#how did it get so big and important when it seems like only the capitol has anything going for it?

[gotyouanyway]

i’m always thinking about arcadia though.. the second major city on gallifrey, the only other named city or one of the very few. and probably the only one that even comes close to matching the capitol in size and (allegedly) importance. and yet we never really hear about it outside the time war (for obvious reasons like it didn’t exist in dw canon until 2013. but still) when it’s the last place standing on the planet. it’s just so strange knowing this entire city exists like a shadow to the capitol we know and love and it only comes into the spotlight when it’s destroyed. gallifrey’s second heart

[m1ndbrand]

"all it took was..." — The new President

WARNINGS: Coriolanus Snow is it's own warning(Snow after the 10thGames, 2 years after to be precise); Mentions of death and corpse(small description, nothing big).

SUMMARY: The 12th Hunger Games winner unfortunately fortunately gets the attention of President Snow.

WORDS: 1.384

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the franchise The Hunger Games characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them. I do claim what I wrote and only that.

A/N: If you know the tragedy of Coriolanus by William Shakespeare some names will be recognizable...Also I'm sorry but this chapter won't be the continuation of their little...encounter— but I promise, it's going to happen!

TAG-LIST: @sorry-mrs-jacobs; @phoward89;

MASTERLIST

He was never someone who believed in the stars and whatever they might mean to some people.

It seemed completely idiotic and beneath someone from the level of education, you would get from the Capitol to have this belief that in his humble opinion, of course — was archaic and beneath him.

Fate and stories written on the stars were all but a way of fairy tales being made, a topic on some and even a very important one at that "merging" some characters together like the universe itself deemed them a pair, one in two.

Star-crossed lovers.

How he hated that idea, he couldn't believe he even fed it to—

Let's not dwell on that topic, he had better things to do, like arrange a new Games Maker for the 12th Hunger Games.

Doctor Volumnia Gaul is no more, some freak accident with one or more than one mutt; it wasn't clear, the body was far too mutilated to be recognised by anyone at all if not for the DNA tests and well...the place of the accident, a place only a few people were able to enter and of course Doctor Gaul was one of those people, him included in the small pool.

It was slightly weird however how the mulls were able to break free, the reporters debated it for the first days the case broke daylight, but the theory was quickly suppressed.

After all, mulls were still in being tested and we're highly volatile, their behaviour unstable and unpredictable. And of course, accidents happen.

But the world continues to go around and so shall the Capitol, he needed to find someone and fast. 

He should have looked more into it, the selection that is. But he had more important things in his place, strength the security in the several points of entry on all distractions, the training of the peacekeepers and the change of the uniform like he so petitioned for just to name a few.

The new and young president had more important things to worry about than some person who would probably be soon replaced if so needed.

The theme he chose ,he didn't even try to remember the man's name, was an advanced-looking arena; a sign of the year the Capitol got a new President. Coriolanus liked the idea. It painted his future reign as one that would lead them into the future, lead them into a better time.

It painted him as a good leader.

The reaping ceremony passed without a problem. Some students clearly didn't like something— their tribute lack of attributes to make them win or the idea of having to participate in such 'twisted games' as the rebel-like-youth liked to name his games. He honestly couldn't care less, blue-ice-like eyes looking straight at the screens with a fake polite smile when the camera twists at him, showing his all too polished self composed with a deep red suit and thick coat that made his figure even more imposing than it normally is.

He would soon return to his manor and actually work, the two hours of the opening ceremony put his work ethic behind schedule more than he liked to admit.

There was much to be done to make the Capitol and the Districts into the way he saw fit and Coriolanus shouldn't waste more time than he already has.

Not even a day later he would have the files of everyone who chose to review. For some reason the late president did this— the threat of the Rebels was still very much a problem and he was of course scared shitless by them so all 'useful' information was of course turned into two paper pages that it was his duty to read through.

Coriolanus was just about to skim through them all but the very first file caught his attention, District One female tribute.

Not the girl's image he didn't even look at it properly, he already saw every tribute face on the reaping ceremony... all looked underfed and clearly not fit for an entertaining games in terms of pure brutal strength, the mentors would need to sell them well to the Capitol. No it was her name. Her last name rang a bell.

A big warning bell was inside his head and it made his eyebrows furrow, hand picked up the two-page long file and flipped through the description of her family. Something was amiss, he could feel it in his bones. Something was wrong. 

Coriolanus could almost feel the hunger tearing at his stomach, his small sweaty hand tightly gripping his equally moist cousin's hand as they received the news of his father's death.

His other small hand gripping the files of several names of supposed rebels that could be the reason behind his father's death. Blond hair falls against his sweaty forehead as at that time he didn't understand why he had to read the names of random men.

Brutus.

His hand grips the file on his hand, veins popping up as his eyes skim through the contents of the file, once and then twice. He didn't even sit down, reading in silence for 10 minutes over and over again to look out for another word, sentence, or anything more.

Only two people are still alive from her family— grandmother and little brother, Valeria Brutus and Menenius Brutus, then they got the last name from her grandfather. His hand moves the paper right and left, trying to see if her grandfather's first name was there. But it wasn't. It probably wasn't deemed to be useful information since he is dead. Putting the papers down he turns with a sigh to his window, chin rising as he looks to see all the perfectly arranged garden of pure white roses in the front of his mansion.

No this shouldn't matter. It didn't matter, not now. He got what he wanted he won, the victor. He was still standing with or without his father.

The nostalgic feeling of feeling hungry regrows once again and it makes him nauseous, sharp eyes turning to the face of the girl on the page. She looked like every other girl he reminds himself as he starts a little too long at her face. Eighteen, one more year and she should have been safe from the reaping.

A smile creeps on his lips. Amusement dancing in his eyes like he had just read a good enough joke.

He couldn't sleep.

Coriolanus hated to be in need of something even if it was just a simple pill to go to sleep. He was better than that, he could sleep alone thank you very much.

Couldn't he just get the information he wanted? He could, he had the resources, and he had the needs to if he so pleases, so why not?

No.

No, he wouldn't lose to this...whatever this is, curiosity, need— want to know. Closure.

Maybe that was it. Know the person or people that did this to him. To his family. The people that made him starve and struggle. Envy and step on people that he knew were living better than him, growing to bring them down so he could feel himself high above them all. Know the people that in a way, made him the way he is now.

Rising he presses the inside of his palms to his eyes.

For fucks sake— Shut the fuck up! 

His mouth was open. Eyes shot open and hands grabbing tightly the silk covers, knuckles turning white. Did he shout those words? Wasn't it all in his head? His hands were shaking, face was slightly flushed red from anger.

It's one of those episodes.

Rising he curses under his breath, feet carrying him to one of the small tables with some pills on them. Deep eyes thin as he tried to look into the colours of the various drugs that looked like they were thrown there and he picked a deep purple one in the midst of the rainbow and quickly gulped it down without water.

His attention is caught by the silver-like glow of the moonlight slipping through his windows, blue tired-looking eyes looking up at the sky, they find the stars instead of the moon that sings for attention. Wishing to catch a stray star amidst the ones that stay. Maybe he could catch it as it falls.

With those thoughts, sleep would soon catch him.

Previous

[dr4wingfranciss]

"Gale is worse than Snow", "Prim Reaper", "Gale didn't love Prim", "he was just trying to separate Katniss and Peeta bc he's a asshole"

okay, i'm gonna hold your hand while i say this:

Gale Hawthorne, as much as he was annoying, an idiot, and often acted like an asshole, was a literal fucking WAR CHILD.

he grew up only knowing that the Capitol and President Snow were the ones causing pain across Panem, and keeping the Games going even after it was stablished that they were no longer a punishment to the districts but a mere entertaining show. The only thing Gale knew was that he was angry and that his best friend was willing to die just so she could spare her sisters life. He was inspired by Katniss' actions, and tried his best to protect her family while she was out in the Games.

he loved her in a very VERY toxic and possesive way, that will always be something i will NEVER excuse, and he hurted a lot of people with his inability to put his emotions into words, but he was still going to support Katniss and the revels. Gale was ready to put all of himself so the rebellion would succeed, and Panem will finally be free.

he despised Peeta, yes, but it was because of simple and pathetic childish jealousy, not because Peeta ever did something to him. They even would get along if needed, and respected each others opinions and points while discussing important topics. They weren't each others favorite person, but they were mature enough to try and "get along". I mean, do we all remember that Gale went on a mission to RESCUE Peeta?

and, the biggest mistake Gale ever made was to drop those bombs. Or at least, help create them.

i believe it is never implied/said that Gale knew that Prim would be there. He new the paramedics would be, so they could attend people's wounds, but we don't know if he was aware of the fact that Primrose Everdeen, the girl he saw grow up, that he protected like she was his own little sister, the girl he took care of when her big sister went to the Hunger Games just so she could live and then came back, the girl who was sweet and took care of others in a motherly way nobody else in Twelve seemed to be, would be there.

As much as i hate and can't stand Gale, i will never, under ANY circumstances, believe that he would EVER be okay with "dropping" a bomb over Prim. He would "drop" it over Capitol children any day, (which i believe is so fucked up i can't even put my disbelief into words) but Primrose Everdeen would remain untouched.

or at least that's what i think he thought.

if you are thinking this is a Gale defending post, and that i am a Gale Hawthorne apologist, you are absolutely wrong.

never in my life you would catch me excusing and trying to mend a FICTIONAL character's actions, but i will try my best to explain them. I've seen some justified hatred towards Gale as a character because of his actions, but it's more the amount of hatred i've seen from people that think Gale is redouced to a annoying bitch who just wanted to get with Katniss and who didn't care about her.

a) that shows me the amount of media literacy you have (none).

and b) you are just hating on him for the sake of hating, not for VALID reasons.

hating Gale because of his toxic behavior, his problematic ways of dealing with tense situations, and how he acted with other people are VALID reasons, but hating him because he was mean to Peeta, wanted to get with Katniss and killed Prim "in purpous" is perhaps the stupidiest shit i've ever read. Stop watering down COMPLEX and MORALY GREY characters just because of their superficial mistakes/actions.

[mollywog]

A list of people Katniss Prim’s-the-only-person-in-the-world-I'm-certain-I-love Everdeen loves (in the order mentioned in the text)

Prim

How could I leave Prim, who is the only person in the world I'm certain I love?

Rue

Sing. My throat is tight with tears, hoarse from smoke and fatigue. But if this is Prim's, I mean, Rue's last request, I have to at least try. The song that comes to me is a simple lullaby, one we sing fretful, hungry babies to sleep with. It's old, very old I think. Made up long ago in our hills. What my music teacher calls a mountain air. But the words are easy and soothing, promising tomorrow will be more hopeful than this awful piece of time we call today.

[proceeds to sing a song]

The final lines are barely audible.

Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true

Here is the place where I love you.

Peeta

It's like being home again, when they bring in the hopelessly mangled person from the mine explosion, or the woman in her third day of labor, or the famished child struggling against pneumonia and my mother and Prim, they wear that same look on their faces. Now is the time to run away to the woods, to hide in the trees until the patient is long gone and in another part of the Seam the hammers make the coffin.

But I'm held here both by the hovercraft walls and the same force that holds the loved ones of the dying. How often I've seen them, ringed around our kitchen table and I thought, Why don't they leave? Why do they stay to watch?

And now I know. It's because you have no choice.

* There are other instances- just sighting the first

Haymitch

I turn and see them all waiting in a big chamber at the end of the hall - Effie, Haymitch, and Cinna. My feet take off without hesitation. Maybe a victor should show more restraint, more superiority, especially when she knows this will be on tape, but I don't care. I run for them and surprise even myself when I launch into Haymitch's arms first. When he whispers in my ear, "Nice job, sweetheart," it doesn't sound sarcastic.

Additional Notes:

Katniss doesn’t talk about feeling a sense of debt to Haymitch, even though he continually helps keep her alive. This feels significant, and I choose to believe it’s because she considers him family

Haymitch is included in the running away from D12 scheme because she can’t leave him

After the bombing in D13 and failed propo she only wants to be comforted by Haymitch “because he loves Peeta, too.”

Gale

"I've heard worse," she says. "You've seen how people are, when someone they love is in pain."

Someone they love. The words numb my tongue as if it's been packed in snow coat.

Of course, I love Gale. But what kind of love does she mean? What do I mean when I say Ilove Gale? I don't know. I did kiss him last night, in a moment when my emotions were running so high. But I'm sure he doesn't remember it. Does he? I hope not. If he does, everything will just get more complicated and I really can't think about kissing when I've got a rebellion to incite. I give my head a little shake to clear it.

Madge

I nod and go straight to my room. I sit on the bed, knowing I will never write those letters. They will be like the speech I tried to write to honor Rue and Thresh in District 11. Things seemed clear in my head and even when I talked before the crowd, but the words never came out of the pen right. Besides, they were meant to go with embraces and kisses and a stroke of Prim's hair, a caress of Gale's face, a squeeze of Madge's hand. They cannot be delivered with a wooden box containing my cold, stiff body.

Too heartsick to cry, all I want is to curl up on the bed and sleep until we arrive in the Capitol tomorrow morning. But I have a mission. No, it's more than a mission. It's my dying wish. Keep Peeta alive. And as unlikely as it seems that I can achieve it in the face of the Capitol's anger, it's important that I be at the top of my game. This won't happen if I'm mourning for everyone I love back home. Let them go, I tell myself. Say good-bye and forget them. I do my best, thinking of them one by one, releasing them like birds from the protective cages inside me, locking the doors against their return.

Honorable Mention

(She at minimum cares about and feels responsible for these people - love could be implied.)

Mrs. Everdeen - Katniss loves Prim, Prim loves their mother, Katniss at minimum feels responsible for her mother if only for her sisters sake

The Hawthornes - She provided for their family from the woods after Gale starts work in the mines. They are included as part of her escape plan in CF. She gets Hazelle the job working for Haymitch when times are lean.

Finnick and Johanna - Come on! She doesn’t say as much, but she loves them, right?

District 12 - she altered the Lady the Goat story to protect people back home. Also Greasy Sae.

Cinna

Effie

Please add your thoughts!

* Inspired by this question

[mathlann]

Thought Dump about YM and being heir, and some other stuff.

The circumstances in which YM got declared heir is a whole nother long-ass post in itself, but I do think the starting trouble of his heir-dom is both that he represents a Lot™ as far as the von Valancius dynasty goes and the choice to foist that on him was mostly a rash decision Casimira made before he was born and now they're both stuck with it because by the time she started to reconsider it was far too late.

Like, being a regular Rogue Trader's heir is a lot of pressure, but he is also the first von Valancius born in the Expanse for at least the last 3-400 years (Theodora being from Scarus and Casimira being Calixian), the first heir born after his dynasty became the most powerful one in the region, and (quietly) a living result of his mom's particular policies regarding Aeldari.

Which is a lot even without even without factoring in parental issues! And no doubt the above became a factor that contributed to Cas deciding not only to publicly make him heir presumptive but also go out of her way to have the "Royal Baby Legitimacy Experience" (with plenty of bribes and negotiations under the table) on Dargonus. Which, barring some quarrels about not having him be born in the capitol world, worked very well in signifying the continuation of the dynasty etc etc.

But at the same time being an only child and heir presumptive kinda did mess him up in a way that definitely isn't helpful to making him want to be heir. Because Cas is very disdainful of hereditary nobility without merit, and inasmuch as Cas' protective shield of exceptionalism extends to her son, YM does on some level recognize he is the very type of person his mom would usually be bitching about after a long day at court. And so, like both his parents, he tends to draw on his origins as a form of self-justification but unlike his parents he doesn't yet have any big deeds to back up that self-belief and therefore deepens his own anxiety around failure because if he's not careful he rationalizes himself into being the thing he's scared of being.

Another "not helping" thing is that Cas learned how to be Rogue Trader by trial and error but doesn't really want YM to have to do that yet. So she gets big on him having a formal Noble Education so that he'll have a good base to work with, despite that fact that he is her and Marazhai in all the ways most calibrated to frustrate her and so doesn't take to hardly any of them. Not because he's not smart enough to grasp the material, but because neither of his parents had to sit in school like this and they turned out fine, so why should he care about Administratum procedures when he could be out in the Heathen Stars adventuring or something? The underside of this is also avoidance, in that failing these things are also a reflection on him so to get out of being "the Heir who tried and failed Administratum Procedures 101" its best to blow it off entirely. Which irritates his mom, because while she understands his wanting to go out and learn the hard way, the tedious shit is important too and its not boding well that it doesn't seem that he sees that. And thus the eternal war of "Im too good for this" and "I'm failing" continues eternal.

Having parents with very different timescales also doesn't help, nor does the fact that his mom and direct comparison point is kind of a fluke. Like on the one hand his young adult years mean nothing to Aeldari in total lifespan so he has time, on the other hand his mother was ruling a large chunk of the Independent Expanse by her early-to-mid thirties, Realspace Time. So being in his twenties and still not even having command of his own ship stings.

Making Marazhai more explicitly a Corsair Prince in my canon does offer a lot more when it comes to "what could've been" for YM. Because by the mere fact of his existence he was never going to be a bastard with nothing. There is a potential future (and one he'd probably like more) where he was just Cas' bastard and was Marazhai's heir presumptive. He wouldn't have the same cushy future job security for sure but the role might have fit his temperament better. Or he would just inherit a different flavor of parental issues and long to be a Rogue Trader's heir. Who knows.

Heir blues aside, YM also does have a perfectly calibrated "fucking with my parents" gene and makes it his business to cultivate a circle of "not necessarily harmful but personally irritating" set of friends and acquaintances to be on hand for social occasions where annoying either parent is the goal.

