Painted Words, Piercing Paragraphs
Option A
By: KaKaVegeGurl
Author's Note:
Will and my youngest sister are at Walt Disney World fer the week. .
So my 'Heroes Friday' is put on hold this week. /sad face
Anyways, to get this truck rolling... I uh... Finished reading Uglies, the entire 4 books, made me bawl (like a baby).
I've been drawing a lot lately but I think Ima put that on a big hold because my thumb swelled up like a balloon fer the better part of yesterday and today. I have Tendinitis, btw. Fer those that don't know.
Also, apparently my werk place might be laying ppl off this week and next, which friggin terrifies me. T_T That's the last thing I need. But I have to be positive... If I get laid off... I can write more chapters! And uh... Get a better job, maybe?
You really have to think of those kind of things in a better light. Something good will come of it, I'm sure. Doesn't mean I WANT it to happen though. Not with this economy.
So yeah, I think that's it fer this week. Oh, and I have to share this because I keep fergetting.
kakavegegurl. deviantart .com/#/d3aue35
I made it a WHILE back, fer those of you that stalk me on that HungerGamesArena site, you've seen it.
Tank-e to everyone fer the lovely reviews! I broke 90 fer the chapters 8! Which means PWPP now has more reviews then Tips/Blades! Woot. Lets keep them going! Break 100 with chapters 9!
I love you all! Now read on, and have a nice steaming cup of yaoi!
~KaKaVegeGurl (A)
Question of the Week:
-Current Week: The new question is: Noname, to be a hopeless romantic like Peeta?
-Week 4: Tall? Yes
-Week 3: His clique in school? First a nobody, then a somebody/Jock.
-Week 2: Gender of the Main Character? Male.
-Week 1: Original story by me, Genre? Future/not Earth, School based story. JUST AS MATURE AS THIS FANFIC. Thorough and broaching topics such as: Divorcing, Drugs, Suicide, Anorexia, Bullies, Status Quo, Rape, Sibling Rivalry, Teen Pregnancy, Popularity and many, many more things. If you have other ideas feel free to suggest.
Review Response:
To the Anonymous reviewers, time fer love...
Anonymous review from Chapter 12: "Opt A response-Yeah, I agree. But I had to do it. I loathe Gale more then any other character, so yer feelings are... Fer lack of a better werd, felt. Opt B response-Yeh B is definitely leaning to the 'sweet/sad' side. But what good romance story like this one doesn't? Also, doing this on Tuesdays really makes my weeks go by so friggin fast. It's kinda insane from my pov."
Emily (my biggest fan): "Nah, I know what you mean, it is fer me too! I just see it developing. And yeah, the two Peetas... Their differences will be so much more pronounced in book 3. Thank you so much fer remaining static and faithful! /love."
BarryTrotter: "Hudson? O.o /shudder. Iuno, that's a scary name. XP It will have to be put into consideration tho fer the time being. Soon I'll have a list of names. Also uh... Yer suggestion fer book 3 makes me cry, because the two options are already picked. BUT, BUT, of course there's a 'but'. Who said I wouldn't consider a... dun, dun, dun... OPTION C?"
Where's my LittleAsian? O.o
Side Notes:
No hostage has been held like I've been holding mine
But I'm just fine
Since I've been without you
No prisoner could climb the walls that I've built up in my mind
Since I've been without you
But I'm holding down and out
I'm desperate without you
Look at the shape I'm in
Talking to the walls again
Look at the state I'm in
Bent and broken is all I've been
Chapter 9 - Unusual Chatter
Fresh baked bread muffins are pulled from the oven and set on the counter top.
I leave them there to cool and yank off my mitts, setting them down as well. Then I step into my shoes, my jacket, and pick up the plate of chocolate chip cookies from their resting spot in the microwave. I make out of the house, lock the door and walk patiently down the road, out of the Victor's Village.
The trek to my family's bakery is short and silent going. Originally, I would've been sitting with Katniss at her house, but things weren't comfortable enough yet.
I knock on the door and stand for a moment before my oldest brother, Ven, answers. He grabs up the cookies and ruffles my hair.
