#why his peets so damn big

[rabiesofficial]

[greekbros]

"greek-Bros: Leopards"

Dionysus: *just cuddling with his like 30 leopards and tigers*

Apollo: *comes over from Delos to visit but finds dionysus straight up trying to assimilate with the big cats* ...um....doing good there dio?

Dionysus: can't talk, doing leopard stuff. *Lays on his back purs*

Apollo: ......well I just came over to say h-OW! *a young leopard play nibbled his ankle* your pets are out of control.

Dionysus: not now apollo, I must commune with thee cats. *Plays with one of their paws. *Softly and quietly* peets.

Apollo: *takes a deep breath* ok fine...just don't over do it.

*days later*

Apollo: *after playing a small consert to some of his followers* -and now wonderw-*gets tapped on the shoulder* ?!

A satyr: um...yes are you apollo?

Apollo: .......yes.

Satyr: yeah can you help us? Lord dionysus hasn't been seen in days and some of our cattle have disappeared.

Apollo: oh my fucking self he's been eaten by his own cats. *says in a monotone voice but his body betrays his worry, gets up and runs to his chariot*

*later*

Ares: *sharping his sword*

Artemis: *scoping out the landscape*

Hermes: *sitting down knowing damn well this is going to all go stupid.* .....you guys DO realize this could be just dionysus going on a "walkabout" right?

Ares: don't care. He's long gone, and I'm gonna take his head.

Artemis: Ares, we were told by dad NOT to kill him.

Apollo: *sees the rest of the gods and screechea to a halt* WHERES DIO-*gets shushed by Artemis*

Artemis: shhhuuuuuu there he is. *Points to a disheveled and feral looking dionysus*

Hermes: oh cool he's COMPLETELY reverted back to a primal state.

Ares: well there's no saving him now, his head going to look really cool.on m-*gets hit in the head by Artemis*

Artemis: moron, ok, I've set traps in various locations around Delphi. We should be able to capture him.

Apollo: looks like he hasn't drank in days?

Hermes: as long as you don't rope me into being a distraction I'll be just fine.

Artemis: That's a perfect idea! Go down there and see if you can get dionysus to follow you.

Apollo: if you say no, I will personally find a way to make every step you take feel like a bad case of HOT FOOT.

Hermes: .......damn it. Fine. *Runs down the hill to get dionysus to follow him but gets caught in a net trap* FUCK!

Dionysus: *grunts and growls, then runs back into the forest on all fours with the rest of his leopards*

Artemis: ......maybe we shouldn't of asked.

Ares: I c-

Artemis and Apollo: NO!

Ares: fine. *Puts his sword away*

*later*

Apollo: *writes in a note pad* "Day 48 of hunting down dionysus, supplies are getting low, team moral is at its lowest, and we haven't found any traces of dionysus in the past week, I fear may have lost hi-"

Artemis: Apollo it's been 7 hours you twink, it's not like as if this is going to last forever.

Apollo: In that case you're a twink!

Artemis: No I'm femine-butch.

Apollo: Wait we're twins wouldn't that mean we're both femine-butch and twink?

Ares: hey I found something. *Points to claw marks on a tree*

Hermes: epic, now all we need to do is find di-*feels a drop on something on his shoulder and sees the glowing eyes of like 30 big cats plus dionysus*

Ares: ....should we run?

Hermes: oh no that would be rude Ares, we should invite them over for some tea.

Ares: w-

Hermes: IM BEING SARCASTIC YOU ASSHOLE RUN! *obviously does what he does*

Ares: *his flight or fight mode is still calibrating after hermes's comment* but I don't like tea....

Dionysus: *leaps from the tree at Ares*

Ares: COME ON YOU FUZZY BA-*gets nearly crushed under dionysus and two other leopards* *with the wind knocked out of him* fuk you no surrender....

Artemis: *hearing the commotion* We will discuss this later!

Apollo: FINE! *followers her*

Hermes: *hiding in a tree and sees the twins* oh good you're here!

Artemis: What the fuck are you doing can't you tame animals or something?!?

Hermes: NOT LEOPARDS WHOVE BEEN BROUGHT UP ON WINE AND GOAT MEAT!

Dionysus: *completely in the mental state of a leopard* gggrrrrr

Apollo: *suddenly remembers a trick he saw dionysus do a month earlier* .....*takes a small glass lens he keeps to see small print, makes a little light and shines a small lazer like beam next to some of the big cats*

Ares: DUDE THAT TRICK WORKS WITH ANTS!

Apollo: shut up. *Points it at another direction*

Dionysus and several of the cats: ◉w◉ *stare at the little light, some tries to paw at it*

Apollo: *moves the light away from Ares*

Artemis: ... holyshit how did you?

Apollo: come on, follow the light....

Dionysus: ◉w◉ *leaps and tries to get the light*

Apollo: perfect.

Ares: dude you supposed to burn them m-

Hermes: DUDE SHUT UP.

Ares: *feels the weight of the Leopards off of him* oh cool.

Apollo: *slowly walks and makes a following of big cats and dionysus follow the light*

*later after calming the big cats and tying down dionysus*

Apollo: ....ok let's see if this works.

Hermes: *has two amphoras of wine and tries to feed one to dionysus but he keeps biting it* .....*opens one up and just slips it on his head* there you go.

Apollo: Hermes!

Hermes: what he will lick it off his face look.

Dionysus: *licks some wine and slowly gets back to his normal state of mind* Holyshit dudes.....I WAS ABLE TO BE A LEOPARD! You guys should try it sometimes it's really enlightening. It was like a journey into my inner mind and shit.....plus I got more play time.

Ares: Fuck you man you and your stupid cats nearly killed me...*sees apollo staring at him because he isn't considering the people* .oh and have been randomly killing livestock for like several days. That's ugh...not cool too I guess.

Hermes: see...I told you guys he was on a thing. Besides I've probably never seen these animals actually kill anyone without dionysus telling them....for all we know they were just roughhousing.

Ares: *being the king of roughhousing, grumbles under his breath* dude fuck off I know what roughhousing is and I'm pretty certain that was no fucking roughhousing.

Some Satyrs and Maenads: *all huddle around and hug dionysus for being safe and sound*

Dionysus: awwww guys it's ok, also there's a feild specifically for my Leopards dude I was hunting there the whole time.

A maenad: it's true my lords, the livestock we were referring were from the local farmers.

Apollo: ..... seriously?

Dionysus: *a leopard comes to lick some of the wine off of him* yeah, I taught them not to go after farm animals. *Cuddles with the Leopards* ain't that right Conney?

Apollo: ....hmmmm so....you weren't actually in any danger or being the danger?

Artemis: *coming back from one of the farms* yeah...those weren't Leopards...um... dionysus are there wolves out here on Delphi?

Dionysus: no why?

Artemis: *looks at the mountain* ........ugh...no reason.....*feels an ominous presence in the air*.....Hmmm.....

Hermes: ....... Artemis....

Artemis: yeah?

Hermes: do...you think.... It's him?

Artemis: hopefully not.....dad said he hadn't seen him in decades let alone recently.

Hermes: ....do you think it's connected to the disappearances in Sparta and Athens?

Artemis: let's just hope those are just disappearances of a different nature...

Apollo: *notices the weird dark edgy superhero dialogue Artemis and Hermes are having* .....*sigh* this is why I stay at home.

Ares: *getting gnawed on by one of the leopards* OH GODS STOP IM NOT A CAT PERSON!

Leopard: *purrs like crazy*

[mourntheantagonist]

Chapter 5

Read on AO3

1988: P.I.R. Day 1

“Bill, it’s raining.”

Billy looks over to his boyfriend who sits in the passenger seat with a pout on his face. The rain is coming down as barely even a sprinkle. More like a mist. Windshield wipers only useful every five minute.

“Someone’s observant.”

Steve scoffs and crosses his arms. He’s been in a mood since they got up this morning. Steve was all packed and ready for a long weekend trip only to find out that the track was only a whopping ten minute drive from their house.

“Where else did you think the Portland International Raceway was located?”

Steve just dropped his duffle to the ground and walked out the front door and jumped into the Camaro. Leaving the cup of coffee Billy had poured him sitting on the counter to grow cold.

Billy knew not to look too much into things like this with Steve. He was by no means a morning person and even though the droplets were small, rain always put him in a bad mood.

It reminded him too much of Hawkins. Not memories of good days out with friends or at parties getting shitfaced. It reminded him of the days spent inside by himself as he watched raindrops drip on the window pane. Alone in his huge house. Nothing to do but stare at the puddles forming in potholes and being heavily reminded of his loneliness.

Rain put him in a bad mood. It really didn’t help that they lived in the Pacific Northwest, where rain was almost an everyday thing. But today it was a little more than just the rain. It was that Billy would be racing in the rain. Steve didn’t like that at all.

Billy oh so regrets telling Steve about the guy who spun out and crashed into a wall just two races ago. Because of the rain he hydroplaned and couldn’t stop himself. But Steve won’t listen to the rest of the story. Won’t listen to the fact that the guy has a history of pulling shit like this. Doesn’t take the road conditions into account ever. And he was fine! The car barely even sustained enough damage to warrant repair. Just a dent that was easily pulled out and a couple chips off the paint.

Steve wants nothing more than for Billy to turn the car right around. Drive out to Peet’s and fuel him with some caffeine, considering he’d abandoned the one at home in an attempt to make a point to Billy.

But he’s not going to ask him to do that. But he’s definitely not going to let Billy think he’s okay with what he’s doing.

“If it makes you feel better, I’ll go slow.”

Steve huffs out a laugh. “For you, slow is five over.”

“I’ll turn around if you’re really that upset about it.”

Steve wants to scream ‘Yes! Please turn around’, but he doesn’t want to be the reason for that. Doesn’t want to be the wall standing in between Billy doing what he wants to do. He wants Billy to put up those walls himself, for himself. Value his own safety and livelihood just a little bit.

Was Steve being overdramatic? Probably. But cut him some slack. It’s eight in the morning, rain is coming down, Billy refuses to run the heat in the car, and he’s tired. Should have just drank the damn coffee.

They pull into the venue and it is absolutely nothing like the last race. Trees are replaced by buildings. The hum of traffic on the interstate is deafening. They are unmistakably still smack dab in the middle of the city, and not in Nowheresville, Washington. There’s people standing around engaged in conversation. Easily able to differentiate between locals and tourists by whether or not they’re standing under the canopy. True Oregonians don’t even own umbrellas.

Sure, they’re technically locals, but Steve still rushed from the safety of the car to one of the covered areas, pulling his flannel up and over his head. Have to protect the hair.

Billy followed shortly after, Steve’s raincoat in hand because Billy remembered to grab it. Steve always forgets. Steve begrudgingly takes it from Billy’s hands and puts it on. It’s hard to stay mad at someone when they keep being so considerate. But Steve does have a special talent for that.

“Come on you big fucking baby, let’s go get you some coffee. They’re selling some at concessions.”

Steve’s head jerks around quick enough to cause minor whiplash.

“Wait, there's concessions?”

“Yes. Not every race is just a bunch of dudes in a parking lot.”

“Is there food?”

Billy just huffs out a laugh and pulls Steve by the collar of his jacket out into the rain and towards the little concession stand by the bleachers. If there’s one way to get Steve out of a bad mood, it’s directly through his stomach.

Billy bought him a cup of coffee with extra creamer – he was still working on that – and a croissant. Steve didn’t need to know that they weren’t freshly made and came directly out of a Costco container. As his stomach filled and his body warmed up from the hot drink in his hand, his bad mood started to fade. And just like Steve, the earth had a mood change as well. Clouds parting, letting in a glimpse of sun as the rain halted.