One of his "learning how the Administratum works" lessons was absolutely getting Jae the renewal of her Mercatum Tabular Rasa. It was a success....ignoring suspicious blood stains and the disappearance of a particularly annoying clerk.

During his eventual Gap Decade with Marazhai he probably gets some training from a Void Dreamer, a type of Aeldari Corsair Psyker that helps ships navigate both Warp and Webway. This solves one of the bigger problems in his life, being that he can't totally atrophy his abilities to the same extent as a Drukhari but following a Path like an Asuryani would send Marazhai into a fit. Void Dreamers, being adept at Warp travel, would be able to help him manage his senses during longer Warp Jumps without necessarily having to resort to violence.

[nokingsonlyfooles]

Brigitte Empire! She's just done a big move to escape TERF Island, and YT (and associated donations) are her only source of income right now. Listen, like, and reply to her video (you don't have to read the YT comments - though most aren't too bad - just say "hi") to help her out with the algorithm, and give money if you can.

And, while I have your attention, how DOES one differentiate between a nice, civil protest and a lawbreaking riot?

Well, is "one" an ordinary human being without a badge - press or police/security?

Like these BLM folks right here?

...Then your input is not required. Sorry. You don't actually get to define whether you're here to be heard or to break shit and ruin it for everyone. You have no authority over your message, and we do not believe you when you express your intent, especially if there's any (I mean ANY) property damage. Human lives are more important than some light vandalism and broken windows, you say? Well, lalalalala, 'cos we're not listening.

But if "one" does have a badge...

Aha! Behold, a miscreant!

Yes. Take that, you... you building-haters!

...one is allowed, nay, expected to put the proper framework around this chaos of, uh, human beings asking for human rights with their (theoretically) protected right to protest.

And this framework is subject to change!

...like, a lot of change. Within a single human lifetime, MLK goes from commie threat to conservative icon, and the protests he helped organize go from "tut-tut, so uncivil" to a triumph of nonviolent resistance. Gandhi and his tactics have gone through a similar rehabilitation/reclaimation.

And Stonewall? It's gone from a riot to a protest to a riot, with an ever-evolving cast of heroes, villains, and participants. Brigitte up there steered clear of who was involved and what their motivations may have been, and I suppose I will too, because we're all very attached to our own personal mythology. We all want to have been there, and there's some backlash and othering for people with queer identities that aren't part of the mythos.

I will say, though, that the man-o-sphere-centric film Buck Breaking sure did cough up an interesting interpretation for us. (Don't bother to watch it, I didn't, I just read/listened about it. It seems painful.) To the brain trust behind this propaganda piece, Stonewall was a BLACK riot - with no queer folks involved at all, certainly not any Black queer folks - and we STOLE it from them. I'm not gonna take that apart either, F. D. Signifier already did, and his experiences give him a better viewpoint than mine.

A riot is defined, and fueled by the police reaction in the moment, and afterwards, the media and politicians will carve it up however they see fit. Generally speaking, contemporary sources tend to err on the side of the police, and slowly get more revisionist as time passes. If the cops don't want you where you are, they will come up with a reason to remove you, provoking one if necessary. (See, my earlier post today, responding to efforts to make it more difficult to protest in the States.)

Cops are trained to parse any disturbance (even a bunch of kids singing patriotic music at the Capitol to score cheap points for the Republican House Speaker) as a threat, and they will minimize or remove it. A protest that does not cause a disturbance is not an effective protest. Thus, ANYTHING can be a riot. And, once the cops fire a few chemical weapons into the crowd, it sure will look like one. That's nice for any newspaper photographers who happen to be in the area!

This is why, when I talk about violent protests, I say the violence happens, like a rainy day or a sneeze. Speaking as a bleeding-heart lefty progressive (I don't show up for shit like January 6th), most people aren't looking to hurt anyone, they just want to be heard. If you do look like you're just there to start some shit, or you bring a weapon, someone will take you aside and ask you to go home, or at least leave that shit in the car. People with obvious weapons make a suitable excuse for the police to start some shit of their own - and we'd all rather not be pepper-sprayed or gassed, thanks. But if the cops want you gone, they are able to turn up the pressure until someone snaps, and then they'll start doing damage and making arrests anyway.

The first Pride was a riot, and a protest, and the participants repaid police violence against them with violence against the police. Police do their violence on behalf of the State, so we tend to overlook it, or spread the responsibility around until everyone is a little bit complicit. (We live in a democracy, right? Right?) But the truth is, a riot can be self-defense. It just doesn't look like it in the papers, because systemic oppression doesn't photograph very well.

Nothing about what's happening is "civil." "Civility" is not what anyone is after, here. What they want is silence. Silence just lets them keep doing whatever the hell they were doing, while pretending we're all OK with it. If you raise your voice, they will do whatever they can to shut you down. They lie, they cheat, they wound, and they kill.

Well, you can't make any noise if you're dead. So first, stay alive. And then, if you can, yell your fucking head off. Don't quiet down no matter what label they hit you with. If you're lucky, one day you'll be a triumph of nonviolent resistance too!

[masschase]

1 and 8 for Matt and Casey🙏🏽

Ship ask meme (still accepting but will get to the rest tomorrow as it's 1.30am :))

Sorry I took so long and sorry it's a big read again 🤣 but their first date is important to me. Really important.

1. Describe their first date.

So once again we have the um... *lovely* situation that their first proper date was between 2016 Casey and 2022 Matt. But I love it nonetheless.

During their travel from Steelport to Stilwater they wind up stopping in Harrisburg for the night. They're still a "just sex" arrangement at this point.

They get to their hotel rooms. He asks for adjoined ones because he's trying his best to keep things detached, which surprises her but she goes along with it. They reach their rooms.

“Do you want to go out for dinner or something?” “Are you asking me out on a date?” she said teasingly. He looked at her, obviously trying to assess her intent. “Yes.” he replied confidently. She looked back at him. She felt a small smile creep across her face. “Then yes.”

They need to remain inconspicuous but she doesn't want to wear sunglasses all night so she teases her hair up, lines her eyes really heavy, borrows some black lipstick, and goes full goth for the first time. Seeing her makes him not want to go out after all, but she reminds him she'll look just as hot after dinner.

They take a cab then walk along the river for a bit and manage to find a little creperie. I based this on a real life place called Au Bon Lieu located at... 1 N Third Street. Matt mentions that he used to go on holiday to France and when the waitress overhears and ends up getting into a conversation with him about it.

Past Casey, a little but not overly jealous, later frames this as 'flirting', and while the waitress does ask if the Boss is his girlfriend, she seems sympathetic when he replies "Non... um...Si seulement" ("No... um... if only.") and wishes him luck. They have a nice meal of savoury and then sweet crepes.

“Thanks Matt...” she said as he paid the bill. “This was... real nice.” There was a very minor chill in the air as they stepped out into the summer evening. Matt offered her his cardigan without her even mentioning that she was cold. “This seems suspiciously like gentleman territory, Matt.” she remarked. “Nope, definitely not, a gentleman would have a jacket.” he insisted, draping it around her shoulders. “Ohhh... then I guess I can accept.” she acquiesced, wrapping herself up in it like a blanket, enjoying the warmth where he’d been sitting against it in the restaurant. “You sure you don’t need it?” “Yeah, I'm too warm anyway.” “Then why’dya fuckin’ bring it?” she asked, realising he’d not worn it the entire time they’d been out. He shrugged and gave her a smile.

They walk back down Third Street. They pass the State Capitol building and she discusses her concerns around the presidency and how it's nice to just feel normal tonight. They keep walking and reach a bar that's "all dark wood, bright lights and pool tables." which really makes her miss her friends. It's quiet so they head inside for a cocktail. She notices him watching her.

“What?” “Nothing... you’re just so beautiful.” “C’mon Matt...”. She looked down, smiling but embarrassed. “You gotta stop saying that...” “Oh...” he looked surprised. “Sorry... I’m sure you hear it a lot... I didn’t mean to annoy you.” She shook her head. “Uh... no... I don’t... look people call me hot, fuckable... dangerously depraved comes up a lot.”. She smirked thinking about it, then frowned. “But not fuckin’ beautiful Matt.” “But... you are though...” he looked at her, puzzled, and brushed her face with his hand to encourage her to look him in the eyes again. “You must know that, right?” “Matt.” she warned, shaking her head, but she could feel her face heating up. "You’re blushing again...”. He smiled softly and leaned into her a little. “...and you’re not even drunk this time.” “Shut up...” she laughed, and kissed him to make sure he did; slowly but passionately, one hand on his thigh. His hand that was still on her face slid into her hair, and she felt the other upon her waist. Despite their location, neither of them were pulling away and his grip tightened as his tongue probed desperately into her mouth. When his restrained moan spilled into her mouth he suddenly became aware he’d gotten carried away and pulled back. “Let’s finish up and get out of here.” she whispered as they broke apart. He picked up his glass and downed his drink in one, eyes fixed on her wantonly, then smirked. “Jesus, Matt.” she chuckled as she picked up her own cocktail, but she sucked on that straw like it was sitting in the last cup of water in a fucking desert.

Obviously they end up fucking again when they reach her hotel room. But afterwards, he leaves to go to his own room, explaining he thought maybe it'd be best to have some boundaries. She calls his name just before the adjoining door closes but it's too late. He's gone.

So she goes back into her room, putting on his shirt that she ripped all the buttons off a little while ago, and curls up in bed. She feels so cold and lonely and empty. But she fights it. Until she gets a text.

"Tell him." it says, with nothing more. She might not have a clue who it's from or why it was sent, but it's all the persuasion she needs by this point. She goes in and attempts to explain, getting tied up as she always does with emotions. Matt gets a little worried about her, but she manages to continue.

She pulled her head out of her hands, sat up straight and took a breath. “Matt... I don’t think this is just sex anymore.” “What?” he asked, sounding even more concerned. “No, it is...” he reached out to grab her arm reassuringly. “It has to be.” She looked down at his warm hand on her arm. “I know it has to be.” she said, hearing the frustration in her own voice. “But it’s not.” She turned to look at him, kneeling beside him on the bed. “Look...” he said carefully “I’ve... I’ve tried my hardest, I’ve done everything I can... to...” he trailed off, looking at her sadly. “I've indulged my attraction to you and tried not to think about how I feel because... I just want you to be happy. That’s...” he swallowed. “That’s all I ever want.” “Yeah, well... maybe you’ve done too good a job.” she said gently, causing him to look at her, confused. She sighed, and everything came out at once.. “Because I need you. Even though we already fucked, I still fuckin’ need you. Right now... all I want is for you to hold me. I just want to be fuckin’ held by you and... fall asleep in your arms and all this shit that confuses the fuck outta me.”. She saw his eyes widen before she looked away, unable to meet his gaze after coming out with all of that. “Wait, you’re saying...” he spoke as if he was considering his words very carefully. “Are you saying... it’s not just sex because... you have feelings for me?” “That’s... about where I’m at, yeah.” “Fuck.” he responded, staring at her. There was silence for a moment. Then his face and tone suddenly changed from stunned to horrified. “Fuck... but... I’m leaving in... less than 3 days!” “I know.” she said. “Maybe that’s why my stupid brain is getting so attached to you.”. He looked thoughtful at that. “Because you know it can’t lead to a relationship?” She nodded. “Yeah.” “Yeah, that's probably it.” “Matt. I need you to be honest with me. Do you... have any sorta feelings for me, too?” “Well... yes, of course I do. I mean... at first I thought we were having this chat because I’d made it that bloody obvious.” “Maybe a little...” she smiled. “But I... I have to go back. I have to.” “And I’m not askin’ you not to.” “Then what do you want from me?” “...I’m not makin’ that fuckin’ speech again.” He looked at her. She shrugged at him. He pulled her in gently by the collar of the shirt and kissed her gently. “Maybe we can just... discuss this in the morning.” he suggested hesitantly. He started pulling the sheet out from under her so she could get in. She slid underneath it and towards him, and he laid back down to face her. He looked at her with just a tinge of concern on his face, then gently embraced her while she wriggled to let his arm under her neck. He was only in his boxers yet he was so warm. She finally felt herself starting to calm. She fell asleep in his arms, just like she’d asked to.

Of course, some of you may recall Casey sees pancakes as a bad omen by late 2021 and I make it a point in my writing to subtly suggest she's right. In this case? They both get killed by the end of the night. Until 2022 Casey sends that "Tell Him" message. It averts their deaths by causing her to not be in her room when the hitmen attack. Good job future Casey remembered, right?

Actually, when she sent it, she didn't know she was averting that yet, as that memory had not yet been written. Instead she was poring over that night in her head. The last thing she remembers is being curled up and alone and cold, and she wants to do something about it.

Except... was it wrong to interfere? What if it just led to another argument? He hated being woken up, if he was already asleep, and he was quite practical about these things, he would know it was unwise to get involved when he had to come back. She had no doubt that he would come back, either; his loyalty to her was unwavering. But there was a soft side to him too; a sweet side. With all their stupid jokes, he had these moments where he said and did the nicest things for her. Really, that was what was most special about him compared with her other friends. They all had their kind sides for sure. It was just that Matt was the only one who seemed to realise how much she needed that. It seemed like that kindness was extended to her other self too. Because sure, maybe gentleman didn’t bring cardigans on dates. But neither did pretty boys who remained way too hot on summer’s evenings because they’d grown up in London. But pretty boys who cared a great deal for pretty girls... girls who were always cold because they spent most of their childhood bundled up in four layers and a snowsuit, girls who always forgot to bring a jacket, girls who wouldn’t accept gentlemanly offerings... ...they might. This was only going to complicate things. But she was going to do it. Because she’d been through a lot of rough shit that she didn’t often talk to people about. With an adult perspective and some serious therapy, she saw a confused, neglected child who didn’t deserve it, and someone needed to give the girl a freaking hug. For all those times, there was nothing she could do. But this time, this one time, she could. Thank god this app was so easy to use. “Tell him.” she texted.

So that's how it all came about as it did. They have another first date once they're actually dating, where they time jump to Italy to get pizza(they were originally supposed to have pizza together in front of Nyte Blayde on the day he ends up having to time jump).

But it's obvious they both see their first date as that night at the creperie. That's why Matt chooses to recreate it for a rather important simulation.

8. What do they love most about the other? Why?

I know I'll probably miss some here but I'll just throw in what I can think of off the top of my head.

Casey thinks Matt is the coolest person ever with his goth shit and his flawless ability with tech and the fact he seems to know all of the cool music, all of the good video games. Casey loves that Matt is very attentive to what she wants and needs, very caring, very patient with her. She loves that he's so intelligent but never makes her feel stupid. She loves that he realises when she's fine to just tease and mess about with and when she needs seriousness or softness. She loves that he can cook for her and drive for her and protect her through the tech he builds. She loves that he is so loyal, and that even when he's scared, he still manages to push on and do what he fears. She loves that he couldn't give less of a fuck about gender norms which in some way makes him the manliest man she knows. She likes that he's not afraid to correct her but does it in a way that's not hurtful.

Matt thinks Casey is the coolest person ever with her doesn't-give-a-fuck attitude and her near-invincibility and her flawless skills with a gun. Matt loves her quick-wittedness and her bad jokes that are still kind of funny and that she's so intelligent without an ounce of pretentiousness about it. He loves that she is so badass and yet she has this huge heart, this endless devotion to her friends. He loves that Casey listens to every word he says and remembers his interests. He loves that she gets excited about robots and Jane Austen and card games and space and guns. He loves that she will let him pick him up and hold her anytime even though she could easily do the same to him, but knows it makes him feel strong. He does just feel stronger with him by his side, and it's not just because he protects him, its because her presence just kind of quells the fears.

But above all, for both of them, I think it's that they are so, so kind to each other. Matt's used to people ripping on him for not fitting in, or seeing the standoffish or egotistical way he comes across at first and treating him accordingly. Casey's used to people thinking she's too cool, too untouchable, too intimidating, or that she's so badass she doesn't need comfort.

They make time to be kind and soft to each other and when one of them says or does something sincere, especially Casey, I often have them expect the other one to tease them about it, but they don't. They respond with equal sincerity and the more they do that, the more it becomes a thing that they can just talk openly around each other in a way I don't think either of them ever quite reaches with the other Saints.

And that is one of the reasons why I love them.

[moreespressoformydepresso]

Reaper is 100% giving the threatening big brother look but Felix was already planning on getting Dill medication for the tuberculosis because movie Felix seems pretty nice and no one can look at Dill and not want to help her without being an absolute monster. I’ll say Clemmie is out of the hospital already and isn’t turning into a snake woman because how would that even work? Also one snake managed to kill Treech so why would it give Clemensia snake characteristics? So I’m ignoring that bit.

The housing situation will definitely be very shitty for kids like Facet who drew the shortest of all the short straws that were drawn, but a big thing is that all the mentors started off with the same attitude Livia did aside from Sejanus. The difference is that Facet died before she could get close to him, Lysistrata only stated she became fond of Jessup after the bombing although it must have been a growing feeling. I think, if Facet hadn’t died, Livia might have started to care for him by the time the games rolled around. Brandy is still dead because that happened before the arena bombing, and thus Arachne is too (fuck her), so that’s a possible roadblock for the tributes, but all of them end up at least civil with their mentors. Yeah Arachne would absolutely do something like that to Brandy, so our favorite butcher girl gets to keep her “Imma drag your ass down to hell with me and watch you burn” moment.

Festus would probably be… meh. The games are still technically on so he needs Coral to be in the best shape possible. In the book he had a truly disgusting suggestion for how to force the districts to watch the games (execution of everyone who didn’t) and was okay with the idea of betting on the lives of children to “liven things up” so just like everyone else he was prejudiced against the districts, but he did call Clemensia heartless for not giving Reaper food during the games so we can infer he at least started to see the tributes as people in some capacity. Even though he changed his mind when Reaper tried to show other tributes respect. Because of this I think he’d go from “We have the same goal here, despite very different reasons, so lets be civil” to actually starting to care for her and have a moral crisis like most of the other mentors (and families).

