#she feels herself more and more attracted to gale and just goes 'this will not happen better not embarrass myself' | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

choicesficwriterscreations · 10 months

Text

July MC of the Month: Harper Gale

Please welcome our sixth MC of the month! Each month, we will highlight one MC or OC that is currently on our Meet My MC / OC List. The MC / OC is selected randomly on the Wheel of Names, and eligibility requirements can be found here. We accept MC / OC profiles on an ongoing basis. Please feel free to send yours in!

This month's MC of the month is...

@karahalloway's Harper Gale!

To learn more about Harper and her creator, see below.

In your words, tell us what you like most about your MC.

Probably the fact that she knows what she wants and doesn’t hesitate to go after it.

For instance, Harper has had a dream of going travelling around the world for several years, and at the start of (Un)Common Attraction (my somewhat modified rewrite of TRR1), she jumps at the opportunity to go to Cordonia, figuring that this is her chance to kickstart her around-the-world adventure. And even though things don’t exactly go to plan, Harper still tries to make the most of the opportunity at every turn.

She also realises relatively early on that she is much more interested in and feels like herself with Drake, and even though Drake tries to push her away — out of loyalty to Christian (my version of Liam) and in a bid to avoid a scandal — Harper refuses to take ‘no’ for an answer, knowing that Drake has feelings for her too, and eventually convinces him to come around. Obviously, the press scandal on the night of the Coronation Ball throws a massive wrench in the works, but Harper refuses to throw in the towel, despite a lot of proverbial sh*t hitting the fan.

Other things I like about Harper are that she has a very strong moral compass and will fight for what she thinks is right, even in the face of resistance from those she loves and cares about. And she has a big heart — she is always trying to find ways to surprise Drake, be moral support for Max, Hana and Christian, and is always the first to offer help, even if she doesn’t really like the other person.

Do you feel your MC is like you at all? How are you alike or different?

As is the case for many authors and their OC, Harper and I share some similarities. We’re both curious, pragmatic, and down to earth, love to travel and have new experiences. We’re also both quite outdoorsy, love animals, as well as OTT action movies 😆

However, Harper is a lot braver and a helluva lot more resilient than I am — I would never have taken Maxwell up on his offer to go to Cordonia for the social season, and I am not sure I would’ve coped with all the things she goes through in Cordonia the same way she did.

Also, while we both tend to say it like it is (and this gets us into awkward moments sometimes), Harper is a lot more outspoken than I am and will call out BS then and there, while I just do the silent eye-brow raise, akin to Drake 😅

What is most important to your MC? What is their motivation in life?

One of the most important things for Harper is being able to be herself.

This was a big reason why she turned down Christian, because she couldn’t see herself living a ‘fake’ life whereby she had to constantly present an ‘idealised’ image of herself to the public, always having to watch what she said and did, and no longer being able to live a ‘free’ life (in my rewrite, for various reasons, I moved the timeline of this conversation up, so it takes place during the social season, rather than at the end of the engagement tour).

This is also the reason why she gravitated towards Drake very early on — because Drake has always taken her at face value and never expected anything more from her other than exactly what she already was (whereas both the Beaumonts and Christian focus on, and try to use Harper’s status as a lady — and subsequently a duchess — to further their own ends, whether overtly, or covertly).

In terms of where I am with Harper’s story at the moment, her main motivations are clearing her name after the press scandal that broke during the Coronation Ball — in part to set the record straight and restore her reputation, and in part because she doesn’t want to have to keep hiding her relationship with Drake. Because this is kind of an all-consuming thing at the moment, she doesn’t really have mental space to think about more generic motivations 😅

What are their biggest pet peeves/dislikes?

Harper’s biggest pet peeves are being made to feel like an idiot (which is the main reason why she has a hard time getting along with Bertrand, who is a perfectionist taskmaster when it comes to etiquette), and being woken up at stupid-o’clock in the morning for a stupid reason (she very much wants/needs her beauty sleep).

She also takes issue with the two-faced nature of the nobility — outwardly presenting perfection, while inwardly falling prey to infighting, lies, manipulation and entitlement. This is another reason why she gravitated towards Drake almost from the very start because both of them can see the rot of the aristocracy through the superficial glitz and glamour.

If your MC could change one thing - anything - what would it be?

I’m not sure Harper would want to change anything — she believes that things happen for a reason and every cloud has a silver lining, even if you can’t see it at the time.

So even in the midst of her worst experiences, Harper is able to find some kind of light on the horizon (even if it feels intractably out of reach) and focuses on that to get her through whatever hardship she is facing.

What is your MC’s favorite quote or song? Harper has a lot of songs she likes to listen to, depending on her mood, but one of her favourites is Life is a Highway by Rascal Flatts. It very much captures her attitude of freedom, adventure, and curiosity, and the belief that great things are waiting for you if you’re willing to step outside of your comfort zone:

Life's like a road that you travel on

When there's one day here, and the next day gone

Sometimes you bend, sometimes you stand

Sometimes you turn your back to the wind

There's a world outside every darkened door

Where blues won't haunt you anymore

Where the brave are free and lovers soar

Come ride with me to the distant shore

Is there anything else you’d like to share about your MC:

I have had a ton of fun getting to know Harper over the 3 or so years that I’ve been exploring her view of the world. But like with any relationship️, you are always learning new things about each other, so I’m sure that as I continue fleshing out Harper and Drake’s story, I’ll learn new things about both of them ❤️

Because unlike some other characters I’ve written — who arrived fully formed — Harper actually developed somewhat slowly as an OC. For instance, when I started my TRR1 rewrite, I didn’t even know what she looked like, and it took me about a year to find an FC for her! 😅

But from the very start, Harper has always had a very clear and distinct voice, which is part of the reason why I ended up writing her story from first-person POV. And the more I write her, the more I love her — almost like a sister — because she feels ‘real’. She has good qualities, yes, but she also has flaws — she can be too trusting, she isn’t always completely honest, she tends to overthink things, she gets heated and emotional and will rip into people (usually legitimately, but that doesn’t make the confrontation any less intense).

And I love her dynamic with Drake 😍 Nine times out of ten, their interactions just write themselves because even though in the big scheme of things, they haven’t known each other for that long, they are very in tune with each other and in many ways they are two sides of the same coin, which means that their interplay is always a perfect storm of snark, sexual tension, and humour.

To learn more about Harper, please see her character bio.

#cfwc mc of the month #mc of the month #harper gale #the royal romance #karahalloway #playchoices #choices fic writers creations #choices fanfic #playchoices fanfic

92 notes · View notes

spacebarbarianweird · 3 months

Text

WIP Wednesday

I was tagged by @vixstarria! I am writing the longfic about Astarion's daughter and I've just finished the second chapter! Tagging my beta @queenofthespacesquids to post her WIP

“Come on! I see the open window!” “I am not feeling comfortable breaking into the wizard’s tower!” “Good! More money left for me!” Alethaine says getting inside. She finds herself in a room with a floor somewhere far beneath. Alethaine walks into the ceiling. It’s a library. There are thousands of volumes, regular and logical, ancient and new. They stand in neat rows begging to be taken and read. Alethaine has never seen so many books in one place. With loud panting Theris follows her inside. “Oh great. The magic library. Every book must be cursed.” “Tara said she would meet us here.” “I don't care what the cat said!" "It's a tressum." "I don't fucking care! I don't want to be turned into a sheep!" A soft cough from beneath attracts their attention. An old man in a violet robe goes inside the library with the sleeping tressum in his hands. The wizard has short white beard and shoulder length hair. He has neither a wizard hat nor a staff to turn the intruders into sheep. "Young people, I would terribly appreciate if you climbed down from my ceiling so we could talk like civilized people. My name is Gale Dekarios, and whom do I have the honor to meet?"

#astarion #dhampirs of the sword's coast #meet the dhampirs #baldur's gate 3 #dhampirs of the swords coast #alethaine ancunin #dhampirs #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #tara the tressym

7 notes · View notes

baku-usagi · 4 months

Text

So my tav is Baku, which is kind of the placeholder name I give all my first game ocs 😂

Her story goes like this

Her parents were a young couple from. The country side, he father a human, her mother A tiefling. Not a lot of racism towards tieflings in their part of. The boonies. He joined the military, and worked his way up. The ranks, and with his wife pregnant, he. Receives the promotion of a life Time in balders gate! It's too good a deal to resist and he takes it, but like many men who get with women from different ethnicities, he ends up getting redpilled by his new coworkers who have less good opinions about tieflings. He's ashamed of his wife and their newborn tiefling child, and does his best to distance himself from the concept of their race.

Baku knows from a young age her father resents her, and does everything she can do earn his love and approval but he is unmoveable, she watches her mother stay inspite her father's new found mistreatment..

Eventually against his wishes she joins up in the military in the hopes that she can make him Proud through service.

She works hard and quickly becomes one of the finest soldiers in the force but many amongst the ranks have issues with tieflings and haze/harass her. She does her best to be a model soldier inspite of this.

But unfortunately after several years on the force she snaps on a group of soldiers shit talking her people calling them devil folk. She confronts them and they beat the shit out of her at the stables, holding her head under the water trough and almost drowning her.

Her father manages to intervene in time, but instead of punishing the soldiers or supporting her, he angrily reprimands her, saying she should be keeping her head down better instead of attracting trouble.

Hurt physically and emotionally she finds herself in the church of ilmater, offering some sad prayer for Comfort. A paladin finds her there and offers her a booklet about oaths, he tells her of a convent that is always looking for able bodied young recruits. She leaves that same day and starts her journey as a paladin, resonating most with the tenants of vengeance.

She spends her time defending any. Who cannot protect themselves, picking fights with racists of any brand, and helping as many tiefling as she can, getting to reconnect with her culture in the process.

After years of this, she realized the person she hadn't yet gotten vengeance for was herself.

Suffering mental Health and wanting to overcome her feelings that she'd be better dead, or rather never born, she tries to channel This into anger at her father, deciding to meet him and demand answers/hold him accountable.

She finds him just as he was when she left, her mother still with him.

She ends up Fighting her father after a heated exchange of words, winning by a land slide. Beat and battered her father tells her his daughter died years ago, and she needed to leave before he called for backup.

She tries to convince her Mother to leave but her mom knows no other life.

She officially cuts ties, feeling utterly defeated.

Less then a week later she's taken by the mind flayers and wormed

The story of the game ensues, and she finds herself loosing faith In. The divine. Vengeance left her empty.

She confronts the tiefling trying to kill the caged goblin. Telling her what she knows to be true, that the veangance won't make it better.

As the words leave her mouth her oath breaks, leaving her terrified at the feet of a larger then life suit of armor, who tells her she's Lost something.

She decides she wants freedom. Freedom from all of it..

"tired of doctrine and dogma, I wanted freedom" she told the oathbreaker.

And thus the journey continues.

She falls deeply in love with gale

There is obviously a lot more but that's the gist!

Please tell me all about y'alls tavs/durges!!!

@breadedsinner @catsquirrelgurl!

4 notes · View notes

evermeet · 4 months

Note

1, 13, and 23 for Tavi/Gale :3

[ character development for couples ]

1. What, specifically, was the catalyst for their physical attraction (if applicable) to the other character? In other words, what in particular had them like “Oh, they’re...hot...”

Physical attraction is pretty quick. Tavi is wary of charming people (because she herself is charming, and she knows what it really is), but Gale seems so genuine all the time it's hard to hold that against him. The first "oh no he's hot" moment is when he shows her the orb, and the closeness mixed with the fear that the orb will consume her power sets off a series of chemical reactions that she's still untangling. For Gale, it's the way Tavira handles lightning magic. It's so second nature to her that it's almost a dance. His magic is so precise and studied and hers is so fluid it's almost mesmerizing.

13. What is their go-to for making a partner feel loved?

Tavira shows affection to everyone in the party because she's never really had family before. She cuddles, hugs, is very physical. Like it literally takes everyone a bit to catch on because she's kinda like that with everyone, but with Gale, she listens. She meets him at his level and listens to his worries and concerns and doesn't judge or begrudge him. She gets excited when he's excited, does things to remind him that she's with him, no matter what. That he's enough for her, more than enough. Especially because he's not into PDA as much as she is. Gale's a words of affirmation and acts of service guy. He does little things for Tavira to make her life easier. Makes her coffee in the morning, makes sure her bedding is warm if he goes to bed first, offers to wash her clothes for her. Then when it's just the two of them, he showers her in affection. She squirms a little bit under it, but only because she's never really been an object of affection in her life.

23. How comfortable are they talking about, and openly communicating during, sex?

Pretty comfortable. Gale is eager to please, of course, and Tavira is a tease who likes to push at limits, so communication is pretty key. Lot's of "how's thats" and check ins. Talking about it outside is fine as well -- Gale will allude to the act but Tavira will basically use the parasite to sext Gale at inappropriate times to make him squirm.

#ask'23 #zacksfairest #ask game #otp: i could wow you

0 notes

invinciblerodent · 7 months

Note

stature for both Arvid and iona!!! and 4 in the other for her too

stature: What's your OC's body type? How tall are they? Do they wear clothing to accentuate their look or do they try to mask it?

-> Arvid: I actually rolled his height (based on the way it is for a hill dwarf in the PHB, 3'8"+2d4), and he ended up being quite tall for a dwarf: roughly 130 cm, so 4'3". At least a good head shorter than everyone else still, but actually not SO short that one has to like... get on their knees to meet his eyeline. And that coupled with his bulk, I would say he... definitely looks formidable. Sturdy, if you will. Like if he wasn't so wide, he could probably pass for a short human, if he were so inclined, he can definitely tower over a gnome or goblin, and he should come up to almost about Gale's shoulder.

I guess this might contribute to his genuinely absurd intimidation bonus and -advantage (which I almost never use because he's a nice boy), that he just... looks like he could give you a smack and lay you out to dry, and he wouldn't necessarily even need a stepladder for it.

For his body type, I always picture an old-timey strongman or a powerlifter. Not someone who is cut or lean, but definitely built to support his strength, with few defined lines (mostly just in his arms), and rather heavy body hair. He's burly, and I personally find that type of person very attractive, but I do think he's the type to hide as much of himself as possible: long pants, long sleeves, heavy plate mail, the works. (That could be why I had to turn down pretty much every companion at least once, they saw him take his shirt off to chop wood a single time, and it was so unexpected that they all found themselves suddenly consumed by lust.) (Yes, I'm joking.)

-> Iona: As an elf, she's very average with her 167 cm/5'6" height (4'6"+2d10), and the fact that her love interest is going to have exactly 3 inches on her (plus about 2 more inches of hair) just amuses me to no end. And, since thematically she's both a sorcerer (not really a con or str class) AND an ex-cultist, I'd think the best way to describe her is wiry. She's not super athletic and initially kind of malnourished, but after fleeing from the compound, she had to be constantly on the move, and for a short while between that and the nautiloid, she didn't have much to her name to be able to eat well. (I think in act 1, she does put on quite a bit of weight and fills out somewhat, so the typical "slender elf" character model reflects more her act2+ appearance.)

Plus, her whole life she kind of lived in most part off a small garden too, so she would be lean, and more persistent than tough. Kind of like a stray dog that's all skin and bones, but still once her jaw is locked onto you, you're not going anywhere.

I don't think she would consciusly try to show off her body at first, but once she starts feeling more confident with her magic, she'll definitely start feeling more confident in her appearance as well. Especially once she realizes that most men don't see her as at least a bit lesser-than for being an elf (like it was in the anti-magic cult, where fey ancestry was barely tolerated), and instead, find it quite sexy, so they are, in turn, more easily manipulated by her. She'll definitely come more into herself as the game progresses, and use her innate charisma for more than just cagey self-defense.

Does your OC have a failed relationship or relationship they still think about? What happened? Is it an unsolved regret or is there a chance for reconciliation?

-> Iona: Oh, this is the best possible question to ask about her, I was hoping someone would!! (I think I only mentioned it in some tag-novel once, lol.)

This got long, so cut time.

So, Iona's name is technically Iona Raedir, but her maiden name is Birchlight, so that's what she goes by.

Her husband isn't dead, by some miracle, but after having hidden her inborn magical abilities her whole life, when she was eventually revealed (after 56 years, like 30 of them married to her husband Herrik), it got... ugly.

He was a human, so he did enjoy that he had a lovely, young and unaging wife (enough to tolerate her being an elf- the whole cult kind of was mainly made up of humans and they all functioned based on a human timeline), but... well, their core belief was that arcane magic in itself is something the use of which by anyone other than the gods is an aberration to be exterminated. So when he found out, after 30 years of marriage, that his wife was born with magical abilities and hid it from everyone, he was... let's just say, too set in his ways to accept it. (He was like 60-ish at the time, and had been in the same cult for like 35 of those, and participated in magehunts, of course he was set in his ways.)

