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. 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.”
I want a dating sim full of fluff but with monsters and not “boys monsters” with a human guy with wolf ears being a werewolf, but actual beast like monsters, abnormally tall, or with odd limbs, or extra eyes, and all that.