.”

Peter wanted to laugh and roll his eyes at the hint of sarcasm, but he couldn’t. He lacked energy. He wished he was home.

“What do you do when I’m not here?” Peter asked, gaze lingering on the blueprints of his brand new suit. Well, it wasn’t necessarily brand new, but after falling from a building only for a tree to catch his fall, there were too many snags and tears to sew up. So, he figured he would take the time to add a few improvements.

“I’m just ones and zeros, Pete. I don’t do anything.”

Peter frowned. “Yeah, sorry.” He minimized the blueprints and sat down at the desk with a long sigh. “Why’d Mister Stark even bother making you, then?” Peter mumbled aloud, rubbing two fingers along the bridge of his nose. “You just stand there and talk. What’s the point in having you if you can’t even help?”

“Pete––”

“No!” Peter suddenly exclaimed. A fit of newfound anger had boiled over. “I’m––I’m so annoyed that he thought he was being so clever with you when all he did was make a shitty version of himself. I’m tired of you just standing there. I’m tired of you just telling me what to do. You can’t help. You’re not him, so there’s no purpose. Like you said, you’re just ones and zeros. You’re just a stupid code.”

The AI barely moved; for a moment, Peter assumed that he had shut him down with his words.

“You’re right,” he uttered with a shrug. “I’m useless. Just a code.” Tony walked over and sat on the desk, his movements disrupting the hologram while his legs disappeared briefly. He used to be alive. He used to have a real body. “But honestly, Tony didn’t make me to be another Tony.”

Peter titled his chin up, but his frown didn’t budge. “What do you mean?” he asked lowly.

“I’m a ghostcomp,” Tony said. “A ghost-on-a-chip. I was made in case Tony died, but I’m not a replacement. He figured that his death would be too sudden. He figured he’d had to leave just as fast as you left him. He wanted to make sure you had something at least a little concrete.”

“He made you because he knew that I’d miss him?” Peter sat up, eyebrows furrowing. “That’s bullshit.”

“I don’t think he was ready to say goodbye either, kiddo.”

Peter shook his head. “Stop. Please.”

“The real reason––” Tony began as stood. He walked over to where his hologram was being projected from. The web-shooter. “––is that I was designed to be a helping hand when you’re in the suit. Technically, you’re not using me the way Tony wanted you to.”

“I don’t care,” Peter said. “I don’t want you in the suit.”

Tony looked at him. His expression was unreadable. It was like the words had hurt his feelings, but he didn’t have the right programming to emote them. He nodded. “That’s fair. It’s your choice.”

And Peter nodded, too. Slowly, he rose to his feet and walked over to where the holographic Tony stood. Peter tugged his hands into his sleeves. “I’m gonna go see if Morgan wants to hang out,” he mumbled. “See you later, Mister Stark.”

Tony’s lips tightened into a weak smile. “See you later, Mister Parker.”

___

Peter was ready to go back to school. A few days after his twentieth birthday, he kept his mind busy and his muscles burning as he swung up to White Plains. He hitched rides from there on out, and Pepper always greeted him on the porch with a pitcher of ice water.

“Morgan’s at a friend’s,” she sometimes said.

And Peter would breathily reply, “May is at work. Is it okay if I––?”

Pepper always interrupted with, “of course” and a smile.

There were many things in the workshop that had been rearranged over the years, but Peter kept most of it the way he found it. He didn’t want it to become his workshop, which, in his mind, it almost had. He wished he could pack it up and take it to school with him, but it was a nice home away from home to visit on special occasions.

On this particular day, the bad thoughts in Peter’s brain had won the fight. He climbed out of the suit, made his way down to the workshop, and curled himself onto Tony’s chair.

It was Tony’s chair. The chair that had belonged to Peter’s mentor, the person he had looked up to ever since he was nearly eight years old––and now he was sitting in his chair, crying over the fact that he spent more time grieving Tony than personally knowing him. But then again, Peter realized, Tony had done the same thing, too.

It hurt more today, Peter couldn’t deny that. It hurt to be in the same room Tony had once been in––he had once lived in. The past four years were hard, but some days were harder.

He wasn’t sure if he wanted to speak to the Tony AI today. But, nevertheless, Peter picked himself up. He held the web-shooter in his palm, internally fighting with his thoughts before brushing his thumb over the button. He pushed it without hesitation, and Tony came to life.

“Hey? You look so glum, kiddo. What’s up?” Tony stuffed his hands into his pockets.

Peter set the web-shooter back down and shrugged. “Bad day,” he said, strolling over to the desk so he could flop himself back into the chair. “That’s all.”

Tony hummed. “Damn,” he said. “Sorry to hear that. Well, we’ve got quite a few things in here that could get your mind off of it. What do you say to a little holographic basketball with some trashed files, yeah? And before you ask, yes, we can do best two-out-of-three.”

“No.” Peter shook his head as he wiped his nose with his sleeve. “No, I don’t really wanna do that.”

Tony’s eyebrows knotted together. “What do you wanna do, then?”

Peter shrugged again. “I-I wish––I wish I could hug you,” he whispered.

The AI’s expression relaxed.

“I wish you were here.”

“I am here,” said Tony.

Peter let out a huff. “But you’re not. You’re not here. You’re not you. I want Tony back. I want my Tony back. Not a hologram I can put my hand through. I-I can’t hug you. I can’t help you build your suits, and you can’t help me build mine. You can’t go out into the world and live. You can’t––you can’t take me out to lunch. You can’t be with your wife and your daughter. You can’t drive me upstate or make me coffee I’ll never drink. We can’t do superhero shit together because you’re dead. You’re not alive. And you haven’t been for four years, and for some reason, it still feels like yesterday. I’ve done so much. I’ve changed so much. B-but I come back to you, and I’m just reminded of how much I loved being around you. How much I loved you. You just––you can’t be there like Tony was there. You’re not him.”

Tony stayed quiet. It seemed as though he hadn’t been programmed for such an emotional range. But then he said, “I’m sorry” so softly, and Peter felt the impact of his words. He had truly meant them, and he knew there was nothing else he could do.

___

“Whatcha packin’ up there, Pete?”

“Just a few things Pepper said I could take with me.”

“Where are you going?”

Peter’s college career had come and gone. His life had never been so different, and it was time to let change run its course. New York was still home, but sometimes home wasn’t necessarily a place. And Peter understood that. He needed to do a bit more living, and that required moving on.

“I got a job,” he said, stacking a few of Tony’s old belongings into a large box, “in New England.”

Tony grinned. The light from his hologram had dulled through the years, and Peter never found the time to fix it.

“Look at you, Mister Parker,” said Tony. “All grown up. I swear you were just fourteen and getting your ass beat by Cap.”

Peter chuckled. “I would go back in a heartbeat. Not to high school, though. High school sucked.”

“I literally don’t even remember high school.”

“It’s a blur,” he said. He lifted the box onto Tony’s desk and leaned against it. The moment felt sad and surreal. Peter couldn’t find the right words, so he fiddled with the edge of the cardboard instead.

“You okay?”

Peter glanced over at Tony. He hadn’t aged a day. “Sorta,” Peter said. “I’m––I’m not taking you with me, you know. And I’m gonna be gone for a while. Are you gonna be okay without me?”

“Pfft.” Tony rolled his eyes. “I lasted five years without you. I’ll never be okay.”

Peter smiled sadly. He still wished he could hug him. “I’ll miss you, Tony.”

“I’ll miss you too, kiddo.”

[prairiedust]

Gimme Shelter livewatch under the cut.... I was on my phone when I wrote it so apologies for the typos

“Patchwork Community Center: Care Given to All” with a huge, lurid heart. Hmmm.... patchwork having two meanings here.....

Pastor (?) has 2 Timothy 2:22 tattooed on his arm! “Flee the evil desires of youth and pursue righteousness, faith, love and peace, along with those who call on the Lord out of a pure heart.” (NIV) Are we looking at growth and found family in this episode?!?

Oh that’s the alleyway!

Hitting mythology themes— Connor is an Anglicized version of an Irish name— Conchobar mac Nessa is maybe the most famous bearer of the name, from Irish mythology— he’s the king who lusted after Deirdre and had her locked up until she came of age, which is probably neither here nor there as far as this poor Connor is concerned...

That thing has a big lurid heart on his overalls better run lol— Oh shit it’s an evil Teddy Ruxpin!!!! Thanks Davy Perez!!!!

That’s the thing animal control uses to manage aggressive animals??? Is this saying something about the Patchwork people?