Long story short, he attacked her, and the only reasons she could escape with her life was because 1.) she was faster, and 2.) she had been searching for an opportunity (and the courage) to get out for years and years at that point. She knew it was coming, sorcery is a magic that yearns to be used, and without her father being there ALL the time (the family was brought into the cult by her elven dad's second, human wife when she was little), she was bound to slip up eventually.

When he attacked her, she (again, long story short) could blast him in the face with fire, then once more when he came at her with an axe as she was getting her go-pack, and as her home crashed and burned both literally and figuratively, she could get to the stable to steal their ox, Marigold. As she fled, she knew she hadn't managed to kill him, but she did from that point on believe that he, while he failed to kill her, had killed the woman who was his wife.

The first thing she did, as soon as she got to a settlement, was trade her wedding band for a pair of boots.

#squirrel plays bg3 #oc: arvid trygg #oc: dove #I should rename that tag to #oc: iona raedir #this was fun!!#I actually have the night of her escape mostly written out in my little notebook #i'd have to type it up and edit it but I think it turned out well

0 notes

zahra-hydris · 3 years

Text

valthyra’s tadpole fantasy is philippa (pippa), an old childhood friend of hers, one that she always had a fairly intense “friendship” with until it turned romantic in their teens.

both of them clever, ambitious, and seeing their lives as unfairly limited, they encouraged and supported each other in their attempts to advance. philippa’s physical beauty is matched by her singing voice, and she learned how to play every instrument she could get her hands on. she wanted to be either a famous bard, or marry into nobility. val, desperately in love with pip, tried to help her with the former, eventually acting as her kind of manager: persuading tavern owners to let her play, drumming up attendance, negotiating payment, maneouvering weird fans, etc etc.

but in the end, she helped her with the latter. a young noble saw pippa singing one night, and fell in love. they married within the year.

pippa insists she doesn’t love the dude, but val knows otherwise. pippa only visits when she’s mad at him, only stays the night when she’s lonely, and only tells val she still loves her when asked, or in need of something.

about 6 months before she was taken by the mind flayers, val told pippa she didn’t want to see her again and pip just laughed and said ‘vally, baby, we both know that won’t last. what else do you have, other than me?’

valthyra would like to think that, by taking pippa’s form, the tadpole doesn’t really know her, and just made it easier to resist.

but she also worries that they do know her, and know she eventually won’t.

#valthyra riverridge #it all leaves val with this idea that she's not really lovable #she's weird she's too ambitious she tends to be snarky rather than sweet #she's not educated enough she's not cultured enough #she's lesser somehow is the overwhelming feeling #she feels herself more and more attracted to gale and just goes 'this will not happen better not embarrass myself'#and then she does allow herself to think maybe it will #and then he's like 'yeah so i was in love with a goddess'#ignore me yall just blabbering away rather than doing the work i fucking need to finish

1 note · View note

ladymelisande · 2 years

Text

So, for the last month I have been revisiting The Hunger Games (on audiobook format), so I have my thoughts and compare it with the movies and YA things I had the misfortune (😂) to touch last year:

I still love Katniss as a narrator, unlike Alina Starkov, Katniss has actual reasons to be distrustful and cold, and recognises that she is, so her cut-throat narration makes sense. Alina was deeply unlikable because, huh, I don't know because we had nothing of her past except her scenes with fucking Mal Imao.

Another thing I love from the way that Collins presents her heroine, is the way she writes the flashbacks. Unlike LB, who seemed to not even brother on giving her heroine a coherent backstory, Collins goes on great lengths to explain Katniss's.

Despite what the fandom says, I'm pretty sure that Katniss is white and the olive skin thing is a skin-tone which... More than one race has. Plus, grey eyes are... Extremely resesive features and I have never seen a non-white person with that eye colour. You who has that eye colour? The actress that plays Katniss in the movies. Not mentioning that Collins never said that the casting was incorrect. Plus, I kind of find hilarious that when I was listening the books I stumbled with a post saying that giving POC extremely light eye colours is racist because they are 'white' features that make those characters 'seem desirable because they have a white feature'. So, Collins is racist or people deluded themselves into believing Katniss was a POC to have something to be offended about the casting despite the author not having problems with it.

I think the romance-hater part of the fandom greatly undermines how much actual romance are in these books. It's pretty clear by Catching Fire that Katniss has feelings for Peeta and glaringly obvious in Mockingjay.

I read in TV Tropes that Collins was asked to put a love triangle by her publishing and listening to these books made me wonder if it is true. Because my god, Katniss and Gale have so little chemistry that it actually seems intentional. Hilariously, they remind me about Alina and Mal but done well because boy that Gale's entire appeal is that he is Katniss' oldest friend. She says he understands her and she is the only person she can be herself... But when the moment comes, all her supposed attraction and 'love' for Gale seem more performative than anything she did in the arena with Peeta. I was blinking confused to how out-of-nowhere her regard for him turned romantic, and it legit seemed she just got with him because 1) he was flogged and she felt guilty and 2) she was trying to literally escape her feelings for Peeta.

And the relationship between Katniss and Peeta is also given a lot of front, I think that people just downplay it because they want to feel superior by saying they liked the series for the rebellion plot and not the icky romance. But again, this relationship is what makes the rebellion plot so hard for Katniss. Peeta is used as bait and later a trap for her and the book wouldn't have been interesting if she had zero emotional struggle about it. She wouldn't have been the Mockingjay if she wasn't trying to protect Peeta. I get the books are not romance novels because they are not, but saying that the movies played the romance up is ridiculous. Maybe the marketing did, but in terms of plot, the movies and the books are pretty even.

Gale was also really toned down in the movies for how annoying and fanatic he was. And I legit believe it was his bomb that killed Prim.

This is random but Katniss' relationship with Prim's cat is literally the relationship my mother has with my cat. 😂

A lot of people said that Alina Starkov and Katniss are the same because Katniss is also 'passive' in the rebellion's plot. This is rubbish. Katniss takes the matters on her hands multiple times, she changes her mind and makes active decisions. Biggest example is planning Snow's assassination and then changing her mind after Prim is killed and killing Coin. These are her actions as a character are in no way as passive as Alina's are. Alina has to literally be dragged by other people and she does nothing in most of her third book but follow Mal and her little group in search of a McGuffin.

And finally what was that bullshit about Peeta 'forcing' Katniss to have children that the fandom yelled about? It is made clear like, a million times, that Katniss didn't want to have children because of the Hunger Games. Once the Games were over and she and Peeta were a little better mentally, why would she keep postponing something she prohibited because of the horrible society she lived in? Also, it's like... First grade symbolism that the children mean a new beginning for her and for Panem. I'm proudly never having children but some people are just stupid and have no reading compression.

Anyway, remains probably the best book series that YA has to offer.

#may listens audio books

44 notes · View notes

gale-gentlepenguin · 3 years

Text

Gale Reviews: ML Season 4 episode 10: Megaleech

(Spoilers for the new episode below)

-Okay so Myléne is preping for the protest. Hyping herself up.

-OMG Myvan is so f***ing cute! He calls her his little mouse!

-THEY KISS! UGH MY HEART!

-Marinette cant sleep because of the construction. Which sucks and is a mood.

-Side note, i paused and got a look at her picture board. Some are from the instagram, and then How did she get some of these?

-So the Oxygen tower? Like its suppose to make more oxygen? but they need to cut down trees to make it? IDK the logic. Also call back to the space trash program.

-Roger trying to be nice. But they wont listen to him.

-Myléne spitting facts

-THEY GOT ARRESTED! I F***ING CANT

-Well not really but they are being taken home.

-IT WAS A SCHOOL DAY. IVAN AND MYLÉNE ARE HARD CORE.

-Marinette made it to class barely and told everyone what happened to myléne.

-HOLD THE PHONE! Did Ms.Bustier... did she just do something a GOOD teacher would do? Oh the bustier salters are not gonna like this.

-Ms.Bustier about to step in. with a spontaneous trip for REAL Education.

-Now you can tell that Caline in season 4 f***s. Because she is about to RAIL the mayor for this bulls***

-Alya informing her bloggers s*** is about to go down

-THE FIREMAN IS THERE?! NO you have been tricked man.

-Wow Officer Roger out here making me feel bad for him

-WAIT ITS PARTNERED WITH GABRIEL BRAND? Oh no

-WAIT ADRIEN?! WHAT THE F***?

-Oh no it tricked marinette... well to be fair. Adrien does make the blatant corporatism very attractive.

-Alya just there to point her in adrien's direction so she stops daydreaming.

-Wait! Adrien didnt know?! He thought it was a perfume ad? HIS DAD TOLD HIM IT WAS AN AD. Wow.... I dont even...

-Myléne SPEAKS FOR THE TREES!

-And Chloé is there to just make things worse. Right on cue

-And Marinette pointed out that all of the plastic that the thing creates for artificial air does not solve the problem. Which was very Succinct.

- Which to be fair I liked Myléne's explaination better, but Marinette got the mayor to slip up so Points.

-Myléne is channeling Captain Planet right now

-Marinette is like, why didnt you mention this sooner.

-And they both are like "We did, for months."

-Now I honestly think you cant blame the class for that, I too ignore those people in vests in the city that try to talk about the environment.

-Alya is filming it as the class intervines

-Oh now the families are getting IN ON THIS! You go Nora!

-OMG THE MIME IS BACK! YAY! I missed him.

-OH SO THATS WHERE CHLOÉ GETS IT FROM.

-And Adrien is joining in the cause (CUE MARINETTE HANDHOLD BLUSH)

-And WAYHEM IMMEDIATELY SHOWS UP WITH THE CARDBOARD CUTOUT AND FAN GIRLS! I swear they were in the bush waiting.

-Marinette is caught in 4k staring, but no one else is seeing it

-Gabriel seeing his son rebel, he gets a call from Andre and basically said.

-"Lol you figure it out slut."

-And Gabriel goes to be evil

-And now the mayor gets overwhelmed.

-And Gabriel makes an amok and akuma.

-And Maledikator is back

-(wait is everyone just standing there WATCHING HIM GET AKUMATIZED?! WHAT THE F*** EVERYONE?!

-Welp the vore of the episode is there.

-TINY MAYORS!

-Nino's head has a little podium in his head. I HAVE SO MANY QUESTIONS

-IVAN NO!

-And Chat noir is here!

-Alya drop the phone... to late

-Daww kitty, he is scared.

- Myléne took Marinette before she could transform.

-Myléne is too pure

-Marinette, that was brilliant, but also... wow just wow

-Tikki was just like "Really bitch"

-THE TINY SASH

-Wait, they all have akuma and amoks.... Wow shadowmoth that is... really clever. Points.

-Myléne gonna get her miraculous! yes its time

-WAIT, SHE HAS A FEAR OF BADGES!? Thats hilarious.

-Myléne trying to deny being a hero. But ladybug encouraged her.

-the mouse miraculous!!!! mullo!

-Mullo laughed at her, poor Myléne

-Mullo get squeky thats cute. And the transformation sequence is very cute.

-Leap of faith time!

-Oh wow, her use of multitude just made Marinettes use look like weak sauce.

-Polymouse is killing it!

-Oh no they got chat noir.... WAIT HIS CAT EAR IS REAL.... so many questions...

-Ladybug made fun of his puns.

-And zoé is there.

-MIRACULOUS TEAM TIME.

-Chat noir made sure he was in the team pose

-Okay this was clever on how all of them used their powers.

-Oh neat wind was finally used.

-Ladybug just broke the record for de-evilization.

- TEAM FIST BUMP!!!

-and the mayor got the charm.

-Ah yes bureaucracy, the best way to say things get done without actually getting done.

-So the mayor decided Trees. Not gonna lie. I liked the Lorax plot. It made me laugh

-Marinette caught daydreaming again... but thankfully adrien didnt notice. (she yeeted herself out of there with alya.)

-Adrien got in trouble. Though I dont think he is a sentimonster. He got cataclysmed in season 3 and didnt start short circuiting. So Gabriel is just fidgeting with the ring because whatever reason.

_____________________________________________________________

I give it a 7/10

It was a pretty chill episode, but its ending was a bit quiet.

I liked Myléne in it and I didnt really feel the cringe.

It was nice seeing Bustier act like a teacher.

Not a bad episode. it was a pleasant watch. Though i am glad I didnt rush off to go see it.

#ml #ml spoilers #gale review #gale reviews #megaleech #megaleach

104 notes · View notes

oathofoaksart · 3 years

Photo

LEGION OF SUPERHEROES/DC OC: AMELIE “ZEPHYR” GWIN

bio under the cut!!

General Name: Amelie Gwin A.K.A: Zephyr; Zeph, Zephy, Amma Age: 16 [S1], 18 [S2] Gender: Cisgender Female Orientation: Biromantic Bisexual Occupation: Founder Legionnaire

Race: Metahuman Location: Legion of Superheroes Headquarters; Earth Hometown: New Metropolis, USA; Earth

Relations Parents: Sinclair (deceased) and Cornelia Gwin Siblings: Sable, Kahlo, and Drexel Gwin Friends: Chuck “Bouncing Boy” Taine, Imra “Saturn Girl” Ardeen, Luornu “Triplicate Girl” Durgo, Tinya “Phantom Girl” Wazzo, Clark “Superman” Kent, Brainiac 5, Brin “Timberwolf” Londo, Galatea @generalfandomsofthefreak, Reep “Chameleon Boy” Daggle, Rokk “Cosmic Boy” Krinn Partner/s: Garth “Lightning Lad” Ranzz (ev.); Mekt "Lightning Lord" Ranzz (AU) Misc.: Mekt Ranzz, Ayla Ranzz Affiliations: The Legion of Superheroes

Appearance Skin: Medium Fair, rosy undertones Hair: Jet black Eyes: Black; turn fully white when concentrating a heavy attack Height: 5’1” Build: Generally small, but limber; similar to a cheerleading flyer Distinctions: Considered averagely cute; often told she has big, pretty eyes. While she’s rarely out of uniform anymore, she has what’s considered a “tomboy-ish” style.

Personality

Energetic | Playful | Dedicated | Impulsive | Brash

Type: ESFP-A (The Entertainer) Temperament: Sanguine-Choleric Alignment: Chaotic Good

Lively, loud, fun-loving; Amelie takes the role of being the Legion’s resident jokester. Even during dangerous situations, Amma is given to flippant (and most of the time, cringe-worthy) wisecracks and one-liners, staying relaxed and seemingly carefree all the while. She’s shameless flirt, constantly spouting lame pick up lines to anyone she sees as the least bit attractive (although she does very poorly at actually getting a date). Despite her general goofiness, she’s incredibly dedicated to the Legion cause and her fellow Legionnaires, giving her 100% and beyond.

Amma’s happy-go-lucky attitude is for the most part, for the sake of relieving the stress that the life of a hero often brings. Not just for herself, but for her friends as well, however it’ll occasionally blow up in her face. While she might not mean to, she has a habit of coming across as immature and reckless, especially compared to the other founding Legionnaires. Over the years, this had started to shape into a suppressed inferiority complex that when exposed, leads to sporadic and intense clashes with others.

Powers/Advantages

Amelie uses air manipulation as an offset of telekinesis, maneuvering the air in and/or around objects she moves them to her will, including herself, enabling flight without the use of her Legion flight ring. She can also manifest her aerokinesis in strong gusts, whirlwinds, and gales. By controlling air waves, Amelie is capable of sound amplification and negation.

Like all Legionnaires, Amelie owns a Legion flight ring, which enables flight outside of her natural metagene, provides communication between other Legionnaires, can emit light like a flashlight, and protects the wearer from the vacuum of space. The Legionnaire belt works as a cloaking device.

Amelie is unable to create her own atmosphere, she can only use the air that's already available; her powers are rendered useless in a vacuum. They’re also tied a bit closely to her emotions, she has a hard time reeling them in if her emotions get the best of her.

Biography

Amelie was first born to Sinclair and Cornelia Gwin, followed three years later by all male triplets. The Gwins lived a happy existence, making their living off the small but successful restaurant under Sinclair’s name. Amma was an active, sporty girl throughout all of elementary and middle school and from a young age was smitten with the idea of running the restaurant when she was old enough. Her parents were loving and doting of her and her brothers, but she was particularly close to her father, who was known for his jolliness and all around silliness.