“Look Steve, no more rain.”

“The ground is still wet.”

Billy just dramatically threw his hands in the air. “Barely!” He exclaimed. “Just relax and finish your croissant. I’m gonna go register.”

Steve nods and watches Billy walk away, leaving him there by himself. Coffee in one hand, half of a croissant in the other. Left to his own thoughts. His weird intrusive thoughts. Like if someone were to push him over, which would he save? The coffee or the croissant? He should just finish the croissant so he doesn’t have to ponder that question. He never liked the trolley problem.

He looks to the sky, watching the clouds continue to part revealing bright blue skies and the bright sun overhead. It was nice, but they lived here long enough to know not to hold their breath. Portland rain was indecisive. It would be pouring buckets one minute, and sunny clear skies the next.

It’s why you would never catch a local with an umbrella. It’s pointless unless you plan to lug it around with you all year long. It’s better to learn to accept and even appreciate damp clothes and damp hair. That last part was definitely taking Steve some time to come to grips with.

The line Billy’s in was long. And he didn’t appear to be anywhere close to the front. That’s the reason the sudden hand on his shoulder startled him. Was he actually going to have to decide which to save?

But he turns around to see Gerry. Five foot three and a hundred and ten pounds of pure bullishness. Steve would be lying through his teeth if he were to say he wasn’t absolutely terrified of the old woman.

“Good to see ya here kid. Thought you’d been scared off after the first race.”

Steve’s mouth hangs open just slightly. It’s too early for him to talk to people. Luckily he realizes he’s been just standing there like an idiot after just a few seconds.

“Oh. Uh. Yeah. I just have a crazy work schedule. This was the first time I could have the weekend off.”

“That’s good. Was startin’ to worry the two of you had broke it off. Glad to see ya didn’t.” She pats his shoulder a little hard. Not really expecting it he stumbles slightly.

He momentarily freaks at the comment. Forgetting for a second that Billy had told her. He allows himself to smile when it comes back to him. Enjoying the acceptance from the old woman. Ahead of her time. Reminding himself why he said he liked her.

“Okay. Since I have you alone, I have to ask. I have a theory and I need you to confirm it.” Steve throws her a quizzical look and takes a sip of his coffee. “What’s Hargrove like in the sack?”

Steve nearly does a spit take.

He manages to swallow the coffee in one aggressive gulp before actually bursting out into a fit of laughter.

“I’m sorry. Uh. Could you maybe elaborate? Are you asking about our... positions?”

“Oh god. No. Please don’t tell me that.”

Steve never thought he’d see that lady blush. But she was. Blushing. Cherry red all over her cheeks.

“My theory is that his little tough guy act don’t make it past the bedroom door.”

“Oh! Okay. Umm.” Steve was slightly uncomfortable. Discussing not his sex life with a woman be barely knew, but Billy’s sex life. But Steve was still hanging on to that grudge and thought, what harm is there? “He’s definitely not as aggressive, but I wouldn’t go as far to say he’s entirely submissive.”

“So he’s not a pillow princess?”

Steve raises his eyebrows and chuckles.

“Sometimes.”

Now Gerry has burst into laughter. Almost tearing up. Steve never would have thought this is the kind of conversation he’d be having at eight thirty in the morning in the middle of a parking lot surrounded by conservative men in their forties and fifties.

And then there’s someone else standing next to them. Long dirty blond hair. Unmistakably Billy.

“What are you guys laughing at?” Billy asks. Not at all amused.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it, princess.” Gerry says before slapping a hand two times against his cheek and walking off without another word.

Billy looks completely dumbfounded. Steve is desperately trying to hold in another laugh.

“Did she just call me princess?”

“Hey shouldn’t we be walking the course right about now?”

Billy takes the half eaten croissant from Steve’s hand and takes a bite before handing it back.

And with a mouthful of bread he points a finger. “This conversation is not over.”

- : -

They only had the time to walk the course just once. Billy was nervous. Steve could tell. Not just because of that. But because it had started to rain again.

Steve doesn’t like seeing Billy nervous about the rain. He was already nervous enough himself when Billy was all confident with his “it’ll be fine. I know what I’m doing”’s, but if Billy’s nervous, that can’t be good.

By the time they get back to the Camaro, Billy falls into the driver seat with his legs hanging out the open door. His head in his hands breathing slightly chaotic. Something was wrong. More than just the rain.

Steve lays a tentative hand onto Billy’s thigh, but Billy quickly and swiftly slaps the hand away.

“Don’t touch me. We’re in public!”

Okay. Something was really wrong.

Because not ten minutes ago they were just fine being touchy. Sure they were very PG and platonic. But Billy seemed to be okay with it so long as it was nothing too suspicious. A hand on a thigh might seem a little too suggestive if you don’t counter in the fact that there was literally nobody near and the car door shielded the act entirely from view.

But Steve chose not to take it personally. Because something happened in that little head of his as soon as the rain started. Something Steve was not yet privy to.

“Billy. Relax. I’m gonna get in and we’re gonna talk it out, okay?”

Billy nodded his head. Breaths still shaky with a hint of anger as he tossed his legs into the vehicle and slammed his door shut. Okay maybe a little more than a hint.

Once Steve was inside he took a tight hold of Billy’s hand. Trying to calm his erratic breathing. It seems to help slightly. Enough for Billy to actually hear the words coming out of Steve’s mouth.

“Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

Billy looks at him. His eyes stone cold. “It’s fucking raining.”

“Someone’s observant.”

“Shut up.”

Steve pulls their clasped hands to where they are now resting on Steve’s thigh. Wrapping a second hand around the two so Billy’s is fully encompassed.

“That didn’t seem to bother you an hour ago. Why now?”

Billy tosses his head back against the headrest. Shutting his eyes tightly and inhaling sharply through his nose.

“You! You made me fucking nervous, Steve. I have never given the rain a second thought until you. And now I can barely remember the course, and I have to run on street tires, and it’s fucking raining! And you’re here to watch and now I’m nervous.”

Steve’s look at Billy softens. Because it makes sense. And god Steve feels awful because it was his grumpy attitude that caused all of this.

“Bills, if I thought your life was actually in danger I would have had you turn the car around when you asked. I was just in a pissy mood, okay?” Steve squeezes tighter. “I believe in you, princess.”

That pulls Billy out of his haze for just a moment. “Okay what the fuck inside joke is this?”

“If you do well today, maybe, I’ll tell you.”

“Bribery huh? Didn’t think that was your style.”

Aw. There’s the Billy he knows and unfortunately loves.

“Come on, let’s get those brand new numbers on your car.”

“Kiss me first, shithead.”

So Steve does. Leaning over the stick shift, planting a quick and wet kiss straight to Billy’s lips. Not the kiss Billy wants. But that’s all Steve’s going to give.

- : -

To both of their surprise, Billy doesn’t spin. Actually, he’s one of the only drivers who didn’t spin.

And fortunately, nobody crashed today. Not even Dwight.

Steve didn’t ride with Billy today. Not wanting to add to the stress. Even if it wasn’t a timed run.

And Billy came in first. Even if he drove slower than his liking. All of the DNF’s, missed gates, and hit cones playing in his own favor. And shit, Steve owes him some information, and maybe a better kiss.

The second run group was on course straight away, giving Billy and him absolutely zero time to even speak before Billy was being summoned to his work assignment. So Steve just parked himself at one of the picnic tables in the covered area. Ignoring the fact that his boyfriend was putting himself in front of reckless drivers on wet pavement. Shoving down the thought of “what could go wrong” as far as it would fucking go.

No. No. No. The only car Billy would be going home in would be the Camaro. Not an ambulance.

The sounds of screeching tires against wet asphalt did not cure the thought. Painstakingly resisting every urge to turn his head every time he heard so much as an “ooh” from an onlooker.

He sat there. Sipping on his now lukewarm coffee and searching the wooden planks of the picnic table for hidden shapes. Just like he would with the clouds if they weren’t just one gray blob.

And time manages to pass by quickly with just that to occupy his time. He hears the engines shut off and the announcer call something over the loudspeaker. He doesn’t know what, but the tone of his voice made it sound like a finale.

He’s tossing his nearly empty coffee cup in the garbage can when Billy comes up from behind him.

“Hey, before we go, wanna feel like you’re in high school again?” Billy asks, discreetly pulling at his sleeve.

“Why on earth would I want to do that?”

“Just trust me.”

Steve gives him a weird look but follows Billy under the bleachers that face the real racetrack. The one people actually come here for. Not a parking lot.

You can barely see anything but rusted metal from where they’re standing. Steve pieces it together fairly quickly.

“You bring me under here to kill me?”

“Just shut up and fucking kiss me.”

Billy was right. It totally does feel like high school. The good parts. Sneaking girls under the bleachers on the football field. But this felt ten times better. Because it was Billy. Not just some girl he only got with to prove something to Tommy H.

It’s like they were in their own little corner of the world. Perfectly concealed and able to love one another publicly but privately at the same time.

Steve’s tugging at Billy’s hair and Billy’s tugging at his. He’d be upset if it hadn’t already been messed up by the rain earlier.

Their hands are moving haphazardly but their lips and tongues have found a rhythm. Slowly interlocking and fulfilling their every need.

“God I love you.” Steve breathes against Billy’s mouth.

“Tell me what princess means.”

Steve had nearly forgotten.

“Something relating to your pillow.”

Billy stalls for a second before completely stepping away from Steve.

“You did not tell her that.”

Steve doesn’t respond. Just raises his eyebrows and stands his ground. The look says I sure did.

“I fucking hate you.”

“You love me.”

And Billy just moves back in, pulling him by the collar, and kisses him. Inhaling sharply. Breathing in all that is Steve.

“You know you love it when I just lay there.”

“Yeah. I do.”

[always-andshewrites]

This is how I imagine Madge’s “Box” looks like in “Another Way Out”.  This particular box belongs to my son, a Hanukkah gift from his grandparents a few years ago.  In place of “Happy Chanukah - 2018 - Love, Papa & Grandma”, imagine Madge’s initials... M. A. U.

| Madge |

 “Madge, hey Madge, wait up!” I turn my head to see who is calling my name.  After Katniss and Peeta left, I stopped by the mayor’s house for Kizzie’s piano lesson.  Mayor Kadinski offered to give me the day off because of all the festivities today, but I insisted it was okay.  Really, I did it more for myself than for Kizzie, as selfish as that is.  But with the stress of what my friends will be faced with, I needed my music.  I needed for my fingers to press the familiar keys and for my mind to be inundated with the soothing melody of Nocturne #20 in C Sharp Minor.  It is my go-to piece when I am stressed out.

 “Hey Rye, what are you doing all the way out here?” I ask him, slightly confused.  We are on the edge of town, almost in the Seam and pretty far from the bakery.

 “Sorry— let me— catch my— breath!” He huffs.  I stop walking to give him a minute to regain control of his lungs.  His hair is a disheveled mess, and he has that same goofy grin that he always wears.  “Geez, you walk fast.” He finally says after a moment.

 I raise an eyebrow, not sure what he means.  “I do?” ‘Well, I was on the track team, back when Katniss and Peeta were in school.’ I smirk silently to myself.

 “Yeah, I’ve been trying to catch up with you since the fourth house past the mayor’s mansion— which is when I finally decided to yell your name.”

 “Oh, okay.  Well, what’s up?”

 “Oh, yeah.  Right.  Um, so Peet said I could come find you and you would give me a key to his house.  He said I could stay there some while he was gone.”

 “Oh yeah.  Peeta told me you would probably ask for it.  If you want to follow me to my house, I can give it to you.” 