And that’s it for the cold open.

——

The uh, the mcfuckin what, the Camelot Palace Casino? Is this a tour of the legends of Ireland and Britain all of a sudden? What’s with hitting this theme so hard so fast?

Uh-oh the whole Highway to Heaven reference has me side-eyeing Dean’s suggestion for Cas snd Jack to leave the bunker... Dabb even “spoiled” that line in a tweet lol... in that show the cop and the angel got their (vague) assignments from the big guy.......

Oh SHIT “we’re standing in what I call ‘the trap zone’” Perez is coming for my whole life with this episode!!!! And they’re doing highkey “season one totally-normal Winchester investigation questions script” I love it!!!!

“Slasher flick” Oh we’re revisiting Mint Condition. This is fine.

AND TOMBSTONE THIS IS NOT FINE DAVY! We’re running the good times backwards what did I say about this being the flipside of Last Holiday!

H2H again but this time it’s sus... plus I’m with Zack, I totally want the cozy murder spinoff I imagined Adam and Michael doing plz

Oh the Cas and Jack dynamic here is so sweet.

Pastor just leaving his door open like there’s no such thing as a thief bless his heart. They must be torn up about Connor but Pastor was the last one to talk to him so he’s sus I don’t make the rules.

Oh no Red’s a THIEF!!! Who ever would have guessed. Okay I did NOT expect that jumpscare because of the way Connor’s murder primed me, that was masterfully done.

That’s vaguely an Ohio Star quilt square on the sign behind her except um I forget what that tilted square in the center turns it into? It’s chiming with something... I’ll have to look that up later.

“Divide and conquer” no never split up in a slasher movie that’s how you get murders use the buddy system!

Gonna stop a sec because I just realized that Zack is two-faced. The British dandy was an act. The killer is wearing a Cinderella mask. Ok I’m gonna make a prediction that Zack is actually the killer, a la the demon in Repo Man...

Okay there was definitely a beat after Dean said “Glad soneone’s taking charge” [ofHell] and the focus shifted to Sam. Hm.

“We’ve got to set her up for her own death” so meta, these writers are gonna shred us.

I love being shown how much Castiel has changed throughe Jack not understanding the Kool-Aid reference. And the cats line lol. That’s both amazing and poignant.

That’s a log cabin pattern in the cafeteria. Home. Makes me think back on other quilts we’ve seen this season and if “weaving” is the right metaphor for writing lol. I mean, the action of “patching” is synonymous with “mending” or even healing, but patchwork is also a craft with a long, long history in America (idk if quiltmaking is called patchwork everywhere) of taking a few often mismatched fabrics and cutting and sewing into something beautiful. There are generally two kinds of quilt tops— patterns, like we’ve seen so far in this season, which are carefully planned and involve precise measurements, and “crazy quilts” which also require skill but are often more freeform and piecemeal. But both aspire to be beautiful. That’s an interesting way to conceptualize a serial text... as both creating and mending....

That prayer was sweet and not at all what I was expecting.

I get the finger-cutting for Valerie (stealing=sticky fingers) but not for Connor? Tenuous connection still betw lying and writing? It’s evocative of Se7en but the killer seems to have the same MO for all the killings (I attended CSI for a while.)

Snow White is making me uneasy. Oh she’s the preacher’s daughter... we’ve seen that in early days, too.... oh.... oh....

It’s not the AV guy despite having seen all the AV equipment around Valerie. That’s too easy.

“A saint is a sinner who keeps trying-“ no scroll back, the important part was “we all have to take care of each other.” That’s a theme in the series.

She’s all in pink....

dean and amara on the same wavelength about food lol

Ha ha inversion of “oh you’re a fan of religion? name all seven gods then.”

Castiel’s testimony just wrecked me.

“Members serve the gift of food” hmmm the signs in this episode are tip-top

Gonna just watch for a while.

Oh crap “each is a finger” oh it’s about the sins of the father— No Cas no, you’ve fallen for the misdirection!

Oh okay good, Chuck’s not done snuffing worlds. That had me REALLY WORKED UP ha ha because Amara has no reason to lie right?

That was a really good conversation.... and implying that Former Death bent the truth...

Oh fuck I’m gonna cry “I wanted younto see that your mother was just a person” YES! DISMANTLE THIS MYTHOLOGY AMARA!!! Name it!

THE MYTH THAT YOU’D HELD ON TO FOR SO LONG did they just— THEY DID

rigging the game— ftfoh with the casino metaphors already we know the house always wins except when it doesn’t

Lying, lying, lying,

Do we even know Snow White’s name yet? And why was Connor a liar? Because I think we can make a guess at this point.... ah ha ha her name is sylvia— “forest spirit” she’s Mrs Butters— and she’s after hypocrites— but the killing isn’t supernatural, just churchy?

Oh shit SHE IS A DEAN MIRROR IF SHE STABS JACK I’LL FLIP A DAMN TABLE

....

....

prairiedust.exe has encountered an error and must be restarted

....

....

Okay so “Dad” steps in and stops Sylvia’s attack on Jack...

Why is that Zack? What????

“I’ve been lying to you” oh here we go

Oh it would be death #3, remember what Dabb said about threes a long time ago, two attempts that are unsuccessful and one that satisfies the parameters— but no he’s a jack :((((

I have to stop watching for a while.

Okay I finished it. Holy cats do I have some Thoughts about this episode.

What I loved: Revisiting Dean’s anger, BUT the parental mirror here (in retrospect, at least for me) was a John mirror-- all the mothers (exc for Rowena) in this episode are dead. And Pastor Joe didn’t apparently embrace his wife’s faith until she had died, and then his vision was radically different than his wife’s was-- much like John’s reasons for becoming a hunter were vastly different from Mary’s... but much like “patching” this subtext was possibly even more “healing” than having John back in the 300th ep... This was... looking at a child’s anger when they’re in the middle of their own family mythology. Am I implying that Dean’s anger is immaturity? Eh, it’s... unripeness. I have an old meta in my drafts about the heroine’s journey and why Mary’s story conformed to it while feeling totally unfulfilling in her actual character arc and I’m so glad I sat down and examined that rather than finish it. I have a lot I want to say about Cas’ testimony too, but that has to sit a while. ALSO also, Cas has already thrown away his shot by making the Empty deal, right?....

LANGUAGE! Cas saying “I found myself lost” is a bonkers sentence, right? It’s like when people say someone “turned up missing”-- AND it does not have the same meaning as “I realized I was lost”-- you get a double whammy of the connotation “to search for.” I loved loved loved how language was such a big deal in Last Holiday and then again here, I need to rewatch while paying closer attention to Sylvia and things she says... but these two were sister episodes in so many ways, that when I said there was a “lack of narrative mirrors” in Last Holiday, that’s only because the lens for that kind of reading is Gimme Shelter. That is not the first time spn has played with a “coin” or paired structure-- I think the first time I noticed it was Fan Fiction/Ask Jeeves but I was a transfer student from another fandom at the time lol. But of course, we get a huge truth bomb at the end of the episode, and again that splashy cymbal all over lying...

What I got wrong-- Zack wasn’t the killer but he’s fishy as hell-- he stole Sylvia! Is this part of Rowena’s “people generally end up where they deserve to be” except she’s built in an express lane? “Do you need a driver” is that his actual job now? Taking unripe souls to Hell Orientation? What’s up with him being there... the other shoe did not drop. So there is a third episode out there somewhere where this might get wrapped up? The conversation between Dean and Cas can easily be something that happens offscreen, and I don’t think that it would be the first time we miss an “important” conversation, especially since we know roughly what will be said and how it will wrap up-- it’s an “open text” of a sort. Maybe a fanfiction gap lol, I can’t wait for the codas.

Also, the fingers thing being Sylvia’s father’s favorite analogy is where she got her MO, something that I definitely didn’t see, although it fits right in with her father’s slightly pithy character. I think it’s interesting again how we’re playing with threes and fours. Three fingers got cut off but it was apparent that Valerie (valorious one) wouldn’t die until finger #4.... Jack really seems to be our last hope.

[whats-the-story-tc]

9th-11th of September, 2020

"The One with the Fox Mask"

I did remember a couple things that happened in the past few days after all. And today? Whew. You are NOT ready. Here we go.

