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#i rewatched almost famous again last night

babydollfoster · 11 months

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First Date with Team Free Will

a/n: i honest to god don’t think i’ve posted a fic on here despite how much i talk about it >_<!! so here’s somethin i threw together in the span of a couple of hours because i’m on a rewatch and i’m halfway thru s4 and i LOVE the boys:( so here! proof i can write, not just talk about it! also afaik you can read this as any gender :) fem, masc, neither, both… don’t think there’s any defining qualities. much love!

pairings: sam winchester/reader, dean winchester/reader, castiel/reader

warnings: fluff, implied sexual content (w/ dean)

SAM

he’s SUCH a romantic. god, look at him, just- when he asked you, so sweet ‘nd kind, if he could take you out some night, how could you say no? dean gives his blessing by handing over the impala’s keys the next day and you and sam end up at a secondhand bookstore. you judge books by their covers and eventually settle on swapping something you enjoyed for the other’s; sam slips you a book called their eyes were watching god (“don’t- don’t give me that look. the title isn’t ‘cringe’! it’s beautiful. i promise you’ll enjoy it.”) and you hand rebecca over with a beaming grin, which falls into a look of surprise when you learn he hasn’t read it (“it’s a classic! how- okay, it’s a slow start, but you’ll love it.”) you grab takeout (your pick, sam insisted) and end up at a park, rolling a dusty picnic blanket out from the depths of the trunk and sitting under a tree, swapping quips and comments every once in a while. eventually, you end up with your head in sam’s lap and his hand in your hair, neither of you paying attention to your books no more, no, now you’re just… talking. it’s domestic and loving and romantic so you sit up, weasel your way into sammy’s lap and kiss him so delicately and he does the same back until you’re both almost devouring each other, literally stealing the other’s breath until you pull away, panting and giggling until sam whispers, “can we do this again?” and you whisper “every single day, sam.”

DEAN — MDNI, 16+

he sticks to the classics. he takes you out for dinner at the nearest diner and a midnight showing of whatever horror movie is out right now. you share a bucket of popcorn as you’re snuggled in the back right corner, cackling at cheesy jumpscares (“oh, i’m sooo scared.” “shut up, dee!”) and dry fake screams before you stumble back into baby after having smuggled in a flask of whiskey and collapse into the front bench, still too buzzed to drive, and kiss each other until your heads spin and the stars blur into one. eventually you pull away long enough for dean to drive you to the motel and you collapse into bed together; nothing happens, no, not on his first date with you. he wants to treat you right, sweetheart, but you’re both stripped down to your underwear nonetheless and hold each other close like it’s the last thing you’ll ever do. the next morning, on the other hand, once the headache has set in and you’re oh so beautiful in the morning light, dean settles himself between your legs and noses your thighs apart. who are you to say no when dean’s right there and ready, huh?

CASTIEL

cas hasn’t ‘dated’, not on earth, certainly not in heaven, but he rifled through his host’s distant memories and took some inspiration from when jimmy courted amelia. so when cas slips his hands into yours one darkened evening, standing on the sidewalk in light rain, and asks if he ‘could take you out sometime’, you smirk and say, “how’d you learn that one?” but you agree nonetheless, and let the angel take the reigns. he whisks you away, dropping a message to sam and dean that you’re both in california and will be for the next three days and not to worry, he’ll bring you back unharmed (the boys freak, but you both ignore their calls). he takes you window-shopping, you eat at famous spots in LA and spend a little too much money, you sit atop the hollywood sign and learn the constellations, you teach cas how to have fun late one night at the beach and when you’re both breathless, backs covered in sand as you stare up at the heavens, he turns his head to you and asks, “may i kiss you?” and you whisper, “i thought you’d never ask.” and sure, he’s a little clueless, but he’s confident in how he has the rest of forever to learn how to please you, the way a human would.

taglist: no one yet! ask away :)

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coffeelovesdramasalatte · 1 year

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LITA Ep 3 Rewatch Thoughts Pt. 2

Part 1 here!

Ok I am HERE for this encouragement - I love that Phayu is always supportive of Rain's academic talents

Apparently Rain is not immune to Phayu's pout either. Good, a relationship should be built on equality

pls observe this cutie omfg no wonder Phayu can't take his eyes off him

i genuinely feel like this shot did something to my brain chemistry. i kid you not one of my main goals in life is to have someone do this to me (by which I mean I want to be in Rain's position). I would also ignore homework and all my responsibilities if someone looked at and held me like that pls

P'Aon so true, Boss WAS smiling like an idiot (in love)

Poor Rain, these were famous last words :( (I too have uttered them many a time until I realized I am not a nap-taker)

ETHEREAL

Is this a rock cover of flight of the bumblebee playing in the background??? POOR RAIN HE STAYED UP ALL NIGHT TO DO THIS :((((

Ok but this is actually a very important lesson that I'm glad they included. It's true that Rain finished the work on time, but he also should have ensured he got enough sleep and made it to the presentation on time. He's still in his first year so he has a lot of time to grow. The actual important line is this one below.

It was a harsh way of phrasing it, but it's true. Setbacks are a very normal part of life and everyone makes "mistakes" (missing deadlines, not being able to finish a project, etc). I put that in quotes because sometimes, these things are at no fault of the person. It is possible to put 100% of your effort into finishing something and not get it done (which, aside from Rain's poor time management, he actually did put in a lot of effort to this project). Failing at something even after putting in a lot of hard work sucks, but being able to pick up after that and still work hard is what makes a person successful. I related extra hard to this scene because I failed a class in my major during my first year of college even though all I did was study, and it put me back a full year bc it's only offered certain semesters and was required to move forward in the degree. I took it again the following year and was smarter about how I studied and even still, I almost failed again. But I liked my major enough to keep at it and somehow still managed to graduate on time and now I'm in grad school, so... (that was an unnecessary story but to reiterate, failure is normal and ok)

AWW look at him putting on a facade for his friends... I think it's interesting that he doesn't confide in Sky here

but instead flies to the garage... Even I questioned this

P'Saifah is a good bro, calling Phayu immediately to come comfort his in-law. Phayu is good here too, immediately grabbing his things to come running

I think I speak for all of us when I say watching Phayu ride in the heavy rain was nerve-wracking bc we were expecting an accident or something

OK this scene. THIS SCENE. Utterly perfect in every way, from the moment concerned Phayu walks through the door to see a drenched, teary Rain waiting for him. Something blue-yellow is going on here too methinks

There's something so incredibly intimate about the way Phayu crouches down to Rain's level, and then beckons him into his arms. His words too are so gentle, and he just holds Rain as he cries.

As opposed to many other sweet scenes, this sequence + the one after Rain comes out of the bathroom is actually the one that makes me most jealous of PhayuRain. There is nothing more valuable than having someone you can fall apart into and trust that they'll hold the pieces of you together. And honestly, in the grand scheme of things Rain didn't mess up horribly - it feels monumental to him bc it's probably the first time he's missed a deadline. It's important that Phayu still treats the situation with the gravity of something more serious, bc it shows how much he cares. And after Rain has calmed down, he advises him on how to do better next time without sugarcoating, but also sharing that he experienced similar things during his days as a student.

I'mma need Rain to zip it bc he looks perfect, as usual

I really like the framing in this scene where he's looking into the mirror and then introspecting "why did I put up a front with other people and then cry in front of him? idk but I'm thankful" - he's reflecting mentally and physically!!!

Can't believe a drama is out here giving important life lessons but I'm here for it. I also like that Phayu shows a bit of vulnerability by sharing that he got criticized too, and that Rain will be able to recover from it.

HEADPAT x 2

This is another set of shots that altered my brain chemistry. Who taught them to look at each other like this, hm? Rain looks so vulnerable and Phayu might as well be cradling Rain's soul in his hands ft. headpat

The way Rain tilts his head up? Exquisite

I'd also feel very motivated if I was in Rain's place. Phayu actually makes another few interesting points here - he says what's done is done, and then tells Rain to not dwell on it and take care of himself. Interestingly enough (story time pt 2 you can skip if you want). I watched this scene very soon after I missed a paper submission deadline for a conference. It's not the biggest deal, especially because my professor knew it was a big ask to finish an entire research project in the timeline he gave me and he wasn't even remotely upset about it (long story short I only had 2 weeks notice to flesh out the idea, get the data, analyze the data, and write the research paper - but you can't really control how long things take you when you do research bc the point is that it hasn't been done before). So even though no one reprimanded me, I still felt really upset bc I had made up my mind that I was going to do this impossible task and couldn't. To hear Phayu's reminder that I can be upset but I shouldn't spend too long being sad to the point I neglect to take care of myself was honestly nice. It also helped to put things into perspective that yes, I couldn't submit to this particular conference, but there are so many that happen all the time so it's not like the research is wasted - just pull yourself together and try for the next one. Anyways, I'm done treating y'all like my personal diary now <3

Yay, Rain feels comforted and finally smiles! It's like seeing the sun after a storm (literally) AND something yellow-blue is happening here

Post-credits garage brothers content!! This exchange is hilarious bc P'Saifah goes 'ah [Rain] is in the palm of your hand' as Rain's leaving, but then the show makes it literal bc Phayu's holding a picture of Rain in his palm via the phone screen, which also signifies to the viewer that Phayu is also in the palm of Rain's hand. Again, we love relationships built on equality hehe

I love that they let us see the moment Phayu decided to pursue Rain (he's looking at the picture of Rain on his phone for the first time - though I do question why the senior just randomly sent him a photo of Rain? Like at this point Phayu is an alumni of the frat so why just send an isolated photo of a freshman to him?? we'll never know I guess)

And that's episode 3! If you made it this far, I hope at least some of this was entertaining! Have a lovely day or night, whenever you're reading this <3 See you in the next one!!

#love in the air #lita #lita the series #bossnoeul #phayurain #payurain #lita rewatch thoughts

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tvshowspoilers · 8 months

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OFMD episode 7 thoughts

Already know I want that robe Ed has! Dude it’s beautiful and I love the blue

Ed getting the breakfast ready is the cutest thing ever

I’m forever going to be crying that we didn’t see them cuddle! DAVID WHY

Also Ed’s little hum as he’s going down the stairs is precious

Aww Stede being so sweet about the twine on the tray when Ed is so nervous about it (you can hear it in his shudder breath when he says he panicked) (Taika why are you so good at making me feel emotions lol)

“you know that night that I died?” ED. BABY YES HE KNOWS

Still dying about Izzy coming in while they are in dead and his fucking smirk and AGH And Ed is just like, yep saw that coming

AND I AM NEVER GOING TO FORGET THIS LINE “ it’s good to see that it’s not just a ship that’s been good and truly….docked”

Oh yes on second viewing that clock is fucking sus….Zheng Noooo

I actually love Auntie

Also ED IS A CONFIRMED OPEN MOUTH CHEWER lol

Ed’s reaction the the letters “I love that you did that” awww…I hope he finds them! And Stede’s little self deprecating laugh, aw he needed Ed to say that

Dude you can totally tell Ed has never been skipped over…look at the little scoff he does and disbelief

I love love goofy Ed and Stede so much

Also this (Ed’s little speech about drinks tattoos and paps) is something I could totally see Taika saying to a newly famous person??

The revenge boys!!! I love it and Jackie’s little “the Swede will be happy to see ya!” Hehe

Ed’s so nervous for Stede like Stede was for Ed

So Ed’s soft look (outside) was him looking at the fish basket and thinking of a simpler life…so at this point he was already thinking about leaving and Stede and stuff? Expecially after the convo with Izzy? Cause his eyes get really sad.

