Fic: Small Packages (The Hunger Games)
Feb. 15th, 2014 04:24 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
penfold_xTitle: Small Packages
Characters: Brutus, Beetee (Gen)
Rating: G
Warnings: Extreme self-indulgence and ridiculousness
Summary: Travel between the districts of Panem was prohibited for more than a century. While basic aspects of the human condition are the same where ever you go, some of the nuances get lost in translation.
A/N: I was thinking about the variation in Valentine's traditions around the world on my way home tonight. Several hours later, this happened. I'm sorry, Internet. This ficlet is nothing but an excuse to barf up a bunch of my D3 headcanon and put Brutus in uncomfortable situations (please see earlier apology). This ficlet is set in the chemistry 'verse, which I'm pretty sure means I can blame it on![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lorataprose. It's not my fault! And also, sorry.
The package is so small, Brutus almost doesn’t notice it as he steps out of his house for his morning run, and nearly crushes it with one of his size fourteens. A tiny cube of no more than two inches, covered in neatly creased, elaborately pleated red paper. The paper is inscribed with elegant whorls of silver and white ink, so precisely rendered only the tiniest of variations give it away as handmade.
The predominance of red in the wrapping, and the fact that it’s more than two months until Brutus’s birthday suggest a romantic purpose. Brutus surges with annoyance at Lyme, but just as quickly the feeling evaporates; if his oldest friend’s sense of humor ever crapped out so badly she started thinking fake-secret-admirer jokes were funny, Lyme’s would come in the form of five-foot pink teddy bears or other loud gag gifts, not packages so exquisite they look like they were imported from One.
A stranger in the Village is all but impossible, and the other women in his life have been around for years without the slightest indication of amorous desire. Well, all except for...
Brutus extends the hand cupping the cube as far away from him as possible, as if he’s holding Panem’s tiniest landmine.
“Is Eibhlin home?” Brutus asks, with absolutely no undercurrent of apprehension in his tone, as Beetee lets him in.
“You’ve missed her, I’m afraid,” Beetee answers as he leads Brutus back to the office area at the rear of the first floor. “According to the message she left on my comm, Eibhlin’s up at the lake on the other side of the Village, and I shouldn’t expect to see her before lunchtime.”
Brutus bites back a relieved sigh. Beetee sits in the chair on the far side of two desks that have been pushed together, and motions to Brutus to take a seat in the chair rolled up to the nearer desk. As he sits, Brutus takes in the pad filled with looping, feminine script and neatly aligned array of pens, including a pair of silver and white markers, and fights the urge to push back from the desk.
“Actually, it’s you I wanted to see. About this.” Brutus withdraws the tiny gift box from his coat pocket and places it on Beetee’s desk.
Beetee glances down at the box for a moment, then deadpans, “While I’m flattered by your interest, I’ve never been attracted to members of my own--"
“Not funny,” Brutus cuts in, annoyed by Beetee’s blithe attitude. If he didn’t care about the girl, it wouldn’t matter. But Brutus does, in fact, find Eibhlin quite charming (in her own demented, Three-ish way) and wishes only the best for her. If she does have some kind of misplaced pash on him, Brutus is going to have tough time redirecting it without crushing tender feelings. He needs Beetee’s help, not jokes.
The elder Three peers at Brutus over his glasses. “It was a little funny,” he insists, before transferring his attention to the box, face clouding over with concentration. Beetee twirls the box for a moment, until recognition sharpens his expression again.
“Ah, I forgot. It’s Red Day.” Brutus’s failure to react prompts Beetee to ask, “I suppose you don’t have Red Day in Two?”
“Not by that name, at least.” Brutus gestures to the gift. “This looks... romantic? Does Red Day mark the start of the courting season?” The first day of spring is the unofficial beginning in Two; after the long winter the weather is finally right for walking out together, and a boy who wants to become more serious can easily find a flower to braid into his girl’s hair (the most common way of signaling you want to be exclusive), or a pretty stone that’s been washed smooth in the creek bed (a prelude to engagement). Three is further south, and doesn’t have green space to speak of, so maybe it makes as much sense to start courting in February as any other time of year.
“Yes.” Fortunately, Beetee’s attention is on the tiny cube, so he doesn’t see Brutus’s wince before he slams down a mask of impassivity. “A young, unmarried woman will often use a Red Day gift as an opportunity to signal a particular affection.”