Tragedy struck the Gwins when Amma was twelve, her father was caught in the middle of an armed robbery while closing the restaurant. Sinclair was found dead at the scene. The Gwins stumbled at the sudden blow, Cornelia scrambled to not only trying to keep herself from falling apart, but console her children while keeping the business stable. Seeing her mother doing her best to keep everything cohesive, Amma did her best as the eldest of the children to comfort her brothers and help in any way she could in the restaurant.

The incident of her father’s murder molded much of her personality. She loved her father dearly and his death devastated her, but instead of allowing herself the time to grieve she took up Sinclair’s jovial disposition. She forced herself to stay strong for her family, shoving any of her own trauma down where no one could see it, and instead focused on trying to brighten everyone else’s day.

The stress of keeping up her mask of cheeriness eventually came too much not more than a few months after Sinclair’s death. A particularly nasty crying spell came to a crux, alone in her room, Amma felt as if everything was too much and too soon, her feelings erupted. She didn’t realize the roar in her ears wasn’t just her blood rushing, but that her room had been seized by a whirlwind, ripping through posters and hurling around furniture. The noise alerted her mother, who came rushing to her daughter’s side, which proved nearly disastrous. The storm correspond to Amma’s emotions, who was now in a panic, as the wind tore the roof off and sent both Amma and Cornelia sailing through the clouds.

Amma, in what should have been a futile effort, imagined that they’d somehow make it down safely. When the force of the impact never came, the mother and daughter opened their eyes to see they were hovering unharmed over the remains of their house, the triplets staring up at them in awe.

Amma, due to the stress of grief that went unchecked, activated her own metagene.

The Gwins made their home at the restaurant, loyal customers and helpful neighbors contributed in making the place comfortable for them with generous donations. Meanwhile, Amma experimented with her new found abilities, all under the careful eye of her mother. While abilities such as her own was no longer too outside the norm in the 31st century, Amma couldn’t fight the feeling that her powers could perhaps make a difference, instead of having them just thrown under the rug as a quirk.

She developed the habit of dropping by the remaining superhero museums, Superman and the Flash, as they were the first few who came to time with abilities that helped the world. The prospect of being a hero herself was something that called her greatly, but Amma couldn’t think up a way to start. Her chance would appear however, just a little after her thirteenth birthday.

Once again roaming through the Superman Museum, Amma encountered three kids right around her age, huddled far off to the corner of the building. Experience in having three younger brothers who were more often than not up to no good, Amma tried out a new trick she had been practicing. By keeping together the air waves from their voices a longer distance, she was able to carry their conversation to where she was staying, essentially eavesdropping. What she thought was three kids potentially plotting to trash the museum was actually plan on solving the conspiracy behind the threat over billionaire, R.J Brande’s, head.

Amma practically forced herself into the conversation, much to the surprise of the other three. A Braalian with magnetic manipulation, Rokk Krinn, a Titinian telepath, Imra Ardeen and Winathian electrokinetic, Garth Ranzz. Rokk, Imra and Garth were skeptical of Amma, who shoved herself into their plans with no sense of the danger to come. She won them over however, by showing them her own abilities, namely, her flight and the ease of transportation it would bring. And so the four became a rag-tag team of heroes, coming together to save R.J Brande.

Brande was grateful for their quick-thinking and selflessness and in return now helps fund their team of defenders, The Legion of Superheroes.

Amelie goes by Zephyr, a senior Legionnaire, and fights so that the galaxy can be safe from the likes of the Fatal Five and that no one should have to experience her loss.

Notes

Zephyr is a skilled cruiser pilot, since her abilities are void in space, she didn't want rendered useless. Her fighting style bleeds into her piloting, very quick on her reflexes.

Amma prefers to float everywhere rather than have her feet touch the ground, reason being she’s the second shortest member of the Legion and it’s hard to tell when she’s in the air.

One of the few things Amma takes with extreme caution is kitchen duty, she’s taken the title of the Legion’s Head Chef. Other Legionnaires take scheduled shifts helping her set up meals for the day. She’s surprisingly stern when it comes to the kitchen, from food preparation to cleanliness.

She’s notorious for developing inconvenient crushes, such as with a constant thorn in the Legion’s side, Mekt Ranzz, and far beyond her league, the President of United Planets, Winema Wazzo

Amma is well aware of her status as a founder, but dislikes drawing respect out through it. However, she does wish that her fellow founders took her a little more seriously, something that causes friction mostly between Cosmic Boy and herself.

She had originally named herself Gale Girl when the Legion first came to be, but with Imra, Luorno and Tinya’s hero names all ending in “Girl” as well, Amma wanted to stand out. Zephyr looks and sounds cool.

#dc oc #oc #losh oc #legion of superheroes oc #gar's oc #gar's art #losh zephyr #i've actually had zeph's bio for like more than a year now?#hell even the ref image is really old #that's why everything looks a little different than what i've usually be doing but #eh #i still really like her #oathofoaks #meet the ocs #Earth 16.21

28 notes · View notes

the-hilda-librarians-wife · 4 years

Text

Halloween Coutdown - A Bump in the Night

Summary: Victoria Van Gale is a serious scientist even after her laboratory and workplace is destroyed, she remains the sort of person to look for the reasons behind everything. She likes being in control, she makes stern analyses and important experiments, and she… goes trick or treating with a bunch of kids?

Notes: 3 days until Halloween, you guys!!! This is the irst time i actually try to make something I write feel like an episode, I hope you enjoy it! I thought it would be hard to write something with no sketchbook (and no librarian either!!) but it was actually so fun! Love this little unhinged scientist

Read it on ao3

Spooky song rec: HYPNOTIZED by AViVA

Victoria Van Gale did not like things she could not control.

She took her coffee black, she liked to read biographies, she was an early riser and she didn’t like things she couldn’t control. It was just one more part of her personality like any other, and she’d never really seen a reason to fight it. Granted, she supposed that it had been partially to blame for the fact that her observatory was now destructed, and she had to work a dull nine to five job to pay for the apartment she’d managed to rent. But she hadn’t been the only one involved in that mess. The responsibility could hardly be given to her, she’d been perfectly fine before those kids and their talking bird arrived. Or at least she told herself.

But the fact was that, out of her distaste for things she couldn’t understand and command, was born a revulsion against that one night of the year.

Halloween. What a bunch of nonsense.

She did her best to forget the night every year. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe in ghosts, witches and monsters. She’d seen enough to know there was much in this world that she couldn’t understand. It just made her uncomfortable to have to face a whole celebration dedicated to the incomprehensible. Why should they revel in it when they could analyze it? If humans had superior intellect, only their silly superstitions stopped them from being the absolute rulers of the world.

It seemed that, in her efforts, Victoria did manage to forget about Halloween, because she gasped as soon as she stepped outside and was faced with a crowd of children dressed in colourful costumes, running around and knocking on people's doors. A group of kids nearby noticed her leaving the building in which her apartment was, and ran towards her.

“Trick or treat!” They exclaimed, raising their pumpkin shaped buckets at her. Victoria tried not to feel too guilty as she gently told them he had nothing to give them and watched them walk away crestfallen.

Her plan had been to go to the nearest convenience store, pick something to snack on since she felt like it, and return home just as quickly. With all the tumult the celebrations caused, however, she was just considering giving up on her task to head back home when she felt something bump against her leg. Looking down, she saw a white figure, much smaller than a child. As it realized it had bumped on her in its haste, it looked at her and Victoria could see the glimmer of the lamp post light on its dark eyes. It ran away, and she took off after it.

By the way the creature ran, with white linen trailing behind it, Victoria could only come to one conclusion: she’d found a ghost. And if she managed to catch it, the amount of information she could get was unimaginable! How did ghosts come back to the earth? Was it true that there were more ghosts around on Halloween? What was the afterlife like? How did a ghost even work? The excitement at the prospect of asking those questions, combined with the running which she didn’t do often left her breathless.

As she dodged them, her chase attracted the odd stares of many children, and even their complaints when she accidently hit one in the shoulder, but she didn’t care, all that mattered was getting to the ghost and taking it to somewhere where she could study it. Nevermind that this would probably be her apartment.

She came to a halt, however, when a large group of children who were crossing the street together blocked her path. She tried to squeeze her way past it, but when she had finally crossed the crowd, the ghost was nowhere in sight.

“Oh, no” She whispered, looking around frantically. She jogged forward, coming to the end of the street, and looked into the two other streets that the one she was in led into, seeing nothing but more children. There was a fifty per cent chance she’d pick the right road, and she was about to try her luck on the path to her right when she heard a familiar voice behind her.

“Victoria… what are you doing?”

Startled, Victoria looked behind her shoulder to see the same blue haired girl who had set her weather spirit free. Her face had been painted green with black drawings that mimicked stitches, and the hair bow she was wearing had screws in its ends to make it look like they were coming out of her skull. She was accompanied by the boy Victoria also remembered, who wore dark clothes and fake fangs, and a girl Victoria hadn’t met yet, a witch hat on top of her head and wearing a black dress.

She didn’t exactly still have hard feelings towards Hilda, though she wasn’t over the fact that her interference in private matters had left her homeless and jobless. For her part, however, Hilda looked like she didn’t trust Victoria in the least.

“Oh! Hilda! You won’t believe this, I just saw a <em>ghost</em>. I’m, uh, happy to see you’re fine, by the way. With the nasty fall you took from the bureau and all.”

“Are you really?” David muttered, making Hilda elbow him softly so as to tell him not to pick on her.

Hilda asked her what the ghost she saw was like, while Frida whispered to her friends questioning who this woman was. Though she couldn’t hear what he was saying, Victoria noticed David answering in her ear.

“It was very small.” She informed, placing her hands apart from each other in order to show her esteemed measurement of it. The girl that was dressed as a witch looked at her with suspicion as her friend talked to her, but she tried to ignore the two of them and focus on Hilda. “And it really did wear a white cloth like the tales say. Pretty quick, too.”

Frida was about to refute something she said when Hilda lifted her hand, asking her not to.

“A ghost!” Hilda exclaimed, the hint of a smile on her lips. “That’s interesting. But why were you running after it?”

Victoria fidgeted, rubbing her thumb and index finger in circles. “Well, I… I’d never seen a ghost before, is all. I just wanted to try and take a look! See what they’re made of!”

Looking disappointed with the answer, Hilda sighed and shook her head negatively. “Still trying to control everything, Victoria? Haven’t you learned already?”

“That’s… that’s not it…” Victoria tried to defend herself, looking down at her feet.

“You know what?” Hilda said suddenly, her tone changing abruptly to a more joyful one. “You are not going to find anything in this crowd by yourself. Not only that, but all three of us have actual experiences with ghosts. We’ll help you with it.”

“Really?” Both Victoria and the two other children gasped.

“Really, under one condition.” She put a finger up, looking serious. “This is my first Halloween in Trolberg, and I don’t want to miss out on it. You’ll come with us and after we’re done trick or treating, we’ll help.”

“Huh?” Victoria frowned, thinking that perhaps the girl had hit her head hard after that explosion in the bureau. If she ran, she still might catch up with her ghost, but if she spent the night trick or treating, she was certain to never see it again.

“Hilda, I don’t have time-” She tried to argue, but the girl cut her off.

“Don’t you know the lore of Halloween? These ghosts will be walking around town the whole night. In fact, if you come with us, there is an even greater chance of you finding a ghost, even if not the one you just saw. But it’s all the same to science, right?”

“Yes…” Victoria rubbed her chin. “I suppose you’re right.”

“But Hilda.” David whispered to his friend, probably thinking he was being a lot more discreet than he was in reality. “She’s an adult. Adults can’t go trick or treating.”

The look Hilda gave her scared Victoria more than any child should be able to.

“They can if they’re part of our costume.”

_#_#_#_

Victoria all but dragged herself behind them, attempting not to feel like a fool.

“Is this really necessary?” she groaned, being met with Hilda’s fierce affirmation that yes, it was necessary. After they’d struck their agreement, the trio had made her take them to her apartment, where they found her lab gloves and coat and made her wear it. They hadn’t even stopped there, finding her black rain boots and asking her to put them on too.

When they began going to the first houses, she’d felt awkward standing near the children as they asked for candy. Most people ignored her, until one woman, with bright red curly hair and a sweet face chuckled at her.

“Who would you be?” She asked, not mockingly but with curiosity after dropping a large amount of sweets into the children's pumpkins.

Hilda was fast to answer. “She’s Victor Frankenstein!”

“Oh, what a lovely pair you two make!” The woman said, her eyes going back and forth between Hilda and Victoria. “You must be such a dedicated auntie. Here, have some candie as well, you deserve it.”

After putting candies in Victoria’s shelled hands, she wished them a good Halloween and closed her door. The children climbed down from her porch, but Victoria remained where she was, looking awestruck as she stared at her hands.

“Are you okay?” Frida asked, the first to realize Victoria hadn’t moved.

“Yeah, I’m alright. It’s just been a lot of time since I received candy from anyone.”

David tilted his head to the side. “You haven’t eaten candy in a long time?”

“What? No!” Victoria assured him. “I eat more candy than I should, honestly. But it’s different when you get it from someone. Everything is more special when it’s a gift, I suppose.”

“Hey, why don’t we stop and eat some of what we got tonight?” Hilda suggested, and the rest of them agreed eagerly. There was a bench nearby, and they all sat on it. As the kids dug into their pumpkin buckets, making their choice of which sweet to eat first, Victoria unwrapped a sour candy.

“Did you know that sour candies are sour because of the citric acid?” She asked, drawing the kids’ attention. “Like all acids, it has hydrogen ions which activate our tongue’s sour taste receptors! Isn’t this interesting? Of course, this is the same acid we have in some fruits, but to use it in candy you need to make it by fermenting sugar with microorganisms! Not as simple as it seems at first, I’m certain.”

“I thought you were a meteorologist.” David said after a beat.

“I am! But that doesn’t stop me from liking the other sciences as well.”

“That’s so cool, miss Van Gale!” Frida gasped, and Hilda nodded in agreement. “I hope this is not rude to ask… but there are so many things about the science books I read that I don’t understand, and our teacher can never really answer all of them. I was wondering if one day you’d be willing to help me with that?”

“Of course!” Excited at the prospect of having someone to discuss science with, Victoria nodded, happy when the girl looked joyful with her acceptance. “It's always good to revisit topics one hasn’t studied for long. Keeps the brain sharp.”

There was a pen in her labcoat’s pocket, and the woman used it to write her landline’s number on the candy wrap and give it to Frida, so she could call her for them to arrange a day.

“I think we should go.” Hilda sighed, tired because of the late hour but very happy about how her first Halloween in the city was going. “We still have many houses to visit, and I have an idea that might get us even more candy.”

_#_#_#_

“It’s moving…” Victoria uttered in the moment when Hilda, lying down in front of the house’s door, began lifting her hand. The couple that lived in the house watched them with curiosity and wonderment at their makeshift theatre. “It’s alive! It’s moving, it’s alive! In the name of God, now I know what it is like to be God! IT’S ALIVE!”

Abruptly, Hilda lifted her whole torso up, groaning as monstrously as she could. Her two friends giggled, already having received their candy, and the couple clapped at them.

“How frightening!” the woman said, dropping candy into Hilda’s pumpkin. “Happy Halloween and keep up the good work!”

The group left, laughing about how good their acting had been. They’d done it for all the past houses, and everyone who had seen it had loved it, even fellow trick or treaters. Now knowing that they were her favourite, Hilda always gave the sour candies she received to Victoria, and as she separated them from the others David complimented how genuine Victoria had sounded.

“Thank you, David. I have a talent for the dramatic arts, don’t you think?” She boasted mockingly, swiping her hand across her shoulder to push her wild hair back. The boy giggled, the apprehension he’d had of her in the beginning of the night all but gone. Without them even noticing, the resentment each of them had towards the other seemed to have melted away with the time they spent together.

“I just think ‘mad scientist’ comes to you naturally, Victoria.” He retorted, and she brought her hand to her heart in fake outrage, making them all laugh.

“It’s getting really late.” Frida said unwillingly. “I think I’ve got to go home.”

They all looked at the wrist clock Frida was wearing, and Victoria was surprised to find herself sad that her time with the children had come to an end. It made her even more surprised, when she remembered the ghost, that her first thought had been about the children and not about what they’d promised her.

After that, David also sighed and mumbled that he had to go, otherwise his parents might get worried. Hilda didn’t say anything, nor did she look at Victoria.

“I still…” Victoria began. She didn’t want to force kids to stay out past the time they should just to help her, but it seemed like they had forgotten. “I still need to look for the ghost.”

Hilda sighed, the same sigh from hours ago, when they’d found her running around like mad, and she finally looked at Victoria. The woman didn’t like the resignation in her eyes.

Unlike Hilda, when the two other kids looked at her, she could see that the ghost really had slipped from their minds, and that they even felt guilty about it.