The difficulty with Panlo and Sheaf is that we don’t see anything of them, really. We know Gaius Breen was a nice dude who always had a joke to brighten the mood, but given that he made prejudiced jokes about the districts he’s clearly just like everybody else in that city: nice to “their own” and horrible to the district people for reasons that are no longer justifiable (since the capitol has done far worse things than the rebels ever did by this point). Given that he is a nice dude I think he too could start giving a shit if given the time. Androcles… we know absolutely nothing about him, so we can make our own judgements and for the sake of the fix it I’ll say he’s less of a dick about the districts than Gaius. Not great, because capitol, but not as bad as he could be.

I hate Snow, but I think an important thing people miss is that he chose to be the way he is. Especially because people try to blame Lucy Gray for not loving him out of his ways, but those people seem to ignore that A) love will not magically fix mental health issues or bitch disease, both of which Snow suffers from, and B) Lucy Gray loved and trusted Coryo until the end of the story… after he confessed to killing Sejanus. He betrayed Sej, who he did seem to care for despite how much of an unreliable narrator he is, and shot Mayfair (for purely selfish reasons) even when Lucy Gray did what some people insist she should’ve kept doing. Snow going evil was a choice, one that became inevitable after he murdered Bobbin and took his own actions as confirmation of Gaul’s theory (which is a whole new level of failing the self-awareness check) and since that never happens here I’ll take the creative liberty to say that him having to show someone his living conditions and them not judging him is what pushes him over to becoming a better person. I really think having someone to talk to about his hardships would’ve done him a lot of good, and Lucy Gray lives in district 12 so I think if he’d talk to anyone about it it’s her.

Tigris is a queen. She becomes the tributes’ guardian angel? More likely than you think!

Sej and Marc reconciliation would be awesome and adorable that is 100% canon for this AU. I have thoughts on specifically Treech’s turbulent stay on Vipsania because I have many thoughts on their dynamic (both canon and not) but I’ve babbled on for too long already so I’ll cut it off for now unless you want me to type it out 😅

More TBOSAS fix-it food!! Instead of bombing the arena, the rebels bomb the capitol zoo while the tour is happening. Because throwing kids in a zoo enclosure is kind of fucked up actually, and it’s just as much a symbol of the capitol’s rampant dehumanization of the districts as the arena where the yearly underage death match takes place. Thanks to this, the kids obviously can’t be placed back in the zoo because, you know, it was destroyed. So what now? Well…

As I’ve stated in previous posts, I’m convinced the mentor program was an attempt at stopping the games in the long run that backfired horribly. Seeing that not enough progress is being made, dean Highbottom decides that the tributes should stay with their mentors. Peacekeepers will be around to make sure no funny business occurs, of course, but despite the outrage of some mentors (cough Livia cough) and all the mentors’ families the plan goes through. As much as I think the tributes dying was necessary to truly drive home the horror of the games for the mentors, it clearly didn’t work and the kids deserve to live so this is the next best thing.

At first, the tributes don’t have a good time, because the families they’re forced to stay with treat them like animals. Worse, actually, because most people don’t go out of their way to make things as unpleasant as possible for animals. However, it doesn’t take long for at least parts of the families to warm up to the tributes. Who stay jumpy and mistrustful and scared out of their damn minds because one wrong move means death, but hey they’ll live. The peacekeepers got a free hand to dish out whatever punishment they wanted so long as the family the kid’s staying with approves, which turns out to be in Highbottom’s plan’s favor because now capitol citizens get to see firsthand just how cruel and inhumane capitol punishment is in the districts. These families have private doctors too, so while at first the veterinarian responsible for the tributes is working overtime her work slowly diminishes. The mentors’ families are so influential that the initial denial of medical care is quickly retracted.

By the time the games are supposed to happen, the president has grown such a soft spot for Dill that he makes up an excuse to postpone them, and when the new date rolls around the tributes have spent enough time with people even outside of their mentor’s family that they’ve endeared themselves to all the important people in the capitol. The games weren’t popular anyways, so the president doesn’t feel a risk to his career when he cancels them.

I may post little tidbits of plot ideas I have floating in my head for this AU, but for now imagine Felix sitting in one of the massive living rooms in the presidential mansion, showing Dill some cool capitol stuff as she looks on with doe-eyes full of curiosity, while the president loses his mind in the background as he suffers a severe moral crisis.

[bokettochild]

For the fluff prompt thing, how about Time and Hyrule? Maybe something with fairies? Thanks!

I did some Fairy Hyrule for you, Anon!

Sorry I didn't get this done sooner, I've been busier than I expected since I opened up asks. I hope this is along the lines of what you wanted!

Time is safe.

When first he’d met all the other heroes, Hyrule had felt wary and uncertain. After all, it’s only in the castle and Mama’s cave that he’s ever known safety, and strangers are nearly always bad news if they’re being friendly with him.

And these strangers were very friendly.

Most of them had greeted him with smiles when he’d been dropped into their camp, their explanation being that a goddess of some kind wanted him to help them with something. Hyrule had never heard much about any goddesses, although he’d seen a statue or two in his travels, but most of the other people here seemed to know what was up, and they were only too eager to tell him.

And by too eager, he meant too eager. They were entirely too friendly with a stranger, and only two of them seemed interested in giving him his space: the one with the pink stripe in his hair and the one with lots of armor. He learns their names first: Legend and Time.

Legend is just as wary of him as he is of Legend, but Time... Time stares after him blankly, unreadable. Even so, the exotic taste of curiosity rolls across his tongue as a single royal blue orb stares at him, heavy and yet weightless.

Time is warm. Warm in a way that Hylians don’t know, that only the forest people and animals know. He is Safe, he is Comfort, and he is Known. Hyrule doesn’t know what it is, doesn’t know what makes the older hero so, but he finds that he is drawn to the man’s side, that he leeches comfort from him.

“Again?” The vet’s violet gaze is flat, but Time can see the warmth in it regardless.

During the night, Hyrule has become wrapped around Time as tightly as a limpet, and as the Vet stands over the two of them, looking down at where Time attempts to free himself from Hyrule’s grasp, he chuckles softly.

“Kid has an iron grip.” Time offers apologetically as he falls back on his bedroll, Hyrule’s sleeping form still clinging to him. “Sorry, legend, I don’t think I can take over watch as planned.”

The vet smirks. “Yeah, no. Rest, Old Man, he’s not letting you go until morning when he turns fairy pink when he wakes up.”

And Legend’s right, when Hyrule wakes up the next morning that is exactly what he does when Warriors starts teasing him, and while Time reassures the youngster that he doesn’t mind all that much, Hyrule looks utterly mortified.

“I don’t do that, not normally. It’s not safe to sleep close to other people.” The traveler whispers to legend on the road that day.

His mentor glances over at him knowingly. “Only people you don’t trust. Hasn’t Time earned your trust yet?”

“Has he earned yours?” Bushy brows pull together as Hyrule looks down at his friend.

Legend snorts a laugh, shoving his hands in his pockets absently. “Of course not, but I don’t really trust most folks, not about myself anyways. But you? You’re my successor, and if there’s one person I’d trust to look out for you if I couldn’t, it’d be the guy in a giant suit of armor who wields a sword that’s bigger than me. Least ways, he’s the least likely to get you killed.”

And Hyrule Knows, knows with a capitol ‘k’, that that means one thing in short: Legend trusts Time and Hyrule both, and he trusts both of them to take care of each other. That’s all he needs. Legend isn’t called the vet for nothing after all, and from what the two of them have seen, their worlds are the worst off and most dangerous, so if they both agree that Time is someone to be trusted, then he’s safe.

A whispering voice in his mind tells him he knew that already.

He’s woken up clinging to Time so many times in the morning, even if he wasn’t anywhere near the man when he fell asleep, that he’s given up trying to avoid it. Time seems to appreciate the warmth and contact as much as he does anyways, and the man always looks lighter in the mornings.

Hyrule wishes he was there now, curled up under Time’s arm and resting his head against the older man’s chest, breath coming deep and soft as sleep slowly seeps its way across his body. He wishes he was back in camp, holding on tight to someone and leaching heat off of them with a contented sigh. He wishes he could free his wings and rest against Time’s side while drinking sugar water and listening to the melodic hum of Time’s voice.

But he isn’t there. He isn’t with Time or the others. He’s stranded in Legend’s Hyrule, hiding out in the entrance to a dungeon with Four curled close to his side, the both of the shaking in the cold and wet as rain seeps down through the dungeon door to puddle at their feet.

It’s cold, and wet, and dark.

But at least the monsters can’t find them.

It’d been the work of mere minutes to defeat all the monsters in the room, and while they have a key and tool to pass on through the dungeon, that’s not their intent; the two small heroes just want a place out of sight and out of the rain while they figure out what to do.

Four sneezes.

“Did any of the others mention a camping spot?” Hyrule muses aloud, leaning back against the cold stone walls that line the room and trying to ignore the running of his own nose, or the puffiness of his face.

“Kakariko.” Four sniffles, rubbing his face and arms and fingers in an effort to warm up. “They said it was a couple hours yet though.”

Great. They’d fallen to the back of the group when Four had seen two minish trying to help one of their wounded friends over to a burrow. Naturally, Four had offered them help, and Hyrule had trailed along so Four wouldn’t be alone.

The minish village was only a quick dart away from the path, but by the time they had got back, they had found that the others had moved on and a couple ‘blins stood on the path instead. It took a bit of effort to kill the monsters, but once they were done and continued along the path, one thing after another had gone wrong, and they’d been left here; cold, alone, and with no way to hunt down the others in the sopping wet of the storm outside.

Four sneezed again.

“We need to find them.” Hyrule whispers softly, even though in the big room he knows that Four will hear it too. He doesn’t care. He’s cold and tired and his feet hurt from being cold and standing on stone floors for so long, and he really wants to be warm and safe again.

“We can’t.” Four sniffles softly, brows drawn in irritation as he wipes his nose for the nth time. “They didn’t leave a trail we can follow, and besides, they’re probably already looking for us, it’s been a few hours.”

“How will they find us if we’re in here though?”

“We churned up actual mountains of dirt to get in here when that Like-Like chased us down, they’ll notice.”

A smile flits across his face, even in their predicament, he can’t resist a light jab at his brother. “Were they actually mountains though? Or did they just look like it?”

Bright blue shimmers up at him. “I will come for your ankles if you say that again.”

Hyrule’s grin grows, and he’s about to respond, about to tell Four that of course it’s his ankles, the shorter hero can’t reach anything else, but then something brushes his senses. Something Safe, and Warm and Known.

“Time.”

“We haven’t even started fighting yet.” Four cocks a brow.

“No, Time’s coming.” Hyrule’s feet carry him to the door, steps light and head cocked on one side as if he was listening.

He’s not sure how he knows, how he feels it, but he does. Time is close, he’s getting closer every minute and-

Hyrule throws the door open and rockets into the warmth and safety that is Time’s arms, sighing in contentment as something within purrs happily at the closeness of the older man. Time is Safe. Time is Warm and Time is Known.

Warriors’ Hyrule is big.

The towns are bigger than anything Hyrule’s ever seen, even Hyrule Castle itself, and don’t get him started on the cities!

Hyrule felt very small standing in the market of Castletown.

People bustled to and fro, baskets on their arms, carts at hand, children and animals trailing behind and dust dirt and NOISE following them. It was really getting to be too much, and Hyrule was going to wear out the hem of his tunic in no time with the way he was rubbing at it.

Wars led the way through the town confidently, stopping to greet people and make exchanges as the rest of them followed after. Hyrule really wished Wars had agreed to take the non-suffocating and anxiety triggering path to Hyrule Castle, but he hadn’t said as much and Wars had already said they needed supplies.

It would be fine; he could hold out a bit longer. He couldn’t.

The others followed Warriors’ lead, Sky keeping holf of Legend and Four both while Wind kept close to Wild. It was important they didn’t let the smaller members of their party be caught up in the crowd, but some of them looked torn between hating being watched like kids, and taking comfort in the security of it all.

Oh man, Hyrule would love nothing more than to switch places with them. Sky was always warm and safe, even if he was mighty trusting, and Twilight’s big hands always enveloped everyone else's so that they felt secure in knowing they wouldn’t be pulled away.

Delicate fingers unconsciously reached out and caught hold of the hand beside them.

Time started at the contact, gaze traveling quickly down to where Hyrule’s small hand had caught hold of his own, broken nails and calloused finger pads clutching tightly against his own weathered skin. The traveler hung close, tucked in on himself and shying away for contact with strangers.

The image of a small boy dressed in green trying to weave through a bustling town, his fairy hidden in his hat so she wouldn’t be lost as he was jostled and knocked into by strangers and possible enemies and people who stared and watched and bumped.

Time clasped the hand in his a bit firmer, watching with satisfaction as Hyrule’s shoulders relaxed slightly.

Warm. Safe. Known.

Time gasped awake, eyes flying wide open as harsh breaths surged through his lungs to catch in his throat and make him gasp for air. He didn’t know at what point he’d sat up, didn’t know when he’d turned his gaze over to survey their camp, blue eyes trailing over sleeping forms and mind frantically counting the young heroes around him.

Wind curled up on top of Wars.

Two.

Four nestled between Twilight and Wild (a good place, they both slept hot).

Five.

Hyrule curled up next to Legend’s empty bedroll, Sky just a few feet away, lost in the folds of his sail-cloth.

Seven.

Legend, sitting with his back to the flames as he watched Time, sword bare across his equally bare knees.

Eight.

“You okay, old man?” The vet raised one brow, expression almost judgemental if you didn’t know him, eyes lidded and scowl set.

Time didn’t answer. Shivers wracked his frame, cloudiness refusing to leave his mind as his thoughts and emotions swirled within.

Safe. Home. Safe. Home.

He wanted to be safe. He wanted to be home. He wanted to blink awake in his own treehouse with Navi scolding him for sleeping in, and then run down to the fields to play with Malon and Epona.

He wanted Navi to pinch his ear and tell him that he should have known better than to sleep without a blanket.

He wants Navi to curls up in his hair and Sing.

Time doesn’t process what he’s doing, but Legend watches in surprise as the man grips ahold of his blanket and softly creeps over to the others. Legend’s empty bedroll is as cold and firm as a rock, but Time doesn’t seem to even notice that it’s there, curling up around Hyrule with a sigh that says he’s not entirely awake.

Soft lights shimmer over the pair as Time drifts off again, the creases of his brow smoothing as the warm and constant buzz of Hyrule’s soft snores washes over him.

Legend sighs, stretching his legs and looking up at the sky.

He’ll just sleep on Time’s bedroll tonight he supposes.

[fictionadventurer]

I like your post about the Hunger Games and agree with most of it, but I still think the love triangle was unnecessary and people are right to criticize it. Collins could have very easily written Gale as the best friend and Peeta as her main love (based on endgame choices) or vice versa I don't even care since I'm not a big shipper of either. But she did introduce the unnecessary drama that overall did not add much to the plot, and it only took away focus. So I think I understand that crit.

Once upon a time, I might have agreed with you. These are good books, important books, and we don’t need to defile this war epic by shoving in teenage-hormone love-triangle dramatics. Then I reread the series, and I was astonished at how, for the most part, the love story is inextricably intertwined with the action-adventure elements. You can’t take out the love-triangle elements without creating a very different book with a very different message. That love-triangle, far from defiling the war story, elevates it into something better.

It starts almost immediately in the first book. We see how Katniss has a deep friendship with Gale, something that could turn into romance, except that she doesn’t dare to go down that path. There’s no place for marriage, and definitely not for new children, in their broken world. She only has energy for day-to-day survival. And once Katniss goes into the Hunger Games, romance is definitely off the table. She needs to harden her heart and make no human connections with the people around her if she wants to have even the slimmest chance of making it back home to her family. In a lesser book, she’d be right–there’d be no goopy romance to distract us from the hard-bitten survival epic that the Hunger Games is supposed to be.

But then Peeta declares his love for her. Suddenly, she’s part of an epic romance on national television. She wants nothing to do with this strategy–love makes you look weak. (And doesn’t that sound a lot like people who criticize the YA love triangle?) But Haymitch counters that it makes her desirable to the audience, and suddenly the thing that had seemed so burdensome becomes necessary to her survival. She needs to play the game–and once they’re in the arena, she needs to figure out if it is a game to Peeta. Peeta has already shown himself capable of manipulating the emotions of all of Panem–is it possible that he’s manipulating her?

This is the real brilliance of the first book’s romance. It doesn’t distract from the main conflict–it is the main conflict. Like so many other teenage girls, Katniss asks herself, “Does this teenage boy like me?”, but in this case the answer is literally a matter of life and death. If he loves her, she can trust him to help her survive. If he doesn’t, he could kill her at any time.

By the time she finds out that his love is real, she has to fake romantic feelings toward him to draw in sponsors. Now she’s manipulating his emotions to survive, and she can’t hope to untangle what’s real and what’s fake in this manufactured mess of a reality show. But Peeta’s influence has shown her that love isn’t pointless in the Hunger Games–it’s the only way for them to truly fight back. She chooses love for Peeta–whether romantic or not–over her own life, and that’s the only reason that, for the first time in history, two victors manage to beat the Capitol at their own game. Katniss won not by being the best warrior, but by showing love. The love story wasn’t a distraction–it was the solution.

