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anyon-else · 2 years ago

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The Reaping (The Hunger Games pt. 1) | Keigo’s loyalty to you ran deep; deep enough for him to volunteer for the games in an effort to protect you. Before today, he’d never considered volunteering as a real option. But seeing you walk to the stage, practically stepping into Death’s hands, the words left him before he fully realized what he was saying. – spotify playlist | read on ao3

Pairing | Hawks | Keigo Takami x Reader + Dabi, Enji Todoroki, Aizawa Shouta, Midnight

Warnings | angst, hurt/comfort, cursing, mentions of death, mentions of abuse if you squint, me changing the rules of the hunger games because i can and suzanne collins can’t stop me, spoilers for dabi’s backstory

Word count | 3.8k

(next chapter) | (series masterlist)

Keigo’s palms always started to sweat as soon as Midnight stepped onto the stage. This year was no exception; he tried taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, but his heart still jumped every time her heels clicked against the worn, platformed wood. The Capitol darling was sporting her usual glowing smile and sleek white pantsuit. A long black cape trailed behind her, covered in what he could only assume were real diamonds that sparkled in the sunlight.

It was a fine enough day for the Reaping, but the blue sky and bright, shining sun contrasted the deep contempt settling over the crowd. A few rows ahead of him, Eri stood stoically with her little hand crushed in Kai’s. Kota waited next to her, holding her other hand and standing as tall as he could manage in the face of his first Reaping.

The Todorokis stood in a line to his right, all wearing matching blank expressions. Dabi was the only one who broke the pattern. His eyes glowed with a familiar unhinged anger.

“I’m going to wipe that damn smile off her face someday,” was what he always told Keigo before Reapings started. Something about those words became more and more comforting every year, like hearing them meant that things would turn out exactly the same as they had the year before. Routine, Keigo always tried to convince himself, that’s what keeps us all sane. Without it, he would have fallen apart years ago. He closed his eyes when Midnight stopped in the middle of the stage, standing between the two bowls that held the names of every teenager in the district.

This Reaping marked the first time that his name wouldn’t be in that bowl, but he was still just as nervous as the year before. Even in past years when he was in danger of being chosen, half of his worry was always reserved for you and Dabi.

You stood to his left, fingers threaded through his. You were as steady as he’d ever seen you, blank eyes following Midnight’s progress across the stage. No anger or fear, just calm anticipation.

“Ladies and gentlemen, today we will select the twenty-four tributes who will fight for their lives and their district to win the sixty-eighth annual Hunger Games. I’m happy to be here, and each of you should be too.”

Keigo glanced towards you, hand tightening around yours as a silent plea that you look at him. You met his eyes in an instant, and your blank expression fell into one of concern. Too late, he tried to school his features into easy indifference, but he must not have done a very good job of it.

“It’ll be okay,” you whispered, offering him a small, reassuring smile. He tried to tamp down the warmth that bloomed in his chest. He should’ve been saying those words to you, acting as your pillar of strength instead of being overcome by the fear that you would be taken from him. You were the one facing the danger of the games while he stood safely on the sidelines, but somehow he was the one falling apart.

“Some time ago, our nation had to withstand earthquakes, floods, and storms, but we were strong and our country originated from the ashes. But then, the Capitol and its thirteen districts, which are surrounding it, grew and the districts rebelled. So the Capitol had to defeat this rebellion and District Thirteen was destroyed. So that anything like that will never happen again, we invented the Hunger Games. Each of the twelve districts has to offer a boy and a girl between the ages of twelve and eighteen. I hope that one day our children can live together in peace and without violence. I wish good luck to the districts and its tributes.”

“Jesus Christ,” Dabi muttered, ignoring Enji’s hard glare. A scowl had replaced Dabi’s smirk as soon as Midnight’s speech began, “please tell me this is the last year we’re coming to this shit show.”

“Shut the fuck up, Dabi,” you whispered back, though the words held no real bite, and Keigo caught the upward twitch of your lips. Dabi grinned, turning to face you and Keigo at the same time that Enji raised a hand towards him, landing it heavily on his shoulder. Fuyumi flinched at the sound, but Dabi showed no reaction.

“As always,” Midnight reached towards the bowl on her right, looking over the crowd with a smile, “ladies first.”

Your mask broke. He saw your small frown from the corner of his eye. He felt the stutter where your hands touched and held onto you tighter.

“And the female tribute for district twelve is...” she added a final flare as she pulled a slip from the middle of the bowl, taking her time unfolding it. Even before the name was announced, Keigo felt his heart seize in his chest. He didn’t know if he could handle seeing you unwillingly give your life for the Capital. Not when you were so close to freedom.

And if you were somehow chosen, he thought he might be able to make you stay. He just had to hold on to you tight enough.

“Y/N Y/L/N!”

Utter silence followed the echoes of your name, just like it did after every name that had been called before it. But this time, the silence suffocated Keigo. The echoes of your name faded into an unsteady murmur and people began to turn towards you, some pitying, some relieved.

Keigo’s breath caught in his throat, stomach twisting painfully. He had never felt this before...this paralyzing fear that rooted him in place. His grip on your hand tightened until he was sure you wouldn’t be able to get free of it. The silence became a tangible thing. It reached towards him and grabbed him by the throat, forcing him back to the truth of what was happening.

Dabi whipped his head towards you, eyes wide and smirk falling from his face. Keigo scanned the crowd surrounding you, looking for an opening. You could run; you were fast enough. You could get away before anyone even knew what was happening.

“No,” he stated firmly when you pulled your hand from his iron-tight grip, wide eyes meeting his as you moved robotically through the crowd. “Y/N, stop.”

He could already picture how this ended. You would to step on that stage and put on a smile and a happy face for the Capitol, and then you would die for them. He felt his hands begin to shake. They couldn’t take you. They wouldn’t.

“Y/N, wait,” he demanded as you pulled away from him and approached the peacekeeper waiting for you at the end of the row, “wait.”

He pushed past Dabi and reached for you, but his friend grabbed his arm, grip tight as they watched you reach the edge of the crowd. You avoided looking back at the commotion, which had become more chaotic as Enji’s voice boomed over those already yelling. He scolded Keigo now, telling him that there was nothing he could do. Your name had been called. It was over.

“Y/N!”

The peacekeepers noticed the interruption at the same time that Keigo slipped past Enji, ready to follow you onto the stage. He forced his way through the rest of the crowd despite Enji and Dabi’s best efforts to stop him, the hand that had just been holding yours stretched in front of him.

“Y/N, hold on! Let go of me! Y/N, stop!”

Keigo watched you falter for just a moment, but you steeled yourself and stepped onto the platform, staring blankly at Midnight’s beaming face. Keigo quieted, defeated at the sight of you standing on the stage. Your hands were clenched at your sides, eyes darting around the crowd. You focused on each of your friends as you found them in the crowd, sending them a look that he knew was a goodbye. It was something you’d told him you’d do when you speculated about your names getting called. But back then, you were just kids. It seemed like an impossible situation, so many years away that talking about it didn’t hold any weight.

“Well,” Midnight sighed once the crowd quieted, forcing a pleasant smile, “on to the boys.”

Enji pulled Keigo back next to Dabi, who gave his shoulder a squeeze too tight to be comforting.

By the time they were back in their places, Midnight had already pulled the next slip from the second bowl. She unfolded it carefully and smiled at the crowd.

“The male tribute for district twelve is…Shinsou Hitoshi!”

“I volunteer as tribute!”

Keigo opened his mouth without really being able to control it. Dabi’s head hung against his chest. He’d known this was coming. He knew the moment your name was called that there was no other option. Keigo would follow you to Hell if that’s what it took to stay by your side.

Keigo felt a second surge of anger when he met your eyes. Your face had been a blank mask throughout the entirety of the Reaping, even as you were called to the stage. But when it was him approaching, your mask shattered. He pulled out of Dabi’s grip, shouldering past Enji and the others towards where the peacekeepers waited patiently for him at the edge of the crowd.

“Well, what a surprise,” Midnight sighed as Keigo took his place next to her. He looked over the crowd, now steady on his feet while you were starting to falter, “and what is your name, young man?”

“Keigo Takami.”

“Wonderful! And are you two friends? Siblings? Perhaps she’s your girlfriend!”

Keigo didn’t dignify her performative prying with a response. He just stared ahead, ignoring the searing glares he was receiving from Enji and Dabi.

“Well, in any case, congratulations to our tributes.”

Keigo wanted to throw Midnight into a fire.

“And may the odds be ever in your favor!”

“Why did you do that?”

You stood with your back to Keigo for a few moments, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath in a failed attempt to calm your nerves. Keigo kept his mouth shut and waited.

“You could have survived,” you whispered after a long moment. “You would have been fine if you had just let me go. Why the fuck couldn’t you just let me go?”

Your voice was low, and you found it harder to meet his eyes the longer he stared at you. “There are people back home who need you, Keigo. Our friends need you, and now we’re both going to die. Why the fuck did you– you goddamn idiot-”

You sank to your knees, head pressed between your hands as you tried to get a grip on your emotions. Your breathing became erratic, panic clawing up your throat. Your heart was beating out of your chest. Your lungs felt like they were being crushed. You couldn’t breath. You couldn’t breath.

Gentle hands took hold of your wrists, guiding them away from your face. Keigo placed them on his chest, directly over his still-beating heart, and lifted his hand to wipe the tears from your cheeks.

“I’ll follow you,” he whispered, tears of his own falling to the floor between you. “Wherever you go, I’ll follow you. No one is taking you away from me.”

You shook your head harshly, pressing your hands against his. A sob tore from your throat. You were trembling now, and despite your best efforts to ground yourself, all you could see was Keigo’s name added to a long list of dead tributes.

“I was never going to let you go alone. After our first reaping, I promised myself that I would follow you anywhere. Even if it led me here.”

“You’re so stupid,” you told him, but it was weaker than before. Your anger began to fade as you took him in, holding his head between your palms and running your thumbs over his cheeks. There were still tear stains on his face from the Reaping, tears that he shed for you. Guiltily, you felt some relief at the fact that he was the one here beside you.

Pressing his head into your neck, Keigo took a deep, trembling breath. You buried a hand in his hair and grasped at his shirt, holding on to any part of him that you could. Just as long as you could feel him.

“I love you,” he whispered, the words muffled against your skin. He trailed his lips over your collarbone, a feeling so familiar that it made you ache. “I love you so much. I’ll never leave you in that arena, even if it kills me.”

“Don’t say that. God, Keigo, please don’t say that,” you sobbed, pulling him even closer. His arms tightened around you until you were holding him between your legs, “I love you too. Even though you’re a goddamn idiot.”

“Well, this will make for a fantastic strategy.”

You jumped at the voice, staring up at an amused but tired-looking Aizawa Shouta.

Shinsou’s father, your memory supplied. His son would’ve been here next to you if it hadn’t been for Keigo volunteering.

“What?” you muttered dumbly. Aizawa looked unimpressed.

“Two lovestruck teenagers fighting against all odds to keep each other alive,” Aizawa sat in a chair on the far side of the room, unfazed by the intimacy that he’d interrupted. “It’s been used countless times, but it never fails to win the sympathy card. You should capitalize on that.”

“We aren’t characters for people to fawn at,” Keigo grumbled, “You’re sending us in there to die. The least you could do is treat us like human beings.”

“I’ll treat you however I want if it gives you a better chance of surviving. If you need to look at yourselves as characters to put on a better show, then do it. If you survive, you’ll have all the time in the world to be real people. In the arena, your only job is be in love, look pretty, and kill as many people as possible.”

Aizawa glanced out the window as you passed through District Four, staring blankly at the forest surrounding the city, “but from the looks of it, it won’t be very hard to play the part.”

His eyes fell to your and Keigo’s joined hands. You avoided his intense gaze as it slid from Keigo to you, still kneeling on the floor. He was right. You knew he was, but you hated that you had to expose your relationship with Keigo to survive. Love was supposed to be sacred. Intimacy was meant to be private.

But you also weren’t naïve. Combat wasn’t the only thing you needed to be focusing on. Every person who’d won the games in the past did so with the help of sponsors. To get sponsors, you’d need a good story.

“Can we have some time alone?” Keigo spat, although you could see the fight slowly draining from him, “we have weeks to strategize.”

Aizawa glanced between you. After a few moments, his eyes softened and the tension in his shoulders released. He wasn’t someone who vocalized anything but objective fact and strategy, but you remembered the way your mentor and his partner got as far as they did before his partner died. Watching the games as a child, you were entranced by the love that the two obviously felt for one another. Looking at him now, you couldn’t help but wonder if you or Keigo would be like him after the games. Traumatized and alone, left wondering why you had even survived if it meant you lost the most important person in your world.

“You have the rest of the night,” he eventually sighed, “that’s all I can give you. We meet back here tomorrow morning. Don’t sleep in. We have a lot to go over.”

Keigo didn’t understand how this happened. Everything was fine. Next year you both would’ve been safe. All of your friends would’ve been safe, and you could’ve lived your lives in relative peace.

He wanted to marry you. He’d found a ring from one of the vendors in the market and bought it spontaneously, realizing the moment he held it in his palm that he wanted to see you wearing it for the rest of your lives. He carried it with him everywhere he went, a constant reminder of the future he wanted with you. But right now, it felt heavy in his pocket.

He pulled you closer, closing his eyes again in a fruitless attempt to sleep. He’d kept himself up all night, paranoia plaguing him as he searched the empty room for a nonexistent threat. Part of him felt like it was already in the arena.

He sighed into the back of your neck, hand spreading across your stomach to press you closer. He’d taken this closeness for granted before the Reaping. Now these moments were limited. He didn’t know if he’d ever be able to hold you close enough to make up for the time that you were going to lose after the games.

He couldn’t let you die.

It was a thought that jolted him. Of course, the plan was always to keep you alive, but he was still coming to terms with what that meant for him. He selfishly wanted to stay alive too, to see his family and friends again. To see your face when he gave you the ring. To see your face every day for the rest of his life. He wanted to live.

“Why’re you still awake?” you murmured, turning to face him with glassy eyes, “we need to sleep.”

It was an impossible thing to ask of him. Sleep felt farther away the longer he was awake. His fear gripped him like a vice, taking hold of his throat and squeezing any remaining life out of him. He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t breath.

“Keigo,” you whispered, pulling him out of his haze, “you need to breath. You’re having a panic attack.”

Oh. That made more sense than his immediate assumption, which was that he was dying via some unknown, merciful force.

Selfish, he reminded himself. Stop being selfish.

You attempted to move away from him to give him distance, but he stopped you, pulling you close again. Part of him whispered that he should let you go, get used to the space between you, but he knew he wasn’t strong enough. He never had been when it came to you. He sighed when he felt your heart beating against his and timed his breaths with yours. You relaxed against him, hand brushing through his hair.

“Just breathe,” you whispered. His hands trembled against your back and he curled them into fists, hating himself for how weak he was. You were going to the games too. You shouldn’t have had to anchor him, not when you were probably just as scared as he was. But despite this knowledge, he still clung to you, pressing his lips to your chest with a shaky sigh.

“Don’t leave me,” he whispered, closing his eyes when your arms tightened around him, “please.”

“Never.”

“I love you,” he looked at you, taking your face carefully in his palms and kissing your jaw. When he kissed you, you could feel the salty tears that had sunk to his lips, “more than anything.”

“I love you too,” your voice sounded as weak as he felt, and he wished more than anything that this was a dream. That he would wake up in his own bed, tucked away in the safety of your arms. In some other world, he hoped that’s where he was, free from the burden of the games.

He wanted to lose himself in your touch. He wanted to forget. Just for one more night, he wanted to feel peace.

It didn’t take much searching for you to find Aizawa’s room, secluded from the rest of the train. It was far too early to be awake, but you couldn’t wait until morning to talk to him. You looked around tentatively to make sure no one woke up at the sound of your quiet footsteps and tapped once against the door. When no answer came, you knocked again, a bit louder. It took a moment, but you waited patiently until you heard Aizawa’s footsteps coming closer. The door slid open slowly, just barely wide enough for Aizawa to look through.

“What?” he grunted, opening the door for you and walking back towards his bed in a silent invitation for you to follow. You shuffled towards him, sitting on the chair that he pointed to and waiting for him to look at you.

“I needed to talk to you before tomorrow. I know you probably have a strategy in mind, but whatever it is, you need to change it.”

Aizawa looked less than impressed.

“He has to live,” your whispered words did not phase him. In fact, the look on his face made you think that this had been a complete waste of your time.

But this was something you had to confront. If not for Keigo, then for yourself. The fight between wanting to find a way for you both to live and needing Keigo to get back home was one you’d been having since the moment he volunteered. But you knew that two people surviving the games was impossible. This was your only option.

“Keigo lives. He has to. I don’t care what I have to do.”

Aizawa’s expression didn’t change, and you realized he was probably expecting this. If you had to guess, his only question was whether it would be you or Keigo showing up at his door.

“That’s not up to me,” he told you, “any strategy we come up with will end with one person coming out of that arena alive. If you do end up getting to the finish line with him, it’ll be your job to decide what happens.”

You didn’t know what else you were expecting. You felt idiotic for even coming given the little that you were leaving with. You felt far from reassured, but there was a tentative plan starting to form. Or at least some semblance of motivation.

“If you really want it to be him that makes it out, you’re going to have to fight until the end. That means the strategy stays the same,” he leaned forward, studying you for a moment. “This isn’t an out for you, if that’s what you were hoping. Your training stays the same, as does his.”

“I don’t want an out. All I want is to protect him.”

Aizawa met your eyes, fully alert as he stared at you. You wanted to back down from his intensity, but you forced yourself to stand your ground, unstable as it was.

“Then protect him. No one else is going to do it for you.”