“You two go home. I’ll help Victoria find her ‘ghost’.”

They nodded and said good night to both Hilda and Victoria, beginning their walk on the direction they had come from. Something about the way Hilda had said the word “ghost” didn’t sit right with her. If she was being honest, the fact that she’d apparently taken the girl from her happy mood to this silent one didn’t either. She told herself it didn’t matter, they had struck a deal and it wasn’t like she was the girl’s “auntie” like some of the people they saw seemed to think. But even though it didn’t matter, it still made her feel a pang in her chest when the most energetic, positive person she’d seen in years sat down on the concrete edge of the sidewalk.

“I thought you’d let this go.” She muttered, looking at a point in the distance. “I thought that maybe you’d have fun and realize that there’s so much beauty around, especially in te things you can’t control. But I suppose it would be asking for too much, to change a person in a night.”

She whistled suddenly, and Victoria heard the tip-tap of something small coming their way.

“Come here boy!” Hilda exclaimed, and when Victoria looked at the spot Hilda was watching, she saw the same creature she’d seen hours before running her way, and gasped when it happily came into Hilda’s arms.

After picking it up, Hilda turned to her, her face serious. “Is this your ghost?”“It is!” Victoria nodded, her mouth wide in surprise. The biggest surprise, however, came when Hilda lifted the veil from the creature, revealing a white, fluffy looking deerfox.

“Frida wanted to tell you in the beginning of the night. What I said was true, we have had experiences with ghosts, and we know that ghosts don’t wear veils like in the tales. I had dressed Twig up to come with me tonight, but I gave him the command to follow us from afar when I saw you. He must have bumped into you when he was bringing back the stick I threw him. Though he didn’t give me anything, so he mustn’t have been able to find it.” “What?” She gasped, watching Hilda shake her head and get up. “I don’t understand.”

“I know I’m young, Victoria, and I’m still getting used to the whole living in society thing. But there’s one thing I do know that you need to understand. If you keep believing life is a battle, you’ll never stop seeing enemies all around.”

After saying that, she walked away down the same road Frida and David had too. Disappointed, confused and guilty all at the same time, Victoria let herself fall down to the ground, sitting on the edge of the sidewalk.

Though it was the most dangerous night of the year, she was beginning to think she was the only monster around.

#wife's halloween countdown #hilda the series #victoria van gale #victoria van gale fanfic #hilda (hilda) fanfic #my fic

21 notes · View notes

bluebird722 · 4 years

Text

Wicked Musical Extended Ending

For @cuckoo-outlawoflove-in-nirvana, @broadwill, @breakfast-at-bendels, @elphabaoftheopera, @squeegool, @thegoodplacey, @politedemon, @diablodancer, @superelphie, @colwengrounds, and all fans of “Wicked” who crave more and wouldn’t mind an "adaptation” of a musical that is based on a book (the first of a series) that is based on a movie that is based on the first of a series of books.

After reuniting, Fiyero and Elphaba leave the Land of Oz via train under unsuspecting disguises and arrive in a nearby land unfamiliar to them. With virtually nothing but each other, Fiyero and Elphaba travel by foot, seeking shelter in barns and surviving on fruit trees, until they find a bare grassland where they decide to construct their own home. In the time that it takes them to build a house, they grow their own garden of produce.

Fiyero has the permanent appearance of a scarecrow, but Elphaba manages to reshape him, allowing the couple to consummate their feelings. The first time they make love, Elphaba sobs the entire time because she worried for so long that she would never find love and nearly lost it when she found it. Fiyero just holds her so she knows that love found its way back to her.

Fiyero wakes up most nights to Elphaba sniffling, and she keeps worrying about the future of their unborn child, if it will be just as much an outcast as she had been and perhaps be ashamed of its mother, or even possess any magical abilities that will frighten others. She only calms down when Fiyero rubs her baby bump and lets her, calmly, talk about what ails her, and this enables her to fall asleep better.

Elphaba goes into labor while gardening, and Fiyero carries her inside and assists her through contractions. He knows nothing of childbirth but keeps her distracted by coaching her to maintain control of her powers with each push. It takes hours, but a healthy baby boy is born, and Fiyero laughs and cries the entire time that he clutches the newborn. To Elphaba’s relief, little Liir is born with pale skin and black hair, and his parents can’t stop kissing him.

In order to bring in income, Fiyero and Elphaba expand their garden, and Fiyero sells produce at markets and to neighbors who don’t mind his unusual appearance. Elphaba, unwilling to present herself and risk causing fear among others, raises chickens at home to sell or eat the eggs, and has Liir assist her but creates games out of his chores and teaches him math this way. At night and during rainstorms in the daytime, Liir’s parents teach him to read and write. Even though it makes her miss Dr. Dillamond, Elphaba tutors her son biology and history, and Fiyero buys books of biology and the country’s history for him and his family to read and learn.

Liir begins school at age six and easily becomes a top student. His enthusiasm and intelligence delight teachers, and his kindness attracts many friends of different ages. Out of respect for his mother, Liir doesn’t bring classmates to his house but goes to theirs. As this continues, Liir becomes frustrated at his mother for wanting to live like a hermit, saying that any true friend wouldn’t mind what she looked like. Still, Elphaba refuses to change the rules and promises that he would understand when he was older.

Liir leaves for university at sixteen, but before he leaves, his parents tell him their stories about Oz, how they met and fell in love, and why they left home. He isn’t angry about their revelations but reflects on the information he has on the aunt and grandfather he never met and his mother’s fall from grace, and considers traveling to Oz to meet Glinda. On the train ride to school, Liir promises himself to return his parents to their homeland.

At university, Liir instantly bonds with his roommate, Trism, and befriends the beautiful Candle. Although Liir and Candle begin a romantic relationship in their second year, he finds himself attracted to Trism but delays telling them his conflict. This continues even after the three finish school and travel, trying to find employment, and his relationship with Candle becomes sexual. Candle finds out and isn’t offended but suggests that he might be bisexual. Just as Trism and Liir begin a relationship, Candle finds out that she’s pregnant. The three have lengthy conversations and consider co-parenting together.

Liir writes to his parents of his sexuality and receives a loving letter regardless. At Trism and Candle’s urging, he brings them to deliver the news of the pregnancy to his parents. Of course, Trism and Candle are surprised with Elphaba’s skin and Fiyero’s physical appearance but spend more time defending Liir from his parents who are more furious about his “carelessness”. The five come to an uneasy truce, and Elphaba and Fiyero agree to let Liir, Trism, and Candle stay with them as the trio begin searching for their own house. At this time, Trism and Candle knew little of Oz but learn of Elphaba and Fiyero’s pasts and feel sorrow.

Like Elphaba, Candle begins labor in the garden and is in pain for the rest of the day and night. She ends up in the same room where Liir was born. Liir is extremely squeamish, but Fiyero instructs him on coaching a birthing woman. As he, Trism, and Elphaba assist Candle, Liir talks to her in a calm voice until he delivers his daughter and nearly passes out. The baby is healthy and cleans up a light green, much to her grandparents’ surprise.

Rain grows up in a city apartment with her three loving parents and cherishes free time with her grandparents. As part of her schooling, Liir teaches her to read and write by having her read and copy letters from a journal that he wrote about her parents, her maternal family, and the political conflicts in Oz. However, he does not reveal if it is fact of fiction. When Rain learns that Oz is a real place, she decides to visit when she is older.

The first holiday after Rain’s first year of university, she persuades her parents and grandparents to let her travel to Oz with her best friend Ozma, who goes by the nickname “Tip” because of her preference for masculine clothing. Elphaba is nervous but gives her blessing and requests that Rain not inform anyone that her grandparents are still alive. Rain and Tip travel to Oz and then the Emerald City, where they call for the attention of a widowed Glinda, who has since lived up to the name “Glinda the Good” but whose physical appearance is fading. Initially, Glinda is reluctant to speak of her life prior to the Emerald City until Rain begins pressing her with questions about her “old roommate”. As Glinda continuously refuses, Rain and Tip excuse themselves and take a train to Munchkinland, under the governorship of a man named Shell. There the girls finds the land where Rain’s great-aunt and great-grandparents are buried together. They sit at the grave for two hours until Glinda arrives via bubble, confident that she would find them there.

Back at the Emerald City palace, Glinda quietly interviews Rain, who recalls the story of Dorothy Gale, the Scarecrow, the Tin Man, and the Cowardly Lion, and remarks that Glinda’s “old roommate” had known them all at some point. Glinda presents Rain with the Grimmerie and has her read through the book just as the guards announce the arrest of Tip for an action they do not reveal. A panicked Rain subconsciously recalls a spell that she had just read and instinctively chains the guards together. Rain and Tip are shocked, and Glinda begins to weep when she realizes that her old friend had survived and lived to have a child. She admits to have staged Tip’s arrest to test Rain of any power as proof that she truly was Elphaba’s granddaughter, and is furthermore pleased that Rain proved herself braver and more willing to save a friend than Glinda had been in her youth.

Rain, in Glinda’s home, writes to her grandparents and informs them of her meeting with Glinda. An emotional Ephaba congratulates her but is also surprised that Rain possessed some form of magic that Liir did not demonstrate. Because all of Oz are convinced that Elphaba had died long ago and still speak ill of her, Rain suggests for Glinda and Elphaba to communicate via mirrors and meet on the night before Rain leaves to return home. Glinda agrees but wonders if she should tell Rain and Elphaba the truth of Elphaba’s parentage. Despite Rain’s eagerness to go back to her parents, she promises to return and talks of one day living in Oz. Rain and Tip watch from the shadows as Glinda’s mirror unfogs and she says, “You wicked thing...”

#wicked #elphaba #elphaba thropp #glinda #glinda upland #fiyeraba #fiyero #fiyero tiggular #liir thropp #wicked musical #the wicked years #fanfiction #gregory maguire #the wizard of oz

24 notes · View notes

choicesficwriterscreations · 8 months

Text

September MC & OCs of the Month - Special Edition: Harper Gale

Help us in welcoming September's MCs and OCs of the month! That's right, plural! Most months, CFWC highlights one randomly selected MC or OC from our Meet My MC / OC List. (More info here.) But this month, we're doing something different.

In August, @lilyoffandoms hosted a Writers Appreciation Month, and we announced the September Writer of the Month would be selected from its participants. But all participants agreed - Lily deserved the honor! Still, we wanted to do something nice for the eleven writers who elected to participate to help uplift other writers in the fandom. So, this month, each of the eleven participants will have one of their MCs or OCs highlighted.

We will introduce each MC / OC individually, and once all eleven have been highlighted, a masterlist for the month will be created. We hope you enjoy getting to know all about them!

The tenth MC of the Month is @karahalloway 's OC Harper Gale for a reprise!

Learn more about Harper below....

In your words, tell us what you like most about your MC.

Probably the fact that she knows what she wants and doesn’t hesitate to go after it.

Do you feel your MC is like you at all? How are you alike or different?

What is most important to your MC? What is their motivation in life?

One of the most important things for Harper is being able to be herself.

What are their biggest pet peeves/dislikes?

If your MC could change one thing - anything - what would it be?

I’m not sure Harper would want to change anything — she believes that things happen for a reason and every cloud has a silver lining, even if you can’t see it at the time.

Life's like a road that you travel on

When there's one day here, and the next day gone

Sometimes you bend, sometimes you stand

Sometimes you turn your back to the wind

There's a world outside every darkened door

Where blues won't haunt you anymore

Where the brave are free and lovers soar

Come ride with me to the distant shore

Is there anything else you’d like to share about your MC:

To learn more about Harper, please see her character bio.

#choices fic writers creations #harper gale #karahalloway #cfwc oc of the month #the royal romance #playchoices

12 notes · View notes

camomills · 4 years

Text

Title: Stars of Soot Relationships: Silica/Sinon Fandom: Sword Art Online Word Count: 3083 Summary: Sinon shows off GGO to Silica as a date, at Silica's request. As she experiences the different sensations of such a hardy world, Silica wonders why this world means so much to the other girl. Notes: Made for SAO Pride Week 2020 - Day 2: Stargazing. This one wasn't beta read because I was a bit pressed for time, so please forgive me for any glaring errors. It's been a while since I wrote Silica/Sinon! It was quite fun to revisit the ship. As per usual for me, this wound up as a weird mix of fluff and character study.

AO3 Link

The air in Gun Gale Online smells like gasoline and gunpowder, but Silica doesn’t mind… much. Not when she clings to Sinon’s back as they speed down the highway on a rental buggy, pigtails fluttering in the wind as her cheek finds rest in-between her girlfriend’s shoulder blades.

“I still can’t believe you want to try out this game,” Sinon says, the metallic hairpins on the sides of her face clinking lightly. She’s still not that used to driving, in the game or otherwise, so she keeps her eyes on the road instead of turning her head back as she talks. Vehicular collisions are not particularly romantic.

I just want to know what you see in it , Silica replies in her mind, raising her head.

She understands that, for all the time they spent together in ALO ’s fairy realm, that wasn’t Shino’s ‘world’, not in the way this place is. When she doesn’t bury herself in the curve of Sinon's back, the gas and soot is more apparent to all of her virtual senses, and even though it was her own proposition, she has to ask, why? Why choose colorless tiles and cracked pavement over the boundless hues of fantasy?

“I’d be lying if I said I… particularly get it,” Silica admits. “But this world is important to you, right?”

“Yeah,” Sinon replies. “ GGO might be an acquired taste, though. This game is gritty.”

She rolls her shoulders, leaning further back onto Silica.

Excluding Silica, Sinon has never been one for bubbly and cute, so GGO would always be a better fit for her. But this virtual world was made with inhospitality in mind, so not exactly the perfect dating spot. The fact that she’s here for one surprises her more than it does anyone else.

“Well,” Silica says, “good thing you’re here, then! Having a tour guide to show around should be a huge help.”

Sinon wheezes. “So I’m your tour guide, now?”

“Yes!” Silica proudly proclaims.

The sniper smirks. “Okay, then.”

Sinon twists the handlebars, and the bugey roars as it peels through the road. She can’t help but smile as Silica’s high-pitched yell reaches her ears, just barely audible over the revving of the engine.

The howling of gunfire can’t be heard as much within GGO ’s hub city, but the loud advertisements that echo from the bright signs serve as a fitting substitute, volume-wise.

Silica’s only knowledge of this game comes from watching Sinon and Kirito fight for their lives, real and virtual, through a tournament broadcast. The fact that Sinon still logs in daily to Gun Gale even after that incident would be odd to anyone other than people like the beast tamer and her friends, who are all VR addicts despite their time in Aincrad.

The two years in the floating castle, despite the pain it caused her, was where Silica grew the most. She’d never openly say that there’s a part of her that misses the days after the one year mark, when she’d settled into her reputation in those lower floors and tried to forget the outside world so much that she succeeded. None of her friends would. It’s a silent understanding and an untold promise; not to admit missing those days, so they don’t have to, either.

What does GGO, a medley of grit, greys and metal, mean to Sinon?

Their circumstances are different, but the scars they bear stain their skins in similar ways. The masks offered by virtual worlds, Silica knew, gave one the opportunity to confront themselves in ways one couldn’t anywhere else. There was something to the kind of place one chose to do so that Silica found important to know.

Sinon got to see New Aincrad, walk over the same plains wherein the beast tamer had met Pina, bask under the same electronic sunlight she experienced for two years.

It’s not fair if only one of them gets to do it, is it?

The sun sets while they stroll through the city, and Silica understands more of the acquired taste Sinon had mentioned. The approaching dusk was somewhat nice on itself, but the place was still a palette of monochrome then, all steel on sand, black on white. Once it’s officially night time in game, 6:00 PM sharp, however, everything changes. The dark of night makes the huge, floating billboards pop, neons of purple and blue scattered through the cyber landscape. The virtual city night lights become luminous streaks in her vision while they dash on the way here on the buggy, not unlike how she imagines speeding through one of Tokyo’s nightlife districts in a motorcycle would feel like. It’s movielike, but not fantastical or unreal, but maybe that’s the point; she doesn’t think she’d have the guts to go at such high speeds with her flesh-and-bone body, nor would Shino have the confidence Sinon presents.

There are things from real life that one can only do in a game like this.

***

They stop by an equipment shop at the center of the now-luminous city. Unlike the last time she was here with someone else, Sinon has no tournament sign-in to get to after shopping, so they can take their time.

Sinon is surprised when Silica picks an overall sensible combat outfit; a tactical green and black leather outfit with red accents, along with a dark, moss-colored poncho. We kind of match! Silica beams as she presents herself, pointing back and forth between her and Sinon’s outfit colors. She frames her face delicately and comically she does so, her eyes shining like a cartoon fawn’s. Sinon knows it’s on purpose, this over-the-top display of sweetness, but it makes her smile anyway.