"Pita bread," he chirps thankfully and makes off like a bandit.
Just in time for him to pass the kitchen door, my father sweeps his hand out and removes the plate of cookies like a practiced ninja.
He hands it back to me with an air of good humor after helping me out of my jacket.
"It's nice to see you," he says softly in his deep, burly, familiar voice and hugs me.
I hug back thankfully, melting into his warmth. I never get time to spend with him anymore. And this has been missed.
His hand combs my hair, not completely unlike my brother's. Only, it's more welcome.
"It's nice to see you too," I smile and pull away, "New burn?" I point to his arm, he nods and sneaks a cookie from my plate.
"Just this morning."
I stare at it and smile, "I kind of miss that."
He raises a brow, "Only you would miss burns, Peeta," he smiles down at me and walks back off into the kitchen.
Mother, standing in the doorway of it, unties her apron, takes it off and points to the floor at my feet, "Don't forget to take off your shoes."
"I didn't," I say and shuffle out of them, "I take them off at the doorway of my house too."
The look from her says clearly that she doesn't believe me. Something so simple, and she thinks I've lied about it.
I move forward anyways, kiss her on the cheek, and hand her the plate, "They're still warm, so handle them carefully."
She nods and steps away without another word.
I walk around the rooms, into the living room, and take a seat on the couch beside Ven.
He watches me closely and then says: "Do you even grow a beard yet?"
"A beard?" I raise my brow, "No?"
And he nods, "I thought so. You know... You're the only one of us that can't."
"Besides dad."
"Besides dad," he agrees, "You look like a boy."
I cock my brow a second time, "This might surprise you... But I am a boy."
Ven rolls his eyes, "Please. I mean you look like a kid. For someone that killed that Cato guy, you still look like you're eleven."
I shrug, "I'm far too tall to be eleven."
Dad comes in the room at this point and takes a seat beside us, "Dinner's done."
"Then why are you sitting down?"
"I cooked it," he says with a grin, as if it answers everything.
Dinner passes with mother in silence, as always, the only thing she's done before is open her mouth and ruin it; so she keeps to herself. Dad, who's unnaturally cheerful, steals bites from nearly everyone's plates and pretends like he still hasn't eaten when he makes his own after we've all finished.
Technically, he's not the last to eat, but he likes to make it look that way.
It's nice now, to eat with the family, and not have stale bread. But instead, the food is good, showing off more of what my father can do when given fresh noodles and such to work with.
In my opinion, the Capitol's dishes could never top this.
Milo, the 'middle brother', is the first in the livingroom as the screen flickers to life.
The dresses that arrived far before hand are showing on it. And the look on Katniss's face during the shoot is both enthusiastic and fake. It's probably convincing to those of the Capitol, but I don't think that the people in the Districts can fall for it, except a small handful of them.
It's unusual, watching these announcements with my parents. My two brothers bickering back and forth as the different dresses show.
Milo is kidding a few times about 'gripping her hackles', but Ven's comments are just a shy coin from pornography. And both of their comments have mother getting tight-lipped and angry, and father grinning to himself and giving me a knowing look; reminding me most of the way Haymitch treats us.
After the photo shoot is done, they announce the Quarter Quell's spin. And it's that the names of the Tributes reaped this year will be pulled from the current Victors of each District.
My father, closest to me by more then one standard, is sitting as still as a closed door. His face is blank and I can see the obvious fear as it washes over him.
Mother, on the other hand, stands and turns the television off as my brothers both stop teasing each other and look at me in surprise.
Ven is staring in to my eyes even though I'm looking away, "Pita bread?"
They were just kidding about Katniss; making funny, cute little jokes about babies with blue eyes and black hair. It's painful to see the dramatic change that the Quarter Quell's one small detail has initiated in them both.
I stand, ready to leave the house when my dad grabs my hand.
"Peeta," he says.
I step back from them all, my stomach feeling too vulnerable to talk. I might puke. With this in mind, I cover my mouth and walk into the kitchen. The smell of bread hits me and I really have to leave.
My mother is following me as I step out into the hallway and pull on my shoes.