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delicatebluebirdruins · 4 years ago

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The Hunger Games: Mockingjay

The Hunger Games; Catching Fire

Part One

- “I try to work out what is true and what is false”

- “I’m still not entirely convinced that I was hallucinating... the floor turning into a carpet of writhing snakes”.... nope

-- So many good quotes in this first chapter alone

- “Some walks you have to take alone”

-- I wonder who were the other Capitol rebels

-- Kat’s reaction to seeing Peeta on the screen breaks my heart

-- Poor Peeta

-- I love the imagery when Katniss says she’s going to be the Mockingjay, with her arms slightly raised as if she had wings

- Kat about the pearl holding it to her lips “It’s soothing a cool kiss from the giver himself” --- “a token it will make until I come home to you”

-- I love Katniss and Prim talking together

- Coin: want to present Gale as your new lover? Me: oi shut it

-- I always love Cinna’s sketchbook

-- I love the prep team’s interactions with Katniss... what happened to them after the series ended

- the prep team where punished because Octavia took a slice of bread

- Mrs Everdeen reading the pain on a person’s body

- I want a story about Greasy Sae

- Precious Posy... I want a story about Gale and his family like what happened to them all

- I am mad that the hummingbird room was cut in the film

- I love the bow Beetee designed for Katniss (I wonder what happened to it)

- Finnicks line being give to Effie kind of annoys me

- aww Katniss

- I love this scene for so many reasons but especially when the berries are mentioned and how they affected the different people

- I love Finnick so much

-- a big regret of mine was not being able to ask a teacher about why they were so shocked that Rue was cast as black... I was fifteen at the time It doesn’t excuse me being quiet

But I was also a coward. I wasn’t even able to tell a teacher about the time a girl dry humped my head, I dropped something on the floor because she and her friends kept staring at me and laughing and I couldn’t look at them any longer so I had to duck down and when I did she got up and came over and I froze and well she grabbed my head and shoved her crotch onto the crown of my head whilst her friends laughed and the rest of class and teachers didn’t notice I have only told one person this story and that was last year

- Finnick Odair in his underwear

- I love Cressida and I want to know more about her

- I love the hospital scene for so many reasons

- Kat about the bombing: “I assumed, as usual, it was my presence that brought on punishment”

- I always love the fire is catching speech

- I love Katniss so much

- I wish we saw the tribute to the tributes videos

- I love Kat and Finnick having a meal together- though I still don’t understand why he wanted them to hide their knowledge of seeing Peeta

- I love Finnick and Kat “hunting” together

- The Hanging Tree: I never realised it was jabberjays in the “dead man called out to his love” and I hate the pop remix with a passion

- Katniss: “I could remember almost anything set to music after a round or two”

- Katniss speculating about the song is pretty spot on

- I dislike the kitchen kiss so much

- Peeta’s warning :(

Part 2

- I don’t know why but them in the bunker is a favourite scene of mine

- “I almost hiss at him too” it was crime they didn’t have JLaw hissing at Buttercup in the film

- First Peeta hijacking ref: “waging a sort of battle in his mind”

- and more chats with Prim

- and chats with Finnick

- I love Buttercup

- Plutarch x coffee was amusing

- “Glance at Finnick who gives a thumbs up- But he’s looking pretty shaky himself” -- my poor babies

- my poor precious Finnick- I wonder whom among Snow’s friends got poisoned one I am certain he poisoned is Lysistrata

-- I wonder what was going through Gale’s head when he volunteered

- Katniss is so giddy to see Peeta and well you know

- Prim telling of Plutarch is *chefs kiss*

-- Poor Portia and all the other stylists and prep teams

- “I can’t say Gale’s absences have inconvenience me”

-- I love Delly

-- I hate District 2 kiss because of that article written in 2018

-- Wraps Finnick and Annie in blankets and glares at Gale

-- I love Gwendoline Christie in the MJ 2 behind the scenes

-- what could be worse than what Gale said about the workers in the Nut

- I just love Boggs

- District 2 speech is also great and she quoted Peeta!

- the capitol having emergency supplies stockpiled... Me: i bet they have

- Oh Finnick and Annie’s wedding :)... Katniss: “Finnick loves Annie and that’s good enough for me”

- Katniss seeing Peeta makes me sad

- Poor Johanna and of course I love Johanna

- I love Finnick and I want to hear more about the sea turtle which stole his hat... hey is there any fanart of that scene?

- everyone was creeped out by Peeta threatening to steal Annie away from Finnick

- “everything screams in my dreams tonight” this line always chills me

- gulps “your squadron leader gets hit by a mortar” mortal being a type of bomb

- I love the pine needle sachet that Katniss makes Johanna

Part Three

- I dislike Haymitch at times and this lecture of his is one of them

- I love Jackson for coming up with Real or Not Real

- I love Mitchell trying to act

-- Looks at Cressida with huge heart eyes

- the best brotp Finnick x Peeta

- “now this place tastes like the arena”

- I love Messalla’s moment about the centre unit

- Peeta with Pollux

- “Katnisss” Me: shit x3000

- “Snow can’t tolerate looking like a fool”

- everytime Finnick’s ***** gets me and I just love my boy

- “don’t let him take you from me”

- Tigris! is in Ballad fucking fight me on this

- “my face runs into a hanging chain and I pull it”... snorts

- Jagged sutures and smear on cream vs gently rinsing and bandaging

- “I know it happened and yet it doesn’t seem real” *whimpers*

- the guy who was mistaken for Peeta :|

- Tigris and the can of salmon

- all the next events are a lotTM

- and then Prim and the medics died

-- did you know there are people who were angry at Katniss for not showing emotion after Prim died? No well there were and I don’t like them

- Snow: snake eyes again; about Prim: so wasteful

- Haymitch: “more boy trouble” Katniss: “I don’t know why, but this hurts me in a way Haymitch rarely can”-- Thoughts?

- what happened to Effie

- I still Katniss voted yes because she wanted Coin to think she was still on her side

- “Its all over when the Mockingjay sings”... “hour after hour of ballads, love songs and mountain airs”

- I love Greasy Sae

- I really want to know what was going through Peeta’s head when he decided to dig up evening primrose bushes

- “flakes of skin the size of playing cards” owie ouch ow ow nope

Bonus CF: I love Mags just wanting a nap

- poor Madge

- poor Buttercup and Katniss I just love them bonding

- growing back together is something I love... does anyone have good fic recs for growing back together?

- I love the description for toast babies so much

-- “I make a list of every act of goodness I’ve seen someone do” I remember I had a very bad day and I was reading this scene and was looking at this blank notebook I had and thought why not and just have this small notebook with a few different stories of kindness in it and things I drew a picture of the blue mockingjay on it and a dandelion

- “Much worse games to play” It took me awhile to understand what this meant and I understand now

It was kind of a ride rereading this series again especially after Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes and you know what I still love this series and these characters

I don’t see Lucy Gray turning into Coin but I do see them as being related

#ellie rereads #mockingjay #the hunger games #long post #balladspoilers #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas spoilers #tbosas #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark

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written-in-flowers · 5 years ago

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Jimin is fortunate to live in a powerful family after the downfall of the world, like a dystopian au but despite having everything he has no clue as to what happens outside their very large, protective walls. until he one day finds out running after a man that he saw on their grounds following him :D

Pairing: Jimin x Namjoon; Genre: HungerGames!au, fluff, dash of smut; Word count: 6k; Summary: Jimin, a Capitol Boy, is given insight into the rebellion and its cause through Namjoon, a victor.

He knows he's lucky. He's aware of what goes on in the districts: the districts rebelling against the people who love and protect them. The resistance is doing very little to hide it. To Jimin, they should be grateful. The Capitol could obliterate them at any time as they'd done to District 13. They provide for The Capitol, and The Capitol provides for them. Why change things? Because of The Games? The Hunger Games are a long time tradition; since The Dark Days and in the Treaty of Peace, it has been decreed every district provides one male and one female tribute. They've watched their young ones die over and over again. Why rebel now?

Jimin walked about the garden. The Parks are one of the few families to have a garden. Most live in the sky towers standing high above the city. Flowers of all colors blossom all year long, their sweet, floral scents filling the air. It's quiet in the garden. There's nobody to pester him about presidential campaigns or public speeches. He can sit out amongst the flowers and enjoy the sun. He can sketch his ideas without his father standing over his shoulder. The flowers alone inspired an entire spring fashion line. His father told him he’d be running late in the president’s office; since the uprisings, he isn’t home much. Being the military strategist and general he is, it’s expected that he will be there during cabinet meetings. Good. Jimin can finally be at peace.

Reading the latest news at a bench, a sudden rustle caught his attention. He stared at the tall hedge wall it came from a moment. It must be his dog digging in the ground again. She’d grown into the habit of hiding things around the garden.

"Pearl," he called, closing the magazine. "I told you to stop digging holes in the garden. You'll ruin your manicure!"

However, when he pushed back the branches, it was not his sky blue puppy. It was a man dressed in a dark green jacket and black pants. Jimin paused, his heart stopping and bringing out a gasp. Jimin knew who he was immediately: Kim Namjoon from District 7, lumber. He recalled how Namjoon won his games so expertly. Lightning fast and resourceful, he spent a majority of his games in trees waiting for unsuspecting tributes. When it came down to him and a District 1 tribute, Namjoon threw a double edged hatchet-a sponsor gift-right into the tribute’s head, winning The Games. Everybody loved him.

Including Jimin.

"What are you-"

He didn't get a chance to speak before Namjoon pulled him into the bush. "Scream and I cut you," he threatened, putting a blade to Jimin's throat. "Move."

Behind the tall hedge is a secret door. Hardly anyone knows about it. His father told him it's meant to be an escape route that'll take them underground. From there, they take a car that'll lead them out of the city. It appeared more than one person knew about it. Leading him down a tunnel, Jimin's breathing became heavier. He should run. He should scream for help. However, the man behind him isn't known for empty threats.

"You don't have to do this. My family will pay you whatever you want; give you whatever you like!" Namjoon ignored him and continued down the path. "I rooted for you in the games, you know. I was the one who sent you that tub of medicine when your leg got infected."

"Yeah, and then watched me kill innocent kids for your entertainment."

They reached the end of the tunnel where a van sat waiting for them. Armed men and women held up their guns when he approached. One of the women, short and stocky, stared amused at Jimin.

"Look at this one. He's prettier than most girls back home."

"Get in," Namjoon opened the door and pushed Jimin in.

He wrapped wrist ties on Jimin and tightened them. The van started to move down the dimly lit road.

"I can give you whatever you want if you let me go," he pleaded. "Money, jewels, clothes, anything! Just don't kill me!"

"We won't kill you, pretty boy," a pale man said from the front seat. "Not yet anyways," he and the woman cackled.

"If you do as we say," Namjoon spoke, "And cooperate, then you'll get to come back."

"What?" the pale man asked in disbelief.

"We don't need him for long," he replied. "Just until his father gives us what we want. Once he's in the base, we'll make contact."

"My dad will give you whatever you want!"

"For your sake, you better hope so."

They remained quiet the entire way out. Jimin tried keeping his shaking hands still, and steady his breathing. His father always told him to never show fear. He wished he'd stayed inside. He'd rather endure an interview than this. His eyes continuously moved to Namjoon, who spoke to someone over a holocommunicator. He's strong and tough. He beat and evaded Career packs in the games, taking them unsuspectedly. He'd gained an infection when one tribute sliced his leg open. Jimin felt bad for him. He's so handsome and suffered a rough life back home. Jimin decided to send him medicine cream to heal him. He hoped the man might feel gratitude for it. They all should.

The van stopped outside a concrete building. By the smog and smell, he's in District 2. Masonry and weapons factories, a lot of Peacekeepers came from District 2. Namjoon pushed him out and towards the building. Inside, Jimin saw more people and more guns. They're preparing for war. His body trembled imagining everything destroyed. His home, his family, his life in complete destruction because people aren't satisfied with what's handed to them.

"We got him," Namjoon brought Jimin him to group by a table.

They made their demands simple: his father, a military general, has the plans to the traps set underneath the Capitol. They cannot move forward inside without the map, otherwise they won't get even half a mile inside. Jimin nodded rapidly and reassured them his father would comply. He must. He wouldn't leave Jimin to these savages. They took him to the Justice building where they locked him inside a cell below it. He won't be here long. They will contact his father who would give them whatever they wanted. The pink-haired boy sat on the floor, knees to his chest in the corner.

****

He rarely saw daylight the next few days. The only people he saw were the soldiers handing him bowls of stew with water. It’s awful. He missed his three course meals, tall glasses of liquor, fine clothes and his sweet Pearl. Right now, he’d be going out to lunch with Taehyung and Jungkook. They’d spend the day shopping, going to friends’ houses and finally to the clubs. He might find another pretty boy to take home for the night. Then he’d do it all over again the next day. It all seemed far away from him now. He missed his mother and her strings of diamonds. His little sister with her dolls and brother with his toy weapons; his father’s comforting, reassuring voice. Jimin never knew what went on beyond The Capitol border, and never cared to know. He’d learned ignorance is bliss. Now, he wanted to know everything.

“Where’s my dad? Has he contacted you yet? When are you letting me go?!” he’d ask the questions to anyone who entered the room. They never replied.

He thought they’d at least let him bathe. They didn’t. It seemed they feared he might escape if given a hint of freedom from his cell. His only toilet was a bucket in the corner; it’s humiliating living like this. He never felt so hungry in his life. He’s sure his makeup is smeared and worn off by now; his hair felt limp and oily in his fingers. Jimin sometimes went to sleep on the ground silently sobbing. They’d be stopped by a voice telling him he had nothing to cry about. People were starving all over the place; getting sick or being killed. Jimin’s “people” have reigned for far too long, and they’re getting their just desserts.

Jimin licked his lips at the word ‘dessert’.

“Have you heard from my dad?” he asked a captor, the stocky woman from before. “Is he coming for me?”

“Doubt it, pretty boy. You’re on your own.”

“Wait, what?” he crawled across the floors after her, staying on her heels, “What do you mean? What’s happened? Why is he not coming for me?”

“Because you’re a pain in the ass, that’s why!”

She slammed the door in his face. That’s not true. His family loves him. They wouldn’t leave him to suffer this way. He slipped back to his corner, pushing away the food left by his side. For the first time in days, he didn’t feel like eating.

****

He never knew a punch hurt so much. He'd seen plenty of people be hit, but he never imagined it'd happen to him. Slamming into the wall, the pale man trapped him against the concrete and hit him again. His nose burned painfully every time the knuckles hit the bridge; the next swing smashed into his cheek. His comrade took a turn tossing him to the floor, kicking his rib cage until he coughed up spit.

"Please stop," he begged for the hundredth time. Curling into a ball, they began stomping their heavy boots on him. He'd stopped screaming a while ago. None of them will come for him. "Please…Have mercy."

"Mercy?!" The broad man screamed down at him. "Where was your mercy when you all watched my little brother be killed in your arena? When my family starved in service of your precious Capitol?! I'm not showing you a single bit of mercy!"

"I don't care who your dad was. He's dead anyways!" said the other, lifting Jimin to his feet to hit him again.

"I'm sorry! I didn't have anything to do with that!"

"You watched!"

In a single flash, a short knife flew through the air and hit the wall close to the pale man's head. Jimim saw a trickle of blood go down from his ear. The knife had sliced right over the tip. A warning shot.

"Yoongi! Jin! What the hell are you two doing?" Namjoon stood tall and broad in the doorway. No rifle on his back now, he held another knife in his hand. It seemed deadlier than any gun he might hold.

"Giving the Capitol brat what he deserves," one of them said. Jimin slid down to the wall, clutching his stomach and groaning from the sick feeling in his stomach.

"Get out of here."

"Come on, Namjoon. It's not like we need him anymore."

"Get out! That's an order, soldier!"

His powerful voice vibrated on the walls. The two soldiers glared at him before leaving. Jimin hid his face from the man. He must look hideous. The words the men said pierced right through his heart. His father is dead? Then surely they will kill him too.

"Here." Namjoon knelt down, pulling out a small first aid kit from his belt. He withdrew cotton pads and a medicine tub. Jimin recognized the clear blue paste inside. “Stay still,” he said. He swiped up some of the paste and gently smeared it over Jimin’s swelling eye and lower lip. A cooling sensation tingled the wounds. He knew they’d be healed by the next day. “I won’t apologize for them if that’s what you’re expecting.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Their siblings died in The Games,” he said. “They’re from the poorer districts, so they’ve gotten the backhand of The Capitol more than once. They have every right to be angry.” He finished covering the worst of Jimin’s wounds. “You’re as guilty as everyone else who sat and watched us kill each other for sport.”

“It’s not like I could’ve done anything to stop them. To suggest we stop The Games is social suicide. Not to mention, you’d disappear in the night if you spoke up against anyone.” Jimin knew people who’d go against the presidency, then be gone the next day.

“Then you’re a coward, which is worse.”

He didn’t respond. His body hurt too much to care what a lumberjack thinks of him. Namjoon chuckled, “Even when you smell like shit, are skinnier than a stick, and bruised up, you still look down on me.” He handed Jimin an ice pack, “For your ribs. I’ll make sure nobody comes in to bother you anymore.”

As he turned away, Jimin spoke up, “He said my dad is dead...is that true?”

Namjoon paused by the door. Tucking his kit back into a belt pocket, he answered, “I’m sorry.”

Suddenly, his heartache overcame any physical pain. He fell on his side to the ground, trying his best to hide his sobs from Namjoon. “It’s okay to cry,” he comforted. “I did too when they killed my family. Snow doesn’t care about anyone; only himself. He killed your dad because he knew your dad would do anything to get you back.”

Jimin didn’t look at him. He pressed the pack to his bruised stomach and ignored him.

“I’ll see about getting you a proper bed,” Namjoon said before closing the door.

The darkness comforted him. In the dark, nobody can see the tears falling or hear his sobs ringing throughout the room. They can’t see his heart slowly breaking in two. He didn’t want to think about his father’s last moments: his tearful face as he stared down a gun. Did he beg for his life or stand brave? Did he at least ask if they can rescue Jimin? The eyes that radiated nothing but warmth at Jimin will never open again. He hated them. He hated Snow. He hated everyone. They’ll kill him sooner or later now that they have no need of him. He wished they’d get it over with already.

*****

They moved him out of the cell. He shielded his eyes from the bright winter sun, and hugged his thin frame against the cold. It’d been autumn when they took him. How long has he been in the cell? A guard on either side of him, they escorted him across the building courtyard. He saw them: the sick and wounded. Children cried in cots holding onto their parents, who sported injuries or signs of illness. One family crowded around a man bleeding from his head in a corner. A soup line started on one side of the camp. It’s the same meat stew they served Jimin. He grew to hate the smell of it. He nearly vomited from the nausea.

“Are they all from District 2?” he asked Namjoon, who held his arm gently.

“Not all of them,” he replied. “Some were pushed out of their districts from bombings or attacks.”

“Bombings? They’ve dropped bombs on them?”

“Yeah, The Capitol has.”