So on Wednesday, an hour after her class, we were talking about first impressions in another class. I said something like "I remember being afraid of people initially, but then being very positively disappointed when I got to know them." When my teacher asked who I'm talking about, I made it out to be about my friends (which is halfway true), but we all know here that all along, I was talking about V. The woman I knew as "The Fox" in my late middle school years, the woman whose eyes I recognised a part of myself in the year before I first had class with her, the woman I never thought I'd come to love as much as I do. She turned my life upside down, and you know what? I don't mind.

Thursday, we only met briefly, with half a corridor between us, but she had her gaze turned towards my class as she headed somewhere. I waved to her, but she didn't return it, even though she has to have seen me. Oh, well.

That day, afternoon, to be exact, I also met Miss A for a short while (you remember her, right?). She was looking at something, only turned towards me for a second or so, but instantly she smiled so wide when she spotted me that you can't NOT return it. I had training, children to teach, so I couldn't exactly run up to her and chat, but afterwards, I spent the way home thinking about how stark the contrast between A and V is, when it comes to their behaviour towards me.

(For those of you, who might be new here, A is not a teacher crush. She's a former teacher of mine, who I'm still very close to and regard as a mentor figure in regards of performing arts, but also positivity. She's the sweetest person you can imagine, and I really love her, but not the way I love V.)

Also Thursday, my mum offered to get me a new face mask, and when I saw the patterns, I immediately went with the one with foxes. Because... obviously. Yet, I was very nervous to wear it to school on Friday, which is today. I was nervous about what V might say when she sees it, since foxes are her branding, not mine. Still, it took some convincing, but I put it on this morning. And this is where shit hits the fan.

Another meeting from afar, another unreturned wave, though this time, I ran to P.E. before she had the chance to return it, so there's that. Then, like an hour later, it was announced she'd be subbing the class before my double class with her, meaning I'd spend three class periods together. Safe to say, I was over the moon.

Breaktime, I come out of the bathroom. V is at the other sink, washing her hands. I'm wearing my fox mask. All blood froze in my veins as I awkwardly waddled over to the other sink, blabbering an awkward greeting, when I heard: "Your mask is really cool." My face probably went really red under the foxes, but thankfully, I remembered to say thank you. And then I remembered to follow it up with: "I can get you one if you'd like." She asked me where I got it from, I awkwardly tried to explain it, she said she might pop over if I tell her exactly where. Then I got a little brave. I know she loves getting gifts and values them greatly, so I said: "As far as I remember, your birthday is in September, it could be a birthday gift, if you'll have it." (Though I'm not sure I actually said the last part or just wanted to.) She muttered something along the lines of "Another year closer to death" as we reached the classroom she was headed to. In one last desperate attempt to get more of her, I asked if she was really going to sub for us next period, and we spoke about it briefly, confirming a couple details, and that's where it ended.

No wonder I kept randomly bursting into smiles while working in the class I went to. I'm not sure now that she understood there and then that I offered to buy her something, but I was very excited. After all, it's not every day you get to give the Miss V something with a perfectly valid reason.

And the time came for her to sub. She spent the whole class talking to us, listening to our stories and sharing hers, talking gaming with those of us who are just about as experienced as her, and hearing everything. And when I say she heard everything, I meant she heard everything.

I told my friend a story from like three weeks ago, dramatically reenacted, and halfway through I just see V, eyes smiling, leaning forward and asking "What's the story?" (Roll credits.) She wasn't the only one who wanted to hear it, so I had to restart it. I was too nervous to watch her reactions, but probably she enjoyed it. Then, I told my friend another story from the same day (an eventful day spent reading in the park), and when I was finished, all I hear is "That one's good." Lo and behold, V was listening all along. And that wasn't the only time I felt her eyes on me in that class, even if I didn't look at her.

Another interesting thing was when my classmates teased me about being good at Literature, and I got flustered, turning my head towards V and asking: "Miss?" Her eyes were smiling again, but she ended up saying: "I'd rather not say anything right now." As somewhat of a teacher/coach/authority figure over younger children myself, now I understand why she said that. I know I'm good and so does she. But if you start praising one's abilities to the others, they might feel inferior. That's why praise is always one-on-one. And V is awesome at these things. As much as I crave her praise, I reminded myself: "Remember why you fell for her? Because she is always fair and honest. She knows her shit."

Other than these, me and my friend showed her memes, she told us about when our extracurriculars will be (Thursdays, when we wouldn't normally meet, so I'm satisfied), one time I avoided swearing by saying "I'm not gonna finish that here" and she countered it with "It's not like we don't know what you were going to say" and yeah. It was an interesting class, to say the least, but the most fun I've had in any class this year.

Double V class. First time around, we started with a promised test about a story we had to read for today. Once again, V was staring. She saw I was in trouble, and I noticed she was looking. We made eye contact, then she got up from the desk she took a seat on and announced "Don't overthink Question 5, guys, it's way simpler than you think." Thanks. Helpful. I wrote something in the end, but I'm not at all sure if it was right.

There are two things I noticed during this first period. One, the tattoos on her back. I've caught a glance of them before, though I'm not sure I ever told you the story, but I've never seen them so clearly. I won't tell you what they are, as I don't know exactly and I don't want to say something stupid, but it was a most pleasing moment. Two, no matter where in the classroom I might be sitting, she will look at me while talking. She's not talking to me, not directly, but when she turns her head towards the right half of the class, it's always in my direction. If I sit further from her, she'll look there. Now, that I sat closer, only two-three meters or so away from her, she turns her head more to the right, so she faces me again. Geez, V. Sunflower much?

We analysed poems, she made snarky comments, I made some unusual connections and she took the time to explain why a certain element is the way it is so I'll understand, it went like any other Literature class, to be honest. I even got another "I'm done with those boys, help" gaze.

Towards the end of the second (actually, third) class with her, we went into human behaviour, and saying things we don't mean. How people express their condolences, even if they don't actually feel sorry. V also basically explained how she rather doesn't say things she doesn't actually mean. As I said, very honest. Though her "I never did have a heart" comment wasn't true. We all know she does have one. And I think nobody in that class knows it more than me.

After class, we had this brief convo about keyboards and autocorrect as she waited for the bell to let us go, and... yeah. That was it.

I bought her the mask, it's on my desk with a post-it saying "[Last name]'s", so I don't confuse it with mine. And now I absolutely can't wait for Monday first period to give it to her. I can't wait to see those eyes.

Wear your masks, stay safe and remember: sometimes taking risks works out in your favour. It's worth a try.

~ S ♡

[Every story I share here, no matter how specific I get with my wording, depicts actual events from my own life.]

[chronicbatfictioner]

Exchanges and Compromises - Chapter 6

The fact that Tim Drake was only 16 when she first met him did not surprise Barbara much. Granted, her network of informants came from all ages, but most of them were those under the age of 18 who could come and go and be somewhat 'safe'. Yes, Gotham's idea of 'safe' might cause other cities' parents to throw a conniption. Or have a coronary, depending on how much they love their children. But in the case of Tim, Barbara understood that there was no parent that would have any kind of hissy fit at the fact that Tim was walking outside of his manor's gates in the dead of night.

She learned quickly that he had run into Catwoman nearly 5 years ago - he was barely even 12 years old then and had just lost his parents. He was out and about at Gotham's 'better' neighborhoods where the rich people live; determined to find pieces of evidence that would nail his parents' murderer, when Catwoman was looting the home of the said murderer. He had made a deal with Catwoman that he would keep the evidentiary items - including his mother's earrings - and Catwoman can keep the rest.

In the next years, he would often ask for Catwoman's help to find evidence of other crimes; and by the time he met Barbara, he was loaded with information on at least a dozen corrupt politicians that Barbara could not have acquired otherwise.

Plus, Timothy Drake, the rich boy, has a unique insight into the mind of 'the nouveau riche'. "They liked their valuables to be in one place so that they could take them out from time to time to admire them." Tim had explained. "The old rich, however, prefer it the other way around. They prefer their new valuables near, old valuables - like family heirlooms - safely tucked away. They're superstitious like that. And they would usually keep secrets with the heirlooms out of superstition: they think their forefathers would guard the secret or something."

"I... actually don't know what to think of on that," Barbara admitted. "But it makes sense, considering." Considering the fact that her dad had often commented on how there seemed to be only a small amount of valuables in the homes of the 'old families' of Gotham. Tim had come bearing gifts, too, a piece of evidence to the murder of a union representative. The photos clearly depicted the representative as being murdered by a third party, who had accidentally exposed a significant tattoo on his arm. The name of the mastermind was printed on the envelope it was sealed in; Barbara would have had no problem in delivering the envelope to now-Captain Gordon's Homicide unit. Said mastermind had just reported his home broken into by Catwoman a few days ago.