 “Okay, cool.” Together we continue walking, making our way to my house.  I am thankful for Rye’s constant joking banter, keeping away from any serious talk until I can just barely make out the silhouette of my house.

 “Madge, something is going on with Katniss and Peeta, and I think Haymitch might be in on it, I’m not sure.  But I’m worried about my little brother.  I know you have been friends with them for a long time, so . . . I don’t know, maybe this is a long shot, but do you know anything?  I swear, I’m not trying to be nosy, I’m just worried.  I’m actually— Madge, should I be worried?”

 His question takes me by surprise, it was the last thing I ever expected to hear from the school's number one jokester, Rye Mellark.  The shock freezes me in place for a split-second, but I quickly resume walking, refusing to meet his eyes.

 “Rye, it’s not safe to speak right here.” I whisper, keeping my eyes trained forward.  “When we’re in class tomorrow, I will tell you where we can meet to talk.”  I never look over to see if he heard me and then my heart accelerates when I realize my house is within a few steps.  “I really love the cookies at the bakery!” I chirp, finally meeting his eyes.  He nods, understanding the message I was trying to convey.

 I reach into my pocket, retrieving my house key and unlock my door.  Rye follows me inside, closing the door behind him.

 “This is really nice Madge.” Rye says, trying to be polite when he looks around at the tiny home.  I roll my eyes and make my way into the kitchen where I stowed Peeta’s key.  He asked me to keep it in a secure location in case either Rye or his dad were to ask for it.

 “It’s okay Rye, I know it’s shit here.  But I’m making it work.  I don’t need much.” I tell him, discreetly pulling the key from its secret location.  Just in case Rye saw it, I’ll have to move my box somewhere else.  I can’t risk anyone finding out about its contents.

 I walk over to Rye and hand him the key to Peeta’s house.  “Here you go.  Don’t lose it, I don’t have another one.”

 “Thanks Madge.  See you at school tomorrow?”

 “See you at school tomorrow.” I confirm.

 Once Rye is gone, I plop down on my couch and look around the house.  Where can I move my box? I ask myself.  My tiny little box, handcrafted by my very own father from the wood of an oak tree is no more than seven and a half inches wide, four and a half inches long, and about two inches deep.  For the moment, it only houses Katniss’ house key, my special book, a letter my father wrote me and two letters I found that my mother wrote me.  Rose gave me the first letter from my mother after they died.  In each letter, mama has left a trail of breadcrumbs leading to another letter; scattered throughout the district.  Oh, and there is also this coin my father left me.  I haven’t figured out its purpose, but it must be important, otherwise, he wouldn’t have bothered keeping it a secret.

 I am constantly moving my box, afraid of someone finding it.  I alternate between a few hiding spots in a few select trees but having it in my house makes me feel safer.  Somewhere within reach.

 I stand up and begin pacing the floor of the living room.  “Why is Rye worried?  Did he see something?  Hear something?  Did Peeta tell him anything?” I ask myself, still looking for a new hiding place for my box.  Just then, the floorboard creaks under my foot.  I take a step back and it creaks again.  Curiosity overtakes me and I get down on my knees to inspect the plank, only to find it loose.  It’s loose, but not that loose.  Eventually, I am able to pry it up.

 “Holy shit!” I exclaim when I see what is hidden underneath the floorboard.  It is a hidden compartment, a perfect place for my box.  But there is something else here too.  It looks like someone else had the same idea as me.  It is a box, almost the exact same dimensions as mine, except it has a mockingjay carved on the face of it, where my box displays a tree, with my initials engraved on the inside.

 I switch the boxes out and replace the plank, sliding my couch over it.  No one ever comes over here, and if Gale happens to pop in, he will just think I rearranged the room.  As if on cue, the moment I am done, there is a knock at the door.

 “Gale.” I say, surprised when I see him.

 “Everything okay?” He asks, raising a brow.

 “Yeah, I just wasn’t expecting you, that’s all.” I tell him, trying to play it cool.

 “Can I come in?” He asks me.

 “Oh, yeah.  Yeah, of course.” I widen the door for him to come in and then wrap my arms around his neck, needing the security of his touch.

 Something is wrong though; I can sense the tension in the air.  I pull back to meet his eyes and ask, “Is something wrong?”

 “Vick said he thought he saw Rye Mellark over here.”

 “He saw right.” I confirm, nodding.

 “What was he doing over here?” Oh, I see, jealous Gale is coming out to play.

 “He came to get Peeta’s house key.”  His eyes narrow at my statement; I do not like where this is going.

 “Why did you even have it?” He demands, his eyes narrowing as he glares daggers at me accusingly.

 “What’s with the third-degree Gale?” I demand, narrowing my own eyes and furrowing my brows.  I can glare just as efficiently as he can; better even.

 “I don’t like Rye Mellark; I don’t want you talking to him.  He’s a townie, and bad news at that.”

 “I’m sorry, what did you say?  You don’t want me talking to him?  Who are you, my father?  And just in case you forgot, I’m a townie too Gale!” I scream at him, feeling the blood in my body begin to simmer.

 “He’s an asshole and I don’t want you talking to him Madge.  And you’re not a townie, you live here in the Seam, same as me.”

 “Okay, first of all Gale Hawthorne, I was born and lived in town up until six months ago.  I have “townie” friends that I’m not just going to abandon simply because of a change in venue.” I don’t realize it, but with each word that escapes my mouth, my voice seems to get higher; louder; angrier.  “Second of all, you do NOT tell me who I can or cannot talk to.  I am a big girl Gale; I can take care of myself and I think it’s time you left.” I walk over to the door and open it, motioning for him to leave.

 “Madge, I—”

 “GET OUT!” I scream even louder.

 His shoulders are hunched over as he walks out the door and then I slam it behind him just as he turns around and says my name.

 “Fucking shithead.  Asshole, mother-fucker!” I scream to no one.  “Who does he think he is, telling me who I can talk to?  I don’t think so, Rye is my friend and I’ll talk to him whenever I damn well please!” I rant; although no one is listening, it feels satisfying to yell the words out loud.  I wish Katniss was still here, I bet she’d march over there and slap him or something.

 “Pgh.  Tell me what to do, Gale Hawthorne?  I don’t think so.”

Read the whole story on my A03 page: (I hope I did this right!)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28679952/chapters/72665136#workskin

[ceekbee]

Anger

I feel very bad for angry people, for I see them creating their own hells to live in, and they usually don't even realize it. I've seen few things in the world that deserve the kind of anger that we see on a regular basis; on the radio this morning, one of the disc jockeys was telling about taking her mother to a cancer treatment center. She parked the car close to the entrance to help her mother into the center, and as soon as she was out of the car, the person in the car behind her started laying on the horn. This person actually came up and hit the back of her car with his car-- not hard enough to do any damage, but hard enough to let them know he was angry.

I feel very sad for this man. He can't be happy with life if such a trivial thing can cause such rage in him. Inner peace? Forget it. He's probably so busy looking for excuses to be angry that he never notices the beauty of the world, the wonderful parts of life, the nice people who surround him every day. I've known people like him, and there's no convincing them that life is wonderful, because it can't be since people are such jerks. But people aren't jerks. They do jerk-like things on a regular basis--we all do--but that doesn't make us jerks.

The angry person reacts in anger and causes others to be angry, and a cycle begins. My hope is that I'm able to be a person who ends such a cycle, a person who reacts to anger with love and understanding, because the angry people need that more than anything else.

Reacting in anger is merely perpetuating these people's belief that their anger is justified, but reacting in love may get them to question whether or not their anger is justified, effective, and/or helpful to them.

We can't psychoanalyze everyone we meet. We can't say this person is angry because she's been neglected, or this one is angry because he's trying to compensate for feelings of inadequacy. We need to separate the anger from the person, the creation of God who stands before us and who deserves our love.

When I'm tempted to react angrily myself, I try to remember to ask myself this question: Am I contributing to the anger in the world, or am I contributing to the peace and love in the world? I need to contribute to the love--we all do. Love is the only power that can cause a permanent change.

Of course, we have to look at the other side of anger--the side that gets us to act when we see an injustice done to another person, the side that causes the feeling of righteous indignation that gets us moving and feeling for others. There is injustice in the world, and as Arthur Ponsoby points out below, if our lack of anger is a sign of indifference, then it's a big problem for us and for those people with whom we share the world.

But we still have to control this anger, as Aristotle points out below. Unchecked and misdirected anger is destructive, and if we're to be angry at all, we want that anger to be constructive, not destructive. Controlling our anger takes learning and practice, and we have to keep learning from our mistakes and the mistakes of others to learn how to use our anger effectively, and to know when to recognize anger that's justified, and anger that's a reflection, a symptom, of something else that's going wrong in our lives.

Anger destroys the angry person and all those around him or her. The

angry father can cause fear and terror among his children. The angry

wife and mother can manipulate with a force and subtlety that can be

felt for years. Open anger roars through human relations with a

destructive force--a firestorm. The hidden anger that burns and attacks

and manipulates can last for years. It destroys the underbrush; it twists

and poisons the ground growth. And so with us. The ferocious exterior

flame is uncontrollable except over a long period of work and time.

We must isolate our anger and allow it to burn itself out.

Edward J. Lavin

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Sign up for your free daily spiritual or general quotation ~ ~ Sign up for your free daily meditation

Eugene Carman

Rhodes' slave! Selling shoes and gingham,

Flour and bacon, overalls, clothing, all day long

For fourteen hours a day for three hundred and thirteen days

for more than twenty years.

Saying "Yes'm" and "Yes, sir" and "Thank you"

A thousand times a day, and all for fifty dollars a month.

Living in this stinking room in the rattle-trap "Commercial."

And compelled to go to Sunday School, and to listen

To the Rev. Abner Peet one hundred and four times a year

For more than an hour at a time,

Because Thomas Rhodes ran the church

As well as the store and the bank.

So while I was tying my neck-tie that morning

I suddenly saw myself in the glass:

My hair all gray, my face like a sodden pie.

So I cursed and cursed: You damned old thing!

You cowardly dog! You rotten pauper!

You Rhodes' slave! Till Roger Baughman

Thought I was having a fight with someone,

And looked through the transom just in time

To see me fall on the floor in a heap

From a broken vein in my head.

Edgar Lee Masters

from Spoon River Anthology

How could I feel so miserable in the midst of such splendor? The question flashed

through me all at once, not waiting for words to express it. The answer came

more slowly: No one makes you angry. Anger, like love, is something you choose.

Stunned, I sat down in the middle of the field I'd been walking through.

I knew I needed to look within myself, let go of my anger and have a quiet talk with God.

Susan L. Taylor

No person can think clearly when his or her fists are clenched.

George Jean Nathan

Anger is a symptom, a way of cloaking and expressing feelings too awful

to experience directly--hurt, bitterness, grief and, most of all, fear.

Joan Rivers

Anger is not only inevitable, it is necessary. Its absence

means indifference, the most disastrous of all human failings.

Arthur Ponsoby

As long as anger lives, it continues to be the fruitful parent of

many unhappy children.

St. John Climacus

They are fools who cannot be angry;

but they are wise people who will not.

Proverb

anger 2

Anger in its time and place,

May assume a kind of grace.

It must have some reason in it,

And not last beyond a minute.

If to further lengths it go,

It does into malice grow.

'Tis the difference we can see

'Twixt the serpent and the bee.

If the latter you provoke,

It inflicts a hasty stroke,

Put you to some little pain,

But it never stings again.

Close in tufted bush or brake

Lurks the poison-swelled snake

Nursing up his cherished wrath;

In the purlieus* of his path,

In the cold, or in the warm,

Mean him good, or mean him harm,

Wheresoever fate may bring you

The vile snake will always sting you.