Beetee picks up the box and rubs one of his thumbs along the side. “We’re not given to public displays of emotion in Three. More typically, one indicates one’s regard by creating something unique to the recipient that... encapsulates the desired message. The gift is left where the intended recipient will have the opportunity to open it in private, so that he may... experience it without concern as to whether his response is visible to other parties.”
Not for the first time, Brutus wonders how Panem’s eggheads manage to put one and one together to make three.
“Red Day is one of the few opportunities a young woman has to make such an... elucidation of her sentiments.” Beetee places the box back on the desk and slides it within Brutus’s reach.
Brutus keeps his hands to himself and forces his eyes off the box. “What, only the girls? Don’t the boys get to send cryptic mash notes, too?”
Beetee lifts his eyebrows in a knowing manner. “The burdens of reproduction fall most heavily on the female of the species. Why shouldn’t she control the initiation and progress of mating rituals?”
Brutus has nothing against being on the receiving end of a healthy dose of flirting from a spirited woman, but feels bad for all of the young men of Three who’ve been robbed of the opportunity to sweep the right girl off her feet. There are some things a man just needs to be allowed to do, to demonstrate his quality.
Brutus takes a heavy breath before asking, “How do I handle this?”
Beetee flicks his gaze between Brutus and the box, and makes a neutral hum. “You haven’t opened it yet.” He pulls a penknife off his belt and hands it to Brutus.
Puzzled by Beetee’s continued nonchalance, he turns the box a few times in his hands before noticing the nearly invisible seam, opens the knife, and slides the tip between the layers. The pleated paper flutters up and open around the plain white box inside. Brutus places the gift back on the desk and tugs at the lid that, once freed, causes the sides of the box to fall flat, revealing a small chocolate sculpture. The silhouette is immediately clear to Brutus, and the impressions of trees and cliffs shallowly etched into the surface only serve to confirm: it’s the mountain range that encircles the Village.
Brutus is impressed with the craftsmanship--and somewhat daunted by the expense; the raw ingredients and the fine paper had to come from One, and Two hasn’t seen much in the way of luxuries over the past year or so. Eibhlin had to trade something over the black market to make this possible.
Even more, he’s surprised Beetee hasn’t threatened to cut off some vital part of Brutus’s anatomy for presumably leading Eibhlin on or otherwise harboring improper thoughts toward a girl half his age. But maybe that’s too much of an emotional display, and Brutus will have to wait until he’s electrocuted by a booby trapped light switch before he’s allowed to know the depths of Beetee’s anger.
“Well, what do you think?” Brutus presses a thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose, trying to ward off a headache as he awaits judgment.
Beetee pushes his glasses up as he leans forward to peer at the gift. “It’s exceedingly well executed,” he comments as he leans back, then turns to begin typing at his computer. “But I’m sure not half so fine as mine shall be.”
All the clockwork in Brutus’s mind crashes. “What?”
Beetee continues typing, apparently unperturbed by Brutus’s angry confusion. “Romantic feelings are all well enough, in their place, but they’re not privileged above all else. Red Day is allows a young woman to communicate her affections for all of the significant men in her life: colleagues, bosses, friends, relatives,” Beetee shifts in his seat as he finishes softly, “mentors.”
Beetee completes whatever thought has been occupying him before he pushes the keyboard away and turns back to Brutus. “The intricacy, expense, and content of the gift are determined by the nature of the relationship and the quality of the emotion galvanized. Certain gifts are required by obligation—classmates and colleagues, especially, because of the collaborative nature of Three schools and workplaces. Those gifts are usually very simple and inexpensive, and may even be store-bought. More significant relationships, however, are personalized to reflect the individuals involved.”
Beetee gestures toward the tiny chocolate mountains. “No one from Three would convey a romantic message through a geological formation--that’s more commonly achieved through representations of chemical reactions or synergy, or something more colloquial, like a heart.”
The wild thing inside Brutus’s chest that panicked at the thought of a rejection that, no matter how gently delivered, would likely be received with quiet tears or a trembling lip, comes to rest at last, and allows him to appreciate the gesture. Part of the symbolism, at least, is unmistakable; the mountains are pure Two, and very specifically, the Two Victors. Strength? Permanence? Or, if the image symbolizes the relationship... protectiveness?
“An image like this is familial,” Beetee adds. “Something one would present to a beloved elder brother, for example.”