It’s only in Catching Fire that she has to deal with the consequences of that. She was willing to die for Peeta, but she’s not sure she wants to live with him, especially since their relationship started under such unreal circumstances. She’d much rather leave the Games–and Peeta–behind and return to the life she knew before. That life included Gale, and Katniss is, for the first time, willing to consider him as a romantic partner. If her romance with Peeta was fake, is it possible that she could have real romance with her best friend?

This is the point where the love triangle comes into full swing, and I’ll admit this is the book where it’s integrated most clumsily. It seems like Katniss is taking some unnecessary risks in pursuing a relationship with Gale, and the plot sometimes comes to a screeching halt so Katniss can think about her emotions. But even if the plot integration isn’t as smooth as it was in the first book, the thematic relevance of the love triangle is still spot-on. Katniss has to think about what she wants–cling to her old life or dive into this new post-Hunger Games world? Does love have a place in this world at war? And when we think about the question in that way, the sloppy integration of the love story into the main action plot is kind of the point. Katniss may be instigating a war, but she’s still a teenage girl. She still has emotions, but she’s being forced to hide or fake so many of them that she doesn’t know who she is, what she wants, or who she wants to be. How can she discover her identity, hold onto her humanity, in the middle of a war?  

Mockingjay is where we get the answer to those questions. With Peeta imprisoned in the Capitol and the war underway, Katniss is saved from having to make an immediate decision about her romance. She echoes every romance-hating fan’s thoughts when she says:

The very notion that I’m devoting any thought to who I want presented as my lover, given our current circumstances, is demeaning.

There’s a war going on! There’s no time for love triangles! But it’s only when she’s not being forced to pursue romance with Peeta that she can really evaluate her relationship with Gale–and she’s finding that it’s not as strong as she thought. When she needs advice, she gets it from Prim, not Gale. When she needs someone who understands the trauma of killing, she goes to Finnick or Johanna. Now that Katniss and Gale don’t have the shared bond of having to care for their families–who are kept safe and fed by District 13–they’re finding that they don’t have much else in common. Katniss is mistrustful of Coin, while Gale is part of her inner circle. Katniss kills only when she has to during the war, while Gale treats weapon design as a fun challenge. This exploration of their relationship isn’t a distraction from the main plot. They’re what make the main plot mean something. This is the lens through which Katniss considers her views on violence, on war, on life, on what the point of their fight is. She and Gale literally have arguments about utilitarian principles! It’s only by exploring and then severing this leg of the love triangle that Katniss finds out who she is and what she really believes.

Collins couldn’t explore these issues in the same way if either Gale or Peeta wasn’t presented as a romantic interest. The nature of eros is desire, and the whole point of the Peeta vs. Gale question is Katniss figuring out what she wants out of life. She needs to be drawn to both of them, in the same kind of relationship, if the question and answer are to mean anything. Does Katniss want her old life, with Gale as the most important person, with his anger driving her to fight for survival by any means necessary? Or does she want a new life with Peeta, where they live for something beyond mere survival? Which man, which philosophy, does she want to devote her life to? If Peeta was the love interest and Gale was only the best friend, she could have both in her life. But you can’t resolve the trilogy’s central question by having Katniss compromise. Choosing one side means she can’t choose the other–and the only relationship that requires such an exclusive choice is a love triangle. Far from distracting from the main plot, the love triangle is what elevates it, takes it beyond a war story where the only question is how the characters will survive, and makes it into a story that tells us how the characters are going to live.

[theartofdreaming1]

Here is my attempt at portraying Peeta’s camouflage skills convincingly 😅😅

As usual, my thoughts regarding this week’s prompts and random thoughts on chapters 19-21 are below the cut.

heart

While I love all the banter between Katniss and Peeta, I think my favorite of these three chapters is: “Trust me. Killing things is much easier than this,” I say. “Although for all I know, I am killing you.” “Can you speed it up a little?” he asks. “No. Shut up and eat your pears,” I say. A classic 😄

mind

I always imagined that Cato went after Thresh before coming for Katniss and Peeta because a) Thresh took the backpack for District 2 (which contained the body armor that would make dealing with Katniss’s arrow so much easier) and b) Thresh killed Clove and Cato wanted to avenge her... Although I have no idea how Cato ended up killing Thresh... he was doing pretty well for himself in his grass-y area... Maybe the Gamemakers wanted to punish Thresh for not killing Katniss and generated that thunderstorm and rain to force Thresh out of his refuge, which would give Cato a fair chance to kill him, I guess...

soul

Lol, honestly, since Peeta just generally seems to be motivated by kindness and love/caring, I don’t think it took much for him to keep the star-crossed lovers angle alive (I could easily imagine him actually noticing Katniss in the willow tree early in the Games and offering to take care of the District 8 girl, so the Careers would get the hell out of there, away from Katniss)

Chapter 19:

Peeta, who’s been wounded, is now my ally. [...] I’d loathe any tribute who didn’t immediately ally with their district partner. Besides, it just makes sense to protect each other. - Honestly, this just highlights what a kind person Katniss is, despite her aloof front; her innermost instinct is always to stick together and to protect. Because it doesn’t really make sense for her to team up with Peeta - she knows he’s wounded and won’t be of much help to her, her chances of survival are way better if she stayed on her own, but it’s not something she’d ever consider now that they are allowed to form a team (and only then does she even factor in the whole ‘star-crossed lovers of district 12′ -angle)

Peeta, it turns out, has never been a danger to me. The thought makes me smile. - Aww 😊 (but also, how heart-breaking that the Capitol will do everything in their power to change that, to make Peeta become a danger to Katniss 😢)

He’s very hard to predict, which might be interesting under different circumstances - Okay, but this just makes me think of that exchange in Gilmore Girls when Paris and Rory talk about how you know a guy is right for you:  “Someone who’s compatible but not compatible.” “Yeah, kind of. I mean, you respect each other’s opinions and you can laugh at the same jokes, but I don’t know – there’s just something about not quite knowing what the other person’s gonna do at all times that’s just really exciting.” - fits these two to a T 😏

In fact, I’ve just about decided I’m on the wrong track entirely, that a wounded boy would be unable to navigate getting to and from this water source, when I see the bloody streak - Okay, but how flipping tough is Peeta?! He’s severely injured, with multiple tracker jacker stings and he drags himself to this terrain that is almost impossible to navigate for someone in his condition - a sturdy dandelion, indeed!

“You’re here to finish me off, sweetheart?” - What an entrance after having gone AWOL for quite a couple of chapters 👌🏼👏🏼

“Remember, we’re madly in love, so it’s all right to kiss me anytime you feel like it.” I jerk my head back but end up laughing. “Thanks, I’ll keep it in mind.” [...] “Katniss?” Peeta says. I meet his eyes, knowing my face must be some shade of green. He mouths the words “How about that kiss?” I burst out laughing - He’s lying in a river bed, slowly dying, and he can still make her laugh 😊

“You know, you’re kind of squeamish for such a lethal person” - It’s such a small comment, but I can’t help but think that Peeta is just kind of intrigued to discover all these little idiosyncrasies that make up the ever-elusive Katniss Everdeen ;)

Impulsively, I lean forward and kiss him, stopping his words. -  Aww, she doesn’t even want to consider him dying, so she spontaneously decides to cut him off with a kiss👀👀 Honestly, at this point Peeta has elicited 2 (!) spontaneous kisses  (the kiss after the chariot ride and this one) from Katniss, who generally isn’t that big on touching people

“You’re not going to die. I forbid it. All right?” - Stubborn, protective Katniss... But also reminds me of their rooftop “date” in CF and the “Then you’ll allow it?” “I’ll allow it” - exchange

I kiss him awake, which seems to startle him. Then he smiles as if he’d be happy to lie there gazing at me forever. He’s great at this stuff. - KaTNisSs, gurl... 🙄🤦🏼‍♀️

Chapter 20:

But I knew he was injured. And still I came after him. I’m just going to have to trust whatever instinct sent me to find him was a good one. - The very best of instincts, Katniss, don’t you worry😉

Peeta’s struggling to get up when I reach the cave. “I woke up and you were gone,” he says, “I was worried about you.” - Gah, why are the both of them so good?! They just care for and worry about each other 24/7

“How do you feel?” “Better than yesterday. This is an enormous improvement over the mud,” he says. “Clean clothes and medicine and a sleeping bag... and you.” Oh right, the whole romance thing. - Oh Katniss...😐 I reach out to touch his cheek and he catches my hand and presses it against his lips. I remember my father doing this very thing to my mother and I wonder where Peeta picked it up. - Where did Peeta pick this up? From a time his family was less dysfunctional? Observing couples in the town square? Or is he a fricking disney prince and these things come natural to him? Questions, questions...

“You didn’t sleep,” Peeta says. “I’m all right,” I say. But the truth is, I’m exhausted. “Sleep now. I’ll keep watch.” [...] I test his cheek. Hot as a coal stove. He claims he’s been drinking, but the containers still feel full to me. I give him more fever pills and stand over him while he drinks first one, then a second quart of water. - These two are just too stubborn to take proper care of themselves - good thing that each of them is adamant to force the other to sleep/drink/eat when necessary

“Besides I like watching you sleep. You don’t scowl. Improves your looks a lot.” - When presented with the choice of being flirty vs being a cheeky little shit, Peeta will choose being a flirty cheeky little shit every time 😂

“I’m going to make soup,” I say. “Don’t light a fire,” he says. “It’s not worth it.” - Okay, but what he’s actually saying is “I’m not worth it” 😭😭

Katniss telling that story about buying Prim’s goat😊... A young buck, probably a yearling by his size. His antlers were just growing in, still small and coated in velvet. [...] Beautiful. - We are all very much aware of Peeta’s appreciation for beauty, but the same does apply to Katniss, too (she’s just overall more pragmatic)

“Was it [the goat] still wearing the pink ribbon?″ he asks. “I think so,” I say. “Why?” “I’m just trying to get a picture,” he says thoughtfully. -  Peeta is so detail-oriented! I have this theory that this is actually something that enables him to overcome his hijacking; we catch glimpses in MJ of how he inches himself out of his condition by asking/focusing on small details or things most people would dismiss as trivial (Katniss’s favorite color, the color of her dress visiting District 7, her Dad singing the Hanging Tree when Peeta was 6 or 7 years old...) and I feel like it makes a lot of sense - his tormentors in the Capitol either wouldn’t have access to distort these moments or not even consider them to have any significance (since they are all about big, flashy gestures in the Capitol), so these memories would remain untouched. Luckily, Peeta seems to live by Robert Brault’s words: “Enjoy the little things, for one day you may look back and realize they were the big things. “

“Really? What did you cost me again?” I ask. “A lot of trouble. Don’t worry. You’ll get it all back,” he says. - Well, he’s going to cost her a lot more trouble in the future - but we know he’s going to make up for it and bring her much happiness, too 😊

“You’re not risking your life for me.” “Who said I was?” I say. [...] “Of course I’m not going.” [...] “You’re such a bad liar, Karniss.” [...] Anger flushes my face. “All right, I am going, and you can’t stop me!” “I can follow you. At least partway. I may not make it to the Cornucopia, but if I’m yelling your name I bet someone can find me. And then I’ll be dead for sure,” he says. - Soo.. their love language is offering to sacrifice their life like it’s nothing, huh?! 😳😅 

Peeta eats without complaint, even scraping out the pot to show his enthusiasm. He rambles on about how delicious it is, - lol, sounds like a husband trying to get back on his wife’s good side after they had a row 😂

I clamp my hand over his mouth and nose hard, forcing him to swallow instead of spit. He tries to make himself vomit the stuff up, but it’s too late, he’s already losing consciousness. - Ah, the most important indicator of true love: having person A force-feed person B a sedative so they can run off to get them life-saving medicine ;)

Chapter 21:

I lie next to Peeta in the bag, trying to absorb every bit of his fever heat. It’s strange to be so physically close to someone who’s so distant. Peeta might as well be back in the Capitol, - Reminds me how in MJ she’s going to be so close to Peeta (mentally/emotionally) while he will be physically so distant (in the Capitol!)

a tiny orange one [backpack] [...] that must be marked with a 12 - Interesting how that backpack is orange, huh? Why is that? Are smaller backpacks generally orange (like the one Katniss already has) to be more visible or is this simply to connect the backpack to Peeta (though we don’t know his favorite color at this point)? Do the Gamemakers care whether Katniss gets a matching backpack? It just seems like an unnecessary detail to throw in🤔

The table has just clicked into place when a figure darts out of the Cornucopia, snags the green backpack, and speeds off. Foxface! - Honestly, this was a truly brilliant move; kudos! 👏🏼

[Clove] carefully selects an almost dainty-looking number [knife] with a cruel, curved blade. “I promised Cato if he let me have you, I’d give the audience a good show.” [...] “I think...” she almost purrs. “I think we’ll start with your mouth.” [...] she teasingly traces the outline of my lips with the tip of the blade. - Okay, but the idea of Clove cutting off Katniss’s lips is just all kinds of terrifying and disturbing 😨

“No! No, I-” Clove sees the stone, about the size of a small loaf of bread in Thresh’s hand [...] Thresh brings the rock down hard against Clove’s temple. [...] and I know she’s a goner. - Interesting how Katniss describes that rock that basically saves her life (or at least kills her assailant) as bread-sized, huh? “Your district... they sent me bread. [...] Conflicting emotions cross Thresh’s face. He lowers the rock and points at me, almost accusingly. “Just this one time, I let you go. For the little girl.” - Katniss mentions the bread from District 11 as a proof of her alliance with Rue (and the recognition of D11) and Thresh spares her; bread keeps saving her life (while it keeps representing acts of kindness)

Cato kneels beside Clove, spear in hand, begging her to stay with him. - I appreciate this small, humanizing moment with Cato

The last thing I remember is an exquisitely beautiful green and silver moth landing on the curve of my wrist. - I don’t know much about North American insects (not that I know that much about European insects either - just recently came across a relatively rare moth on my walks that I had never seen or heard of before) - is Katniss describing a special/noteworthy species of moth? Or is this a more literary symbolism kind of moth? (Just looked up some symbolism meaning of moths: change/transformation, seeking light; power of regeneration in some Native American mythology, hmm...)

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Long Live the Queen

“A special spell”, as @panacea-wishes would say, but this time for the Sorceress herself!

***Warning: Mild chapter 5 spoilers!***

Imagine this...

Any affair hosted by Pomefiore was sure to be an opulent one—but today, the dormitory was decked out even moreso than usual. Decorations dripping with gold, tablecloths of shimmering silk, gourmet catering, a private orchestra, and immaculate outfits for each attendee... No expense was spared for the special occasion.

You were but one face in that shining sea, dressed in your finest garb—the only outsider invited to join the festivities. To your left and to your right, strangers in long robes and ties drifted about. They moved so fluidly, cutting across the polished floor like swans upon a lake of glass.

You shifted your feet uncomfortably, feeling a bit out of place in such a glamorous space. You took an anxious sip from your flute of sparkling apple juice. Bubbles danced up and tickled your nose as the beverage went down.

“Did you hear?” a nearby mob student said—not to you, but to a few of his friends. “Schoenheit-sama will be interning with Potions & Lotions, that famous skincare company from the Land of Pyroxene.”

“I heard, I heard! He’s going to be working with their prestigious Research and Development deparment, isn’t he? His proficiency in magical pharmecuticals will serve him well there.”

“Amazing, as expected of Schoenheit-sama! He makes me proud to be a student of Pomefiore!”

You took another swig of your apple juice, trying to avoid eavesdropping. But your curiousity got the better of you, and the mob students’ words floated over yet again.

“What of Hunt-senpai?”

“I heard he will be interning at a detective agency in Pyroxene’s capitol! He was scouted by the police chief himself for his eye for detail.”

“Wow... I hope we’re able to get fancy internship offers like that when our fourth year arrives.”

That’s right. People are moving on. Growing up. Advancing in the world.

Good for them.

You took a third sip—this time, the juice was somewhat bittersweet. Your eyes flitted about, seeking a familiar face, not gossip, to latch onto. Luckily for you, you did not have to search for very long.

“Your attention, please.” A clear, commanding voice announced—and at once, the orchestra silenced. All heads, including yours, turned to the peacock throne at the head of the room.

There stood Vil, in all of his beauty. Today, he wore a form-fitting suit, woven in the colors of green, blue, and violet—the colors of a peacock. His golden hair was up, held in place by a jeweled pin with feathers that jutted out. Vil’s eye makeup mimicked the colors of his suit, cool hues flaring out and making him seem even more bold and imposing than before.

He nodded in satisfaction at those in attendance. “Thank you for being here for the ascension ceremony this evening. As you all know, I will soon be departing to complete an internship—as will your vice-dorm leader, Rook. Therefore, the time has come to crown a new queen for Pomefiore. He will be responsible for selecting a new vice-dorm leader... as well as leading you potatoes to greater heights.”

A mob student before you started to clap. Then a few others joined in.

You wondered if you should set down your class and join in the applause, but Vil was quick to bring a hand up. The beginnings of clapping ceased.

“Hold your applause for your new dorm leader,” he insisted. Vil raised his voice. “Epel Felmier.”

“Yes.”

You swallowed hard at the mention of his name, at the swell of his soft voice.

He stepped up from the crowd, which parted to make way for him. Epel had grown several centimeters in the past few years, now only a bit shorter than Vil. He maintained the delicate beauty he had held in his time as a first year, those wispy lavender locks, long lashes, and full lips. But his eyes—they had sharpened into sapphires circled with makeup moonlight, and he walked with a newfound confidence.

Pomefiore’s dorm leader uniform fitted his new form well. Flowing cloth cascaded over his long arms and legs, and formed a train of fabric wherever he walked. Click, click, went his boots, the cords that bound his waist falling in time with his steps.

All that he was missing was the coveted crown.

