#which makes the whole room radiate orange to a degree that its hard to see

[marsixm]

at my childhood home which has nauseating lighting and is kept at almost 80° inside for some godforsaken reason, came outside to the white concrete paved backyard to cool off, only to find my dad has installed a very cool toned white lightbulb. its like going from viscerally overstimulating reality to a stark unreality vibe

[hocusposies]

SCARED YET?

summary in which the reader takes her study partner on a ‘date’ in the hopes of him truly revealing his honest purpose

pairing nolan holloway x werewolf!reader

authors note the last time i wrote a nolan oneshot was in 2017.... yikes

warnings lol, angst, 2% fluff (not really)

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Rightfully, he should have known better. To be alone... in the dark... with the very person he was afraid of. But you knew that he had some sort of preparation— all thanks to the spidey senses. He had to be ready for when things got bad, if things got bad. Considering the perdicament he was in, things going bad could’ve simply been you getting angry. Your face turning red and smoke coming out of your ears. Not even the glowing amber eyes or the sharp teeth that would erupt from your gums.

You and Nolan have been studdy buddies since he started going to Beacon Hills High. He was your partner in chemistry— which he was terrible at, so he asked if you could help him out. You, being the kind and friendly person you were, you obliged pleasantly. Until the fighting began. Nolan always tried to evade the fighting to not seem included, but you knew he was. It didn’t take a scientist to know that he was crazy. He stabbed Corey with a pen for crying out loud. After that, you just knew he was making his way to you. Nearly every person you hung around had some supernatural ability— wolf or chimera. Plain and simple: you were next.

Even with all the bullshit happening, you wanted to keep the tutoring sessions going. You needed all the proof you could get to make sure he was coming after you. And you got just that when your allergies began to flare up at a study session. He made his way to bathroom, and you started digging through his pockets to find a small ziplock of wolfsbane. It was open in his pocket. Not only did he get all the assurance he needed, so did you.

So you invited him to a private spot in the woods. Many of her friends had already been to it in their lifetime, but he’s never been. It had the perfect view of the moon almost every night. It was mostly rock than grass that led up to a cliff structure. The first time you shifted, this was the place the beast led you to. Therefore, it was the perfect spot to throw the truth in his face. So you picked him up in your obsidian Toyota Camry, and found a spot on the edge of the wood. Grabbing his delicate fingers, you dragged him into the tree line with a grin on your lips. He couldn’t tell if the toothy smile that was painted on your face was malicious or playful. In your grip, his hands trembled and the look on his adorable face explained why. He was nervous— his heart was thumping loud in your ears. It was almost annoying. You kept shooting looks over your shoulder with reassuring eyes.

As you neared the private location, you stopped in your tracks. “Close your eyes.” You sweetly ordered, swinging his side to side in front of you. His blue eyes darted around nervously. He though you were gonna try something. His lack of faith in you, kinda hurt— however, his assumptions were way too early. “Um, w-why?” He stuttered. A giggled erupted from your throat in a faint condescending manner. Your eyes narrowed as you stepped closer to the taller boy. “Because... what you’re about to see, I want it to be a surprise.” You moved your shoulder enthusiastically. His heart preformed an additional thump, that definitely caught your attention. “C’mon, Nolan. I don’t bite.” You shrugged. After a little coercion, he obliged covering his beautiful eyes. And for a moment, you missed the innocent glimmer inside of them. Biting your bottom lip, you pulled him with both of his hands.

“No peeking!” You laughed, as watched his eyes flutter under his lid. Even before the bite, you were always pretty sturdy on your feet, walking backwards over tree roots and rocks were too easy. A small smile creeped onto his thin lips. As you approached the open and windy space, the waxing gibbous moon shined brightly into your eyes. The pressures of the approaching full moon weighed heavy, but you were tame enough to resist— even in the situation you were in. “Are we there yet?” He asked, snapping you out of a daze. “Uh, yeah. Open up.” You plastered a smile onto your lips, plastically. He, of course, didn’t notice. His wide oceanic eyes blinked open, his eyes scanning the place. You had already pre-decorated— if what you did could even be counted as pre-decorated. You placed a quilted blanket on the stone floor, held down on the corners by rocks. Beside it was a cooler of drinks and snacks. You weren’t sure if he indulged in the irresponsible acts of underage drinking, so you brought soda as well. The fact that you out of a bit of effort into the whole plan, confused you but... whatever, right?