Charles and Mary Lamb

*place where one goes often

Anger makes you smaller, while forgiveness

forces you to grow beyond what you were.

Cherie Carter-Scott

Ruby stepped toward him. "Edward," she said softly. It was

the first time she had called him by name. "Learn this from me.

Holding anger is a poison. It eats you from inside. We think that

hating is a weapon that attacks the person who harmed us. But

hatred is a curved blade. And the harm we do, we do to ourselves.

"Forgive, Edward. Forgive. Do you remember the lightness

you felt when you first arrived in heaven?"

Eddie did. Where is my pain?

"That's because no one is born with anger. And when we die,

the soul is freed of it. But now, here, in order to move on, you must

understand why you felt what you did, and why you no longer need to feel it."

She touched his hand.

"You need to forgive your father."

Mitch Albom

The Five People You Meet in Heaven

It is wise to direct your anger towards problems--not people;

to focus your energies on answers--not excuses.

William Arthur Ward

If you get angry easily, it may be because the seed of anger in

you has been watered frequently over many years, and unfortunately

you have allowed it or even encouraged it to be watered.

Thich Nhat Hanh

- From Living Life Fully

[the-dark-fantastic]

Trick Or Peet (Fanfiction - Pokémon HG/SS - Petrel/Reader)

Title: Trick Or Peet Author: ultra-warped / the-dark-fantastic.tumblr.com Fandom: Pokémon HeartGold / SoulSilver Characters: Petrel/Reader, Giovanni, Team Rocket Grunts, Original NPCs Rating/Warnings: General/Teen - Completely SFW fic; the rating is for some mildly-naughty words and bad jokes. Notes: At the end of the fic (along with a 'deleted scene')! Summary: Everybody has a good time at the holidays. Even Team Rocket.

One of the great things about this town is that no one's ever too old for the Haunted Harvest Festival. Even the people who don't go all-out for it still give it a nod, in the way of a hairbow holding a tiny pointed hat, or a porch full of plush Pumpkaboos, or that one incredibly odd fellow with the lapel pin shaped like Mismagius that when you lean in turns out to be an actual Mismagius -

Alright, that guy's a f'n freak. But everyone else is having a good time, including you, though you'd probably be having an even better one if you hadn't gotten stuck taking your little brother around for tricks and treats. Your dad was supposed to do it this year, but -

"He went out for candy cigarettes three hours ago and hasn't come back," your mom said, staring out the window with the most worried expression she could possibly contrieve, and you'd just groaned, dropping your head into your hand. (He really will be back, though. Your mom just thinks that joke is a lot funnier than it is - but your brother's not old enough to understand it yet, so it's probably okay.)

(And to be honest, you wouldn't put it past your dad to have gone out the front door, snuck around the back, and been hiding in the basement choking on his own laughter. The whole family's like this, but at least you know where you got it from. And whose fault it will be when you finally get your sweet, sweet revenge.)

So you're stuck with the kid instead of meeting up with your own crew, but at least it's a nice night for it. Last year, it rained until the garlands of paper Ghost-types turned to purple mush, and the year before that, it was so cold that nearly everyone had ended up in a universal costume of parkas and overfluffed earmuffs. But right now it's warm enough to slip off the light jacket and go bare-armed, and once the temperature does start to fall, you'll have been running around for so long you'll welcome the kind of breeze that scratches leafless branches across a midnight sky.

Your neighbours are nice - and certainly festive (Gentleman Edward and Madame Vivianne do the absolute best amateur spookyard, hands down) - but for the real haul, most people head downtown, where all the local businesses and even a few of the larger chains are stocked with full-size chocolate bars, gift bags so heavy the bottoms are threatening to fall out, and in one case, a berry-bobbing tub deep enough to drown in. It's all about drumming up customers, of course, but it's hard to mind when every window is filled with a living display and the only way you can tell the employees from the guests is by their nametags because all the costumes are that damn good. There's no half-assing it with just a googly-eyed, wiggly-eared headband here.

But what's better yet (or much, much worse, or absolutely hysterical, depending on who you talk to)? Is that Team Rocket gets super-into it, too. No one had been happy when the infamous criminal organization had set up shop here - and it's not like they'd been open about it at first, they hadn't put the Big Red R on their roof or anything; but once the rumours started to spread, they'd spread fast, and once someone actually managed to prove it - by then, they'd become firmly enough entrenched that no one knew how to run them out to begin with, or if it would have been the right thing to do even if they’d found a way. Weirdly enough, Team Rocket puts a lot back into the local economy. So sort of an uneasy truce had formed, with most of the residents looking the other way as long as Team Rocket didn't do anything really publically illegal, and Team Rocket pretending their business wasn't doing things that were...well, really illegal.

But then they'd started up their Happy Harvest, Family Fun! campaign, handing out candy and trinkets and colourful little cards right outside HQ, and the PTA Brigade had lost their minds. “Criminals? Luring our children into their creepy black van? Not in my backyard!” If ever there was a lost cause, though, trying to keep kids away from an increasingly-shiny combination of candy and danger was probably it. Eventually, Moms Against Team Rocket (MoTeR, pronounced exactly like it wasn't actually spelled) had given up on attacking the event directly and settled for grumbling behind the closed doors of what their husbands assumed were meetings full of wine and those lemon bars their hands had been smacked away from.

Your mom hadn't been part of it (though you're not sure if that's because she isn't particularly concerned about Team Rocket or because of the Noodle Casserole Incident that had gotten her politely but firmly invited not to feel as if she needed to continue attending the PTA), and so you don't feel much guilt about taking your brother that way once the frenzy at the shops starts to die down. He's still as wound up as he'd been when you left the house and probably doesn't need any more sugar, but he's easier to manage when he thinks he's getting his way and once you get back, he's going to be your parents' problem, not yours. (Ha. There's your revenge.) He's run into one of his little cronies and they're shrieking about who's collected the most, and by the time you rock up to the Rocketyard, the stories being passed back and forth about all the people they know who know someone who's been to Lavender Town (and occasionally, someone who didn't come back from Lavender Town) are actually a relief, because every time they manage to scare each other silent, it lasts a whole three seconds or so.

Whatever's beyond those heavy red doors is off-limits to anyone not a member of the organization, so the party takes place outside, and outside is packed. Most years, it's been the grunts handling the handouts, but tonight - Seriously? The big boss himself? Those are the murmurs at the back of the line, anyway. You've never seen Giovanni in person before - just his portrait staring into your soul from the posters put up now-and-then - and you bounce up on your toes, trying to get a glimpse over the top of the crowd. You can't - too many taller heads prevail - but a pair of girls you remember vaguely from your senior year are passing by on their way out, and you can hear them giggling and gasping - "Oh! I know Team Rocket's terrible, but Mr Giovanni's really quite dashing, isn't he?" "...did you really just call him dashing? Did Celebi transport me back in time and I missed it?"

So it is him? That adds a further touch of mystery and excitement to a night that's already got no shortage of either. Why here? Why now? It's no secret that Team Rocket hosts these events to boost their image, but they're doing well enough right now (for a given value of 'well enough', anyway) - so is it that he feels safer making an appearance when public opinion is high, or could it be a ploy to push it even higher? Because, face it, ninety percent of these kids would vote the man into office right now. (The other ten percent are too firmly on the Pikachu is Pikafection platform, and by tomorrow, they'll all be throwing their support to Mr Mime's Wall O'Wonder Show. The candy bribes giveth, and the candy bribes taketh away.)

As you get closer, the image you've seen in those pictures begins to resolve. Giovanni isn't costumed (though he is very definitely dressed up - like, to the nines up), but he's made a concession to the festival by pinning a spray of purple blossoms to his lapel. He's seated in a chair padded with the sort of leather that probably shouldn't ever actually be brought outdoors, and though he's generally accompanied in promotional material by the most smug Persian the world has ever known, the Classy Cat is currently nowhere to be found. It seems, too, that the grunts are still the ones running the show, because Giovanni nods and smiles - kind of smirks, really - at the visitors who've made it to the front, but it's his henchmen who are filling bags and making jokes and pulling punches at the teenagers who think they're too cool for fun and just want to say they went toe to toe with Team Rocket.

And while the Persian may be strangely absent, there are an assortment of the other Pokémon people have come to associate with the most poisonous team in town - an Arbok dancing amidst fan-blown ribbons, the full Zubat evolutionary line flapping about overhead, and more Koffing than you can shake a swab stick at.

Seriously, there are so. Many. Koffing. They're bobbing around like balloons, and they're dressed up, too - with hats and body paint and fluttering capes, and one even has a little papier-maché head stuck to its side, so that it can know what it's like to be a Weezing even though it's not quite ready to evolve.

You've reached the end of the queue, and while your little brother is hopping up and down, jabbing the air next to a grunt who's clearly weary as hell but still doing his best to make sure all the kids get to have a good time, Giovanni steeples his fingers and dips his head in such a way that his eyes flash before going darker still, and alright, you can absolutely see why the airheads called him 'dashing'. You only get to hold the thought for a moment before the two of you are ushered away, though, and you don't have time to snatch it back before your brother's shoved his head into the sack and started reeling off a list of his ill-given gains. It's a smorgasboard of crackerjacks and actual jacks, little plastic toys that won't last for more than a day but it doesn't matter because little boys can't stay interested in most things that long anyway, and the reason you know they're going to break immediately is because your brother's managed to snap one in half before you've even made it halfway home.

Unfortunately, 'halfway home' is well before the limits of even the shortest attention span, and delight turns to dismay with a wail that could make a Haunter shudder and turn pale. You do what you can to, if not distract him, convince him that it's not the end of the world and he probably didn't care that much about the trinket anyway, but he's already convinced himself of the exact opposite, and in the end, the only thing you can get him to agree to is to stay right here while you run back to see if they'll give you a replacement. It's a goodwill gesture, right? And they'd all seemed fairly good-natured about it. Maybe they won't mind.

By the time you get there, though, things are winding down; the Rocketyard's mostly cleared out and the remaining grunts are either sweeping up the hundred thousand wrappers dropped by hands that are surprisingly incapable of holding on to anything for being so sticky, or trying to recapture the overly-excited Koffing that are now chasing each other around with all the grace of drunken bumper cars. "Oi! Peety! Come get your freakin' plague puffs!" one shouts, and if this Peety, whoever that is, answers, it's lost beneath the cacophany of cleanup. Your chances of finding (or buying, or begging) a new toy seem to be dwindling as rapidly as the chance anyone's getting those Koffing back in order, but from the corner of your eye, you catch a flash of dapper black vanishing around the building's far side, and screw it, you are going for the gold.

"Mr Giovanni! I'm sorry to bother you, but do you have a minute? My brother -" you call, and then you stop short, because as you come up on the man you're chasing, he starts to strip - no, wait, he's wearing something else beneath that fabulous suit, and you wouldn't have thought that to even be possible, it fit so well. Did he not hear you? He must not have, because he's dropped his face into his palms and raked his fingers through his hair, and when he turns toward you at last -

It's not Giovanni. It's a tall man in the black and white uniform of a Rocket executive, with purple hair swept up atop his head, and if you hadn't seen the transformation yourself, you never would have believed it. He's as surprised as you, now - but for a different reason - and the elegance he'd displayed in Giovanni's suit is gone as he stumbles back. "&#%$!" he yelps, and you can hear every symbol rolling off his tongue. "You, ah, didn't see that, did you?"

