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3d-wifey · 7 months

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And They'd Find Us In A Week - Chapter 6

Pairing: Finnick Odair x Reader Word Count: 5k Synopsis: Here! Playlist: Listen up! A/N: Don't be scared to click the embedded links, you might get an auditory surprise (Ai voice cloning works wonders)

Past (vi) - Finnick

[18 & 19] - THE CAPITOL; TRAINING CENTER; ELEVENTH FLOOR

You and Finnick are sitting side by side when they flood the arena.

An earthquake breaks the dam open and the tributes closest to it die almost instantly, the crushing weight of the water pressure either breaking their necks or knocking them out before they drown. Multiple canons fire one after the other. If Finnick counted correctly, only six tributes are left—five of which aren't from districts with large bodies of water. It’ll only be a matter of time before they tire out.

He's not hoping that the other kids die, but he is hoping that Annie makes it. She's a sweet girl and she actually took his advice to heart. Unlike his other tributes who usually didn't take him seriously because of his age.

He feels a smaller hand slip into his and he doesn’t have to look down to know it's yours. Your tributes had died in the cornucopia and it’s been ten days since then. You had no reason to stay behind. But you did. For him.

You squeeze his hand. He squeezes back.

Once the waters have calmed and the rest of the tributes strive to stay afloat, Annie does the smart thing and moves to float on her back.

Of course, in a test of endurance, she's the strongest swimmer in the arena. In District Four, kids learn how to backstroke before they can walk. However, there’s no telling how long they’ll be in the water, and trying to tread it will only drain what little stamina she has left.

It takes three hours for three of the tributes to die and five for Finnick to have his first victor.

Socialites and mentors alike surround you and Finnick to congratulate him as they airlift Annie out of the arena. Augustus claps him on the shoulder and Gloss shakes his hand. But the only hand he cares about slips out of his when four different people try to rope him into a conversation at once, your bracelet catching against his.

You say nothing to him as you edge out of the crowd and he supposes you don’t owe him an explanation, but it leaves a pit in his stomach to watch you walk away.

When he comes to the Eleventh floor later that night, Chaff is the one who greets him when the elevator opens, presumably heading out himself. Something he should have expected since you aren’t the only one who lives on the floor, but he’s still taken by surprise.

“Oh. Hey?” It comes out as more of a question than a statement, the letters curling and drawing out at the end like he’s just discovered the human language.

“You’re acting like I’m not the face you wanted to see.” Chaff crosses his arms with a beaming grin that spells trouble for Finnick. “What? Am I not pretty enough, Odair?”

“No, you’re plenty beautiful, Chaff,” he laughs, “I was just expecting Star.”

“Yeah, alright. Go ahead.” He steps aside and Finnick feels like he got caught sneaking into his girlfriend's room. Which isn’t too far off, “I’m sure you know where her room is.” He decides to pointedly ignore that last comment.

He spots Seeder, dishing out playing cards, and Haymitch, drinking, at the dining table and he just knows this will spread like wildfire among the victors. Because, despite being grown men, Chaff and Haymitch are the biggest gossips he knows.

“Ah, there’s the blushing bride!” Haymitch half shouts—half cackles, halfway into a bottle of expensive Capitol wine. He ignores them, which only makes them crack up harder. Finnick is nineteen years old, and as they laugh behind him, he actually feels his age for once.

He’s come to your floor for the past two years. So when your door slides open, you only look slightly surprised to see him.

“Finnick,” you look over his shoulder like you expected him to bring someone with him, “I didn’t think you’d come. I thought you’d be spending time with Annie.” You venture tiredly.

“I spoke to her after they got her into medic, but not for long.”

After Talon, his other tribute was decapitated in front of her, something happened. Something broke. She cried uncontrollably and screamed when the nurses tried to take her vitals. He was able to help calm her down enough for them to sedate her, but Finnick knows that isn’t going to be an easy fix. No victor comes out of their games the same as when they entered. This is just another example.

You take a step back from him. He didn’t even notice when he got so close and gravitated to you, he never does.

“Well. Thanks for letting me know, I guess. You can go now.”

He stands there, mouth opening and closing.

“I can go—are you mad at me?” He asks incredulously.

"No!" You deny it like the idea of being mad at him never even crossed your mind, yet, he can't help but feel like he’s upsetting you.

"Are you...sad at me?" You hesitate at that and his heart sinks. You sigh and for a second he worries you’re going to send him away.

"C’mon." You wave him into your room. “I’d rather not have an audience for this.” He glances over his shoulder and spots the three adults in the room clearly eavesdropping as they pretend to play cards at the table.

“Leave the door cracked!” You flip off the trio of cackling adults, herding Finnick into your room and you barely get the door closed before he’s apologizing.

“I don’t know what I did, Star, but I’m sorry, okay? And—and whatever it is, sweetheart, I swear I won’t do it again.” He pleads, feeling just as desperate as he probably sounds. He’s trailing pretty close after you through the hallway that curves into your bedroom, so he almost bumps into you when you stop in front of him.

“Finnick, calm down, okay? You didn’t do anything.” You claim, but if that’s true, then—

“I don’t understand. Wh–what’s wrong?” Because there’s definitely something wrong. Your body language is closed off. You’re never closed off around him.

You cross your arms, then drop them and place your hands on your hips.

“Annie.” You mutter, staring over his shoulder.

“...Annie?” He repeats, eyebrows furrowing.

“Yeah.” You speak muffled, biting at the nail of your thumb. “I’ve been thinking and I can only imagine how exciting it is for you to have someone your age in Four who’s gone through the same things as you. You guys have much more in common, I’m sure, not to mention you can see each other whenever you want. So, I won’t fault you for, I don’t know, spending less time with me. Or, if you forget to respond to a letter or…something.” You finish off your rambling in a mumble, losing steam.

He blinks at you.

“And why would I do that?” He asks and you throw your arms up in frustration, walking further into the room to crash down into a forest green armchair. What is he doing wrong?

“Because we don’t see each other outside of the Capitol.” You avoid making eye contact and pick at the skin around your nails, a habit he thought you grew out of. “And I’m fine with that, but that doesn’t mean you have to be. You don’t have to settle for this.”

“Do you feel like you’re settling?” He asks, doing, in his opinion, a pretty good job of acting like his heart isn’t hinging on your answer.

“What?! What, of course not.” You look at him like he grew a second head. As if his question isn't completely reasonable given how you're behaving. “We have such little time together.”

“Yeah, and that makes the moments we do get to spend together special.” He argues. Finnick tracks your movements, coming to stand before you. You clench your fist together before hiding them by folding your arms. “What is this really about?”

You take a breath.

"Finnick, we can never be together outside of this city.” You laugh, but he knows it’s not real. “With Annie in the picture, you can have something close to normal. You’ve earned that much.” He takes a second to look you over. Finnick has always been able to pick things up through body language. A skill he developed after Mags lost the ability to speak, and even that took him years to perfect. With you, someone who is practically mute when it comes to your emotions, it was almost instantaneous. He can read you like a well-loved book.

"Will you look at me?" He ducks his head down to get you to look at him, but you're being especially avoidant.

"I’m sorry, it's really not that serious." You mumble, stubbornly keeping your eyes on the ground, "You don't need to—” He places his hand on the back of your neck, touching his forehead to yours.

"There you are." He smiles when you finally look up at him. He holds you tighter, free hand sliding down to your waist and his neck straining at the position. "I'm not gonna leave you behind for Annie, okay–I would never leave you behind. For anyone."

"Why?" You ask barely above a whisper, confusion so genuine that it nearly breaks his heart. Like you can't wrap your head around Finnick wanting to stay with you. He’s failed you somewhere along the way if that’s the case.

He takes a different approach, dropping down to one knee on the cold brown marble floor and then the other until he’s kneeling between your legs. The big green chair is the backdrop behind you, and it really is an enormous chair.

“Finnick,” you laugh, as dulcet as a melody, “What are you doing?”

“I don’t want normal. I want you. That’s all I ever wanted.” He grins up at you, wrapping his arms around your stomach. "I'll stop needing air before I stop needing you.” He could spend the rest of his life being the most altruistic bastard in Panem and still not deserve you.

You loop your arms around his neck, fingers carding through the back of his hair. He leans into the warmth of your hand and wonders if there will ever be a moment better than this. There’s always been a level of affection between the two of you that's a little too intimate to call friendship, but Finnick’s grown so accustomed to it that he feels unsettled without it.

You lean closer to him, practically sitting on the edge of your seat. "Can I…” You hesitate. “Can I try something?" You ask and he agrees like he always will. He can deny you nothing.

You move one hand to his cheek. The other grips his shirt as you lean toward him. He holds still—barely breathing, afraid that any sudden movement will make you lose your nerve.

You run cold, you always have, it’s just another thing to love as far as Finnick is concerned. He himself emits heat like a furnace on the best of days. He remembers cold hands touching his heated skin, cold toes shocking the skin of his legs whenever you lay together. But now, now Finnick feels nothing but a hissing heat as your mouths press together. Heat like a hot knife cutting into a block of ice, like a blazing star consuming him in a ball of fire, only to sizzle into a warm embrace. He melts into you, trusting that you’ll sculpt him back together with your glacial grip.

And you will, won’t you? Take him into your arms and mold him into whatever shape he needs to be to fit inside your heart. He’s had no experience with that sort of thing. He’s never had to, his heart automatically made room for you without any input on his part. There’s a perfect you-shaped hole in his chest and you’ve already slotted into place. When you hold him like this, kiss him like this, he can believe it. Believe that maybe, maybe this is something you’ve been hoping for too—that he hasn’t been alone in his longing.

Your lips are soft, softer than he imagined. You’re softer than he imagined. It’s more of a peck than anything else, but it means everything to Finnick. You stop to take a breath and he moves to follow you as you pull away. He doesn't open his eyes for a second. If it never happens again, if he never has the chance to kiss you again, he wants to commit this moment to memory. Every detail, down to the puff of air against his lips before you leaned in.

Finnick is well aware of the effect he has on people, he’s had five years to come to terms with it. But he’s never been on the receiving end of it before. It’s all new to him—new and utterly terrifying. Terrifying and utterly beautiful because it’s you. It has always been you and it’ll keep being you even if this ends here.

"What was that?" He asks, just in case he’s reading this wrong and you aren’t looking at the kiss the way he is. In case you’re not looking at him like he looks at you.

"...I don't know." You whisper like it’s a secret shared between you two.

"Okay," he exhales between you. He can work with that. Finnick shakes his head. “I don’t need more than that.” He smiles. He’ll give himself to you in whatever capacity you’ll have him, as long as you’ll have him. He doesn’t have the right to ask for more.

“I think,” you start, dazed, and he can’t tamp down the smug satisfaction bubbling up because he did that to you, “I've wanted to do that for a long time."

He considers it. He's wanted to kiss you since that first night under the stars. When you allowed yourself to be vulnerable—sharing a piece of yourself with him—and you looked at him with a smile that was more genuine than he deserved; too good to be aimed at someone like him. “So why haven’t you?”

You sway into him like you can’t help yourself and he gets the feeling. You rest your forehead on his shoulder.

“I…I’ve never had anything I've wanted before—I’ve never taken it, but,” you squeeze your eyes shut and he doesn't like that. He doesn't like not having your gaze on him. When did that happen? Under his nose, he's become so needy for your attention, so needy for you, “But I want this more than I’ve wanted anything, Finnick. I want you.”

“Then, take me. Have me." He begs into the crown of your hair, sounding so desperate he’s surprised you haven’t run the other way. But, honestly, he isn’t sure he wouldn’t chase after you. He's been yours in everything but name for years at this point. It’s just one more leap, one more line to cross together because Finnick wants too. He wants and wants and wants. He wants to be yours.

"It's selfish. To want this much, right?" You pull him towards you and he goes. He can't imagine doing anything else. You nose at his jaw and he shivers at the brush of smooth lips and warm breath on the sensitive skin of his neck. He moves his head to the side to give you more room. "It has to be."

"I like you selfish." If this is you selfish, he wants you greedy, he wants you heedless. He wants your want. He closes his eyes, every other sense focused on you. He holds you closer. “I know it’s hard to love me—”

“Don’t say that. Don’t think my hesitation has anything to do with who you are. It’s just…” You pull back far enough to look up at him, your eyes darting back and forth between his, and he thinks he understands what you’re asking for.

You’re scared, so you want him to make the choice. You want it to be his decision. He’s scared too, so he understands. He’ll take the plunge and bear the brunt of the fall. There’s not much he can protect you from, but he can do this. He can protect you from himself.

This time he's the one that leans in and you meet him halfway. On instinct, he goes to grab your waist and stops himself. Instead, he grabs the hand gripping his shirt, lacing your fingers with his.

Finnick's never prayed for anything, he doesn't even believe in a higher power. Yet, selfishly, he begs. Let this be real. Let him keep this one thing.

Let him keep you.

Present (VI) - You

[23 & 24] - THE CAPITOL; CHARIOT RIDES

You stand alone in the elevator, skin bristling with the phantom feeling of scrubbing. If your prep team had scrubbed any harder, you're sure your skin would have come off. You rub at the now smooth skin of your face, trying to soothe the lingering sting from the waxing.

Don't worry, there's more! For whatever reason, Tumblr refuses to let me post some chapters in their entirety, so if you want the rest, just click this link!

#finnick odair #finnick x reader #finnick odair x reader #hunger games catching fire #hunger games fanfiction #finnick odair fanfic #and they'd find us in a week

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theartofdreaming1 · 3 years

Photo

Katniss, Peeta, and Haymitch are slowly becoming a proper team! No more secrets! (for the most part)

As usual, my thoughts regarding this week’s prompts and (many) random thoughts on chapters 4-6 are below the cut.

heart

Losing that comfort of sleeping in each other’s arms after the Victory Tour must have been hard for Katniss and Peeta! Up until Katniss hurts her ankle, they probably didn’t really do much about it, just trying to make it through on their own... After she hurt her ankle and Peeta’s spending more time over at her place, I can easily imagine him staying over, at least until she’s fallen asleep, which might help a little... Since they are living only three houses apart from each other, I like to imagine that they can see each other’s bedroom windows from their bedroom (how else would Katniss know that Peeta sleeps with the windows open? I can’t really imagine that they would be able to open the windows of the train they were on - y’know, for “safety reasons” (i.e. making sure nobody can escape)); maybe they’d both light a candle and put it by their window, as a signal they are going to sleep... It’s not the same, but it helps a little

mind

I mean, aside from the systemic rigging of the reaping system (i.e. poorer people generally having more entries, so they can have some food), I can easily imagine there being a manipulation of the “odds” when someone becomes too vocal or troublesome for the local authorities, such as someone trying to unionize a district’s workforce, for example

soul

In the districts, their impact has to be big - their win alone was a huge defiance of the Games as they used to be... sticking together and sticking up for each other ultimately led to them defeating the Capitol’s rules! In-between the Games and the Victory Tour I don’t think there was much noteworthy going on (although maybe the fact that, so far, none of the new victors’ loved ones had been hurt - Prim, Mrs. E., but also Gale and his family would be visible during the celebrations, I’m sure, same probably goes for the Mellark’s - might tell the people in the district that Snow and his cronies were aware of the attention any assassination attempt would gather and that this, in turn, might actually could become the last straw that would spark a revolution. In a way, that was proof that the people on top were at least a little afraid of what the people in the districts would do...) And then, especially during the visit of D11, with Katniss expressing her thanks and Peeta reaching out to share their winnings with the people from D11, another district than their own - it must have provided a lot of inspiration, I’m sure.

As for the Capitolites, maybe some of them would notice for once how unhappy/riled up the people in some of the districts were... or at least stop to think about how this time, a show of love and companionship actually provided more “entertainment” and intrigue than the brutal gore and bloodshed from previous Games (also, longer lasting - there is actually much more “story” to be had from the star-crossed lovers from D12 than from any individual winner of previous Games, if you think about it... Their “love story” is still on-going, with an upcoming wedding and the promise of a family... it’s still creepy and voyeuristic as hell, though)

Chapter 4

Everything he [Haymitch] said was true about the Capitol’s expectations, my future with Peeta, even his last comment. Of course, I could do a lot worse than Peeta. That isn’t really the point, though, is it? One of the few freedoms we have in District 12 is the right to marry who we want or not marry at all. And now even that has been taken away from me. - God, this sucks so much! As Katniss rightly points out, her misery isn’t about Peeta at all - it’s about her (and also his, just pointing that out) agency being taken away! She’s being stripped even of that little sliver of agency that inhabitants of D12 usually have (choice of whom to marry, or whether to marry at all)

I wonder if President Snow will insist we have children. - Eugh, just the idea of Snow being the one to have the last word on that subject... 🤢 The invasion of privacy here... - The only person who should get to decide whether Katniss should have children or not is Katniss herself! Period!

My mind searches frantically for a way out. I can’t let President Snow condemn me to this. Even if it means taking my own life. Before that, though, I’d try to run away. - Boy, Katniss is even contemplating taking her own life, rather than to submit to the life the Capitol wants to force on her; it’s not her first choice (she’d rather run away), but it shows the desperation she’s feeling

Could I even manage to take everyone I love with me, start a new life deep in the wild? Highly unlikely but not impossible. - Later we will see that Peeta and Haymitch also belong into the category of “people Katniss loves” 😊(as well as her family, Gale, and his fam, of course)

“And Peeta’s team is probably still asleep.” “Doesn’t he need prepping?” I ask. “Not the way you do,” Effie replies. What does this mean? It means I get to spend the morning having the hair ripped off my body while Peeta sleeps in. I hadn’t thought about it much, but in the arena at least some of the boys got to keep their body hair whereas none of the girls did. - Gotta love that everlasting sexism that, even far into the future, still won’t allow women to have frickin’ body hair (y’know, like most humans do 🙄)

I can remember Peeta’s now, as I bathed him by the stream. Very blond in the sunlight, once the mud and blood had been washed away. Only his face remained completely smooth. Not one of the boys grew a beard, and many were old enough to. I wonder what they did to them. - Katniss seems to have committed every single detail about Peeta to her memory, including how his body hair looked when she cleaned him in the last Games... okay 👀😏 On a more somber note, what is it that the Capitol is doing to these poor kids?! The boys couldn’t grow beards and - I’m assuming - the girls wouldn’t get their periods while in the arena (since the Games can last for weeks, it would be a huge disadvantage if any of the girls also had to content with cramps + periods - aside from worrying about getting murdered, I mean); it’s such a violation of one’s autonomy over one’s own body, yikes

Flavius tilts up my chin and sighs. “It’s a shame Cinna said no alterations on you.” “Yes, we could really make you something special,” says Octavia. “When she’s older,” says Venia almost grimly. “Then he’ll have to let us.” - Eeek, no thanks!😦 And frankly, it really shouldn’t be Cinna’s call to make but, y’know, Katniss’s!!! I don’t know, I get real panick-y just reading this exchange (I have never even gotten my ears pierced - my mom wouldn’t let them be pierced until I could make my own decision on that subject matter and as someone with skin issues and bad experiences with needles, I really don’t feel the need to have any unnecessary metal inserted into my body, so... I’m good)

His [Peeta’s] apology takes me by surprise. It’s true that Peeta froze me out after I confessed that my love for him during the Game was something of an act. But I don’t hold it against him. [...] “I’m sorry, too,” I say. [...] “There’s nothing for you to be sorry about. You were keeping us alive.” - That apology of Peeta’s... *chef’s kiss*; it was totally understandable that Peeta was upset and needed some time apart from Katniss after her confession, which had caught him completely by surprise, not even Katniss blames him for that... But his apology shows that he really made use of their time apart to work out his emotions and to reflect on both their situations - that’s some emotional maturity to be envious of! Plus, his apology is a good move to get their communication channel opened up again

It would be nice if he’d come to me with this earlier, before I knew that President Snow had other plans and just being friends was not an option for us anymore. But either way, I’m glad we’re speaking again. - Come on, Katniss, cut this boy some slack! He can’t read minds - how is he supposed to know about these things if you don’t tell him anything? It’s nice that you’re glad that you guys are on speaking terms again, but communication isn’t a one-way street, y’know?

I remember the tiger lily cookie and, now that Peeta is talking to me again, it’s all I can do not to recount the whole story about President Snow. But I know Haymitch wouldn’t want me to. I’d better stick to small talk. - Katniss really should have listened to her instincts here - Haymitch might have a better idea of how the Games/Capitol works, but he knows little about teamwork, which is an important factor in their specific (and unprecedented!) situation; I’m not blaming Katniss for relying on her mentor here, but this entire approach is going to crash and burn in the next chapter

It’s good to feel his fingers entwined with mine again, not for show but in actual friendship. We walk back to the train hand in hand. - Not to say that you can’t have friendships where you frequently hold hands - you totally can - but it is noteworthy that I don’t think I can recall Katniss holding hands with any of her other friends... (somehow, I can’t really picture Katniss holding hands with Gale casually like that... nor with Madge or Finnick later on)

At the door, I remember, “I’ve got to apologize to Effie first.” “Don’t be afraid to lay it on thick,” Peeta tells me.- There is something about this exchange that speaks to me... maybe because it reads like some sort of an inside joke between them? Or because it shows that, despite being on good terms with Effie, Peeta’s totally aware of how high-maintenance/over the top Effie is... I dunno ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Peeta has painted the Games. Some you wouldn’t get right away, if you hadn’t been with him in the arena yourself. Water dripping through the cracks in our cave. The dry pond bed. [...] Others any viewer would recognize. The golden horn called the Cornucopia. [...] And me. I am everywhere. [...] “What do you think?” he asks. “I hate them,” I say. I can almost smell the blood, the dirt, the unnatural breath of the mutt. - These are the pieces Peeta meant to exhibit in the Capitol, right? I wonder if he hoped that these paintings of his impressions/memories of the Games might actually connect with some Capitolites and might even move them to feel some empathy for the Tributes? Maybe he hoped that they would be more receptive for that kind of thing if he packaged it in art?

“All I do is go around trying to forget the arena and you’ve brought it back to life. How do you remember these things so exactly?” “I see them every night,” he says. [...] “Me too. Does it help? To paint them out?” “I don’t know. I think I’m a little less afraid of going to sleep at night, or I tell myself I am,” he says. “But they haven’t gone anywhere.” - I do wonder, whether and how painting out these moments could have therapeutic value for Peeta - on the one hand, the act of painting out specific intrusions/flashbacks might be helpful because he’d end up focusing on the more technical side of painting, y’know? Focussing on mixing the right shade of a certain color might help create some emotional distance from the moment itself... also, since painting usually takes some time, Peeta would actually spend a considerable amount of time facing these moments head on, rather than trying to avoid them (avoidance tends to increase the frequency of flashback/intrusions) and maybe spending so much time on them could also help him contextualize them within the broader narrative of his life, which is the basic principle behind Narrative Exposure Therapy, which is said to be pretty effective at treating PTSD... just my two cents

I can’t believe the size of District 11. “How many people do you think live here?” Peeta asks. I shake my head. In school they refer to it as a large district, that’s all. No actual figures on the population. - Perfect example of how tightly the Capitol controls the information the people in the districts have about the other districts... which is basically nothing. Let’s keep them in the dark so they are less likely to connect with each other and band together...

Cinna comes in with a pretty orange frock patterned with autumn leaves. I think how much Peeta will like the color. - Lol, Katniss bringing everything back to Peeta because she definitely hasn’t a crush on the guy, I see 😉

And then he [Peeta] hesitates before adding something that wasn’t written on the card. Maybe because he thought Effie might make him remove it. “It can in no way replace your losses, but as a token of our thanks we’d like for each of the tributes’ families from District Eleven to receive one month of our winnings every year for the duration of our lives.” - Peeta, the rebel! Talk about an act of radical kindness! I’m so proud of him. But also, I think this is another excellent example of how he and Katniss are on the same wavelength (this took me some time to find, but here you go): I silently say good-bye to Thresh and thank him for my life. I promise to remember him and, if I can, do something to help his family and Rue’s, if I win. (Ch. 23, THG)

I look at Peeta and he gives me a sad smile. I hear Haymitch’s voice. “You could do a lot worse.” At this moment, it’s impossible to imagine how I could do any better. The gift... it is perfect. So when I rise up on tiptoe to kiss him, it doesn’t seem forced at all. - Peeta: does anything that exemplifies his sense of morality; Katniss: *swoons* - but honestly, it is so beautiful how Katniss is so attracted to Peeta’s goodness and kind heart - it also tells us a lot about her (she is quite pure, as Peeta will point out later in this book) and what she values

“Wait, please.” I don’t know how to start, but once I do, the words rush from my lips as if they’ve been forming in the back of my mind for a long time. - And then Katniss launches into one of her spontaneous, heart-felt, and inspiring speeches/acts, expressing her thanks, sympathy, and a sense of kinship with people beyond the borders of her district, beyond the superficial barriers the Capitol has been trying to maintain in order to weaken the ‘common folk‘ and keep the exploitation going

The full impact of what I’ve done hits me. It was not intentional - I only meant to express my thanks - but I have elicited something dangerous. An act of dissent from the people of District 11. - Again, Katniss has done something that will solidify her as a symbol of the revolution without intending to do so and that’s the point, I think - she inspires people through her genuine displays of caring for others (which, in Panem, is already rebellious on its own)

Chapter 5

“We’re going!” says Peeta, shoving the Peacekeeper who’s pressing on me. “We get it, all right? Come on, Katniss.” His arm encircles me and guides me back into the Justice Building. - Protective Peeta! Also, I think it’s interesting to note the wording of Peeta’s arms “encircling” Katniss and then “guiding” her - his arms surround her, and he’s leading her away from harm (at least to the extent that is in his power - can’t really be safe from harm in Panem, can you?), but it doesn’t seem smothering or oppressive to Katniss in any way -”guide” has more of a connotation of giving direction without force, imo; in contrast, when Katniss talked about her kiss with Gale she mentions she’d never imagined how those hands [...] could as easily entrap me. (Ch. 2, CF); granted, these are two very different situations - the phrasing just stood out to me

“What happened?” Effie hurries over. “We lost the feed just after Katniss’s beautiful speech, and then Haymitch said he thought he heard gun fire, and I said it was ridiculous, but who knows? There are lunatics everywhere!” - Very telling how a clueless Capitolite like Effie wouldn’t register the rebellious aspect of Katniss’s speech; by keeping the Capitolites in the depths of sweet, sweet ignorance while simultaneously harshly trying to curb any spark of rebellion by cutting off the feed, the government is actually drawing the attention of the ignorant Capitolites to the act of rebellion itself (and also letting the people in the districts know that there was something censor-worthy going on); kind of shooting themselves in the foot here

As far as I know, Haymitch has only been here once, when he was on his Victory Tour decades ago. But he must have a remarkable memory or reliable instincts, because he leads us up through a maze of twisting staricases and increasingly narrow halls. [...] Eventually we climb a ladder to a trapdoor. When Haymitch pushes it aside, we find ourselves in the dome of the Justice Building. - I wonder how Haymitch has come to know this part of the Justice Building? Has he been to District 11 more often than Katniss supposes (he is friends with Chaff, after all), did his mentor take him there for some private conversation, or was there a moment during Haymitch’s Victory Tour where he felt so overwhelmed by feelings of guilt and powerlessness that he fled to the most desolate, solitary place he could find?

“I was supposed to fix things on this tour. [...] Calm things down. But obviously, all I’ve done today is get three people killed, and now everyone in the square will be punished.” I feel so sick that I have to sit down on a couch, despite the exposed springs and stuffing. - Obviously, all of this is awful and no one - especially a traumatized, 16-year old girl - should have to suffer carrying such a burden... But also, here we see one of the downsides of Katniss taking sole responsibility for everything - she totally forgot that Peeta might feel responsible too, only that he didn’t even know what’s at stake - which leads us to-

“Then I made things worse, too. By giving the money,” says Peeta. Suddenly he strikes out at a lamp that sits precariously on a crate and knocks it across the room, where it shatters against the floor. “This has to stop. Right now. This - this - game you two play, where you tell each other secrets but keep them from me like I’m too inconsequential or stupid or weak to handle them.”"It's not like that, Peeta-" I begin. "It's exactly like that!" he yells at me. - When kind, gentle Peeta’s mad, you know shit has hit the fan 😳 But also, being passed over/kept out of the loop seems to hit pretty close to home for Peeta (while I would like to know what his home life looked like before the Games, I have to admit that at this point, I’m somewhat afraid I might not be able to handle the truth...). I just think this scene is an important moment that leads to an end of (most of) their detrimental secrecy (hello end-of-CF-Haymitch!) and establishes their little team as such (hence the drawing)

“You’re always so reliably good, Peeta,” says Haymitch. “So smart about how you present yourself before the cameras. I didn’t want to disrupt that.” “Well, you overestimated me. Because I really screwed up today.” - Remember the last time someone overestimated Peeta (Foxface and the berries)? That ended in someone’s death as well... And, Haymitch? ‘Never assume’ applies to you, too!

“Do you think I gave them [Rue’s and Thresh’s families] a bright future? Because I think they’ll be lucky if they survive the day!” Peeta sends something else flying, a statue. I’ve never seen him like this. - Considering that his rebellious act of kindness is now threatening to become a sword of Damocles, hanging over those towards which he wanted to extend his kindness - simply because he’s been kept out of the loop (again)- Peeta’s anger is quite understandable

“Look, boy-” Haymitch begins. “Don’t bother, Haymitch. I know you had to choose one of us. And I’d have wanted it to be her. But this is something different. People are dead out there. More will follow unless we’re very good.” - Peeta doesn’t really care if it’s just his life on the line, but if other people’s lives are at risk? He takes no shit (it’s admirable in one way and deeply concerning in another); also, Peeta is right - while there still is a game to play, it’s not the Games, so different circumstances and rules apply

“From now on, you’ll be fully informed,” Haymitch promises. “I better be,” says Peeta. - Peeta generally is a very cooperative fellow, but don’t ever think he can’t be forceful and stand his ground when it matters!

“Did you choose me, Haymitch?” I ask. “Yeah,” he says. “Why? You like him better,” I say. “That’s true. But remember, until they changed the rules, I could only hope to get one of you out of there alive,” he says. “I thought since he was determined to protect you, well, between the three of us, we might be able to bring you home.” “Oh,” is all I can think to say. - This is such a quiet, sweet moment and also shows that Katniss, Haymitch and Peeta have been some sort of team from the start (also, in their team effort they actually managed to get the both of them back home!)

Everything is happening too fast for me to process it. The warning, the shootings, the recognition that I may have set something of great consequence in motion. The whole thing is so improbable. And it would be one thing if I had planned to stir things up, but given the circumstances... how on earth did I cause so much trouble? - Lol, you’re giving yourself a little too much credit here, Katniss ;) Frankly, the Capitol has been the one to create this powder-keg they are sitting on in the first place - all it needed was a little spark... All these injustices, the humilitation, the pain inflicted... it’s like an elastic rubber band that’s been stretched and stretched - until it snaps

“I’m something of an expert in architectural design, you know?” “Oh yes, I’ve heard that,” says Portia before the pause gets too long. - Bless Portia’s heart, making sure they avoid that awkward silence 😂

Effie looks so distressed that I spontaneously give her a hug. “That’s awful, Effie. Maybe we shouldn’t go to the dinner at all. At least until they’ve apologized.” - Aww, Katniss doing something nice for Effie!😊

Peeta and I join hands. “Haymitch says I was wrong to yell at you. You were only operating under his instructions,” says Peeta. “And it isn’t as if I haven’t kept things from you in the past.” - Peeta sorta apologizing, even acknowledging that he also had kept secrets from Katniss? We love to see it👍 - [...] “I think I broke a few things myself after that interview.” “Just an urn,” he says. - Peetaaa... stop diminishing your own physical injuries! Good thing that Katniss won’t let him: - “And your hands. There’s no point to it anymore though, is there? Not being straight with each other?” I say. “No point,” says Peeta. - Gasp! Honest, open communication as a good basis for a successful relationship? It’s more likely than you think!

“Was that really the only time you kissed Gale?” I’m so startled I answer. “Yes.” With all that has happened today, has that question actually been preying on him? - Peeta, you sly dog! Your priorities 😂

Some crowds have the weary-cattle feel that I know District 12 usually projects at the victors’ ceremonies. But in others - particularly 8, 4, and 3 - there is genuine elation in the faces of the people at the sight of us, and under the elation, fury. - I do think that it’s interesting how D4 is one of the districts being elated to see Peeta + Katniss and displaying such fury, despite being a Career district; just goes to show that, just because their odds are better at winning the Games, doesn’t have to make them more simpatico with the Capitol’s cruelty... (Considering how Finnick knows how to perform CPR, it’s highly likely that people in D4 are also used to awful and precarious working + living situations... maybe that’s exactly why they generally are so robust and do well in the Games; and maybe they are simply not that above joining the other Careers as long as it improves their chances of survival, like Katniss or Thresh had been... worked for a while for Peeta, too)

Effie starts giving me pills to sleep, but they don’t work. [...] Peeta, who spends much of the night roaming the train, hears me screaming as I struggle to break out of the haze of drugs that merely prolong the horrible dreams. He manages to wake me and calm me down. Then he climbs into bed to hold me until I fall back to sleep. After that, I refuse the pills. But every night I let him into my bed. We manage the darkness as we did in the arena, wrapped in each other’s arms. - 😭 Also: Very telling how Capitolite Effie just throws pills at the problem (with the best of intentions, I’m sure), which is an immediate, unpersonal, and superficial solution at best, whereas Peeta holding Katniss, offering comfort, understanding, a sense of safety, and human connection is so much more personal, intimate, and effective (for both of them!)