I still don’t know how to process the fight with Zheng…just that I agree that he was double upset about loosing his found family

I know the little moment of Stede saying “you don’t sound that happy” hurt me cause Ed’s face is like nope and flashbacks to “what makes Ed happy is you” OOF

But, I don’t think it was a full breakup…but it was a discussion that was bound to happen at some point and I’m proud of Ed for explaining he and Stede went over the boundaries he tried to set, for realizing he wasn’t ready for this relationship yet and that he doesn’t know what he is……And that Stede was open to their relationship being “whatever” until Ed is ready

But god I’m still upset about his word choice and it’s been almost 24 hours since this episode dropped “last night was a mistake” still hurts very bad cause like I said…pipeline in Stede’s head to “I was a mistake”

I think it was an alright conversation until Ed said he was leaving (leaving Stede first so he doesn’t get hurt which is what I expected in s1 but figured would happen this season…tho not like this and this close to the season finale…yikes)

And Stede’s reaction about the fish, damn Ed was so proud of that fish…but my two cents, he wasn’t being malicious I think he was just saying one fish does not make one a fisherman

Oh but the “fishermen and pirates are nothing alike like” damn

Steak Knife is lovely

I think laughing at the guy was part drunk Stede and also him covering up the pain of his other kill…idk how to explain

Also we can still hear the ROP screams and stuff during the first part of the credits

Once again, love freaking fang and that roach made mud baths a thing

So yeah, rewatching this episode…it was alright and then got painful toward the middle and definitely second hand embarrassment worthy at the end but I thought it was a decent episode. Of course it had pacing issues but that’s MAX’s fault, not David’s

#ofmd s2 spoilers #our flag means death #spoilers #ofmd #stede bonnet #blackbeard #edward teach #blackbonnet #gentlebeard

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llynwen · 27 days

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Oh don't worry about the ask getting eaten, tumblr has killed 2 of my blogs in the last damn month this website is held together through sheer collective willpower. Soooooo about hoodie-stealing gf Rust: something about his clothes seemed weird to me when they went to Carcosa, and during a rewatch I realized that crisp white shirt is rather too big for him. He threw out all his 'professional' attire years ago when he quit being a cop but something about this work--not the job of police officer, I mean the work of seeking justice for the innocent--demands a certain ceremonial importance in what he wears. And rather than go buy a shirt he seems to have raided Marty's closet like he did in 95. Thoughts???

Hi! First of all I am so so very sorry for how long it’s taken me to answer this and also for the. Let's call them technical difficulties. I actually have soooo many thoughts about the costumes on this show.

Let's start with the shirts. Every time we see rusty wear a dress shirt in 2012 it is slightly too big. Now, I totally agree with your take about him having thrown away all of his work clothes before the move. I don’t think he cares about appearances all that much anymore (I mean. As much as I adore the hair, it is not very professional). I like to think he only dresses up when they go to question people to fit into the part of a PI, to be more believable.

As far as I know he wears two different shirts in episode 7

and one in 8

In both of these they are kinda loose on him, the waist is tucked in but it’s all bunched up in the back, even the collars seem a bit too wide.

I also love this fit

At first glance I was convinced these were the same suits, but they are not, though they are eerily similar. The jacket looks too big for rusty, too, and maybe a bit tight on marty. I really want to believe that rust is wearing marty’s hand me downs the entire time.

All this thinking about the clothes had me looking at other outfits we see throughout the show, and what I noticed were the flannels. Prior to 2012, we almost exclusively see rust in formal wear. He wears work clothes seemingly 24/7. He will occasionally take his shirt off and run around in the famous wifebeater, but even that is just a stripped down version of his work clothes. He mows the lawn dressed like that. Even during The Event with maggie he is still in his work clothes, even though he just got suspended and has been drinking for hours.

There are very few exceptions of him wearing something different. If we ignore crash, prior to 2012 we see him out of his work clothes exactly twice.

First time is when he talks to maggie at the diner. He’s wearing a blue flannel in this scene, and I was like, this shirt looks familiar. Then I had me a closer looksie, and lo and behold, i found this.

Again, for a second I was sure it was the same damn shirt. It isn't, but it's close. Both of them wear a blue flannel when they go to talk to maggie, which is very interesting to me. Additionally, since we've established that rusty doesn't own any casual clothes, I think it is fair to assume the flannel he is wearing at the diner is actually marty’s. This isn't so far fetched, since at the time marty is staying at rust’s house, so they probably have a shared laundry pile.

The other time we see rust wear a flannel is during the parking lot fight. I don't think marty wears anything similar at any point (but if I'm wrong please come let me know), but it is definitely something he would wear.

The parking lot fight takes place the morning after The Event, we know that rust is not in the best of mindsets.

(I actually think he came over to the station that day precisely because of what happened the night before. I don't think he came to pick up his things, since we know he had all the files at his apartment, and I don't believe him to be the kind of man that keeps personal belongings at his desk. No, I think he went there to punish himself. He knew that marty would react badly, and he knew he would probably attempt to beat him up. This could be why rust doesn't really fight back, and lets marty tackle him and land a few good punches.)

The shirt he wears could be something that marty left behind. I think he might have worn it as a kind of armor, something with positive emotions attached to it. He knows that marty and him are done, no going back, so he wraps himself in the comfort of their friendship.

If you have any other observations, please let me know! I’ll have another look at the clothes during my next rewatch, but I’m sure I'll miss something anyways, this show is so jam packed with detail. Thank you again for sending me this ask!

Let me leave you with this, though.

Why is rusty’s ass wet in carcosa? If he was just sweaty, wouldn't his shirt be wet too? Did he piss himself? What is going on.

Love you bestie xx

#ask #true detective

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singofsolace · 1 year

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Some thoughts on Vicki and Robert

I rewatched Queen America last night for the third time instead of letting myself think about the impending funeral of my friend, and even wrote a fanfic that probably no one will read because I'm four years late to the party, but I'm incredibly drawn to Vicki Ellis as a character, and I genuinely can't control what inspires my brain to start writing and what doesn't.

Anyway, what I wanted to talk about after seeing this show a third time, is that it's not a secret, even within the universe of the show, that Robert and Vicki have a toxic relationship, right? It's heavily implied, and even outright stated, that they are in an endless cycle of getting together, having angry and sometimes violent fights, followed by rough sexy times, and then breaking up, only to eventually get back together again, even when they're both actively in healthier relationships with other people. But because I don't have any knowledge of Oklahoma's geography, I never understood one of Vicki's digs at him until I looked it up just now.

In episode 9, when Vicki and Robert are beginning to fight, Vicki says, "I remember the time you drove all the way to Norman because you found out I was sleepin' with that O.U. [Oklahoma University] guy."

Robert responds: "Well, that was back when you had a 22-year-old's ass, and I'd do anything for that."

Obviously, from context, even someone who doesn't know where Tulsa is in relation to Norman would understand that they're far away from each other, and that he must've been pretty darn jealous and possessive to be willing to go that far to follow her, but now that I looked it up, I'm like... wow. Two hours? He drove two hours to Norman because he didn't want her sleeping with another guy? That's...that's a lot, right? Like, Vicki complains about having to drive to Okmulgee in the first episode, which is only 45 minutes away, by comparison.

Vicki also provides the context that she didn't tell him about the guy she was seeing; he must've done some "digging" to find out. So this man did some digging and followed his presumably ex-girlfriend to a town two hours away, just to...what? Break them up? They don't really tell us in the show what he did, but since Vicki knows about him following her, I assume he confronted her and they got in one of their famous fights that ended in sex.

Something I'm also interested in is that Nigel clearly knows about all of this toxicity, and usually doesn't comment on it, because it's Vicki's business... but when he originally brings up the fact that Robert is back in Tulsa, even though he says he "didn't mean to upset [her]" by doing it, he absolutely intended the revelation that Robert is back in town to throw Vicki off enough that she'd stop criticizing his own romantic choices. But throwing her incredibly toxic and unhealthy relationship with a man in her face just to get her to stop talking about his own choices was a low blow, even for best friends who frequently call each other out, and what's more, is that he realizes that he's gone too far almost immediately, and while he doesn't exactly apologize, he acknowledges that he upset her.

Similarly, after Vicki runs into Robert at church, Regina immediately says, "Are you alright?" in an uncharacteristically compassionate and knowing tone. It seems like everyone who has known Vicki long enough to know about Robert is also aware that even just mentioning him, or in this case, seeing him at church, is enough to upset her.

What's remarkable to me is just how...normal...Vicki is with the chef instead? Like, before she tries to babysit his kid, she and Andy have an incredibly healthy relationship, by comparison? They communicate openly, and whenever Vicki hears herself saying something she shouldn't (like when she says he'll never make a name for himself with only one restaurant), she immediately apologizes. He seems genuinely worried for her when she leaves their dinner date early (ostensibly because she feels sick, but actually, seeing Robert has so thoroughly thrown her off that she can't stay), and when Vicki says, "You don't have to be so nice to me all the time, you know?" he insists that he wants to be nice to her, as if there isn't any other way of being, in his mind.

I don't know, I just find it fascinating that it seems like Vicki and Robert really do bring out the worst in each other, because Vicki manages to have a relatively healthy relationship with another man at the same time that she's showing her worst colors with Robert? She's so unused to all the kindness in her relationship with Andy, in fact, that she outright states that Andy being so good to her makes her "suspicious," which is a pretty classic sign of having been in a manipulative or emotionally abusive relationship in the past.

I just have a lot of feelings, I guess, about the fact that Vicki has so rarely known kindness, even/especially within her own family (I mean, Katie literally punches Vicki in the face in the very first episode?? Right after Vicki spends a whole afternoon being insulted by her daughter niece?!), and she seems to be fighting a constant battle against everyone around her, except for maybe Nigel.

I just want to wrap Vicki up in a blanket and keep her away from all the people who are constantly hurting her 🥺

#queen america #vicki ellis #catherine zeta jones #toxic relationships

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spkothdvldotmp3 · 2 years

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Erica!! How was the concert? (If you feel like talking about it, of course)

literally i will be talking about it (the best night ever) for the rest of my life

even just walking in was amazing- there were so many people who were also dressed up, so many people who also looked so happy to be there, so many people who i saw myself in- i knew it was going to be a great night

(side note: i am so much poorer now because i spent my entire paycheck on merch, but i got my boy zone shirt, 3/4 of the mystery shirts (and one ray dupe), and the sparkly silver mikey fuckin way shirt)

but devil master was great! (i couldn’t understand a word, but their sound and their aesthetics were fuckin a)

and midtown!! holy shit midtown!!! they were absolutely fantastic! they just kept thanking us and reminding us they were from nj and thanking mikey and thanking us again, and you could really feel how excited they were to be playing (i’m honestly a little sorry i didn’t get more video of them, but my phone battery was running low as it was, and i had to conserve its life for my chem) (also, i found myself incredibly attracted to gabe saporta almost as soon as he walked out on stage because wow. wow.)

and then MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE! literally the moment the (forever-long) foundations intro started we were standing. i was lucky enough to have gotten middle floor seats (so a bit behind the pit) so i could SEE them!! i could see their faces!! and i swear i felt like i was losing my mind when i saw gerard’s outfit (it looked so nice! the cardigan, the pockets on the dress- literally i want that outfit so bad). every song was a banger, even if i am a little disappointed i didn’t get to hear vampire money live, but CHA GIRL GOT PLANETARY!! (actually, in the video i took, you can literally hear me begging “please, god, PLEASE” after gerard starts the introduction and mentions dancing, because that’s the kind of person i am.) local danger days stan stays winning. then add Boy Division and Mama and Scarecrow and Famous Last Words and literally every other song they played. GOD. god.

i took small videos of most of the songs they performed, but i was mostly trying to live in the moment, so any of the videos i took were grainy and far away, but audio-wise not half bad. i’ve spent like an hour today rewatching them and marveling at the fact that like. i was there. i saw that. i heard them! i got to experience the specialest band in the world right there, playing for me and all of my new best friends (like Daniel and Toni, who had the seats on either side of me and were so fucking friendly, and that girl who reassured me i wasn’t flashing the entire stadium when i was walking up the stairs out of the arena).

it’s literally incomparable to anything i’ve ever done before, and probably anything i’ll ever do again. it was literally the best night of my life.

#i’m tearing up a little just thinking about it again #asked and answered #armillaryspheres #mcr #mcr houston #my show

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its-tortle · 3 years

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this is a disaster but i saw this tiktok in a compilation like an hour ago and now this exists, so have it.

Bucky is still laughing to himself, wheezing and breathless, as he posts the video to his TikTok.

He doesn’t post much, only has four uploads before this one, but he simply felt he had to share the audacity of his brain with his 32 followers. Not that anyone will see it, except Becca maybe. She’ll make fun of him for it at the usual dinner with mom on Sunday.

He watches it back one more time after it posts, checking for typos in his subtitles and captions, and has to laugh again.

Steve fucking Rogers? His brain thought he could pull Captain America, literal superhero and America’s favorite sweetheart?

“Hello I’m a 35 year old amputee living in New York and I think that I could get Steve Rogers.”

His voice dissolves into laughter, and Bucky snorts to himself again before he closes his app and puts his phone down. He really needs to put the wine away for the night.

Alpine eyes him wearily as he gets up from the sofa and takes his glass to the kitchen, putting it next to the sink instead of on the counter for a refill. Noting the routine, she jumps down from the windowsill and makes her way to his bedroom. Probably to get hair all over his pillow before he lays his face down on it.

Menace.

