#what better way to punish the districts than not letting them bury their loved ones?

[wxstfulthoughts]

lucy gray, against all odds, won the 10th hunger games and is sent back to district twelve. however, unlike the previous years, the fallen tributes aren't shipped back to their home districts, their families.

instead, much like the single remaining copy of the 10th games' footage, dr gaul keeps them to herself. deep in her lab, with only few assistants knowing (or caring) where these bodies came from.

[taestefully-in-luv]

Always You | JJK (Drabble#6)

Summary: Jungkook visits Japan.

Pairing: Always You!Jungkook x female reader

Genre:, smut

Word count: 3k

Warnings: masturbation, handcuffs, orgasm denial, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, oral (male receiving) facial, unprotected sex, fingering,

Notes: Here’s a lil something something. Remember requests for drabble ideas are open! Lets chat:)

Taglist: @seagulljk @fancycollectormoon @justinetingball © taestefully-in-luv

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

“What do you mean you missed your connecting flight?” you take your phone off speaker and bring it to your ear. “Jungkook…you’re joking right?”

“Babe…I wish I was joking.” He says into the phone, “But at this rate I won’t get there until tomorrow. And that’s if the weather chills out…”

“But you’re supposed to be here now…” you whine theatrically to lighten the mood but truth is, you’re sad. You’re fucking sad.

It’s been close to 4 months that you’ve gone without seeing your boyfriend and it’s killing you. He was supposed to come last month but something important came up at his job and now this? Why doesn’t the universe want you to reunite with your love?! “y/n.” Jungkook says your name so softly it has you getting teary eyed. “If the storm doesn’t let up…”

“Don’t tell me things I don’t want to hear.”

“Baby—” Suddenly there’s knocking on your door, interrupting Jungkook. “Who’s that?” Jungkook asks, curious.

“My neighbor said she was going to bring me some left overs today, it’s probably her.”

“Save some for me.” You can hear the pout in Jungkook’s voice.

Then the knocking continues, you rise from your bed and make your way to the door.

“Let me call you back baby.” You say, disappointment laced in your voice. “Give me like 5 minutes.”

“I’ll be here bored as fuck.” Jungkook cries into the phone, “Love you, bye.”

“Love you more,”

You bring the phone down and end the call as you near you front door. The banging continues and you roll your eyes, your neighbor is persistent. You swing the door open when you are met with quite the view.

“Do you love me more though? Because I’m pretty sure I love you more.” Jungkook stands on the other side, opening his arms wide for you to hug him. He’s a got a huge bunny grin on his face, you stand here shocked but once it finally wears off you’re jumping into his arms.

“What the hell Jeon!!!!” You hug him tightly, your face buried in his chest. Jungkook laughs loudly making you giggle yourself.

“Surprise.” Jungkook pulls back, his hands still on your waist. “Before you hit me let me kiss you.” He smirks down at you and you roll your eyes and lean up to find his lips.

Finally, after months of waiting, months of text and calls, months of longing, he is finally here. And his lips have never tasted sweeter.

“Fuck, I missed you so much.” Jungkook whispers against your lips, “Been so lonely without you.” He admits.

You lean away and offer him a sad smile, “Let’s get inside.”

You two walk inside your small, cozy apartment. Jungkook’s hands never leave your body as you make your way to the living room.

“You’re so pretty.” Jungkook leans down until his lips are on your neck, he kisses your skin over and over until he stops and just breathe you in. He releases a shaky breathes in return, making you alert.

“You okay babe?” you whisper.

“I just…” Jungkook takes a second, his face still buried in your neck, “Fuck.” He sniffles, “I just missed you so much.”

“I missed you too…” you begin rubbing his back soothingly. “But we’re together now.”

“Only for a week.” He says, disappointed. “I need you every day for the rest of my life.” You feel something wet drop on your neck…is Jungkook…crying?

“Baby…” you start to get teary eyed yourself, feeling emotional all of the sudden. “I love you.”

Jungkook squeezes your body into his, his hug tight and secure. He sniffles into your neck repeatedly as he sways both of your bodies side to side.

“I love you more.” He cries. “This isn’t easy at all.” He chokes out. “I don’t even want to imagine when I leave and have to say goodbye all over again.”

“Don’t think about that...” you continue to rub his back. “Let’s make the most of our time together.” You let tears bubble over and fall as you speak. You know how hard it’s been on him…it’s been hard on you too but Jungkook is a little more sensitive.

“Yeah,” he lifts his head and offers you his signature smile. “Let’s enjoy our time together.”

~~~~~~~

“Japan is fucking awesome.” Jungkook says as he slurps up his ramen, the noodles pushing past his lips. “I see why you moved here.”

“This is your third bowl…aren’t you full?” you chuckle, “And it is pretty sweet.”

“After this let’s walk around Shinjuku, I want to do some shopping.” Jungkook says with his mouth full.

“Perfect.” You grin at your boyfriend, your empty bowl out in front of you. “Are you looking for something in particular?”

“Wanna get the guys something.” He says, “Small stuff. They have to fit in my suitcase.”

“Good thinking.”

You and Jungkook finish up your food and head towards the trains, making your way towards Shinjuku, one of Tokyo’s largest shopping and entertainment districts.

Jungkook is wide eyed, starry eyed, and all things impressed as he walks through. He stops in many different shops, pulling you along as he finds things he wants to get the guys. You feel your heart swell watching him enjoy himself.

“Those are cute.” You hear Jungkook say, you follow his eyes to a pair of pink, heart shaped handcuffs in a shops window.

“I guess?”

“Let’s buy them.” He takes your hand and drags you towards the shop.

“Why—“

But you’re cut off with just a look, Jungkook is glancing behind his shoulder to you…a devilish smirk on his face.

“Oh.” You squeeze his hand and stop him from walking any further. You pull him into you as you lean up and whisper in his ear.

“You realize you’re the one getting cuffed right?”

“Oh baby, that’s what I am hoping for.”

~~~~~~

“What did I say Jungkook?” You tower over him, your hands on your hips as you stare down at his leaking cock. “Huh?”

“That—That I’m not allowed to cum…” He whines, his breaths are heavy and his cock is twitching from his recent orgasm.

“And what did you do?”

“Fuck, I’m sorry y/n…”

“I asked ‘What did you do?’” You smirk down at him, licking your dry lips.

“I …I came.” His brows are scrunched together, and his big submissive eyes look at you with such a pleading expression, further motivating you to torture your poor boyfriend.

“You disobeyed me, didn’t you? I specifically told you that you weren’t allowed to cum…” you playfully jut your bottom lip out, “But you didn’t listen.”

Jungkook is sitting on your sofa, his legs spread apart as he has his dripping member in his hand. You were giving him a little sexy performance allowing him to touch himself but he wasn’t allowed to cum. Jungkook stroked his dick over and over and not thinking of the consequences, he came all over his hand and lower abdomen…his cum sticky against his sweaty skin.

“You know what this means, right?” you saunter closer to him, your bra straps hanging off your shoulders and your thong tight around your hips. “I get to punish you.” You say as slowly as possible, letting each word drip from your lips.

“H-How?”

“You wanted to cum so bad, right? I’ll make sure you never stop. And you aren’t allowed to touch me. Or yourself.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen, knowing exactly where this is going…he slowly closes his eyes as a smile spreads across his face.

“Whatever you say baby.” He nods his head in agreement. “I’ll do whatever you want.”

“I want you to start touching yourself again—”

“But—but I just came���” His big doe eyes stare up at you and you scoff.

“I said I want you to start touching yourself again. I want it to be quick too. Try to get yourself to cum in only a couple minutes. Can you do that for me?”

“B-Babe…” he hesitantly starts running his fingers up his sensitive length, “Fuck.” He squeezes his eyes shut as he grips his cock tighter and starts stroking faster.

“Good boy.” You lean down and kiss the side of his neck. “I’ll be right back. You better keep going.” You warn softly, “I’ll know if you stopped. I better hear you.”

Jungkook nods his head as he starts whining, soft moans leaving his parted lips. You head to your bedroom and find the baggy that holds the pink handcuffs you two just purchased just the other day. You hear Jungkook quietly groaning as he gets himself off.

“Louder baby.” You yell out, “Want to hear you loud and clear.”

Jungkook starts releasing higher pitched moans as he cries out in pleasure, his cock so fucking swollen.

You walk back into the living room, the handcuffs in hand. You make your way to where Jungkook is, he’s got his head thrown back, his legs spread wide and his cock being ferociously stroked.

“Open your eyes and look at me.” You command, “Now.”

Jungkook lifts his head from the sofa and gazes at you, you can tell by his stare alone that he’s close. He wants to cum.

“Close?” you whisper, swinging the handcuffs in circles, the rattle echoing in Jungkook’s ears.

“Yes.” He squeezes his cock harder, and moves his hand at a faster pace than before, he rolls his eyes to the back of his head as he’s about to cum.

“Stop.” You raise your voice, “Take your hands off yourself.” Immediately Jungkook’s eyes shoot open in panic, there’s no way you’re going to rip this orgasm from him.

“Baby I said stop.” You command again. Jungkook pinches his brows together in frustration, his hand leaving his aching cock. He breathes out roughly, his chest heaving and he whimpers when he no longer feels the pleasure that was getting so built up.

“Fuuuuuuuck.” Jungkook slams his eyes shut, he keeps his hands to his sides, his throbbing cock begging to be touched again.

“Good.” Your evil smirk grows on your face, “Now sit up so I can cuff your pretty wrists.”

Jungkook groans loudly as he sits up for you, you lean forward and cuff one wrist at a time.

“Remember your safe word?”

Jungkook nods frantically, his eyes gazing so intensely in yours.

“Repeat it for me, baby.”

“Dragon.”

“Remember, it’s okay to tell me if it’s too much.” You reach down to stroke his cheek, “But try to handle as much as you can.”

“Yes.”

You stand between his legs and drop to your knees, his dick standing tall waiting, begging, longing to be touched. You take his member in your small hand and guide it towards your lips. Jungkook whimpers when he feels the tip of his cock entering your warm, wet mouth. You push his cock further between your lips, your tongue flat against it as you take him deeper. You keep pushing forward until your nose is bumping into his lower abdomen, you’ve taken his big dick all the way down your throat and he couldn’t be more pleased.

You slowly ease his cock back out, until just the tip is left and you start sucking on it, your tongue running circles over his head. Jungkook’s eyes roll so far back into his head as you explore his cock with your tongue. You pop his cock out, and hold it out in front of you. You make eye contact with him and he moans out, urging you to continue. You lean forward and lick his cock from bottom to top, your tongue sliding against his skin.

“Please more.” Jungkook begs, slamming his eyes shut. “Please, please, please.”

You smile up at him and take his cock into your mouth again, bobbing your head up and down quickly, getting him riled up. You suck on his aching member, making him lose control above you.

“Ahhhhhh fuuuucccckkk.” He cries out. “I wanna cum, I wanna cum, I wanna cum.” He begins chanting. His eyes now open and staring down at you as you choke on his length.

You hollow your cheeks and suck harder, faster making him tense all the muscles in his body.

“Fuck baby, I’m gonna cum!” he wishes his hands were in your hair, he wishes so badly he could touch you.

You feel him tense when he’s releasing a long whine between his pretty, pink lips. His cum shoots down your throat in thick ropes, you swallow it as it slides down. You suck particularly hard and continue to move your mouth on him faster.

“Baby.” He cries out, “Slow down,” he begs, “Too much.”

You don’t stop though, you continue to suck on him, your hand stroking his dick at the same time and he winces at the sensitivity.

“Fuck!” He whimpers, “Holy fuck.”

You squeeze your hand around his sensitive, throbbing cock and he struggles to sit still. He’s going crazy, the pain turning into pleasure once more but the tension is already so built up that he’s sure he’s going to fucking explode in your mouth again.

“Holy fuck y/n…I’m gonna cum again.” He pants, “So close.”

You release his cock from your mouth but your hand continues to stroke him rather quickly, you pay extra mind to squeezing around his tip.

“Cum on my face.” You order and Jungkook’s eyes widen in surprise. He’s quick to nod his head in excitement though. “Want all your cum… everywhere.” Your other hand drags your bra down until your breasts are bouncing out. “My tits too.” You say.

“Fuck.” Jungkook rolls his head back, “You’re so perfect.” He feels his orgasm approaching even faster now, your hand not letting up.

“Cum for me baby.” You tell him and he does. His cum spurts out of his swollen cock, shooting all over your face, his cum dripping down your lips, your eyes, your nose. You point his cock in the direction of your breasts and his cum drips down your tits, covering them in his heated release.

“Good job.” You say, your free hands goes to gather some of his cum…you put your sticky fingers in your mouth, cleaning yourself up. Jungkook just watches with bated breaths, his chest is fucking heaving. You stand up and crawl into his lap and give him a dirty kiss.

“Taste yourself, my love.” You slip your tongue into his mouth and he sloppily accepts, his tongue dancing roughly with yours. You lean away and grin at him.

“You aren’t done coming.” You reach down and slide your panties to the side, your other hand reaching for his sensitive dick. Jungkook’s eyes go wide as he realizes what you’re about to do.

“I don’t know if I can cum again…” he admits shyly.

“You can and you will.” You line up his member to your hole, sinking down on to him making him gasp out. Your cunt is so warm and so tight and so fucking wet.

“Fuuuuucckk.” He draws out the word in a long moan. “Holy fucking shit y/n.” he breathes out roughly.

“Your cock belongs to me.” You whisper into his ear and goosebumps rise on his skin. You lift yourself off his cock and slam back down, you repeat these motions over and over until Jungkook is visibly getting watery eyes.

“Too much.” He cries out, “Hurts.” He says.

“Take it baby, I know you can handle it.” You start bouncing on his cock faster, your thighs are fucking burning.

Jungkook slams his eyes shut, and bites down on his bottom lip. He’s fucking going insane, he’s so god damn sensitive that it truly aches. He’s moving his body around, struggling in his cuffs. He yearns to touch you. To have you slow down, but he can’t and you won’t.

“I love fucking this cock.” You clench around it making Jungkook cry out even more, the pain is finally easing into something pleasurable again. He hates how close he is, he hates how he wants to cum again.

“Fuck. I want you cum in your pussy so bad.” He grits out and you smirk.

“Beg.” You hold on to his shoulders as you fuck his cock, your hips grinding into his so fucking smoothly.

“Please let me cum inside you baby, please. I’ve been so good.” He whimpers, he feels his orgasm coming.

“You have been, my love.” You roll your hips into his again and he gasps out.

“Ride my cock baby please, faster.” He begs, his voice hoarse. You nod your head and start bouncing on his cock faster, he throws his head back as he goes fucking still. He starts coming inside you, his body shaking at this point. He’s so overwhelmed and sensitive. You start slowing down and lift yourself off his length, his cum dripping down your used pussy.

Jungkook is beyond out of breath, his skin glistening with sweat.

“Holy fuck babe.” He gasps, “I’m fucking dead.”

You can’t help but chuckle, you reach for his wrists and take the cuffs off him, throwing them to the side. Now with freed hands, Jungkook is quick to grab you by the hips and pull you in for a long, heated kiss. His tongue exploring past your lips, you moan at his urgency. He flips you over so you are laying on the sofa and he hovers above you.

“Your turn to cum.” He teases, his fingers shoving themselves in your hole. “And baby, I hope you get used to the feeling because you’ll be experiencing it a lot.”

[steve-rogers-ruined-men-for-me]

Teach Me

Summary: Bucky’s worried about you overworking yourself at your teaching job. 

Warnings: some swearing, cute couple shit

Words: 2014k

A/N: this is my first full fic! I’ve really missed writing just for fun and I have a few more fic ideas and hc ideas in the works! please please please comment and let me know what you think! 

No matter what, you always came to bed when Bucky did. Sometimes you stayed up on your phone or reading but you always at least sat on the bed with him. He knew that you had a big week coming up, with your principal coming to observe you, midterms drawing closer, and your students struggling with the new curriculum the district was imposing. 

You were a high school English teacher and Bucky had met you when your school had put on an assembly about the history of the Avengers. He had noticed you in the back of the auditorium, wearing a soft blue dress and encouraging your students to ask him questions about his prosthetic. He shyly asked Tony to see if he could contact the school later and get your number. He had rolled his eyes at him and had walked up to you and asked in plain English, “The Manchurian Candidate over there wants to take you to dinner. If I set up the reservation and promise to make him show up, will you go?” Your jaw had dropped and you had numbly agreed. James Buchanan Barnes wanted to go on a date with you? Despite your doubts regarding the reality of the situation, you showed up outside the quiet Italian restaurant and the rest was history.

Bucky smiled at the memory of you dressed in a red silk jumpsuit with your hair braided back. You looked like a modern version of the girls he flirted with during the forties. Only, back then, he had been wondering how to get up their skirts but now he was more concerned with taking his time getting the jumpsuit off your gorgeous body. He felt a twitch between his legs and, smirking, shook the feeling off. He padded down to the kitchen, thinking you had gotten hungry. When that search yielded no you, he wandered through the rest of the downstairs. He noted that your car hadn’t left the driveway and checked the calendar on the fridge to see if he had the opening shift at the mechanic’s tomorrow (he mercifully did not). But he took note of how small your writing was on your to-do list for Monday. 

Feeling a pang in his chest, he remembered how he had begged you to let him have your full attention on Friday and Saturday.  While you’d reveled in your domestic bliss, by noon on Sunday, you had been buried in your office with your laptop, surrounded by books, papers, and highlighters. Smiling to himself, he realized where you were. He headed up to the attic loft, converted into your office. The walls were a soft gray and the couch the two of you had bought for your tiny first apartment was squeezed against one wall. 

Bucky’s heart tightened as he saw you sprawled on the couch, wrapped in one of his massive flannels. Your desk light was on and the desk was messier than he’d ever seen it. Your blinking phone alerted him to the fact that you’d set an alarm for midnight, but had been so tired you’d slept through it, a given considering you were working yourself to the bone and it was two a.m. Afraid to ruin your organizational system on your desk, he returned the pens and highlighters to the little decorative cups you kept them in, saved every file you had open on your laptop before closing it, and pushed the papers in imminent danger of falling onto the floor farther back on the desk. 

Content that he had lessened the burden of cleaning you’d have to do tomorrow, he crouched next to the couch. Gently smoothing a stray hair out of your face, he whispered, “baby...come on, get up, let’s go to bed.” You opened your eyes slowly and then jerked upright, sending your phone flying and Bucky scrambling backwards. 

“What time is it!” you cried, frantic. You ran towards your desk, frantically pinging your phone from your Apple Watch. Your clock on your desk blinked back 2:05 a.m. at you. Bucky picked up your incessantly beeping phone and handed it to you as you slumped in your desk chair, head in your hands. 

“I just wanted to get this stupid assessment plan done,” you whispered. You hugged his flannel tight around you as tears started to fall. Bucky turned your swivel chair so you were facing him as he knelt in between your legs. You dropped your upper body and rested your forehead on his shoulder as you sobbed. The weight of turning in grades, making assignments, checking in with your students to make sure they were doing okay, it was weighing on you. Bucky had noticed you sleeping less and drinking more coffee but hadn’t truly realized the toll it was taking on you. Kicking himself for making you spend time with him instead of alleviating your burdens at work, he pulled you out of the chair to sit between his legs, curling you into him and rocking gently. After a few minutes, you tilted your chin up and scooched back. Sitting criss cross between his legs, you cupped your chin and closed your eyes.

“I don’t know what to do, Buck,” you said sadly. You tugged on a loose button on your sleeve, looking like a lost puppy. Bucky knew how much you adored teaching and how much you loved your students. You were always baking treats for them when they did well on exams, buying bagels so that they could eat breakfast, and extending deadlines for the kids who worked. He knew that the American school system had changed since the 1940s and when you had shown him what you had to teach in a week and just how much time and energy went into lesson planning, he almost formed his own teachers union to advocate for you. 

When he found out your dismal salary, he had to take a walk. He spent an hour with Tony railing against your pay and the administrators who punished you for the test scores of students that you had no control over. Tony sat him down after an hour of not being able to get a word in edgewise and finally pledged to harass the local school boards (and the Board of Education if they would call him back) about raising teacher salaries. Bucky had walked home to you pouring over birthday cards your sixth period juniors had given you because they’d gotten a tip that it was your birthday. (Peter helped Bucky hack your Google Classroom). He felt a wave of pride come over him as he looked at you, his selfless girl, thrilled that she was having an impact on the kids she loved the most. You getting so down on yourself broke his heart. 

“What’s wrong with your assessment plan?” he asked, intertwining your hands with his. You looked up angrily. “What ISN’T wrong with it is a better question!” you cried. “The district made the test up and it’s on a fucking scantron because what fucking isn’t these days and it’s not taking into account the fact that school is not the main focus for so many of these kids that have to fucking work and help support their siblings and all they are is numbers on a fucking piece of paper that tells you nothing about the effectiveness of my teaching or the district’s ability to educate them as a whole!” Bucky blinked rapidly as you huffed. You didn’t get angry very often, but when you did and you started to monologue, he understood why you received a distinction with your English degree. 

“Baby,” he started gently, “can I ask you something you may not like?” He knew that you were a planner and that the odds were you were beating yourself up about a task that had taken your coworkers thirty minutes to do. You always wanted to do right by your kids but if you didn’t start sleeping and taking care of yourself, you were useless to everyone, including yourself. You looked up at Bucky through teary eyes.

“Are you going to ask me if the plan’s done and I’m just being picky?” you asked in a small voice. Bucky stood up, taking you with him. He pressed your frame against him, putting your arms over his shoulders and resting his hands on your waist. He stayed to sway slightly, trying to lull you back to sleep and to try to help quiet your mind. “I wouldn’t say picky I just...look. I’m being selfish. I want you to come to bed with me. I want you to play with my hair and whisper that you love me when you think I’m out cold asleep,” he gushed, noting the slight blush that crept up your cheeks. “You are incredible. Your admin are literally fucking stupid, doll. Nothing you do will change that. You are trying your best and if you think that your kids won’t benefit from the 12 different plans you’ve cooked up, then you’re crazy. Your kids don’t need a version 13, baby. They need you whole, in one piece, and ready to fight for them if they need.” He kissed your forehead, trying to ease your creased brow. Giving in to his ministrations, you sighed. You thought about how this plan should’ve probably only taken an hour. But then you rewrote the plan for the week based off of if your kids took a lot of time on the test, a little time, got anxious during it, caught on fire during it, committed larceny during the test and you had to contact the police. You knew it was overkill but you also knew that budget cuts were coming, contracts were up at the end of this year, and you and Bucky were saving to buy a house instead of living in a condo forever. 