I personally killed the girl, Glimmer, and the boy from District 1. As I try to avoid looking at his family, I learn that his name was Marvel. How did I never know that? - You know why, Katniss - I suppose that before the Games I didn’t pay attention and afterward I didn’t want to know. - Still, not knowing his name didn’t stop you from humanizing him, Katniss, and that’s important, too

Whatever we do seems too little, too late. Back in our old quarters in the Training Center, I’m the one who suggests the public marriage proposal. Peeta agrees to do it but then disappears to his room for a long time. Haymitch tells me to leave him alone. “I thought he wanted it, anyway,” I say. “Not like this,” Haymitch says. “He wanted it to be real.” - Come on, Katniss, don’t be so callous; Peeta’s just as much of a prisoner here as you! Also, it’s all about being real or not real with these two, isn’t it?

Chapter 6

... you would think that at this moment, I would be in utter despair. Here’s what’s strange. The main thing I feel is a sense of relief. That I can give up this game. [...] That if desperate times call for desperate measures, then I am free to act as desperately as I wish. - Honestly, I think it was pretty short-sighted of Snow to let Katniss know so clearly that she didn’t succeed in her task; she did her utmost and it wasn’t enough - might as well fling caution to the wind now. All bets are off. If there had been still some small chance she could have ‘made things right’, she probably would have been trying harder to comply to his expectations. (I’m sure Snow thought the upcoming implementations of his stricter regime would be enough to keep Katniss in check, but pride comes before a fall ¯\_(ツ)_/¯)

It’s essential to get back to District 12, because the main part of any plan will include my mother and sister, Gale and his family. And Peeta, If I can get him to come with us. I add Haymitch to the list. - For such a ‘loner’, Katniss sure has a lot of people that are important to her... And how ironic that Peeta, who she isn’t sure she’ll be able to convince in following her will be a much more willing participant that Gale, who Katniss is pretty much banking on joining her

“You’ll probably have to pass a new law,” I say with a giggle. “If that’s what it takes,” says the president with conspiratorial good humor. Oh the fun we two have together. - The dynamic between Snow and Katniss is so strange; despite the obvious antagonism there is definitely some vibe of interacting with each other at eye level and it’s weird (Sidenote: Is there any law in Panem preventing minors from marrying?)

“I want to taste everything in the room, “ I tell Peeta. [...] “Then you’d better pace yourself,” he says. “Okay, not more than one bite of each dish,” I say. My resolve is almost immediately broken at the first table, which has twenty or so soups - couldn’t have happened to me; I hate soup (like, thick soups I maaaybe can get behind, but clear soup/broth is just flavored water to me, no thanks - then again, I’m a picky eater)

Peeta and I make no effort to find company but are constantly sought out. We are what no one wants to miss at the party. I act delighted, but I have zero interest in these Capitol people. They are only distractions from the food. - Well isn’t that a mood for every social gathering ever (one person I enjoy talking to and lots of food I like? Perfect.)

I pick up a small roasted bird, bite into it, and my tongue floods with orange sauce. Delicious. But I make Peeta eat the remainder because I want to keep tasting things - Katniss seems to like the combination of meat and fruit, huh? (the lamb and plums, now bird and orange sauce) Personally, it’s a combination that’s on thin ice for me; there are only a few dishes with that component I actually like and it took me forever to tolerate them (I don’t know if it’s the texture or the taste, but something makes me apprehensive about it); anyway, Katniss making Peeta eat the rest is such a casual, couple-y thing to do (or at least something you do with someone you feel very comfortable with, I think)

Peeta looks at the glass again and puts it together. “You mean this will make me puke?” My prep team laughs hysterically. “Of course, so you can keep eating,” says Octavia. “I’ve been in there twice already. Everyone does it, or else how would you have any fun at a feast?” I’m speechless, staring at the pretty little glasses and all they imply. - Oh boy, I have a lot of thoughts on this part: A) I just noticed how this is the second delicate/fancy glass/drink that’s bringing about a jarring revelation: first that orange juice with the frilly straw in THG, now these tiny wine-stemmed glasses, B) “Everyone does it” + “how else would you have fun?” are the shittiest reasons I’ve ever heard at a party for doing something stupid you probably don’t want to do (I’m having flashbacks to all the times I had people trying to pressure me into drinking alcohol as a teen - it was even legal, btw - although I insisted that I didn’t like the taste (which I still don’t, to this day); it was tiresome 😑), C) “everyone does it” - the people in the Capitol must have some messed up teeth if that’s a regular occurence (sure, they probably bleach their teeth all the time, but also... they’d really need to, D) the obvious: how effed up that they just puke to stuff in more food when in the districts people literally are dying from starvation?! (and yeah, unequal distribution of resources sadly isn’t just a thing in Panem, I know... but there is something about actively purging yourself just for funsies that’s just extra, well, sick)

All I can think of is the emaciated bodies of the children on our kitchen table as my mother prescribes what the parents cannot give. More food. - God, how awful! How powerless they must feel 😟

And here in the Capitol they’re vomiting for the pleasure of filling their bellies again and again. Not from some illness of body or mind, not from spoiled food. - Ooh, I’ve never noticed before how this passage not only recognizes physical reasons for purging, but also mental reasons! Wouldn’t have necessarily expected Katniss to acknowledge eating disorders like that, tbh... She has become a lot more cognizant and sensitive when mental health issues are concerned

One day when I dropped by to give Hazelle the game, Vick was home sick with a bad cough [...] he still spent about fifteen minutes talking about how they’d opened a can of corn syrup from Parcel Day and each had a spoonful on bread and were going to maybe have more later in the week. How Hazelle had said he could have a bit in a cup of tea to soothe his cough, but he wouldln’t feel right unless the others had some, too. - Aww, Vick is such a sweetheart! Hazelle is raising her kids right!

“Peeta, they bring us here to fight to the death for their entertainment,”I say. “Really, this is nothing by comparison.” “I know. I know that. It’s just sometimes I can’t stand it anymore. To the point where... I’m not sure what I’ll do.” He pauses, then whispers, “Maybe we were wrong, Katniss.” “About what?” I ask. “About trying to subdue things in the districts,” he says. - Peeta’s rebellious nature coming through again!

“Sorry,” he says. He should be. This is no place to be voicing such thoughts. “Save it for home,” I tell him. - I know Katniss means D12, but her phrasing of “home” evokes a more domestic, couple-y connotation again 😊

I don’t want to dance with Plutarch Heavensbee. I don’t want to feel his hands, one resting against mine, one on my hip. I’m not used to being touched, except by Peeta or my family, and I rank Gamemakers somewhere below maggots in terms of creatures I want in contact with my skin. - It’s telling that, while Katniss is not big on being touched aside from her family (does that include Gale? probably? although they hadn’t even really hugged until Katniss had been reaped, so... I dunno), she’s totally fine with Peeta touching her (more than that: remember how good she felt holding his hand again in Ch.4 and how she’s feeling safe in his arms when they are sharing a bed), it says a lot about how comfortable she feels around him

Plutarch steps back and pulls out a gold watch on a chain from a vest pocket. He flips open the lid, sees the time, and frowns. “I’ll have to be going soon.” He turns the watch so I can see the face. “It starts at midnight.” - Honestly, this very subtle hint/foreshadowing of the clock setup of the Quarter Quell arena is simply brilliant! And also, midnight is going to become an important point in time as well from here on out (lightning tree, in the hanging tree song, saving Peeta and the others from the Training Center in the Capitol)

It’s another mockingjay. Exactly like the pin on my dress. Only this one disappears. He snaps the watch closed. “That’s very pretty,” I say. “Oh, it’s more than pretty. It’s one of a kind,” he says. - The disappearing mockingjay on the clock is interesting because A) Plutarch can’t really be flaunting the symbol of rebellion as Head Gamemaker, duh, but also B) the clock arena will be the place where the Mockingjay will disappear (until the rebellion will be able to use her for their cause); and that last comment by Plutarch clearly is aimed at the Mockingjay (Katniss) herself

When I open my eyes, it’s early afternoon. My head rests on Peeta’s arm. I don’t remember him coming in last night. - Okay, Katniss must feel hella safe and used to Peeta joining her in her bed, because apparently she didn’t even wake up when he did, like... I’m a fairly heavy sleeper, but I can’t imagine sleeping so deeply that I wouldn’t jerk awake if someone crawled into my bed while I was snoozing

“No nightmare,” he says. “What?” I ask. “You didn’t have any nightmares last night,” he says. He’s right. For the first time in ages I’ve slept through the night. - Telling how the first time Katniss sleeps through the night is after Snow let her know her performance wasn’t enough; she’s must have been so tense and on edge, desperately trying to calm down the districts and convince Snow, that she hadn’t been able to sleep properly, aside from the obvious sleeping issues she’d have from the PTSD (I’m often that way before an important exam - especially if it’s an oral exam; I get tense just thinking about it 😓)

“I had a dream, though,” I say, thinking back. “I was following a mockingjay though the woods. For a long time. It was Rue, really. I mean, when it sang, it had her voice.” “Where did she take you?” he says, brushing my hair off my forehead. “I don’t know. We never arrived,” I say. “But I felt happy.” - Interesting how in Katniss’s dream, the mockingjay is Rue - lending further credence to the hypothesis that maybe Rue was originally meant to be the Mockingjay (would make Plutarch’s comment of the mockingjay being “one of a kind” a bit more hypocritical/exaggerated/dramatized, which still fits with his flair for propaganda/showmanship... and ultimately, Katniss as the Mockingjay was unique, but that doesn’t mean that the rebellion couldn’t have made someone else their symbol if they needed to); also, Peeta brushing Katniss’s hair off her forehead is so sweet and intimate 😊

After I got home, we [Madge and I] started spending time together. [...] It was a little awkward at first because we didn’t know what to do. Other girls our age, I’ve heard them talking about boys, or other girls, or clothes. Madge and I aren’t gossipy and clothes bore me to tears. But after a few false starts, I realized she was dying to go into the woods, so I’ve taken her a couple of times and showed her how to shoot. She’s trying to teach me the piano, but mostly I like to listen to her play. - Honestly? I’d love to read a fanfic about Katniss and Madge figuring out their friendship (let me know if there already are some!); it’s cute how they end up including each other in their hobbies 😊 Ah, the classic “I’m/We’re not like other girls”, which often is especially prevalent during your teen years (I’d be lying if I said that I haven’t been gulty of this in my past 😅)... Katniss might actually would have benefited from talking with Madge about her boys’ troubles, though... And it’s so funny how Katniss admits that she has no interest in clothes, despite it being her supposed “talent”, while she also admits that she does admire Cinna’s work

... there’s a mob scene. The square’s packed with screaming people, their faces hidden with rags and homemade masks, throwing bricks. Building burn. Peacekeepers shoot into the crowd, killing at random. I’ve never seen anything like it - I... I have. At least on tv... In different places, at different times, but... yeah...

#thgagain #thg #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #haymitch abernathy #everlark #thg meta #my sketches and drawings #honestly there were so many scenes in these 3 chapter that I wanted to draw... but I barely had the time for these 2 #Catching Fire is just chock-full with interesting/important moments... my book is more post-it notes than pages at this point

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nanamismoonchild · 3 years

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chapter 3- entrance

pairing: god!namjoon x goddess!reader

genre: fluff, angst, smut , greek god based au

warnings: this chapter is chill :D

wc; ~1.6k

Summary: You’re a beauty. He is handsome. You’re Life. He is Death. You love him. But does he love you? There’s only one way to found out. And it’s by being the Queen.

A/N: ngl im starting to love oc/reader persephone. what do yall think?

prev/next

The journey to the Underworld was quicker than you had imagined it would be. Possibly because of Jungkook rowing quickly across the Styx in a hurry to meet your demand. The ferryman was afraid of going any slower than he usually did in case you decided to feed him the other drachma that hung from your ear. It was not as pleasant as you expected it to be. You could hear the agonizing moans of the Wraiths who lurked around the river Styx. They were doomed to be there for at least one hundred years as a result of not being able to pay the dreaded fee.

The boat rocked back and forth, some of the water sloshing onto your feet. It was cramped and you could feel your backside begin to hurt from falling and from sitting on the bare floor of the dingy boat.

Thankfully, the ride was over soon. The blue man helped you off of the boat while Jungkook was forced to glance at everything but you. Probably because you were now wet and naked, something you hoped to remedy soon.

“The entrance to the Underworld is just beyond the hill. I’m afraid your friend will meet Hecate as soon as he crosses the threshold. I am very ashamed of how I treated you Persephone. I beg your forgiveness,” Jungkook’s hoarse voice pleaded. He knelt down in front of you and kissed your feet.

How sweet.

“I will think about it. I still have to meet your ruler. Where would he be located?”

“In the throne room. He’s usually always there. I-I will escort you there.”

“There are too many dead people waiting to be taken across. I will guide myself. A throne room should not be hard to find. Consider yourself dismissed.”

You took the blue man’s hand and marched towards the entrance to the Underworld. It was strikingly brighter than the rest of the domain. The symbol of Namjoon, a large cornucopia that spilled its bountiful contents while a scepter was embedded into it, was the golden highlight of the door. It was most definitely the only welcoming sight you had seen thus far.

You could hear growling on the other side.

Your mother had told you many stories of the land of the dead. They had been as dull as a well-used sword. The sheer boredom from listening to your mother tell the tales had put you to sleep as a child. Hearing the growls of the multiheaded dog named Cerberus, who guarded the entrance into the Underworld, made you wish you paid more attention to them. You had no idea how to pass the guard. Killing it was surely not an option. You had no plans to upset the God of the Underworld with any of your reckless behavior.

Unless it was in self-defense.

Cerberus’s growling became louder as you neared the golden door. The energy from the door was making the Blue Man shake with nervousness. You were shaking as well, but it was mostly from the cold air that wrapped around your naked body. Hopefully, someone in the castle would offer you something to wear. That or you’d simply just steal the clothes off of the nearest servant.

“How do you even open this door? It’s huge!” You exclaimed as the both of you stared at the door.

The Blue Man shrugged and gestured a pushing motion. He hadn’t spoken since the two of you dropped down into the Underworld. Perhaps he was afraid of you after the stunt with the ferryman. Good.

“You want me to push the door? By myself?” The Blue Man shook his head quickly. “That’s what I thought. We’ll push together on the count of three and once it opens, even a little, I want you to peek over and see if the guard is near. I do not have the time for running for my life in the Underworld.”

The Blue Man nodded again and placed his hands on the door, putting himself into a lunging position, prepared to push on the door with all of his ghostly might. You mirrored his stance.

“On three, one, two, three, push!”

Both of you pushed and immediately fell faces first into the threshold of the entrance. The door might have seemed heavy, but it was the entrance to the underworld. It was as light as a door to a home.

Groaning, you sat up on your knees and took a peek at your surroundings. Cerberus was nowhere to be seen but his growling could still be heard in the distance.

The door had spilled you and the blue man onto a pathway that forked into two paths. The ferryman had mentioned Hecate, and if you remembered correctly, the goddess ruled over crossroads among other things. The fork was obviously a crossroad but where was the goddess?

“Dear Persephone. There are many crossroads here in the Underworld. This is the one your little friend is supposed to see,” the goddess’s voice echoed as she appeared behind you.

You startled and swiftly spun around to face her. Hecate had a knowledgeable smile on her face.

“He knows what he must do. I have set up a nice set of decisions for him. He can choose to live and be reborn in Elysium. He has done many good things in his life. Or the other option is to live as a servant to Namjoon. Perfect right?”

“I do believe that is as fair as it comes. You are very generous.”

You turned towards the man who was turning a lot less blue. You could just make out his facial features. He was handsome for someone who lived poorly. His hair was nicely combed into a fashion that men wore these days-a side part that showcased his broad forehead. His jaw was set in thought as he pondered his decision. This was his fate.

He took a hesitant step towards the path as if he were weighing the benefits and outcomes of each path. You could only imagine what he could be thinking about.

He could be reborn, but what if his new life was even harder than the last. He wouldn’t remember his old family, his children, his wife. He would have to create new memories, good or bad, if the new life let him.

On the other hand, who knew what the ruler of the Underworld would have him do. He could live out his eternity behind in the castle walls, bowing to every command. He had possibly about the kindness Namjoon showed his servants and the freedom they were allowed. He only requested they complete their duties.

Could he live with that? Could he live with knowing that he would be allowed to remember his old family, and possibly see them in the future when they grew old or died an early death such as he did?

The man took several more steps before he was bounding towards the path that led to the right. And then he was gone.

“What a wonderful choice he made,” Hecate sighed dreamily at your side. She was holding a torch that had manifested in her hand as the blue man’s light disappeared.

“What choice did he make?”

“I cannot tell you, Persephone. But I do think you’ll find out soon. The throne room is just beyond that same path. I’m sure Namjoon is waiting for you. Goodbye.”

After answering and not answering your question, Hecate disappeared leaving only a white mist in her wake. Fortunately, she did leave the torch that floated in her place. Grabbing it, you straighten your shoulders and step into the same path the man had taken only moments ago.

The man had simply vanished but the path before you seemed to stretch on for the gods know how long.

“Of course, it would be hard for me. It isn’t my crossroad to walk on,” you muttered to yourself and continued on.

You were beginning to regret not turning around (a first for you) before you heard the murmuring of voices. You started running in the direction of the voices.

Please, please, please, let there be a fire or something. My body is on the verge of hypothermia.

The murmurs were becoming louder and you could make out a faint glow.

Finally. Finally.

You burst out into a crowded room. The murmurs had been coming from the servants who were surrounding something in the middle of the room. They were all dressed in a mix of black, white, and grey clothing. There was a fire near where you had come from, so you snuck over to get a little warmth and to eavesdrop.

“Oh wow. Someone new!”

“He could take over my extra duties.”

“No mine!”

“Why did someone so handsome choose to become a servant?”

“Everyone, shush! Our King is coming.”

The crowd quieted down as loud but calculated footsteps resounded through the room. Everyone was holding their breath, including you. You had never met Namjoon in person as he preferred to stay in his domain.

Nothing prepared you for the man in front of you. Your mother had always made it sound as if he were the most average man alive.

He was nothing like that. Namjoon was exceptionally darker than the proposed pale that your mother had told. He held himself with an aura of royalty.

Namjoon made his way up to his throne where he stood tall and proud in front of his audience.

“We have a newcomer today,” his deep tenor resonated through the room, “Please come up and introduce yourself to me before I sit.”

The man who you had journeyed with kneeled before Namjoon. He was dressed in the servant’s clothing and his brown hair was pulled back into a bun.

“My name is Kim Seokjin. And it was an honor to serve you today, by leading the woman who you have been desiring to you.”

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seattlesea · 3 years

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bad representation in the riordanverse

Racism:

-Gave Hazel and Piper gold and ‘kaleidoscope’/brown-blue-green changing eyes and pretty much went ‘Let’s add some characters of color but they cANT HAVE BROWN EYES THAT’S NOT PRETTY ENOUGH’ as if whitewashing isn’t more than just the skin.

-East Asian characters: Riordan pretty much went 'Here are my East Asian characters- one of them looks like a fat baby on steroids and is super undeveloped, his mother is strict and cold, and all the others are just described as 'Asian' because different countries in Asia don't exist and there's obviously no difference between Japanese, Chinese, and Korean'. His portrayal of East Asian characters went like this: Frank: Chinese, chubby, hates himself, underdeveloped, described to look like a 'Chinese Canadian baby man' and a 'panda' as if that's not stereotyping, and only learned to love himself when he looked hotter. Drew: Asian, villainized, rude, shallow, vain, and selfish. Ethan: Asian, rude, evil, a traitor, and deceased. Grandma Zhang- rude, strict, cold, traditional, and deceased.

-Hazel: Has gold eyes. Has 'cinnamon brown' hair even though dark brown or black hair would be way more inclusive and realistic. Had a mother portrayed as a rude and selfish witch who sacrificed, used, and trafficked her own child. Was the only character called or described as a witch while African-Americans were usually accused of witchcraft just for their skin color. Was the only character who was cursed. Had a mother who literally practiced voodoo. The only African-American character in the series before ToA who isn't dead (but she also died). Was paired with a sixteen year old guy even though African women are constantly forced with older men and that's blatantly racist stereotyping.

-Piper: Had 'chocolate brown' and then 'mahogany' hair? Has kaleidoscope eyes. Put a feather in her hair (which is stereotyping)- and it was an eagle feather, which is also wrong because eagles are extremely sacred to First Nation tribes and only spiritual leaders or warriors can wear it or it has to be gifted by an Elder of the tribe, and Riordan basically went 'Feathers are very important and it's racist to make a character wear one at inappropriate times but I'm going to make my character wear one as a cute accessory to make her look cool, pretty, and headstrong and to add to her 'Aesthetic'’ even though Cherokees didn’t wear feathers (which proves he did the bare minimum of research). Constantly oversexualized (56% of First Nation women are sexually harassed and Riordan had the audacity to put Piper in an 'embarrassingly low v-neck' and to have her constantly drooled over by a WHITE MALE and have her sexualized by her 1000+ mother without her knowledge or consent). It's said that her father was from a reservation in Oklahoma...but there are no reservations in Oklahoma, only cultural centers (which also proves that he did the bare minimum of research). She's the only First Nations character and she's the only character (besides Nancy Bobofit) depicted as a kleptomaniac (First Nations people are constantly called thieves by racist assholes). “The week before, he’d turned down several million dollars to play Tonto in a remake of The Lone Ranger. Piper was still trying to figure out why. He’d played all kinds of roles—a Latino teacher in a tough L.A. school, a dashing Israeli spy in an action-adventure blockbuster, even a Syrian terrorist in a James Bond movie. And, of course, he would always be known as the King of Sparta. But if the part was Native American—it didn’t matter what kind of role it was—Dad turned it down.” (The Lost Hero, page 165). So her father is fine with playing an extremely racist and stereotypical Middle Eastern role but not a First Nations role. Uses a cornucopia as a weapon (how she got it- cutting it off a half-bull- is disrespectful to her culture as hurting an animal is banned and she used a cornucopia- a symbol of Thanksgiving- as a weapon). Cut her hair, which is basically taboo in First Nations culture.

-Samirah: Had an arranged marriage (at age twelve, and she believed that she was groomed to be married to a rich and respectable family and nothing else). Ripped off her hijab in front of tons of male characters. The only Muslim character. The only Muslim character and she's the only character who married her cousin (you're supposed to break stereotypes, not enforce them).

Thomas Jefferson Jr: Said that he was thankful to the British for not siding with the South during the American Civil War even though they needed the South's cotton (but they didn't side with the North either). AKA a black man and son of a freed slave was thankful to Britain for not openly oppressing him? And at the same time he was named after a racist slave-owner.

Reyna: She's brown and her entire story revolves around her being independent, strong, alone, and self-sufficient but also desperately needing love and support but then Riordan says that she can't get her heart healed AKA she went through an abusive home, killed her father, left her sister, felt alone her whole life, worked a two-person job alone for months, and had to put on a brave face for others throughout all this then was literally told 'Shut up no one wants to hear about your struggles, just suck it up and deal with it’ and have you seen all the shit brown girls have to go through and keep silent about it?

Extra: -Latino, Puerto Rican, African-American, Chinese-Canadian, East Asian, First Nations, etc. characters and the two most powerful, best, and most skilled characters and who the stories mostly revolve around are two white guys AKA white supremacy.

-"Harriet Tubman, daughter of Hermes, used many mortals on her Underground Railroad for just this reason" and that World War II was caused by a child of Zeus and a child of Hades fighting very blatantly erases the shit those people went through and Riordan just went 'Let's use these racist movements as little easter eggs in my story'.

-Thanatos, who was chained and enslaved, is described with dark skin.

-Riordan writing the characters went a little something like this: Drew: You get common Eastern Asian features like dark hair and eyes because you're arrogant, selfish, conceited, and rude, and because you're an antagonist and you're going to be used to make one of my protagonists- who has unique traits- look good so you're going to have the basic, 'boring' physical traits so the readers know who's the more superior of the two of you. Leo: You get common Latino features like curly dark hair, dark eyes, and light brown skin cause you're the weird, hyperactive unattractive one who's very flirty but constantly gets rejected and you're the only main character without a love interest and the only way you can get a girlfriend is when she's forced to fall in love with you through a curse. Frank: You get common Chinese features like dark hair and eyes cause you're the fat unattractive loser who catches the eye of the African character who already has unique and 'special' traits so you don't have to be super attractive. Reyna: You get common Puerto Rican traits like dark skin, hair, and eyes cause you're the stoic, lonely, intimidating, and cold one who wants all the guys (two white guys for that matter) but none of them want you and they both have girlfriends with traits like blonde hair and gray and kaleidoscope eyes so the readers know who are the more interesting couples. Piper and Hazel: You two get eurocentric features because you're the main characters I have to set apart from everyone else- including other females whom I'm going to make one of you rivals with- so the readers know who's more superior so I'm giving you unique eye colors that literally cannot be found in humans so I'm going to try to validate it by saying that it's from something mildly associated with your godly parent even though neither of them have those traits. Riordan basically said that the common features are bad and boring and that unique and special features- aka features not found in those ethnicities- are good and cool. Also- if gods don’t have DNA how can their traits be passed down to their demigod children checkmate Riordan.

-Cecil Markowitz is the only Jewish character in PJO and the first thing used to describe him is "That kid, always thinking about the potential payout".

-Lavinia said that she was going to bring her date to her bat mitzvah even though you don't bring dates to bat mitzvahs or bar mitzvahs and she said that it was 'awkward' to tell her rabbi that someone was going to be her date even though you don't explain your guestlist to your rabbi, and they're most likely not even going to be at the party.

-Only three Latino and Puerto Rican characters (Leo, Reyna, and Hylla) and all three came from abusive households.

-Leo said 'Mamacita' as if that's not stereotyping.

-Made Nico ‘pale’ even though he had olive skin and gave him black hair and dark eyes despite Italians usually having light hair and eyes just to add to his ‘Goth Boy Aesthetic’.

-Hazel described Pluto to look like Adolf Hitler.

-Carter Kane said that Elvis took African-American music and made it sound like rock 'n roll and described it as cool- like no it’s cultural appropriation.

-Leo was abused and Riordan thought that it'd be funny to make all the other characters line up to punch him and then try to make it look funny.

-Gave almost every single POC character a white name and sometimes gave them white first names and POC surnames, and Reyna and Bianca are the only POC characters with names from their culture/native language and one of them is dead and reborn as someone else and the other’s full name wasn’t revealed until the fourth book in her series and she hates using it.

-Made two POC characters with names from their culture- Samirah and Olujime- go by white nicknames (Sam and Jamie) to make it ‘easier to read’ despite having white characters with the same amount of syllables in their names (like Annabeth) that didn’t go by nicknames.

-Never actually described the characters of color with physical traits from their ethnicities (Reyna, Hylla, and Leo with big eyes, thick eyebrows, brown hair, wide noses, full lips, etc., Piper with almost-oriental eyes, shovel teeth, high cheekbones, black hair, etc., Nico with light or brown hair and eyes, olive skin, a narrow nose, etc., Hazel with a wide nose and lips, dark brown eyes, black or dark brown hair, big eyes, thick eyebrows, etc.).

Anti-LGBTQ+:

-Nico was forcibly outed by Cupid and Riordan and the fandom didn't care and the only thing they thought was 'Aww, he has a crush on Percy! So cute!' AKA romanticizing a forced outing.

-Riordan said that he didn't want to make Reyna lesbian or bisexual because he thought it'd be stereotypical making her LGBTQ+ because she didn't want men anymore even though she could've been bisexual all along but Riordan casually dismissed the idea of that saying "Having a girl end up with a woman after dating men is a bad stereotype" and basically said that real bi girls don’t exist.

-The Hunters of Artemis were made so Artemis/Diana could protect those girls from men and their behavior towards women but Riordan dismissed lesbian relationships- even though nothing about that was said in real Greek mythology- meaning that he thinks that women need protection from other women just as much as they need protection from men.

-Alex Fierro is the only gender-fluid or transgender character and she/he’s seen as rude, snarky, and sharp and Magnus could magically tell when Alex changed gender.

-Riordan said that he wouldn’t make Reyna a lesbian because of stereotypes despite the reader asking if Reyna was going to get a girlfriend, not come out as lesbian AKA Riordan thinks ‘Girls liking girls’ is automatically ‘lesbian’ and completely dismissed bi, pan, poly, omni, etc. girls.

-Used a self-insert to make fun of wlw readers who saw themself in Reyna and thought she could be a cool character to relate to.

-Enforced LGBTQ+ stereotypes like the cold-hearted Asexual, the flamboyant bi/pan, the snarky gender-fluid, the emo gay, the laid-back and rebellious lesbian who dyed her hair pink and chews a lot of bubblegum, etc.

-Has one-hundred fifty-five characters total minus gods/goddesses, Titans, giants, nymphs, dryads, satyrs, monsters, etc. and only has fifteen confirmed LGBTQ+ characters (do the math, that’s exactly one out of ten regarding OCs).

-Only one character that isn’t cishet.

-Saves most the LGBTQ+ for the side characters or only confirms characters LGBTQ+ once they’ve become a minor character despite being a main character before.

-Only stated that Reyna was Asexual outside of his books and on Twitter as if that’s not exactly what J.K Rowling is doing.

-Used the LGBTQ+ community to make Piper seem like the ‘special snowflake’ and to set her apart from her siblings to make it seem like she’s better than all of them and used Hera/Juno and Aphrodite/Venus as excuses for his homophobic mindset that believes that straight is the default cause “Suddenly, much of what she and I had talked about started to make sense. Not being defined by Aphrodite’s expectations. Or Hera’s ideas of what a perfect couple looked like. Piper finding her own way, not the one people expected of her” in synonymous words is 'The expectations for love and the idea of a perfect couple are a heterosexual relationship, and anyone who 'finds their own way instead of the ones people expect' are different'. ‘Different’ and ‘default’ are antonyms AKA if he thinks that LGBTQ+ people are ‘different’, he thinks that straight is the ‘default’. Remember- an author writes their own personal beliefs.

-Josephine is the only black LGBTQ+ character.

-Reyna is said to be Asexual despite feeling sexual attraction towards Percy cause no one likes someone five minutes after knowing them and it’s anything but sexual attraction.

-Magnus and Alex are the only LGBTQ+ relationship whose growth and development is actually shown in the story (while there was also Apollo and Commodus, Piper and Shel, Will and Nico, Apollo and Hyacinthus, Emmie and Jo, Lavinia and Poison Oak, etc.).

-Riordan never canonically said the name of any sexuality and is clearly uncomfortable with the LGBTQ+ community shown by his little to no writing regarding physical affection and deep emotions in his LGBTQ+ relationships.

-Only added in LGBTQ+ relationships for publicity- Percy Jackson and the Olympians release dates: 2005-2009. 2005-2009: LGBTQ+ support was nearly at an all-time low. No LGBTQ+ characters, relationships, or references in the books. The Lost Hero-The Mark of Athena release dates: 2010-2012. 2010-2012: LGBTQ+ support was still very low. Still no LGBTQ+ characters, relationships, or references in the books. The House of Hades release date: late 2013. Mid-2013: the giant spike for LGBTQ+ support and allies. One confirmed LGBTQ+ character. The Sword of Summer release date: late 2015. 2015: LGBTQ+ support was good and gay marriage was legalized. A few LGBTQ+ references but no confirmed characters. The Hammer of Thor and The Ship of the Dead release dates: 2016-2017. 2016-2017: LGBTQ+ support was quite high. Two confirmed LGBTQ+ characters and the first canon LGBTQ+ relationship and kiss. The Trials of Apollo release dates: 2016-2020. 2016-2020: LGBTQ+ support was very high. More LGBTQ+ characters confirmed in one book than all the other series combined. Kind of obvious he was just following the public opinion.

-Legit said ‘Reyna can’t like girls cause she has had crushes on guys before’.

Ableism:

-It was heavily implied in The Battle of the Labyrinth that Rachel Dare had schizophrenia/psychosis but it's never brought up again.

-Grover's fake feet made it look like he was disabled from the Mist and it was said that he was bullied because of it but it was never brought up again.

-It was said that Tyson looked like he had down syndrome from the Mist covering his one eye but it was never brought up again.

-It was stated that every character but Frank has ADHD and dyslexia but never actually showed any symptoms after Percy Jackson and the Olympians and characters like Piper and Leo were even able to read English writing throughout The Lost Hero and the only symptom of ADHD Riordan showed through his characters was ‘a lot of fidgeting’ as if that’s not a blatant stereotype.

Pedophilia:

-Luke, a twenty-two/twenty-three year old had a crush on Annabeth, a sixteen year old. That's a six-seven year age gap.

-The only two girls put into relationships with much older men are black (Hazel and Sadie).

-Hazel, a thirteen year old, got together with a sixteen year old guy. Hazel's crush on Frank is normal- a girl having a crush on an older guy, but Frank's crush on Hazel is disgusting- an older guy looking down at a child and thinking about making out with her.

Misogyny:

-Aphrodite's kids are seen as useless, weak, snobby, shallow, vain, and selfish just because they’re feminine.

-Riordan portrayed Aphrodite’s kids as feminine despite Aphrodite being the goddess of love and beauty, not femininity, as if romance and beauty are reserved for women only.

-Piper is the only 'tomboy' child of Aphrodite and she's portrayed as tougher, stronger, and better than her feminine siblings (and it's portrayed that way multiple times throughout the story like other characters telling Piper she’s "-tough for a child of Aphrodite").

-Piper immediately stereotyped and disliked every single feminine character like Drew and the rest of the Aphrodite cabin just because they liked makeup and skirts as if that’s not shallow criticism.

-Feminine characters like Drew, Isabel, Khione, and Medea are used or even created solely as antagonists to make Piper- the tomboy- look better.

-Calypso is the only feminine character and she sucks at everything.