Of course Silica found a way to make this cute.

It’s also cute, albeit in a different way, when Silica’s eyes look away from the armor section of the store and widen as she takes notice of a display of combat knives. They’re military-grade blades, absolutely indistinguishable from the real-world articles. Unlike just a moment ago, the shine in her eyes is unfeigned.

“Oh yeah, this game has these!” Silica exclaims.

Sinon turns to her with a quizzical look.

“... You’re interested in the knives?” That makes it two for two, the times she’s taken someone new here and they thoroughly ignored guns. Are all fantasy game players like this?

“Of course I do!” Silica exclaims, like it’s obvious. Her look all but says, I spent years fighting with daggers, remember?

Silica takes one of the knives from the demo display. It looks comically large in her hands, and yet it pales in comparison to the ones she’s grown used to in fantasy games. She spins the handle in-between her fingers, resting it on her knuckles. The hand flourish when she bumps the blade upwards, sending the knife spinning high, and then catches it from the air with her open palm is almost too fast to see. She gleefully changes the grip a few times before finally settling it in a simple reverse grip.

“They have such a better feel than those bulky daggers!” Silica exclaims in glee.

“ Impressive,” Sinon mutters under her breath. She can’t help but be hit with a sense of deja vu .

There’s a sensible distance one can gain when looking at someone brandishing a bright sword that looks more like a cosplay prop, or a fantasy dagger coated in filigrees. But there’s no distancing from seeing Silica, in all of her titanic five feet of height, doing knife tricks one would expect of a special forces soldier, or perhaps a movie greaser, when the blade is so realistic.

Sinon would be lying if she said she doesn’t find the display at least somewhat attractive.

Sinon heads over to a small menu in front of the knife section as she selects the same blade Silica had in hand. Soon after she goes through the proper transaction steps, holding Silica’s hand and laying it over the holographic display, one of the store robots scoots over to hand Silica her item.

Silica’s smile makes the credits Sinon spends all worth it.

… Is a knife a weird gift to give your girlfriend? Sinon thought, but that was a bridge already crossed. Then, she remembers the real reason they came here.

“I know you’re mostly here to look around, but you’ll still need some sort of main weapon if you’re to experience the game. Pick whatever gun you’d like to test out and we can go to a shooting range.”

****

“You can’t be serious.”

“I am absolutely serious!”

Instead of the shooting range, the two find themselves by a station near the edge of the city, connected to the game’s starter fields.

The vehicle’s mounted weapon protrudes from a hatch on top. Its long, steely frame glimmers as it reflects the sun’s harsh light. The heavy machine gun could be mistaken as some sort of cannon for the uninitiated in the ballistic arts, with its bulky, long barrel, but it’s a high-RPM, lightning-fast automatic weapon, nothing short of a reinforced harbinger of death.

“You said I could pick any weapon,” Silica reminded the other girl. “I’m picking this mounted gatling gun.”

Machine gun, actually, Sinon thought of correcting. Other than the regular shooting ranges in GGO, there were also training grounds for driving by the outskirts of the city, by the game’s starting area - it had been where Sinon had trained her bugey skills, in fact - but the knowledge of that, or of the existence of mounted weapons, is the sort of knowledge most newbies wouldn’t have.

Silica did her research for sure... and was probably planning this.

Sinon’s original plan was to simply show Silica around the game, so buying an expensive armored vehicle sounds unwise, especially when there’s only two people.

The sniper squints her eyes at the shorter girl. Noticing Sinon’s glare, Silica fans her eyelashes pleadingly, and Sinon’s resolve falters.

… I guess I was thinking of getting everyone else to convert and help me out, anyway?

“... Fine,” Sinon concedes. “But you better help me convince everyone else to hop on here for the PKer problem, then.”

Silica immediately jumps in excitement. The humvee’s engine purrs to life as Sinon turns the engine key, and the newbie gunner excitedly hops to the top hatch.

*****

Silica is small, but she doesn’t feel so when she holds onto the trigger in the huge weapon’s handlebars, the generated mobs in the starting fields shattering into red sparks. She loudly laughs in excitement as the high speed vehicle traverses the shifting sands.

The ride is a feeling unlike her other experiences with virtual worlds. It might be due to what Sinon earlier described as a “commitment to grittiness,” but the game still replicates hints of discomfort; her small frame vibrates from the gun’s recoil, her fingertips feel a bit too warm, and she has to ask Sinon to stop every so often because of dizziness.

It’s annoying at first, but it grows on her.

Silica wonders if this is part of what draws Sinon to this world.

******

Silica finds the pink hue that covers GGO ’s desert sands endearing.

She gets a good vantage point to admire the landscape as she’s wrapped in one of Sinon’s arms and they zip up a rocky structure. The grappling hook’s line is taut with their combined weight.

Despite the pleasure found in their proximity, as her hand holds Silica’s body close to her by the waist, Sinon does so primarily out of practicality, as Silica doesn’t possess a grappling hook of her own.

Silica, however, finds herself smitten by the situation. Being carried in the arms of a cool girl as she takes in the sights of a foreign world, the warmth of her body providing solace in the cold, simulated night, is a scene befitting a dream she’d have long ago if she’d known she liked girls sooner.

Silica sighs in disappointment as they reach the summit, going from dream to simulated reality. As she looks at Sinon, she’s glad this reality, virtual as it is, is still dreamy aplenty.

The plateau atop the rock formations, where monsters couldn’t reach, was the perfect stargazing spot. It allows them to wind down after spending an entire day driving, shooting, and in Silica’s case, shouting in excitement. Sinon is not exactly the romantic type, far from it, but even she recognizes what the beauty of GGO’s night sky can do to one’s heart. She’s glad she gets to watch it with someone else now, instead of only her sniper rifle for company.

Sinon sits herself by a boulder on the plateau that she manages to find snug. The wordless invitation she gives Silica, as the spot to her side seems like it would fit her perfectly, beckons the younger girl, who hasn’t acquired the same grit to be truly comfortable on the hard surface. Thankfully, Sinon’s shoulder is softer than the rocks.

“So, what did you think?” Sinon asks. “Was I a good tour guide?”

“Yes,” Silica answers. “I give you five stars!” She nuzzles closer onto Sinon’s side.

They stare out at the sky. The moon is hidden behind drifting clouds.

“I have a confession to make,” Silica admits, in a tone that sits between jokey and serious. “I didn’t want to try this game only to shoot guns.”

“Oh?” Sinon’s surprise is clearly feigned. Even she would be able to understand that Silica’s request to see this game was a date proposition. There was a reason she decided to cap the night off with stargazing.

“Yeah. I guess I figured… playing this game would make me feel closer to you.”

“Oh.” Sinon’s surprise this time is genuine. “Well… do you?”

“Hmm.” Silica looks at them, sitting side by side, sharing warmth, and yes seems like the obvious answer here. “I mean, yes. But I suppose I was looking for an answer.”

“An answer… did you find it?”

“I’m not sure I did. I think I found… something,” Silica says. Her grip on Sinon’s arm tightens, a mix of affection and nervousness. “I think there is something important about virtual worlds, and why we’re drawn to them. I... now that I think about it, maybe I could’ve just asked you from the beginning.”

Her heels pitter-patter on the rocky surface.

“What does this… What does GGO mean to you?”

Sinon looks at Silica, a bit puzzled.

Silica doesn’t know how fair of a question it is, really. Could she explain what drew her to virtual worlds? Why thinking of Aincrad, her former prison, makes her feel homesick? But she’s nothing if not sincere, and she wants to know. She figures Sinon, introspective as she is, thinks about those things more than she does.

“GGO is, you know.” Sinon makes a meaningless hand gesture. She thought obsessively before about this question - her objective, her growth, her path towards becoming stronger , she called it. She doesn’t know how to distill it in a sensible way, is all.

A place to face my fears?

Where I met Kirito, thus, how I met you?

“ Home?” Sinon says without registering.

Oh.

It’s under this night sky, beneath a red moon, that Sinon realizes this is the first time she got to enjoy this world with someone she truly cared for, life-or-death situations notwithstanding. This place, with its odd smells, rattling sounds, and even unpleasant sensations, has been one of the few places of respite she had from… everything. Others. The world. Herself. It’s more evident now, with someone to share it.

“I came to this world because I wanted to surpass who I was. I wanted to become stronger,” Sinon explains, unsure of whether she sounds pretentious. Sinon’s jaw clenches, and Silica gives her a reassuring squeeze. “When I first came here, there was nothing I wanted more than to erase my real self with this- this stronger version of me. This better version of me.”

The image of Hecate II, her sniper rifle, her companion, comes to mind. She’d thought before, at times, what was she without its weight on her back, other than a fragile girl who can’t help but retch at the sight of gun replicas? Without burnt fingertips and trembling shoulders from gun recoil, how could she call the strength she built here real?

This place is home because it was under this same carmine moon that she realized Asada Shino, the high-schooler, was just as much of a warrior as Sinon, the elite sniper. Under this virtual sky, nothing but code threads woven into a reality, was where she accepted who she was.

She fidgets with her fingerless gloves as she continues. “It’s hard to give a simple answer,” she concedes. “But if I had to try, I’d say… this is the place that showed me it was okay for me to be myself. To recognize my strength, to connect with others. Back then, before this game, I never thought I’d get to have... this, I guess.” Sinon nudges Silica’s shoulder with hers, playfully. “Who knows. Maybe I just wanted to be proven wrong.”

Silica’s heart tightens. She moves a hand to Sinon’s cheek.

“I’m glad you were proven wrong, then.”

In what Silica is pretty sure is the first time, Sinon is the one approaching her for a kiss.

It’s quick and sweet. Sinon’s thin lips press onto Silica’s lightly. It’s easy to forget they’re in the virtual world then, with their eyes closed the way they are, the waves of warmth radiating through their faces as the only signal their AmuSpheres send to their brains.

*******

The night goes by quietly as they stare to the sky, save for the distant sounds of underground monsters shifting the sands and Silica’s occasional comment of how she’s sure she can tell the constellations even through the thick clouds. They have little time before GGO’s short day cycle robs them of this sight.

That sky, this world, are virtual, and they know that. It’s hard to tell, though, when it shares stars with the real one, when it shares warmth with the real one, when the strength they gain, the bonds they deepen, the sights they see, carry over to the real one.

The air in Gun Gale Online smells like gasoline and gunpowder, but Silica doesn’t mind… at all, really, when it grants them the opportunity to be so frank and close, so near when they’re so far.

When it grants them the opportunity to be themselves more than anywhere else.

#SAO #Sword Art Online #saoprideweek2020 #Silinon #Silicon #Fili writes

12 notes · View notes

kriscme · 3 years

Text

One Life to Live

Hi, sorry for the delay if you’re following this story on Tumblr. The chapters that have been put on AO3 have at last caught up with the chapters here. New chapters will go up weekly from hence on. You might find it easier to read on AO3 though. I’d link if I knew how. I’m Kris22 over there.

As always thanks to Ronja for allowing me to write fanfic of her Hunger Games fanfic “The Chance You Didn‘t Take” available on AO3 and FanFiction. Chapter 30 “Marcus presents well on TV, doesn’t he? You wouldn’t guess how much he hates it.” My hand stills as I focus on the screen and Buttercup nudges his head beneath my palm in protest. I absently go back to scratching him behind the ears and his chest rumbles in contentment. “Yeah, well, you soon learn to fake it,” replies Johanna from the other end of the sofa. “You should know that better than anyone.” “Yeah,” I say. Fake or not fake, real or not real, on television who can tell the difference? “That’s where Gale and I used to meet to go hunting,” I tell her. Cressida had Marcus stand with his back to the valley, using the mountains in the distance as backdrop. The sun was directly behind him and it shone through his golden-brown hair and set it aflame as if it were a halo. Man-on-fire, I can almost hear Cinna say. He’s the darling of the media now. I don’t envy him. I nervously wait for the moment Cressida interrupted the interview to ask me how I feel about a national park but it’s like it didn’t happen. It’s been edited so seamlessly that no one would guess there’d been a break in the dialogue between Marcus and herself. True to her word, there’s not even the slightest glimpse or mention of me anywhere. And nothing either in the separate feature she did on District 12 that had aired immediately before.

I let out my breath in a long exhale and feel the tension ebb from my muscles. I imagine Marcus in District 13 having the same reaction. We felt sure that if there were any compromising footage it would come out either before the interview was broadcast or during. And apart from that . . . um . . . incident in the woods, what else could they have on us? Only that Marcus was a guest in my house but that was a very reasonable arrangement given the circumstances. Otherwise, it was all very circumspect. No public displays of affection, no chaining naked to trees, no fights with logging companies. Only Johanna knew the extent of our relationship, and I doubt she’d have told anyone. Peeta’s engagement to Lace would have made a juicy story, but thankfully he’s protected, having done nothing to attract publicity to himself – either through his own actions or through association with another. “Looks like you’ve dodged a bullet,” says Johanna. She reaches for the remote to switch off the television and then settles back onto the sofa. A plate of Peeta-made cookies is on the coffee table delicately iced in Peeta’s signature style. She takes one and scrapes off the icing with her teeth. Johanna likes the icing best. If you let her, you’d end up with a plate of cookies that look as if mice had been at them. “It would seem so,” I reply. I wish I could feel more certain, but if I’ve learned anything from my experiences is that life seldom is. In fact, feeling safe almost guarantees that you’re not. I forget to stroke Buttercup again, and tired of my erratic attention, he decides it’s time to move on. He drops to the floor and ambles over to his favorite lounge chair, tail swishing. He leaves behind a layer of cat hair on my dark green trousers. “I told you nothing would happen,” says Johanna. “Wouldn’t want to ruin the fantasy they’d put so much effort into perpetuating, would they? I stand naked against a tree for a good cause and the media goes berserk. You get caught shagging against a tree with the current golden boy and then nothing.” “You know that’s not true,” I say, exasperated that she still thinks like this. “Maybe at one time, when it would have made the Capitol look stupid if the truth came out, but not now. They’ve had no compunction giving Marcus bad publicity in the past so I can’t see why it would be different just because I’m involved. We were mistaken about what we heard that’s all, and then we let paranoia take over.”

I’d agonized over whether I should tell Marcus about Remus and the knowing look he gave me when I returned to camp. In the end, I decided that he should have all the information just in case he needed to be prepared. That was a mistake. Between Cressida’s return to the Capitol the following day and Marcus’s for District 13 a week later, our waking hours were spent alternating between optimism that we had nothing to worry about and then dread that we had everything to worry about. Marcus was petrified that another scandal would put his mission in jeopardy. As there’s no official mandate from the central government to establish national parks, he depends on the goodwill and co-operation of individual districts and a negative association with me – any association with me, actually – could have that support withdrawn. Especially in 13 where my name is anathema. For me, it was the terror of a media onslaught, that what had happened before could happen again – my private life no longer private but entertainment to be analyzed and exploited. That the careful re-building of my life as plain Katniss Everdeen would all come to naught. That it might impact on Peeta, who’s only just now finding himself after what Snow did to him. We had our first ever real argument. I told him it was his fault for breaking his own rule and luring me into a clandestine meeting with him for sex. And he said it was my fault for . . . he couldn’t quite articulate why it was my fault but it had something to do with being Katniss Everdeen. It seems if I’d been a nobody we could have fucked in the main street (his words) and while it would likely have had us arrested in 12 it wouldn’t have merited even the smallest mention in the Capitol. Because, you know, we’re just ignorant hayseeds and they are so much more sophisticated than we are and they have no morals (my words). Oh, and he wasn’t exactly a nobody either. In fact, that was the problem. We did calm down and apologize to each other and had make-up sex, which was nice, but it wasn’t how I imagined we’d be spending our final days together – tense, fearful, with each blaming the other for our predicament. It wasn’t until the night before he departed for 13 that we came to a mutual understanding. Neither of us were at fault. We were victims of our celebrity – a celebrity that neither of us had sought. Mine was thrust upon me, and his was a regrettable consequence of his life’s work. But I did tell him he was partly to blame. If he had been fifty, pot-bellied and bald instead of young, handsome and with eyes the color of maple-syrup that could melt any women’s heart, he wouldn’t attract a fraction of the media attention that he does. And then he told me that if I had been a scraggy, wrinkled old bat instead of young and nubile with eyes like silver moons and hair evocative of midnight, all the Games prowess in the world couldn’t have made me the cultural icon I’d become. We were just too good looking for own good. And then we laughed and had sex – playful, affectionate, I-want-to-remember-this-forever sex.