“But...But not all of them could have been soldiers or part of your rebellion, could they?” He saw mostly women, children, and the elderly guarded by soldiers carrying weapons. “They’re just people.”

“Your Capitol doesn’t care about who’s in the fight and who’s not. As long as they win, they’ll destroy all of us.”

Like they did his father. “What did they do to the rest of my family? Did he kill them too?”

“Last we heard, your mother and siblings escaped through the tunnel under your mansion.” He paused, “She contacted us.”

“My mom?”

“Yeah.” They walked into a separate building. A factory turned into a shelter, dozens of beds were placed throughout the room. He brought Jimin over to a fresh cot, complete with a wool blanket and a pillow. “She must’ve found the message we sent your dad and relayed one back to us. We don’t know if she ever managed to escape, but we told her where we were.”

“Isn’t that dangerous? What if they were listening to see if she’d message you?”

Namjoon gave a shadow of a smile. “We don’t think she’d trap us. She seemed pretty desperate to leave; she has no real connections to the government there now.” He handed Jimin a plastic case. Inside, he found a bar of soap, a package of nuts and berries, matches, and a tub of medicine cream. “A few essentials here. Consider it like a sponsor gift.”

“Thank you.”

“The showers are down that way. They’re on a timer, so make sure you limit yourself to ten minutes. You’re not in the Capitol anymore.” He turned around, but then stopped, “By the way, you look better without all that makeup and hair dye.”

“I look hideous.” The pink already faded to the tips of his hair, and his bare face must be puffy by now.

“Maybe in The Capitol looking like a human being is ugly, but not to me.”

For some reason, Namjoon’s compliment made his cheeks burn.

****

He didn’t miss any of it anymore. He only missed his family. Jimin never put much thought to them when at home. They were always there. But, now they’re not. They’re gone. It’s only him now. He spent the next few months sleeping, eating, working, and then sleeping again. They’d given him a job in their factory helping the healers in the factory. He’d change bloody sheets, clean up bandages, mix tubs of medicine and feed the immobile. They must’ve thought he’d turn away at the idea of work, but he embraced it. He focused on helping them rather than thinking about his family dead or worse.

“Jimin, my ankle hurts.” Her name is Ivy. A small girl from District 11, her family managed to find safety in a neighboring district before coming to District 2. She’d sprained her ankle falling down in the courtyard, and Jimin volunteered to tend to her.

“Don’t worry. If you keep off it and put ice, it’ll heal up in no time,” he reassured her. “Just be careful next time you want to climb a wall, okay?”

“Somebody come quick. He’s been shot!”

Yoongi, Jin, and another soldier-a red-haired man named Hoseok-lifted Namjoon onto one of the fresh beds. Jimin saw blood pouring from a hole in his shoulder and the commander wincing at the pain. He sprung into action. The other healers occupied, he grabbed a kit and took a seat beside Namjoon. He’d learned from watching the other healers how to properly tend a bullet wound. Plenty of soldiers came in here with them. Jimin heard whispers of a squad going into the city now they’d obtained a map.

“Hold him still,” Jimin told the three men as he grabbed a pair of tweezers. “The bullet’s in there pretty deep.”

He kept on a brave face while Jimin worked. The younger man couldn't help blush under the commander’s attention. Relaxed as Jimin stitched up his wound, he said, “You’ve gotten pretty good at this healer stuff.”

“I’m only doing what I’ve seen. I’m not a doctor.”

“Better to have some skills than none at all.” He stayed quiet another moment, “A lot of the people here actually like you. You’re not as bad as they thought you’d be.”

“I wasn’t bad to begin with.” He sighed, cutting the thread, “I mean, I did watch The Games and support it, but you can’t put that blame on me. What was I supposed to do? Protest? Not watch? Everyone watches it; it was a tradition. Albeit, a horrible tradition that put innocent lives in danger, but I’d be an idiot if I said anything to the contrary. I knew people who’d protest The Games, then be arrested the next day.” Before Namjoon said anything, he cut in, “I know I’m a coward. I’m not strong or skilled or a fighter like you. I like shopping, dancing and singing. I like wearing nice clothes and having my hair done. But...Now I see there’s people in Panem who don’t have those luxuries; who suffered and starved while I stuffed myself, only to throw it up so I can eat more.” He twirled a thread between his fingers, “I’m sorry about what happened to your family. One of the other soldiers told me.”

“I wouldn’t be their puppet. People in the Capitol wanted to buy me like I’m some kind of prostitute, and I said no.” He gazed up at the ceiling, taking in the dim lights. “I had a brother and sister too. They were about your siblings’ ages. Peacekeepers came into our house and shot them. They just...shot them like dogs in the street.” He stayed silent for a moment, “Do you want to know why I fight? For them. For her,” he nodded to Ivy nearby, “For every single person President Snow and The Capitol ever hurt.”

Jimin slipped his hand over Namjoon’s. He noticed rough calluses on his palms from years of wood work. “What did you do before this?”

“I was a Load Puller. I’d pull logs and wood stacks into trucks to be taken elsewhere in Panem. I did carpentry on the side with my dad.” Another pause, “He was good with wood, my dad.You gave him a piece of wood and some tools and he could make anything you wanted. He’d built our house himself with my uncles. It was a wedding gift to my mom.”

“And your mom?”

“She worked in the paper factory.” He then said, “That's the difference between the districts and the Capitol. Everybody works.”

“We work too.”

“Oh? Painting your faces and doing weird stuff to your bodies?”

“My mother happened to be a stylist; not just in The Games but for really rich people,” he defended. “She made the most beautiful designs. Everybody in The Capitol either owned or wore Park Fashions.” He continued, “And you know my dad’s a military general, which got us access to the biggest parties. Other people in my family are plastic surgeons, hairdressers, artists, and all that stuff. We still have it easy compared to the rest of you.”

“What did you do?”

“I wanted to be a stylist like my mom, but my dad wanted me to go into politics. He wanted me to be in the presidential cabinet one day.” He scoffed, “I guess then I could’ve done something about The Games.”

“No, you were right,” Namjoon shook his head. “They would’ve arrested you for it. You would’ve been stupid to suggest they stop their time honored traditions.”

Jimin took a seat on the bed now. At that moment, he noticed Namjoon’s chest and stomach. Honey-colored skin looked so smooth to the touch and must feel so good. In the cold, he feels so warm. “You were in The Games. I remember how charming and friendly you were; playing the sweet boy-next-door who’s totally mesmerized by the Capitol.” He smiled, “Even I fell for it.”

“For the act,” he propped himself up, “Or for me?”

He stared at him for a moment. “Both. I wasn’t the only one though.”

“But you showed it the most. Exactly how many gifts were yours?”

“The medicine, the soup and the matches. You know, when it rained and the wood was too damp.” He added, “My friend Jungkook sent you that hatchet. Must have been your favorite since he made it specifically for you.”

“I liked the hatchet, but I didn’t need it. I had knives and my hands to kill with. The medicine and matches saved my life.”

“So, I saved your life, huh?” Jimin smirked.

“You helped me survive for a little while, yeah.”

“Looks like you owe me then.”

Namjoon laughed, dimples out for Jimin to gush over. “And what could a wood puller like me give a Capitol sweetheart, hm?”

Jimin leaned forward until they were an inch apart, “A kiss would be a good start.”

His lips are better than anything Jimin’s ever tasted. They’re better than champagne, better than chocolate or caramel cremes. He can have several cups of vanilla coffees, and still prefer Namjoon’s lips. Jimin cupped Namjoon’s jaw and bent down as much as his body let him. Full, lush and soft, they easily opened Jimin’s mouth to let his tongue in. He can’t remember the last time anyone kissed him this way. They broke apart in a few more kisses, then smiled at one another.

“I had news for you,” Namjoon whispered, kissing him briefly. “They found your family.”

“They did?” The afterglow of Namjoon’s kiss left him slightly dazed.

“We found them outside of District 1, hiding in a cabin. That's why I went outside the border this morning.”

“Who shot you?”

“Peacekeeper. Don’t worry, I got him back twice as bad. They seemed to think we’d come get your family, since we have you, and ambushed us.”

“I don’t doubt that. But, they’re okay, right? My family? They’re on their way here, right?”

“Yeah, they are.”

Jimin laughed, the nervous energy breaking out of his chest. They’re safe. They’re coming to meet him. They’ll all be together again. Things might become somewhat normal now that his family will be with him. He kissed Namjoon once more, then heard the soft whimpering of Ivy a bed away.

****

“Jiminie!”

“Mom!”

Her bald head covered by a scarf, no makeup and in a grey jumpsuit, he still knew his mother by sight. She laughed, smiling widely at him, calling every pet name she ever gave him. She smothered him in a hug, planting kisses on his wet cheeks. Jimin wrapped his arms around her, tears spilling as they embraced. He missed her hugs, warm blankets of safety from the world around him. Suddenly, they’re not in the courtyard of a factory. They’re home. Being with her feels like home. She kissed and squeezed him, muttering how much she missed him.

“Dad…” he whispered on her shoulder. “They said that…”

“They did. He’s gone.”

His absence only became more real. He kept himself together, but the safety of her embrace coaxed it from him. They’re together, yet not complete. His father’s absence is a hole in the wall. He might have his mother’s comfort, yet not his father’s reassurance.

“He tried, Jimin,” she said woefully. “He tried rescuing you. He had the plans in his hand before the...the Peacekeepers came. I knew what would happen the moment they took him, so we ran.”

“I’m just glad you’re safe,” he gave her another squeeze. Over her shoulder, he saw two small children running his way. “Elsa! Leto!”

They also wore jumpsuits. Elsa’s black curls hung lank and dull; Leto’s round face appeared slightly more gaunt than before. The wilderness is written on their faces. He hugged and kissed each of them. His mother joined in and everything felt different. Between his siblings, he saw Namjoon standing nearby. He remembered what the commander told him about his own family. Jimin can never imagine living without his. The loneliness he must feel whenever he thinks about them must be painful. Namjoon gave a soft smile, then walked away. Jimin remembered his lips and his tenderness and wished to feel it every day.

At dinner, he found Namjoon standing at the end of the kitchen line. “Hey, I wanted to thank you.”

“For what?”

“Getting my family back.”

“It was just a mission.”

“Was it?” he read right through him. “You could’ve left them to die. You had no reason to bring them here. You risked your life and the lives of your men to get them. My mother is a stylist; what information would she have?”

He didn’t meet Jimin’s eyes, instead looking ahead to the line. “I brought them here because I was ordered to.”

“No you weren’t. I talked to Paylor.”

“Ugh, of course you did.”

“She told me you requested to go on a retrieval mission. She said you’d be responsible for anything that happened out there.” Jimin stood in front of him. Namjoon towers him by a few inches, yet he felt as tall as him. “Why would you do that if not out of the goodness of your heart?”

Namjoon stayed silent, adjusting himself uncomfortably and not looking at him. “I did it...I did it because it’s the right thing to do.”

“Oh?”

“You said it yourself. You might’ve watched The Games, but it’s not your fault you lived so ignorant to what went on beyond your little bubble.” He finally looked at Jimin, “Your mom isn’t as dim-witted as she makes herself seem in The Games. She knew the risks of opposing them, and already had a plan to escape if anything happened to your family. She’s the one who sent us a copy of the city map and the pods underneath. Your brother and sister...they kind of remind me of my own.”

Jimin let his fingers slide between Namjoon’s, “Thank you. I know why you really did it, so thank you.”

Namjoon gave his hand a light squeeze.

****

He’s as beautiful naked as he is dressed. Warm water falling over the both of them, Jimin’s hands slid soapy suds all over Namjoon’s torso and lower half. He took in the defined lines and strong muscles that worked out nearly every day. The body he’d gained from pulling logs onto and off trucks. The body that his legs are now wrapped around as Namjoon pressed him into the shower wall. His lips became fire that trailed all over his neck and collarbone while rough hands squeezed his backside. Jimin could not take the pressure anymore. It built so tightly in his crotch he thought he might explode from a mere touch.

“I want you in me,” Jimin muttered between kisses. “Please.”

“You sure?”

When he nodded, Namjoon lined himself to Jimin’s entrance. He started slow, gradually stretching and filling Jimin until he reached towards the base. Jimin stayed still while his body grew accustomed to Namjoon’s length. He’s all natural. No surgical extensions or bulky silicone muscles that made Jimin wrinkle his nose. No dyed hairs or bejeweled nipples. Just Namjoon. All him all the time. Once impaled on him, Namjoon kept a steady pace while holding onto him. He’s so light in his arms. He’s easy to pin down and ravage for hours. Jimin wanted him to. He’d have him every day if he could. The warm water shut off by the time streams of white covered their stomachs. Jimin will feel him for days now; he’ll burn, but it’ll be a good kind of pain.

“Don’t go,” Jimin found himself saying. “When the time comes, don’t go. Stay with me.”

“I can’t do that,” he panted. “I can’t stand aside while they go on without me.”

“But what if something happens to you?”

“Then I would’ve died for the safety and freedom of everyone else.” He kissed him once more and set Jimin back on the floor. “I love you Jimin, but I love them too.”

The words stunned him. “You love me?”

“I do. I can’t believe it either, but I do.”

Jimin brought him down for another kiss. “I love you too.”

****

“Bullet Team, move out!”

Jimin sat beside his mother, sewing new clothes and fixing patches for people in the base. She’d seen the uniforms the soldiers wore, and made a few suggestions. It’s not completely bulletproof, but the fabric can take a shot or two. His mother did as he’d done: threw herself into her work. It’s not unusual to see troops getting into a truck to scan areas or go on missions. He’d said plenty of goodbyes to Namjoon whenever he left. Yet, today seemed much more different. Tension hung high in the air that slowly came down over them. He saw more trucks being filled and more men moving out of the base. When he saw Namjoon letting his men into one of them, he went over to him.

“What’s happening?” he asked, making sure nobody overheard them.

“It’s happening, Jimin,” he replied. “We’re going into the city. We’ve taken down most of the Capitol’s forces, so they’re unprotected. We’re taking the shot while we can.”

“But...But what about the people inside the city? Civilians who didn’t do anything wrong?”

Namjoon didn’t need to answer, but Jimin wished he would. “I’ll see you when this is over, okay?” he said, pulling Jimin close with one arm. “I’ll come find you. I promise.”

“Namjoon-”

“-I promise,” he said more firmly.

He stood watching Namjoon climb into the truck. Out of all the people in the world, he never thought he’d fall for someone like Namjoon. However, seeing him ride away in the truck, already issuing orders, he felt thankful he had. As the truck rolled towards the gates, Namjoon looked over to him one more time. His heart ached already. Anything can happen out there. The Capitol isn’t completely defenseless, simply crippled heavily. Namjoon can be shot or die in an explosion. This isn’t The Hunger Games anymore. These aren’t children he’s fighting against. These are grown people who will kill him without a second thought. Jimin only knew him for a few months, but he still left a mark on him. There’s already one hole in his life. He doesn’t want a second one.

The explosions can’t be missed. Sitting on his bed with his mother, he heard the blasts from miles away. He heard from others their plans to take The Capitol. They’d wait until all the citizens are in The City Circle in front of Snow’s mansion, then drop bombs and open fire. Jimin already imagined the blood bath that’ll ensue. Dozens of innocent people shot where they stood in the freezing cold. They’re frightened and looking for shelter, only to then be executed for living. The bomb blasts are the worst. They’d end up killing children who’d done nothing wrong. To some of the people in 2, it didn’t matter. They’d lost their families and children to The Capitol. To them, it’s only fair. Not to Jimin. None of this is fair anywhere.

“I’m sure he’s fine,” his mother comforted, rubbing his back. “He’s a fighter. You’ve seen him shoot. You’ve seen him fight.” When Jimin didn’t answer, she said, “You really like him, huh?”

“I guess. I’ve never met anyone like him. He’s different from everyone else.”

She grinned, “He’s a nice boy. I thought he’d be an absolute brute, but he’s shown us nothing but fairness.” She took his hand in both of hers, “Maybe when this is over...you two can...perhaps see each other? He can come to The Capitol to visit you or maybe you can get your own apartment-”

“-He won’t want to see The Capitol,” Jimin said. “We’ve hurt him too deeply for him to want that.” He met her eyes, “Maybe I can go to 7? He’s from District 7. He’s told me all about the forests and lakes nearby. It sounds lovely.”

“My Jimin wanting to actually be around sappy trees and bugs?” she giggled, “This little rebellion really has changed you.”

“It’s going to change a lot of things, Mom. They won’t be the same when we get home. Everyone will be equal now and get a fair share.”

“Not everything will change. Rebellion or not, people still want nice clothes to wear,” she gestured to the jumpsuits she altered for her family. “And get their hair done and listen to music and drink and eat and live. We’ll get our lives back, Jiminie, even if it’s only a small part.”

Live. Jimin never thought past that. He hoped Namjoon might want to be a part of that.

****

The world did feel different. President Coin and Snow both assassinated, the presidential title fell on Commander Paylor of District 8. They’d have a representative of each district be part of a council, where everyone has a say. Democracy, they call it. Their ancestors managed it before them; they can manage it again, Jimin thought. It was the ideal Namjoon fought for; a free nation where everybody is equal. It sounded nice.

The Capitol looked different. Buildings crumbled after explosions, pools of blood stained the streets, and large craters broke blocks apart. He hardly recognized the sleek, clean world he’d once lived in. His own home fell into disarray since the rebellion; he suspected people might’ve squatted in the mansion after servants looted the place. Jimin didn’t care. He didn’t care for much of it anymore. His wigs, his jewelry, his makeup and clothes did not matter. There are people in the world still worse off than him. However, he knew the new government would fix that. He already heard talk of fixing the economy and distributing goods fairly in the districts. The world is slowly going back into order.

He didn’t see Namjoon after the rebellion. He’d been shipped back to District 2 to reestablish order. There’d be a proper military now stationed there; his promise went empty. Jimin guessed there’d really be nothing between them. It was a fling; a meaningless encounter that ended as quickly as it started. He should have known better. There’s no way it’d work. Jimin gave up plans for the government and ran his mother’s boutique in the Capitol. He loved being around the glitz, glamour and beauty again. He’d lost several pieces of his old self in the war, but at least he’d kept this part. The new world forced a lot of his friends to find jobs outside The Capitol, which was no longer the symbol of excess and luxury it’d been. A long time ago, he’d be joining them, yet now, he didn’t see himself amongst them.