-Riordan’s take on female characters: Drew: a vain, rude, selfish, snobby, and bitchy mean girl. Silena: a shallow traitor. Reyna: a cold-hearted robot. Piper: internalized misogyny that was never brought up again. Calypso: an island whore. Athena: a rude, aggressive bitch with no emotions. Aphrodite: shallow, vain, conceited, and self-centered. Hera: completely evil with no backstory added into it. Marie: an evil witch who selfishly used and sacrificed her daughter.

-The Hunters of Artemis were blessed by Artemis to protect them from men but Riordan made it only about the men in their lives (again) and portrayed the whole 'losing men' thing like it was a burden and that they're 'giving men up' even though they join the Hunters to leave men. He distorted the original meaning of the Hunters- protecting women- by making it about the Hunters hating and being forced to leave men even though they're asking to have no men in their lives, cause that's the point of it.

-The Amazons and Hunters of Artemis despise men and literally attack them if they so much as speak as if sexism is reserved for women only.

-Portrayed femininity as weakness (and masculinity as strength, it’s even in the word- tomBOY).

-Constantly pit women against women for the sake of romance and love triangles instead of normalizing women getting along despite liking the same people and let the female’s relationships get controlled and influenced by the men in their lives.

-The men always outpower the women in powers and skills. Riordan’s portrayal of powers and characters- Percy: You’re going to have epic water powers and can even create your own personal hurricanes and even though you’ve only been canonically training for eight months total you’re going to be the best swordfighter despite multiple characters having years more training than you. Jason: You’re going to be able to fly, control lightning, create storms, and electric shock people into another dimension. Leo: You’re going to be able to create and control fire and blow shit up with just a screwdriver. Frank: You’re going to be able to shape-shift into any animal you want, even a whole dragon. Nico: You’re going to be able to control darkness and shadows, literally teleport, and raise a whole army of undead soldiers. Reyna: Powers? Nah, your only ability is to lend strength to others as if that benefits you at all. Annabeth: Powers? Nah. Piper: You’re going to be able to manipulate and seduce people and are literally going to use your body and attractiveness as a weapon and your power is literally called charmspeak. Hazel: You have more powers than all the other characters combined that can literally destroy anyone in less than a second but you’re never going to use them or even remember that you have them cause screw the female character being more powerful than the males.

-The men always accomplish the most incredible feats and if the females ever do accomplish something great (Reyna healing the riff and defeating Orion while the Hunters and Amazons couldn’t combined, Annabeth going through Tartarus, Hazel learning to control the Mist, etc.) they are never praised or rewarded or all the credit goes to the men.

-Ares/Mars in real Greek/Roman mythology was the feminist patron of the Amazons who loved his daughter very much and killed a rapist but was portrayed as the dumb, cruel asshole who loved nothing but bloodshed and tried to kill a twelve year-old kid who was trying to help him while Poseidon/Neptune in real Greek/Roman mythology was a greedy, short-tempered, and arrogant asshole who raped almost as much women than Zeus/Jupiter but was portrayed as the kind, caring, and gentle father figure.

Fatophobia:

-Frank is the only chubby character and he hates himself because of it, was constantly fat-shamed, and only learned to love himself after he got rippling abs, muscles, and looked hotter (because fat = ugly in Riordan’s mind, even though it's not).

-Clovis was depicted with a pot-belly and Drew described him as 'repulsive'.

-Dionysus/Bacchus is also depicted with a pot-belly and he's portrayed as a useless, rude, lazy, and drunken asshole.

Lookism:

Basically how Riordan wrote his characters- Percy, Annabeth, Jason, Reyna, Hazel, Piper, and most minor protagonists: You’re all going to be super attractive, have at least one character or more pining for you, have your looks constantly commented on, and some of you will even use your looks as a weapon cause that’s not obvious sexualization cause you’re all the main characters and protagonists that readers need to know are the protagonists. Nico, Leo, and Frank: You three are originally portrayed as unattractive but at some points are described as cute and two of you are insecure about your looks cause you’re scrawny and chubby and one of you hates yourself cause of your body and only learn to love yourself once you magically gain abs cause more muscle obviously equals more attractiveness. Luke, Silena, Chris, and Ethan: You four are going to be super attractive because you’re traitors but all of you make up for your actions and decide to help the demigods and become protagonists again. Octavian, Bryce, Michael, Titans, giants, etc.: You all are the antagonists so you have to be super ugly with multiple physical imperfections cause you’re not allowed to be attractive since you are against the protagonists and I have to set you guys apart and show the readers who’s the better and more superior character.

-Frank hated himself cause he was chubby and only loved himself once he got skinnier and gained muscle through magic but even then was called ‘cute like a panda’.

-Leo was described as scrawny and unattractive and was insecure about being short but even then was called ‘cute in a scrawny way’.

-Piper had facial imperfections and even a pimple on her nose but once she got claimed all of those disappeared and they stayed gone even after the blessing washed off despite all the magic being gone and only then was Piper’s looks commented on multiple times.

-Lester/Apollo hated his appearance cause he had a little flab and acne and his physical imperfections were used as comedy by making fun of it as if insecure readers don’t exist.

-Percy and Annabeth had one canon physical imperfection- a gray streak in their hair- and that magically washed away.

-None of the other characters were described with any physical imperfections like pimples/zits/acne, body hair (despite none of the characters having the care or time to wax or shave), bushy/frizzy or messy hair or eyebrows, big or small hands or noses, blackheads, super thick or thin eyebrows, blemishes, birthmarks, scars, stretch marks, braces, lazy eyes, yellow or chipped teeth, eye bags, glasses, moles, dimples, love handles, flab/fat, visible veins, freckles, etc. unless it added to their ‘aesthetic’ despite none of those being bad and saves it only for the antagonists as if ‘physical imperfections’ = ‘evil’.

Bias:

-Riordan portrayed the Romans as cold, cruel, ruthless, strict, and overall horrible despite them being the more inclusive camp regarding family and godly parents, have multiple families and rules that ensure their camper’s safety, and hold the nicest characters in the series while the Greeks are portrayed as fun, wild, reckless, silly, and cool despite holding the most prejudiced and rude characters, outcasting and ostracizing characters of certain godly parents just for their parentage, stereotype almost every single cabin, and make some campers without siblings live, sleep, and eat alone.

-Every Greek traitor (Luke, Silena, Ethan, and Chris) were portrayed as powerful, kind, attractive, and awesome and each made up for their actions but each Roman ‘traitor’ (Octavian, Bryce, and Michael, and only one of them are actually a traitor) were portrayed as unattractive, cruel, ambitious, ruthless, and extremely weak and never actually did anything useful.

-The Greeks were part of the Union and the Romans were part of the Confederacy (adding on to Riordan adding racist movements as fun little easter eggs in his stories).

-Four out of seven of the main Seven are Greek.

-There are at least 70+ Greek characters and less than thirty named Romans.

-The Battle of San Francisco Bay was used for the sole purpose to weaken the Romans and make the Greeks seem stronger than them and while the Greeks went through two whole wars, their camp laid almost completely untouched but the moment the Romans are introduced, half their population is wiped?

Romanticization:

-Romanticized Annabeth judo-flipping Percy AKA romanticized physical abuse/harassment (emotions, angriness, feelings of love and affection, ‘they went through a lot together’, etc. do not excuse hitting someone) despite Annabeth knowing where Percy’s Achilles Heel was and not knowing he lost it and flipping him on his back anyways (if Percy didn’t lose the Achilles Heel, Annabeth would’ve killed him).

-Romanticized Leo killing himself to see Calypso again and to take her off her island AKA a romanticized suicide.

-Romanticized Calypso yelling at and insulting Leo and Annabeth insulting and canonically lowering Percy’s self-esteem AKA romanticized verbal abuse/bullying.

-Romanticized Will trying to help Nico through his loneliness and depression as if that can’t be portrayed as someone just wanting to help another person AKA romanticized mental illness.

-Romanticized every character kissing another character without asking first and without their consent AKA romanticized sexual harassment.

-Romanticized Piper taking advantage over Jason’s amnesia and mental state and jumping onto him despite knowing there might be a girl he couldn’t remember AKA romanticized manipulation.

-Romanticized Piper and Annabeth’s possessive, overly-jealous, and controlling behavior over Jason and Percy (even before they were canonically dating).

-Romanticized Nico being forced to confess his crush on Percy AKA romanticized a forced outing.

Rick Riordan:

-Refused to apologize for his actions even after being called out by people from the groups he was writing inaccurately and stereotyping (Muslim, Jewish, African, First Nation, lesbian, gay, Puerto Rican, etc.) and tried to make himself look like the victim.

-Claimed he was being ‘bullied’ by readers half his age who were just pointing out his books’ racist flaws.

-Showed time and time again that he is not willing to listen to the voices of minorities.

-Clearly didn’t do his research on ethnicities, sexualities, religions, etc. shown by how he got the simplest things wrong.

-Tried to say that he- a straight white man- was right when people of the actual groups he was writing about (gay, First Nation tribes, etc.) were wrong.

-Used excuses like having a ‘headstrong’ and ‘stubborn’ character who wants to ‘show their culture in their own way’ for his stereotypes. No, Riordan, you want to show the culture that way, not Piper. She’s a fictional character, you’re real. Dumbass.

-Literally said ‘Sorry I put feathers in Piper’s hair, I can’t change what I wrote in the past and I didn’t know that sensitive readers existed’ then continued to write feathers in Piper’s hair in the future books.

The Fandom:

Note: Not to all of the fandom, obviously

-Draws Piper with light skin, light hair, and kaleidoscope eyes with feathers, hippie bands, and beads (yes, it's canon, but you're allowed to change it if it's blatantly racist, and the bead and hippie band thing was created by the fandom and that's also stereotyping).

-Almost always draw Reyna, Hylla, and Leo with light skin and Caucasian traits (props to the few artists who drew them with the right skin tones).

-Draws Hazel with gold eyes, ‘cinnamon’/light brown hair, and an adult body.

-Sexualizes female characters by drawing them in sexy and revealing clothes and giving them all the same exact sexy, slim, and perfect hour-glass shaped bodies.

-Almost never include physical imperfections, muscle, scars, stretch marks, etc. in drawings.

-Fancasts white actors for characters of color and puts actors/faceclaims of white people or people of different ethnicities in the moodboards or aesthetics for characters of color.

-Participates in cultural appropriation by wearing feathers when cosplaying Piper and wearing a hijab when cosplaying Samirah.

-Supports Riordan, tries to defend him, and condones his clearly racist and bigoted actions just cause they ‘like the books’ (if you are straight, white, and/or cishet, I definitely don’t want to see you trying to defend a fifty-five year-old multi-millionaire who is clearly racist, sexist, homophobic, and transphobic).

-Romanticize physical abuse, verbal abuse, mental illnesses and panic/anxiety attacks, etc.

-Ship pedophilic, manipulative, abusive, and wrong relationships.

-Barely allow others to have their own opinions (looking at you Perachel haters) without yelling at, insulting, cursing out, and/or even threatening them for liking or disliking different things than them including ships, characters, books, plots/faults, and Riordan himself.

-Straightwashes characters like shipping Nico with female characters or setting him up with a female character in fanfics.

-Whitewashes characters like drawing Hazel and Piper with eurocentric features, Reyna, Hylla, and Leo with white skin and Caucasian traits, Nico with white/pale skin, etc.

-Try to excuse and explain abusive, manipulative, possessive, and overall very wrong and toxic behavior.

-Fail to recognize and/or admit the toxic, racist, homophobic, sexist, transphobic, wrong, abusive, etc. faults in the books, ships, and characters just cause they like them.

The Percy Jackson franchise does not add good representation. You can still like the series as long as you don’t condone Riordan’s racist and toxic writing and actions and don’t try to ignore the horrible and stereotypical faults just cause you don’t want to admit that your favorite or childhood story is horrible.

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philosophycorner · 3 years

Text

Musings on Attitudes and Western Philosophical Culture

It doesn’t take a lot to notice that people in the West are obsessed with binaries: in ethics an action is either right or wrong, with no gray areas; in politics there’s only left and right or conservative and liberal, with no one truly occupying the liminal and no one venturing outside the boundaries of right- or left-wing ideology. This is why it is crucial to eventually leave the Western hemisphere and study Eastern philosophy. The Taoists following Lao (hereafter called Laoists) identified a position that is neither objectivist nor subjectivist.

Interestingly, psychologists and moral pluralists have identified this approach without making it explicit. When making moral considerations, I am consistently and now unconsciously Kantian, but I recognize in certain situations, a Kantian analysis doesn’t get the job done. That does not make me an objectivist nor a subjectivist; it makes me what Laoist Shih were, an attitudist. Do I consider that a person is an end in themselves if I realize that this person is a Narcissist or anyone on the Dark Tetrad? For sake of myself, I simply cannot proceed with a Kantian analysis. I now have to prefer, for this specific situation, an egoist approach. The best course of action caters to my self-interest. Anyone who cares about their mental well-being knows that they have to cut this toxic person out of their lives, completely and utterly. Once you realize that someone has been treating you as a means, there is no sense in which you can continue to treat them as an end. The basis of most Tetrad relationships is transactional, i.e., what can I get out of you? This is emotionally and potentially, financially draining and for your own sake, you have to cut this person out of your life.

What if instead you’re a CEO with a department full of employees near retirement who are less productive than a department full of upstart, younger employees? On a business analysis, firing the former group who presumably earn higher salaries or wages makes the most sense. Despite being a Kantian, I can see here that a utilitarian approach makes sense. Which group is harmed less? The former group is near retirement and is less capable of pivoting if I were to lay them off while the latter group is more capable of pivoting, of picking up the pieces, and finding a way to continue their careers. So in the interest of causing less harm, my attitude in this case assumes the character of a utilitarian.

This is the essential hallmark of moral pluralism. It isn’t relativist nor does it have any pretense of objectivism. It is like the Laoist sayings in the Tao Te Ching. It is the undertaking of an attitude that either assails conventional wisdom or opens up the mind to other possibilities. It is the old “slow and steady wins the race.” This isn’t to contradict the prevailing objective fact that the faster participant usually wins, but that it is entirely possible to win a race strategically and methodically. It is to take a certain attitude toward a tradition or norm.

Eastern philosophy has the potential to disabuse the West of its infatuation with binaries. I can identify as a moral objectivist and in a given situation make the most nihilist of statements: at bottom, there’s no such thing as good and evil. For human purposes, it is perhaps necessary to proceed as though a moral act is a universal law; this is the perspective of any Kantian. However, absent human minds or minds roughly equal to our own, there is no sense in which we can call a supernova evil because it wipes out a solar system and causes the extinction of fish on a planet 65 lightyears away (which is actually a strong theory scientists have with regards to an extinction of massive fish during the Devonian period, about 360 million years ago). We can’t call a blackhole evil for spaghettifying a cornucopia of celestial objects. Likewise, we can’t call a star good for eventually providing warmth to a solar system, even on the assumption that the system is life-bearing. For non-sentient purposes, qualifications of good and evil are simply vacuous. It is no doubt a nihilistic attitude, but it says nothing about my approach to sentient ethics.

Attitudism is inherent in moral pluralism and elsewhere, but it should be allowed into the philosophy of the West. Binaries, either-or, all-or-nothing, my way or the highway, present no solutions whatsoever. Binaries create more problems than they solve. In politics, I assume right-wing attitudes all the time. I have never been a proponent of the vacuous “Defund the police,” for it is a simple fact that Police Reform will require more government funding and that even defunding the police to divert funds to other causes like education or mental illness awareness guarantees complacency with the same, corrupt, failing system of policing currently in place across many inner cities. I think the call to defund the police has harmed left-wing candidacies, which is the same thing right-wing politicians say. Does that make me right-wing? Absolutely not. Yet it is the case that I have adopted their attitude for this specific situation.

Upon closer analysis, my readers will realize that they do this sort of thing often. Lack of civility, charity, and a penchant for being disingenuous describes today’s dialogue, especially in the United States. Leave it to an opponent to accuse you of a position you don’t espouse. Christians often assume that every atheist in the world is a moral relativist, leaving no room for the possibility that an atheist can be an objectivist. This happens because of attitudism, namely an attitude an atheist shares about a specific situation or even a general state of affairs. Richard Dawkins, famous for pointing out the universe’s blind indifference, was speaking about the general state of the universe and this is now taken to mean that Dawkins is a moral nihilist. I share his attitude with regards to the universe, but I don’t share that attitude as it concerns human relationships and society, nor do I share that attitude in matters concerning the Earth like Climate Change, the humane treatment of household pets, hunting and poaching, discussions on the personhood of non-human animals like primates and dolphins, and so on.

For Western philosophy to progress beyond where it is, it needn’t fear relativism. It should also allow for attitude-based statements speaking to pertinent scenarios. It should renounce binary thinking altogether and accept gray areas, incorporating the insights of thinking in a more diverse manner. Western philosophers also have to stop categorizing thinkers into traditions not robust enough to honor the thought of given philosophers. For purposes of ethics, situational and contextual approaches have to be included as well.

Readers, do you think Western philosophy’s obsession with binaries is not as detrimental as I think? Is it possible that it is beneficial?

#philosophy #ethics #political philosophy #politics #eastern philosophy #taoism #attitudism #attitudes #logic

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dreaminginthedeepsouth · 3 years

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INTERVIEW: SAINT MISBEHAVIN’ WAVY GRAVY

by Richard Whittaker, Dec 21, 2010

One day I got a note from ServiceSpace founder, Nipun Mehta offering me tickets to a new documentary movie about Wavy Gravy. Would you like to go?

I went. Although I was aware of Wavy Gravy as a cultural icon, I really knew very little about him. The film is a eye-opener. Michelle Esrick’s loving documentary, Saint Misbehavin’ - 10 years in the making - is a real introduction to this remarkable man. I'd never heard about Hugh Romney, the man who later became famous as Wavy Gravy. And what a story. I'll mention just one of its surprises: earlier in his life, Hugh Romney was Lenny Bruce's manager.

A few weeks after seeing the film, at Mehta’s urging, I had the chance to interview Wavy Gravy himself.

Richard Whittaker: How are you feeling about Saint Misbehavin’?

Wavy Gravy: Oh, it’s a swell movie. I’m honored to be so well-documented, and the review in the New York Times was embarrassing. I’m not that good.

RW: You said in the film that you’re an “intuitive clown.” Would you mind saying something about what that means?

WG: I’m trained in the art of acting improvisation. That means acting on the spur of the moment rather than doing, say, the focused slow burn and all the traditional clown moves. I don’t do any of that.

RW: So that would be about sensing the moment, what’s there, and taking in who you’re with.

WG: Absolutely—and sensing what’s going on. I was, for a number of years, with The Committee in San Francisco. I taught improvisation at Columbia Pictures. Harrison Ford was one of my students and I’ve taught improvisation at Camp Winnarainbow for over thirty years.

RW: I wanted to ask you about your history. For instance, in New York in Greenwich Village, you wrote poetry, right?

WG: Yes I did.

RW: Is any of it available? And is it something you’d want people to find?

WG: There are a couple of slender volumes out there. I think you’d have to go to Amazon or eBay to find them. I don’t even have copies myself. But other people do and will lend them to me when I need them.

RW: Do any titles stand out for you?

WG: Kaleidoscope and there’s Joe’s Song, which is taught in a poetry class at the University of California at Berkeley. Would you like to hear it?

RW: Please.

WG: Okay. It goes like this: “Once upon and ever since I was a child in a child’s world. I have wept a child’s tears and built a child’s wall of clay and stone and colored years of poems in paint and virgin gold. I sought to build a wall so tall from lion eggs from Gallilee, a brick of song among the dregs of silver nails and lesser men a mile long to kiss the sun and climb again. Once ago and ever now I stood a man on a child’s wall. I stopped and prayed to spider webs and roses of the sea. I spoke as one with all the earth and knew the pain of birth and death to be the same without my wall. Once upon and ever furled I stand alone with all the world.”

RW: That’s beautiful.

WG: I wrote it in 1960 or about then. I don’t write lyric poems very often. These days I mainly write haiku, usually when friends pass away, which is happening more and more frequently from natural causes. Also I’ve been having the good fortune to have my art exhibited, and I do a haiku to go with each piece.

RW: I’m imagining that, as a younger man, you had certain visions and deep feelings that could have been a liability for living the conventional life.

WG: I don’t think I ever had to contend with that one [laughs]. I live in the land of one thing after another. [speaking with an east Indian accent] “The sand only goes through the hourglass one grain at a time,” as some Hindu sage proclaimed. I’ve discovered that to be true.

RW: Did you have mentors who supported you in Greenwich Village?

WG: It was kind of amusing. I was going to theater school at Boston University, which was an amazing theater school. The finest directors in the world would come in and the whole college would read for a part. A freshman could get a lead. It was extraordinary. And if you weren’t cast in the production, you would be cast in the lighting crew or the costume crew or the stage crew. Then there was an upset about theater students not doing their social studies and the university attempted to move the campus of the theater school over to where the rest of the university was laid out. Just at that time, the teachers who had all been hired during the McCarthy blackball because they couldn’t work on Broadway, well, the blackball ended and they all quit. They went to work at the Neighborhood Playhouse in New York City, and they took me with them.

But while I was at BU, I had read in Time Magazine about jazz and poetry in San Francisco. I thought, hey, I’ve written a couple of poems and I know some musicians. I can do that! So I got together with a bunch of artists from the museum school and we proceeded to take the basement of a bar called The Rock on Huntington Avenue. The place in the basement was called The Pebble in the Rock. We put in black tables and black clothes and mobiles and paintings and began doing jazz and poetry. It was the first jazz and poetry done on the East Coast. So I had the privilege of inaugurating the East Coast to jazz and poetry. I persisted in doing it for years in, of all places, Hartford Connecticut. On every Monday I would grab a bunch of musicians and go to Hartford and make substantial money. Otherwise I was going to the Neighborhood Playhouse and reading my poetry in the evenings at the Gaslight Café in Greenwich Village, as you saw in the movie.

RW: That’s an amazing story. There was another thing you said in the film, “put your good where it can do the most.”

WG: Which is the advice I gleaned from one of my mentors, the author and adventurer, Ken Kesey.

RW: Did that kind of focus something for you?

WG: Well, it lit up. It lit up. I had discovered that, somewhat. Whenever I would do a good thing, it made me feel good. I think I heard a preacher of color on television in the late fifties. He said, “It’s nice to be nice.” And that kind of hit a chord for me.

RW: Do you think there’s a mix in what artists do? That in your poetry, part of it was trying to give something?

WG: Hmmm, I don’t know. I was just trying to get out of the way and let whatever was inside of me come to the surface. In the early days, I was not all that consciously altruistic—although, in the early days of poetry, the poets were not paid. We used to pass a cornucopia around after an hour or so and people would put money in it. We made an embarrassing amount of money that way. Myself and Len Chandler, who was one of the first folk singers I brought into The Gaslight, he and I put on these capes with hoods—Len was an African-American and he had a motor scooter. And we would jump on the motor scooter at the end of the evening and drive down into the Bowery and find somebody passed out on the sidewalk. We’d stuff his pockets with money and drive off and find somebody else until we’d given away at least half of what we’d made in the course of the evening. It was a lot of fun.

RW: That’s incredible. What do you think led you to do that?

WG: I don’t know. It just seemed like a fun thing to do. We didn’t need all that money.

RW: Do you remember the moment when Ken Kesey said “Put your good where it will do the most good”?

WG: No. But he told me a lot of stuff—like, “You should honor your mother and your father.” This comes out of the Bible. As soon as I learned that Kesey had written that, I forget how he worded it, I immediately called my mother and my father and honored them verbally as best I could. And it was illuminating for them and for me. Afterwards, I called Ken up to thank him. He said, “Well, it’s just so darn simple.”

RW: I want to ask about giving and receiving. Do you have any thoughts in general, let’s say, about giving?

WG: Giving seems to be easy for me. Receiving is the thing I’m just beginning to learn how to do with grace. It’s a work in progress, like the rest of me. Over the last thirty years I’ve experienced considerable physical difficulty, having had to receive a series of spinal surgeries and spending amounts of time in body casts. You have no alternative, or you starve. So it was necessary. I tell people I learned patience in the hospital. [there’s a pause] That’s a pun.

RW: You’re right! [laughs]

WG: And as my infirmities persisted, I learned to acquiesce to the moment and accept, with as much graciousness as I could muster, the assistance of people who offered it.

RW: I bet this is true for lots of people, that it’s easier to give than to receive.

WG: Right, but as I pointed out, I didn’t have much choice, as with a lot of the stuff that has happened to me in my life. Life situations have presented themselves and it was either sink or swim.

RW: This reminds me of another part in the film. This is at Woodstock. You and the other members of The Hog Farm were brought there to be the police force for the whole event. You called yourselves “the please force.”

WG: We were the Please Force. And we had also set up what we called the Trip Tent.

RW: And there’s a part in the movie where you describe helping a young man who was having a bad acid trip.

WG: As he came in ranting, this three-hundred pound Australian doctor laid on top of him and said, “Body contact. You need body contact” [said with an accent] and then a psychiatrist leaned in and said, [using another funny voice] “Just think of your third eye, man.”

Then I figured it was time for me to make my move. I said, “Excuse me. I’d like to try something here.” And they all backed up. What’s this hippie going to do? That’s when I said, “What’s your name, man?”

RW: And he mumbled something…

WG: I said, “No, your name.” He told me his name and I said it back to him. In fact, I said it back to him several times.

RW: I noticed how very clear and emphatic you were when you got his name. “Okay, Bob. Bob, that’s your name.”

WG: Your name is Bob.

RW: Where did you get the knowledge of using that simple directness?

WG: We’d spent some time on the psychotropic frontiers through the prankster days and beyond. It was not unfamiliar territory.

RW: You knew something about being really concrete, and focused.

WG: And through the greatest professor of them all, professor experience; and from courses at hard knocks university.

RW: You’ve had a lot of hard knocks university experience, I think.

WG: Yes. Well, that’s how you learn things.

RW: You said in the film how you’d found you could get high without the psychotropic assistance. Could you say something about that again?

WG: There are many ways to alter space. I do lots of breathing exercises, and I do mantras. Different people have different recipes to get to a space of consciousness and then to dwell in it for as long as you can, I guess. My own way is an amalgam of many different practices from many different lineages.

RW: You evolved from Hugh Romney doing the poetry to where you were wearing a jester’s hat.

WG: Between poems I used to talk about the bizarre things that happened to me during the day because it was really tedious just reading all these poems night after night after night. Then a guy came along and said, look, skip the poetry. Just talk about your bizarre experiences. That’s how I got into doing stand-up.

Lenny Bruce became my manager. I put out a couple of albums and toured the U.S. —and in fact, something of the world—doing stand-up before these other things came along.

RW: Somewhere you left the jester’s hat and started dressing as a clown.

WG: I was asked, when we had moved to Berkeley in the mid-seventies, to go the Children’s Hospital in Oakland and cheer up kids. On the way out the door of my house, someone handed me a red, rubber nose. I discovered it enabled me to get out of myself and be entertaining to the kids. After awhile, I began to paint my face up as a clown. Somebody gave me a costume, and a clown who was retiring from Ringling Brothers gave me his giant shoes. I worked with kids, with kids who were terminal, even, and did this almost every day for about seven years.

At one point I had to go to a political rally at Peoples’ Park and I didn’t have time to take off my clown stuff. I discovered that the police didn’t want to hit me anymore. Clowns are safe.

RW: Can you say more about what your experience at Children’s Hospital working with kids was like?

WG: I discovered that not only was I helping the kids, I was helping myself. As I began to do this work, I’d gone through three major back surgeries and was in quite a bit of pain. But working with the kids I discovered that as I focused on the children and the pain they were in, I lost track of my own pain.

RW: Is the clown an archetype you can inhabit?

WG: Sure.

RW: Do you think, “I’m a clown?”

WG: I don’t know. I can’t see you.

RW: [laughs] No. I have a long way to go. If I evolved, I might become a clown.

WG: Well, you need to go to camp Winnarainbow. They’ll teach you to clown. It’d be good for you. I think John Townsend said it most brilliantly in The Book of the Clown, “A clown is a poet who is also an orangutan.” But clown comes from the word “clod” or bumpkin, and the red nose indicates they were drunk. But I found all this out later. Suddenly I have these big shoes on and [laughs] a nose and I’m painting my face up, and where does it all come from? I began to study it, and it’s very fascinating, the path of the clown and the jester.

RW: What have you found out about being a clown? What has been revealed?

WG: It enables me to go places I couldn’t go as a regular kind of guy. People feel challenged by people going where I go. But when I put on the patina of a clown I’m no challenge to them in any way.

RW: What do you wish for people when you become a clown?

WG: I wish that they would find joy in the moment. It’s like I expressed in the film, laughter is the valve on the pressure cooker of life. Either you laugh at stuff or you’re going to end up with your beans on the ceiling.

RW: At camp Winnarainbow in the film it showed the labyrinth you have on the grounds…

WG: It’s a unicursal Cretan labyrinth. The oldest one is 3000 years old and was found on the island of Sardinia. The more common labyrinth, like the one you see at Grace Cathedral came about during the 11th or 12th century when Europeans could not go to Jerusalem on pilgrimage. So they developed this other labyrinth, which is different from the Pagan labyrinth, which made it to Scandanavia, to India and somehow to Peru and to the sun temple at Mesa Verde. That’s where I first encountered it when I spent time living with the Hopi Indians for a few months.

RW: How did that happen?

WG: I was enamored of the Book of the Hopi by Frank Waters. And that’s where I first saw the labyrinth. According to the Hopi if there was a condition of planetary emergency the different races would gather on this mesa for instruction from the spirit world. So I showed up. They said, “You’re pretty early.” But they took pity on me and I got to hang out with them for a while.

RW: Was anything given to you?

WG: Not something that I would feel comfortable talking about, but yes—not so much from the people as from the geography.

RW: So you brought this labyrinth to camp Winnarainbow, then?

WG: Yes. I asked Minalanska, who was an elder, what that was. She said, “Oh Wavy Gravy, that’s just the master plan of the universe.” So I borrowed a pencil and wrote it down, and I’ve brought it everywhere I’ve gone ever since. I learned to draw it. Even with my first book, I’d sign it and draw that labyrinth.

RW: Now how do you make use of the labyrinth at camp for the kids?

WG: A teepee at a time, in the evening, the campers get to walk the labyrinth to beautiful music under the stars. If they do good things, they get strokes. If they do bad things they get strikes. Three strikes and you’re out. You can always work off strikes, but you can get enough strikes to be sent home, too. By doing things above and beyond the ordinary camper—for instance, if you get eight stokes in a two-week session, you get to walk into the center of the labyrinth. In the center, there’s also these crystals. You get to take a crystal out of the labyrinth and take it home.

RW: Do you talk to the kids about the labyrinth?

WG: Oh, sure.

RW: What do you tell them?

WG: I tell them that the labyrinth is not a maze. Mazes are designed to get you lost. Labyrinths are designed to get you found. And I ask them to think of each step as a prayer for peace. I tell them you go into the labyrinth and that there’s an energy in the center that I call the spirit of Gaia, the earth mother. I say that if you have cares or problems you can leave them in the labyrinth and come out perhaps lighter than when you went in. And that is sometimes helpful to young people.

RW: In the film you made a comment to one kid that the labyrinth is inside of you.

WG: Oh, I tell all the kids that. The true labyrinth is inside you.

RW: That’s powerful. From the film, I see that your life has been a journey. Do you feel it that way?

WG: Absolutely. It’s been a great adventure.

RW: What are some of the changes from where you were and where you are today?

WG: The things that are the most significant for me in my life are the circus and performing arts camp that I’ve run with my wife Jahanara for over thirty years. We do nine weeks for kids and one week for grown-ups. And the Seva Foundation is another. Through it I’m able to raise funds to help the blind regain their sight. Eighty percent of the blind people in the world don’t need to be—they can get their sight back.

When we first started doing the work it was about five dollars for a cataract operation. Now it’s close to fifty dollars for the operation in third world countries. If you go to SEVA.org you can find out all about us. We’ve helped to orchestrate—it’s going on three million sight-saving operations. I get to put on concerts to raise funds to do that. I’m going to be seventy-five years old in May and I’m looking forward to doing a concert in the Bay Area at the Craneway Pavillion in Richmond and in New York City at the Beacon Theater. And also I’m facing another basic spinal surgery in January. So I’ve got a lot of stuff on my plate.

RW: I know we don’t have much more time, but …

WG: Eternity now, I always say. That’s one of my favorite quotes. And we’re all the same person trying to shakes hands with our self. I think that’s a good one, too.

RW: I like those quotes. It’s clear that you’ve spent a lot of time doing forms of service. Camp Winnarainbow seems to be a service.

WG: Well, my greatest legacy is the children that have come out of camp over the last thirty years. Lots of the kids who started camp when they were seven are now running the camp. And I’m sure it will go on long after I’m gone.

RW: Is that something one begins to learn, that the deepest gifts come when one can look beyond personal wants to take in the needs of others?

WG: That is my want! [laughs] Put your good where it will do the most. I can’t say it any better.

[WORKS AND CONVERSATIONS]

#Works and Conversations #Interviews #Wavy Gravy #Clown #Camp Winnarainbow #service #improvisation

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ilguna · 4 years

Text

Belamour - Chapter Eight (f.o)

summary: they say the odds tend to favor those who need them. well, they were wrong.

warnings; swearing

wc; 7.8k

NOTES: i give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

“Okay, but you have to expand on that.” Allio says, motioning to Trink and Lennox while staring directly at you. There’s a look on his face that says ‘can you believe them?’ and honestly, you can’t. They’re so vague, it’s like they want you two to keep on asking questions.

“I don’t think we do.” Lennox says, “In fact, I think the conversation should stop here.”