“Vil-senpai.” Epel stopped before his dorm leader—soon to be ex-dorm leader—and knelt.

“I am entrusting you with the safety and the security of Pomefiore’s students—and the dorm’s future,” Vil declared, chin raised. “Are you prepared to take on the responsibilites of a dorm leader?”

“I am,” Epel replied with quiet conviction. “I swear...!! I will lead Pomefiore to greatness, just as you and Rook-senpai have before me.”

“Hmph. Don’t let me down, then.” Vil smirked before turning and calling out, “the crown.”

Rook, in a violet suit and crimson bowtie, approached with a plush cushion—and upon it, an intricate crown. The same crown Vil had once worn himself, wrought of gold. A sword piercing a heart as the centerpiece.

The huntsman kneeled, bowing his head and holding out the cushion to his queen. He didn’t need to look to know that Vil had nodded to him before plucking the accessory up.

“With this crown, I pass the torch to you. With this crown, you are Queen undisputed.” Vil recited, raising the glittering diadem over Epel’s head. He brought it down upon the boy’s hair. Gold dug into lilac locks, finding a new home nestled on his head. “You may now rise.”

Epel slowly stood—his back to the crowd, to you. He lifted his head and looked Vil right in the eyes.

Sapphire and amethyst colliding.

“May you carry on the unrelenting efforts of the Beautiful Queen in my place.” Vil took his junior by the shoulders and spun him around. “Pomefiore—your new dorm leader, Epel Felmier.”

The crowd erupted into applause and whistles, cheers and elated well wishes. You, too, were swept up in the frenzy. What little remained of your sparkling apple juice had been set aside in favor of clapping.

Clapping, clapping—one palm hitting the other in rapid succession. Hard, loud. Until your hands were red and swollen and raw.

Raising a dainty hand, Epel waved back.

“... Hey.”

You jumped at the familiar voice that greeted you as you picked up a new flute of apple juice. You dared to look—and there was Epel, in his full, regal dorm leader regalia. Crown and all.

“O-Oh... Hey!!” you stammered, trying to play off your nerves (and failing). “Nice party, huh? Thanks for inviting me as your plus one... I don’t think I’d ever be invited to a shindig as fancy as this one if it weren’t for you.”

Epel offered a gentle smile. “I wanted you to be here. I should be the one thanking you for coming.”

“Of course I’d come. I wouldn’t want to miss your big coronation,” you reached out to give him a playful shove on the arm—but paused midway and let your arm fall. It wouldn’t be appropriate to act so casual with a dorm leader, you scolded yourself.

“You’re all grown up now, Epel,” you whispered, clutching a hand to your chest. “Congratulations, Mr. Pomefiore dorm leader.”

“Ah, well...” Epel rested a hand on the back of his neck. “It’s a new title, but... I like to think that I’m still ‘just Epel’, the Pomefiore student. I’ll always be that farm boy that tried to pick a fight with Vil-senpai—Great Seven knows how many times.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. You’ve come a long way since your first year. Especially during VDC—you shone really brightly on that stage.”

“That’s true, but I’ve still got a long way to go. Vil-senpai helped me to realize that.” Epel glanced to the surrounding Pomefiore students. Eating, chatting, laughing. “I just hope I can live up to the legacy he left behind. It’s some pretty big shoes to fill in.”

“You’ll do just fine. You always do,” you reassured him with a pat on the shoulder—before quickly jerking your hand back.

Too familiar, too causal.

Epel raised an eyebrow. “Is... Is something the matter? You’ve been a little jittery all evening.”

“I...” Your voice trailed off as soon as you gazed into his curious blue eyes. Like the ocean, welling up with sincerity. You couldn’t lie to him—you just couldn’t. “I’m just worried that we’ll grow apart now that you’re a dorm leader.”

“Why would you think that?”

“Because!” You gestured vaguely to the celebration. “A dorm leader has more important things to do than hanging out with people like me. You have students to lead, events to plan. I... I think I’d only get in the way of your progress.”

“... Don’t say that,” Epel pleaded, suddenly grasping your hands. “Please, please don’t say that.”

You stared at the contact—where his hands met yours. “I... I don’t understand...”

“I couldn’t have made it this far without your support, either. You picked me up when I was down, and you cheered me on when I was at my lowest and about to quit.” Epel’s delicate featured hardened—from glass to diamond. “So don’t ever say those awful things about yourself.”

“But... You’ve made it so far, and I’m still—“

“A farmer never forgets his roots,” Epel said mysteriously, a finger taped to his lips, “and it’s not just me. We all flower one day. You may just be a late bloomer—but when you finally do bloom... I bet you’ll be the prettiest apple blossom in the whole orchard.”

Your cheeks flamed. He laughed, giving your hand a squeeze, and pulling you close to him. You fell against his chest—sturdy and secure and warm—and glanced up at him in shock.

“What are you...”

“Dance with me,” Epel suggested with a light-hearted smile, “and I’ll show you that you’re worthy of this queen.”

The orchestra had started up again, the strings to a new song flowing like water. Turn, twirl, dip, went the pairs on the dance floor, in time with the music. All of this, set in golden lamplight.

Outside, the sky was a dark blue, the starlight reflected in his sapphire eyes. And here he was, offering his outstretched hand to you.

He was still the same sweet, loyal Epel you had always known. The same young man that set your heart aflutter, whether he was soft-spoken or brash. He was both—just as he was both a dorm leader and your beloved.

You melted, and your hesitation dissipated like the winter snow.

You slipped your hand into his and beamed. “Long live the Queen.”

[caitsyoi]

I have a lot of thoughts on the WLF and the Seraphites, which means I think I'm going to break them down into smaller posts like I have been doing with my map posts.

So, this post is going to be about the Seraphite prophet. Specifically, I collected every picture of her that I knew of in game. I've also shared my thoughts about the depictions of her and her origins. If that is your sort of shit, click below.

This is probably the most common pose you see her in, whether it is a painting (like in this post) or carved into trees. She is also almost always depicted in a simple white shirt, and her hair is always braided. In most pictures she also appears to be middle aged.

The depictions of her do vary a bit, which makes me wonder if they have any actual pictures of her. One of the core beliefs she preached was the importance of moving away from modern technology and back to nature. Did she throw away any cameras, and all the pictures of herself?

She is often portrayed leading others, with the sun behind her head or behind her raised hand. Some real Holy Spirt stuff, basically. Or maybe I just think that because I was raised catholic...

"May she guide you" is a super common Seraphite saying, usually said when people part ways. One interesting thing is you often see these words before entering a dangerous area, whether that is the sky bridge or a contested area of Seattle (more on that later, but you can see my post about the layout of Seattle here).

This is one I almost missed, located on the building between the two sky bridges. The Seraphites sure lugged a bunch of stuff up there: all that wood for the bridge/structures/ladders, rope, nails, and paint. Not to mention food, weapons, and and stuff to sleep on. In another post I'll probably talk more about Seraphite society because it is just so interesting to me.

We don't know a whole lot about her. She was a prepper before the Outbreak, but she prepped enough to feed all the survivors from her community. This is all based of a scrap of a newspaper you can find in the tunnels. I wonder just how much food she hoarded though. There are four named areas in the NW part of Seattle that formed Scar Island: Queen Anne, Magnolia, and two other areas I can't quite read. Did she have enough to feed all these suburbs, because holy crap how big was her house? Did she have a warehouse of food somewhere?

Then again, she also preached reliance on nature and not machines, and her followers were quick to listen to her because she did so much for their community. She likely pushed them all to farm, and had enough food reserves to cover them until they could get things up and running. Also, a number of people probably fled or were killed in the early stages of the outbreak, so there probably wasn't as many people to feed as you would think.

Her followers choose to stick with her in the NW part of Seattle, which lead to some tension with FEDRA. Then, after the WLF took out FEDRA, the competition over land and resources lead to the on and off war with the WLF that was going on when Ellie got to Seattle. This was about 25 years after Outbreak Day, and it's not known how long FEDRA was in power, or how long this war with the WLF was going on. At some point, flooding turned NW Seattle into an island (which probably helped fuel the belief that she was a prophet even more), and it seems like that occurred before the WLF replaced FEDRA.

My guess is that FEDRA ran the QZ for anywhere from 5 to 15 years (based on what we know from the game). All the while, the Seraphites grew in size and power. It's not known when exactly she died, but we know she was executed by the WLF at Martyr's Gate, so she died once FEDRA was out of the picture.

Now, Seraphite soldiers make a pilgrimage to Martyr's Gate, and it's an area that is won and lost in battle relatively frequently. Seraphites can leave these prayers in any of their temples, but this seems like a special place that you only bring a prayer to once. For whatever reason, they focused on this truck for their shrine. They built a wooden structure over it (they friggin love wood), and they brought a fuck ton of white flowers (this is another common thing you see with her).

Lev states that she didn't teach violence, that it wasn't included in the scripture. Perhaps this is true, the little we know of her writings make them seem like more of a self-help book ("Only when weak may I carry my true strength"), and she also probably spoke a lot about the need to live free of machines and rid the world of "demons".

Regardless, and perhaps in response to violence from FEDRA and the WLF, she did turn to fighting. I guess that could fall under self-reliance though.

In some of these paintings she definitely seems more aged, which makes me thinks that she was around for many years. Someone like Lev or Yara were probably not born or too young to remember her, but she would be in the memories of many Seraphites (there are around 1,000 of them when Ellie gets to Seattle).

An interesting thing about these paintings is that they are all found outside of Seraphite territory. Granted, we only see the southern and northeastern parts of Seraphite Island, but I don't recall seeing any from the places we do visit. Instead, on the island you tend to see a lot of carvings of her in trees (more on this later).

The Seraphite religion is one of expansion. It's necessary to branch out in order to clear the land of the demons. She probably preached about saving people too, although that seems to have been corrupted by the Elders (more on them later too). Both this and the first picture from this post were from Capitol Hill, on the way to the TV station. Definitely WLF territory. In these cases, "Feel her love" is probably more of a threat than a call to conversion.

So, what do we know about the Seraphite prophet? We know she preached that the outbreak was a punishment for our reliance on machines, and the only way to get rid of this plague is to clear the world of demons and go back to living simply. We know that she lead her community, and was martyred by Issac during their still ongoing war with the WLF. We know that much of what she taught was then corrupted by the people who took power after she died. That's why when I talk about the Seraphites next, we'll be talking about the Elders.

[marveloussupernerd]

Okay. So I just watched the Hunger Games and was wondering what the RFA+V+Searans reaction would be to MC having to fight in the games? That would be so scary and sad.

I LOVE THIS REQUEST also I’m adding Vanderwood too oops

You Get Picked for the Hunger Games - RFA + Minor Trio

Important Note: if you’d like any of these written in a more in-depth one or two shot I’m begging you to request it I love this prompt so much. That’s why I didn’t write about the actual games happening :) hoping maybe someone may want a pt2 of any of these

Warnings: mentions of death, killing, a lil angst

Zen

You were in District 7, the lumber district

You and Zen had been together for years

You liked to spend time in the forests together, getting a little peace from the real world

More aptly out, you liked to climb the trees together and spend the day in them; you would all day if you didn’t have to go home to help with your younger siblings

“I’m so sick of the games,” you grumbled. The reaping was today, where the tributes would be picked. “At least its our last year in the poll to be picked.”

“Thank goodness.” He agreed, leaning forward to place a kiss on your lips. “Then we can finally get married and start a family.”

You giggled. “We have to take care of my siblings too”

He shrugged. He’d do anything for you

When they picked you, your heart stopped

Nobody volunteered; they usually didn’t in 7

As the lady went to pick for the boys, you scanned the crowd for Zen

Shaking your head vigorously. He couldn’t volunteer

You felt like you were going to cry or die of anticipation

He understood

It killed him inside but he didn’t volunteer

You got to meet with him to say goodbye before you were off to the Capitol

“Zen,” you whimpered. He pulled you in for a tight hug

“Take care of my siblings. Okay?”

He nodded. He was at a loss of words for the first time ever

Then he inhaled deeply, fishing in his pockets and pulling out a small copper band

“Put this on and we’re married. I don’t care if that’s not how it works. I can’t have you leave without marrying you first.”

You took it wordlessly

“Your family is mine now. I’ll take care of them. You focus on coming back home.”

You wanted to cry. “Don’t... don’t let them watch me die, Zen.”

“You’re not going to.” He was crying now too, despite the confidence in his words

“Promise me though. If I’m going to die don’t let them watch.”

He sighed. He didn’t want to even consider that

“I won’t.”

Yoosung

You were in district 11, the agriculture district

Yoosung’s family lived on the farm next to yours

You had been close friends your whole lives

When they picked you

Well, you had put your name in a few extra times to get more food for your family

It shouldn’t have been a surprise

Nobody volunteered. They never do.

They made you sit in a room while you waited for the train

Your family could come say goodbye if they wanted

You were surprised to see Yoosung

“This wasn’t supposed to happen” was all he could say

You frowned

You weren’t confident in your chances

“I- everything was supposed to be different. I was going to tell you I loved you,” he whispered, his voice so low you had to take a minute to process what he had said

“You do?” You asked

“I do. First Rika and now you? I- I can’t...”

Rika had been picked two games ago and was killed

“I’ll just have to win then,” you said, more determined than before

“You- oh?”

“I love you too Yoosung. I’ll just have to win for you. So you don’t have to lose us both.”

He wrapped you into a hug

“I’m holding you to that. You promise me you’ll come back to my arms safely.”

You chuckled. “Okay. I promise.”

Jaehee

You lived in district 6, the transportation district

It was no secret to those in your district that you and Jaehee loved each other, as more than friends

It was nice that you lived in such a progressive district that they understood that

Volunteering wasn’t normal in district 6

But when you heard them call Jaehee’s name...

You wouldn’t let her die in the games

“I volunteer as Tribute.”

The crowd was silent

They all knew

The Peacekeepers pushed Jaehee back into the crowds, escorting you to the stage

She was sobbing

And then she passed out

“A volunteer! How exciting. Why did you volunteer for that girl?” The lady asked you

“Because I’m in love with her.”

“Oh!”

The Capitol would eat that up

You didn’t even get to say goodbye to her

The Capitol wanted a show. And the show was better if you didn’t get to say goodbye

“So you have to win then. Win and go back to her and steal her heart. Her hero. Her savior,” Caesar had said in his interview with you

You’d have to win then

Jumin

Being from district 3, the electronics district, meant that you and your families were much better off than most other districts

Jumin came from one of the wealthiest families in the district

He probably was even more wealthy than some of the people in the Capitol

He could buy anything, right?

But he couldn’t buy you a ticket out of the games

“Listen to me.” He sat down across from you, as he met with you before you had to leave to head to the Capitol for the games. “You’ll win.”

“I- how?”

He had the smallest curve of a smile on his face. He was confident.

“I’ll sponsor you. Anything you need, you just say it. I’ll buy it and send it your way.”

It was true that district members could sponsor, they just usually didnt

But this time, he was invested

“I have a list of all the things I can send you. Food, water, medicine, bandages, weapons, rope, anything you want. I can even send you a teddy bear.”

“Please don’t send me a teddy bear. Only important things. Those are expensive.”

“I have money.” He cupped your cheek. “I’m going to make sure you win. I will do anything in my power to do so. If I go broke, okay. You’re so much more important than money.”

“I’ll try my best to make sure I don’t need to ask you for things.”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re so stubborn. Let me help you. Don’t get into fights intentionally. Just outlive the others. I’ll send you food every day for weeks if it’s what it takes.”

It was time for you to go

He pulled you into a quick, heated kiss. “Anything, My Love. I promise.”

707

You were from district 5, the power district

The games were not big in your district. You had a few victors but people mostly dreaded them

So it wasn’t surprising that when you were picked nobody volunteered

There was no way you could win

You were weak. You had seen the other tributes picked in district 1 and 2 today

You were lucky if you’d survive the first day

You had zoned out the rest of the Reaping ceremony

Until...

“I volunteer as tribute!”

He didn’t.

But he had

Once you both got on the train, you were ready to confront him

“Seven!” You yelled. “Why! Why?” You were hitting his chest. You were so mad at him. “Why would you do this?”

You were breaking down

He just pulled you close, hugging you

“I’m going to make sure you survive”

There could only be one victor

He knew that though. Didn’t he?

“My home life sucks anyways. Sacrificing my life for you is the best thing I could ever wish for.”

You were sobbing. He seemed oddly okay.

He would make sure you’d survive

V

You were from district 8, the textile district

V’s work with the textiles and art was so good that once he had passed the age where he would have been pulled for the hunger games, he was invited to the Capitol to be a stylist

You thought you’d never see him again

Until you were picked

And then there he was

With his hair dyed bright blue to fit in with the people at the Capitol

A stupid smile on his face as he got scissors to start shaping your hair for the event tonight

“You seem awfully happy,” you said smugly. You were going to die and he was grinning. He had become a stupid member of the Capitol after all

“I get to see you again.”

“I’m going to die,” you said simply

He shrugged.

Just shrugged.

“I actually have a plan.”

Oh?

He leaned close to you to whisper in your ear

If anyone found out, they’d have him killed

“I have a way for everyone to think you died in the games, but for you to stay living”

It was a big risk

But you wouldn’t say no to the chance of staying alive

Of course he wasn’t upset

He had a plan.