"Shouldn't Catwoman worry that she could be linked to these?" Barbara wanted to know, pointing to the photos.

"Sure, if they can find Catwoman," Tim smirked. "She likes it, though. The mob people are freaking out and trying to dump their evidence out of their safety deposit boxes - but they'll get the bling stolen; save their bling - got the evidence stolen."

Barbara also learned that Catwoman had taught Tim martial arts and evasive techniques, as well as lockpicking because he was nearly caught once. "She didn't care who I was. I would give her one 'shiny' every other month, Tim Drake the executive boy is said to be hoarding pieces of jewelry for a future wife." Tim explained, grinning sweetly.

"Any lady you court would have been... impressed, I'd say," Barbara commented, and then realized something else. "The guys, however, might need something else to impress them."

"Like 2nd-century arrowheads, full set, not stolen?" Tim pointed out. "Or a classic Bhutan Royal Armor made to order?"

"Damn, boy," Barbara exclaimed and laughed. "You got them both figured out."

Tim shrugged. "Mother taught me to always be prepared for all and any scenario of life, business and force Majeure included. She had all these documents prepared for if she and dad were to be incapacitated or... well... dead. And hence my ability to escape the foster care stuff. They legally couldn't make me." he explained. There was something in his voice and reaction that tugged... something in Barbara's mind.

She had chalked it up to his nervousness of talking about his mother. It took nearly a year for Barbara to find the confirmation that Tim had lied to her then. His mother might have taught him to be always prepared for anything, but the documents he'd mentioned were forged by him. And if she hadn't recruited another adult for her crime-fighting team, she might not have found or got a confirmation out of Tim.

Dinah Drake, better known as Black Canary, was an orphan who had had her taste of Gotham City's foster care system. She had run away at age ten and saved by a former Navy SEALS who ended up being her teacher, sensei, big brother, father, everything. After his death, Dinah had a stint at the DEO - Department of Extranormal Operations, where she had gotten hurt and decided to go back to Gotham to restart her life.

Who was Barbara to know that Dinah Drake would be related to Timothy Drake? Dinah has never met Tim - the son of a cousin of hers, apparently. Tim has never heard of Dinah from his father. Both of them - albeit at different times - have lost contact with their extended families, as living in Gotham is wont to make happen.

The one thing that made Dinah realized who Tim was, was literally Tim's eye colors. "Those are definitely Jack's eyes. They have this little defect that makes it turn silver and nearly transparent in spite of them being dark blue colored." Dinah explained. "I remember meeting Jack and was very mesmerized. I was pretty young, too. I knew I'd asked my mom if I could have eyes like that, and she said I can't."

Tim glared at her, a little amused. "Well, cousin Dinah, you're not here to adopt me or lay claim to Drake Industries' wealth, are you?"

Dinah's open bark of laughter sounded nice, Barbara thought. Of all the times she has known Dinah, the only laughter she would hear is if Dinah was 'having fun' beating up bad guys.

But no, Dinah has never had intentions to adopt Tim, "while that part I can be persuaded, the 'wealth' part I can't care less." she said. As Barbara suspected, the two orphans got along like house on fire. Selina Kyle - Catwoman - still often eyed Dinah warily, as if fearing that the blonde would take away her kitten. But otherwise, her small band of misfits seemed to be growing up and growing strong, and Barbara was happy.

Cautiously happy - Gotham has a way to extinguish all and any kind of positivity, and Barbara was far too pragmatic to let serotonin and dopamine overrule her brain. Even as she watched the others bickering and snickering good-naturedly through the reflections on her monitors, Barbara was already creating contingency plans after contingency plans in her mind.

She caught Tim's wistful smile from the reflection, and there was no mistake that he was smiling at her. "Need something, Tim?" she half-demanded, her cheek burned a little even after her mind reminded her that Tim was not a mind-reader. 

"Contingency plans," Tim replied, shrugging. Barbara managed not to blink or flinch. "I have a good lot of them, and none of them actually put me in this kind of situation: new actual family member, Birds of Prey, and so on. I don't know how to proceed from here."

"Keep up whatever you're doing, don't hurt anybody that don't deserve it, you're good to go," Dinah remarked from the other side of the room. 

Barbara bit back a grin. "Nutshell version: as your cousin Dinah has said. Tl:dr version: while we're here to right the wrongs that the world has inflicted upon our townsfolk and keep crimes off the street, we cannot deny that we, too, are walking outside the perimeter of laws. We do try to keep within the perimeters, but there are times that we might need... assistance, I should say, from what you do." she turned toward Catwoman, including her in the conversation. So..."

"See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil," Dinah quipped. 

"Plausible deniability, I get it," Tim smirked. "As far as you're concerned, you don't know us,"

"I can work with that," Catwoman snorted haughtily. "I have my street-cred to maintain, you know."

"I think your street-cred is kind of wonky now that you have a kitten," Dinah retorted. 

"He's a protegé!" Catwoman snapped back. "A protegé adds to my street-cred!"

"Ladies!" Barbara barked. "This is not high school. Stop behaving like you're in it. Now, plans. We keep going, we'll cross-check necessities with the two of you, we shall keep all of our cases in the open and you can contribute when or if you have knowledge thereof. We have briefings every other week, location and time to be informed later. We don't want to know how you get things done or where or when, and will provide necessary back up - e.g. alibi or support, if necessary. You two will provide us with methods to contact you at any time-- or else the deal is off." she promptly concluded before Catwoman could protest. 

"I still don't see how this benefits us," Catwoman argued. "We've been doing-- whatever it is we're doing that you don't need to know - for years. We don't need your help."

"Times are a-changin', ma," Tim said softly. "There are new people nowadays who brought in strange and dangerous people. We'll need help, one of these days, and I would rather the help came from Oracle and her team." He then turned to Barbara. "I'll be keeping in touch with you since mamaCat won't want you to know where she is at all times. I have nothing to hide."

"Right," Barbara sighed. "As long as we keep off from each other's throat, we good."

[smbeech]

AWA Life Report and Feedback wanted.

So I am starting with the Feedback portion because I think this is most important. Fake Star reached out to me and is requesting feedback on the VIP offerings. I am letting as many people know as I can, that Fake Star would like feedback on the offerings for VIP badges and other things you’d be interested in.

Specifically, they would like to hear from you on more of what you’d like offered as a VIP benefit. Fake Star will be meeting with them next month and would like to bring your ideas to them.

So far we’ve received the following suggestions:

Continue the Photoshoots.

Continue Early Access

More items to raffle off

More Gacha Items

A Fan meet event where you can interact with the band more, play games, buy cheki with the members, hear acoustic versions of songs, etc.

Back Stage look, being able to be present for soundcheck and practice.

International FanClub, right now the idea is for a digital version only as most of the current Fanclub perks outside of tickets and store times are digital already.

International shipping for the LM.C Store.

If you have anything you’d like to contribute, please let us know! This is your chance.

Now onto AWA report!

Fake Star presented LM.C for the second time in a row at this year’s Anime Weekend Atlanta.

The event marked LM.C’s third performance in a row in the U.S. It also marked the first-ever offering of VIP badges for LM.C events. Perks included Early access to all LM.C events and up to 2 photoshoots with LM.C, one of which was with the MAD LM.C. This marks the first appeared of MAD LM.C since well…they were first introduced.

The Mad LM.C Photoshoot took place on Thursday, Halloween, and the General photoshoot took place on Saturday the second. The fans came together to create a flower board display for LM.C and bouquets.

Previously, photoshoots had only ever been offered to members of Team LM.C in Japan.  The concert was great, the setlist included: Ghost Heart, Oh My Juliet, Funny Phantom, Double Dragon, Hoshi no Arika, 88, Boys and Girls, Chamaleon Dance, Rock the LM.C, We are LM.C Anthem, Chaindreamers, the Buddha, & Punky Heart.

Surprisingly, only one song (Chaindreamers) from the latest album, Future Sensation, was played, but the audience was enthralled none the less. LM.C came out full force in all their glory as this picture below so famously immortalized.

The show started with a little bit of a hitch, as there was a sound malfunction, forcing the band to stop during the first song. While the issue was being resolved Maya engaged in some light banter with concert-goers. He asked who spoke multiple languages and informed the audience that he spoke two languages, Japanese and Japan-English. He also asked the audience about some new words he’d learned, “Lit” and Yeet.” He seemed to get what “Lit” meant and had no trouble saying. “Yeet,” however, gave our king some trouble. He attempted to pronounce it, the result was “Why-Eeeet?” Despite help from the crowd, I am unsure if he really got it.