You stammer an answer as you edge away yourself, because as fun as it may be to play 'Take On Team Rocket!' when you're eight and loaded up on Vanillish Wafers, this seems a lot more like it's going to result in real trouble, and though your hands have found the wall and you're trying to use it to guide yourself back the way you came without taking your eyes off the executive, it's no use - his long legs outstride yours and he's caught up to you well before you have any real hope of getting away. His own hand plants to the wall, just beside your head, and he leans in, smirking that same smirk that had you so convinced he could really be the Fearless Leader. "'cause if you did, I'm gonna have to make sure you won't talk."

Oh, &#%$, you think, legs shaking, you are going to die here; you are going to disappear and at your empty-coffined funeral, your little brother is just going to scream that you hadn't gotten him another toy before you were tossed off the mortal coil, but before you can manage to pass out so that you at least won't see it coming, the man ducks the rest of the way in and smashes his lips to yours. And then he's gone, darting around that corner you were so desperate to reach yourself, and based on the sound that's rapidly fading as he puts ever-more distance between the two of you, you're pretty sure that he

is

giggling.

"G'damnit, Peety!" you hear as you're creeping out, apparently from the same grunt who'd been yelling for the mysterious Peety before. "The hell have you been?" You don't stick around for the reply, because no one's looking your way - including the lanky executive, who not only has his back to you once more but has suddenly been flocked to by every last one of the runaway Koffing, cloaking him in a cloud of poisonous purple love - and this seems like the perfect time to make your escape.

"Where is it where is it where is it!" your brother demands as you run back up, grabbing his hand to pull him along whether he's ready to go or not, and you mumble a reply you can barely understand yourself; They didn't have any more or They were already closed or something else that doesn't have a damn thing to do with what actually happened but at least takes the blame off you because what are you supposed to do in that situation? Your face is on fire, but as long as he's trying to find the perfect balance between crying over his broken knick-knacks and stuffing his mouth full of candy, he's not paying enough attention to notice, and by the time you've made it back to your house and pawned him off on your parents (Dad was indeed in the basement, and you are not surprised at all), that chill evening wind has mostly washed away what you haven't managed to yourself. The sooner you're in your own room, the better, though, and you spend a few minutes flattened to the closed door, trying to catch the breath that should never have left you in the first place.

...Team Rocket throws a Christmas party, too, don't they?

Notes:

- For @hollowsart, who said there wasn't enough Petrel/Reader fic in the world. - There was a discussion about Team Rocket (or at least some members) doing Random Acts of Kindness to cast them in a more positive light, which reminded me of the Yakuza group that does that with Halloween, which is how we're now getting a Halloween fic in May. >_> - It ended up with a lot less actual Petrel/Reader than I intended (or even Petrel at all), but this is what I do, I make it so we can't have nice things, and also I think it's cute so you'll get this and you'll like it! <_< - =D

Bonus Deleted Scene:

Jessie and James roll out a mechanical Persian, which promptly malfunctions, necessitating a need to whisk it away as quickly as possible lest the Jig Be Completely Up.

[yaachtynoboat711]

Fonder Ch. 4

A/N: Aight so boom: I hope y’all are enjoying this series so far. It’s definitely pushing me out of my fluffy comfort zone. Thanks to everyone who I’ve annoyed had be my third pair of eyes and offered suggestions for these chapters. I appreciate y’all big time. Also, I apologize for the two-week gap between the chapters. I just started school after a semester break, so I’m trying to get adjusted and find my rhythm. Thanks in advance for being patient!

Word Count: ~2.9K (a hair lengthy)

Warning(s): Angst, slow burn, plot progression

Thursday, October 23, 2014, 2:19 p.m., Elements Natural Hair Boutique, Los Angeles

Since she was finally finished with the nearly four month long legal project, Yaa now had a little over a week left in sunny California to do whatever she wanted. Tonight was her self-appointed reward for knocking the project out of the park and earning more clients. The Los Angeles chapter of the Black Yale Alumni Association was hosting their annual fundraising gala. All the BYAA chapters hosted their events the same weekend, the Connecticut event being the flagship event. Around this time last year, Yaa was preparing her ensemble for the Black Ball, totally oblivious to the fact that she would meet her soulmate at the Ball. What a difference a year makes.

“So, who are you taking as your plus one tonight?”, her loctician Nadia inquired as she intricately palm-rolled Yaa’s copper hued locs.

“Matt.”, Yaa announced giving a smirk as she kept reading the latest issue of Essence Magazine. Nadia’s eyebrows went up as she smirked.

“Damn hussy. Speaking of exes, how’s it going with you and Island Boy?”

“Things are getting...better.”

Since her breakdown, Khalida had seen a therapist. Her therapist recommended that for her sake,it’d be best to talk to Winston and try to establish a sturdy friendship. They planned to meet the afternoon after the Yale gala.

“Word? I’m happy for you, sis. Even more, you deserve someone in your life. Shit, you got the personality, smarts, and the looks to have niggas running over each other to get to you.”

Yaa spent the time under the dryer to think about what her loctician said. Her deep thoughts were interrupted with an incoming FaceTime call from Matt.

“Hey, lil ugly.”, Matt playfully chided.

“Well, if it isn’t the NECKS big thing in football. What’s good?”, Yaa snapped back. Matt’s jaw dropped when he finally processed her insult.

“Damn, fuck you, Khay. Anyways, I called to see where we would get ready at? My house or yours?” She almost didn’t hear the last question because she was snickering so.

“Well, according to the GPS, it’s in Calabasas, so I’ll be coming to you. My makeup cases are in the car now and I’m picking my dress up on the way.”

Matt shook his head, “Say less, ma. You getting those serpents tamed for the gala, I see.” He thought that the funniest thing in the world. Before he could say anything else, she hung up. I ain’t got time for his no-neck having ass.

5:00 p.m., Calabasas, California, Matt’s House

Yaa was welcomed into Matt’s spacious mansion with the sounds of hip-hop bouncing off the walls and an excited Matt embracing her.

“You look like you getting ready to fight somebody.”, Matt commented as he took the garment bag from his ex-girlfriend’s arms. She wore her smaller black bonnet, along with a Tuskegee shirt, black yoga capris, and Birkenstock’s.

“And you look like you can’t change a goddamn pillowcase. I keep telling you to leave well enough alone, Griffith.”, she replied as she gave him the “Who gon check me, boo?” look. He shook his head as he led her upstairs to his bathroom.

——

The lion-like revving of Matt’s Karma Revero engine could be heard all along the winding Calabasas back road he decided to take to the gala. He effortlessly finessed the bends and sharp turns of the road in an effort to impress Yaa. He’d had the car for not even a month and was already showing off. He occasionally glanced at the meal that sat in his passenger seat.

“I think I already told you, but you lookin’ hella delicious, ma.”, Matt complimented.

“Why, thank you, Matthew. I try to be as fresh as you.”, she humbly replied.

He took her hand into his and smiled before kissing it. “What’s that perfume you got on? It’s intoxicating.”

“Your cologne.”, she stated bluntly. The two looked at each other and laughed obnoxiously.

“You never cease to amaze me after all these years, Khay. I’m gonna miss you when you leave.”

“Nigga, I ain’t dying. Ima be around when and if I can. R E L A X.”

8:49 p.m., Calabasas Country Club

If you didn’t know that this was an alumni fundraising gala, most would assume that it was an actual Hollywood event. The sound of camera shutters, camera people shouting at those melanated beings gracing the carpet, and the numerous interviews being conducted at the end of the carpet set the vibe of the night. Once again: Black Excellence.

Matt parked his car in front of the country club, he tossed the keys to the valet before reaching for his velvet maroon blazer. Before the valet driver could get in, he stopped him. “Hold on, boss. I got precious cargo in the passenger seat.” He ran over to Yaa’s side where he slowly opened her door. She offered her hand and he helped her out of the car, gathering her train with his other hand.

The BLUE carpet went up the moment Matt Griffith and his date walked onto the carpet. He held Yaa close to him by her waist as they went down the carpet once more as a duo.  She followed suit by tickled his side, causing him to laugh.

“You gon stop, ma’am.”, he warned as she joined in his laughter.

————

Winston was wary of bringing Michelle to the gala. Not because she wasn’t Black, but he was nervous Yaa would show up looking like God’s divine example of perfection. For the small amount of time Winston and Michelle dated, he never divulged the details of his previous relationship with her. For one, it still hurt to talk about the biggest mistake he’d ever made; and two, he feared Michelle would get extremely jealous. Truthfully, Winston hoped Yaa would be there; he wanted to talk and possibly get closure.

“Winston, is Lupita coming?”, Michelle asked shaking Winston out of his thoughts.

“Uhhh...last I checked, she should be here now.”, he replied.

“Is your mysterious ex coming?”

He throat tightened and palms began to sweat. “I doubt it; she’s in D.C. by now. Why?”

“I mean, from the little you’ve told me about her,  she’s a Yale grad and a traveler. Speaking of, why don’t you talk about her?”, she folded her arms in anticipation of the answer.

He probably wasn’t in reality, but he felt like he was sweating bullets. “It’s just that...the relationship could’ve ended on better terms.”, he sighed, “I just need closure, is all. I’ve been spending this time processing everything. I think I’m good now.” He was lying like all hell.

Winston felt a presence in the room. He and Michelle migrated around the venue talking and socializing with the other Black Yale grads. While in a conversation with one of his classmates and Lupita, he heard a laugh. Not just any laugh; the only vibrant, contagious social laugh he could recognize from miles away. Once again, it was her. He resisted the urge to look for her.  

Noticing her friend’s sudden switch in energy, Lupita turned around to see a foxy Yaa dazzling for all to see. She excused herself from the conversation and walked over to Yaa. She tapped her shoulder.

“Heyyyyy, Khalida!”, Lupita greeted with a grin and open arms.

“Well, hello there, Ms. Academy Award Winner! I’m surprised you’re not like polishing your Oscars or filming.”, Yaa joked as she returned the hug. “You look phenomenal, Peet!”, she twirled Lupita around to get a better look of her blue ensemble.

“Not as phenomenal as you! Wow, you know how to slay anything and I’m here for it!”

Matt cleared his throat. “You need a cough drop?”, Yaa asked in a sarcastic tone. He gave her a look.

“I’m sorry. I forgot he was here. Lupita, this is my ex, Matt Griffith, NFL star. Matt, this is the most beautiful woman in existence and Academy Award-winning actress, Lupita Nyong’o.”

After their exchange of pleasantries, Lupita took Yaa to the side to inform her that Winston was also in attendance...with Michelle. As much as it hurt to hear those words come from Lupita’s mouth, Yaa sucked it up and the two returned to Matt.

“We’re going on a field trip, Matt. Come along.” Lupita commanded. Matt agreed and followed his date with her train.

Winston wasn’t paying attention; he was walking around talking with Michelle. He accidentally bumped into Lupita.

“Peet, I’m so sorry. I was talking to Michelle and wasn’t paying attention to...wh-where I...was...going.”, his thoughts and heart rate began to speed up as he looked at the sight in front of him: his ex-girlfriend.

“Hey, Khalida.”, Winston said calmly.  

“Hey, you.”, she basically whispered in a sultry tone.

“You look...sublime.”

“Oh? Interesting word choice, Mr. Duke.” She raised her eyebrow and gave a faint grin. Poor Winston was intoxicated with Khalida’s presence once more—a drug that he could never get out of his system even if his life depended on it. His eyes were fixed on her, breath staggering.

Yaa’s dress was everything: it was a black, long-sleeved, sequined, floor-length curve-hugging gown with a dramatic “v” neck that accentuated her well-endowed chest. A haute Morticia Addams. Nadia styled her locs into a mid bun with a pinned bang.  

