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writingblock101 · 4 years ago

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Still Insufferable (Damian Wayne x Reader)

This is a part two to Insufferable! I had an anon request this a while back and found some prompts that gave some great inspiration! Hope y’all like it! You don’t need to read part one, but it does make the transition smoother. For reference, you and Damian are 17.

Words: 2,800

Tags: @idkmanicantenglish @mayahoelland2013

Warnings: None

“Do you ever follow directions?” A familiar, condescending voice asks you from the ground.

You spot an annoyed Damian Wayne from your upside perch, staring up at you with crossed arms. You grin, a little too excited to see someone who looks so annoyed with you.

“I’m creating an extensive target practice!” You claim, gesturing with your bow to the targets down range

“By hanging upside from the rafters?” Damian raises an unimpressed eyebrow.

“You’re questioning my methods.”

“I’m not questioning it,” Damian corrects. “I’m saying it’s stupid.”

You gasp in mock offense then unhook your legs and flip to the floor.

“Your words wound me!”

“You’ll recover,” Damian says dryly.

“I thought you would approve of me making a more comprehensive training.”

“You were hanging upside down from the rafters. How is that more comprehensive?” Damian questions.

“Because I don’t always get the pretty shot with the perfect set up in the field!” You argue. “Sometimes, I’m making the shot while hanging upside down with a broken toe!”

Damian pauses, his eyes flickering to your feet.

“Is your toe broken?” He asks.

He almost sounds concerned. It’s kind of sweet.

“No,” You admit. “But what if it was?”

He blinks. The concern is gone.

“You spend too much time with Roy and Jason.”

“Well, Roy is basically raising me at this point, so yeah, kind of,” You point out.

Damian rolls his eyes.

“Mission briefing.”

“Aw, you came all the way here to tell me yourself,” You tease Damian, aware of the various intercoms around the Tower.

He scowls at you, but doesn’t dampen your good mood.

“I was the closest to the range. It made the most sense for me to come tell you.”

“No need to make excuses,” You shrug. “I get it, I’m amazing and you can’t resist being around me.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“You know, that line didn’t fool me when we were 12 and it’s still not fooling me now.”

Damian’s scowl deepens.

“Mission briefing, now.” Then he walks off before you can make another smart ass comment.

Sometimes, Damian makes it too easy. You hit the switch to pull the targets back in, figuring you’ll get your arrows later.

You’ve been an official Teen Titan for a few months now. After Roy talked you into tagging along with the team for a mission, you were hooked. The rest of the team agreed to extend an invite to you, which you happily accepted. You love the team, including Damian. Despite your constant bickering, you and Damian work well together in the field, enhancing each other’s skills.

In all honesty, you really enjoy being around Damian. While he’s a bit uptight, when he relaxes, he’s fun to be around. You’ve enjoyed getting to see the more relaxed side of Damian. Besides, it's fun to have someone who keeps up with every sarcastic remark you make, even if it includes him calling you insufferable. It’s a bit of a long shot, but you know Damian likes you more than he makes it seem he does.

You head to the main conference room of the tower and settle in for a long presentation. While the briefings are long, and rather boring, they’re in depth. You have to give Damian credit, even when things go wrong on missions, his extensive briefings prepare your team for almost every possibility and help make adaptations to the plan on the fly.

You fiddle with a pen, unscrewing it, laying out the pieces then put it back together as Damian talks. As you get more fidgety the longer the meeting goes on, Damian wordlessly slides a new pen over to you with a slightly different composition. You smile at him and busy your hands with taking part the new pen. Damian’s cheeks darken slightly, but before anyone can notice, he’s back in leader mode.

Damian pulls up the blueprint, running through everyone’s role and position for the mission.

“And Black Falcon, you’re with me, handling guards on the roof and additional security measures.”

“The dream team,” You grin with a wink.

Damian rolls his eyes and ignores your remark. Instead, he fields any questions then dismisses the team. You glance down at the file briefing in front of you then remember one last question for Damian. As a few Titans clear out, you wander to the front of the room where Damian is studying the blueprint from the presentation.

“Hey, boss man,” You wave your file at him. “This building is using the Kingsley Security system. What are your thoughts about debuting the new hacking arrows?”

Damian frowns, flipping to the page with the schematics concerning the security system.

“How effective is the firewall on the arrows?”

“If you’re worried about them tracking back to us, the arrows’ firewall should be strong enough to erase our trail.”

“Should be?” Damian raised an eyebrow.

“They’ll be fine, but I don’t like to make guarantees.”

“And why is that?”

“Because sometimes, shit happens.”

“I don’t like variables.”

“Well, Dames, I’ve got bad news for you about how life works.”

You cross your arms, leaning your hip against the table.

“I don’t like variables on my missions when lives are on the line,” Damian says, scanning over the Kingsley credentials.

“We’re connected to a computer with the highest level of security to currently exist. Even if they manage to trace back the arrows, they won’t get far.”

Jon and Colin watch you two bicker about arrows and security.

“He likes having someone to argue with way too much,” Colin mutters to Jon.

Jon nods along.

“You’re telling me. He’s not going to do anything about it though.”

Colin cracks a grin.

“He’s just gonna roll his eyes and tell her she’s insufferable.”

Jon and Colin snicker, catching Damian’s attention. He narrows his eyes at the two who sit innocently.

“Listen,” You bring Damian’s attention back to you. “It’s your mission and I’ll respect whatever you want to do, but the only way for me to improve the arrows design is to test them.”

“I’ll consider it,” Damian says.

His phone lights up with notification on the table. Your eyes dart toward the light and your eyebrows go up. Damian catches your eye and snatches his phone off the table with red cheeks.

“Am I your lock screen?” You ask with a small grin.

“You weren’t supposed to see that,” Damian shoves his phone in his back pocket.

“Really?” Your grin grows as your eyebrows move higher.

Jon and Colin watch with shit eating grins.

“Grayson set it,” Damian growls. “I haven’t bothered to change it.”

“Sure, he did,” You nod. “It’s a cute picture.”

The picture is after Damian and Bruce got into a huge argument, bad enough that Damian called Dick to get him out of the Manor. Dick figured it would be a good day to give Damian a childhood experience he missed out on and decided to take Damian to a theme park. Knowing you were in town with Jason while Roy was handling some business in Gotham, he talked Jason into bringing you. While at the park, Dick insisted you and Damian needed to try a funnel cake since neither of you had ever had one.

You and Damian decided to split one since Dick warned you they were pretty sweet. When you and Damian tried your first bites, Damian’s face instantly scrunched up which made you laugh and Dick managed to catch the moment on camera.

Damian scowls at you while you just grin.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone and ruin your reputation,” You laugh, leaving the room.

Damian scowls at you as you leave and returns his attention to collecting his files.

“Ah Dames, get that look off your face, we all know how you feel,” Jon teases.

Damian turns, scowling at Jon.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t,” Colin rolls his eyes. “We can all tell you like Y/N.”

“She’s--”

“Insufferable,” Jon finishes. “Yeah, we know. You know, just because you keep saying it, doesn’t mean it’s actually true.”

“And you know, we get it, you’re a condensing, uptight dick--” Colin starts to rattle off.

“Why does everyone assume the worst of me?” Damian scowls at Colin.

“It saves time,” He grins at his friend. “But, despite those things, you can be charming when you want to be. And if you actually acted on that charm, Y/N would agree to a date with you.”

Jon stares at Colin for a minute, looking unimpressed then turns to Damian.

“My advice is much more subtle. Stop being an ass.”

“I didn’t ask for advice,” Damian growls.

“We are aware and we also are aware that you never will,” Colin nods.

“Why not let yourself be happy, Dames?” Jon asks.

“I am happy,” Damian glares at the two of them then walks out of the room, tired of hearing their advice.

“Think he’ll listen?” Colin asks.

Jon shrugs.

“Who knows.”

. . .

Your back hits the ground but you roll to the balls of your feet, breathing hard. You tighten your grip on your bo staff, ready to lunge for another hit when you notice Damian walk into the training room. As he walks toward you, you straighten up and grab your water, figuring it’s time for a break. Damian raises his eyebrows at your bo staff.

“That’s not your normal choice in weapons,” He observes.

You shrug, taking a swing of water and ignoring your cheeks heating up. While you wanted to expand your training, you’ve seen Damian using a bo staff a lot. He seems to like them so you figured you’d give them a shot. Besides, Tim has given you a few pointers.

“Decided to try something new,” You say casually.

Damian quirks an eyebrow, but says nothing else.

“I’ve been thinking--” He starts.

“A dangerous pastime,” You nod solemnly.

Damian glares at you but continues, as if he didn’t hear your sarcastic comment.

“We have a strong enough firewall on the computer in the Tower that if your arrows malfunctioned, we could detect and fight a security breach.”

“So, I can bring them on the mission?” You finish.

“Yes.”

“Sweet!” You grin, pumping your fist.

Damian rolls his eyes again at your celebration, but you can see him trying not to smile. He turns to leave, but you look back at the bo staff you were training with.

“Wait! Damian!” You call.

He turns, looking at you with raised eyebrows.

“You’re better with a bo staff than I am,” You admit. “Wanna help me out?”

Damian’s eyes flicker between you and the bo staff. You see a small smile fighting its way onto his face.

“I’ll change into something more suiting for training.”

You grin, spinning the staff around you then go into a mock solute.

“Yes, commander.”

Damian rolls his eyes again, but leaves to change.

. . .

You swing your staff up hard, but Damian blocks it and swipes at your legs with a low kick. Grinning as he falls into the expected move, you flip your staff around and hit Damian’s side. He grunts and moves again, this time, landing a hard blow to your arm. You grimace at the force, but swing your staff around again and manage to knock Damian’s legs out from under him with a move he showed you.

Damian hits the ground hard with a grunt, but instead of rolling to his feet for another hit, he lays on the ground, looking a little dazed.

“I got it!” You cheered as Damian sits up, watching you with a small smile.

“Drive your hips more so the power doesn’t come from your arms as much,” He instructs.

“You know, with all the archery I do,” You flex a muscular arm. “I’m pretty sure my arms are stronger than my hips at this point.”

Damian rolls his eyes as he pushes himself to his feet. You swear you sees his eyes lingering on your flexed arm.

“Basic anatomy,” He claims.

“Right, your definition of “basic” and a normal person’s is pretty different.”

Damian raises an eyebrow at you.

“How do you mean?”

You narrow your eyes.

“You know what I mean.”

“I don’t,” But the slow start of a shit eating grin on his face tells you Damian knows how you meant that statement.

You groan, throwing your hands up.

“Okay, fine, Wayne. I’ll give it to you, you’re pretty smart.”

“Am I now?” Damian full on grins, making your heart flutter.

You roll your eyes again, despite your raised heart rate.

“I’m not going to say it again.”

“I didn’t think you would. It doesn’t change the truth.”

You sigh, shaking your head.

“Why do I still like you, knowing you’re a total asshole?” You question as you walk toward your water.

Damian freezes for a moment, your words slowly mulling over in his head. Before he can say anything else, his watch beeps. Damian looks down at it with a scowl.

“Duty calls?” You ask, handing Damian his water.

He looks up from the notification and nods.

“Get dressed, we leave in ten minutes.”

. . .

Following your normal post mission tradition, you relax on the roof with a few boxes of take out. You dig into your box of fried rice, enjoying the view as your legs dangle over the edge of the huge tower. The roof access door opens and someone sits next to you but you don’t have to turn to see who. Wordlessly, you hold out Damian’s vegetarian Lo Mein which you took the courtesy to grab while he showered after the mission.

“Your arrows worked,” Damian comments, accepting the box from you and digging in with his own chopsticks.

“Mmhm,” You hum with a smirk. “Told you.”

Damian rolls his eyes.

“Of course you wouldn’t be able to resist making a childish remark.”

You grin, nudging Damian’s shoulder.

“You knew I already knew the arrows worked. You just wanted to hear me say it.”

“I absolutely did not.”

“Sure you didn’t. I’m irresistible.”

“You’re insufferable,” Damian corrects.

“I still don’t believe that line.”

“Your belief does not change the truth.”

You laugh, leaning against Damian as you both continue eating, enjoying the view and each other’s company. After the first time Damian joined you on the roof, it became both of your traditions to enjoy your post mission meals together. Later, you would rejoin the team for game night or movie night, but for now, you two enjoy your quiet meals and unwind peacefully.

Once your meals are finished and the boxes are discarded to the side, you scoot closer to Damian, resting your head on his shoulder. He slowly places a hand on your knee, seeming a bit uncertain. You smile to yourself and squeeze his arm, scooting a little closer to encourage him. He leans into you, seeming more relaxed by the affection.

“You know,” You finally say after a few minutes of silently watching the sun set. “I turned out liking you a lot more than I originally planned.”

“How much did you intend to like me?” Damian asks.

You feel him starting to go stiff.

“Well, given you insulted me when I first met you,” You point out with a shrug. “I didn’t expect to like you very much.”

“And now?” Damian asks hesitantly.

You lift your head from Damian’s shoulder to look at him, your noses inches away.

“Now, you’re pretty alright,” You tease, admiring his pretty green eyes.

Damian rolls his eyes with a small laugh.

“Just alright?” He asks, squeezing your knee lightly.

“Well,” You shrug again, feeling your heart pound. “Maybe a little more than alright.”

You stare at each other for a long moment until Damian’s eyes flicker to your lips. Here goes nothing. Before you can bring yourself to regret, you close the small distance between each other and press your lips to his. He’s hesitant for a moment, stiff against you. Before you can pull away, Damian’s fingers sink into your hair, pulling you closer as he kisses you back.

You melt into the kiss and grip his shirt tightly. As he shifts his head to deepen the kiss, a voice yells from behind you:

“It’s about time!”

You and Damian jump apart, still holding a hand on each other to see Jon standing by the roof access door. Damian scowls at him while Jon grins like he’s just won the lottery.

“You have no idea how annoying it was so watch you two pretend like you don’t like each other,” Jon rolls his eyes. “Come on, we’re starting game night.”

He disappears back through the door as you look back at Damian.

“Well, duty calls,” You joke, sliding off the ledge.

Damian turns, catches your wrist, and tugs you back to him.

“They can wait,” He mutters to you, kissing you again.

You happily melt into the kiss, your hands on Damian’s chest as his hands slide to your hips.

“Am I still insufferable?” You tease against Damian’s lips.

He smirks, standing to his feet and pulling you close by your waist.

“Yes,” He kisses you again.

I’ve been writing things as I get inspiration. I think I’ll be compiling a prompt lists soon because I have some request... They are really big ideas and I don’t think I can take on any projects that big right now. I hope you enjoyed!

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e-milieeee · 5 years ago

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the enemy of my enemy (must be my ally)

Summary: When one of his akumas attacks Adrien and one of his classmates, Gabriel Agreste discovers that Marinette Dupain-Cheng would prove a very useful ally against Ladybug and Chat Noir.

How had he not discovered sooner? But oh well—better late than never. Ladybug will never know what’s coming.

Notes: from this post because everyone wanted me to write it. i warned y’all. feat. gabriel’s 2 functional brain cells.

AO3 | Kofi

Gabriel Agreste isn’t past admitting his mistakes.

Most of them have involved Adrien, so he supposes that it’s time to pay attention to the trend. And all of those mistakes have involved his growing career as Hawkmoth—and, more specifically, the choices he makes for whom he akumatizes.

Lila Rossi, now known as Princess Perfect—seriously, what the hell was wrong with this girl? He’d given her the liberty of choosing her akuma name, but such a godawful name is a bad reflection on him as well—kicks down the door of the classroom.

He sees it all through Lila’s eyes, like he does with all the akumas. Doesn’t mean he’s particularly happy about the turnout of this particular akumatization.

“What are you doing?” Gabriel demands to her. “I want Ladybug and Chat Noir’s Miraculous! You’re going the wrong way.”

Relax. Lila’s voice drifts into his head. I need to take a little detour.

“What detour—” Oh. Oh, shit.

In the classroom, packing their bags, is his son and that Chinese girl with pigtails—Marinette. The one that Gabriel knows Lila Rossi intensely hates. The one that he doesn’t like either, because for some reason, his son is infatuated with her. It’s Marinette-this, Marinette-that these days, and Adrien just won’t stop gushing about her. Father, look at these designs! They’re Marinette’s. Father, look who’s on the news—it’s Marinette! Father, can you hire Marinette to work at Gabriel Brand?

Marinette, a real headache. Gabriel rubs his temples. Maybe it’s a good thing that Lila’s after her. Better to nip it in the bud before Adrien’s attachment becomes a real problem.

“Fine,” he grounds out to Lila. “But leave Ad—leave the blonde boy alone.”

Already ahead of you, Hawkie.

“Don’t call me that!”

She ignores him in favour of turning to the two victims. Adrien is standing in front of Marinette, arms spread in a protective stance, glaring at the akuma. For a couple moments, nobody speaks.

Then, Marinette, eyebrows furrowing, says, “You’re Lila, aren’t you. Seriously? What is this—your third akumatization? Fourth?”

“My name is Princess Perfect now,” Lila growls back. “Get out of my way, Adrien.”

Marinette literally gags. “Did Hawkmoth choose that name for you?”

“No, I didn’t,” Gabriel seethes. Unfortunately, none of them can hear him.

“Yes, he did,” Lila lies breezily. “But that’s not important. You think you’re such a hot shot, Marinette? You think you can take the spotlight from me without repercussions? I’m going to make sure everyone hates you and loves me, and you’ll learn your lesson for trying to cross me. After all, who can say no to Princess Perfect?”

Gabriel sighs through his nose. Are all teens this dramatic?

Apparently, they are. Betrayal comes from those closest to home, because it’s Adrien that holds up his arms even higher, still staring Lila down. “You’re going to have to go through me if you want to hurt her,” he promises. “Marinette, get out of here! Run!”

Oh, for heaven’s sake—

Two things happen at once. Lila darts towards them, her whip lashing out directly at Adrien. Gabriel swears under his breath—why isn’t Adrien moving out of the way? Why is he so intent on protecting that useless girl? “Lila!” he barks through the bond, but the akumatized girl is too far gone. “Touch him and I’ll make sure—”

Gabriel trails into dumbfounded silence when Marinette shoves Adrien aside, grabs the end of Lila’s whip, and tugs the weapon straight out of the girl’s hands.

“You’ve gone too far,” she growls in a tone so chilly that it even reaches him. “Adrien, get out of here! I can handle her.”

Lila’s own shock lasts for a couple of times before she regains some of her composure. “You?” she sneers. “Handle me? Why, you pathetic—”

Adrien chucks a pencil case at Lila. It hits her cheek, and she whirls on him, enraged. At the same time, Marinette darts away from the window and slides behind the large wooden desk at the front. Gabriel, still watching the scene unfold, scoffs. So for all her big talk, she’s still nothing but a coward.

“Stand down,” he commands Lila once more. “Don’t you dare touch Adrien—what the hell?”

Lila seems to have noticed the source of his bewilderment as well, but it’s far too late. From underneath the desk, Marinette has lifted the thing—the giant, wooden desk—onto her shoulders.

Gabriel’s positive he stops breathing.

“Wait—” Lila begins. He sees it all through her eyes: Marinette braces herself for a moment and then throws it—throws the desk that a grown man shouldn’t be able to lift—right at Lila.

She doesn’t stand a chance. Lila goes down in a crash, pinned under the weight of Ms. Bustier’s desk that this small, petite girl had somehow bench-pressed and then chucked.

As much as Lila struggles, she is unable to remove the desk from on top of her. Given that his akumas have enhanced strength and she’s still incapable of lifting it, just how strong is Marinette?

Said girl in question stalks over to Lila. She plants a foot firmly against the overturned side of the desk and looks down at the girl trapped underneath.

Gabriel is certain that somehow, impossible as it sounds, Marinette is staring right through Lila’s eyes, through their connection, and into his own. His body freezes. His jaw locks. And for the first time in a very, very long time, Gabriel Agreste is absolutely terrified.

“Next time you try something like this,” Marinette growls, leaning in, “I won’t let you off so easily.”

With that ominous note, she snatches the necklace off Lila’s neck and marches right out of the classroom.

Gabriel remains frozen for a couple more moments. He isn’t certain if he still remembers how to breathe.

It wasn’t Ladybug nor Chat Noir that had foiled this plan. No, it was Adrien Agreste’s classmate, a girl who had previously annoyed him, that had single handedly defeated an akuma and scared him absolutely shitless.

What. The. Fuck.

***

“Adrien,” Gabriel says over dinner. “You know that girl you always talk about? Marinette Dupain-Cheng?”

His son looks up from his meal with a bright look on his face. Once upon a time, Gabriel would’ve been annoyed. Now, after reevaluating the girl, he comes to the conclusion that it’s best Adrien stays on Marinette’s good side. She’s probably more than capable of beating his son up.

“Yeah, Marinette?” Adrien echoes. “You know how there was an akuma attack today? Well, Marinette was actually there in the classroom with me when the akuma came for us.”

Gabriel is forced to play ignorant. “Oh? What happened?”

“Well, the akuma tried to attack us, and Marinette picked up a desk—you might find it hard to believe, and honestly I would’ve too if I hadn’t seen her do it—and threw it at the akuma. When Ladybug and Chat Noir finally showed up, there wasn’t even anything for them to do.”

Gabriel shifts in his seat. “That is… rather unbelievable."

Except he swears he can still feel the heat of Marinette’s glare, and is forced to accept that this is the reality he’s living in.

“Why did you ask about her, though, father?”

He snaps back into the present. “Huh?”

“Marinette—why did you ask about her? Wait, father, are you reconsidering hiring her? Did you finally look at the designs I sent you? This is amazing. I’m sure she’ll do amazing. Your stocks will rise. You’ll get more customers. Marinette’s basically a walking lucky charm—this will be the best decision you’ve ever made, father. I promise.”

He frowns at Adrien. “Don’t make preposterous suggestions. But yes— I am considering giving Marinette Dupain-Cheng a job at the company, perhaps an internship one of the senior designers. She’s very… talented.”

He thinks of the way she’d lifted the desk and flung it at Lila. Talented, indeed.

Perhaps talented enough to finally give him an edge against Ladybug and Chat Noir.

***

Marinette Dupain-Cheng is more than eager to come in for a so-called interview. Nathalie has done her digging on the girl: she’s made it pretty big quite a couple times already, in the fashion industry and has quite a few connections. Even if Gabriel’s motivations aren’t technically for the company, he has to admit that she has much future potential to tap into in the future. But for now, that’s not his goal.

She’s impeccably dressed when Nathalie leads her inside his study. Her eyes are positively shining when she beams at Gabriel. “Mr. Agreste!” Marinette chirps. “I’m so happy to be here. When Adrien told me you wanted to interview me for the job…this is such an amazing opportunity to be presented with, and I am so honoured.”

Gabriel exchanges a glance with Nathalie. She nods subtly.

“It’s my pleasure to meet you, Ms. Dupain-Cheng.” He rises from his desk and holds out his hand for her to shake. She does so.

It takes all of Gabriel’s self-control not to show the pain on his face when she grips his hand.

How the fuck is this girl so strong?

Thankfully, Marinette doesn’t seem to notice anything wrong. Gabriel draws back his hand and tucks it behind his back. It’s throbbing.

“So, Marinette.” He sits back down at his desk. Marinette is practically bouncing on the balls of her feet. If she were any normal person, Gabriel might’ve snapped at her to settle down, but after that show with Lila yesterday, he decides that it’s for his own good not to get on her bad side. He’ll just have to channel all his patience—for self-preservation, really. “I understand that you’re interested in interning at my company?”

She nods excitedly. “I’ve been designing for years, Mr. Agreste—I’m aware that I have a lot to improve on—”

“What I have in mind for you—” Gabriel pauses, realizing that he’d interrupted her. Hurriedly, he gulps. “Never mind. Continue.”

“I’m aware that I have a lot to improve on but I’m a very quick learner! I promise I’ll do my very best to help you and your company.”

He nods. “That’s good to hear. For now, I’ll… I’ll arrange with Nathalie what we can assign you to do in the company. And I have another favour to ask of you, if it’s not too much.”

Marinette smiles. “Whatever it is, I’ll do my best to help you!”

Nathalie had warned him to be careful with Marinette—one wrong move and he could be ousted as Hawkmoth. He takes a deep breath. “I have become aware that there are some bad influences around my son in school. You are friends with Adrien, yes?”

“Yes, and… bad influences?” Marinette frowns, shifting her weight. “Oh, yeah, there’s one in particular. Actually, I’m not sure if you’re aware, Mr. Agreste, but I’m glad you brought it up. You know that akuma yesterday? That girl’s name was Lila Rossi. She’s been hanging around Adrien quite a bit these days, and ‘bad influence’ barely covers what she does. And—oh! When I confronted her once about making Adrien uncomfortable, she told me she had a ‘friend in a high place’ that was backing her up. I think you might want to look into that too, Mr. Agreste. It was pretty worrisome, to be honest.”