“Buck?” you whispered. He lifted his chin off your head and looked down.

“Yeah, doll?” 

You felt the exhaustion settle into you all at once. “Can we go to bed?” 

Picking you up and putting you in a fireman’s carry, Bucky held you the whole way down to your bedroom. He pulled out a shirt of his for you to sleep in while you brushed your teeth and rinsed off in the shower. He walked in right as you were towelling off and he slipped it over your head with ease. He offered to blow dry your hair but you declined, favoring slipping into a warm sleep with him. He cuddled you close, forgoing asking you to play with his hair in favor of trying to hug all the pride he felt about you into your body via osmosis. Your head was resting soft on his chest, one arm curled protectively around his torso. His metal arm was tucked up and around your shoulders, keeping you comfortable. His flesh hand caressed your arm around him to remind you that he would always be there for you. He loved you more than anything. As your breathing evened and his hand on your side rose in gentle time with your breath, he decided that he was going to call Tony tomorrow. He knew a few people who owed him from his time as the Winter Soldier and if they didn’t want their dirty laundry exposed, dammit he was going to make someone in the district fix the stupid test until it worked how you wanted it to work. He hugged you closer to him, giving you one final squeeze before he started drifting off to sleep. He slipped into a dream where he was a professor and you a naughty schoolgirl and he had just convinced you to bend over to pick something up behind his desk when...a loud snore from you jolted him back to the reality of his exhausted teacher girlfriend wearing his baggy shirt, with hair going every which way. There was no plaid skirt here. Only love and admiration. Bucky kissed your temple and willed sleep to come again. 

[kjack89]

closure

Sequel to ‘tis the damn season (Tumblr | AO3) and gold rush (Tumblr | AO3). 

ExR, modern AU, former relationship. What are happy endings?

Enjolras couldn’t sleep.

He lay in his childhood bed, staring up at the ceiling of his childhood bedroom, surrounded by the graveyard of his childhood accomplishments. Why his parents had insisted on holding onto every trophy, medal and certificate he’d ever received, he’d never understand. His first grade perfect attendance certificate just seemed like some kind of cruel mockery in light of more recent failures thrown into sharp relief over this holiday weekend.

He sighed and shifted in bed, knowing damn well that the reason he couldn’t sleep had precious little to do with the participation medal he’d gotten for park district soccer in the third grade, and far more to do with the discussion he’d had with Grantaire.

With the reality that nothing in Enjolras’s life was what he had envisioned a decade past, when he and Grantaire had lain in this very same bed, dreaming of a future that had never come to pass.

And with the knowledge that the only reason it hadn’t was because of him.

Groaning, Enjolras flopped over onto his stomach, burying his face in his pillow, as if the down filling could drown out the echoes of his conversation with Grantaire earlier that evening, or else the awful realization that he’d completely failed at being a remotely good boyfriend to the only man he’d ever really loved. But the pillow held no such relief, just dampening the ambient noise and leaving Enjolras more alone with his thoughts than ever.

He was tempted to stay that way, as it seemed a fitting punishment to lie there and obsess over everything that had gone wrong over the past decade.

Still, while brooding was good for keeping him up all hours of the night, Enjolras had never really been one for moping, always preferring action to the alternative, and even though it would be hours yet before the sun crept over the horizon, he couldn’t help but feel like he needed to get up and do something.

He rolled over and grabbed his phone, figuring he might as well doomscroll through Twitter just to give his fingers something to do. But then he paused, and almost without knowing what he was doing, he clicked on Google instead of Twitter, and a moment later, he had the Amtrak website pulled up.

Grantaire had said that he had an early train to catch. A quick scan through the departures listed on the Amtrak website told Enjolras that the earliest train was set to depart at 4:30am, which was… Even though the time was listed on the phone screen he had been squinting at, Enjolras still rolled over in bed to check the clock on his nightstand, just to be sure. 

Its glowing orange numbers told him that it was 4:03am, and Enjolras managed a small, sharp smile.

Just enough time to get to the train station.

----------

Enjolras didn’t exactly have a plan in mind for what he was going to say to Grantaire when he found him at the train station, but thankfully, he was saved by the fact that Grantaire did not show up for the 4:30 train. Or the 5:05, the 5:26 express, the 5:50 flyer, or the 6:30 train. 

But five trains and three cups of coffee were still not enough, since the moment Enjolras saw Grantaire in the train station, a few minutes after 7, any words he might’ve half-strewn together in his mind fled, leaving him tongue-tied as Grantaire spotted him, one dark eyebrow arching. “Please tell me I don’t need to get a restraining order,” Grantaire said as he approached, but with enough of a teasing edge to his voice that Enjolras relaxed, just slightly.

“I promise this is the end of any incidental stalking,” Enjolras told him, and Grantaire laughed.

“Well, that is somewhat reassuring,” he said, setting his duffel bag down on a nearby bench and stretching. “But I still have a bad feeling about why you’re here at ass o’clock in the morning.”

Enjolras snorted. “Ass o’clock in the morning was when the first train left at 4:30,” he said before yawning so widely that his jaw audibly cracked, and Grantaire raised both eyebrows.

“Judging by the fact that you look like you haven’t slept, I’ll assume that means you were here at 4:30?”

Enjolras shrugged, suddenly feeling acutely embarrassed by that decision. “I, uh, I didn’t know which train you were taking,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck.

A smile twitched at the corners of Grantaire’s mouth. “I suppose it’s my fault for not specifying how early my early train was,” he mused, sitting down on the bench next to his bag.

Frowning slightly, Enjolras sat as well. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I’m not entirely surprised to see you here,” Grantaire said. “And, since I figured you were going to show up, I probably should have been a little more specific about when my train was leaving.”

Enjolras opened his mouth and promptly closed it again. “You figured I was going to show up?” he asked, slightly higher-pitched than he intended, and Grantaire had the audacity to not look even remotely abashed. “How? I didn’t even decide to come until this morning.”

Grantaire shrugged. “You never did like to let arguments go without finishing them,” he said simply.

Enjolras shook his head but didn’t bother trying to deny it. Instead, he changed tacks. “I wasn’t aware that we were having an argument.”

“Hasn’t it always been an argument between us?” Grantaire asked, a little wistfully. Enjolras didn’t have a response to that, but thankfully, the question seemed more rhetorical than anything, and after a moment, Grantaire shook his head as if clearing his thoughts before glancing back at Enjolras. “So,” he said, looking at Enjolras expectantly.

Enjolras frowned. “So what?”

“So, since you’ve been here for a few hours now, how about you get to whatever point you’re so desperate to make?” 

Enjolras took a deep breath. “I just…” he started, feeling tongue-tied again, in the way that only Grantaire had ever been able to make him. “Well, like you said, I don’t think we really finished things yesterday, argument or otherwise.”

Grantaire nodded slowly. “So you have more you want to say?” he asked mildly, picking at invisible lint on his jeans.

“No.”

Grantaire looked up, startled. “No?” he repeated.

Enjolras shook his head. “No,” he said again. “I don’t think it’s me who has more that I need to say. I think you do.”

Grantaire started to speak but stopped, looking away, his expression unreadable. “Don’t you think if I had more to say, I would’ve taken the time to say it last night?” he asked finally. 

“No,” Enjolras said. “Because I think that you thought I wasn’t ready to hear what you had to say. But I am.”

He said it as defiantly as he was able, but Grantaire just laughed, a dry, humorless laugh. “Sure, you’re ready to hear it,” Grantaire scoffed. “And I’m ready to be king of France, but alas—”

“I’m serious,” Enjolras insisted.

Grantaire met his eyes and Enjolras was surprised to see something dark in his expression. “So am I,” Grantaire said, his voice low. “I don’t know what you think this is about—”

“It’s about the fact that when I miss who I was when I was with you.”

Grantaire stared at him. “What?”

Enjolras could feel himself flush, and ducked his head before barrelling forward. “When you and I were together were...I don’t want to say they were the best years of my life, because it was high school, and I never wanted to be that person. But you always made me better, made me strive to be better. And I just thought…” He trailed off. “I don’t know. But us meeting like this...I don’t think this is a coincidence.”

“Since when have you believed in fate?” Grantaire asked softly.

Enjolras made a face. “I don’t know if I’d go so far as to call it fate, but seeing you again – I want to try to be that again. And then maybe…” He trailed off and took a deep breath before telling Grantaire, as honest as he had ever been, “Then maybe we could try again. But better this time.”

Grantaire barked what could charitably called a laugh, scrubbing a hand across his mouth. “Are you serious?” he asked, incredulous. “You want to get back to the person who you were when we were together?”

“Well, maybe not quite like that—”

“Enjolras, I hated who I was when we were dating.” Enjolras froze, staring at him. “The thought of going back to that…”

“Not exactly back to it,” Enjolras said quickly. “Better than what we were—”

“No.”

“No what?” Enjolras asked, feeling like his stomach had dropped to somewhere around his knees.

“No, we can’t go back to that,” Grantaire said loudly, and Enjolras glanced over his shoulder, afraid that someone would overhear. But it was still just the two of them alone in the train station. “I don’t want that. I’m not that person anymore, and whatever you want to call how you used to feel about the person I used to be, you sure as shit wouldn’t feel it for the person I am now.”

Enjolras shook his head, feeling like Grantaire was missing his point. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he started, but Grantaire cut him off.

“Let me rephrase what I was trying to say earlier,” he said, his tone clipped. “I don’t know what you think this is about for me. I get what this is about for you. But just like our entire relationship, if you even want to call it that, that has nothing to do with me.” 

“Grantaire—”

“I can’t give you closure, Enjolras, if that’s what you’re looking for, or forgiveness, or whatever. Mainly because you’ve never needed it, but also because you’ve never asked. Not really, and certainly not now.” Grantaire shook his head.  “I can’t fix this. I can’t fix you.”

Enjolras swallowed. “I’m not asking you to,” he said, his voice low.

“Aren’t you?” 

Grantaire didn’t wait for an answer, standing up and grabbing his duffel bag, slinging it over his shoulder as he told Enjolras, “I spent the last ten years of my life figuring out who I was without you and building a life for myself that didn’t involve you, and I’m not going to throw it all away just because you’re not happy with the life you’ve built for yourself.”

Enjolras hurried to stand as well. “That’s not—”

“Yeah, it is.” Grantaire glanced over his shoulder at the train station clock before looking back at Enjolras, something so sad in his expression that Enjolras felt the breath catch in his throat. “I love you, Enjolras – or at least, there’s a part of me that will always love a part of you. But I’m not who I was ten years ago, and you’re not who I fell in love with either. And I’m not saying that I’m disappointed in who you’ve become, or telling you that you need to change, or whatever, because I know better than anyone that that’s not how this works.” He paused, searching Enjolras’s expression for a long moment before continuing, “I am in love with a version of you that has lived in my head for ten years, and I don’t want closure on that. But you’re not him. And I don’t think you’re the version of you that’s been living in your head for the last ten years, either. But it’s up to you to figure out who that is and if that’s who you actually want to be.” 

“Then give me a chance to do so,” Enjolras said, the words coming out as more of a plea than he intended.

“I am,” Grantaire said, taking a step backwards. “I just can’t be a part of it.” He glanced over his shoulder again, and when he looked back at Enjolras, his expression was resigned. “And now I have to go.”

“Wait,” Enjolras said, and Grantaire paused, halfway through turning around to walk away. “Where does that leave us?”

Grantaire didn’t turn back. “There is no us, Enjolras. I don’t know that there ever was.” He squared his shoulders and Enjolras was certain that he was going to walk away and leave it at that, but after a moment that felt more like a century, Grantaire looked back at him. “Take care of yourself, Enjolras,” he said quietly. “And, again...you know how to get in touch. If you want to.” 

With that, he headed toward the waiting train, and Enjolras watched Grantaire walk away for the third time in as many days.

He stayed that way for a long time, long after the train had pulled out of the station, carrying Grantaire and the few other sleepy passengers off to their destinations. Eventually, the chill roused him when nothing else would, and Enjolras reached out automatically to wipe his cheeks roughly with the heel of his palm.

Then it was his turn to walk away, trudging out of the train station and back to the car he had borrowed from his parents, his mind full of arguments he had wanted to make but now never could, his heart as numb as his fingers. 

It was by sheer happenstance alone that on his way, he happened to glance at the departures board, looking automatically at the train that Grantaire had taken. 7:26 EXPRESS, the board told him, along with a note that it was still boarding, which clearly was an error.

But what made him stop in his tracks was when he saw the destination station listed.

It was his city.

Which meant...there was really only one explanation, and Enjolras reached out automatically to steady himself.

Grantaire lived in the same city as him.

All this time, he had just assumed that Grantaire lived hours away, and for all Enjolras knew, he lived only a few miles away, or less.

For what felt like the first time in days, Enjolras felt just a little bit like his old self as he stared at the departures board, determination overpowering everything else he had been feeling.

Maybe this wasn’t an ending, after all.

Maybe this was just the beginning.

[hockeysweetheart]

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.

[thevictorious]

but death she is cunning, and clever as hell 

Name: Fava Thornewood

Age: 19

Gender: Cis female

Sexuality: Pansexual

District: Twelve

Title: (Co-)Victor of the 74th Hunger Games

and she’ll eat you alive

tw: death, murder, killing, & injury

The people of Twelve were scarcely able to survive. Far, far away from the Capitol, the coal miners and their families starved while the rich Capitolites devoured feasts.

The Thornewood family was no exception. Collis stepped into the mines day after day, straining in the dark, with the hopes of keeping his family alive for just one more day. But the truth of it was, that the Thornewood family was as happy as anybody in Twelve could be. Perhaps the children were hungry and and their clothes didn’t fit, but they were loved and cared for. Unlike so many children in their district, their faces were never dirty. They made the very best of their horrid situation.

They were tight knit. Collis and Gemma tended to the fire while their three children snuggled up to them, and listened to the stories of their ancestors. Collis, Fava remembers fondly, was an excellent storyteller.

Hell, she admired Collis in everything that he did. She wanted to grow up to be like her father, strong and capable but capable of great kindness and grace. He was truly her hero.

And, perhaps most importantly, Collis’ work kept the family from starving. They were hungry, and never had quite enough to eat, but there was always food on the table. From time to time, he’d even bring Fava to the Seam to shop for a little treat for her and the twins. Beautiful but vanished trinkets called to her, food from the forest piqued her interest, and she took special pleasure in visiting this place where her father seemed so well loved. People here liked him too. They had good taste.

The news came one afternoon while Fava was in school.

At just eleven years old, she’d lost her hero. His stories, his rough hands, his warm smile, had been buried in the mines. There was no body, no funeral, no money.

Collis Thornewood hadn’t been the only casualty either. An accidental blast had caused the mineshaft to crumble, entombing nearly a dozen miners in the darkness. The people of Twelve, to their credit, did the best that they could to keep the families sustained. They brought over whatever food they could spare, clothing, and firewood, but after a few weeks they could not continue these donations.

What remained of the Thornewood family was entirely on its own.

Gemma tried to remain strong for her children, she kept a brave face when she thought that they were not looking, but crumbled just as quickly. The twins, Grace and Burnet, were equally stunned. They were so little, so heartbroken, and Fava saw her own mourning reflected in their faces.

Still, they had little choice but to move on.

Fava and the twins went to school, and her mother tried to make ends meet as a seamstress. But their efforts were not enough… The family was starving. She could see it in her siblings’ faces, in her mother’s hollowed eyes. They could not possibly make it through this.

Just a year after Collis had died, it seemed that the family would die with him. And then Hudson stepped in. She’d never payed Hudson much mind in school. They were kind and gentle, but never someone she’d been close to, so she could scarcely believe when they had gone out of their way to give her food. It wasn’t much, but it was something. She could take this meal to her family and they could survive another day.

Of course, prideful as Fava was, she was rather embarrassed. But she would not turn down the gift, not if it meant helping her family. She never forgot Hudson’s kindness.

A few weeks later, Fava was awoken by a nightmare and hunger pangs. She thought back on those happy days with her father and the Seam. People there were tough, just as he one was, but they were kind. More importantly, she thought of the food that they sold at their stalls. Animals from the forests…

Perhaps she could provide for her family in the same way.

She ventured out into the forests the next day, slipping through a hole in the fence, and she quickly ran into a neighbor boy. Raab was tall and handsome, his laughter was infectious, but she’d never expected to find him out here. The chance meeting had resulted in a friendship. In time, Raab taught her to make a bow and arrow and how to shoot. He taught her to build traps and catch game. The time that they spent together only brought them closer.

In time, she became a fantastic hunter. Driven by her family’s need, she’d finally found how she could keep them alive. And the extra that she had? She sold in the Seam. The people there smiled warmly at her, just as they did her father.

For years, it went on like that. She and Raab spent long days hunting together, feeding their families as best they could. They earned just enough money to keep their loved ones fed and usually evaded capture. But hardship, be it her father’s death or her hunting, had drained Fava of her warmth. She was every bit as strong and capable and graceful, but she did not have Collis’ kindness.

Not unless she was spending time with her younger siblings. She could never be harsh with them.

At age eighteen, the same year as the twins’ first reaping, Fava tried to reassure them that they would not be chosen. She and Raab, however… It was all that Fava could to to keep her expression stony and calm. She had terrible feeling about the Reaping, but it turned out so much worse than she’d ever anticipated.

The escort smiled as their hand swirled elegantly in the glass sphere, and she drew out a piece of paper. Fava held her breath, only to hear her sister’s name. “Grace Thornewood!”

For a moment there was silence, she was so startled that Fava forgot to breathe. No. No. How could this happen? Without thinking, she charged forward to grab hold of her sister. She would not let Grace go. As the Peacekeepers tried to pull her away, she spoke the words that she’d never imagined saying aloud “I volunteer as tribute.”

Grace and Burnet were safe, at least for now.

What’s worse, Hudson joined her on stage just moments later. She had not forgotten their kindness, the debt that she owed them, and she burned with embarrassment. Would they tell all of Panem how desperate she’d been? Or worse, would they expect her to give up her life for theirs? After all, they’d saved her once.

For days, she tried to pay as little attention to Hudson as she possibly could, tried to push them out of her mind. They were unimportant. All that mattered was that she needed to return home to her siblings, to her mother, so that she could continue to support them. She couldn’t stand the idea that they’d starve.

But in time, she found herself warming to Hudson a bit. They were kind, gentle even, and she helped them when she could in the training center. She had not expected that romance would be central to their survival.

For the most part, her games were something of a blur. She did her very best to do as Griffin said, staying away from the Cornucopia, and she put her survival skills in the forests to use. Maybe, just maybe, she could survive this.

The Games lasted for weeks, testing her mettle and intelligence and strength. Oh, and how Fava suffered. She’d managed to trap one of the careers in a snare, but as she approached the Career she was stabbed. Though she finished them off soon after, and wielded the knife to her advantage, the injury plagued her for the remained of the Games.

From then on, she used snares and her knife as her primary weapon. Trapping tributes one by one, until at last she trapped a young man from two who’d gotten his hands on a bow and arrow. At last, she was in fighting force. No more did she need to hide away in the shadows, but she could show herself off as the competitor she was.

Fava was relentless, keeping to herself save for a brief brush with other tributes, but it was only when she caught a glimpse of Hudson that she paused. In the end, they would have to die, they could not both live through this, but she didn’t have it in her heart to kill them. Someone else would have to finish the job.

Soon after, an announcement was made. Two tributes could leave the Games together, if only they were from the same district. She found Hudson soon after, and the pair watched each other’s backs as the number of tributes dwindled further and further. At Griffin’s encouragement, the pair struck up a romance. Hudson seemed to be far better at it than Fava, but she would do damn near anything to survive. Love was merely a tool to get what she wanted.

In the end, after a brutal fight with a pair of career tributes from Four, they were victorious. They’d made it to the end. But the previous change was soon reversed, and Fava realized that she would have to kill Hudson.

She thought of going home, of seeing Burnet and Grace again, but to leave them? Perhaps there was another way…

Fava gathered a handful Nightlock berries, poured some into Hudson’s hands and shared her plan. The Capitol would have no victor at all. Perhaps, she thought, perhaps she could still make this work. Fava’s bet had paid off. Just as quickly as the ruling had been reversed, the Gamemakers allowed them both to survive, and they were crowned victors. Two!

But she knew that it would not be so easy. President Snow and his wicked entourage would not allow her and Hudson to live in peace. Unfortunately for Fava, she doesn’t have any idea just how terrible their punishment will be.

[sea-side-scribbles]

Fanfiction: Sympathy For A Downer

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22737214/chapters/60012781

Chapter 20

Nick was glad he had hurried up, because he made it home right before it went dark. He was still high from his adventure with Arthur and looked forward to see him again. But the closer he came to his house, and thinking about who was waiting for him inside, he also looked forward to see Morrie.  When he entered it he noticed how quiet it was, as if they were still out and having a good time, or already asleep, what was unlikely. He called for them while he walked up the stairs, until a voice answered him. It was Morrie, looking like he had been waiting for Nick in the living room.

„Welcome back,“ he said holding up his arms and Nick grinned. Then he noticed.

„Are you all alone?“

Morrie shrugged.

„The others are in the pub again, but I wanted to wait for you,“ he explained.

Nick then ran into his arms.

They hugged and kissed, stumbled around and finally slumped on the couch together.

When they paused for breath Morrie quietly asked: „Where have you been?“

Nick cuddled into his side and it didn’t feel any less wholesome.

„I…told you before…I…I want to stop the drugs…I was in therapy today,“ he created an answer. It wasn’t entirely wrong.

„But Nick,“ Morrie turned to face him. „Why didn’t you tell me? This is the best idea you ever had and I’m absolutely with you! Everyone of us is!“

Nick avoided his gaze and simply said in a broken voice: „I have to make it…or I can bury myself.“

Morrie took his hands and stroked them with his thumbs 

„You will make it, Nick! You’re not alone with this.“

Then he made a painful expression.

„I guess I was sarcastic when you first told me…When I was still angry at you and also at myself. But I’m actually proud of you and if you need help, I’ll be there for you. Whatever you need.“

Nick lifted Morrie’s hands and gently kissed them.