But the worry was still there when we lay in each other’s arms that night, and the next morning when we said our goodbyes. It was a bitter-sweet ending to what had been an unforgettable interlude but as I watched him pass through the Village gates for the last time, rucksack piled high, long legs in hiking boots striding purposely towards the next wilderness to be saved, I was struck by the rightness of it. It was how it was always going to end; how it always should have ended. Johanna tosses a denuded cookie back onto the plate and picks up a fresh one. She ignores the pained look I send her way. “Would you have gone with him?” she asks. “If you could?” I brush cat hairs from my trousers to give me a few seconds to think about it. I’d honestly never considered it since I can’t leave 12. But there was a time when I could have happily left everything behind and followed him around the country, hiking mountain trails and making love at every opportunity. It was at the concrete house by the lake, the morning after we’d made love for the first time and there weren’t enough superlatives in the world to describe how wonderful I thought he was, although now I find it hard to determine exactly what I did feel for him.

“No,” I say eventually. “Even if didn’t mean being in the public eye again, I still wouldn’t. We don’t want the same things.” I hesitate, wondering if I should say anything, but then blurt it out. “I don’t think I’m normal.” I brace for the sarcastic response I’m sure to get, but to my relief it doesn’t come. “None of us are,” she says grimly. “You don’t go through what we have and come out normal at the end of it.” She’s silent for a moment, but then rouses herself. “But if you want me to comment further, you’ll have to be more specific,” she adds. I sigh. I don’t know to explain it to myself, let alone to someone else. “Well, it’s about how I felt about Marcus. I mean, it wasn’t that long ago when I would have done almost anything for him. He made me feel so . . . so . . . “ “Turned on?” she smirks. I feel my face grow hot. I should have known the real Johanna couldn’t be too far from the surface. “Yes, but more than that. Wanted. Desirable. And we had so much in common too. But when he left, I didn’t feel much of anything. I should have been devastated, shouldn’t I?” “Rebound.”

“What?” “It was a rebound. It’s when you haven’t got over one relationship and you dive straight into another. Marcus gave you the validation that Peeta didn’t. It’s not so complicated. Pretty simple, in fact. Happens all the time.” “It does?” “Yep. It goes like this. You feel like shit because you’re still hung-up on your ex so you’re looking for a distraction – something or someone to make you feel better. So along comes Marcus who is clearly attracted and you transfer the feelings you don’t think Peeta wants on to him. Only it doesn’t last because it’s not based on anything real.” But some things were real. I really did like him, felt a connection with him, even. And I liked the sex, but maybe that’s just a physical thing. I haven’t been with enough men to know if it’s different when it’s with someone you truly love. “A rebound is bad then?” I ask. “Depends,” she says. She takes another cookie from the plate. “Has it made you feel better or worse? And then there’s the person on the other end of it. It’s generally considered not fair to them. But, if you had to pick the ideal man to have a rebound with, you couldn’t have done better than Marcus. I told you at the beginning– one track mind. Nothing competes with saving the forests for him.” Gale. He was like that. The cause is more important than any relationship. As soon as Gale heard about the uprisings in the Districts, he no longer wanted to escape with me into the woods when just minutes before, he’d been so keen. But Peeta, he would have gone with me, even though he knew it was a bad idea. “He told me he doesn’t keep girlfriends for very long. I guess that’s why,” I say. He’d also have figured out what a liability I’d be to him. And I certainly wouldn’t want the kind of life a relationship with him would entail. That final week had been an eyeopener for us both. But at least it ended well, all things considered. I put out my hand for a cookie but change my mind when I can’t find one that hasn’t had the icing scraped off.

“You’re disgusting,” I tell her. But I can’t keep from laughing. It’s part amusement, part relief. No repercussions from that lapse of judgement in the woods and an explanation that makes sense to me about my feelings for Marcus. I feel a sudden rush of affection for the woman who’s helped me through this – and more besides. Once I compared her to an older sister who really hates you. I guess I have to revise it to an older sister who sometimes seems to hate you but really doesn’t, and you can always depend on to have your back. “I’m going to miss you,” I say. “Yeah, I know,” Johanna replies casually as if she were picking lint off a sweater. “But my reason for coming here in the first place was to help Marcus out and he’s gone. Peeta doesn’t need me anymore either. So even if I hadn’t been asked to, it still would have been time for me to go home.” “You’re going to be great mayor.” “Thanks, but I’m not mayor quite yet. I have to be elected first. It’s the way it’s done now.” Before the war, District mayors were appointed by the Capitol but now all governing roles are decided by vote. It’s the republic Plutarch had talked about, just like in the history books. The people elect their own representatives. “You’ll get it,” I say confidently. “They love you in 7. They wouldn’t have asked you to run, otherwise.” Who’d have guessed that Johanna would be destined to be Mayor of District 7, but when you think about it, it’s the perfect fit. She’ll bring passion, commitment and integrity to the role. And essential for a career in politics, a thick skin. “So, have you thought about what you’d like to do on your last night here and to celebrate your candidacy?” I ask. “How about drinks first at the pub and then dinner at that restaurant you like or maybe see a movie. Or we could do all three. Anything you like. “ “Anything I like?” she asks ominously. Images of pub crawls, strippers and naked sprints through the streets flash through my mind. “What I’d like is dinner with just the four of us. You, me, Peeta and Haymitch.” I groan. This is far, far worse. “You more than anyone know the circumstances – “ “I don’t care,” she says flatly. “Ever since I got here, I’ve been stuck between the two of you. Haymitch has too. Why don’t you think of other people for a change and how it affects them? You and Peeta are Haymitch’s family! What do you think it’s been like for him?” “He hasn’t said anything,” I say, on the defensive. “How can I know if – “

“It should be fucking obvious! How brainless can you get?” She gives me a look filled with contempt. I guess she’s back to being the older sister who hates you. I hadn’t considered it from Haymitch’s perspective. He’d have missed the dinners, I suppose, but it’s not as if they could continue forever. They were only intended to help us establish a routine. And besides, it was Peeta who showed the first signs of breaking from them. “It’s not like I started it.” As I say it, I realize how false that is. I was the one who put a complete stop to the dinners and made things awkward between Peeta and me. All because I couldn’t handle him being with Lace. “I don’t care who started it,” she says, but less angrily than before. “It’s time for it to stop. Is this how you’re going to live the rest of your lives? Forever trying to avoid being in the same place at the same time? You’re neighbors, for fuck’s sake. You’ve been in two Games and a war together. You don’t throw away a bond like that because he fucked another woman when his brain was mush. And now that you’ve fucked another man, you’re even. There’s nothing standing in your way now. So, what’s stopping you? It can’t be Lace. She’s gone.” Gone, but not forgotten. Not by me, and not by Peeta either. But Johanna does have a point. If Haymitch is a kind of father figure to us both, then that makes us his children. And having two children who don’t get along and won’t join in any family activities if the other is there too, can’t have been easy. For my own part, it has been a strain avoiding Peeta when we live so close, work similar hours, and have Haymitch in common. But it hasn’t been just me. Peeta stopped seeking me out like he used to when he found out that I’m in love him. Nothing about our situation has changed, Lace or no Lace. He stays away from me because he knows that I’m in love him and he feels bad that he can’t love me back. And I stay away from him because I know that he knows, and feel humiliated that he does. But if . . . “You’re right,” I say. “It is ridiculous. You make the arrangements and I’ll be there.” “And now that Marcus is out of the picture – “

She stops suddenly, confused. “You will?” “Yes. In fact, I can hardly wait. It’ll be fun.” I rise from the sofa to gather the cups and the plate of ruined cookies to signal that the visit is over. Johanna looks stunned as if she can’t believe how easy that victory was. She was probably all primed to go into battle and then it failed to materialize. How disappointing that must be.

“Oh, Johanna!” I call out cheerily just as she’s about to walk out the door. I’ve just remembered something Haymitch told me. “Maybe we should let Peeta do the cooking. He likes to do it. He’d always take over when we had our dinners.” If I have to do this thing, I at least want the food to be good. “Sure,” she says, still dazed. And then she’s gone. I wonder if Peeta has already agreed to it, or that she still has the job of guilting him into it too. I decide that it doesn’t matter either way. Peeta will be motivated by the same reasoning as me. The present situation can’t continue. It’s funny, in the way that’s weird rather than amusing, that mine and Peeta’s situation is now reversed. In the days following the Games and before we embarked on the Victory Tour, he avoided me for pretty much the same reasons I avoid him now. And, in turn, I avoided him for the same reason he avoids me. It’s the discomfort of being around someone whose feelings you don’t return. But there’s one crucial difference. Peeta had hope. I know that now from what Haymitch told Peeta before the prep teams arrived. He could afford to wear his heart on his sleeve knowing that there was a good chance that if I was given the space I needed, it was only a matter of time before I felt the same way. I have no hope. Therefore, my strategy will have to be different. This is about survival, not about capturing Peeta’s heart.

Peeta will have to believe that whatever I felt for him, I no longer do. That’s the only way we can be at ease with each other. I may never stop loving him, but I know how to bury my feelings so that they don’t show. I’ve had plenty of practice at it. After my father died. When I was reaped. When he started going out with Lace. I can do this. I can put on a show. I don’t even have to be good at it. In the Games, Peeta was convinced I was in love him because he wanted to believe it. So now I do the opposite and he’ll believe because he wants to believe. And if he can’t do that, he’ll pretend. We’re both very good at pretending. Chapter 31 Venia purses her lips at the state of my nails. “There’s not much I can do with these apart from a polish. If you want artificial nails, you’ll have to come back when Octavia’s here.” “It doesn’t matter,” I say. “I mostly just wanted my hair trimmed.” The shape Flavius had cut into my hair has nearly all grown out. Working at the school during the week, and out in the woods with Marcus on the weekends hadn’t left much time for trips to the beauty salon. I ask, “Where’s Octavia? Not sick, I hope.”

It’s unusual not to see Octavia at her station, her auburn head bent over her task. Since Venia re-united with her coworkers, each has settled into their former specialties as beauty therapists. Flavius is hair and makeup. Octavia is the nail expert. And Venia is skin treatments and waxing. “She left work early,” smirks Flavius. “She has a date.” Venia collects a few tools from the nail station and returns to my side. While Flavius cuts, Venia smooths and buffs. It reminds me of my days as a tribute when all three of them would be working on various body parts at the same time. “We weren’t busy, anyway,” says Venia. “You’re the last customer for the day.” I know. That’s the reason I chose to come at this time. I didn’t want to take the chance of running into Lace when she’s having her roots done. “Anyone I know?” I ask. “Possibly,” replies Venia. “He’s from 12. Thom something. Bick? Hick?” “Hickory?” “That’s it. Hickory. Octavia’s had crushes before but she’s got it really bad this time. I caught her looking through wedding catalogues.” Venia pauses mid-buff. “I’m worried for her.” “How come?” Thom is a nice guy. He was a friend of Gale’s who helped with the clean-up of 12 and gave me a ride home in his cart when I was too weak to walk home. That was the day Peeta came back. “Because of . . . you know, of what we did before the war.” I don’t miss Venia’s use of “we”. If Octavia is accused of being a facilitator of the Games, they all are.

“But doesn’t Thom already know? He was in 13 at the same time as you.” All the survivors from District 12 actually. But Venia shakes her head. “Octavia didn’t know Thom then. We didn’t mix very much with the people there. We thought it safer to keep to ourselves. Especially after the bread.” I suppose being shackled to a wall and beaten for simply taking an extra portion of bread wouldn’t exactly endear the populace to you.

I try to reassure them. “You do know that I’d vouch for you if it ever came out? And tell them how you helped prepare me for the rebellion propos and Snow’s execution?” “I know you would. And maybe we’re worrying over nothing. But we risked a lot coming here and 12’s our home now. Flavius has met someone too – he’s from the Capitol, so that’s not a concern but if we had to leave . . . And Lucia is settled in school and has made friends and Cicero has a good job at the medicine factory . . .” And so Venia goes on. Flavius chimes in too. He tells me they’re set to take on two apprentices and once the tailor has moved out, they want to expand the salon –

“What? Arthur’s leaving?” This is the first I’ve heard of it. But maybe that’s not so surprising. I haven’t seen much of Arthur lately. It’s been only been Max, Johanna and me at pub nights. Arthur is obviously spending his Saturday nights elsewhere. “Oh, he’s not going far,” says Venia. “Just to another store on the main street. He says it’s better situated for passing trade and with the dressmaking shop next door it will likely bring more business to them both.” “I don’t think more business is the only thing those two want from each other,” says Flavius with a suggestive wink. “Flavius!” chides Venia, but she can’t conceal a smile. “It’s true, though. We misplaced the stone we use for sharpening scissors and Octavia went to ask Arthur if we could borrow his. But no one was there even though the door was open. So, she went through to the back, thinking that’s where he’d be, and she caught them red-handed, kissing, and his hand was up her skirt. Octavia forgot all about the stone.” The two of them collapse into giggles. “We didn’t think he had it in him,” says Venia, when she’s able to speak. Neither did I. I can’t laugh about it though. Peeta will be devastated when he hears that Lace has moved on. And so soon after their break-up too. But as badly as I feel for Peeta, I also can’t help feeling happy for Arthur. If there was ever a man who deserves reward for long devotion, it’s him. I only hope that Lace proves worthy of it. One thing I do know is that Peeta isn’t going to hear of it from me. I’m done being involved in his love life. It’s brought me nothing but trouble ever since he made that confession to Caesar Flickerman years before. My only objective is to get over him if I can and make sure that he thinks I have. And that makes this dinner tonight so important. It will set the stage for our relationship going forward. We’ll be friends. Not necessarily close friends. But at least friends who can enjoy social occasions together and feel comfortable in each other’s company. Johanna wants us to dress up so I guess that means I’ll have to wear a cocktail dress. I have one already in my closet. It’s the emerald green dress I wore to the party in 8. But it’s long sleeved and in a heavy fabric and that makes it too hot for this time of the year. I’ll have to go down to the basement where most of the Cinna clothes are stored. There’s a whole rack of cocktail dresses to choose from. But what do you wear when you want to show that you’ve made an effort, but don’t want to appear as if you’ve set out attract anyone in particular – and by anyone, I mean Peeta.

I begin by eliminating colours that are evocative of sunsets or flames. That takes care of anything orange, red or yellow. And then anything that Lace might choose. If Lace is Peeta’s idea of feminine allure then I should make sure to do the opposite. Therefore, no pastels, ruffles and especially any kind of lace. No. No. No, I think as I reject one dress after another. And then I find it. The perfect dress. And so different from the girlish or jeweled frocks that Cinna usually dressed me in that it’s almost as if he knew that one day, I might have a need for a dress such as this. It’s in unrelieved black. Simple and unadorned in slinky silk jersey. I really like it, but Peeta, who loves colour, probably won’t and it’s sure to send a message that I didn’t dress to please him. I accessorize it with black high-heeled sandals and silver and jet earrings. The dress comes to just above the knee with a deep halter neck. It’s impossible to wear a bra without it showing, so I leave it off. I turn around to check how it looks in the mirror from the rear. The clinging fabric does set off my best asset, but since it’s a dinner and I’ll be sitting on it, no one will see it. The burn scars, although much improved from the skin treatments, are still noticeable on my back. I decide to draw attention to it by putting my hair up in a kind of messy bun. This will contrast with Lace’s unblemished skin and immaculate hair and will surely show Peeta that I don’t care at all about being attractive to him. I arrive at Peeta’s door at the same time as Haymitch. He’s wearing a dinner suit, but his white shirt has already untucked from the waistband and his tie isn’t around his neck but dangling from his breast pocket. His eyebrows rise as he takes in my appearance and his lips curve in a sardonic smile. If I needed any confirmation of how incongruous I look in this get-up, I just got it. Johanna answers the door, elegant in a wine-red fitted dress with matching shoes. She appears to have paid a visit to the salon too, because her hair is now a uniform color and has been restyled to lie flat against her skull and frame her face instead of the usual red-tipped spikes sticking up all over her head. “I like your new look,” I tell her. “Yeah, it’s more conservative than I usually go for but I figure I have to start looking the part of mayor sooner or later. But what about you? What have you done with Katniss Everdeen?” I smile and shrug. I’m unsure if not looking like myself is a compliment or not. Peeta stops short when he sees me, his mouth gaping, but he collects himself quickly. “You look beautiful,” he says.