“Okay.” Trink snorts, “You’re just mad that I’ve brought it up again.”

Lennox doesn’t even deny what she’s saying, nodding right along with raised eyebrows. He clearly wants her to shut up, but Trink has no intention of actually doing that. So, she pauses from sharpening her knife for a moment, and looks dead at you and Allio. This makes Lennox roll his eyes.

“I give up.” he mutters.

“Good.” Trink doesn’t even look sorry, “Here’s how things actually went down--”

“It’s the wrong version of the story!”

“I thought you were giving up.” you say, which causes you all to start laughing.

Lennox’s face is a light shade of red, but he crosses his arms, and then motions for Trink to start. Trink gives him a white smile, and turns back to you guys.

You continue organizing everything inside of your backpack, not really wanting to have things be a mess on the inside. You and Trink will be sharing this bag, and Allio and Lennox will be sharing the other. Just so you all aren’t carrying your own separate things.

As soon as you and Allio are done, you’ll all be heading off and into the woods for a few days. This, of course, leaves the cornucopia up for grabs, but since you all weren’t able to do this properly on the first day, you decided to make up for it. On the way into the forest, you’ll stop at the pond for a quick refresh of water and then you’ll be walking the rest of the day.

The chances of you guys catching anyone is slim. The island looks huge, and since none of you have experience out here, it’s going to be a while before you become accustomed to the land. And it’s a little worrying that you’ve spent several days inside of the cornucopia. It just means that the other tributes know what they’re doing out there.

There’s only twelve tributes left in the games. The four careers--you guys--Finnick, Thyme, Blaire, and five others. You think one of them is Mac, from District Seven, and you’re not too surprised that he’s survived this long. He scored fairly high, but he’s not career material at all--and neither are you, you think. Out of all the districts, you think that only three of them have two tributes left in the games.

District One is Lennox and Trink, and they’re very obviously still alive. You’re alive, and you don’t remember seeing Finnick in the sky at all. So there’s another batch, and you think, you’re not entirely sure, that District Eight is the third district. You hope that you’re remembering that correctly.

Although, you’re not sure if it actually matters how many districts still have two tributes. In fact, you think that the count of the amount of tributes that are still alive in total is the important number. Eleven people alive, not counting yourself. The games are already halfway over, and with how the death’s have been going, you think that it’ll be over in no time.

Trink clears her throat, letting you three know that she’s about to begin her story, “I’m a senior, and so is Lennox. And back home, we’re semi-popular because we play sports together after school, and it’s why I look like this.”

Alarms start ringing in your head, because there is no way that she’s that strong and buff looking just because she’s playing a couple of sports throughout high school. With arm muscle like that, she’s had to have been lifting weights or something like that. Better yet, the best explanation for why she’s obviously so beefed up, is because of the private training academies there are in the career districts.

As far as you know, there is none in Four. Then again, you live in such bad poverty that you wouldn’t ever qualify for a place like that. Either you have to pay to get in, or you have to take a portion of your victory royalties and pay them off to the place. In all honesty, you’re not sure if it’s worth it at that point.

Of course, being able to know how to fight and defend yourself and having so much confidence in winning is a nice mindset. Makes you prepared, blocks out all that hesitation and panic that happens most of the time. But on the other hand, it’s plain cheating.

Districts One and Two have it going on, and everyone knows that. Even the Capitol knows that there’s something suspicious going on inside of the districts, they just do nothing about it. Why? Because they’re favorites. They make the stuff that the Capitol likes the best. Which is jewelry and all that other bullshit.

For Trink try to pass it off as school activities is dumb. Everyone knows what’s going on. You just have a feeling she just doesn’t want to admit it out loud. After that, it’ll be confirmed and President Snow might just have to take actual action in shutting it down. Then again, he doesn’t seem like he would do that.

Those districts are the least resistant and most compliant with what the Capitol demands. Anything that the citizens want, they’ll deliver. Because it’s keeping them rich and on top of it. Keeps their victor’s villages plentiful and their poverty rates down. Nasty ass cheaters.

“Lennox had this thing with a girl going on. He wouldn’t admit it to anyone, not even to me. But I’m smarter than that and caught on pretty quickly.” She says.

“Right.” Lennox says, there’s no intention for him to keep quiet, “That’s why you were so shocked when I finally told you.”

“I’m a great actress, what can I say?”

Lennox is laughing, “Bullshit! You’re a terrible actress. Fuck that story, do you two want to hear the time she was recruited for the school play?”

Trink’s eyes have narrowed dangerously and she’s pointing her finger in Lennox’s direction, “You shut up.”

“Then you shut up.”

“Lennox and the girl went into an empty classroom one day during lunch--”

“Shut up!” Lennox shouts.

Allio’s laughing, you’re zipping up the backpack with a smile, and Trink is having a hard time getting out the words, “It was a connecting classroom. There was a door to get to the classroom behind it for whatever reason.”

Lennox’s wiping his face, “No--”

“And in the connected classroom, was an english class taking a quiz, and the teacher in that room is so damn mean. Lennox and the girl start going at it, and I mean they’re getting into it--”

“Okay!” you laugh, “I don’t need the details.”

“The girl moaned his name once, and the entire class on the other side heard them. But no, Lennox and--what was her name?” Trink turns and looks at Lennox.

“I’m not telling you.”

“It starts with something fancy…” she’s snapping her fingers, a look of realization comes over her face and she’s looking smug, “Yeona.”

“Oh fuck off.”

“Shut up for a second. Lennox and Yeona didn’t realize their mistake, even after there was giggling on the other side of the wall. Yeona moaned again, and that’s when the teacher on the other side had enough. One of my friends in the class at the time had sworn that they all thought it was teenage boys.

“But Miss whatever her name is, slams the door open and they’re caught red-fucking-handed. Butt naked--”

“Not butt naked!” Lennox is shouting, “Neither of us were naked!”

“Her shorts were pulled down to her thighs, Lennox. And your fingers were in unholy places. Maybe you weren’t butt naked, but she sure as hell was.” Trink moves her hair out of her face with her pinky nail, “Anyway, the teacher gave them both months of detention, and Lennox still has a lot of hours to make up. And it spread all around the school. And Yeona and Lennox are supposed to be grounded as hell.”

“I warned you.” Lennox says, “I’ll tell them about the school play.”

“Oh no, you won’t.” Trink is pushing herself to her feet, “Open your mouth and it’ll be full of sand.

You have a feeling that it’s not an empty threat, with how one hand that’s behind her back is full of sand, with a steady stream slipping between her fingers. Lennox doesn’t seem focused on her hands, more of the fact that he’s getting a chance to push her buttons.

“It was middle school, and she had bangs that were super fucking--”

His mouth is open wide, and she takes her chance. She wasn’t lying at all, she grabs a fistfull of Lennox’s brown hair and with the other hand, slaps the sand into his mouth. His eyes widen, and she lets go of him. He starts coughing, sand blowing out of his mouth and flying onto Allio.

“Dude!” Allio complains, face twisted.

Lennox is leaving the cornucopia, spitting out chunks of sand. Every time he bites down, you can hear crunching, which makes you cringe and gag. You can’t imagine the amount of bacteria in the sand, and how gross and dry it tastes.

“Bitch!” He coughs out, Trink looks satisfied and she’s dusting off her hands.

“Are we ready to go?” Allio asks.

You get to your feet, hoisting the backpack up and offering it to Trink. She takes it without a single complaint. After it’s around her shoulders, she picks up her sword and the rest of you follow suit, with the exception of Lennox. He’s now using water as mouthwash to clean out the sand.

“It’s stuck in my teeth.”

“Stop chewing.” Allio says.

“Thanks, genius.”

After that, the trip into the woods is fairly quiet. As usual, it’s about an hour’s walk to the pond. On the way, you four are sharing stories. Allio, Lennox and Trink share the most, since they seem to have a lot and are more enthusiastic than you are. You ask questions to keep them talking, but that’s about it.

They talk mostly about their family. Trink is an only child, so she has only her parents to worry about. She claims that they’re not very strict because they’re extremely proud of her and how far she’s come. She says that they deserve a nice place to live, and can do more than just retire with the victor royalties.

“We’d be able to get my mom a nice studio, a different room for each of her hobbies, and my dad will finally have a bigger desk for when he comes home. I can already picture what my room will look like.” She says, bouncing on her toes.

A room for each of her parents' hobbies? A whole office? You bite your tongue even though you want to tell her how lucky they’ve been. You’ve got a total of three bedrooms and one bathroom. One of the rooms is a graveyard, and the other two are shared between two people.

You wouldn’t necessarily say it’s cramped, because you’re lucky that you have a room away from your brothers in the first place, but you still don’t have your own space. You’re sharing it with Alyssum, and the room is the size of that walk-in closet back in the Capitol. Even then, that closet was huge.

And it’s not like you can even afford that place, even with both of your brother’s working overtime most nights. In all honesty, you remember the nights after you put Alyssum to bed, and you three gathered at the table to talk about the possibility of either selling the house to downgrade, or to sell your dead parent’s expensive jewelry that took them years to collect.

Most of them being heirlooms, others being gifted to them. All of them holding some sort of sentimental value that sparked the question of whether or not it would be morally right. In the end, you’ve never sold anything but you’ve cut it close plenty of times.

If you were to win, you’d get your own room, with brand new clothes and Alyssum would get all sorts of developmental toys. Reed and Mox would finally get their own rooms, which they’ve never had in their lives. Even before you were born and the third bedroom was empty, they had no choice but to share a room.

You’ll have a secure place to live, you wouldn't have to worry about rent anymore, you’d always have good food on the table, and would be able to afford the expensive things that Allio, Trink and Lennox can already get without the victor royalties. You bet that they’ve never had to go hungry some nights.

The conversation is sour on your part, and you slowly stop asking questions and instead find a particular interest in the sleeve of your jacket. They don’t seem to notice, continuously trading stories between each other. In what feels like forever, you’ve finally reached the pond and you’re loading up on water.

It’s a brief moment there, none of you need to stop yet. The sun is about to be in the middle of the sky, it’s still well before noon. You pick your things back up, and take the backpack from Trink, agreeing on trading it every other hour. After that, you’re right back to walking.

You’re all basically on the same path you took during the first day to get to where you’d stayed the night at. Had you all kept moving, you’re sure that Eytelle would still be alive and you’d be more used to the woods. Now, you’re not, and you’re beginning to see how many obstacles are poised throughout the trees.

The greenery looks suspicious, so you keep away from any leaves that vaguely remind you of poison ivy. You don’t think that the gamemakers would put something like that out here, especially not in what’s supposed to be a tropical-esk island. The cliffs that the pond was semi-hidden in, eventually dies out to a hill.

The only real cliff on this island is the big one that soars above all the trees, and can be seen from anywhere on the island. You wonder what’s on the other side of them, will it be ground or water? And what sick twist will be laying at the bottom? It could be a number of things, and all you hope is that you don’t get caught in it.

Unfortunately, the conversation doesn’t stay on them. Trink notices that you haven’t offered up any sort of information, and it immediately because of a blizzard of questions that you can hardly keep up with.

“What’s it like in Four?” Lennox asks.

“Busy.” you say, “And huge. My prep team said that we smell like fish, sweat and salt water, if that helps any.”

“What’s your family like?” Trink asks.

Yes, back to the family topic. Trink is an only child, Lennox has a younger brother, and Allio has a big family, similar to yours. He has an older sister and three younger brothers. And he even offered up information about Eytelle too, she has a younger brother and sister.

“Two older brothers and a younger sister.” you say, you feel vulnerable. Giving out information like this gives them a chance to use it against you somehow.

“Parents?” Allio asks.

You grit your teeth, “Dead.”

You’ve got their attention now, especially Allio. You know the question is coming before it even forms on his tongue, “How?”

He’s sadistic. Out of the four of you, you think that you’re the most dangerous kill-wise, but Allio is… demented. Asking questions on how people died and what it looked like. He might not have killed anyone, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t just sit around and watch and enjoyed it.

“Childbirth and drowning.”

“I thought you guys were supposed to be good swimmers.” Allio remarks, there’s a smug look on his face. Trink and Lennox are beginning to look uncomfortable.

“We are.” you look at him, pressing your lips together. “And a good example of that is the girl from Twelve.” the look on his face is fading. That’s right, you might have convinced them that you didn’t kill her, but you swam out of the depths of the pond and you’d do it again, “If you don’t believe me, we can go back to the pond and test the theory.”

There’s no answer.

“That’s what I thought.” you snap, looking back down at your sword.

You wonder if they’d be upset if you made a jump at Allio. He’s getting on everyone’s nerves, not just yours. This morning might have been full of high spirits, but he nearly killed Lennox just because Lennox tried to wake him up. There’s tension building, and it’s like a rubber band. It’s going to snap right back in your faces if you don’t stop it in time.

Hmm.

“Got any high school stories?” Trink finally asks, and you take the opportunity to launch into a story that lasts around thirty minutes.

Allio is quiet, stone-faced and sour looking. But the other two are in a light mood and laugh along at the right times and ask questions to keep it going. By the time you’ve finished the story, they’re begging for another. Lennox says that it’s funny, but not nearly as good as the Trink and the play story.

This time, Trink doesn’t shut it down because ‘he’s a fucking moron, might as well let him explain it badly’. And Lennox really does try his best to explain everything, but what’s funnier is watching and listening to Trink mock him and make faces. She’ll ‘uh huh’ and ‘right’ at the perfect moments, deadpanning and rolling her eyes.

By the time the sun is well, well past noon, Allio seems to be lightening up again. Trink begins to complain that her feet hurt, and it’s reasonable since you’ve all been walking for hours. You take a break at some tree beneath the shade, trink a minimal amount of water and hope that there will be another pond or stream somewhere close.

As soon as your feet stop aching, you’re back on your feet for a brief moment of time. It’s so short because of how fast the sun is setting. You all agree that it has to be the gamemakers, and decide to try and find a place to stay for the night. It’s just meaningless wandering for a while, until Trink spots something through the trees.

“Is that a fucking house?” Lennox asks, and then the four of you are running up to it.

Without a warning, he’s kicking down the door, and you’re all squinting into the shack. There’s no one inside, and it doesn’t even look like anyone has stayed here either. It’s a good sign, you don’t have to sit outside for the night. The moment that you’re all shutting the door, and Lennox is sitting in front of it to keep it shut, you’re growing tired.

So, quickly you eat the squirrel and a few crackers with the others. There had been no deaths today, so there’s no recap to worry about, and you’re all in the clear to sleep. You’re sure that you won’t need your jacket to sleep tonight, but there’s wind whistling through the cracks in the window pane, and you decide that you’d rather be hot than cold.

You use your arm as a pillow, hand on your knife at all times. The moment you begin to drift off, you can hear the light patter on rain on the wooden roof. Tomorrow will be wet, and you’re glad that you didn’t leave the jacket at the cornucopia after all. And because the noise of the rain is so mesmerizing, you’re falling asleep quickly.

Again, in the morning, it’s clear that Allio isn’t a morning person. Lennox had switched out in the middle of the night with him, and he clearly wasn’t happy about it. You can still hear the howl of the wind, which makes you all hesitate and debate on whether or not you should go out there.

You have no problem with the wind and rain, it’s whether or not it’s a tropical storm that has you concerned. You’ve been through plenty of rain storms back home, in fact, you think you might thrive in the rain. And you’re sure that Finnick is beginning to realize this too.

But despite this, the others decide to stay inside the shack. Lennox remarks that it’s a good thing none of you had actually stayed at the cornucopia, otherwise you’d be drenched and freezing. So, Lennox and Allio go right back to sleep and you’re left to stay awake with Trink.

“How long do you think that the storm will last?” she asks, picking at the wooden floorboards.

You look at the window. It’s dirty on the inside, already making it hard to see through, but with the rain constantly pounding on the other side, it makes it that much harder. You tilt your head, purse your lips as you try to think. The sky doesn’t look that dark from as much as you can tell, but that doesn’t really mean anything.

And you’re on an island, and the rain might be gamemaker-engineered. Could mean a number of things. It could last for days, and at that point, you’d all be flushed out and be shit out of luck when it comes to hunting animals and fishing, just fueling starvation. But on the other hand, it could all be some scheme for a fight.

“Depends on the circumstances.” you close your eyes, leaning your head up against the wall, “A load of things could be going on out there. I’d say that if it’s the gamemakers that’s doing this, it’ll hopefully be done in a day or two. Which just means that we should ration out the rabbit, crackers and other stuff carefully.”

“I’ll keep that in mind when I’m eating.” she says, you open your eyes to see she’s got a small, teasing smile on her face.

The two of you fall into silence, and eventually you’re being dragged under again. You’re not all that surprised, sleeping in the sand might feel like a perfect bed, with how you shaped the sand. But it’s not exactly comfortable, and you’d much rather have something like the wooden floor boards. Even if they’re hard.

You’re tired. There’s rain on the house, and you can make the whistling of the wind sound like a song. Your last thought before you fall asleep is how you think that it’s a perfect time to be well-rested.

The next time you wake up, it’s to your boot being nudged. Your fingers fly across the floorboards and to your knife in the same instance that you open your eyes. It’s the others, the rabbit is displayed in front of them, clearly they’re ready to eat. You look at the window, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. The storm has definitely calmed down.

“Did I miss anything?” you ask, scooting towards them and sitting up.

“Don’t know. It was really loud out there for a while.” Allio says, you’re fairly surprised that he’s talking to you.

“It’s barely a drizzle out there. We’re going to eat and then take a look into the sky to see if anyone’s died.” Trink says.

Of course, you slept the day away in the shack. You can’t be upset at it, and you have a feeling that tonight will be your turn to stand guard. You go ahead and help the others distribute most of the rabbit fairly, and when you’re still hungry, you eat a cracker and drink some water and insist that you won’t eat anymore.

Since you’re all well-rested, you all play some stupid game to pass the time. When Lennox starts yawning, they call it a night. You take the shift, and sit against where you had been sleeping before, which is on the far side of the room, away from the door. You listen as they all start to settle down, and their breathing becomes more spaced out.

And then you have the urge to pee, and manage to remember that you all were supposed to watch the sky. You tuck the knife into your belt and take your sword with you, zipping up the jacket to your chin and throwing the hood over your head. When you step out of the shack, you’re extremely quiet with how you shut the door, in order not to wake them.

It’s definitely not that late into the night, and it’s still raining lightly. You lean against the sword, staring through the tree leaves, into the sky. It’s a long silence, and you begin to believe that maybe you all had missed it after all. And then the Capitol symbol is appearing in the sky, and the anthem is starting.

Finnick and Blaire are still alive, their faces don’t appear in the sky. But the girl from Six appears, and no one follows after her. Such a big storm for one little person? You hope the gamemakers don’t have some underlying plan going on.

You take care of your business, and slip right back into the shack undetected. After shutting the door and making sure that it won’t be coming loose, you take a seat in your space, and spend the rest of the night there. Sometime during the middle of the night, you’ve pulled out the rope that’s buried deep into the backpack, and spend mindless time tying it and untying it in various knots.

Trink is the first to wake when the sun rises, since the sun rays are landing on her face. You offer to switch spaces with her, but instead she says that she’ll take the small amount of time before the others awake. Now, it’s your turn to take a small nap. It doesn’t last more than a couple of hours, which is fine. A power nap here and there won’t hurt.

When you’re all ready to go, you go right back into the woods. The grass and leaves on the ground are still slippery because of the rain, but there’s a comforting smell coming from the plants. There’s no complaints between you all, and for hours, it’s just silence between you all with the occasional chatter.

You’re all just mostly thirsty, wanting to find a pond or something with water. The deeper you wander into the trees, the more you realize that there’s going to be absolutely nothing. You can’t hear rushing water, and you’re too far away from the beach to go and drink salt water.

You don’t bother to break this news to the group, figuring that they’ve come to this conclusion, themselves. In the meantime, you continue to drink your water in measured time and hope that this isn’t making it worse on you. Allio says that you all should have set out some tarp and collected rain water, but it was quickly dismissed by Trink.

The water likely wouldn’t have been good to drink, and the idea really went to shit when he said that you could’ve used whatever came off the roof of the shack. Allio’s back in a sour mood after that, muttering, “Why am I always the bad guy?”

You bite your tongue, not wanting to tell him that he’s typically the one to start fights between you all. And just because someone cancels out his idea, doesn’t mean that it was a direct attack to him. You have a feeling that he gets the most attention back home, which is a hard transition.

It’s about another hour of wandering before it begins to dawn on you all for real. The arena has become hotter, the sun beats down on your backs, and at this point sitting in the shade is doing nothing. Lennox tells you that he’s out of water, and after a very small sip of yours, you give him the rest.

And then it’s done for Trink and Allio.

“How far back to the shack?” you ask, wiping the sweat from your forehead. You almost wish that you could take off the shirt and get away with it, but there’s no doubt that your brother’s back home will be losing their shit.

Then again, it’s for survival. You don’t want to drop in some useless heap on the ground because of heat stroke. Honestly, you’ve always hated the heat. Spring time is the best in District Four, because it’s not too hot and it’s not too cold, either. You begin to lose interest during the summer because that’s when you begin to sweat more, and the house feels awful to sit inside of.

No air conditioning, which makes for days at the beach to try and cool yourself off, only then do you get sunburns and have to spend the days inside, anyway. It’s miserable, trying to get away from the heat. When you were a kid, your mother used to give you and your brothers a fair chunk of change to go down to the ice cream parlor on heatwave days. You’d get to buy ice cream in exchange for a cold, air conditioned building. And Caspian and Calandra would always join you three.

And you wouldn’t be kicked out for hours, when the sun would finally be setting. Thank the owners, and then you’re all going back to the house. By that time, mom would have dinner ready and it would always be something naturally cold to ease the hot feeling you’d all have.

It’s the same thing for winter time, except with cold instead of the heat.

“Hours.” Lennox says, Trink is fanning herself with some large plant leaves, and it doesn’t look like it’s helping much.

Allio is fairly unbothered, he’s got this smug look on his face, “It’s not even that hot.”

“Shut up.” Lennox snaps, “It’s at least a hundred degrees in here.”

“And I’ve felt worse.”

Trink glares at him, “Shut up.”

You lean your head back against the tree, eyes closed. In no way are you tired, there’s just a pounding headache going on in your head. Your mouth is dry, and this is just the beginning of the three day process of dehydration.

Someone breathes in like they’re getting ready to talk, but they’re cut off by a chiming. Your eyes open, you lean forward to look out to see where it’s coming from. Lennox is on his feet, arms outstretched towards the gift from sponsors. The gift is fairly big, and you recognize it as a feast almost immediately.

Lennox sets it down in the middle of you all, popping open the lid. And immediately, you can smell all the delicious food inside, none of them actually have steam coming up. Cold food. And the bottles of water that have condensation running down them.

“Here.” Lennox passes off a piece of paper to you, “Read it.”

He begins to divide the food evenly, and it looks like cold cut sandwiches and water. You can’t see what’s under them just yet, but you know there’s more. There’s always several layers to a feast sponsor gift like this. And it really would be stupid to eat it all at once, and you think they know that too.

You look down at the paper, reading over it the first time around. This was a conjoined gift, from multiple mentors and sponsors, “‘A gift from us to you. Happy Hunger Games, signed Gloss, Enobaria and Anchor’.” You lay the paper aside, you recognize all three of the names.

It’s funny, since they’re all technically in order of each other. Anchor won before Enobaria, and Gloss won the year after Enobaria. And then after Gloss would be Cashmere, his own sister. This year will be the decider of whether or not it’ll be another District One or Two win, or a Four.

“Thank you.” you say, and the other’s chime in as well.

Trink and Lennox work together to split two sandwiches in half to make four. And then pawn them off to you and Allio. You’re free to take a cold water bottle for yourself, beneath the sandwiches you can see all sorts of fruits and vegetables that are undoubtedly fresh.

Obviously your mentors were trying to keep the foods as cold as possible to try and combat the heat. You can appreciate that, you feel like Anchor and Enobaria have the best idea of what it’s like to exist in heat. You sip on your water every now and then, not wanting to drink it all up. In no time, the sandwich is gone, though.

Even with all the nice food and cold water, the arena is still hot. You agree to give yourselves some more time before getting up and going. Lennox shuts the lid on the gift before Allio can reach over and grab more, and passes it off to you and Trink to put in your backpack because he thinks you guys have the most room.

You share a look with Trink, because that’s obviously not the reason. You go ahead and find space for it in your backpack anyway. Wanting to keep the water from your water bottle cold, you dump the remaining water into the metal thermos in hopes that it’ll work. The others think that it’s smart, and do the same thing.

With no garbage can around, you throw your water bottle at Lennox as a joke. He gives you a dangerous look before throwing his right back at you. It doesn’t hurt much, especially when it’s the bottom that hits your forehead. As you go through this, Trink says that she can juggle, and suddenly you’re giving up your bottles to watch her try.

It’s not the best, but she wasn’t much of a liar.

“If circuses still existed, you’d be the perfect act.” Allio says.

You can see the anger that flashes through Trink’s eyes. Before Lennox can lean over and restrain her, she’s launched across the picnic that you’ve set up, hands wrapped around Allio’s throat. You and Lennox get to your feet in a scramble, not liking the fight that’s going on.

Grabbing a hold of Trink’s shoulder, you place your foot on Allio’s chest to keep him down while you yank her off. With the help of Lennox, the two of you get Trink off of him.

“Get the fuck off of me!” Allio huffs, “Fucking bitch.”

He pushes your leg off of him, which causes you to stumble and fall into the grass. Trink is brushing the dirt off of her jeans, but she’s glaring at Allio, “Try me.”

“I did.”

She stands up again, and Lennox is placing himself between her and Allio, “Take a breather, please.”

“Beat the fuck out of him for me.” she snaps, and then swipes her sword on her way out.

It’s just you, Lennox and Allio still beneath the shade. Once again, you get to your feet, feeling a little pissed off yourself. He had no right to push you like that, not after you basically saved his life with Lennox. He should be thanking you, but instead his face is red and he looks like he’s going to attack one of you.

“Chill out.” Lennox says, “Seriously.”

“It was a fucking joke. Guess the bitch doesn’t know how to take one.”

“Or you don’t know how to read a room.” you suggest.

His eyes turn to you, “Yeah, I don’t know how to read a room. Fuck off, you’re fifteen, you have no idea what you’re doing. You’re not even going to win.”

“Watch your fucking mouth. You’ve got two people that don’t like you. If I were you, I’d start walking.”

Allio is puffing up, Lennox slaps his hand on Allio’s chest, keeping him from going at you, “Go back to the cornucopia or chill out.”

He doesn’t say anything else, you sweep up the backpack and pull it over your shoulders. Lennox does the same with the other backpack, and after getting your weapons, you’re alright back to walking. Lennox says that you guys should take a wide circle and go back to the cornucopia, since it’s clear that the forest is dense and you haven’t come across anyone so far.

You walk beside Trink, who's on the far left, and Lennox walks with Allio, who’s on the other side.

“He’s getting on my nerves.” she mutters.

“Mine too.”

She looks at you, “What did Lennox say to him after I left?”

“Told him to chill out, and I said a few things too. He wasn’t very happy.”

“I bet not. Hopefully that’s put him into his place.” Trink picks at her nails. Which is still covered in nail polish, just like yours.

Your nails have seen better days. There’s dirt beneath them, the polish is chipped in the corners. You can only imagine what they’ll look like in a few days. Better or worse? You’re just lucky there isn’t dried blood beneath them.

The heat begins to lessen up by the time the sun is setting. It still feels like it’s eighty degrees though, and you still slowly drink your water. Somehow, you all manage to circle back to the shack, which is still incredibly empty.

None of you are really hungry tonight, still mulling over what had happened earlier in the day. Allio tries to take the night shift, but the answer from all three of you is no. Lennox says that since he’s the one that’s most indifferent to the situation--Trink rolls her eyes--he’ll watch over all of you.

There is no rain on the shack tonight, instead the wind howls and acts like it’s going to break the wooden structure down. It makes you feel like you’re all on the verge of another storm, but you can’t see the gamemakers doing that so soon. It’s obvious that the rain and the heat was their making. They’re trying to break you guys.

It worked, for the most part. The four of you didn’t pass out from heatstroke, obviously but it did raise the irritation. You figured that would happen anyway, you’re sure that the fact that you haven’t run across anyone over the course of these days, haven’t helped at all.

Tonight, you don’t wear the jacket when you go to bed. You keep the backpack guarded behind you, and fall asleep with one arm through the hoop, and the other with a knife clutched in your hand.

When you wake, you figure out pretty quickly that you’re the first. Lennox definitely fell asleep at some time last night. You sit up, a quiet yawn coming from you, stretching your arms and setting down the knife. Your arm is still hooked around the backpack strap, and when you finally stretch the joint, it’s stiff.

You know almost immediately that you have to pee, but take the task of checking on the backpack first. You figure that it’s going to be fine, because there’s no reason for it not to be. But you find it unzipped, and when you pull back the fabric in a panic, the entire feast of food is missing.

The metal pot is gone, and so is the spare knife that you brought just in case you lost the first. And as far as you remember, none of the others brought a knife, and they know that you brought the spare. There’s only one person who’s been going at everyone lately, too.

You turn, eyes glared at Allio, who’s got his back to you and is still sleeping. You lean over, swiping his half-full water bottle and throwing it at the back of his head. He gasps, hand flying to the back of his head, “What the fuck?”

Lennox’s eyebrows draw in, awake now. He stretches his arms out in front of him and opens his eyes. Trink has turned over halfway, squinting and tired looking. Allio has sat up, and a staring contest has started between you two.

“That’s what I should be asking. Where the fuck is the food?”

That’s got everyone waking up.

“What the hell do you mean?” Lennox asks.

“The food is missing, all of it.” You pull the backpack around, and throw it so that everything spills out, making an incredible amount of noise and getting your point across, “Where is it?”

“Does it look like I have it?” Allio snaps.

Trink’s awake, she’s sitting up and reaching for the backpack that the boys were supposed to be carrying. Lennox passes it over to her, and she unzips and begins to go through it.

“You probably ate it all.”

“We don’t know that.” Lennox says, but he’s on the fence, you can tell with how his eyes keep shifting to Allio.

Trink clicks her tongue, and then slowly pulls out a container of grapes. All eyes are then turned on Allio, who’s turning a deep shade of red, “You planted that on me.”

“Why the fuck would I do that?”

“You said it yourself yesterday! Don’t play stupid.”

You lean forward, “With that logic, Trink should be suspect too, but she has no reason to steal. You do, filthy ass pig.”

His nostrils flare, “Listen--”

“No! You listen!” you grab the container of grapes, hurling it at Allio, “After the shit you’ve pulled in the last twenty-four hours, I have a good reason to believe this. And the fact that one of my knives is missing is weird too. And by the way, I’ve been asleep all night, I have no fucking clue about you.

“Honestly, you could have gotten up after Lennox fell asleep to rummage through the bag, eat all the fucking food and save the grapes for later.”

“One of your knives is missing?” Trink asks.

“Yeah, I brought a second one in case I lost the first. You guys know that.”

Lennox is nodding, face hard as he turns to Allio, “Empty out your pockets.”

“You can’t be serious!”

Trink’s zipping up the boy’s backpack, “Got something to hide? If you don’t have it, you shouldn’t be getting defensive.”

Allio sends a nasty glare your way, standing up from where he was sleeping only minutes ago. He plunges his hands into his pockets and turns them inside out, all of them. Even his jacket, which he turns the hood upside down for.

“She’s accusing me and doesn’t even have proof.” he snarls.

“The grapes aren’t good enough proof?” you ask.

He motions to Lennox, “He could have placed them in the backpack, did you think of that?”

“Except I didn’t.”

“You were up all night last night watching the door, you’re telling me you didn’t get a bit hungry?” Allio’s squinting at him.

Lennox moves the jacket that’s laying over his lap, revealing a packet of crackers that he had grabbed for himself. You’ve watched him go through it over the course of these days. And Allio, seeing the packet, turns an even darker shade.

“This is dog shit!” he finally yells, grabbing his sword.

You three almost have the same reaction, fingers reaching for your weapons. But Allio leaves the shack, slamming the door hard enough to make the building shudder. It leaves you all in silence, and it’s not long before Lennox is looking at you.

“Did you wake up at all last night?”

“No.” you shake your head, “I woke up with the strap still around my arm, and my knife near my other hand. If you could take a guess, what time did you fall asleep last night?”

“Early morning.” He’s shrugging, shaking his head lightly too, “the sky was beginning to lighten up, but there wasn’t a sunrise.”

“Did he look awake?” Trink asks.

“No, you all were out cold.”

You press your lips together, gathering all of the contents of the backpack, back inside, “What if someone came in last night?”

It’s a cold silence this time, neither of them speak a word and you’re fairly sure that they stop breathing too.

“Why would someone sneak in and not kill us?” Trink asks.

“The door creaks too.” Lennox says.

You zip up the bag, and then look at them, “The door doesn’t creak if you’re careful with it. The night of the storm, I got up to pee and the door didn’t make a sound when I opened it or closed it.”

Trink’s looking at Lennox, “And a cannon would go off, wouldn’t it?”

Lennox’s nodding, thinking.

Eventually, Allio comes back to the shack, and by then you’ve got all the food piled up. You divide it again, disappointed that you won’t be having half a sandwich again today. But it’s better that you don’t, you think. Once you’re done eating, you pack up your stuff and just leave the garbage in the corner of the room.

It’s back on track to the cornucopia. In just a few hours, you’re replenishing your water at the pond. Lennox suggests hunting as much as you all can on the way back to the cornucopia, which means splitting up. But Trink says that there hasn’t been a single animal in the few hours it took you to get there.

However, you can see movement in the pond.