„Thank you,“ he rasped.

Morrie eyed him.

„Does it hurt?“

Nick cleared his throat.

„It’s…not really pleasant,“ he answered, thinking about how he had spent hours alone in that bedroom, sweating and winding in pain and nearly losing his mind. 

„And it’s going on forever.“

At that, Morrie began to caress his cheek with his finger, purring „Aww, my poor baby.“

Nick turned his head, kissed the hand that was petting him and then started to cover the other man’s face with more kisses. Morrie closed his eyes, moaning with pleasure. Then he suddenly pulled the mask off his face and looked Nick in the eyes. Nick froze. 

„Isn’t that much better?“, Morrie whispered.

Nick’s gaze wandered over every single uncovered spot on the other man’s skin.

„Your face…I..“, he stuttered and gulped. „I forgot what your face looks like…“

Morrie leaned closer.

„Now let me see if I forgot about yours,“ he was whispering again, tempting him.

Nick shivered but he didn’t flinch when Morrie carefully touched his chin, then shoved his fingers under the white plastic of his mask. While he removed it slowly Nick was staring at him, paralyzed. He was waiting for the other man to be startled by his looks.

„Oh my…,“ Morrie sighted.

„What?“, Nick interrupted him. His heart was pounding.

„You’re so beautiful…“, Morrie went on and Nick’s eyes widened.

His fear melted away when he saw the other man’s delighted expression. When they kissed again, it felt like they kissed for real for the first time. Nick could feel Morrie’s skin on his and it felt so soft when he brushed it with his lips.

„This is so much better!“, he panted the second he could breathe again.

„My words,“ Morrie replied and chuckled.

He shoved his arms under Nick and pulled him onto his lap. Nick took this as an invitation to ruffle the other man’s hair in order to completely ruin his neatly combed strands.

„Hey,“ Morrie laughed while he tried to stop his lover’s evil plan. After he had thoroughly failed and his rumpled hair strands were covering his face, he said: „Alright, I get it. You need a completely different treatment now.“

He got up and lifted Nick up with him, who immediately wrapped his arms around him an giggled.

„What’s the matter, baby? You look ravishing!“

He was kicking his legs, downright begging to be tamed. Morrie wouldn’t let him go.

„Come here, hot stuff, you need a cooldown!“

He carried Nick all the way to his bedroom and kicked the door open with a loud crack.

„Hey, this is my interior you’re destroying right now!“, Nick fake-complained and laughed.

„I’ll destroy much more than that tonight“, Morrie announced and Nick moaned loudly.

„Yeah, baby, punish me!“

Searching for the light switch Morrie accidentally turned on the stereo system that started to blast out Nick’s cheery songs, accompanied with bright lights from a glittering disco ball. Nick could convince Morrie to dance with him, before they made love to the music.

Much later, when it was silent and Morrie was already asleep, Nick carefully freed himself out of his arms. He cast a last tender glance at his lover before he sneaked out of the room and entered the bathroom, where he brought himself to look into the mirror. At first he viewed himself from a distance, then his curiosity won him over and he stepped closer, carefully palpating his face. Bit by bit he remembered that there had been a time where he had seen this face in the mirror every day. His and Morrie’s - and even the Garden District brought back memories which felt like they came from another life.

Long before Nick Lightbearer was born he was simply called Norbert Pickles. He liked to play guitar and sing along in the park that was close to his school. Every since puberty had hit him he had spent a lot of time finding out what the girls liked. And it came out that playing guitar was one of these things. In addition had a good singing voice he was quite proud of. Since the first day he had vibed the strings and hummed a song the girls kept swarming around him and listened like they were under a spell. Words came easier to him when he was singing. 

Because boys like music too he soon found friends that shared his passion and they formed a band. They played at school events and became popular amongst their colleagues. They were ambitious, dreaming about the big stages, concert halls filled with thousands of fans, but it was still a long way.

This certain day started like many others. Norbert didn’t hate school, but all he really wanted was playing music and so he did as soon as the classes were over. It was just the right time: a sunny spring day, warm and dry, perfect to sit down under a blossoming tree and get lost in his songs. He didn’t think about their great plans for now, if anything he looked forward to the pretty bird he was about to meet again this evening. Life was beautiful.

When he finished his song he saw his friend Matthew approach him. He looked out of breath, as if he had been running all the way. 

„There you are,“ he said huffing and puffing. „I’ve been looking for you.“

Norbert was confused.

„Why, what’s up?“

Matthew leaned against the tree to catch his breath.

„There’s that guy from the parallel class. He’s quite good at the piano. Mortimer Dunn, you know him?“

„I’ve heard about him, yes.“

„I talked to him and now he’s thinking about joining our band!“ 

Matthew sounded very excited. Norbert put the guitar down, doubting.

„Is he really that great?“

Matthew held out a hand. 

„You’ve got to listen to him, man! He’s playing for us right now! Follow me!“

Norbert bopped up and followed his friend out of the park and back into the school building. He had mixed feelings about this. Of course he wanted the best for the band, but did it have to be this guy? According to what he had heard Mortimer was rather shy and mousy. How would that look like on stage? And did this guy even like pop music?

So he was preparing for nothing when he opened the door to the music room where a piano was standing in a corner.

What he saw and heard afterwards made him hold his breath.

The band was complete when he and Matthew entered. Chris and Brad didn’t say a word, only nodded to them and kept listening. Mortimer shortly looked up and his and Norbert’s eyes met for a second. Then he continued to play. Norbert watched his long, slender fingers skim along the keys and after a while he noticed that he himself was listening like he was enchanted. He couldn’t stop looking at him either. After everything he had been told about Mortimer he had expected him to be a pimply little podge. Instead he was tall and slim, with well-groomed dark brown hair. 

While playing, he had a charisma that Norbert couldn’t break away from. He was certain that he indeed was the one they needed. When Mortimer ended, Norbert was still frozen and gaping while the others began to applaud and cheer. Mortimer looked at Norbert and his expression was somewhat skeptical. Then Matthew pushed his elbow into Norbert’s side and the sudden pain made him snap out of it. He joined into their cheers, even though way too late. 

„Wow…that was…I’m out of words,“ he stammered.

Matthew stepped forward, asking who would vote for Mortimer as their pianist. They agreed in unison, then they welcomed their new member with more cheers and slapped him on the shoulders. Everyone but Norbert, who didn’t dare to touch Mortimer. He had goosebumps all over his body and he was shivering without knowing why. All he knew was that he needed to leave the room before he fainted, and so he quickly said his goodbye and fled back into the park. He tried to play another song, but the peaceful atmosphere was gone. He was upset. Not even the thought about the pretty bird had the same magic as before. Frustrated, he shouldered his guitar and walked back home.

Even at night he lied awake, wondering what was wrong with him. Mortimer must’ve played something that made him lose his mind. The others didn’t seem to notice, they had been acting completely normal. But if it was about the music, why didn’t he remember the melody he had been playing at all? Instead he could recall the slim hands, his focused expression and the one hair strand that was coming loose while he was playing. Then again, it was still possible that everything would be back to normal tomorrow, he tried to calm himself down. Sinking into his confused thoughts, he slowly fell asleep.

[amenomiko]

Thank you for the requests and I apologize for the long wait.

You see, I found both of this is related somehow and so I decided to make it into one. But as per RULES OF REQUESTS, I will do Nobunaga (For the request on the left), Mitsuhide, Kenshin, Masamune and Shingen (Thank you for following the rules for the request on the right).

❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤

Insecurity.

Inferiority.

You name it.

She sigh at her features, her physical appearance as a whole. At times she can't help but to compare herself with the beautiful girls out there--her old self would always grab something near and smashed it into the mirror, screaming and crying her heart out of why she is been born into this world.

This cruel world.

That no matter where she go, she would always be laughed at. Be teased, bullied, made fun of. She tried to love herself, no matter how her thoughts haunt her everytime she is happy. That she does not deserves it, that people pity her for it.

500 years from her timeline is no difference. The girls would look at her up and down, giggling at the tightness around her obi. The way she ordered those desserts on her plate, the way she eat. Her confidence crumbled whenever she tried to control herself from eating--she was laughed at again.

"Won't you faint if you do that? Oh, I didn't mean to be rude, Princess. The lords would question us and we would be in trouble." The head maid asked her, but she can see her lips quiver from holding back her own laughter. Same goes to the other maid behind her who whispering among themselves. Even the passing vassals nudge to one another, as if she had done something amazing.

It's alright.

It's fine.

This is nothing.

This is normal.

It's..

Fine.

Nobunaga

His fireball has been quiet the whole session of war council.

Usually Nobunaga find her silent mode adorable. Because she is not being silent on purpose, her mind will be full with the questions of "What should I eat tonight?" and "Ah are we done yet? I'm so hungry."

But today was different. She is sad. He could see it.

He called out for her name, only to get a low whisper of "I'm sorry.". She cupped her lips, and run out from the hall. But she didn't know he had saw her tears. It fumes him so much, and his mind is racing with what had caused her to cry, and he is all ready to slash their necks off their head for it.

Before he could run after her, Hideyoshi had stopped him. "My Lord. May I have a bit of your time?"

"Not now, Hideyoshi."

"...I may know what happened." Nobunaga paused in his tracks. "It was.."

He find her at her room, crying next to a broken mirror.

"...I've returned to my old self.." She mumbled under her breath. "I hate to see myself. I hate it, Nobunaga.. Til this day I.. I couldn't fathom why you choose me."

"..It was my own choice. Not theirs." He pulled her by her arms gently, making her facing him. "I'm not in love with your outer appearance. I'm not in love with how you look like. Your heart is beautiful enough to make my heart stir so much until I couldn't control it myself. Say all you want about yourself, but always remember that I will be the one to love you with all my heart." He lean and kiss on her forehead many times until she calmed down.

The very next day, he brought her for a short trip to let go of her sadness. As for the castle,..

They are all punished to eat spoiled rice in each of their meal, served together with dead bodies of a lizard for 3 days and 3 nights by Mitsuhide.

Oh, his favorite part of her body? Hips and thigh. He LOVE to smack it and sleep on it.

Masamune

She is happy. Thankful to what life has offered her. Masamune has chosen her, of all those beautiful girls out there, who is more worthy to stand by the infamous One-Eyed Dragon.

But at times...

"So your face is like that ever since an accident? Oh okay.." Her beaming smile fades in instant to the tone that the lady use on her.

"..It's better if she just died on spot." She muttered under her breath, "I just don't see how the most handsome warlord chooses her. It might be just a feeling of pity."

Her grip around the bag of mochi tightened. She heard it all. She heard of it almost everything.

"Now, you must be very unique to the point it caught the heart of the dragon aye?" The shop owner chuckled. "As usual thank you for always helping us finish the desserts, it helped us a lot, dear! Your body is. Ahahaha!" He playfully smack onto her shoulder, and she could only laugh softly.

Her eyes lowered to the mirror in front of her. "..I wonder why myself.."

"Well,..!"

MC gasped as she could feel a strong arm pull her close into a very familiar, soothing smell. It came from a chest that she would always bury her face in and it belongs to none other than Masamune.

"Masa- Anata..? What are you doing here?"

"Hmm? I was grabbing for some ingredients for tonight, and I happen to come across a.." He flashed a grin to the shop owner and the woman, "..very unpleasant conversation about my wife."

He feel a tug on his chest. "It was nothing, I'm used to it.""Ahaha no you won't." His smile curved down to a serious ones. "...You."

"Y-yes, My Lord??"

"Pack up your things now. You are not allowed to sell anywhere you wanted as long as it's within my dragon eye."

"B-but, we are just joking My Lo- kyaaa!!!" The other lady stumbled on her feet the moment Masamune point his sword at her. "My choice is never your concern. Do as I say or else you want to end up at the red light district?"

"Anata..!"

"Sure, my wife is not beautiful for you. At least her beauty doesn't match your ugly heart and a beautiful face that is suitable only for spreading legs for men." He spat.

Wow..

She never seen her husband this angry before. "Anata..? I love you." She giggled.

"..And I love you MORE, my kitten to my baby kitten (ㅅ˙³˙)♡ 💕💕💕💕~~"

She can't help but laugh. He would always make her happy and she never regret meeting him in her life.

Fav parts: Ass and Stomach. So cute and curvy ❤❤❤❤

Mitsuhide

Mitsuhide might be working in the shadows, but he is also a well known Warlord of Oda Nobunaga.

He is a very mysterious man, so when people heard the rumors about him, they are full of curiosity about him. Especially if he has someone for a love interest, crushes, any girl he want to get as a wife, and so on. So, when he got married, the rumor goes around just like a wind, where it makes them more and more curious to know, who he have chosen to be his life companion, giving his interesting personality.

"...Oh. You are.. his wife?"

The Daimyo whom they met for a new alliance look at MC up and down, checking her features, as if looking for something on her. He coughed, "Ehm very peculiar." He eyed MC's curves and to her hips. "Ah, for the heir I guess?"

Her hold around the tea tray twitched, followed by her forced smile. She have gathered her courage to give him a lesson when..

BANG!

A sound of a powdered gun echoed the council hall, and all eyes is on Mitsuhide who were grinning at the entrance with a smile that sends cold shiver to the daimyo and his men. "Ah pardon me, I thought there was an intruder because it was laughing like a pig and it perks my attention."

"P-PIG-"

Masamune snorts into his palm. "That really helps lad, I was wondering to myself ever since he arrived..!"

The laughter is followed by Nobunaga, "Such a nice haircut you have there."

"Huh? Wha??" He pats around his head, only to find his fake hair has burnt by his side. "NOOOOO!! Y-YOU! THE ALLIANCE ENDS HERE!"

Nobunaga shrugged, "Who said so?"

"H-huh?"

"Who said that I make an alliance with a pig? Anyway, Mitsuhide, send over a man to make a huge farm for his room. Take over his castle and make them eat grasses for a month."

"May I request for an extension of another month?" Ieyasu added.

"A year, My Lord." Mitsuhide grinned as he pulled his wife into a kiss. "..For disgracing my wife and also the Princess of Azuchi in front of everyone."

"A year it is." After that no one escorts the daimyo out as his title is also be taken away on the same day.

Fav part: Hips and Breasts. Woohoo ❤

Kenshin

"Kenshin-sama must be so desperate."

Again. It's just one of those days where people starts to gossip about her place in Kasugayama.

"He should have just gone to the red light district if he is sexually frustrated."

She froze in her tracks. Yes, they can say anything about her but for her beloved when they know nothing, they should just

"Mind your own business!" She shouted.

"Uwah. What's with this woman??"

"Hey, you should be grateful that we didn't harm you, knowing how you were just the spoils of war to Kenshin-sama. He must have been blind and chose you because Isehime had died. Heh!"

SLAP!! "SHUT UP!"

"You..! This ugly woman!!!"

She winced as he grabbed her by the collar, and in a blink of eye,

His arm were sliced and it plop onto the ground. Bystanders were screaming and gasping at the sight, and MC were speechless to the scene in front of her. Then, a black cloak covered her eyes as a figure in pale blonde pulled her into its chest.

"Say it again and touch her with your filthy hands, your head will be the next one. The woman that I choose to be by my side is the heart that had saved me and NEVER will replace the person who had died long time ago." His mismatched orbs glare into the trembling man's eyes.

"And." He pointed his sword to the other passerby. "If all of you say the same thing or have any complains, leave Echigo or have your head be decorated in your own home.

"..Anata. I'm fine."

"You aren't. I know you better."

"Thank you Kenshin." She smiled into his chest, kissing it while circling her arms around his torso.

His fav part: Ass and Thigh ❤

Shingen

She grinned to the mochi in her hands, pinching around it playfully before munching on it. "Mmmnnhhh~~~~ so fluffy so sweettt~~~". She beamed, happily swinging the bag of sweets in her hand.

She gasped as she spotted her husband among the crowd. "Anata..!"

Ah he didn't hear her. She should go nearer so she could surprise him with the delicious mochi that she bought, couldn't wait to go back to the castle, having their usual tea time routine.

Suddenly a hand stop her. "Hey, I wouldn't go near if I were you..! Are you the maid?"

"M-maid? No, I'm--"

"See those girls around him? You won't stand a chance..! He may be kind to every girls but as for your type.." The lady look at her up and down, giggling at her. "Hahaha..! Oops! Uhm..nope, nope.."

Ah, the typical lines. "Y-yeah, you are right." She glances at Shingen from her shoulder, turning her foot to go back to the castle when

"My darling wife, why aren't you waiting for me? I'm sad you know?"

Gasps echoed all over as he pulled her by the waist, kissing her cheek and temple. "Hm? Your friend?" He smiled at the lady in front of her. "Thank you for pulling my wife away from the busy crowd, you see. She is pregnant with my little angels, so crowds is dangerous for her." He winked, caressing her belly with full of love. "Ah I just can't wait to meet my pair of angels~~" He turned back to the lady.

"Thank you once again. Do rest now, a woman of your age should rest with your grandchildren."

"Sh-Shingen, she's not.."

"Oh? OH pardon me, you look.." He pursed his lips as he look at her up and down, chuckling, "My bad, she looks like.. The witch from the "Snow White" story you ever show to me."

"Hey- pffft. Honey..!" She jabbed his waist.

"Oof! Ahahahaa..! Let's go, My Goddess."

The bit- lady was left flabbergasted in the middle of the road, and the girls who were circling around Shingen, walk passed her with a giggle.

"That's what you get for not keeping opinion to yourself..! Hehehee~~ ____ is a sweet girl, darling. It's your luck that Shingen-sama gives you some mercy or else you will be SLAPPED by our getas. Hmf!"

Fav part: Thigh and Stomach ❤

[ultimavolatusrpg]

ACCEPTED // CAMBRIC BATISTE

36 years old, 96th Hunger Games, FC: Jensen Ackles

Charismatic, protective, approachable, silly, and outgoing

tw: death mention, violence mention

THE ARENA

If you asked Cambric to describe his arena, you’d get two words: dank and sadistic. Well, you’d get a few more words, but he’s trying to keep it PG. His “swear” jar is getting full kids…Anyhow, the Gamemakers had gone all out in his area. They wanted something new and fresh, and apparently, that could only be achieved by setting the Games six feet under. Well, not literally but the Cave (or the Inferno as Cambric calls it) was certainly a fresh take on the games. All twenty-four tributes locked away in a dark, damp, cage has a way of making one feel claustrophobic. I mean, wouldn’t most of the tributes be six feet under in eternal darkness soon enough anyhow? Now the Capitol was just rubbing salt into the wound. That being said…. Cambric’s arena was in a word, sadistic. With no sunlight, there was no vegetation for the Tributes to eat. The only food source in the cavern was that which was provided by the Gamemakers at the cornucopia. Sure there were animals such as mutant bats and whatnot, but it wasn’t recommended you try to catch them. Ask the Tributes from Four, they’ll tell you how that went if they were still alive. It wasn’t pretty. This only made the combat in the arena more deadly and more pronounced. If you weren’t a Career or your mentor couldn’t find you wealthy sponsors, you were done for. A true goner kids! Oh, and what else is good about caves you ask? Darkness. Being so far underground there was very little light. The cornucopia was well lit and the tiny stream that feeds into the arena provided a little light, but other than that the Tributes were on their own. Flashlights, candles, and the like had to be found in the given provisions. And good luck trying to start a fire out of anything in the damp atmosphere.

True to form, the Gamemakers didn’t disappoint with their curve balls they tossed in. An earthquake started it over (hey, a storm of falling stalactites anyone?), swarms of poisonous mutant cave spiders, and starved dehydrated Tributes…

BIOGRAPHY

Strong and able, Cambric always knew he was destined for work in the factories that produced the fine fabrics of the Capitol. The same fabrics that he was forced to see every day by the Peacekeepers that paraded around their District telling them what they could and couldn’t do. That was just how life was in District Eight.

Another truth of District Eight? There was never enough food to go around and you did what you had to, including putting your name in more times for a bit of food. Cambric didn’t even think twice about making that sacrifice for his family. His little sisters and brother meant more to him than his own life. It was of these three little faces he thought of on that cold, cold, day the Reaping took place.

A day when the heavens opened up and poured its sorrow down on District Eight. Cambric could hardly remember a day when it had rained so hard. He also remembered joking with his siblings that it would be okay, that the Capitol wasn’t going to want a bunch of soaked wet dogs for Tributes so they would have to send him home. It wasn’t going to be his name that came out of that glass orb. Nope, after this year they would be safe for a while at least from the Reapings.

And yet, there it was, plain as day… Cambric Batiste, the male Tribute from District Eight. While it shocked him, he knew it was a fate he couldn’t change. Instead, Cam sauntered up those steps and accepted his fate with dignity. He would make the most handsome Victor if he said so himself. It was about time he let the Capitol and Panem in on this little secret. If he was going to survive there was going to have to be no doubt in his truth.

Boy, he was a stunning Tribute if Cambric said so himself. Tall, handsome, and not that bad at combat to boot because of his size. Cambric wasn’t a Career but that didn’t stop him from training like one once he was in the Capitol. A type-A personality, he was up early and stayed up late trying to earn whatever advantages he could get. He even went as far as making a pact with Districts One and Two. Even after they had killed his District partner. Morals be damn, Cam wanted to win. It didn’t matter if back home there would be unrest for his alliance. They didn’t understand, they weren’t there.

His time as a Tribute was a whirlwind… Cambric hardly remembers the details now except when they come to him in his dreams; broken memories of a past he has tried to bury. He never watches recaps of his Games, he sure the hell isn’t the type that tries to relive them and the glory.

He got lucky you know? Surviving under that rock while everyone tried to outrun the storm of falling stalactites… That had left only him and the Tributes from District One. The boy and the girl. The two that had been his allies at the beginning of the games but now where his enemies. He had to hunt them down and kill them. The only two people he had considered friends of a sort. Fate was kind to Cambric however because the boy died of infection not too long after the storm. The girl was destined to become his ghost, the one that still follows him to this day. On his worse days, Cam wonders if he should have been the gentleman and died in her place.

Alcohol has erased her face but Cam can still hear her voice calling to him.. Begging him to let her go home. Begging…. Crying even… Crying before him…

Just like that, Cambric was a Victor. He had won the Hunger Games! Surely life would only get better. Hah, what you don’t know can kill you or at least those that love you. A lesson Cam only had to learn once.