Beetee removes his glasses, takes a handkerchief from his pocket, and looks down at the lenses he’s cleaning before he resumes. “In any case, a young woman as logically oriented as Eibhlin, especially one from the alpha strata, wouldn’t consider forming a romantic attachment before she received her list of recommended lifemates from the Department of Genetic Preservation’s Committee for Social Affinity.”
Beetee’s utter gibberish breaks Brutus away from his warm consideration of the gift. “What the what?”
“The list of the men in the District, within a ten-year span of her age, whose intelligence, interests, and personalities would most likely result in lasting marital conviviality and superior offspring, while preserving the District’s genetic diversity. As divined by the Algorithm.”
Beetee replaces his glasses as he continues, “Eibhlin would never consider--" Brutus crosses his arms over his chest and raises his eyebrows, body posture daring Beetee to finish that sentence in way that’s less than complimentary.
“--Other potential suitors, until she had given the recommended gentlemen due consideration,” Beetee finishes deftly, quirking a single eyebrow to covey an infinity of smug certainty.
Brutus cruises right past the part where Threes let a computer pick their spouse (Snow on the treetops) and chooses to focus on his last remaining concern. “So, what’s the customary response for a Red Day gift like this one?”
“Ah, you have a month to work on it; White Day falls in the middle of March. Men who’ve received a gift from a woman in their life generally return the favor in the form of a commensurate gift.” Beetee pauses, considering something for a moment before deciding to add, “Though, if you’ve received something more than a gift of obligation, it’s generally considered good form for the man’s gift to be at least three times the value of the woman’s.”
Brutus huffs in approval; at least there’s one element of this tradition that isn’t bass ackwards. Carefully as he can, Brutus re-assembles the box around the chocolate, and smooths out the shiny paper before folding and tucking it into his pocket.
“You don’t--I’m sure...” Beetee sputters uncharacteristically for a moment before picking a vein and sticking to it. “Eibhlin doesn’t expect anything in return; she’s spent so much time poring over Two cultural resources, I’m sure she knows what holidays are or aren’t celebrated here. It’s just that there are so few opportunities she’s comfortable with for her to articulate certain concepts that she... that we... would wish to communicate.”
Brutus nods and sees himself out the way he came. He holds the small box close, bringing his other hand up to shelter it when snowflakes begin falling on the walk back to his house. He’s glad he’s got a month to figure out what type of gift would best convey his appreciation.
And, considering how Beetee knew, almost from the moment he arrived, that Brutus was digging in the wrong quarry pit but let him stew in it anyway, he’s also glad the first day of spring is still almost five weeks away. It gives Brutus ample time to convince Lyme to help introduce Beetee to some District Two courting traditions, and watch their resident genius fluster his way into an inappropriately public display of baffled embarrassment.
Characters: Brutus, Beetee (Gen)
Rating: G
Warnings: Extreme self-indulgence and ridiculousness
Summary: Travel between the districts of Panem was prohibited for more than a century. While basic aspects of the human condition are the same where ever you go, some of the nuances get lost in translation.
A/N: I was thinking about the variation in Valentine's traditions around the world on my way home tonight. Several hours later, this happened. I'm sorry, Internet. This ficlet is nothing but an excuse to barf up a bunch of my D3 headcanon and put Brutus in uncomfortable situations (please see earlier apology). This ficlet is set in the chemistry 'verse, which I'm pretty sure means I can blame it on
lorataprose. It's not my fault! And also, sorry.The package is so small, Brutus almost doesn’t notice it as he steps out of his house for his morning run, and nearly crushes it with one of his size fourteens. A tiny cube of no more than two inches, covered in neatly creased, elaborately pleated red paper. The paper is inscribed with elegant whorls of silver and white ink, so precisely rendered only the tiniest of variations give it away as handmade.
The predominance of red in the wrapping, and the fact that it’s more than two months until Brutus’s birthday suggest a romantic purpose. Brutus surges with annoyance at Lyme, but just as quickly the feeling evaporates; if his oldest friend’s sense of humor ever crapped out so badly she started thinking fake-secret-admirer jokes were funny, Lyme’s would come in the form of five-foot pink teddy bears or other loud gag gifts, not packages so exquisite they look like they were imported from One.
A stranger in the Village is all but impossible, and the other women in his life have been around for years without the slightest indication of amorous desire. Well, all except for...
Brutus extends the hand cupping the cube as far away from him as possible, as if he’s holding Panem’s tiniest landmine.
“Is Eibhlin home?” Brutus asks, with absolutely no undercurrent of apprehension in his tone, as Beetee lets him in.