Gabriel’s mouth has gone dry. “I… yes. Yes, I shall look into that too.”

Marinette rolls her shoulders. “God, if I knew who they were, I’d throw them into the Seine. How dare they.” Then her eyes widen. “Sorry, Mr. Agreste! I was just… um, I was just talking to myself. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s perfectly alright,” Gabriel reassures immediately, although it doesn’t do much to ease the chill that is travelling up his spine. “Then it’s decided? Nathalie will give you her contact information—you can send her your resume just for formalities, and she will organize the rest. And… be sure to keep an eye on my son at school.”

“I will!” Marinette chirps, ever so chipper. Behind that attitude lies the strength to lift the desk he’s currently sitting and crush him. And much, much more.

Nathalie guides the girl away. Gabriel is unable to breathe fully until she leaves.

He has to calculate this well, because he can’t afford to lose a potential ally like Marinette Dupain-Cheng. He’s already thinking—perhaps she would do well with the Peacock Miraculous, or the Bee Miraculous, if he can get his hands on it again. If—if he can somehow convince Marinette to help him with his cause, all of his other plans don’t even need to go into action. Ladybug and Chat Noir will never see this coming.

Nathalie returns. “Sir, your face is rather pale,” she notes. “But may I ask what that was about? You were… unusually lenient today.”

Gabriel clears his throat and straightens in his seat. “Never mind me,” he dismisses. “But first, I need to contact Lila Rossi as soon as possible to cut off all ties. Let her know she’s fired.”

“Is this because…?”

He allows himself a small smile. “You’ll see soon, Nathalie,” he reassures. “We’ve finally got the upperhand in this fight.”

Notes: i lost brain cells writing it, and i’m sure y’all have lost brain cells reading it.

Fics masterlist here!

#miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #gabriel agreste #hawkmoth #bamf marinette #gabriel is TERRIFIED of marinette #as he should be #crack #humour #yall asked for this its not my fault #ml #mlb fic #my writing #that being said if you tag this gabrinette i will hunt you down

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dr-spencer-reids-queen · 4 years ago

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Poison: Part One

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Word Count: ~1.8k

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill, fluff and angst

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there is any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated.

Feedback is gold, and it’s the only currency I take

"What is food to one is to others bitter poison." - Lucretius

Cases involving children are never your strong suit. The last one with Billie Copeland was just so hard, you’re not sure if you can be involved in another one--that is until you learned what this case is really all about. Yes, there is a child involved, but the bigger picture has a much larger scale than children.

You have to remind yourself that you need to focus on the case and not on Spencer. It shouldn’t even be a hard thing to do, but something happened between you two when you took him to the bookstore right next to your apartment. After checking out a couple of books, and after Spencer had read virtually all of them, you decided it was kind of late and that you needed to get home. The store was closing very soon anyway, so Spencer opted to walk you home.

When you got to your door, he decided to give you a kiss on your cheek, but you moved your head at the last minute. He accidentally got the corner of your mouth, and that messed up his whole thing. Based on his reaction to your mouths almost touching, you know he can’t be that interested in you. If he were, then he would have just kissed you right there and then. Instead, he stuttered a goodbye and left.

You haven’t been able to stop thinking about him since. Does he like you? If so, then why won’t he just kiss you? If he doesn’t, then why does he agree to go on these dates with you. Whenever you two go out, you clearly state that this is a date, and he doesn’t say anything that dismisses that idea. Sometimes, you just wish you knew what was going on inside that big brain of his so you can dejumble it and tell him what the fuck is going on. You’d do it now, but you have a case that needs your full attention.

Apparently, a man and his son were driving down the road one night when the father pulled to the side of the road and got out. He walked into the woods, the son followed after him, and the father beat him almost to death. The son is in the hospital undergoing critical care while the father is in the psych ward. You’re not sure how it happened or why, but you know that it did. Hotch and Gideon got hold of the interrogation video sent over by the New Jersey Police Department.

Detective Hanover is the person who is going to be in charge and is also the person who you will be working with the entire time you’re in Jersey.

“State trooper took this before the paramedics showed up,” the detective says and shows Jack Fisher, the father of Eric Fisher, a picture of his unconscious body. “He's unconscious and has four broken bones. He's gonna be in the hospital for a month.”

“I didn't hurt my son,” Jack sighs.

“Do you remember removing the tire iron from the trunk?”

What, he used a tire iron? You gasp softly and put your hand to your mouth as you continue to watch.

“No! No!”

“What's the last thing you remember?”

“I picked Eric up from school on Friday, for the weekend. Who would do this?” he cries softly.

Hotch ends the video there and addresses the entire briefing room.

“This happened two days ago in Beechwood, New Jersey. Mr. Fisher had ingested LSD one afternoon and didn't come down until eighteen hours later.”

“The hospital reported six other patients who ingested LSD in the last twenty-four hours. The hospital called the CDC, then the CDC called us,” JJ finishes.

“So, a bunch of people got spiked. What makes it a BAU case?” Derek wonders.

“They each received ten to twenty times the normal dose.”

“That’s enough to kill a small child,” Spencer informs.

“Or cause a grown man to try and kill him with a tire iron apparently,” you sigh.

“Of the seven victims, there was one death and one coma. This is from the hospital's security footage the same night Fisher lost it,” JJ explains and uses the remote to put a different video on the screen.

It’s of the hospital that is in complete chaos. People are shouting, pushing, yelling, and apparently, having seizures. One man is on a stretcher, and he’s clearly on something. The doctors around him try to push past the madness of people to get him to a room while the nurses have their hands full of scared and angry patients. This wasn’t a spike or an overdose…

“These people didn’t get spiked. They were poisoned,” you reveal.

“Of the seven victims, Gail Norman was the only death. She was seventy-eight. She ran out into the middle of the road, and she was hit by a car. She was DOA,” JJ reveals on the plane ride over to New Jersey.

You’re sitting next to Spencer in one of the seats that are super cramped so that they can fit four of them in on either side of a small table. You’re sitting by the window, so essentially, Spencer is blocking you in. He’s not a big person, but because you have romantic feelings for him, it feels like a fucking trap.

“The other potentially fatal case is nine-year-old Brittany Canon. She fell out of a treehouse and fractured her skull. She's in a coma, but the doctors don't know if she's going to come out of it,” Hotch says.

“How do you wanna handle the press?” Gideon asks the liaison.

“We still don't know how these people even got dosed. I think it would be irresponsible to issue a warning without specifics. It'll just cause panic. I did notify the local PD, though, to be discreet.”

“How is it possible that none of these people knew how they got poisoned?” Derek wonders.

“None of them remembers anything about the day it happened,” you say and gesture, but your hand brushes up against Spencer’s leg.

You blush and mutter an apology, but he doesn’t say anything about it. He looks at you and blushes as well, but he is better at hiding it than you are.

“These people were so messed up; it's made it difficult for local PD to retrace the victim's steps.”

“So, we need to go on precedent. We know there are four types of poisoners who target multiple victims,” Gideon starts.

“There's the true believer--the political terrorist/religious cult. There's the extortionist--the product tamperer that holds the business hostage in exchange for money. The prankster--it’s usually a younger offender who doesn't mean any harm, and it's basically just a big practical joke to them. Then we have the avenger--someone with a personal vendetta who chooses poison as their weapon,” you explain the different types of offenders.

“We need to find out as quickly as possible which type he is. Because with the exception of the prankster, all these types commonly test their poison on a small scale before appearing at a larger attack.”

“Then, let's hope this one was just a prank,” Derek scoffs.

"I suggest we split up the victims and see if there's a pattern to the victimology,” Gideon suggests.

“Most of them are still in the hospital. I'll call local PD to meet us there,” Hotch confirms.

“I'll check the lab reports. Maybe there's a clue to the unsub's motive in the specific nature of the poison he used,” Spencer calls dibs.

“I can't imagine anybody could want this to happen.”

“If you don’t mind, I’ll head to the hospital with you. The kid may not be able to tell the doctor anything, but I certainly can. I’ll be able to see what really happened if his mother allows it.”

“Good,” Gideon nods once. “We need all the answers we can get.”

The hospital is buzzing with panic, fear, sadness, and grief. Many people are dying in this hospital, and to someone like you, you’re not sure you can be here for much longer. Hotch, Gideon, and the rest of the team don’t really understand how this all affects you. Normal people like the ones on your team see this hospital for what it is. They see people grieving and people crying, but they allow themselves to be separated from their emotions. They can walk into a loud crowd and tune out all the conversations and emotions without even thinking about it.

Not you. You’re completely different.

You walk into a crowd, and you’re overwhelmed by not only the physical sensation of people all around you, but your mind is also crowded. Your mind goes into overdrive as it inspects each person to make sure they are not a threat. To make sure that they are who they say they are. A normal person can see a kid walking down the street and not know they are kidnapped while you are able to determine that.

You walk into this hospital, and every single emotion of every single nurse, doctor, patient, and family member immediately go to your shoulders. Someone can be dying on the very top floor, and you’d feel how sad their family members are as they watch their beloved ones slip away. There could be someone in the next room receiving bad news, and it’ll be like you’re receiving the same news. It’s not fun living with your abilities, and you’ve caught yourself wishing it would all just end. However, you think about everyone you’ve saved, and it somehow all makes it okay.

“Detective Hanover, Beechwood PD,” the detective that was on the surveillance tape introduces himself to you, Gideon, and Hotch.

“Agent Hotchner, this is Agent Gideon and Agent Y/L/N.”

“Thanks for coming down on such short notice. The doctor said he may have permanent brain damage. I've never seen anything like this,” he sighs and looks at Eric, the little boy who was beaten by his own father.

“Well, let's hope we can help him.”

“Have you had a chance to review the victim's files?”

“We're especially interested in talking to the boy's father,” Gideon says.

“We'd like to get a sense of why he turned violent while the lab analyzes the specific nature of the LSD he was dosed with. we'd like to get our own sense: was it the drug itself or was there something else going on? Hopefully, that can give us a little bit of a window into the motive of the offender,” Hotch explains.

“He's in the psych ward.”

“Well, we'll keep it short,” Gideon replies.

“If you don’t mind, I’ll meet up with you two. I’m going to talk to the mother,” you offer, and Hotch just nods.

wanna be tagged? add yourself to this document! if your tag doesn’t work, find out why!

@averyhotchner @lets-be-gay-for-the-angel @fan-girl-97 @paulaern @inkstainedwritergirl @estrela-rogers @abitchforjay @kwbaby24 @redsalv20 @joonie-centric @spencerreid-mgg @sixpencespencee @boygenius-reid @reidemandweep @prophecyflame @happynekochan1

#poison #series rewrite #criminal minds series rewrite #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #cm #cm fanfiction #season 1 episode 13 #s1e13

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random-thought-depository · 3 years ago

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The infamously corny Star Trek TOS episode The Omega Glory was on TV last night and I watched it. My ideas for how I’d rewrite it to make it less silly:

---

The Yang ancestral culture wasn’t literally the USA, it was just a society that looked kind-of sort-of like the USA in the same way some pre-Columbian American and ancient Indian societies may have looked kind-of sort-of like ancient Athens. That by itself would make the episode much less stupid, and you could keep most of the same basic ideas.

Since we’re not bound to absurd levels of parallelism anymore, I’d personally be inclined to make the Kohms light-skinned blue-eyed blond(e)s and make the Yangs darker-skinned with darker hair and eyes, and imply that the Kohm ancestral society was fascist instead of communist. Maybe sprinkle some symbols distantly reminiscent of Nazi iconography around the Kohm village. It’s not like there was any meaningful connection between the Kohms and communism anyway, and I feel this resonates better with a lot of the ideas the episode was going for. Admittedly, this is probably influenced by my own biases.

---

Basically swap the roles of Cloud Williams and his mostly silent female companion who doesn’t really do much.

Why? Let’s think about how Yang society might work for a moment. I’m going to say they’re horse-riding big game hunters, like the nineteenth century Great Plains native American cultures on Earth, because 1) that fits with the idea that they’ve been driven into marginal lands and had to become nomads, 2) if you want nomads capable of assembling armies of thousands of people it’s either that or Eurasian-style herders, 3) it fits with the “they’ve become like native Americans” idea. They’re very slow-aging, theoretically capable of living over a thousand years ... but if they’re like their precedent cultures on Earth they probably live fairly rough and dangerous lives and I think would probably tend to live only a few decades or centuries before dying in a hunting accident or battle or something like that. But... going by Earth precedent, it would probably be mostly the men who do the most high-risk activities of hunting and war, which might result in very gender-asymmetrical life expectancy patterns, where men tend to only live a few decades or centuries while women stay relatively safe and have a decent chance of living to be thousand year old ancients. This would be compounded by 1) a lower death rate would mean a lower birth rate for replacement rate reproduction, 2) they’re almost immune to infectious diseases, which would make childbirth in primitive conditions much safer, so that would greatly reduce the probable primary cause of death for women in such a society (childbirth complications). So I think it’s pretty plausible that they’d have a more-or-less matriarchal society where women have a lot of power because they live a lot longer and hence have a lot more time to accumulate experience and become repositories of culture (important for a low-tech nomadic society that will have a mostly oral culture!).

So, I’d gender-swap Cloud Williams; my version of her would a matriarch with a leadership position in her tribe because she’s one of its oldest able-bodied members, she’s got a thousand years of experience and she’s had time to memorize a lot of the oral histories of her tribe and become basically a living library. Why would such a person be anywhere near a battlefield? Well, “the oral histories of her tribe” would include a lot of war stories, with detailed and often basically accurate descriptions of tactics and strategy because that’s how knowledge of how to win wars against Kohms and rival Yang tribes is transmitted in her society. She’s a living tactical manual, so of course she leads her tribe’s warriors in battle.

She could have a companion who’s a big guy who doesn’t talk much and does the brute strength side of what in the episode is Cloud Williams’s role (fighting Kirk in the cell, ripping out the bars). Maybe he’s her grandson, and was captured with her because one of his roles in the tribe is to be her bodyguard in battle.

----

Related to what I just said, have a bit where Captain Tracey says that he expected the primitive and superstitious Yangs to be overawed by phasers, but instead it was almost like they have a recent cultural memory of war with modern weapons and war against technologically superior opponents and they quickly started using effective counter tactics. Given the explanation in the episode for the long lifespans of people on Omega IV (very strong selection pressure for disease resistance), none of the Yangs would actually remember the ancient high-tech Yang civilization and original war against the Kohms, but the generational transmission chains from a lot of presently living Yang matriarchs to that time might be relatively short. For a lot of the presently living Yang matriarchs shooting down Kohm helicopters with surface-to-air missiles and ambushing Kohm armored columns in mountain passes might be something like “my grandma’s time.”

----

The reason the “Eee Plab Neesta” sounds like gibberish is that Cloud Williams is reciting it in its archaic original language, which the living Yang language has evolved into mutual incomprehensibility with. The Yangs might have one lovingly preserved paper copy of their equivalent of the Declaration of Independence, but their culture is mostly oral, and they mostly preserve the “holy words” in the heads of the matriarchs, who memorize it and transmit it from mother to daughter exactly (“by heart”), being careful to get every syllable right so it does not become distorted. The oldest matriarchs can still speak the ancient language, but for most of the Yangs, especially the relatively short-lived men, it’s like me listening to somebody recite Beowulf in its original language.

This is more-or-less my headcanon for what’s going in the actual episode too: the “Eee Plab Neesta” is just the text in its original now archaic form of the Yang language, which the universal translator can’t translate because it doesn’t have a big enough sample to work on. I’d make that much more explicit though.

The way I’d handle the scene is to have Cloud Williams start to recite the Eee Plan Neesta, and then have Kirk ask her what it means and suggest that she try to translate it into the everyday language of the Yangs so all her people could hear it with understanding, and of course it wouldn’t be the actual Declaration of Independence but something different but with a similar spirit, something like this:

“We the people of these five colonies of the nation across the sea and seven nations of the original inhabitants of this land, establish a Union, which we found in and organize according to the following principles: that all people are equally precious, that laws exist by the consent of the people and to serve the people, that leaders serve the people and hold their offices by the consent of the people...”

Then have Kirk give his speech about how these words are meant for everyone and not just for chiefs and should be something shared among all the people and lived by and not something gatekept behind archaic language most people can’t understand. Have him reference the USA founding documents by saying that his world has something very similar and he knows from the history of his own world how world-changing these ideas can be and how precious they are.

----

Obviously you can’t do that “the Yangs try to find out if Kirk recognizes the holy words, and Kirk almost recognizes them but not quite” thing with this version, so the equivalent I propose is:

Kirk recognizes the original functions of Yang “holy relics,” i.e. relics from the ancient Yang civilization: one is part of a machine that once carried people through the air (it’s a snapped-off piece of a helicopter blade), one was a device for seeing far away things as if they’re near (it’s a broken pair of binoculars), one was a machine which people could use to talk to people who were beyond the horizon (it’s a broken-down cell phone), etc.. OK, the last thing is anachronistic for TOS, but if I were writing this as a fanfic it’s what I’d do.

Cloud Williams starts to recite a long epic poem the Yangs have that tells their entire history, to see if Kirk will recognize it. Of course Kirk doesn’t, but while the Yangs don’t have history books they do use visual textile art as an aid to memory and they’ve set up a big story cloth that depicts the narrative in the room and Kirk goes over to it and starts pointing to pictures on it and correctly interpreting them:

“Here, the Yangs were oppressed by kings. The Yangs rebelled and overthrew their kings and made a new nation that had no kings. After this the Yangs became very rich and very powerful, they built great cities. The lords of the Kohms were threatened by this and they used terrible weapons on the Yangs and invaded the Yang land with great armies. Here’s a Yang city being destroyed in an instant by a Kohm weapon. The Kohm lords were so threatened that they tried to destroy the Yangs’ whole way of life. The Yangs retreated to the bad lands and kept fighting. Here are Kohm flying machines attacking a Yang village, and a Yang warrior hiding behind a rock destroying one of those flying machines with a lance of fire. The Kohm lords couldn’t overcome the Yangs until they brought the Death Thirst to the Yang lands in a box and let it out. But that weapon had a life of its own, and turned against the Kohms, and almost destroyed them too. Only a few Yangs survived in the bad lands, and the Kohms claimed the good Yang lands and settled them. But the Yangs survived, they learned the bow and the lance, and eventually their numbers started to increase. The survivors lived longer than people had before; you interpreted this as a gift for the Yangs and curse on the Kohms by the Great Spirit, so that both might live to see you retake what was once yours. And little by little, you did retake what was once yours...”

----

One way to suggest the Enterprise crew making a positive difference on Omega IV at the end of the episode: have Kirk convince the Yangs to spare the Kohm civilians in that village.

The victorious Yangs are all set to give the last Kohms the Numbers 31 treatment, which is what they usually do when they overrun a Kohm community. Of course, Kirk is horrified by this, and he manages to use arguments involving the Yang “holy words” to convince the Yangs to be merciful instead. “Your own holy words say that every person is equally precious! Every person! That includes the Kohms too! If you really mean it, it includes the Kohms too! They’re no threat to you anymore! Did you fight for so long just for a chance to do to them what they tried to do to you? If so, how are you any better than them? Your own holy words claim to be for all people! Your own holy words say that all people are more alike than they are different, and all people are capable of appreciating the gift of freedom! If that’s true, then your holy words are for the Kohms too! That’s why the Kohm lords were so threatened by you, because they were afraid of what would happen if the Kohm people heard those powerful, good words! Tell the Kohms about your holy words!”

So Cloud Williams agrees to make a merciful and peaceful settlement with the “last of the Kohm places,” let it integrate peacefully into Yang society with no further bloodshed and no abuse inflicted or spoils taken. And then Kirk says “If you mean your words of freedom, your work didn’t end today, it’s just starting. Build good seaworthy boats that can cross the ocean, and send people to the Kohms across the sea, so they can hear your words of freedom too! The words of your ancestors are for them too! You’d never be able to conquer them, but they can hear your words!”

#Star Trek #fanfic ideas #cw: Nazis #kinda #cw: genocide #I read/watch something

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margridarnauds · 4 years ago

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@inkandglitter21

This is a VERY good question! And one that I think keeps quite a few people in the field up at night, to be honest, but I’m going to give the best answer I possibly can, hence why I’m giving it its own post. My apologies in advance if this gets slightly technical - Some of this is kind of inherently technical and complicated. I also am going to HAVE to mention that I’m doing my best to represent the closest thing we can get to a consensus of the field, but that doesn’t mean that someone, in a week or so, can’t publish an article that blows this out of the water. It happens.

As a further warning, which I give every single time I discuss the issues inherent to the study of this material: I am not a religious authority. I’m a Celticist. I love the Tuatha Dé, but I can’t claim any form of spiritual connection with them. (As LGE would say, “Though the author enumerates them, she does not worship them.”) So, to anyone who reads this who might have a connection to the figures described....I can’t say anything about the relationship that you, personally, have with them. I can only say what we know, what we don’t know, and what we’re still kind of scratching our heads at with regards to the medieval material. Part of why I’ve, traditionally, sworn off talking about Bríg, Danu, and Morrigan is specifically because they tend to arouse some very strong feelings, and I never really wanted to get caught in something I couldn’t handle.

But, also. What use is a geas if you don’t break it, likely leading you to your tragic-yet-inevitable doom?

So, first off, let’s talk Lebor Gabála Érenn. MAGNIFICENT text, and a personal baby of mine. Chock full of information about the Tuatha Dé, the Fir Bolg, the Milesians, the High Kings of Ireland....basically everything a person could ever want to know. A mythographer’s dream and nightmare all in one. But, there’s a problem with it, and it’s one that I feel like Celticists have never stressed enough to the public, not the least because Celticists, as a group, tend to be a little....terrified of LGE. There are relatively few scholars who want to work with it after Macalister’s edition (to understand the reception to Macalister: A personal hobby of mine is collecting remarks other scholars have made about his edition, because they can be BRUTAL.) It has been described as “almost unreadable.” Which is kind of forgivable given the man was DYING when he made it, but still.

Why are so many scholars scared of LGE? Well, primarily, because it’s hard to say that there was one singular LGE. LGE, as we know it, was compiled in about the 11th century. Or, it began to be compiled in the 11th century. It’s a Middle Irish text (so, it’s coming significantly later than, say, Tochmarc Étaíne or Cath Maige Tuired, which are both ~9th century texts, though CMT was given revisions in the 11th century to bring it in line with LGE). And it is based off of a MUCH bigger genre of pseudohistorical texts, with many of the older texts being missing or destroyed. (The one generally most mourned by us is the one in Cín Dromma Snechta, which could have dated to as early as the 8th century and definitely contained a sort of proto-LGE. We know this because LGE cites it on occasion, so the tradition didn’t fully die out, we just don’t have the full thing.) So, to begin with, LGE is a mixed bag, based off of essentially all the work that came before it, with the scribes involved basically playing a juggling game with what prior scribes jotted down. (You can see it every once in a while, where a redactor will say something like “Certain ignorant people believe ____, but it is clearly not the case, for _________.”)

It’s almost better to view it as a scrapbook than a single text - You have about 3-4 recensions (different scholars identified different recensions) spread out over around 20 surviving manuscripts, each recension containing significant amounts of detail that vary from their counterparts. Also, studded across LGE, you have a variety of poems that are believed to date either before or at around the same time that LGE was being compiled. (Part of what drives scholars up a WALL with Macalister’s translation is that, besides not identifying the original poets for the poems featured in LGE, he also separated the poems from the text around them. And, as someone who did have to work with that translation....yeah, it is a hot mess. Sorry and RIP, Macalister, but it’s a mess.)

Now, you might wonder: Why am I telling you this? You came at me with a mythography question and I’m hitting you with manuscript studies. But THIS is the context that it’s existing in - I know it’s fairly popular to kind of talk shit about the scribes writing this stuff down, but it’s very important to understand that they were really trying their best to understand this stuff, just like we were. And, between the various recensions of LGE, we can actually SEE the tradition evolve. One of the key ways to know that Something Pre-Christian is going on is if NONE of the redactors could agree on someone. If you see someone’s depiction REALLY shifting around, you know that the redactors were having an issue with them, possibly dealing with multiple contradictory traditions.

Enter the Bríg/Dana/Anu/Morrigan problem. AKA “Things that will cause me to have nightmares.” So, let’s try to take this piece by piece.

The term “Tuatha Dé Danann” is generally accepted to be a later addition. There was not, before a certain time in the Irish mythological tradition, any notion of a goddess named “Danu”. (Established by John Carey in the article, “The name Tuatha Dé Danann”-- Essentially, the term “Tuatha Dé” was the original, but then, with the influence of the term Tuatha Dé, or “Tribe of God” to refer to the Israelites, they felt they had to disambiguate it to “Tuatha Dé Danann”, or “People of Skill”, and then people mistook “Danann” as being the name of a goddess...if I remember correctly, since I don’t have it to hand at the moment.) It is very important to establish this off the bat. Now, how did this get started? And where does this web begun to be woven? Well, I feel like someone could probably write at LEAST a MA dissertation on the topic, possibly even a PhD, and it definitely isn’t going to be me, but I can try my best.