With the death of his little brother, was a death that was all his fault. A punishment for his own defiance. His first lesson on what the Capitol can do to its wayward Victors. Since then Cambric Batiste has been a model Victor and Mentor. He shows up when he’s supposed, he does what he’s supposed to, but he’s there. He tries because he owes that much to his Tributes, if only because he is one of the only people that can help them in a world that wants them dead.

So Cambric does what he does best, survive. Hell, even he will admit though he has some fun doing it. His family might have broken ties with the death of his brother, but it has granted them safety. No, instead, Cam considers his fellow Victors his new family and he wants to protect them. Protect them because as screwed up as they all are (yes, all of you) he wants nothing more than to feel loved again. Other than that, he says please leave him to his bottle and his scheming, thank you very much.

PENNED BY: TONYA

[tothewaterhq]

ACCEPTED // CAMBRIC BATISTE

district eight mentor → victor of the 60th → jensen ackles fc

positive traits: Charming, Witty, Realistic negative traits: Supercilious, Inflexible, Impulsive

describe their arena:  If you asked Cambric to describe his arena, you’d get two words: dank and sadistic. Well you’d get a few more words, but he’s trying to keep it PG. His “swear” jar is getting full kids…

Anyhow, the Gamemakers had gone all out in his area. They wanted something new and fresh, and apparently that could only be achieved by setting the Games six feet under. Well, not literally but the Cave (or the Inferno as Cambric calls it) was certainly a fresh take on the games. All twenty-four tributes locked away in a dark, damp, cage has a way of making one feel claustrophobic. I mean, wouldn’t most of the tributes be six feet under in eternal darkness soon enough anyhow? Now the Capitol were just rubbing salt into the wound.

That being said…. Cambric’s arena was in a word, sadistic. With no sunlight there was no vegetation for the Tributes to eat. The only food source in the cavern was that which was provided by the Gamemakers at the cornucopia. Sure there were animals such as mutant bats and whatnot, but it wasn’t recommended you try to catch them. Ask the Tributes from Four, they’ll tell you how that went if they were still alive. It wasn’t pretty. This only made the combat in the arena more deadly and more pronounced. If you weren’t a Career or your mentor couldn’t find you wealthy sponsors, you were done for. A true goner kids!

Oh, and what else is good about caves you ask? Darkness. Being so far underground there was very little light. The cornucopia was well lit and the tiny stream that feeds into the arena, provided a little light, but other than that the Tributes were on their own. Flashlights, candles, and the like had to be found in the given provisions. And good luck trying to start a fire out of anything in the damp atmosphere.

True to form, the Gamemakers didn’t disappoint with their curve balls they tossed in. An earthquake started it over (hey, storm of falling stalactites anyone?), swarms of poisonous mutant cave spiders, and starved dehydrated Tributes…

LET THE 60TH HUNGER GAMES BEGIN! AND MAY THE ODDS BE EVER IN YOUR FAVOR!

biography:

Strong and able, Cambric always knew he was destined for work in the factories that produced the fine fabrics of the Capitol. The same fabrics that he was forced to see every day by the Peacekeepers that paraded around their District telling them what they could and couldn’t do. That was just how life was in District Eight.

Another truth of District Eight? There was never enough food to go around and you did what you had to, including putting your name in more times for a bit of food. Cambric didn’t even think twice about make that sacrifice for his family. His little sisters and brother, meant more to him than his own life. It was of these three little faces he thought of on that cold, cold, day the Reaping took place.

A day when the heavens opened up and poured its sorrow down on District Eight. Cambric could hardly remember a day when it had rained so hard. He also remembered joking with his siblings that it would be okay, that the Capitol wasn’t going to want a bunch of soaked wet dogs for Tributes so they would have to send him home. It wasn’t going to be his name that came out of that glass orb. Nope, after this year they would be safe for a while at least from the Reapings.

And yet, there it was, plain as day… Cambric Batiste, the male Tribute from District Eight. While it shocked him, he knew it was a fate he couldn’t change. Instead Cam sauntered up those steps and accepted his fate with dignity. He would make the most handsome Victor if he said so himself. It was about time he let the Capitol and Panem in on this little secret. If he was going to survive there was going to have to be no doubt in his truth.

Boy, he was a stunning Tribute if Cambric said so himself. Tall, handsome, and not that bad at combat to boot because of his size. Cambric wasn’t a Career but that didn’t stop him from training like one once he was in the Capitol. A type A personality, he was up early and stayed up late trying to earn whatever advantages he could get. He even went as far as making a pact with Districts One and Two. Even after they had killed his District partner. Morals be damn, Cam wanted to win. It didn’t matter if back home there would be unrest for his alliance. They didn’t understand, they weren’t there.

His time as a Tribute was a whirlwind… Cambric hardly remembers the details now except when they come to him in his dreams; broken memories of a past he has tried to bury. He never watches recaps of his Games, he sure the hell isn’t the type that tries to relive them and the glory.

He got lucky you know? Surviving under that rock while every tried to outrun the storm of falling stalactites… That had left only him and the Tributes from District One. The boy and the girl. The two that had been his allies in the beginning of the games but now where his enemies. He had to hunt them down and kill them. The only two people he had considered friends of sort. Fate was kind to Cambric however, because the boy died of infection not too long after the storm. The girl was destined to become his ghost, the one that still follows him to this day. On his worse days, Cam wonders if he should have been the gentleman and died in her place.

Alcohol has erased her face but Cam can still hear her voice calling to him.. Begging him to let her go home. Begging…. Crying even… Crying before he…

Just like that, Cambric was a Victor. He had won the Hunger Games! Surely life would only get better. Hah, what you don’t know can kill you or at least those that love you. A lesson Cam only had to learn once.

With the death of his little brother, was a death that was all his fault. A punishment for his own defiance. His first lesson on what the Capitol can do to it’s wayward Victors. Since then Cambric Batiste has been a model Victor and Mentor. He shows up when he’s supposed, he does what he’s supposed to (which only a few drunken miscues and foal language), but he’s there. He tries because he owes that much to his Tributes, if only because he is one of the only people that can help them in a world that wants them dead.

So Cambric does what he does best, survive. Hell, even he will admit though he has some fun doing it. His family might have broken dies with the death of his brother, but it has granted them safety. No, instead, Cam considers his fellow Victors his new family and he wants to protect them. Protect them because as screwed up as they all are (yes, all of you) he wants nothing more than to feel loved again. Other than that, he says please leave him to his bottle and his scheming, thank you very much.

PLAYED BY // TONYA

[imaginetonyandbucky]

Toward Safe Harbors (Part 3/5)

Tony smiles. He attends meetings. He laughs. He replies to Obie’s missives. He dances. He dines with the king.

He tells Pepper that he’s fallen in love with the idea of orange as a primary color for his wedding. Yes, even though it’s a winter wedding. Orange, Pepper!

He gives Rhodey a new sword, custom tailored. Tony inscribed ‘One Over All’ into the hilt, as a threat and a promise, and it’s proven so when Rhodey wins his first bout against another guard.

He threatens Happy with getting a dog, one that he would put Happy in charge of overseeing. Then, after looking properly tragic, Tony gives Happy the day off - with instructions to go sneak off with that maid in the East Wing.

Then one afternoon, Tony declares that he would like to go for a real swim in the lake. It’s a hot day, one of the last heat spikes before fall completely sets in, and Tony thanks whatever powers that be for the timing.

An entire party is gathered, including the king. Tony breathes and smiles as more and more nobles and servants and guards join them. Finally, the group is gathered, and they head to the lake. Hammer plans on dragging food and more servants out later, so that they can have a picnic, and that occupies him as they ride out. Tony distracts himself by chatting with Alpha Janet Van Dyne, a noblewoman of the southern district, even if she’s primarily interested in details of the wedding.

The lake shimmers into view, and Tony smiles. He and Bucky had snuck off many times to spots around this lake, just the two of them, where they could wash each other's scents off and dry in the sun.

Now, he arrives with Hammer at his side.

(Watch out for the break!)

Tony invites Hammer on a walk through the clearing first before they cool off in the lake. It’s a more secluded area, though still passes the measure of propriety by being able to be seen by those on the lakeshore. As Tony expected, Hammer eagerly agrees.  

“Wouldn’t these be gorgeous for the wedding?” Tony asks as he leans over and picks one of the daisies popping up.

“Daisies?” Hammer asks, his lips thin. “Darling, we can do better than some common field daisies, hm? You’re marrying the king, after all,” he finishes with a grin.

“I like these,” Tony replies, voice light. He picks several more as Hammer circles. Tony tries to ignore his skin buzzing with Hammer two steps too close for normal convention.

“They can’t be the only flower you like,” Hammer prompts.

Tony lets the silence stretch for several moments as he stands back up and sniffs the daisy, all for show. “No, they aren’t,” Tony finally answers. After all, it would be difficult for Pepper to find fresh daisies during winter, the date of the wedding now set. “But I do like them,” he repeats as he sticks one of the daisies behind his ear. He clutches a bouquet more of them loose in his hand.

“Of course, darling. They’re just...everywhere. I want our wedding to be the event of the century! Daisies won’t get us there.”

Tony lips twitch. Sometimes he thinks the most difficult part of Pepper’s job is attempting to control Hammer’s poor taste. “It will be unforgettable, I’m sure.”

“The event of the century,” Hammer repeats with fervor. He grabs Tony’s empty hand and brings it to his mouth, kissing the inside of Tony’s wrist.

Tony buries his face in his bouquet of daisies to avoid needing to respond to Hammer’s attempt at seduction. Then, he declares it’s time for that swim.

Back at the shoreline, Tony holds back a grin as he reveals his swimsuit. He had chosen a conservative one piece - perfectly acceptable omega-wear in the mixed company of their group. It also serves to successfully disguise the growing bump of his stomach, but Tony enjoys the disappointment on Hammer’s face as he sees it. It isn’t like Tony has been known for following societal expectations, as he’s certainly been caught in worse.

Tony wades into the water, and then he lets himself enjoy the lake. He swims and smiles and laughs as he moves from cluster to cluster of people. He plays host, pointing out birds in the trees, reeds where sometimes turtles are found, the cluster of rocks great for jumping off.

The sun ticks over the sky and it gets closer and closer to dinner time. A few people start exiting the water, feeling chilled. Tony’s chest pounds, his heart beating faster.

He departs from one group with a smile and wave, leaving them laughing at a joke he’d told. He moves purposefully toward another, a fair distance away. Tony checks, and Hammer is lounging on shore, talking, with his head turned away from Tony.

Tony takes a deep breath and dives underneath the surface, for once being thankful for how murky the water is this late in the season. He kicks, claws, strains, the air burning in his lungs as he strives to change direction and reach a pile of rocks yards beyond the swimming area.

The rocks appear, suddenly visible in the dark water, and Tony almost bashes his face against them before he crawls around to the other side. He surfaces, slowly, trying to gasp for air as quietly as possible as he surveys his surroundings. No one wandered down this way, he notes with relief, with this group of rocks between him and the rest of the swimming party.

Tony sucks in a few deep breathes, letting his burning lungs recover. He may have underestimated the difficulty of his plan, given the complication of his pregnancy. At the very least, his child should be an excellent swimmer after this.

He pulls a daisy from a pocket he’d put on the inside of his swimsuit, and he rips off the head. He takes a practice breath through the hollow stem to check that it’s unobstructed.

Clear.

Next, his destination. He can barely see the stream running out of the lake all the way at the other end, but he’s seen it on the maps. It would be safer to make his way there along the shore, but the shortest route is through the middle of the lake. Tony needs every second he can get before he’s noticed as missing, so with the help of the daisy stem he thinks he can make it. If he drowns, too exhausted to make it, well then… what he hopes everyone will assume will actually be true.

With one last deep breath, Tony ducks back underwater. He pushes off the rocks behind him with a strong kick, arms cutting the water in front of him as he aims for the opposite shore.

“You’d love the sea,” Bucky comments as he flicks grass at Tony.

Tony thinks about reaching down to the shoreline and grabbing some mud to throw back at Bucky, but he’s too comfortable laying on his sun-warmed rock.  

“You tell me that I’d love a lot of things about your kingdom,” Tony teases as he stretches. “Is this your version of a marriage offer, or are you just rubbing it in my face?” The question is laughable because Bucky is surprisingly unspoiled for a prince. It matches well with Tony who is surprisingly spoiled for only being a noble’s son. A noble whose mining and blacksmithing supply the entire kingdom’s armory and a solid half of the machinery, but still - only a noble.

“What if it is? An offer?”

Tony turns and blinks at Bucky, but he can’t tell if Bucky is joking or not. “Well, it’s terrible,” he blurts.

Bucky stares at him, his eyes dark, and Tony freezes like he’s pinned.

“I want to take you swimming in the sea,” Bucky starts, his voice hoarse but then strengthens. “I want to show you the markets where the ships come in, filled with new things neither of us have seen before. I want to show you the cliffs, where we can dive off and scream the entire way down.” Bucky crawls onto the rock, on top of Tony. “I want to argue with you about how to tax the rich without causing a rebellion. I want to hear your thoughts on the mining strategies in Brookland. I want...I want...”

“You want a lot of things,” Tony comments, mouth dry, as Bucky hovers above him. His skin buzzes, everywhere, waiting for a touch, but Bucky doesn’t close the final gap.

“Yes.”

Tony licks his lips. The question hovers between them, unasked. What does Tony want?

When he was ten, he wanted to go home and not be stuck in the palace trying to make political friends with the future king. When he was twelve he wanted the authority to punish people who thought he was a weak omega. When he was fifteen he wanted to be left alone with the recent shipment of iron ore and test out his designs. When he was eighteen he wanted his parents to stop talking about marriage prospects and specifically King and Alpha Justin Hammer who is a royal idiot.

Now, at twenty, Tony wants... someone to go swimming with, someone who will debate new ideas, someone who understands the expectations of legacy and responsibility. He wants... someone who looks at him the way Bucky does.

Tony wants.

He tilts his head back on the rock, his chin lifting to expose his throat. A show of trust, and Bucky accepts it by laying hot, open-mouthed kisses down the column. Bucky can’t leave a mark, not yet, and Tony’s mind already races with proposals and negotiations to somehow convince Bucky’s parents, royalty, to let their son choose Tony as a mate.

“Tony,” Bucky breathes as he settles on top of Tony, Tony’s hands going to his waist so that Bucky’s hips line up precisely where Tony wants them. Bucky reaches around and squeezes the glands on the back of Tony’s neck, hard.

Tony writhes in Bucky’s hold, where the grip on his neck sends sparks of pleasure shooting into his brain and the mouth on his neck sends them to his groin. Then Bucky runs a firm, possessive hand down Tony’s chest, back up his ribs, down his arm, until Bucky is tugging on Tony’s wrist.

Bucky brings Tony’s wrist up to his mouth. “Mine,” he whispers against the skin before he bites down hard enough to leave an impression of his teeth on Tony’s reddened skin.

“Alpha,” Tony submits.

Tony makes it to the other side of the lake. There are a few panic-inducing moments: a duck darting by next to him, it’s white body flashing through the dark water and almost giving him a heart attack; he dropped his breathing tube of a daisy stem and had to dig around for his spare while his lungs screamed; there was a moment where his legs ached, his arms hurt, his body demanded air, and Tony saw his odds of a watery grave increase exponentially.

But Tony makes it, his body catching in the current of the river. He lets himself be pulled into it and has to hold himself back from taking a deep, lungful of air at the surface until he’s at least a bend away from the lake.

The party has to have realized he’s missing by now and are probably searching. At least Pepper, Rhodey, and Happy were busy with their duties and didn’t make the invite list. They don’t have to search for his body in the lake and argue whether Tony, a generally capable swimmer, could drown with so many people around.

His heart burns, more than oxygen-deprivation accounts for, at leaving them behind. But Tony chooses this child - he knows they would understand if he could’ve told them - and he chooses to avoid war. The river will carry him east, toward Bucky but more importantly toward the sea ports. New ships from far-off places arrive everyday, according to Bucky, so Tony should be able to talk his way onto one of them at least. A new start where no one knows his name, face, or story. Hammer can think he’s dead, Bucky can move on, and Tony can raise his child.

Tony doesn’t realize the river is a mistake until it’s too late.

The map at the palace library hadn’t noted anything to be concerned about between the lake and sea. It narrowed and widened and twisted and turned and Tony had been counting each bend. But someone had decided that rapids weren’t concerning enough to mention or were too lazy to draw them in or something because they certainly hadn’t been on any map Tony had seen.

He swims for the side, but the current drags him back to the center and he’s moving downstream too fast. He turns and tries to stop himself on an oncoming rock, but after he bashes into it the current rips him away, his grip no match for the pull.

Tony rams into boulder upon boulder, his body bruising, not able to keep a grip on a single one of them. He can’t fight the current. He can barely manage to breathe air into his screaming lungs when he’s above the surface.

There’s a sharp pain in his skull, and then blackness.

Tony wakes and he feels nothing. It’s as if his head has floated off his body, completely unattached and not receiving any signals.

Something presses into his cheek, then stops. Press, stop. Press harder, then stop. Press even harder, and then Tony’s sense of self - and accompanying sense of pain - comes rushing back to him.

He groans and tries to flinch from the pain, but now the pain is everywhere. His head aches, his arms ache, his chest aches, his stomach aches. He still can’t feel his legs and the panic that follows that thought gets Tony moving.

His legs splash in the water, and Tony slumps back into the mud. His legs are cold, numb with it, and now that he’s confident that they’re still attached to his body, he lets them be the only relief from pain that his body is currently experiencing.

“Whoa - you’re alive?”

Tony turns to the voice, slowly, achingly. A kid resolves into focus as his eyes blink grit and mud away.  When he first tries to speak, he coughs out mud.

“You’re not going to keel over right in front of me, are you?”

“No,” Tony manages to gasp out. He takes another moment to ask his body if he is, actually, dying. Probably not, he decides is the response. “I’m fine.”

“Are you a murderer?” the kid asks. “My mom says I shouldn’t talk to strangers because they could be criminals. If you’re a thief that’s okay, though, because we don’t have anything worth stealing. My mom would probably get mad at me if you killed me, though. And then there wouldn’t be anyone to take care of my sister.”

“I haven’t murdered anyone,” Tony sighs out as he attempts to crawl out of the river. Time to experience full-body pain.

“...and then I wouldn’t be there to talk to her, or play with her, or tell her a story when she asks. I mean, Mom can get really busy so..”

“Yet,” Tony continues with a glare as the kid rambles on.

The kid, of course, doesn’t take the hint.

“Were you trying to kill yourself? What were you doing in the river?”

Tony sighs and flops down onto the bank, his entire body now up on the grass rather than in mud or water. The kid trails him, curious, and Tony really wishes he didn’t have a witness to this shining moment. What is he going to do now? Because he is not getting back in that river without a boat and a much better map.

“Just out for a swim,” Tony answers as he contemplates his next step. There has to be a village where the kid came from, right? How far is he from the lake? Can he risk being seen by more people? He presses his stomach, his lower abs. Bruised, definitely, but it doesn’t seem too deep… he hasn’t lost the baby, has he?

“That was stupid of you,” the kid answers. “Are you sure you aren’t that runaway omega all the guards are looking for?”

Tony stills. “What are you talking about?”

“It was all over town this morning,” the kid answers, and now Tony knows he’s lost too much time. He isn’t far away enough yet. “The king’s omega went missing recently and everyone’s supposed to be out looking for him. Some said he drowned at the lake, but there’s a rumor that he ran away. My omega wouldn’t explain, but she said it was a scandal.”

Tony breathes out a very, very long breath. It’s possible that the seamstresses had started to talk, or maybe someone noticed his agriculture experiment? Tony had disposed of the sprouted seeds, but maybe someone had heard and put the pieces together?

“You’re him, aren’t you?” the kid continues.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Tony tries, and it’s even a half-truth. “Where even is this lake?”

“That way,” the kid answers, pointing upstream. “Except no one goes that way, because of the rapids. They’d be an idiot to try it.”

“Huh,” Tony responds. “Well, I’m not an idiot, am I?”

“You kinda look like one,” the kid replies, analyzing Tony.

“Great. Thanks, kid.”

“I’m Harley,” the kid, Harley, replies. “You’re Omega Stark, aren’t you? And are you pregnant? Because you keep holding your stomach.”

Tony groans and hides his face.

A line of soldiers lean against the fence that defines the practice battleground, and Tony squeezes into space next to a familiar face. Tony draws a quick glance and then a double take as Rhodey realizes who is jostling him.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Rhodey sighs.

Tony grins. “What? Are you sending me away? After I made all this effort to come down and congratulate you on your newly made Captain-ness?”

Rhodey rolls his eyes, a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth when Tony elbows him. “Yeah it must’ve been a real hardship for you to come all the way down here to the grounds.”

“Terrible and treacherous. I barely made it alive,” Tony quips. Then he turns to watch the ongoing practice bout in the dirt ring and gives a low whistle. “Who is that?”

Rhodey snorts. “Not one of ours. Came in with the guards for the Barnes family.”

“Have you faced him yet?” Tony asks as he takes in the muscles on the tall blonde.

The fighter has a light sheen of sweat on his face - the same amount as Tony, who is only standing in the sun and spectating. Hammer’s guard doesn’t stand a chance, already panting, swinging heavy and wide.

“Not yet. But I will,” Rhodey promises as they watch the foreigner end the bout in two more strokes.

“Rather impressive for a short sword,” Tony calls out as the two fighters nod at each other.

“Tony,” Rhodey hisses as the attention swings to their section.

The foreign fighter eyes Tony, but then dismisses him and his comment to head back to his section.

“I’m serious. Your sword is at least a hands’ width too short for you,” Tony calls out. The murmuring of the gathered soldiers swells as they start to recognize Omega Tony Stark rather than a random heckler.

The fighter stills. “This was my father’s sword and I wear it with pride,” he warns.

“I hope your father was shorter than you,” Tony answers.

The fighter strides towards him despite warning calls from his friends. He gets even taller as he approaches, and Tony would bet a lot of money on his father being shorter.

“Want to say that again on this side of the fence?” The guard asks, pointing at the ground with this sword.

Tony hops over the fence and Rhodey follows after.

“My apologies for my friend’s bluntness,” Rhodey says, placing a hand on Tony’s shoulder. “He’s a weapons designer and blacksmith. Sometimes he can’t control himself.”

“Apology retracted,” Tony says. “Rhodey, come on. You can see it as well as I can. His sword is too short for him.”