“You’ve missed her, I’m afraid,” Beetee answers as he leads Brutus back to the office area at the rear of the first floor. “According to the message she left on my comm, Eibhlin’s up at the lake on the other side of the Village, and I shouldn’t expect to see her before lunchtime.”
Brutus bites back a relieved sigh. Beetee sits in the chair on the far side of two desks that have been pushed together, and motions to Brutus to take a seat in the chair rolled up to the nearer desk. As he sits, Brutus takes in the pad filled with looping, feminine script and neatly aligned array of pens, including a pair of silver and white markers, and fights the urge to push back from the desk.
“Actually, it’s you I wanted to see. About this.” Brutus withdraws the tiny gift box from his coat pocket and places it on Beetee’s desk.
Beetee glances down at the box for a moment, then deadpans, “While I’m flattered by your interest, I’ve never been attracted to members of my own--"
“Not funny,” Brutus cuts in, annoyed by Beetee’s blithe attitude. If he didn’t care about the girl, it wouldn’t matter. But Brutus does, in fact, find Eibhlin quite charming (in her own demented, Three-ish way) and wishes only the best for her. If she does have some kind of misplaced pash on him, Brutus is going to have tough time redirecting it without crushing tender feelings. He needs Beetee’s help, not jokes.
The elder Three peers at Brutus over his glasses. “It was a little funny,” he insists, before transferring his attention to the box, face clouding over with concentration. Beetee twirls the box for a moment, until recognition sharpens his expression again.
“Ah, I forgot. It’s Red Day.” Brutus’s failure to react prompts Beetee to ask, “I suppose you don’t have Red Day in Two?”
“Not by that name, at least.” Brutus gestures to the gift. “This looks... romantic? Does Red Day mark the start of the courting season?” The first day of spring is the unofficial beginning in Two; after the long winter the weather is finally right for walking out together, and a boy who wants to become more serious can easily find a flower to braid into his girl’s hair (the most common way of signaling you want to be exclusive), or a pretty stone that’s been washed smooth in the creek bed (a prelude to engagement). Three is further south, and doesn’t have green space to speak of, so maybe it makes as much sense to start courting in February as any other time of year.
“Yes.” Fortunately, Beetee’s attention is on the tiny cube, so he doesn’t see Brutus’s wince before he slams down a mask of impassivity. “A young, unmarried woman will often use a Red Day gift as an opportunity to signal a particular affection.”
Beetee picks up the box and rubs one of his thumbs along the side. “We’re not given to public displays of emotion in Three. More typically, one indicates one’s regard by creating something unique to the recipient that... encapsulates the desired message. The gift is left where the intended recipient will have the opportunity to open it in private, so that he may... experience it without concern as to whether his response is visible to other parties.”
Not for the first time, Brutus wonders how Panem’s eggheads manage to put one and one together to make three.
“Red Day is one of the few opportunities a young woman has to make such an... elucidation of her sentiments.” Beetee places the box back on the desk and slides it within Brutus’s reach.
Brutus keeps his hands to himself and forces his eyes off the box. “What, only the girls? Don’t the boys get to send cryptic mash notes, too?”
Beetee lifts his eyebrows in a knowing manner. “The burdens of reproduction fall most heavily on the female of the species. Why shouldn’t she control the initiation and progress of mating rituals?”
Brutus has nothing against being on the receiving end of a healthy dose of flirting from a spirited woman, but feels bad for all of the young men of Three who’ve been robbed of the opportunity to sweep the right girl off her feet. There are some things a man just needs to be allowed to do, to demonstrate his quality.
Brutus takes a heavy breath before asking, “How do I handle this?”
Beetee flicks his gaze between Brutus and the box, and makes a neutral hum. “You haven’t opened it yet.” He pulls a penknife off his belt and hands it to Brutus.
Puzzled by Beetee’s continued nonchalance, he turns the box a few times in his hands before noticing the nearly invisible seam, opens the knife, and slides the tip between the layers. The pleated paper flutters up and open around the plain white box inside. Brutus places the gift back on the desk and tugs at the lid that, once freed, causes the sides of the box to fall flat, revealing a small chocolate sculpture. The silhouette is immediately clear to Brutus, and the impressions of trees and cliffs shallowly etched into the surface only serve to confirm: it’s the mountain range that encircles the Village.
Brutus is impressed with the craftsmanship--and somewhat daunted by the expense; the raw ingredients and the fine paper had to come from One, and Two hasn’t seen much in the way of luxuries over the past year or so. Eibhlin had to trade something over the black market to make this possible.