Michelle looked on as they conversed. It clicked—Khalida was the one that still had his heart. She wasn’t stupid; she could sense he was holding out in their relationship in more ways than one. Michelle cleared her throat loudly to break up the two former lovers’ sappy reunion.

“Winston, aren’t you going to introduce me to your...friend? ”, Michelle said with a slightly condescending tone, looking Yaa up and down with disgust. Yaa returned a rather unbothered stare to Michelle.

“Oh...of course, Winston began clearing his throat, “Yaa, this is my girlfriend, Michelle Lee, freelance journalist. Michelle, this...this is my...ex...girlfriend, Dr. Khalida Abdullah, Attorney at Law.”, he fought a smile.

Michelle grimaced. “Oh, a lawyer, you say? What kind of lawyer? Whose firm do you work for?”, she interrogated.

“I’m a civil rights attorney and I have my own firm with my partner and best friend from Yale Law.”

“Your own law firm? You look a little too young to own anything. How old are you?”

“Grown.”

“Did you even hear the quest—“

“— Loud and clear. I said I’m grown.” Yaa maintained her calm, yet petty demeanor throughout the unnecessary exchange. All the while, Matt and Lupita exchanged glances and silent snickers. Yaa was going to hold her own without hesitation. The Louisiana Reaper v. the bell pepper. “Winston, may I speak with you in private please?”

Winston looked to an upset Michelle that just waved her hand for him to go on. “After you, Dr. Abdullah.”,he calmly suggested as he motioned her to go in front of him.

Winston made sure to hold Yaa’s train. Winston became entranced as he watched his ex’s Spanx-less bottom switch from left to right. He felt a sweat come over him. Baby girl still had him sprung. They finally walked out to the balcony. The nighttime October breeze hit Yaa’s bare skin, sending goosebumps throughout her body. The bass still bumped even outside the country club. Even with the low lighting on the balcony, Yaa’s dress still sparkled in the moonlit sky. The two stood across from each other. A lot was on their minds and rightfully so. Four months had gone by without any sense of closure. The lack of closure was pacified with many questions, hypotheses, what-if situations, and many, many tearful nights on both ends.

“So uhh—“, the former lovers said in unison. They chuckled.

“You go first.”

“No, you!”

“No...you.”

“Dammit, Winston, somebody going first.”, Yaa said crossing her arms. “I just wanted to say that one, I miss you. Two, I’m happy for you finding Michelle. Lastly, LEMME FOUND OUT YOU OUTCHEA ACTIN YA ASS OFF ON PERSON OF INTEREST, MINI!”, Yaa hyped. She playfully punched his shoulder. There was a visible shift in her body language. She re-adjusted her posture and looked down at her dress. When she looked back up at Winston, he saw a rather stoic expression come across her face. “No, but...I wanted to just speak with you in private and I’m sure you’ve wanted the same. I miss you, Chris.”

Before he spoke, Winston offered his jacket to Yaa, an offer she accepted.

“I miss you more, Yaa.”, Winston replied quickly.

“The four months that we’ve had apart have had me thinking...a lot...a little too much. While the circumstances of our break-up hurt me more than anything, I don’t harbor any ill-will or harsh feelings towards you. I still care for and love you deeply.”

The admission gave Winston a temporary sense of relief. After four long months apart from the love of his life, it was definitely a relief to know that she didn’t want to push him over the balcony ledge. However, that feeling of relief was quickly replaced by the familiar void feeling in his heart—a void left by Yaa. He missed her more she would ever comprehend. He even missed her sarcasm and readings. By this time, he stood in front of her studying her stoic facial expression.

“I still love and care for you, too, Khalida.”, Winston replied.

“Which brings me to my next point”, she began. Winston’s brows furrowed in confusion, “This time apart has also given me the opportunity to contemplate our relationship from this point forward. My therapist...recommended that I reach out to you to establish something we never had—an actual friendship.”, Yaa explained. There was a steady pause and sharp exhale before the word “friendship” left her lips. It hurt her to see Winston with Michelle and even more to not be with him.

Winston blankly stared at Yaa. He saw, heard, and comprehended every word coming out of her Ruby Woo painted lips, but everything wasn’t registering.

“Friends?”

“That’s what I said. I believe we can work as friends and support each other despite our ending. You and Michelle seem like you all are getting into a rhythm and I don’t want to be your hindrance in your loving her.”

“Ok. Yeah...friendship? No problem.”, he noted dryly.

“Winston?”

“Yes?”

“Is that what you truly want? Because I don’t want to let our connection die.”

Winston shifted his weight and sighed before laughing. “Doesn’t want our connection to die...got it. Of course, we can work on a friendship.”, he remarked in a condescending tone. He was repeating that made him lose Yaa the first time. Yaa finally picked up the hints of sarcasm.

“Winston, I don’t know why you’re being condescending and cold towards me, but you need to stop. I just came to talk and try to amends with you and salvage what little we have left between us.” Yaa felt herself getting emotional and angry simultaneously.

Winston began pacing. “Oh, now you want to talk to me when it seemed easy to give me...give us up?!”

Yaa’s eyebrows flew up and her jaw dropped. Her heartbeat began increasing and her petite frame began to tremble—she was beginning to see red. Her mouth opened to snap, but it quickly closed to save his ego and feelings. “I don’t want us to end on this note...again.”, she mumbled.

“I don’t know what you from me, Yaa. This isn’t exactly easy so stop making it look like that.”

Yaa thought long and hard on her next statement. Being a known wordsmith, she had to craft what she was going to say to make sure it would stick with Winston. That and her anger was on 100, so one wrong move and she’d snap. She finally began to speak barely above a whisper but not quite at normal speaking level.

“What I wanted from you was to make sure the plane wasn’t still malfunctioned. But...I see that it’s temporarily disabled. Whenever you get your head and your ego out of your ass, we can talk. The number won’t change. Good night, Mr. Duke.”

She briskly walked back inside of the country club, fighting tears and the urge to break down once more. She wasn’t going to force a grown ass man to do right; Khadijah and Carrie taught her better than that. Once again, his mouth and his ego ran Yaa off. Fuck, whatever happened to doing better and winning her back? The second walk-out hurt more than the first. This time, he was actually angry with himself. Out of nowhere, his fist made contact with the concrete wall. He roared out in pain as his knuckles bled. Not only was his hand in pain in excruciating pain, but so was his heart. Both injuries could’ve been prevented had he just shut up. The tears burned and clouded his eyes as he cried hysterically.

Yaa returned to find Lupita and Matt deep in conversation, Michelle was sitting down at one of the lounge tables. Right away, Matt noticed his date’s rather bubbly and sweet spirit had been messed with.

“Khay, what’s wrong? Is everything alright?”, Matt placed his hand at the small of her back as he studied her visibly upset face. She was fighting back tears.

“Everything’s not ok. Let’s just go before I’ll need to dig Johnnie Cochran up from the dead.” Peet, I’ll text you whenever I can. Lunch is still on for tomorrow.”, she muttered in a monotonous tone.

Matt found himself running after his date as she angrily walked out of the venue. The plane was totaled.

Tag List:

@muse-of-mbaku @kumkaniudaku @eriknutinthispoosy @whoramilaje @mbakusthrone @mbakuwife @crushed-pink-petals @inlovewithmakeupcomicsanimelove @jackburtonsays @randomwordprompts @bartierbakarimobisson @wakandan-flowerz @blackpantherreblogs @babygirlofwakanda @eerythingisshaka @washyourlinens @turn-thy-paige @doublesidedscoobysnacks @wakandas-vibranium @dramaqueenamby @destinio1 @sonofnjobu @teheeboo @theunsweetenedtruth @sarahboseman @iamrheaspeaks @oshasimone @vibranium-soul @chefjessypooh @chaneajoyyy @supersizemeplz @lovelynervouschaos @cay-cah @coonflix @katasstrophey @mareethequeen @jozigrrl @great-neckpectations @jellybean531 @yofavcocoa @storibambino @maya-leche @blackgirloneshots @royallyprincesslilly @texasbama @certifiednatural @abeautifulmindexposed

[the-e4b]

Looking over at the Toon pedo drama in the last 2 months.

So I have been looking at all the drama that has happened throughout the last two months when Toon was exposed for the shit he did. Let me just say that I am annoyed how there seems to be a running theme among the toon pedo bashing I have been noticing. Two words come to mind when I read and watch most of the videos and that is this: 

Double standards. 

You see, apparently we are looking at a long age where we call out everyone close to toon but yet, strangely siding with someone who is not only a pedophile with the fics and the possibility that she married her wife at a young age, and has caused a lot of abuse from Josh to Thoughtbubble and Blake. Now I have to ask this to anyone who agrees with Lily Orchard 100% and thinks she can do no wrong. I ask you this: do you all just ignore what the person did in the many years before this situation? 

This is something that always astounded me because not calling out names as I don’t want certain people to cause drama, I know that some of you are hating what the fandom has allowed, especially when this person was hidden in the ranks. This is when Peet came into the scene and made a video on it. What really annoys me is that the same people who make videos shitting on toon, cite her as the greatest content creator to ever appear in the fandom and I have to ask you this: Didn’t you all in some way, shape, or form criticize her for censoring you? 

Lily has mentioned this many times that people who disagree with her will either get shot or killed and now people are suddenly forgetting that? Now that may sound petty as it doesn’t sound as bad but then it comes to the amount of censorship she wants to the toon situation. Now I ask this, why are you all saying the community is trying to hide it when in the past couple of days, those who are super close are getting the cops involved and helping out to get him arrested and keeping the group project videos up so everyone could know what kind of a person he is. So it’s a head-scratching moment that all of you who said “fuck the censors” are now supporting censorship over an issue that should be talked about more in the fandom. I could go on and on about this, especially when Lily made damn sure to know that she will abuse people who she thinks deserve a good mind change like this. 

But I digress. Look, I’m going to say this. Keep expressing how mad you are on how this became so big. 

YOU HAVE EVERY RIGHT TO DO SO BECAUSE I WANT PEOPLE CATCH THESE PEDOS AS SOON AS POSSIBLE!  

We at this blog support it and hell we have made a couple of posts on the rising pedos that did oust themselves. Such as Performance Major and Dusky who are coming out of the woodworks. Hell, there is even another one on the rise and while not in the brony fandom, I would like everyone to be very concerned for this person right here, especially making this video.  

Ya, a lot of people might be coming out of the works and that to me is a good thing. However there is a big problem and that seems to be that whoever spoke out the most, wants everything to come crashing on everyone including the victims who are being affected by this. It makes it really worse that some are now following a pedophile because they call out other pedophiles. I’m sorry but that kind of logic already shows that you are pretty much blind to everything that is happening. Consistency is what everyone is asking for. People like me do not have a problem if you express disappointment on how this has happened. We have a problem when you accept people like Lily fucking Orchard who did the exact same things throughout the years. HELL he also got in trouble with the law for holding child porn. For people who are all for this. 

You seem to be ok with a girl WHO FUCKING STILL DEFEND PEDOPHILES! Here is a good example. 

 Ya Lily Orchard actually defended A FUCKING PEDOPHILE! HAVE PEOPLE FORGOT ABOUT THIS!? Every single one who keeps blasting the community for the supposed hiding of toon kritic, you people seem to be hiding the fact that Lily has shown so many signs of his pedo urges. 

With all that said, I want to make this very clear. You can have your opinions and support your claims why this is so flawed. Hell, I agree with everyone that this big event should not be forgotten and I’m glad that there are people out there who are keeping their minds in check and look out for pedos on all sides despite not liking the community. But to those who seem to think that Lily Orchard has the right mind and think everyone calling him out are enablers, ya you might want to do more research than that. Not to change your opinions of the community as I don’t give a damn about it, but to change your sudden respect for a person who did the exact same thing and still hides it to this day. 