“Leave a backpack with me, I’ll just sit here and fish.” You hold out your hand for the one that Trink has. With no problem, she swings it off and hands it over.

“Don’t want company?” Allio asks.

You look at Allio, “Do you want to eat tonight or not?” you snap.

“Let’s go.” Lennox pushes Allio slightly to get him moving.

“See you in a few hours.” Trink says, “Be safe.”

“You guys too.” you wave, and then wait for them to leave completely.

After that, you place the backpack firmly next to you, and then get up to grab the fishing pole from the bush. Once you sit back down, you mess with it to get it to be comfortable in your hands again. You lay out a sheet of plastic, and then grab out your water bottle to use it as the reel.

It’s just a waiting game now.

#ilguna #finnick odair #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair oneshot #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair lacuna #lacuna

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methethgfan · 4 years

Text

The 66th Hunger Games

“’Listen,’ he says. ‘Getting a knife should be pretty easy, but you’ve got to get your hands on a bow. That’s your best chance.’ - ‘They don’t always have bows,’ I say, thinking of the year there were only horrible spiked maces that the tributes had to bludgeon one another to death with.” from: Hunger Games (Suzanne Collins)

The arena: The 66th Hunger Games arena consisted of steplike hills, deep forests, and several temples, some of them still intact, others already collapsed. The view from the top was incredible, but the higher one climbed, the more difficult it was to breathe. That’s why the tributes preferred staying at the lower levels and allowed themselves only short stays at the top (for example, if they went on to search for food). The starting point was at a temple court somewhere among the lower levels, that’s also where the Cornucopia enthroned. The tributes had three options to escape the bloodbath: either they had to run up, run down, or remain on the same level and run to the left or right. It was hot and sticky, which is why the tributes were already sweating without really having done anything. Drinkable water was to be found next to each temple. The temples could have been ideal hiding places since it was cool inside, if their residents weren’t so scary: hairy spiders reaching an impressive height of about two meters loved preying upon human flesh. Thus, it was only self-explanatory that these temples were avoided by everyone most of the time. The spiders, however, were afraid of light, so one had nothing to fear as long they were carrying a light source with them. On the twelfth day, an earthquake among the higher levels made the giant spiders leave their temples and run down the hills, in the direction of the Cornucopia, which they had chosen as their new residence. Another source of danger was given with mutated Komodo dragons which had an excellent sense of smell - and in an arena in which everyone was sweating, it was child’s play for them tracking down their most favourite prey. Fortunately, the Komodo dragons were more likely to roam the higher levels, and thus, weren’t around much. So far, so good. It was time to grab a lethal weapon - a sword or an axe, maybe - and then get the hell away from the Cornucopia. That’s what most tributes thought at the beginning. However, they knew nothing about the unpleasant surprise the Cornucopia had in store for them…

The tributes: Because the previous Games had been won by the Finnick Odair, the Careers had to roll up their sleeves and surpass themselves in order to impress the viewers. The Careers were strong as always. Some others looked promising as well. And several even intimidating. Male candidates in particular became the focus of attention, and people were hoping to bet on the right tribute. After all, the strongest always has the best chance of surviving, right? Well, physical strength doesn’t always make the crucial difference between life and death…

The names of the tributes were...

Warning: Some readers may find the following text disturbing. Reader discretion is advised.

The Cornucopia contained nothing but spiked maces as weapons! - and the usual supplies, of course. The tributes had a hard time digesting this fact. No swords, knives, axes, spears - nothing. Only spiked maces. But as they say, you got to work with what you have. The Careers were the first ones ready to bludgeon their opponents to death, but by the time they had put their hands on the weapons, their opponents were already over the hills and far away. Hence, “only” five tributes died during the initial bloodbath, the lowest number so far. And all of them died a very gruesome death. The viewers weren’t even able to tell who had died because their faces were completely disfigured, with bones being broken, eyes smashed in, noses squashed - unless the respective district number could be seen on their clothing.

24. Kellie Finke (age: 14 | skill: x | training score: 3 | days survived: 0): Female tribute from District 5. Kellie was bludgeoned to death by the boy from District 4 (“Quit your b*tching! You girls are all the same.”).

23. Vanilla Davis (age: 14 | skill: x | training score: 4 | days survived: 0): Female tribute from District 9. Pre-Games, Vanilla knew she would have no chance of surviving if she participated in the initial bloodbath. But unfortunately, she was outfoxed by the Cornucopia, shimmering under the hot sun, providing plenty of supplies, attractive enough to make people wrongfully believe they would be able to run at it, take something with them, and escape unscathed. That’s why Vanilla was among the tributes who decided to run towards the various supplies, always forward, where the better supplies were lying. The boy from District 1 grabbed her by her arm, pulled her backwards, and then shoved her on the ground. After he had finished his work, he got up, and looked down at Vanilla’s battered body, pleased with himself (“And that’s the story of how vanilla turned into cherry sauce.”).

22. Tamir Wentworth (age: 15 | skill: x | training score: 4 | days survived: 0): Male tribute from District 3. Tamir was bludgeoned to death by the boys from Districts 2 and 4 - his skull was bashed in. The boy from 1 picked up one of Tamir’s cranial bones, stored it inside his pocket, and muttered to himself “Remembrance.” while calmly walking away.

21. Autumn Dorsey (age: 12 | skill: x | training score: 2 | days survived: 0): Female tribute from District 12. Autumn was brutally killed by the girls from Districts 1 and 2. They had no mercy on her at all. After they had walked away, the camera zoomed in on the battered face of the sweet girl who had once worn a pale pink hair bow for her interview and smiled so innocently.

20. Tye Fleming (age: 14 | skill: x | training score: 3 | days survived: 0): Male tribute from District 8. The boy from District 1 pulled Tye by his jacket and threw him to the ground. He was immediately standing over him and started beating him until he stopped moving (“It would’ve been over quicker if you’d stopped struggling. Perhaps, I should’ve warned you…”).

Nineteen tributes survived the Cornucopia bloodbath - an unbroken record (that was broken in the 68th Hunger Games). And since many of them had had plenty of time to spend at the Cornucopia, all of them owned at least one backpack. But almost everyone was lavish with their supplies, which is why they had nothing left after only a few days had passed. Fortunately, the arena had plenty of food to spare. Drinkable water was to be found at every corner. However, these were the only advantages of the arena. And it soon became clear that the survivors of the bloodbath had no reason to celebrate. Immediately afterwards they died like flies - mostly girls who couldn’t defend themselves against the musclemen with their spiked maces, and thus, became the ideal target (the boy from 1 even said jokingly, “A great philosopher once said, ‘You’ve nothing to fear when facing a woman!’”). However, it’s never wise to underestimate someone…

19. Blossom Shamsay (age: 13 | skill: speed | training score: 2 | days survived: 0): Female tribute from District 11. Blossom was found by the Careers only two hours after the Cornucopia bloodbath. Although a fast runner, she had no chance escaping six tributes at once. They encircled her, shoved her to the ground, and taunted her for a while, before the boy from 1 stepped forward and striked her dead.

18. Hyacinth Gregors (age: 15 | skill: x | training score: 3 | days survived: 0): Female tribute from District 7. Hyacinth was the second post-bloodbath victim of the Careers, but this time, all six of them bludgeoned her to death while the boy from 4 took on the role as a commentator (“Ladies and Gentlemen, in today’s episode of “Time For A Makeover”, we have our lucky candidate who’s ready for a totally new look! Her name is… uh, I forgot. Well, it doesn’t matter, anyway! Because in a few minutes, she’s going to be a whole another person! It’s time for a nose job now! Don’t mess it up, Raige. And yes, Alecto is already in position for the upcoming lip surgery - hopefully, she’ll give her some good, full lips in a minute!”).

17. Ronie Shepherd (age: 14 | skill: x | training score: 3 | days survived: 1): Female tribute from District 3. Ronie had survived the bloodbath very narrowly: she had been the last tribute, other than the Careers, to leave the Cornucopia alive. She was in possession of three backpacks and a small bag filled with a bunch of food supplies. Ronie had climbed the hill upwards, and finally, when she had seen a temple in the distance, she had stopped climbing and started approaching that temple in order to hide in it. But on her way there, she was taken by surprise by Komodo dragons which had been lured by the smell of food coming out of Ronie’s bags. It was too late to escape. Ronie was separated alive. In the end only her right arm was left, which was picked up by a hovercraft.

16. Tidal Courtenay (age: 16 | skill: trident | training score: 9 | days survived: 2): Female tribute from District 4. Tidal was the very first tribute to be mentored by the Finnick Odair, victor of the previous year. Although her mentor was one year younger than her, she learned quite a lot from him. However, Finnick just wasn’t able to like her district partner, the male tribute, although he taught him a few things nonetheless. But Tidal was his clear favourite. Tidal and her district partner were the only Careers who hadn’t volunteered as tributes at Reaping Day. However, they had trained for this day their entire lives, although both were positive that they would never ever volunteer for the Games. Tidal was quite willing to kill, should that be necessary. But when she was suddenly faced with nothing but spiked maces, something changed in her attitude. Were maces not just as deadly as swords or knives? What was the difference? And yet she suddenly found it difficult to beat her opponents to death. Then she knew why she was struggling to do so: you could kill someone with a sword at a moment’s notice. But with a mace, the entire process of killing would last longer. Until you finally were aware of the fact that you were about to extinguish a human life. The life of an innocent you didn’t even knew a thing about other than their name. That’s why Tidal decided to collect some supplies in the meantime. She allied herself with the other Careers including her district partner. She knew him very well, they had sat behind each other in school. He was a quiet boy who had once screamed loudly after discovering a spider on his belongings. But inside the arena, it seemed as if that boy who was so easy to scare had been switched with another soul. He would constantly rave about bludgeoning his opponents to death (“You know, it’s actually not that bad that we only have maces to fight with. It’s about time for a change, isn’t it?” or “Bludgeoning someone to death was so… satisfying! Did you feel the same way?”). Tidal knew that he was just pretending to be someone he wasn’t. At some point she was so sick of his fake demeanour that she finally broke her silence: “Really? That’s what you think?” - “What do you mean?” - “I don’t know. It’s just… I can’t recognize the boy who was once so scared of little spiders anymore, you know?”). Her district partner blushed immediately, and it got worse when the others started mocking him for his phobia (“You’re really scared of spiders? For real?” - “Oh, do you need a babysitter?” - “Come to mama!”). The boy was still looking at Tidal, who was apparently very pleased with herself, and replied grudgingly: “Everyone is scared of something”. But Tidal hadn’t had enough yet (“Well, in your case, some things. Locusts, ants, rain wor-“ - “Shut up!”). Suddenly, he walked towards Tidal and pointed at her warningly (“I could put an end to your miserable life if I wanted to. Here and now.” - “I don’t know if I should laugh or cry. That’s really coming out of your mouth? The boy who already pees himself whenever someone mentions spiders?” - “Stop it! I warn you!” - “Who are you to warn me?”). The situation got completely out of control when the boy from 4 reached for his weapon and attacked his district partner. The others were rooted to the spot for a moment, then they tried to separate them. At that moment, something slipped out of the boy’s mouth that he had kept as a secret (“Go ahead! We wanted to get rid of you ----, anyway!”). A moment later they were all facing each other armed…

15. Bling Bling Verity (age: 17 | skill: sword | training score: 8 | days survived: 2): Female tribute from District 1. Although Bling Bling was one of the oldest tributes, most people were sceptical about her age at first because she looked so young. Admittedly, their scepsis was understandable due to her little-girl behaviour, hair bunches and teardrop-shaped face. When Bling Bling entered the interview stage in a pink butterfly dress that would have been appropriate for a 12-year old, people weren’t sure whether her stylist was serious or just joking around (“Do you like butterflies?” - “I do. Because I can identify myself with them. They look pretty and innocent, but did you know that they can sting as well?”). Actually, that’s a common incorrect assumption about butterflies, and Caesar Flickerman was tactful enough to not correct her in front of the entire nation watching. But the Capitol audience was very impressed with her answers, and that’s what really mattered in terms of sponsoring gifts. To everyone’s surprise, Bling Bling turned out to be a dangerous opponent inside the arena. Although the male Careers were anything but “female-friendly”, Bling Bling tried her best to stay on their good side. But in truth, she has never even been on their good side. On the second day, after the Careers had killed nearly a dozen tributes, Bling Bling and the girl from 4 went to a lake to refill their water bottles. While they were alone, the girl from 4 asked her a question that was bothering her (“Don’t you feel personally attacked?” - “Huh?” - “Doesn’t their behaviour bother you?” - “Whose behaviour?” - “Oh, come on!” - “I literally have no clue what you’re talking about.” - “They talk about us as if we’re dirt. I’ve had enough.” - “Uhm, I didn’t get that impression.”). Yes, she did. But she was simply too scared to admit it, and she certainly didn’t trust the girl from 4. In order to prove the boys that she was loyal to them, Bling Bling told her district partner about the conversation she had with the girl from 4 - unaware that, by doing so, she had signed her own death warrant...

14. Helmholtz Teel (age: 18 | skill: hiding | training score: 4 | days survived: 3): Male tribute from District 5. Helmholtz wandered around the arena for three days, always careful to not make any noises or leaving a trace. He was very talented at finding good hiding places, and his main strategy was hiding. As time passed, he was more and more convinced that it wasn’t a good idea to hide the entire time because no one would sponsor a tribute like him - unless he would leave his hiding place for some time. And that’s what Helmholtz did, and what sealed his fate. He moved upwards, unaware that every step he took brought him closer to death. Then he saw a few temples in the distance, but before he entered any of them, he appeased his thirst with water from a fountain nearby. He looked around, set his sight on the biggest temple, and started walking towards it. But he stopped halfway. Hadn’t he decided to stop hiding and show himself more often to arouse a potential sponsor’s interest? “One more time,” he muttered to himself. It was getting dark, and he wasn’t fond of the idea of walking around this late. He opened his backpack and took out a small matchbox and a torch. He entered the pitch-dark temple with the burning torch in his hand. Then he heard something. He wasn’t alone! Something - or someone - was moving nearby. He stopped dead in his tracks and turned around very slowly. The light shone on a humongous spider that was piling itself up a little further away. Helmholtz stared at it, and slowly walked backwards, his eyes wide open. “I’m hallucinating. This can’t be real,” he kept reassuring himself. He stopped yet again when he felt something wet on his neck. He was shaking so badly that the torch light illuminated every inch of the room alternately. With his other hand, he touched the warm and slimy thing on his neck. He raised the torch and looked up. A spider, right above him. Sitting upside down on the ceiling. Both stared at each other for about two minutes, what felt like an eternity. Then the spider’s saliva dropped down again - straight into the fire of the torch, and extinguished it. The fire had kept him alive, but now that it was gone, the spiders jumped on him without any warning. Helmholtz’ bloodcurdling screams echoed in the temple even after nothing was left of him but some cracked bones and tattered clothes.

13. Ferty Kenwood (age: 17 | skill: bodily strength, practicality, food procurement | training score: 8 | days survived: 3): Female tribute from District 10. Ferty’s family belonged to the upper class of District 10, her father was the mayor’s secretary. Although it wasn’t necessary for anyone of their children to make additional money, Ferty’s parents didn’t want their children to be spoiled. Thus, they believed it was a sensible educational method to send their children to work on a farm. That way, they would be able to learn more about their district’s main industry. The moment their daughter was chosen as a tribute, they were relieved that, due to the hard labour on the farm, their daughter wasn’t a hopeless case. She was tall, well-fed, and strong. She knew better than anyone else how to find - or make her own - food. And that was exactly the case in the 66th Hunger Games. The heat was neither a problem for Ferty nor for her district partner, and Ferty ensured their survival with her manual dexterity and knowledge about plants and other food resources. With the 8 points she had scored during her individual training session, Ferty was a likely contender for the victory (though many people believed that the male tributes had better chances to win). When Ferty and her district partner unwittingly stepped foot into the home of the giant spiders, they only had a few seconds to escape them. Luckily, they managed to outpace them. But before they could take a breather, they were already facing the next danger: standing only a few meters away from them, the three remaining Careers were grinning at them, each one of them armed with a spiked mace. Ferty and her district partner were running away again. Ferty ran to the left, whereas her district partner ran up the levels. The boys chased her first. While she was being bludgeoned to death, her district partner looked back at her one last time, unable to even say a proper good bye to the person who had saved him from starvation. Then the boys turned around and looked up at him. Blood was dripping down their maces, but they were still longing for more...

12. Alecto Curtis (age: 18 | skills: axe, bodily strength | training score: 9 | days survived: 5): Female tribute from District 2. Alecto was part of the Career alliance that partially broke up on the second day. She would’ve been suicidal to even think about fighting three boys on her own, even though she was anything but weak. But the boys had ganged up against them, and there was no way to change their mind. So, Alecto did the only thing a reasonable person would do in such a situation: running away. The other two girls stayed back and put up a fierce fight with the boys, resulting in their deaths. With nothing more than a half-full water bottle in her hand (all of her other belongings remained with the three Career boys), Alecto thought she was screwed. But then she remembered that they had left some supplies at the Cornucopia, which is why she ran as fast as possible to get their hands on them. She was certain that the boys were heading for the Cornucopia as well (indeed, they were) in order to prevent her from taking their supplies away. Inside the Cornucopia, she grabbed a spiked mace, a small box of matches, and a dry pretzel. Now it was about time to leave, but Alecto couldn’t help but give the boys a sign that she had been there and had managed to slip through their fingers: with all her strength combined, she lifted a wooden box and hurled it against the Cornucopia. The sound of it echoed through the entire arena and reached the boys who were running into that direction (“She’s making fun of us. Hurry up!”, said the boy from 1). Alecto then went into hiding, and the three boys never saw her again despite looking out for her (“They won’t be able to kill me. And should they find me, I’ll kill myself, if necessary, to spare myself the embarrassment.”) Alecto died on the fifth day: She had climbed up the levels, unaware that she had entered the territory of the Komodo dragons. Upon being surprised by them, she turned around and clattered down the levels. However, she got carried away by the momentum, and thus, lost her balance and rolled down the levels. Alecto sustained several fractures, and her head injury was so severe that she died after about half an hour. The Komodo dragons had stopped chasing her, as they never left their habitat under any circumstances whatsoever. Although Alecto had died so early, she had at least kept her word.

11. Ernest Willard (age: 16 | skill: athletics | training score: 6 | days survived: 5): Male tribute from District 12. Ernest and his four siblings had been raised by their widowed mother. His father had died at a mine explosion when Ernest had been a little child. Perhaps that was the reason why he felt so personally attacked by what some of his opponents had said about women, as he himself had been raised by one of the bravest, most selfless, and strongest women he ever knew (“I wonder if those people who are stupid enough to spout such misogynistic crap feel the same about their own mothers and sisters. If so, I offer my condolences to all those who had to deal with these fools until today. I’d go bright red with shame.”). His words hit the bull’s eye. But they also made him become a target of the very people he had insulted. “I’m not going to rest before I’ve killed that douchebag personally,” the boy from 2 said to his allies. They found him on the fifth day, while he was hiding, and killed him brutally (”Now I understand why your parents have chosen that name for you,” the boy from 1 jokingly said to the boy from 2).

10. Parsley Forrer (age: 15 | skill: x | training score: 4 | days survived: 6): Male tribute from District 9. Parsley only survived for so long because he had taken four backpacks with him before escaping the initial bloodbath at the Cornucopia. After he had eaten all of his supplies up (”I’m screwed.”), he wandered around the arena, disorientated and eagerly looking for something to eat. But he wasn’t successful. And on the sixth day, he was found by the boy from District 11, just when he was drinking from a lake. The boy attacked him from behind and bludgeoned Parsley to death.

09. Tinzy Grogan (age: 17 | skills: observing, orientation | training score: 4 | days survived: 8): Female tribute from District 8. Due to her looks, Tinzy was one of the few tributes who stood out the most: her feathered hair had never been seen on any tribute before (“Since I cut so many fabrics, I thought, why not just cut my hair as well?”). Something about her made people like her from the start, although they didn’t even know her. No wonder that she had been the most popular girl at her school. She was smart, understanding, modest, and kind. Many tributes thought that they would’ve befriended her under other circumstances. But that wasn’t possible here, not inside an arena where they would have to kill her - or she would kill them. Later on, a tribute, the boy from District 7, even changed his direction when he saw her filling her water bottle at a lake. He simply didn’t want to kill her. Tinzy had survived the bloodbath with several backpacks, and thus, had enough food supplies that would keep her alive for some days. On the fourth day, however, she ran out of food. She went out to search for something to eat but couldn’t find anything. How could she? She had never spent a single day in the wild. Never actually been in natural surroundings. The first time that she had seen a forest was on her way to the Capitol. That’s one of the disadvantages tributes from District 8 are facing year after year. Finally, on the fifth day, she discovered a small loaf of bread on the ground, near her hiding place. She ran towards it but then stopped halfway. A loaf of bread? Just lying on the ground like that? She had never been in the wild before, but she knew nevertheless that this wasn’t a usual thing to see in a jungle. That’s why she initially sensed trickery behind this discovery and looked around to see whether any tribute was hiding nearby. Then she saw a shoe sticking out from behind a tree. As if the person wasn’t even seriously trying to hide. Tinzy stared at the bread in her hand, then looked at the tree again behind which a person was hiding. But the person had vanished. That crept her out, and she felt observed. Someone had watched her from afar without being noticed at first. But why hadn’t they attacked her? Tinzy quickly grabbed her belongings (including the bread) and changed her location. She still hadn’t found any edibles, and the hunger started to get worse. Although she suspected the bread to be poisonous (Why else would someone gift her a bread?), she still didn’t throw it away. She smelled at it in order to appease her hunger, but it only made things even worse. And before she knew it, she had already bitten into the bread. But nothing happened. Another bite. Again nothing happened. Why would someone give her something to eat? Unless... The next day, she found red grapes not far from where the Komodo dragons lived. Having found a new food resource, she no longer had to fear starvation. However, she couldn’t forget the bread someone had given her voluntarily. She had ruled out the boy from District 6. He just didn’t look like the type of a person to do such thing, and she was also strangely scared of him. The boy from 7 was strong and unforgiving. The boy from 9, maybe? No, just because he’s from the grain district doesn’t mean that he would walk around the arena and hand out bread. She didn’t know about the boy from 10. And the thought of the Careers doing something like that was utterly comedic. That brought it down to the girl from 6 and the boy from 12. The boy was kind, that’s beyond question, but something told her that he hadn’t been the mysterious tribute. It was the girl from 6. But the question still remained - why? On the seventh day, she discovered the girl walking up the levels. Tinzy emerged from behind a tree (”Don’t go there. Unless you want to be eaten by mutts.”). The girl was startled at first, but after realizing who had talked to her, she calmed down (”You have given me bread. Why did you do that?” - “I had too many. I supposed you were in need of food.” - “That was nice of you. Thank you.”). That was only partially true. The girl from 6 liked Tinzy just like everyone else, and couldn’t bring herself to let her starve. And admittedly, she had wanted her to know who had given her the bread. The two girls gave each other a nod before parting their ways. They didn’t want to ally with each other because they feared that they would have to kill the other. Tinzy was found by the Careers on the eighth day. She was in possession of a mace, but knew that she wouldn’t have a chance against them. It was over. She looked down the levels, and saw the girl from District 6, standing below her and silently looking at her. In the short moment their eyes found each other, it seemed as if both girls were thanking the other. And since Tinzy wouldn’t need the weapon anymore, she decided to drop it down, so that the girl from 6 would have a tiny chance to fight against the Careers (”Look, she knows she stands no chance. I told you that all they know is hiding,” the boy from 2 told his allies). What they didn’t know was that the person standing below them (and that they couldn’t see) would take revenge on them in the most terrible way.

The Final Eight: With Tinzy being knocked out of the competition, eight tributes remained - seven boys and one girl. For many, it was nearly impossible that the 66th Hunger Games could have a female victor anymore...

08. Hijo Lu (age: 16 | skill: speed | training score: 5 | days survived: 9): Male tribute from District 6. Hijo had escaped the bloodbath with four backpacks and a pillow tucked under his arm. But he was very lavish with the food, which is why on the sixth day, he went to look for food. That’s when he came across his district partner. She was taking a bath in a lake he had never discovered before. He remained in the shadows and watched her for a while, thinking about the best way to approach her without scaring her away. Then he walked forward, raised his arm, and waved at her (“Bonny, it’s me, Hijo from home!”). The girl was startled at first, but after recognizing him as her district partner, she calmed down, got dressed, walked towards him, but stopped halfway, as if she was afraid to get too close to him. This didn’t go unnoticed, and Hijo reached out his hand (“I won’t do anything, promise. I was just, uhm, wondering, if we could team up, you know? Since we’re from the same district.” - “How long have you been watching me?” - “Not too long, really! I was just unsure how to approach you.” - “Why do you want me as an ally?” - “I already explained that. We’re from the same district. I’m sure our people would want that as well.” - “How do you know what they want?” - “Why are you asking so many questions?” - “Because I don’t trust you.” - “How can I gain your trust?”). Hijo then walked forward, straight-faced, his hand still stretched. The girl slowly walked backwards (“Stay where you are, Hijo.”), but he didn’t stop (“You ask too many questions.” - “Stay where you are!” - “Silly girl. You should be happy that I’m even making such an offer. Who are you to reject me?”). That’s when the girl turned around and ran away, with Hijo close on her heels. Soon after, however, the girl realized that she had run straight into a dead end: there was an abyss in front of her. She could try her luck and roll it down, but there was no possibility that she would land on the ground uninjured (“’While the cat’s away, the mice will play.’ You’ve survived long enough.” - “What’s your problem with me?” - “Oh, I don’t have a problem with you. It’s just the fact that only one of us will survive the arena. And it’s not gonna be you who’ll return to Six. Considering this, I see no reason why I should let you live. In the end, you’re gonna die, anyway.” - “How can you be so sure?” - “Just like that boy from 11 has said: Girls are weaker by nature. Six deserves me as their victor rather than you.” - “You’re insane.” - “Possibly. Now, enough talking!”). Suddenly, he jumped forward, but the girl from 6 rolled to the ground just in time. Hijo fell down into the abyss and landed roughly on the ground (“For a boy so self-confident, you’ve very poor combat skills, I must say!”). Hijo looked up at her angrily, then turned around and disappeared into the forest in front of him. On the ninth day, when he was walking around and looking specifically for his district partner, he was found by the remaining Careers, and bludgeoned to death by them after running away from them for a while. It wasn’t the first time that a tribute had tried to kill their district partner on purpose - something similar had happened during the 65th Hunger Games. However, the tribute in question had seen their district partner as a serious threat. Hijo, on the other hand, had tried to kill his district partner for a very different, shocking reason. Capitol’s favorite (5th-choice).

07. Angus Althover (age: 17 | skills: strategic thinking, bodily strength | training score: 8 | days survived: 11): Male tribute from District 10. Right after his district partner had died a gruesome death, Angus was already being chased by her killers. Fortunately, he was able to shake them off. He went into hiding and was extra careful to not leave any traces. Although he knew that no one would sponsor him, if she showed his feelings, he couldn’t force back his tears, mourning for his friend who had died such a terrible death. Hiding away from the Careers seemed to work - until on the eleventh day, they found him again. Angus turned around and ran up the levels. He had an idea, a very risky and probably lethal one. He continued running upwards until he had reached the temples. Then he screamed as load as possible in order to catch the giant spiders’ attention (which wasn’t necessary at all because they could smell humans from afar). That’s when things got out of hand... Capitol’s favorite (4th-choice).

06. Cliff Montean (age: 16 | skill: knives | training score: 9 | days survived: 11): Male tribute from District 4. Cliff wasn’t born a leader, nor did he have any qualities, he believed, that could’ve helped him striking out on his own. That’s why he was always looking for a leader to guide and protect him. A typical tag-along who wouldn’t survive on his own. And in order to remain under that person’s wings, he was willing to do anything that granted him protection. Thus, it wasn’t surprising that Cliff was the first Career to propose the idea of an alliance. He volunteered to go hunting in order to provide food for the entire group and was also keeping watch over their water reserve. He pretended to be strong and reliable, although he wasn’t so tough on the inside. Aware of the fact that he and his male allies had similar views on gender roles, Cliff would constantly crack misogynistic “jokes” (“How many men does it take to open a beer?” - “How many?” - “None. It should be opened by the time she brings it!“). That was nothing more than a desperate attempt to be acknowledged by them (“Wait, I’ve another one! How do you know when a woman is about to say something smart?” - “How?” - “When she starts her sentence with, ‘A man once told me...!’”). On the eleventh day, they were chasing the boy from District 10. Without being aware of it, they had entered the higher levels, where the monstrous spiders were living. The boy from 10 had deliberately led them there in order to get rid of them. The Careers realized the boy’s master plan too late: a spider bent over Cliff from behind, who was looking at the dead body of the boy from 10, and wiping the blood on his hands using the hem of his t-shirt. Suddenly, he felt something wet on his right shoulder, and when he turned around and looked up, he was staring right into the black and merciless eyes of the creature whose saliva had dripped down on him. The other boys were lucky, they managed to escape and left Cliff behind, who was begging them for help (“NO! PLEASE DON’T LEAVE ME ALONE! I DON’T WANNA DIE THIS WAY, I’M BEGGING YOU!”). The spider was clinging to him, and no matter how hard he tried to shake it off, it was pointless. More spiders joined them soon, and Cliff was eaten alive. His screams, and finally his howling, echoed in the entire arena like a death song. Capitol’s favorite (8th-choice).

05. Zeke Flaherty (age: 18 | skills: axe, bodily strength | training score: 10 | days survived: 12): Male tribute from District 7. Being a lumber, Zeke was, of course, very familiar with axes. Zeke declined the offer of the boy from District 1 to join forces with them. He didn’t want to team up with people who he despised. Having spent his entire lifetime in forests, Zeke was used to stay outdoors. He also knew how to get food, and to him, the arena wasn’t really that much different from a usual forest in District 7. The Careers plus the boy from 11 who had joined them were eagerly looking for Zeke, their last, dangerous opponent (they didn’t even count the girl from District 6). Finally, they found him on the twelfth day. But Zeke didn’t run away, and instead, decided to fight them, even though he knew that he would die. But at least he would die in dignity. ”If you had joined us, you wouldn’t be facing us now,” said the boy from 1. “Oh, is that so? You three want to be declared as victors altogether? Last time I checked, it wasn’t possible to have more than one victor. Just wait. Soon you’ll turn on one another,” Zeke replied. The boy from 11 looked down at this shoes, frightened at his words, while his allies raised their spiked maces and started attacking Zeke. Before he was killed, Zeke had broken the nose of the boy from District 2, given a head injury to the boy from District 11, causing him a mild concussion, and bruised the arm of the boy from District 1. It took the boys a whole day to recover and patch themselves up. Capitol’s favorite (3rd-choice).

04. Oleander Burke (age: 17 | skill: bodily strength, food procurement | training score: 9 | days survived: 14): Male tribute from District 11. Seeing what an impact the controversial interviews of the male Careers had had on the Capitol audience, Oleander felt the need to put in his two cents (”I don’t know what strategy I’m going to use in the arena yet. But you bet that I won’t hide all the time and hope for my opponents to die like girls do year after year.” - “Say that’s true, do you have any specific idea why they are doing that ‘year after year’?” - “I’m strongly convinced that girls are weaker by nature. If that isn’t the case, then why are we stronger than them? What? It’s a simple law of biology. I’m only stating the facts, Caesar.”). The male Careers were impressed by him. However, they didn’t offer him to join them, leaving Oleander very disappointed. Inside the arena, Oleander showed great talent for food procurement. Even though the arena was so much different than District 11′s landscape, he had no difficulties finding food. And that’s what he proposed the Careers after they had found him on the eleventh day, only a few hours after they had lost one of their team members. The Careers finally agreed to join forces with him, and were convinced that they had made the right choice because neither one of them knew how to get proper food other than waiting for potential sponsoring gifts. When they were sitting around a campfire on the thirteenth day, Oleander accidentally told them something that he had kept as a secret (”Wow, I killed not just one, but two tributes.” - “Wait, what?” - “What?” - “That wasn’t your first kill?” - “No, it was.” - “But you just said that you’ve killed two tributes so far.” - “Did I?” - “You told us that the boy from 7 had been your very first kill. Are you kidding?” - “Oh, no, you got that wrong! I meant that he was the first tribute I didn’t kill on my own.”). Oleander had managed to talk his way out, although the two boys reckoned it would be safer to be more cautious in his presence from then on. They had underestimated him. Thinking that his allies would want to get rid of him very soon, Oleander tried to change their minds by teaching them everything he knew about healing plants, making food, keeping an eye on their water reserves, and laughing at everything they said. But that didn’t prevent him from a very terrible end... Capitol’s favorite (6th-choice).

03. Raige Rumy (age: 18 | skill: sword | training score: 9 | days survived: 14): Male tribute from District 2. Raige was very much like his name. He was very irritable, and thus, easy to trigger. He became a raving lunatic whenever something didn’t go as planned. Even his allies were scared of him sometimes for being so incalculable. Raige had his best time in the arena and enjoyed every single minute of it. He had always wanted to be a tribute, always wanted to be in the spotlight. That’s why he was acting up sometimes and saying highly controversial things. Many viewers disliked him, although they believed he unfortunately had a fair chance of becoming the next victor. In order to win, there was nothing Raige wouldn’t do. It’s ironic that he fell victim to his ambition and rampancy, two traits he thought would lead to his victory. Capitol’s favorite (7th-choice).