So. The Trí Dé Dána (Three Gods of Skill).

Originally, it seems very likely that the genitive component Dána in their name was not meant to be a proper name. They were not MEANT to be perceived as “The Three Gods of Dana”, but “the three gods of skill”. As noted by O’Rahilly (and GOD, it hurts me when he’s right), the first time we really have the phrase referenced is in Cath Maige Tuired, where, he argues, and I have to agree with him, that it refers to Goibhniu, Luchta, and Credne, who Lugh goes to for weapons to fight against the Fomoire. Additionally, you have a gloss on the 9th century text “Immacallam in Dá Thuarad: Ecna mac na tri nDea nDána” that says that their mother was Bríg, though also seems to indicate, specifically, a connection with the filid, which keeps neatly with the LGE reference (and to the image of Bríg as a poetess. I don’t have enough time to talk Bríg here, but if you want to see what I had to say a while back, I made a post here) After the 12th century, though, when the name “Danu” became associated with the Tuatha Dé, a bunch of medieval scribes looked at “Trí Dé Dána” and thought, not UNREASONABLY, “Oh? This is a reference to Danu? Let’s fix that grammar!” So you have, in some later recensions of LGE, the name “Trí Dé Dána” replaced by “Tré dée Danann/Donand/Danand.” It is vital to mention, as Williams does in Ireland’s Immortals (189), that “Danu/Donu” is never attested, it’s always Donand/Danand. So, from the get-go, trying to identify “Danand” with “Anu” was going to be problematic at best. The general consensus seems to be that Bríg and Bres were the original parents of the Trí Dé, and that it’s very possible that they were, originally, specifically associated with the filid, or poets, with this fitting very neatly into both Bres and Bríg’s associations with the Dagda, Ogma, and, of course, Elatha, but that, with Cath Maige Tuired in the 9th century and the new tradition of Bres as a tyrant, it all got muddled, with traces of it lingering into LGE. (Myth and Mythography)

But, what about “Anu?” Who is this figure? And THIS, my friends, is where things REALLY begin to get fucky. She is identified in Cormac’s Glossary as mater deorum hibernensium, “Mother of the gods of Ireland” - That is beyond doubt. This ties in very naturally with the conflation of Danand/Danu as the mother of the Trí Dé Dána that we discussed earlier. It was, to a certain extent, natural that the two of them would become intertwined.

So, this means that Anu is a genuine pre-Christian figure who became entangled up with the whole Danu business?

Well....

Michael Clarke, in his exploration of the intellectual environment of medieval Ireland, points out that the reference to “Anu” is, in fact, VERY similar to both Isidore of Sevile and in Carolingian mythographical compilations relating to the Greek goddess Cybele, indicating that the scribe, when he was jotting that down, might have very well had that in mind (52-53). Does this mean that they invented ANOTHER goddess and then conflated that goddess with another invented goddess?

...not quite.

Because we still have to account for things like, for example, a mountain known as “The Paps of Anand”, which isn’t easily ascribed to a classical influence. (As noted by Mark Williams, with the typical mixture of good humor and good sense that characterizes his writing,“It beggars belief to think that the Pre-Christian Irish would not have associated so impressively breasted a landscape with a female deity.”) (189). Also, as noted by Williams, even the most skeptical argument cannot explain where Anu comes from. It seems unlikely that they would simply create a goddess out of thin air. Even Danu, as sketchy as her existence is, came from SOMEWHERE, even if it was a linguistic, instead of spiritual, basis. But THEN we have to deal with another question: If this figure is so important, why doesn’t she show up in any of the myths? Why let the Dagda, Lugh, the Morrigan, Midir, Óengus, Ogma, and Nuada have all the fun? The Dagda in particular is as close to a BLATANTLY pre-Christian deity as you can get on-page, so it can’t be chalked up to a simple “They didn’t want to depict the mother of the gods on page.” Mark Williams suggests, tentatively, that Anu might have been a minor Munster figure who swelled in popularity, possibly dropped in by some Munster-based scribes who wanted to bolster their own province’s reputation and, equally tentatively, without further evidence to go on, I have to agree with him. I believe there’s too much evidence to suggest that there was SOMETHING, but that there’s also too little to say that she had the range or influence described, and that it’s very likely that, at the very least, the scribe writing that entry had Cybele on his mind. It’s really, really a mystery, though.

Furthermore, as John Carey notes in “Notes on the Irish War Goddess”....why conflate Anu with the Morrigan? “While it may be plausible....to explain a war-goddess’s possession of sexual characteristics...it is considerably more difficult to follow that chain of thought in reverse in order to account for a land goddess with martial traits. Not is there any evident reason for a conflation of Anu/Anann and the Morrígan unless the former were to some extent linked with war already” pointing out that, relevant to the first paragraph of this, it SEEMS like her inclusion among the daughters of Ernmas was forced on the redactor by a prior tradition (271). Sometimes, she’s a fourth daughter of Ernmas, sometimes she’s a replacement for the Morrigan, sometimes, in the later texts, she’s associated with Danu. It’s like the various authors KNEW they had to include her in there somehow, but they didn’t know how, and she didn’t fit in smoothly once they did. Are we looking at a war/land goddess , obscure enough that the redactor didn’t know where to put her, deciding that she HAD to be the Morrigan/one of the Morrigan’s sisters but not knowing exactly how to fit her in? It wouldn’t be the first time multiple traditions clashed like this. Also, as noted by Sharon Paice Macleod, who gave a very thorough (if not always, in my opinion, sufficiently contextual) account of the tradition, there is a location called the “Paps of the Morrigan”, further suggesting a fertility aspect to the Morrigan that also features into Carey’s earlier argument of dual aspects to the Irish war goddess, along with Bhreatnach’s suggestion of the sovereignty goddess, who represents the land in the medieval Irish literary tradition (and into the present) also functioning as a goddess of death. (Indeed, as noted by Bhreatnach, the hag Cailb from Togail Bruidne Dá Derga, who functions as a sort of anti-sovereignty goddess, identifies herself with Nemain and Badb, at 255. Sovereignty giveth, sovereignty taketh away when you don’t fulfill your place as king.)

Basically, as with almost everything relating to pre-Christian religion in Ireland, we’ve really, really got to shrug our shoulders and go “Fuck if I know, mate.”

My best attempt at a tl;dr for...this:

LGE - WEIRD

Danu - Help us.

Trí Dé - Who’s your daddy? (Most likely? Bres originally, though it got out of hand after, like, the 12th century.)

Anu - Who are you? (Who, Who?)

Sources:

Scowcroft, “Leabhar Gabhála Part I: The growth of the text" (For the discussion on the different recensions of LGE.)

John Carey, “The Irish National Origin-Legend: Synthetic Pseudohistory”

T.F O’Rahilly, Early Irish History and Mythology

Máire Bhreathnach, “The Sovereignty Goddess as Goddess of Death”

John Carey, “The name Tuatha Dé Danann”

Mark Williams, Ireland’s Immortals (Who, really, puts this all together in a so much more cohesive way in his book, I highly recommend it to anyone who wants to get an idea of how these things develop.)

John Carey, “Myth and Mythography in Cath Maige Tuired.”

Michael Clarke, “Linguistic Education and Literary Creativity in Medieval Ireland”.

John Carey, “Notes on the Irish War Goddess”

Sharon Paice Macleod, “Mater Deorum Hibernensium: Identity and Cross-Correlation in Early Irish Mythology.”

#irish mythology #celtic mythology #danu #the morrigan #long post #REALLY long post

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smol-and-grumpy · 5 years ago

Text

Cross My Heart - CH.03

Pairing: Bodyguard!Dean x Reader; Chuck Shurley x Reader

Summary: After opening up a letter, the life as she knows it, changes forever. Her husband hires Dean Winchester to protect her but is Dean really who he said he was? And is her husband really worried about her safety?

Warnings: A little angst, and sexual tension

WC: 2089

SERIES MASTERLIST

There’s noises coming from outside, she hears the sound of water, hears the sound of oil sizzling in a pan. Y/N smells things too, a smell she makes out as coffee and bacon. Her mouth starts to water and her stomach’s growling.

She opens her eyes to look around, expects to be in the living room but she’s laying flat. Looking around, she sees that she’s in bed. Dean must have carried her back when she fell asleep.

Sitting up, she stretches and yawns, and of course Dean has to walk in on her right in that moment. She rubs at her eyes and looks at him, sees that the corner of his lips tilts up into a smile but then he purses his lips into a thin line, and the frown makes a return on his face.

He’s dressed in casual gear, and she thinks he doesn’t bother with the suits anymore since they have to basically go incognito which is a shame really, because he looks good in suits. Like some kind of a walking Armani ad.

“You’re up,” He says, leans his body against the door frame and crosses his arms.

“At what cost, though,” She groans, she is absolutely no morning person. She stretches some more, making her pj top riding up her stomach.

Dean doesn’t say anything for a long time and when she looks at him, she catches him staring.

She smirks and decides to tease him. She trails her fingers down her top, catches at the seam and pulls it up, just a little.

Dean’s still staring but then he lowers his face, stares at the ground instead and murmurs, “Breakfast is ready, take your time.”

He turns around and leaves right after, but she caught the red of the tip of his ears. It’s so easy to rile him up. She needs to do it more.

Y/N gets dressed and walks out into the living room where Dean’s already sitting at the table. She joins him and he pushes a plate in front of her and a mug of coffee, “Any news?” She asks, wondering if Chuck informed him about any kind of progress.

“No, Mr. Shurley didn’t get in touch yet.”

“But you told him that we’re here?”

“Yes.”

Oh, bodyguard Dean is back.

“Okay,” She says and eats her breakfast in silence.

She offers to clean the dishes afterwards, and Dean excuses himself to go out. Said he needs to check on his car which is parked behind the cabin. She doesn’t really know if he tells the truth because it was too dark to make out anything when they arrived last night, but before she could ask, Dean’s already out of the door.

Y/N’s bored out of her mind so she zaps through the TV channels, and her eyes widened at the entertainment news.

They talk about Chuck and how his home got destroyed.

Well, hello? It’s her home too? There’s not one single mention of her throughout the whole little newsflash.

Frustrated, she turns off the TV and goes out to see what Dean’s doing. Well, she didn’t expect for them to bring a fucking documentary about her but maybe they could acknowledge her either. It’s not hard. Chuck’s not the only one who was living there.

She finds Dean with his head deep in the hood of his car, and she actually has to chuckle at her finding because every time she’d find Chuck, Chuck would have his head in some girl's pussy.

The view of Dean backside is fabulous, so she stares some more. His ass in his jeans is round and firm and oh my god, it gets her all flush and warm.

“What are you doing out here?” His voice startles her.

“How did you know?”

Because seriously, how did he? He still has his head turned away from her and is working on his car.

“I’m always aware of my surroundings, Mrs. Shurley. It’s my job.”

So, she’s back to being Mrs. Shurley.

She walks closer to him, comes to stand beside him as he tilts his head to the side a little and looks at her, “You’re good at what you’re doing, aren’t you?”

Dean shrugs, “It’s really what I can do best.”

“So, your job is to protect me,” Y/N says, lets her fingers skim across the car and Dean comes out of the hood, stands straight up again to listen to her, “But you didn’t sign up to go and hide in the woods with me, why don’t you quit? Clearly this must be boring for you too.”

He takes the cloth and rubs his hands free from grease but he’s not looking at them, his gaze is still on her.

“I worked out that part with your husband already. It was our plan D.”

She frowns, “Plan D? How many plans are there?”

There’s a light chuckle, and Dean takes a step closer, leans down, his face only inches from her as he whispers into her ear, “If I’d tell you, I’d have to kill you.”

She groans and Dean is laughing, takes a step back while he brushes at his forehead with his hand to get off the sweat.

It’s a nice sound. She likes that, likes how it rumbles, likes the bass of it, would definitely like to hear it more often.

“There’s something,” She says and points to her own forehead, telling him with her eyes that he has something on his, and he eyes her suspiciously.

“What?”

“Come here,” She grins, and he listens, takes a step towards her.

When Dean’s close enough, she pulls at his shirt, makes him lean down to her and his gaze on her is intense.

God, his eyes are so green.

She’s still smirking as she swipes at his forehead with her thumb, brushing away the dark grease stain. He’s so close, and she realizes how easy it would be to just lean forward and kiss him. She can’t help but wonder if he would kiss her back. Probably not. He’s too professional. And that makes her think if she’ll ever be able to crack him. Surely, Mr. Bodyguard must have a weakness.

Her hand that was on his forehead travels down his cheek, and she feels the scruff underneath her palm. It prickles but she wouldn’t mind feeling it all over her body.

My god, Y/N, stop! Get a grip! She shakes her head, trying to get the image out of her mind.

Dean blinks and it’s if he’s trying to find his composure either. He clears his throat, “Thanks.” And then he stands up so abruptly to turn around, she wonders if he has gotten a whiplash from it.

“You still haven’t answered my question.” Dean says and closes the hood of his car with a bang that makes her flinch, “Why are you out here? Someone could see you.”

“I’m bored.” She pouts, “Can I use your phone to text my friend?”

Dean raises an eyebrow at her, “What friend?”

“Meg. She’s my bestie.”

“How good of a friend is she?”

“My god, Dean! Meg has nothing to do with this. I swear!”

Dean rolls his eyes and sighs before he takes his phone out of his pocket and unlocks it for her. He hands it over with a warning, “Don’t tell her where you are. Be absolutely vague about what happened.”

“Cross my heart,” She says with a smirk and walks over to sit on the stairs to the porch, where Dean’s still able to see her. She guesses that if he’s willing to give her his phone she at least can be respectful about it and not wander too far with it.

She texts Meg, knows the woman’s number by heart. It’s probably Meg’s lunch time too. At least she hopes so.

Y/N: Hey babe, it’s me, Y/N. I’m texting you from someone else’s phone because my phone is broken.

She lies, Meg wouldn’t believe that her phone was broken in half with Dean’s bare hands anway.

M: Oh my god, I was wondering if you’re okay! I was worried out of my mind!

Y/N: I’m sorry. I wanted to text you but everything happened so fast.

M: Don’t worry, as long as you’re okay. You’re okay right? I heard what happened and then I texted and called but you never read the messages :(

Y/N: Don’t worry about me, I’m okay. Chuck got me a bodyguard and we had to leave for my safety but I’m okay.

M: A bodyguard? *wink wink*

Y/N: Meg, stop.

M: I won’t. Tell me about him. Is he good looking? Is he strong? I bet he’s strong. Oh my god I’m so jealous.

Y/N: I thought you’re dating Anna?

M: I still like dick, though

She has to laugh out loud, which prompts Dean to look at her funny. She clasps a hand over her mouth to laugh some more.

Y/N: Ah, well, yes, he’s big and strong and he has a nice tush.

M: You saw him naked yet?

Y/N: Can we not talk about him?

M: We can but I don’t want to.

Y/N: Fine. No I haven’t why should I?

M: You have got to find a way!

Y/N: Meg, I’m married.

M: Sorry, I just laughed so hard my coffee came out through my nostrils. Your marriage was dead over seven years ago and you know it. Remember you used to ask Chuck for a divorce every week until you completely gave up because he always said no?

Y/N: I actually asked him again three weeks ago.

M: The answer’s no, right? What excuse this time? No time? Some big signing coming up? Another social event that you need to pretend that you’re all lovey dovey?

Meg’s right. Something always comes up because Chuck fears that she’ll walk away with half of what he owns. Honestly, right now she doesn’t even want a single dime. She just wishes to be free again.

Y/N: He thinks I’ll take half of his money.

M: Which you would be entitled to.

Y/N: I don’t want it. I just want to be me again.

M: So while you’re there, maybe flirt with your bodyguard. Live again! I bet he can handle a weapon perfectly. Probably has a big gun. *wink wink*

Y/N: Meg!

M: Shit! My break is over. I need to run. Get in touch again alright? I’m here if you need anything.

Y/N: Thanks, I miss you.

After the conversation, she places the phone on the stairs and Dean sees that she finished so he walks closer, takes his phone and sits down next to her. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” She answers, “Just missing my home and my friend.”

Dean nods, takes his phone back and scans through the texts. She watches him squint his eyes and she blushes.

“Wink wink?”

She snorts.

“I’m big and strong? And have a nice tush?” Dean frowns, “What does a tush even mean?”

Her face feels like it’s on fire, “Can you maybe not read out loud what I wrote?”

“Oh,” Dean clears his throat, “Yeah, sorry. I just,” He starts and then stops when he sees that her face is flushed. “I have to go into town to get some oil for the car, while I’m there, do you need anything?

She sighs and hugs her knees to her chest, “A new identity?”

He chuckles at that, “I’ll see what I can do.” And then he eyes her, “You can also cut your hair a little. So people won’t recognize you.”

Y/N had thought about that too but ugh, it involves her using a scissor and she’s not very good with that. Every time she would try to give herself bangs, she would end up looking absolutely horrific.

Dean pockets his phone back and walks over to his motorcycle. “I’ll be gone one hour tops. Stay inside, okay? If there’s something, get into the bathroom and lock yourself in. It works as a panic room.”

“Okay,” She wants to say more but she doesn’t know what to say. Can she tell him to not go? Tell him that she wants to go with him?

He gives her a warm smile before he puts the helmet over his head and then he revs his engine, drives off before she can even tell him not to leave her alone.

CH.04

@dean-winchesters-bacon @waywardbaby @flamencodiva @maddiepants @notyourtypicalrose @satans-0-spawn @foxyjwls007 @cosicas-cuquis @destielhoneybee @musicalmuffindog1410 @adoptdontshoppets @mariekoukie6661 @4fareader @deansyahtzee @onethirstyunicorn @deans-baby-momma @team-free-will-you-idjiot @sadbitch89 @becs-bunker @weepingwillowphoenix @deanwanddamons @miraclesoflove @atc74 @michellethetvaddict @traceyaudette @olichat @laxe-from-outer-space @thevelvetseries @laphirablack @deansenwackles @winchesterxfamilybusiness @akshi8278 @jensengirl83 @squirrelnotsam @whatareyousearchingfordean @janicho88 @beautifulbowleggedangel @mylovelydame21 @gabavaldman @invisiblexnobodyximportant @vicmc624 @starryeyeseunbyul @parinarain @busy-bee-angel-misska @pansexualgrapes @addbibliophile @cookiechipdough @fandoms-fiend

#cross my heart #dean winchester #dean winchster fic #dean winchester x reader #bodyguard!dean #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester fan fiction #nathalie writes

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rookisaknight · 4 years ago

Text

Raf Tanager, meet Hope County

⤘⤘⤘There’s a new Deputy in Town⬽⬽⬽

So as a side benefit of getting into this fandom again with a brand new gender and a brand new vibe: a brand new deputy. Excited to introduce you all to my boy, they were developed for a joint Deputy au with @ophiebot (who will do this for their Deputy Elijah Rook if so inclined). Not exactly reinventing any wheels here, but this time its about the indulgence.

FYI, Molly is still extant, but her story I think has been explored in my brainspace as much as it needs to be.

➷The Basics

1. Give their full name, and describe them or post a picture! (Height, build, hair, eye, and skin color, etc.)

Rafael "Raf" Tanager (birth name REDACTED). 5'4", prone to chub but hardening up with the frequent exercise, solid build. Freckles on cheeks that darken as time goes on. Short hair kept red by some truly obsessive hairdye upkeep, which is harder than you might think. Hazel eyes. Burns and shrapnel scars around the eyes and mouth.

2. How old are they?

3. Sexuality and gender?

Bisexual, transmasc genderqueer. She/they/he but a preference for they/he when he doesnt trust the person using them.

➵Pre-Game

1. How did they end up at the Hope County Sheriff’s Department? How long have they worked there?

Raf grew up closer to Missoula, but he’s still a Montana native. They’ve been at this for around 8 months, pretty much right out of graduating college. Even they honestly aren’t sure how they ended up here, just the latest in a series of adrift jobs after graduating, taken primarily to avoid any potential financial dependence on their family. Probably would have resigned soon were it not for. Everything.

2. Relationship with Pratt, Hudson, and Whitehorse?

Pratt: Used to hate his guts. The teasing felt too much like flirting for their comfort and he was honestly kind of a bully. Now its trickier. He's pathetic in a way that’s hard for them to be around, as awful as that is, because it hits too close to home.

Hudson: Had a massive crush on her for most of their early days that pretty much went out the window post Eden’s Gate. They still try a little too hard to impress her though.

Whitehorse: Intellectually, they resent his passivity since it means a lot of Eden’s Gate ended up falling in their lap and he’s STILL insistent that maybe they should have left it alone when they’ve all had months to realize why that was a bad idea in the first place. Emotionally, well, they’re maybe a little in need of a father figure or two.

Elijah Rook: The former Rookie. They were quietly a little intimidated by him prior to all this and that’s never fully gone away, but they’ve now been able to witness more of his dorky side that makes it a little harder to take him seriously. You try chaperoning this guy from one end of Hope County and considering him at all frightening.

3. Do they have an education?

They have a MASTERS and its never relevant to anything because its a humanities degree, specifically the classics. Part of the reason they’re a little adrift currently, there was no easy dismount out of college. Just a hell of a lot of debt.

4. Where are they from? Did they speak a different language there?

Missoula, or close enough to it. They picked up some Latin and Greek from their degree. The Latin comes in handy more often than you’d think, what with the cult stuff, but the reading material is a real bummer.

5. Is there anyone outside the valley that might have come looking for them?

They’ve never had many friends in college and high school that could outlast physical proximity and they basically ghosted their family since that was easier than coming out to them at a certain point. So no, no one they want to find them is looking.

6. Did they have a religious background of any kind?

His father is a preacher, and while there’s some baggage there they would still describe themselves as broadly religious. Or at the very least superstitious.

➷Inside Hope County

1. What was going through their head when the helicopter went down and during the subsequent chase?

The crash was honestly the easiest part. That was just panic. The chase was the hard part. The helicopter exploding ended up catching them in the face, leaving them with burns and scarring that would remain for the rest of their life. She's lucky she wasn’t blinded. Still, he was forced to stumble out of the woods in intense pain and bleeding out. Had it not been for Elijah they definitely would have been taken then and there.

2. Were they afraid of Joseph and Eden’s Gate? Angry?

Terrified. Not just because of what they’ve done but because Raf knows intuitively that he's susceptible to it. As early as their first encounter they have a hard time breaking the hold Joseph gets on their mind. Even though they’re conscious of HOW they’re being manipulated, its hard to resist it.

3. Did they trust Dutch?

At that point Raf would’ve happily taken literally anyone who seemed to know what they’re doing and wasn’t holding a gun to his head.

4. How did they feel about their team being taken by the cult, did they count them as lost, did they want them back, did they not care?

Absolutely the nightmare scenario: people’s lives depending on them and their ability to be decisive. Had it not been for Elijah they probably would’ve high tailed it out of there and tried to find someone higher up the authority chain to deal with this mess. Still, just abandoning them all didn’t sit right with him either, and by the time they’d liberated Fall’s End even he had to admit he was there by his own choice.

5. How did they take to the idea of being part of, if not leading, the resistance?

Again, Raf doesn’t really do well with people depending on them. Alone. they probably would have found it a lot more miserable, but Elijah significantly helped lighten that load for them in terms of having a direction. They’ve found out they’re accidentally pretty good at working with a variety of people and can even be inspiring without meaning to. Still, in their ideal world they would’ve been left alone, or at least remained a foot soldier.

6. Which companions did they recruit, and who did they travel with the most?

All guns for hire were recruited, but Sharky and Nick were their go-to’s, Sharky for personal reasons and Nick for air support. Grace was usually the adult supervision when Nick couldn’t make it but. To be frank Raf's aim isn’t great and it drives Grace a little nuts on prolonged missions. She’s tried teaching them but it never really seems to stick.

7. Did they have time to find romance amidst the chaos? How did they do it?

Sharky. That relationship was a bit of a cold opener (and don’t bother, Sharky already beat you to that joke). After getting their face fucked up during the escape they’ve had a pretty healthy aversion to fire and explosives, making his recruitment a little harrowing. Still, Sharky's sweet in his way, makes them laugh and breathe a little easier when the pressure gets to them, and operates on a pretty similar brainwave. They’ve been joined at the hip since their first few months in Holland Valley. They’re both a little on the codependent side, but really, who are they to complain.

8. Feelings about Joseph?

Joseph taps into a lot of vulnerabilities inside of Raf intuitively. The absence of a strong support system, the loneliness, the fear, the directionlessness, the relationship with their own spirituality, it all provides him a unique entryway into their psyche that he is exactly the kind of person to exploit. As a result, he tends to fixate on them over Elijah, usually to their detriment. Still, that connection can sometimes go both ways, and there are things about Joseph that Raf understands which even his brothers never fully do.