Saeran

You were from district 2, the weaponry district

District 2 was a part of a group called the careers in the hunger games

Basically districts 1, 2, and 4 trained their teenagers to enter the games and win

They were unstoppable

You had trained as well, of course

But you weren’t like some of your crazy classmates who wanted to enter the games

They wanted to enter, until they heard about the twist for this year’s games

Every 25 years there was a special twist to make it more interesting

Every 3 hours a tribute would be randomly killed off

More aptly out, they put a bomb mechanism inside you and you explode

You couldn’t train to beat that

So it was no surprise that nobody volunteered to take your place once your name was picked

Saeran was fuming when he met with you

He had been training to become one of the Capitol’s soldiers, a Peacekeeper, as most men in 2 did

But he had lost all respect for them and the game

“This is stupid and unfair. What’s the point of them randomly killing people off? It’s supposed to be a fight to the death. This is just random chance.”

“I agree with you. But there’s nothing we can do. I’ll just try to kill people as quick as possible before they even get to explode someone.”

“No.”

“No?” You questioned

“This is bullshit.” He grabbed you by the chin to look up at him. “I’m taking down the Capitol. They can’t do this to you?”

“Saeran, don’t.”

He had an evil grin

“I already have a group to do it with.”

Vanderwood

You were from district 12, the coal mining district

Vanderwood was always a sort of enigma to you

That’s why you were so interested in him

And he was absolutely infatuated with you

Nobody had ever volunteered in 12 before

So when you got picked, you were stuck

Vanderwood didn’t volunteer. Why would he? Why would he get himself killed like that?

You almost though he wasn’t going to visit you, that all your time together was just him messing around

And then he busted in

“Hurry Babe”

“Hurry what?” You questioned

He grabbed your arm and pulled you to follow him, running through the halls. Where were the peacekeepers?

“I’m getting you out of here. We’re running away”

“To where?”

He laughed, still running. “The woods. We’ll figure it out. We’re not following those bullshit rules.”

“If we get caught, we’ll be killed.” You were afraid to defy the Capitol

“If you stay there, you’re as good as dread. We’ve had one victor from here, yknow? Your chances aren’t good. Let’s run.”

[idreamofplaid]

Texas Magic

Square Filled: 69

Characters: Sam x Olivia (OFC); Jensen; Baby; John mentioned

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Olivia is discovering a new world filled with possibility and romance, one that she’s only dreamed about until now. 

Word Count: 7143

A/N: Thank you to @fangirlxwritesx67 and @dean-winchesters-bacon for being such wonderful betas. Viv and Kat you pushed when I needed it and helped me make this better. I’m grateful for both of you and your time.

A/N 2: This is Part 2 of the series called Surrender to the Truth. Catch up with Part I It Begins.

Created for @spnkinkbingo

First Class, it was a glimpse into a life Olivia had only dreamed about. Sam had apologized to her about not being able to take the private jet. John was using it, and it was his father’s company. 

She didn’t mind at all. In fact, maybe it was better to take this intermediate step in upscale flying. It was an opportunity to acclimate to the lifestyle of the wealthy. Her upbringing hadn’t involved much travel, especially not the kind that required a plane and certainly not First Class.

At the front of the plane, the seats were big and comfortable, made of leather that was buttery soft to the touch. There was plenty of legroom, and flight attendants were on hand to fulfill every whim and desire she might have. Her desire at the moment was for champagne, and they gave her all she wanted.

Sam looked over from the iPad that had monopolized his attention for most of the flight. An amused smile danced at the corners of his mouth. “You better slow down. At this rate, you’ll be drunk by the time we get to Austin.”

She wanted to push out her bottom lip and pout, but that would be taking it too far. Sam had flirted with her some since they’d had sex two weeks ago, but he hadn’t asked her out, hadn’t made another advance toward her. Nothing. She should have known better than to jump right into bed with him or, in their case, onto the floor of his office.

It had been the lights. She could blame it on that. The Christmas tree had been nothing but romantic. If that hadn’t been enough, there was the fire sending out a soft glow from the fireplace, and the magnificent city skyline clearly visible through the wall of windows in Sam’s office adding to the fantasy feel of the setting. When he kissed her, that was it. She became another notch on his bedpost. 

Olivia scrunched up her nose, and her forehead wrinkled a little at that thought. That wasn’t exactly being fair to him. He’d never treated her like a conquest or like she was some kind of game to him, but she would be lying to herself if she said she hadn’t been hoping for more than just that one night. It was her way, and her curse, to get too hopeful and too romantic about things too soon. Now, it just made her sad. She knew what it was like to feel Sam touch her, and the thought he might never touch her again wasn’t something she wanted to accept, or even could accept sitting here in his world with him.

Sam gave her an assessing look, glancing down at the champagne glass and back to her face. “What’s wrong?” He smiled at Olivia and put down his iPad. “Don’t worry. You’re not going to get drunk. I won’t let that happen to you.” He took the glass from her hand and signaled to the flight attendant. She immediately walked over, and Sam handed her the glass. “Could we get a mineral water, please?”

Sam put the iPad into his briefcase and turned his full attention to Olivia. “So you like champagne better than beer then?” He was referring to the fact that he had been her “beer tutor” since they’d started working on the account for Family Business Beer Company. She’d never had a taste for the stuff, but she was learning to appreciate it under Sam’s guidance. 

“I do like champagne,” she answered a little sheepishly. It was an extravagance she didn’t allow herself often.  When it was so freely offered, she happily accepted. She looked at the champagne flute in her hand. That had been the stuff of her dreams when she was growing up. Champagne in a pretty glass represented special events in life and having something to celebrate to her. 

She glanced at Sam and let her eyes stay on his. The things she was feeling for him made her want to trust him, and the champagne was loosening her lips and her defenses. She wanted him to know her. “It’s nice. Something I can give myself now. When I was growing up, we were poor. I used to dream about having nice things.”

Sam’s eyes dropped to the glass she was holding. Then he put his hand over hers. Their eyes met again. “You have those things now, and you’ll have more of them.”

The flight attendant returned with the water, ending the moment; Sam let go of Olivia’s hand and nodded in her direction. Dutifully, Olivia took a sip. Sam’s name was on her paychecks, at least part of it was. For now, his father was signing them; but one day Sam would inherit everything. So, if he wanted her to drink water; that’s what she would do.

He turned the conversation in a different direction by saying, “Tell me about Austin.”

“Haven’t you ever been?” Olivia was surprised, assuming he had been everywhere. 

Sam did an arousing thing with his tongue, pushing it out over his bottom lip, pulling it back into his mouth, then biting on that bottom lip briefly before letting it go. Olivia yearned for the intimacy of what his tongue could do to her and for him to allow her deeper into his life. She was almost certain he was about to say something important, reveal some part of himself the way she had, but then he pulled back. “I spent a few weekends there when I was in college. I had...friends there.” 

He hardly missed a beat. If she hadn’t been watching him so attentively, Olivia would have missed it. What had happened in Austin?

Sam continued smoothly. “Most of my trips to Texas have been to Dallas, sometimes Houston. Business stuff.”

Olivia tried to ignore the burning questions in her mind about Austin in the interest of carrying on the conversation. Who was in Austin? Why had he gone there? There had been something in the tone of Sam’s voice when he said “friends” that made her think there was more to that story. “I haven’t been that many times either. I grew up in San Antonio. Even though it’s not very far away, I never had much reason to go there.” 

Sam was listening to her and seemed interested in the trivia of her life, so she went on. “The first time I went there it was on a school field trip to the capitol. I don’t think that’s going to help us much now.” Olivia knew she’d been chosen for this ad campaign because she was from Texas, and now she knew little more about Austin than she did about beer.

Sam chuckled. “No, the government doesn’t have much to do with beer, except regulating it. Maybe we’ll have time to do some sight seeing while we’re there.” Was that an offer for a date? Don’t get your hopes up, Olivia. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The hotel was jaw dropping. It had five stars for sure, maybe more if there was such a thing. Olivia didn’t know. It wasn’t in her experience. The lobby was covered in marble, and there was a fountain right in the center of it. When Olivia looked up, she saw a coffered ceiling that made her think of elegance and old world charm. 

Her room was equally breathtaking. It had hardwood floors and a stunning view of the river. Olivia sat down on the bed to take it all in. This bed felt good just sitting on it. What would it feel like sleeping in it? The opulence of her surroundings sank into her slowly.  This was her reality. You belong here now.

Sam had left her at her door with a “Get some sleep. Tomorrow’s an important day.” Then he’d disappeared into the room next door to hers. She liked knowing he was nearby. For a moment, she indulged herself in the thought of him being beside her on this bed. Olivia had visions of what they could do in that bed to each other.

“Sam, that feels so good.” His long fingers were inside her, rubbing over that spot that made her want to scream. 

“You think that feels good?” He was watching her, enjoying her reaction to him. The little whimpers of pleasure that escaped her lips made him smile. How could dimples be so fucking sexy? “I can make you feel even better.”

Sam eased his fingers from her body and lay back on the bed. His skin was golden against the white of the sheets, making her want to touch every inch of it. She draped herself over him and kissed his pink lips; they were the softest part of him. Olivia loved the way he felt beneath her. Not as much as she liked how it felt to be pinned under his weight, but his body under hers was strong, solid with muscle, and made her ache for him.

Sam planted his hands firmly on her hips and whispered with his bedroom voice into her ear “Come here.”

He guided her up his body until her core was over his face. Sam parted her folds with his fingers and licked a long stripe up her center. Olivia grabbed the headboard to steady herself. The things this man could do with his tongue might just drive her out of her mind. Sam speared her with his tongue while he circled his fingers over her clit. 

Olivia could feel her orgasm building inside her. She craved that release, but there was also another need burning inside her. She loosened her death hold grip on the headboard and repositioned herself over Sam’s face so she was facing the other direction.

Sam adapted quickly to the change, one hand on her waist while the other grasped a handful of her ass. His mouth was right back on her, taking her to the edge of that peak she had been near to falling over before. The sight of his hard cock bobbing in the air was taking her even closer to that fall.

She wanted him to fall with her. Olivia leaned over and took his thick cock into her mouth. She moved her head up and down his length as far as she could go, pulling the most sinful sounds from deep in his throat. He was throbbing in her mouth, and she knew he was getting close. 

Sam sucked her clit between his lips, his tongue lapping at her. It stilled for only a second when he came hot down her throat. When he started moving his tongue again, it was with an inspired intensity and desire to pull her orgasm from her. He was determined that she would give it to him. 

Olivia came back to reality. She had made herself wet for him, and there was only one thing she could do to ease the tension in her body and her untouched clit. She opened her pants, lay back on the bed, eased her hand into her panties, and imagined it was Sam touching her, giving her the release she needed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Texas sun was shining brightly the next morning as Sam and Olivia climbed into a rental car and headed west of Austin toward Dripping Springs, home of Family Business Beer Co. She was doing her best not to stare at his hands on the wheel, or the way the sunlight landed on his forearms, but that was a battle she was losing. She didn’t want him to catch her stealing glances at him, feeling a little self conscious about the role he’d played in her fantasies the night before.

She needed a distraction. The only reason she was in this car right now on her way to meet this gorgeous, millionaire, Hollywood hot shot who owned this brewery was because she’d grown up in Texas. Lord, that was getting her in all kinds of situations. Olivia felt completely out of her depth. She could have been born anywhere, but she had been born in Texas and that had gotten her here.

 What was Sam’s story? How had he gotten here? Maybe if she could get him talking about his childhood, it would take her mind off how sexy he looked doing something as ordinary as driving a car.

Olivia nervously brushed her hair back from her face and tucked it behind her ear. “So, Sam, you know I’m from Texas. Where did you grow up?” 

Sam cut his eyes over at her for a second, then put them right back on the road. “My life isn’t that interesting.”

His hesitancy to tell her anything instantly piqued her interest, and she turned in her seat as much as the seat belt would allow to look at him more directly. “C’mon, Sam. Everybody thinks their life isn’t that interesting because it’s theirs, and they’re used to it. Tell me something.”

He raised his eyebrows, cocked his head, and kept his eyes on the road. “Okay. I was born in Kansas, but I don’t remember it. My mom died in a fire when I was a baby. We lost our house, and my dad took my brother and me and left. Want to hear more?” His tone was uncharacteristically tense, bordering on almost harsh.

Olivia faltered. She had been under the impression he’d lived some sort of charmed life.  “Sam...I’m...so sorry.”

“It was a long time ago.” His voice had softened, the defensive edge gone from it. 

The next couple of minutes were painfully quiet until Sam announced, “This is it.”

He turned the car onto the drive, and there it was. The first time Olivia had seen pictures of Family Business Beer Co. it hadn’t been what she was expecting. It was a converted house, a beautiful one with a full porch stretching across the length of both floors in the front. It had a certain grace to it and was the kind of house Olivia had dreamed of having when she was a little girl. She had been extraordinarily good at creating a dream life for herself then, and she still was because her mind had taken one encounter with Sam to an entirely different level.

Sam bypassed the visitor parking area and drove right up to park near the buildings on the property. He seemed to know what he was doing, or it was a show of the confidence that had been bred into him. “Where are we supposed to meet him?” Olivia asked. 

“In the taproom, which is over there.” Sam pointed in the direction of what had once been the barn. That looked more like the kind of place you’d drink beer, or so Olivia thought. There was a row of picnic tables outside, all of them empty now. It was the day before New Year’s Eve, and the brewery was closed for the holidays. 

Sam led the way, and Olivia was happy to let him because this client they were scheduled to meet intimidated her more than a little. He was famous, gorgeous, and rich. Sam was rich too, but this man had even more money than Sam. Olivia had grown up poor enough that everyone around her was in awe of money. It was like a magic key that could open worlds and a life barred to ordinary people.

When Sam opened the door and held it for her, she stepped across the threshold into one of those worlds. It was a world where you could buy a brewery with your Hollywood money because it suited your fancy, because it was one of your dreams; and you had the power and the resources to make your dreams come true.

She recognized Jensen across the room, standing behind the bar, a glass and a dish towel in his hands. He looked up when he heard the door; a huge smile spread across his face, and he waved them in with a “Hey, welcome to the Family Business.”

He walked from behind the bar to meet them part way across the room and extended his hand to shake Sam’s. “Nice to meet you. Call me Jensen.” Olivia was next. When Jensen took her hand, she noticed the way his large hand engulfed hers. Of all the men she’d known, only Sam’s hands were bigger. 

Jensen was a charming man. It was evident in his easy smile, his cordial words, and the assurance that radiated off him as he moved about the space. In spite of his good looks, wealth, and success; there was no indication of anything arrogant about him. There was, however, the distinct presence of a certain kind of quiet power around him.

Jensen turned that charm toward Olivia, speaking directly to her while ignoring Sam for the moment. “John assured me you’re the perfect person for this job. Said you’d bring an informed and fresh perspective to the project.”

“Really? Mr. Winchester mentioned me?” She had meant to be poised and confident during this introduction and hoped her voice sounded more conversational than insecure.

“He did. Said you were talented and the perfect person to meet my needs.” Jensen’s eyes were a deep green, the color of a lush forest at the height of summer, and they had a gleam in them when he spoke those words. It was a spark that Olivia couldn’t help but notice, and the underlying meaning behind them didn’t go unnoticed by her either.

“It’s a nice set up you’ve got here,” Sam commented, injecting himself back into the conversation. Jensen smiled, creating crinkles at the corners of his eyes that only enhanced his already handsome face. Slowly, he turned his attention from Olivia to Sam. “Call it a passion project. I’ve always had an appreciation for craft beer, and now I’m lucky enough to have the chance to make some.”

Jensen walked back behind the bar, filled two glasses from the tap, and set them down on the bar. “You two had a chance to try Golden Age? It’s a pilsner, and it’s one of my favorites.” Olivia had no idea what that meant. She was just beginning to get used to the taste of beer. 

“No, haven’t had that one. It wasn’t in the samples we got,” Sam answered. He settled his long frame onto one of the bar stools. 

Jensen motioned to the glasses on the bar. “Try it. It’s what I think of when I think about this business, what I had in mind when I opened it up.” Jensen filled a glass for himself and took a sip. “I wanted a place that felt like home, where people could come enjoy a beer and the beauty of the Texas countryside. That’s what I want you to capture in this ad campaign. Simple pleasure.”

Sam took a generous sip, pondered the taste for a few seconds, and announced. “It’s light, crisp, and clean.”

Jensen nodded. “Exactly. It tastes to me the way possibility would taste if you could put it in a glass.”

Jensen noted Olivia’s still nearly full glass. “I take it beer’s not your thing.” He leaned on the counter in front of her and smiled, causing those sexy crinkles to appear around his eyes again. “I bet I could teach you to like it.”

Until now, Olivia felt like it was always her looking at Sam. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his gaze fixed on her, waiting to see how she would respond to Jensen’s flirting. Olivia didn’t return his look, choosing instead to keep her eyes focused on Jensen.

He was mesmerizing. Was she starstruck? What was this? Olivia had never met anyone famous before, and she hadn’t expected herself to react this way. She had never been the kind of girl to care about what celebrities did with their lives. She didn’t anxiously wait for their next post on social media.

Jensen was the exception. He made her heart beat faster. She felt like she was near something she didn’t quite understand, but very much wanted to. He had the kind of magnetism that made thousands, maybe millions, of people hang onto his every move; and she could feel it when she was this close to him.  

Here she was. Staring into the eyes of the epitome of Hollywood handsome and successful. Looking at his eyes was even better than staring at his hands and imagining how they would feel on her body. What the hell, Olivia? Stop it. What was she trying to do? Make Sam mentally jealous?

Olivia took another sip of her beer because she knew Jensen was waiting, and she didn’t want to disappoint him. Where were all those words Sam had taught her? All she could remember that might be vaguely the right thing to say was, “It tastes bright.”

Jensen chuckled, and she wasn’t sure how to take that. Was her comment amusing to him. Had she gotten it that wrong? Was her lack of knowledge about beer so blatant, or was he pleased by what she’d said?