Even more, he’s surprised Beetee hasn’t threatened to cut off some vital part of Brutus’s anatomy for presumably leading Eibhlin on or otherwise harboring improper thoughts toward a girl half his age. But maybe that’s too much of an emotional display, and Brutus will have to wait until he’s electrocuted by a booby trapped light switch before he’s allowed to know the depths of Beetee’s anger.
“Well, what do you think?” Brutus presses a thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose, trying to ward off a headache as he awaits judgment.
Beetee pushes his glasses up as he leans forward to peer at the gift. “It’s exceedingly well executed,” he comments as he leans back, then turns to begin typing at his computer. “But I’m sure not half so fine as mine shall be.”
All the clockwork in Brutus’s mind crashes. “What?”
Beetee continues typing, apparently unperturbed by Brutus’s angry confusion. “Romantic feelings are all well enough, in their place, but they’re not privileged above all else. Red Day is allows a young woman to communicate her affections for all of the significant men in her life: colleagues, bosses, friends, relatives,” Beetee shifts in his seat as he finishes softly, “mentors.”
Beetee completes whatever thought has been occupying him before he pushes the keyboard away and turns back to Brutus. “The intricacy, expense, and content of the gift are determined by the nature of the relationship and the quality of the emotion galvanized. Certain gifts are required by obligation—classmates and colleagues, especially, because of the collaborative nature of Three schools and workplaces. Those gifts are usually very simple and inexpensive, and may even be store-bought. More significant relationships, however, are personalized to reflect the individuals involved.”
Beetee gestures toward the tiny chocolate mountains. “No one from Three would convey a romantic message through a geological formation--that’s more commonly achieved through representations of chemical reactions or synergy, or something more colloquial, like a heart.”
The wild thing inside Brutus’s chest that panicked at the thought of a rejection that, no matter how gently delivered, would likely be received with quiet tears or a trembling lip, comes to rest at last, and allows him to appreciate the gesture. Part of the symbolism, at least, is unmistakable; the mountains are pure Two, and very specifically, the Two Victors. Strength? Permanence? Or, if the image symbolizes the relationship... protectiveness?
“An image like this is familial,” Beetee adds. “Something one would present to a beloved elder brother, for example.”
Beetee removes his glasses, takes a handkerchief from his pocket, and looks down at the lenses he’s cleaning before he resumes. “In any case, a young woman as logically oriented as Eibhlin, especially one from the alpha strata, wouldn’t consider forming a romantic attachment before she received her list of recommended lifemates from the Department of Genetic Preservation’s Committee for Social Affinity.”
Beetee’s utter gibberish breaks Brutus away from his warm consideration of the gift. “What the what?”
“The list of the men in the District, within a ten-year span of her age, whose intelligence, interests, and personalities would most likely result in lasting marital conviviality and superior offspring, while preserving the District’s genetic diversity. As divined by the Algorithm.”
Beetee replaces his glasses as he continues, “Eibhlin would never consider--" Brutus crosses his arms over his chest and raises his eyebrows, body posture daring Beetee to finish that sentence in way that’s less than complimentary.
“--Other potential suitors, until she had given the recommended gentlemen due consideration,” Beetee finishes deftly, quirking a single eyebrow to covey an infinity of smug certainty.
Brutus cruises right past the part where Threes let a computer pick their spouse (Snow on the treetops) and chooses to focus on his last remaining concern. “So, what’s the customary response for a Red Day gift like this one?”
“Ah, you have a month to work on it; White Day falls in the middle of March. Men who’ve received a gift from a woman in their life generally return the favor in the form of a commensurate gift.” Beetee pauses, considering something for a moment before deciding to add, “Though, if you’ve received something more than a gift of obligation, it’s generally considered good form for the man’s gift to be at least three times the value of the woman’s.”
Brutus huffs in approval; at least there’s one element of this tradition that isn’t bass ackwards. Carefully as he can, Brutus re-assembles the box around the chocolate, and smooths out the shiny paper before folding and tucking it into his pocket.
“You don’t--I’m sure...” Beetee sputters uncharacteristically for a moment before picking a vein and sticking to it. “Eibhlin doesn’t expect anything in return; she’s spent so much time poring over Two cultural resources, I’m sure she knows what holidays are or aren’t celebrated here. It’s just that there are so few opportunities she’s comfortable with for her to articulate certain concepts that she... that we... would wish to communicate.”