He had clients and customers to worry about now. Park Fashions skyrocketed back into business when all was said and done. His mother released a whole new line called ‘Revolution’, celebrating the new era. Taehyung’s salon next door and Jungkook’s tattoo shop across the street, the three friends made a fortune. He might just become himself again. Still, it seemed pointless without Namjoon. He’d tried finding out where they’d stationed him, though found his letters being sent back. Jimin tried not thinking about him, but every so often, the dimpled boy from District 7 came to mind. He’ll never see him again. Never.

He’d been working on Celeste’s newest dress when he heard the workshop door open. “Tell Celeste I’m still working on her dress,” he said before the assistant could. “I’m sewing on the last of these damned sequins! I changed the threading to be a bit thicker so they don’t fall off. Reassure her she is going to be the belle of the ball this thursday.”

“You guys still have parties here?”

Namjoon. Namjoon, Namjoon, Namjoon. Jimin spun around on his stool so fast Namjoon caught him before he could fall. “You’re here,” he marveled. “You’re finally here.”

“I told you I’d come back for you.”

The kiss they shared made up for the thousands they’d missed. Jimin didn’t know what the future held now, but he knew Namjoon would be in it.

#bangtanxm #bangtanarmynet #kwritersworldnet #btsbookclub #joonienetwork #bts #minjoon #hunger games au #park jimin #kim namjoon

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gukptune · 6 years ago

Text

— phase one, the reap (m.)

Pairing: jungkook x reader

Genre: hungergames!au, hungergames!bts, tribute!jk, career tribute!reader

Warnings: explicit language, mentions of death, brutality, murder, all things hunger games, very mean/ very cold y/n, angst, smut

Summary: twenty five years after the fall of the second rebellion comes the fourth quarter quell. two different people from two different worlds stand out like sore thumbs within the pool of tributes―catching the eyes of others, sponsors and most importantly...each-other.

Words: 3.4k+

Note: a shorty for the first part of the series!!!! super excited for this and I hope you all like it toooo!

SERIES INDEX: one last breath

— phase one: the reap

SERIES MASTERLIST

The dreadful day has come again, the day that many feared, despised, suffered from—the reap, the games.

Your district, a powerful one, important to the Capitol, stood with the president even to your dismay. Again comes the grim day, the skies had turned a dark gray, even nature was unhappy.

It was visible to you, outside your home the tides roared with anger and hatred for the reap, you could hear the planes and jets ripping the sky open forewarning to you to ready.

Your mother had knew the day would come, the day that you’d step ahead and join the games. Your whole life was built on this, this game. Your mother hadn’t cared much for the chance of her child’s death, of course she didn’t, you were her eldest of four. Your father had died during the games before you were born, your mother had remarried and birthed more children for her pathetic husband.

The two of them agreed that to better the finances of their family that you should enter the career training and provide for them when you’d win the games, if you would.It was good for them, apparently, truly it was one less mouth to feed even if your district was drowned with food. They didn’t want to bother with you, mother must’ve hated you—she loved the others and would never want them to join the games. Maybe it was because you reminded her of father so much, she was angry that he left her, yet here she was forcing you away.

You were never home anymore, when you were five you were sent to the career camp, living your life training with your fellow future tributes—with the occasional visit from your family, mother and her husband standing by the gates as your kind siblings would embrace you with their love.

But today was different, you were home, readying up for the reap—for the quarter quell.You were uneasy, feeling tense, what could the twist be this time—which twist will be chosen from the glass of many.

Without a word spoken you got on your stupid dress and forwarded towards the courtyard, all the children settled in their spots as well as you. Your younger brother had reached the age of reap and he stood with the boys, looking over at you worry in his eyes. He was worried, why, there was no reason to be, many careers lurked amongst the crowd and never had a child in your district be chosen by force.

The Capitol’s representative had made her way up the stage, looking over the crowd with an obnoxious grin, “Welcome, welcome.”

You could already sense the annoyance she had caused amongst the crowd, people kicking at the pebbles by their feet or rolling their eyes. All you could think was: Uh, get to the point.

“I welcome you all to the reap of the Annual Hunger Games! This year is a little different, as you all may know this year marks the hundredth year since the fall of the Rebels, which means that this year is our fourth Quarter Quell!” Her high pitched voice scratches your ear drums with such pain that makes you wince.

She continues after she pauses for you to take in what she had said, “You all look very young, must’ve missed the last Quarter Quell. During a Quarter Quell the President shall pick a twist that changes up the reap, exciting isn’t it!”

With that you see the screen behind her light up with the Capitol’s anthem. You shifted your weight, kicking out your legs from standing for this long.

“Now let’s listen as our President joins us.”

The music plays for a few seconds before you could see the face of your relatively new president. President Snow, which is Coriolanus Snow’s son who was born just before his father’s death. Many could say the previous President was cruel, his son was no different.

“Thank you, thank you all.” You could hear the cheering through the speakers, which means that the President had an audience of very excited citizens of the Capitol, lucky them.

“Ladies and Gentlemen! This is the hundredth year of the Hunger Games.” The man spoke as with such pride and excitement, the type of pride and excitement that was only felt in the Capitol.

Other districts alike yourself, apart of the alliance has benefits. You didn’t hate the Capitol but you wouldn’t help but dislike the delusional retards that live there. Little do they know they’re easily played by the President.

“It was written in the charter of the games that every twenty five years there would be a quarter quell, to keep fresh for each new generation—the memory of those who died and the uprisings against the Capitol,” he spoke with such authority and venom laced in his tongue as he spoke about the rebels, “Each Quarter Quell is distinguished by games of a special significance and now on the hundredth Anniversary of the defeat of the rebellion, we celebrate the fourth Quarter Quell—”

Cheers, claps and joy from the audience was loud and clear. A large glass sphere was brought out with what seemed like hundreds of folded parchment, all written with different twists made by the game-makers.

The President reached his hand into the sphere, his hand all the way to the bottom. He grins as he pulls his hand out with a choice in it. He waves the paper around as the crowd roared with excitement, you were excited to, twists are always a new change to the games.

You’ve watched nearly all the previous games, most being exciting. It was normal for the other Careers to not fear the games too, your whole life trained for the games. The only thing you worried about were the other tributes but when you watched the games, the Career pack managed to outwit each other instead of out-power, and you’d say you’ve got a lot of wits.

The President opened the paper, and began to read out the writing, “—as a reminder to the rebels that even the strongest amongst them cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, on this—the fourth Quarter Quell game, the male and female tributes are to be reaped—only through volunteering.”

The crowd grew silent within an instant, you could sense the air shifting as the children lessened with worry. An Career district were cheering inside, it was easy, the most capably at the time would volunteer and you knew this year it would be you.

Yet, at the back of your mind you wondered how the other districts would do, how they would every come to a conclusion, maybe there wouldn’t even be a choice. God, who would ever volunteer to die.

“But of course, I wouldn’t imagine many of you would think of volunteering but you must—or the game would not happen, and without a game how would we remind the rebels that due to their ways their children must suffer their consequences—suffer the consequences of the actions of which their foolish, grandparents and parents did,” there wasn’t a cheer after this, the crowd seemed shocked to say the least, “Without a volunteer of a male and female tribute from each District, the District shall be punished—punished by the hour, with each hour the punishment getting worse until someone breaks and does the right thing. I’d hope we wouldn’t have to come to that, happy reaping, and may the odds be every in your favour.”

As the screen shuts off, you could hear the clapping, no cheering. The smug face on the President could possibly anger so many that feared losing their child or their own lives but not here, here it was easier, but still who in their right mind would want to jump into death—not even you, but what were you going to do, the right thing.

As the representative stepped back into the centre of the stage you could see her give the crowd a nervous smile, “Well, then. We’re going to need a male and female tribute from District four, let’s take a female volunteer first shall we?”

You blankly stared back at the woman, who waved her hand about as if welcoming whoever would step out, of course that person would be you. It was agreed upon before the Reap began, since forever really. You’d have a time frame of which you may have to volunteer as tribute, this year just so happened that your mentor decided you were ready.

The ground crunched loudly through the silence, as the woman’s face lit up as you stepped out of the crowd, “I volunteer.”

“Ah! There she is, come bring her up.”

The guards shining in white escorted you up without another word, it was the usual. Nothing new around your district during the reap, it was an illegal practice for careers to exist but of course, having connections to the Capitol allowed anything to get by.

“What a beautiful girl, what’s your name dear?” The woman eased you towards the microphone as you got up the stairs.

“Y/n.”

“Beautiful name for a beautiful girl.” The crowd clapped, as the woman took you away from the microphone to announce the boys.

You were pretty sure who’d be your partner, it was agreed.

“Now for the boys, I’d like—”

“I volunteer!” The crowd ripped their head around to the boy who interrupted.

Are you fucking kidding. He’s—this wasn’t his year, what was he doing. Your chosen district partner was shocked, he looked around for our mentor who didn’t say a word at all, he only looked at the boy making his way up the stage with a grin on his face.

“Oh, of course, come then let’s introduce you.”

As the boy took his stance up close to the microphone you were confused to say the least, “I’m Kim Taehyung.”

“Cute name for a cute boy,” she compliments again, ushering you over to stand next to him.

Which you did as you kept looking over, wondering what was going through the damn boy’s head. He stood there proud for some reason, smiling ear to ear like a freak.

“There we have it, our tributes for the hundredth Hunger Games, good luck within the Quarter Quell children—there are always twists in the game, may the odds be ever in your favour.”

The crowd repeated her last line as it repeated in your head like an ominous hymn.

Within the victor’s camp you two marched towards the main building for your mentor, ready to leave for the Capitol in an hour.

Blasting the door open you ran towards your mentor, screaming your ears off, “Why did he volunteer? He wasn’t suppose to volunteer this year!”

The victor of the eighty-second Hunger Games, Min Yoongi of District Four places his drink down on the table with a blank expression, “I don’t know, y/n, he just did it.”

“Why did you do it?” This time you directed the question to him, Taehyung.

The boy looked over at Yoongi before he looks back at you, shrugging, “I wanted to be in the Quarter Quell, nothings wrong with that.”

He sat himself down, rolling his shoulders out, you couldn’t believe it. How were you suppose to win the games with a twat like him, who’s so overly narcissistic and self centred—the boy who refused to pick a female partner to train with and trained all by himself. A selfish prick.

“He’s going to get me killed.” You pointed at him.

Yoongi sighs, getting up of his seat, he places his hands on your shoulder looking into your eyes, “We both know, you’re best fit to win the game. He’s not a worry for you, he won’t pull you down, he’s good on his own. He’s fast, light and will hide well, you on the other hand—you can take people down and that’s what you’re going to do, that’s what your whole life worked towards—killing everyone in the game.”

“We have no worries for most districts. You have the Career pact, use your charm, your wits, y/n. Manipulate them, make them fall for you, them and the people of the Capitol—then rip them out from underneath. We’ll get a message of the tributes soon, mostly from the Career Districts—I’d imagine it’ll take a while for the rest to push someone into killing themselves,” Yoongi walked towards the desk as he held up a tablet, “One, Two, Four, you’ll make the boys want you—make the girls want to be you or be scared of you. The rest well, they don’t stand a chance.”

Yoongi looked tapped his fingers against the screen, awaiting the messages, yet he seemed reluctant, worried.

“But I do fear for more twists, they’d do anything to make the games interesting. Don’t let your guard down, both of you, make friends, make enemies, know who you can trust, want to trust, want to kill.”

With that Taehyung looked towards you and nodded.

“We could pretend to be lovers,” Taehyung spoke, he kicked his feet up to prop against the table in between you two as you sat quietly in the train, “Like those stupid twelves years ago, who even believed that shit.”

You chuckled, wondering the same thing, maybe he wasn’t so bad. He was realistic, at least.

“We could pretend to hate each other,” You suggested, “During the training we make alliances with different people, making them thing we’d want each other dead first and then we make them kill each other.”

Taehyung’s eyes widened, he twirled the knife in his hand stopping as he grinned, “I like that, I think we’ll get along very well.”

“I think so too.”

“You all remember what I’ve said right?” Yoongi watched as the two of you nod, “This is your first day of training, make it count.”

He stands back and he allows the two of your to enter into the training room. Littered with tributes chit chatting, training, picking on eachother. The tributes all sported the same outfit, very skin-tight athletics wear in different cuts. Some wore shorts, some wore pants, some had long sleeves, some had short sleeves.

You opted for sleeveless, and loose pants, all in black and your arm guards that laced your fingers like gloves and ran up to your underarm, with the elbows being much more flexible. Reminiscent of swimmer’s wear, it helped you with being faster in the water keeping your body tight, though the pants were a comfort choice—it wouldn’t be legible for the games being so loose and able to get caught on things.

As you both entered you saw the rest of the tributes look at you, immediately getting into the role you glared at Taehyung as you left his side. Him seemingly growling and also going away.

Great job.

You had it set out, maybe you’d intimidate, then see who you’d like to create a pact with—even if there was an automatic alliance with the Careers you weren’t so sure you’d let them free load so easily, as you looked at the tributes sporting the numbers they looked back seemingly giving you a nod, especially the boys.

You looked away, your way towards an empty mat, getting on your bum you began to stretch out. Fully splitting and taking out all the tight spots. Your eyes were closed for the most part, trying to feel it out, then you felt some sort of presence. A weight shifted the mat and you whipped your head towards it, making the culprit bolt back.

District thirteen. A godly pathetic District in the eyes of everyone.

You were surprised to see the boy so fit, muscle in all the right places and slim in all the good places too. His doe eyes blinking as he tries to catch his breath, you looked around to see no one was getting a look at this bold thirteen getting all up in your space.

“What do you want?” You spat, glaring at him as you began to stretch your waist.

He clears his throat, pointing at your body lazily, “You’re doing it wrong.”

Your raised your eyebrow at him, stopping in your tracks.

“The way you’re stretching, it’s only going to make you more tense,” He explained, you dropped your shield, seeing that he was stepping closer.

You opted to make friends first then, “So what am I doing wrong?”

“You’re—uh, putting against the muscle, you should pull with it—” He sat down next to you, feeling the heat that came off his sweaty body, he must’ve been training for a while already, “—can I?”

He motioned towards you with his hands out, he wanted to show you how. You didn’t argue, letting the boy do what he wants. He mumbled a cute thank you, pulling you at the waist flush against him boldly.

Your breath hitched, hoping no one was seeing this. He eases you into the position he sees fit and well, it was kind of better. You couldn’t feel your muscle fighting you and instead feeling your muscle relax under his touch.

After a few minutes of this, he finished, stopping as his hands stayed put around you.

“I’m Jungkook, from District Thirteen, and you are?” He asked you.

Making you feel as if this was all a part of a plan. You turned to face the boy, your face merely a few centimetres away from his own, “An alliance you want, right?”

His face froze for a second, knowing that you already saw right through him.

“You don’t want an alliance with me, nor my district partner. If you know who I am I don’t make friends, I make a list of those I want to kill. Your mentor may think that being in my pact makes your chances better, it doesn’t you’re better off hiding until the game’s over—”

“You’re a career, of course being in your pact would make my chances better,” He interrupts, again boldly, “This may mean nothing to you, but I at least want to hope I can make it to the end—to win maybe, to go home and help my family.”

His words struck you, you completely forgot that these tributes all volunteered—every year there would be an unlucky tribute from each District that got chosen but this year, he put himself here—why would he do that if he knows he’s needed at home.

“You know how it went right? We all had to volunteer...it may have been easy for you but I didn’t want to be here...” You could see his eyes wavering, you just kept quiet listening to him, “No one volunteered at first, then they took our water, then our food, they beat our old and then they began to execute them—think of that, killing our family because we didn’t want to die.”

His ears ran freely down his face at this point, you wanted to, you really wanted to just wash them away. Somehow help him, somehow just give him hope—but it was the Hunger Games, people win or they die, it was just the truth.

Before you could usher another word, those previous Career boys came up to you guys, snickering and laughing, “Look at that, a twelve trying to get a four on his side, how sad, did it work?”

District one, Jung Hoseok, a man of such a vile tongue and cocky attitude, you looked between the two, choosing a side. You shrugged, getting up and pushing Jungkook’s hand away from you, “Not really.”

You made your way towards Hoseok, who smirked with his arms out to embrace you. You pushed your back against his front as he wrapped his hand around your waist, his head leaning against your shoulder, “Did you feel bad, about it, about how they killed all those wastes of space.”

“No—they deserved it, why would you rebel against the Capitol. They died because they made mistakes, I wish they would’ve killed more of you, pity they’d have to waste such a potential like you to sacrifice himself for those old pieces of shit’s mistakes.” Your vile tongue slipped out, knowing that it would hurt him but you needed to make Hoseok know, he can trust you.

“No one forced me, I—”

“They did though, because if you didn’t volunteer, I bet no one else would and you’d feel bad for letting people die. At least you had honour, I watched your reap, you’re the only brave one—even your bitch of a district partner had to be dragged up the stage and forced to join before more casualties could occur, pathetic.”

You didn’t stay to see him respond. Hearing the laughter that came out of Hoseok’s lips was enough to take your mind of the damn Thirteen. You can’t be having your heart pick your allies during a game like this, no.

#jungkook #bts #jungkook fanfiction #bts fanfiction #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #bts angst #bts smut #hungergames!au #hungergames!bts #career!reader #tribute!jungkook

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ellanainthetardis · 7 years ago

Note

I know you must have a lot to write but I finally came up with a prompt. Effie and Katniss have some kind of mother/daughter moment post mockingjay. You can decide the specifics but just something along those lines :)

Here you go! [X]

Tiger Mama

The Presidential Mansion’s hallways werecrowded with rebel soldiers and, in her blue wig and brand new green silkdress, Effie felt ill-at-ease. She had never fitted in in Thirteen but, atleast, when she had been wearing the same grey rags as everyone else, gazes hadtended to slide on her instead of watching her with suspicion.

She wasn’t the only one who had tradedThirteen’s uniform for regular clothes, Haymitch had done it too, but she wasso obviously… Capitol… It wasn’t agood thing to be right now. Not when her people were being murdered in thestreets because District people were angry and the rebels couldn’t control themobs.

The smile on her lips was fixed and fake,warranting her even more stares perhaps than the make-up and the clothes. Shecouldn’t help herself though. This was her default persona: cheerful, cluelessand dumb. It was how she kept herself safe.