He leaves the glass next to the sink and goes back to the living room to retrieve his phone from the folds of his throw blanket. He blows out the scented candles on his cabinet.

He’s in bed twenty minutes later, his phone charging beside him. Maybe because of his long shift at the shop, or maybe because of the wine, he falls asleep after only a few tosses and turns. There is indeed a bunch of cat hair on his pillow.

When he wakes up, it’s the loud blaring of his alarm and an Alpine kneading her claws in the duvet over his ribs.

He groans.

She meows.

Bucky pushes her off of his torso and goes to turn off the blaring of his phone. He succeeds after a few sleepy tries, and then just lies there for another ten five minutes.

He’s not a morning person.

When his alarm blares a second time, Bucky groans and turns it off again. This time, he rubs his hand over his face and lets out a long breath. He stretches.

Reluctantly, he gets up from the warmth of his covers and grabs his phone from the nightstand. He slides his feet into his slippers and walks blearily to the bathroom, turning on the water cooker on his way as per usual.

When he checks his phone in the bathroom though, it’s very much out of the ordinary. He has tons of TikTok notifications.

Frowning, he opens the app to find they’re all on his Steve Rogers video, the one from last night. He rewatches it again.

It’s funny, sure, but almost ten thousand views? Over two hundred comments? What the fuck. Bucky has almost a hundred new followers, too.

Still not quite sure he’s not hallucinating, he closes the app and goes to his messages to text Becca, only to find that she’s already texted him.

I cant believe your stupid superhero crush made you tiktok famous.

Bucky can’t help but feel smug as he goes to wash his hands. He and Becca had a running bet on TikTok views going. And it looks like he won.

He texts her back with that smug smile still on his face.

well i just cant help that im hilarious can i

(also wtf is going on)

His phone dings again when Bucky is barely back in his room.

Fuck off. This was luck..

(Beats me)

And then, before Bucky can even finish typing out a response, another one comes through.

I hope Cap sees it and calls you out.

sdfghjk pls no

It’s not his most eloquent response, but it channels his feelings about that scenario pretty accurately.

Steve does not need to see Bucky be an overconfident disaster of a human being, and he sure as hell won’t. He’s Captain America, for fuck’s sake. He’s busy saving the world.

Bucky uses the hair tie on his wrist to throw his hair up in a dreadfully messy bun as he makes his coffee. He refills Alpine’s bowl and gets no thanks in response, of course. He’s still rolling his eyes at her as he gets a yogurt out of the fridge.

Despite his absolutely insane TikTok numbers, it’s a normal morning.

He finishes his first cup of coffee over his twitter feed and then forces his thighs into skinny jeans that he bought before he gained the weight he now carries. He looks in the mirror and is over-critical of the spot on his chin and the way the t-shirt makes his chest look, and then fusses over his hair for twenty minutes. Alpine does a whole lot of insistent mewling as if he hasn’t just fed her. And then he’s off to work.

It’s a normal day in the shop, too. None of his coworkers seem to know that Bucky’s blown up on TikTok over night -- not that that’s surprising given they’re all over forty -- and he fixes two leaky cooling pipes. He gets car oil in his hair.

But then, ten minutes before his lunch break, his phone rings in his pocket. He sighs and gets up from under the car, only to see that it’s Becca.

With his eyebrows drawing up into a frown, he picks up. “Becca? Everything okay?”

“Steve Rogers is looking for you on twitter.”

Bucky’s brain short-circuits. “He what?”

“Check his twitter,” she says, and then the line goes dead.

Still frowning, he does.

And holy fucking shit.

At 11:36 AM, Steve Rogers, with the blue tick next to his name, had retweeted a recording of Bucky’s TikTok with Steve’s tag, and written

I do find him charming. What’s his twitter?

There were so many replies, many of them excited, some of them jealous, a whole lot of them trying to find Bucky’s private 24 follower twitter account.

(He only used it to troll Trump and keep up with Steve Rogers, really.)

In a disbelieving haze, Bucky retweets it.

can’t believe my unearned confidence payed off

He can hear his heartbeat ferociously in his ears, even as his boss asks him what he’s doing staring at his screen.

What the actual fuck is happening.

This can’t be real life.

Steve Rogers wants to know his twitter. Righteous, hilarious, heroic, super-soldier, beautiful Steve Rogers finds him charming.

Bucky thinks he must be dreaming.

Just as he’s about to dissociate completely, his phone pings again.

It’s a twitter dm, with a blue checkmark.

I don’t think it’s unearned at all. Are you free for coffee sometime?

Bucky’s fingers move faster than his brain, and suddenly he’s apologizing for the weird TikTok, and making plans to meet Steve Rogers for coffee that weekend.

Maybe his intrusive thoughts were onto something, after all.

#jesus this is stupid #but i love that tiktok so much #and my finger moved of their own volition #stucky #stucky ficlet #steve rogers #bucky barnes #tiktok #humor #fluff #meet cute #mcu fic #tortle writes #shrunkyclunks

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spencerhotchner · 3 years

Text

Alternative {spencer reid}

Chapter 1

summary: Since quarentine was announced, Y/N decided to rewatch all seasons of Criminal Minds. On a lonely night she wished she could be in that universe instead of this. What happens when she wakes up in 2008 in Quantico?

warnings: angst, a very confused reader, regular cm stuff and my grammar (if you find anything else pls lmk

word count: 2k

a/n: i have this idea while watching a movie about parallel universes and all, so i just wanted to try this out. it will be a 10 parts series! im not really sure about this, i think i kinda hate it but im posting it anyways lmao. i hope you gonna enjoy!

series masterlist

part 1 | part 2

You woke up feeling dizzy and with a major headache. At first you thought it was because you drank a whole lot of wine last night but then you saw yourself in a room you never saw before. You stoop up quickly trying to understand where you were and how did you end up there. You were sure that you have never been in this place before, and it was scaring you that you showed up in there.

There was a mirror nailed to the wall in from of you almost forcing you to look at your own body, that made you notice that you were still wearing the same clothes from last night, but you weren’t home. Not being home was odd given by the fact you stayed there with your family and two friends you invited over, since there’s a whole freaking pandemic going on and you for sure did not want to get sick or get other people sick.

“Did I get kidnapped?” you think out loud. “No, I just watch too much Criminal Minds.” you tell yourself, trying to calm down.

You reach for the face mask placed on the nightstand, getting ready to leave this random place and go home. You tried not to freak out when you realized your phone was gone and the only cellphone in there was probably as old as your grandmother. You dialed your moms number about five times and all of them went on voicemail, making you curse mentally.

This can’t be happening. Not to me.

As soon as you leave the apartment you were in you realized you weren’t in your hometown, definitely not. It was crowded, like, really crowded and no one was wearing any face masks. Where did the freaking pandemic go? You wondered while you felt like a misfit for being the only one wearing it.

“Excuse me, can you tell me where I am?” you ask an old lady walking by.

“You’re on Main Street, sweetheart.” she says.

“No, um, I mean the city.” you watched as the old lady looked at you with a funny face, as if she was calling you crazy on her mind.

“We’re in Quantico, dear.”

“Quantico?” you repeat, mostly for yourself then for her. The lady started at you like you were an alien. “Thank you so much, ma’am.”

The air started to go low on you, how did you get to Virginia, anyway? That was across the country from where you lived, Bellevue in Washington state. You started lost walking, trying to understand what the hell was going on. It felt like you were on a parallel universe, like you were in a dream but couldn't wake up and it sure felt very real. You stoped a jornal shop taking a lot at the last newspaper in there, trying to figure if something happened that you were missing. However, nothing reported there shocked you, what did, though, was the date.

July 1st, 2008

You were about to ask someone about it when you bumped into a blonde woman, falling on the ground. As soon as you looked up, you almost chocked yourself. If the day was already weird, this was even weirder. A.J Cook was standing right in front of you with a concerned look. You couldn't really say anything, just staring at her like she wasn't real. It was weird seeing her in front of you after only seeing her through screens.

“I’m so sorry!” she said as she offered a hand for you to get up. “Are you ok?”

“I- um, yes! I’m fine.” you san, getting the dirt out of your outfit. “I’m a big fan of yours! Wish I had my phone here to take a picture but- sorry.“ you stoped talking, realizing she probably doesn’t care.

“Big fan of me? Wow, howcome somebody’s a fan of me?” she sounds surprised.

“Well, you’re on Criminal Minds.” you say as it was obvious.

She looked at you as if you were out of your mind. Not that you weren't thinking otherwise at the moment, anyways.

“I’m on what now?” she asked.

Maybe you got confused and she was the wrong person, but she looked so much like her to not be her. If they were not the same person, then definitely twins. This was so weird, once again, you found yourself asking ‘what the hell’ mentally.

“You’re JJ, Jennifer Jareau, FBI Agent and all.” you say, trying one more time. “Behaviour Analysis Unit...”

“Yea, that‘s me.” she let a nervous laugh comes out of her mouth. “How do you know me?”

‘This is weird’ you thought. How does she not understand where you know her from? Literally Criminal Minds, like you said at first. ‘Maybe this is all a dream.’

“I saw you on tv” you try.

“Oh, I see! You like law enforcement?” she asks you.

“Oh yes, I’m in law-school to be a judge someday.” you answered. “The show, all of it just makes me wanna put all them bad guys in jail.” you say, laughing a bit.

“The show...? What?” you hear her whisper, but decide to ignore it. “What’s the mask about?” JJ asks, making you look at her surprised.

“Um, covid-19?” you say like it’s obvious, because it is.

“Oh, sure...” she smiles as she says it, almost like she's only agreeing because she won't discuss it. “Great talking to you, really, but I gotta go, FBI duty calls.” she jokes.

You smile at her watching carefully as she picks up her phone from her pocket and pick up a call. That phone looked awfully old, like 2000’s old. Why would a famous actress have that kinda of phone? Then, you looked around trying to understand more about what was going on. It was all too out of place.

First, nobody wearing masks, not even a single person but you. Second, you were in a city in which is miles away from your own. Third, a famous actress acted like she’s nobody. And fourth, the date on the calendar said 2008.

If it wasn’t just impossible I would say I time travelled into Criminal Minds universe.

After standing there for literal 10 minutes trying to figure it out what you were going to do, you decide to go to the police department. After all, you may have been abducted, right? Because you didn’t have any knowledge of the place, you took quite some time to get there. As soon as you got there you sigh in relief, that has been quite a walk and damn, you were tired of this situation.

“Excuse me, ma’am, can you help me?” you ask to the lady standing behind the counter.

“Sure, dear. What do you need?” she looks up at you, taking her glasses of her face.

“I think I might have been abducted?” you start. “I woke up in this random apartment.”

“Maybe you had a one-night stand.” she said putting back her glasses.

“No! I am sure I didn’t because first of all, there’s a pandemic going on, second of all I was in Bellevue in Washington state when I went to sleep.” you yell, involuntarily, desperate to make her believe in you.

“Miss, I’m gonna need you to calm down or you will be escorted out of the building. You’re probably on drugs, there's nothing we can do for you.”

“Fuck you.” you say as you watch her face get all red.

Frustrated. That could define what you were feeling, scared and worried could do the work, as well. What were you going to do now? Go to the FBI to see if they could freaking understand why you simply appeared in Quantico? Didn't sound like a bad idea in your mind as you decided to just try it out. After all, you were already pretty screwed up, it would worth a shot.

You reached for your back pocket, hoping that the money you shoved in there more than a week ago would still be in there. Bingo! You pull out a 20 dollar bill out of it and the next thing you know you’re getting into a cab asking him to take you to the FBI. Now that’s something you never thought would happen. The travel was quite quick, in 20 minutos you were standing in front of that big isolated building. It looked like it was taken straight out of your favorite show, that was insane.

The wind blew hard on you when you got out of the vehicle, making you shiver a little, that reminded you that you did not have any clothes nor money to buy more. God, you did not even have where to go. You didn't even get the chance to get into the building as a big man steps in front of you, blocking your way.

“Miss, you're not allowed in this building.” he said without much expression.

“But, sir-” you started, as you saw he was about to interrupt you, you go on. “Ive been abducted and I don't know where or how the hell did I get in here, I’m completely hopeless... Please.” you beg him.

He started at you for a couple of seconds, that felt like centuries for you, just to sigh at you.

“Ok, follow me.” he said. “Do not make me regret this.”

“I-I won’t, sir.” you were quick to answer.

The agent asked another man to cover up for him as he led me into the building. Once again you found yourself admired of how much it did look like a Criminal Minds episode in there, if you weren't totally desperate you'd be amused. Soon, you two were out of the elevator on floor 8, leading with the words Behavior Analysis Unit quite big.