-Animewolfgamer.  

[unlikelyanthology-blog]

Pikes Tree

“The forest was our favorite place to go as kids, we would go at any hour of the day. It was our spot to wander, run and rant. We ripped off so many branches from the old trees in the forest. Jason and I did some crazy things, if we had told anyone the wild things we did, no one would believe the shy kid I was known as, could do that.” I told the crowd.

There were a lot of people here, all gathered here for Jason. I was surprised so many people showed up to his funeral. Jason was popular in high school for sure, but he was an ass. He was an ass to pretty much everyone except for me, his mom and Joe, his older brother. Jason had lots of problems growing up, his mom was cheated on by her boyfriend at the time. Jason and Joe’s dad was in and out of their lives a lot. Jason always blamed his dad and his mom’s ex-boyfriend for being the way he is, he said he was angry and he couldn’t help it. He could help it, he chose not to, he was just like them.

When I saw Tina in one of the church benches, I was incredibly surprised. Tina was a major subject of the destructive path Jason went on during high school, he played her more often than he played his guitar. Tina never gave up on him though, she was there on his drunkest nights, his most sober days and his biggest outbursts. Tina was literally the light to all his darkness, but he loved to hide in the darkness. To this day, I can see the hurt in her eyes from Jason. When I saw her walk up to the black, shiny coffin, I held my breath. I really believed she might beat his dead body, instead she stroked his lifeless, pale boney face and whispered in his ear. She could have whispered I hate you, but she probably reminded him that she loves him. Tina was special in that sense, never gave up anyone. I viewed it as sad in a way though, could she not just get over it at all? I mean it has been almost fifteen years ago, so much has happened in both of their lives.

When Jason and I were younger, we would go to the forest at the edge of our town, we would talk about everything and anything. One of the most vivid memories I have in that forest was one Jason wanted to pretend we were animal hunters. We spent the whole damn day and night out in that forest.

“Let’s do something wild and crazy, Peter, don’t be a baby,” said Jason while shoving my shoulder. The shove made me lose balance a bit.

I wanted to do something wild and crazy but our last adventure into the woods left me with a large cut on my forearm and Jason with a dislocated elbow. He never kept it safe, he tried to get as much thrill out of being in this forest as he could. One time he told me that he loved coming here because it felt like home to him. He didn’t feel like he was at home in his house, he was always afraid and worried when he was there. The forest allowed him to be free and feel safe.

“Like what Jason? My mom will be so mad at me if I come home with any more cuts or bruises,” I questioned him, see no matter what crazy thing he wanted to do, I wanted to do it too.

“Well, we could pretend we are flying a plane, and build something so big and then take off from Pikes tree, that would be- “

“So dangerous! We are not doing that Jason, I swear you’ve gone mad,” I laughed at him slightly, he couldn’t be serious.

“Peet, PLEASE! I really want to build something big, a plane would be sick!” He said.

I pondered for a moment and told him no. I could see he was getting frustrated with me. I never said no the crazy things he wanted to do, but this one, was simply too far.

He walked away from our spot, he was headed right to Pikes tree. Jason was a hot head and I know that, I followed him.

“Jay, I didn’t say we can’t build a plane, we just can’t fly it off Pikes tree. Come on man, come back.” I got nothing from him, not a sound, not a look back, nothing.

Something more was going on and he didn’t want to tell me what it was. I knew I shouldn’t push, but he was my best friend, since birth. I’ve been there with him through everything when we were kids, I mean we are kids but we’re twelve now, so we are basically teenagers.

“You don’t get it Peet, you never have,” whispered Jason. I think he thought I wouldn’t be able to hear him, but I could.

“Hey, what do you mean- wait up Jay. Hey, what’s going on? You can be honest with me,” I told him, tugging on the back of his shirt.

Jason pulled away from my reach, “My mom, she’s a mess. My dad keeps coming and going and Joe, I’m worried about him. He’s got this girl-friend, but I know he doesn’t like girls. I just don’t understand why people can’t be honest with themselves or others,” I could hear his voice crack, his blue eyes filled with tears.

“Jason, I, I don’t know what to tell you. You can come over to my house and- “

“You say that every time, it helps for the moment, but not overall. I still have to go back to that stupid house,” He said, as he started climbing Pikes tree.

I followed him all the way to the top of the tree. We sat on a large branch and he confessed everything that he was holding in. His dad was getting drunk when he was home and sometimes he would hit Jason’s mom. Joe was gay and didn’t know how to tell anyone, so he told Jason and it made him stressed keeping this big secret. Jason’s dad was conservative and was worried that his dad would find out about Joe. Everything just sucked in his life, and there was nothing I could do.

“Peter? Hello, Peter?” Joe shook my arm, causing me to come back into reality. I looked up at him, he was finally openly gay with his family.

His boy-friend, Shawn, was one of the nicest guys out there. Him and Joe were perfect together, so perfect that they planned to get married in the coming July. I don't think that is happening anymore, Joe is broken about Jason's death and I don't think he's ready for such a big milestone in his life to be without his brother by his side.

"Sorry, I just, you know..." I tell him with a tight-lipped smile. He nods his head, he understands.

I take one last look at Jason's lifeless body in the dark casket. His hand is cold as I touch it, fingers paler than normal. The bones of his body are protruding in ways they didn't before, my best friend, lifeless before me. Every time I think of Jason, I don't want to think of him in this way, I want to remember the good times we had as kids, teenagers and now young adults.

I make my way out of the funeral home, dodging questions from Jason's mom and my mom, I know they're asking where I'm going, I want to yell the forest, but they will be confused if I do, so I say nothing and just rush past them.

The last place Jason went was the forest, he wanted to go home. I had to understand why this happened, why he did this, it made no sense to me or anyone else around us. I climbed up Pikes tree, to the branch we sat down that one day when we were kids. I yelled, screamed at the top of my lungs. My echo lasted for so long, I thought someone else was yelling back at me.

I looked out around the forest, out into the small city below it. Such a peaceful place, became a place that scared me for the first two weeks after Jason's death. I am not scared anymore, I know he's okay, where ever he is. I feel him beside me as I climb back down the tree. It is peaceful once again.

[wildlyglittering]

Drabble #3

Get naked. I’ll be there in fifteen.

The wedge of bread that Peeta had been eating when he read the message was swallowed, half- chewed, down the correct pipe - but only just. The sound of his coughing and spluttering caught his brothers’ attention.

“Jeez Peet, at least try and learn to chew.”

Peeta dragged his watery eyes from his phone and looked over at where Rye was glancing at him from behind his morning paper.

“Sorry,” he croaked. “I just got a message about insurance.”

“Well that’s thrilling.” With a roll of his eyes and a mutter under his breath Rye went straight back to reading.

Peeta looked back down at the message floating on the screen. Get naked.

What the hell? He quickly sent a message back.

Are you serious?

Another ping and there was her response.

Yes. Get naked.

Well. Damn. He had two choices. One was to do exactly what his girlfriend was telling him to do and the other... was to not. So really, he had the one choice. Quickly stating that he had to go make a call about his insurance and receiving a response of ‘Peet, I really don’t care,’ he practically ran from the kitchen into the basement that was currently acting as his temporary home.

It had been a disaster when three weeks ago he returned home to find his upstairs neighbours pipes had burst into his apartment destroying almost everything, aside from, rather ironically, the bathroom. But he couldn’t spend the month sleeping in his bathtub so he had to accept the fact that he was moving into his family home until the damage had been sorted.

He’d been put into the basement spending his nights on the pull-out bed surrounded by boxes of Christmas decorations and old schoolwork. The saving grace was that it had its own entrance so he could come and go as he pleased without having to interrupt anyone else.

That entrance was about to come in useful again.

Rushing around the room, Peeta haphazardly shoved clothes and paperwork and everything else strewn about the place into the boxes, promising that he’d sort it out later. Simultaneously making the bed (for appearances sake) and tugging off his t-shirt proved tricky but he followed that success by stripping off his pants and boxers while unlocking the basement door.

Now all he needed to do was wait.

The three weeks had been hard. After years of admiring from afar and gaining confidence to awkwardly flirt it had transpired that he and Katniss Everdeen had one prominent thing in common. Years spent mutually pining for each other.

After a slow beginning where Katniss was too shy to state what she wanted and Peeta was trying to be a gentleman it had all come to a head after a party. He took a drunk Katniss home, kissed her and told her he’d see her tomorrow when she yelled out, “please can we have sex already?!”

His eyebrows shot up into his hairline but he politely declined that evening on account of her blood-alcohol ratio but promised her he would see what he could do tomorrow.

The day after the party had been great. As was the day after. And the day after that. And the day after that. Which is why they were currently suffering. Peeta having had to move back into his parents’ house and Katniss, being a caring big sister, had Prim staying with her whilst on break from college. Despite desperately craving each other it seemed that everywhere they went parents or siblings were just hanging around getting in the way.

Apart from today it seemed.

Footsteps came swiftly down the path, so quietly he wouldn’t have heard them if he wasn’t listening out, followed by a gentle knock at the door. “Peeta?”

“It’s open.” He looked around wondering if he should have posed himself for this. Maybe he should be standing with a leg strategically propped up on a box. Or leaning casually against a wall. Except how casual could someone be leaning naked against a wall?

The door pushed open before he could make up his mind and there she was, his beautiful dark-haired girlfriend, said dark hair spilling down her shoulders in waves. He grinned at her, she rarely wore her hair down but she knew how much he liked it.

Katniss grinned back at him and glanced over his body. “Well hello.”

“Hello.”

“I didn’t know if you were going to do it.”

Peeta stepped towards her. “Of course I would. I’d do anything you ask.”

“Oh well that’s good to know,” her voice dripping an octave and she stepped towards him. Peeta took the chance to fully register what she was wearing, which wasn’t much. She slipped out of the ballet pumps and the motion drew his attention to her bare feet, eyes following up her legs, drinking in the bare skin until they reached the hem of the coat she was wearing. A coat that reached midway to her naked thighs.

“Did you drive here like that?” His question came out slightly squeaky and he coughed. Must have been the remnants of the bread.

“Uh-huh.” Katniss moved in even closer so that the material of her coat brushed against his chest. She leaned upwards and placed an opened mouth kiss against the bottom of his jaw, sliding down to suck on his pulse point. Peeta swallowed. His hands reached out to her tiny waist, pulling her in closer.

She smelt like Katniss. A scent that was somehow woods and autumn and apples and he wanted to breath it in forever. He tilted his head down to touch his lips to hers and their kiss quickly turned from a welcome into something more heated, their tongues languidly sliding against each other’s.

His breathing was getting deeper, the air flowing into his heaving chest and he pressed Katniss’ chest against his harder. She groaned into his mouth before pulling it away and their eyes fluttered open. Her pupils were fat and und pushing into the silver of her irises. She smiled and glanced down his body, his obvious erection straining upwards.

“Un-wrap me,” she told him, guiding his hands from her waist and placing them on the belt of her coat.

“What?”

“Un-wrap me.”

It took Peeta a moment to register the words and when he did all he could do was mutter a groan of his own. He tugged at the material and as the belt fell from the loops, Katniss’ coat opened.

His mouth opened and he took in air like a fish. Underneath the pale green coat was inch after inch of naked olive skin and his eyes swept down past her collarbone to her breasts with their pebbled nipples and down further still, past her flat stomach onto the dark curls nestled between her thighs.

“I think I’ve just had a heart attack.”

Katniss giggled and stood on her tiptoes. “Please don’t,” she breathed into his ear. “At least, not until after you’ve fucked me.”