Brutus nods and sees himself out the way he came. He holds the small box close, bringing his other hand up to shelter it when snowflakes begin falling on the walk back to his house. He’s glad he’s got a month to figure out what type of gift would best convey his appreciation.
And, considering how Beetee knew, almost from the moment he arrived, that Brutus was digging in the wrong quarry pit but let him stew in it anyway, he’s also glad the first day of spring is still almost five weeks away. It gives Brutus ample time to convince Lyme to help introduce Beetee to some District Two courting traditions, and watch their resident genius fluster his way into an inappropriately public display of baffled embarrassment.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2014-02-15 09:46 am (UTC)Ahahahaha this is the most hilarious and amazing thing ever.
OMG Beetee trolling Brutus by stringing him along, up to and including this part:
Beetee pushes his glasses up as he leans forward to peer at the gift. “It’s exceedingly well executed,” he comments as he leans back, then turns to begin typing at his computer. “But I’m sure not half so fine as mine shall be.”
All the clockwork in Brutus’s mind crashes. “What?”
HAHAHHAA YOU BROKE HIS BRAIN
And omg Three has automated okcupid! Snow on the treetops!
It gives Brutus ample time to convince Lyme to help introduce Beetee to some District Two courting traditions, and watch their resident genius fluster his way into an inappropriately public display of baffled embarrassment.
This needs to happen because troll!Lyme is the best Lyme there is.
no subject
Date: 2014-02-15 09:48 pm (UTC)And omg Three has automated okcupid!
Oh man, I have a whole headcanon here about D3 mating that is just WOAH TOO MUCH INFO. But I thought it would be fun to troll Brutus with because, in my head, only the ladies get lists from the DGD; the boys have to wait to maybe get asked/maybe not. Among the workers (gammas and deltas) to things are more free and people will love match/not bother to wait for a list, but among the betas and alphas especially, there's a devotion to the system (they think it works and saves everyone time and effort). I figure Brutus would find that ridiculously frustrating (and apparently I live to troll Brutus). :D
This needs to happen because troll!Lyme is the best Lyme there is.
Scientific fact.
no subject
Date: 2014-02-16 12:53 am (UTC)This intrigues me and I would like to know more!
no subject
Date: 2014-02-15 06:42 pm (UTC)Beetee really cracks me up here. Beetee is just great!!
I wanted to write something for Valentine's Day too, but I couldn't come up with anything... (guess I could still get to it belatedly, but) Anyway, I did add two more tiny bits to the two from earlier this week and one of them features Beetee (here).
no subject
Date: 2014-02-15 11:02 pm (UTC)Oh, I was so hoping you would enjoy this in particular, as I was thinking of you when I worked on it. My headcanon is that a lot of Japanese and Chinese refugees were settled into Three after the cataclysms, so there's been 200+ years to integrate some aspects of Asian culture into the district. A lot of things that my Threes do are Asian in origin, but it's not 'foreign' to them in any way, it's just what you do (eg, everyone in Three takes their shoes off when they enter a home). Washing St. Valentine's Day, itself a Western tradition, through Japan and back again into Panem was great fun!
I did add two more tiny bits to the two from earlier this week and one of them features Beetee (here).
OH OH! I missed this somehow. Thank you!
no subject
Date: 2014-02-16 02:47 am (UTC)I love this story~ I love your headcanon~
No, like I told Lorata, it wasn't you, it was me, doing a typical posting dodge! But I wanted you to see, so I made sure to get a link over to you. :)
no subject
Date: 2014-02-15 08:24 pm (UTC)as if he’s holding Panem’s tiniest landmine
Not for the first time, Brutus wonders how Panem’s eggheads manage to put one and one together to make three.
But maybe that’s too much of an emotional display, and Brutus will have to wait until he’s electrocuted by a booby trapped light switch before he’s allowed to know the depths of Beetee’s anger.
Threes let a computer pick their spouse
no subject
Date: 2014-02-15 11:59 pm (UTC)as if he’s holding Panem’s tiniest landmine
Big!Brutus, tiny!present, WHY SO SCARED BB?
no subject
Date: 2014-02-18 04:34 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-05-05 02:48 pm (UTC)DICK BEETEE IS THE BEST BEETEE
BRUTUS CARES SO MUCH AWWWWWWWWWWWW
no subject
Date: 2014-05-16 05:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-05-30 01:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-05-30 07:10 pm (UTC)