“Can you take her to Agent Jareau, please?” the man said to someone who passed by, who simply agreed.

Now, that's a funny coincidence, there's actually an Agent Jareau in the BAU.

You followed the woman with questioning trying to stay calm when you saw Matthew Gray Gubler sitting on a desk reading some book in Reid style, almost like he was Spencer himself. If you had any doubts you were going crazy, that was the final proof. You stoped walking, taking a stare at him and then at the Agent that stared a you like you were an alien.

“Is there something wrong?” she asks you. “Miss, are you ok?”

You were unable to answer for a few seconds when you finally opened you mouth, still trying to figure it out how to say what was on your mind without sounding completely insane.

“Is that Dr. Spencer Reid?”

And that was all you’re able to say because as soon as you let his name out of your mouth he looked up at you, trying to somehow recognize you. You were sure, that time, that you never looked - and sounded - as insane as right now.

“Yes, that's me.” he answers.

His voice was the last thing you could hear before everything go black. Maybe you were finally going to wake up. Maybe.

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thatgirlwhowritesbooks · 3 years

Text

Smoke Break - A Nace Fic

I’ve had about a million different Nace fanfic ideas rolling around inside my head lately, so last night I wrote one of them. I’m pretty sure this has been done before, but this is my take on the smoke break conversation Nancy mentions having with Ace in 1x01. Inspired by the fact I’m about to start rewatching the show for the third time before season 3 starts in the fall. Enjoy?

Smoke Break

The lunch rush almost did her in.

It was Nancy’s fourth day on the job at The Claw—and her fourth day of work ever—and she already wanted to quit.

Coastal Maine towns in the summer were a bitch, and Horseshoe Bay was no exception. The entire town was a tourist trap, and The Claw was the best (not to mention only) seafood restaurant for miles. Anyone visiting from outside the state just had to stop in for a lobster roll—which was mostly what Nancy served to people all day, every day. She had lost track of how many of her customers had excitedly informed her that eating a Maine lobster roll was on their bucket list.

What kind of person put eating a ridiculously overpriced lobster roll on their bucket list?

It was halfway through the exceptionally busy shift that George tapped her on the shoulder, hard—so hard, she wouldn’t be surprised if it left a bruise. “Drew,” she said, unsmiling. “Go take your fifteen.”

Nancy breathed a sigh of relief. The entire dining room was full, and there were at least five large groups of people waiting patiently outside for a table. This was the busiest she had seen it yet.

And the busiest she ever wanted to see it.

“Thanks, George,” Nancy said gratefully, earning nothing but a glare from her former classmate.

“Don’t thank me. It’s company policy. Now get your ass out of here. Your fifteen is now a fourteen.” Turning on her heel, she stormed off in the direction of Bess, one of the other newer waitresses, who appeared to be struggling with a large table of ten people that was half adults, half kids, and all chaos. It was probably going to result in a huge tip, but Nancy was glad she hadn’t been assigned to that party. She didn’t have the patience for that.

She headed for the back room and retrieved her phone from her locker before exiting out the back door. She was instantly hit with a blast of hot, humid air, and she almost contemplated going right back inside where it was nice and air conditioned. But despite it being almost intolerably hot, it was quiet outside—unlike the madhouse inside. All she could hear were the crashing waves in the water and the squawking of seagulls in the parking lot looking for dropped food, and she welcomed it.

Staring down at her phone, Nancy slowly made her way over to the lone employees-only picnic table that was inconsiderately located right next to the dumpster. She was about to sit down when a voice spoke behind her, startling her.

“Having fun yet?”

Nancy nearly dropped her phone before spinning around to see who had spoken to her.

Leaning up against the side of the building was one of The Claw’s dishwashers—Ace. She’d met him on her first day—another hectic, busy day—but hadn’t really gotten to know him yet. She hadn’t really gotten to know anyone yet. Just the way she liked it.

She’d been aware of Ace’s existence before meeting him at The Claw. They’d gone to the same high school together, although he’d been a senior when she was a freshman, so their paths never crossed. He looked different now than he had back then. He looked taller. His hair was longer. He’d filled out a little—like he spent at least a couple days a week at the gym. He was cute. No, wait. He was hot. Not really her type—he seemed like a bit of a stoner—but he was certainly easy on the eyes.

“Sorry,” he continued before she could answer his question. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t,” Nancy said with a dismissive wave. “I was just a little startled. I didn’t know anyone else was out here.”

Ace nodded. “Yeah. George yelled at me two minutes ago to take my break.”

Nancy smirked. “You too?”

“Yup.”

“Does she yell at employees a lot?”

“All the time,” Ace said with a furrowed brow. He lifted his fingers up to his lips and it wasn’t until then that Nancy noticed he was holding onto a cigarette.

“You’re a smoker, huh?” she asked, wanting to immediately facepalm. He was holding onto a lit cigarette. Of course he was a smoker.

Ace took a long drag and shook his head as he slowly let the smoke back out of his lungs. “Nah. I only smoke when I’m feeling stressed.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. “I’ve had this same pack for two months now, and it’s still mostly full.”

Nancy arched an eyebrow. “I take it you don’t get stressed too often, then?”

“Not really,” he replied. “For the most part, I like to keep things chill.”

“So, then, what are you stressed about right now?” Nancy asked, hoping she wasn’t coming across as being too nosy.

“George yelling at me,” he deadpanned.

Nancy chuckled. “Well, with the way things are going for me with George right now, I might have to bum one of those off you sometime.”

“Anytime,” he said, dropping his cigarette to the ground and stepping on it to put it out. “Sharing is caring is my motto.”

Nancy smiled. “That’s a great motto to have. But I was mostly joking. I don’t do cigarettes.” She motioned to her chest. “Virgin lungs.”

“Well, there’s a first time for everything.”

Something about the way he said it—his voice soft and almost flirty—made Nancy pause. Although, there was no way Ace could be flirting with her. In the only four days she’d been working with him, she’d already been made very aware of his crush on Bess. George had grumbled about it under her breath when she didn’t know anyone was listening, but even if Nancy hadn’t overheard that piece of information, she would have quickly figured it out herself. The guy wasn’t exactly subtle about it.

“I probably won’t be here long enough to share too many smoke breaks with you, anyway,” Nancy said, turning her attention to her phone.

“Why is that?” he asked.

Nancy shrugged. “I just don’t think I’m cut out for this line of work.”

“What kind of work do you think you’re cut out for, then? Sleuthing?”

Nancy’s eyes snapped back up to him, narrowing suspiciously. “Why would you say that?”

“Uh, because you’re the Hero of Horseshoe Bay,” he said with a grin. “The famous Nancy Drew, girl detective.”

Nancy could feel a humiliated blush spread across her cheeks. He knew about that? Oh, right, of course he did. He’d lived in Horseshoe Bay his whole life, just like she had. And she’d made the news quite frequently growing up. She would have been shocked if he hadn’t known about that.

“You’re a pretty big celebrity around this town, you know,” Ace continued. “I’ve just been waiting for the right time to ask for your autograph.”

“Oh, is that right?” Nancy chuckled again. “I’d hold off on that request for now if I were you. Maybe I was famous as a ‘girl detective’, but I’m nothing as the girl who tanked her grades her senior year and might never get into her dream school.”

All traces of amusement left Ace’s face as he frowned. “What are you talking about?”

What was she talking about? This was the first time she had admitted it out loud to anyone. She couldn’t tell her father the truth. She couldn’t tell her friends either because those friends had already decided to move on with their lives without her. Apparently, staying behind in Horseshoe Bay to wait tables for a living instead of heading straight off to college was not sophisticated enough for them.

“I…” Nancy began but then stopped, clamping her mouth shut. She wasn’t sure she had the energy to tell that story.

Slowly, Ace made his way over to the picnic table and sat down beside her, although leaving plenty of empty space between them. He turned his head to look at her, waiting silently for her to continue.

She appreciated the fact he wasn’t trying to pressure her to elaborate. She could tell from the look on his face that he was very interested in hearing what she had to say, but he wasn’t going to force her to say it if she didn’t want to.

And, surprisingly, that made her want to.

“I…tanked my grades my senior year,” she repeated finally. “After she…after my mom died.” She lowered her gaze to her lap.

“Kate Drew,” Ace said softly. “Our guidance counselor.”

Nancy nodded.

“I liked her. I was sorry to hear about her passing.”

Inhaling a shaky breath, Nancy said, “Yeah, me too.” She paused for a moment before continuing. The death of her mother was still very raw. She still cried herself to sleep every night, hoping to wake up the next morning to find out it was all just a bad dream. “Losing her was the worst thing that’s ever happened to me, and I just…I couldn’t deal. So, I gave up on all my schoolwork and I let my grades plummet. I suddenly didn’t care about trying to get into Columbia anymore or becoming an investigative journalist—which is, by the way, what I think I’m actually cut out for. I just gave up. And honestly? I don’t regret it. Even if it means I’m stuck in this town for at least the next year, getting constantly bitched out at work by the girl who hated my guts in high school.”

She paused for a beat, before sneaking a glance over at Ace. “You must think I’m pretty stupid, huh?”

Ace shook his head. “No. Not at all. Although, I’m not exactly in any position to judge, anyway. I mean, look at me. I’m three years out of high school, and I’ve been working here as a dishwasher the entire time.”

“Well, what about you?” Nancy asked. “Have you ever thought about going to college? Is there anything you want to be when you grow up?”

A small smile played at his lips as he stared down at the ground. “As a matter of fact—” he began, but then stopped and immediately wiped the smile off his face. Clearing his throat, he shrugged and said, “Not really.”

Nancy eyed him curiously. He was about to say something. But what? “Not really, huh?”

“Yeah.” The smile returned. “I don’t really care to have any life plans or aspirations right now. I’m sort of a…free spirit, I guess you could say. I just want to take things as they come.”

“A free spirit,” Nancy echoed before adding with a slight smirk, “And a deep soul.”

She wasn’t sure what exactly had inspired her to add that last part, but there was something about this guy that made her think there was a lot more to him than he was letting on.

He was a bit of a mystery.

Maybe if she stuck around long enough at this job and got to know him a little better, she could solve that mystery someday. As Nancy Drew, girl detective.

Ace turned to look at her and when his eyes met hers, she couldn’t help but notice how pretty they were, matching the color of the ocean that bordered their town. He opened his mouth to say something, but before he could get a word out the back door flew open, and George poked her head out.

“Break’s over, you two,” she barked. She didn’t wait for them to respond before retreating inside the restaurant and slamming the door shut behind her.

Both amused, Nancy and Ace simultaneously stood from the bench.

“Ready for round two?” he asked her. “If you think the lunch rush is bad, just wait until the dinner rush.”

Nancy groaned. “Can’t wait.”

“Here.” Ace reached back into his pocket, retrieved the pack of cigarettes, pulled one out, and handed it to her. “Take this.”

Hesitantly, Nancy reached up to take it from him. “I’m not going to smoke this, you know.”

“You don’t have to. Sometimes it helps just knowing it’s there if you need it.”

They began their short trek to the back door, where Ace proceeded to open it and motion for her to go in first.

“And hey,” he added, “if you do ever decide you’re ready to try it and you need a light, you know where to find me. I’ll be where the dirty dishes are.”

Another smile—this one almost too big to fit on her face—graced Nancy’s lips. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d smiled this many times in one day. It had been a long time.

“Thanks, Ace,” she said, brushing past him through the open door. “I really appreciate that.”

Ace was right—the dinner rush did turn out to be way worse than the lunch rush. George yelled at her at least three more times before her shift was over, Bess broke at least three plates and two glasses, and one kid threw up all over the floor right in front of her. And she hated to admit it, but more than once, that lone, unlit cigarette in her locker called out to her, and she was tempted to see if it would help to cut down on her own stress levels. But Ace had already left for the day, so there’d be no one there to light it for her.

But she knew he’d be there tomorrow if she needed him. And for now, anyway, that was enough.