Eventually, she found herself in front theEverdeens’ suite and she knocked on the door with relief. The sooner she wouldbe away from the rebel soldiers, the better. She waited but there was noanswer. That made her frown. Katniss had been released from the hospital only afew days earlier and the doctors had been adamant she needed rest and constantsupervision, both of which she could only found in her room.

She hesitated a few seconds more, knockedagain, and then pushed on the handle that gave easily under her hand.

“Aster?” she called, stepping inside andclosing the door behind her. “I apologize for coming in uninvited but I knockedand…” It became obvious very quickly that there was no one there. Theliving-room was empty, the doors to the bedrooms were open and… “Katniss!” sheexclaimed when she spotted the girl huddling against her headboard, her legshugged close to her chest, her cheeks damp with tears. She hurried over, sat onthe edge of the mattress and gently brushed her loose hair back, mindful of thestill healing burns. “Dear, where is your mother?” Katniss shook her head inignorance, her small frame shaking with the strength of her sobs. Effie’s angerrose and fell in the same breath. She understood Aster’s grief, truly she did, but sometimes, it felt toher the woman forgot she had two daughters– one of which was still breathing. “No matter. Are you alright? Are you inpain? Did you take your medication today?”

That was a lot of questions and it was too muchfor Katniss.

Effie sighed and kicked off her heels becauseshoes should never belong on a bed. She moved closer to Katniss and gentlybrushed her fingers through her hair, not sure she would accept more just yet.

“Do you want to tell me what’s wrong, darling?”she asked softly.

The poor girl didn’t talk a lot anymore. Shewandered around as if in a perpetual daze, not unlike how she had behaved inThirteen in times of great duress, and Effie’s heart broke every time she sawthe usually brave and dynamic girl like that.

“I woke up.” Katniss whispered, her voice raw.“I wanted to tell Prim something and then… Then I remembered.”

The girl’s voice broke and she was soon cryingagain.

Effie opened her arms without a second thought,actually a little shocked when Katniss willingly shuffled into her embrace. Sheheld her as tight as she dared given her recent injuries, petting her hair andmurmuring empty promises that everything would be alright in the end.

Aster should never have left.

Haymitch had arranged it so she could takeleave of her duties in the medic team to care for her daughter. The doctorswere concerned with her mental state and withreasons. She had just lost her sister. And she needed someone around at alltimes precisely for this.

Effie lost all notion of time after a while.She ran out of banalities and started humming one of the rare slow songs sheliked. The humming seemed to calm the girl down so she grew bolder and sangsoftly. Eventually, Katniss’ sobs died down to hiccups but she didn’t make anyattempt to move away so Effie kept on singing and coming her fingers throughher hair.

Her dress was wet where Katniss’ cheek waspressed against her shoulder. It was brand new and delicate and now it would beruined and, for a second, she indulged in the pretending it was what was reallymaking her furious. Her pretty dress was ruined thanks to Aster Everdeen’sirresponsible behavior when she had spent too many months wearing rags. Onceupon a time, she might even have been more concerned with that than with thechild crying in her arms.

Now, though…

She would give everything for this child. For her and Peeta both. Everything shehad to give and probably even a little more.

She thought the girl had fallen asleep so shestopped singing but she didn’t dare let go of her. The headboard was hardbehind her back and she was uncomfortable. That didn’t prevent her fromdrifting off after a while though.

She wasn’t sure how long had passed before sheheard the knocks on the door immediately followed by the sound of its opening. Rude, she thought.

“Aster?” Haymitch’s voice called.

“Hush!”she retorted in a hard whisper that brought him straight to the bedroom.

Haymitch’s frown turned to a scowl when hiseyes took in the pitiful picture the girl curled up against her chest must havemade. “She took off again?”

Effie’s blood ran cold. “What do you mean again?”

Because if Aster had left Katniss alone morethan once and he hadn’t told her…

They had kept their voices low but Katnissstill shifted. Haymitch’s face softened when he met the girl’s eyes and hesighed, crossing the distance to the bed in a couple of long strides. He satdown next to Effie and gently tugged on a strand of Katniss’ hair.

“You had your medicine yet today, sweetheart?”he asked. The girl gave him a shrug that hit Effie in the ribcage. She wincedbut didn’t protest. “How about something to eat? You had that?” There wasanother dispassionate shrug and Haymitch clucked his tongue once in a tell ofirritation. “Let’s start with that, yeah? You feel like having some soup? I feel like having some soup.” His greyeyes darted up and met hers. “What do you say, Effie? Soup?”

She wasn’t hungry at all but there was awarning in his gaze that she should humor him so she smiled and used her mostcheerful tone. “Soup sounds delightful.”

“Soup it is, then.” he decided. “I’m gonnaorder it. How about you take a shower while I do that, Katniss? You’re startingto smell.”

“Haymitch!” Effie snapped, glaring at him.“This is not how you talk to a lady.”

“Nobody ever accused her of being a lady.” hesnorted.

It seemed to make the girl react at least. Shesat up and Effie was loathe to let her go but she supposed it was progress. Atleast until Katniss rubbed her face and did little else. Their Mockingjay wasapathetic.

“Perhaps I could run you a bath, dear.” Effieoffered. “And I will find you some clean pajamas for when you are done.”

The girl didn’t really approve or decline thatplan but when Effie went to the bathroom and filled the bathtub, Katnissshuffled after her and awkwardly stripped down. The burns still pained her andmade it difficult for her so Effie helped her, chatting all the while to chaseany embarrassment on either part. Not that Katniss seemed to care. The proudteenager who had volunteered for her sister was gone and had only left a shadowbehind her.

She made sure the victor was settled in thebathtub before she left to corner Haymitch in the living-room part of thesuite.

“I ordered food.” he muttered before she couldsay anything. “She doesn’t eat if whoever’s with her isn’t eating too.”

“How longhas this been going on?” she growled. “And whydidn’t you tell me?”

He ran his shaking hand over his face andturned to face her, exhaustion written on his features. “’Cause I didn’t wantyou to read the riot act to her mom. Look, Aster’s not doing well…”

“Neither is her daughter.” she snapped.“Katniss was alone and upset. She shouldn’t have…”

“Preaching to the choir.” he cut her off,lifting both hands in the air. “I told Aster to call me so someone could takeover when she feels like getting some space.”

“Clearly she did not listen.” she huffed. “We cannot allow this to continue.”

“Wearen’t Katniss’ parents, sweetheart.” he retorted. “It’s not like we can justgrab her and move her to our room.” Effie’s face brightened but he cringed. “No, Effie. We can’t.”

“And why not?” she countered.

He smirked but it was more bitter than amused.“Missed the part about us not being her parents?”

“What does thatmatter?” she snapped. “I would neverleave her like this. She barely gotout of this war alive. She has just been released and… She needs someone trustworthy to watch over her. I willnot fail this girl, Haymitch, I will not.”

He stared at her for a long time and thenaverted his eyes. “Maybe… I can ask Plutarch about moving them next to oursuite. Would be easier.”

“Very well. Do that.” she nodded. “And keep her mother away from me because I amafraid I cannot answer for mybehavior.”

She turned on her heels and would have marchedstraight back to Katniss’ bathroom if he hadn’t grabbed her wrist. She frownedat him but relaxed when he simply placed a brief kiss on her lips.

“It’s really hot when you go all tiger mama,Princess.” he teased.

She huffed and puffed and huffed again, givinghim a glance over before striding out of the room with a new spring to hersteps. That man was ridiculous. Listening to him you would think they hadn’tbeen doing this for years.

Tiger mama.

She didn’t mind the comparison.

She certainly felt ferocious when her victorswere concerned.

#hayffie #effie trinket #haymitch abernathy #prompt #mj time #the kids #hurt comfort #pep talk #established #protective effie #protective haymitch #HBIC effie #movie!verse

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evangelineartemiasamos · 8 years ago

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Red Queen Fan Fiction - Light in your eyes

Warning: This is my crackship Farley x Ada aka Fada, but it's not a big thing between them yet. I think it's worth to read for the angst even without agreeing on the ship, but that's just me ... ;-)

As this is a w/w ship, there will be a lot of she/her pronouns. I hope I made everything clear, but if it's not, just ask.

Find this on wattpad

Warning: This is my crackship Farley x Ada aka Fada, but it’s not a big thing between them yet. I think it’s worth to read for the angst even without agreeing on the ship, but that’s just me … ;-)

As this is a w/w ship, there will be a lot of she/her pronouns. I hope I made everything clear, but if it’s not, just ask.

I’d die for you.

It was an obvious thing to say. Diana Farley would do everything for her daughter so she might grow up in a better world than her parents did. Thus Farley continued to kill and risk her own life for the victory of the Scarlet Guard.

It was also a wrong thing.

Ruth Barrow reminded her every time she left Clara in the care of her grandmother, as if she didn’t know herself. She did know, while not minding Ruth’s constant insisting either.

“Don’t you dare let my grandchild grow up as an orphan, Diana Farley,” Ruth would chide her when she took Clara into her arms and Farley would nod.

“I promise that I’ll come back,” she pledged. “I’ll see you soon, dove,” she then whispered to Clara, and turned around to take part in another confrontation with Silver warlords.

Farley didn’t dare to tell Ruth about the letters she wrote for Clara in case she would not return, despite her promises. You could never know, not after what had happened to Shade. Not after what had almost happened to Mare. But she swore to herself she would read those letters to Clara herself one day, to show her how much she loved her - and to tell her about her father.

She wasn’t going to let anyone forget who Shade Barrow had been, least of all their daughter or herself. But it was a strain, a sting in her heart, to be beholden to a dead man while desperately trying to live.

The colonel’s questioning gaze was aimed at Farley for most of the meeting. She understood him, really, because the Guard’s current strategy, her strategy, seemed strange enough for those that weren’t told about it.

Her father kept insisting on involving the rebels in the battles – to not call them outright civil war – between the Lerolan-governed Delphie region and Maven in Archeon.

“It’s the perfect chance to evacuate the techies in Gray Town,” the colonel proposed. “With the industry in the Rift withholding resources, Maven Calore cannot maintain the capitol. General,” he addressed Farley and she still felt the amazement of hearing the colonel pleading to her.

But she merely cleared her throat. It wouldn’t stop him for long, so she added, “we support the techie Reds with supplies. That must be enough, as we’ll need the factories for our own plans. Just as the Lerolan Silvers can deal by themselves.”

The colonel frowned, but he realized when he had to withdraw until later. Yet his stare lingered, he would not give up. Farley glared back for a moment before changing the topic. Next to her, Ada Wallace illustrated Farley’s statements without a prompt. Ada’s thinking was quick in more than one regard and Farley patted the other woman’s thigh in thanks. Ada turned slightly to wink at her.

But inwardly, she sighed. All of this only because she had no clearance to tell the colonel about Davidson’s plot to turn the Silvers against each other. It was well within Scarlet Guard practice to keep operations classified, but this still seemed stupid.

When she had to tell the colonel about Cal’s acceptance to reclaim the throne of Norta, he looked like he was going to explode until he started to shout in frustration instead. Fortunately, he stopped after a few seconds, or Farley would’ve seriously considered shoving Clara into his arms, if only to see what would happen. He was very reluctant to touch his granddaughter, and a part of Farley was angry about that. He was one of the reasons why she brought the child to her meetings.

Otherwise, the colonel’s disagreement was reasonable. Why should the Scarlet Guard support another Silver king, even less so when his ascension led to the visible break between him and Mare Barrow, both of them faces of the rebellion?

Thus Farley cursed Davidson for issuing a gag order on her. But that didn’t mean she was unable to deal with the situation. Diana Farley hadn’t risen to a general’s rank for nothing. She’d only prefer to make decisions by herself instead of listening to the Monfort Newbloods.

If Mare felt the same, she didn’t let it show. The girl had become more and more of a mistress in masking her thoughts, in public at least. Farley took care to pay attention to Mare’s mental well-being, something she, Shade and Cal had missed to do before Mare’s imprisonment. Nevertheless, Mare had a mind for politics and consequently, she and Farley as two of the few people aware of the scheme, were the ones to make decisions for the soldiers stationed at the Piedmont base.

It was a burden Farley would like to share, most of all with Ada. Farley doubted the Newblood hadn’t already figured Davidson out, and if not, it could not take much longer. Farley felt as much when she met Ada’s kind but shrewd golden eyes settling on her. They weren’t accusing but offering help and she was tempted. She didn’t get into this position because she was good at following orders after all. It was a decision she could make by herself, and she was ready to trust Ada with her life.

Yet when there were only her and Ada left in her office, she circled around the truth, letting Ada prattle about everything else as well as letting her take care of Clara when she cried because of her growing teeth. Farley smiled at the sight as they stood in front of her, Ada’s ochre skin illuminated by the reddish-golden light of the sunset.

“What will you do when she’s older, General? Like three?” Ada asked out of a sudden.

Farley blinked and turned back to her papers. “What?”

“I mean when Clara’s old enough to understand what we’re talking about in the meetings. Would you still want her to be there?” Ada explained.

“That is … ”

“And what about your weapons lying around? Clara might just … ” Ada shrugged.

Farley knew that she was blushing. “You’re right, Lieutenant Wallace, I’m aware – “

“It’s Ada, we’re not in a meeting.”

Farley laughed drily. “Right, Ada. I wonder myself.”

Ada moved into the seat in front of her desk. “Why is it so important to you to bring her along?” she asked eventually. It could’ve sounded too inquiring, too nosy, but she seemed merely curious – and compassionate.

Farley hesitated to answer, although she knew very well why. She continued to look at the maps on her desk. “It’s just ... I want to,” she confessed after a while. “Have her with me whenever I can. I … need to, as a reminder.” She shrugged.

Finally, she raised her head, just in time to see an emotion flicker over Ada’s face. It almost looked like regret.

She woke with a jolt. Oh, she thought, oh. Why did it have to end?

Well, the reason was obvious, Clara had cried out, having woken up herself. The child was calming quickly, but Farley picked her up nonetheless.

“What is it, dove? Not hungry or dirty? The teeth again?” Clara only grabbed her mother’s shirt and fell asleep again.

Farley sighed. “You didn’t need a reason, do you?” She didn’t put Clara back into the cot, not yet. She needed to hold her for a moment while the memory of a passionate dream lingered in her mind. And her body.

The truth was, she had already forgotten what had happened in the dream, or with whom. What remained was the want, the desire that hadn’t showed itself for the first time in the last year. Farley couldn’t deny that she yearned for more than discussing, scheming and fighting, for even more than seeing Clara grow up.

The solution was simple. She wanted Shade. But he wasn’t coming back. Never, neither for their daughter nor for her.

She laid Clara back into her own bed and stayed standing next to it.

It wasn’t a new thought, but a fact that had slammed into her mind a for a long time now. Just when Clara was born, Shade had been dead for already half a year. And half a year was the whole amount of time Farley had known him. It was such a short period, all in all, yet it was nothing she could – or want to – ever forget. She remembered every second of it, even before their relationship became physical, like every time they eyes had met, when his hands had touched her or when he had said her name with such intensity.

It had hurt to remember for a long time. But the pain had started to lessen as well when acceptance began to set in. At times, she would go back to mourn Shade and what could’ve been, but those thoughts no longer overwhelmed her; she could think about him more with fondness than with grief.

Yet as she did, going thoroughly over those moments, she realized some of them were repeating themselves when she was with Ada: The glances, the smiles, her constant presence at Farley’s side.

She wasn’t certain how often she had already touched Ada for support, not knowing why she did it. She blushed, realizing how selfishly she’d grasped that support at times. Did she truly long for that, did she even have the time? Ada was there for her and she enjoyed to be with her. Yet Farley was unsure if she wasn’t making everything up. Why should Ada have in interest in her apart from their friendship and mutual cause? On the other hand, she had thought the same thing about Shade back then.

It didn’t help that Ada had golden eyes, just like him.

She glanced at Clara, watching her breath regularly. Yet another golden-person close to her. Gently, she felt for the child’s heartbeat.

“I love you more than anything else in the world,” she whispered. “But,” she sighed, “but. We aren’t alone in it, are we?”

Farley fought for a better world, yet there already was so much more than pain, sorrow and grief in it. She could not mourn and long for Shade for the rest of her life. It would take too much from her, even if that life only lasted for another week.

She went back to bed and tried to sleep while pondering about golden eyes piercing her heart. Of course, she didn’t fall asleep again for what felt like hours, not before she started to touch herself.

I could talk to Ada, she thought. And for a moment, that included, I could go to her right now. Then Farley was embarrassed about her excitement.

Don’t be rash, General. You know better now, and you’re beyond rashness.

I ’ll wait for a day.

Diana Farley was quite a coward when it came to confessing. Her determination waxed and waned from minute to minute and that didn’t even take into account her lack of words. It was night again, and one and a half days away from another relocation. It was the right thing to settle – this, before it would be buried under new duties. Ada lodged just on the other side of the corridor. Yet Farley didn’t move and continued to stare at Clara, first for five, then for ten minutes.

"What if Ada feels uncomfortable to be intimate with her superior?” she asked aloud. Of course, Clara didn’t answer, so she did it herself. “No, that’s a lame excuse.” Ada was the most rational person in the world, she had to be able to deal with Farley’s feelings, even if she didn’t reciprocate them.

Farley had stood up before she stopped herself as she realized what bullshit that thought was. Just because Ada is so very intelligent doesn’t mean that she can’t feel overburdened, you idiot.

But still, even if she was wrong about Ada, there was no danger in asking, was there? She just had to be careful with her words, casually inquiring if Ada had any romantic interests at all.

So she stood at the door and hesitated. Parental worry took control of her for a moment. How could she leave her little girl alone to go flirting? She shook her head and convinced herself that Clara wasn’t going to die in the next five minutes.

Ada invited Farley into the room after two long seconds since she knocked. The Newblood seemed content and relaxed with a book in her hand and even more piled on her desk.

“It’s not that tidy in here, General,” Ada said with a self-deprecating smirk. Of course it was tidy by anyone else’s standards but the former housemaid’s. “Alas, what do you want?”

There. As Ada looked at Farley, all her carefully prepared words escaped from her mind. She returned the gaze until Ada eased herself and leaned against the desk with the corners of her mouth twitching.

It was time. “Well. We’ve fought together for so long now, Ada, and I think we should finally get to know each other better,” Farley wrung out the phrases and cursed herself for her bluntness.

“I see,” Ada replied and drank from a mug. “What do you want to know? Or would you like to talk about yourself first?”