9. Feelings about the other Seeds?

John: They have a unique capacity for antagonizing him. Probably because as an oldest child themselves they know exactly how to jab at the youngest child insecurities. Still, that relationship didn’t stem any deeper and he focused his energies a little more on Elijah. Still, they have him to thank for the Sloth scars on their arm, thanks for that. They’re starting to run out of unmarked skin.

Faith: Faith, meanwhile, was a little more directly focused on Raf, partly because her region was the first time they had to operate a little more on their own. For personal reasons, Elijah wasn’t particularly able to engage with the Bliss. Meaning if Burke was ever going to get saved Raf had to be the one to go in there, again and again. Faith, like Joseph, can tap a lot of that loneliness that Raf has, as well as some gender and sexuality stuff Joseph can’t touch. Suffice to say Sharky had a pretty good reason for being as overbearing as he was during those months, even though he was eventually able to do the job. As a side note, they haven’t had access to their ADHD meds for MONTHS and it doesn’t help when the cult drug is the first thing to make your head feel clear in a while.

Jacob: Jacob was utterly uninterested in Raf and the feeling was mostly mutual. He doesn’t really get him or what he’s about, just knows that the county would be better off when he was put down. Transition goals, though (don’t tell Staci they said that).

10. How did they handle having to kill animals and other humans? Had they done it before?

Animals yeah, you don’t live in Montana as long as they did without hunting occasionally. People....well. You can get used to it.

11. Which canon ending did they choose in-game, and would you have changed the ending at all?

Resist. I wouldn’t. Raf might.

➷Personal

1. Favorite weapon(s)?

They usually prefer to show up to spots early and lay traps, try to minimize the direct combat involvement. When it can’t be avoided though, their pistol isn’t ever far and neither is a hunting knife.

2. Stealth or firepower?

Stealth, one hundred percent. Sharky and Eli are here to do the firepower.

3. How did they spend their time, when not fighting peggies?

A lot of bad movies with the boyfriend and a LOT of poker, one of their more unknown talents. Resistance isn’t gonna fund itself.

4. Where did they live during the events of the game?

Wherever there was a bed they could fall into. Their little trailer they’d been living in prior to all this got absolutely decimated while they were healing up on Dutch’s island.

5. Any other facts you want to share about your Deputy!

He’s got almost supernatural luck to the point that a couple of their guns for hire have gotten superstitious about bringing him to certain events. Including fishing. The catch just always seems somehow a little better. Also he’s privately obsessed with the 1998 recording of Cats and is terrified of anyone finding out.

#far cry 5 #fc5 #far cry deputy #oc: raf tanager #oc: elijah rook #joseph seed #sharky boshaw #long post #far cry rook

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ms-rampage · 4 years ago

Text

The New Trainee

Summary: Paige, Kate and all the other hunters show Felix how to kill monsters. Monster Hunting 101.

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: Some language

Note: OC Felix Miller belongs to @the-chaos-siblings (also requested by him)

“Okay so the monster you saw us killed. That was a Wendigo, they’re pretty much humans that resorted to cannibalism, and turned into monsters” Paige tells Felix.

After he witnessed a Wendigo, and saw how they killed it. Paige and Kate along with everyone that lives on the compound showed Felix how to hunt, and kill monsters.

“Humanoids that are tall and pale. A huge part of Native American mythology” Kate adds.

“So fire and silver bullets kill them?” he asks.

Both sisters nod, “Yep, they’re usually in groups, but they’re more likely to be by themselves” Paige tells him.

Her husband Kenneth, along with their hunters friends/family Adrian, Cody, Mark, Martin, Nate and their mother Mandy walk into the living room.

“That Wendigo was living by itself, but I’m sure there’s more lurking out there in the woods” he tells them.

“So what other monsters exist?” Felix asks, “Do vampires exist?! Werewolves? Demons?! The loch ness monster?!”.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes and maybe” Paige answers, “Unless it's freakin' Godzilla, it real!”.

There were some “animal” attacks in the wood areas of Hope County, Montana, and everyone including forest rangers have concluded them as either bear, or cougar attacks, but the local supernatural hunters say differently. Because after Wendigo’s attack they leave nothing behind, and the campsite had some blood evidence, but no bodies of campers. The site was “too clean” for the Cult to have kidnapped any innocent “sinners”.

“So I kinda know how to kill vampires” he tells them, but he has an unsure tone in his voice, “A wooden stake to the heart, holy water, sunlight and garlic”.

They all exchange looks, knowing that’s how you kill them in movies, and it's a huge misconception.

Kate awkwardly clears her throat, “Well umm, Felix, that’s actually a huge misconception. We all know in movies and tv shows. Killing vampires with a wooden stake or repelling them with garlic is actually false”.

He looks at her confused, “Then how do you kill them?”.

“Decapitation” Kenneth tells him, “You chop off its head, and that’s it”.

Kate takes a seat next to him, “So we’re gonna start off with vampires, and how to kill them, and how they originated”.

Paige clears her throat, giving him a lesson in Monster Hunting 101, “So as you may know, vampires live forever. Never age. Up until you give them a nice clean head cut. Vampires originate from the Alpha vampire, the very first of the kind. Progenitor of vamps. Killing them is easy, decapitation, but those bastards are fucking strong and fast. Sneaking little bastards”.

“You can “cure” a vampire” Cody tells him, “Dead man’s blood. The blood of a dead person. It sedates them”.

“It doesn’t really cure them, it just makes them weak, and causes them pain without actually killing them” Ken adds.

“Next!” Paige exclaims, “Demons! Corrupted human souls!. Twisted, perverted evil spirits! Ghosts with an ego!”.

“Abominations” Adrian mutters before taking a sip of his whiskey.

“There are many, different types of demons” Kate tells him, “There are the typical, everyday black eyed demons. Then there’s red eyed demons, white eyed demons, and yellow eyed demons. Princes of Hell, Knights of Hell. Crossroad demons. It’s all a goddamn hierarchy!!”.

“Basically demons are human souls that were sent to Hell for whatever reason, and were left in the fiery pit to be tortured until there is no humanity left in them” Mandy tells Felix, “Turning them into demons. Direct opposites of angels”.

“Killing them is very easy, depending on who and what type you’re dealing with. Holy water, salt and iron. Holy fire, hex bags and exorcism” Kenneth explains, “Are all all you need to deal with those bastards”.

“A Devil's trap” Nate tells him, “Is what you need to trap a demon. It imprisons, binds and overpowers them. Most demons are unable to cross a salt line, but it can be used to harm them”.

Felix is trying to process all this information, not even 10 minutes into “Monster Hunting 101” and he already feels confident on killing monsters.

"Okay I'm starting to feel confident in this!" he tells them, "Where do find these monsters?!?".

“You may feel confident now, but these evil sons of bitches? They’re the worst!” Adrian says, before taking another sip of his whiskey, and filling his glass up again, "They're everywhere! Any small town. Like Hope County for example". He takes another hit of the alcohol, drinking it like water.

“Hey, hey cowboy shit, easy on the whiskey” Paige tells him, "Drink water for once!". He gives her a mocking look before drinking again.

“Anyway! Werewolves are pretty simple to kill, silver bullets” Kate says loudly “Now ghosts are also very easy. They hate salt, and iron. If you want an evil ghost/spirit out of your house. You find the bones of the person, salt em and burn em”.

“Now if the person was cremated, you have to find something they love, something they held dearly to, and you destroy it” she adds.

“We’re just teaching you the basics on killing monsters because there’s a lot of information on this crap” Paige tells him.

“Okay so how did all of you get into this stuff??” Felix asks them, “How did you all discover these creatures??”.

All the hunters exchange looks, “It’s a very long story, but to summarize our story. Our family has been a part of this whole game for 5 generations” the eldest Winchester explains to him.

“My family’s been doing this for 3 generation” Cody explains to him, “I’ve been hunting monsters since I was 5 years old”.

“My family’s been loyal members of the Men of Letters” Martin tells him, “They do the same thing, track and hunt down monsters”.

“Well in your case it's British Men of Letters” Kate tells him.

“Pretty much all of us come from 3-5 generations of monster hunters” Mandy explains to him.

After getting to know everyone in the household, and now having the acknowledgement on hunting monsters. but Felix knows he’s gonna have to learn a lot from these people, and get used to the special weapons they use to kill these creatures. Learn how to speak, and read Latin and Enochian.

“Pretty much Halloween will be an everyday thing for you” Kenneth tells him, “Our lives are a horror movie”.

With that all said, Felix has one hell of a journey into this life ahead of him.

“Actually for great practice, we actually summoned a demon” Paige tells them, everyone looks over at her.

“You did what??” her husband asks her, “You summoned a demon?? When we have our toddler and infant kids in the house?!?”.

“Yeah but it’s fine. I have him trapped in the bunker. In the torture chamber” she tells them.

Kenneth was always strict when it came to summon monsters in the house for training, or for getting information.

They go down to the bunker, into the chamber where they keep monsters and interrogate them.

“Before I open the door Felix” Paige turns to him, “No, you can’t fuck it because its an evil entity”.

He gives her a bummed out expression, “Then what has all this training been about??”.

“Killing monsters” Kenneth answers. Patting his shoulder.

She opens the loud metal door, and they see a man tied to a chair, inside a devil’s trap.

He lifts his head, with a smug smile on his face. “Well hello there red” he says to Paige with a teasing and cocky tone in his voice.

“Shut up demon trash” she responds, throwing holy water in his face, making it burn.

He growls in pain and also in annoyance. “Stupid human!”.

“She said shut up!!” Kenneth orders him, throwing holy water in his face again.

Paige gets into the killing demons lesson. “Okay, so this thing on the floor is a devil’s trap. If the trap is broken, then this fucker right here will smite all of us”.

“I will boil your flesh!” the demon growls at her, his eyes going black.

“Anyway!” she says loudly, ignoring him and his threats, “There are many ways to torture demons. Like for example throwing holy water in their faces. It burns them, and they can’t cross a salt line”.

Kenneth goes to a table on the other side of the chamber, and brings over a variety of weapons, setting them down on a table next to his wife.

“Demons also hate iron. Like holy water it burns them” she continues.

Kenneth hands Felix a knife that can kill demons. A knife with a wooden handle, and a sharp blade. It looks like an ordinary hunting knife, but it can do great damage to demons.

The blade can’t kill all demons, it can’t kill Knights of Hell, and Princes of Hell. Like Abaddon, Alistair, Samhain and Lilith.

“Now what you’re holding is an Ancient Demon-Killing Knife of the Kurds” Kenneth tells Felix.

“Or, you can just call it a demon killing knife” Paige corrects him, taking less time on saying the name, "Or just simply a demon knife".

“Ohh I see. He’s the new trainee!” the demon mutters, “How cute!!”.

“Demons are cocky little bastards” Kate tells them, leaning against the chamber's doorway.

“Oh Katie how ya doing?!” he asks, eyes blackened “I heard about your little boy toy Johnny Seed getting possessed by Saleos”.

She scoffs, rolling her eyes “Yeah and what happened to Saleos afterwards?? He got casted out and sent back to Hell. He knew he fucked up when Lucifer punished his ass".

“So you all do this for a living??” Felix asks them, "Do you ever tell people about this sort of stuff??"

“Yep! And nope because people tend to freak out if they were to ever find out about this stuff” Paige answers, “And now we’re showing you how to kill evil sons of bitches”.

“So take the knife and stab douchebag” Ken tells him, “Stab him right in the chest, or stomach. Wherever you’d like”.

The demon starts to laugh, “He doesn’t have the guts to kill me!. He doesn’t-”. Getting cut off by Felix without hesitating, stabs the demon in his abdomen, doing a knife trick before stabbing him. Making the redish orange light come out of his eyes, mouth and the stab wound. They all look at him like proud parents.

“Well shit” Paige chuckles, with a smile on her face.

“I didn’t think you were gonna stab him” Ken tells him.

“I think he’s ready for a real hunt” Kate tells them.

#my writings #oc: paige winchester #oc: kate winchester #oc: kenneth smith #oc: mandy winchester #oc: adrian wray #oc: mark massie #oc: nate massie #oc: cody reynolds #oc: martin quinn #oc: felix miller #writers on tumblr

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hockeysweetheart · 4 years ago

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So I asked this question Earlier. Do you think that Katniss was in love with Gale the romantic way.

Easy answer no. I do beileve she loved him as you love her friends. But there were just no sparks there. Okay this will be a super long thing. I’ll add all chapters and pages below

Lets dig into this.

So at the start of the book they meet up in the woods on the day of the reaping This is Katniss Discribing Gale ( This is after they talk about running away Katniss blurts out I am never having kids, Eating bakery bread Gale said he would have kids ect...

Chapter 1 Page 10 The hunger Games

This Conversation feels all wrong Leave? How could I leave Prim, Who is the only person in the world I’m certain I love? And Gale who is Devoted to his Family. We can’t Leave, so why bother talking about it? And if we did... even if we did... where did this stuff about having kids come from? There’s NEVER been anything romantic between Gale and me. When we met, I was a skinny 12 year old and although he was only two years older. He already looked like a man. It took a long time for us to even become friends, to stop haggling over every trade and begin helping each other out.

Besides if he wanted Kids, Gale won’t have any trouble finding a wife. He’s good-looking, he’s strong enough to handle the work in the mines, and he can hunt. You can tell by the way girls whisper about him when he walks by in school that they want him. It makes me jealous but not for the reason people would think. Good hunting partners are hard to find.

Page 38- 40 Chapter 3 The hunger Games

( Now this is when Katniss is saying goodbyes and Gale says goodbye)

Finally Gale is here and maybe there is nothing Romantic between us, but when he opens his arms . I don’t hesitate to go into the. His body is familiar to me- the way it moves, the smell of wood and smoke, even the sound of his heart beating I know from quiet moments on a hunt- but this is the first time I really feel it, lean and hard-muscled against my own.

"Katniss, it's just hunting. You're the best hunter I know," says Gale. "It's not just hunting. They're armed. They think," I say. "So do you. And you've had more practice. Real practice," he says. "You know how to kill." "Not people," I say. "How different can it be, really?" says Gale grimly. The awful thing is that if I can forget they're people, it will be no different at all. The Peacekeepers are back too soon and Gale asks for more time, but they're taking him away and I start to panic. "Don't let them starve!" I cry out, clinging to his hand. "I won't! You know I won't! Katniss, remember I - " he says, and they yank us apart and slam the door and I'll never know what it was he wanted me to remember.

Pages 109 to 112 Chapter 8 The Hunger Games

When they first met. Please note this is Before Peeta confessed his Love for Katniss.

I had been struggling along on my own for about six months when I first ran into Gale in the woods. It was a Sun- day in October, the air cool and pungent with dying things. I’d spent the morning competing with the squirrels for nuts and the slightly warmer afternoon wading in shallow ponds har- vesting katniss. The only meat I’d shot was a squirrel that had practically run over my toes in its quest for acorns, but the an- imals would still be afoot when the snow buried my other food sources. Having strayed farther afield than usual, I was hurrying back home, lugging my burlap sacks when I came across a dead rabbit. It was hanging by its neck in a thin wire a foot above my head. About fifteen yards away was another. I recognized the twitch-up snares because my father had used them. When the prey is caught, it’s yanked into the air out of the reach of other hungry animals. I’d been trying to use snares all summer with no success, so I couldn’t help dropping my sacks to examine this one. My fingers were just on the wire above one of the rabbits when a voice rang out. “That’s dangerous.”

I jumped back several feet as Gale materialized from be- hind a tree. He must have been watching me the whole time. He was only fourteen, but he cleared six feet and was as good as an adult to me. I’d seen him around the Seam and at school. And one other time. He’d lost his father in the same blast that killed mine. In January, I’d stood by while he received his medal of valor in the Justice Building, another oldest child with no father. I remembered his two little brothers clutching his mother, a woman whose swollen belly announced she was just days away from giving birth. “What’s your name?” he said, coming over and disengaging the rabbit from the snare. He had another three hanging from his belt. “Katniss,” I said, barely audible. “Well, Catnip, stealing’s punishable by death, or hadn’t you heard?” he said. “Katniss,” I said louder. “And I wasn’t stealing it. I just wanted to look at your snare. Mine never catch anything.” He scowled at me, not convinced. “So where’d you get the squirrel?” “I shot it.” I pulled my bow off my shoulder. I was still using the small version my father had made me, but I’d been practic- ing with the full-size one when I could. I was hoping that by spring I might be able to bring down some bigger game. Gale’s eyes fastened on the bow. “Can I see that?” I handed it over. “Just remember, stealing’s punishable by death.”

That was the first time I ever saw him smile. It transformed him from someone menacing to someone you wished you knew. But it took several months before I returned that smile. We talked hunting then. I told him I might be able to get him a bow if he had something to trade. Not food. I wanted knowledge. I wanted to set my own snares that caught a belt of fat rabbits in one day. He agreed something might be worked out. As the seasons went by, we grudgingly began to share our knowledge, our weapons, our secret places that were thick with wild plums or turkeys. He taught me snares and fishing. I showed him what plants to eat and eventually gave him one of our precious bows. And then one day, without either of us saying it, we became a team. Dividing the work and the spoils. Making sure that both our families had food. Gale gave me a sense of security I’d lacked since my father’s death. His companionship replaced the long solitary hours in the woods. I became a much better hunter when I didn’t have to look over my shoulder constantly, when someone was watching my back. But he turned into so much more than a hunting partner. He became my confidante, someone with whom I could share thoughts I could never voice inside the fence. In exchange, he trusted me with his. Being out in the woods with Gale . . . sometimes I was actually happy. I call him my friend, but in the last year it’s seemed too ca- sual a word for what Gale is to me. A pang of longing shoots through my chest. If only he was with me now! But, of course, I don’t want that. I don’t want him in the arena where he’d bedead in a few days. I just . . . I just miss him. And I hate being so alone. Does he miss me? He must.

I think of the eleven flashing under my name last night. I know exactly what he’d say to me. “Well, there’s some room for improvement there.” And then he’d give me a smile and I’d return it without hesitating now. I can’t help comparing what I have with Gale to what I’m pretending to have with Peeta. How I never question Gale’s motives while I do nothing but doubt the latter’s. It’s not a fair comparison really. Gale and I were thrown together by a mu- tual need to survive. Peeta and I know the other’s survival means our own death. How do you sidestep that?

Now through out the Games Katniss does Question How Gale would feel about all this like the Kissing, The being in love with Peeta for an act. ( only everyone knows it’s aha not an act.)

Catching Fire.

Catching Fire Chaper 1 Page 9.

Basically saying how painful It was for Gale to see his best friend in love with someone else.

Hazelle nods “ That’d be good. Gale means to, but he’s only got his Sundays. and I think he likes saving those for you” I Can’t stop the redness that floods my cheeks. It’s stupid. of course. Hardly anybody knows me Better then Hazelle. Knows the bond I share with Gale. I’m sure plenty of people assumed that we’d eventually get married even if I never gave it any thought. But that was before the Games. Before my fellow tribute, Peeta Mellark , announced he was madly in love with me, Our romance became a key strategy for Peeta. I’m not sure what it was for me. But I know now it was nothing put painful for Gale. My chest tightens as I think about how. on the Victory Tour. Peeta and I will have to present ourselves as lovers again.

Catching Fire Chapter 2 Pages 23- 28.

Now this is when Snow basically tells Katniss he can kill Gale and that Katniss goes into the kiss ( the surprise one)

"Peeta. How is the love of your life?" he asks. "Good," I say.

"At what point did he realize the exact degree of your indifference?" he asks, dipping his cookie in his tea. "I'm not indifferent," I say.

"But perhaps not as taken with the young man as you would have the country believe," he says. "Who says I'm not?" I say.

"I do," says the president. "And I wouldn't be here if I were the only person who had doubts. How's the handsome cousin?"

"I don't know ... I don't ..." My revulsion at this conversation, at discussing my feelings for two of the people I care most about with President Snow, chokes me off.

"Speak, Miss Everdeen. Him I can easily kill off if we don't come to a happy resolution," he says. "You aren't doing him a favor by disappearing into the woods with him each Sunday."

If he knows this, what else does he know? And how does he know it? Many people could tell him that Gale and I spend our Sundays hunting. Don't we show up at the end of each one loaded down with game? Haven't we for years? The real question is what he thinks goes on in the woods beyond District 12. Surely they haven't been tracking us in there. Or have they? Could we have been followed? That seems impossible. At least by a person. Cameras? That never crossed my mind until this moment. The woods have always been our place of safety, our place beyond the reach of the Capitol, where we're free to say what we feel, be who we are. At least before the Games. If we've been watched since, what have they seen? Two people hunting, saying treasonous things against the Capitol, yes. But not two people in love, which seems to be President Snow's implication. We are safe on that charge. Unless ... unless ...

It only happened once. It was fast and unexpected, but it did happen.

After Peeta and I got home from the Games, it was several weeks before I saw Gale alone. First there were the obligatory celebrations. A banquet for the victors that only the most high-ranking people were invited to. A holiday for the whole district with free food and entertainers brought in from the Capitol. Parcel Day, the first of twelve, in which food packages were delivered to every person in the district. That was my favorite. To see all those hungry kids in the Seam running around, waving cans of applesauce, tins of meat, even candy. Back home, too big to carry, would be bags of grain, cans of oil. To know that once a month for a year they would all receive another parcel. That was one of the few times I actually felt good about winning the Games.

So between the ceremonies and events and the reporters documenting my every move as I presided and thanked and kissed Peeta for the audience, I had no privacy at all. After a few weeks, things finally died down. The camera crews and reporters packed up and went home. Peeta and I assumed the cool relationship we've had ever since. My family settled into our house in the Victor's Village. The everyday life of District 12 - workers to the mines, kids to school - resumed its usual pace. I waited until I thought the coast was really clear, and then one Sunday, without telling anyone, I got up hours before dawn and took off for the woods.

The weather was still warm enough that I didn't need a jacket. I packed along a bag filled with special foods, cold chicken and cheese and bakery bread and oranges. Down at my old house, I put on my hunting boots. As usual, the fence was not charged and it was simple to slip into the woods and retrieve my bow and arrows. I went to our place, Gale's and mine, where we had shared breakfast the morning of the reaping that sent me into the Games.

I waited at least two hours. I'd begun to think that he'd given up on me in the weeks that had passed. Or that he no longer cared about me. Hated me even. And the idea of losing him forever, my best friend, the only person I'd ever trusted with my secrets, was so painful I couldn't stand it. Not on top of everything else that had happened. I could feel my eyes tearing up and my throat starting to close the way it does when I get upset.

Then I looked up and there he was, ten feet away, just watching me. Without even thinking, I jumped up and threw my arms around him, making some weird sound that combined laughing, choking, and crying. He was holding me so tightly that I couldn't see his face, but it was a really long time before he let me go and then he didn't have much choice, because I'd gotten this unbelievably loud case of the hiccups and had to get a drink.

We did what we always did that day. Ate breakfast. Hunted and fished and gathered. Talked about people in town. But not about us, his new life in the mines, my time in the arena. Just about other things. By the time we were at the hole in the fence that's nearest the Hob, I think I really believed that things could be the same. That we could go on as we always had. I'd given all the game to Gale to trade since we had so much food now. I told him I'd skip the Hob, even though I was looking forward to going there, because my mother and sister didn't even know I'd gone hunting and they'd be wondering where I was.

Then suddenly, as I was suggesting I take over the daily snare run, he took my face in his hands and kissed me. I was completely unprepared. You would think that after all the hours I'd spent with Gale - watching him talk and laugh and frown - that I would know all there was to know about his lips. But I hadn't imagined how warm they would feel pressed against my own. Or how those hands, which could set the most intricate of snares, could as easily entrap me. I think I made some sort of noise in the back of my throat, and I vaguely remember my fingers, curled tightly closed, resting on his chest. Then he let go and said, "I had to do that. At least once." And he was gone.

Despite the fact that the sun was setting and my family would be worried, I sat by a tree next to the fence. I tried to decide how I felt about the kiss, if I had liked it or resented it, but all I really remembered was the pressure of Gale's lips and the scent of the oranges that still lingered on his skin. It was pointless comparing it with the many kisses I'd exchanged with Peeta. I still hadn't figured out if any of those counted. Finally I went home.

That week I managed the snares and dropped off the meat with Hazelle. But I didn't see Gale until Sunday.

I had this whole speech worked out, about how I didn't want a boyfriend and never planned on marrying, but I didn't end up using it. Gale acted as if the kiss had never happened.

Maybe he was waiting for me to say something. Or kiss him back. Instead I just pretended it had never happened, either. But it had. Gale had shattered some invisible barrier between us and, with it, any hope I had of resuming our old, uncomplicated friendship. Whatever I pretended, I could never look at his lips in quite the same way.