His lips fell agape, as you led him to the wide blanket. “Wow...” he muttered, his eyes barely leaving the horizon of the city and the glowing moon. “Right,” you muttered, launching your arms into the blue cooler. “You wanna beverage? We got orange Fanta, 7up, Coke, and if you want something a little stronger... beer and whiskey.” You offered with a persuasive smile. He anxiously nodded, folding hands in front of him. “Yeah.”

“Which one do you want?” You clairified for the overly nervous boy. “Oh,” he laughed, scratching the back of his neck. “I’ll have the b-beer.” You nod, reaching into the ice, and threw him a can. He caught it fairly well, sitting onto the quilt. You grabbed a little bottle of whisky to, downing it in one sip. It’s not like you could get drunk. But you didn’t want him to drink alone. “So, Nolan Holloway, what’s your story?” You asked formally, leaning back on your arms. He shrugged taking a sip from the beer can. “I don’t really have much of a story...” his mousy hair, hung over his forehead in the attempt to mask his gleams blue eyes, but they were no match. Even though you knew there was some sort of ulterior motive, he was adorable. And whatever he was doing seemed out of his character. “Very funny. Everyone has a story,”

You’re eyes squinted at him playfully, before you spoke once more. “I’ll tell you mine,”

“I moved here when I was eight, my mom was just getting out of the military and was working on her nursing degree. Made a few good friends; Hayden, Mason— new them before they were all big and bad.” You laughed as nostalgia took over. “Fast forward a few years... my grandfather dies— creates this big divide in my family... really sucked. I would isolate myself to get away from the arguing, sometimes even rebelling.” Your eyebrows deepen. His eyes soften, as he puts down his beer. “Then my freshman year arrived, ugh! All the drama... it wasn’t tasteful. Then, something happened to me...” you were starting your path to confrontation, and it was gonna be hard for him to get out of it. It was about time for him to know it was all a trap. “Something that changed my life forever.” Your eyes bored deep into his. Fear began to echo throughout the pair, causing a smile to graze on your lips. “I was bitten by a stranger— or a stranger at the time.”

His eyes were practically bulging out of his head. His heart thumping in fear. You, still, just leaned comfortably on your back supported by your arms. A giggle fell from your lips. “Or did you already know that?” Your voice small, but menacing. He stood up abruptly, trying his hardest to not make eye contact. Following his actions, you stood to your feet slowly, crossing your arms over your chest. You could assume, he wanted to get the hell out of dodge. “Nolan, remember last week when we were studying kenetics? My allergies were beginning to flare up... and when you went to the restroom, I went through your jacket, and I found wolfsbane. Opened... and in a tiny little ziplock.” You slowly started to approach him, with a calm, attractive face, but you were radiating heat. His bottom lip fell between his teeth as you backed him into a tree. “What were you gonna do? Sprinkle it around my room?”

“I just needed to know!” He exclaimed.

“Why? Frankly, who I am is my business, is it not? I’m not gonna go around trying to find your weaknesses and use them against you!”

You lightly shoved him into the tree, causing a sigh to fall from his lips. You were only inches away from the boy. You could feel his nervous breaths on your nose. “I’m sorry... I just had to! She had to know for sure.” His eyes casted down to the ground, past you. Pure disappointment was painted on your face, and it seemed to break the boy down. “Who?” You demanded. “I can’t tell you, or she’ll kill me. They’ll kill me.” A sigh left your lips, as you backed away slowly, looking at the boy you kinda liked with distaste. “Well, its seems to me that you’ve chosen the wrong side.” His eyes began to water at your words. You started pacing while his back was stricken against the tree bark. He trembled, shutting his eyes tightly. “Tell me this... are you scared yet?” You chuckled.

“No, I-I’m guilty.”

You looked at him with some-what soft eyes, but they quickly hardened. “I knew you wouldn’t hurt me, or anyone, but I still was following through with their plan.” He slowly stepped away from the tree. Alarmed, you glared at him, keeping up your defenses. “I’m in too deep, y/n, and I’m sorry.” You cocked your chin upwards, with deepened brows. “Is that supposed to help me forgive you? There’s always a choice, Nolan. And if you need that defense of protection... I know someone who can help.“ you rolled your eyes, referring to yourself. “But these are my people that are being violently conspired against, and I’m not about to help someone who doesn’t want to be helped.”

“I do wanna be helped. I wanna be helped by you.”

“Then, show me.”