02. Crescent Delaney (age: 18 | skill: spear | training score: 10 | days survived: 14): Male tribute from District 1. There was no other word than noble to describe Crescent’s appearance: radiant green eyes, blonde wavy hair, thin lips, and cheekbones to die for. He was a highly skilled fighter, but much to his disappointment, there were no spears inside the arena. His male allies looked like guttersnipes next to him - neither one of them could express themselves so eloquently and move so adroitly. Crescent was even careful to not get dirty, and frequently washed his clothes to stay clean. He looked down on others and hadn’t paid any attention to the other tributes in the training center. He had allied himself with the remaining Careers because he wanted to have admirers around him. Brainwashed like most of the Careers, he enjoyed killing, especially with spiked maces (”It’s like smashing dorbeetles.”). When they found the pair from District 10 on the third day, Crescent was looking forward for a new cat-and-mouse game to play (”It’s our time to shine, boys.”). On the seventh day, the three boys were being chased by Komodo dragons. Encircled by them, they knew they would die. But suddenly, Crescent had an idea. He pulled out the cranial bone of the boy from District 3, and threw it over the heads of the Komodo dragons who ran up to the bone that still had dry blood on it. After that incident, Crescent very much enjoyed being called “lifesaver” and “brainiac” by his allies. It further fed his ego. Crescent knew that he was perfect, and refused to accept any of his mistakes. By underestimating the girl from District 6, which was his greatest mistake, he ultimately dug his own grave. Capitol’s favorite (1st-choice).

01. Bonny Matsui (age: 17 | skill: explosives | training score: 8 | days survived: 14): Victor of the 66th Hunger Games from District 6. Bonny’s natural beauty was outlandish. She was most definitely one of the most beautiful tributes to ever set foot in the arena. At times, her black, voluminous hair seemed to be of a midnight blue colour instead. Her eyes were bright green, her cheeks rosy, and her lips as tender as dark red plums. Above her lip, on the left, was a small birthmark that looked so good on her that painting a fake birthmark on the same spot was one of the most popular trends in the Capitol for a while. Many people expected her to be vain, arrogant, and conceited. However, Bonny hated to be reduced to her looks. Being highly stubborn and outspoken, she didn’t like being told what to say, to do, and how to behave. She loved her freedom, her independence, and hated anyone who tried limiting them. The mere fact that the Capitol forced her to compete in the Hunger Games as a tribute infuriated her beyond all measure (“I just have to win these Games. That’s the only way of becoming free again,” she kept telling herself). Even when her stylist, Cherish, tried to put her in a purple dress, Bonny struggled against it (“You might as well forget that.”), and convinced her that a black leather unitard would suit her personality way better. Bonny was reluctant yet again when her stylist pinned her hair up, but didn’t say anything. However, when her stylist tried to apply some make-up on her face, Bonny stood up and threatened to mess her hair up if she would do anything with her face (“But you need to look attractive!” – “No, I don't need to!” – “I promise that I won’t do anything that will make you look stupid. Let me at least apply some basic make-up. Otherwise, none of the sponsors would seriously consider sending you a sponsoring gift in the arena.”). At the thought of starving to death, Bonny finally gave in. The night of the interviews made it clear how difficult of a task it was to get her beloved freedom back: was it really worth killing innocent people for freedom’s sake? However, what she heard during her opponents’ interviews changed her mind – some of them indeed deserved to die. The way they were talking about other tributes, girls in particular, made her so furious that she couldn’t control herself during her interview with Caesar Flickerman (“It’s ridiculous and saddening at the same time that several of my opponents have a wrong conception of the opposite gender. Dresses don’t make me weak. Glitter doesn’t make me someone who shouldn’t be taken seriously. The previous Hunger Games have shown on many occasions that underestimation can be a lethal mistake.” - “So, what do you think defines girls?” - “There is no definition. Every girl is special and unique in her own way. I can be a girl without having to wear dresses. I can be a girl without using make-up. And I can be a girl without liking jewelry. What needs to be done so that the fools finally understand?”).

But the fools never understood. Bonny’s words had provoked them, they thought she was challenging them. And because these words had come from a girl, they felt humiliated. While the Cornucopia bloodbath was going on, Bonny ran around and grabbed everything she could take with her. But after seeing something right in front of the Cornucopia’s entrance, she stopped for a few seconds, pondering whether she should take it with her or not. It was a small butane gas cylinder that could be used for camping. And most people assumed that Bonny was planning to use it for that exact purpose. She decided to exchange two backpacks for a butane gas cylinder (”You better be worth it.”), strapped two remaining backpacks on, and ran away as fast as possible. Bonny was familiar with butane gas as it was used as a fuel gas among other things in District 6. And she also knew how dangerous it could be if it fell into the wrong hands. However, she didn’t use the butane gas for anything, and people were wondering why she had collected the gas cylinder in the first place. But Bonny had other plans. Most of the time, she was either hiding or looking out for food. But instead of walking on the ground all of the time, she preferred jumping, and sometimes even swinging, from tree to tree, because she feared that other tributes could track her down. That reminded everyone of Finnick Odair, who had done the same a year ago. Only Bonny wasn’t as good at it as he was. On the thirteenth day, when only three other tributes were left, Bonny decided that it was time to execute her plan. She left her belongings in her hiding place, except for the butane gas that she carried into one of the now empty temples. There, she closed the door and windows, and within only a few seconds, she took off the sealing cap, unscrewed the protective collar and valve, and vented the gas into the temple. Then she quickly left the temple and closed the door behind her again. One day passed. Bonny was sitting on a scarp, and staring at the temple in the distance. Another few hours passed. Finally, she heard laughter coming from the opposite side, and looked up. Tiny, moving lights had appeared out of nowhere. Bonny stared at them without closing her eyes for a second, as if her life depended on them. Then the lights stopped moving - right in front of the temple (”Come on. Go inside.”). Adrenaline was now pumping through her blood, her heart beat hard against her chest. Slowly, with hesitant steps, her remaining opponents walked into the temple. Suddenly, the temple exploded and burst into flames. Bonny stood up, bearing a bright smile on her face, and punched the air (”Girl power!”). Her eyes reflected the red lights coming from the burning temple. Then her smile disappeared, and the next moment, she ran down the scarp, to the opposite side, where she ran up the levels until she was standing in front of the burning temple. She walked towards it. The closer she approached the temple, the louder the moaning, panting, and wailing got. The three boys were lying on the floor, their clothes on fire, their skin burned off. One of the boys - judging by the radiant green eyes, the boy from District 1 - looked directly at her. His nose was charred. Several layers of his skin destroyed. Gaping wounds on his face revealed the underlying bones. He didn’t even look like a human anymore. “Help me.” It was nothing more than a whisper, but at the same time, she had the feeling that he had yelled at her. “Help me,” he repeated. Maybe she could do something to save him. Something to ease his pain. “Weak,” he said, with all his strength combined, and the radiance in his eyes vanished a second later, leaving them blank and empty. Three cannon shots were fired just at that moment. No, they deserved it.

The people in the Capitol adored their newest victor, the one who had managed to win against all odds. During Bonny’s post-Games interview with Caesar Flickerman, highlights from the 66th Hunger Games were shown to everyone watching. Not a single second of the explosion and its aftermath was skipped (”What did you think after seeing those three in that terrible state?” - “I thought that I had done the right thing. I killed them because they deserved it.”). After her victory, Bonny was forced into undergoing cosmetic surgery on her body in order to become more “womanly”. But she refused. When President Snow threatened to kill her family, she did something she had never done before: consent. The rich and influential men in the Capitol didn’t even view her as a girl, but as an object. One day, after her stylists had told her that they would give her a new hair style, Bonny shaved off her hair that people were so in love with. From then on, she wore a buzz cut, much to the dismay of President Snow. And to top it all, she tattooed her skull. Whatever they would do to her, they wouldn’t be able to take her identity away from her. Only she could do that. Capitol’s favorite (2nd-choice).

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*Capitol favorites attracted Capitol citizens’ (and therefore whole Panem’s) attention the most. Various reasons for this included their unique skills, impressive deeds or exciting storylines. More screen time made it easier for them to survive in the arena compared to less noticed tributes (e.g. in terms of sponsor gifts). Also, there was a lower risk for them to be exposed to the Gamemaker’s arbitrariness (e.g. mutts, different dangers) due to contributing to the viewer’s excitement. The higher their placement (1st, 2nd, 3rd…), the better. Nevertheless, the possibility of encountering dangers in the arena was never completely ruled out.

Sorry for any language mistakes. English is not my native language. Please let me know about any mistakes I have made.

I’d be grateful for your feedback! I spend A LOT of time writing all of this, so I’d really like to know what you think.

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Finished recaps: The 1st, 16th, 25th, 36th, 49th, 50th, 65th, 66th, 68th, 69th, and 70th Hunger Games

Upcoming recaps: The 6th, 22nd, 62nd, 71st, 72nd, and 74th Hunger Games

#hunger games #catching fire #mockingjay #panem #thg #suzanne collins #fanfiction

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brooklynislandgirl · 3 years

Text

SENSORY DETAILS Tagged by: No One, I do what I want. Tagging: Be Fae, Steal Memes

Scent: Beth doesn’t do cologne or perfume the way most women do. One reason is because of her work. A good almost 40% of emergency room visits are due to or co-morbid with respiratory distress. There are also allergies and sensitivities to keep in mind. Instead, she makes her own essential oil blends and uses them very sparingly.

She also uses all natural, organic, cruelty free, no animal testing, sustainable beauty products, and often as she can ones that use ingredients from Hawai’i, as a way to support local farmers, and extended kin.

Which tends to mean that she smells like a combination of pineapple, coconut, star fruit, blue ginger, and macadamia or kukui nut, as those scents are prevalent in shampoo, conditioner, and body wash. Her personal favourite essential oils is a mellow but long lasting blood orange and sandalwood combination, or plumeria. She uses Tom’s Natural toothpaste with cinnamon, and her breath is often softly sweet and spicy because of it. She is very careful to brush morning and night, between meals. She uses Schmidt’s Water + Wood deodorant.

She has been told on numerous occasions that she smells like a tropical smoothie, or cookies.

She doesn’t use scented laundry soap or fabric softener, but she keeps her unmentionables in drawers with sachets of sandalwood and plumeria and cinnamon.

After a long day at work her scrubs take on the stale recycled air from work, she often also smells like neoprene {which she uses because she’s allergic to latex}, and often times of blood and betadine. Which is why she usually grabs a shower after getting in, because she doesn’t particularly enjoy the way she smells.

On her days off, you can often find the smell of sea-salt and sunscreen on her skin and in her hair. Those particularly sensitive and knowledgeable can detect traces of Sex Wax on her hands and feet because of her surfboard.

Her two favourite lotions are both from Bath and Bodyworks, the Plumeria and the Green Tea varieties.

Lastly, she often has trace amounts of coffee scent to her which is basically her survival mechanism due to working long hours and being a chronic insomniac.

~*~

Sounds: At first glance most people expect for Beth to sound like a little girl straight out of some weird anime. Like Bernadette Wolowitz. Those people would be very wrong.

Beth is incredibly soft spoken, rarely raising her voice above a whisper. Partially because she was raised with the opinion that children {and in her case, particularly, daughters} should be rarely seen and never heard. Partially because she has been fairly shy most of her life, retiring from conversation that often makes little or no sense to her. She grew up in a multicultural city, on a military base where people of very different tones and accents came and went in her life. From her first word {Panda, which was how she pronounced Andy} to adulthood, she spoke Hawai’ian, Pidgin and English, though the first two languages were reserved for times when the Admiral was not at home as he did not approve of them and still doesn’t.

Despite her learning disability, she had a knack for languages and speaks or partially speaks over a dozen of them.

As an adult, her voice is still soft, but it’s smokey, deeper than what is expected, a quality she shares with her brothers and the Admiral. When she’s tired or stresses a phrase here and there, she tends to have a thickness to it, what is known as vocal fry. This is a quality she retains when she sings. She isn’t as talented at that as her brother is, but what she lacks in skill, Beth more than makes up for in enthusiasm, and often that’s when she expresses herself loudest and emotive.

Beth tends to naturally speak pidgin, a sort of Hawai’ian creole, because it’s easier for her to differentiate words, doesn’t have to worry about tenses in speech, and it comes very naturally to her. When she wants to make herself unmistakably understood she switches to what she calls “haole” which is full English, though doing so causes her speech to come slower as she has to put thought into each word, each syllable. She sometimes forgets the English word for things and uses the Hawai’ian instead. When she does speak she has the bad habit of covering her pauses with filler sounds such as “ah”, “uhm” and the like.

When Beth is excited she might increase noticeably in volume, in pace and rhythm of speech, though still that isn’t by any means loud by other people’s standards. She has perfected the art of talking from behind carefully clenched teeth, almost at a sub-vocal level, a trait handed down from the first angry wife-mother. In sensual situations she’s less likely to form words than she is to vocalise gentle noises; soft and sweet though short moans, breathy exhalations, whimpers, whines, and needy or appreciative growls.

Her laughter is a warm and husky sound though she often hides it behind her hand or bites down on it in a literal fashion for fear of ‘being too loud’. She doesn’t laugh as often as she used to but she does sometimes have a hard time suppressing her giggles. It’s far easier for her to smile, a thing she does sometimes when she is uncertain in conversations with others. ~*~

Taste: As previously stated, Beth often tastes like sweetened cinnamon, as she is very conscientious about her teeth and breath because she does so closely work in other people’s personal spaces.

A random stolen kiss on her mouth might yield coffee/cream, wine, or whatever she might be eating at the time, though she will try to turn away and keep her lips closed if that’s the case. A random stolen kiss or nibble of any other body part will also yield random results. Her hands often taste of soap or hand sanitiser and lotion because as a working nurse-practitioner Beth washes her hands between 120-200 times a day. This is not an exaggeration. Her shoulder or brow might taste like sunscreen or skin moisturiser. Her waist might taste like skin... a blend of salt, essential oils, hints of soap. It isn’t a flavour or texture per se, but it does carry a natural kind of sharpness to the tongue and thus taste-buds according to her personal Ph factor which varies throughout the month.

More intimately, due to her diet, personal hygiene, and body chemistry she doesn’t have a very strong taste or scent. What she does have tends to lean toward a sweetness and clean sharpness, due to a diet rich in fruits and vegetables.

Beth has an extraordinary connection to the cosmic ideal of Life. The downside of it is that this gift makes her blood particularly potent, twice over a normal mortal, and it regenerates quickly. There is very literally magick within it. And as such, vampires have names for people like her: “Cornucopia”, “Big Gulp”, or simply... “Mine.”

~*~

Feel: Due to genetic blessing, one of Beth’s blessings is her skin. Her skin is an ideal blend of smooth, soft and supple. She has a few very pale freckles that linger at the corner of her mouth and across her chin. A few more scatter across the bridge of her nose but they are faint, almost invisible the rare times she wears foundation. She has the start of tiny laugh lines visible when she talks or is otherwise emotionally animated.

The real secret of Beth’s softness is that pesky Spark of Life blessing for a second time. That vitality flows through her with preternatural strength. So much so that most of her injuries heal at an ridiculous pace, and never really leave scars behind. She heals what in three days what would take someone else weeks, cuts heal in a day even if they are deep. Bruises disappear within an hour, leaving no trace. Some of her kind view this as the mark of a born healer, others consider it a recessive albeit desirable mutation. She has the ability to share this gift with others through the power of touch. Anyone she assists in this way recovers at her accelerated rate. The only parts of her that are not youthfully soft are the two tattoos she has, which have given her a texture in those places, and the three dermal piercings she keeps on the ridge of her hip. And, of course, her leg. The shark bite occurred before her Awakening, and has left a permanent mark. The demarcation of the teeth have left thick jagged scar lines along her leg, and within it the muscle that got torn away never healed properly, is permanently emaciated, and shortened the tendons and ligaments, which has given her the slightest of limps, most especially noticeable when she’s tired or overly stressed. She particularly dislikes the way it looks but more so the way it feels, an unnatural reminder that she has at least once cheated death. Beth will go out of her way to keep it out of sight through wearing of floor length skirts, covering it with throw blankets, sheets, and such, or with knee high boots. Touching it, letting your gaze linger on it, and the like is the quickest way to upset her. To make her physically recoil. If she can’t hide it through practical means, such as swimming or surfing, she will apply illusion magick to keep from being stared at, but it can only be hidden visually, touch would reveal it’s existence.

She has a small callous on the first joint of her left and right middle fingers from how she holds a pen.

~*~

Sight: Beth has a left eye astigmatism in that the eye itself is not round but rather egg-shaped. This causes her to need glasses for reading and small/fine detail work. She has hetero-chromia meaning her eyes have two distinct colours, they are mostly green with whorls of a light amber colour surrounding the pupils. Therefore depending on lighting and emotional pupil reaction they can appear very bright green to light brown, with shades in-between. It is a recessive trait, on one hand, but definitely one that is strong in the family as both the Admiral and her Aunt Aishlinn exhibit this trait, as does her brother Andrew. Her brother William inherited blue eyes from his mother and does not possess the hetero-chromia.

If you take this to mean her appearance, there literally isn’t much to her. Beth barely stands a full five feet, most of that being her impeccable posture. There was no slouching or slumping in the Riley household, and as an adult, she compensates for her leg by trying to offset even the mere suggestion of a lean. She also has never weighed over a hundred pounds in her entire life. Combined with a very delicate-looking bone structure and lithe musculature, it’s easy to mistake her at first glance as someone far younger than she actually is. A second or more look begins to give her certain features. For as short as she is, she has very long limbs. Her hands are elegant in their movements, precise, honed from years of hula dancing movements. She tends to talk with them more out of habit than with a purpose, telling stories and subconsciously communicating where words fail. There is a pervasive curve to her shape that all resides in her backside and her legs, also owing to her petite but athletic frame. She is a swimmer. A surfer. A dancer. A jogger. She practices yoga. Therefore her bottom half carries most of her muscle, her centre of gravity, and a generous portion of her femininity though she would punch someone dead in the throat for saying something so sexist and genderist.

~*~

Other abilities: Beth is a master of Life. As such, she ages how she likes. Which means she can be any race or gender she likes. Which means she can be any living thing she wants to be, whether human, animal or plant. Even if only for a little while. She could make herself taller. She could give herself a more traditionally ‘pretty’ figure. She could do a hundred different things with barely a thought. She doesn’t. She isn’t so vain, so desperately hungry for the wrong kind of attention, that she feels it necessary to alter herself in such a way as to really be anyone or anything else other than what she is. She is proud to be a Polynesian young woman, even if she is only hapa.

She relieves stress by running as a deer or swimming as a shark {she IS Rokea (wereshark) kinfolk, after all, and understands Sea better than humanity}. Conversely, if a partner would ask ~for the sake of trying something new~ that she alter herself she would consider it. Whether that meant becoming male, or changing certain aspects of herself. But never permanently. Or if she needed to infiltrate a different organisation, or carry out a plan to it’s fruition. Aside from her shark bite, the only two things she cannot change about herself is the fact that she’s incapable of having children naturally, and she cannot change her teeth or her eyes. {The latter is a primal marking flaw, the former is permanent paradox flaw}.

#She's Talking to Angels {Bethisms}

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bluepenguinstories · 3 years

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Remoras Full Chapter XXV: Cornucopia

What I most wanted to say was that I was afraid. That I was at some crossroads and the road behind me had disappeared. No, it wasn’t a crossroads in the sense that I could choose the direction I went. Instead, there was a binary which had a pull over me, one I could not find a middle ground for, but that whatever direction I ended up pulled in would mean a certain end.

Such a serious, heavy thought and all I could do to counter it was to think that it didn’t have to be so serious and heavy. Things didn’t have to come to an end. But that’s the thing, isn’t it? They always seemed to with me, whether they had to or not. I didn’t want things to end. Anything to end. Not when I’ve built up so much, and to see it all go, what would have been the point?

I dwelt on it while in my room. Soon would be my birthday. Funny that, huh? Twenty-three and yet to grow. All the while, Tigershark got to celebrate her tenth birthday before mine when she couldn’t even remember when her birthday was. Well, good for her in any case. If I were her age, I’d have been pissed not to have gotten a birthday. Now, I couldn’t care less.

Well, I couldn’t care less, but I found myself more anxious than ever before at the prospect. Why? Was I jealous of a little kid? Or...that I saw it as some kind of opportunity?

Remora was seated at one of the tables in the far corner of the room. As usual, the diner was empty. I would have found it lonely if not for the one who lived rent-free in my mind.

All the while I live rent-free in Ray’s diner. One of these is not like the other.

Also as usual was the fact that Remora shivered, hunched back, head lowered. She ate a sandwich. What kind of sandwich, I was unsure of.

Liar. Turkey club. You should know this by now. You’re the waitress.

Not as typical, but not unusual for her, she was wrapped in several thick blankets. There were a few times where I caught her jerking her head every which way in a frantic manner. Once she stopped, and we met each other’s glance. For some reason, after that, she pivoted back to facing away and lowered her head back down.

Odd, but probably nothing to take note of.

What was I doing? Why was paying such close attention? Well, my friends (is what I’d say if I had any), the answer is simple: I was cleaning! That’s right! Even when there weren’t any customers, I had to keep myself busy. It wasn’t something I really enjoyed, but it was part of the agreement. Then again, that feeling when everything looked spotless? That made me hella proud.

Would Remora be proud if I told her to see what a good job I did? Doubtful. That sort of thing she couldn’t care less about. That much I’ve learned by now. Which, if I were in her position, I don’t think I’d blame her. Though something else I was sure of was that she probably wouldn’t like it to be super dirty, so, it was the little things.

Nevertheless, hands on my hips, I felt a surge of confidence. So I couldn’t help myself, even though I knew how much she probably would have wanted to be left alone, I had to ask.

Because it was at least better than running up to her and talking at her.

“Hey Remora!” I called to her. “Can we chat for a bit?”

Startled, she jolted up, but didn’t turn to me. However, I saw the short nod of her head. It almost came off as timid to me.

Which one of us is the meek one now? A thought whacked me upside the head. Then I countered with, it doesn’t matter, I shouldn’t get overconfident. She’s still much stronger than me. Much more experienced. Even if I’ve made strides in just a handful of months, it’s not like I’ve changed all that much, right?

Then my thoughts shifted to something I would have rather not thought about.

“You mean that socially awkward iceberg?” Wendy’s voice, a scuffed and smoky haze of a voice, and her words, echoed in my mind.

I clenched my fists before approaching Remora.

So what if she is an iceberg? She’s still strong enough to sink the Titanic! Oh, but those words were in reference to Rhea...Rhea Flection. Same last name. ‘Stolen from the dead’.

I shook my head. Those thoughts sure could get overwhelming.

Who cares?! Remora is Remora. That’s who I met.

Whatever surge of confidence I had, it was bound to come down, but while my thoughts turned to other things, my actions took over and I leaned back against the table she sat at, my hands at the edges of the table. I glanced down at her, my attention drawn to her fluttering eyelashes. That was all I could focus on, since her eyes were obscured as she kept her head low. I couldn’t help myself as a bonafide smirk spread across my lips. That’s right, a real, one, not just one of those that you read about in fics. It was a full-on cocky and devilish half-smile. Or something like that, hell if I knew what my face was doing.

“You know, when you’re sitting down and I’m standing up, it’s almost like I’m taller than you,” I thought I sounded so suave in that moment. Just give me five minutes and I bet I’ll be cringing at myself.

“That’s only because I’m sitting down. When I stand back up, I’m still taller,” she muttered in between nibbles of her sandwich.

You bet I felt a metaphorical coconut fall on my head. Damn, I thought I’d last longer than that, but reality was crashing down already, huh?

“I’m really glad to be able to talk to you like this, you know?” I added. It was weird how there was nothing weird about it. Being next to her, saying those things. Like, I still said weird things, but it felt casual. While I knew she was still much stronger, to the point there was a literal power imbalance between us, I felt like we were more on equal footing. Eye to eye. That’s what scared me.

Am I losing interest in her? Am I no longer excited about her?

That was the problem that needed solving and I needed to figure out something fast. At least in a battle it was a little more cut and dry, but a dilemma like that? Much more frightening. I didn’t want to believe it, she was still beautiful, after all, and she still occupied much of my mind, but…

...I see her more as a human now. With all that entails, flaws and all.

“Well, you did ask, and it’s not a big deal,” she replied, a casual dismissal. At least it was familiar. Easier to deal with.

“I know, it’s just...I used to get really excited around you –” I stopped myself. “I still get excited around you! But I don’t feel like such a mess and it’s more manageable. I think it’s because back then, I thought you were unapproachable. Too good for someone like me.”

“Are you still excited around me?” She lifted her head up, our eyes met. It was too much to handle, her stare and mine. I stumbled back.

“Yes! I just said so, right? You live rent-free in my head!” I blurted. Maybe I had nothing to worry about. Things are still the same. I am still that same old –

“Nonsense. Your head is too small for me to fit,” she replied. So matter of fact, too.

“Gee,” I puffed my cheeks. “Callin’ me dumb?”

“No, you are quite smart when you aren’t acting on impulse. Even then, sometimes your impulse is smart. It’s just the facts, though: your head would need to be at least 180 centimeters long and 180 centimeters wide for me to fit, and even then, there wouldn’t be much space.”

I blinked.

“That would be a pretty big head,” I remarked. “But I mean it,” I put my hand over my heart. Right where my left boob was. “If it were possible, I’d let you occupy my mind as much as you’d like!”

She raised an eyebrow. “Would your head make me less cold?”

Damn. I forgot about that. I guess there wasn’t much more that could be done. Still, as far as bold declarations went, nothing better than a bold faced lie.

“Of course! My head is full of hot air!”

She lowered her head back down as well as set her half-eaten sandwich down. Then, she lifted a finger.

“You should consider getting that checked out,” she suggested, and I wasn’t quite sure if she was joking or not.

“I was trying to flirt with you, actually!” I blurted. Something which would have probably taken me aback a while ago, and now it was like nothing.

That solidified it: her head, now sunk to the table, I heard a low groan escape from her and I knew how displeased she must have been.

I backed away, hands in front of me as to work up a defense.

“Sorry! Did I take it too far? I didn’t mean to! I just got carried away!” My words came out in a flurry.

“It’s not that...I just didn’t know that’s what you were doing. If I knew, I would’ve been more receptive…” She murmured. As I drew a deep breath, I sat down across from her.

“You don’t have to, you know,” I tried to tell her. My words sounded so feeble. I couldn’t deny it – I was really bad at comforting people. “If it’s too much, I can just stop. I know you don’t feel that way about me, and that’s totally fine.”

My mouth seemed to go dry. I needed a glass of water, something, but I couldn’t bring myself to get up and leave her there.

But how do I feel about you?

I gulped. It tasted like my mouth had been stuffed with cotton swaps. Things had no reason to be so tense, but for some reason they were.

“But I want to,” she replied, her voice weak. Weaker than mine. Or maybe I misheard, misinterpreted her voice. “I’d want to at least play along…”

“No!” I snapped. For whatever reason, a nerve was struck. I wasn’t sure whether it was something she said or my own thoughts acting up, but something in me burned. I tried to soften my voice once more, but it came out shaky. “I-I know how easy it is for you to be uncomfortable, and I don’t want to add to that…” I looked away. I’ve already added to that in the past, haven’t I? All I can do was try to be more aware and better moving forward, but that didn’t take away from how I’ve already been before. “You should do what you’re comfortable with! So don’t mind me! Besides, I like you as you are.”

I drew a deep breath. I didn’t know anything better to say, so I hoped that would suffice. After a few suffocating seconds, she looked up and reached her hand out to mine. I was surprised, but I didn’t resist. That gesture was short lived, for as soon as her finger tips reached mine, it was as if she felt a jolt, then recoiled. Her arm reeled back to her side.

Was she repulsed? For that matter, why did she do that? I don’t understand. As for me, how did I feel? There wasn’t anything strong or magical about it, it just felt like being poked. I could do that to myself if I wanted.

“Thank you,” she said at last. “I really appreciate it.”

“Yeah, uh…” I rubbed my hand. It should have felt more sacred, right? But I didn’t really seem to have much of a reaction from it.

Maybe I should ask her to try again, I thought, but knew better. That would have been selfish of me.

“Sorry. I just wanted to see if I could. But when I tried, my hand felt too cold.”

“It’s okay,” I reassured her. Is that it? It didn’t feel cold to me. I didn’t even get a feel for it at all.

“But I’m serious. I want to do something nice for you,” she declared, a seriousness in her eyes. That same look I was so used to seeing from her, but more from when she would talk in disinterest or tell me how ridiculous I was being. I didn’t understand what she meant, or why.

“I mean, you don’t have to…” My voice trailed off as I looked away, down at the floor next to me.

“But I want to!” She declared with greater intensity. Like it was a need. “I think it would put me at ease!”

Oh. Well, I would love to put her mind at ease. That was the least I could do, right? If her doing something nice for me would put her at ease, then it was a no brainer. It had to happen. But what could she do? It wasn’t like I needed her to do anything for me…

If Sunny was here, I could ask her for advice, but she’s still out with Tigershark celebrating the kid’s “birthday”. Oh shit. I can mention that. But I really wasn’t about to. I don’t want to put any pressure on her. Oh well, here goes.

“Now that you mention it, my birthday’s in a few days…” I really didn’t expect anything by bringing such a topic up.

“What day?” She asked.

“End of August.”

“How old?”

Damn, what is this? A quiz?

“Twenty-three,” I shrug. “Last day of August, I’ll be twenty-three. Now that I think of it, I don’t know how old you are,” I pointed out.

“I’m not sure...I’m guessing somewhere between twenty-six and twenty-eight.”

“Oh darn, you’re still vaguely older than me!” I complained. Then, I got an idea. “That’s it! We have to do something for my birthday! Our birthday!”

“Actually, I think I was born sometime in the winter. Just not sure the exact day…” She corrected.

“So I’m summer, you’re winter, but this can still work! Tigershark got to go out somewhere, you have to do something for my birthday!” I jumped up. Was I a child now as well? Why was I getting all giddy over something like that?

“Sure,” she replied as her lips curled to a slight, but still welcome smile.

“Wait, really? That easy?” I blinked.

She laughed a soft laugh. Something I never would have expected from her. It was adorable.

“I said I wanted to do something nice for you, and seeing you excited is all the reason I need. Besides, a few days gives me time to plan.”

Whatever worries I had went away in that instance.

The next day, Sunny and Tigershark returned. Both of them were brimming with such a positive energy as they busted through those doors and jumped for joy. I leaned against the mop I was using and greeted them.

“Hey, watch the floors! I just cleaned them!” Those two were tracking snow and soil all over the place with no regard for cleanliness. When I got down to it, I really did feel like a janitor. Not the dangerous kind that Remora once was, but the traditional kind. I waited tables, I took and served orders, and I cleaned the area.

Before I could ask “how was the trip?” Tigershark rushed forward and wrapped her arms around me real tight. Caught off guard, I just about fell over, along with the mop. Through sheer perseverance, I continued to stand, though I wobbled.

“Jeez, you’re strong,” I remarked. As she hugged me, her sombrero fell off of her head and landed on the floor. I peered over and saw Sunny with the bags, still by the door.

“I missed you!” Tigershark wailed. “We went to Switzerland and saw Astraea and then we fought some bad guys! It was so much fun!”

Oh dang, that did sound like fun. Funny how I still didn’t much like kids, but Tigershark wasn’t half bad. I mean, I didn’t like her much at first, and her antics could be a handful, but she was fine enough. Both her and Sunny, with their cheerful energy, it was something grand.

“Wow, all that? Wish I could’ve come along,” I replied. That was only half-true. As fun as it sounded, I think I preferred my alone time too much.

“Maybe next time!” Tigershark grinned and let go. Thank goodness. Any tighter and she might’ve flattened my lungs. I was already flat enough as it was.

I checked behind me as Tigershark ran to the back of the diner. She must’ve went to tell Ray or Remora all about her adventure. Lucky kid.

“You seem happy,” Sunny pointed out.

“Aren’t I always?”

“I dunno, it’s just that you’ve been smiling since we walked in. You’re not usually like that.”

Was that true? That didn’t sound right, but I didn’t know enough about me to say otherwise.

“Why wouldn’t I be? My birthday’s coming up as well. My actual birthday.” Oops. Spilled the beans.

“No way! You’re a Virgo?!” Sunny gasped, hands on her cheeks. Sheesh, did that really warrant such a reaction? “Guess which sign I am! Go on, guess!”

“Uh…” I looked away. It really wasn’t that deep, was it? “I don’t know, Taurus?”

“Nope! Leo! Ray’s a Gemini! He says he couldn’t care less about that stuff, but he loves to hear me talk about it!”

“Yeah...uh...can’t say I blame him there…”

“You’d love to hear me talk about it?!” Sunny’s fists were pumped, even more excited than I was, and I had a good reason to be excited.

“No, uh, the other thing.”

Sunny scratched the back of her head and laughed.

“Different strokes, I suppose!”

Before I could get back to work, I heard a zip and a zoom, then took a glance behind me and saw Tigershark run up to me at mach speed.

“IT’S YOUR BIRTHDAY SOON?!” She gasped for air, a near screech of excitement for her.

Sheesh, why’s she the excited one?

“Yeah, but it’s no big deal,” I waved off.

“I need to get you something!” Tigershark jumped up. “I’ll make you a pie! Or pudding! Pudding pie!”

“Really,” I waved my hands faster. “It’s all good. All I need is to spend the day with Remora. Which, I will be! She already agreed to it and everything!” I declared.

“Ooh, so a date?” Sunny inquired.

“Uh, um, no. Not date. Day. Birthday. They don’t call it birth-date. We’re spending the day together. Not the date together. Semantics.”

“Aw, what a shame. I bet you’d love a date.”

“I...yeah. Maybe it is, then,” I was flushed, my voice drained of all thought and emotion.

Sunny gave me a hearty slap on the back and I felt like I was about to spit out a tooth. Nevertheless, it helped return me to reality.