This all flashes through my head in an instant as President Snow's eyes bore into me on the heels of his threat to kill Gale. How stupid I've been to think the Capitol would just ignore me once I'd returned home! Maybe I didn't know about the potential uprisings. But I knew they were angry with me. Instead of acting with the extreme caution the situation called for, what have I done? From the president's point of view, I've ignored Peeta and flaunted my preference for Gale's company before the whole district. And by doing so made it clear I was, in fact, mocking the Capitol. Now I've endangered Gale and his family and my family and Peeta, too, by my carelessness. “Please don't hurt Gale," I whisper. "He's just my friend. He's been my friend for years. That's all that's between us. Besides, everyone thinks we're cousins now."

Chaper 7 Pages 93-101 Catching fire

Basically talking about running away and then Katniss can’t leave Peeta or Haymitch and Gale is angry about that But Prior Gale is happy to run away with her Says He loves her... but HA. ( we all know how that worked out)

Then I sit on the tiny concrete hearth, thawing out by the fire and waiting for Gale. It's a surprisingly short time before he appears. A bow slung over his shoulder, a dead wild turkey he must have encountered along the way hanging from his belt. He stands in the doorway as if considering whether or not to enter. He holds the unopened leather bag of food, the flask, Cinna's gloves. Gifts he will not accept because of his anger at me. I know exactly how he feels. Didn't I do the same thing to my mother? I look in his eyes. His temper can't quite mask the hurt, the sense of betrayal he feels at my engagement to Peeta. This will be my last chance, this meeting today, to not lose Gale forever. I could take hours trying to explain, and even then have him refuse me. Instead I go straight to the heart of my defense. "President Snow personally threatened to have you killed," I say. Gale raises his eyebrows slightly, but there's no real show of fear or astonishment. "Anyone else?" "Well, he didn't actually give me a copy of the list. But it's a good guess it includes both our families," I say. It's enough to bring him to the fire. He crouches before the hearth and warms himself. "Unless what?" "Unless nothing, now," I say. Obviously this requires more of an explanation, but I have no idea where to start, so I just sit there staring gloomily into the fire. After about a minute of this, Gale breaks the silence. "Well, thanks for the heads-up." I turn to him, ready to snap, but I catch the glint in his eye. I hate myself for smiling. This is not a funny moment, but I guess it's a lot to drop on someone. We're all going to be obliterated no matter what. "I do have a plan, you know." "Yeah, I bet it's a stunner," he says. He tosses the gloves on my lap. "Here. I don't want your fiance's old gloves." "He's not my fiance. That's just part of the act. And these aren't his gloves. They were Cinna's," I say. "Give them back, then," he says. He pulls on the gloves, flexes his fingers, and nods in approval. "At least I'll die in comfort." "That's optimistic. Of course, you don't know what's happened," I say. "Let's have it," he says. I decide to begin with the night Peeta and I were crowned victors of the Hunger Games, and Haymitch warned me of the Capitol's fury. I tell him about the uneasiness that dogged me even once I was back home, President Snow's visit to my house, the murders in District 11, the tension in the crowds, the last-ditch effort of the engagement, the president's indication that it hadn't been enough, my certainty that I'll have to pay. Gale never interrupts. While I talk, he tucks the gloves in his pocket and occupies himself with turning the food in the leather bag into a meal for us. Toasting bread and cheese, coring apples, placing chestnuts in the fire to roast. I watch his hands, his beautiful, capable fingers. Scarred, as mine were before the Capitol erased all marks from my skin, but strong and deft. Hands that have the power to mine coal but the precision to set a delicate snare. Hands I trust. I pause to take a drink of tea from the flask before I tell him about my homecoming. "Well, you really made a mess of things," he says. "I'm not even done," I tell him. "I've heard enough for the moment. Let's skip ahead to this plan of yours," he says. I take a deep breath. "We run away." "What?" he asks. This has actually caught him off guard. "We take to the woods and make a run for it," I say. His face is impossible to read. Will he laugh at me, dismiss this as foolishness? I rise in agitation, preparing for an argument. "You said yourself you thought that we could do it! That morning of the reaping. You said - " He steps in and I feel myself lifted off the ground. The room spins, and I have to lock my arms around Gale's neck to brace myself. He's laughing, happy. "Hey!" I protest, but I'm laughing, too. Gale sets me down but doesn't release his hold on me. "Okay, let's run away," he says. "Really? You don't think I'm mad? You'll go with me?" Some of the crushing weight begins to lift as it transfers to Gale's shoulders. "I do think you're mad and I'll still go with you," he says. He means it. Not only means it but welcomes it. "We can do it. I know we can. Let's get out of here and never come back!" "You're sure?" I say. "Because it's going to be hard, with the kids and all. I don't want to get five miles into the woods and have you - " "I'm sure. I'm completely, entirely, one hundred percent sure." He tilts his forehead down to rest against mine and pulls me closer. His skin, his whole being, radiates heat from being so near the fire, and I close my eyes, soaking in his warmth. I breathe in the smell of snow-dampened leather and smoke and apples, the smell of all those wintry days we shared before the Games. I don't try to move away. Why should I, anyway? His voice drops to a whisper. "I love you." That's why. I never see these things coming. They happen too fast. One second you're proposing an escape plan and the next... you're expected to deal with something like this. I come up with what must be the worst possible response. "I know." It sounds terrible. Like I assume he couldn't help loving me but that I don't feel anything in return. Gale starts to draw away, but I grab hold of him. "I know! And you... you know what you are to me." It's not enough. He breaks my grip. "Gale, I can't think about anyone that way now. All I can think about, every day, every waking minute since they drew Prim's name at the reaping, is how afraid I am. And there doesn't seem to be room for anything else. If we could get somewhere safe, maybe I could be different. I don't know." I can see him swallowing his disappointment. "So, we'll go. We'll find out." He turns back to the fire, where the chestnuts are beginning to burn. He flips them out onto the hearth. "My mother's going to take some convincing." I guess he's still going, anyway. But the happiness has fled, leaving an all-too-familiar strain in its place. "Mine, too. I'll just have to make her see reason. Take her for a long walk. Make sure she understands we won't survive the alternative." "She'll understand. I watched a lot of the Games with her and Prim. She won't say no to you," says Gale. "I hope not." The temperature in the house seems to have dropped twenty degrees in a matter of seconds. "Haymitch will be the real challenge." "Haymitch?" Gale abandons the chestnuts. "You're not asking him to come with us?" "I have to, Gale. I can't leave him and Peeta because they'd - " His scowl cuts me off. "What?" "I'm sorry. I didn't realize how large our party was," he snaps at me.

"They'd torture them to death, trying to find out where I was," I say.

"What about Peeta's family? They'll never come. In fact, they probably couldn't wait to inform on us. Which I'm sure he's smart enough to realize. What if he decides to stay?" he asks.

I try to sound indifferent, but my voice cracks. "Then he stays."

"You'd leave him behind?" Gale asks.

"To save Prim and my mother, yes," I answer. "I mean, no! I'll get him to come."

"And me, would you leave me?" Gale's expression is rock hard now. "Just if, for instance, I can't convince my mother to drag three young kids into the wilderness in winter."

"Hazelle won't refuse. She'll see sense," I say.

"Suppose she doesn't, Katniss. What then?" he demands.

"Then you have to force her, Gale. Do you think I'm making this stuff up?" My voice is rising in anger as well.

"No. I don't know. Maybe the president's just manipulating you. I mean, he's throwing your wedding. You saw how the Capitol crowd reacted. I don't think he can afford to kill you. Or Peeta. How's he going to get out of that one?" says Gale.

"Well, with an uprising in District Eight, I doubt he's spending much time choosing my wedding cake!" I shout.

The instant the words are out of my mouth I want to reclaim them. Their effect on Gale is immediate - the flush on his cheeks, the brightness of his gray eyes. "There's an uprising in Eight?" he says in a hushed voice.

I try to backpedal. To defuse him, as I tried to defuse the districts. "I don't know if it's really an uprising. There's unrest. People in the streets - " I say.

Gale grabs my shoulders. "What did you see?"

"Nothing! In person. I just heard something." As usual, it's too little, too late. I give up and tell him. "I saw something on the mayor's television. I wasn't supposed to. There was a crowd, and fires, and the Peacekeepers were gunning people down but they were fighting back. ..." I bite my lip and struggle to continue describing the scene. Instead I say aloud the words that have been eating me up inside. "And it's my fault, Gale. Because of what I did in the arena. If I had just killed myself with those berries, none of this would've happened. Peeta could have come home and lived, and everyone else would have been safe, too."

"Safe to do what?" he says in a gentler tone. "Starve? Work like slaves? Send their kids to the reaping? You haven't hurt people - you've given them an opportunity. They just have to be brave enough to take it. There's already been talk in the mines. People who want to fight. Don't you see? It's happening! It's finally happening! If there's an uprising in District Eight, why not here? Why not everywhere? This could be it, the thing we've been - "

"Stop it! You don't know what you're saying. The Peacekeepers outside of Twelve, they're not like Darius, or even Cray! The lives of district people - they mean less than nothing to them!" I say.

"That's why we have to join the fight!" he answers harshly.

"No! We have to leave here before they kill us and a lot of other people, too!" I'm yelling again, but I can't understand why he's doing this. Why doesn't he see what's so undeniable?

Gale pushes me roughly away from him. "You leave, then. I'd never go in a million years."

"You were happy enough to go before. I don't see how an uprising in District Eight does anything but make it more important that we leave. You're just mad about - " No, I can't throw Peeta in his face. "What about your family?" "What about the other families, Katniss? The ones who can't run away? Don't you see? It can't be about just saving us anymore. Not if the rebellion's begun!" Gale shakes his head, not hiding his disgust with me. "You could do so much." He throws Cinna's gloves at my feet. "I changed my mind. I don't want anything they made in the Capitol." And he's gone. I look down at the gloves. Anything they made in the Capitol? Was that directed at me? Does he think I am now just another product of the Capitol and therefore something untouchable? The unfairness of it all fills me with rage. But it's mixed up with fear over what kind of crazy thing he might do next. I sink down next to the fire, desperate for comfort, to work out my next move. I calm myself by thinking that rebellions don't happen in a day. Gale can't talk to the miners until tomorrow. If I can get to Hazelle before then, she might straighten him out. But I can't go now. If he's there, he'll lock me out. Maybe tonight, after everyone else is asleep ... Hazelle often works late into the night finishing up laundry. I could go then, tap at the window, tell her the situation so she'll keep Gale from doing anything foolish

Catching Fire Chapter 8. Pages 115-116

I don't know exactly what my mother means by things starting again, but I'm too angry and hurting to ask. It's registered, though, the idea of worse times returning, because when the doorbell rings, I shoot straight out of bed. Who could it be at this hour of the night? There's only one answer. Peacekeepers. "They can't have him," I say. "Might be you they're after," Haymitch reminds me. "Or you," I say. "Not my house," Haymitch points out. "But I'll get the door." "No, I'll get it," says my mother quietly. We all go, though, following her down the hallway to the insistent ring of the bell. When she opens it, there's not a squad of Peacekeepers but a single, snow-caked figure. Madge. She holds out a small, damp cardboard box to me. "Use these for your friend," she says. I take off the lid of the box, revealing half a dozen vials of clear liquid. "They're my mother's. She said I could take them. Use them, please." She runs back into the storm before we can stop her. "Crazy girl," Haymitch mutters as we follow, my mother into the kitchen. Whatever my mother had given Gale, I was right, it isn't enough. His teeth are gritted and his flesh shines with sweat. My mother fills a syringe with the clear liquid from one of the vials and shoots it into his arm. Almost immediately, his face begins to relax. "What is that stuff?" asks Peeta. "It's from the Capitol. It's called morphling," my mother answers. "I didn't even know Madge knew Gale," says Peeta. "We used to sell her strawberries," I say almost angrily. What am I angry about, though? Not that she has brought the medicine, surely. "She must have quite a taste for them," says Haymitch. That's what nettles me. It's the implication that there's something going on between Gale and Madge. And I don't like it. "She's my friend" is all I say.

Catching Fire Chaper 8 Pages 116-119

This is after Gales whipping and Did we just whitness Katniss having a mid life crisist at age 17. Because she is like “ Gale is mine I am his bull shit”

Alone in the kitchen with Gale, I sit on Hazelle's stool, holding his hand. After a while, my fingers find his face. I touch parts of him I have never had cause to touch before. His heavy, dark eyebrows, the curve of his cheek, the line of his nose, the hollow at the base of his neck. I trace the outline of stubble on his jaw and finally work my way to his lips. Soft and full, slightly chapped. His breath warms my chilled skin. Does everyone look younger asleep? Because right now he could be the boy I ran into in the woods years ago, the one who accused me of stealing from his traps. What a pair we were - fatherless, frightened, but fiercely committed, too, to keeping our families alive. Desperate, yet no longer alone after that day, because we'd found each other. I think of a hundred moments in the woods, lazy afternoons fishing, the day I taught him to swim, that time I twisted my knee and he carried me home. Mutually counting on each other, watching each other's backs, forcing each other to be brave. For the first time, I reverse our positions in my head. I imagine watching Gale volunteering to save Rory in the reaping, having him torn from my life, becoming some strange girl's lover to stay alive, and then coming home with her. Living next to her. Promising to marry her. The hatred I feel for him, for the phantom girl, for everything, is so real and immediate that it chokes me. Gale is mine. I am his. Anything else is unthinkable. Why did it take him being whipped within an inch of his life to see it? Because I'm selfish. I'm a coward. I'm the kind of girl who, when she might actually be of use, would run to stay alive and leave those who couldn't follow to suffer and die. This is the girl Gale met in the woods today. No wonder I won the Games. No decent person ever does. You saved Peeta, I think weakly. But now I question even that. I knew good and well that my life back in District 12 would be unlivable if I let that boy die. I rest my head forward on the edge of the table, overcome with loathing for myself. Wishing I had died in the arena. Wishing Seneca Crane had blown me to bits the way President Snow said he should have when I held out the berries. The berries. I realize the answer to who I am lies in that handful of poisonous fruit. If I held them out to save Peeta because I knew I would be shunned if I came back without him, then I am despicable. If I held them out because I loved him, I am still self-centered, although forgivable. But if I held them out to defy the Capitol, I am someone of worth. The trouble is, I don't know exactly what was going on inside me at that moment. Could it be the people in the districts are right? That it was an act of rebellion, even if it was an unconscious one? Because, deep down, I must know it isn't enough to keep myself, or my family, or my friends alive by running away. Even if I could. It wouldn't fix anything. It wouldn't stop people from being hurt the way Gale was today. Life in District 12 isn't really so different from life in the arena. At some point, you have to stop running and turn around and face whoever wants you dead. The hard thing is finding the courage to do it. Well, it's not hard for Gale. He was born a rebel. I'm the one making an escape plan. "I'm so sorry," I whisper. I lean forward and kiss him. His eyelashes flutter and he looks at me through a haze of opiates. "Hey, Catnip." "Hey, Gale," I say. "Thought you'd be gone by now," he says. My choices are simple. I can die like quarry in the woods or I can die here beside Gale. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm going to stay right here and cause all kinds of trouble." "Me, too," Gale says. He just manages a smile before the drugs pull him back under.

Catching fire Chapter 9 Page 120

Someone gives my shoulder a shake and I sit up. I've fallen asleep with my face on the table. The white cloth has left creases on my good cheek. The other, the one that took the lash from Thread, throbs painfully. Gale's dead to the world, but his fingers are locked around mine. I smell fresh bread and turn my stiff neck to find Peeta looking down at me with such a sad expression. I get the sense that he's been watching us awhile. "Go on up to bed, Katniss. I'll look after him now," he says. "Peeta. About what I said yesterday, about running - " I begin. "I know," he says. "There's nothing to explain." I see the loaves of bread on the counter in the pale, snowy morning light. The blue shadows under his eyes. I wonder if he slept at all. Couldn't have been long. I think of his agreeing to go with me yesterday, his stepping up beside me to protect Gale, his willingness to throw his lot in with mine entirely when I give him so little in return. No matter what I do, I'm hurting someone. "Peeta - " "Just go to bed, okay?" he says.

Catching fire Chapter 12 pages 169-170

I'm hoping she's wrong. I haven't had time to prepare Gale for any of this. Since the whipping, I only see him when he comes to the house for my mother to check how he's healing. He's often scheduled seven days a week in the mine. In the few minutes of privacy we've had, with me walking him back to town, I gather that the rumblings of an uprising in 12 have been subdued by Thread's crackdown. He knows I'm not going to run. But he must also know that if we don't revolt in 12, I'm destined to be Peeta's bride. Seeing me lounging around in gorgeous gowns on his television ... what can he do with that?

Catching fire Chapter 13 Pages 178-179

Thanks," I say. I should go see Peeta now, but I don't want to. My head's spinning from the drink, and I'm so wiped out, who knows what he could get me to agree to? No, now I have to go home to face my mother and Prim. As I stagger up the steps to my house, the front door opens and Gale pulls me into his arms. "I was wrong. We should have gone when you said," he whispers. "No," I say. I'm having trouble focusing, and liquor keeps sloshing out of my bottle and down the back of Gale's jacket, but he doesn't seem to care. "It's not too late," he says. Over his shoulder, I see my mother and Prim clutching each other in the doorway. We run. They die. And now I've got Peeta to protect. End of discussion. "Yeah, it is." My knees give way and he's holding me up. As the alcohol overcomes my mind, I hear the glass bottle shatter on the floor. This seems appropriate since I have obviously lost my grip on everything.

Catching Fire Chaper 13 ( Later on) Pages 185-186

Even Gale steps into the picture on Sundays, although he's got no love for Peeta or Haymitch, and teaches us all he knows about snares. It's weird for me, being in conversations with both Peeta and Gale, but they seem to have set aside whatever issues they have about me. One night, as I'm walking Gale back into town, he even admits, "It'd be better if he were easier to hate." "Tell me about it," I say. "If I could've just hated him in the arena, we all wouldn't be in this mess now. He'd be dead, and I'd be a happy little victor all by myself." "And where would we be, Katniss?" asks Gale. I pause, not knowing what to say. Where would I be with my pretend cousin who wouldn't be my cousin if it weren't for Peeta? Would he have still kissed me and would I have kissed him back had I been free to do so? Would I have let myself open up to him, lulled by the security of money and food and the illusion of safety being a victor could bring under different circumstances? But there would still always be the reaping looming over us, over our children. No matter what I wanted ... "Hunting. Like every Sunday," I say. I know he didn't mean the question literally, but this is as much as I can honestly give. Gale knows I chose him over Peeta when I didn't make a run for it. To me, there's no point in talking about things that might have been. Even if I had killed Peeta in the arena, I still wouldn't have wanted to marry anyone. I only got engaged to save people's lives, and that completely backfired. I'm afraid, anyway, that any kind of emotional scene with Gale might cause him to do something drastic. Like start that uprising in the mines. And as Haymitch says, District 12 isn't ready for that. If anything, they're less ready than before the Quarter Quell announcement, because the following morning another hundred Peacekeepers arrived on the train. Since I don't plan on making it back alive a second time, the sooner Gale lets me go, the better. I do plan on saying one or two things to him after the reaping, when we're allowed an hour for good-byes. To let Gale know how essential he's been to me all these years. How much better my life has been for knowing him. For loving him, even if it's only in the limited way that I can manage. But I never get the chance.

Now the only time she Mentions Gale in the arena is when Peeta pretty much is reminding her value alive. That her Family and Gale needs her. and Other then that She did say her personal goodbyes since she has no intent on coming back alive and the Jabber jay attack. But that’s it. She didn’t think of him when Peeta nearly died. or when Peeta said that Katniss was pregnat and Already Married. Nope her thoughts were okay well oh shit now what. Okay play it cool loll.

Mockingjay Chapter 2 Pages 27- 31

After a while, the door opens and someone slips in. Gale slides down beside me, his nose trickling blood. "What happened?" I ask. "I got in Boggs's way," he answers with a shrug. I use my sleeve to wipe his nose. "Watch it!" I try to be gentler. Patting, not wiping. "Which one is he?" "Oh, you know. Coin's right-hand lackey. The one who tried to stop you." He pushes my hand away. "Quit! You'll bleed me to death."

The trickle has turned to a steady stream. I give up on the first-aid attempts. "You fought with Boggs?" "No, just blocked the doorway when he tried to follow you. His elbow caught me in the nose," says Gale. "They'll probably punish you," I say. "Already have." He holds up his wrist. I stare at it uncomprehendingly. "Coin took back my communicuff." I bite my lip, trying to remain serious. But it seems so ridiculous. "I'm sorry, Soldier Gale Hawthorne." "Don't be, Soldier Katniss Everdeen." He grins. "I felt like a jerk walking around with it anyway." We both start laughing. "I think it was quite a demotion." This is one of the few good things about 13. Getting Gale back. With the pressure of the Capitol's arranged marriage between Peeta and me gone, we've managed to regain our friendship. He doesn't push it any further - try to kiss me or talk about love. Either I've been too sick, or he's willing to give me space, or he knows it's just too cruel with Peeta in the hands of the Capitol. Whatever the case, I've got someone to tell my secrets to again. "Who are these people?" I say. "They're us. If we'd had nukes instead of a few lumps of coal," he answers. "I like to think Twelve wouldn't have abandoned the rest of the rebels back in the Dark Days," I say. "We might have. If it was that, surrender, or start a nuclear war," says Gale. "In a way, it's remarkable they survived at all." Maybe it's because I still have the ashes of my own district on my shoes, but for the first time, I give the people of 13 something I have withheld from them: credit. For staying alive against all odds. Their early years must have been terrible, huddled in the chambers beneath the ground after their city was bombed to dust. Population decimated, no possible ally to turn to for aid. Over the past seventy-five years, they've learned to be self-sufficient, turned their citizens into an army, and built a new society with no help from anyone. They would be even more powerful if that pox epidemic hadn't flattened their birthrate and made them so desperate for a new gene pool and breeders. Maybe they are militaristic, overly programmed, and somewhat lacking in a sense of humor. They're here. And willing to take on the Capitol. "Still, it took them long enough to show up," I say. "It wasn't simple. They had to build up a rebel base in the Capitol, get some sort of underground organized in the districts," he says. "Then they needed someone to set the whole thing in motion. They needed you." "They needed Peeta, too, but they seem to have forgotten that," I say.

Gale's expression darkens. "Peeta might have done a lot of damage tonight. Most of the rebels will dismiss what he said immediately, of course. But there are districts where the resistance is shakier. The cease-fire's clearly President Snow's idea. But it seems so reasonable coming out of Peeta's mouth."

I'm afraid of Gale's answer, but I ask anyway. "Why do you think he said it?" "He might have been tortured. Or persuaded. My guess is he made some kind of deal to protect you. He'd put forth the idea of the cease-fire if Snow let him present you as a confused pregnant girl who had no idea what was going on when she was taken prisoner by the rebels. This way, if the districts lose, there's still a chance of leniency for you. If you play it right." I must still look perplexed because Gale delivers the next line very slowly. "Katniss...he's still trying to keep you alive." To keep me alive?And then I understand. The Games are still on. We have left the arena, but since Peeta and I weren't killed, his last wish to preserve my life still stands. His idea is to have me lie low, remain safe and imprisoned, while the war plays out. Then neither side will really have cause to kill me. And Peeta? If the rebels win, it will be disastrous for him. If the Capitol wins, who knows? Maybe we'll both be allowed to live - if I play it right - to watch the Games go on.... Images flash through my mind: the spear piercing Rue's body in the arena, Gale hanging senseless from the whipping post, the corpse-littered wasteland of my home. And for what? For what? As my blood turns hot, I remember other things. My first glimpse of an uprising in District 8. The victors locked hand in hand the night before the Quarter Quell. And how it was no accident, my shooting that arrow into the force field in the arena. How badly I wanted it to lodge deep in the heart of my enemy. I spring up, upsetting a box of a hundred pencils, sending them scattering around the floor. "What is it?" Gale asks. "There can't be a cease-fire." I lean down, fumbling as I shove the sticks of dark gray graphite back into the box. "We can't go back." "I know." Gale sweeps up a handful of pencils and taps them on the floor into perfect alignment. "Whatever reason Peeta had for saying those things, he's wrong." The stupid sticks won't go in the box and I snap several in my frustration. "I know. Give it here. You're breaking them to bits." He pulls the box from my hands and refills it with swift, concise motions. "He doesn't know what they did to Twelve. If he could've seen what was on the ground" - I start. "Katniss, I'm not arguing. If I could hit a button and kill every living soul working for the Capitol, I would do it. Without hesitation." He slides the last pencil into the box and flips the lid closed. "The question is, what are you going to do?" It turns out the question that's been eating away at me has only ever had one possible answer. But it took Peeta's ploy for me to recognize it. What am I going to do? I take a deep breath. My arms rise slightly - as if recalling the black-and-white wings Cinna gave me - then come to rest at my sides. "I'm going to be the Mockingjay."