[fictaetion]

SAUDADE

Min Yoongi Imagine

Part 1

Saudade: Saudade is a deep emotional state of nostalgic or profound melancholic longing for an absent something or someone that one cares for and/or loves.

28 October 2020

Hello it's me Min Yoongi. I am still getting used to this. Writing about myself and talking about my everyday life to you. Not that it constitutes much, just basic things like eating, playing video games, working on music and playing with Holly. Oh have i told you yet i have a dog named Holly.

I was resentful about this at first knowing that I hadn't told Y/n about this. But further as I continued it I felt good. This way it is so  much better rather than meeting outside everyday.

Imagine getting caught by paparazzi, oh my I can't even imagine how much of a scandal it would be. Now that we have landed on the topic of paparazzi I somewhere think it's because of them that I have started to become anxious about going outside. 

I remember when I talked to you during our first meeting I have never felt so relieved talking to someone except Y/n. By the way, I am planning on telling her soon.

 I really can't hide it anymore. Is it wrong to do this while she is gone. What will she think of me? 

Okay this is good, i feel this is all I wanted to talk about today. Bye, hope to see you soon.

To, Kang Soowon

 

Looking over at the digital clock sitting on the desk, which displayed 6:00 pm indicating it was already evening. The shimmering orange hues shone in the apartment acting as a proof. 

Hitting the send button he relaxed back into his chair and stared up at the ceiling. The entire house was peaceful with just a few sounds from the cars passing by and Holly's barks. 

He had grown accustomed to these sounds for over a week now. These were the only things that made him feel he was not completely alone. His prominent source of chitter chatter and chaos had been out for a  week now. 

She had gone on a trek with bangtan as the only representative for the couple. On the other hand all the members had accompanied their wives or girlfriends. The youngest one Jungkook had also brought his daughter along with them for this trip. 

Funny how the maknae was the first one to be a father out of all of them. Even the eldest was married and had a stable married life now and following his footsteps were his younger brothers. 

Soon Taehyung was also going to propose to his long time girlfriend. Now the only one left was Yoongi. Yes he was dating you but that's it. There were no advances in the relationship yet. 

You both knew you loved each other dearly and had also confessed to each other previously. Not in a very romantic manner of course, it took place when Y/n presented Yoongi a plate of spaghetti which she made all by herself from scratch. 

Even though it was not the very best in regards to taste , he admired his girlfriend’s hard work and the love she had put into it. Her eyes focused on his face just to get a nod of approval from Yoongi. 

It wasn’t bad considering it was her first time making it. He looked up to give an appreciating remark to Y/n when her face lightly covered with flour came into his sight. 

Oh how cute she looked. But she was so eager to get feedback from him that she did not realize that he was staring at her face with a slight smile. 

“It’s good, really good!” Yoongi said, taking another bite out of the spaghetti and picking one bite for her to taste.

A frown formed on her face as soon it landed in her mouth. 

She started to mutter how bad and bland it tasted and asked Yoongi how he even managed to chomp down the whole plate, literally taking the last bite. “Why do you even bother eating this let alone finish the whole thing,why?” 

“Because I love you” Y/n’s constant emphasis of why and how seemed to have done its work subconsciously on Yoongi’s mind. When the reality of what had been spilled clicked both of them, their heads instantly turned to each other to take a glance at their partners faces. 

Both of them were trying to find any hints of cringe or “oh it came out by accident” kind of look on their face. But all they could decipher the stunned and honest looks they had.

”You love me Yoongi?” she asked him just to make sure that those words were not just tongue slips. This is the time Yoongi says it, say those words out loud to her, the words that you had been practicing secretly in the bathroom for weeks and even when working. 

Partly also because of Seokjin’s proposal video which he had decided to keep as an inspiration when it would be his time to do it. But alas! look at the situation where they were in both in their pyjamas in their not so clean house a complete 180 degree of his hyungs proposal. 

Not over candle light dinner but the dining table in his kitchen. Well now it's done and there is no turning back. His girlfriend’s voice broke his chain of thoughts when she presented the same question to her. 

Smiling he looked up at her, still a bit nervous but just wanted to get it out. “ Yes I do, I love you alot and I mean it, even if it's not the best place and situation to confess this but it's a fact” he looked up at her face to see what she had to say. 

Will she accept his feelings and reciprocate or will it just get overlooked?. “It's okay if… if you don't like me back I-'' before he could continue saying anything further her tiny palms were covering his face, thumb stroking his cheekbone.