#nace #nancy x ace #ace x nancy #nace fanfic

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coolnerdyandalone · 4 years

Text

on FIMQ deleting her content and COVID-19 (and a gratuitous larry fic rec)

@freddiesmyqueen first of all queen i hope you’re doing ok although i know some shit must have gone down for you to delete/private list all your videos and i hope you know that the larry community supports you always. Also your talent is TRULY unmatched in the world of video editing - no one makes edits quite like you and that’s why your loss impacts the community so profoundly.

secondly, i know at least i was hoping to turn to rewatching all of FIMQ’s videos while i’m being quarantined due to the coronavirus. and i’m willing to bet that i’m not the only one. this is a scary time and for people like me who feel profoundly alone right now, the only way for me to calm my nerves and fears is by reverting to the content and community that helped me feel not so alone when i was in middle and high school. For me, that looks like watching FIMQ videos and reading my favorite larry fanfics (which i will also link below). because of this i thought it might be helpful to repost some links that were posted by @bluemoonlarryandkaylor for a signal boost (if my teeny-tiny account can be called a signal boost).

link to a google drive with FIMQ videos: https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1ONwfLOd_IYvAL5OUDqDb_LLgQsDpd9il

link to an acct with some FIMQ re-uploads: https://www.youtube.com/user/Joana3961/videos

link to FIMQ vids with spanish subtitles: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLIouodFhArMkQhOHxv2t2NgxTwl6KvXAT

and now if you want to look at some good old fashioned larry fics that are my ABSOLUTE faves and could 100% be actual novels/movies, keep reading:

And Then A Bit** by @infinitelymint aka the best fanfic ever written (basically larry fakes a relationship for publicity with each other and it could be cannon if you really wanted to hope upon hopes): https://archiveofourown.org/works/1415272/chapters/2972746 (159k)

“We’d like to give the fans what they want.” Magee states, placing his hand on the table in front of him and leaning forward. “We want to give them Larry Stylinson.”

Or, take a parallel universe where Louis and Harry were never together, mix in a two year hiatus and an impending comeback, pour in a dash of lost fans, two tablespoons of strong friendship and a Modest! employee with a good idea. Add a squeeze of pretending to be a couple, lots of kisses and a tattoo or two. Stir. Serve: the mother of all publicity stunts.

(aka Harry and Louis fake a relationship for publicity. Eventually it becomes a lot less fake and a lot more real.)

Escapade** by @haydolce aka the Jack McQueen fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4034197/chapters/9071932 (146k)

In the grand scheme of things, finding a date for a wedding should be no problem for Louis Tomlinson. He's rich. He's handsome. He's reasonably well behaved. But when the wedding is for his lifelong best friend (and former boyfriend), and is happening in under a month, finding a date for the ceremony and accompanying festivities becomes more of an adventure than he ever could have planned for.

California Sold** by @isthatyoularry : https://archiveofourown.org/works/5157680/chapters/11877494 (123k)

Notoriously closeted boyband member Harry Styles is famous on a global scale, meanwhile Louis, as his best friend, is back home in Manchester, living the typical life of a 24 year old. When Harry needs Louis with him in LA, a publicity stunt gone wrong changes their friendship forever.

A fake-relationship AU between two lifelong best friends.

Bring Your Body Baby (I Could Bring You Fame) by @theboyfriendstagram : https://archiveofourown.org/works/4263903/chapters/9652944 (84k)

Eighteen year old Harry Styles just graduated high school and landed a summer job as a waterboy for his favorite football team. His job description is simple: be ready to hand water and towels to players if needed. That didn’t seem to include Louis Tomlinson though, a twenty-three year old, recently transferred Paris Saint-German player, who seems to like making Harry’s job much more difficult than it has to be.

A self-indulgent AU that takes place over the summer of 2015. 18 year old Harry hates pining after people he can't have, and 23 year old footballer Louis loves flirting with people even though it never means anything.

Pull Me Under** by @zarah5 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/870766/chapters/1672104 (140k)

AU. As the first British footballer to come out at the prime of his career, it helps that Louis Tomlinson is in a long-term, committed relationship. Even if that relationship is fake. (Featuring Niall as Louis' favourite teammate, Liam as Louis' agent, and Zayn as Liam's boyfriend, who just happens to be good friends with one Harry Styles.)

You You You** by @isthatyoularry : https://archiveofourown.org/works/846690/chapters/1617212 (137k)

“Infamous boybander leaves club together with unknown,” read the headline. Underneath were pictures of a boy with dark curls, green eyes and very tight pants. They both studied the article for a moment, reading it through quickly. “Is that…?” Louis frowned. That guy almost looked exactly like... "HOLY FUCKING SHIT!" "Louis," Niall said, looking absolutely fucked over. "You just fucked the most wanted guy on earth. You just fucked Harry Styles of One Direction."

Or, the one where Harry and Louis meet at a club and Louis takes Harry home, only for him to realize that the boy who just made him breakfast half naked is Harry Styles from One Direction.

Like an Endless Summer by @horsegirlharry : https://archiveofourown.org/works/11365494/chapters/25442085 (87k)

“You just wanna go fawn over Styles as soon as possible,” Zayn grumbles.

“I do not. Plus, he probably got ugly this year. Eighteen is an awkward time...I bet he’s got acne and one of those terrible fuckboy haircuts all the hipsters are getting these days, with the shaved sides? Just watch, the first year we’re gonna get any time together is gonna be the first year I don’t have a stupid crush on him.”

---

Or, Louis is a riding instructor at a summer camp, and Harry is a fellow counselor who he’s been successfully managing his crush on for the last two summers. That is, until Harry shows up this year leveled up and lethal, and all Louis’s formerly perfected veneer of nonchalance melts like a popsicle in the sun.

Three French Hems by @100percentsassy and @gloriaandrews : https://archiveofourown.org/works/3064493 (20k)

In which Louis is a designer at Burberry and Harry spends December wearing Lanvin… and Lanvin… and Lanvin.

The Dead of July aka the Marvel Fic by @whimsicule : https://archiveofourown.org/works/3594570/chapters/7928520 (117k)

Being an Avenger means continuing to be Captain America and smiling and being honorable for the public and Harry does his best. But it doesn’t give him time to figure out who he is supposed to be once he takes off his uniform and puts the shield to the side. Just being Harry had always involved Louis, and Harry fears he doesn’t know how to exist without him.

or: Harry is Captain America, and Louis’ been dead for 70 years.

Gods & Monsters by @mizzwilde : https://archiveofourown.org/works/2090982/chapters/4550871 (201k)

The instructions were simple: seduce and destroy Harry Styles. Not once did they discuss the option of Louis actually falling in love. So, naturally, that's exactly what he did.

Love is a Rebellious Bird aka LIARB aka the orchestra fic aka dont hum bolero by @100percentsassy and @gloriaandrews : https://archiveofourown.org/works/1162438/chapters/2362331 (135k)

AU in which the boys still make music. Louis is the concertmaster of the London Symphony Orchestra, Harry is the New! and Exciting! interim conductor/ex-cello prodigy who "has made Mozart cool again" according to Esquire Magazine (Louis hates him immediately, which is definitely why he internet stalked him in his dark bedroom late at night that one time), and Niall is the best. Zayn and Liam are around too.

Don't hum Bolero.

My English Love Affair** by @isthatyoularry : https://archiveofourown.org/works/1873962 (19k)

The thing about sleeping with a member of a famous indie band is that the inevitability of having a song written about you is most likely a hundred percent. The second thing is that in the end, nobody's supposed to find out it's about you.

The one where Harry writes a song about his English love affair and Louis sleeps with someone in White Eskimo and all he gets is a stupid song written about him.

Soft Hands, Fast Feet, Can’t Lose by @haydolce : https://archiveofourown.org/works/5799241/chapters/13366498 (113k)

American Uni AU. Harry Styles is a frat boy football star from the wealthy Styles Family athletic dynasty. A celebrity among football fans, he knows how to play, he knows how to party, and he knows how to fuck (all of which is well known among his legion of admirers).

Louis Tomlinson is a student and an athlete, but his similarities to Harry end there. Intelligent, focused, independent, and completely uninterested in Harry’s charms, Louis is an anomaly in a world ruled by football.

A bet about the pair, who might be more similar than they originally thought, brings them together. Shakespeare, ballet, Disney, football, library chats, running, accidental spooning, Daredevil and Domino’s Pizza all blend into one big friendship Frappucino, but who will win in the end?

Wild and Unruly aka the Cowboy fic by @100percentsassy and @gloriaandrews : https://archiveofourown.org/works/2723093/chapters/6099611 (124k)

Harry is a cowboy sitting on the biggest oil reservoir in Wyoming, and Louis is the paralegal assigned to pressure him into selling his land.

For As Long As I Can Remember (It’s Been December)** by @greenfeelings : https://archiveofourown.org/works/15051122/chapters/34892210 (128k)

After recovering from a severe accident that causes Harry to lose his memory of three years, he moves to London to start his life over as a star chef. Little does he know that when he falls in love with Louis at first sight, it’s not the first time they meet.

Featuring an unintentional game of hot and cold, Harry chasing memories that won’t come back, Louis burying himself in work to try and forget what he can’t forget, Liam being torn between two of his best friends, Zayn as a moral compass and Niall saving the day with good music and brutal honesty.

the boys of fall** aka the american football fic by @godgavemelou : https://archiveofourown.org/works/5443037 (21k)

“And everyone, this is Harry Styles. He’s going to be our starting quarterback this year.”

Louis looks at him, the tall and lanky Harry Styles, and takes it all in. He’s got hair to his shoulders that curls at the ends, tattoos all down his arms, and a bright smile on his face as the team cheers him on. He’s lean and fit, and absolutely beautiful, and Louis hates him to the core.

OR an american football au where the boys play for the university of tennessee, and harry and louis quite hate each other.

** indicates that the fic is a log-in required fic, but if you want the pdf i can send it to you

2K notes · View notes

hockeysweetheart · 4 years

Photo

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

17 Kisses Between Katniss and Peeta in the Hunger Games

9 Kisses Between Katniss and Peeta in Catching Fire

3 In Mockingjay ( and Some)

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

Here is a sort form of the Kisses.

The Hunger Games

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

17. During the Final interveiw they share a kiss.

Catching Fire

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

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

3. They kiss a lot on the victory tour.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

3. The growing back together kiss ( and some)

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

Now Bonus ones

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

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

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

1. The surprise Kiss From Gale That snow knew about

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

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

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

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

Bonus ones

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

So their grand total is 6...

In the Hunger Games ( Book)

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

Chapter 19,

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

A little Later on Chapter 19

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

Chapter 20.

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

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

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

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

Chapter 22

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

Chapter 22 ( The Kiss)

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

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

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

Chapter 23

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

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

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

Chapter 24

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

Chapter 26.

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

Chapter 27

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

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

Chapter 27.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Catching fire

Chapter 3

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

Chapter 4

Favourite colour

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

Chapter 4

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

Chapter 5

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

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

Chapter 6 On the way home

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter 12

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

Chapter 13

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

Chapter 14 ( Okay this hug tho)

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

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

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

Chapter 17

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

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

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

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

“No nightmares,” he says.

“No nightmares,” I confirm. “You?”

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

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

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

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

“Who says we can’t?” he asks.

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll allow it,” I say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter 18 Peeta’s interview

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

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

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

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

See you soon

Chapter 19

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter 19/20 Cpr is a kind of kissing

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

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

Chapter 24

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

THE BEACH SCENE Chapter 24 if your wondering

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

Chapter 25

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

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

Chapter 26

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

Mockingjay .

Chapter 3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No,” says Coin flatly.

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

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

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

My words hang in the air for a long moment.

Chapter 16

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

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

Chapter 18

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

Chapter 19

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

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

Chapter 21

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

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

Chapter 22

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

Chapter 23

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter 27

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

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

epilogue

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

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

Here the daisies guard you from every harm

Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true

Here is the place where I love you.

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

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

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

But there are much worse games to play.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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aion-rsa · 3 years

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The Star Trek: The Original Series Episodes That Best Define the Franchise

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By the time my generation got to watch Star Trek: The Original Series, the episodes often were being presented in top-ten marathons. When I was ten-years-old, for the 25th Anniversary of Star Trek, I tape-recorded a marathon of ten episodes that had all been voted by fans as the best-ever installments of The Original Series. Later, I got lucky and found Trek stickers at the grocery store and was able to label my VHS tapes correctly. But do I think all the episodes that were in that marathon back in 1991 were really the best episodes of all of the classic Star Trek? The short answer: no. Although I love nearly every episode of the first 79 installments of Star Trek, I do think that certain lists have been created by what we think should be on the list rather than what episodes really best represent the classic show.