Mockingjay Chapter 3 Pages 39-41

I skim my list. "Gale. I'll need him with me to do this." "With you how? Off camera? By your side at all times? Do you want him presented as your new lover?" Coin asks. She hasn't said this with any particular malice - quite the contrary, her words are very matter-of-fact. But my mouth still drops open in shock. "What?" "I think we should continue the current romance. A quick defection from Peeta could cause the audience to lose sympathy for her," says Plutarch. "Especially since they think she's pregnant with his child." "Agreed. So, on-screen, Gale can simply be portrayed as a fellow rebel. Is that all right?" says Coin. I just stare at her. She repeats herself impatiently. "For Gale. Will that be sufficient?" "We can always work him in as your cousin," says Fulvia.

"We're not cousins," Gale and I say together.

"Right, but we should probably keep that up for appearances' sake on camera," says Plutarch. "Off camera, he's all yours. Anything else?"

I'm rattled by the turn in the conversation. The implications that I could so readily dispose of Peeta, that I'm in love with Gale, that the whole thing has been an act. My cheeks begin to burn. The very notion that I'm devoting any thought to who I want presented as my lover, given our current circumstances, is demeaning. I let my anger propel me into my greatest demand. "When the war is over, if we've won, Peeta will be pardoned."

Dead silence. I feel Gale's body tense. I guess I should have told him before, but I wasn't sure how he'd respond. Not when it involved Peeta.

"No form of punishment will be inflicted," I continue. A new thought occurs to me. "The same goes for the other captured tributes, Johanna and Enobaria." Frankly, I don't care about Enobaria, the vicious District 2 tribute. In fact, I dislike her, but it seems wrong to leave her out.

"No," says Coin flatly.

"Yes," I shoot back. "It's not their fault you abandoned them in the arena. Who knows what the Capitol's doing to them?"

"They'll be tried with other war criminals and treated as the tribunal sees fit," she says.

"They'll be granted immunity!" I feel myself rising from my chair, my voice full and resonant. "You will personally pledge this in front of the entire population of District Thirteen and the remainder of Twelve. Soon. Today. It will be recorded for future generations. You will hold yourself and your government responsible for their safety, or you'll find yourself another Mockingjay!"

Mockingjay Chapter 4 Pages 53-55.

We hunt, like in the old days. Silent, needing no words to communicate, because here in the woods we move as two parts of one being. Anticipating each other's movements, watching each other's backs. How long has it been? Eight months? Nine? Since we had this freedom? It's not exactly the same, given all that's happened and the trackers on our ankles and the fact that I have to rest so often. But it's about as close to happiness as I think I can currently get. The animals here are not nearly suspicious enough. That extra moment it takes to place our unfamiliar scent means their death. In an hour and a half, we've got a mixed dozen - rabbits, squirrels, and turkeys - and decide to knock off to spend the remaining time by a pond that must be fed by an underground spring, since the water's cool and sweet. When Gale offers to clean the game, I don't object. I stick a few mint leaves on my tongue, close my eyes, and lean back against a rock, soaking in the sounds, letting the scorching afternoon sun burn my skin, almost at peace until Gale's voice interrupts me. "Katniss, why do you care so much about your prep team?" I open my eyes to see if he's joking, but he's frowning down at the rabbit he's skinning. "Why shouldn't I?" "Hm. Let's see. Because they've spent the last year prettying you up for slaughter?" he suggests. "It's more complicated than that. I know them. They're not evil or cruel. They're not even smart. Hurting them, it's like hurting children. They don't see...I mean, they don't know..." I get knotted up in my words. "They don't know what, Katniss?" he says. "That tributes - who are the actual children involved here, not your trio of freaks - are forced to fight to the death? That you were going into that arena for people's amusement? Was that a big secret in the Capitol?" "No. But they don't view it the way we do," I say. "They're raised on it and - " "Are you actually defending them?" He slips the skin from the rabbit in one quick move. That stings, because, in fact, I am, and it's ridiculous. I struggle to find a logical position. "I guess I'm defending anyone who's treated like that for taking a slice of bread. Maybe it reminds me too much of what happened to you over a turkey!" Still, he's right. It does seem strange, my level of concern over the prep team. I should hate them and want to see them strung up. But they're so clueless, and they belonged to Cinna, and he was on my side, right? "I'm not looking for a fight," Gale says. "But I don't think Coin was sending you some big message by punishing them for breaking the rules here. She probably thought you'd see it as a favor." He stuffs the rabbit in the sack and rises. "We better get going if we want to make it back on time." I ignore his offer of a hand up and get to my feet unsteadily. "Fine." Neither of us talks on the way back, but once we're inside the gate, I think of something else. "During the Quarter Quell, Octavia and Flavius had to quit because they couldn't stop crying over me going back in. And Venia could barely say good-bye." "I'll try and keep that in mind as they...remake you," says Gale. "Do," I say.

Chapter 5 Mockingjay pages 63-64

Gale, who's not usually much of a talker during meals, makes an effort to keep the conversation going, asking about the makeover. I know it's his attempt at smoothing things over. We argued last night after he suggested I'd left Coin no choice but to counter my demand for the victors' safety with one of her own. "Katniss, she's running this district. She can't do it if it seems like she's caving in to your will." "You mean she can't stand any dissent, even if it's fair," I'd countered. "I mean you put her in a bad position. Making her give Peeta and the others immunity when we don't even know what sort of damage they might cause," Gale had said. "So I should've just gone with the program and let the other tributes take their chances? Not that it matters, because that's what we're all doing anyway!" That was when I'd slammed the door in his face. I hadn't sat with him at breakfast, and when Plutarch had sent him down to training this morning, I'd let him go without a word. I know he only spoke out of concern for me, but I really need him to be on my side, not Coin's. How can he not know that? After lunch, Gale and I are scheduled to go down to Special Defense to meet Beetee. As we ride the elevator, Gale finally says, "You're still angry." "And you're still not sorry," I reply. "I still stand by what I said. Do you want me to lie about it?" he asks. "No, I want you to rethink it and come up with the right opinion," I tell him. But this just makes him laugh. I have to let it go. There's no point in trying to dictate what Gale thinks. Which, if I'm honest, is one reason I trust him.

Mockingjay Chapter 6 Pages 81-82

Fulvia Cardew hustles over and makes a sound of frustration when she sees my clean face. "All that work, down the drain. I'm not blaming you, Katniss. It's just that very few people are born with camera-ready faces. Like him." She snags Gale, who's in a conversation with Plutarch, and spins him toward us. "Isn't he handsome?" Gale does look striking in the uniform, I guess. But the question just embarrasses us both, given our history. I'm trying to think of a witty comeback, when Boggs says brusquely, "Well, don't expect us to be too impressed. We just saw Finnick Odair in his underwear." I decide to go ahead and like Boggs.

Chapter 9 Mockingjay Pages 116 -118

Come morning, I stick my forearm in the wall and stare groggily at the day's schedule. Immediately after breakfast, I am slated for Production. In the dining hall, as I down my hot grain and milk and mushy beets, I spot a communicuff on Gale's wrist. "When did you get that back, Soldier Hawthorne?" I ask. "Yesterday. They thought if I'm going to be in the field with you, it could be a backup system of communication," says Gale. No one has ever offered me a communicuff. I wonder, if I asked for one, would I get it? "Well, I guess one of us has to be accessible," I say with an edge to my voice. "What's that mean?" he says. "Nothing. Just repeating what you said," I tell him. "And I totally agree that the accessible one should be you. I just hope I still have access to you as well." Our eyes lock, and I realize how furious I am with Gale. That I don't believe for a second that he didn't see Peeta's propo. That I feel completely betrayed that he didn't tell me about it. We know each other too well for him not to read my mood and guess what has caused it. "Katniss - " he begins. Already the admission of guilt is in his tone. I grab my tray, cross to the deposit area, and slam the dishes onto the rack. By the time I'm in the hallway, he's caught up with me. "Why didn't you say something?" he asks, taking my arm. "Why didn'tI ?" I jerk my arm free. "Why didn'tyou , Gale? And I did, by the way, when I asked you last night about what had been going on!" "I'm sorry. All right? I didn't know what to do. I wanted to tell you, but everyone was afraid that seeing Peeta's propo would make you sick," he says. "They were right. It did. But not quite as sick as you lying to me for Coin." At that moment, his communicuff starts beeping. "There she is. Better run. You have things to tell her." For a moment, real hurt registers on his face. Then cold anger replaces it. He turns on his heel and goes. Maybe I have been too spiteful, not given him enough time to explain. Maybe everyone is just trying to protect me by lying to me. I don't care. I'm sick of people lying to me for my own good. Because really it's mostly for their own good. Lie to Katniss about the rebellion so she doesn't do anything crazy. Send her into the arena without a clue so we can fish her out. Don't tell her about Peeta's propo because it might make her sick, and it's hard enough to get a decent performance out of her as it is. I do feel sick. Heartsick. And too tired for a day of production. But I'm already at Remake, so I go in.

Mockingjay Chapter 9 Pages 127-130

As we trudge back through the woods, we reach a boulder, and both Gale and I turn our heads in the same direction, like a pair of dogs catching a scent on the wind. Cressida notices and asks what lies that way. We admit, without acknowledging each other, it's our old hunting rendezvous place. She wants to see it, even after we tell her it's nothing really. Nothing but a place where I was happy, I think. Our rock ledge overlooking the valley. Perhaps a little less green than usual, but the blackberry bushes hang heavy with fruit. Here began countless days of hunting and snaring, fishing and gathering, roaming together through the woods, unloading our thoughts while we filled our game bags. This was the doorway to both sustenance and sanity. And we were each other's key. There's no District 12 to escape from now, no Peacekeepers to trick, no hungry mouths to feed. The Capitol took away all of that, and I'm on the verge of losing Gale as well. The glue of mutual need that bonded us so tightly together for all those years is melting away. Dark patches, not light, show in the spaces between us. How can it be that today, in the face of 12's horrible demise, we are too angry to even speak to each other? Gale as good as lied to me. That was unacceptable, even if he was concerned about my well-being. His apology seemed genuine, though. And I threw it back in his face with an insult to make sure it stung. What is happening to us? Why are we always at odds now? It's all a muddle, but I somehow feel that if I went back to the root of our troubles, my actions would be at the heart of it. Do I really want to drive him away? My fingers encircle a blackberry and pluck it from its stem. I roll it gently between my thumb and forefinger. Suddenly, I turn to him and toss it in his direction. "And may the odds - " I say. I throw it high so he has plenty of time to decide whether to knock it aside or accept it. Gale's eyes train on me, not the berry, but at the last moment, he opens his mouth and catches it. He chews, swallows, and there's a long pause before he says " - beever in your favor." But he does say it. Cressida has us sit in the nook in the rocks, where it's impossible not to be touching, and coaxes us into talking about hunting. What drove us out into the woods, how we met, favorite moments. We thaw, begin to laugh a little, as we relate mishaps with bees and wild dogs and skunks. When the conversation turns to how it felt to translate our skill with weapons to the bombing in 8, I stop talking. Gale just says, "Long overdue." By the time we reach the town square, afternoon's sinking into evening. I take Cressida to the rubble of the bakery and ask her to film something. The only emotion I can muster is exhaustion. "Peeta, this is your home. None of your family has been heard of since the bombing. Twelve is gone. And you're calling for a cease-fire?" I look across the emptiness. "There's no one left to hear you." As we stand before the lump of metal that was the gallows, Cressida asks if either of us has ever been tortured. In answer, Gale pulls off his shirt and turns his back to the camera. I stare at the lash marks, and again hear the whistling of the whip, see his bloody figure hanging unconscious by his wrists. "I'm done," I announce. "I'll meet you at the Victor's Village. Something for...my mother." I guess I walked here, but the next thing I'm conscious of is sitting on the floor in front of the kitchen cabinets of our house in the Victor's Village. Meticulously lining ceramic jars and glass bottles into a box. Placing clean cotton bandages between them to prevent breaking. Wrapping bunches of dried flowers. Suddenly, I remember the rose on my dresser. Was it real? If so, is it still up there? I have to resist the temptation to check. If it's there, it will only frighten me all over again. I hurry with my packing. When the cabinets are empty, I rise to find that Gale has materialized in my kitchen. It's disturbing how soundlessly he can appear. He's leaning on the table, his fingers spread wide against the wood grain. I set the box between us. "Remember?" he asks. "This is where you kissed me." So the heavy dose of morphling administered after the whipping wasn't enough to erase that from his consciousness. "I didn't think you'd remember that," I say. "Have to be dead to forget. Maybe even not then," he tells me. "Maybe I'll be like that man in 'The Hanging Tree.' Still waiting for an answer." Gale, who I have never seen cry, has tears in his eyes. To keep them from spilling over, I reach forward and press my lips against his. We taste of heat, ashes, and misery. It's a surprising flavor for such a gentle kiss. He pulls away first and gives me a wry smile. "I knew you'd kiss me." "How?" I say. Because I didn't know myself. "Because I'm in pain," he says. "That's the only way I get your attention." He picks up the box. "Don't worry, Katniss. It'll pass." He leaves before I can answer.

Mockingjay Chapter 11 Page 158

"Can we have a coffee?" asks Finnick. Steaming cups are handed out. I stare distastefully at the shiny black liquid, never having been much of a fan of the stuff, but thinking it might help me stay on my feet. Finnick sloshes some cream in my cup and reaches into the sugar bowl. "Want a sugar cube?" he asks in his old seductive voice. That's how we met, with Finnick offering me sugar. Surrounded by horses and chariots, costumed and painted for the crowds, before we were allies. Before I had any idea what made him tick. The memory actually coaxes a smile out of me. "Here, it improves the taste," he says in his real voice, plunking three cubes in my cup. As I turn to go suit up as the Mockingjay, I catch Gale watching me and Finnick unhappily. What now? Does he actually think something's going on between us? Maybe he saw me go to Finnick's last night. I would've passed the Hawthornes' space to get there. I guess that probably rubbed him the wrong way. Me seeking out Finnick's company instead of his. Well, fine. I've got rope burn on my fingers, I can barely hold my eyes open, and a camera crew's waiting for me to do something brilliant. And Snow's got Peeta. Gale can think whatever he wants.

Mockingjay Chapter 13 Page 185-186

Gale must have been released from the hospital this morning as well, because I find him in one of the research rooms with Beetee. They're immersed, heads bent over a drawing, taking a measurement. Versions of the picture litter the table and floor. Tacked on the corkboard walls and occupying several computer screens are other designs of some sort. In the rough lines of one, I recognize Gale's twitch-up snare. "What are these?" I ask hoarsely, pulling their attention from the sheet. "Ah, Katniss, you've found us out," says Beetee cheerfully. "What? Is this a secret?" I know Gale's been down here working with Beetee a lot, but I assumed they were messing around with bows and guns. "Not really. But I've felt a little guilty about it. Stealing Gale away from you so much," Beetee admits. Since I've spent most of my time in 13 disoriented, worried, angry, being remade, or hospitalized, I can't say Gale's absences have inconvenienced me. Things haven't been exactly harmonious between us, either. But I let Beetee think he owes me. "I hope you've been putting his time to good use." "Come and see," he says, waving me over to a computer screen. This is what they've been doing. Taking the fundamental ideas behind Gale's traps and adapting them into weapons against humans. Bombs mostly. It's less about the mechanics of the traps than the psychology behind them. Booby-trapping an area that provides something essential to survival. A water or food supply. Frightening prey so that a large number flee into a greater destruction. Endangering off-spring in order to draw in the actual desired target, the parent. Luring the victim into what appears to be a safe haven - where death awaits it. At some point, Gale and Beetee left the wilderness behind and focused on more human impulses. Like compassion. A bomb explodes. Time is allowed for people to rush to the aid of the wounded. Then a second, more powerful bomb kills them as well. "That seems to be crossing some kind of line," I say. "So anything goes?" They both stare at me - Beetee with doubt, Gale with hostility. "I guess there isn't a rule book for what might be unacceptable to do to another human being." "Sure there is. Beetee and I have been following the same rule book President Snow used when he hijacked Peeta," says Gale. Cruel, but to the point. I leave without further comment. I feel if I don't get outside immediately, I'll just go ballistic,

Mockingjay Chapter 14 Pages 196-200

Gale finds me when they arrive late one afternoon. I'm sitting on a log at the edge of my current village, plucking a goose. A dozen or so of the birds are piled at my feet. Great flocks of them have been migrating through here since I've arrived, and the pickings are easy. Without a word, Gale settles beside me and begins to relieve a bird of its feathers. We're through about half when he says, "Any chance we'll get to eat these?" "Yeah. Most go to the camp kitchen, but they expect me to give a couple to whoever I'm staying with tonight," I say. "For keeping me." "Isn't the honor of the thing enough?" he says. "You'd think," I reply. "But word's gotten out that mockingjays are hazardous to your health." We pluck in silence for a while longer. Then he says, "I saw Peeta yesterday. Through the glass." "What'd you think?" I ask. "Something selfish," says Gale. "That you don't have to be jealous of him anymore?" My fingers give a yank, and a cloud of feathers floats down around us. "No. Just the opposite." Gale pulls a feather out of my hair. "I thought...I'll never compete with that. No matter how much pain I'm in." He spins the feather between his thumb and forefinger. "I don't stand a chance if he doesn't get better. You'll never be able to let him go. You'll always feel wrong about being with me." "The way I always felt wrong kissing him because of you," I say. Gale holds my gaze. "If I thought that was true, I could almost live with the rest of it." "It is true," I admit. "But so is what you said about Peeta."

Gale makes a sound of exasperation. Nonetheless, after we've dropped off the birds and volunteered to go back to the woods to gather kindling for the evening fire, I find myself wrapped in his arms. His lips brushing the faded bruises on my neck, working their way to my mouth. Despite what I feel for Peeta, this is when I accept deep down that he'll never come back to me. Or I'll never go back to him. I'll stay in 2 until it falls, go to the Capitol and kill Snow, and then die for my trouble. And he'll die insane and hating me. So in the fading light I shut my eyes and kiss Gale to make up for all the kisses I've withheld, and because it doesn't matter anymore, and because I'm so desperately lonely I can't stand it. Gale's touch and taste and heat remind me that at least my body's still alive, and for the moment it's a welcome feeling. I empty my mind and let the sensations run through my flesh, happy to lose myself. When Gale pulls away slightly, I move forward to close the gap, but I feel his hand under my chin. "Katniss," he says. The instant I open my eyes, the world seems disjointed. This is not our woods or our mountains or our way. My hand automatically goes to the scar on my left temple, which I associate with confusion. "Now kiss me." Bewildered, unblinking, I stand there while he leans in and presses his lips to mine briefly. He examines my face closely. "What's going on in your head?"

"I don't know," I whisper back.

"Then it's like kissing someone who's drunk. It doesn't count," he says with a weak attempt at a laugh. He scoops up a pile of kindling and drops it in my empty arms, returning me to myself.

"How do you know?" I say, mostly to cover my embarrassment. "Have you kissed someone who's drunk?" I guess Gale could've been kissing girls right and left back in 12. He certainly had enough takers. I never thought about it much before.

He just shakes his head. "No. But it's not hard to imagine."

"So, you never kissed any other girls?" I ask.

"I didn't say that. You know, you were only twelve when we met. And a real pain besides. I did have a life outside of hunting with you," he says, loading up with firewood.

Suddenly, I'm genuinely curious. "Who did you kiss? And where?"

"Too many to remember. Behind the school, on the slag heap, you name it," he says.

I roll my eyes. "So when did I become so special? When they carted me off to the Capitol?"

"No. About six months before that. Right after New Year's. We were in the Hob, eating some slop of Greasy Sae's. And Darius was teasing you about trading a rabbit for one of his kisses. And I realized...I minded," he tells me.

I remember that day. Bitter cold and dark by four in the afternoon. We'd been hunting, but a heavy snow had driven us back into town. The Hob was crowded with people looking for refuge from the weather. Greasy Sae's soup, made with stock from the bones of a wild dog we'd shot a week earlier, was below her usual standards. Still, it was hot, and I was starving as I scooped it up, sitting cross-legged on her counter. Darius was leaning on the post of the stall, tickling my cheek with the end of my braid, while I smacked his hand away. He was explaining why one of his kisses merited a rabbit, or possibly two, since everyone knows redheaded men are the most virile. And Greasy Sae and I were laughing because he was so ridiculous and persistent and kept pointing out women around the Hob who he said had paid far more than a rabbit to enjoy his lips. "See? The one in the green muffler? Go ahead and ask her.If you need a reference."

A million miles from here, a billion days ago, this happened. "Darius was just joking around," I say.

"Probably. Although you'd be the last to figure out if he wasn't," Gale tells me. "Take Peeta. Take me. Or even Finnick. I was starting to worry he had his eye on you, but he seems back on track now."

"You don't know Finnick if you think he'd love me," I say.

Gale shrugs. "I know he was desperate. That makes people do all kinds of crazy things."

I can't help thinking that's directed at me.

Mockingjay Chapters 14 and 15 Pages 200- 206

Gale, who is too restless to sit at the table for more than a few hours, has been alternating between pacing and sharing my windowsill. Early on, he seemed to accept Lyme's assertion that the entrances couldn't be taken, and dropped out of the conversation entirely. For the last hour or so, he's sat quietly, his brow knitted in concentration, staring at the Nut through the window glass. In the silence that follows Lyme's ultimatum, he speaks up. "Is it really so necessary that we take the Nut? Or would it be enough to disable it?" "That would be a step in the right direction," says Beetee. "What do you have in mind?" "Think of it as a wild dog den," Gale continues. "You're not going to fight your way in. So you have two choices. Trap the dogs inside or flush them out." "We've tried bombing the entrances," says Lyme. "They're set too far inside the stone for any real damage to be done." "I wasn't thinking of that," says Gale. "I was thinking of using the mountain." Beetee rises and joins Gale at the window, peering through his ill-fitting glasses. "See? Running down the sides?" "Avalanche paths," says Beetee under his breath. "It'd be tricky. We'd have to design the detonation sequence with great care, and once it's in motion, we couldn't hope to control it." "We don't need to control it if we give up the idea that we have to possess the Nut," says Gale. "Only shut it down." "So you're suggesting we start avalanches and block the entrances?" asks Lyme. "That's it," says Gale. "Trap the enemy inside, cut off from supplies. Make it impossible for them to send out their hovercraft." While everyone considers the plan, Boggs flips through a stack of blueprints of the Nut and frowns. "You risk killing everyone inside. Look at the ventilation system. It's rudimentary at best. Nothing like what we have in Thirteen. It depends entirely on pumping in air from the mountainsides. Block those vents and you'll suffocate whoever is trapped." "They could still escape through the train tunnel to the square," says Beetee. "Not if we blow it up," says Gale brusquely. His intent, his full intent, becomes clear. Gale has no interest in preserving the lives of those in the Nut. No interest in caging the prey for later use. This is one of his death traps.

The implications of what Gale is suggesting settle quietly around the room. You can see the reaction playing out on people's faces. The expressions range from pleasure to distress, from sorrow to satisfaction. "The majority of the workers are citizens from Two," says Beetee neutrally. "So what?" says Gale. "We'll never be able to trust them again." "They should at least have a chance to surrender," says Lyme. "Well, that's a luxury we weren't given when they fire-bombed Twelve, but you're all so much cozier with the Capitol here," says Gale. By the look on Lyme's face, I think she might shoot him, or at least take a swing. She'd probably have the upper hand, too, with all her training. But her anger only seems to infuriate him and he yells, "We watched children burn to death and there was nothing we could do!" I have to close my eyes a minute, as the image rips through me. It has the desired effect. I want everyone in that mountain dead. Am about to say so. But then...I'm also a girl from District 12. Not President Snow. I can't help it. I can't condemn someone to the death he's suggesting. "Gale," I say, taking his arm and trying to speak in a reasonable tone. "The Nut's an old mine. It'd be like causing a massive coal mining accident." Surely the words are enough to make anyone from 12 think twice about the plan. "But not so quick as the one that killed our fathers," he retorts. "Is that everyone's problem? That our enemies might have a few hours to reflect on the fact that they're dying, instead of just being blown to bits?" Back in the old days, when we were nothing more than a couple of kids hunting outside of 12, Gale said things like this and worse. But then they were just words. Here, put into practice, they become deeds that can never be reversed. "You don't know how those District Two people ended up in the Nut," I say. "They may have been coerced. They may be held against their will. Some are our own spies. Will you kill them, too?" "I would sacrifice a few, yes, to take out the rest of them," he replies. "And if I were a spy in there, I'd say, 'Bring on the avalanches!'" I know he's telling the truth. That Gale would sacrifice his life in this way for the cause - no one doubts it. Perhaps we'd all do the same if we were the spies and given the choice. I guess I would. But it's a coldhearted decision to make for other people and those who love them. "You said we had two choices," Boggs tells him. "To trap them or to flush them out. I say we try to avalanche the mountain but leave the train tunnel alone. People can escape into the square, where we'll be waiting for them." "Heavily armed, I hope," says Gale. "You can be sure they'll be." "Heavily armed. We'll take them prisoner," agrees Boggs. "Let's bring Thirteen into the loop now," Beetee suggests. "Let President Coin weigh in." "She'll want to block the tunnel," says Gale with conviction. "Yes, most likely. But you know, Peeta did have a point in his propos. About the dangers of killing ourselves off. I've been playing with some numbers. Factoring in the casualties and the wounded and...I think it's at least worth a conversation," says Beetee.