He also enquired about the blue Powerade beverage he’d been provided with. He asked if the drink was safe and why it was blue. The audience responded with a mixture of Yes, No, and Maybe. He only took one sip of it the entire concert, so we can presume, he was not a fan. In fairness, this is probably a good idea when drinking something that looks suspiciously like window-cleaner.

During this banter, Aiji disappeared off stage to presumably help with adjustments. This prompted Maya to ask, “Where is my Guitarist, where is my man?”

Finally, the show restarted, none of the excitement or energy before the malfunction had been lost. One of the high points of the show was when 88 was performed. The crowd had been given glow sticks with lyric an instruction cards before the show to sing along with Maya when the song started. It worked with resounding success, Maya even got a little choked up. Throughout the concert there was more banter from Maya culminating in everyone’s favorite translator, Ryan, being summoned to the stage, along with a phrased cried out from an audience member that will live in infamy, “Ryan is Daddy!”

Maya asked what that meant, but a mortified Ryan said he’d tell him later. We don’t know if he ever did. This show had more effects than the 2 previous concerts, complete with the lyrics displayed so the audience could sing along. In the past, many have struggled to do this.

The show concluded with Maya making jokes with the cameraman, asking if he was cold in the Cheerleader outfit he was wearing. Pictures were taken, and the band was taken back when the lights came on and they were able to see just how many people came to their show, they were truly impressed.

Throughout the weekend, special GACHA packs were sold, some contained blue tickets which would grant the holder access to a special signing where you could have anything signed and it would be personalized. Those who got multiple tickets were very generous and gave their extras to those who got nothing. It was great to see fan-base come together and help each other and ensure that more people had the opportunity to have a wonderful time with LM.C.

The Final LM.C event was Sunday with the raffle and Q&A Panel.

Here are the questions in no particular order:

What’s your favorite LM.C look?Aiji said he likes loose clothing that’s easy to move around in, therefore the Track Suit from JOHN was his favorite. Maya said the current outfit [see above] was his favorite, followed by the costume for “Let Me Crazy!!”

What’s your favorite song to perform?

Aiji said anything upbeat, like Chameleon Dance, while Maya said he likes to perform the songs that have appeared in Anime as those are the ones that American audiences get into the most.

What song of theirs that doesn’t have a video would they want to make a video for?

Maya asked the audience if they were familiar with a manga called “Kingdom,” which is a fictionalized retelling of the Romance of the Three Kingdoms from Chinese history. He said the song “Dystopia” was based on that Manga, and he wanted to do a really big expensive video for it.

Aiji said he would like to do more videos for their slower songs, specifically “Twinkle Star,” he too would want it to be expensive with lots of special effects.

What does the name LM.C mean?

Maya said that before their debut, they already owned the domain [Lovely-Mocochang.com] and that the band name came from that. {LM} stands for “Lovely-Mocochang,” {.} stands for “dot,” and {C} stands from “com”.

Of course, the name also comes from a dog Maya once owned, “Moco.”

What are their favorite childhood memories?

Maya said his favorite memory was of watching a historical drama with this grandmother when he was young.

Aiji said his favorite memory was of building a paper statue with his kindergarten class for a school festival.

What would be their advice for the current generation?

In response to this question, Maya asked the attendees if we read translations of LM.C’s lyrics. The audience responded, “Yes.” He then said that if you follow what is written in those lyrics you can learn how to be happy.

Who’s their favorite western artist?

Maya said his favorite was Cyndi Lauper, he liked her look more than her music though. He said that Mad Maya’s bright yellow hair color and appearance was inspired by her.

Aiji said his favorite artist was Michael Jackson.

How did they meet?

Maya stated that they met at a live house in Nagano when he was 17. He said that was there to see the band that was performing either before or after (don’t remember which) Aiji’s band. He didn’t remember much about the occasion other than Aiji was smoking when they met.

Would LM.C ever do an American Tour?

Maya commented that America is really big, they said it would be cool and asked if we would come to their shows, of course, everyone said yes.

What’s the meaning of Aiji’s Tattoo?

Aiji said that the first tattoo was his parent’s birthdays, the second represented the universe, and the third was for his previous band.

On the topic of tattoos, Maya said he doesn’t think he’d get one because he’d become bored of it and want to change it. He then joked that maybe he should get a big chest tattoo.

Did they ever get nervous meeting celebrities and idols they were young?

Aiji said no. Maya said that he’s not the type to get nervous so, no. He then said that when he was in middle school he got to meet Hide from X-Japan. Maya said that he didn’t even introduce himself he just started talking to Hide.

What’s their favorite letter and kanji?

Maya said is favorite letter was “M” (obviously), and his favorite kanji was Umi for sea “海.” Aiji took some time to think about his favorite letter, first, he said, “…L?” Then he said no, and kept thinking. Maya asked him, “Is it M?” to which Aiji responded with, “Yeah….no.” At last Aiji settled on “R.” For his favorite kanji, he said Kumo for cloud, “雲.”

Would they ever bring back MAD LM.C?

Maya said they’ve been wanting to do something with Mad LM.C but there was never a good time. It worked for this event because it fell on Halloween. He said that if another con fell on Halloween, they would do it again.

(My hope of hearing “Mad or Die!” live may never happen. ToT)

Why did they choose Visual Kei for their style?

Both Maya and Aiji said it was because all the bands the liked growing up were doing the style that would eventually become V-Kei. There was no V-Kei at the time when they were getting into those bands.

Someone asked if they liked the gift their sister gave them.

A girl gave LM.C a drawing of them as a gift. Her sister asked if they liked the gift. They said they appreciate any gift they receive but it really means a lot when someone takes the time to make something specifically for them.

Regarding the drawing itself, they liked that she had combined their first outfits with their new look.

That’s all the questions I remember. If anyone remembers any I missed, please tell me. That’s it for the live report. Please don’t forget to let me know by commenting or sending me a message if you have anything you would like to see offered in future VIP events for LM.C. Fake Star really wants to know your thoughts, and I was very honored that they reached out to me. So please, let your voices be heard.

I hope you all have the opportunity to attend a VIP event for LM.C someday. There is also a fan discord for LM.C please feel free to join and connect with other fans!

Link here: https://discord.gg/Bz2WWJt

[justsomevoltronstuff]

How did you become an editor of writers? How are you hired? And how well is the pay? This is coming from someone who wants to be an author but feels like I might have to be something else.

possible long ass post alert and it has absolutely nothing to do with Voltron, this is just my life story and how I became an editor for a living.

my mother is an author, she’s been writing stories her whole life, my dad likes to say her side of the family is gifted with bullshit and they’re all fantastic story tellers, no one can ever tell what’s true and what's not. off a dare from my uncle, my mom was set on actually completing a book for once in her life before the following Christmas, I read it and fixed it as she wrote it and we had a nice system. that system eventually turned into me becoming a paid editor for her, I believe she currently has four editors in total, with myself included, lmao duh. I edit a smaller series that she and my sister are currently writing, it’s not a huge fanbase because it’s still new and not her normal genre, and it averages about 40,000 words a book, I get paid $200 a book and just finished editing my third and am working on the fourth, there’s going to be 14 books in total by the end of this year in that series alone. she’s also writing two other series as well that are a completely different genre and not considered y/a.

I’m 18, I’m living in my parents house until this fall when I will be moving out with two of my friends, I’ll be maintaining two jobs while also going to community college to study business and English. I hope to become a freelance editor after this year, because the series currently has my schedule swamped but it’s also giving me a lot of practice with different techniques and editing styles because some authors expect specific ways of editing.

as for you wanting to be an author, trust me love, just write it, don’t ever worry about what others might think because it’s not their world in your head, it’s not their story. my mother has always told me, if you love your story, that’s all that matters.a huge bit of writing that I think a lot of authors overlook is the fact that it’s your story to tell and if you aren’t vibing with it, if you don’t love it, it’s okay to sit back and take a deep breath and restart, you can restart any sentence or any book. also, it’s highly likely you’ll need to do something different, not all authors get to freakin J.K. Rowling heights, I have met so many USA Today Bestselling Authors and I can almost guarantee you’ll have heard of maybe two of them ever if that, and a lot of them are either stay at home moms or working another job while also writing, but don’t give up writing just because you have to do something else. it’s okay to do something else to ensure your own wellbeing while doing what you love, my mom worked in I.T. for fourteen years, she quit her job last year because she was finally able to afford to keep us afloat with her book sales alone, and yes, it hasn’t been goofy dresses and tea time, we’ve gone through rough spurts where it was a bit touch and go, but we make it through. the point is, it may not be now, or even ten years from now, but there will come a point where its safe to just be an author, I’m a firm believer in never forcing yourself to live a way you’re barely making ends meet.