Jensen put her uncertainty to rest by saying “Bright. I like that.” He stood back up to his full height, no longer leaning on the counter. “Why don’t I show you both the rest of the place?”

He gave Sam and Olivia the complete tour. By the time it was over, she had a much better understanding of exactly what it took to make a good beer happen. There was work, dedication and a certain love that went into it. It made more sense to her why they called it “craft” beer.

The morning had been pleasant, and Olivia didn’t want to see it end. The property was beautiful, and she couldn’t ask for better company than the two men she was with. They weren’t just attractive beyond reason; they were intelligent too. Each had a depth to him that went beyond only what you could see, making them both exactly her type. 

Jensen was a gracious host; the kind to walk Sam and Olivia back to their car. When they rounded the corner of the brewery, she saw it. Sitting parked on the side of the building was one of the most impressive classic cars she’d ever seen.

It was a black ‘67 Chevy Impala, and it was in perfect condition. The car drew her to it, and she ran her head reverently over the hood. “This is an amazing car.”

Jensen’s warm laugh sounded in her ears. “You clearly like cars better than beer.” He didn’t seem at all offended that she didn’t share his enthusiasm for beer, especially considering she was supposed to be the person convincing others to buy the one he was making.

Olivia let her hand drop from the car. “I do like cars, especially the classic muscle cars.” She left it there, feeling it would be too revealing to say that hanging around her father when he was working on old cars was one of the few happy memories she had of him. 

Jensen ran his hand along the roof line. “This is Baby. She was a gift from the network after the last show I was on wrapped.” He opened the door. “Get in; give her a try.” Olivia eagerly climbed in behind the wheel, and Jensen closed the door behind her.

He fished in his pocket for the keys and handed them to Olivia. “Start her up. You gotta hear how she runs.” 

The car absolutely purred, and a huge smile crossed Olivia’s face at the sound. Her reaction seemed to please Jensen greatly. He gave her a wink. “You should drive her sometime, really get a feel for her.”

Olivia was practically sparking with excitement. “Did you hear that, Sam?”

She didn’t notice the flat tone in Sam’s voice when he answered. “Yeah, I did. It’s a great car.”

Jensen turned to look at Sam. His eyes traveled down the other man’s body and back up. Then he raised one corner of his mouth, and his eyes got that gleam in them again. “You can drive her too sometime, if you want.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam was quiet for most of the drive back to Austin until just outside the city limits. He finally asked, “What did you think of the brewery?” There hadn’t been any talk about business or much of anything. Olivia had been waiting for him to bring it up. She’d figured they’d talk business all the way back to town, brainstorm, plot a strategy, that sort of thing.

“The property is beautiful,” Olivia answered. 

They’d reached a red light, and Sam turned to look at her. “Does your opinion have more to do with the beer... or with the man that owns the it?”

Olivia wasn’t sure how to answer. Her initial reaction was: yes, it probably does have something to do with the man, but she didn’t know how to put that in the right words to express what she thought. The light changed, Sam looked away, and she left her response unspoken. 

He made a left turn and headed into downtown. What Sam said next had nothing to do with the brewery or the account. “The hotel is having a New Year’s Eve Party tomorrow. Do you want to go with me?” 

Olivia had been waiting for this moment since that night she’d been with Sam, known him intimately and got a glimpse of another side of him. He’d shown her an endearing, thoughtful man with a touch of sweetness. They were appealing and surprising traits to find in a man of his position.

Sam’s presence in her fantasies had been frequent the past couple of weeks, but she hadn’t imagined a gesture from him quite this extravagant. Hotels like the one where they were staying had formal affairs in ballrooms on New Year’s Eve. It was like something from a fantasy she hadn’t had yet, and now it was right in front of her. There was only one problem. 

“Sam, I would love to, but I don’t have anything to wear to something like that.” Olivia felt an acute stab of disappointment in her chest. She hoped the disappointment wasn’t too apparent in her voice. 

Sam’s mood was noticeably light again, and he grinned. “That’s why we have an expense account.”

What followed was like a scene straight out of Pretty Woman. Sam took her shopping at one of the most exclusive women’s clothing boutiques in Austin. It was the kind that had crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and the clothes were displayed more often on a mannequin than a rack. There was also a seating area with better quality furniture than Olivia had seen in most living rooms in her life.

That was where Sam sat, sipping a glass of wine, waiting for her to model the dresses she was trying on. He seemed to be very interested in her wardrobe for the evening. He also seemed very comfortable in a women’s clothing store. Olivia didn’t let herself think about that too long.

The first dress Olivia tried on was a wraparound with balloon sleeves, made of a black sequined material. It hit her mid thigh and was sophisticated, just like everything else in the store. Sam assessed Olivia’s look, scanning her from head to toe. His eyes narrowed slightly. “I’d like to see something with a more defined shape, more form fitting. I do like the black...and the sequins.”

The sales associate had been standing by, intent on his every word. Sam hadn’t even addressed her directly. She just disappeared to find what he’d specified. When she returned, there were two dresses draped over her arm. 

She followed Olivia into the dressing room to help her get into the next one. It was a strapless black sheath that barely covered what it needed to with an overlay of black lace that was dotted with sequins and had three quarter length sleeves and a couple of inches of additional hem to provide some sheer coverage.

The associate zipped up the back of the dress while Olivia held her hair to the side. Olivia recognized a kindred spirit in the girl. Here was a “typical” young woman surrounded by this extraordinary world, much as Olivia was, a world where money and privilege were commonplace. The status and luxury were so expected by the people who enjoyed both so easily that they hardly noticed they had them.

Olivia put her hair back into place and took a look at her reflection in the mirror. The young woman who had helped her into the dress was also smiling into the mirror. “I think your boyfriend is really going to like this one.”

Olivia let the girl’s words sink in; she liked the way that sounded. It made her heart a little heavy when she had to respond, “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Really? I’ve seen a lot of men come in here with women to buy clothes for them, and the women have meant all sorts of things to these guys, from mistresses who are nothing more than dress up dolls to sisters with a sweet brother who wants her to feel special. Your guy definitely has the boyfriend look, and he’s super hot too.”

Olivia was curious now and, if she admitted it, hopeful. What was this girl seeing? “What do you mean, the boyfriend look?”

She fanned Olivia’s hair over her shoulders, accenting the dress with it. “He has that look in his eye. He’s interested in you, proud of you even, loves that you’re with him. It isn’t just about what you can do for him; he’s got that smitten look.”

“Smitten?” Olivia spread her hands over her hips; her curves were accentuated in the snug, but not too tight black dress with the sequins Sam had requested. She turned the idea of Sam being “smitten” over in her mind as she exited the dressing room, so he could see what she was wearing. Sam had been paying an awful lot of attention to Jensen’s interactions with her back at the brewery.

When she parted the curtains and emerged from the dressing room, Sam put his wine glass down on the nearby table, and his lips parted slightly. “That’s the one,” he said quietly. The v-neck was just deep enough to show the swell of her breasts without revealing too much, and she was showing some leg without the need to tug at her skirt to make sure other vital parts of her anatomy were covered.

She saw the way he was looking at her, like she was something that had just walked out of his dreams instead of the other way around. Olivia turned to take another look at herself in the mirror. For a moment, she felt like Cinderella; her ball was a fancy New Year’s Eve party, and her prince was the heir to the Winchester fortune. She just hoped her midnight would be very different than the one in the fairytale. When she turned back around, Sam was still watching her; his eyes followed her all the way back to the dressing room.

Olivia changed back into her own clothes; Sam paid for the dress, the sexy strappy high heels Olivia had chosen to go with it, and an evening bag to complete the look, then they headed back out onto the street and into the bright Austin sunshine of midafternoon. Sam opened the car door for her and stowed her bag in the trunk on his way back around to the driver’s side.

The atmosphere on the drive back to the hotel was light and comfortable, all the quiet awkwardness from the morning’s drive back to the city was gone. It was late afternoon; the soft muted hues of dusk had started to fill the sky by the time they were approaching the hotel. They pulled up in front of the grand double doors in front. Sam put the car in park, waved off the valet, and turned to Olivia.

“I’m meeting a potential client for drinks and dinner after. Dad wants to expand our presence in Texas, so he’s making the most of my time here. He scheduled meetings for me all day tomorrow too.” Sam sounded almost apologetic, and Olivia was touched by the way he felt the need to explain his schedule to her and account for his whereabouts. Had the girl back at the boutique really seen something? “But I’m really looking forward to tomorrow night.”

Olivia cast her eyes down, feeling suddenly shy. “Me too, and thank you for the dress, Sam.” 

“Thank Dad.” She could hear the smile in his voice and looked up to see the dimples she knew would be framing his mouth. There was a soft playfulness in his eyes and something else. Olivia could see it now too. There was something there, but she didn’t know what it was.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning, while Olivia was putting on her makeup, the front desk called to let her know someone had left something there for her. She couldn’t get downstairs fast enough, and her curiosity was about to consume her by the time she approached the front desk. She gave the clerk her name, and he handed her an envelope.

Olivia opened the envelope, her fingers nearly trembling with excitement. There was a company credit card inside with a note from Sam. I booked an appointment for you at the hotel spa for a massage. Get anything else you want done while you’re there. Enjoy yourself. 

Olivia was nearly giddy with excitement. She’d never gotten a professional massage before, but it was another item on her fantasy wish list. There would probably be music and aromatherapy. She hoped so.

Then a stillness washed over her, drowning the spa daydream but bringing life to something far more important. This was another gift from Sam, and it was the most thoughtful thing anyone had ever done for her. He had thought about how she would spend her day, how he wanted her to spend it. 

She looked at the note again, anything else you want. He wanted her to relax and be pampered while he worked all day. It was the first time in her life Olivia experienced how it felt to be truly taken care of, and it wasn’t about the money. It was easy to throw money at something or someone, especially when you had so much of it, but Sam’s consideration for her feelings was something rare. 

She made her way to one of the chairs in the lounge area of the lobby and sat down. Olivia held the envelope tightly in her hand, and tried to breathe deeply. The shopping trip yesterday somehow hadn’t been enough to make it click in her brain, but now the truth hit her like a palpable force. She mattered to him.

That night Olivia was a flutter with excitement and nervous energy. She freshened her lipstick, checked her hair for the third time, and checked the time for at least the fifth. Sam said he would pick her up at eight. She’d been ready since 7:15 and the minutes had ticked by excruciatingly slowly since then. 

She opened the curtains and looked out at the view of Austin. There weren’t as many city lights as the view from Sam’s office, but there was a definite charm to the place. Revelers had already started to set off fireworks over the river, and the reflection of the colors in the water was magical. 

She was beginning to think anywhere she was with Sam could be magical, and that was a dangerous path to start traveling down. Her romantic heart was hoping for a kiss tonight. Wasn’t midnight the perfect opportunity to feel his lips on hers again? Olivia could almost feel his mouth on hers. She was so lost in her thoughts that the knock at the door made her jump.

When she opened the door, the sight in front of her was breathtaking. She’d never seen Sam in a tux before, and it was well worth the wait. It was classic, black with a white shirt. He’d opted to forego the tie, and that just made it even sexier.

Sam offered her his arm. “Ready to ring in the new year?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dining tables covered with black linen tablecloths had been set up around the edges of the dance floor in the ballroom. The entire space was a festive wonderland that created exactly the right mood to reflect the promise that a new year held. Trees with only the bare branches of winter covered with white fairy lights were positioned around the room, and a jazz band was at the far end of the room providing live music. 

Sam placed his hand at the back of Olivia’s waist, guided her to a table, and pulled out her chair for her. He took his place across from her and spread the black linen napkin that matched the tablecloth over his lap. Olivia followed suit just seconds before a waiter appeared to place the first course on the table in front of them.

“I took the liberty of ordering ahead for us,” Sam explained. “I hope you like crab stuffed mushrooms.”

“I don’t know,” Olivia answered. “I’ve never had them.”

“Then allow me.” Sam picked up one of the mushrooms from the plate between them and held it to her lips. She took a small nibble and started to chew.

Sam was watching her eat like it was fascinating to him. “Well, what do you think?”

“It’s good.” He took a bite from the mushroom he was still holding, then put it down on the dish in front of him. He swallowed and smiled, pleased he’d introduced her to something she liked. 

The rest of the meal went much the same way. Olivia discovered many new tastes she enjoyed, and Sam took pleasure in watching her. They talked about the new accounts he had secured for the firm during his meetings as though it was natural that they discuss his day together.

Between the main course and dessert, Sam held his hand out to her and asked, “Will you dance with me?”

Olivia nodded and put her hand in his. “Of course.”

On the way to the dance floor, Sam and Olivia passed within several feet of the bar. There was Jensen, sitting at the end with two older men wearing bolero ties. He was holding a whiskey glass which he held up in salute to Sam and Olivia and winked in their direction before turning back to his companions.

Sam rubbed his thumb over the back of Olivia’s hand. “He likes you.”

The reached the dance floor. Olivia turned to Sam, and put her hand on his shoulder as he settled his at her waist. “It isn’t necessarily just me he’s flirting with, you know.” Sam’s brow furrowed for a second, but he didn’t say anything, choosing instead to focus on the dance.

It wasn’t the kind of dancing Olivia was used to, but was it ever romantic. Had he been to some kind of finishing school or something? Sam could actually waltz. Thank God what the women in the movies said was true. He was a good partner; he knew how to lead, so all she had to do was follow.

He had held her when they had sex in his office, but this was a whole different way of being in his arms, and she loved it. He made her feel graceful, it felt like she was floating across the floor, like she was more a princess in a fairytale with every passing moment. Then Sam managed to make it even more romantic.

“Tell me your dreams for the new year, Olivia. What do you want to do?” He spun her beneath his arm and pulled her close to him once again, his hand at her waist. 

She couldn’t tell him what she really wanted to do, so she toned it down. “I’d like to get to know you better.”

His eyes softened, and his smile was just as soft. “I think that can be arranged.”

The song ended, and for a few seconds they didn’t move. Sam and Olivia stayed on the dance floor looking into each other’s eyes as the couples around them began to disperse and go back to their tables. “I want to know you better too,” Sam told her before finally breaking the spell they seemed to be under and guiding her back to their table. 

“You ready for dessert?” Sam asked her.

She twisted the end of her hair around her finger and smiled at him. “Did you order that too?”

He reached across the table and took her hand. “I did. How do you feel about chocolate caramel peanut bombs?” 

Olivia had no idea how she felt about chocolate caramel peanut bombs. That was something else she’d never had. It didn’t take her long to find out. What the waiter put in the center of the table was a chocolate sphere that he poured hot caramel over, causing the top to collapse and revealing the peanut crunch inside. 

It was true that the sounds and expressions people made while eating a good dessert were similar to noises and looks they made during sex. Olivia knew Sam well enough to verify this. He had closed his eyes to savor the taste, and when he opened them to see her staring at him; he didn’t look away. Instead he fixed his eyes on her and said, “You are so beautiful.”

Olivia felt herself blush and lowered her eyes. “It’s the dress.”

When she looked back up his eyes were still fixed on her, and Sam was shaking his head. “It’s not the dress. It’s what you do for the dress.”

Ladies and gentlemen, the time is almost upon us. Please join us on the dance floor for the last song of the year.

Sam offered her his hand again. “Start the year with me?”

This time he held her close on the dance floor and swayed with her against him, formal waltzes were forgotten. There were no words between them, only what they said to one another with their eyes. The music stopped, and the countdown started. 

The chorus of voices called out “one”! Sam waited a beat, then leaned down and kissed her. It was better than she remembered. When his lips left hers, she slowly opened her eyes. “Happy New Year, Olivia.” 

“Happy New Year, Sam.” He kissed her again, more intensely this time, just on the edge of opening his mouth and seeking entrance into hers. This second kiss had nothing to do with the clock striking midnight.

Everything: @gambitwinchester​ @princessmisery666​ @peridottea91​ @logical-princey​ @emilyshurley​ @beenlovingromansincedayoneish​ @fangirlxwritesx67​ @waywardbaby​ @atc74​ @shaniquacynthia​ @mariekoukie6661​ @tumbler-tidbits​ @67-chevy-baby​ @fandom-princess-forevermore​ @terrarium-jpeg​ @emoryhemsworth​ @crashdevlin​ @jules-1999​ @mrsdeanfuckingwinchester​ @cosicas-cuquis​ @sammyimpala-67​ @queenoftheunderdark​ @dean-winchesters-bacon​ @timelordy-fangirl2​ @sweetness47​ @hobby27​ @awesomesusiebstuff​ @kickingitwithkirk​ @sandlee44​ @supernaturalgrandma​ @dawnie1988​ @volleyballer519​ @outcastedangel​ @kdfrqqg​ @lizette50​ @sorenmarie87​ @lovealways-j​ @mrswhozeewhatsis​ @petitgateau911​ @thinkinghardhardlythinking​ 

Sam/Jared: @girl-next-door-writes​ @stunudo​ @feelmyroarrrr​ @idabbleincrazy​ @evansrogerskitten​ @focusonspn​ @autumninavonlea​ @durinsbride​ @deansyahtzee​ @waywardnerd67​ @fullmooner​ @sams-sass​ @beskaradberoya​

Dean/Jensen: @flamencodiva​ @deanwinchesterswitch​ @feelmyroarrrr​ @akshi8278​ @ladywinchester1967​ @sgarrett49​ @wingedcatninja​ @coffee-obsessed-writer​ @adoptdontshoppets​ @ellewritesfix05​ @weepingwillowphoenix​

[oksana-moods]

Ghost of you - Part 13

Summary: The further Ghost investigates, the further she drenches in blood. And Ghost realizes she’s a fly in a spider’s web.

A/N: Sorry if I took so long. Promise part 14 will be here soon.