Her face expresses a broad range of emotions whether it be happiness, excitement, but the most prominent one adoration and respect for her lover.” 

I love you too Yoongi, I love you too” with this a stream of tears flowed from her eyes. Yoongi was overjoyed and over the moon knowing that both of them were in the same place and mindset in their relationship. 

From now on it was just moving forward and not looking back. Both of them scooted close to each looking forward to kiss each other but before yoongi could even do anything Y/n turned her face around and yoongi’s lips landed on her cheek making her release a huge laughter which erupted and echoed throughout the room. 

“Yaah Y/n you better get back here and give me my kiss”Yoongi said with puckered lips. “Holly your appa finally said it he confessed to me” you said looking towards the dog you had been holding in your hand. 

He started to bark, wagging his tail at you, definitely not understanding the words you said but felt the emotions you radiated through your facial expressions. Yoongi felt his heart at ease, pulse lowering down and a surge of easiness rising in him, this is all he wanted and now finally he has what he had dreamt of, a stable life, a loving partner right in front of his eyes. 

“Psst Y/n” he called her trying to make eye contact. She stopped whatever she was busy with and looked at him and a tint covered her cheeks with a confident smile on her lips hearing the words “I love you” falling silently, inaudible but you could make out what he was saying.

You winked at him and muttered those same words ”I love you too”. 

The doorbell at their apartment rang making yoongi fall back into reality. He quickly understood it must have been the delivery guy which came with his lunch. 

He quickly took in the order and paid him his money. Yoongi had been ordering from the same restaurant you had been to. He even insisted for the same delivery guy knowing very well that he might get triggered if he saw anybody else. 

He was in the most vulnerable stage of his health right now. Knew he had to do everything in a wise manner or else the situation would completely turn 180 degree. 

He placed down the parcel on his table and started eating his food. He was in the middle of glancing through his media when a picture of you and all the boys popped up on his phone. There were a bunch of people standing around you guys, probably their fans and everyone was smiling at the camera. 

His eyes were only focused on you looking at your smile and your jacket clad figure, but besides you a guy who was intently gazing at you and smiling just by looking at you unlike others who were looking at the camera. 

Yoongi wasted no time to search for his profile and understood that it was your guys tour guide. He couldn't help the insecurity which was building up in his mind. 

He always knew you had an outgoing personality and would befriend everyone around you and yoongi on the other hand was a completely opposite person. Would only talk to the group of few people he trusted and never intended to know any other people the only exclusion for work related meetings. 

It's always a distraction to have too many people in your life he would say and firmly believed it too. The question of would you leave him for somebody else or would  you find someone much better than him would constantly go through his mind and now with his condition it increased even more. Suddenly he received a call which broke his chain of thoughts. 

The screen displayed the callers id: Kang Soowon. He instantly smiled looking at the call and picked up in hopes of clearing his mind by talking to her. It felt good to have someone around to talk to.

Few minutes had passed of him still talking on the phone, afew whispers and faint laughs could be heard from him. “Yes, even though I think I should let this all go, I could become a better person and have a better life I guess, thank you so much for helping me realize that Miss Soowon."

Hope I see you soon at the same place. Good night” he placed his phone down on the counter and was about to get up when a feminine voice came from behind him”Yoongi?” he instantaneously turned around to look at the source of a very familiar voice.

[hockeysweetheart]

My point of this is literally anything Romantic with Gale Peeta’s name isn’t far behind...  I mean who can blame her .... 

Catching Fire Chapter 2

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.