“My sword is fine,” the man argues.

“Fine isn’t good enough,” Tony snaps. It’s one thing to let the enemies keep their weak spots, but the Barnes family and therefore their guards are allies. Tony has no reason not to talk this man into sensible weaponry.

Another man jogs up to them, face set in a stern frown. “Steve...”

“I’m not - it wasn’t me. He started it,” Steve defends, shoulders hunching.

“This is my fault now? You’re the one who is emotionally attached to your sword so you won’t get one properly sized. You’re the one who probably had the growth spurt so you’re taller than your father. Has no one told you this before? You should fire your armorer,”  Tony rants.

The man gives Tony a second glance, than a third, longer look. Tony recognizes this look, a mix of curiosity and interest. What it doesn’t contain with this man, but usually does with those in Hammer’s kingdom, is a dose of disgust. The lack of it means Tony puts on a teasing smile rather than a snarl.

Tony is rewarded with a grin and bright, sparkling blue eyes. Then those eyes look back at Steve and his sword.

“Bucky…” Steve threatens as Bucky evaluates the pair.

“Well, you are protecting me after all. I’d like to make sure you have all the tools needed to do so without getting your stubborn self killed,” Bucky replies.

“Alpha Prince James,” Rhodey quickly identifies and then sketches a low bow.

Tony follows suit, as etiquette dictates, but doesn’t hesitate to keep eye contact with the prince as he bows.

“Interesting nickname for a prince,” Tony observes.

Bucky grins. “I can tell you about it while your guard tries his hand against mine. See if Steve can prove you wrong.”

Tony masks a snarl by way of a sharp grin. “Captain Rhodes isn’t my guard, and I can back up my own claims. Rhodey, let me borrow your sword.”

Rhodey sighs and hands over his blade. Steve frowns, his lips pursed while Bucky’s eyebrows are raised.

“I can’t -” Steve starts, but Tony doesn’t let him finish.

“Come on, Blondie. Time to put your money where your mouth is.” Tony then turns to Bucky. “Unless you’d like to take his place, give him a breather?”

“Nah, Stevie can handle himself just fine,” Bucky replies smoothly, not taking Tony’s bait. “It’s his sword you’re fighting over, after all.”

“It might work better in your hands, given that you’re a bit shorter,” Tony comments blithely. Rhodey elbows him in the side for that comment, but Tony doesn’t regret it. Not when Steve gets that stormy expression on his face that guarantees he isn’t going to back out of the fight. Fighting an omega might be weird for him, but anyone who doesn’t show proper respect to his prince is okay to face off in the ring with - precisely as Tony guessed.

Bucky, however, just grins, his blue eyes bright. “You wouldn’t judge all alphas by the size of their swords, would you?”

Then Bucky and Rhodey climb back over the fence and let Steve and Tony begin.

Steve ends up winning, but Tony scores enough close calls that Steve at least listens as Tony explains how height and the length of the arm factor into how long a swordsmith should make a blade. When Bucky joins the conversation, Tony starts gesticulating more widely - Rhodey quickly recovers his sword - and turning on the charm.

“Apparently I need to acquire you a Stark blade,” Bucky comments to Steve, but his blue eyes are boring into Tony.

“I would be happy to talk about our services over dinner,” Tony replies. And he is proud of himself for not putting any untoward emphasis on ‘services,’ but apparently what he said is still enough to cause Rhodey to sigh.

“I’d be delighted,” Bucky accepts with a grin.

[go-redgirl]

Ilhan Omar Allegedly A HOME WRECKER And CORRUPT!

82,432 views

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INDIVIDUALS\COMMENTS\POSTS:

peccatoribus64 peccatoribus64 21 hours ago I thought she hates America!! And here she is stealing American husbands. "Somebody" has some serious double standards!!

161

REPLY View 8 replies Debra Getz Debra Getz 22 hours ago There is a petition out there for her removal on ethics violations. Also, JW has filed a legal complaint.

15

REPLY MartianSunset MartianSunset 19 hours ago I believe Omar is laundering campaign money through this guy and putting it in her pocket.

59

REPLY View 7 replies Danger Dawn Danger Dawn 15 hours ago They are probably splitting that 230k; "legal" way to launder $$$

26

REPLY View reply Rodney Armstrong Rodney Armstrong 23 hours ago (edited) Because Ilhan Omar "DID SOMETHING"  !!!!!.

52

REPLY linross246 linross246 23 hours ago The freak that married her brother? No way!!

36

REPLY View reply John Smith John Smith 21 hours ago Send her back to Somalia with papers explaining what she did, let the Sharia judge her...

43

REPLY View 4 replies gomers44 gomers44 14 hours ago That money trail needs to be investigated. Maybe going to enemies of the state? Thanks ABL! 🙏🇺🇸🍺

24

REPLY View reply Tom Quinn Tom Quinn 20 hours ago It's okay to carry on with a white guy if he's a wonky Marxist that promises you a lucrative future.

16

REPLY Gaz Matic Gaz Matic 20 hours ago This is what they do. The squad. They all use campaign funds to pay their lovers!

16

REPLY View reply C Harris C Harris 6 hours ago "These 'people' are incompetent, they shouldn't be in congress."

Fact.

Understatement of the year Read more

16

REPLY Daniel Stump Daniel Stump 22 hours ago Wait a minute! You mean Ilhan has a white man boyfriend !!??

28

REPLY View 6 replies S.W.S Ministries S.W.S Ministries 5 hours ago She did marry her brother what do you expect??? Standards!!!?

12

REPLY Robert Thompson Robert Thompson 11 hours ago Oh no not another rasict dating us wwhhhiite men you dont say this is the new type of rasict lmao

9

REPLY Paul Kirshman Paul Kirshman 22 hours ago "Me and Ms Omar, we got a thing going on. We both know that it's wrong, but it's much too late, to let it go now."

21

REPLY View 5 replies Daniel Ramirez Daniel Ramirez 13 hours ago Hypergamy at it's best folks...... It's weeman nature nothing to see here move on. Alpha fux beta bux.

6

REPLY Marina Syndulla Marina Syndulla 22 hours ago I'm not shocked this is what goes on in politics especially when a woman wants to get to the top

6

REPLY Starr Watkins Starr Watkins 23 hours ago Corrupt to the core. She has no values especially marriage.

10

REPLY E-beggar-In-Bangkok 2018 E-beggar-In-Bangkok 2018 22 hours ago Doesn't  Islam take a  very serious stance  against adultery?

14

REPLY View 3 replies John Doe John Doe 22 hours ago Hey, talib married her uncle so what's up with that?

17

REPLY View 4 replies Nicholas Helbert Nicholas Helbert 21 hours ago I love ALL of AMERICANS, but this woman can't stand us. It's  time she is rejected from OUR politics

6

REPLY Lee Mayzes Lee Mayzes 5 hours ago I'm not going to throw the first stone.  God will, and I think He already has.

3

REPLY sean rimmer sean rimmer 13 hours ago Great analysis. Many in the UK are watching with interest the developments in US politics, as it mirrors the UK's experience with Brexit.

8

REPLY View reply Carol Beane Carol Beane 22 hours ago Oh, I forgot, she is a democratic above the law.

11

REPLY POPPA SMURF POPPA SMURF 20 hours ago dude, she's a democrat.  look at the "hands off" that saved hillary, and bill before her.  the deep state protects those that further their agenda.  nothing will happen.

5

REPLY fredocine fredocine 7 hours ago Ilhan Omar (aka Ilhan Nur Said Elmi and "homewrecker") is FINALLY going down!🎉🎊🤩😍

5

REPLY P P 21 hours ago She was married to her brother, not possibly or allegedly but for sure!

10

REPLY View reply Red River Rover Red River Rover 3 hours ago That $230K is taxpayer money!  Giving it to her "lover" demands a federal investigation!

2

REPLY Autism Dad Autism Dad 23 hours ago Wait wait wait! OMAR is a real woman? I thought sHE's a transgender? :-) LOL

3

REPLY Helen Fukumoto Helen Fukumoto 7 hours ago The best hopeful news I've heard was Omar is possibly facing 40 years in prison & deportation for penalty of perjury 👍

2

REPLY Zig Zag Zig Zag 5 hours ago Corruption is law of the land, thats why Jeffery Epstein killers will lose no sleep!

2

REPLY Lauren Lewis Grief Coach Practitioner Lauren Lewis Grief Coach Practitioner 10 hours ago Where I come from, a woman that hops from man to man, we know what she's  called!!!

6

REPLY View reply Germane Habib Germane Habib 13 hours ago Whoa! Say it ain't so! Ilhan Omar's just another ho' with dough? Super....SMH!      🤦🏾‍♂️👎🏾

3

REPLY Daren B Daren B 11 hours ago "Ilhan; you got some 'splainin' to do."

4

REPLY bella roja bella roja 15 hours ago Be SURE, there's much much more - even filthier - going on with her … follow the $$$ and the private jets

2

REPLY Ray Maresh Ray Maresh 22 hours ago Who would want that Somalia hair pie. Must be the Benjamin's.

2

REPLY Hawaiian Brian Hawaiian Brian 10 hours ago Sharia law demands she is to be stoned. It's part of her beautiful culture!

4

REPLY View reply Wolff Street Wolff Street 22 hours ago And now, dear brothers and sisters, one final thing. Fix your thoughts on what is true, and honorable, and right, and pure, and lovely, and admirable. Think about things that are excellent and worthy of praise.

Philippians 4:8

4

REPLY View reply Adam Bell Adam Bell 12 hours ago Philanderer, one who  wanders from one  mealliless  relationship to the next A drunkard, a sot, with money.

2

REPLY Jaqen H'gar Jaqen H'gar 20 hours ago Has she been tested for khat use? That would explain a lot!

2

REPLY CPQ-Apollo CPQ-Apollo 23 hours ago Put her on a plane back to where she comes from and then drop her off at 33,000 feet

2

REPLY DevilDog3381 DevilDog3381 9 hours ago What the Hell man. I'm sick of this B.S.

2

REPLY Cat Metal Cat Metal 20 hours ago She reminds me of them statues they find in Pharaoh tombs, except racist, sexist, hate-filled and Muslim supremist.

3

REPLY Glenn Heiselman Glenn Heiselman 9 hours ago Lady, if that smelly camel humper can steal your husband, he wasn't much of a husband.. She may be doing you a great favor.. Dump him collect everything you can out of him and enjoy a new life!!

3

REPLY ResQmomKim ResQmomKim 18 hours ago "The Squad" are ALL puppets!  All "cast" in the roles by "Justice Democrats"!  And also, isn't adultery punishable by death in Omar's "religion"?

4

REPLY View reply Connell Hunte Connell Hunte 23 hours ago Somewhere at 2:11 I got lost. Not what you saying but the stupidity of it all.

3

REPLY Roma Holcomb Roma Holcomb 7 hours ago So she doesn't follow Sharia or US laws. Seems to be alot of lawlessness in our govt. Love y'all.

1

REPLY Kaleb Smith Kaleb Smith 23 hours ago She's not going anywhere no different than Hillary

2

REPLY Raven Vargas Raven Vargas 8 hours ago (edited) From incest to homewrecker her best political accomplishments lol Ickhan and Don Lemon claim white men are dangerous etc but both are knockin boots with white men HAHAHA this is awesome

4

REPLY View reply I B Trippin I B Trippin 9 hours ago I say the Squad stays, They are the gift that keeps on giving........Trump 2020

1

REPLY Gilberto Garza Gilberto Garza 15 hours ago Everything you said I could not have said better myself! Bless You.

1

REPLY brob 3030 brob 3030 13 hours ago She allowed an infidel to invade her "territory". She's definitely not going back to Somalia ever again.

1

REPLY Casey Jones Casey Jones 16 hours ago That’s not the only thing she is WRECKING!!! P O S

1

REPLY Asia and Caucasia Asia and Caucasia 9 hours ago Good thing you’re a black creator, every other video on this is buried 😂🤣😂

1

REPLY Shemuel Roget Shemuel Roget 10 hours ago I do not agree with any of Omar's politics, but I would rather for the people in her district to vote her out. That is a much better way to do it and to keep stability in the system.

2

REPLY TEAMWOODPROTECT M. Wood TEAMWOODPROTECT M. Wood 8 hours ago Hell yes she's corrupt.. she has that snake tongue and manipulates everyone

1ookit,   I ain't never coming home no more." 🤣

1

REPLY King and Queen Turben King and Queen Turben 12 hours ago (edited) I'm surprised... Are we sure Tim Mynett isn't her brother from a different mother? Since she keeps it in the family.

She should be prisoned.

#(ck) common knowledge Read more

2

REPLY Ken McElroy Ken McElroy 18 hours ago Part of me agrees with you about hoping the squad are re-elected and part of me says no we need serious congress members.

1

REPLY G Garcia G Garcia 3 hours ago She should be prosecuted following the guidelines of her beloved faith

1

REPLY Juan Torres Juan Torres 6 hours ago Omar is useless,  worthless, and a waste of life; meaning, an opportunist who will take advantage of anything/ everything,( illegal/ immoral).

2

REPLY Thedarknate08 Thedarknate08 6 hours ago No Way? I thought she was a perfect person and never sinned! She's just another cut**

1

REPLY Ruby Woo Ruby Woo 23 hours ago Congress Omar is the real MVP haters gonna hate 🤘🏽

2

REPLY Got Ghost Got Ghost 7 hours ago (edited) So you folks blood, sweat, and tears taxed by uncle sam then sum get paid to this fools & You the people let it happen

1

REPLY Rufus LaCue Rufus LaCue 6 hours ago So both the left and the right have shady people in political positions, WHAAAT???!

1

REPLY Ghosty333 Ghosty333 21 hours ago Mpls Star and tribune has been covering up for her for a long time.

1

REPLY Christine Taggart Christine Taggart 15 hours ago Congratulations Omar. You have just proved Mr. Modi  right about Kashmir.

1

REPLY UnderseaCaveman UnderseaCaveman 19 hours ago Shouldn't she start digging her own hole now.....for the upcoming STONING???  Just Wondering!

1

REPLY Jon Padden Jon Padden 21 hours ago And once again the tangled web the leftists weave.  What am I thinking.  Leftists don't weave.  That's work!

1

REPLY Drew Rushing Drew Rushing 12 hours ago Home wrecker, country wrecker, she’s just a wrecker.

3

REPLY Buckwheat Loves Cryptos Buckwheat Loves Cryptos 20 hours ago How Would You Like To Be One Of The Idiots Who Voted For This Evil Excuse Of A Human Being God Will Handle Her WWG1WGA

1

REPLY wakawaka1976 wakawaka1976 8 hours ago No conscience, disingenuous, corrupt, jihadist, liars... That’s describing just about the whole of the left.

1

REPLY Calvin Adams Calvin Adams 14 hours ago This is a Definitely an episode from Scandal. She's playing the system.!!!

1

REPLY Brandon S Brandon S 20 hours ago (edited) “To go a little bit deeper”, lol. Not with this new guy.

1

REPLY BE BOP ROCK STEADY BE BOP ROCK STEADY 3 hours ago Mr. Ponzi would be proud of Omar...is that really her name?

1

REPLY unsheepled unsheepled 12 hours ago But all of the flaws and character deficits you find objectionable are PREREQUISITE  for being politics !

1

REPLY Christopher Greathouse Christopher Greathouse 7 hours ago How can anyone love omar she is the poster child for a toxic person.

1

REPLY Thil Thil 5 hours ago OOOO kill all white men. but not until I have caught me one. Yes Yes Yes I see.

1

REPLY Danger Mauz Danger Mauz 12 hours ago She needs to slow her role. If she ends up sent back to her country(it's obvious why the Democrats are hiding her background). Everybody, knows what happens to adultresses in a religion in a very conservative country.🤔🤦‍♀️😬

2

REPLY Grandma's Gone Gaming Grandma's Gone Gaming 20 hours ago I had no doubt that she was corrupt, even before this.

1

REPLY Dones Fitness Motivation Dones Fitness Motivation 9 hours ago More ammo for Trump. They are digging there own grave. Trump 2020

1

REPLY Kelly Regan Kelly Regan 6 hours ago How could anyone  want that, makes you want to throw  up

2

REPLY Chris Duane Chris Duane 11 hours ago Both AOC and Ilhan Omar are partnered with white men and they both have some of the most prestigious, high-paying jobs in the USA BUT they still claim USA is a racist country. If that doesn't show Demotards what frauds the Demotard Party is then nothing will.

3

REPLY Daniel Insogna Daniel Insogna 5 hours ago I think u missed one little aspect of this story.  ....he’s probably only getting 125,000 She gets the other half. No doubt in my mind.  Something to think about.

1

REPLY Snotty Scotty Snotty Scotty 4 hours ago How can she be romantically involved with him when she's not even related to him.

1

REPLY Eto Rawa Eto Rawa 22 hours ago Waiting for the Hodgetwins to do a skit on this...."balls deep" an all!  😅

1

REPLY steve diosdado steve diosdado 15 hours ago “Take your man” Ilhan , is really into white dudes. Does anything in this chick”s life make sense?

1

REPLY Pride of a Saiyan Pride of a Saiyan 2 hours ago This just shows you how much a politician will lie and say anything for an agenda. What's the agenda?

REPLY Lonnie Smith jr Lonnie Smith jr 21 hours ago Is this even close to Trump paying porn star hush 💰 while his wife was pregnant.Both parties are a joke

1

REPLY Johnny Tramain Johnny Tramain 59 minutes ago Me love you long time on taxpayers dime. Signed Omar & AOC.

REPLY lucy parrish lucy parrish 8 hours ago BOY, THE DEMOCRATIC PARTY IS FULL OF SOME REAL "WINNERS"!

REPLY Haim Levy Haim Levy 11 hours ago GREAT JOB ! Mr Anthony B Logan.

1

REPLY Ronnie Recon Ronnie Recon 23 hours ago what's the rumor Lamar lied in court 7 times .what is taking the law time to finally do something

REPLY Dixie Olly Dixie Olly 6 hours ago Thank patriot! God bless you, us, and USA! Amen.

REPLY ford nut ford nut 12 hours ago So shes bring ghetto behavior to Congress 🤣

1

REPLY Drrck11 Drrck11 7 hours ago Keep in mind this is all still 'alleged'. Nothing has been proven as of yet.

REPLY Christin Soriano, Jr. Christin Soriano, Jr. 2 hours ago A FISHMONGER SQUAD, ALLEGEDLY A HOME WRECKER AND CORRUPT AND THE WORST ANTI-AMERICAN.  Thats it?

REPLY Phillip Nichols Phillip Nichols 1 hour ago Maybe Omar wants a. White man for a sacrifice to her so called Jihad

REPLY Katy Bell Katy Bell 1 hour ago So, classic case of 'projection.' Blame others what you are guilty of. Nothing new about this DemocRAT.

REPLY Julio Chavez Julio Chavez 6 hours ago The wife, must be a cougar,  judging by huge age difference.

REPLY Bradshaw 93 Bradshaw 93 37 minutes ago (edited) Trump is done ya'll  lol can't wait for 2020😂🤣🤪😎

REPLY RMorr50912 RMorr50912 48 minutes ago I’m pretty much 💯% with ya on this one ABL!

REPLY No Left Turns No Left Turns 26 minutes ago Sleazy - the one word that perfectly describes Ilhan Omar and every Democrat on this planet

REPLY marie renfro marie renfro 5 hours ago The fault is not all Omar's.  What about the married man?  He is to blame just like her.

REPLY Dale Gribble Dale Gribble 4 hours ago ABL I AGREE 100% thank u for the upload

REPLY JuneGDP JuneGDP 7 hours ago Corruption to the deepest degree.  “You shall know them by their deeds.” 🦆

REPLY Zig Zag Zig Zag 5 hours ago Why just kick her out, all of them corrupt! We need very very small government!

REPLY Matthew mcg Matthew mcg 7 hours ago Holidays are going to awkward in the ohmar house gotta see you ex husband/brother and buy him a gift ...

REPLY Henry Quenin Henry Quenin 5 hours ago I can scarcely believe how arrogant and in-your-face this Omar person is.  She's breathtakingly outrageous!

REPLY airnay airnay 5 hours ago To prove she didn’t marry her brother, she must tongue kiss him for the public to see.

REPLY Gary Grimm Gary Grimm 21 hours ago she is in favor of anything that harms our America (not hers).

REPLY Gerard Vinet Gerard Vinet 2 hours ago (edited) Because he's a gold digger,not for money but for publicity & recognition!

1

REPLY Marjorie Colao-Pullman Marjorie Colao-Pullman 21 hours ago Someone needs to make a visual aid of fact of her relationship status

REPLY Janice Smith Janice Smith 8 hours ago (edited) Wow! ABL broke it down right there! Love your assessment. She IS corrupt.

REPLY Barbara Jean The Costume Queen Barbara Jean The Costume Queen 4 hours ago Just a big ol’ shake my head! What goes around comes around!

REPLY Meltones Meltones 13 hours ago As soon as I heard the headlines I came to Youtube for some commentary.

REPLY tobagobum tobagobum 3 hours ago Isn't stoning the judgement for adultery in her religion?

REPLY Franky Compagnone Franky Compagnone 5 hours ago There's a love child here that will assure her place in American history. Thank you for nothing democrats .

REPLY strategic services strategic services 5 hours ago I'll pay a one way ticket to somalia for her.

REPLY Jo Smotherman Jo Smotherman 1 hour ago Everyone knows she is a hypocrite, but serving in Congress without following US law, needs to be dealt with.

REPLY L W L W 6 hours ago Keep up the good word man,your 100 percent correct.

REPLY weedislegal4me2 weedislegal4me2 6 hours ago Who in their right mind, and with eyesight, would phuk this skanky skunk?

REPLY Shane Persaud Shane Persaud 11 hours ago USCIS/immigration fraud is grounds for deportation so why is she still here??

REPLY iLm au Dio iLm au Dio 7 hours ago If Ilhan Omar turns out to be Kaiser Soze...🤯

REPLY Melinda GDW Melinda GDW 6 hours ago I'm shocked!...  That this hasn't come out sooner.  She is as loose of morals as she is ignorant & dogmatic!

REPLY Eduardo Castro Eduardo Castro 2 hours ago As a proud 2nd Generation Mexican American I will say bye, bye democratic party

REPLY Billy Bob Billy Bob 23 hours ago Yes 100% corrupt and should be kicked out of Congress and kicked out of the country for immigration fraud.