Mockingjay Chapter 15 Page 207

Gale's plan exceeds anyone's expectations. Beetee was right about being unable to control the avalanches once they'd been set in motion. The mountainsides are naturally unstable, but weakened by the explosions, they seem almost fluid. Whole sections of the Nut collapse before our eyes, obliterating any sign that human beings have ever set foot on the place. We stand speechless, tiny and insignificant, as waves of stone thunder down the mountain. Burying the entrances under tons of rock. Raising a cloud of dirt and debris that blackens the sky. Turning the Nut into a tomb. I imagine the hell inside the mountain. Sirens wailing. Lights flickering into darkness. Stone dust choking the air. The shrieks of panicked, trapped beings stumbling madly for a way out, only to find the entrances, the launchpad, the ventilation shafts themselves clogged with earth and rock trying to force its way in. Live wires flung free, fires breaking out, rubble making a familiar path a maze. People slamming, shoving, scrambling like ants as the hill presses in, threatening to crush their fragile shells.

Mockingay Chapter 17 Page 244

"I told you he hated me," I say. "It's the way he hates you. It's so...familiar. I used to feel like that," he admits. "When I'd watch you kissing him on the screen. Only I knew I wasn't being entirely fair. He can't see that." We reach my door. "Maybe he just sees me as I really am. I have to get some sleep." Gale catches my arm before I can disappear. "So that's what you're thinking now?" I shrug. "Katniss, as your oldest friend, believe me when I say he's not seeing you as you really are." He kisses my cheek and goes.

Mockingjay Chapter 19 Pages 267-268

The dinner whistle sounds, and Gale and I line up at the canteen. "Do you want me to kill him?" he asks bluntly. "That'll get us both sent back for sure," I say. But even though I'm furious, the brutality of the offer rattles me. "I can deal with him." "You mean until you take off? You and your paper map and possibly a Holo if you can get your hands on it?" So Gale has not missed my preparations. I hope they haven't been so obvious to the others. None of them know my mind like he does, though. "You're not planning on leaving me behind, are you?" he asks. Up until this point, I was. But having my hunting partner to watch my back doesn't sound like a bad idea. "As your fellow soldier, I have to strongly recommend you stay with your squad. But I can't stop you from coming, can I?" He grins. "No. Not unless you want me to alert the rest of the army."

Mockingjay Chapter 19 Page 274

I move to Gale, press my forehead into the body armor where his chest should be, feel his arm tighten around me. We finally know the name of the girl who we watched the Capitol abduct from the woods of 12, the fate of the Peacekeeper friend who tried to keep Gale alive. This is no time to call up happy moments of remembrance. They lost their lives because of me. I add them to my personal list of kills that began in the arena and now includes thousands. When I look up, I see it has taken Gale differently. His expression says that there are not enough mountains to crush, enough cities to destroy. It promises death.

Mockingjay Chapter 23. Pages 328-329

We change bandages, handcuff Peeta back to his support, and settle down to sleep. A few hours later, I slip back into consciousness and become aware of a quiet conversation. Peeta and Gale. I can't stop myself from eavesdropping. "Thanks for the water," Peeta says. "No problem," Gale replies. "I wake up ten times a night anyway." "To make sure Katniss is still here?" asks Peeta. "Something like that," Gale admits. There's a long pause before Peeta speaks again. "That was funny, what Tigris said. About no one knowing what to do with her." "Well,we never have," Gale says. They both laugh. It's so strange to hear them talking like this. Almost like friends. Which they're not. Never have been. Although they're not exactly enemies. "She loves you, you know," says Peeta. "She as good as told me after they whipped you." "Don't believe it," Gale answers. "The way she kissed you in the Quarter Quell...well, she never kissed me like that." "It was just part of the show," Peeta tells him, although there's an edge of doubt in his voice. "No, you won her over. Gave up everything for her. Maybe that's the only way to convince her you love her." There's a long pause. "I should have volunteered to take your place in the first Games. Protected her then." "You couldn't," says Peeta. "She'd never have forgiven you. You had to take care of her family. They matter more to her than her life." "Well, it won't be an issue much longer. I think it's unlikely all three of us will be alive at the end of the war. And if we are, I guess it's Katniss's problem. Who to choose." Gale yawns. "We should get some sleep." "Yeah." I hear Peeta's handcuffs slide down the support as he settles in. "I wonder how she'll make up her mind." "Oh, that I do know." I can just catch Gale's last words through the layer of fur. "Katniss will pick whoever she thinks she can't survive without."

Mockingjay Chapter 24 Page 275

A chill runs through me. Am I really that cold and calculating? Gale didn't say, "Katniss will pick whoever it will break her heart to give up," or even "whoever she can't live without." Those would have implied I was motivated by a kind of passion. But my best friend predicts I will choose the person who I think I "can't survive without." There's not the least indication that love, or desire, or even compatibility will sway me. I'll just conduct an unfeeling assessment of what my potential mates can offer me. As if in the end, it will be the question of whether a baker or a hunter will extend my longevity the most. It's a horrible thing for Gale to say, for Peeta not to refute. Especially when every emotion I have has been taken and exploited by the Capitol or the rebels. At the moment, the choice would be simple. I can survive just fine without either of them.

Mockingjay Chapter 26 Pages 366- 367

There's a tap at the door and Gale steps in. "Can I have a minute?" he asks. In the mirror, I watch my prep team. Unsure of where to go, they bump into one another a few times and then closet themselves in the bathroom. Gale comes up behind me and we examine each other's reflection. I'm searching for something to hang on to, some sign of the girl and boy who met by chance in the woods five years ago and became inseparable. I'm wondering what would have happened to them if the Hunger Games had not reaped the girl. If she would have fallen in love with the boy, married him even. And sometime in the future, when the brothers and sisters had been raised up, escaped with him into the woods and left 12 behind forever. Would they have been happy, out in the wild, or would the dark, twisted sadness between them have grown up even without the Capitol's help? "I brought you this." Gale holds up a sheath. When I take it, I notice it holds a single, ordinary arrow. "It's supposed to be symbolic. You firing the last shot of the war." "What if I miss?" I say. "Does Coin retrieve it and bring it back to me? Or just shoot Snow through the head herself?" "You won't miss." Gale adjusts the sheath on my shoulder. We stand there, face-to-face, not meeting each other's eyes. "You didn't come see me in the hospital." He doesn't answer, so finally I just say it. "Was it your bomb?" "I don't know. Neither does Beetee," he says. "Does it matter? You'll always be thinking about it." He waits for me to deny it; I want to deny it, but it's true. Even now I can see the flash that ignites her, feel the heat of the flames. And I will never be able to separate that moment from Gale. My silence is my answer.

"That was the one thing I had going for me. Taking care of your family," he says. "Shoot straight, okay?" He touches my cheek and leaves. I want to call him back and tell him that I was wrong. That I'll figure out a way to make peace with this. To remember the circumstances under which he created the bomb. Take into account my own inexcusable crimes. Dig up the truth about who dropped the parachutes. Prove it wasn't the rebels. Forgive him. But since I can't, I'll just have to deal with the pain.

Chapter 27 Pages 384 385

Over the eggs, I ask her, "Where did Gale go?" "District Two. Got some fancy job there. I see him now and again on the television," she says. I dig around inside myself, trying to register anger, hatred, longing. I find only relief. "I'm going hunting today," I say. "Well, I wouldn't mind some fresh game at that," she answers. I arm myself with a bow and arrows and head out, intending to exit 12 through the Meadow. Near the square are teams of masked and gloved people with horse-drawn carts. Sifting through what lay under the snow this winter. Gathering remains. A cart's parked in front of the mayor's house. I recognize Thom, Gale's old crewmate, pausing a moment to wipe the sweat from his face with a rag. I remember seeing him in 13, but he must have come back. His greeting gives me the courage to ask, "Did they find anyone in there?" "Whole family. And the two people who worked for them," Thom tells me. Madge. Quiet and kind and brave. The girl who gave me the pin that gave me a name. I swallow hard. Wonder if she'll be joining the cast of my nightmares tonight. Shoveling the ashes into my mouth. "I thought maybe, since he was the mayor..." "I don't think being the mayor of Twelve put the odds in his favor," says Thom. I nod and keep moving, careful not to look in the back of the cart. All through the town and the Seam, it's the same. The reaping of the dead. As I near the ruins of my old house, the road becomes thick with carts. The Meadow's gone, or at least dramatically altered. A deep pit has been dug, and they're lining it with bones, a mass grave for my people. I skirt around the hole and enter the woods at my usual place. It doesn't matter, though. The fence isn't charged anymore and has been propped up with long branches to keep out the predators. But old habits die hard. I think about going to the lake, but I'm so weak that I barely make it to my meeting place with Gale. I sit on the rock where Cressida filmed us, but it's too wide without his body beside me. Several times I close my eyes and count to ten, thinking that when I open them, he will have materialized without a sound as he so often did. I have to remind myself that Gale's in 2 with a fancy job, probably kissing another pair of lips.

#thg #hunger games #catching fire #mockingjay #mockingjay part 1 #mockingjay part 2 #The Hunger Games #TheHungerGames #CatchingFire #hunger games catching fire #cf #gale hawthorne #gale #Katniss #katniss everdeen #Peeta Mellark #Peeta

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game-fixer · 4 years ago

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Game Fixes Episode 1: Mega Man X7

I'm gonna start my tenure with one of the most notorious games in all of Mega Man, not just the X series. I have several ideas that can make the game feel more in line with characters and feel less forced.

Of course this will come with general polish in many aspects including a redone script and voice work. No disrespect towards any actors/actresses in the games, of course, but the presentation needs some serious work. Anyway, let's start with the first change

Axl

No, I'm not gonna get rid of him. I think he's a welcome addition to the cast and, if worked right, could be made to be even more beloved in the game he debuted in, despite being the Silver the Hedgehog of the X series.

First idea would be an overhaul in his move set. I say ditch the lame Copy Shot thing for his charge. Also have him function more like Bass from Mega Man and Bass/Mega Man 10, where he stands in place and you aim manually from the start. In 3D, (because I'm not getting rid of 3D) this could even include a first person aim function so you can be more precise. Also a light will shine to show your path so you're not relying on blind fire. Now, I'm thinking he could still charge a shot. What would he shoot? Well you could target multiple enemies at a time, release, and shoot a spread shot of small homing missiles at enemies or even Mavericks which can take a lot of these shots, of course. This feels more like a proper special ability and something that requires a meter for. So what do we do with that Copy Ability that makes him special?

Bio Metal

Yep, the special little MacGuffins from the ZX series. The very same. I'm thinking Axl would be the first Reploid to be made with an early version of Bio Metal, allowing him to change forms at will. This would be his version of X's Weapon Systems. Axl would gain new armor and abilities from the Mavericks he fights to boost his arsenal. A regular shot and a special shot. For example, with Ride Boarski, you'd shoot his regular weapon, but his Special move could be a Tackling Dash that would plow through enemies until the Meter runs out. Flame Hyenard could give a flamethrower for the main shot and his special could give you a clone that shoots for a few seconds. Tornado Tonion could give his leaf shot as a main, and his special lets you throw a tornado and damage enemies in a wide pattern. That sort of thing. The Mavericks aren't the only ones you're getting Bio Metal data from, though. Before I talk about that, let's bring up the main boy himself.

I'm thinking X would still be unlockable just like normal, but you'd play as him through an intro stage to feel the power you need to have back. Is he moping about violence and sitting on the couch like a lump like before? Yes and no. X, after causing a serious accident and putting innocent lives in danger, requests to be taken out of active duty until he can sort himself out, but he doesn't want to stop helping. Seeing how lousy X treated our new friend in the real story gave me an idea. Make X train Axl as his superior officer! Axl could be a trainee Hunter, still dealing with his checkered past with Red Alert and realizing they were no better than murderers, thus joining the Maverick Hunters to pay his dues to himself and prove to himself he isn't evil. X, seeing some of his own plight in his Rookie apprentice, starts taking a liking to Axl's ideals, despite his hot-headed, quick-to-the-trigger tactics and lack of professionalism. They butt heads through the intercom, with X saying this needs to be done by the book, but Axl wanting to show how he can take on any challenge no sweat and all that. X would be the Navigator for Axl, though Alia would aid as well.

Unlocking X

While saving Reploids will still be a thing, X will be unlocked halfway through the game. The whole thing would be integrated into the story. Axl defeats 3 or 4 Mavericks. All the while, X is still dealing with his fear of becoming a Maverick, fearing all he lost and hating his carelessness. Before your 4th fight, X will start getting more hostile and snappy at Axl, making Alia worried for X, since she's never seen him so worked up at himself. Axl begins to suspect X going Maverick to himself (he'd think "H-he isn't going...nah, of course not. Commander X is too strong for that...but...) Once the 4th stage is complete we get a midstage, like in Mega Man 7 or 8. A Mechanaloid is causing havoc in the city and Axl offers to go help. However, X sees that it's the same one that he caused the accident with and this sends him spiraling into anger.

"It's still out there?! After all I did, it wasn't enough?!? Damn it!!"

"Commander! Let me go take it out! Those people are in danger!"

"Why? So you can cause more damage with your recklessness?! You want to be a Maverick Hunter? Act like one and grow up!"

"...that's it... I'm not taking this from an old man that's crying about one little mistake he made!"

"...tch...you can't go anyway...you have your mission... just... stand down for now, kid."

"Commander X, what are you-?"

"You're right, Axl. I've been stewing about this for too long. This guy's mine. I have to prove this to myself."

That's how I think the scene would go. You go in as X and fight the Mechanaloid after a short stage rescuing plenty of civilians along the way. Alia and Axl are watching the events and communicating with X as well. X wins the battle, but suddenly his Buster goes off out of nowhere again, nearly destroying something that would put civilians in harms way. They are saved in the nick of time by Axl, who ports in anyway to try to help. X starts to doubt himself again, but Axl could see that it was something out of his control. The two go back to Hunter Base to run diagnostics and they find a bug in X's Buster systems, a lesser string of the Sigma Virus. X gets repaired after seeing this virus as a warning that Sigma might be back. This snaps him out of it and this gets him to go out and fight. You can now choose to go out as Axl, X, or as a team. If you go solo, your shots will be stronger, but without the backup, you'll be left with less defense.

Zero?

Nope, I'm not forgetting our favorite robot swordsman. At all. He will not make a physical appearance at all in the game. Why? Well...the Mega Man Zero series is still a thing. While I like the idea that Zero's ending in X6 being at the very end of the series, I'm trying to keep a stronger set of continuity here. Zero would still be in stasis, though he could communicate with X, since I'm thinking this could be a precursor to Cyber Elves, having Zero be something like a separate AI that can still communicate. As for playing as him? Oh he's still available...as a Bio Metal! I'm thinking after your first Maverick stage, a Zero spirit will appear in a level (kinda like the X Hunters in X2 but less stupid). Go find it, and Axl will be challenged to a fight against Zero, or at least a Reploid being controlled by his spirit. Before Axl finishes it off, X tells him to stand down, and Zero comes back to talk with X. The Spirit also leaves behind the Z-Saber, and thus infusing Axl with Zero's abilities, thus creating a prototype of the Z-Type Bio Metal from ZX.

Red Alert

So, get this. What if Sigma really WAS technically gone forever? I mean the bodies are all used up. The Spirit lives on, yes, but ol' Siggy ran out of his own bodies. Humor me here. What if Red Alert became the new villain faction full time? What if Red became the new face of Sigma? We'll call it...Red Doom or something. Sigma basically integrated himself into Red's systems and basically became part of his robotic code as thoughhe was always Sigma. This could also explain more why Axl needed to leave Red Alert, but it also shows how much in denial he was about Red going Maverick, since Red taught Axl everything he knows.

Script Changes?

I made my case about where the plot should go, but lemme try to work out personalities I think everyone could get down with in general.

Axl is the cocky, hot-blooded new kid who wants to prove himself to be better than where he came from. No petulant, childish talking or stupidity here. He'd be more like Sonic the Hedgehog but still acting just a little green. Still taking things just seriously enough for his quips to be endearing.

X takes his role as a CO very seriously. He's to the point and ensures that Axl is taught the way a situation must be handled. He hates how lax Axl is during his missions and tries to get him to focus. In combat, X is a no nonsense fighter who is ready to bring in the Mavericks, by force if need be. He doesn't try to get them to go peacefully considering his experience. (in fact he'll say once "I guess I can't expect you to come quietly?") No more "Why must Reploids fight each other" and blah blah blah. We all heard this. While he hates the fight, he knows at this point that the world needs a warrior, sort of like Gohan if that helps.

Zero is supportive of X and does his best to help keep his mind out of darkness. He'll even say "You were willing to stand by my side when I feared going Maverick, so I'll be here to do the same."

Red is a lot more cold at the start, outright insulting Axl, saying that he's no more than a worthless prototype, and the next generation of Reploids will be far superior to Axl's faulty design, or taunting X saying "How the mighty hath fallen. How does it feel, X? How does it feel to have to watch as the world crumbles to nothing through the eyes of your good for nothing amateur all because you couldn't keep a tab on your trigger finger?" Red will also be a boss at the end of Axl's first stage before the Maverick fights, and you're meant to lose it to show how powerful he is. You can see shreds of Sigma in there, but he is woven into Red's thoughts and personality in a way that makes Sigma and Red seem equal in the body, though a body can still be created (basically Red Sigma will be put in a more "Sigma appropriate" body with the bald head and big ass chin. Basically Sigma takes Red completely in a way. They're both in control, like their souls combined if that makes sense.

Everyone else is how they should be. Alia, for example is more like how she was in X8.

These are just a few changes that would make Mega Man X7 a much more plot centered game that knows how to work with it's characters. Other fixes like making it faster, tweaking the weapons, making Dr. Light stay as an AI, all that feels superfluous, because a lot of that just makes sense to change. Same with presentation, but with a new script, new lines are inevitable, so duh.

Stay tuned for more Game Fixes! If you want to request a game, lemme know!

#megaman x #megaman x7 #megaman #video games #fan idea #fan thoughts #new blog

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butmomilovejin · 4 years ago

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Day 1/365

Prompt: “Never heard of that being used as a murder weapon before.”

Genre: Angst, Mild crack

Summary: Jungkook had never felt fury like that; uncontrollable. You, having been his best friend for the best part of the last decade, meant so much to him and he couldn’t stand the thought of you being uncomfortable under the hands of some gross loner at a party. After he had taken his anger out on his target, he ends up at his boyfriend’s front door

Warnings: Mentions of sexual harassment, Violence, Yoongi tries to make light of a bad situation?

WC: 1.4k

It was 2 in the morning and Jungkook was not where he should be, in bed, asleep. No. He was walking the streets of Seoul, pace rapid, as his legs carry him without him knowing, to Yoongi’s front door.

He didn’t know what came over him. Earlier that evening, when you had told him about what that guy had done to you at a party the night before, touching you up as you wriggled to escape, you hadn’t expected him to explode like that, rushing out the door before you’d even finished your last sentence. Jungkook rang the doorbell for what felt like hours. No sign of movement in the house. Reaching into his pocket for his phone, he sees almost 100 missed calls from you over the past few hours. He continues to ignore them though as he unlocks the phone and goes straight to Yoongi’s contact. The phone rang... and rang... and rang... and Jungkook had begun searching through his messy pockets to try and find something to pick the lock with. But finally, just as it almost went to voicemail, a groggy sounding Yoongi muttered a confused ‘Hello?’ on the other end of the phone.

“Yoongi! How could you not hear the doorbell??”

“You’re at my house?” He was now gradually waking up due to the rushed tone of Jungkook’s voice.

“Yes, now please let me in my saliva is turning into ice out here.”

“Nice mental image thank you, but the door’s open just come in.”

“Oh, ok- wait you leave your door unlocked at night?”

“Locking doors is for the weak; now come inside before you get hypothermia.”

Jungkook tested the handle on the door and sure enough, it was open. He heads to the kitchen to grab a glass of water, listening to the soft movement of Yoongi’s footsteps he walks down the stairs, clad in his dressing gown and glasses, hair a mess, strands in every direction, not that Jungkook’s was any better.

Yoongi sits at a stool in the kitchen and looks at JK’s back as his hands grip the sink, white knuckles protruding, Yoongi seemingly not phased at all that his boyfriend was at his house at the witching hour, looking rather handsomely disheveled.

“Well, aren’t you gonna ask me why I’m here?” Jungkook asked, now facing Yoongi.

“No, I figured you’d tell me without prompting anyway.”

“You- Fair enough. Well where do I even START?”

“Why don’t we start with why you’re not at Y/N’s having your movie night, which by the way, still upset I didn’t get an invite.”

“It’s tradition between us! You can’t come it’s OUR time.”

“Kook... I’m joking,” Yoongi says as he guides the younger to the living room and sits him on a sofa across from himself, “What happened babe?”

The pet name causes Jungkook to look up lovingly to Yoongi.

“Well, ok, so I was with her and she seemed a bit- I don’t know. She seemed kind of off-ish, I knew something was up when she didn’t even suggest Cat in the Hat for our movie.”

Yoongi nods along but he doesn’t know you nearly as well as Jungkook and has no idea how that would give the impression there was something wrong. Regardless, he acts like he understands as Jungkook continues on.

“I asked her what was up and she was very reluctant to tell me but eventually she gave in. She was harassed last night at that party we were meant to go to. I wish we never ate that week old pie, we would’ve been there if we weren’t spewing everywhere”

“Harassed?” Yoongi asked, trying to the pinpoint the important parts in between Jungkook’s rambled monologue.

“The guy was touching her up even when she was trying to get back to her friends. She said she was fine about it last night, because she was so drunk, it barely registered in her brain, but she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it all day today.”

“Well, technically yesterday, its 2am.”

“Dude... shut the fuck up.”

“Did you just friend zone me, we’ve been together for 2 years bro.”

“I love you bro.”

“I love you too bro, anyway please continue.”

“Oh yeah, so I basically stormed out, started running before I even knew who it was, realised I didn’t know who I was after, went to her friends Instagram and saw him and Y/N in the back of the picture, figured out who he was, turns out I went to school with the prick, found his Insta and, through that, found he still lived with his parents, knocked on the door, his dad opened the door, I politely asked for his son-” He took a deep breath before continuing, “He called him down, I grabbed his collar and dragged him outside and ruffled him up a bit, a lot actually, but then his dad came out with a whole ass bat and I grabbed the banana in my pocket I was saving for movie snacks and smacked him in the head with it before he could get me with the bat then he fell down and I ran away, oh my god have I killed an innocent old man?”

“Uhhhhhh,” Yoongi is unsure of what to say as Jungkook was now pacing around his living room, “Never heard of that being used as a murder weapon before.”

Jungkook gave him a death stare.

“Whew, if looks could kill. Listen Kook, you did the right thing, it was a BANANA, as strong as you think you are Mr Gym Lad, you’re not strong enough to kill a man with just a banana. What about Y/N though? You didn’t even say anything before you left?”

Jungkook had calmed down a tad now and was perched back on the sofa. He shook his head to the question, suddenly feeling bad that you were probably at home worrying when, most likely, you had just wanted comfort from him about the situation.

“Call her Kookie. Lets get in my car, you call her, and I’ll drive to her place.”

Jungkook agreed instantly, Yoongi was always good at grounding him.

They did as they said and Jungkook held his phone to his ear as it rang, after some further persuasion from Yoongi, as the car rolled through the harsh lights of the street lamps, roads completely bare of any sign of life. Contrasting the call to his boyfriend, the phone hadn’t even rang once before your voice was on the other end.

“KOOK WHAT THE FU-”

“Hey...” He says quietly, a bit embarrassed of the drama he had caused.

“What did you do?” You said, relieved that you could hear his voice.

“Me and Yoongi are on our way over, I’m like 5 minutes away, we’ll talk about it then.”

You sigh, “Ok Kookie, you want hot chocolate?”

He smiles slightly for the first time since stepping foot in your apartment earlier that night. “Do you even have to ask?”

“I’m making one for Yoongi too, does he want cream and marshmallows?”

“You want cream and marshmallows on your hot chocolate babe?” Jungkook holds the phone away from him as he directs the question to Yoongi, putting you on loud speaker.

“Obviously.”

“Ok, see you soon.” You respond before hanging up.

They buzz your apartment and you let them in instantly. The minute the door opens, you run to Jungkook, hooking your legs around him as you hug him closely. You had been worried all night he might have done something stupid on your behalf and gotten himself hurt or, more drastically, imprisoned.