Oh. God. He grabbed her body in closer, his erection pushed against her stomach, pulsing between them. The coat had fallen from her body and they stood, naked and flush against each other in the middle of the basement.

Peeta’s hands roamed everywhere, skimming from her waist up her back, his fingers lightly tracing her neck, her collarbone and sliding down to cup her breasts in his palms, thumbs rubbing over her nipples until she squirmed.

“Peeta,” she whined. “Can we go to the bed?”

He nodded and captured her mouth with his once again; his hands ran over her ribcage, down her waist and then grasped her buttocks hoisting her upwards until her legs wrapped around his hips.

Shuffling to the bed he placed her down as delicately as possible and moved over her, his large body covering her small one. Her hands traced down to his waist, fingers lightly dusting over his flesh, her fingernails softly scraping his skin. He shivered at the touch of her nails against him and then again, when a hand crept to the front and grasped his cock firmly, pumping it slowly.

His head dropped down and he pushed his tongue against a pulsing vein that he found on Katniss’ throat, his own pulse beating hard in her hand. Peeta’s body was warming up and a slick perspiration had begun to form. All he could hear was Katniss’ gasps, the pounding of his own heartbeat and the sound of his brother shouting down the stairs.

Wait. Shit.

“PEETA! I’ve been called you for five damn minutes, what the hell are you do- oh. OH!”

A squeak made its way out of Katniss’ throat and she did the best drop and roll that Peeta had seen anyone do. She rolled out of his embrace, fell to the floor and then rolled under the bed dragging as many of the bed sheets as she could with her.

Peeta quickly turned to face the stairs, one hand holding his crotch and the other casually resting on his hip. Except how casually can you rest your hand on your hip when your naked girlfriend is under your bed and your older brother is staring at you with his mouth open?

“Hey Rye.”

Rye managed to shut his mouth but it quickly turned into a sly grin. “There’s a phone call for you upstairs. It’s the insurers. Said they tried to call your cell but couldn’t get through for some reason.”

“Right. I’ll, er, call them back.”

“Sure.”

Peeta shifted on the bed, his knees pressing into the mattress and tried desperately not to make eye contact with his brother who was now wearing a grin that Satan himself would wear. “Do you think maybe you could go? I’d at least like to put some pants on without you gawping.”

Rye put his hand on his chest and made a ‘who me?’ gesture before finally turning to go. “I knew it wasn’t insurers. See you up there Peet. See you later Katniss.”

There was a little cough from under the bed. “See you later Rye.”

Peeta rubbed his hand, the one not over his crotch, over his eyes. “Jesus.” He leant over the side of the bed to help up his naked and now rather dusty girlfriend up from the floor. “I cannot wait until that apartment is fixed.”

[abiteofnat]

GET READY TO BE STOCKING STUFFED...

Because tis the season for buying knick-knacks and treats a plenty for all your loved ones! It’s stressful enough to be a good friend, son/daughter, employee, etc., but then add in the holidays where at some point it’s expected there will be an awkward gift exchange? Not to mention it’s officially ONE MONTH UNTIL CHRISTMAS?? You need to get shopping baby! 

Which is why... *drum roll*, I’m pulling together a special list of $25-and-under stocking stuffers you can get at “foodie favorite” places so that you can pick up a little something for every single person on your list! Nothing is better than a unique, tasty gift that adds some flavor to the holiday spirit. I spent Black Friday serving the stressed masses and then online shopping from the comfort of my bed, and holy crap am I glad I can find the perfect little add-ons for the real big show-stopper gift at Peet’s. (This is in no way paid promotion from any of the places I’ll mention, I just genuinely love these products and think they make for excellent shopping. And, they all involve going to absolutely zero malls. BIG BONUS.)

So, what are some freakin’ awesome festive gifts? LET’S SEE! 

1. Peet’s Coffee 

Here’s the deal- while I will never ever get sick of the croissants we get in from Troubadour Bakery in the wee hours of the night, I don’t quite know how I would package an almond croissant up to store as a gift. Good thing we got a million and one new items in for the holidays! Growing up my mom always put a giant candy cane in our stockings along with a whole bunch of chocolate, and what’s Christmas morning without hot chocolate... so then when I saw these Ticket “Hot Chocolate On A Stick” cuties I nearly screamed. They are the perfect mixture of fun + delicious and bring a fresh pop of peppermint to some homemade hot chocolate so grab a couple for some stockings... and for yourself. We also have our Winter Solstice tea right now which smells of spices and orange peel, bringing warmth to your mug and tummy. It’s fragrant and a customer favorite so stock up! Our other limited edition tea is the Cocoa Matcha, made with cocoa powder and rich, creamy matcha that will make for a decadent dessert in drink form. If you’re more of a coffee person, pick up a pound of Holiday Blend to brew up while wrapping presents late into the night. With Sumatra, Ethiopian, and Guatemala San Sebastian beans mixed together it’s a strong chocolate-forward brew with a smooth finish. I freaking LOVE IT. 

Then there are the wooden coasters and various kinds of chocolate bark to assist your coffee drinking, and damn son the chocolate peppermint bark is to die for. Other honorable mentions: the chocolate-covered espresso beans, peppermint patties, and a thousand types of mugs and thermoses you can take a look at. COME ON IN AND BUY SOME TRINKETS.

2. The Spice House

HOLY MOLY is The Spice House a wonderland. If you’ve never been, there are two locations in Chicago- one in Evanston on Central Street and one in Old Town along Wells Street and they offer rows and rows of real, hand-mixed spices that smell too good to be true. From cinnamon to full on BBQ rubs they have sell-by-the-weight jars of sugars and herbs and there’s something really special about giving someone a total sensory experience as a gift. One of my friends got her dad a Mediterranean spice mix to fancy up his homemade hummus, and he absolutely loves it. My family lives on the Lake Shore Drive seasoning because it’s a mix of shallots, sea salt, and some other dried green stuff to mix with sour cream for a remarkably flavorful chip dip. Then there’s their curry powder which is crazy colorful and delicious, and don’t forget about the candied ginger that can be eaten alone or put on homemade gingerbread loaf!!! 

If you need suggestions feel free to ask me or any of the amazing employees, they’re happy to help you create the perfect gift box or put spices into a beautiful glass bottle to wrap up. Spice House y’all. 

3. Leonida’s 

I’ve blogged up and down about this place yet somehow the world still isn’t aware of how FUCKING LOVELY Leonida’s Chocolate Cafe is. From Belgium to NYC to Chicago this chocolatier has endless coffee, crepes, and dessert boxes to mix together for the over-indulgence you’ve been wanting. They offer chocolates by the pound, hot chocolate mixes, macarons in beautifully wrapped boxes, and marzipan. Oh, the marzipan. The marzipan shaped like fruit that tastes like heaven and is worth every penny (and they’re a lot of pennies). 

Go get some real Belgian chocolates for your gifts, your parties, and TO EAT BECAUSE YOU DESERVE IT, DAMNIT! Plus they always do a great job of decorating for the holidays and it’s an instant transportation to a European cafe. They do the holidays right over there. 

4. Southport Grocery 

Southport Grocery has the best fresh jars of everything that you could tie a ribbon around and please the hell outta someone if they found it in their stocking. Jams, honey butters, packaged cookies, and candies that all come in hipster packaging- what’s not to love?! And while it can be not-so-cheap they are all insanely worth it. Go in, grab brunch and a coffee, and then pick up some pancake mixes to give with the main intention of using the morning after Christmas for breakfast! 

And, there’s the Amazon bookstore a couple blocks down Southport where you can pick out some books or the perfect journal for whoever you need a nice standby gift for. Southport Corridor is the hookup for the holidays, just zoom over there! 

Hopefully some of these ideas have been helpful- I can’t wait to get everything stored away and start wrapping once we have the tree up!!! The holidays make me WILD WITH CHEER. 

Until next time, Happy Eating!

-Natalie

[brokebuckkmountain]

Some gems from the last week

Cause I’m tired and cranky and bored:

Customer: Can I get an iced coffee?

Me: Sure, what size?

Customer: Small.

Me: (grabs small cold cup)

Customer: No! I wanted that hot! A hot iced coffee!

Me: So... just hot coffee in a cup?

Customer: Yes!

Customer: (orders 5 drinks, one of which is some complicated hellspawn not even on the menu so I have to figure out what she wants while she talks on phone the entire time and ignores me)

Customer: And I want the drink made like this. (shakes hands back and forth) Tell your guy that.

Me: I’m sorry, how do you want that made?

Customer: Like this! (shakes hands again and marches off)

Customer: (on phone with friend) Sorry I couldn’t hear you, they’re so damn loud in this store.

Customer: (after two whole minutes have passed, having seen at least 7 drinks in line to be made before her 5) Um, does he even know about my drink? Is he aware it needs to be made? Did you tell him?

Customer: (pays half their bill in change)

Me: (drops one penny and starts to give them change one cent short)

Customer: (screaming) What the hell! You owe me a penny!

Customer: (spends ten minutes standing in the back of the store, watching me work, not ordering)

Customer: Wow, when are they ever gonna do a study on how long people spend inside these places? Do you know?

Me: I’m sorry?

Customer: Well it’s just that, with all the waiting around, people spend like 15 minutes in here a day I bet. It’s just a long time.

Me: Well, it depends on how many people have ordered and the kinds of drinks and stuff.

Me: (internally) You know, like how you sat back and watched me ring up 10 different people, at least 7 of whom ordered several complicated drinks, as well as food items, plus online orders.

Customer: And I want those drinks decaf... Decaf!...Did you write that they’re decaf? I want to make sure I’m getting decaf.

Customer: (after the transaction is over and their drinks are being made) Um, decaf means with caffeine right? Like extra caffeine?

Customer: (half way through eating a sandwich they grabbed from the food section) Hi, I just got this, plus I want a small mocha.

Me: Um... I need to ring that sandwich up...

Customer: Oh, it’s just- I’m in a hurry.

Me: Okay, you still have to pay for it though.

Customer: Do you sell ice cream?

Me: No we do not.

Customer: (angrily) Well what can I get for my kid then?!

Me: Does she have any dietary restrictions?

Customer: Yes. What can you make her?!

Me: Um... (eventually I got the little girl to tell me what she could drink and made her a smoothie)

Customer: (angrily) What’s wrong with your menus?! Why can’t I find what I want?

Me: Do you know what you’d like? Maybe I can figure out which drink it was.

Customer: I don’t know what I want, but I’m not seeing anything on your menu I want!

Customer: What’s the largest size frappuccino I can get?

Me: A venti.

Customer: Okay, gimme a trenta vanilla bean.

Me: I’m sorry, I can’t sell you a trenta frappuccino. Just a venti.

Customer: Okay, just ring me up for a trenta vanilla bean and a trenta caramel frappuccino.

Me: Again, the largest size frappuccino I can sell you is a venti.

Customer: I’m willing to pay you though.

Me: I understand, we just can’t make them that big.

Customer: What can I get in the trenta cup?

Me: Iced teas and coffees.

Customer: Which frappuccinos though?

Me: None of them.

Customer: What?!

Customer: I’d like (and then he mumbled some random drink we do not sell)

My coworker and I: Um, we don’t know what that is.

Customer: Haha I know, this isn’t Peet’s. You guys don’t make that one.

Me: Okay, so what would you like?

Customer: What I just said.

Me: Okay, what is that?

Customer: I don’t know. Just make it.

A frequent, personal favorite:

Customer: (tells me their name for the cup)

Customer: (screaming) THAT’S NOT HOW YOU SPELL IT!

Or conversely,

Me: Can I get your name please?

Customer: No you cannot!