“Thanks,” I murmur. He sounds sincere but I know how easily Peeta can fake it. “You look good too.” And he does, in a cream suit designed by Portia. We move into the dining room. Johanna’s gone to a lot of trouble. I can almost imagine we’re at one of those fancy restaurants in the Capitol. Fresh flowers, dim lighting, the furniture polished to a high sheen. The table is resplendently laid out with the finest dinnerware and gold cutlery. These came with the house. I have them too but I’ve yet to use them. I wonder if Peeta recognizes the pattern on the plates as the same as those that accompanied our feast in the cave. Johanna and Haymitch take seats at opposite ends of the table. That leaves Peeta and me to sit across from each other.

White wine is poured into cut-crystal glasses and starched linen napkins are laid across laps. I wait for either Johanna or Peeta to start bringing in the food but they stay seated. How are we to eat if the food never leaves the kitchen? I eye the woven gold basket filled with soft rolls in the center of the table. Is that all we get? Just then, Cass enters the room carrying a large silver tray. “Good evening,” he says, as places a bowl of soup in front of each of us. “I hope you brought your appetites with you. Don’t forget to save room for dessert.” And then he’s gone. Presumably back to the kitchen. “What was that?” I say to no one in particular. “Cass is doing all the cooking tonight. He’s a qualified chef. He can cook all sorts of things - not just pastries and desserts,” says Johanna. “Yes, I know that. But what’s he doing here?” Peeta answers. “Johanna thought it would be nice to have a professional do the cooking so we could relax and enjoy ourselves.” Right. I just wish Johanna’s idea of relaxation was drinks at the pub, or a barbeque in the backyard. Any place where I didn’t risk locking eyes with Peeta at any minute. We can scarcely look at each other. Every time his eyes chance to meet mine, they flit away. It’s like being back at school. We’re doing a very poor job of acting at ease with each other so far. I’m a lousy actress at the best of times but I expected better of Peeta. Clearly the knowledge that I’m in love with him freaks him out to the extent that he’s forgotten all his acting skills. The food is a welcome diversion and I tuck in. The soup is creamy pumpkin sprinkled with slivered nuts and little black seeds. Sublime. I recognize it as one of the soups at the Capitol feast. It’s followed by those delicious little roasted birds filled with orange sauce. Then fish swimming in a green sauce flecked with herbs. And then, oh, I don’t believe it! Lamb stew with dried plums! On a bed of wild rice!

That makes me think of our feast in the cave, of course. It’s even served on the same patterned plates. My eyes instinctively search out Peeta’s. Do you remember it? You must, surely. How excited we were when that parachute arrived. ��How careful we were to eat only small portions so we wouldn’t be sick after so many days of hunger. And then how we whiled away the time until we could eat again – snuggled together in the sleeping bag, my head on your shoulder, your arms wrapped around me, imagining our life together if we survived the Games. You, me and Haymitch, you said. Picnics, birthdays, long winter nights around the fire retelling old Hunger Games tales. You must remember it!

But Peeta doesn’t look my way. His gaze flickers between Johanna and Haymitch without it ever landing on me even though we’re sitting directly across from each other. And he laughs just a little too loudly at Johanna’s poor taste joke about prunes and how we’ll all shit well tomorrow. He remembers our feast in the cave, all right! I’m certain of it. He just doesn’t want me to know that he does. To spare me the humiliation, probably. I want to kick myself. Gawping at him like a love-sick idiot – practically begging him to remember one of our most intimate moments together. At least Peeta has his wits about him, not letting on that the stew holds any particular significance.

I quietly return to my stew. It’s not as good as I remember it and I can only manage a few mouthfuls. Saving room for dessert, I tell Johanna, when she comments. Unfortunately, there’s a long break between this course and the next. I suppose Cass wants our stomachs to have a rest before he brings out the dessert which is sure to be spectacular. But it makes the pressure to appear congenial and unaffected by Peeta’s presence that much harder when I don’t have the food to distract me.

Since I got here, Peeta hadn’t spoken a great deal, and me even less. The conversation has been carried mostly by Johanna and Haymitch. She’s been picking his brain about the challenges of town planning and the provision of services such as garbage collection and road maintenance. Johanna had better get this job for mayor. She already acts as if it’s hers. That’s why it’s a surprise when the focus of attention turns to me. I’d been occupied twisting my crystal glass around by the stem watching the colours change across its facets. Anything to keep my mind off the person sitting opposite me. “You’ll step in, won’t you, Katniss?” Johanna asks. My head jerks up. “Hmm? What – “ “She doesn’t have to,” says Peeta quickly. “Step in for what?” I ask, directing my question to Johanna. “To watch the tapes with Peeta.” says Johanna. Before I can respond Peeta interjects again. “There’s no need to bother Katniss. I’ll be fine with Haymitch.” “You won’t,” says Haymitch. “The tapes labeled ‘to be watched with Katniss’ are all that’s left. It’s probably why the content has become repetitive lately. Aurelius has obviously run out of material I can help you with.” “You need to watch all the tapes,” Johanna adds. “You don’t know what memories are missing until you do.” “Katniss has already done her share. I’ll be fine watching on my own,” says Peeta. Johanna shakes her head. “You know that’s not how it works. You need someone to put it into context. Besides, the tapes were her idea to begin with. She should see it through.” Peeta turns to me for the first time. “There’s really no need.” He’s almost pleading with me. I really want to accept his offer to not watch the tapes with him. I know he’s giving me an escape but if I go along with it, it gives the impression that I’m afraid and that’s not good either. It has to appear as if I have nothing to hide. Which I don’t. Except the part that I’m still in love with him, of course. I can see where he’s coming from. After my slip-up with the stew, he’s worried that if I’m compelled to watch the tapes with him, I’m sure to give myself away. He’s protecting me from myself. I look coolly into the blue eyes of the person who is now my greatest opponent and I promise myself I will defeat his plan. Johanna is right. I should finish what I started. Remember that my primary objective was for Peeta to find himself. And if those tapes hold the final pieces, then I’m determined that he shall have them. I will watch those tapes, no matter how bad they are, and he will never guess from my reaction that I still carry a torch for him. It’s the only way we’ll ever be able to act normally around each other. “I’m happy to help,” I say. “Same time and place?” All eyes are on him. He’s trapped and he knows it. Peeta’s nod is almost imperceptible. What a timely moment for Cass to bring out the dessert. It’s a tower of pastries filled with different flavored custards, welded together with chocolate and studded with raspberries and sugared violets surrounded by an immense web of delicate spun sugar. There’s enough for at least a dozen or more people. But the best thing about it is that its position in the center of the table effectively blocks out my view of Peeta. So, Dr Aurelius has sent tapes that he wants Peeta to specifically watch with me. I wonder if I was ever going to be told about them. Probably not if it had been left up to Peeta. He’s obviously anxious about what’s on them. That makes me think that he has most, if not all, of his memories back. Enough, at least, to guess at how I feel about him. It seems that the tapes have progressed from those which showed me either indifferent or acting a part to when I began to return his feelings. And the irony is that it’s made not a scrap of difference. I’m glad now that Dr Aurelius sent the compromising tapes first. I had never stood a chance with him, even without Lace.

Cass comes out to clear away the dessert plates and the remains of that pastry thing. He frowns at how little impact we made on it. But it really was huge. To make him feel better, I ask if he can wrap it up for me to share around the staff room tomorrow. Max will probably make some joke about chocolate covered balls and phallic symbols. We finish with tea for Peeta and me and coffee for Johanna and Haymitch. Haymitch takes from his pocket a silver flask and pours a generous slug of whatever’s in it into his cup.

The dinner finally comes to an end. I pull Johanna aside before I go, ostensibly to say goodbye to her. I won’t see her tomorrow. The train for 7 leaves very early and Peeta has offered to walk her to the train station.

“The whole night was a setup, wasn’t it? To get me to watch the tapes with Peeta again?”

She doesn’t bother denying it. “Yep. Someone had to give the two of you a nudge in the right direction.” She gives me one of her stern big sister looks. “Don’t waste it.”

“I won’t,” I say. She doesn’t have to know that I have something completely different in mind to her.

I hug her goodbye and wish her luck. I don’t know when we’ll meet again. Not with me stuck in 12 and Johanna busy being mayor but maybe she’ll find time in her schedule to visit at some point.

“Don’t be a stranger,” she calls out as I leave. Where have I heard that expression before? Ah yes, Plutarch. They were the last words he spoke to me before he left the hovercraft that brought me back to 12. Thankfully, even after that scare with Marcus, that’s exactly how it’s stayed.

“Never,” I call back. No one could ever be the little sister that Prim was. But maybe I’ve gained a pretty good substitute for an older one.

2 notes · View notes

everlarkficexchange · 5 years

Text

Four Steps to Being Single

Written by: @wingletblackbird

Betaed by: @butrfac14

Prompt 24: Canon Divergence. Through the years Katniss can’t stop paying attention to Peeta and she’s actually aware of it. When they settle as victors in district 12 or when the time for the victory tour comes (whichever you prefer) she can’t keep herself away from him and the line between friendship and something more becomes blurry until it disappears. [submitted by anonymous]

Rating: General

Four Steps to Being Single

Step 1: Go For the Impossible

I couldn’t say when it started, noticing Peeta Mellark. Well, I mean, I know when I first noticed him, as in learned his name. It was after he gave me the bread and risked a beating from his mother to do it.

“Who’s that boy?” I’d asked Madge casually one day. Although I’m not certain I succeeded at casual, since it is not in my nature to inquire about strangers, let alone ones from Town. I tried to cover by saying that I thought my father used to trade with his family.

“Peeta Mellark,” Madge told me. “He’s my cousin’s best friend. He’s quite nice.”

And so he was.

I waited for the other shoe to fall, but it never did. He never in word, gesture, or deed made me feel small. Never, to my knowledge, boasted, bragged about, or mocked my situation to his friends. Never cornered me and asked for favours in return. That was why I first watched him. He sometimes watched me too, and I figured that must’ve been because he was checking up on me, the starving girl he saved. It wounded my pride a bit, and I clung to the resentment like a shield, watching to see if there were anyway to repay him. There really wasn’t, not in scope. Approaching him would probably make things worse if it got back to his mother anyway.

So I watched him then not because I feared his price, but because nothing should hurt this kind boy. I watched him to see what the smallest acts of courage and kindness could wrought. My life saved, my family saved, and through my mother and sisters’ healing hands, who knows how many lives touched? All because of Peeta Mellark. No, I could never repay him. Even now, he gives me hope. When all I see is cruelty, and death, and hard-heartedness, there existed that one person who not only was kind, but resiliently so, even in the face of personal cost. Yes, I watched Peeta Mellark, but when did it go from hope, and gratitude, and fear to….attraction?

I don’t know.

I watched him hanging around with his friends and was glad he had them. Marvelled at his talent as an actor at school plays. Seethed when he was teased for his gifts, for his height. Watched as he excelled in wrestling after his growth spurt. The broadening of his shoulders, and the development of his muscle mass gave me comfort in the fact that he was more able to protect himself now.

I watched him become so popular, you’d never guess he’d ever noticed a girl like me. But he never stopped being gentle or nice. I knew his schedule, observed in gym class that he always double-knotted his shoes, remembered his shifts at the bakery. I was just keeping tabs on him like I should given the debt owed. Right?

And if I ever got upset when girls talked about him, it was only because they were vain, self-centered, and shallow. Peeta Mellark was owed more than that. That’s all. I was like his little protector, because I owed him. No other reason. I really never thought otherwise, never gave much thought to it at all. I can never peg when it started, only the moment of realisation.

It was so simple.

It was a cold winter’s day; I had come a bit too early to trade at the bakery, so Mr. Mellark had invited me to wait inside for a bit, and taken my coat before giving me my bread. Peeta was on the early rotation that morning, and he’d been the one to package it. He’d been the one to escort me out, and he’d been the one who had courteously and gallantly gotten my father’s coat. He hadn’t just helped me slip it on either. (And I was intimately aware of every movement as his arms went around me, and his fingers brushed my shoulder, just so.) Oh, no. That’s not good enough for Peeta Mellark. Peeta took the time to help me button it up, then to roll up the cuffs on the sleeves that were far too long for my bony arms.

“It’s fine. I can do it myself.” I’d bit out, never liking to feel vulnerable, being the center of attention, and Peeta made me feel that way, which is why in spite of myself my tone came out harsher then I’d have liked, especially given who I was talking to.

“It’s alright. I don’t mind.” He’d smiled at me, and it was shy, hesitant, gentle, hopeful, sincere and so blue. My body thrummed like I’d unwittingly placed my hand on the electrified fence. I opened my mouth to make a quick retort about personal space, but my mouth felt dry. I couldn’t focus it, so I bolted out like a crazy person. I was never looking him in the eye again, but I couldn’t shake the feeling. Now that I was aware of it, I was aware of it.

Still, I reasoned, all told, if I must endure this feeling, like all creatures of the wild. Better instead to pine for the boy I can never have, because that way there’s no need for awkward refusals and explanations. No chance of having to deal with it all. I am never getting married, or having kids. As for Peeta Mellark, the popular, golden boy, wrestling champion noticing me? He may as well fall in love with the mud on his boots. Really, I was absolutely safe.

Step 2: Enforce Boundaries

“It was all for the Games,” Peeta says. “How you acted.”

“Not all of it,” I say, tightly holding onto my flowers.

“Then how much? No, forget that. I guess the real question is what’s going to be left when we get home?”

I look up, but I don’t really know what to say. The depth of feeling I felt when he almost died, every time he almost died, when they separated us, it’s so deep I’m not sure I can see the bottom. It’s like being afraid of heights. I never dreamed he might feel for me what I did for him. Or rather, I dreamed it upon a rare occasion, but never presumed it would ever, ever be reality. Who could have seen this coming? And was it real? My caring for him might have been, but most every way I acted was for the cameras, and now that they’re gone…

I can’t have kids. I can’t go through that. How much is going to be left when we go home? I don’t know. He can never be more than my friend. He’d move on though. Probably. There are loads of women who’d want Peeta Mellark, victor, many more than would have wanted him before. I would just get in the way.

I look down at the flowers in my hand. The wild onions which remind me of my life before the Reaping, of Gale. He’d hate me being with any Townie. He barely tolerates Madge, and while I’m not inclined to let Gale dictate my friendships, I’m not in the mood to deal with the fallout either. I wish things would go back to the way they were before, simpler, without the blood of children on my hands, before Peeta and I had ever shared a conversation, when it was safer. And maybe that would be better for him too, a clean break. I don’t know how to say this the right way without crushing him. I’m not good with words at the best of times. Peeta is fidgeting and huffing and clearly expecting an answer.

“I don’t know. I–we’ll be neighbours. We’ll see each other. I don’t–”

“It’s fine.” He cuts in abruptly raising his palm towards me in a gesture to stop. “It’s fine. I should’ve seen this coming. It’s fine. I’ll just…stay away. Won’t mess things up for you.”

“Peeta, wait!” I call out, but he’s marching off to the train, his shoulders are so tense they remind me of rocks. I drop the flowers to the ground and collapse. Mid-sob I realise I don’t want to be caught crying out here, so I head straight to my room and lock it where I lie on the bed. I cry until I sleep. You’re not supposed to feel loss for people who are alive.

Peeta and I don’t talk again for weeks.

I miss him. I try to go through the motions of being who I used to be. The girl who hunts in the woods with her friend, Gale. It doesn’t work though, because that Katniss doesn’t know what it feels like to be in the games, to be the prey, to be on the receiving end of Peeta Mellark’s affection. Even when I’m not having nightmares, I dream of him. I hunt. I come home. I see his house, and I worry. I yearn, and it scares me so much I rush back inside and try not to think about it.

As time goes by, I know this isn’t feasible. There’s the Victory Tour, and mentoring, and Peeta and I will always be neighbours. His words, I’ll stay away, echo through my ears, and I know I have to find the courage to talk to him, because I don’t want that. I never wanted that. I hadn’t told him that. We’re going to have to work together anyway, get along. So I storm across to his front door, and in my determination knock far more harshly than I likely should. I’m scared I’ll lose my nerve.

“Katniss?” I have clearly woken him up. He’s been sleeping even though it’s almost noon.

“Did I wake you?” It’s a stupid question given he’s bleary-eyed, and his hair is sticking up every angle, and his shirt is all rumpled, but it’s supposed to be polite, isn’t it? And I’m no good at this stuff.

“Um, yeah.” His voice sounds hoarse from sleep and he blinks a few times to orient himself. “Why don’t you come in?”

I nod, and brace myself to enter, preparing for what, I’m not even sure. His house is much like ours, but his colour scheme is different. It’s clear he hasn’t done much with the place. Hasn’t tried to personalise it. He lives here, but it doesn’t look like he considers it home.

“Is there anything, you’d like to drink? Eat?”

“No, it’s fine. I just wanted to talk.”