REPLY sssbob sssbob 22 hours ago Several weeks ago, ETS said Omars days were numbered.

REPLY ale ale ssandro ale ale ssandro 19 hours ago (edited) expell Omar, the other 2 can still be the face of the dems + they had one member leave in disgrace

REPLY Paul Brown Paul Brown 21 hours ago She believes that sharia law should be supreme, let her be judged and punished by its standards.

REPLY billsykes75 billsykes75 7 hours ago Looolllll sounds like "someone" could be getting Stoned...to Death..;-)

REPLY Vic Darapiza Vic Darapiza 21 hours ago And we are expecting something better from a terrorist?! an anti-semite anti-Israel omar.

REPLY Ballsdeep Singh Ballsdeep Singh 7 hours ago Land of the free... on another note, does she have a crystal skull under that head rag?

REPLY Jason Smith Jason Smith 13 hours ago If she is using that guy to basically wash money to buy yourself stuff or she is being corrupt about the money situation, she must have learned it from somebody!! # follow the money

REPLY Steven G Steven G 7 hours ago Yes, agreed she is corrupt to the core and does not represent American values.

REPLY density deep density deep 6 hours ago You sir got my subscription thank you for the great content

REPLY Nancy Nutt Nancy Nutt 4 hours ago SHE HAS NO scrupils. Used a CHILD TO PROTECT herself FROM DEATH threats. While Outside IN THE public.

REPLY Donna B Donna B 23 hours ago ABL  - u know what's happening!  Keep on keeping us informed...

REPLY Kentucky Justice Kentucky Justice 22 hours ago A quarter mil just to "hit that thang."  That brother must leave three tracks in the sand.

REPLY Kim Kincaid Kim Kincaid 30 seconds ago She just thinks she's moving on up since her husband is prolly on govt assistance.

REPLY Chuck Orvis Chuck Orvis 8 hours ago If that was a trump supporter the Democrats would be jumping up and down wanting investigations

REPLY Marvin Carter Marvin Carter 9 hours ago No!! Not voted out. But hopefully they all will be arrested and sent to prison. 😡

REPLY PNOYPWR PNOYPWR 23 hours ago (edited) IIhan Omar paid her Lover to Do her...a..." favor". She also married "Somebody" as She described in her 9/11 comment.

REPLY Khami Cakes Khami Cakes 5 hours ago Lol she outchea laying it low and spreading it wide🤣🤣

REPLY The Moonlit Quill The Moonlit Quill 17 hours ago This whole situation is nonsense and insane. She just needs to go back to Somalia faster than the speed of light.

REPLY Mauricio Chevez Mauricio Chevez 20 hours ago She needs to be expelled from congress and the country immediately

REPLY Jack Kimble Jack Kimble 3 hours ago Finally Justice for we the people need to clean up coungress three more times also.....

REPLY staci riley staci riley 1 hour ago Hopefully this is the way her cookie crumbles.

REPLY Golden Wings Golden Wings 7 hours ago 0mar hails from one of the most c0rrupt c3sspits on earth, S0ma|ia.  My expectation of her were low from the start.

REPLY bogieviews bogieviews 9 hours ago I'm with you - keep Omar and the squatters up in front so everyone sees what is in the hearts of democrats.

REPLY The SAM The SAM 14 hours ago (edited) let me guess if she breaks his heart; he's gonna go on a rampage lol 😂 this is so ridiculous

REPLY Sebastian Sebastian 8 hours ago Logan I am confused ... it's more complicated than many a script for a soap opera...HHAHAHAHAHA

REPLY Ground Zero Ground Zero 22 hours ago I think she needs a good old fashioned Sharia Stoning and "not the kind that you smoke !"

REPLY Linda Reeb Linda Reeb 8 hours ago She's definitely corrupt and a law breaker, should NOT be a law maker!!

REPLY Irvin Hawkeswood Irvin Hawkeswood 4 hours ago Rashida looks like she could handle the beans and frank with that big mouth !!!

REPLY gabriel32724 gabriel32724 23 hours ago One way of seeing if a person is fit for Congress is their character. Omar has none!!!

REPLY Isasiah Bradley Isasiah Bradley 2 hours ago I can't wait to see you tap dance.  The only thing worst that a racist...is an Uncle Ruckus.

REPLY Mimi Jones Mimi Jones 7 hours ago they are a blessing for the republican party.  they must remain.

REPLY chuck cuttress chuck cuttress 23 hours ago Its obvious he’s giving her most of the money back probably in a bank in somalia

REPLY massterclass9 massterclass9 20 hours ago Excellent journalism from the one and only ABL

REPLY Leo Lee Leo Lee 41 minutes ago What say me ?  I say a one party system could become more corrupt the the looney left.

REPLY Kelly Regan Kelly Regan 6 hours ago Isn't  she frightened  of her adulterous  male friends, GOD he's  WHITE, (help  help  help me)

1

REPLY J Kennedy J Kennedy 20 hours ago Polygamy is only legal in Utah, she gives zero f**ks for our laws !

REPLY Bosingr Bosingr 3 hours ago Upon  hearing about all this, Omar reportedly said "He feels just like a brother to me."

Okay, okay, I stole that from Michael Knowles over at The Daily Wire. I couldn't help it. 😁

REPLY David 1 David 1 3 hours ago Good for you to focus on the rules she has broken with her campaign funds.  I like your point of view...

REPLY Monique Addn Monique Addn 7 hours ago She has no morals yet shes running the country. Sounds about right.

REPLY Richard Kager Richard Kager 1 hour ago I want to see Candace Owens debate Ilhan Omar.Candace would eat her alive!

REPLY Micha Grobi Micha Grobi 10 hours ago R.I.P. Democratic party. Died Nobember 2020 after a long and evil way of supressing others and lie to we the people for so long. Amen.

REPLY Pewy McPewerson Pewy McPewerson 23 hours ago Muzzies will never conform to western civilization. They shouldn't be allowed to serve in any government capacity.

REPLY heriberto fernandez heriberto fernandez 16 hours ago Corrupt corrupt corrupt...   they need to get her out.

1

REPLY KODA 002 KODA 002 8 hours ago Follow the money. You may be shocked where its actually going

REPLY Chrissyblou Lam Chrissyblou Lam 4 hours ago So much for her towel wrapping religion & all it stands for.

REPLY Tomeka Ridley Tomeka Ridley 19 hours ago Ilhan Omar sounds like sick minded "twisted" hypocrite.

REPLY Jason Martin Jason Martin 23 hours ago She’s 3rd 🌎 t r a s h!

1

REPLY skeletalsanta skeletalsanta 23 hours ago Ilhan Qatar said that Tim's a great man I love him like a brother

REPLY T M T M 8 hours ago F king her campaign consultants and giving them $230,000.  And Omar is a home wrecker!!

REPLY Infinite Holographic Quasiverse Infinite Holographic Quasiverse 11 hours ago (edited) Id do er.

She looks like a freak in the bed.

REPLY plaubel28 plaubel28 23 hours ago (edited) Her explanation will be Trump is Racist.

1

REPLY Valerie Fraser Valerie Fraser 7 hours ago Totally corrupt. It is always about the money.

REPLY Crazy 8s Drums Crazy 8s Drums 17 hours ago According to the Hadiths, Ilhan Omar must now submit to lethal stoning as prescribed by Sharia that she insists must overtake the US Constitution.

REPLY sergio black sergio black 11 hours ago (edited) What!? No. Not the Corrupt Socialist...😑

REPLY J M J M 17 hours ago Thank you for talking about this. Please make sure you have a bitchute and same name so I can find you if you are not here anymore.

REPLY Volk Lupo Volk Lupo 10 hours ago Now I'm just wondering what she's wearing under those cute little outfits she wears!!!🤪🤪🤪🤪🤪🤪🤪

REPLY Randy Scherer Randy Scherer 23 hours ago If she was in her "Motherland", it's doubtful she'd be alive.

REPLY Bmw EM Bmw EM 22 hours ago the guy is both blind and deaf, and I guess he can't smell her either,

REPLY itsumademoheiwa itsumademoheiwa 22 hours ago What is the punishment for adultery according to Islam, again?

REPLY Alan Wood Alan Wood 14 hours ago Will she be using campaign contributions to pay his divorce lawyer?

REPLY Carol Costa Carol Costa 2 hours ago It's as if she thinks she is untouchable and No laws apply to her!

REPLY Gustav Babic Gustav Babic 11 hours ago You know that AOC didn't get where she is without opening her legs for someone.

REPLY Gary Morrison Gary Morrison 5 hours ago Thank you Thank you Thank you for all you do to educate the people on everything that's going on with our so called law makers please keep up your hard work please share this  with all the right people in media 🇺🇸

REPLY Kenny Driver Kenny Driver 15 hours ago Is anyone really surprised by once again the double standards from these SJWs as the left will no doubt defend her. Vile individual so she is.

REPLY Rebecca Gable Rebecca Gable 10 hours ago Wow--corrupt as they come!!!

REPLY PM V PM V 12 hours ago Can you sell a program so i know who the players are?

REPLY Nicholas Helbert Nicholas Helbert 21 hours ago Don't forget, she also said "white men" are the GREATEST threat to Americans

REPLY oneski io oneski io 15 hours ago Same kind of alleged crime as AOC?

REPLY RoatanDoug RoatanDoug 5 hours ago The leftist/democrat dumpster fire gets hotter.

REPLY Tiger Tough Tiger Tough 19 hours ago Can we stone Ilhan Elmi 🧕🏾 to Death???

REPLY Gary Wagner Gary Wagner 7 hours ago I truly believe that God will move to take care of the problem that we have in congress some things are being uncovered watch and see what happens next God bless

REPLY Atlas Latest Atlas Latest 9 hours ago 100 lashes for adulterous acts no?    Sharia law

REPLY Patrick Longerbeam Patrick Longerbeam 3 hours ago You can’t make this stuff up. The Democratic Party is a joke...

REPLY rebeccabowers65 rebeccabowers65 22 hours ago (edited) She is a home wrecker but a complete train wreck for this great nation.

1

REPLY Black whiskey 7 Black whiskey 7 6 hours ago In another words "that woman is a crook"..😦

REPLY xomthood xomthood 4 hours ago You called her controversial, I think the word you were looking for is despicable.

REPLY Warbird Phoenix Warbird Phoenix 6 hours ago So scandalous it makes me want to get my hair and nails done at the salon to gossip all day.

REPLY howtheheliru howtheheliru 12 hours ago The rat in the hat strucks again! What will it take to be rid of this train wreck!

REPLY Poppa J B 12 hours ago Adultery always Adultery. Sir you are absolutely right no character can be found but these are the ones supposedly a.voice to the people

REPLY M T 22 hours ago Mynett.....getting paid!!! All those Benjamin's$$$$

REPLY Aguomba Ubong 7 hours ago Republican should go out there teach people about capitalism incentives create jobs excessive tax don't

REPLY Riki tiki Tavi 11 hours ago Typical Islamist..they deny and lie..following the law of taqiyya. yet tim mynett admitted it.

1

REPLY Steve O 22 hours ago Like your point of view.   Refreshing

REPLY Leroy Green 12 hours ago So gossiping about irrelevant crap like this is what this channel has come to? Smh.

REPLY Theadore Bundy 8 hours ago Lol oh this is too good....adultery home wrecking with a half jewish white man. Hahahaha!!!!

REPLY Vera Howard 13 hours ago What’s done in the dark will come out to the light 💡 Thank  you Jesus For the BIG LIGHT 💡

REPLY LB Awakened 2 hours ago Lying , stealing, cheating, ...she's in the correct Party...

REPLY mark christofferson 10 hours ago Remember Ilhan next time a Muslim runs for office.

REPLY starlite556 3 hours ago His wife said that his company was broke.

REPLY Cory D 21 hours ago All I heard was she had kids with her brother. I'm pretty sure everything else you said was quantum physics.

REPLY SomeOneElse 23 hours ago The culture is told to lie and be proud of it, for their "god". Too many infiltrators! - Punish ALL who do not stand with America and rule of law.

All must be stripped from local and federal positions of any "authority".

REPLY John Leckie 20 hours ago It’s all about the Benjamins and back in her beloved Somalia they stone her to death.

____________________________________________________________

OPINION:  IIhan Omar is this country worst nightmare along with the rest of the So-called ‘Squad’ because they are Anti-Americans that were shown from the very beginning.  And The Democrats have allowed them to ‘run lose’ in this country instead of teaching them how to focus on their ‘constituents’ and the promises that they made to them to get their votes.  Well, we guess they had no Democrats ‘role models’ in Congress to teach them anything, when they too have been running around this country ‘unhinged’.  They needed someone respectful enough to look up too and they didn’t because their Party is out of control themselves.

They have proven to be the worst group of people in Congress, which means they are really terrible.  

[thecrossovergames]

Accepted: Raven Reyes

meg dared ava and look what happened

OOC:

Name: aves

Age: am i even 19 i keep forgetting

Preferred pronoun(s): she/her/princess

Activity level: no

Time-Zone: no

Limits/Triggers: clarke griffin

Previous Roleplay Accounts: stop me

Additional Characters: literally asking me who i wouldn’t play would be a shorter list

IC:

Character Name: Raven Reyes 

Character Age & Birthday: 19 / July 30th 

Character Species*: Human

Character Face Claim*: Lindsey Morgan 

District of Origin: Ten

Strengths:

Bravery — No one who knows Raven could question her bravery. She has a courageous heart, and ability to push her fear down should it arise. She’s shown this countless times by bargaining with peacekeepers, stealing to survive, and escaping her District. In the face of protecting a loved one, nothing could scare her enough to stop her.

Intelligence — Raven understood pressure regulation by the time she was thirteen, and had started building from scraps at that same age. In a District of kids with only street smarts and survival skills, Raven stood out, and could often be found reading or asking questions. She quickly decided she loved mechanics, spending endless hours in the junkyard taking apart old items purely to see how they worked. Her mind is her favourite thing about herself, and she’d truly be lost without it.

Forgiveness — Although emotional and occasionally guarded, Raven has an exceptional capacity to forgive those who’ve wronged her, especially if she’s pledged her loyalty to them. She understands that people are guaranteed to make mistakes, being human herself, and has taught herself to move on from situations that would otherwise hold her back. Even when people disappoint her, she continues to love them and provide them with second chances, forcing herself to understand their perspective. 

Resilience — She never gives up. Raven’s life has been far from easy, ever since being abandoned by her mother as a child. But she continues to fight, to push past her emotional scars and survive. The world may not treat her with kindness, but she’ll be damned if she doesn’t suck it up, and fight back twice as hard.

Confident — Raven knows that she’s a useful asset to her team, and will put herself forward for tasks if she believes she’s right for them. It doesn’t come across as arrogant despite the smirk she wears when bragging about herself, instead she just presents herself with a subtle aura of pride, that is actually quite charming.

Weaknesses:

Stubborn — Stubborn and independent by nature, Raven refuses to ask for help unless it’s completely necessary to her survival. Once set on a task, she’ll stop at nothing to complete it, whether it be something she’s building or an escape plan. Not completing her goals can lead to Raven feeling distressed and worthless, as her intelligence is what she prides herself on most.

Self-sacrificial — Although she currently has no one to sacrifice herself for, Raven would, without question or hesitation, risk her life to protect her friends. Finn taught her how to love when he kept Raven alive from a young age, putting her needs before his own, and now she does the same every single day. Her loved ones will always come before her, especially in the face of danger. Whilst considered a good and honourable trait by others, in the face of a rebellion, it’s bound to lead to Raven getting hurt.

Emotional — Raven is emotional, and she’s not afraid of expressing that if she’s in distress. She can let the pressure of certain situations get to her, especially if they involve Finn. Whilst she can handle an immense amount of physical pain, emotional pain is her downfall, and at times she’s uncertain of how to cope with it without lashing out, or triggering her arguably short temper.

Analytical — With a keen mind comes a need to over analyse, to observe everything around her. Whilst most critical of herself, Raven is guilty of judging others from time to time, questioning their decisions whilst attempting to understand them, too. She connects most with people who are similar to herself, and who share her views, often disconnecting from those who do not.

Biography:

In a District of scavengers, perhaps Raven should have expected to be abandoned at a young age, as her mother never could’ve dreamed of providing for them both. She learned nothing of her father, believing he must have died or ran away before she was even born. She would’ve never survived on her own, she would’ve never survived without Finn Collins. The rugged boy next door with a heart too big for his own body, he found Raven alone in her cold, lonely apartment and instantly befriended her. He’d halve his own meals to provide for her, to keep her safe and alive. He was the only real thing Raven had ever loved, other than her own mind, and he soon became her only family.

On the days that Finn wasn’t around, Raven found comfort in mechanics. She became a scavenger herself, technically speaking, although she refused to steal from another person, focusing solely on the scraps in the streets. She built a reputation for herself with her intelligence, often trading for parts with the promise of fixing a bike or a computer, and it wasn’t long before Peacekeepers began to notice, too. Although not a witch, she even dabbled with magical items, considering so many of them were scattered through District Ten. As she grew and learned, she earned respect, and her neighbours would choose her first should they need an item repairing. Her life could’ve certainly been better, especially on the days she found herself missing her mother, but she was happy with her simple, repetitive life.

Raven fell in love with the stars, and would often discuss her dreams of visiting them with Finn. And on the evening before her seventeenth birthday, he provided her with just that — to a certain degree. Away from the apartments, out past the District gates, those who’d ‘District walked’ without getting caught had bragged about how beautiful the sky looked at night, away from everything and all distractions. Finn had assembled a plan for them to escape for a few hours, wanting Raven to experience something memorable on her special day. But with the rebellion came excessive security, something Finn had failed to account for. They both got caught, but being seventeen and a legal adult, Finn was the only one of the duo to be punished. Despite Raven’s cries for help, her bargaining pleas for them to take her instead, Finn was executed at dawn three days later.

She’d hurt herself countless times whilst building, with injuries that had took months to heal properly, but this was a scar that would never fade. She’d never experienced pain like it, and for days, she couldn’t even bring herself to move. Finn was all she’d had in this broken world, and losing him made her feel as if she’d lost herself. He’d nulled every fear she’d ever had about the Hunger Games, the rebellion, the bombings. Without him, everything she’d avoided came into focus. She knew what she had to do. After allowing herself time to grieve, she sucked up her pain, she built a brace for her scars. She traded everything she had for an old motorbike, all it needed was some love and some parts. With a determined mind, she fixed it, and used it to escape what used to feel like home.

Of course, her stubborn and reckless nature hadn’t predicted how quickly it would fail. She was soon caught out, but not by the Peacekeepers of her District. Instead, by Coin’s followers, those she’d only heard about via whispers. She was escorted to the Capitol, and offered a compromise, one they’d only given her because of her intelligence and ability to build. If she helped with their plans, they’d give her the one thing she wanted most: Finn. Alive. A promise she couldn’t refuse, one that would allow her to not only be with him forever, but bonded for life. Despite how much she questioned Coin’s morals, she couldn’t say no to that. And everything was fine, up until the Gala occurred, that was when cracks began forming in her plan. She’d buried herself in work, learning how to hack, fixing weapons that had been broken during battle. But upon seeing the captives with her own eyes, and the torture they were put through, Raven began to wonder if she’d made the right decision after all. Did she help the rebels, and focus on a better future? Or did she compromise her compassion and focus on her past?

Changes/Comments: yes that she’s never tortured ever i hate the 100. but also i made finn a year older opposed to the other way around just so it worked out in this verse :))) 

[askdawnandvern]

A Lamb Among Wolves CH:4

Chapter Four: Hello Mother

Although the Meadowlands is usually referred to as simply "The Meadowlands", It is actually large enough that on maps it is usually divided into two areas. There is the South Meadowlands, which is an average sized urban area littered with shops, restaurants, bars, and every accoutrement that most small cities have. Then there is the North Meadowlands, where the urban sprawl rapidly peters out into suburban homes and eventually long tracts of countryside. It was nice to see that some things hadn't changed in the time Dawn had spent away from the meadows of the north. They were still as beautiful and clean as ever, the endless swaying meadows now tinted in various shades of auburn signifying the arrival of the fall season. Dawn had only lived in the Northern Meadowlands briefly before her Father uprooted the family and moved them closer to the south side. Ironically it had been her brief friendship with Vernon that had prompted her families sudden move, a reason she failed to recall until her sessions with Dr. Gnu. Spiral Horn Academy, the all prey school she would spend the rest of her childhood attending didn't have bus routes that ran as far north as her old home. So she was moved closer to get her into the school as well as far away from the friendly and energetic wolf she had known.

Dawn's scrunched up her muzzle in disgust as she recalled the terrible memories she had forged at Spiral Horn. It was something she had already covered in her book so far, and not a time she liked to re-live. Then again there were very little times in her life she liked to re-live at all. It had been a drab, miserable little place with stern and abusive teachers and even crueler students. Her horrible nicknames, Smellwether and otherwise had not only followed her into the academy, but lead to the birth of newer and creatively more foul nicknames as time went on. The ewe mostly just tried her best to keep her head down, to stay buried in her books. But there were times when the actions of her fellow students dragged her out of her safety bubble and raked her over the coals. She was too smart, she was too quiet, and there-for too weird to leave alone. Spiral Academy just became an extension of her home life, leaving the ewe with no place to turn for a reprieve from being beaten and teased. Even the teachers, not bound by rules against corporal punishment, would sometimes make an example of her if she made a mistake or heaven forbid, forgot her homework once in a blue moon. She could still feel the hot sting of a ruler across the bridge of her hooves as the memory coursed through her mind.

Dawn let out a sigh as she stood in the parking lot, staring across the wind blown field as she let the memories blow away with the current. That was behind her now, writing about it for the upcoming book was a way to finally close the door on that chapter of her life. Now it was time to face a new challenge. Yet why did the idea of Vernon's Mother and Father simply disliking her fill her with even more dread than facing another day at Spiral Horn?

"Honey Lamb?"

Dawn jumped as she felt Vernon's paw come to rest on her shoulder. She whipped around quickly to find Vernon had snapped into a defensive pose.

"Easy, easy there Floofs. It's just me." Vernon said.

"O-oh sorry Vernon. I was kind of lost in thought..." Dawn trailed off as she once again eyed the rolling meadows. "Thinking about some things is all." She sighed.

"Don't tell me the pep-talk has worn off already?" Vernon chuckled.