Trigger Warning: Violence (a lot), language, mentions of death… If you find any, I’ll be glad to add.

 “I'm prepared for this. I never shoot to miss.”

We left Nice early in the morning, arriving in our Hotel in Toulouse right after lunch. While Carol discussed the news with Nat and Steve, I made myself busy analyzing the bracelet. The rocks seemed genuine, just rare and mesmerizing. Everything about it screamed money, an awful big amount of money. This could be a piece of art. I put it in my arm, and nothing happened. No toxins, no poison, nothing trying to pierce my skin. Just a shiny harmless diamond bracelet destined to grace Carol’s wrist. A piece of star for a star herself. The moment we arrived at Théâtre du Capitole, the staff guided us to Greene’s box. It was bigger than I thought it’d be, with room for the Beauffort’s, Batroc, another two couples, Greene himself and us, his bodyguards would stay behind, of course. We had a frontal unrestricted view of the stage, probably the very best of the theater. After the pleasantries and greetings, we took our sits, and an earpiece found its way to my hand. When the show began, I understood why I had one, this was a business meeting. Hm, clever. They talked about money, resources, transports, then they started to plot an attack in London, to force UN’s hand in signing with Beauffort’s company. With this accord, Beauffort would be responsible for every single immigrant on Europe. We were halfway through the show when a new voice joined the conversation. “Can I offer an opinion?” His voice was loud, so this person wasn’t sitting among the audience. “I think that you people should find a better place to meet.” My brows were furrowed and soon a commotion was visible when people started to get up from their sits and walk towards the exit. One of Greene’s goons whispered something in his ear, but I caught ‘Interpol is here’ very clear, he sent a dark look in my direction and left the box, Beaufforts hot in his heels. I couldn’t afford having Interpol asking me questions, so I stood and picked Carol’s hand and started to walk out of the room to follow them, but we were delayed by the others leaving too. When we reached the hall, there wasn’t trace of Greene, so I pick the first set of stairs to find the exit. After a few flights of stairs, I heard Greene’s distressed voice. “This is on you, Jean. You brought her to me, and I let her in. He’ll kill me for this mistake.” That’s news, I never thought that Greene was the leader but a very high member of Spectre, but his fear showed me that he wasn’t that big or… their leader had history of being ruthless. Beauffort’s voice broke my train of thought. “She’s clean, Dom. She has nothing to do with this.” Thank you, Jean. And is true. We never contact Interpol with what we’ve found. Our feet touched the entrance hall just in time to see the deathly glare Greene shot at Jean. “I’ve made my mind, already.” I took the first door and dragged Carol inside with me to avoid being seen by them. “What do we do now?” Carol whispered. “I’m thinking.” She took a deep breath. Fuck. Who the hell called Interpol? Someone else was being investigated, I could only hope that they’d find out who until tomorrow. After all, tomorrow night we’d go to Chateau de Mercues to meet their ‘very important’ friend for dinner, I wonder if this friend is their leader. And something inside me says that yes, it is. “We’ll wait.” I turned to look at Carol. I realized my hand was still holding hers, so I let go. “We stay here and pretend that we watched the show until the end. I’ll call Jean later and see where we’re standing.” I licked my lips; my mind and heart were racing. This ship can’t sink now. We were so close. “We’ll be fine. As long as we keep together.” I said and Carol nodded. I just don’t know if I was trying to reassure her or myself. ------ “Are you okay?” I asked Carol while driving us to our hotel. “Just a bit tired.” Carol being tired was unheard of, but this past week was demanding a lot, from both of us. We were on edge, chasing an invisible enemy, completely out of our elements. I was about to reply when I saw a car from police signaling for me to stop. Something was off. I instantly felt my bones cold and by Carol’s expression, she felt too. They asked for us to step out of the vehicle and we complied with their request. What was going on? There were two of them, one was talking to me and the other had his hand around his gun in his waistband, like he was ready to draw it. We were two women, visibly unarmed, we were no threat to him. This is no good, something is definitely off. God, I’m glad Carol is bullet proof. Obeying his demands, I opened the trunk, and my blood ran cold in my veins when I saw Jean’s very beaten body laying inside. Fuck. This was enough for them to draw their guns and aim at us, the first cop yelled for me to pick Jean from the trunk and so I did. With the movement, he opened his eyes revealing he was still alive but before anything I heard the gunshot hitting him in the back, I pushed him towards the second cop while I hastily broke the first one’s hand, expertly picking up his gun and shooting them both dead in a blink of an eye. Everything happened so fast that Carol was looking at me as if trying to understand the last ten seconds. Before I could reach Carol, I heard Jean coughing, so I crunched beside him. “Is Lara your name, at least?” I nodded to him, my voice caught in my throat, and he gave me that signature sly smile stained with blood. “I liked you. Truly.” He manages to speak. “I’m sorry.” I just don’t know what for. “Run, Lara. Run from this. He’ll kill you…” He coughed blood but kept with his final words. “He’ll kill her.” He softly pointed at Carol with his head. “Tell Debra… that I… I’m sorry.” I saw the light leave his eyes, the familiarity of this hitting me hard. The light always leaves their eyes, but they still look accusatorily at your soul. I closed his eyes and looked inside his pockets for his wallet. Took the money, his watch and asked Carol to jump inside the car. “May your soul find peace.” I mumbled to his body and ran to the car. Minutes later we arrived at the safety of our room. Fuck. Greene set us up.

After we arrived, Carol barely changed her clothes and crawled to bed, claiming she felt being drained. She had a fearful look, and I couldn’t help but think that this was so out of place in her. I was at the door that joint our room with the balcony, I had a perfect view from the door or from the outside in case anyone tried to come flying to caught us out of guard, I stayed the whole night up, but nothing happened. The waitress served our breakfast in the morning and other than that no one came after us. The tv was on, I was looking for any news about last night, nothing yet. “How can you listen the tv? Is extremely low.” Carol’s voice startled me; she had that soft raspy morning tune after waking up. Goosebumps successfully climbed my back and arm. I flashed her a small smile. “Enhanced hearing. Nothing big, though, just a bit more than a normal human.” I lifted a mug with coffee at her. “Feel like eating?” She nodded and climbed down the bed and went to the bathroom to get ready. When she came back, there was a mug with fuming precious liquid and a plate with fruit in front of her chair waiting for her. “Thanks.” She mumbled and I just bowed my head. “Anything yet?” She asked. “No. Nothing in the newspapers either.” I said putting the pieces of paper aside. “Last night… You picked Jean’s money and watch… why?” I sipped from my cup and replied. “That way when the cops find their… bodies, they would think about a possible robbery first. And we’d have time until they come after us.” I felt so uneasy discussing this with Carol. Is not that I felt I’d ever have any chance, but I didn’t want her thinking that I am a cold blood murderer. Too late now, I guess. “How did you think about it? It was too fast.” If she was disturbed because I just killed two cops, she never showed. A weak smile showed itself in my face and I shrugged. “I saw it in an old spy movie. My friend Sam used to like it, a lot.” It’s been years, but I think I’d never stop remembering Sam or Wanda all the time, God, how I miss them. My thoughts were interrupted by a hand reaching mine, I looked up to see Carol’s soft eyes at me. “I’m sorry. I know you miss them.” I wanted to draw back my hand, for her skin was burning mine. “It’s not your fault.” I replied with a small voice, but she squeezed my hand then let go. “I should’ve known about… Thanos. I should’ve been here… with you.” With me? My mind went blank. What did she mean with this? Like being save by the bell, my phone rang, checking the caller id showed me it was Natasha. “Hey Nat.” After minutes explaining what happened the night prior, Steve was perplex with the things I did. “I can’t believe you killed two officers. What were you thinking?” “They were dirty cops, Steve.” I sighed, suddenly realizing how tired I was. “You can’t kill people because you think they’re dirty. And how can you be so sure?” He asked, still pissed and I’m sure he’s right. Just because I’m an Avenger, I can’t do whatever I want. Steve was right. I just can’t bring myself to care, I did what I had to do to protect Carol and I. “Because If they wanted to rescue Jean, they wouldn’t shoot at him when they saw he was alive. This was a setup, Steve. They were ready to draw their guns and they shot Beauffort while trying to shoot at us.” “Are you hurt? Carol?” Natasha asked, concern lacing her voice. I could feel Steve pitching the bridge of his nose, trying not to burst at how stupid I was. “No, we’re fine. Thanks.” “Okay. You two come back and we’ll contact NATO and explain what happened, maybe we still can…” “What?” My voice spoke as if on her own accord. “We can’t go back now, Steve. They’re planning an attack. Haven’t you listened?” I know he was mad, but this? London could be attacked in days, maybe less. “I listened very well, Mav. You’re acting like you run the world, but this is not how we do things! We’re not Hy..” “Don’t even finish this sentence, Rogers. We’re not Hydra, believe me, I know. But I remember when we fought against the Avengers. When we went rogue because you thought you were right, and I believed you, trusted you. And now I know I’m right.” I couldn’t believe he was trying to compare my attitude now with the one I used to have when I was with Hydra. “I’m… I never wanted…” He was out of words; he probably never expected such outburst, but we don’t have time to dwell on such things as past, or… I don’t know what he was implying. “Look, I know what I did was wrong, but that was a choice I made and is up to me to work this through. But we need to focus on what’s at stake here.” I ran a hand through my hair, and I was looking at the phone screen like I could appear at the other side. “We need to keep pushing this. Is the only way.” Even with such small screen I could see Natasha shaking her head. Shit. “No, Mav, you’ve been compromised. They probably recognized you.” I could see Steve agreeing with her. “They sent two cops after us, Nat. If Greene knew who I was, I’m sure he would’ve sent the whole squad.” She looked at me through the phone, but I could see she was thinking, she slowly nodded her head. That’s it! I knew she would see reason. “You’re right. Only Lara is compromised. Still, you need to come back. Is safer this way.” “C’mon, Nat?! You can’t possibly think this is right. What about the attack?” Steve spoke for her this time. “We’ll call the authorities; they’ll work with all the data we’ll send them.” This wasn’t right. It was obvious that they wouldn’t work fast enough. “Steve, what if this isn’t good enough, what if they don’t work fast with all the intel?” He sighed, his telltale that this conversation was over. “They’ll have to.” I closed my eyes and sighed. I couldn’t agree with this. “Mav…” Nat’s voice made me open my eyes and look at her. “We’ll work this through. But we need you two back here in safety.” I nodded at her and she smiled softly. “There’s a flight home in 6 hours, I just bought a ticket for you, girls. We’ll talk when you’re at home.” She sent me one last look, almost pleading for me to be in that plane and I just nodded. “See you in a minute” She finished with a small smile, and she hung up. We would be in that flight, of course. But six hours gave me enough time to attend one last meeting with Greene. “I’ll take a shower.” I said to Carol, who was stunned with our exchange. --------

“Where do you think you’re going?” Carol’s voice startled me at the door. My hand still at the doorknob. “I still have a meeting with Greene. We have a business-lunch scheduled for today.” “But Natasha asked…” I never let her finish her thought. “I know what Nat said. I still have few hours before the flight.” She licked her lips, she was nervous. “But what if he recognized you or try something…” I sighed and pushed away from the door and walked towards her. “Hey, look at me...” Her eyes were locked in mine, making butterflies dance in my stomach. “He won’t hurt me. If anything were to happen, I’ll call you. Is that okay?” She was conflicted and the battle inside her head was visible. She was worried and so was I, but people’s lives were on the line. I couldn’t just sit and wait. “Promise?” She asked softly and my hands found hers, with a light squeeze I let them go. “I promise.”

Greene’s manor was in the outskirts of Toulouse, it was big and beautiful and completely isolated from the other houses. While driving, I devised a plan of action. I would go as if nothing had happened and wait to see his next step. When I arrived at the gates and the security let me inside the property without asking many questions. Hm, maybe it wasn’t Greene who set me up?! However, this thought was soon forgotten, because when I closed the car’s door a fist came in my direction which I easily dodged and kick him down. When I saw a gun aimed at me, I knew that there was no other way around, I’d have to fight to get out of this. I was indeed compromised.

Twelve bodies later, I arrived at Greene’s main room. He was waiting for me, and he wasn’t alone. Batroc was standing by his side with his wicked grin. “Ah, I knew you’d come.” Greene spoke with a cynical grin in his face. “If you knew, why aren’t you prepared?” My comeback was sassy, but dread was roaming in my bones. “I don’t need anyone, except Batroc here.” He said motioning to the man besides him, who started to charge at my direction and before I could even think he knocked me to the ground. Fuck. He was strong, almost strong as Steve was. Who is this guy?

He was trying to break my windpipe with his hands, but after a swift movement he wasn’t pinning me anymore. He came fast and strong with his punches, kicks and different moves, I didn’t know if he was fighting or dancing. I dodged or blocked most of his blows and I got few in. He was fast, but I was faster. His nose was already bleeding when he managed to kick my legs and my back hit the ground once again, before he could try anything else, I kicked his legs and his back found the floor too. I heard gun shots, but my opponent had my undivided attention. All at once, we were fighting on the floor, gripping each other’s legs and arms. Twisting and crawling, pulling and smashing… until he pushed me and tossed over his shoulders, and I hit something sharp when my back hit the table. Fuck. I saw blood dripping from my shoulder blades. With a grunt, I pushed myself off of the sharp edge and got to my feet, right in time to see Batroc charging like a bull. I jumped in his torso, twisting my body in the air making him fall against the broken table, the sharp edge now impaling his back and the tip was coming out of his stomach and he was stuck.

Another gunshot and I stumbled backwards. I looked down and saw my shirt stained with blood in my stomach area. Huh, I fucking hate Greene. I charged at him, he tried to shoot again but I was incredibly fast, even wounded, I took the gun from him and punched him to the floor. Before I could even muster my first question to Greene, I saw Batroc setting himself free from the table. How is he up? I turned and shot him twice in the chest, and with that he fell dead on the ground. I looked at my feet, only to see a very much wide-eyed Greene staring at me like he saw a ghost. Hm, he definitely saw the Ghost.

“I can’t believe you’re real.” His words caught me completely out of guard. “What you’re talking about?” His nose was bleeding and staining his mouth and shirt, but he kept that cynical smile, and my blood was boiling. He screamed after I shot his tight. Good. I wanted to wipe that smile from his face. I picked a chair and sat in front of him. “What the hell?” He screamed clutching his leg. “I asked you a question.” I replied with a flat voice, as if I was asking a trivial question.

“He told me about you. About your arm…” He half laughed and that dread came back to embrace me like a wave. “You don’t know what you’re dealing with. You are a kite dancing in a hurricane, Ghost.” How does he…? I got up and picked him by his shirt. “How do you know this name?” He laughed and I punched him once, twice, and again until blood was covering my metal hand. “You don’t know what you’re looking for, but he’ll come to get you.” I hit him again and again, I just wanted him to stop. “Enough with these riddles. Stop!” I screamed at his face, but he coughed and spat blood on the ground, and he had that smile again. “Look at all these bodies in your way…” He blinked like in deep thought. “Tsc. Is so sad Carol isn’t here to see the type of monster you are.”

At this I felt self-conscious, I used the back of my flesh hand, the one holding the gun, to clean the blood from my lip. “Don’t bring Carol into this.” My voice was so weak, suddenly I felt weak, so I sat in the chair again. “What?” He kept saying with a smile on his face. “You thought she could love you?” My head snaped at his direction. “I never thought…” I began to speak but he stopped me.

“Aah. Please, I saw the way you looked at her. Your desire burned in your eyes…” He coughed one more time, he was paler since he was losing too much blood. “I can see it right now… But she’ll never be with you. How could she? You’re a disaster, you are death… wherever you go, there’s a trail of blood behind.” I tried to run a hand in my hair, but blood and sweat made it impossible. “Stop or I’ll…” He laughed. “Or what? Kill me?” His smile never faded from his mouth but never reached his eyes. “I’m already dead. You are too.” I got up to my feet, suddenly, too restless to stay in that chair. “The only difference is that I’m aware and you’re not.” I walked in his direction. “I said for you to stop!” Focus… Focus… Breathe. I thought to myself. I took a deep breath and turned to Greene one more time. “London. Tell me about the attack.” His eyes focused on me again. “Trying to pretend to be the hero, hm?” He tried to move his body to a comfortable position, but he was too weak, so he gave up. “I don’t know the details…” He sighed. “Is due in a couple of days, maybe in a big event.” I closed the distance between us and punched him again. “Stop lying. Stop with riddles.” When I let him go, he coughed and looked at me dead in the eye. “I’m not lying. We got interrupted last night. We’d discuss this tonight, at the Chateau de Mercues.” Finally, something useful that I can work with. I took a few steps back. “Who else will be there?” He flashed a cold smile at me. “Everybody.” I was about to press further when I heard a faint noise of sirens, and I’m sure they were coming this way. Greene heard too. “Guess we finished here.” He managed to sit against the wall while speaking. “Finish me off. I’ll be only another name on your body count.” I growled at him. I didn’t like the way he talked about me, like I was a wild animal. “I’m not like you, Greene.” I turned to fully look at him. “Oh, of course you’re not like me. You’re worse. You’re the cold murderer they made you to be.” He hissed at me. “Devil created you, Ghost, but I’m not even sure if you’re going to hell or worse.” I shook my head, I had enough of this. I pressed the trigger, but nothing happened, the magazine was empty. I dropped the gun and walked towards him, felling slightly better when he shrank under my glare. “Well, when you see the devil, tell him that I’m not far behind.” Faster than a bullet, my hands moved around his head and a soft snap came from his neck. I got up to my feet. I grabbed his phone and ran down the stairs, the sirens were much closer now. Fuck. This is bigger than I thought. Fuck. Steve was going to kick my ass.