This is a long-winded way of saying, no, I didn’t include “Amok Time” or “The Menagerie” on this list because, as great as they are, I don’t think they really represent the greatest hits of the series. Also, if you’ve never watched TOS, I think those two episodes will throw you off cause you’ll assume Spock is always losing his mind or trying to steal the ship. If you’ve never watched TOS, or you feel like rewatching it with fresh eyes, I feel pretty strong that these 10 episodes are not only wonderful, but that they best represent what the entire series is really about. Given this metric, my choice for the best episode of TOS may surprise you…

10. “The Man Trap”

The first Star Trek ever episode aired should not be the first episode you watch. And yet, you should watch it at some point. The goofy premise concerns an alien with shaggy dog fur, suckers on its hand, and a face like a terrifying deep-sea fish. This alien is also a salt vampire that uses telepathy that effectively also makes it a shapeshifter. It’s all so specifically bonkers that trying to rip-off this trope would be nuts. Written by science fiction legend George Clayton Johnson (one half of Logan’s Run authorship) “The Man Trap” still slaps, and not because Spock (Leonard Nimoy) tries to slap the alien. Back in the early Season 1 episodes of Star Trek, the “supporting” players like Uhura and Sulu are actually doing stuff in the episode. We all talk about Kirk crying out in pain when the M-113 creature puts those suckers on his face, but the real scene to watch is when Uhura starts speaking Swahili. The casual way Uhura and Sulu are just their lovable selves in this episode is part of why we just can’t quit the classic Star Trek to this day. Plus, the fact that the story is technically centered on Bones gives the episode some gravitas and oomph. You will believe an old country doctor thinks that salt vampire is Nancy! (Spoiler alert: It’s not Nancy.)

9. “Let that Be Your Last Battlefield”

There are two episodes everyone always likes to bring up when discussing the ways in which Star Trek changed the game for the better in pop culture’s discourse on racism: “Plato’s Stepchildren” and this episode, “Let that Be Your Last Battlefield.” The former episode is famous because Kirk and Uhura kiss, which is sometimes considered the first interracial kiss on an American TV show. (British TV shows had a few of those before Star Trek, though.) But “Plato’s Stepchildren” is not a great episode, and Kirk and Uhura were also manipulated to kiss by telepaths. So, no, I’m not crazy about “Plato’s Stepchildren.” Uhura being forced to kiss a white dude isn’t great.

But “Let that Be Your Last Battlefield,” oddly holds up. Yep. This is the one about space racism where the Riddler from the ‘60s Batman (Frank Gorshin) looks like a black-and-white cookie. Is this episode cheesy? Is it hard to take most of it seriously? Is it weird that Bele (Frank Gorshin) didn’t have a spaceship because the budget was so low at that time? Yes. Is the entire episode dated, and sometimes borderline offensive even though its heart is in the right place? Yes. Does the ending of the episode still work? You bet it does. If you’re going to watch OG Star Trek and skip this episode, you’re kind of missing out on just how charmingly heavy-handed the series could get. “Let that Be Your Last Battlefield” is like a ‘60s after-school special about racism, but they were high while they were writing it.

8. “Arena”

You’re gonna try to list the best episodes of Star Trek: The Original Series and not list the episode where Kirk fights a lizard wearing gold dress-tunic? The most amazing thing about “Arena” is that it’s a Season 1 episode of The Original Series and somehow everyone involved in making TOS had enough restraint not to ever try to use this Gorn costume again. They didn’t throw it away either! This famous rubber lizard was built by Wah Chang and is currently owned by none other than Ben Stiller.

So, here’s the thing about “Arena” that makes it a great episode of Star Trek, or any TV series with a lizard person. Kirk refuses to kill the Gorn even though he could have, and Star Trek refused to put a lizard costume in a bunch of episodes later, even though they totally could have. Gold stars all around.

7. “Balance of Terror”

The fact that Star Trek managed to introduce a race of aliens that looked exactly like Spock, and not confuse its viewership is amazing. On top of that, the fact that this detail isn’t exactly the entire focus of the episode is equally impressive. The notion that the Romulans look like Vulcans is a great twist in The Original Series, and decades upon decades of seeing Romulans has probably dulled the novelty ever so slightly. But, the idea that there was a brutally cold and efficient version of the Vulcans flying around in invisible ships blowing shit up is not only cool, but smart.

“Balance of Terror” made the Romulans the best villains of Star Trek because their villainy felt personal. Most Romulan stories in TNG, DS9, and Picard are pretty damn good and they all start right here.

6. “Space Seed”

Khaaaan!!!! Although The Wrath of Khan is infinitely more famous than the episode from which it came, “Space Seed” is one of the best episodes of The Original Series even if it hadn’t been the progenitor of that famous film. In this episode, the worst human villain the Enterprise can encounter doesn’t come from the present, but instead, the past. Even though “Space Seed” isn’t considered a very thoughtful episode and Khan is a straight-up gaslighter, the larger point here is that Khan’s evilness is connected to the fact that he lived on a version of Earth closer to our own.

The episode’s coda is also amazing and speaks of just how interesting Captain Kirk really is. After Khan beat the shit out of him and tried to suffocate the entire Enterprise crew, Kirk’s like “Yeah, this guy just needs a long camping trip.”

5. “A Piece of the Action”

A few years back, Saturday Night Live did a Star Trek sketch in which it was revealed that Spock had a relative named “Spocko.” This sketch was tragically unfunny because TOS had already made the “Spocko” joke a million times better in “A Piece of the Action.” When you describe the premise of this episode to someone who has never seen it or even heard of it, it sounds like you’re making it up. Kirk, Spock, and Bones are tasked with cleaning-up a planet full of old-timey mobsters who use phrases like “put the bag on you.” Not only is the episode hilarious, but it also demonstrates the range of what Star Trek can do as an emerging type of pop-art. In “A Piece of the Action,” Star Trek begins asking questions about genres that nobody ever dreamed of before. Such as, “what if we did an old-timey gangster movie, but there’s a spaceship involved?”

4. “Devil in the Dark”

When I was a kid, my sister and I called this episode, “the one with giant pizza.” Today, it’s one of those episodes of Star Trek that people tell you defines the entire franchise. They’re not wrong, particularly because we’re just talking about The Original Series. The legacy of this episode is beyond brilliant and set-up a wonderful tradition within the rest of the franchise; a monster story is almost never a monster story

The ending of this episode is so good, and Leonard Nimoy and Shatner play the final scenes so well that I’m actually not sure it’s cool to reveal what the big twist is. If you somehow don’t know, I’ll just say this. You can’t imagine Chris Pratt’s friendly Velicrapotrs, or Ripper on Discovery without the Horta getting their first.

3. “The Corbomite Maneuver”

If there’s one episode on this list that truly represents what Star Trek is usually all about on a plot level, it’s this one. After the first two pilot episodes —“Where No Man Has Gone Before” and “The Cage”—this was the first regular episode filmed. It’s the first episode with Uhura and, in almost every single way, a great way to actually explain who all these characters are and what the hell they’re doing. The episode begins with Spock saying something is “fascinating” and then, after the opening credits, calling Kirk, who is down in sickbay with his shirt off. Bones gives Kirk shit about not having done his physical in a while, and Kirk wanders through the halls of the episode without his shirt, just kind of holding his boots.

That’s just the first like 5 minutes. It just gets better and better from there. Like a good bottle of tranya, this episode only improves with time. And if you think it’s cheesy and the big reveal bizarre, then I’m going to say, you’re not going to like the rest of Star Trek.

2. “The City on the Edge of Forever”

No more blah blah blah! Sorry, wrong episode. Still, you’ve heard about “The City on the Edge of Forever.” You’ve heard it’s a great time travel episode. You’ve heard Harlan Ellison was pissed about how the script turned out. You heard that Ron Moore really wanted to bring back Edith Keeler for Star Trek Generations. (Okay, maybe you haven’t heard that, but he did.)

Everything you’ve heard about this episode is correct. There’s some stuff that will make any sensible person roll their eyes today, but the overall feeling of this episode is unparalleled. Time travel stories are always popular, but Star Trek has never really done a time travel story this good ever again. The edge of forever will always be just out of reach.

1. “A Taste of Armageddon”

Plot twist! This excellent episode of TOS almost never makes it on top ten lists. Until now! If you blink, “A Taste of Armageddon” could resemble at least a dozen other episodes of TOS. Kirk and Spock are trapped without their communicators. The crew has to overpower some guards to get to some central computer hub and blow it up. Scotty is in command with Kirk on the surface and is just kind of scowling the whole time. Kirk is giving big speeches about how humanity is great because it’s so deeply flawed.

What makes this episode fantastic is that all of these elements come together thanks to a simplistic science fiction premise: What if a society eliminated violence but retained murder? What if hatred was still encouraged, but war was automated? Star Trek’s best moments were often direct allegories about things that were actually happening, but what makes “A Taste of Armageddon” so great is that this metaphor reached for something that could happen. Kirk’s solution to this problem is a non-solution, which makes the episode even better. At its best classic Star Trek wasn’t just presenting a social problem and then telling us how to fix it. Sometimes it was saying something more interesting — what if the problem gets even harder? What do we do then?

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The humor and bombast of “A Taste of Armageddon” is part of the answer to that unspoken question, but there’s also a clever lesson about making smaller philosophical decisions. In Star Wars, people are always trying to rid themselves of the dark side of the Force. In Star Trek, Kirk just teaches us to say, “Hey I won’t be a terrible person, today” and then just see how many days we can go in a row being like that.

What do you think are the most franchise-defining episodes of Star Trek: The Original Series? Let us know in the comments below.

The post The Star Trek: The Original Series Episodes That Best Define the Franchise appeared first on Den of Geek.

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allthingsfangirl101 · 4 years

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Seeing Right Through You–Stiles Stilinski

Requested by babyimbi_bi_bi

Trigger Warning: angst, anxiety attacks, panic attacks, depression, attempted suicide

You never know how much someone is struggling until it's too late. Well, my friends don't know that I've been fighting anxiety and depression since middle school.

It started after a group of girls cornered me in the locker room. After that, they started cornering me a lot more. They'd make fun of my clothes, my hair, and anything about me that didn't fit in with them.

I thought about telling Stiles and Scott, but I knew how they'd react. They would threaten to hurt the girls or get Stiles's dad involved. So, I didn't tell them. I didn't tell them about my first anxiety attack in the girls' locker room that day. I didn't tell them about every anxiety attack after. I didn't tell them about the days that I just didn't feel anything and almost did something so I could.

Every time I have an anxiety attack, I excuse myself. I go to the bathroom, sit through my attack on my own, and compose myself before rejoining the group. And they never knew the wiser. So much for all that werewolf senses shit.

We were currently sitting in the library talking about our latest supernatural problem. I wasn't paying attention because I was trying to stop an anxiety attack.

"Y/N?" Stiles whispered as he reached over and touched my arm.

"I'm fine," I barely got out. I could feel his eyes on me, but I ignored it. I took a few breaths but knew I wouldn't be able to shake this one. I stood up and quickly left the library, ignoring my friends' questioning looks.

When I got to the bathroom, I locked myself in a stall and leaned my forehead against the cold stall door. My hands shook as it got harder and harder to breathe. It felt like the walls were closing in on me and then opening back up just in time to close again.

I sucked in a breath, leaned against the stall, and covered my mouth when I heard the bathroom door open.

"Y/N? Sweetie, are you in here?" Lydia called out.

"Yeah," I said, clearing my throat to hopefully sound normal.

"Okay, well, we're heading towards Scott's house. Want us to wait?"

"No," I said quickly. "I'll meet you guys there."

"Okay. Oh! I brought your bag. It's by the sink."

"Thanks."

"See ya."

I let out a shaky breathe when I heard the door closed. I sat on the toilet seat and put my face in my hands as my whole body shook. It took me a few minutes to get my breathing back to normal. Once I could actually breathe, I lifted my head out of my hands and took a few more calming breaths.

I stood up and opened the stall door. I walked over to the sink and turned on the water. Once it was warm, I splashed some onto my face. I grabbed a paper towel and dried off. I threw it away and grabbed my phone from my bag. I opened our pack message and quickly texted them.

To: �� THE Pack 🐺

Me: Hey, guys. I'm not feeling very well so I'm gonna head home instead of coming over and risk getting you all sick. I'll see you tomorrow.

* * * * *

After I sent the text yesterday, I turned off my phone and drove straight home. I spent the entire night in my bed, watching a show I've seen a thousand times on Netflix.

You know what they say; the reason people who suffer from anxiety rewatch tv shows is because they know what's going to happen, and that creates a sense of safety and comfort.

I woke up the next morning and decided to finally turn my phone back on. I sighed when I saw several texts from the pack and about 25 individual texts from Stiles. Instead of answering them, I tossed my phone onto my bed and took a shower.

I walked into school with my head down, not in the mood to really talk to anyone.

"Hey, girly." Lydia smiled as she met me at my locker. "Whoa. . . You feeling okay?"