I highly encourage becoming an indie author if you do publish, we’ve messed with publishers before, it’s an absolute dream for some people and I’m not at all discouraging publishing companies, it just didn’t work out well for us and the one series my mom holds under a publisher is probably her worst selling series, but again that’s our experience, not the rule.  

I'm actually an editor and an aspiring author. I have my first cover already made, I have a book that I’m so close to finishing (but haven’t bc of my job and making matchups for you guys), I have three series I hope to release sooner rather than later, and I like to think I’m not a horrible writer, but I suppose I could be wrong. point is, if you’re looking into editing as a job so you can work with books, it’s perfectly okay to do both! hell, I can always send you a chapter of my book and you can edit it if you’d like to see if it’d even be something you’re interested in. 

Life Lesson 1 with Rori (which is a pen name btw)

FOLLOW YOUR DAMN ASPIRATIONS AND AMBITIONS!!!! life is ridiculous, you won’t necessarily be able to survive by doing what you love, but that should never stop you from doing it anyways! 💜

[scorrigan]

A Guide to Understanding Zombies Run S2 Radio mode

This isn’t complete, might be inaccurate; it is an outline of knowns and theories. A display of the Season 2 radio clips is here.  https://zombiesrun.fandom.com/wiki/Season_2_Radio_Mode_Clips You’ll need to use this to read along. The clips in this list have names with numbers in the first column.  These numbers are often out of order, but this IS THE ORDER the clips are in on the app.   If you just want to read what you missed, The transcript of S2 Radio is here. https://zrtranscripts.tumblr.com/post/180511002462/radio-abel compiled by the fandom’s very diligent Siriusmistake This post is Very Very long, so the rest follows under the jump.

The first column is the computer name of the clip which contains a number at the end. The second is the title of the clip.  The third column are the prerequisites for each clip to play.  As this is a computer if there is more than one prerequisite per clip, you should read each prerequisite in order, left to right.  for a clip with two prerequisites,  the first prereq should be met before the second is considered. Here’s an example, the first and second clip.  I made the computer name bold and the title of the clip italics.  The prerequisite is in plain text.  As you can see the first clip only has the prerequisite ‘always play’ and the second clip needs the first clip to have played in order to play.

Z2-RA-1-001 ERROR---CRITICAL DAMAGE---ERROR   ALWAYS()

Z2-RA-1-002 ERROR---CRITICAL DAMAGE---ERROR   SCENE(\"Z2-RA-1-001\") The unwritten rules of S2 radio are: 

Never play a clip twice within radio mode until restart. Think of it as crossing clips off after they have completed play.

Play the lowest numbered (by computer name) clip available first when resuming radio mode. The clips are ordered in a way that regular radio is always your first destination when resuming.

Dont play more than about 5 clips in numeric sequence without going off on a tangent, if possible. This one is a guess based on observation- there may be unseen code controlling things.

Keep a History of certain missions/clips having played and morale/defense level after a certain event (event unknown).

Clips 001-043: [actual clips 01-43] Feel free to skip this section, the tldr is that these clips play in sequence without tangents and once you’ve played S2M7 you can’t unlock certain clips.  Clip 001 has the prerequisite ALWAYS.  as it is the lowest numbered clip (computer name Z2-RA-1-001 ) it will always play first.  You will hear clips 002 to 003 after and then proceed to a prerequisite choice. As you can see, clips 004 and 007 both require clip 003 to have played, check if mission S2m7 is completed, and check that the alternate clip 004 or 007 has NOT played.  If jack and Eugene are not back at abel, you will hear 004, phil talk about brown sauce.  If jack and Eugene are back at abel, you will hear 007, ten seconds of J&E trying to broadcast and then you will hear phil talking about brown sauce.   the two clips following each brown sauce check to see if the clip before it played.  Then you get to the next prerequisite decision, 010 and 013, Shoot for the Stars.  The prerequisites being scheduled every 3 or 4 clips (or some other code) keeps radio from going off on tangents until after clip 044 has played. The only difference between the clips from 004 to 043 is that the clips with prerequisite S2M7 HAS played will hear 10 seconds of J&E broadcasting before Phil talks.  The Phil portions of the clips are identical.  This pattern proceeds to clip 044, where radio checks that you have completed a version of ‘Happy ending’ AND finished S2M7.  If you have not finished S2M7, There will be no clips available to play, and you would hear mission completed. The next time you played S2 Radio it would restart at clip 001.  In normal app play, you would finish S2M7 between 001 and 043 and then switch to the clips where J&E are trying to broadcast, but ONLY at one of those deciding clips. After S2M7 is unlocked, the remaining clips that require S2M7 NOT to have played will never be unlockable.

Clips 044 to 063: [Actual 44-63] This seems like be a simple 20 clip sequence.  Each clip has a simple ‘the previous clip has played’ prereq, until you get to clip 55, which has the prereq of clip 60.  Clip 55 cant be played in sequence, so radio goes off on a tangent. Based on the ‘5 clip rule’ I think radio reliably goes off on tangents after clip 47 and 51, but there’s no prereq saying it has to.  It appears there are mandatory tangents after 54, 63, 60 and 58.  We’ll return to clip 64 after a discussion of tangents.  TANGENTS Story resumes way below at END OF TANGENTS Every time you resume radio (by itself or after a mission) it looks for the lowest numbered (computer named) clip to play (that it hasnt played), and after 3-5 clips it can decide to go off on tangents.  Eventually it will decide to look for the next low numbered (computer named) clip and return to the main story.  TYPE OF TANGENT: Tangent: PreRequisite Always [Actual 89-92] These clips can be played at any time with no conditions.  Z2-RA-1-151 Z2-RA-1-164 Z2-RA-1-165.  There’s also a clip Z2-RA-1-152 that can be played at any time after you play side mission 4.  Tangent: PreRequisite Attack! [Actual 107-110] These clips play after an attack on your base.  Base attacks were active in the season 2 and 3 version of the app, where you could see attacks and gifts on the base tab of the app.  Attacks were disabled with the season 4 update; so these clips can no longer be unlocked. It’s possible that sustaining many attacks and not fixing the tower is the only way to get defense below 50%.  Z2-RA-1-A126 thru Z2-RA-1-A129 Tangent: PreRequisite Structure has been built [Actual 111-132 ] These clips can be unlocked primarily if you have certain buildings upgraded to the proper level.  The second and third clips per building have the precondition that the previous clip need to be played so that the clips will play in order.  The buildings these clips relate to are The Armory, The Comms shack, Farms, Hospital, Housing, The Playground, The training area.  The main buildings that do not have triggered clips are Janine’s farmhouse, the kitchen, the school, and the greenhouse. Tangent: Prerequisite Day of the week clips: [Actual 133-144] These clips should be triggered randomly if you run on a day of the week, 2 for each weekday and one for each weekend day.  They all have the precondition ‘and not SCENE_THIS_RUN’ that you shouldn’t hear two day of the week clips in the same run. Anecdote: In my runs, I have not heard any of these clips, both by using a phone set to american english keyboard and UK english keyboard.  I think this relates to HISTORY (skip to end) Z2-RA-1-D109  to Z2-RA-1-D120 Tangent Run description clips: [Actual 145-147] These are three clips where J&E describe an abel runner’s day.  These clips will play in order and should not play two clips per run. Z2-RA-1-R161 to Z2-RA-1-R163 Tangent Show clips. [Actual 148-155] The two shows are Radio Cable’s The Ablers and adventure serial Runner Zero and the Forest of Fear. You should only get one of these clips per run, and you are more likely to hear the The Ablers first because the first clip starts with the precondition ALWAYS.  Z2-RA-1-S153 to Z2-RA-1-S160 Tangent: PreRequisite TIME OF DAY clips [Actual 156-175] This one is VERY complicated.  If you shuffle to a clip in this section and are running at a specific time of day listed, you would get a clip.  There are 4 time divisions. The clips have these prerequisites: If the hour is before 9am (9) and you haven’t played a T (time) clip this run If the hour is before noon (12) but NOT before (9) [between 9am and noon] and you haven’t played a T (time) clip this run If the hour is before 10 pm (22) and you haven’t played a T (time) clip this run If the hour is before 10pm (22) and not before 6pm (18) [between 6pm and 10pm] and you haven’t played a T (time) clip this run This covers 12 of the 20 time clips.  Each time-zone section has two additional clips with a THIRD precondition of morale.  So first it checks time of day, then it checks to see if your morale is at least  (75) or (not 30) [below 30] and if a T (time) clip has already played this run.  This is a lot to think about, so here is how one of the clips with morale is written out:

Z2-RA-1-T092 [Time]

Danke Schoen

HOUR_BEFORE(9) and MORALE(75) and not SCENE_THIS_RUN(\"Z2-RA-1-T*\")

If Radio shuffles and tries to play this clip, you would have to be listening before 9am.  Then your morale would have to be over 75.  Finally, you would have to not have heard a T (time) clip this run.  If you don’t meet ALL of these prerequisites, radio is going to shuffle to some other clip without playing this one; you aren’t guaranteed to hear a time clip just because you cant hear this one.  So the morale time clips are very hard to catch!  Z2-RA-1-T089  to Z2-RA-1-T108 You might be saying I haven’t heard ANY of the Day of the Week clips or Time of Day clips!  More on that in the section below, HISTORY. Tangent Prerequisite Status clips. [Actual 176 to 179] These clips play one of four very similar survey clips based on both the morale and defense percentages. ‘High’ means over 50%  or higher, ‘low’ means not up to 50%.  The clips cover

high morale and high defense

high morale and low defense

low morale and high defense

low morale and low defense

Each clip also has a precondition of not having played one of the others, so after you have unlocked one of these clips you will not unlock the others.  Z2-RA-1-V167 to Z2-RA-1-V170 Tangent Prerequisite Holiday Date clips [Actual 180-184] These are your holiday clips!  Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, New Years Day, Halloween and Dia De Los Muertos You can only unlock these if the date you are running matches the holiday date, and according to lore, these are written in the european manner, Day/Month, rather than the American Month/Day.  Note: A few people think they have heard the new years clip because they have heard Radio Cable talk about champagne.  That is actually the clip named CAVA.  Z2-RA-1-Y121  to Z2-RA-1-Y125 RETURNING FROM TANGENTS You will continue to weave in an out of these tangents, returning occasionally to the section 43 - 63.  After it plays Z2-RA-1-058 [Radio] Corned Beef and Lentils, the next lowest numbered clip it can play is another split path.  If morale is 50%, it will play clips 64, 65 and 67.  If morale is not at or below 50%, it will play 66 and 68.  The very nice Clip Z2-RA-1-069 ‘Radio Cable‘ will play after you have played 67 OR 68.  There is a precondition for clips 64 and 66; if there is a history of playing either 64 or 66, you can not switch to the alternate morale path, even if you’re rerunning S2 Radio with different morale. Clips 70-72 continue the story. Clips 73-79 are another split.  Clips 73-75 are low morale, and clips 76-79 are high morale.  Clip 80 reunites the paths.  Clips 81-83 continue the story. From here it jumps to Actual clips 93 to 105. Then it jumps back to Actual clips 84 to 88. These are the last clips, and you should hear mission completed after! I think S2 is coded to get all unlockable clips played BEFORE you get to clip64/66. In many replays, the tangents stopped at that moment.  However, I have no proof.  SO HOW CAN I COMPLETE SEASON 2 RADIO?! Most likely, you cant.  THEORIES AND CONJECTURE LAY AHEAD. I DIDNT EXAMINE THE APP CODE. two factors contribute, HISTORY and DATE FORMAT.  2015 was a big year for ZR-  but with the ZR season 4 app version, I think something broke for their userbase that uses the date format MM/DD/YYYY,  There is anecdotal evidence that before 2015 american and european players could both unlock day of week and time of day clips.  There is also anecdotal evidence that at some point (likely the season 4 app update or some change to cellphone operating systems) that players with MM/DD/YYYY date format are unable to unlock date/time clips but players with DD/MM/YYYY format still can!  I have played the Season 2  radio in 2016 and several times recently, both with my phone keyboard formatted as American English and UK English. I have never unlocked a single Day of Week or Time of Day clip.   Having my keyboard formatted as UK english will change the date format on websites.  However with ZR you have the additional factor of HISTORY.  HISTORY To understand History, lets look back at the first 43 clips in S2 Radio.  These clips run in sequence, with the app checking every 3 clips to see if the prerequisite S2M7 had been run.  Deleting the app and redownloading ALSO syncs your mission history, so it brings along the S2M7 run confirmation.  User SeriousHatOn on reddit claims a solution for this: He deleted the S2M7 run log on zombie link, deleted the app from his phone, and then redownloaded the app.  The fresh app no longer had a record of S2M7 being completed, and allowed him to play all of the clips in 001-043 that do NOT have the S2M7 prerequisite code.  https://www.reddit.com/r/Runner5/comments/dg4m2i/trying_to_complete_radio_season_2technical_issues/ If this experiment is correct, clips based on Morale and Date format would likely work the same way;  the app has saved a history of what your morale is SOMEWHERE (probably in the logs for season 2 radio).  However, in order to unlock the alternate clips, you likely need to delete your mission logs on zombielink, delete and redownload the app.  Since we don’t know WHEN the app samples morale, you might need to delete every instance of RadioS2 playing, which would include all the missions where it played after mission end. I have a suspicion that if you delete all your runs with morale tracked (runs containing the status clip, and clips 64-80) from zombie link and redownload the app you might be able to reset the morale history, but it might not and I’m unwilling to try that.  Anecdotal evidence: My base has a history of low morale, so I have not unlocked the clips with the morale at or above 50%. Date and time is even more vague.  I have no idea if date and time is stored as a history just in Season 2 radio, or if having ANY missions logged in the MM/DD/YYYY format would create a history of date keeping and block you from hearing the date and time clips. Anecdotal Evidence!  User sredman played S2 in 2014 (before season 4) in America and unlocked some of the time of day/ day of week clips.    User brammariek also unlocked date and time clips playing Season 2 in Norway in 2016.  SO WHAT CAN I UNLOCK? You can unlock the Always clips, the Structure clips (It will help if you confirm that the structure is built to level 4 before replaying), The run and show clips, one of the survey clips.  In practice, I was not able to unlock the training area clips, the 2nd and 3rd hospital clips have a coding error.  But I did unlock the playground clips this year by building a playground for the first time.  If you have unlocked any of the date/time clips, it is very likely that you can unlock ALL of them, and also the holiday clips.  Best to make sure you are past clip 44 in advance of running on the holiday.  If you go back far enough in ZR history, at one point you weren’t able to see and replay the clips after finishing a mission.  Seeing the names of Radio clips happened about a year after that, so this is only a problem that has been created by Six to Start giving us accessibility options of playing clips after the fact. BUT I’M A COMPLETIST. My advice is when you buy a new phone, convert the date format to UK english, download the app, register as a new user, and play through S2 with a morale of 100%.  Don’t forget to play a bunch of missions in advance to build your morale to the desired level.  Or you can read ZR transcript’s excellent transcriptions here.  https://zrtranscripts.tumblr.com/post/180511002462/radio-abel

[crystalelemental]

New Mystery of the Emblem is complete, and I have many thoughts.

Let’s just start with this: holy shit this was so much more fun than Shadow Dragon.  For three major reasons:

No one is expected to die.  Shadow Dragon bothered me immediately, because I’m required to let someone die in the prologue to escape.  That sucks, and I hated it.  I have never gotten over that, or the expectation to kill more units to access the bonus chapters.  Which, sure, you can argue are optional.  But those characters appear in this game and are recognized, so clearly those happened now didn’t they?!

SUPPORT CONVERSATIONS!  Okay, they’re not like...actual support conversations.  They’re Radiant Dawn style, where you have conversations with allies at your base and only your base.  But there’s a tier of 1-3 for most characters, and they’re essentially support conversations, and god Shadow Dragon was impossible to get in to without those.  Seriously, I may enjoy the gameplay of Fire Emblem overall, but I do not enjoy units for combat performance, I enjoy them for being characters, and thank god they feel like characters this time.

Actually interesting story.  Shadow Dragon was pretty boring, frankly.  Very basic concepts presented, not really a lot going on.  But New Mystery actually expands on a lot of this stuff.  I’ll get into that more below.