Chapter 7 Catching Fire 

"I've heard enough for the moment. Let's skip ahead to this plan of yours," he says. I take a deep breath. "We run away." "What?" he asks. This has actually caught him off guard. "We take to the woods and make a run for it," I say. His face is impossible to read. Will he laugh at me, dismiss this as foolishness? I rise in agitation, preparing for an argument. "You said yourself you thought that we could do it! That morning of the reaping. You said - " He steps in and I feel myself lifted off the ground. The room spins, and I have to lock my arms around Gale's neck to brace myself. He's laughing, happy. "Hey!" I protest, but I'm laughing, too. Gale sets me down but doesn't release his hold on me. "Okay, let's run away," he says. "Really? You don't think I'm mad? You'll go with me?" Some of the crushing weight begins to lift as it transfers to Gale's shoulders. "I do think you're mad and I'll still go with you," he says. He means it. Not only means it but welcomes it. "We can do it. I know we can. Let's get out of here and never come back!" "You're sure?" I say. "Because it's going to be hard, with the kids and all. I don't want to get five miles into the woods and have you - " "I'm sure. I'm completely, entirely, one hundred percent sure." He tilts his forehead down to rest against mine and pulls me closer. His skin, his whole being, radiates heat from being so near the fire, and I close my eyes, soaking in his warmth. I breathe in the smell of snow-dampened leather and smoke and apples, the smell of all those wintry days we shared before the Games. I don't try to move away. Why should I, anyway? His voice drops to a whisper. "I love you." That's why. I never see these things coming. They happen too fast. One second you're proposing an escape plan and the next... you're expected to deal with something like this. I come up with what must be the worst possible response. "I know." It sounds terrible. Like I assume he couldn't help loving me but that I don't feel anything in return. Gale starts to draw away, but I grab hold of him. "I know! And you... you know what you are to me." It's not enough. He breaks my grip. "Gale, I can't think about anyone that way now. All I can think about, every day, every waking minute since they drew Prim's name at the reaping, is how afraid I am. And there doesn't seem to be room for anything else. If we could get somewhere safe, maybe I could be different. I don't know." I can see him swallowing his disappointment. "So, we'll go. We'll find out." He turns back to the fire, where the chestnuts are beginning to burn. He flips them out onto the hearth. "My mother's going to take some convincing." I guess he's still going, anyway. But the happiness has fled, leaving an all-too-familiar strain in its place. "Mine, too. I'll just have to make her see reason. Take her for a long walk. Make sure she understands we won't survive the alternative." "She'll understand. I watched a lot of the Games with her and Prim. She won't say no to you," says Gale. "I hope not." The temperature in the house seems to have dropped twenty degrees in a matter of seconds. "Haymitch will be the real challenge." "Haymitch?" Gale abandons the chestnuts. "You're not asking him to come with us?" "I have to, Gale. I can't leave him and Peeta because they'd - " His scowl cuts me off. "What?" "I'm sorry. I didn't realize how large our party was," he snaps at me.

"They'd torture them to death, trying to find out where I was," I say.

"What about Peeta's family? They'll never come. In fact, they probably couldn't wait to inform on us. Which I'm sure he's smart enough to realize. What if he decides to stay?" he asks.

I try to sound indifferent, but my voice cracks. "Then he stays."

"You'd leave him behind?" Gale asks.

"To save Prim and my mother, yes," I answer. "I mean, no! I'll get him to come."

"And me, would you leave me?" Gale's expression is rock hard now. "Just if, for instance, I can't convince my mother to drag three young kids into the wilderness in winter."

"Hazelle won't refuse. She'll see sense," I say.

"Suppose she doesn't, Katniss. What then?" he demands.

"Then you have to force her, Gale. Do you think I'm making this stuff up?" My voice is rising in anger as well.

"No. I don't know. Maybe the president's just manipulating you. I mean, he's throwing your wedding. You saw how the Capitol crowd reacted. I don't think he can afford to kill you. Or Peeta. How's he going to get out of that one?" says Gale.

"Well, with an uprising in District Eight, I doubt he's spending much time choosing my wedding cake!" I shout.

The instant the words are out of my mouth I want to reclaim them. Their effect on Gale is immediate - the flush on his cheeks, the brightness of his gray eyes. "There's an uprising in Eight?" he says in a hushed voice. I try to backpedal. To defuse him, as I tried to defuse the districts. "I don't know if it's really an uprising. There's unrest. People in the streets - " I say. Gale grabs my shoulders. "What did you see?" "Nothing! In person. I just heard something." As usual, it's too little, too late. I give up and tell him. "I saw something on the mayor's television. I wasn't supposed to. There was a crowd, and fires, and the Peacekeepers were gunning people down but they were fighting back. ..." I bite my lip and struggle to continue describing the scene. Instead I say aloud the words that have been eating me up inside. "And it's my fault, Gale. Because of what I did in the arena. If I had just killed myself with those berries, none of this would've happened. Peeta could have come home and lived, and everyone else would have been safe, too." "Safe to do what?" he says in a gentler tone. "Starve? Work like slaves? Send their kids to the reaping? You haven't hurt people - you've given them an opportunity. They just have to be brave enough to take it. There's already been talk in the mines. People who want to fight. Don't you see? It's happening! It's finally happening! If there's an uprising in District Eight, why not here? Why not everywhere? This could be it, the thing we've been - " "Stop it! You don't know what you're saying. The Peacekeepers outside of Twelve, they're not like Darius, or even Cray! The lives of district people - they mean less than nothing to them!" I say. "That's why we have to join the fight!" he answers harshly. "No! We have to leave here before they kill us and a lot of other people, too!" I'm yelling again, but I can't understand why he's doing this. Why doesn't he see what's so undeniable? Gale pushes me roughly away from him. "You leave, then. I'd never go in a million years." "You were happy enough to go before. I don't see how an uprising in District Eight does anything but make it more important that we leave. You're just mad about - " No, I can't throw Peeta in his face. "What about your family?" "What about the other families, Katniss? The ones who can't run away? Don't you see? It can't be about just saving us anymore. Not if the rebellion's begun!" Gale shakes his head, not hiding his disgust with me. "You could do so much." He throws Cinna's gloves at my feet. "I changed my mind. I don't want anything they made in the Capitol." And he's gone.