"I'm fine," I stuttered. "Just umm. . . I've been having a lot of migraines lately and. . . And they make me lightheaded."

"Oh," she said softly as she gently moved a piece of hair I must have missed when I pulled my hair back this morning. "Do you want me to take you home?"

"Why would you take her home?" Stiles asked as he and Scott joined us.

"No reason," I tried to say quickly. Lydia sighed as she interrupted me.

"Y/N's been having migraines lately," she explained. "And they make her sick.

"What?" Stiles panicked as he stepped closer to me. "Are you okay? Do you need anything? You do look kind of pale. Let me drive you home."

"I'm fine," I snapped as I took a step away from my friends. "I've dealt with them before, so. . . Can we just go to class?"

The three looked at each other nervously. Stiles and Scott were about to say something, but Lydia interrupted them. "I think that's a great idea. You and I have English first period."

The guys tried to object, but Lydia sent them her "motherly glare" she's grown famous for. "We'll meet you two in Mr. Harris's class."

* * * * *

The whole day the pack continually checked on me, asking if I needed them to take me home. I constantly caught Stiles watching me, acting as if he wanted to say something.

The last class of the day just ended and Scott and Stiles were going to practice while Lydia and I were heading to her house to study.

"Y/N, wait." Stiles stopped me before I could head to my car. He led me over to the lockers, away from Scott and Lydia.

"What's up?"

"I know you're lying," he cut me off.

"What?" I stuttered.

"Come on, Y/N," he sighed. "I know you. And I know when another person is hiding when they have an anxiety attack."

"I don't know what you're talking about," I stuttered as I tried to walk away.

"Y/N," Stiles said looking at me knowingly. "I know you have anxiety. I know you're fighting depression too."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Y/N, I know how you've been feeling lately and I. . ."

"How could you possibly know?" I asked, cutting him off. Stiles's eyes softened when he saw my emotions finally coming through.

I looked down at my shoes, my eyes filling with water. I took a deep breath and the tears immediately stopped. I slowly looked back up at Stiles with a fake smile on my face.

"Y/N, just talk to me." Stiles sighed, trying to grab my hand. I immediately pulled it out of his grasp and took a step back, fixing the strap of my bag.

"Tell Lydia my migraine got worse and I can't make it to her house to study tonight," I said as I quickly turned on my heel and left.

* * * * *

When I got home, I couldn't turn my brain off. I couldn't catch my breath. And I couldn't stop my whole body from shaking. I paced around my room, unable to stop my anxiety attack.

Somehow, Stiles knew what was going on. I've never said anything and I've always been careful about showing symptoms. So how could he know? Is there something about the way that I look that makes it obvious?

Now that he knows, will he tell the pack? If he does, what will they do? Will they try to help or will they ignore it? Will what they do help me or make it worse? Will them ignoring it make it worse or better?

What if they are completely done with me? What if they don't want to be my friends anymore? What if I lose them because I'm not mentally stable?

Before I knew what I was doing, I walked into my bathroom.

* * * * *

Stiles's POV

When Y/N ignored my fifth call and eleventh text message, I decided to go over to her house. My eyebrows furrowed when I saw that her parent's cars were gone, only her car was in front of their house.

I knocked on the door and waited for her to answer. The longer it took her to answer, the worse the feeling in my stomach got. "Y/N," I called out. "Come on. Open up. We need to talk about this. Please?"

I sighed as there was no sound or movement coming from inside the house. I was surprised when I found that their front door was unlocked.

"I thought Y/N always locked the door as soon as she got home from school," I mumbled as I walked in. I looked around, furrowing my eyebrows when nothing looked out of place or off.

"Y/N?" I yelled, waiting for her to respond. "I know you're home. Your car's in the driveway."

I jogged up the stairs, immediately going to her room. I walked inside and looked around, my heart sinking when there was no sign of her.

"Y/N? Where the hell are you?" I mumbled under my breath.

I sucked in a breath when I saw something in her bathroom. "Y/N!" I yelled as I ran towards her. I fell to my knees and gently pulled her into my chest.

"Y/N?" I asked, my voice breaking as I tried to get my best friend to wake up. "Wake up, please. Come on, Y/N."

I shakily reached for my phone, as I held Y/N close to my chest.

"911, what's your emergency?"

* * * * *

I sat in the waiting room, my bouncing knee practically shaking the whole floor. I looked around, finally noticing that her parents still haven't shown up and we've been here two hours.

"Stiles?"

I looked up to see Scott running towards me. I stood up and wiped my sweaty hands on my jeans. "What's going on?" Scott asked. "Is Y/N okay?"

"I don't know," I stuttered. "She's been hiding her anxiety and depression from us, Scott."

"Wait, what?"

"Yeah," I sighed. "I've seen the signs. Some of what happens to her, has happened to me. I've tried to talk to her about it but she just blew me off and said she was fine. I've called her a hundred times and sent her a thousand texts. She hadn't responded to any of them so I decided to go to her house. When I got there, the door was unlocked."

"That's weird," Scott mumbled as he glanced down the hallway towards Y/N's room. "She always locks the door the second she gets home. She's like religious about it."

"Exactly. Her house looked completely normal but I couldn't find her. I went up to her room and. . . I found her passed out on her bathroom floor. . . Next to an empty pill bottle."

"Holy shit," Scott mumbled. We sat down, neither one of us saying anything. A few minutes later, we noticed Scott's mom walking towards us. I jumped up, Scott instantly jumping up too.

"How is she?" I asked before she could even start to explain.

"She's fine," she sighed, a small chuckle leaving her lips. "We're actually very lucky that you found her when you did."

"That's great," Scott said, laughing in relief.

"I just don't understand why she would do this?" I asked under my breath.

"Well," Melissa cleared her throat. "Why don't you ask her? She's awake."

* * * * *

I stood outside Y/N's hospital room, hesitating to go inside. I wasn't sure if I was ready to see whatever state she was in. I took a deep breath before walking in. When I finally opened the door, Y/N slowly looked at me.

"Stiles?" She whispered. "What are you. . . What are you doing here?"

"I umm," I stuttered. "I went to your house when you didn't answer your phone and I. . . I found you. . . I found you passed out on your bathroom floor."

"Oh," she said under her breath. She looked away from me and down at her hands, beginning to play with the edge of the blanket draped over her.

When Y/N didn't say anything else, I sighed and walked over to the chair in the corner. I grabbed it and placed it closer to her bed.

"Y/N," I said gently, breaking the silence. "I've seen through your "I'm fine" act you've been so heavily depending on the past couple of months. I've seen through every brave face, every hidden second of pain. I've seen every time you've walked out on the pack because you were hiding an anxiety attack or depression episode. I know what's been going on and you have to talk to me about it."

"Why?" Y/N asked, barely audible.

"Because you're one of my best friends," I sighed, my frustration building.

"Stiles," she stuttered.

"No," I cut her off, not meaning to come off as harshly as I did. I sighed as I scooted closer to her. "Y/N," I said softer. "You don't have to hide this from the pack. Especially not from me."

"But I. . ." She stuttered, not finishing her thought. I hesitated before reaching over and grabbing her hand in mine. She looked up at me with tears in her eyes.

"Y/N, I know how hard depression and anxiety are. I know how it feels like you're drowning and can't quite seem to catch your breath. I know that every time you're having an anxiety attack, you go to the bathroom to go through it alone. Right?"

I held my breath as I waited for her to respond. The tears in her eyes finally started streaming down her cheeks as she nodded.

"How did you know?" She asked under her breath.

"Because that's what I do," I smiled as I reached up and caught a tear with my thumb, my hand lingering on her cheek. "I push it down until I can get alone. But you don't have to do that anymore, Y/N. You've got a pack who would do anything to take care of you and a best friend who knows exactly what you've been through."

Y/N finally let out the sob that she has been holding in. I jumped up and wrapped my arms around her, pulling her into my chest. I held her as she cried, her whole body shaking in my arms.

"I'm sorry," she said over and over again.

"You don't have to be," I reached up and ran my fingers through her hair. "I'm just happy you're okay. I don't know what I would do if I lost you, Y/N."

Y/N pulled out of my arms and looked down at our hands, intertwining our fingers. "I'm sorry, Stiles," she whispered. "I should've told you sooner, I just. . . I should've known my best friend would understand more than most."

"It's more than that," I said slowly as I gathered more courage.

"What do you mean?" Y/N said, tilting her head slightly.

I took a deep breath as I gathered as much courage as I could. When I had enough, I blurted it out. "I love you, Y/N."

"I know," she smiled a little as she looked away.

"No," I cut her off. "No, you don't know."

I ran my hands through my hair in frustration. I sat back down and scooted the chair closer to Y/N's bed. I reached over, grabbing her hand in both of mine.

"I'm in love with you, Y/N," I said gently as I studied her face. "I have been since we were in middle school."

"Really?" Y/N asked quietly. I laughed as I nodded and reached up, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

"Really," I chuckled. "You're more than just my best friend, Y/N. You're my dream girl, the girl I've had my eyes on and never looked anywhere else, the girl I've dreamed about finally being with for years. I'm completely, overly, madly in love with you, Y/F/N Y/L/N."

I held my breath as I waited for her to respond. She looked at me, blinking a couple of times. I was just about to apologize an awkwardly leave the room when Y/N grabbed my face and pulled me towards her. I fell onto the edge of the bed as she pressed her lips to mine.

It didn't even take me half a second to start kissing her back. I felt her smile into the kiss as our lips moved in sync. I broke the kiss and leaned my forehead against hers as we caught our breath.

"I love you too, Stiles," she whispered, breaking the silence. I leaned back to look at her with a goofily big smile on my face.

"Really?" I asked, reaching up and tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. She chuckled as she bit her bottom lip.

"Really."

#stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski fanfic #stiles stilinski imagines #stiles stilinksi imagine #dylan o'brien #dylan o'brien imagine

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marvella15 · 4 years

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Astaire & Rogers Rewatch Part 4: Top Hat

• So we’ve reached Top Hat, which is generally everyone’s favorite including @elloette. Even many film historians say it’s the best Astaire/Rogers film. And it’s definitely one of the best but not the best imo. It does however have some of my favorite dances and songs and probably the most famous dance Astaire and Rogers ever created.

• Top Hat is kind of like a more sophisticated version of Gay Divorcee. It also has probably the best example of the Big White Set that was ubiquitous to these films. If I’m not mistaken they dyed the water black to make the set stand out more *goes to check IMDB* yep!

• Our characters/actors: Jerry Travers (Fred Astaire), Dale Tremont (Ginger Rogers), Horace Hardwick (Edward Everett Horton), Madge Hardwick (Helen Broderick), Alberto Beddini (Erik Rhodes)

• I never realized it before but Horace and his valet are like a bickering old couple. In many ways, they make far more sense as a pair than Horace and Madge.

• I’m back again to gush about Astaire’s singing. He slides effortlessly into “No Strings (I’m Fancy Free)” straight from the dialogue, and it sounds perfectly natural. Like the way hb and I integrate Parks and Rec quotes into everyday dialogue, but obviously Astaire is a bit fancier.

• His line about feeling like a sailor at sea is fitting since, in his next film, he will indeed be a sailor.

• This is a favorite solo routine for sure. He’s just so joyful and in the groove. I especially like when he taps out the beat on the side table and startles Horace with short burst of taps.

• Horace thinks he’s such hot shit that some random young woman has come to see him at his hotel late at night.

• Astaire didn’t think he was handsome and didn’t enjoy watching himself on screen, hence the grimace when he looks in the mirror, which is played for a laugh. But that opinion runs contrary to Astaire’s place as one of the leading men of Hollywood and as one part of some of the most romantic moments in film history, primarily with Rogers. It lends credence to Katharine Hepburn’s famous saying that Astaire gave Rogers “class,” and she gave him “sex” (metaphorically). He’s arguably never sexier than when dancing with Ginger Rogers.

• When Dale comes upstairs to tell him to shut up, she gives zero effs. Doesn’t care that he’s trying to be charming or funny, or that he’s sorry for waking her, or that he’s flirting with her, doesn’t care about him at all in any way. Just shut up so I can sleep, is her message.

• But then. She is charmed by his soft shoe dance on a sandy floor to lull her to sleep.

• Spotted: young Lucille Ball as the florist’s assistant. We’ll see her in the next movie too where she’ll have her first ever credited roll.

• Astaire’s face when he asks, “Don’t I even get any thanks?” is so heartfelt and open. It always makes me awwwwwwww.

• Another favorite line of dialogue from these films:

Jerry, holding an umbrella in a downpour: “May I rescue you?”