"No, no." Dawn reassured the wolf. "Just thinking about the old days." The ewe let out a wistful sigh as she returned to staring at the golden meadows. Farther off in the distance Dawn could make out the ridge that made up the North Mountains. The trees adorning their slopes now a cascade of seemingly infinite colors. Savannah Central was the only of the four main districts that didn't have climate control. But being adjacent to Sahara Square and the Rainforest District kept the area largely seasonable all year round. It was impossible to prevent the weather bleeding over from both districts, and thus the leaves in the district rarely showed signs of changing unless the tree was sick. It had been far too long since Dawn had the chance to appreciate the unaltered change of seasons. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Vernon had joined her as she took in the scenery.

"Beautiful ain't it?" Vernon sighed.

"Breathtaking." Dawn smiled.

"You think that's pretty, wait till we get to the ranch." Dawn turned to find Wade walking toward the pair, satchel in tow. The wolf adjusted his worn old cap as he came to a stop in front of them.

"It's got a way better view of the mountains, and we got a river on the property." Wade added.

"Lamb sakes, you two must of loved growing up there. It sounds like it had everything a little lam-" Dawn paused to correct herself. "-pup could want."

"Well, we didn't have a trampoline. I would have loved that." Vernon lamented. Dawn couldn't help but snicker.

"Still it was great place to play and explore growing up. Even if some of my brothers were a pain to get along with." Vernon said, pulling Wade into a hug.

"You can't mean me!" Wade laughed. "I was the good one!"

"Pfft...sure you were, but I was Ma's favorite." Vernon retorted. Wade simply scoffed in response.

Dawn smiled as the two brothers teased each other, for a moment feeling a pang of jealousy for having grown up an only child. She may have missed out on a bunch of fights and arguments, but that camaraderie that Vernon and Wade seemed to share would have been well worth the trade off.

"I wish I could have been there, It sounds like it was so much fun." The ewe let out a sad sigh as she looked to the ground. It wasn't long before she felt the familiar presence of the wolf's paw under her chin as her gaze was slowly brought back up to Vernon's own. His deep green eyes shimmered as he bent down to plant a kiss on her forehead.

"Well we'll have plenty of fun there this week." Vernon smiled. "Aside from meeting my folks, this is also a vacation. And we are going to make the most of it Honey Lamb."

Dawn felt a warm smile creep across her face. It was moments like those that managed to cut through all her fear and doubt, even if it were for but a moment.

'HONK! HONK' The sudden sharp horn broke the ewe's brief reverie, causing her to jump in response. Wheeling around quickly, Dawn's eyes came to rest on a beat up looking old pick-up truck. It was clear to Dawn the truck was red, at least at one point in it's life. However the color had long since faded to more of a pinkish hue, with smatterings of rust forming at the edge of it's every hinge. It was also dimpled with dents and crumples spanning across it's metal frame. Each mar on the chassis wasn't a massive one, but it was clear that the vehicle had been through some rough patches in its time.

Dawn couldn't quite make out the driver behind the glare of the sun on the windshield, and despite squinting it wasn't making it any easier. She heard the driver's side door slam roughly, and a few moments later the driver finally walked into view.

"Hope you all weren't waiting too long now!" The she-wolf who now stood before the group hollered. The wolf was clad in a dull pink plaid shirt, and a simple pair of beat-up jeans held up by a fairly worn looking belt. She had a pelt similar to Vernon's, same grey with white features around the eyes and muzzle. Unlike Vernon however, the white area was larger, and covered more of her face which was a clear sign of her age. She was short too, at most a little larger than double that of Dawn's height.

"Ah! There she is." Wade gestured over to the she-wolf as she approached.

"Ma!" Vernon chirped.

Before Vernon could fully open his arms for a hug, Wade zipped in front of him to be first in line. The smaller wolf had practically bounded into his Mother, hugging her tightly.

"Hey there my little fuzzy fourth!" The she-wolf removed Wade's ugly cap, ruffling his head fur before putting replacing it. Wade pushed back, clasping his faded cap tightly to his head.

"MaaaAAA!" He hissed, backing away as the wolfess approached her more towering son. Vernon's arms were now fully extended, allowing the wolf easy access to the incoming hug. The older wolf wrapped a paw around him and squeezed tightly, bringing a paw up to Vernon's cheek and pinching it.

"How's my little Puppy doin'?" The she-wolf cooed.

"MaaaAAA!" Vernon whined as he returned the hug.

"Oh stop it!" Breaking the hug she gave Vernon a small and playful swat. "What, now only your mate is allowed to call you that? Remember, they didn't give birth to you."

Dawn froze slightly as her brown eyes fell on the ewe. The she-wolf cocked an eyebrow before a pleasant smile crossed her muzzle.

"Well hi there darlin', you must be Dawn." The wolf extended a paw. Dawn looked up at Vernon briefly before taking the wolf's paw in her hoof.

"It's okay, Dawn this is my Ma, Audrey Hunter." Vernon nodded toward the looming wolfess.

Dawn was about to do her best to give an earnest shake, before she found herself on the end of a surprisingly strong grip and vigorous shake. The handshake rattled through the ewe, displacing her glasses slightly with the force of it.

"Ma, this is Dawn Bellwether. She's my mate." Vernon stated, pride dripping in his voice.

Thoroughly throttled, the wolf finally released the wobbly lamb. Dawn quickly re-adjusted her glasses, offering an uneasy smile back at the she-wolf.

"Well I figured that Puppy." Audrey flashed the taller wolf a dull glance before returning her focus to the ewe. "It's a pleasure Darlin', I'm happy to meet you." Audrey grinned.

From what Dawn could tell, the smile seemed genuine and that much put the lamb slightly more at ease.

"Here I was starting to worry my Puppy would never meet anyone." The she wolf reached up to grasp the larger wolf's ear, giving it a slight tug. Dawn could see a sudden flash of fear in Vernon's eyes, and the wolf winced slightly in apprehension.

"You been treating her right?" His Mother chided.

"Ah! Yes, yes o'course I have Ma!" Vernon whined.

"That true Ms. Bellwether? He been a good boy?" Audrey smirked at the ewe, the wolf's ear still in her grasp.

"O-of course Mrs. Hunter!" Dawn nodded vigorously, stammering as she spoke. The way the meeting was going had thrown Dawn way off, and the ewe was still reeling. Audrey's grin widened to reveal her teeth before she finally released Vernon. The larger wolf cradled his ear as he glared down at his Mother.

"You can call me Audrey darlin'." The wolf tutted.

Vernon was blushing as Dawn eyed him, it was clear the large wolf was embarrassed.

"And what about you Wade?" The wolfess turned her attention to the blue capped wolf. "Where's Giselle?"

Again Wade went rigid at the sound of his girlfriends name. The wolf scratched the back of his head awkwardly as he spoke.

"I-I- um." He stuttered.

"She couldn't make it this time around Ma, family emergency." Vernon replied.

Audrey frowned as she glanced between her two sons.

"Aw, that's a real shame." Audrey said. "I was really looking forward to meeting that nice she-wolf of yours. Might actually get some grandpups from one of ya." She gave Vernon a playful rib.

Dawn cocked her head in confusion. 'She-wolf?' She thought. Looking to Vernon she could see an equally confused expression scrawled across his face. The larger wolf turned to his brother, and as Dawn's eyes joined him she found that Wade was shrinking into his shoulders. The wolf looked slightly sick as he nervously eyed the couple before glancing back at his Mother.

"Y-yeah, ha ha." Wade barked. "W-well I mean, that's h-how it goes." The wolf shrugged jerkily.

Dawn turned her attention back to Vernon, whose face had now twisted to one of anger as he stared down at his brother. It all became clear to Dawn in that moment. Wade had lied about exactly who he was bringing to the re-union, and thus left the couple completely high and dry when it came to defending them. Seemingly reading her mind, Vernon turned his attention back to Dawn, his expression now a mixture of fear and sadness.

"Welp, we should get a move on!" Audrey apparently hadn't noticed the sudden tension. "I want to be back by the time Zach and Vanna get home, we got work to do for tomorrow!" The wolfess began to saunter back to the driver side of her vehicle.

Giving the truck a hardy pat on the hood, the wolf gestured toward the back of the car. "You boys can ride with the luggage. Dawn, you can ride up front with me."

Dawn felt her heart leap into her throat. Before she could turn to Vernon to gauge his reaction, the wolf cut in.

"N-now wait a minute Ma-" Vernon immediately stepped forward, raising his paws defensively. "I think it's better if me and Dawn ride together in the truck bed, I don't th-"

"Vernon." Audrey gave the wolf a dull look. " I brought you up to be a gentlemam'. And it ain't very gentlemamly to let a lady ride in a truck bed."

"Bu-"

"Now, now, she'll be fine with me." The wolfess opened the driver's side door. "I ain't gonna bite." She flashed another grin Dawn's way.

"You can't be-"

Vernon was again cut off, this time by the slam of the driver's side door. The car shimmied on it's suspension for a moment before the passenger side opened out toward the group. Inside, Audrey leaned across the seat as she pushed the door the rest of the way open. With the door now opened wide, the she-wolf eased her way back into the driver's seat.

"Well come on now! Time's a wastin'." Motioning to Dawn she patted the passengers seat gingerly.

Dawn looked up at Vernon with worried and pleading eyes. She wasn't sure she was ready to be all alone with his Mother, not this soon. Who knows what she'd have to say to her in the privacy of the truck cab. Vernon gave her an uncomfortable and worried grimace. Crouching down to Dawn's level, he placed a paw on her shoulder.

"I-I" The wolf sighed, shaking his head. "It'll only take ten minutes to get to the ranch. There's nothing to worry abo-"

"Vernon!" Dawn whispered tersely. "What do I even say!? What do I do!?" The sheep did her best to keep her tone low despite the rising panic.

"It's all right." The wolf hushed. Despite his assurance the wolf looked uncertain. "Knowing my Ma, she'll do most of the talking."

"T-that doesn't make me feel better Vernon!" Dawn hissed.

"C'mon you two, don't dawdle!" Audrey chided. "Besides I want to get to know this ewe my son is so smitten with."

"VERNON!" Dawn suppressed the desperate shout to a half whisper.

Vernon shrugged uneasily, slowly standing back up as Dawn made a desperate grab for the hem of his coat. It narrowly slipped through her hooves as Vernon began to walk toward the back of the truck. Dawn watched as the wolf passed his brother, giving the smaller wolf a hard punch in the arm as he threw his duffle into the bed.

"OW! VERN!" Wade hissed, rubbing his arm. Vernon glared at him fiercely, and Dawn watched the wolf slink down under the stare. As Vernon loaded Dawn's case into the bed, he gave Dawn a last sorrowful look, mouthing 'I love you' as he climbed into the back.

"C'mon sweetie, hop on up." Her attention was drawn back to the she-wolf, now offering a paw to the ewe across the seat.

"This is it, no running now." Dawn thought to herself. With a deep gulp, Dawn grabbed the wolf's paw and pulled herself into the passenger seat,

Taking a moment to get comfortable, the ewe shimmed herself deep into the doughy cushion. Dawn pulled the worn old seatbelt across her chest and snapped it into place. After making sure she was secure the ewe simply looked ahead, shaking slightly as she prepared for the car to start moving. She wasn't sure if she could muster the courage to even face Audrey, let alone speak.

'CLUNK!' Dawn turned to the sudden dull noise. It had come from a dirty little sliding window in the back of the cab. It rattled briefly before another heavy 'CLUNK' shook the pane again.

"tefff to teels!" Dawn could hear the muffled shout from the other side, it was undoubtedly Vernon's voice.

"Now, now!" Audrey tutted. "You boys both know that window has been stuck for years!" Audrey threw Dawn another cheeky smile, and Dawn swallowed hard in response.

That was clearly her mates last, desperate attempt to protect the ewe. Dawn was on her own now.

"Alrighty, sit tight Dawn." Audrey said. "We'll be at the ranch in no-time."

Dawn felt the car come alive as the wolf turned the ignition, the frame shuddering and rattling her seat as the engine roared. Dawn uneasily clutched the padding of the seat to steady herself as the car continued to vibrate in tune with the engines hum. If the outside hadn't been enough of an indication, the shaking and shuddering of the interior reminded Dawn of just how old the car must of been. If it had shocks, the springs must had eroded some time ago. With a lurch, the truck pulled up to the train exit, and out on to the open highway.

The first two minutes of the ride felt like eons to Dawn, and had it not been for her phone she would have sworn up and down it had been at least ten. The truck cab remained silent as Dawn ruminated over exactly how to start the conversation with the Mother wolf. The ewe fiddled with her hooves idly, glancing up out of the window occasionally. Due to the vehicles size she couldn't see much more than the tops of mountains and power lines passing by at a sloth's pace.

Once she nearly mustered the courage to talk, clearing her throat in an attempt to prepare. But as she opened her muzzle, only a barely audible squeak came out. She had all but given up when she felt her phone vibrate in her pocket. Taking it out, the face of her phone displayed the name of a sender she knew very well.

'Sender: Puppy Love: Keep calm Honey Lamb. I love you. P.S. Don't worry, I'm killing Wade.'

Dawn couldn't help but giggle at the last bit, for a moment it carried her away from the situation.

"That boy is ridiculous." Dawn heard Audrey mutter.

Dawn turned to find the she-wolf looking at her, it was clear she had seen at least some of the message. The ewe shrunk in her seat.

"The boy is acting like I'm gonna break ya in half. I swear, I've never seen him so protective before." Audrey glanced back at Dawn, giving the ewe a half smile. "He must really care about you." The smirk grew into a genuinely warm smile.

Dawn felt the tension in her chest ease slightly as the wolf held the grin.

"And I know if my boy cares for you, you have to be a good mammal. Vernon's got too good a head on his shoulders to go with anything less." She smirked again at the Dawn before turning her attention back to the road.

"I-I". Dawn stuttered. "I really care about him too Mrs. Hunter." The ewe finally had eased enough to speak.

"Now I told ya, call me Audrey." The wolf chuckled. "Or Mom if you prefer." She gave the ewe a cheesy grin, causing Dawn to giggle.

Dawn turned back to her window, watching the tops of mountains eke by.

"I-I.." Dawn shook her head. "I'm sorry I haven't been so t-talkative. I've just..."

"It's alright dear. This ain't the first time I've met a girl one of my sons brought home. It's only natural to be scared." Dawn turned back to Audrey.

"O-oh good. I mean you understand." Dawn sighed, letting more of the tension strip away with it. "I w-was afraid you'd think I w-was a-"

"Afraid of wolves?" Audrey chuckled.

Dawn nodded meekly.

"Honey, you are dating probably the largest wolf in the family. My husband jokes that Vernon's got 'dire' in him." Audrey laughed. "If that wolf won't scare you, no wolf will."

Dawn chuckled weakly in response, it was a silly fear, but not the only one.

Dawn jumped as the car suddenly shook. A loud 'PANG!' came from the truck bed. She could hear a muffled shout, followed by another loud 'CLUNK!.'

Audrey, keeping her eyes on the road pounded a paw against the back of the cab.

"HEY!" She shouted. "YOU BOYS KEEP THAT HORSEPLAY DOWN!"

A few quieter mumbles were all Dawn could hear as the quiet hum of the car returned to the cab. Dawn couldn't imagine what was going on back there, but she imagined it wasn't a pretty sight. Still she had her own problems to focus on, and the fairly large knot in her stomach continued to tighten as she thought about the major question she knew she had to ask. It was a topic she really didn't want to discuss, but she had to know if Audrey knew anything about her past.

"Mrs-" Dawn paused to correct herself. "Audrey, d-did V-Vernon tell you about me." The ewe swallowed hard.

Audrey laughed. "Of course he did. Teeth to tails I've never heard that boy talk so much in my life." She grinned widely.

"It was all-" The she wolf puffed herself up slightly, in an effort to appear larger and pantomimed a phone to her ear. 'Dawn's amazing, you'll love her, she's beautiful, the love of my life!' The wolf let the air out of her lungs, returning to her natural posture as she dropped the mimicry act.

"It reminded me so much of his Father when we got together." Audrey chuckled.

Dawn was intrigued, leaning in closer to the she-wolf as she seemingly prepared to spin a yarn about her past. Dawn knew she had to bring the conversation back around to her criminal history soon, despite the desire to avoid it. However another reason she had wanted to go on the trip to the Meadowlands was to learn more about Vernon's family, and so she decided to press the wolfess to continue.

"R-really?" Dawn muttered.

"Oh yes." Audrey laughed, tapping the steering wheel with her paw a few times. "Vernon may not like to admit it but he's so much like his Pa it's almost scary." She turned to Dawn, flashing the ewe a grin. "Of course that's not to say I can't see me behind those eyes, at least a bit of me."

Audrey turned her attention back to the road.

"Dori was such a sweetheart. A big fluffy puppy dog." She let out a wistful sigh.

Turning her attention back to Dawn, the wolf gave a gentle smile.

"Vernon tell you what I do?" She asked.

Dawn nodded a meek no.

"I farm." She nodded. "I mean part of the time."

"You farm?" Dawn asked in surprise.

"Yes ma'am, my whole side of the family were farm dogs." She gave Dawn a dull look. "Probably hard to picture wolves as farmers ain't it?"

Dawn nodded.

"These days I farm enough to run a little stand at the 'Harvest Festival', I'm sure Vernon told you about it?" Audrey asked.

Dawn shook her head no. It was true Vernon had mentioned the Harvest Festival itself, but he had neglected to mention his Mother operated a stall there. Audrey let out a hard breath of air as she turned back to the road.

"I should have figured." Audrey mumbled. "Doesn't really matter too much in the scheme of things, I just do it for fun. Although I'll admit my stall is pretty popular. 

"W-what do you sell?" Dawn asked.

"Roasted corn and pumpkin pies." Audrey grinned at the ewe, giving her a sly grin. "Now don't fret darlin', as part of the family you get as much free food as you want at my stall."

Dawn giggled. "T-thank you, that sounds delicious."

Audrey chuckled, and the laugh petered away into a wistful sigh.

"My family had been running a stall since I was a little pup." She stated, smiling warmly. "And when I got old enough I ran the stall, sometimes by my lonesome."

Dawn listened intently, nodding softly as the wolf went on.

"I was sixteen and a half." She laughed to herself. "I remember I was eager to make sure every mammal knew about the 'half' bit. I was so desperate to grow up." Audrey shook her head dismissively.

"My Pa turned my loose into the festival so I could get some time away from the stand. He thought it was important I still got out and played, despite my burning desire to run the stand all day." Audrey eyed Dawn. "In my eyes I was an adult already, and I didn't have time for play."

Audrey shrugged. "But I always listened to my Pa, and so there I was, wandering around the festival looking to kill time until I got back to work." She chuckled. "I wouldn't even go on any rides, I just roamed around lamely checking my watch."

"Then I caught sight of this little stand. 'Hunter's Bounty', the old wooden sign said." Audrey said.

"W-wait?" Dawn interrupted. "Are you telling me Vernon's Father was a far-?"

"Now don't get ahead of me darlin'." Audrey chided playfully, wagging a finger at the ewe.

Audrey eased back into the drivers seat, grinding herself back into the old cushion before letting out a comfortable sigh.

"Anywho, the stand itself wasn't what caught my attention." A warm smile crawled across her muzzle. "What caught my eye was the tall drink of water running the stand."

Dawn could see a blush beginning to form under the she-wolf's fur on her muzzle as she continued to reminisce.

"Of course it would have been hard not to spot him with that stark white fur sticking out like a sore thumb amongst the sea of festival goers. His lean and toned body, fur glistening with sweat as he helped his Pa work the stand." She cooed.

Audrey leaned toward Dawn, arching her eyebrows suggestively. "Of course it helped that he wasn't wearing a shirt at the time." She chuckled.

Dawn blushed, barely suppressing a giggle as the wolf continued her increasing lurid description.

"MHHmmHH!" The wolfess licked her maw. "That Mam' loo-" Audrey shook her head briskly. "Well, I'm getting off track."

"Needless to say I was immediately drawn to him, but what sold me were his eyes." She sighed amorously.

"His eyes?" Dawn pressed further."

"I remember approaching the stand coolly, certain I was so mature, such a adult." She grinned. "I was going to have this boy wrapped around my finger." She shook her head.

"When I made it to the front he looked up and our eyes locked. Those steely grays froze me stock still." She cooed. "In that instant I was reduced to a little girl again, I couldn't even form words. All I wanted was to go everywhere he was, and do anything he wanted to do. I didn't care about running the stall, or anything. I was struck dumb." The wolfess chortled.

Dawn was watching the wolfess in awe at this point.

"W-what about him?" Dawn asked.

"That dummy Dori." She chuckled. "He dropped the hot pie he was holding and scalded himself."

Dawn couldn't hold back as a giggle burst out, which Audrey quickly joined her in.

"Needless to say I had the same effect on him that he had on me." She grinned.

"After that, we were just it. We knew at the moment we were going to be together." She shook her head briskly. "We spent the rest of the day wandering the festival together, riding every ride there. We were just kind of lost in the glow of love."

Dawn could feel herself grinning stupidly at the romantic tale. The ewe had always been a romantic, and during her adolescence she satiated that hunger with pounds and pounds of romance novels. Needless to say the earnest, romantic story, played perfectly on Dawn's heart. She could feel the warm swell in her chest as she let out an amorous sigh. She couldn't help but picture Vernon and herself in the young couples place.

"I remember I ended up getting scolded when I finally wandered back to the stall at closing. I had completely forgot about it." She smirked dumbly.

"What happened after?" Dawn asked eagerly.

Audrey shook her head. "Aw, that's too much to tell darlin'. I remember far too much." The she-wolf chuckled. "Let's just say there were a great deal of nights spent in the moonlit fields of the Meadowlands cuddled up on a blanket and..." The wolf blushed harshly. "exploring the depths of our love."

Dawn brought her hooves to her muzzle as she felt the heavy heat of her blush return.

Audrey coughed awkwardly, switching her focus back to the highway.

"Ahem, anyway. Long story short I was pregnant at seventeen." Audrey giggled.

"O-oh my." Dawn uttered.

"I was ecstatic. I was so ready to be a Mother." She grinned widely.

"And Dorian?" Dawn asked.

"Dori was equally as excited. It honestly surprised me how over the moon he was about having pups." She sighed. "The issue was old Mam' Hunter.

"Oh, he was against it?" Dawn asked.