Suffice to say, I really enjoyed it more than Shadow Dragon.  I think in terms of ranking, I’d definitely place it above Shadow Dragon, Birthright, Revelation, and Sacred Stones.  Currently I think I’m putting it above Conquest too.  While Conquest is similarly fun to play, New Mystery has the benefit of being more interesting as a story.  I’m hesitant to put it over Echoes, though.  Listen, Echoes sucks as a game.  It’s really not fun to play, almost at all.  New Mystery is fun to play, so this should be obvious.  But while the story is improved, I wouldn’t put it anywhere near the level of Echoes.

See, the main thing with New Mystery is that it filled in gaps that made the world feel more organic than just generic medieval kingdom with magic and dragons and shit.  They delve into what the Fire Emblem here is, about the history of the dragons, and why, say, Tiki’s kept locked away for so long.  Also why Medeus is a villain, and out to eliminate humanity.  Turns out, he was the only Earth Dragon to listen to Naga and convert to a manakete, and even helped guard the seal over the dragons who were slowly losing their minds.  But humans, as soon as they had that advantage, exploited dragons.  Several maps showcase that these deteriorating dragons are being kept in thrall to human tribes who use their power for personal gain.  Exploitation of dragons led Medeus to despise humans, and seek to overthrow them.  Which is pretty cool!  I’m on board with that!  Tiki’s said to also be deteriorating without the seal in place, and that, as a powerful divine dragon, she’s bring ruin to the world if she weren’t contained.  So they basically kept her in stasis to avoid disaster.  Which...okay, Fallen Tiki should’ve just been that.  A feral Tiki that’s no longer all there, instead of just “Gharnef’s power is controlling her.”  Shadow Dragon’s momentarily irritable Tiki wasn’t shit compared to what they implied could happen here.

The trouble is that the game is still pretty basic.  Beyond this bit of worldbuilding, it’s still very much conflict between the kingdoms, again, all ochestrated by Gharnef, who’s working for Medeus.  Again.  They play around more with their themes and set up some cool ideas, but it’s not the most compelling of narratives by any means.  What’s also not helped is that, while support conversations exist to make characters more engaging, it’s not all of them, and not all are done well.  Some supports are just a sort of filling in the gaps.  At least, with the MU they are.  Maybe with other characters they get a bit more.

Speaking of MU, let’s divert a bit to talk about them.  Kris is like...the one MU I have heard universal hate for.  My best guess is that this is due to fans of the original FE3, who didn’t like their inclusion in the first place, because otherwise I have no idea what the problem is.  Kris seems fine.  Really boring, but fine.  The only reason they’re kinda my least favorite is because they’re supposed to be their own character but don’t do anything.  Like, Robin has a personality and is fun, and has a great dynamic with Chrom.  Corrin, for all the faults borne of Fates, feels pretty much like a typical Fire Emblem lord.  Byleth...okay, I don’t like Byleth much, I feel like their inclusion kinda hinders the game’s narrative a little bit, but otherwise they’re pretty blank and exist mostly as a support for the other lords.  But Kris...doesn’t do much of anything.  They don’t really have a dynamic with anyone, including Marth, and are just sort of...generic loyal knight with no knowledge of the world for some reason, and who only ever trained with their now dead grandfather.  Beyond that, they don’t really exude any particular personality.  Which is probably part of the problem with supports; everyone supports with Kris, but they don’t contribute much, so it’s mostly the other character doing stuff at them.  They just don’t have much to do.

With one exception.  We gotta talk about the other, presumably new character: Katarina.  I actually love Katarina.  Which is a shame, I pulled one of her in Heroes once and made her into a manual because I didn’t care.  Oh well.  Anyway, Katarina’s got a pretty solid story behind her, and is one of the more compelling pieces of the plot overall.  She’s part of a band of assassins who were orphans, taken in by Lady Eremiah.  Eremiah is super cut-throat, willing to sacrifice the lives of these children to accomplish her goals, which mostly seem to be serving Gharnef.  While Legion’s boring and lame, Clarine and Katarina are spectacular.  Clarine starts off really obnoxious, and kind of a bitch, but the chapter where she finally falls hit me pretty hard.  Katarina’s supports with Kris also give a bit more context to what had happened, particularly with the talk about how Clarine and Katarina share a birthday, because they never had one but Clarine just decided on a day and that was the end of it.  It’s a really cute dynamic you get to experience kind of in reverse.  You see how bad things have gotten, then get the history of what used to be, and why Katarina couldn’t leave.  Eremiah’s the same.  Gharnef shows up as she’s dying and reminds her of her own history.  The orphanage she worked at was burned to the ground and the children slaughtered in the last war.  In despair, Gharnef appeared and convinced her that if the children were strong, they wouldn’t die so easily, leading her to take in the next wave and train them for strength alone, all the while becoming corrupted by Gharnef’s influence.  That last part aside, pretty compelling.  I do enjoy narratives that play with the idea of kindness being manipulated to a sensible, but corrupted, conclusion.

My main problem is that Gharnef sucks.  He’s not an interesting villain at all.  He just kind of exists, and was largely motivated by getting passed over by his master when it came to who got the cool spells.  He’s a big, stinky baby man whining about not being the favorite, and I could not care less.  Yet he’s supposed to be this grand puppetmaster, of a particularly shitty puppet.  Hardin was an ally in Shadow Dragon, who became an enemy this game.  Why?  Oh, he was mad that Nyna didn’t like him back, and got super buttmad about it.  Which is honestly fair at this point, since they describe it as a depressive episode.  He gets to marry this woman he loves, only to find out she never reciprocated the feeling at all.  Feel like it’s fair to be upset.  But then Gharnef shows up and allegedly corrupts his soul with the Darksphere.  Which...okay, first?  Lame.  Second?  Why do we have that, and why does it do that?  This was a gift from Naga, why the hell is it so dangerous?  Third, super lame!  It takes away all agency Hardin had as a villain and removes it down to “oh, he was possessed.”  Which sucks, because the exact inverse happened for Michalis, and now he’s super cool!

His character arc this game was spectacular!  Showing up to take Minerva away from her captors.  Giving her refuge in the desert and helping her rendezvous with Marth?  There’s something going on, compared to last game where he was just some lame baby man who wanted power.  Minerva says Gharnef lost his hold, and Michalis is like “Oh, no, I would never bend to him.  I killed dad because we disagreed on Macedon fighting to become a major power in the world again, and he tried to have me exiled.  I did it for me, and regret nothing.”  Honestly loved that.  But when asked why he’s helping now, it turns out it’s for their sister.  He talks about how, after he was defeated, he was near death, and the first thing he saw when he came to was Maria kneeling over him, praying to the gods to save him.  He was so touched by her kindness despite his actions, that he’s now solely driven to save her as his final act.  He doesn’t regret his actions, but recognizes that he lost and needs to do something, and god damn if it’s not going to be saving his little sister.  That’s super cool!  I’m so on board with this dude now!  One of the bigger antagonists of Shadow Dragon who offered almost nothing became a big favorite in the game with a single conversation!  I feel like that encapsulates the difference between Shadow Dragon and New Mystery pretty well.

The last thing I’ll mention is gameplay.  I really enjoyed just playing this game, and I think a big component of that is because the maps are pretty short.  And yet.  They’re challenging.  There are a few that just repeatedly required me to restart the chapter, despite being maybe three turns long.  The extra chapter when you first face Legion, and it’s got the two mercenaries to the left and right of your starting position, and you can recruit both but you have to not kill them?  The map was so small they could get to just about anyone, so it was a real challenge to handle the archers with my high movement units, prevent those two from dying against the blockades to the sides, and take out the boss quickly without being swarmed.  Other times, the gimmicks were a little obnoxious.  Like Chapter 18.  You’re trying to take this one castle on the right that’s pretty well defended, but there are these super fast cav archers closing in on you from above.  You basically have one turn to get to the village on the left, so their king calls them off.  It’s a cool chapter, but I had to reset the first time, because I didn’t go into the chapter knowing that.  I put my dancer closer to the fortress, thinking I’d have to just move quickly and take out the boss to get them to back off, so Marth couldn’t reach the goal fast enough.  It’s just small things like that.

Overall, I think it’s pretty solid.  I could see playing this one again some day.  Maybe to intentionally miss one of the spheres so I can see what the bad ending is about.  But on the whole, I like it.  Still not super impressed with the characters in Marth’s game, I still feel like a lot are pretty bland (including Marth himself), but it’s a huge step up from Shadow Dragon.