Dale, unimpressed: “No, thank you. I prefer being in distress.”

• “Isn’t it a Lovely Day?” is a flirtatious song and they act it that way but the true flirting comes in the dance, which is about partnership and equality. They imitate one another throughout the scene, starting even while Astaire is singing. Rogers puts a hand on her chest and he then does the same. They’re dressed alike as well, thanks to her riding outfit, and that furthers the theme by making her more masculine to match him but it’s also advantageous for some of the moves they’ll perform, such as when she lifts him.

• Jerry thinks he’s in control. He’s surprised, but pleased, to find Dale has gotten up and followed him as he begins to dance. He thinks he’s won her over. Then she mocks him a bit by sticking her hands in her pockets like he’s done and surprises him even more by busting out her own little extra tap. She’s telling him she’s not there just to follow his lead and any relationship between them will only work if they’re equals.

• They’re definitely testing each other in this dance, finding out if they are drift compatible. Trying this step and that to see if the other can keep up. She keeps glancing at him in a self-satisfied way. He crosses his arms to see if she’ll do the same. They circle the space mirroring each other with every movement, and while they’re in sync, it’s still like one is leading and the other is following. Until they clap in unison, skip forward, and land at the exact same time. They spin around neatly and he glances over, smiling in pleasure, and so is she.

• The first time they touch is over a minute and a half in and it’s only to lend a hand so each can twirl in turn. They glide forward and back in a wide loop as the music builds and now they’re smiling in earnest and it’s not just the characters; it’s Astaire and Rogers. He mouths something to her, maybe more than once, and they’re both clearly enjoying themselves.

• It’s only in the last 30 seconds or so that they actually touch for real, and it’s because she has crooked her arm in invitation. He spins them around the bandstand together and although it’s a fairly standard move Astaire uses a lot, because they’re both in trousers, you can see just how close they are to one another, knees and hips pressed together.

• And now they combine both elements of the dance: imitation and partnership. They move as reflections of one another and take turns lifting each other. During this portion is where you once again can see the acting stop and the actors just being themselves. As they near the end of the dance, Astaire and Rogers both grin in delight and he maybe looks especially proud of her. This was a technical dance with a lot of movement and she nails it. While her gowns often add to their duets, it’s routines like this, where she’s in trousers, that you can see her technical skill really shine.

• One of the many ways Rogers contributed to the dancing partnership was in being their “button finder,” which means she was good at figuring out how to end a scene or dance. The best example is at the end of this dance, where she came up with the idea for them to finish by having Jerry and Dale simply shake hands.

• Don’t miss the sex joke in the middle of Horace and Jerry’s argument:

Horace, who is concerned about scandal ahead of Jerry’s show: “Why, I’d rather have had it (getting slapped) happen to me than to you.”

Jerry, not missing a beat: “Oh, of course, if you enjoy that sort of thing.”

Horace: “I do, immensely… (realizing what he’s just said) Now don’t be absurd!”

• Dale’s line, “I hate men. I hate you. I hate all men!” is a mood.

• Beddini’s response, “I am no man. I am Beddini!” is how all men think of themselves.

• Interesting that all we’ve seen Dale and Jerry do is dance a very fun, flirtatious, but not necessarily romantic duet (ok, fine it was in a bandstand while it was raining which is pretty romantic but you get it), and yet she says, “How could he have made love to me when he was married all the time?” 🤔🤔🤔

Further 🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔

Horace: “You sure you didn’t forget yourself in the park?

Jerry: “Positive. If I ever forgot myself with that girl, I’d remember.”

• Seriously, there are some vibes between Horace and his valet. *gaydar pings very quietly out of earshot of the censors*

• I like Astaire’s little warm-up in his dressing room. Seems like the kind of thing he probably did irl.

• One of my absolute favorites moments is when Jerry instructs Horace to charter a plane so they can fly down to meet Dale. Horace asks, “What kind of plane?” And Jerry, already about to miss his stage cue, leans back into the doorway quickly to say, “One with wiiiings!”

• The physical “invitation” Jerry uses when singing the appropriate line in “Top Hat, White Tie and Tails” is actually Madge’s telegram about Dale. He took it on stage with him after snatching it from Horace’s hands.

• There are conflicting stories about how many canes Astaire broke while filming this sequence and which take was used. One account says he broke 12 canes in frustration while failing to get the number absolutely right and the 13th (and last cane) was used in the final take, which was then printed. But Astaire recalled that Jimmy Cagney, who was visiting the set at the time, advised him that he’d nailed it on the second take. Astaire wanted to try a couple more but the next day, agreed that Cagney was right and the second take was used.

• Shooting down his rivals with a cane and using taps for bullets was based on a gimmick Astaire had used years before in a terrible Broadway show. Here it became one of his most iconic creations. I especially like when he fires off a shot at the Horace’s stuffy club members in the audience.

• How on earth did Dale think that Jerry was married to Madge? In what world are they compatible? Granted, she hasn’t actually met Horace but still.

• While Horace is in the bathtub in his shower cap:

Horace: “Jerry! I don’t think it’s safe for you to see that girl alone.”

Jerry: “Well, I don’t think it would be quite proper for you to receive her that way.”

• In most Astaire/Rogers movies, he has a lot of bravado and pursues her but she almost always ends up shocking the hell out of him when she turns out to also be ballsy af. In Gay Divorcee, she invited him to her room. In Top Hat, she comes up to see him alone and then kisses him.

Hardly a romantic kiss btw. But we still aren’t to the place where we talk about the lack of kisses in this film series.

• Aaaaaand again, Astaire’s singing is so perfect for this song. He leads straight from conversation into the lyrics. The music has already been playing in the background, and he makes it appear he’s created the lyrics of “Cheek to Cheek” just for her in this moment.

• Rogers does a magnificent job of softening when he starts to sing. Her eyes flick up and down his face, touched that he’s serenading her. And when Astaire drops his tone on the word “seek,” his gaze is heated for a just a moment and her lips quirk a little. Being sung to is awkward but she makes it seem like the most romantic thing.

• Like in “Night in Day” in Gay Divorcee, this dance is about seduction but its more developed than in the prior film. Because the characters have already danced together, elements of “Isn’t it a Lovely Day?” seep in, such as the short tap routine they do side by side. Instead of getting her to simply give in to him, he is asking her to trust him, to remember the equality and partnership they’d built before. He almost never takes his eyes off her for the entire dance, even watching her out of the corner of his eye when they’re side by side.

• I would say most of this dance falls into the “acting” category but there are a couple Astaire and Rogers moments that peek through. After the first time he leans her back and them brings them together so their faces are close, he smiles privately to her. After their little tap section, he swings her back into his arms and they’re both smiling in delight.

• A few times the only place they’re touching is his hand on her back and there’s something very Victorian hot about that.

• I’ve always liked the moment where she twirls and he waits, hand outstretched, expression openly adoring, until she takes his hand without looking and they’re in sync again.

• Another callback to “Isn’t it a Lovely Day?”: In that dance, she crooked her arm in invitation to him. Here, she leaves her arm up so he can wrap it around his neck.

• Several times he leans her back, each time dipping her a little further and keeping her there a little longer, but never failing to hold her and bring her up. Each time showing her she can trust him. When they reach the climax, she bends back completely and he holds her for several looooong seconds before very slowly returning her to her feet. Complete surrender and trust from them both. And after that moment, there is no need for anything else to cement their relationship. He can simply bring them cheek to cheek.

• Something that is evident in most of his partnered dances but perhaps most obvious in a duet like this with Rogers is that Astaire was very good about making his partner the central focus. Your eyes instinctively watch Rogers, not him, throughout the performance. But credit must also be given to Rogers herself for commanding the screen so thoroughly not solely because of her elegant dancing and gorgeous gown but because she remembers to keep acting the entire time. We never doubt that Dale is falling in love with Jerry through this dance.

• Sooo the feather dress. So much to say, some of which you may already know:

The short story is, as soon as they started filming the dance, the feathers on the dress flew everywhere. No one wanted that dress to be used, except Ginger Rogers, and she refused to wear something else.

Director Mark Sandrich, who was a dick to Rogers all the time, wanted her to wear a gown from Gay Divorcee. She told him to GTFO. Then she called her badass mom who came to the set to also tell him to GTFO.

Because they could be little shits, Astaire and Hermes Pan made up lyrics mocking the dress, set to the tune of "Cheek to Cheek.” They went, "Feathers, I hate feathers, And I hate them so that I can hardly speak, And I never find the happiness I seek, With those chicken feathers dancing cheek to cheek."

Rogers was pissed, not in the least because she had designed the dress herself and also they were ostrich feathers tyvm. Tbh it does look pretty magnificent in the final edit of the film… but that was after every single feather had been hand sewn into place. And you can still see some of them float off.

In their next film, Astaire is going to get whacked in the face by the heavy, beaded sleeve of Rogers’ dress so he really had it easy here.

He also knew he’d gone too far in poking fun at her dress and generally being an ass about the entire situation. Astaire apologized to Rogers by giving her a gold feather for her charm bracelet and affectionately calling her “Feathers” in the accompanying note (“Dear Feathers, I love ya! -Fred”). The nickname stuck. Later, he would also give her a beautiful travel watch that was housed in a golden envelope. Engraved on the outside of the envelope in Astaire’s writing? “By Hand/To Feathers/All best love -Fred.”

• The dress is absolutely essential to the dreamy quality of this dance. It makes her look like she’s floating along, caught up in being in love and in his arms. She even seems to come out of a daydream once they’ve finished dancing.

• The plot and dialogue jump through so many hoops to avoid Madge ever once saying, “my husband’s friend, Jerry,” which would clear up everything instantly.

• Interesting that when Dale reminisces sadly about her love for Jerry, whom she doesn’t think she can actually be with, the tune that plays is “Isn’t it a Lovely Day?” and not “Cheek to Cheek.” High romance is lovely but sometimes nothing beats being able to laugh and have fun together.

• Horace and Jerry have been sharing the bridal suite, as it was the only room available when they arrived. But now that Dale has impulsively agreed to marry Beddini, the management asks if Jerry and Horace would be wiling to give up the suite in exchange for a different room.

Jerry: “Well, we’ve hardly settled in it yet… Have we, angel?”

Horace: “No, and all our clothes are...(realizing Jerry is teasing him) Oh, please.”

• Upon finally realizing what’s actually been going on with Dale:

Jerry: “She’s been mistaking me for Horace all this time.”

Madge: “No wonder she thought Horace was fascinating.”

Horace: “Heh, no wonder. (then immediately) I resent that.”

• Perhaps poking fun at the way dances had been filmed until he took charge, Astaire and Rogers’ portion of “The Piccolino” starts with a close up of their feet. But instead of then cutting to a full body shot, the shot widens to show them and the dance continues all in one take.

• This may be a strange place to talk about how right Astaire and Rogers look together but I’m gonna do it anyway. Their heights are very complimentary and they move like extensions of one another. The routine is quick and bouncy, incorporating several styles and switching between them rapidly. Throughout, Astaire and Rogers elevate one another with their individual grace and skill. That element is only going to continue to grow in the next couple of films.

• At one point he whips around to pull her in so they can spin like they did in the bandstand. As she waits for him, Rogers’ face lights up and they go into the move smiling wide. Soon after, Astaire playfully raises his eyebrows to her. At another point, they step forward slowly, eyes on each other, and there’s a glimpse of that private world they sometimes slip into during their dances. The whole time, they’re absolutely flawless.

• It wouldn’t have made sense to record the taps, etc live like “I’ll Be Hard to Handle” in Roberta but I wonder what might’ve been picked if they had. Aside from when they clap and there’s no sound, Astaire says something to her when they’re dancing in a circle facing each other. She definitely seems to be giggling at several points.

• When the music kicks up and they go into an energetic section, he bows and flourishes his hand to her, once again making her the main focus.

• While filming the final scene of the movie, Sandrich (the director) wanted the duo to do a short ending dance and he told them this on the day of filming. Astaire and Rogers were peeved. Every bit of dancing, no matter how small, was always rehearsed. But Sandrich, who, again, was a dick, insisted. According to Rogers, she privately told Astaire to simply move her about however he wanted and she would follow along. In all likelihood, they probably did whip up this little dance and rehearse it quickly but you’d never know it wasn’t planned ahead of time.

She obviously had a lot of trust in his ability to lead them both but she also knew he was an excellent social dancer, meaning he didn’t necessarily need a pre-rehearsed routine. And she knew this because they’d gone dancing back in New York when they were dating.

• Here’s a cool behind the scenes picture from The Academy’s archive taken during the final scene.