That settled it.

“I’d like to know if you like me too, Ada,” she said without thinking any further and she was glad to be out with it.

Because Ada started to laugh as happy and freely as Farley had never heard her laugh before. She felt the same sound rising from her stomach before she joined in.

That was when Ada touched her shoulder and pulled her closer which sent a pleasant shiver down her spine. She placed her hands in Ada’s sides to turn it into a real embrace.

“I couldn’t exactly go and ask you myself,” Ada whispered against her neck. “I had to wait for your choice.” She paused. “Didn’t I?”

Farley hadn’t thought about it like that. But Ada had been right about that and her consideration for Farley’s grief created a lump in her throat. She leaned her head against Ada’s.

“Yes,” she whispered. “You were right. Thank you.”

For the moment, it was enough to stand there in each other’s arms. This was merely a beginning, still small and budding. So, after some time and more whispered words, Farley carefully pulled away. Her fingertips brushed Ada’s cheek.

“I left Clara alone,” she explained. “I need to go back.”

Ada nodded and took her other hand. “Until next time, Diana Farley.”

Her golden eyes didn’t leave Farley out of sight until she was on the corridor. Just like Farley’s lingered on her.

Commentary:

I still hope no one wants to kill me.

I probably overused the eye fucking, didn’t? I tried to tone it done a little, but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I definitely overused but and yet.

Ada really has golden eyes, I’ve looked that up. Too good not to mention.

I kept the time frame ambiguous on purpose. I don’t want to set up an amount of time which I deem as an appropriate mourning period. That is individual and not for me or anyone else to judge.

As I’ve said before, I think it is a bad trope to treat a (kind of) widowed single mother as unshippable. It’s certainly not the same with male characters and so I’m making a point with Farley. That doesn’t mean I need every character in a relationship in the end.

Titled after a song by Flyleaf. I would’ve posted this yesterday, but I really struggled with a title.

Not sure who to tag....

@clarafarleybarrow @redqueenfandom @lilyharvord @queenmareena @maudthebookeater @iwishmydearlaurens @red-queen-em-for-a-dream

#red queen fan fiction #king's cage fan fiction #king's cage #red queen #red queen 4 #red queen fanfiction #diana farley #ada wallace #clara farley #farley x ada #shade x farley #shipping #crackship #fada #w/w ship #light in your eyes

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provisoris · 8 years ago

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@sergeantstardust continued from x:

It did not MATTER who said it or where she heard about it, as a matter of fact everyone in every District seemed to murmur about the Capitol bombing the day many would remember as the last chapter of the war ———— most still convinced the silver parachutes were truly part of Snow’s commands but Jyn knew the truth. She wasn’t supposed to but she’d found out and that’s all that counted, not even what she thought of it was important. ❝I just heard someone talking about it.❞ Technically a lie, for that was far from how she had come to read such information. Jyn’s shoulders dropped in a nonchalant shrug, void of judgement at the seemingly defensive tone in his voice ( not that she was assuming he was being defensive, she would often wonder how much she projected onto others when trying to read between lines ).

❝I don’t agree with it,❞ there was a subconscious refusal to make explicit mention of what they were talking about, understandable so she didn’t want to offend or upset him by bringing up what she supposed would be a touchy subject. It was not fair for men like Gale to be held responsible for the decisions of a greedy politician ———— that is exactly what President Coin was in the young rebel’s eyes. The woman may have cared at some point, may have been a revolutionary fighter but her lust and thirst for power was so sheer, so evident for anyone who was given orders from her…. and Jyn, as any soldier, had been given orders before. Orders she chose to ignore and since then she thought about it nonstop. She thought about the morals involved, the good and bad, day and night even when she wished she could stop thinking about war. Jyn HATED that innocent people were murdered, that they were used as a plot device… but who was really at fault here?

❝but I do have mixed feelings about it.❞ Following such cruel orders was WRONG and yet, Jyn understood, they had been left with no other options. Looking away, lips pressed together for a moment her idle fingers playing with each other, she had to admit; ❝I know it wasn’t your choice.❞

Gale’s eyes prickled with tears. In the heat of the moment, in WAR it was a decision and a plan that had been made to WIN. The rulebook had been thrown out and he’d justified his own plan as such. If Snow was going to play dirty, they had to as well.

He didn’t realize it would haunt him at night.

Gale had mixed feelings on it, too, after the dust had settled and all was said and done, his trusted friend Jyn was speaking carefully about the rights and wrongs they’d encountered and of course it had come up. It always came up. It always would.

( Goodbye, Gale. )

It wasn’t his choice, no, but it was his idea. Lines had been blurred and crossed to such an extent that he had no idea what had been what anymore. He was there, with Katniss in the middle of the chaos, he couldn’t have pulled the trigger, so to speak, but did he? There was no way to know, there was no way to tell who those stupid silver parachutes belonged to. He’d planned with Betee about it. Snow surely could’ve hacked their intel. He always DID seem to be a step ahead, but was he this time? Was it some sick attack on his own “beloved” Capitol residents or was it the rebels?

In the pit of his stomach, Gale knew. But he refused to admit it.

He ducked his head, trying to hide the tears that trickled down his cheek, using a hand to quickly wipe them away, a sniffle and he looked back up to Jyn with red, puffy eyes. “We all have a choice... how do you figure it wasn’t mine?” When it was my plan was left unspoken.

#sergeantstardust #ouch oh my god i have such feels holy crap #hope its okay that i continued it!

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johnchiarello · 8 years ago

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Monday

MONDAY- 5-29-17

James 4:1

From whence come wars and fightings among you? come they not hence, even of your lusts that war in your members?

In Context | Full Chapter | Other Translations

https://www.google.com/search?q=famous+picture+of+vietnamese+man+being+shot&tbm=isch&tbo=u&source=univ&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwjAz4LMwZXUAhWlzIMKHSeSAZEQsAQIQQ&biw=1366&bih=662

Memorial Day- https://youtu.be/evGFb5-k410

http://wp.me/a4V5qQ-AT

.Question everything

.Caller Times

.Uncle Bruno- POW

.His plane crashed in the Hackensack river

.Iraq- Libya- …

.Media manipulation

.Weapons of mass destruction?

.911

.Where is the media coverage of Black slaves being sold on an open market in Libya today?

.War Pigs [Ozzy] https://youtu.be/LQUXuQ6Zd9w

Isaiah 2:4

And he shall judge among the nations, and shall rebuke many people: and they shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruninghooks: nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more.

In Context | Full Chapter | Other Translations

Museum- https://youtu.be/iZXGutEE84A

http://wp.me/a4V5qQ-AU

.Kingdom view

.Lexington

.War no more

.Military Industrial Complex

.Saudi Arabia

.Truman

.Manchester https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2017/may/28/donald-trump-theresa-may-very-angry-about-manchester-bomb-leaks

Mark 10:15

Verily I say unto you, Whosoever shall not receive the kingdom of God as a little child, he shall not enter therein.

In Context | Full Chapter | Other Translations

The Park- https://youtu.be/HBMMSugiQLE

http://wp.me/a4V5qQ-AV

I made the last video [above] at the park. I showed up to see my friends and some nice ladies were serving food to my homeless friends. Claire asked me to speak- so I did. You get to see some of the guys and girls. After I shut the video I had a good talk with some of the guys- about the subjects I covered thru out the day.

I hope you had a good memorial day- God bless all. John

John 3:16 For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.

NEW- I had no plan on speaking today- but the plan changed. Today we honor those who died as Americans- in war. We often feel that honoring our fallen men and women is to simply remember the great sacrifice they made for our country. But to truly honor them is to also question those in power- who have made decisions about war- that were based on false pretense. I tried to cover a little of the history of war- and the role the media has played by deciding to cover some things- and not cover others.

They too do a great disservice to our fallen heroes when for political bias- they choose not to cover a story because it does not fit with their political view.

Today we will hear the famous words from Jesus quoted-

John 15:13 [Full Chapter]

Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.

Remember- Jesus was speaking about dying for others- not killing others.

Our men and women who died for a good cause- we honor today.

The wars that were justified- and killing took place- we honor our men and women who served well.

But we do a dishonor to our men and women when we refuse to examine the wars that were done for solely political reasons.

Actually- we honor them today by asking the questions that need to be asked- and covering those bad choices those in authority made- that led to their deaths.

On the videos I simply tried to challenge our mindsets.

The Kingdom of God is something we are to ‘receive’ it is not just a place we go to when we die.

Jesus said we must receive it as little children.

It takes humility for people to realize their views- though strongly held- might actually be wrong.

It takes the faith of a child to simply believe what your father has said.

And yes- God- our Father- has said some very plain things to us about war-

Will we really listen?

New International Version "Put your sword back in its place," Jesus said to him, "for all who draw the sword will die by the sword’’ Jesus- the Christ of God.

PAST POSTS- [ Past teaching that relates to today’s ‘roll out’ ]-

https://ccoutreach87.com/john-complete-links-added/

https://ccoutreach87.com/james-2015/

https://ccoutreach87.com/russia-u-s-world-events/

[1605] WATER FROM THE ROCK [plus comments on the present atrocities in Libya] - Before I get into the chapter [Exodus 17] let me overview the latest world events. First- I do not think the majority of Americans realize the ‘bigness’ of what's going on right now in the Arab/Persian world- the events of the last few weeks are major world changing events that will play a major role in every aspect of American life. The recession? More than likely it will be extended [or double dip] because of the oil situation [unrest and war in and around the major oil producing nations of the world]. Arab allies? Over [at least in the short term]. Last night Gadhafi used the military against his people. The major eastern city of Libya [Benghazi] has fallen [the govt. is no longer in control] the eastern capitol city- Tripoli- is in a war like situation. Gadhafi’s son went on national TV and basically told the country that they are not like Egypt and Tunisia- they will fight back. The son is smart, educated in the West [London- geographically north of Libya- ‘West’ in the sense of the western world- that is London] he told the people ‘do you think the Americans/Brits want you to revolt? This country [Libya] will fall into chaos and the hands of radicals- the West depends on our stability [for oil] and they don’t want you to succeed’. Understand- this is a brilliant power play in the game. Is he telling the truth? In a way- yeah. In all the revolutions taking place- some nations are Arab- others Persian. Some are majority Shiite [Bahrain] with a minority ruling Sunni dynasty. Iran’s leaders are Shiite- they would be glad to see the fall of Bahrain- so the Shiite majority could overthrow the Sunni kings and have more support from Bahrain. Some Arab nations are ‘pro west’- Egypt, Jordan- and even Yemen are/were working with us- many of our friends in the area were shocked that we publicly called for the ouster of Mubarak, because he was our number 1 ally in the Arab world. They thought ‘what the hell are you doing! You picked the wrong king!’ Libya, Iran and Syria are anti western nations- they hate us- we them [in politics]. Yet without a doubt Gadhafi is crossing the line in violent responses to the protestors- yet president Obama has not called for his ouster- not like the way he did with Egypt. The protestors in these countries are confused and see the west as being sell outs. We have protests that seem to be breaking out of the Arab regions and even affecting Asia. There are reports of protestors in China. I obviously am not advocating the apocalypse- but I don’t think we [western society] realize the import of all these events- our world is changing and there is nothing we can do about it- but try and act justly! We [president] can’t go ‘public’ with a king who is bad- but not 1-100th as bad as Libya’s leader- and then go ‘silent’ on him [the president and U.S. position has been to speak out against the violence- good- but we have decided to not go public in support of the people and the call for the leader to step down]. So all in all we need to act justly- love mercy- and walk humbly with our God [Micah- Old Testament prophet].

[parts]

DEMOCRACY?

I read a statement from the French President- Nicholas Sarkozy. He was speaking about the dire situation in Syria [Syria has been fighting rebels in a city called Homs- they have been using deadly heavy artillery to bomb buildings and homes- many civilians have died].

Sarkozy said a military response [Like what he- and we- did in Libya] was no longer a legitimate solution.

I found this insightful- France was thee number one supporter of the ‘no fly zone’ in Libya. France had their planes bombing many spots- they were more ‘pro war’ than the U.S. and the Brits.

Many in the political scene in France have accused Sarkozy of wanting to develop the image of a mini Bush- that is a leader who is willing to engage in violence in order to defend ‘just causes’ in the world.

Right after the Libyan action began- some in the Arab/Muslim world began saying that France and NATO should be seen as the enemy- not Gadhaffi.

In Afghanistan- where France has troops like us under the NATO banner- they just had an Afghan soldier- one who is supposedly on our side- gun down a bunch of French troops in cold blood.

The French president then called for a quicker withdrawal of forces than the U.S. wanted [2013- instead of 2014].

Sarkozy realized- that no matter how just your cause might seem- there are never any situations where one side is 100 % right- while the other 100% wrong [let's say rarely].

In Egypt- Libya- and now Syria- you do not have [did not] complete agreement on the protests. Many who had stable lives and lived for many years in these countries- they felt like the rebels were wrong about the way to have their ‘revolution’.

Many in the Christian minority saw the revolutions as dangerous to their own survival. Our actions in Iraq have decimated the Christian population there.

Though we did not mean to do this- the result is we have installed a more anti Christian regime in the country.

The same has now happened in Egypt- the original Tahrir square protestors might have been a majority of simple pro- democracy groups- but after the recent parliamentary elections- the Muslim Brotherhood took over about 50 % of the parliament.

Though this group has rejected violence and terrorism as a means to gain power- yet they still advocate for an extreme religious view if they gain power.

They want Shariah law as the law of the land- and this type of ‘democratic govt.’ is really not good- even if it is voted in by a majority.

We in the West have different values than some in other parts of the world.

We tend to side with those who want to ‘throw off the shackles of dictators- free the voice of the people’.

Yet we underestimate the very real danger of sounding this mantra every time a nation has rebels rise up in the streets.

Say if all you saw on the news every night was the Occupy Wall street protests. And say if there rose up a few hundred thousand that marched nightly on Washington [which we never want to happen!]

But say if that’s all you saw every night- and it got so dangerous that troops- or cops- had to actually shoot some protestors.

We would understand why we had to do this- we would not be calling for the president to step down- or for his family to be submitted to a trial by ‘right wing’ conservatives who just might execute you and your kids.

Now- I am not saying all these leaders in these nations are equal to the American system- but it’s foolish for us to look at all these situations thru the lens of Western style Democracy.

We [the West] seem to think that when we side publicly with the rebels [whoever they be- Libya- Syria- etc.] that we are on the ‘right side of history’ that we are a part of a true democratic movement that will spread thru the world and in a few years down the road we will be living n a world with many truly just democracies.

That picture- that hope- as just as it might seem to those who keep using this type of language [like John McCain- who I like!] is simply not a realistic view.

Where did the idea of Democracy come from? Did world governments have democratic style govts for thousands of years?

No- the idea rose up during the Enlighten period [17th- 18th century] and was promoted by men like John Locke.

If you remember- we studied the philosophy of Locke this past year.

Locke played a key role in the transition of popular philosophy from Rationalism to Empiricism.

We covered that in the posts- don’t want to do it again.

But Locke- like other thinkers of the time- began writing on a new idea of govt- a govt ‘by the people- and for the people’.

Many people living at the time resented the rule of kings- and the role religion [Catholic countries] played in society as a whole.

One of the first experiments with people saying ‘we will throw off the church and king’ was what we call the French Revolution.

It took place right at the end of the 18th century- right before the Napoleonic wars.

It was a Secular [non religious] effort to depose the rule of govt we call Monarchy [King and Queen] and it resulted in the Guillotine and beheading of many Catholic priests and leaders.

It was truly a rebellion that got way out of hand.

Yesterday- one of the current Repub candidates for president made headlines when he compared Obama’s recent ‘anti religious’ actions to the French Revolution.

One commentator [CNN] said the rebels were all Catholics and that to say the revolution hurt the church was wrong.

This man [Paul Begala] had no idea what he was saying- its sad that they say misinformed statements like this to such a wide audience.

Some of our founding fathers were fans of John Locke [Jefferson] and our country drew up the founding documents during a time when these ideas were ripe and were seen as a new type of govt. for the people.

Thus- we have our Democracy today- for which I am grateful- do indeed think it’s the best in the world today- but it is not inherently ‘more just’ than all other styles.

The govt. we see in the bible is Monarchy [mostly- Rome was Imperial- did have a senate and all- but in no way was it a democracy like we think of].

The point?

When we try to help these countries- when people rise up and protest- we must not simply jump to the conclusion that all of these rebellions are seeking- or will end up like the U.S.

We must not condemn all ‘monarchies’ as evil- the bible says there are just ones.

Kings can rule justly- be fair- and do good.

We should not assume that all ‘non western style democracies’ are evil- they are not.

Most of these present uprisings are in countries where you have what’s called Autocratic rule- not full ‘kingdoms’ with kings in the way we think.

Yes- I do think our experiment- based on the Enlightenment idea of govt. by and for the people is the best- but we must not assume all other types are inherently evil- nor should we be so quick to side- militarily will all rebels- like some already calling to arm the rebels in Syria.

The end result of these protests are not secure at all- it is highly doubtful that any of them will become ‘little U.S. of A’s’.

So we should call for non violence on all sides- we should stand on the side of innocent victims- be against all regimes that use military force on their people- but be realistic about the situation- violence [on all sides] is very rarely the answer- Sarkozy learned this lesson the hard way.

www.corpuschristioutreachministries.blogspot.com

Note- Do me a favor, those who read/like the posts- re-post them on other sites as well as the site you read them on. Thanks- John

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I read a piece form the N.Y. Times- they went into Libya and investigated the reports of the deaths of many civilians caused by NATO and the U.S. during the ‘no fly zone’ debacle.

They found evidence of many civilians that were killed. They presented the report to the new leaders of Libya- they could care less.

In Benghazi- the main city in the eastern half of Libya- they were openly flying the Al-Qaida flag. We just spent 10 years and many lives fighting in Afghanistan. Why? Because they gave territory to Al-Qaida- they gave them a place to work out of.

We fought the Taliban for 10 years over this. Yet in a few months NATO and the U.S. gave Al-Qaida their own capitol to fly their flag- I mean the terrorists must be thinking ‘if we knew these guys were this stupid- we would have never bombed the towers’.

In Tripoli- the real capitol of Libya- the various militia groups [terrorists] are all claiming they are the security/armed forces of Libya. I heard a doctor- on N.P.R. - not a right wing radio show- he said in his hospital these various militias are all trying to take charge- they walk around with guns- sometimes walk into a room and shoot a patient who they think is not on their side- and the doctors say they have no security at all.