Chapter 8 Catching Fire 

Does everyone look younger asleep? Because right now he could be the boy I ran into in the woods years ago, the one who accused me of stealing from his traps. What a pair we were - fatherless, frightened, but fiercely committed, too, to keeping our families alive. Desperate, yet no longer alone after that day, because we'd found each other. I think of a hundred moments in the woods, lazy afternoons fishing, the day I taught him to swim, that time I twisted my knee and he carried me home. Mutually counting on each other, watching each other's backs, forcing each other to be brave. 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.

Chapter  9 Mockingjay 

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.

Chapter 14 Mockingjay 

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.

[rusticrevivals]

I always thought that the chuck a woodchuck (groundhog)  might chuck (if he could) was referring to FOOD. You know, like a ‘chuckwagon’ was where they prepared and carried the food for the lines of pioneers heading west…  But apparently, the chuck referred to in this instance is actually a ‘block of wood’. Which makes more sense, I suppose.

As we’ll be hearing a lot about groundhogs in the next few days, as well, this seems a fitting title to this blog posting in more ways that one.  Richard has been working hard all of January to start getting in our supply of wood for next year.  He’s just starting with deadfall that haven’t started to rot yet, and as we eventually want a few trails through the woods, he’s so far been sticking to where we want the trail to ‘meander’.  So, on both his new snowshoes and his skies, and with both borrowed and newly-purchased toboggans, we have been carting wood back and forth from the back woodlot to the front of our barn, where he’s then been splitting it.

While we want to be eco-friendly (and plan to replant as much as we take out) and while there has been much discussion of late about ’emissions’ from woodstoves across the world ( Nick Waddell states ” Across the country, the burning of wood for heat is under fire. In Montreal, it is already illegal to install a new wood burning stove, except for those that use energy efficient wood pellets, like the ones that have caught on in parts of Europe)  Paris DID reverse its ban on woodstoves, when it was proved that the fine-particle emissions were NOT as high as had originally been thought.  New Brunswick is 85% forest, and with the present horror of fossil fuels and fights over the pipelines ruining what remains of clean water in the world, DRY HARDWOOD is still one of the more eco-friendly ways to heat.  Someday, perhaps, we’ll be able to heat entirely with solar, somehow, but for now – it’s wood from our woodlot!

Our wood furnace, as you might remember from this earlier photo is connected to hot water pipes, which connect into radiators that are on the baseboards of most of the rooms at Blue Belldon Farm.  (Of course, we have a back-up oil furnace that ALSO heats those water pipes, but we’ve only used less than 1/2 a tank of oil all year, compared to going through 5 tanks of propane last year in Ontario with a very similar radiator system.  SURELY that’s better for the environment!  It certainly is better for pocketbook!)

our wood furnace, kept burning day and night!

Of course, with the gigantic  wind and freezing rain storm all of N.B. had this week, many were without power. We only lost ours for four hours – from 1 to 5 a.m., so were very lucky, as there are some near Moncton and along the ocean who have been without for 5 days now!  This system of ours wouldn’t heat the house without electricity, as it has to be pumped into the pipes. We’re hoping to have this rectified soon with a battery or outside generator, but during this week’s storm we simply kept the furnace fire going, and also built one in the living room fireplace, which has the best ‘pull’ up the chimney of any of the old houses in which I’ve ever lived ( a lot!). And the temp of the living room is kept at LEAST 10 degrees warmer with just the simple lighting of that fire, although most fireplaces LOSE heat rather than offering it… we are LUCKY with the care and engineering that went in to this particular fireplace!