"Well, by that point Dori's Father's health was on the down slope. He and Dori had already been having arguments about taking over the Hunter family farm." She shook her head. "Dori didn't want the Hunter Ranch. He wanted to work in law enforcement."

"Sound familiar?" Audrey chuckled.

Dawn quickly recalled Vernon's own struggle to work in architecture against his Father's wishes.

"W-wait you mean?" Dawn stammered.

Audrey simply nodded. "I can't tell you how long it took me to get Dori to realize he was treating Vernon the same way. But anyway, Mrs. Hunter had passed away long before this all happened, so Dori's Father didn't have anyone to convince him he was in the wrong."

Audrey leaned her paws on the wheel, pointing her fingers at the road ahead.

"We wanted to have a tithing ceremony before the pups were born, to make it official." Audrey's soft grin turned to a grimace. "But Dori's Dad refused to approve of it unless Dori agreed to keep farming."

Audrey eyed the sheep curiously for a moment. "I'm sorry darlin' I forgot, do you know what a tithing ceremony is?"

Dawn nodded briskly. "Y-yes, yes, Vernon told me."

"Oh!" Audrey gave the ewe a knowing smile. "So Puppy has plans huh?" She cooed.

Dawn briskly shook her head, waiving her hooves dismissively. "Oh no, no. He told me about it for the book I'm writing."

Audrey's smile faltered slightly as she turned her attention back to the road.

"Ahh...oh well." The wolf shrugged. "I remember the night we were at the ranch, and I confronted Dori's Dad alone, pleading with him to let us be tithed."

Audrey's grimace deepened as she recalled the painful memory.

"But he was stalwart, and stubborn, and refused." She sighed. "Even when I broke down and cried he wouldn't agree to it."

"Oh my." Dawn said sadly. "That's awful."

"It got worse." Audrey lamented.

"By that point I hadn't really been paying attention to how loud our private conversation had gotten, and Dori heard me crying." The wolf cringed.

"W-what happened?" Dawn asked timidly.

The wolfess chuckled. "Dori stormed in, shouting up a storm." Audrey shook her head. "He was telling him about how amazing I was, how I was the love of his life, and how Grandpa Hunter had no right to treat me that way."

Audrey gave Dawn a warm smile. "That's why I brought this whole yarn up, because Vernon seemed as passionate about you as Dori was about me in that moment." Audrey sighed. "Well, with less shouting behind it."

Dawn couldn't suppress the goofy smile that crawled across her muzzle as she glanced back at the dirty plastic window now separating her and Vernon. Her heart swelling with love for the big mutt as she imagined his passionate performance over the phone. The ewe made a mental note to give the wolf the tightest hug she could when they finally got to the ranch.

"Of course that was enough to put old Mam' Hunter in the hospital."

Dawn's amorous reverie broke as the words drew her right back to the conversation. The suddenly dark turn filled her with unease and tension, fearing she had driven the conversation toward this grim topic.

"Lamb Sakes, I-" Dawn was aghast. "I'm so sorry."

Audrey shook her head dismissively. "Don't worry about it, Grandpa lived through it. In fact he was around to see most of my pups grow up." She chuckled.

Dawn let out a relieved sigh.

"But it was a sobering experience for him." The wolfess smiled. "At the hospital the old wolf gave the okay for the tithing ceremony. He even let Dori off the hook about farming the land."

Audrey turned on the blinker, and gently pulled off the highway.

"Then I promised to keep farming for him, since I farmed anyway."  The wolf sighed. "Wasn't like I was just gonna stop because Dori was my mate."

The truck came to a stop as they pulled up to a red light, and with a flick of her paw Audrey turned the blinker on. Dawn heard what sounded like a muffled yelp from nearby, but decide to ignore it.

"Is that why you still run the stand?" Dawn asked.

"Well, at first we needed the extra money." The wolf's paws idly tapped on the steering wheel. "Dori had to go through the academy and actually start working in the police before we didn't have to rely on farming."

"But after we got set up, and could care for the pups pretty well with just Dori's pay I kept farming because I enjoyed it." She smiled. " But it also felt like I was honoring ol' Papa Hunter in some small way."

As the light changed, Audrey pulled the truck onto the lonely country lane. The wolf fell silent at the conclusion of her story, allowing an awkward silence to once again permeate the cab. Dawn took to staring down at her hooves as she began to twiddle them uncomfortably. She wasn't sure how near they were to the Hunter Ranch, but they had to be getting close. It was time to broach the uncomfortable subject of Dawn's own past. Dawn gulped slightly as she began to speak.

"I-I suppose." Dawn cleared her throat. "I suppose Vernon told you a-about my history too?" Dawn uttered.

Audrey kept her eyes on the road, but gave a short nod in response.

"T-the night howler thing I mean?" Dawn continued.

Again Audrey gave a simple nod. Dawn couldn't read the wolf's expression.

"A-and how I w-went to prison?" Dawn was starting to sweat. The previous tone of the cab now felt as though it had been replaced with coldness. Dawn could feel the pit of her stomach twist further as the wolf seemed unresponsive.

"Vernon told me all about it." Audrey finally replied, still not taking her eyes off the lonely country lane ahead of them.

Dawn looked down at her hooves again, now idly tapping them against her legs. This was it, now that she had laid it all out there she was seeing how Vernon's Mother really felt. There was no way she and Audrey were going to have any sort of relationship other than a quiet and civil dislike for one another.

"He also told me about how you put your life on the line to save the city, and to save him." Audrey gave the ewe a sympathetic smile. "You saved my boy."

Dawn was startled, she could feel her mouth hanging open in shock before she quickly closed it.

"W-w-well of course, I-I-..." Dawn stammered. "I-I love him."

Audrey smiled widely. " I know you do Darlin', though I am glad to hear it straight from the source."

"But I still-"

Audrey held a paw up to Dawn, effectively silencing the lamb.

"I know what your gonna say Dawn." The wolfess sighed. " Look, Vernon told me everything you did. He told me about the Night Howler scandal, about your time in prison and what happened a few months ago."

Dawn eyed the wolf in confusion.

"He also told me about how hard you've been trying to make up for it. How hard you worked to reform, and what you went through growing up." Audrey frowned at the ewe.

"But that doesn't excu-"

"Look Dawn. " Audrey sighed." It may not excuse what you did in the past, but I know you are trying to fix what you can. And I can't give you any grief for that."

The wolf gave Dawn a genuine smile. "Vernon vouched for your character up and down. That boy doesn't do that for just anyone. And from what I can tell just by talking to you, I can tell he's right."

The wolf hit the blinker again before turning on to an unpaved dirt road. Dawn could feel the rock of the suspension become more aggressive as they shifted from concrete to soil.

"I wasn't faking my reaction back at the station Dawn. I'm taking you at face value, starting fresh. I'm not going to dwell on that stuff if you don't." Audrey added.

Dawn couldn't help but stare at the she-wolf in disbelief. She couldn't believe Audrey was willing to overlook her past just like that. There were so many questions she felt like she should ask, but that would be going against what the wolf was asking. Instead she quickly nodded in agreement, willing to accept any kind of olive branch Vernon's Mother was ready to give her.

"Good." Audrey smiled broadly. "Then welcome to the family Darlin'."

The truck came to a slow stop as it pulled up next to a large wood framed cabin style home. The impressive A-frame loomed over the car, it's large windows shining with refracted sun-light. Dawn used the door handle to give herself a boost in order to better see the whole home. As she strained against the seatbelt she was able to see how large the property really was. The Hunter Ranch house was probably the size of two ranch houses put together. The treated wood structure dominating one whole side of the car's window view. As Dawn squinted, she could see that she had been somewhat right in her assessment. The core of the house's wood color and fading indicated that it was older then the long arm that extended down the side of the car. It was clear the house had seen several additions over the years.

"Welp, here we are." Audrey grinned widely as she gave the ewe a nudge. "Welcome to the Hunter Ranch Dawn."

Dawn smiled back at Audrey as she un-did her seatbelt.

"It looks lovely." Dawn said, reaching for the nearby door handle.

"It's just as comfortable inside, I can assure you." Audrey laughed.

Dawn opened the passenger car door, pushing it away with all her might. She had to catch herself toward the end of the heft as she nearly stumbled off the seat but she had at least succeeded. As Dawn readied to hop off the seat and onto the Hunter's land, Audrey called her attention again.

"Oh, and Dawn?" Audrey asked.

"Y-yes?" Dawn turned to find a concerned looking she-wolf. Immediately the ewe felt her tension return.

"If anyone gives you a hard time, whether it's my boys or Dori." Audrey's eyes flashed a deadly seriousness. "You tell me alright?"

Dawn nodded softly as the tension ebbed away.

"I want you to know that you have a friend in me. If you need anything, you come to me. Okay Darlin'?" The wolf added.

"Y-yes ma'am." Dawn replied nervously.

Audrey gave the ewe a simple smile before opening her own door and sliding out of the car. Soon after Dawn followed, hopping down to the dirt road below. It had only taken a few moments for Vernon to show up along side her, luggage in tow. Dawn grinned up at the wolf before wrapping her hooves around his waist and giving him as tight a hug as she could muster.

"Ma! What did you do to her?" Dawn heard the wolf shout in annoyance. Dawn glanced up to find the concerned wolf looking back down at her. She beamed back up at him.

"Vernon, I'm fine." She cooed.

"Then what's this for?" The wolf asked in confusion.

Dawn blushed slightly. "I-I just love you is all." She buried her face back into the wolf's waist as she continued to hug him. She couldn't see his face, but she could feel the wind shifting around her hooves as Vernon's tail wagged wildly.

"I- uh...I love you to Honey lamb." Vernon replied.

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Been having a rougher time sleeping than usual as of late. Not sure why that is...so I'm keeping this short. I hope you guys enjoy this entry in the series. Consider tipping me! https://www.patreon.com/wastedtimeee -WT

[readbookywooks]

18. I'm still smoldering a little, so it's with a tentative hand that Caesar reaches out to touch my headpiece. The white has burned away, leaving a smooth, fitted veil of black that drapes into the neckline of the dress in the back. "Feathers," says Caesar. "You're like a bird." "A mockingjay, I think," I say, giving my wings a small flap. "It's the bird on the pin I wear as a token." A shadow of recognition flickers across Caesar's face, and I can tell he knows that the mockingjay isn't just my token. That it's come to symbolize so much more. That what will be seen as a flashy costume change in the Capitol is resonating in an entirely different way throughout the districts. But he makes the best of it. "Well, hats off to your stylist. I don't think anyone can argue that that's not the most spectacular thing we've ever seen in an interview. Cinna, I think you better take a bow!" Caesar gestures for Cinna to rise. He does, and makes a small, gracious bow. And suddenly I am so afraid for him. What has he done? Something terribly dangerous. An act of rebellion in itself. And he's done it for me. I remember his words ... "Don't worry. I always channel my emotions into my work. That way I don't hurt anyone but myself." ... and I'm afraid he has hurt himself beyond repair. The significance of my fiery transformation will not be lost on President Snow. The audience, who's been stunned into silence, breaks into wild applause. I can barely hear the buzzer that indicates that my three minutes are up. Caesar thanks me and I go back to my seat, my dress now feeling lighter than air. As I pass Peeta, who's headed for his interview, he doesn't meet my eyes. I take my seat carefully, but aside from the puffs of smoke here and there, I seem unharmed, so I turn my attention to him. Caesar and Peeta have been a natural team since they first appeared together a year ago. Their easy give-and-take, comic timing, and ability to segue into heart-wrenching moments, like Peeta's confession of love for me, have made them a huge success with the audience. They effortlessly open with a few jokes about fires and feathers and overcooking poultry. But anyone can see that Peeta is preoccupied, so Caesar directs the conversation right into the subject that's on everyone's minds. "So, Peeta, what was it like when, after all you've been through, you found out about the Quell?" asks Caesar. "I was in shock. I mean, one minute I'm seeing Katniss looking so beautiful in all these wedding gowns, and the next ..." Peeta trails off. "You realized there was never going to be a wedding?" asks Caesar gently. Peeta pauses for a long moment, as if deciding something. He looks out at the spellbound audience, then at tin floor, then finally up at Caesar. "Caesar, do you think all our friends here can keep a secret?" An uncomfortable laugh emanates from the audience. What can he mean? Keep a secret from who? Our whole world is watching. "I feel quite certain of it," says Caesar. "We're already married," says Peeta quietly. The crowd reacts in astonishment, and I have to bury my face in the folds of my skirt so they can't see my confusion. Where on earth is he going with this? "But ... how can that be?" asks Caesar. "Oh, it's not an official marriage. We didn't go to the Justice Building or anything. But we have this marriage ritual in District Twelve. I don't know what it's like in the other districts. But there's this thing we do," says Peeta, and he briefly describes the toasting. "Were your families there?" asks Caesar. "No, we didn't tell anyone. Not even Haymitch. And Katniss's mother would never have approved. But you see, we knew if we were married in the Capitol, there wouldn't be a toasting. And neither of us really wanted to wait any longer. So one day, we just did it," Peeta says. "And to us, we're more married than any piece of paper or big party could make us." "So this was before the Quell?" says Caesar. "Of course before the Quell. I'm sure we'd never have done it after we knew," says Peeta, starting to get upset. "But who could've seen it coming? No one. We went through the Games, we were victors, everyone seemed so thrilled to see us together, and then out of nowhere - I mean, how could we anticipate a thing like that?" "You couldn't, Peeta." Caesar puts an arm around his shoulders. "As you say, no one could've. But I have to confess, I'm glad you two had at least a few months of happiness together." Enormous applause. As if encouraged, I look up from my feathers and let the audience see my tragic smile of thanks. The residual smoke from the feathers has made my eyes teary, which adds a very nice touch. "I'm not glad," says Peeta. "I wish we had waited until the whole thing was done officially." This takes even Caesar aback. "Surely even a brief time is better than no time?" "Maybe I'd think that, too, Caesar," says Peeta bitterly, "if it weren't for the baby." There. He's done it again. Dropped a bomb that wipes out the efforts of every tribute who came before him. Well, maybe not. Maybe this year he has only lit the fuse on a bomb that the victors themselves have been building. Hoping someone would be able to detonate it. Perhaps thinking it would be me in my bridal gown. Not knowing how much I rely on Cinna's talents, whereas Peeta needs nothing more than his wits. As the bomb explodes, it sends accusations of injustice and barbarism and cruelty flying out in every direction. Even the most Capitol-loving, Games-hungry, bloodthirsty person out there can't ignore, at least for a moment, how horrific the whole thing is. I am pregnant. The audience can't absorb the news right away. It has to strike them and sink in and be confirmed by other voices before they begin to sound like a herd of wounded animals, moaning, shrieking, calling for help. And me? I know my face is projected in a tight close-up on the screen, but I don't make any effort to hide it. Because for a moment, even I am working through what Peeta has said. Isn't it the thing I dreaded most about the wedding, about the future - the loss of my children to the Games? And it could be true now, couldn't it? If I hadn't spent my life building up layers of defenses until I recoil at even the suggestion of marriage or a family? Caesar can't rein in the crowd again, not even when the buzzer sounds. Peeta nods his good-bye and comes back to his seat without any more conversation. I can see Caesar's lips moving, but the place is in total chaos and I can't hear a word. Only the blast of the anthem, cranked up so loud I can feel it vibrating through my bones, lets us know where we stand in the program. I automatically rise and, as I do, I sense Peeta reaching out for me. Tears run down his face as I take his hand. How real are the tears? Is this an acknowledgment that he has been stalked by the same fears that I have? That every victor has? Every parent in every district in Panem? I look back to the crowd, but the faces of Rue's mother and father swim before my eyes. Their sorrow. Their loss. I turn spontaneously to Chaff and offer my hand. I feel my fingers close around the stump that now completes his arm and hold fast. And then it happens. Up and down the row, the victors begin to join hands. Some right away, like the morphlings, or Wiress and Beetee. Others unsure but caught up in the demands of those around them, like Brutus and Enobaria. By the time the anthem plays its final strains, all twenty-four of us stand in one unbroken line in what must be the first public show of unity among the districts since the Dark Days. You can see the realization of this as the screens begin to pop into blackness. It's too late, though. In the confusion they didn't cut us off in time. Everyone has seen. There's disorder on the stage now, too, as the lights go out and we're left to stumble back into the Training Center. I've lost hold of Chaff, but Peeta guides me into an elevator. Finnick and Johanna try to join us, but a harried Peacekeeper blocks their way and we shoot upward alone. The moment we step off the elevator, Peeta grips my shoulders. "There isn't much time, so tell me. Is there anything I have to apologize for?" "Nothing," I say. It was a big leap to take without my okay, but I'm just as glad I didn't know, didn't have time to second-guess him, to let any guilt over Gale detract from how I really feel about what Peeta did. Which is empowered. Somewhere, very far off, is a place called District 12, where my mother and sister and friends will have to deal with the fallout from this night. Just a brief hovercraft ride away is an arena where, tomorrow, Peeta and I and the other tributes will face our own form of punishment. But even if all of us meet terrible ends, something happened on that stage tonight that can't be undone. We victors staged our own uprising, and maybe, just maybe, the Capitol won't be able to contain this one. We wait for the others to return, but when the elevator opens, only Haymitch appears. "It's madness out there. Everyone's been sent home and they've canceled the recap of the interviews on television." Peeta and I hurry to the window and try to make sense of the commotion far below us on the streets. "What are they saying?" Peeta asks. "Are they asking the president to stop the Games?" "I don't think they know themselves what to ask. The whole situation is unprecedented. Even the idea of opposing the Capitol's agenda is a source of confusion for the people here," says Haymitch. "But there's no way Snow would cancel the Games. You know that, right?" I do. Of course, he could never back down now. The only option left to him is to strike back, and strike back hard. "The others went home?" I ask. "They were ordered to. I don't know how much luck they're having getting through the mob," says Haymitch. "Then we'll never see Effie again," says Peeta. We didn't see her on the morning of the Games last year. "You'll give her our thanks." "More than that. Really make it special. It's Effie, after all," I say. "Tell her how appreciative we are and how she was the best escort ever and tell her ... tell her we send our love." For a while we just stand there in silence, delaying the inevitable. Then Haymitch says it. "I guess this is where we say our good-byes as well." "Any last words of advice?" Peeta asks. "Stay alive," Haymitch says gruffly. That's almost an old joke with us now. He gives us each a quick embrace, and I can tell it's all he can stand. "Go to bed. You need your rest." I know I should say a whole bunch of things to Haymitch, but I can't think of anything he doesn't already know, really, and my throat is so tight I doubt anything would come out, anyway. So, once again, I let Peeta speak for us both. "You take care, Haymitch," he says. We cross the room, but in the doorway, Haymitch's voice stops us. "Katniss, when you're in the arena," he begins. Then he pauses. He's scowling in a way that makes me sure I've already disappointed him. "What?" I ask defensively. "You just remember who the enemy is," Haymitch tells me. "That's all. Now go on. Get out of here." We walk down the hallway. Peeta wants to stop by his room to shower off the makeup and meet me in a few minutes, but I won't let him. I'm certain that if a door shuts between us, it will lock and I'll have to spend the night without him. Besides, I have a shower in my room. I refuse to let go of his hand. Do we sleep? I don't know. We spend the night holding each other, in some halfway land between dreams and waking. Not talking. Both afraid to disturb the other in the hope that we'll be able to store up a few precious minutes of rest. Cinna and Portia arrive with the dawn, and I know Peeta will have to go. Tributes enter the arena alone. He gives me a light kiss. "See you soon," he says. "See you soon," I answer. Cinna, who will help dress me for the Games, accompanies me to the roof. I'm about to mount the ladder to the hovercraft when I remember. "I didn't say good-bye to Portia." "I'll tell her," says Cinna. The electric current freezes me in place on the ladder until the doctor injects the tracker into my left forearm. Now they will always be able to locate me in the arena. The hovercraft takes off, and I look out the windows until they black out. Cinna keeps pressing me to eat and, when that fails, to drink. I manage to keep sipping water, thinking of the days of dehydration that almost killed me last year. Thinking of how I will need my strength to keep Peeta alive. When we reach the Launch Room at the arena, I shower. Cinna braids my hair down my back and helps me dress over simple undergarments. This year's tribute outfit is a fitted blue jumpsuit, made of very sheer material, that zippers up the front. A six-inch-wide padded belt covered in shiny purple plastic. A pair of nylon shoes with rubber soles. "What do you think?" I ask, holding the fabric out for Cinna to examine. He frowns as he rubs the thin stuff between his fingers. "I don't know. It will offer little in the way of protection from cold or water." "Sun?" I ask, picturing a burning sun over a barren desert. "Possibly. If it's been treated," he says. "Oh, I almost forgot this." He takes my gold mockingjay pin from his pocket and fixes it to the jumpsuit. "My dress was fantastic last night," I say. Fantastic and reckless. But Cinna must know that. "I thought you might like it," he says with a tight smile. We sit, as we did last year, holding hands until the voice tells me to prepare for the launch. He walks me over to the circular metal plate and zips up the neck of my jumpsuit securely. "Remember, girl on fire," he says, "I'm still betting on you." He kisses my forehead and steps back as the glass cylinder slides down around me. "Thank you," I say, although he probably can't hear me. I lift my chin, holding my head high the way he always tells me to, and wait for the plate to rise. But it doesn't. And it still doesn't. I look at Cinna, raising my eyebrows for an explanation. He just gives his head a slight shake, as perplexed as I am. Why are they delaying this? Suddenly the door behind him bursts open and three Peacekeepers spring into the room. Two pin Cinna's arms behind him and cuff him while the third hits him in the temple with such force he's knocked to his knees. But they keep hitting him with metal-studded gloves, opening gashes on his face and body. I'm screaming my head off, banging on the unyielding glass, trying to reach him. The Peacekeepers ignore me completely as they drag Cinna's limp body from the room. All that's left are the smears of blood on the floor. Sickened and terrified, I feel the plate begin to rise. I'm still leaning against the glass when the breeze catches my hair and I force myself to straighten up. Just in time, too, because the glass is retreating and I'm standing free in the arena. Something seems to be wrong with my vision. The ground is too bright and shiny and keeps undulating. I squint down at my feet and see that my metal plate is surrounded by blue waves that lap up over my boots. Slowly I raise my eyes and take in the water spreading out in every direction. I can only form one clear thought.

This is no place for a girl on fire.