"Peeta," she reaches to stop me but I've left the house before any of them can say anything.
And then I start to run.
The existing Victors. Me, Haymitch, and Katniss. Which means that Katniss will have to go in no matter what. And there's no way I'm going to sit by and watch her fight all of those Victors. I need to go as well.
I reach the Victor's Village and am quite surprised when my eyes meet Gale's. He's standing on the front doorstep of Katniss's house with his arms folded.
I raise a brow, "Knocking normally helps."
He glares only and then turns to leave.
With the door unlocked finally, I'm about to step in the house when he says: "She doesn't want to see me."
I turn back to look at him, standing with his loose, worn jacket on, his feet disappearing halfway in the snow, his hair long and tied back.
"She picked you," I argue, "Why wouldn't she want to see you?"
"You know why," he says, looking back to her house, "I've already been in, she doesn't want to go now. She's drunk, and she still doesn't want me over you."
"She's what?" I ask.
"Drunk," Gale shrugs then and turns away, "I'm sure you're going back in there, so I want you to take care of her."
I nod, "I always do."
His eyes, watching me closely, don't seem to believe me. And he stands still, angry, stiff backed, and waits.
I open the door wide and look at him, "Come in for a drink?"
It's his turn to raise a brow, "Drink?"
"Not alcohol," I say, "I don't even have an occasional spirit, but I mean something more like tea, maybe?"
He nods then, steps forward, and kicks the snow off of his boots against the steps before joining me inside.
I take my shoes off, pad through the room in socks, and move to the refrigerator.
Gale sits at the counter, his worn jacket still on and stares at the bread muffins with a sort of amused grin.
"Something interesting?" I ask as I pull down two glasses and fill them with ice cold sweet tea.
He stares at them, reaching out to take one and then says: "You really live up to your stereotype, don't you?"
I point to the blank canvas behind him and he looks at it.
His chuckle is actually comforting as he turns back and takes a sip from his glass.
I sit down across from him, remove two of the bread muffins and hand him one, "I think you do as well. So maybe we all can't help staying in some sort of comfort zone. How's your back?"
"You make me sound like some old guy."
"I guess," I laugh and peel the hard shell top of the muffin off and eat it first, "But really, how is it?"
He shrugs, "It smarts. How's your retarded leg?"
I glance at him to see the humor and realize it's not meant as an insult, "It's useful. Surprisingly."
Gale nods and bites his bread muffin into nearly a half of it's size, sipping his tea to water it down, "You're not going to let Haymitch go in, are you?"
"Of course not," I say softly, "I can't sit back and watch those two fight to the death."
He nods in understanding and finishes the muffin, I place another in front of him and he takes it eagerly, "As much as I can't stand you, I didn't expect you to."
"We have to start getting ready now," I say, "Practice, get fit. I'm going to get her out of there, one way or another."
"That's something you and I have in common."
I smile at him, "Too bad there's nothing you can actually do when it comes down to it."
He looks like he wants to disagree, or have a fit, but he doesn't. "Not my fault."
"I guess."
"My name was in there so many more times then your's was," he says, looking down at his hands, "Sometimes I wish it had been me that was in that arena with her."
I drink the rest of my tea just as he tosses his back, "That's something you and I have in common as well."
He smirks, knowing exactly what I mean, and then he stands up, "Well, this has been cute and all, but I have to get going."
"Gale," I say before he leaves, and then I hand him the rest of the tray of muffins in a bag, "For your family."
He looks close to arguing again, "I don't want your pity, Peeta."
"I don't pity you."
Gale's eyes meet mine again and then he takes the bag, "Good."
He leaves then and I lock the door behind him.
The next morning I hunt down each and every one of Haymitch's hidden booze, including the ones I've bought myself, even manage to get my hands on the ones that Katniss has been hiding in her house.
I collect them all up in a box and pour them away.
The reaction I get from Haymitch and Katniss is complete, sputtering with hangovers and both miserable at my insistence to be a thorn in their sides.
When it's done and over, and we're on the train, I have a feeling that they will thank me.
And now the training starts.
Ending Notes:
*Vanish to Opt B*
~KaKaVegeGurl