He sighs, and looks resigned to misery. Frankly I feel a touch annoyed at his melodrama, but I follow him into the living room and sit on the sofa across from him.

There is an awkward silence. If I ever had a biography written about me, it ought to be called just that. Unless I’m in the woods. Silence is a language in the woods, and I’m a native speaker. Peeta isn’t making it easy either. He’s leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees, watching me intently. I feel pinned. Clearly I am required to start this conversation.

“I don’t want you to think I want you to stay away from me.” He looks nonplussed. So I clarify, as I grip and ungrip my hands in lieu of biting my nails. I am stiff as a board on this stupid sofa. “You said that at the train stop, that you’d stay away. I don’t want that.”

“You don’t?” He asks tentatively and his head rises just slightly. I can see hope glow in his eyes, but it’s so fragile a baby’s breath could puff it out.

“No. I mean, we have to work together, and I–”

He huffs, interrupting me, and leans back against the sofa, shaking his head. He looks put out.

“Look, Katniss, if this is about the Tour, or the Games, or the cameras. I won’t let you down, but I’m not…just…” He waves his hands erratically in frustration. “Don’t lie. Don’t say you want me around when you don’t.”

“I’m not!” I shout. I am incensed he would think that of me, and I’ve had more than enough of his self-pity. “I never said that. Why would you think that? Look, I’m not getting married, okay? I’m not having kids. It’s nothing to do with you.” I cross my arms and my legs petulantly. I am mad. He should know it. Idiot. “I decided that years ago, so you can stop acting like a kicked puppy, because it’s really getting annoying.” My tirade slows as I see poor, Peeta’s jaw hanging open. “Look, I don’t want to hurt you, but I can only be your neighbour, okay? I’m pretty sure that’s what I said in the first place. It’s nothing personal.”

Peeta nods slowly, like he’s absorbing it all. Finally, he apologises.

“I’m sorry. I…I just thought you were doing what you had to do, and I’m grateful you were looking out for me too, but I didn’t think that meant you wanted to be around me. Why would you? And I thought Gale might be upset. And–”

“He is. He doesn’t like people from Town, but it’s not like that anyway. I told you. No marriage. No kids. Gale knows how I feel.” I shrug. “Now you do too.” I look away, because I can’t make eye contact with him, and I don’t know what to say. I almost feel like I’m lying. Fortunately, Peeta has never been troubled by such things.

“Well,” he says wryly after he collects his thoughts, “what’s your favourite colour?”

We grin.

Step 3: Maintain Boundaries

Having Peeta’s friendship makes things easier, so much easier. I don’t have to hide from him, or explain things. Mom and Prim understand the flashbacks, and the nightmares, but I don’t want to talk to them. Prim is so young, and with Mom…it’s just hard. I don’t want to add to her burdens. Gale would rather pretend nothing happened, yet somehow still seethes. Peeta though, he was there. He knows me. He goes through it with me. When I jump at loud noises, he quips a one-liner with an empathetic look in his eyes. I am still Katniss, just extra jumpy. He has an entirely different approach to handling nightmares though. He paints. I don’t know how he can stand it. I try to avoid that part of my life entirely the way you jerk your hand off of a hot oven. Peeta feels he has to remember it though.

“It helps to realise that it’s just a nightmare,” he explains. “When I paint it. I have control over it, distance.”

“But you still have nightmares.”

“Yes, but it happened. I don’t know if I want to forget what happened there.” He glances at me out of the corner of his eye as we examine his work. “Should Rue be forgotten?”

Tears fill my eyes, and I want to glare at him, but I can’t. I let him wrap his arms around me, and I press my face against his warm, strong chest, and the tears flow. I do nothing to stop his affection. He rests his cheek against the top of my head.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I just want to find some meaning in it.

“There isn’t. One man’s power trip. Capitol cruelty.” It’s risky saying it, but I don’t care.

“I know, but…I survived, and I can’t get past that I am alive, because so many aren’t. Good people. Children like Rue. I need to…acknowledge that. Live somehow in a way that doesn’t dishonour that.” He’s choking up now too, and I hug him tighter. We stay like that for a very long time, until our arms hurt, and it’s hard to stand. Then we sit, and stay wrapped up for even longer. I feel safe.

It doesn’t entirely stop the nightmares, but sharing with Peeta does decrease their severity and frequency. At least when I wake up, it can be easier. I am up every morning to check on the snare line for Gale, and when I return, I help Peeta with his bread routes. Peeta bakes where I hunt. He takes cat naps while the dough is rising, or the bread is in the oven. True to his desire to make his survival mean something, he delivers the bread to the Community Home, and leaves other loaves in the trash bins in Town where he knows starving Seam children will find him. When he first brought me with him I wanted to lean up and whisper in his ear that I thought he was amazing, that I desired him too. But I don’t. I can’t.

Instead I tell him he has inspired me. It’s true. I decide my so-called talent will be gardening and botany. It’s just a cover so I can plant berry bushes, and fruit trees, and vegetables inside the fence. Maybe, it’s not much, but I know what a difference even two loaves of bread can make between life and death. I think of Rue in the plants, how she wanted me to win. Peeta’s right. This makes me feel like, somewhere, she’s smiling.

That’s the only downside to being with Peeta really. He does something seemingly small, and I almost combust. It’s the yearning, the want to run my fingers through his hair, to hold his hands, to caress his jaw, to sit on his lap, to kiss him until I can’t feel my lips. I never do, and it takes more discipline than I expect, since I know he would welcome my attentions. I guess I am the Girl on Fire. I spend a lot of time gazing at him when I know he isn’t looking. When he’s painting is an excellent time. Peeta gets so focused, still, hinting at entire worlds locked away inside him. His hands are gentle, but precise, as he places each stroke of the brush. I pretend to read in the corner, but more often than not, I just watch him, bask in him, the knowledge he is alive, safe, for now.

Sometimes I fall asleep in that corner, and Peeta will pick me up, carry me to bed, and carefully tuck me in. One time, I groggily grasp his hand and ask him to stay. So he does. He crawls into the bed alongside me and I nuzzle into his chest as he wraps his arms around me and I drift off dreaming of warmth and sunshine.

It starts a pattern. I join Peeta in his morning catnaps, and I like it so much, I take to dragging blankets down and creating a nest in front of the fireplace during mid-afternoon, when everyone, insomniac or otherwise, gets sleepy. Maybe it’s just an excuse, but I’ll make any I can to spend more time in Peeta’s arms. Sometimes, more often than not, if I wake before him, I run my fingers through his curls, or down his cheek. I kiss his forehead, and eyes, and nose, and cheeks, and sometimes even his lips. He sleeps like a log so he never notices. I doubt he’d mind though, so I keep doing it, because when affection bubbles up inside me, this is the best way I can think of to handle it. That, and fussing over him, or bringing him meat. I’m not good with words, so I just do stuff and hope people understand. Prim used to tease I was like Buttercup bringing in trophies of dead mice for his loved ones. I resent the comparison, probably because it’s accurate. Peeta and I call each other every night, especially when the nightmares are bad. Often I slip over just to be sure he’s still breathing.

We never have to worry about anyone interrupting us. Sometimes Peeta visits his family in Town. Even more rarely, his father, and occasionally one of his brothers will drop by. They aren’t a close family. Peeta confesses his mother pitched a fit at the idea of living so close to the Everdeens, then said it was too far from the bakery, and didn’t look good, or whatever. The truth is she’s a witch. When Peeta says it’s just as well, they never got on anyway, the woebegone look in his eyes makes me wrap my arms around him, and I do kiss him on the cheek. I rest my head on his shoulder. It’s not right the way they treat him. I don’t understand it. I never even wanted to love anyone, and I couldn’t help myself. Worse still, I feel bad for being so hard on him when he stopped talking to me for awhile, because I can understand now why he leapt to all the wrong conclusions. If your family rejects you, I suppose you come to expect it. It hurts my heart. I want to wrap him up in cotton wool and place him on a really high shelf where nothing will ever wound him again. I feel like a dragoness who hisses and spits at anyone who would dare try to steal her gold hidden deep in a cave, except it is not gold I guard, but my golden boy, the sunshine boy, the boy with the bread. Hiss. My sweet boy. I really am very feral.

“We can be your family.” I whisper into his ear one day as we are lying together, and it is worth every bit of anxiety I feel to see the lazy grin spread across his face.

“I’d like that.”

Mom and Prim are healers at heart. They take Peeta in like he’s a wounded puppy.

It’s ironically the best summer of my life. I don’t worry about food, or warmth, or winter. I go on picnics. I swim in the lake. I teach Peeta to swim, (which is playing with that fire, but I regret nothing.) I stargaze. I curl up like a cat, and stretch when I get up. The only struggle is Gale. I wish it wasn’t so, because he has been my support for years, but I find I have to hide most of my life from him. He resents me living in Victor’s Village, I think. He despises hearing about Peeta. He won’t talk about the mines, which I don’t suppose I can blame him for, but that only leaves the woods and his family to talk about. Since Hazelle keeps me informed about that, it’s really just the woods. It wouldn’t be an issue, the woods have always been ours, except his bitterness spills out over sometimes. His eyes flash, and his jaw tenses. The air feels sharp and dangerous. I can’t abandon him though, and I cannot even fathom how awful it must feel to be so trapped. I garner the impression he feels cheated out of something. I do what I can to lift his spirits, have him enjoy his one day above ground. We find our new routine, But the last Sunday before the train comes he presses a kiss on me.

“I had to do that. Just once.” He says before storming away. I don’t know what to make of it. I stand stupefied for awhile, never having really considered that it could be a future with me he feels so cheated of. It would never have happened anyway. I don’t dare tell him that.

To add insult to injury, I am forced to talk with President Snow.

Step Four: Throw Your Hands up in Despair

“Was that really the only time you kissed Gale?”

My eyes widen that he’s even asking me. “Yes!”

“Sorry, sorry.” He’s quick to reassure me which hurts in so many other ways. “I just…you said he knew how you felt about kids, marriage, so…”

“He was just being an ass.” I reassure him and rub my hand across his shoulders. We are both sitting on his bed after the travesty that was our encounter with District Eleven. I wrap my arms around him from behind and rest my cheek on his shoulder.

“Thanks for standing in front of that Peacekeeper. It was really brave.” I can feel the tension drain out of him, and can practically hear his proud smirk. I swear. Men. But if it makes him feel better I don’t complain. Instead, I turn his head to face me and kiss him softly on the lips.

“To make you even,” I explain with an uncharacteristic wink, and I am gratified to hear Peeta laugh. We go to sleep not long after that. There’s no question that he stays with me.

It really is remarkable how bad I am at convincing anyone that I am in love with Peeta, especially given that it’s true. I suppose it’s the nature of the camera. It can’t show the little things I do. And I’m not prone to grand gestures in front of audiences. I can’t make it look real. I’m supposed to speak my love, but if I did, it would probably come out all wrong with smatterings of “but Dandelions, and Spring, and sunshine, don’t you see?” But that’s for me not them, and I cannot bring myself to part with it. It makes me too vulnerable to share the story about the bread either. It occurs to me Peeta has a courage, a strength I don’t. He told the truth to Caesar in our Tribute interviews, and he turned his vulnerability into a honed weapon. I am a survivor in my own fashion, but I don’t know how to do that.

Kissing Peeta and pretending I don’t want more is a chore too, and only complicates an already sticky matter. Well, when it’s in front of the cameras, I generally don’t want more, but when we sneak off to get caught on them, it’s another matter. It’s hard not to get too into it, and I wonder how in the world I’m supposed to do this for the rest of my life, assuming Snow doesn’t kill us all? How am I supposed to kiss Peeta on camera, and then go home, and keep my hands to myself? Being around Peeta is nothing short of deadly.

So when we come to the Capitol, reasonably sure we’ve failed, I throw it out-

“We could get married.”

Peeta agrees and then leaves as quickly as he can. I make to follow, but Haymitch says I ought to leave him alone. He gives me a stare that proves he thinks I am some kind of surly, heartless creature. Maybe he has a point, because if Peeta wants this to be real…well it’s not like I hate him, but I’ve never clued him in. So I glare back at Haymitch, and I do follow him, because Peeta suffers enough insecurity without him thinking he’s going to marry me and I don’t want him. It’s just that I don’t want to be hurt; I don’t want my kids to hurt.

Peeta surprises me. He goes into the bathroom when I arrive and turns on all the faucets.

“I want to talk to you about something.” He speaks as quietly as he can. I know he must be trying to avoid having our conversation overheard, so I join him as he sits down by the bathtub where the shower is rushing. “I know you said you didn’t want marriage and kids, because of the Reaping…but, I guess that’s unavoidable now. So…I just…” He trails off, and looks uncertain. It’s rare Peeta can’t express himself, so I gather this is something that cuts very deep to his heart. I don’t dare interrupt him. “My parents’ marriage was arranged. Lots of marriages in Town are, and they hate each other. I always swore, I’d rather go to the Seam then live my parent’s life–not that I think you’re like my mother!–” he hastens to clarify when he sees the look on my face, “but a loveless marriage by two people who feel they have to do it, and end up resenting each other, and kids who are born for necessity and not love. And…” He shakes his head. A grimace is etched on his face. “We have to get married. There’s no avoiding that, and if they make us have kids, which they eventually will… then…they don’t have to be mine.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, that this doesn’t have to be a real marriage. If it’s forced, it can’t count. Like, if you fall in love with someone else, you can have his kids. I get you never planned on it, but you should at least get a choice in the who. We can pretend they’re mine for the cameras. But…behind the scenes…”

“Peeta, that’s insanity.”

“I’m just saying,” he stresses, raising his voice slightly, and he lifts his hand up and down in emphasis like he’d be slapping a table if we weren’t sitting on cold tile, “it’s a possibility. If you don’t want it to be me then…just say so. You won’t be doing me any favours pretending. I have enough of that in my life. Can you love me, Katniss? Do you?” His voice cracks a little.

“Peeta–” He doesn’t let me get a word in edgewise. He’s lost in his own fears.

“But then there’s the fact that it’s practically a guarantee our kids will get Reaped. Heck,” he laughs bitterly, “maybe more than one. I dunno, Katniss, maybe I should just right the imbalance now.” He looks somberly at me. His blues eyes are as dark as I’ve ever seen them. “There’s only meant to be one victor.”

“No!” I shout and then drop my voice when I remember we’re supposed to be being discreet. “No! Peeta, if I was ever okay with that, I would have let you die in the arena,” I hiss. “How could you even suggest it?” I choke as I feel sobs rise up in my throat. “You don’t even know for sure, they’ll Reap them! And, I mean, it’ll be someone’s kid…and I just…” I’m not even making sense, Peeta’s words have catapulted me down a dark tunnel where little girls are abandoned when their father’s die. I cling to him and shake. Peeta looks guilty, as he wraps me up in his arms.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Then don’t ever, ever suggest that again! Don’t even consider it.” My crying is ugly, and I wipe my nose into his shirt and don’t even care.

“Alright, I won’t, but you know as well as I do, our kids will have an increased risk of being Reaped. It’s basically guaranteed. I can’t just sit idly by while that happens. What if they Reap all our kids? I just…I know we have to try and subdue the districts or Snow will kill us all, but afterwards, I think we need to try something. We’ll have at least twelve years after our first child is born to prepare them, but I’d far rather prefer there be no Games at all. We’ll be coming to the Capitol every year now, maybe we can learn more about their weaknesses, scout out the other victors for sentiment in their districts. I don’t know. I just can’t take this lying down Katniss. I can’t. I won’t be someone who does nothing at all when someone tries to hurt their child. I can’t.”

I pull out of his arms so I can see his face. I run a soothing hand across his forehead where his hair waves; it helps to ground me as well. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him so desperate which is really saying a lot. I can understand why this issue devastates him. It devastates me too, albeit from a different childhood trauma. I curl into him again. Any direction I go scares me, but I’d rather hold onto him in the storm. I can’t hold this from him when he so needs to hear it.

“I agree, but Peeta, it was always you. I decided ages ago I couldn’t marry if only because of the Games, although I’m scared of losing you too. It was always you, okay?”

“What?” He seems so genuinely confused I don’t know whether to slap him or his mother.

“I mean, that I knew who you were when you were Reaped, and I’d been watching you for ages too. I mean, marriage wouldn’t be my first choice, but I do….I do love you.” I twist my head up to see him better. There is dawning comprehension on his face as his eyes widen and his cheeks lift.

“You mean that?”

“Yes, obviously.” I don’t like that he is dragging this out, so I sit up to kiss him.

He gets the picture.

#Springtime Edition 2019 #submission #wingletblackbird #prompt 24

131 notes · View notes