Under Gadhaffi things ran well- like a normal society- now their country is a terrorist haven- run by these guys.

I could go on and say the same for Egypt- and tell the stories of how the military have been killing protestors in the street. All these things are being done under people that the West [we- NATO- France] have enabled by removing their former leaders.

And France this week passed a law making it a crime to deny the genocide that took place in Turkey in the early part of the last century.

Yes- the Ottoman Turks did slaughter many Armenians- Christians- at the time. And getting Turkey to officially admit this has been a problem for years. But France passing a law to make it a crime to deny it- while they just finished committing ‘crimes against humanity’ themselves- by killing all the Libyan civilians- it’s just too much.

Okay- let’s start a brief overview of some church history. Over the next few weeks I want to hit on the 16th century Protestant reformation and try and cover some of the key figures of the movement.

Martin Luther- the German reformer who had the most influence in the movement was born and raised in Germany.

As a boy his parents were peasant farmers and eventually his dad became a miner and became a very successful businessman- he would go on and eventually own 6 foundries.

He sent his son to law school- and young Luther excelled. At the age of 21 he accomplished more than many of his peers. One day on his way home from the university a thunderstorm broke out and Luther was almost struck by a bolt of lightning.

In fear he cried out to Saint Ann [the mother of Mary] and said ‘Saint Ann- if you save me I will become a monk’ [Ann was the patron Saint for miners- thus Luther was familiar with her].

He was spared and off to the monastery he went. Luther eventually became an ordained priest and even though his dad initially was upset that his son became a priest- yet he was proud of his boy later on.

Luther would eventually make a Pilgrimage to Rome- on foot [a few month walk from Germany to Rome!] and what he saw devastated him. Rome- and the Vatican- were in bad shape. Many of the priests lived in open sin- and the city that he saw as his headquarters for the faith- well it was a mess.

Luther made the famous penitent walk/crawl up the stairs of the Lateran church [this church was the most famous church before the construction of St. Peters. The actual stairs of the church are the same stairs that Christ walked up during his trial under Pontius Pilate. Yes- you hear many ‘stories’ while studying church history- things like the relics or left over pieces of the Cross- well these stories are usually fake. But the stairs of the Lateran church are indeed the same stairs that Christ walked on- the early ‘church’ builders dismantled the stairs at Pilate’s court in Jerusalem and installed them at this church building in Rome].

When Luther got to the top of the stairs- it is reported that he questioned the faith- he had a crisis of faith and thought that maybe the whole thing was a sham.

Okay- as we do a few more posts over the coming weeks- I want you guys to see that the main players of the Reformation were sincere Catholic men who had many questions about what they saw as corrupt in their own church. These men did not want to start a breakaway church- they simply wanted to reform the church they loved.

Keep in mind that Luther excelled during his legal studies- he had a keen legal mind- this will be important later on when we see the debates he has with Rome over the doctrine of Justification by faith- the letters of the apostle Paul [Romans- Galatians] use lots of legal language- and his early education will help him in these debates.

Okay- that’s it for today. Maybe do a Google search on Luther and familiarize yourself a little with the history.

The ‘readings’ for this week are 2nd Samuel 6-7 and Psalms 89. See what they have in common.

www.corpuschristioutreachministries.blogspot.com

Note- Do me a favor, those who read/like the posts- re-post them on other sites as well as the site you read them on. Thanks- John

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REVOLUTION- NOT ANARCHY! As of last night many streets in the Arab world are experiencing protests- Iran has launched 2 battleships to head towards Syria [right off the coast of Israel] and there are reports of oil prices spiking because of the unrest. These last few weeks I have been reading thru some chapters in Exodus- the book that records the historic liberation of Gods people from Egypt. Those of you who are bible readers will remember that the initial cause for revolt was actually an economic injustice; the children of Israel were under the oppressive regime of Pharaoh and they were grumbling about the poor economic conditions- the leader heard their ‘protests’ and he oppressed them more! He required them to produce more bricks and mortar [for the building of his own wealth] and yet they were to do this from the same amount of natural resources they had all along. In many of these states where the protestors have taken to the streets- they survive on 2 dollars a day- or less. These same people are now required to survive off of the same measly amount- even as the cost of food soars- many of them are indeed going hungry- for real. In the biblical story God sends them Moses [a type of Christ] and as you know Moses confronts unjust authority and the people revolt. Now- one of the key ingredients to a successful ‘revolt’ is a just constitution! God gives them the 10 commandments [rules on treating each other justly- and loving God] at the start of their journey- they will eventually conquer the Promised Land and grow as a society- yet the rules of the game were laid out early in the revolt. What do I think is happening right now? I believe our people [the president and U.S. govt.] are seeing these revolts as the major danger in the world right now- the level of world instability has not been like this in many years- the news media have tried to ‘manipulate’ the environment. After CNN and a few others chose to hone the cameras in on the thousands of protestors in Egypt’s square- yet they initially would not show/report the thousands who were revolting in Iraq. Why? They obviously want to push the narrative of ‘change’ in one place- while pushing the narrative of ‘Obama ended the war and all is well’ in another. The reality is there are major dangers taking place in the world right now- do I think Iran wants to invade Israel? To be honest- yes. What? All these leaders are shaking in their boots- from ‘the shores of Tripoli’ [Quadaffi] to the ‘kings’ of Bahrain. I assure you- if the protestors topple the Iranian leaders- it will not be a ‘peaceful’ exodus to some vacation spot [like Mubarak did] it will be Saddam Hussein all over again [strung up in the streets- or on TV]. Now- do you think the Iranian madman would attack Israel as a last ditch effort to save his skin? You bet ya! [Okay- too much Palin]. Remember- before all the recent developments- there were some major movements in the Middle East that spelled danger for Israel. For years they faced opposition on their northern border from Lebanon. For many years Hezbollah was a political force in the area- for the first time ever they recently elected someone from Hezbollah to high office- deposing the former leader. In the south and on the West bank there was also lots of turmoil right before these revolts took place. The leader of the Palestinians came under tremendous pressure because the Wikileaks ‘leaks’ revealed that Abbas [Palestinian leader] agreed with Israel to kill some Hamas leaders [Hamas is the radical pro Palestinian group- branded as terrorists by Israel and the U.S.] When the leaks got out there was rage in the streets- the chief negotiator [Saeb Erakat] had to step down. So all these events were seen as major threats to peace in the region- add to that the fall of Egypt- and the current uprisings in the other Arab/Persian states- yes indeed- we have not seen a time like this since our world wars [yes that’s strong- I do believe this to be true]. Okay- should we be afraid? No. How should we view the young people who are the primary demonstrators on the streets? I think it would be a mistake for the older generation [especially in the West] to view them all as potential terrorists- remember- Iran wouldn’t be sending her ships to Syria unless they too felt like they needed to hedge their bets. So we want to hear the cries of the younger generation- people who have felt oppressed for years- who were told ‘make do with the same resources- yet make it go further’ these people have indeed been wronged in many ways- many of them feel this is their only chance to ‘escape’- and finally- the advice to the protestors- you need a ‘law’ constitution- a statement of just principles that you will hold each other accountable to- maybe an ‘on line’ statement of beliefs to go along with the ‘days of rage’ that are being posted on facebook- some type of open rejection of radical terrorism and holding accountable those who would like to ‘hijack’ the protests for their own purposes. It’s really too late for the West to say ‘okay- we liked the Egypt thing- but now we want to hold up on the rest’. It’s so sad- right after the Egyptian uprising- news organizations like CNN and others- who were actually ‘parties’ to the success of the revolt [yes- watch carefully and you will see] they then ignored the other protests and were headlining their shows with the Grammy winners- yes- whole hours of not mentioning any of the other protests. Or MSNBC making the stop story about Rumsfeld or how 50 % of the Republican primary voters think Obama is a Muslim- I mean a whole hour on this stuff? The media do ‘play the fool’ lots. Just a note- in some nations there are actually protestors [not govt. cronies] who are protesting against the ‘protestors’- that is some more stable economies [Bahrain, Qatar, etc.] many of these nations- though not democratic- have ‘shared the wealth’ with the people- many successful businesses thrive in some of these countries- these more stable people do not want the Egypt revolt to spread- some have pointed out [very legitimately] that when the media focuses the cameras of the world on a few hundred- or thousand protestors- they need to remember that there are many millions who are not protesting [the population of Egypt is 80 million- some did not want revolt] so the media has to be careful that they are not showing the wrong ‘narrative’ in some of these places. All in all- the cats out of the bag- some regimes are indeed going to shoot their protestors- others will try and start a war with Israel- yes- these are very serious times. Lets pray for the safety and freedom for all people- when the children of Israel were under an oppressive regime- the bible says God heard their cry and sent them a deliverer- the New Testament says Jesus is the ‘Moses’ of this day- even Gandhi used the non violent principles of the Sermon on the Mount to have a successful revolt- I hope the present protestors will do the same.

[By the way- in many of these present revolts the citizens are revolting against the autocrats who were installed after their countries broke away from their colonizers- like India from Britain- yet they never transitioned into real democracies]

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PHARAOH- KING OF EGYPT- I had an interesting experience yesterday- as I was doing the early morning prayer routine [I get up at around 3-3:30 and do about a 2 hour prayer time- I walk in my yard and cover a bunch of things- world situations, natural disasters, war areas- etc.] I got to a spot where I pray for world leaders. I start with president Obama and his wife and kids and then pray for world leaders. At one point I pray for all those in authority who are Christians- I ask the Lord to give them wisdom- help them make right decisions- I also pray for non Christian rulers- I don’t pray ‘against them’ I ask the Lord to also help them to rule justly- to not oppress their people. Then I pray for a 3rd category- let me quote it to you ‘Lord- for all those in authority who are persecuting believers- those who rule oppressive regimes- I ask that you would remove them for these positions and replace them with just leaders- and until that happens- that you would be glorified in them like you were with the rebellious leader of Egypt- Pharaoh’ the thing that surprised me was the realization that the only nation I mention every time I pray [besides the U.S.] is Egypt. The other nations get mentioned [Iraq- Israel- Palestine- etc.] but only as world events would warrant it- but Egypt is actually part of the prayer format. Now- I’m not saying that Egypt ‘fell’ because of my prayer- but it kinda did freak me out a little. Okay- in the last note we ended with Iran. In the past few days there have been uprisings in Yemen, Algeria [formally a colony of France- they too have been independent for around 30 years- yet many of these nations have not translated into Democracies], certain Persian Gulf states [Bahrain] and there are a number of nation/states that are foreseeing trouble [the more stable wealthy gulf states- United Arab Emirates, Kuwait, Saudi Arabia- are taking preventative steps to ward off any massive demonstrations- many of these countries are flatly handing out one time cash benefits as a sort of early tax return- geez- they are blatant about buying off the people.] So how are the Revolutions doing? Remember- the 1st domino to fall was the African nation of Tunisia [remember- Africa is a continent- so the nations/states in her are separate ruling governments] these past few weeks many thousands of refugees have fled Tunisia by boat and have landed on a port city in Italy. Italy is having major disruptions trying to deal with the crisis. Of course they are dealing with problems of their own- let’s see- what’s the big scandal story in Italy? Oh yeah- Berlusconi paid an underage Moroccan girl for sex. I remember watching the news a month or so ago- as the Italian leader was dealing with all his ‘girl’ scandals- he comes out and says ‘hey- it’s better than sleeping with the gays’. I guess their level of political correctness is a little different than ours. And for Egypt it’s too soon to tell how well the Revolution will end up. Now- at the same time we had the Taliban attack the police in Afghanistan- killing 18 people. There was one protestor killed in Iran- and the news media showed full coverage of the body- top of the world news- yet a few weeks ago while reading the paper- I read a story of 51 people killed by a suicide bomber right outside of Baghdad [Iraq], the next day I read the story again- the headlines were the same- the same amount of people killed- I thought they accidently ran the same story twice- as I read the article it wasn’t the same story, it was indeed the 3rd batch of more than 50 people killed in suicide bombings in 3 days. They said how in the last few weeks many hundreds were killed in these attacks- many more hundreds injured- yet not one top news media story- I found this story hidden on the back pages of the paper in a very obscure spot. Why? Is it because the media ran with the recent celebration of the so called end to our war in Iraq? I remember how MSNBC [yes- Matthews again] spent 3 days trying to make it sound like the end of WW2 – nobody bought it. So the media does pick and choose what they will run with. I’m glad they are covering the protestors- and I’m glad they covered the 1 person killed in Iran [even though they weren’t even sure who killed him] but we need to be very aware of the role the media plays- for them to have ignored 2-300 hundred suicide deaths in Iraq- because they want to show us a particular picture [war is over- let’s celebrate] and to have showed 1death as top major news in Iran- well you get the picture [I hope!] Yes- it’s too soon to tell how the Revolutions will turn out- Tunisia is a mess, and Egypt has a long road ahead of them- and yes- Berlusconi has his problems too. Lets pray for the nations, mention them by name- who knows- maybe one day you will wake up and say ‘geez- I’ve been praying for the removal of corrupt Pharaohs in Egypt for years- and sure enough he ‘got removed’.

NOTE- When the media tried to ‘spin’ the end of the war in Iraq- they showed their obvious bias in the way they reported the story under one president [Obama] versus the other [Bush]. What happened in Iraq was we left 50 thousand ‘non combat’ troops in the country [who by every account- even a local boy who is serving their right now wrote in our editorial- have said our guys are still engaging in combat on a regular basis]- we are building the world’s biggest ‘embassy’ in the country [it has been described as a giant permanent military base] and the uptick in attacks from the enemy have gone up- their country just installed one of the most outspoken enemies of the U.S. in their official govt. and like I said we just had hundreds of innocent people blown apart by suicide bombers in just a few days. During the Bush years- a single death with a burned out vehicle made national headlines- top story for days- showing all the various positions of the vehicles that were blown up- the Democrats regularly questioned the competence of the president- publicly stating that the wars were lost [Harry Reid] and accusing the president of willfully lying- in public- and being responsible- personally- for the deaths of both Iraqi innocents and American boys and girls- yes- senator Kerry went around the country- publicly saying ‘Bush lied- your kids died’. Now, none of this was seen as ‘raising the level of discourse too high’ the media did not freak out about any of this- a movie even came out called ‘the assassination of George W Bush’ the media did not roundly condemn this, not in the same way they spent weeks covering the ‘target’ story from Sarah Palin’s political sight. Can you imagine them not covering the story of a right winger who produced a movie called ‘the assassination of Barak Obama? Nor were the presidents enemies blamed for lowering the discourse and allowing stuff like this to happen. When a certain Democrat was asked ‘do you think it’s wrong that you described the president as an idiot in public’ he said ‘he is one’. The point being this same media- when Joe Wilson said ‘you lie’ some actually said this statement was so dangerous that it put the president’s life at risk [because it lowered the bar of respect]. Now- even though I agree with the need to stop using all this type of language- the point I’m making is the media has an agenda- even if it’s not a ‘secret’ underground thing [like Beck thinks]- never the less they report more favorably about a situation if they like the president- they report more negatively if they don’t. For the media to have reported the ‘end of the war’ in Iraq was a joke- and to have not even covered the hundreds who were just killed- while making 1 death in Iran the top news story- this too is a joke.

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EXODUS 20- God gives the people his law- the famous ’10 commandments’. In Greek it is Decalogue [meaning 10 words] and these laws are actually in the form of an ancient treaty type document- in essence God was not just saying ‘do this- don’t do that’ but he was telling them if they wanted to survive as a people, a society- then they needed law, just principles from which to govern themselves by- and also to hold each other accountable to their government and God.

As I continue to write and post about current world affairs- I also do lots of actual scholarly studying- I try and ‘mix’ world events in with historical perspective and keep my thinking in line with others who have gone on before us- stable thinkers, people who represent a broad range of thought. It’s too easy [and dangerous!] to view all things from a limited perspective- and then to see your view confirmed by your limited reading of the events. I saw a minister on one of the history channel shows speaking about his view of the ‘end of the world’. It was obvious that the program was allowing him to share his view- not because they thought it to be accurate- but because they wanted to show how people can see their beliefs confirmed by world events- if that’s what they want to see. Now- let me give you an example; during WW2 the church in Germany was divided- some wanted to work in accord with the state [Hitler] and others said they wanted no type of ungodly alliances with the state. Men like Dietrich Bonheoffer would reject Hitler’s ideals and be part of ‘the confessing church’ [those evangelicals who would not work with Hitler]. Another very famous theologian [scholar] would sign his name to an important document that stated the same idea of not condoning Hitler’s regime- his name was Karl Barth [considered by many to be the most influential theologian of the 20th century] the document was called The Barmen Declaration. In these cases the church felt she needed to speak out about world events- to side with those who were being oppressed- and to condemn those who were oppressing.

As I write this morning- we come off a day where our forces accidentally killed 9 Afghan boys who were out collecting wood for fire. Gen. Petraeus publicly apologized. Hamid Karzai is livid [rightfully so] and we are rapidly losing the support of the people [and I don’t blame them]. Yemen's president gave a very revealing speech- he told his country that he was going to ‘reveal a secret’. He said there is a secret operations room in Tel Aviv [Israel] and the purpose for it is to conspire against the Arab world and that the U.S. and Israel regularly meet to plan the overthrow of the Arab world. He obviously feels the heat [like all these other nations- he has protestors in the streets] but the fact that these leaders are actually speaking like this openly- our ties to these Arab nations are over. At the airport in Germany- a Muslim employee opened fire on 4 people- killing 2 American soldiers. Reports are he shouted ‘Allah Akbar’ [God is great] while firing his weapon.

In the media there are 2 narratives you can see; some ‘news organizations’ have made the top stories about Rumsfeld and any past mistakes/possible crimes committed under the Bush administration. Now- I guess there is a proper time for this- but not during the same day when the current administration and U.S. forces are involved in so many real-time scenarios, actual things that can change our world for years to come. Other news channels focus on the worst case scenarios- seeming to leave no room for any hope at all. I think both of these extremes are dangerous for our country- and we need to be realistic about the very real dangers- including our countries financial problems [there is talk in the world about dropping the U.S. dollar as the world reserve currency- and some analysts believe that China and others will stop buying our debt- financing us] These are very real dangers that we face as a country.