He chuckles lowly as he sets you down. You walk to the kitchen and like little ducklings, they follow.

You hand out the hot chocolate and sit at the dining table, waiting for Jungkook to explain. Both you and Yoongi look at him expectedly and he finally begins his explanation, fortunately much calmer than the first time he had recited his story to Yoongi.

When he was finished, you go to wrap your arms around his neck, “Thank you,” you murmur into his hair as he keens to your hug, “But next time you wanna start chaos, take me with you.” You unwrap your arms to give him a hard flick on the back of the head, causing Yoongi to snigger and Jungkook to sheepishly rub the back of his head.

“Now, I know its late, but can we watch The Cat in the Hat?”

The boys share a look before agreeing and curling up with you on the sofa.

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AN- Ok! This is my first work of this year! I want to do one every day this year, it won’t always be possible but I will try my best! Yoongi could be seen as a bit insensitive in this one but I wanted to portray the dynamic his and Jungkook’s relationship has. If you enjoyed please leave me some feedback to help me improve and motivate me, like and reblog!

#bts #bts fic #bts angst #jungkook #yoongi #suga #bts fluff

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xwickedxspiritx · 5 years ago

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I have no idea if there’s a subsect of people who both love the Captive Prince novels and the Buffy The Vampire Slayer TV show, but as a person who adores both, I couldn’t get this AU out of my head.

For those who haven’t watched BTVS, it’s a 90s show about a teenage girl who becomes the Slayer -- a young woman who’s gifted extraordinary strength and fighting abilities in order to fend off vampires and other demons.

Let’s say Captive Prince characters exist in this world, in the modern day. I imagine Laurent comes from a long line of Watchers, the (usually male) scholars who are paired with Slayers to guide them. Basically, Slayers are expected to handle the fighting, Watchers usually stand on the sidelines and offer knowledge about demons’ weaknesses or when the next apocalypse will show up.

Aleron and Laurent’s uncle are Watchers, though they’ve never been paired with a Slayer. There’s only one Slayer at a time, and her powers get passed on to the next girl every couple of years (they have short life expectancies, unfortunately.) Auguste is a Watcher-in-training, and he’s totally against the current system. He think it’s unfair for Watchers to expect Slayers to do all the fighting and take on 99 percent of the risks, while Watchers usually sit back, maybe offer some advice, and also make a lot of money while Slayers get nothing.

His opinions don’t really make him popular, even though people are predisposed to love Auguste. They think it’s brave, but other Watchers fear that they’ll actually be expected to share some of their wealth with Slayers, or to take up weapons. But Auguste trains day in and day out, knowing he can’t match up to a Slayer’s superhuman strength but wanting to make himself a partner that could be relied upon.

At 13, Laurent’s dream is that he can follow in his brother’s footsteps to some degree. He hasn’t really started training to fight, since his brother worries he’d get overzealous and try to fight actually fight demons, but he reads as much as he can of demonology lore. Auguste is super proud of him, and they plan that when Auguste gets paired with a Slayer, Laurent will come along and be the brains of the operation.

Slayers fight lots of demons, but killing vampires is their primary fight. Vampires are demons who used to be human but were turned, losing their lives and their souls. They don’t age, but they can be killed with a stake in the heart, decapitation, fire, sunlight or lots of holy water.

The most infamous vampire of the day is Damianos. He and his brother Kastor were once sons of a prosperous noble family in Greece a few centuries back, but a beautiful blonde vampire named Jokaste turned them both. For 300 years or so, they’ve traveled as a group throughout Europe, wreaking carnage wherever they go. I imagine Jokaste would play them off each other, continuing relationships with both at the same time. Damianos doesn’t really care, but Kastor nurses a bitter jealousy.

As vampires, they’re not capable of remorse. Atrocities are commonplace. Damianos delights in finding strong warriors he can defeat and kill, or beautiful maidens he can feed from. Perhaps he’s even killed one or two Slayers.

When they’re sighted in France present-day, the de Vere family goes on high alert. But Laurent’s uncle is scheming. Maybe he’s after powerful, extremely dangerous magical artifacts that the de Vere family has been entrusted with, but which Aleron and Auguste keep away from him.

So Laurent’s uncle makes his move and kills his brother. But he sets it up to look like it’s Damianos who’s responsible -- Damianos, who’s known as one of the most dangerous demons in the world. Vampires aren’t super high on the demon totem pole, but Damianos fights with a skill no other vampire possesses.

Auguste believes the lie wholeheartedly and makes up his mind to go after Damianos. Let’s say the currently Slayer is also a Frenchwoman, maybe a younger Vannes, and they’re friends, though not officially partnered. They go after Damianos, who doesn’t even know, or care, about the de Vere family.

It goes badly. Damianos might not know what’s incensed Auguste and Vannes, but he likes a good fight in any case. He’s delighted, really, that two strong fighters sought him out instead of the other way around -- and he looks forward to killing them.

They put up a good fight, but Damianos is skilled on a level they didn’t expect. He gets a hit on Vannes that knocks her down hard, and Auguste, who’s been disarmed of a sword he was wielding, sees that she’s about to die. And suddenly, through all the grief and pain, he feels selfish.

If Vannes dies, the world loses a Slayer who has experience and hardiness, who could still save so many lives. If she dies, her powers get passed on, but they have no idea who’ll get them next, and Auguste has learned what a terrible burden it is to be the Slayer -- to be forced to give up your life to an often thankless duty.

So when Damianos raises the sword to cut Vannes down, Auguste leaps in the way and takes the blow. He tells Vannes to run, because while he dragged her into this fight for vengeance, Damianos isn’t the biggest fish to fry in terms of saving the world from demons.

Vannes hates herself for it, but she does run. And Auguste resists to the end, but he dies.

Auguste takes his last breath while Laurent struggles to get to him, held back by his uncle. They’ve been in a hidden vantage point. Laurent was so sure Auguste and Vannes would win, and when the tide turns, his uncle holds him back, saying no, Laurent, your brother wouldn’t want you to throw your life away, would he?

So Laurent watches, like the kind of Watcher he and Auguste were so determined to reject. He watches as Damianos looks at Auguste’s corpse without a care in the world. He watches as Damianos licks blood off his fingers and grins with satisfaction.

Damianos leaves France shortly after, and seven long years begin for Laurent. Years where he learns that his uncle doesn’t have his best interests in mind after all. Where he suffers abuse, and realizes that his uncle could care less about a Watcher’s duty -- he’s taking the de Vere family’s dangerous artifacts and selling them to whoever can pay for them. Maybe he’s been in league with, and is scheming to take over, Wolfram & Hart, an international law firm that specializes in enabling demons’ interests. Evil, but pays well.

By the time Laurent’s twenty, he’s a full-fledged demon hunter all on his own. He knows he’ll never have the power a Slayer would have, but he’s trained himself ruthlessly just like in canon. He’s matched that with an encyclopedic knowledge of demonology and the occult that’s unmatched by any other current Watcher.

Of course, Laurent’s uncle campaigns among the Watcher’s Council to convince them that Laurent is unfit for the position, that he’s dangerously obsessed with the vampire Damianos and would only get a slayer attached to him killed. The Council agrees, and even with all of Laurent’s skill and knowledge, he’s never invited to any Watcher business.

So he goes freelance. Laurent tracks and kills demons across France, maybe venturing into other countries as well. He builds his own network with other demon hunters, and gets a reputation of being ruthless and unbeatable.

With him is Berenger, another Watcher-in-training who was friends with Auguste. Maybe he had to leave the Watchers because of his lover -- Ancel, an incubus. Obviously, the Watchers aren’t big on human/demon couples. Then the rest of the gang -- Jord, Lazar, Orlant, etc. Perhaps Aimeric tags along by Jord’s side as a plant from his uncle.

(I wish Captive Prince had more usable female characters that could also fit in with this. Let’s say Laurent has a lot of female cousins from his mother’s side who are badass demon fighters.)

But his uncle wasn’t wrong that Laurent has an obsession. A hatred and quest for vengeance that kept him going through the worst years -- his desire to kill Damianos, the soulless vampire.

But Damianos hasn’t been seen in years, pretty much since the day he killed Auguste. Unknown to Laurent, Damianos got himself in trouble soon after he left France. He kidnapped and tortured Kashel (sorry!) and then carelessly left her body to be found by her clan of powerful witches.

Obviously, Halvik and the rest of the clan are enraged. They resolve to curse him with a punishment far worse than death, something that will make him suffer for the rest of his eternal life.

They give him back his human soul.

Without a soul, Damianos could kill, rape and otherwise destroy without any pangs of conscience. While the demon retained the human Damen’s memories and some parts of his personality, as a vampire he was slave to his basest instincts. His lust, both for fighting and sex, and his lack of empathy for what other people feel and experience.

But when his soul is returned, Damen’s better instincts come rushing back -- his sense of honor, his capacity for love, his belief in fair play and doing the right thing. He’s ripped out of the afterlife and forced to confront 300+ years of senseless violence and brutality, and to remember each person whose life he took or ruined.

At first, he’s lost. He goes to Jokaste and Kastor, but they reject him. Jokaste’s not a fan of his return to morality, and Kastor jumps at the chance to ditch Damen for good and have Jokaste to himself.

Let’s say that for a few years, Damen despairs. What does a vampire with a soul do with his life? He can’t live as a human, because he won’t age, he can’t walk in daylight without catching on fire, and he still needs blood to survive (though now he buys pigs’ blood from the butcher.) He wants to make up for what he’s done, but he has no idea how. He returns to his hometown in Greece, seeking some sort of comfort.

There, he meets Nikandros. He’s a fledgling demon hunter who only started hunting demons because his family was killed by them. Most humans have no idea demons exist, so he got thrown into that world headfirst. No superpowers, but he’s athletic and strategic.

He realizes what Damen is pretty quickly, though he knows nothing of his history. He’s ready to kill him without mercy, since no one’s ever heard of a “good vampire.” But Damen wins his trust -- maybe Nikandros gets outnumbered in a fight, and Damen swoops in to help him. Eventually, they team up, and Damen finds a new purpose -- and a means of redemption -- in fighting other demons and keeping innocent people safe.

Meanwhile, Laurent’s pissed that in seven years, there’s been no new sightings of Damianos or any word on his exploits. Damianos was never one to hide, so it’s baffling that he basically disappears. Laurent never considers that he might have been killed -- he saw for himself just how good he was.

As much as he wants to devote himself to hunting Damianos down, there’s the rest of the world to worry about. He also knows that if he confront Damianos too early, he’ll throw away his life for nothing. So he keeps training, keeps killing other demons, and tries not to think about the countless other victims Damianos surely must be racking up.

Suddenly, he gets word that a potential apocalypse might be happening soon in Greece. Vannes died about a year after Auguste (though she lived to save the world a few times in that period), and currently there’s a very new Slayer in Mexico who’s pretty untrained. Still, the Watcher’s Council wants to send her anyway, fairly unconcerned with whether she dies or not, since a new one will just take her place.

The new Slayer’s Watcher just died, and she hasn’t been assigned a new one. Laurent’s uncle volunteers him for the job, saying that since Laurent’s always wanted more of a role, this is perfect. The Council agrees, though of course they all figure Laurent and the Slayer will probably die.

Laurent knows what his uncle is up to, but he wants to go. Even if the risk to his life is greater than ever before, he knows it’s what Auguste would do. The new Slayer is just fifteen years old, and he won’t leave her alone to face the end of the world. He’ll train her to the best of his ability, then fight by her side. His team agrees to go as well, because despite the odds, they believe in Laurent.

So this sets Laurent on a collision course with Damen. I imagine that Laurent sets up camp in Athens, meets the Slayer, grows very attached, and starts training her. They don’t have much time, only three months before a potential apocalypse -- the world falling into hell, etc, etc.

Damen and Nikandros have also heard of the coming apocalypse, and naturally they’re also determined to prevent it. But when they arrive in Athens, they hear that the Slayer’s in town. And she’s not alone -- she’s got a whole team that fights beside her. For a Slayer, that’s pretty unheard of, and Damen is shocked -- he’s known (killed) a few Slayers, and they were always, always alone.

So he’s curious. He’s not stupid enough to make his presence known when the Slayer’s around, but he starts lurking a bit, tries to learn more about her and her team. Eventually, he catches them fighting a group of vampires.

He can tell the Slayer has a lot to learn. Even with superhuman strength and agility, she’s hesitant, doesn’t move confidently in a way that could really harness that power.

But he sees someone who does fight with confidence, even arrogance, who moves like quicksilver even though he has to be a normal human.

He sees Laurent, and a part of him’s already in love.

But he recognizes that scent. He sees the resemblance between the younger brother and the older, who he remembers all too well. Even though Laurent was hidden, Damianos knew he was there that night. Yet even as a vampire, he had no interest in hurting children.

Damen sees Laurent, the Slayer and the rest of the gang kill a dozen vampires like it’s nothing. He��s never seen teamwork like that, except for maybe him and Nikandros. It’s obvious that Laurent’s the leader, and Damen is possessed with the overwhelming, but futile, urge to know him, to understand what’s in the mind behind that golden hair.

But Damen knows he has no right to know anything about Laurent. Even with Kastor’s rejection of him, he still loves his brother. Killing a person’s brother is not something you forgive. Even though Damen and Damianos aren’t truly the same person, Damen still carries a deep guilt for everything Damianos did in his skin.

All the same, he can’t resist lurking a bit more, just to get a few more glimpses of Laurent in battle. He gets a bit stalkerish, finding out where Laurent’s team is camping out, getting an idea of each member and their fighting style, their personality. Of course, he’s also fighting demons with Nikandros. Let’s say that as the apocalypse gears up, more and more demons are drawn to Athens, so it’s a fight just to keep the city from burning down in the meantime.

It’s inevitable that their paths cross for real. Laurent, still a bit solitary at heart, goes on long walks by himself to think and to drink in the local history and art. One night, he’s set upon by several demons eager to rid the town of him. Damen had also been following Laurent at a distance, curious about what he did when not fighting.

Laurent’s armed, but only with a small dagger. Damen watches him fight three or four demons singlehandedly and is impressed yet again by his skill and versatility. But he realizes that it’s not enough -- Laurent’s going to at the very least get badly injured during this fight.

Even knowing it’s a bad idea, that he’s basically signing his death warrant, Damen rushes in to save him. He fights off the demons easily, having enhanced strength that Laurent can’t match with any amount of training.

Laurent, on the ground and bleeding, can’t believe his eyes. Damen, like the sweet idiot he is, offers to help him back to their camp, thereby admitting that he’s been aware of Laurent and his location this whole time.

Laurent lunges at him, overcome with rage, but he passes out from his injuries. So Damen does what he promises and takes him back to camp. Laurent’s team is surprised, horrified and even a little amused at this infamous vampire carrying Laurent in like he’s something precious, setting him down softly and then escaping before they can stop him.

When Laurent wakes up, he thinks it was a dream. But he saw it himself -- Damianos is really back, and Laurent has no idea what he’s playing at. Did he hunt Laurent here, wanting to kill him for some reason? Why didn’t he take the chance he had?

Laurent decides it’s Damianos’s typical MO -- he wants a good fight, and Laurent was too injured to be interesting enough to kill. But he recovers, and now he’s ready. Damianos is in Athens, and so is he, and their battle will come any day now.

But instead, Damen starts jumping into Laurent’s fights whenever it looks like things might take a turn for the worse. He even helps the Slayer once or twice when she’s caught alone by a pack of demons. Nikandros thinks he’s an absolute moron, and he rightly deduces that, despite all common sense, Damen has feelings for Laurent and wants to be close to him any way he can. More than that, he just wants to help Laurent, to make up in some small way for the harm he caused him.

With each friendly save from Damen, Laurent grows more and more incensed. He’s convinced Damen is playing some sort of game with him, although that was never Damianos’s style. Again and again, Damen helps him and his team. Sometimes he’ll even show up with tips about a new demon in town, or something about the swiftly approaching apocalypse.

It comes to a head one day when Damen and Laurent are both captured by a witch who wants to use them for some nefarious ritual. They’re chained in a cellar, out of each other’s reach but forced for once to stay in the same room, able to see and talk to each other.

At first, Laurent wants to ignore Damen. Being in the room with his brother’s killer, and not distracted by an imminent fight to survive, is almost too much for him. But then he takes the chance to pour all the invective he can on Damen, his tongue the only weapon he currently has.

Damen takes it all silently. And when Laurent’s spent, when his grief chokes him, Damen tells Laurent that he knows he can never make up for what he’s done. That he’s been selfish to force his presence on Laurent during those fights. He’s honest, so he tells Laurent how much he admires him. Not for his looks or even just his fighting ability, but for the way he guides and protects the Slayer, the way he looks out for his team.

Because he just can’t stop himself, because some part of him still craves for Laurent to see him in a positive light, he also tells him about the curse. That the Damianos he knew is gone, and that Damen carries his sins but is not that same demon.

Laurent still thinks it’s a trick. He’s forced to rely on Damen to get out of the witch’s cellar, but when they’re free, he challenges Damen to a fight. No holds barred, in which victory means death for the opponent.

Damen agrees, because he feels it’s what Laurent is owed, that chance to take out his rage. And a part of him that sounds too much like Damianos is eager to feel for himself Laurent’s prowess for battle.

So they fight. Laurent gives it everything he’s got, everything he took seven years to build. Like in canon, it isn’t enough. Damen doesn’t hold back, respecting Laurent’s anger and skill too much.

But when it comes time for the final blow Laurent’s expecting, looking up at Damen in hatred, it doesn’t come. The monster Damianos, the soulless vampire, has a look in his eyes that Laurent can’t fathom.

Damen tells Laurent that if he wants to take his life, he’s earned it through the suffering Damianos caused him and so many others. But Damen doesn’t want to see the world end, and he knows that Laurent needs him to stop the apocalypse. The Slayer, though improving in leaps and bounds through Laurent’s tutelage, can’t be expected to take on the end of the world by herself. And she isn’t yet the partner that Laurent needs -- that Damen can be.

Laurent’s tempted to take up his weapon again and cut Damen down from behind, but he’s also realizing that the apocalypse is coming too soon, and he, his team and the Slayer might not be enough. Damen, however, has 300 years of experience with demons, has seen apocalypses from a distance and is surprisingly intelligent behind all that muscle.

He accept Damen’s offer, as painful as it is. He’ll work with Damen (and begrudgingly, Nikandros) to stop the apocalypse with the help of the Slayer. But when it’s over, they’ll fight again, and Laurent will win. He’ll kill Damianos.

In the month left before the end of the world, they’re together constantly. Laurent doesn’t take this gracefully, using his vicious tongue against Damen at every opportunity. But Damen sees how he is with the Slayer, how he’s strict but gentle in teaching her. He falls in love with Laurent even more.

For Laurent, it grows harder and harder to deny how, at least professionally, Damen completes him, makes him a better hunter. His eye for strategy finds what Laurent misses, and his strength and skill in battle still manage to shock Laurent sometimes. Again and again, Damen saves his life, and against his judgment, Laurent saves Damen’s life too. They become the scourge of the Greek underworld.

When the apocalypse comes, they’re ready. It’s not easy, but they stop it, and they all manage to survive. Damen grins at him, and Laurent can’t stop looking at him.

When it’s over, they fight again, one on one. This time, Laurent really does win. Over the past month, he’s watched Damen like a hawk, partly for any hint of betrayal and partly because he just can’t figure him out. He’s starting to believe that Damen really did get his soul back, but if that’s true, what does that mean for Laurent? Damen’s still a vampire, still wears the face of his brother’s killer.

But Damen’s also the one who fought by his side like no one else ever has, ever could. He talked with Laurent through the night, planning and strategizing, making up for what Laurent overlooked. Damen, a vampire, helped Laurent train the Slayer, his natural enemy.

So with the blade at Damen’s neck, Laurent stops. It’s the most difficult thing he’s ever had to do, but he lets his anger go. As much as he hates Damianos the vampire, he’s seen Damen the man beneath the monster, and he can’t kill him.

The Slayer returns to Mexico, and she asks Laurent to return as her full-time Watcher. The Council isn’t happy about it, but it’s hard to argue after his stunning success.

Laurent’s team is on board to go with him. And Damen says, well, he’s never been to the Americas. (Nikandros, ever-suffering, goes with them, too afraid to leave Damen to Laurent’s mercy. He’s the only family he has left.)

After that, it’s slow but inevitable. Damen and Laurent come together, helpless to do anything else. For the first time in Laurent’s life, and even Damen’s centuries-long existence, they both feel they’ve found a true partner they can trust. A person they love more than they thought possible.

On the night of Laurent’s twenty-first birthday, they consummate that partnership. It’s a moment of true happiness for both of them, for two people who felt unworthy of that kind of happiness, who thought they’d never find it again after all they’ve lost.

But the curse that returned Damen’s soul wasn’t full-proof. He was meant to suffer, to never find a moment’s rest under the burdens of his guilt. Finding happiness with Laurent changes that. It breaks the curse.

He staggers out of the room as Laurent sleeps peacefully. Damen tries to cling to his soul with everything he has, but the pull is too strong.

When Laurent wakes up, he’s alone. At first, he’s irritated, then he’s afraid that Damen’s run off to some fight. A day passes, and he can’t find him everywhere.

But Laurent’s network has started to whisper. The whole underworld beneath Mexico City is buzzing.

And it says, Damianos is back.

Laurent loses his lover, his partner, and is faced again with his brother’s killer. A soulless vampire who remembers the last eight years with disdain. Who’s obsessed with Laurent, which isn’t exactly new, but now sees him as the ideal target -- someone he wants to defeat in every way possible.

To make things worse, Laurent’s uncle shows up. An extraordinarily powerful artifact has been unearthed in Mexico -- Acathla, a demon turned to stone centuries ago, who if reawoken can swallow the world into hell.

Laurent’s facing his uncle on one side and Damianos on the other, who’s joined up again with Jokaste and Kastor. He knows that with Damianos returned, he finally does have a chance at true revenge -- and yet now, when he looks at Damianos, all he sees is Damen.

Laurent takes down his uncle and his whole network of smugglers before he can sell Acathla to the highest bidder. But at the last moment, Damianos sweeps in and steals Acathla right from under him, killing Orlant in the process.

Now, it’s do or die. If Laurent doesn’t fight Damianos and kill him, he could use Acathla to end the world. For months, he’s scoured every possible resource for knowledge on the curse, something that could bring Damen back.

He thinks he’s finally found something, but it’s badly translated and Laurent doesn’t have the gift for magics that it would require. Ancel pulls out a precocious young witch, Nicaise, that he says he can do it, but Laurent says no. Magic is dangerous, especially a curse on the level of Damen’s, and he doesn’t want a young teenager taking that risk.

So he steels himself and goes to face Damianos. When Jokaste and Kastor stand in his way, Laurent manages to kill Kastor, and Jokaste makes her escape. He’s left with Damianos, who’s enraged at his brother’s death. Damianos, despite himself, also hates Laurent for the emptiness inside him, the hole left by the love Damen felt for the human.

Except that emptiness loses him the edge Damen always seemed to have. Once again, Laurent has his blade against the vampire’s neck, the neck of his enemy and his lover.

Of course, Ancel and Nicaise didn’t listen to Laurent when he told them not to try the curse. It’s hell on Nicaise, and probably opens some doors he can’t close again, but the power passes through him -- and it works.

Laurent sees a light go back into Damen’s eyes, right as he’s bringing down his sword. He can’t believe it -- he’s too afraid of being wrong -- but Damen gasps, falls to his knees and looks at Laurent like hasn’t seen him in years. The curse hits him like a train, and he doesn’t remember Acathla or losing his soul.

For the first time in months, Damen’s arms are around Laurent. There’s a kiss to his hair, to his forehead, and then to his lips, and Laurent finally allows himself to hope.

But when he opens his eyes again, he sees what Damen can’t -- that Acathla’s eyes are also open. He’s awake and ready to suck the world into hell, unless the one who awakened him is sacrificed into that pit first.

And Laurent finally understands what his brother felt in those last moments. What every Slayer knows. That duty comes before everything, before love and before life.

So he kisses Damen one more time. He tells him, for the first time, that he loves him. And he tells him to close his eyes, knowing he will, because Damen trusts him without reservation.

In a mockery of all the times he could never do it, Laurent’s blade goes so easily through Damen’s heart, pinning him to Acathla. He looks into Damen’s shocked eyes as the vampire is thrown into hell. The portal closes with a snap.

Laurent is alone.

(If you are a BTVS fan and you’ve seen season three, you know how this goes. Damen will return from hell by some act of god or devil, throwing Laurent into turmoil again -- after everything, what would it mean to forgive Damen for a second time? But unlike with their counterparts Angel and Buffy, I like to think true love conquers all in their case.)

#captive prince #laurent of vere #damen #damianos #buffy the vampire slayer au #lamen

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