To remind you, here is the back room (living room) fireplace that actually DOES heat the room, unlike so many!~ Richard and Smitty at Christmas

Our radiator system does not look like the radiators I had growing up, or which I had in a lot of cottages in which I resided while in the U.K. They were big monsters, made lots of clunking and noise, and when they were ‘bled’, they could spew some nasty things out at you in a forceful stream:

The radiators in my bedroom, and most of the rest of the house my grandparents built, and in which we all lived, weren’t the ornately decorative Victorian ones you sometimes see. They just were enormous and essentially ugly,  and took up a lot of space (although awfully handy to hang wet clothes on, or towels you’d like warm for after your bath, admittedly! )

While these are now considered ‘vintagely trendy’ and are collectors’ items, apparently, I prefer our more subtle baseboard radiators, that look almost like electric, if you look at them at all!

Dense hardwoods like maple, oak, birch and cherry are some of the better woods for heating. The best hardwoods in these parts for wood are maple, birch and beech. We seem to have a lot of beech in our woods, reminiscent of my favourite woodland walks in England, so I really don’t want to lose our beech! (When I worked as a guide for the provincial parks system in the early 1990s, my supervisor pointed out that the best way to recognize a beech tree was that its trunk looks just like an elephant’s leg. I’ve never forgotten that simple tip!

Richard’s brother from Saint John works as an engineer on the big ships down there, and he gave my mountain man one of his old “snowsuits” (what do you call them on an adult?)  Whilst the colour goes against every fibre of my being (I believe you should wear clothes that fit INTO Nature, not make you an objectionable embellishment on the horizon), they WERE free, and you know how accident prone Richard is – although we are always joined by walkie-talkie, he might still need that bright orange on someday, not just for me to find him but, God forbid, the medi-vac helicopters!

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Above – First Richard snowshoes out the 1/4 mile or so to our forest (behind the barn). He drags his tools with him, and although we have since bought a bigger, sturdier sled with taller sides, this borrowed one did the trick!  He has to shovel some of the deadfall out first to access it!

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Then, above, Richard cuts the tree into large log shapes, and moves all the way along the tree.  Those logs are then piled two or three at a time, and bless him, he hauls them on toboggan all the way back to the barnyard/driveway. Now, we’ve always planned to have a draft cross to help just pull the logs out, so that R. can do all the cutting near the house, too.  We are presently looking at this guy-  Percheron cross, which I’ve owned before, and already trained to the task:

But for now, Richard must be his own woodchucker.  The next stage is to split all the logs, and some of them are MAJORLY thick buggers:

This was the best of all the action shots I took showing the power you need to get into. the middle of these. These logs are, of course, always easier to split in very cold temperatures, and we do have a small electric wood splitter (that only works in WARMER temperatures) so it’s been trial and error every day to see which kind of splitting would be done, depending on the weather and the thermometer!

Once Richard can get these split in two, the splitting into smaller, burnable pieces is easier.  And Smitty is almost always on hand to help, if he isn’t busy chasing ski-dooers off our land!

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  And then, after several proud days in the bush, and 3 already-fallen, but not-yet rotting trees, Richard proudly shows off his trailer-full of our OWN wood, which will be left inside the barn to dry out for next winter’s heating.

This, folks, is self-sufficient living at its best.  Makes a person feel ‘down-right proud’!

And, in our woods, with Rasmussen Brook trickling along below, (despite minus 20 temperatures some days,) and glinting in the  bright sunshine, the peaceful hush of a winter’s afternoon (when the chainsaw is turned off!) at Blue Belldon Farm is muchly appreciated!  

If you haven’t heard Richard do his chainsaw impression, by the way, it’s worth a listen. One is the priming and warm-up, and the other is the actual ‘cutting’. He doesn’t have enough breath left in him to do the whole production in one go anymore, apparently!

And, to return to ‘woodchucks’ – since Groundhog Day is only a few days away, if you haven’t seen one of my favourite British clips, you may want to see this young lad calling “Alan”.  But, since Alan isn’t responding, maybe it’s “Steve”.

It’s part of this hilarious series – check out all the episodes if you laughed, and ENJOY!

  How much chuck could a woodchuck chuck? I always thought that the chuck a woodchuck (groundhog)  might chuck (if he could) was referring to FOOD.