So what should the church do? First- I believe the ongoing killing of civilians [even by mistake!] is something that has to stop. Many Americans see the shooting of our soldiers at the German base as ‘terrorism’ and view the accidental killing of the 9 boys as ‘collateral damage’. We must understand- that the mothers of these boys don’t see it like that- and the rest of the Arab world as well. When God gave the people the ‘10 laws’ he was telling them there are some very fundamental rules that all nations will need to abide by if they want to survive. Most of us are familiar with them- and most of us know what the big one is ‘thou shalt not kill’- I think too many of us have stepped over this line one too many times.

www.corpuschristioutreachministries.blogspot.com

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Just finished reading ‘Coming to Grips With Genesis’ by Terry Mortenson and Thane Ury, probably the best argument for a young earth view put out in the last few years. Though I am still an ‘old earther’ it’s a good read. I am in the middle of ‘Last days Madness’ by Gary Demar [Preterism] and yesterday the book I ordered last ‘Why we’re not Emergent’, by Kevin Deyoung and Ted Kluck, showed up at my door. I am about 1/3 rd thru it. I recently read a quote from one of the famous philosophers that said ‘it is the mark of a mature intellect to be able to read and grasp another persons view, to understand what they are saying and where they are coming from, without fully embracing their view’ [paraphrase] I am applying this wisdom to all three of the above books. Not because they are not good, or because I disagree with everything in them, but because all people share from a limited view of the things they are seeing from their perspective [yes, me too!] that’s why God tells us there is safety in a multitude of counselors [not all counselors from your limited group either!] Okay, in Luke 3 John the Baptist is baptizing and calling people to repent [obviously not an emergent brother, or post modern or neo orthodox- yes, this can go on for ever- he told them what was right and wrong!] Look at the three groups coming to him; he tells the regular people ‘sell what you have, give it to the poor, share your stuff with those who are in need’. He tells the tax collectors ‘stop taking more money than you’re supposed too! It’s okay to collect a normal amount, but don’t go overboard’ and he tells the military ‘don’t use your power in an unjust way, when things go wrong, don’t bear false witness. Don’t cover it up’. I think all of these areas can apply to our lives today. There is somewhat of a resurgence of liberal social justice issues emerging in the church. It’s not out of the mainstream to talk about ecology, or ‘the military industrial complex’ and things of that sort. But we also must realize that in order to have these types of discussions there are times where we say to people ‘yes, we are not perfect, we have our faults. But it is still wrong to kill babies, or to discriminate against minorities, and to neglect our neighbor’. Would you tell a backslidden Christian who was hiding Jews in Nazi Germany ‘who do you think you are hiding these Jews, you are just as bad as Hitler’! Though the church has made mistakes, and Christians have been hypocrites, yet the reality of the ‘wrongness’ of killing Jews is not effected in any way by the perceived hypocrisy of the religious right. It’s still wrong to kill Jews whether or not Jimmy Swaggart messed up! The point being as the church tries to cast off the image of moral superiority that offends the world, we at the same time need to tell the world ‘yes, these things are still wrong, and these other things are still right’. When society came to John in the wilderness, he told them ‘what they must do’ he did not engage them in a long discussion on whether or not we can even determine what they need to do! He simply called them to repentance and back to the original intent of the law, he was preparing the way for Messiah.

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DRUNK WITH THE BLOOD OF THE SAINTS- Wasn’t sure which way to go today? It’s strange that I have been thinking about covering the sad story of the Christians in Iraq; since the war they have been persecuted severely- a few months back one of their main churches was attacked, many have fled to the northern region of the country [Kurdish area] and many are seeking asylum in our country. Saddam Hussein protected the Christian church in Iraq- he was not considered to be a radical Muslim leader- like the Mullahs in Iran. So it’s sad to see the Christian church possibly being eliminated from this ancient country. The church in Iraq dates back to the 1st century- they still speak Aramaic [some of them] which was the actual language Jesus spoke. Anyway- the thing that seems strange is I felt like I should read Revelation chapter 17 this morning- and in the chapter the apostle John has this vision of Babylon [which is Iraq- geographically. In the chapter it’s a symbol of the Roman Empire] and as he sees Babylon he says ‘she is drunk with the blood of the saints’- yes indeed, much Christian blood has been spilt in Iraq.

Okay- the other day I was watching some show about a group of people picked from all over the world who were chosen to participate in a sort of round table discussion where each person would spend so many months just sharing in conversation with these other people. Some were from the U.S., others from Muslim/Arab countries- some were from Israel. The conversation they had was really revealing- they were not scholars, but they showed you the point of view from other perspectives. One of the questions they asked was what should happen to Iran? Should the U.S. intervene in their desire to obtain nuclear weapons? One of the Americans said we should- because they might be a danger to world peace [a common ideology among many Americans] then one of the students from a Muslim country said ‘then why do you not feel it is also wrong for the U.S. to have nuclear weapons’ and the American gave some type of simple answer. Why does the Muslim world have a problem with the U.S. seeming to play the role of arbiter- who can have- or not have a nuclear arsenal?

Are there any Muslim/Arab countries that have them today? What about other countries who are also unstable? Let’s see- Pakistan [the most unstable of the bunch right now] India [Pakistan’s rival, also a major reason why Pakistan will not eliminate the Taliban from the mountainous region of her nation- they see the Taliban as playing a major role in the future govt. of Afghanistan and they need some ties to the Taliban in order to balance out any power play between India and Afghanistan] Egypt, Israel, North Korea, Saudi Arabia- well as you can see there are a bunch of nations who already posses nuclear weapons- or are on the road to getting them. So when the average Muslim sees our attempt to intervene in who gets nukes, they see it as a hypocritical game.

What is the world history on nuclear attacks? How many countries have actually used nukes to attack/respond to other attacks? One. Who dropped the first Atomic bomb in the history of the world on another country? We did. Okay- let’s give this another shot. Who dropped the second Atomic bomb? Okay- us again. One more time- who dropped number 3? No one. So let’s see this from the perspective of the Muslim student who questioned the reasoning of why the U.S. has nukes- but doesn’t want other nations to have them. The student was told that if other nations [Iran] has them- they might use them. Yet they see us as the only country that has ever actually used them. Look- I know why we used them- and many have questioned the morality of what we did in WW2. Were we just in dropping the bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki? We killed around 200 thousand people- civilians- not military [not counting the many who died in the following years from radiation sickness]. One of the definitions of terrorism is the purposeful targeting of civilians for a political/military goal. To the Muslim world- we targeted these civilian cites [they were not collateral damage- the civilians were the target] for a political/military goal- to end the war. The point is we [Americans] have a tendency to view things from one perspective- we rarely see the end result of our actions. Who would have thought that our war in ancient Babylon [Iraq] would have contributed to one of the fulfillments of John’s prophecy ‘Babylon- you are drunk with the blood of the saints’.

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WHERE’S THE CONFESSING CHURCH? During WW2 the German church was split on how she should respond to the rise of Hitler and the racist tendencies that were beginning to be revealed as time went on. Many German Christians initially embraced his ideas- they seemed to join a nationalistic/patriotic spirit in with the practice of their religion. Germany was coming off of years of national inferiority after their loss in WW1 and many Christians embraced the new felt spirit of ‘exceptionalism’ that was surging thru the land. On the other side you had men like Dietrich Bonheoffer who resisted what he saw as unjust govt.- others took his stance, these were called ‘the confessing church’ they believed it was their responsibility to speak out- to ‘confess’ the things they saw as unjust. Bonheoffer would get executed for his role in attempting to assassinate Hitler.

As we continue to read the release of the Wikileaks documents- we see more and more how our govt. has lied, deceived, been involved in the deaths of many civilians- and both the media and the govt. have denied these things- until they actually were exposed. Yemen. The last few years there were many attacks in the country of Yemen- when these attacks first started the U.S. govt. vehemently denied any involvement at all. The official reports and the N.Y. times ran stories that said ‘Today in Yemen- Yemeni fighter planes struck a terrorist compound and possibly killed some high level Al Qaeda terrorists’. During a press conference- state dept. spokesman P.J. Crowley was point blank asked ‘are we involved in ANY military activities in Yemen’- he point blank said no. There was speculation that we were doing secret drone attacks in the country- our govt. said ‘NO’. On average about 50 civilians die for every target we hit- quite a cost. So obviously these innocents demand to know the truth about why/who killed their kids. Yemen and the U.S. simply saw it in their best interest to lie. I mean- these people are just pawns on the grand stage- right? What rights does the average person have to really know what’s going on? So the Wikileaks revealed that yes indeed the U.S. did do the strikes- yes indeed we did kill many innocents- and yes indeed Yemen said ‘you do the strikes, and we’ll tell our people it was us’. They were caught in the act. So what is our govt. saying now? P.J. Crowley- the state dept. spokesmen who lied- he is now saying ‘well, I meant we weren’t involved in a specific attack’. When you read the actual transcript of the press conference- he was asked ‘are we involved IN ANY military activity in Yemen’? His answer- NO.

Last week our military began trial hearings against a team of U.S. soldiers for their involvement in what’s being called ‘a death squad’. This group of young men were caught killing Afghan civilians- they shot a farmer in a field- cut off his finger for a souvenir and eventually were caught. Now- do these guys represent the majority of our troops in the field- of course not! Yet this story runs as top news in the Muslim media- have you even heard about it?

How should the church respond to these types of things? Should we be the silent majority- like Germanys nationalistic church who saw ‘church and state’ as one big patriotic cause? Should we just keep ‘preaching the gospel’ while our govt. carries out hidden agendas and lies to us and the people who are being killed? Should we question the ridiculous strategy of engaging in these never ending campaigns? What’s out strategy? Do we believe that after more than 10 years- and thousands of lives- that eventually we can set up Democratic governments that will be allies to the U.S. ? What’s to prevent these radical religious countries from voting in some nut- like the president of Iran- and we spent all our time dying and killing for this?

We tried this in the West Bank- we helped the Palestinians set up some free and open elections. We wheeled and dealed with Israel and Palestine- we gave much aid and effort- after all was said and done they finally held their democratic election- and they elected Hamas!

What is the primary cause for terrorism amongst radical Islamists? They see our forces in their ‘holy lands’ as the number one cause for resistance. After our initial war [Bush 1] to expel Iraq from Kuwait- we for the first time established bases in Arab countries. Saudi Arabia- Iraq- etc. Bin laden and the rise of Al Qaeda were a direct result of what they saw as Americans’ ‘defiling’ their sacred land. Do you remember any car bombings and these types of efforts before that time? Yes- you always had some type of fighting- but not to the level that ratcheted up after the first gulf war. So, the number one reason these radicals are carrying out this insane agenda is because they see us as invaders in their land. So how do we respond to the threat- WE INVADE MORE LAND! Overall the strategy is not going to work. Right now we are fighting the Taliban- who are these people? They are ethnic Afghans who have NO WORLWIDE AGENDA. They see themselves as ‘freedom fighters’ who simply want to ‘restore’ their land to a religious theocracy. Not good- but no real threat to the U.S. So why are we fighting them? They gave space for Al Qaeda to operate out of their country. Okay- Al Qaeda’s been long gone- yet we keep fighting this group who sees themselves as defending their homeland. Its nuts! It’s like if some gang attacked you, they lived down the street in some hotel. So you start a war with the hotel owners and the gang leaves. Instead of spending all your time and resources hunting down the gang- you start a never ending war with the hotel owners! Not only is this stupid- but the gang is laughing at the strategy- it actually helps the gang to recruit more members- because the gang points to the fact that we are in their ‘holy land’ which after all is the original justification for the existence of the gang! All this would be laughable if it weren’t so sad.

So what does the church say about all this- not much. We keep hawking our religious wares on our TV channels- we keep appealing for a never ending need for money- and all the time the world is going to hell in a hand basket. It’s time for us to become ‘the confessing church’ to speak truth to power- because our govt. seems to have a hard time telling us the truth.

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HOW SHOULD WE RESPOND TO UNJUST GOVERNMENTS? One of the most famous dissidents of the soviet era was Alexander Solzhenitsyn; Alexander was a simple school teacher who would serve in the military when Stalin was in power. He had written some critical things about Stalin in a letter to a friend and was put in the communist prison camps. While doing time he met believers and returned to his early faith as a Christian. In the year I was born [1962] he wrote the famous ‘A day in the life of Ivan Denisovich’ it was a fictional account of a man in the prison camps and how he dealt with his captors. The main character would meet a Baptist believer while doing time and sort of represented Alexander’s own plight. Alexander came to fame when Khrushchev would permit him to publish his book, Khrushchev was advancing his own program of Destalinization and he underestimated Alexander’s criticism of all communist type systems, not just Stalin. He would also expose the evils of the prison camps in his other work titled ‘The Gulag Archipelago’. Eventually he was exiled to the U.S. [Vermont was his home] and received much notoriety as a prophetic voice who spoke out for justice. He gave a controversial speech at Harvard [1978?] and the western media came to dislike him; he was critical of loose morality and the evils of western society as well, he was not the sort of liberal crusader that they mistook him to be. Eventually he would return home to Russia and live to see the fall of the system he despised. History is filled with people who stood for what was right against all odds and impacted society for the better, Alexander was a school teacher whose life took a turn of events that he simply followed; he was not ashamed of the gospel and did not tailor his message to please the audience. I like that style; it reminds me of another revolutionary who gave his life to save the world.

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I mentioned Augustine on video 3 [Just war theory] here are my past teachings on him-

PROTESTANT REFORMATION CONCLUSION

Today let’s finish up the study on the Protestant Reformation. We left off on Luther disputing with the church over the doctrine of how a person becomes just in the sight of God- is it by works or faith?

Now- to the surprise of many Protestants [and Catholics!] both sides agreed that a person cannot be justified by works.

Yes- the Catholic Church rejected what was known as Pelagianism. In the early centuries of the church there was a Catholic priest- named Pelagius- who taught that people had the ability within themselves to obey Gods law and become saved that way.

He rejected the doctrine of original sin and another famous bishop- Saint Augustine- would refute Pelagius and teach salvation comes by the Grace of God. The official Catholic position was to reject Pelagius and accept Augustine.

Okay- then where’s the difference?

The church council that spells it out is the Council of Trent [named after the Italian city where the council took place in the 1500’s- Trento].

This council is often referred to as the Counter Reformation. The church rejected the Protestant line- but also acknowledged the need for reform and made some changes.

This is the council where the church rejects Pelagianism- and also says the position of Luther [Justification by Faith ALONE] was flawed.

The church appealed to the New Testament letter of Saint James- where James uses an example from the life of Abraham [found in Genesis 22] where Abraham obeys God and is willing to sacrifice his son Isaac on an altar.

Of course this never happens- God was simply testing Abraham- but James says this act of obedience justified him in Gods sight.

James says ‘see how a man is justified by works- and not by faith ALONE’.

The argument from Rome was Faith played THE major role in justification- but was not sufficient by itself- there had to be righteous works eventually associated with it in order for God to say ‘you are just’ [saved].

Luther disagreed and said God justified Abraham before he had good works- we find this in Genesis 15. God says to Abraham ‘look- count all the stars- so shall your offspring be’ and Walla- the bible also says Abraham was justified in God's eyes the moment he believed the promise.

Who’s right?

Actually they both are.

I have taught this a few times over the years- and it would take too much time to re-do right now.

But I believe James and Paul [the 2 who debate this in the bible] are simply looking at different aspects of salvation/justification.

Paul emphasized faith- and James showed us how true faith always has works with it.

When you read the statements that came out from the council of Trent- some of them do seem to indicate that both sides might have been talking past each other at some points.

In the heat of the day they were too quick to condemn the other side- without really trying hard to achieve unity [like politics!].

The 6th session of Trent was the one where the church dealt with justification [how we become saved in Gods sight].

Rome made a distinction between mortal and Venial sin in the council- the church said that Baptism is the INSTRUMENTAL CAUSE of justification. Yet faith is the Root- Foundation and Initial act that justifies.

Rome also taught that Mortal sin kills the grace in the soul that brings justification- and when a person commits a mortal sin- they need the ‘2nd plank of justification’ in order to be brought back into a state of Grace.

This 2nd Plank is the Sacrament of Penance [confession]. Catholic Moral Theologians use an example to show the difference between Mortal and Venial sin.

Drinking- if you take a drink [alcohol] not a sin. If you get tipsy- Venial- and if you get flat drunk- mortal.

This is a true teaching by the way- not making this up.

Catholic scholars are not in total agreement on all the Mortal/Venial sins.

Some teach that missing Mass on Sunday is a Mortal sin.

I just threw this in to show you the debates that take place.

The teachings from Trent are referred to as Tridentine.

The Protestants [early on] rejected the belief that a person can lose Gods grace once he has it- later on the Protestants would divide- severely- over this teaching- Predestination and the Perseverance of the Saints.

But early on all the major Reformers did indeed teach this.

Luther believed in the doctrine of Predestination just as much- if not more- than John Calvin.

But sometimes in these history shows they get this wrong and say Luther and Calvin disagreed on it- that’s a common mistake that you hear every so often.

Luther actually wrote a book dedicated to the subject [The Bondage of the Will] Calvin never wrote a book solely on the subject.

Okay- as we end this brief study of the Protestant Reformation- you could also call it a primer on Catholic doctrine [short one].

Why is it important that we study this?

In John chapter 17 Jesus said that he desired unity for all of Gods people- and many of these divisions- which date back 500 years- are commonly misunderstood on both sides.

It is common in our day to run across an ex Catholic who might say ‘you know- I left the church because I don’t believe I need to confess to a priest’ or ‘the Catholic church teaches you are saved by works’.

The original Reformers did not have a problem with confession- the Lutherans carried the practice over into their communion.

And like I just showed you- the Catholic church rejected the doctrine of being saved ‘by works’ [Pelagianism] and simply emphasized the teaching found in the bible- the book of James- and focused more on James than Paul [who the protestants focus on].

So yes- there are still differences- but if we are not informed- then it makes it harder to strive for unity- and at the end of the day God does desire unity for all his people.

The other day I quoted the great Civil rights leader- MLK. In one of his famous speeches that’s played when we celebrate his life- you hear Martin say that not only was he seeking unity among the races- but also in the church.

He said he wanted to see Catholics and Protestants- as well as Blacks and Whites- sit down together- he referred to us all as Gods kids.

I think we should strive to achieve the desire of Martin- and Jesus.

Amen.

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