“So I take it you figured things out?” Sunny asked. I froze once again. What I needed, so desperate to find it, was an answer. But none came.

“Oh, yeah!” I laughed instead. “It was just overthinking on my part! The mind is a terrible thing, ain’t it?”

The mind really was a terrible thing. Flashbacks to the times I would act out and get all flustered. Say such terrible things. Ask, no, beg for her to step on me. All because of some version of her I cooked up in my mind of some tough badass who dominated her enemies. But I never wanted to be an enemy. I just wanted to be as admired as I admired her. When it came down to it, I wasn’t even sure if I wanted her to do all those things.

What I wanted was to collapse on the floor. Forget about cleaning and just fall. Sunny and Tigershark were already in the back. That meant I had permission to fall apart if I wanted since there was no audience. That’s what I wanted to do. But I didn’t do that.

It must have been the stress. Or the anxiousness. Anticipation for the big day. All these random negative and positive thoughts all swirling together in a melting pot. Yeah, that must have been what it was. As proof, I felt sweat drip from my face. I wiped it. More ran down from my eyes and I wiped those, too. Realizing the potential implications, I scoffed.

“Those couldn’t have been tears. I’ve never been able to do that…” I shook my head and put the cleaning supplies away.

You’re worrying over nothing again. You’re working against yourself. If you’re so worried about it, you should just try to act like your old self, my thoughts suggested to me. Who was I not to give in?

Funny how the past couple of days, I didn’t pay much mind to the whereabouts or activities of Remora, someone who I usually would have been much more fixated on. But then the big day came and once again, she was all over my mind.

She said she wanted to do something nice for me! For me! Not anyone else! I don’t even need anything nice from anyone else! Just the thought...puts me in paradise!

Yes, I was giddy all-right. No two ways about it.

I waltzed on out of my room, got into the shower, sang a little song about having a gay old time. As I scrubbed, Remora came to mind. Nothing in particular. Just thought of her was all. Same thing happened when I got dressed (well, first there was the tough decision of whether to wear something casual, like a hoodie and skirt, or fancy, like a tuxedo. In the end, I went with a tuxedo and a skirt. I figured my semi-professional appearance would impress Remora. That, or she’d want to impress me even more, because she’d be so wowed at my birthday suit).

...Then again, she could’ve just thought I was being silly.

When I left my room once more, I passed by the desk where Ray was seated. Whatever happened to Remora being made leader of those requests things? Whatever. I was probably the only one who cared about that plot thread, anyway. There were more pressing matters, like whether or not Ray would make fun of me for my choice of attire. Or if Remora would make fun of me for it (no, I had to tell myself she wouldn’t. It was a good choice! I have to believe that!)

“You seem flustered about something,” Ray commented, barely looking up from the desk. I wasn’t even sure if there was anything he was looking at or if he just liked to look down a lot of the time.

“Uh, what gives you that idea?” I replied, as it weren’t obvious.

“You’re shaking, you keep bouncing up and down, and you’re pacing. Also muttering about something, but can’t tell what,” he gave me the rundown. As if I needed that.

“I’m just doing some exercises and giving myself a pep talk,” I dismissed, then changed the subject. “Anyway, where’s Remora?”

“She’s sitting out by the door in the dining area. Said she’s waiting for you.”

My heart jumped upon hearing that.

“M-me? Crap. Do you think I look okay? I bet she’ll say I look ridiculous, but I thought I’d look nice this way! I don’t know what to think and I’m so nervous and so excited and I think I should just bury my head in a bag of flour!”

“That’s a new one,” he remarked. “Happy birthday, by the way.”

“What?!” I just about screeched. I didn’t think I told him about it. I was kind of keeping it all low-key. “How did you know?”

“Sunny told me,” he explained as he shrugged. “Also, Remora said she wanted to do something nice for your birthday.”

There it is. You’re saying her name again! Stop! Every time you mention her, my heart does things!

“Oh, right,” I replied. “I told Sunny. Ha! I forgot!” I huffed.

“By the way,” he lifted up his index finger and smiled, still not looking me in the eye. “Your attire looks just fine to me, but I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if you wore what you normally wear. It’s your birthday, not hers. You don’t need to be the one to impress anyone.”

I gave Ray a sour look and told him in a sneer, “I don’t need to hear that from you, Ray.”

Even so, I went back and changed into more comfortable clothes; cargo pants, long sleeve red and green striped shirt, and a plain, pink hoodie. I didn’t really know what kinda aesthetic I was going for, but it felt nice, so that was good enough for me.

When I got out to the diner, I didn’t know what to expect. There wasn’t much in the way of grandiosity, no big banners or the like (color me weird, but I think that sorta thing would’ve turned me off anyway). Instead, it was rather normal: an empty diner, save for Remora, who looked listless as she sat hunched over with her head rested on her palm. I couldn’t tell what she wore underneath her jacket (and I didn’t want my mind to run too wild), but she had parachute pants, of all things, on.

As I approached, she looked my way and smiled a slight smile, then stood up.

“Are you ready to go?” She asked.

I stared at her, my face blank.

“Where?”

“I’d like to take you out to dinner.”

Sunny’s words repeated in my mind. ‘So a date? A date?’ No! She’s just doing this because it’s my birthday. That’s all! I shook my head, then smiled as well. I wondered if I was the more hesitant one of the two.

“Yes please,” I told her and almost gulped the words down rather than spit them out.

“Are you going to be cold going out like that?” She asked before we headed out.

I nudged her, which made her flinch and back away to the side. I should have known better to do that. Still, even thinking that, I joked aloud.

“If it starts to bother me, I can just ask to borrow your jacket.”

“Sure, I don’t mind,” she stated. I couldn’t decide whether I felt bad or if it was nice to hear that she really didn’t mind.

We arrived at the airport. I missed the days when we could teleport, though at the same time, we never really did that very often. It was kind of a once or twice deal. Even small things like that made a huge difference and it was like I felt every little change around me.

Cybele was there, greeting and waving at everyone who passed through the door. Even though it was long since forgiven, I still recoiled at the thought that I deceived her. So much that I averted my gaze and was tempted to hide my face in Remora’s jacket, but I figured that she wouldn’t be very comfortable with that, especially without prior warning.

It proved futile. She still noticed us and walked over.

“Hey guys! Ray didn’t tell me you’d be stopping by! Doing another mission?” She leaned over. She looked curious, or eager to give us a ride. Either seemed likely.

“Nothing like that. We’re just going out to celebrate her birthday. We’ve actually got a flight scheduled with another airline,” Remora told her, which shocked me. I wouldn’t have guessed that.

“Aw, man!” She slumped over and bemoaned. “It sucks being all cooped up sometimes! Happy birthday, in any case!”

“Heh, thanks,” I gave in and replied to her. To sort of reassure her, I told her, “I swear, next time I show up, it’ll be for fun reasons!”

Remora glared at me. It wasn’t an angry glare, more of a disappointed one.

“I mean, exciting!” No, that wasn’t the right word, either. “We’re going out tonight for fun and exciting things!” Er...don’t say something vague like that. It could get misconstrued. “I’m going to have a lovely night out, rest assured, both of you.”

God, could I not come up with a good set of words? Toward either of them?

“But next time,” I concluded. “For whatever reason, I’ll ask you to fly me somewhere.”

There. That would suffice, wouldn’t it?

Remora nodded.

“Tonight however will be much more intimate,” she told Cybele, something that floored me.

“Well, have fun, you too!” Cybele waved as we moved on.

Once we were far enough from Cybele, I balked.

“Intimate? Really?!” I just about shouted.

“What? It’s the truth, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” I snickered. Even if we were going to be surrounded by others in a restaurant, I could just imagine us, only focused on one another, and everyone else wouldn’t matter. They would all be background noise and nothing more. “It’s just that I get ideas sometimes.”

“You’ve got a wild imagination,” she agreed.

“That’s ‘cause I’m wild for you,” I replied, trying to sound cool.

Rather than get a reaction, she just dug into her pocket and handed me a paper.

“Here’s your passport,” she told me and I looked inside. The name ‘Helena Handbasket’ was there.

Really? Why was I given a name like that?

At the gate, we presented our passports to the usher. He was a blonde haired man, split ends, thick mustache.

“Welcome back, Claire Ritty,” he told Remora. “Been a while.”

She chuckled. “I’ve been broke.”

So she’s clarity and I’m hell in a hand basket. How wonderful.

Once on the flight, I turned to her.

“Just so you know, I’m sure this will be fun and exciting in its own way.”

She smiled and turned back to me, then replied, “it doesn’t have to be. Just as long as you have a good birthday, that’s all that matters to me.”

I blushed. I wasn’t sure why. To think that I ever had a doubt: she still had an effect on me. So why, then, was I still so ill at ease?

We arrived at the restaurant, one of those fancy places. Call it odd, but I had no freakin’ clue what country we were in and why she picked it as opposed to some place closer. During the flight, we had snacked on chips and she even packed me a salad sandwich. To think that it was already evening, though, and there we were, in front of a bright, gold building.

Inside was even worse. Red carpet, lines. Crowds. Chatter and noise from all these unknown people who probably had too much money for their own good. Then there was me.

Then again, wasn’t Remora in the same boat I was? Bah! Better not to think about it!

We had to wait in line, even though we made a reservation. It was that kind of fancy, huh? It was funny, though. I’d rather a place like a nice and quiet fancy cafe. Not to mention, Ray could’ve made us a nice meal back at the diner and told Sunny and Tigershark to leave us alone. That would have been more ‘intimate’, right? Then again, maybe she wanted a change of scenery.

Or maybe...she was trying to show off. Show me that she can make lots of money with the greatest of ease and Remind me just how cool she could be.

Oh no. I’m reverting to my old ways. Get a hold on yourself!

“Are you coming? Our table’s ready,” her words brought me back into reality and I noticed that she was already almost there. I never had to wait in line in the first place…

I trudged along and sat down across from her. It was pure torture. Why couldn’t I sit next to her? Oh, but then if I did that, she might have been too uncomfortable, and I didn’t want to do that to her. Just being near her at all was fine, anyway. The two of us, sharing this space together for the sole purpose of sharing it. It was like we had become equals. We could finally see eye to eye.

That’s right! She can stare right at me! And me right at her...those beautiful pitch black eyes, those curled lashes, the way they flit so elegantly!

I looked away, too embarrassed. Both at the thought of staring into her eyes and her staring into mine. Not that mine were any special.

Oh boy. There I go again. Downing myself while overly praising the other person. It’s not like I’m trying to do that, she’s just right there! For my viewing pleasure! I have to be careful.

Still embarrassed, as soon as the waiter came over and brought us cups of water, I chugged it down.

“More, madam?” He asked.

Damn, madam. I could get used to this. Now I want Remora to call me madam.

“Yes!” I gasped.

I chugged that one down too. Another refill. Another cup emptied.

“I’ll be back with another pitcher,” he informed me. Meanwhile, I glanced while having a whole fish tank’s worth of water in my mouth, and Remora just took a sip, ever so elegant.

Wait, was she always this elegant? Or is it just that she wants to savor the taste?

...No! Get a grip! She’s just calm and collected. Or not calm, but trying her best. You’ve gotten to know her well enough by now. Even if there’s not a lot you know, you know a whole lot more than when you just had that image of her. Stop acting like your old self!

“Is everything okay? Your face is all red and you keep looking away from me,” she sounded concerned, and the awareness that my face was red didn’t do my current state any favors. I gulped down the water, which really hurt, then gave my reply.

“Yes! I’m totally fine! Very fine! Though I’m sure you’re even finer!” I just about gasped my reply, which must not have been much of a reassurance.

“Huh. I didn’t know there were varying degrees of fine,” she stated as if it was a genuine thing to wonder.

“Sorry,” I said, my voice much quieter. “I think it’s just this place...I think I’m just a little overwhelmed…”

She nodded.

“I understand. I can’t stand so many people, either. If you would like, we can leave and find somewhere else where we can be more alone?” She suggested, and that sure was a suggestion. I started to get all dizzy with all the places my mind went.

“No,” I sighed, doing my best to keep my cool. “I really appreciate you taking me here.”

“I hope you’re being honest. I’ve never actually been here, but I’ve always imagined that doing something like this, taking someone somewhere fancy, would be a really nice gesture.”

“It is, trust me,” I replied, though still averted my gaze. Even staring down at the floor. That smooth, shiny floor. Nary a spot of dirt or food mess anywhere. What kind of overactive staff did they have?

“Anywhere would be fine, though, with you,” I continued. My words felt a little absent, but there wasn’t a big flustered gasp, so I took that as a win.

Now I’m imagining an older version of me with a hat and pipe showing up and going, “are ya winning, Demetria?” Well, am I? Hell if I know.

“I think there are some places I would still like my privacy…” Remora replied.

“Well, yeah!” I waved my hands out. “I just meant that there are plenty of things we could do that I would have also been happy with!”

“Oh. I’m glad,” her flat delivery would have been mistaken for sarcasm if anyone else were with us. That was one thing I got to know being around her as well.

But maybe it was better to revert to how I was in the beginning. It wasn’t good. It was something I was ashamed of, but I was already all worked up anyway. It might only be natural. Not only that, but no matter how bad it is, it was something familiar. That’s right: I hate that I understand what it is, but it’s clear to me that I’m just too afraid of change.

It doesn’t matter how much I grow, if things change too much, I won’t have anything more to work on. No, that’s not it. It’s that I would end up shifting my focus. I’m already thinking about how torn I am and now this. It feels inevitable, but I just don’t want it to be true. That I’m changing again.

“Are you okay? You seem lost in thought,” Remora once again broke the silence. Her concern was unusual to me, but also pleasant. Just how genuine it was, I couldn’t say.

“Yeah, it’s just the thought of you here, and me here, it’s so wonderful that it’s hard to believe it’s real! It’s like a dream! Like you could just pinch me real hard and I’d wake up and be like ‘that was a weird but alluring dream’ but no, it’s real. Like, really real. That’s just how awesome you are! That you would take me out to a place so fancy! It proves you really are the best! I’m just worried that if I were to ask you out myself, you’d reject me, but you’re too cool to do that, so you wouldn’t! Oh, who am I kidding? You’re so cool that you’re the type who would reject me on my birthday!”

I huffed. That was awful. There was a silence between us. It was all but certain that she was annoyed at me. I would be as well. It felt forced just to say all that, and it probably wouldn’t have felt so forced in the beginning.

Rather than annoyed, she smiled and drew a breath.

“It’s nothing like that, don’t worry. I just wanted to do something nice for once.”

“So would you want to be a couple, then?” I blurted out. That didn’t feel so forced, yet it wasn’t something I meant to say. As soon as I did so, I covered my mouth with my hands.

Now it was Remora who looked away.

“It’s...hard to say,” she said through grit teeth. “It’s not that I wouldn’t want to.”

“Then what?” I once again asked with no prior intention of doing so.

“It just wouldn’t work,” she shook her head slow.

Without hesitation, I then asked, “why not?”

“You know me: I’m not very good with emotions.”

“That doesn’t matter! Who needs emotions, anyway?”

“Plenty of people. It’s a good thing. Whatever you may say, you have emotions and display them. But it doesn’t come easy for me. Rather, it doesn’t come at all. I wouldn’t be a very good partner because of it. I couldn’t give someone an emotional response when they need one. Then, with you, there are plenty of things I can like and appreciate, but the occasional pushiness would still get to me.”

“I can work on that…” I muttered.

“You have. No one is without their faults, but I just know it wouldn’t work. My issue isn’t something that can be worked on, and it’s not for a lack of trying. So it would be best if you understood that.”

Was that really something I wanted, anyway? Or was I just caught up in the moment? Was I acting or did I mean it? You know, the funny thing about all this is…

I gave a little chuckle.

“I really am being rejected on my birthday,” I remarked.

“Please don’t think of it like that. If you wanted to play like we were a couple just for tonight, that would be fine, but then tomorrow we wouldn’t. That doesn’t seem very fair for you.”

“You’re right,” my words came out dry. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Words and meanings can be hard. I’ve heard it’s easier to think when you’ve had some food in your system. Why don’t you look at the menu? You can order anything you like.”

That was right. This whole time and I hadn’t even bothered to look at the menu.

“Anything I like? Are you on the menu?” I grew eager once more.

“Be realistic,” she told me and I dialed it back down a notch.

“Sorry.”

I flipped through the menu. There was an extensive vegetarian section full of soups, salads, and sushi rolls (the three S’s). Despite that, none of them seemed very appealing.

I know I need to eat and I am kinda hungry, but there’s already so much on my mind that it’s too hard to think about what I want to eat. It’s terrible because she said I could get anything, which means even the really expensive things, but I just can’t figure out what. More than that, I might never if I don’t get this stuff out of my head.

“I think...I’ll just get a vegetarian udon bowl and...garlic bread?”

She nodded. “Good choice. Carbs are good.”

I set down the menu. I knew it couldn’t just be her being honest all the time.

“Look, about the way I’ve been acting…” I cleared my throat. “I’m really sorry.”

“You don’t need to be,” she assured me once again.

“No, I do. Because that’s what it’s been: an act. The truth is that I’ve been anxious for a while because I’ve noticed that I don’t feel the way that I used to.”

“You mean you don’t find me attractive anymore?” She asked, and I felt like that might have been the most offensive thing she ever said.

“No, I still do. How could I not? You’re very attractive!” I spat out in protest. Fearing that I would soon lose focus, I continued. “I just feel like now that I know more about you, although you didn’t want me to at first, I now see you as more of a person. Something I should have since the beginning, but I was so fixated on this version of you in my head that’s a total badass. Which does exist, to an extent, but there’s so much more to you than that. Because of that, I’ve gotten worried that I’ve started to lose interest in you, and I don’t want that. Because then I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.”

“But now I feel like I haven’t lost interest. It’s just that I feel something different about you than I did in the beginning and I’m not sure what and it scares me because I prefer to know what I’m dealing with.”

After that whole massive blob of confession, I expected to break down in tears. But that didn’t happen. Then, with her, I didn’t know what her reaction would be.

“I see,” she replied, after taking in all of my words.

“You do?”

“I don’t understand, but I see. It’s nice to hear that you haven’t lost interest. I find I can be a rather boring person.”

“That’s not true,” I wouldn’t accept that. It wasn’t to say she was ‘fun’ in the same way that Sunny and Tigershark could be, but that didn’t matter to me. “You’re quiet. That doesn’t mean you’re boring.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that,” she replied, once again with a smile.

Our food arrived. My big bowl of udon noodle soup with its mushrooms, chimes, seaweed, celery, carrots, and radishes. As well as my garlic bread. Couldn’t forget that. Then, Remora had a large orzo pasta salad with varying veggies and Parmesan sprinkled on top.

“Interesting choice,” I pointed to her dish.

“Thank you. I thought of grains,” she answered, then dug into her plate.

I let out a little chuckle.

“Grains, huh?” I remarked.

“Yes,” she nodded. “And speaking of which, I do not have a good segue, but I have a couple of things for you.” She reached down and pulled out an envelope, then handed it to me.

“Go on, open it up,” she instructed.

I did so and upon opening the envelope, noticed that there was a ton of money inside, as well as some other other black thing.

“THERE’S A BUNCHA –” I just about yelled, shocked, astonished even at what I saw, but then I thought better of me seeing where I was at. I lowered my voice down to a hushed whisper. “There’s a buncha money in here. What the fuck?”

“It’s fifty-thousand dollars,” she answered. “It wasn’t easy, but I found some requests to do which would give me enough to pay for the flights, the meal, and...the money left over. For you. It’s all the money I own, but I don’t need it. I think you could make better use of it.”

I crossed my arms in front of my face.

“I can’t accept this. It’s unnecessary. I could always do the same and get my own money.”

“You’re always talking about how you could use the money when it comes to things, and so I figured you might appreciate it. Even if you make more later, it’s yours to use how you wish. Maybe you can even use the money to go back to school.”

“That’s not something I want anymore, though. I have a new goal now…” Man, that came out like a whimper. Totally not confident at all. “Or I thought I did. I always liked to pride myself on knowing what I want, but I don’t know what I want anymore. If I ever did.”

That time, I really did feel like I was close to tears. I wasn’t sure whether or not they would come.

“I’m so afraid of changing and finding something else I like. Because it’s like whenever I do, I lose interest in the previous thing which I worked so hard for. It already happened with school. All my life I’ve been into –” Flashbacks of when I was younger played. Visiting my grandmother’s house. Her fish tanks. “– no, not even then. The whole reason I got into marine biology in the first place was because I wanted to impress my grandmother. She loved fish, and I loved visiting her and every time I did, I got curious staring into those tanks. I figured that if I learned all that I could about them, then she would be really happy and we’d have something to bond over...I spent years devoting myself to just that.”

I paused. It was hard just to recall that. I always said that it was something I wanted, for myself, but then, was it really? Remora, meanwhile, must have sensed that I had more to say. So I went on. Even though it was uncomfortable, I couldn’t stop myself.

“Long after the fact, I forgot all about my original intentions and I thought my interest was genuine. Then, all of that went away, at a drop of a hat, just because I met you,” I felt like I was about to choke up. “It was a fantasy, and I didn’t have much to go off of. But I ended up getting obsessed, then following you back. I made you my new interest and dropped everything else. At first I thought I wanted to be dominated by you, because I’ve read things in comics, but I’m not sure if that’s really what I wanted. I just thought that’s how a crush was based on what I saw. Then I wanted to impress you, and so I trained and risked my life, did all these crazy things, and I grew to enjoy that. But I don’t want to stop wanting to be with you,” I concluded.

As I said those last words, a couple of tears slid down from my eyelids and made streaks.

“This...this doesn’t ever happen…” I muttered.

“It’s okay,” she spoke at last. How she kept her tone even after seeing me like that made me envious. “Whatever you want to do in life, I’m sure you can achieve it. This isn’t empty flattery, either. With the growth you’ve shown in such a short time, I believe it’s possible. I don’t think it has to be a bad thing, and whatever you end up pursuing, I would like to help you with that, if possible.”

“You aren’t mad, though? Like what if everything I felt was a fabrication all because I was confused?”

Her hair swayed as she shook her head.

“I don’t think it’s a complete lie.”

“I don’t even know if romance is something I’m into,” I admitted.

“That’s fine as well. Once you come into your own, there’s no doubt someone will see you the same way you initially saw me. If that’s what you want.”

“Thank you, though I don’t really know. Honestly, you put up with a lot from me and I’m sure I’ve been hard to deal with.”

“True. But I find you easier to deal with than most.”

“I bet when you first met me, you thought I was a weirdo.”

“Indeed. You still are, at times.”

Gosh, I should’ve gone red from that.

“Well...you’d probably have thought of me as a weirdo if you knew how I was before you met me. Like ‘what’s that weirdo doing always in a book?’ Then again, I’d probably see you and think the same. Like, ‘what’s that attractive weirdo doing judging me? She should mind her own business.’”

“Well, you still admitted the attractive part,” she pointed out.

We both laughed at that, even if it wasn’t that hilarious.

“I think I’d notice that no matter how else I thought of you. But, that’s the thing: I’m no longer that bookworm. I’m not the person I was before I met you. I’m not even the same person I was after I met you. I’m someone else now and I’m not sure who that person is.”

“Whoever you are, I hope you can acknowledge the growth you’ve made and how hard you’ve worked. I don’t think change has to be a bad thing. You have your good sides and you’ve even seemed to have found your niche. Speaking of, there’s something else in that envelope.”

I knew what she was referring to. I reached in and grabbed the black objects. They were a pair of fingerless gloves with the back and the palm of it plated with studded leather. The rest of the gloves were a silky felt-like material. I tried them on. Despite the material on each side, it was a rather snug fit. I flexed my fingers into a fist, then uncurled them.

“I figured since you like knives, it would be a good idea to have some protection for your hands. Plus you should be able to grip onto your knives better, too.”

Like a child, I let out a giggle. I couldn’t help it. Such a thoughtful gift (I thought so, anyway) and whether or not I kept knives as an interest or not, they were some pretty rockin’ gloves either way.

I hardly touched my bowl. Maybe a few bites at most. Despite the fact that wearing gloves while eating was a bad idea, I was about to lean over and take a bite when I noticed something fly by, just passed my face. On instinct, I reached and managed to grab onto whatever it was between my two fingers. If it were a bullet, that would’ve been a bad idea. But no, it was a needle. So thin, I should’ve missed it.

Was this aimed at me? Or Remora? Or was it just an accident, something that was flung into the air by mistake? Whatever it was, it looked sharp. It felt like it was coated with something, too. Some kind of oil, maybe. I glanced behind me and it looked like someone slipped into the kitchen, but it could have just been one of the staff.

“Is everything okay?” She asked as I continued to examine the needle.

“Did you notice anything suspicious behind us?” I wondered. “Someone, or something.”

“No,” concern started to show in her voice. “What did you catch?”

“It’s a needle. It might be nothing, but still.” My gaze continued to shift. Nothing. Nothing I could pick up on, at any rate. My vision began to blur. Next thing I recalled, Remora stood up.

“Wait right here. I think I noticed something, or someone.” She ran to the back, where the kitchen was. I meanwhile, grew ever so faint and dizzy, and then passed out at the table.

When I woke up, I was back in my bed. No recollection of leaving the restaurant or getting back on the flight. Yet I was back at the diner, in the bed I recognized. Not only that, but I was in a cold sweat. After taking a few deep breaths, I asked myself:

“Did any of that really happen? Or did I dream it all?” My voice sounded and groggy. My mouth was dry.

It felt too detailed to be a dream, even if there was the random part at the end.

I got up and out of my room. Ray was there. So was Sunny. Otherwise, the halls were empty.

Tigershark might be in the kitchen or something.

As I approached them, I asked.

“Good...morning? Maybe? Where’s Remora?”

Of course I did, right? My first words and I was more interested in Remora. How typical of me. Well, if she was the last person I saw, I felt it only natural to wonder about her whereabouts.

Sunny turned to me.

“Hey, good morning kiddo!” Sunny as usual, I see.

In the direction of Remora’s room, I heard a series of coughs.

“She’s in her room,” Ray explained. “It’s not unheard of for her to hole herself in her room sometimes.”

Yes, I knew that. But still.

“I’m sorry. I don’t remember last night. Did I leave yesterday? How did I get back if so?”

“Yes, you went out yesterday. Remora came back with you in her arms. Apparently you were asleep the whole way back.”

What?! Why hadn’t I been awake for that?!

My heart started to pound. But it wasn’t because of that gesture. Something else just didn’t feel right.

“She collapsed after she brought you back to your room. She said she must’ve just been exhausted, and went to her room soon after.”

Then I heard retching sounds and I hurried to her room without a second thought. I knew she preferred her privacy, but the concern was far too great. As I opened the door, I saw her on the bed, sitting and hunched over. Her face looked red, and she had blankets wrapped around her as she coughed. Her head bobbed and she looked to her side, toward the wall, then her head swayed around to the other end, where I stood at the door. She stared, her face was gaunt and her eyes dull. Her hair, too, was a mess. Then, after a few seconds of looking my way, she yelled.

“GO AWAY!” Thunderous, she erupted and I walked off, in a rush.

“Guys! She’s sick!” The words flew out of me.

“Yeah, well, it happens,” Sunny shrugged.

“Really?! That’s it?!” I turned to a rage, myself.

“Demetria, I understand, but there’s nothing we can do,” Ray told me. How asinine. How absurd.

“I can’t believe you two. Someone needs to help her, even just a little!”

I stormed off. I searched around in the hall closet for a first aid kit. If need be, I’d make her a hot soup. Something, anything.

“What is this about, Demetria?” Ray called after me.

“Do we have a thermometer anywhere?” I ignored his question. Too focused on what was really important.

He reached into a drawer on his desk and pulled one out.

“But you’re not going to get very far if she doesn’t want help. You can’t just force your help on someone,” he probably thought he was giving such sound advice right now. He probably was, too. But I just wasn’t interested.

“I don’t care,” I replied, seething.

“I’m sure you see this as an opportunity, but it’s not going to earn you any favors,” Sunny added.

“This isn’t about that! I don’t care about my own feelings right now! This isn’t like one of my Hurt/Comfort fics! This isn’t about me!” I retorted, then stormed back into the room.

I’ve been so selfish. I’m still being selfish because I want to help her when she doesn’t want it.

Back into her room I went and she was still in the same position. Only now she was leaned even further forward and wheezing.

“Please...let me take your temperature…” I tried to keep my voice soft. She looked over and her face contorted between angry and in pain.

“I thought I told you to go away,” she growled, then clutched her head. Probably a headache. Even a further.

“Believe me, I should! But I need to do something!” I snapped.

She recoiled, then laid back down onto her bed and curled into a fetal position and shivered. She faced away from me.

“You’re awful...you really think anyone would like you if you just kept pushing yourself onto others?” She hissed, then held her hands over her pillow and squeezed it against the back of her head. It was painful for me to watch, but I gulped, other emotions stirring.

“I don’t need to be liked. But I live here too. If you’re sick, you could get everyone else sick,” I told her, rather flat. “Do you really want to be responsible for that?”

“If I’m isolating, it’s fine,” she replied. “Besides, I could die for all I care. So just leave me.”

“As you wish,” I told her. I forgot one thing anyway. I left for a minute to go get gloves and a mask. Before I returned, Ray spoke to me again.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” He asked.

“It’s not a matter of being okay with it,” I told him. “It’s important.”

I returned to her room, something which she probably either expected and hated, or didn’t expect. She coughed up a storm and it sounded so harsh, like her throat was being torn from the inside.

“I’m burning...I’m still shivering but I can feel burning...It’s too much!” She then started to scream.

“I understand that.”

She stopped, then turned.

“What are you doing back here?”

“Being pushy, what’s new?” I replied, deadpan.

“Fine. Take the temperature. But don’t expect me to like this.”

She turned over and opened her mouth. All the while, she scowled. After it beeped, I pulled out the thermometer and checked. 40 degrees Celsius. Definite fever.

“Yeah, you’re sick,” I confirmed.

“Sick of you,” she scoffed, then winced.

“Good. Feeling’s mutual. I’m sick of me too,” I replied.

“I’ve never liked you. I took you out so you would get off my back. That’s all.”

That should have hurt more. I just looked at her for a moment.

“Even if that’s the case, I still appreciate that you did. Thank you.”

She tried to laugh. It was more like a pained moan.

“You’re welcome. Happy birthday,” she told me, then she closed her eyes. Perhaps to get back to sleep. Whatever I was going to be into, I knew it wouldn’t be pleasant. It already wasn’t. But I needed to take care of her in any way I could. That’s how it’s always been in my family. We took care of each other when we were sick. We may not have liked each other much or got along, but that didn’t matter.

As soon as I left the room, it was like all of the stress seeped in and I too shivered. I felt like I couldn’t make it stop and I felt powerless to do anything. I had little medical knowledge. I didn’t know whether she had a cold or a flu or poisoning or what. I just felt like I needed to do something, even if I was useless. Because I often was.

#writing #remoras full #demetria #remora #stories #fiction #drama #birthday #hurt/comfort #maturing #sorta #happy birthday demetria

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maiaphaelsource · 4 years

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anon’s great cornucopia of maiaphael prompts, part 4

ANYONE CAN FEEL FREE TO GIVE THEIR OWN THOUGHTS ON THIS PROMPT

Maia being insecure because what if Raphael wants a ‘real women’ Raphael showering her in kisses and telling her how beautiful she is and how much he loves her

rdauhdsaihdashdsa raphael, also trans and so in love with her it’s unreal: am i a joke to you

i mean i’m just kidding. obviously unfortunately people do apply that kind of logic like “all trans people are valid! except me” and she’s been through shit like this before so you know. and she just has that feeling of like.. fear of not being enough as a whole

like taking a ride off the last prompt, she did grow up being essentially taught that she is unlovable, or that love is something she has to work for. she had to run away from home, she never had a family, then she was in an abusive relationship, and then she was Turned against her will for the crime of wanting something better. so it’s like... in her eyes, she isn’t enough for others. which is similar to raphael’s feeling of “if i’m too happy, something is wrong.” because she should be working for love. she should be giving more. and she feels a little like a fraud, and that suddenly laces in with internalized transmisoginy (doubled down by racism) and it’s just... a huge cocktail of Spiral. she feels like she’s not doing enough, that surely he will get bored of her, that she’s a knockoff of a real girlfriend, a real woman. and it’s just... huge

and as she usually does when she spirals she hides away because she is scared of showing vulnerability with how many times this has been used against her before, and that feeling in her head that she should always be strong, she can’t falter, because if she does no one will lift her up. which only makes it worse because it’s so frustrating to feel like she’s always on her own, but isn’t that just the point of this whole thing? and so of course we have some feedback loop in there, and it’s just... bad

and maybe luke finds her? or someone else from the pack, i feel like is the most likely to happen. because i don’t think raphael would just show up to the jade wolf uninvited, as much as i want him to find her diahisdah but like she also deserves care from her dad(s if we throw alaric in for flavor) and if he’s still a werewolf as well there’s reason for him to Know. and he very softly holds her hand and pats her hair and tells her that you should talk to him, kiddo, because i might not know raphael as well as you, but i know him enough to know that he wouldn’t want you to feel like this. and she knows he’s right but it’s just... hard. and maybe he asks her if she wants him to call him because he’s sweet like that? because he’s just a firm believer in communication and while he would happily spend all day hugging her until she feels better, he’d also want her and raphael to sort it out, because he’s doing this kid some good, and he hopes it stays that way

and raphael gets there comically fast because vampire superspeed and he’s just a protective boyfriend okay. like luke didn’t even hang up the phone and he is like I Am Here, What Does Maia Need and luke is like... “[amusedly] reassurance” and raphael nods like “i can do that”, completely missing the subtext of “you are going at this way too hard” because no he is not <3

and anyway cue maia telling him about everything that she was thinking and she’s like... “i know that it isn’t true, but i just, i can’t help but feel like that sometimes...” and he’s like it’s alright, bella, you don’t have to apologize, thank you for telling me. and he hugs her and she buries her face on his shoulders and cries her heart out as he pats her hair and tells her that he’s sorry he didn’t come before, he didn’t know, and she chuckles through her tears because it’s such a raphael thing to say, but he just keeps it up, telling her, you’re beautiful, please come to me if you ever feel like that, i love you, in that steady soft voice of his that makes her feel so floored, and it reminds her one of the things that attracted her to raphael for starters - he always helps her keep steady. raphael has always there to make sure she doesn’t falter, so why would she think that he wouldn’t catch her?

and she stops crying and even pulls away eventually to wipe her tears- although raphael beats her to it and starts wiping them slowly, carefully, and he tells her te amo, and she chokes up because she knows how enormous that is, and she chokes out a “me too” and smiles and she feels okay :’)

#maia roberts #trans maia roberts #maiaphael #raphael santiago #shadowhunters #sh #luke & maia brotp #angst #hurt/comfort #internalized transphobia #abuse tw #maia angst #text

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theartofdreaming1 · 3 years

Photo

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

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

heart

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

mind

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

soul

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

Chapter 19:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter 20:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter 21:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#thgagain #thg #hunger games #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #thg meta #thresh #my sketches and drawings #everlark

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nate-santos · 4 years

Text

Clamie Bit My Finger || Nate & Alain

Location: The Hospital Time: Shortly after Alain lost a dear finger Parties Involved: @deadicated-nate, @carbrakes-and-stakes, One very rude coughing patient zero for the coronavirus

Throbbing pain, constant and sickening. Alain felt as if he was going to either throw up or faint. He didn’t remember anything from the ride to the E.R. other than Cassie and Erin speaking and him clenching his jaw the whole time.His jaw was probably sore, but he did not think too much of it. It was only as a nurse spoke to him that he spoke, slower than usual, taking deep breaths between questions. The news that he would be given painkillers came as a relief, although he was concerned to hear that they wouldn’t stitch his would immediately, and rather put a bandage to stop the bleeding. He understood that they had a lot of injuries to take care of, but he would have thought his injury would be more urgent than that. He supposed that he probably should be relieved about this, but he was just annoyed. “Are you fucking kidding me,” he groaned, shuffling across the hall to get to the waiting room, now dressed in clean, dry scrubs. Sitting next to a guy who was not coughing or close to any children, Alain sighed heavily and leaned back in his chair.

One of Nate’s go-to places was the ER. Not that he actually hurt himself often, but he ended up asking for medical advice much more often than his general practitioner would allow. So here he was, sitting patiently in the waiting room, settling himself in as far from any of the sick or contagious people as he possible could be. He opened up the book he brought, knowing it may take a while to get to him. One of the downsides to having to come through the ER- long wait times. Especially when the week White Crest was having had resulted in many more...strange injuries than normal. Nate looked down at the small scrape on his elbow, hoping that he’d managed to get enough neosporin on it to prevent any major infections, but his inspection was quickly interrupted by a man sitting down much too close for his comfort. He was holding his bandaged hand and Nate felt his stomach churn when he saw the blood. “Hey uh...what...what happened?” He nodded anxiously to the man’s hand, hoping he hadn’t just been chased by some giant lobster that he happened to lead right into the waiting room.

Alain looked at the guy sitting next to him after a couple of seconds which was the amount of time it took him to register that he was actually speaking with him. Great. Now he had to endure small talk, after what he had just been through. “I can sit somewhere else if you can’t stand the sight of blood,” if it took him a while to realize that they spoke to him, he could still read a face, especially one he’d seen often in a mirror. Anxiety. He took a deep breath. Truth was, he was feeling stressed too, about his finger, of course, but mainly because he wouldn’t be able to hunt for a while. He needed this hand to fight. “I lost my finger,” he finally replied, swallowing his saliva and realizing that he was too suffering from his own anxiety. That ball of stress stuck in his throat was growing. Rubbing at his face with his left had, he sighed. This was going to be a long wait. “What about you? Why are you here?”

Nate’s eyes flitted back and forth between the man’s hand and the door, wondering if it was too late or too rude for him to bolt. But then he wouldn’t be able to get his elbow looked at. His face was pained as he weighed his options. It was his own fault that he was now in a conversation with a man who had lost a finger and while he had a burning need to know how, Nate also wasn’t entirely sure he did want to know. “N-no, I’m ok with blood.” Nate stared at the man apprehensively, only a little bit relieved that he didn’t seem to be afflicted with anything contagious. “I’m more worried about uh…” he nodded over to a woman who hadn’t stopped hacking her lungs out since she arrived two hours ago. She refused to cover her mouth and it was honestly an achievement that she hadn’t actually expelled a lung. “Oh, I uh…” Nate sheepishly rubbed his elbow. His injury was much less dire than losing a finger, but the threat of infection was real. “I’ve been exposed to potential infections and I wanted to get some antibiotics.”

Alain still decided to move his injury to his left, resting his wrist against his shoulder. It was not very comfortable, and he would probably end up back with his hand close to that guy, but at least he’d tried, unlike that rude woman, he also had noticed, coughing her lungs out without caring one bit for the rest of the patients. “Hey,” he called her out but she didn’t seem to even listen, “hey,” he repeated, already annoyed. Must have been that he had been through a lot of shit today, right? Right. “You think you can cover your mouth when you cough? Is it something you can do?” His eyebrows raised as he watched her roll her eyes in response. “Quelle connasse,” he muttered to himself, sighing. He glanced back at his chair neighbor and listened to him instead. Was he talking about HIV ? Well that sounded more serious than losing a piece of your finger. Alain could live with that, at least. “Wow, you’re okay?”

Nate cringed when the man raised his voice, but a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Nate wasn’t the kind of guy to yell or stand up for himself in any way, so he’d been silent for hours when the woman was not only being rude but hazardous to literally everyone else in the room. He nodded at the woman, who was far from the only perpetrator in the ER. “I’m not sure she has the capability to understand basic manners. She’s been doin’ that for over two hours.” Every cough or sneeze had Nate jumping and clutching his chest, but for the most part this was just an average trip to the hospital for him. “Oh, yeah...hopefully.” He shrugged, trying not to show how nervous he was and sounding all the more forlorn. “Are you uh, french?” He tried to change the subject, falling into awkward small talk. “That’s lame...and weird, sorry. Just, the accent. And the french words.”

“Probably not. Maybe the cough got to her brain,” he commented, and, attempting to cross his arms in discontempt, winced and held his hand back up. “I hope they won’t keep me waiting two hours, I feel like coughing is not an emergency,” Alain rolled his eyes. People using the ER as some kind of doctor appointment pissed him off. What part of “emergency” did they not get? Apparently his grumpiness was contagious : a soccer mom with her son started to complain to the woman as well. “Yeah, well hang in there. I’m sure you’ll be fine,” he would have patted him in the back, but pretty sure that no one would want a wounded hand near them, decided against it. “As a matter of fact, yes,” his eyebrows raised. Were they going to talk about that for the following… eternity waiting? Alain rarely went to the doctor, and had forgotten that waiting rooms were small talk hubs. “It’s fine. Call me German and you’ll have a nose to fix too, however,” he smiled and shook his head, laughing through his nose. Heh, maybe this wasn’t going to be so bad.

Nate laughed nervously, knowing the guy was probably joking, but also knowing that whatever illness that woman had may have actually affected her brain. He leaned even further away from her. “You’ll probably be seen soon,” he nodded at the blonde nurse behind the counter. “Elise is working, she usually gets people in and out pretty quickly when they have more urgent injuries.” An awkward smile appeared on Nate’s face. He felt a little guilty, as his potential infection might not be seen as an emergency to most, but that’s why he was waiting patiently despite being surrounded by a cornucopia of contagians. He raised his hands in defense. “Promise, I won’t call you German. But uh...what should I call you? I’m Nate.” He wrapped his arms around himself as if to make it abundantly clear that he would not be shaking anyone’s bloody, fingerless hand.

“Elise? She’s a friend of yours?” Alain glanced at the man sitting next to him, his attention diverted once again by the coughing woman. He pinched at the bridge of his nose. What would be the point of getting into an argument now ? “You can call me Alain, he replied absent-mindly, leaning forward to have a look at the magazines scattered on the coffee table in front of them. They looked like they had been here for a while, and he decided against grabbing one when he saw unidentified stains on one of them. Now this was disgusting. When he glanced back at Nate, he noticed that he’d tucked away his hands. Maybe he’d get along with him. He was not fond of touching people either and only very few people respected that. “What do you do for a living, Nate?”

“Yeah, I’ve known her for a few ye-” Nate flinched as the offending woman continued to cough. “Years.” He frowned, curling in on himself even more. Eyeing the new group of children who were being ushered into the room by one seriously overwhelmed parental figure, Nate reached into his pocket for one of his many on-the-go hand sanitizers. He glanced over at Alain and saw the other man debate picking up one of the borderline crusty magazines and decide against it. He smiled a bit and held out the hand sanitizer. ��I’m an uh- architect? It’s...more exciting than it sounds.” Nodding to the man’s bloody hand. “Does that happen...often in your line of work?”

“Oh come on,” Alain called her out once again, raising his voice further. “Cover your mouth and stop spreading your microbes or get out of here, you are annoying a whole room of people who are already worried or in pain,” he raised his hand up to show her his bandage, and leaned back in his chair, hoping that this would be his last time lecturing a fucking grown up. Blowing air through his nose, he had a look at his phone for a moment. He probably should message his employees and tell them that he wouldn’t be around for at least a couple of days, he told himself. Typing the message proved to be difficult, and he did not bother correcting a few typos that had slipped in there. “I’m a mechanic, that’s… how I lost my finger,” he shrugged at the next question and instead took an interest in the architect. “That’s pretty exciting, what are you talking about. What are you working on right now?”

Nate jumped as Alain raised his voice once again, smirking to himself. If only he could be so bold. He used to be. It was comforting to see another person as anti-germ as he was, even if he was a bit more bristly than Nate. He almost asked if the guy needed help texting, but figured he probably wouldn’t want someone who might have a deadly infection touching his device. “Oh- I’m sorry...Do you think they can sew it back on?” He squirmed in his seat. “Oh uh...nothing special. I just did a walk through of an old house out in the Outskirts, something about proving it was in disrepair due to age rather than...supernatural means?” He shrugged. “Other than that, I’ve just been drawing up a lot of new roofs thanks to the whole fish situation.”

Alain shook his head. He had never been good with lies, mainly because he hated lying. Seeing all the things he’d seen, you grew to have quite the imagination skills. “I don’t think so. I was unable to retrieve the thing,” not a lie. It was indeed impossible for him to open the clam after it died. “It’s okay. This kind of shit happens,” he shrugged. Well, he was actually more worried than he let it transpire but since shit happens had become his motto over the years, he was getting used to it too. “What do you mean supernatural means? You think … those things exist?” His eyebrows raised in surprise. One of the hardest part of his job was not to kill vampires and zombies, but rather convincing people that they did not see what they saw. “You must be pretty busy. I had my roof replaced a couple years ago, so it’s holding up pretty well so far. Fingers crossed.”

Nate winced, feeling a shiver run down his spine. He couldn’t imagine losing his finger with no hope of reattaching it and being as calm as Alain was being. Then again, if he worked in the more physical aspect of building houses instead of just working with paper and math and hypotheticals, maybe he would be more used to that sort of thing. As it was, however, Nate continued to shiver. “Oh...I’m really sorry. You’re taking it a heck of a lot better than I would be.” Nate glanced up, wondering if it was a trap. He knew lots of people in town didn’t believe in the supernatural, but he knew enough of it existed to not doubt the existence of so much more. “Oh, well you know. I think ghosts exist, and I wouldn’t put it past this town for more weird stuff to be real too. But the whole point of that inspection was to really prove that ghosts did not live in the house and were definitely not responsible for people getting hurt.” Nate smiled lightly, his head lifting. “That’s good! It should definitely hold up for a while longer. And if something does happen, you can reroof first, which would save a lot of money and a big headache of replacing the whole thing.”

“So you believe in ghosts then,” he raised an eyebrow, faking concern as he’d done it so many times before. No matter how hard hunters worked, people always seemed to suspect something about the town. “Why would someone ever want to buy a house where someone had to come to prove it’s not haunted is above my understanding, but hey, to each their own.” How this was the job of an architect, Alain was not sure about that one either. Architecture school probably did not give classes on haunted house. “So your job as an architect is to play Ghostbuster ?” Clearly, this was confusing. Or maybe he had lost too much blood and the medicine they had given him minutes ago was starting to work really well. Alain cleared his throat and looked away from Nate for a moment, his eyes glancing at his bandage, at his hand. He had mostly avoided to look at it since they had entered the room, and he was not feeling very well, looking at it now. A shiver ran down his spine and he felt his anxiety rush back up his throat, building its nest there, and forcing him to take heavier breathes. He had really lost a finger out there. Absentmindedly, he managed to reply to Nate that reroofing seemed like a good idea.

Nate shrugged. “I’m not spiritual per say, but yeah, I think ghosts are real. I’ve never seen one or anything, though.” Shaking his head, Nate ran his hand absently over his scraped elbow, flinching at the slight pain. “I couldn’t tell you. People in this town are weird. I don’t uh...I definitely am not a Ghostbuster. I just sometimes go check out old buildings and prove that any odd happenings are due to structural instability and overall lack of upkeep rather than because some ghosts took up residence.” His eyes flickered down to the man’s bandaged hand, an influx of blood spreading out through the gauze. “Uh...do you- I’ll be right back.” Nate stood carefully, eyeing his waiting room companion. “Hey Eloise, could you uh...would you mind bumping up this guy on the list? Alain- he said his name was?” Nate looked back at the man, his brow furrowed with worry as if it were him who had just lost a finger. “Hold on there, man. They’re gonna get you in ASAP.”

#clamie bit my finger #alain1 #chatzy #tw hospital #tw medical blood

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janetbrown711 · 5 years

Note

“Does it get lonely?” Eva and Lena?

Eva and Louie teleported to the familiar part of the underworld, right in front of a gate where Cerberus waited, wagging his tale when he saw them. Eva smiled and ran right toward him and started petting him.

"I almost didn't believe her when she said Cerberus liked you. Guess i see that now," Louie said.

"Well who could resist such a handsome and good boy," Eva said as Cerberus barked happily.

"Usually everyone. C'mon. Do you want to see your girlfriend or not?" Louie asked, opening the gate.

"Right... right... can Cerberus come along?" Eva asked. Louie looked at them to ponder a moment.

"Plleeeeaaaaasssseeeee?" She begged.

"No, no. He has a job to do. He needs to guard the gates," he decided.

"Awwww," Eva lowered her head as Cerberus whined.

"Oh you'll get over it," Louie rolled his eyes and summoned a bone for all three of Cerberus' heads, which kept him happy enough for Eva and Louie to leave.

"Sooooo... we're just gonna walk dorectly to Lena and say 'surprise I snuck away from my mother so she's gonna be pissed as heck, but hey at least I'm here now'?" Eva asked.

"If that's what your plan is," Louie said.

"Right... that sounds good. I don't need to stall," Eva nodded.

"Right. Here we are," in the blink of an eye it seemed they appeared at a giant black door. It looked as if it were made of obsidian and at least 10 feet tall.

"Do we knock or...?" Eva asked, but Louie had already put his hand on the door and they slid open slowly.

"Louie, aren't you supposed to be killing people?" Lena called from the other room, "and you can teleport. When have you ever used the door?"

Louie didnt respond, letting himself in and Eva follow. He took her to the room where Lena sat on her throne looking over papers, but the moment Eva entered the room Lena shot up and looked at her.

"I thought I smelt life. Eva, what on tartarus are you doing here?" Lena got up and went to her.

"I ran away again, but this time to stay much, much longer. Maybe forever. I'm really mad at my mom. I just cannot stand those stupid gardens. I want to be here, with you," Eva grabbed Lena's hands, looking her in the eyes. Lena blushed.

"Mariella will be begging for Webby to strike me down or to drown me in the river Styx," Lena said.

"She doesn't know where I am. Trust me," Eva reassured her, "besides, it's not like she can stomp her way in here. She'll need to get past Cerberus, who i am one hundred percent sure is on our side," she smiled.

"Well when you put it that way... Llewellyn, I'm going out for the day. That doesn't mean you can slack off, now I'm requiring you do your job plus at least half of the paperwork," Lena commanded, to which Louie nodded and disappeared in his familiar smoke.

"So shall we?" Lena offered her arm in escort.

"Oh of course!" Eva gladly accepted, but frowned when she discovered she was just too short to make it really work. Lena laughed.

"We don't have to walk like this if you don't want to," she suggested.

"No, no. I got this," Eva said. She thought hard for a very long time when suddenly vines burst through the ground, lifting her up to be the proper height.

"How on earth did you do that? This is the underworld. Plants don't grow here. Except for that one garden, but still," Lena baffled.

"I'm a plant goddess. I want plants to make me taller, i get plants to make me taller," Eva lifted her head up proud.

"You're so adorable," Lena laughed.

"Why thank you," Eva nodded, and they started walking together.

"So how long do you think you can stay here without your mother finding out and making her way down here?" Lena asked as they strolled.

"Forever hopefully. I'm tired of her treating me like a possession. I just want to be here. With you," Eva smiled. Lena couldn't help but smile too, but a though occured to her that made it waver.

"Does it get lonely?" She asked.

"Yeah... it does. The flower nymphs are great and all but they're just... so... annoying," she laughed.

"Oh you're telling me? Deal with them when they're dead," Lena chuckled.

"Oh i can believe that," Eva agreed.

"But to answer yeah. It does. Dewey stops by every now amd then with a letter but mother doesn't leave me alone with anyone for more than ten minutes," Eva said.

"Geez, you should see her on the council. And the way she runs spring ugh, she is so uptight," Lena said.

"I know right?! It's psychotic, how organized it is. I'm so glad she's given me the reigns in recent years. Only for a bit though, but hey, its nice," Eva shrugged.

"Sounds like it," Lena agreed.

"Gah, you know in some ways i envy your family," Eva said.

"I'm sorry- what?! My family?" Lena cackled.

"What? What's so funny about that? At least you have sibilings," Eva put her hands on her hips.

"Well yeah, but have you met my parents? They're crazy. My dad literally ate me and my siblings. The titans are absolutely bonkers," Lena said.

"Well true... but they're gone now. So, isn't everything good now?" Eva asked.

"Depends on your opinion on good. I mean we tolerate each other but the pantheon never agrees on anything. Heck, the only reason i got this underworld gig is because the only way we could decide was pulling straws. Webby won, Violet sorta won, and I lost. But hey, fair is fair. We barely talk about that anyway. If you consider that good, then hey, that's good," Lena said.

"So you never wanted to be queen of the underworld?" Eva asked.

"Well... i never was too fond of all the other gods. They were always so loud and obnoxious. I always liked to imagine myself on the sea, all alone on a boat of my choosing. It'd be nice is all I'm saying," Lena sighed as she shook the idea away.

"So why don't you leave?" Eva asked.

"I can't just shirk all my duties. The underworld would be in chaos without me and ghost would probably leak into the overworld and it'd be a mess. Trust me when I say its better this way. I find some joy in my work anyhow. If i wasn't queen of the underworld i wouldn't have Cerberus, and he's my best friend," Lena said.

"Well what about Louie?" Eva asked.

"Llewellyn? Well he works for me. I don't know if i can exactly call him a friend. Him being a friend would just... distract me. And him," Lena stated.

"Well then I guess I see why Louie wanted me to be his friend so bad, since the only person who can would think it a distraction. I bet you two are friends but don't consider yourselves friends because you aren't buddy buddy," Eva crossed her arms.

"Maybe you're right... c'mon. I know a place where we can go," Lena gestured for Eva to follow and they started walking again.

They walked a bit in silence, turning corners here and there in the dark hallways that were lit by blue torches along the wall. Despite the underworld usually being really, really hot the temple was surprisingly chilly. Eva wished she brought a coat.

"We're here," Lena said when they arrive to a dark blue door with a warning sign written in a language Eva didn't speak.

"What's it say?" Eva asked.

"'Warning: hot lava. No living souls entry' in Fury," Lena stated.

"Uh... are you sure i should be here then?" Eva questioned.

"Don't worry, I say that to keep the furies away. You'll be fine," Lena winked as she opened the door to reveal a garden unlike any Eva had ever seen, even the one she had visited earlier.

The trees were grey and twisted about, but they had beautiful orange blossoms springing out of it, indicating it was still alive. Looking closely at the bark she could see lava running through it. The grass was grey and felt soft under her bare feet. There were plenty other plants and trees growing about, and not to far off was a stunning waterfall but made of lava. A lavafall if you will.

"This is so pretty! How did you make it grow?" Eva asked.

"This garden is my own secret project. It isn't like the garden of souls where the dead are put into the plants, but rather I used the seeds your mother gives me in the cornucopia and mutate them with the lava so they can grow into the fruit of the underworld. I never was too fond of the way above world food tasted. This is where it's at," Lena said.

"Can I have some then?" Eva asked.

"Eva... if you ate one of these then you become part of the underworld and can never leave. Are you truly ready to make that kind of commitment to never leave this place and never see the overworld or most of your friends, even your mother, thereof?" Lena asked. Eva sat on a marble bench.

"Well when you put it that way, it doesn't sound so easy, heh..." Eva tried to laugh, but it fell flat.

"Well... doesn't hermes stop by and every now and then?" Eva asked.

"He sometimes helps lost souls find there way to the underworld and has a small room in here, yeah," Lena said.

"Well... then yeah. Im okay," Eva nodded.

"What about your mother? Are you positive you never want to see her again?" Lena questioned. Eva had to pause to think.

"I think she needs to learn that i don't belong to her the hard way. I'm ready," Eva made up her mind. Lena nodded.

"Which do you want to try?" Lena asked.

"Oooh they all look soooo good! Hmmmm," Eva wandered through the garden a bit before picking a pomegranate from a silver tree.

"You and your pomegranates," Lena rolled her eyes.

When Eva took a bite out of the juicy purple fruit, Louie teleported into the room with a message.

"Lena, Mariella is here, and she wants her daughter."

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

#ducktales au #hades and persephone au #my fics #eva colibri #louie duck #lena despell #cerberus #a good boy #love them #fun tid bit i have legit never eaten a pomegranate #idk what they taste like #so #next parts gonna be fun #mariella is angry #lol #good luck lena

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tothewaterhq · 5 years

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ACCEPTED // DWIGHT HALE

district six → mentor → jeremy renner fc

pronouns: he/him positive traits: witty, adaptable, easy-going negative traits: noncommittal, pessimistic, immature

tw: divorce, alcoholism, death mention, false pregnancy

describe their arena:

The tributes were raised into what felt like another catacomb. There was darkness surrounding them, walls of cracked stone. No natural light. The cornucopia was filled with weapons designed for tunnelling and was in the middle of an underground tunnel system, appearing like some kind of mine. Those believing twelve had an advantage were dead wrong. This was no ordinary underground tunnel system. The walls were alive, the rocks temperamental. One wrong move and a severe cave in could kill you. The tunnels went off in all directions and it was easy for tributes to get lost. The only lights were generator powered and flickering to add to the atmosphere. The water sources were few and far between. Some coming from old leaking pipes. A small stream ran through certain parts but the water had to be boiled and purified. Bodied of the dead were absorbed into the walls.

Above the ground was where the real battle arena lied. Designed for a gory final battle. Grass as far as the eye could see, no cover. It was littered with weapons as far as the eyes could see. Maces, knives, swords, spears. To get to it was no easy feat. Tributes would have to be chiselling away at the surface for days.

bio:

From the moment he was born Dwight Hale’s life was destined to become a roller coaster. His bright blue eyes sat above his squished nose. He had dirty blonde hair and lungs that seemed to want to terrify his mother as they decided to stop working every couple of seconds. Some might say he was born with a mischievous personality. As an infant, growing up in district six was a blessing for Dwight. Apparently being classified as the transportation district caused him to want to get moving quickly. He started climbing out of his crib within a year. As soon as he was taught to walk, he was running. Intelligence didn’t kick in quite as soon so time after time his mother had to stop him running straight into walls or roads. Not that it every seemed to prevent him from doing it again. Often Dwight would wear bumped heads or a bleeding nose. He scuffed his knees more than any child in the district. And he was proud of it. His mother would always patch him up.

Tamora Hale, Dwight’s mother, cared for him deeply. However, there was something she cared for a little bit more. The rebellion. Tamora didn’t trust or agree with anything that capitol did. She’d been whispering in a few peoples ears the same thing. When she got wind of District Thirteen, she knew she had to get there. So, In the middle of the night, she left her five-year-old son alone to embark on the journey. She would never return. Five-year-old Dwight wasn’t sure how long future-changing journey’s took, so he figured she’d be back in three days. But as he sat there running out of fingers to count the days she’d been gone on there was the realization that she wasn’t coming back.

Soon Dwight was removed from his home by some rather heavy-handed peacekeepers attempting to corral him to one of the local orphanages. They’d have to catch him first. He kept to the streets after that, falling in with a group of older street rats who saw him as a great way to get food. He was young and cute. Also, his speed meant he was great at the grab and run. Local market vendors dubbed him ‘sneaky little midget’. The boys became his family, showering him with praise about how great he was. However, their age difference meant they were destined to get older and move on. As each of them reached the full-time work age they left, got jobs, started families. All around turned their lives around. As the penultimate original member of their little gang left, he christened Dwight leader. A notion that made Dwight’s head swell to the size that made him think he didn’t need anyone else.

One morning he decided to steal a pot of soap from the wrong stall. It was a stupid plan. How was an eleven year old supposed to carry an entire pot of boiling liquid down the street. However, Dwight had always been, act first think later. It was no surprise he was caught red handed.

The soup sellers name was Marella Smyth, though as it turned out, everyone called her Ma. There was a reason for that. She was known for taking in stray kids, usually young boys who got themselves into trouble. So naturally she was drawn to Dwight. She gave him a bed to sleep in and an endless supply of soup. Though she wasn’t totally a mother figure, she was a close as most of the boys in her care had ever had. Over the years more boys joined the house and were quickly conned ‘Ma’s boys.’ But Ma wasn’t so good as disciplining her boys. It wasn’t her place, she believed. So, they still ran wild across the district and Dwight, being the first and oldest, was the leader of their gang. Which is pretty much what they were. The group of damaged boys were a catalyst to each other and when together, caused trouble. They picked on people, stole things then ran away. Of course, Dwight was always first to flee the scene with his ‘every man for himself’ mentality. He’d learned that you had to be selfish though. That was how you survived.

Dwight had never given much thought to the games. He had too much to worry about in his own life for that. His first reapings were non-events. He and his group of friends often mocked the kids that were reaped as they died. It was poetic irony that Dwight’s name was called when he was fifteen. He’d tried to get one of his friends standing next to him to volunteer. However, it seemed that his ‘every man for himself’ policy had rubbed off on them.

The capitol tried to sell him as ‘the poor boy from six’ and ‘the simple street urchin’ to get some sympathy. On his mentor’s advice, he played up the angle. Which at first, he didn’t believe was an angle. It wasn’t until he’d gotten into the training room and had been reading over the survival skills that he realised he knew most of this stuff already. His years fending for himself had paid off. Yet he continued to play dumb. He scored a meagre score of three during his private training session. And when interviews came around he pretended not to know what some of the big words Caesar was using were. Okay, that wasn’t all pretend. To this day he struggled to remember ‘trepidation’. Then the big day was upon the twenty-four unlucky souls and Dwight did what he’d always been taught to do. Survive.

The area wasn’t his favourite. The underground tunnels made it hard to see but after a while his eyes adjusted. In the cornucopia he’d gone straight for the big guns, knowing his speed would be an advantage. He managed to get his hands on a backpack and a scythe that he didn’t know how to use. Then he’d fled the scene. Ten people died in the bloodbath. The faces were projected wherever the tributes were sleeping. Which Dwight considered very dumb as it led to them being easily detected. Thankfully the network of tunnels meant that Dwight avoided all tributes for the first two days. On day three he’d done the stupid thing of attempting to chisel his way out of the underground tunnels and caused a mound of dirt and rock to cave in on himself. Not the smartest idea. He’d woken up thinking he was dead. The capitol thought that too at first. He was on his way out. However, like the cockroach he was, he survived. Realising that he could use the arena to his advantage. He managed to track down the careers, at the cornucopia, so predictable. Then during the night, he started slowly chiselling away at some rock nearby, leaving it at a very precarious position. Then, he emerged from underneath it, right in the eyesight of the careers. Three of the four that were still around did exactly as he’d expected, they started chasing him. Then he’d delivered one last blow to the chipped wall and caused rocks and dirt to cave in on all three of them. One had apparently been dealt a blow by a falling rock that killed them instantly. The other two Dwight suffocated with a piece of cloth.

He caused a few more cave ins whilst in the tunnels. Then had focused his attention of trying to break through the layer of dirt on the surface. Dwight had figured that there was something above him considering he hadn’t been killed by a forcefield. So, he kept working. On the final day he was greeted by sunlight and a message from the capitol informing him that there was two people left. For the final battle, the capitol had replenished weapons on the surface. Dwight was already there. Knowing that he couldn’t win a fight against the boy from one, he blocked the exit. Meaning he had twenty four hours to prepare. The capitol had decided to assist the boy from one by causing some rocks to fall and give him a way out. But Dwight was waiting with a knife. He stabbed him in his neck upon his first breath of fresh air. They declared him the winner.

His days were a blur post-victory. Mostly because his vision had been royally screwed by the lack of light in the caves. He ditched his old friends and moved into the victor’s village. He was miserable. Embarrassed about his constant need to wear sunglasses and his misery, he wasn’t the most sociable of people. Becoming rather aloof as far as the capitol was concerned. So, when it was announced that he was getting married at twenty one years old sponsors weekly were all over it. His fiancé Alma was one of the market workers daughter. She’d given him an apple once. Turned out she was one of the only people that still treated him like that naughty kid. Which he appreciated. Alma made him feel like he was good at something. It was a very public wedding. The capitol had made sure of that. People loved seeing Dwight look so smart.

The two became the hottest young couple. However, it didn’t last. Two years into their marriage, the man who’d moved at fifty miles an hour his entire life wasn’t enjoying the slow married life. Alma wanted a child. That was something Dwight wasn’t ready for. Frustration built up inside him and he started to get mean. Not happy with the person he’d become, Dwight’s ego decided to blame Alma for their marriage falling apart, rather publicly as well. Front page of sponsors weekly thanks to a lovely capitol reported called Nessa whom he’d made a deal with. Alma had threatened to cut his balls off. She settled for a divorce.

Nessa had done a good job at making sure he got some positive press post-divorce. She did a good job satisfying him in other areas as well. They were completely casual though, to him anyway. He didn’t realise Nessa had feelings for him until a year after he split from Alma. So, when she threatened to expose him, he started dating her. She was a piece of work. Everything that he’d falsely accused Alma of being. Dwight was twenty-seven when he felt obliged to propose to her. They kept their relationship secret until one year later. Nessa, bored of the marriage she decided to use him as a stepping stone in her career via another public divorce. Only this time, she threw every name under the sun at him and went after his money. Nessa was good at getting what she wanted.

After that Dwight closed the chapter in his life he’d labelled ‘demonic hell beast’ and focused on himself for the first time in a while. Without distractions he was able to get clean and focus on mentoring. Which he wasn’t half bad at when he put his mind to it. He was good at giving the tributes alternate strategies. After all, that was how he’d won. Though every year when one died, he did take it hard. His new persona ‘didn’t like failure.’ He quoted in the double page spread Sponsors weekly had done for him. He seemed to skip his mid-life crisis stage at thirty ( guess life decided he’d had enough of them in his twenties ) Then thirty-seven hit with a bang when Esmerelda Little was hired as the new escort for district six. She was breathtakingly beautiful. Warm and fuzzy. He heard someone behind him say ‘don’t even think about it’ It was too late for that. Dwight’s new personality was a perfect match for Esme. He did make sure that he actually liked her before marrying her this time. He was older though, mature. And it was the perfect publicity —- come to think of it, that was a red flag.

Truth was, he didn’t mean to hurt Esme. But she was a busy woman, even after they were married. He’d returned to the capitol to find Marella had passed away and she wasn’t around to support him. That on top of losing more tributes didn’t bode well for Dwight. Alcohol was there to support him…so were prostitutes.

The sponsors weekly title three months later read, ‘Dwight’s Dodgy Dealings’ and detailed his continued interactions with prostitutes and drinking. Claiming he’d cheated on Elsa with five prostitutes. That was a lie.

It was only three.

Elsa divorced him and once again took money out of his pocket. He was paying of a dozen people that knew secrets about him. His monthly mentoring funds were dwindling. Looking back, he was in no position to agree to another marriage. He needed to do something to recover his image though. It would make a sellable story. So, when a prostitute claimed to be pregnant with his baby his brain said, why not?!

Nine months later he became a four-time-divorcée. The pregnancy nothing but a work of fiction. No baby, no marriage.

Thankfully that tally has remained at four divorces. Unfortunately, his bank account is still paying the price. As is his health. As he’s vowed to not end up in another marriage his outlet for stress is alcohol once again. His light sensitivity constantly pisses him off. And pretending to be smart didn’t work out for him. Smart people are held responsible for their actions. So, the dumb act was switched back on. Sweet naïve Dwight. Tricked into four marriages, unlucky in love. … Maybe he should take a vow of celibacy.

PLAYED BY // JO

#accepted #dwight #// so so sorry for the delay on this!!

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